#sat in my drafts for a while but here we are

[megsbr]

These Moments With You

pairing: 1940s!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: It's the morning Bucky is leaving for the war and you are savoring every second together while reminiscing on how you got here

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, fluff, domestic bucky, kissing, established relationship, reader is steve’s sister (I think..), best friend’s sister, talk of marriage

word count: 6.6k

note from megs: hii! this is my first Bucky fic and I don’t know if y’all will like it but please let me know if you do! and feel free to send me messages, prompts, anons, etc. <3 (also I’m not entirely confident on how the draft works so just go with it) (gif not mine)

The softest rays of sunlight danced across skin as the morning came into view. Limbs tangled in one another like wires that were destined to be intertwined forever. The sound of birds chirping and the hustle of the morning commuters could be heard in the distance, but this room paid no mind to the outside world.

Bright blue eyes scanned over the soft skin on an exposed shoulder like it was the most marvelous work of art in a museum. Fingertips slid up and down a thigh with a softness that was almost invisible. The heat radiating off one another was enough to scare away any cold morning wind that might sneak its way in.

These were Bucky’s favorite moments with you. In the soft, quiet morning bliss with no plans and no one coming to interrupt this moment. Just the two of you. Like it always had been and always will be. He often woke up before you and he was grateful for the time to sit in your presence and just admire you. No matter how many times he woke up next to you, he would never get over the view.

He loved the way your nose scrunched up every now and then when you slept and how you always stayed as close as possible to him in your sleep. Not that it was much different when you were awake. Your hair was all over the place but he made sure to push a few strands out of your face so he could look at you uninterrupted. Bucky had always been obsessed with you. Others said he looked at you like it was the last time he might ever get the chance. No one ever seemed to call him a romantic until they saw the two of you together and then no one could deny the hold you had over him. He would move buildings for you. Move across the country for you. Go to wars for you, whether he had the choice or not.

_____ He was recently reminded of the day you two met. His family had just moved in down the street from yours and when his mom saw that a young boy sat in a nearby front yard she pushed Bucky to go introduce himself with a tray of cookies. Despite being in a completely new region of the country Bucky walked around as if he had lived here his whole life. He had never been a kid who got nervous or didn’t know what to say. He knew how to charm an older lady at the grocery store or volunteer to read in front of the whole class. Nothing was able to shake Bucky Barnes the way you were about to.

He walked across the road with too much confidence for a young boy as he introduced himself to the blond, scrawny boy playing with a military plane toy. “Hi, my name is Bucky. Thought we could be friends.” He was very point blank with what he wanted as a kid, never liked beating around the bush. The other boy was too shy to say no so he said nothing as Bucky grabbed the other plane on the ground and started asking questions about it. In talking with his friend, he had revealed that he was the oldest of four kids and was jealous that his new friend was an only child. Before the smaller boy could correct him they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps running out towards them.

Bucky heard a voice calling his new friend in for dinner at the request of their mom. As he looked up from the toy in his hand and he met your eyes the world came to a halt, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Even at that young of an age, Bucky suddenly understood what love felt like. You had the brightest smile he had ever seen, and he was already thinking of all the jokes he could rattle off to make sure it never left your face.

He was barely able to introduce himself to you, nerves taking over his small body in a way they never had before. All the cockiness he felt walking over here from being the older, taller and mysterious new kid was gone. “H-hi. Bucky. My name. My name is Bucky.” He stuttered over every word as if he had never said them before. You looked at him with curious eyes and a kind smile as you introduced yourself and quickly ran away after telling your brother to come inside.

As the years went on and Bucky grew up, he always kept his eyes on the young girl down the street. As he grew up and entered high school where he found more friends, joined sports and got the attention of plenty of girls he only ever thought of you. As he grew into his body and personality he was slowly able to stop acting like a fool when he passed by you in the hallway or came by your house to pick up your brother for some party they were going to.

His heart always skipped a beat when you were the one who opened the door, eyes bright and smile wide like you were just as excited to see him. You were his favorite part of the day every day because he felt the most comfortable and seen with you. There were more and more of those fleeting moments on the front porch or the side glances at each other from opposite sides of sidewalk as the three of you walked home from school as you both drowned out your brother’s tangent on some new film. Slowly but surely you spent more and more time talking at the front door before alerting your brother that his friend was there. You would walk a bit slower on the way home, hanging in the back together as your hands brushed each other’s.

Bucky was head over heels in love with you since the day he met you and he never spared anyone else a glance. A few girls had tried to dance with him a few times and despite how uninterested he was, he was still a gentleman, so he respectfully led them out to the floor, but he constantly looked over his shoulder to make sure you weren’t looking.

He finally mustered up the courage to ask you out that summer before senior year. When he knocked on the front door and you answered with a greeting so warm it felt like home he suddenly lost all his words. You were just so pretty and happy to see him that he got so in his head that he blurted out his proposal while you were mid-sentence.

His face turned bright red, and he was ready to walk away and never look back, but you said yes without missing a beat, face lighting up at the idea. You had such an ease about you that he never seemed to have himself when he was around you. He mumbled out that he’d pick you up at seven as he tripped down the front steps from staring at you. The giggle you let out at his expense gave him butterflies as you shut the door.

There must have been hearts in his eyes the whole back to his house. Unknown to him, you were just as lovestruck when you had gone back in the house, leaning your back against the door as you shut your eyes in bliss and sighed at the thought of the beautiful boy who you were in love with. You rushed upstairs to start finding the perfect outfit to wear and after looking through your whole closet it seemed like that didn’t exist.

You had been enamored with Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood flirt, your brother’s best friend, for years. After you met him for the first time you ran away as fast as you did because you couldn’t keep your giggles in from how cute you thought he was. That night you wrote his name in your diary and put yours next to it, liking how they looked together.

He was always nice to you; he listened to anything you wanted to talk about and never seemed to look down on you for being his friend’s little sister. And his eyes. You thought about his eyes every moment of the day from the moment you woke up to the moment you got to fall asleep and dream about them some more. When you locked eyes with him from across the room or in the hallway when he’d spend the night and you both wanted a glass of water, you felt like you could get lost in that blue for eternity.

You often went out of your way to end up in his path just in hopes he’d spare you a glance and maybe a slight smile. Taking a more inconvenient route to class because he was in those hallways or asking your mom to force your brother to bring you with him to hang out with Bucky. And when he mentioned an actress he liked one time, you started to style your hair the same way as her and almost passed out when he complimented you on it one day. You did whatever you could to get his attention and tried to establish yourself a girl worthy of his time and not as the neighbor girl who had never had a boy like her.

And the rebellious side of you loved that he was your brother’s best friend. There was a forbidden feeling to him that only made you want him more. He was known around town as more of a bad boy, for reason unknown to you because there was not a bad bone in his body. He acted like a bit of flirt here and there and maybe skipped school a few times but was otherwise the kindest and most loyal person you knew. You knew he did well in school but kept it a secret to come off a bit cool to everyone else and maintain his ‘image’. But he never acted like that around you, always opting to spew random facts and show his goofy, unpolished side that you adored.

And you loved the way he was so protective of your brother, saving him from the bullies and real troublemakers of town, and it made you fall more in love with him every day. And the time he carried all your books to and from school when you had broken your arm had you seeing stars from how fast your heart raced. And when he saved you from the deep end of the pool once when you drifted too far as a young girl. And now he asked you on a date.

He showed up exactly at seven with three bouquets of flowers because he couldn’t pick just one that was pretty enough for you. His hands shaking so much as he shoved them in his pockets to hide his nerves. He thought you were breathtaking as you stepped outside in what he now believed to be the best shade of pink just because you wore it.

You two walked to a local diner, one of the only places Bucky could afford with his weekly allowance, but you assured it was fine. He made sure to walk on the outside of the sidewalk and kept cracking jokes to keep it lighthearted and dissolve any awkward silences. But it was never awkward between the two of you. Not when you sat in silence as your eyes scanned the menu trying to decide what to order or when Bucky nervously drank his coke too fast and got bubbles in his nose which cause him to start coughing uncontrollably.

Bucky eventually took ahold of your hand from across the table and kept it there the rest of the night, which caused your stomach to flip as you tried not to show too much excitement. from the public display of affection.  He had offered up the idea of sharing a milkshake, claiming “he had to give you the best first date ever” and “this what they do in the movies, so we have to do it as well”. When the drink came and you both leaned in towards your respective straws it seemed like you both underestimated how close you’d be. Neither of you touched the straws yet opting to just stop and stare into each other’s eyes.

The diner was empty by this point of the night but there could have been a hundred people in there and you’d pay them no notice. It seemed like the rest of the world had disappeared and you only knew each other. You could feel his breath on your face and took notice of his eyes as they flickered down to your lips once. And then twice.

Just as you were about to say something his hand came up to cup your cheek as he closed the distance between you. The kiss was soft and innocent and filled with years of longing and dreaming. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took in everything about him, from the softness of his lips to the smell of his aftershave, and your hand came up to the collar of his button down shirt to pull him in even closer to you. You felt like you were floating as he somehow deepened the kiss. Just as you felt like you were going lightheaded, whether it be from the fact you were kissing Bucky Barnes or the lack of oxygen or both, you were interrupted by the waitress clearing her throat.

You pulled away first to turn your attention to the woman, but Bucky stayed put for a few seconds longer, eyes still shut and lips slightly parted, seemingly stunned at what just happened before he finally came back down to Earth. The waitress informed you they were closing, and you needed to leave, showing no interest in the young love before her. You guys scrambled out of the torn up booth as Bucky threw some bills on the table before you tugged his arm behind you, you both giggling as you ran out of the door.

You both spent the whole walk home laughing at the angry look the waitress had on her face. Bucky repeatedly mocked her voice when she told you both to leave and you laughed harder each time, tears welling up in your eyes. His arm was around your shoulders, and you were leaning into his chest, head dropping on his shoulder every few minutes as you let out the loudest laughs that were starting to hurt your abdomen.

As you got closer and closer to your house you finally realized how late it was and how much trouble you were going to be in for staying out past curfew. “Bucky, we have to hurry home now. My parents are going to kill me.” You managed to get out in between laughs, Bucky unable to take you seriously as you sounded like you were struggling to breathe.

“Don’t worry darlin’, your parents love me. I’ll smooth it over.” And you knew he would. He was the smoothest guy you knew. So smooth that you were sure your face was bright red from the nickname he just used. As you walked up the steps to your house, stopped in front of the door and stood underneath the soft yellow hue of the porch light you felt your heart twisting in your chest at the idea of the night ending.

And Bucky felt the same way as he held both of your hands in his much bigger ones. He enjoyed every minute of getting to be alone with you and getting to have all your attention. You were worth every dollar he saved up for dinner and any punishment he might get for staying out past curfew from his own parents. He knew in this moment that he would do anything for you and never wanted to let you go.

As you were saying something along the lines of thanking him for the evening he moved towards you to connect his lips to yours for the second time that night. This kiss grew much needier and passionate than the one back at the diner. He was hungry for you but not in an animalistic way but in a lustful and desperate way. He needed every part of you and wanted to give every part of himself right back to you.

After the shock from his sudden advancement, you leaned into the kiss and let Bucky take the lead as he grabbed either side of your face and moved you against the side of the house, pinning you there. Your hands found their way around his neck and that allowed you to pull his body closer to yours as if you were preparing for someone to come take him away. This moment felt too good to be true and you’d never forgive yourself if you let some cruel force of nature ruin this moment.

You were practically melting in Bucky’s hands as he lightly bit on your lower lip and let out an almost indiscernible groan as you parted your mouth and allowed his tongue to move in. His much larger build was towering over you, and it felt like he was completely engulfing you, but you loved it. It felt like you were out there forever, just basking in each other’s love and hiding in the darkness of the night, away from the world.

When Bucky finally pulled away and took in a large breath you already missed the feeling of him on you. You could compare kissing Bucky to needing oxygen and you were afraid that when it came to it, you could do without the latter. You both took a second to steady your breathing before deciding it was finally time to face the wrath of your parents.

Bucky took a few steps back, admiring your movements as you pulled out your key and put it in the lock. “I think I am falling in love you.” He breathed out just as you were turning back around to face him. A dazzling smile made its way to your face as you jumped into him, arms finding their spot back around his neck. He instantly wrapped his around your figure and laid his head on yours. You turned into the crook of his neck, placing a light kiss on the edge of his jaw, feeling him shiver beneath your touch. “I think I am falling in love with you too.” You whispered it like a secret into the night, not wanting to risk anyone else hearing this proclamation beside the young man before you.

There were many more dates after that. Countless nights of Bucky climbing the side of your house and sneaking into your room. Morning kisses before departing ways for class. You went to prom together and got voted cutest couple in the school yearbook. He stayed by your side through both of your parent’s deaths and did everything to keep your spirits up and help you through your grief.

It was you and Bucky. Always had been and always will be. You were each other’s future.

_____

Bucky was taken out of his trance when you started to stir awake. His full attention back on you as you opened your eyes and found his immediately. He gave you a soft smile as he took in your beauty once again and planted a kiss on your nose.

You sighed in content as you smiled back at him before the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This was the last morning you’d be waking up together for a long time. Or for the last time. Your face dropped and your demeanor turned sour as you turned yourself away from Bucky, not wanting him to see you cry.

As soon as his arms wrapped around you from behind the tears started falling and sobs raked through your body at an alarming rate. “Baby please, it’s okay. I promise it will all be okay.” Bucky tried to calm you down but nothing he said worked so he opted for just pulling you into his chest and resting his head slightly on top of you, keeping his cheek pressed to yours, occasionally planting kisses on your shoulder and wiping away tears that kept falling.

“This isn’t okay Bucky. Nothing about this is fair or okay. I am losing you.” This caused Bucky to sit up against the headboard, pick you up and settle you in his lap. You instantly curl up into him and lay on his chest, your tears immediately soaking his t-shirt.

“Sweetheart, you are not losing me. I am not leaving you in the slightest. I just have to go away for a while.” His attempt at consoling you still unsuccessful and just causing you to cry harder at the idea of having to see him walk away from you. You could already feel your heart being ripped out of your chest at the thought of being so far away from him.

Bucky was your reason for everything. Your reason for waking up. Your reason for going outside. Your reason for getting pretty and put together. You did it all for him and because of him. To say Bucky was your soulmate was the understatement of the century. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You say as if you haven’t already a million times since he got his deployment orders.

You both remember that day well. The day you found out he’d be leaving. That he’d be leaving you.

_____

You were shivering as you stood in front of the movie theater looking up and down the block for the boy who planned this date. It was a cold December night and Bucky had offered to meet you for a date to see a new film that night at six o’clock. At least you swore it was tonight. You wrote it down in your calendar as soon as you planned it and you triple checked the day, so you knew you were right.

The wind whipped around you as you hugged your coat tighter around your frame. It was getting dark, and you were alone with no way of knowing where your boyfriend was.

“Excuse me, do you have the time?” You leaned forward to ask an older couple walking slowly past you. They were walking hand and hand and almost didn’t hear what you asked because they were so enthralled by their conversation. “It’s half past six dear.” The older gentleman gave you a slight nod and a soft smile after looking at his watch. You glanced back at them as they strolled down the block together, your heart swelling up at the love in their faces. It gave you hope that you and Bucky would be like that one day.

If you didn’t kill him first for flaking on your date.

Bucky had never, in the two years of dating, ever missed a date or arrived a minute late. Especially if he was meeting you somewhere, never wanting to risk you being alone in town for too long. If anything were to ever happen to you he would never forgive himself. He also knew how lucky he was to be with you and get to call you his so why would he ever miss even a second of getting to be with you? He’d be foolish to ever do something like that to you.

You started the walk back towards your street, stomping right past your house and going straight to Bucky’s. You marched up the steps, your feet feeling as heavy and stiff as bricks because of how cold you were. You knew his family was out of town, so you didn’t bother knocking and just walked right into the house.

The warmth that engulfed you immediately relaxed your muscles and gave you a moment of peace before you were reminded of why you were here in the first place. Your first instinct was to be mad at Bucky, ready to confront him and yell at him for letting you stand out in the harsh Brooklyn winter for over half an hour alone because he overslept or just flat out forgot about you. But another voice in the back of your head kept running through all the worst case scenarios of things that could have happened to him.

You tried not to think about those because you could not stand to entertain the idea that he could be hurt or missing or worse. But maybe that voice knew something you didn’t because the news you were about to receive may have been worse than the idea he was in the hospital with a broken leg.

After walking around the house for a minute you finally found the brunette. He was in the living room and sitting on the edge of the couch, slightly hunched over with his elbows on his knees. His head was resting in one of his hands, his fingers taking over the bottom half of his face as if he was trying to hide. The other was holding what looked like a letter, the opened envelope you assumed it came from was discarded on the floor by his feet.

He was dressed in a typical date night outfit, his coat and shoes on like he was just about to walk out the door before something stopped him. You slowly approached him, the floorboards creaking under your feet that would normally alert him to someone’s presence, but his eyes stayed stuck on the mysterious letter.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” Your voice cut through the silence of the room like a knife. Bucky turned towards you as he dropped the piece of paper and straightened his back out. You were met with bright red eyes filled with tears and rosy cheeks that he only ever got when he was stressed out. You were at his side in an instant and he fell into your arms as he started to let out soft sobs. Wrapping one arm around his large frame, your other reached out for the paper on the ground and brought it up to you.

“Selective Service of the United States of America To the attention of Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes

This letter contains your deployment date and information regarding mandatory military service due to the draft ordered by the President of the United States of America.”

It felt like your world came crashing down as you read through the letter, your own tears falling to mix with tears already on the page from Bucky just a few minutes ago. You knew plenty of your friends whose boyfriends have been shipped off already and you saw the misery they lived every day. You had already seen the military officials walk up to plenty of houses with only bad news. Every morning you read the newspaper with names of people lost. The idea of seeing Bucky’s name felt like it would end you.

“Baby, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry that I have to do this to you.” Bucky cried as if he was sadder for you that he had to leave rather than scared of going to war himself. He was about to walk out the door for your date, stopping to fix his hair in the reflection of the window when he saw two men in uniform walk up the steps.

The first thought he had wasn’t that he was scared to go to a foreign place or that he was going to have people shooting at him. It was that you’d be alone. He wouldn’t be here to protect you. Bucky thought about you sitting here waiting for him and putting your life on pause for him. Stunting yourself in honor of him. But an even worse, crueler thought that flashed through his mind was you moving on. Getting tired of being alone and forgetting all about him. He imagined you falling in love with someone else and living the life he wanted with you himself so badly.

The two of you sat together, crying in each other’s arms for hours as you promised a million things to each other. “I promise I will wait for you.” “I promise to come back to you.” “I promise to love you forever no matter what.” Your date was long forgotten as you moved to go to bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms, holding each other just as tight as you had on your first date when neither of you wanted to let go. Neither of you really fell asleep, but nightmares still flooded both of your thoughts as you watched the night turn into morning. _____

Bucky was now rocking you back and forth a bit as his eyes were locked on his uniform hanging in the closet. He has already gone over a thousand different scenarios where you and him run away together to start a new life on the run from his impending imprisonment. But every time he tried to entertain the idea you shut him down and changed the subject, not wanting to give into any sliver of false hope.

It stayed quiet between the two of you for the rest of the morning as you got ready together. You have done this so many times that you move so easily around each other, already knowing who will step where and when. Bucky handed you your hairbrush and you handed him his comb. Your fingers brushed during the exchange, and it gave you both the same tingly feeling you got when you held hands during a fire drill at school as kids. Small smiles and shoulder bumps were shared as you brushed your teeth next to each like you have for every morning since moving into together after high school.

You let out shaky breaths as Bucky zipped his camo green duffel bag closed and slung it over his shoulder. He was stood up straight and had a questioning look on his face as you stared him down. He gestured his eyes down and put his arm not holding his duffel straight out and did a slow spin. “So, how do I look? Is everything in order?” He had the smallest smirk creeping up on his lips as he fished for a compliment, knowing that despite the situation, you loved how he looked in his full military get-up.

“You look like my perfect military man.” You stepped towards him to plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips and gave him a forced smile before turning on your heels and leaving the room. Bucky’s face dropped a bit, the reminder of how hard this was for you hitting him in the gut. He knew you were trying your best to remain positive in front of him, but he felt helpless. Bucky prided himself on always being able to lift your spirits. When you had the flu, he kept you company with all your favorite snacks and watched all your television shows with you. And when you and your brother got into a fight about something stupid he let you vent everything out on your date that night and kept letting you order more milkshakes. He even held your hair back as you threw them all up in the toilet that night.

But as the two of you silently walked up to the line of buses waiting to whisk him away there was nothing he could have done to stop the wheels in your head that were turning at alarming rates. He watched as your eyes darted around to all the women crying in the hands of their own military men that they were about to bid a farewell to just like you. He watched young children hug their father’s goodbye before they stepped away. Moms and dads waving goodbye to their sons who barely looked 18. It was a horrible sight but nothing broke Bucky’s heart more than you looking up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks and nose red from how many times you have rubbed a handkerchief over it.

“Last names starting with A through C report to buses 1 and 2 in five minutes!” A voice yelled out over an intercom just as you and Bucky approached the parking lot. He handed his duffel over to man covered in medals and watched as it got thrown into a pile of identical ones. The internal countdown started in your mind as the last few moments with Bucky passed you by.

Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled you to the outside of the crowd, away from the loud roaring of the buses’ engines and the depressing sobs from every direction. Your eyes were drifting through the scene in front you again before Bucky grabbed your face on either side and pulled you back to him. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He whispered as he connected his eyes with yours and dropped his hands from your face to grab your hands from your sides.

“I wanted to ask you something before I leave. If you’ll let me.” His voice stayed low as he dug his hand in his pocket, his eyes still on yours the whole time. You watched as he took a step back from you and started to take a knee in front of you. Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you let out a gasp at the sight in front of you. As Bucky steadied himself, he was now holding a small black box in front you.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, “I know this is a little last minute, but I wanted this moment to have a happy component for us. I can’t let the last time you see me for a while be one of the worst moments of your life.” He let out a soft chuckle as he repeated the words you said a few days ago back to you. You had a few too many drinks and had gotten a little too honest with how much you had thought of your last moments together. You had already called this moment the worst moment of your life before it had even happened. But Bucky already seemed to have other plans to make sure that didn’t happen.

“I have loved you for so long I can’t remember what life was before. But a life without you is only allowed to exist in my nightmares because now that I have you I never want to let you go.” Bucky had opened the little black box to reveal a thin gold band with an oval diamond in middle and two smaller ones around it. It sparked in a way that was almost as beautiful as he thought you were.

“Every time I look at you, all I can think about is our future. And I know you think about our future a lot as well, but you focus so much on what can go wrong. I am just one ordinary man who got lucky enough to be with you so I can’t do much to change the future and change what might happen to us. But no matter what my future holds I know I want you in it.” There were tears streaming down both of your faces at this point, the sound of the minute warning for the buses drowned out in the background. “I don’t think I will ever know how a heart as beautiful and kind and smart as yours could ever find the room to love a messed up man like me, but I will spend the rest of this life trying to become worthy of even a fraction of your love.”

“But what I do know is that I am meant to be wherever you are. So, here I am, James Buchanan Barnes, asking you to marry me and promising you that I will come home to you and give you the life you deserve.”

It felt like your life together flashed before your eyes as you looked down at this man, who was looking up at you as if you were his everything. You felt the butterflies you got when he introduced himself to you for the first time and you got the shiver down your spine from when he touched your lower back trying to get past you at a party once. Every kiss and touch ghosted your whole body as you felt like you were starting to float.

And it also felt like your whole future came rushing at you too. Not the doomed one you often shared on late nights with Bucky when you couldn’t control your racing thoughts. Right now you could only see the moment you get reunited with him as you celebrate the end of the war in the streets. You saw a beautiful house in the suburbs where your kids ran around the backyard with the family dog and Bucky was grilling burgers for dinner as you prepped the salad and set the table. You imagined growing old together and reminiscing on this exact moment as you babysat grandkids.

Bucky eyes grew in size as he nervously glanced over to the men marching towards him, screaming his name and telling him to get a move on. He quickly stood to his feet and took the ring out of the box. He grabbed your left hand and hovered the ring on your finger.

“Don’t want to rush you baby but I kind of need an answer.” That smirk made its way to his face as you looked down at the ring shaking against your hand from Bucky’s own nerves. You already loved the way it looked against your skin and you heart raced knowing that everyone would now know that you were his and he was yours.

“Of course Bucky. I would marry you in every lifetime no matter what.” You rambled your words as fast you could before bringing your right hand to the back of Bucky’s neck and pulling him into you. As your lips connected he slid the ring on to your finger, making sure it sat snug before moving his hands to rest on your waist. Your left hand found your right as you pushed every emotion you could into the kiss. Your hands messed with the ends of hair that had fallen out of his hat and his hands gripped your waist in a way that made you feel like a woman.

In an instant he was ripped away from you and his hands left your waist as he was pulled towards the buses. Despite being taken away, Bucky had the goofiest smirk and lovestruck eyes as he watched you chase after him. His eyes glanced down at the ring sparkling on your finger and his heart swelled up. He knew that no matter what happened next you agreed to marry him and that was the most a man like him could ask for.

Bucky found a seat on the bus and joined the other men in pushing towards a window where he leaned out to reach out to you where you stood below him. He grabbed your hand one last time, his thumb rubbing over the ring he just gave you. He pulled it up to his mouth and left a light kiss on top of the ring just as the bus starting to pull away. You stood on that sidewalk and watched him fade away into the early morning sun, holding your left hand close to your heart.

[thorn-rosed]

A few days ago, I saw a post by Irene about Evan's fashion choices. This gave me the idea to elaborate and edplote the fashion of all the Rosier siblings. I believe that they all have their own individual styles, highly influenced by their childhood and personal experience with gender.

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Evan Rosier

As Irene already said, he is a man of fashion. I totally see him dress up in expensive suits to the most random and unimportant events, because what if someone important shows up? Also that's his way of showing a certain form of respect for whoever invited him. I believe that he got this from his mother. When he was a child, back in Finland, his mother sometimes put on her old dresses and gowns from her life in France. Evan always admired how beautiful and impressive she looked, as if she owned the world and could bring mountains down with a snap of her fingers. However, whenever he told her how beautiful she was, her responses were only "Don't be silly, these are only the traditional clothes of our family. One day you will own them yourself, after I've died." or similar. Evan never understood why she was so humble about it. He also never understood why she was sad when wearing them, she should be glowing with happiness. When the twins were forced to move to France after their parent's death, one of the only good things were the clothes. Finally Evan got to wear fancy clothes and look just as mighty and impressive as his mother. Therefore, his style is somewhat of a reminder of his mother.

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Pandora Rosier

While Evan was hanging onto their mother a lot, Pandora was a father's girl. He wasn't there often, but when he was, she spend as much time as possible with him. He teached her how to survive in the wild, how to make food out of the simplest things and how to apply logic to the things you know in order to create new ones. Just as his connection with nature, Benjamin's clothing style got carried on my his daughter. Pandora grew up to wear simple but effective clothes: Warm sweaters, long and thick trousers and boots in winter; airy skirts and tops paired with a thin jacket in summer. She certainly has an eye for style and loves to style her brother(s), yet for her own clothes she chooses comfortability and functionality over looks and appearance. If its an important event, there are enough fancy dresses and suits in her closet to make proper outfits, but she would never wear them unless she has to. I also imagine that Pandora has pockets and places to out things in all of her outfits. She hates the idea of handbags, they only get in the way. If the outfit doesnt have pockets by itself, she sews them on. If its really fancy and would look horrendous with pockets, she puts on pocket garters. They can't be seen underneath he dress and function perfectly.

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Felix Rosier

Felix is interesting, he grew up without his parents' influence, got raised to dress properly to formal events and always look good. Despite always having a decent suit and other outfits, he is horrible at style. That man has no idea what looks good together, and if Evan and Pandora wouldn't interfere every few days his reputation would be runined, because "No Felix, you can't wear bright red and purple together, for the love of god!". Despite his siblings giving him advice and offering him their old clothes, he prefers to buy them himself. His wardrobe is the typical straight-guy-wardrobe. A bunch of sweaters, some shirts with neutral print... In my head, Felix is a Volleyballer, so he also has many sport clothes. Shorts are one of his favourite thing in the world, and he'll even wear them during winter (much to his siblings' despair), even if he gets a cold from it. But in general, he doesnt stand out much, except for the fact that his formal clothes are expensive as hell. Felix doesn't have the same taste for brands as Evan, he doesn't care if its Gucci, Prada or whatever, he cant even difference them.

[copia]

THIRTY-ONE DAYS OF GHOST ⛧ DAY FOUR

favourite song from Infestissumam — Year Zero

Hell—an archaic Swedish translation of hail. Archangelo, the Italian name for an Archangel, for whom we will bow in praise; hail Satan, and welcome, with the birth of the Antichrist, an age with which humanity's calendar will begin again.

[dizzybevvie]

boy how do you reblog such great things

been cultivating my dash for years. i also found most of them in my drafts

[leclerc-hs]

romantic chocolates? - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader summary: in which you and your best friends brother accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolate OR you and oscar get so fucking horny while on a yacht in the Maldives. warnings: smut smut smut, all smut basically. oral, p in v, dirty talk, language, marking kink, slight voyeruism, exhibitionism??, not sure what else...NOT PROOFREAD! (might be some typos) word count: ~3.9k author's note: SURPRISEEEE ITS OUT EARLY (I worked hard over the weekend lol) hope you guys enjoy!! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OSCAR EVERRRR (aside from a one shot i've had sitting in my drafts for months lol) comment and let me know what you think!!! xoxo

ln4 cl16 mv1 op81 cs55

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You’ve always had a sweet tooth.

Everyone knew it. Oscar especially. He used to tease you over it when you were younger. Would point out when your fingers were sticky with something sugary.

He never said it unkindly. Just amused. Soft. Something like you’ve got chocolate on your face and then passed you a napkin you didn’t ask for.

He’s always been like that. Gentle. Kind. The boy who was never loud. More of a listener than a speaker.

And he never made you feel silly. Not when you cried after falling off your bike and scraped your knee. Not when your towel slipped. Not even when you accidentally spilled juice all over your shirt on a long flight. He just handed you a new one from his backpack like he knew it’d happen. 

You’d grown up like that. 

And now here you were, years later. Sunburned and salty on a private yacht in the Maldives, still with a sweet tooth and one of his old McLaren shirts he gave you when he first got signed. Pulled over your bikini.

His sister, your best friend, left on in the morning for a tour with the rest of the group. Something about history and snorkeling. You’d both waved your hands declining. Something about being too burned and too sleepy for it. 

“She’s going to get bored halfway through,” You sip on your drink. “Probably will call us in two hours.”

Oscar gives you a shrug. “I give her one.”

“She said it was a once in a lifetime experience.” You throw up your hands while repeating her words. Mocking her almost. Smiling.

“So is sitting here.”

And you laugh.

He’s sitting across from you, towel slung around the back of his neck, sun catching his shoulders. His hair is damp. Skin flushed from the sun. No shirt. Just a pair of swim shorts and bare feet.

You shift slightly where you are. Curled up in the shade. Bare legs stretched out. The oversized shirt clinging to you just a little too much where your bikini top was wet.

He glances at you when you move. Doesn’t speak. Just tracks it with his eyes. And looks away again.

His hand reaches for the table. “What’s this?”

You look over. 

A little box. Dark. Red ribbon wrapped around it.

“Some welcome thing, I think.” You shrug. “Dropped it off yesterday.”

Oscar pulls the lid open, brows lifting. He picks up a wrapped square, amused.

“Well, well.” He says, looking at you. “Your kryptonite.”

You grin. “Shut up.”

“You gonna pretend you didn’t spot this the second we sat down?”

“I did not.”

He tilts his head, giving you a look.

“Mm, you’ve got that look.” He says.

“What look?”

“The one you used to get before stealing cupcakes at birthday parties.”

You roll your eyes, but blush. Cheeks reddening. “I did not steal…”

“You did.” He cuts you off. Already unwrapping one of the chocolates. “Always had sugar on your hands. Icing on the corner of your lips.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he tosses a piece toward you.

You catch it.

You watch him bring the chocolate to his mouth, tongue darting over his lip without thinking.

Peel open your piece and press it to your tongue. It melts fast. Rich. 

You hum, licking a smear of it off your finger. “That’s actually really good.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

You glance up and catch him mid-swipe across his bottom lip. Looking dazed. Distracted.

Then he blinks, clears his throat. And nods. “Yeah, pretty good.”

He closes the lid of the box, slides it to the side. Then leans back, looking at the water.

And you sit there with him. Across from him on the cushioned benches. Chewing slowly. Feeling that heat bloom beneath your skin.

It’s soft at first.

Then deeper.

A warmth in your chest. A pulse between your thighs.

The wind sweeps your skin. And the fabric of your bikini suddenly feels too damp. Too thin. Too tight.

You swallow. Trying not to fidget.

Oscar hasn’t moved much. His gaze is still on the ocean, but it isn’t really. And you watch the way his jaw flexes. The way his foot shifts on the deck. Like he was grounding himself.

He doesn’t look at you.

And he always looks at you. 

You shift again. Cross your ankles. Press your thighs together.

You glance at Oscar again.

And his lips are parted. Just a little bit. And his brow is slightly furrowed.

You sit up slightly. “You okay?”

He shifts. Then clears his throat, blinking. “Yeah. Just…hot.”

You nod slowly. “Same.”

He leans forward, breathes out. But his fingers twitch. And you notice as his back muscles roll slightly as he drops his head down, towel slipping down.

He stays like that for a few seconds. Then rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

His voice is quiet. Flat. “What was in that chocolate?”

You don’t answer right away. Because you’re fucking throbbing now. And your bikini is definitely soaked.

“Do you feel…” He swallows, throat bobbing. “Strange?”

You nod. And then remember he isn’t even looking at you. “Yeah.”

His jaw clenches.

He shifts again. Still not looking at you. And that’s how you know something is wrong.

Because he never acts like this. 

You’ve seen him flustered, sure. After a race, dealing with the media, around too many people. But never like this. Not this tense. As if he’s afraid.

“I didn’t think chocolate could….fuck.” His voice cracks. And he laughs under his breath. 

He grips the bench. Looking like he’s in pain.

“I think I need to go inside.”

And he stands too fast. Towel falling down. Hands clenched at his sides as he turns on bare feet and walks toward the main cabin.

You stare at his back. His shoulders. And he disappears down the stairs.

You’re so hot that you could cry. Unbearable.

You press your palm flat to your stomach. Like it’ll help.

But it doesn’t.

Because it’s not just the chocolate. 

It’s him. Oscar.

Gone for less than a minute and his voice is the only thing in your head. The way his mouth looked when he licked the chocolate off his thumb. His hands. The muscles of his back straining as he leaned forward

The silence stretches heavy.

You make a quiet sound in your throat. Barely audible. And you can’t sit still. Can barely think. Can’t stop seeing him.

Your hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt. You’re hesitant at first. But then trail your fingers to the center of your ache.

And your hips lift off the cushion. A heavy breath escaping.

Your other hand grips the bench as you rock slowly against your own fingers. Over the bikini. Slow circles. Each one, pressing harder.

You let your head fall back. And the sky above is almost blinding.

“Oscar…”

You don’t even realize you said it out loud. It just slips. 

And a few moments later, you don’t even hear him come back. Your fingers still at your bikini. Rubbing.

You lift your head. He’s there.

Flushed. Hair ruffled like he ran his fingers through it a million times. Eyes fixed between your legs like he’s in some sort of trance.

He just stares. Doesn’t even speak.

“I can’t stop,” You whisper. Honest.

“You’re…” He blinks. Voice low. Stunned. Like he just walked into his favorite fantasy and doesn’t know what to do. “You’re fucking touching yourself?”

You nod. And he groans.

“To me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” You whisper.

“Jesus.” His hands twitch at his sides.

You shift, spreading your legs a little wider without meaning to. Unable to stop rubbing the tight circles.

“You look so pretty like that,” He mutters.

You tremble. “I need help.”

And his eyes widen.

“Please,” you whisper. “I can’t…Osc, please.”

He groans. Hands dropping to the front of his swim shorts, palming the hard line of his cock through the fabric.

“Come closer.” You plead.

And he stares at you with wide eyes. Flushed. He doesn’t move. At least, he doesn’t at first.

But then his gaze drops back down to your legs. Spread open. Your fingers rubbing slow, desperate circles. And his hands twitch.

“I…” He says, but he’s already squeezing himself. “I shouldn’t.”

“Oscar…”

“I shouldn’t be seeing this,” his mutters. “And I shouldn’t be this fucking hard.”

Your eyes fall to where his hand squeezes against his cock. Like he’s trying to fight the ache between his legs.

And you whimper. Hips jerking. “I can’t. I need….I need help.”

His hand squeezes himself tighter.

“Fuck.” A pause. A few silent moments of heated stares. “Do you know how many times I used to think about this?”

His voice has gone rough. And you blink at him. Heart stuttering.

“I used to jerk off in my room and feel sick after,” He whispers. “Because it was you. My sister’s best friend. Always walking around in those tiny shorts. That blue bikini. Always so fucking sweet.”

Your fingers slow. Jaw falls slack.

“I’ve thought about it,” His voice shakes. “Fuck. I’ve thought about this. When we were younger.”

Your breath hitches.

“Thought about your pussy more than I should’ve.” He mutters. “Wondered how soft you’d feel. How tight. If you’d let me take my time or if you’d beg me to fuck you rough.”

Your back arches.

“Wondered what you’d sound like when you come.” He continues. “If it’s all breathy. Or if you’d cry. If you’d say my name.”

“I’d press the pillow over my face after so no one would hear me,” He admits. “Every time.”

You gasp.

“I would.” You gasp.

His hand pushes harder into his cock. Groaning. “I’ve thought about fucking you with my tongue. Holding your legs and licking you for hours.”

You press your fingers even harder.

You whimper, other hand reading for a pillow or something to grab onto. “Osc, please.”

“You want my fingers?” He whispers. “Right here? Want me to fuck you with my hand?”

You nod. Repeatedly. Fast. Almost pathetic.

Oscar lets out a whimper. And then he’s kneeling in front of you before you can blink. Hand still pressing into his cock. The other trembling as his fingers brush your thigh.

“You’re so warm.”

Your hand falls away and he replaces it instantly. Pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric. Groans loudly when he feels it.

“Fuck, pretty…” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ dripping.”

And then he pushes the fabric aside, stares. Pupils blown. “God, look at you…"

You shake your head. “Please.”

“I’ve thought about sliding my fingers into you since I was seventeen,” He pushes them in. Half-laughing. “Thought about curling them deep and slow….hearing you moan just like that.”

Oscar swears under his breath, leaning closer. Jaw locked tight. “I’d keep you like this for hours if I could. Legs spread and needy….mine to play with.”

You cry out. Rocking your hips.

And he curls his fingers. Watching your face.

“Yeah?” His thumb circles your clit now. Slow. “Right there? Knew I’d find it.”

And you careen forward. Hands flying to grab his shoulders.

“Come for me,” He mutters. “Right here. In my fucking shirt. On my yacht. On my fingers.”

And you do.

Hard.

And he watches every second. His lips parted. Cock throbbing.

And then he drags his fingers out of you slow.

Brings them to his mouth. 

Licks them clean. Eyes locked on yours.

“Taste better than I ever dreamed,” He says softly.

And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck. Pulling your lips to his. Kissing you like he’s starving.

His tongue licks your mouth like its his. Like he already knows how to pull those sounds out of you and wants to hear every single one. 

And his hands slip down your body. Down your shoulders, over your ribs. Brushing the dip of your waist. Until he’s gripping your thighs.

“Wanna see bruises here,” He says. “Want people to see bruises and know.”

He stays kneeling between you, chest heaving.

“You’re soaking, baby.” His voice cracks.

He leans forward. Kissing your inner thigh. And then opens his mouth, sucking hard. Pulling a moan from you.

You feel the bruise forming as he licks over it. Sucks it again. Fingers pressing into your skin, gripping it.

“That’s one,” He mutters. 

He leaves another one. Higher. 

Then a third on the other leg. Right by your cunt. So close that it makes your hips jerk into his mouth.

And then he’s standing. Grabbing you under your thighs. And lifts you. 

Laying you down on the table. The welcome basket crashes onto the deck with a thud, but neither of you acknowledge it. The box of chocolates dangling on the edge.

He grabs it.

“What are you doing?” You ask. Breathless.

He doesn’t answer. Opens the box, takes out a single piece and holds it up. Gaze dropping down to your cunt spread open for him.

“Need to taste you with this,” He mutters.

He leans over you. Pressing the chocolate between your lips. “Bite.”

You do.

The sun’s hot against your skin.

And then he kisses you hard. Tongue lapping against yours, sharing the chocolate. You both moan and groan into each other before he’s dropping back to his knees.

“Look at you,” He breathes. “All messy. Want my mouth, baby?”

You nod.

And he leans in. Licks you.

One long drag up your slit.

You cry out. And he groans into your cunt. Licking you. Tasting you.

“Fuckin heaven.” He drags a hand to your leg. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

“Oscar…”

He doesn’t stop. Just hooks his arm under your thigh, and pulls you closer to the edge. Legs over his shoulder.

And buries his face in your pussy.

You grind into him instantly. Chasing every flick of his tongue.

Your hands fist into his hair, dragging his face closer against you. And he moans. Wrecked.

“Fuck,” you yell. “Oscar…oh my…fuck.”

He drags his tongue through you. Flicking your clit over and over.

“Keep fucking my face,” his voice is hot.

“You sound…my God..Oscar, you sound obsessed..”

“I am.” He grunts. Fingers curling in you as he nudges your clit with his nose.

And then he pulls one arm away. You barely notice it. Until you hear it and look down.

He’s got his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it fast. Leaking.

He jerks his cock faster. Hips twitching into his own fist as his mouth works harder against you. 

“Gonna come,” he confesses. “Gonna come from tasting you.”

You cry out.

“C’mon…” He urges. “Let me taste it, yeah?” 

And it breaks you.

You moan into the open sky. Grinding against his face. Jaw slack. Eyes squeezed shut.

And then he groans, standing up and comes hard onto your cunt. 

Hot, messy ropes of it. Spilling over you. 

And then he’s dragging you off the table without a word. Not giving you time to even breathe. Panting. 

His hands tight around you, and then he’s spinning you. Forcing you to face the ocean. Chest hitting the metal railing. 

And he’s behind you. Silent.

You start to turn your head, “Oscar…?”

“No.” He says. Voice rough. “Stay just like that.”

His hands drag your shirt up. Slow.

His name in bold letters stretched across your back.

He groans. Violently.

“I should’ve fucked you in this years ago.”

Your breath falters.

“Fucking knew it,” He grabs a fistful of the shirt, twisting his hand in it. “Knew one day you’d bend over in this and I’d lose my fucking mind.”

You feel the heat of his body behind you, shoving your bottoms down with one swift flick of his hand. Cock thick and heavy. Dragging through your folds, collecting his come and your wetness.

He groans. You shake.

He presses forward, hips rocking against you. Grinding into your thighs.

“You’ve no idea what you look like.” His breath is heavy behind you. “Bent over. My name on your back. Come still dropping down your cunt.”

And you bite your lip. Arching into him harder.

One hand grips your hip, the other fisted around the shirt.

“You wore this shirt for years like it meant nothing,” His voice quieter. Mean. “Didn’t think about what it did to me every time you wore it.”

“Osc…” You attempt to say his name, but he shifts his hips into you harder and your voice cracks.

He laughs.

“Now look at you. Dripping all over me. Wearing my name like you belong to me.”

He sinks in slow. So slow that you feel every pulse. Every ridge. 

And you whimper. He groans behind you. Like he’s in pain. Like he’s trying so hard to not ravish you.

But when his hips meet you, and he’s bottomed out. He just….stops.

Breathes in heavily.

“Fuck.” He says soft. “You’re so fucking tight around me.”

His fingers dig into your hip even harder. Bruising. Marking.

“You’ve ruined me,” He laughs. “Y’know that?”

And you don’t even get a chance to answer.

Because he pulls back and slams into you. Hard.

You cry out, hands gripping the railing that your knuckles turn white.

His pace isn’t gentle at all. It’s feral.

“Fucking ruined me,” He says again. “You in this shirt….you in my fucking name..do you even know what that does to me?”

You moan. So loud. And his hips smack into you. Over and over.

“You’ve been walkin’ around in it for years.” He spits. “Like it’s nothing.”

He thrusts deep, angling his hips at a better angle. “Like I haven’t been dreaming of fucking you in it since I gave it to you all those years ago.”

You’re babbling now. Unable to breathe properly. Your entire body trembling.

His hand slips from your hip and slides up your spine. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down. Just a little bit harder. Forces you to arch even more.

And fuck, he nearly collapses when he feels you clench tighter around him.

“You should see yourself,” He grunts. “Squeezing around me like you’re desperate to never let me go.”

And he’s lost all rhythm. He’s just slamming into you. Cock so deep. 

“Can’t believe this is real.” He’s panting. “Can’t believe I get to fuck you in my shirt. Pussy covered in me.”

Your orgasm is close. And you’re shouting. Moaning. 

"Bet she'd lose her mind if she knew what a slut you were f'me..."

You cry out. He feels you teetering on the edge. 

“Don’t.” He snaps.

And you cry, “Oscar…please.”

“You’re gonna wait.” He demands, fucking into you more rapidly. 

And he’s losing his mind. It’s sooo good. 

“Say who’s inside you.” His hands squeeze the back of your neck. “Say it.”

You gasp. Jaw falling slack. Chest pressed harsh into the metal railing. “You…Osc..fuck, it’s  so good..”

You sob out his name and Oscar fucking snaps.

“That’s it, baby.” 

His hips hit you faster. Deeper. The filthy sound of it heard over the waves lapping the hull. 

You sob into the railing. 

He leans into you, head falling forward.

“Gonna come,” He chokes out. “Gonna come right inside you. Stuff you full. Let it leak out.”

And you break.

Orgasm ripping through you. Violent and hot. Back arching so hard into him. You sob out his name. Your walls clenching around him in a tight grip.

And he crashes with you. Body shuddering. Cock throbbing. Spilling into you.

He’s still panting against you when he pulls out. And it’s a fucking mess in between your thighs.

But before you can say anything, he’s dragging you upright. And you’re stumbling as he drags you across the hot deck. Hand across your stomach. Keeping you close.

And then he’s shoving you into the rinse off shower.

He reaches up. Turns the handle. And the water is so cold that you gasp from it.

Oscar laughs behind you. “Too cold?”

Your head falls onto his shoulder. “Asshole.”

And then he turns the temperature warmer, and then it’s all steam and heat again. 

You expect him to rinse you off gently.

Instead, he grabs the shower head. Detaches it from the hook. And pulls your back against his chest.

“Gonna clean you up.”

You’re about to ask what exactly he means. But then he;;s nudging your legs apart. Brings the shower head straight to your cunt. 

And you jolt forward with a sharp cry.

The heat. The pressure.

“Oh my god…Osc,” You’re mumbling.

And he watches you. Holding one leg to keep them apart.

“Stay open,” his voice is soft. “Wanna see you come again.”

And you whimper. Begging. “Too much…fuck.”

But he doesn’t stop. Just tilts the shower head just right. Hitting your clit.

“Thought I’d have to work harder for this,” He mutters. “But you’re soaking already.”

“Fuck…fuck.”

"Y'like this, hm?" He whispers into your ear. "Being used like some filthy secret?"

Your hands reach behind you and slip their way into his hair. Pulling it. He groans. Rutting his hips into your backside for some friction.

“C’mon, pretty.” He grunts. 

And the water just keeps hitting you. 

You sob. And then crash again.

Your legs shake. Cunt clenching around nothing.  But he holds you up, turning you to face him. Pressing your back against the wall.

He finally sets the shower head down. Lets it spray onto the deck. 

And then his hands are back on you. One at your lower back, one gripping your thigh, pulling it up to wrap at his waist. You balance on one leg.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Y’okay?” His voice gentle. Caring.

And you nod, pressing your head into his neck. And his heart stutters when you lean into him. Like he can finally breathe.

“I’ve got you,” He whispers.

And then, he sinks back into you.

Slow. Gentle.

Your mouth falls open. The stretch still almost unbearable after everything. But the way he slides in, feels too fucking good.

You gasp. Digging your nails into his skin. And he cradles you against the wall.

He moves slow. Rocking. No rhythm. And he feels massive. Thick. 

“Oscar,” You hush into his skin. “You feel…Y’feel so good.”

He nods. “I know, baby. I know.” And his voice is a whisper. 

He grinds deeper. Barely moving but pressing into you. “Can’t believe you’re still this wet…” He grunts. “Still want more? Want me to stuff you full again, hm? Fuck you til it leaks down?”

You nod. Mouth open. Moaning.

“C’mon,” He pants. Hips jerking. Cock throbbing. 

It’s quick. The feel of you wrapped around his cock. The overstimulation of the stretch.

You both come quick. Crying out into each other’s skin. Soft kisses in between the moans.

And then you’re both laughing. Smiling at one another.

-

“Holy shit…I’m dying.” Your best friend announces. “Never let me go on another tour ever ever again.” 

Oscar snorts from beside you on the bench, looking at his phone. “Told you you’d hate it.”

“You didn’t say I’d almost drown.”

You keep your face still. Sipping your drink.

And she plops down on the lounger across the deck, sighing.

And for a moment…it’s quiet.

Until Oscar leans in slightly, elbow brushing your arm.

His voice low. “Y’think she noticed?”

You glance at him. Shake your head.

“She’s never been less observant,” You whisper back.

And he grins. One of those fuck-you grins that makes you stutter.

And you hold back a smile.

Your best friend groans across the deck. “God, I feel disgusting. Should we order dinner in an hour?”

Oscar clears his throat. ���Sure.”

“Yeah,” You say.

And then you lean, just slightly, into his side. Just enough that his thigh is touching yours again. 

He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t stop smiling.

"Hey, what happened to the welcome basket?"

Oops? taglist (holy shit SO MANY OF YOU ILY): @landoscarinthefastlane @dudenhaaa27 @330bpm-whiplash @xoln04f1xo @sainzluvrr @minjiahyung @madicecream123 @star73807-blog @simpfortoomanymen @art-h1ve @annaswrites00 @forumlabee @butterfly-daisies07 @nothereneverherever @widow-cevans @suns3treading @fmejenson @megatrilss1885 @10iceicebaby @sh1nedreamsm1le7 @ptrickbateman @chasingosc @uuoozzii @idkwtdwml123 @pinkdeadtopia @chiara8104 @ellie-bellie-29 @piastri-my-boy @1-of-my-many-obsessions @8junejpg1 @jaydensluv @astrlape @idontknow0704 @whistlef0rthechoir @op814kitty @asmoothoperator @illicit-affcirs @lilith-123321 @teddybearbeth @saudianna @skylyn-vais @fleurdangz @angxedxtz @marekmybeloved @liafics @dxrlxb @gabyasworld @treebranch23 @drysdalesv @morganalatina21 @bigcatharmony @ilovemuppets @acina27 @angelabunbun @megatrilss1885 @ilikecarsalotsometimes @roxanne-ragnvindr @euphoriapillz @luminouskalopsia @trinity2058 @livsturnioloo @wdsara48 @ini3103 @shimmermotorsport @marslovesran4eva @wherethezoes-at @monsterdesandia @mythicalmaven @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @ella284-3 @landossainz @redcrescentmoons @jaeger-chan @altaccount283927 @ericasdumbworld @aerie717 @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ysavelelelel @phillza-my-beloved @thenalovescars @zicosbitch @scaroscar8115 @wertyuizxcvbnm @needy02 @dessashippr @quill-vy @o6hellnah @enchantedwaspwhisper @awesome-fandom-panda @biancathecool @lilorose25 @wowzees (not sure if all these worked but I took them straight from my comments on the sneak peak)

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[mangooes]

4 AM habits

The mansion was always silent at night, save for the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. Sylus knew this silence well—it was the sound of the world before chaos awakened. From 12 AM to 4 AM, he became the feared leader of Onychinus, ruler of the N109 Zone, overseeing the dark underbelly of the city.

But ever since he married his beloved, his nights ended differently.

She always went to bed before he left, just as he made sure she did. He would tuck her in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, whispering nothing short of sweet dreams, before vanishing into the night. Yet, no matter how quiet he was upon returning, he always found her waiting for him.

She never waited in their bed.

Instead, she sat on the staircase, facing the front door, curled up with a pillow in hand. Some nights, she sat there half-asleep, blinking drowsily at the entrance. Other nights, when he was later than usual, she had already slumped against the railing, fast asleep.

Tonight was no different.

As Sylus pushed open the doors of the mansion, his crimson gaze immediately landed on her delicate figure. Her body curled into itself, her breathing slow, her slippers slightly askew. She must have sat there for a while, waiting.

His heart clenched.

With practiced ease and a shake of his head, Sylus stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms, lifting her effortlessly. She stirred slightly but did not wake.

"You stubborn little kitten..." he murmured against her temple, his voice thick with affection. One arm secured around her, the other reached for her slippers, carrying them as if they were just as precious.

He carried her back to their bedroom, cradling her against his chest. As he gently placed her on the bed, she shifted, instinctively reaching for him, burying her face into his warmth.

Sylus exhaled, brushing a stray curl from her face before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, then her forehead, then her fingers.

His voice softened to a whisper, words meant only for her, even in sleep.

"Sweetie… you really don’t have to wait for me."

And yet, she always did.

Here you go! another one from my drafts akjdnkjasd, this was acctually from my mc's real hc i just made it to a short fic, because we love soft soft softie sylus!

[cheftsunoda]

my boyfriend’s pretty cool but he’s not as cool as me

smau

oscar piastri x !dancer reader

lando norris x best friend reader

in which lando’s childhood best friend is one of the most well known dancer’s/choreographer’s in the world— she has choreographed tours for beyonce, kendrick lamar, sza—etc— when she comes to visit lando in the paddock during a tour break—a certain teammate catches her eye—it leaves the internet and lando baffled on how he managed to pull her.

—

hello guys— I am busy working on secrets rn but I had this in my drafts and figured I’d give you guys something while you wait. requests are always open pookies 💋

—

fc : pamela hughes

—

yourusername

gnx tour 📍

liked by lando, lewishamilton, kendricklamar & 4,324,396 others.

yourusername : gnx tourrrr mamassss!! massive thank you to kenny and solana for giving me the opportunity to not only dance on this tour but to choreograph a huge majority of it — I love you both and you both have been such a huge inspiration to me <3 this has been one of the best opportunities of my life and i am so grateful every single day.

lando : bub!!!! this is so huge! so so proud of you

liked by author

yourusername : love you lan!! see you soon 💋

liked by lando

username: omgomg yn paddock appearance??

liked by author and lando

username2 : are her and lando dating??

username : they are childhood besties

lewishamilton : Absolutely incredible. Love to see it 🖤

liked by author

yourusername : thank you lewis!! so excited to see you

liked by lewishamilton

sza : love you and your beautiful soul sooooo much🦋 you are such an incredible talent and i wouldn’t want anyone else to do the job

liked by author

yourusername : love you forever and ever — the most special angel 🐞

kikagomes : i have been DYING to see you again— come to alpine?🥹

liked by author

alpinef1team : pleaseeeeee

liked by author

mclaren : she stays with us.

yourusername : you guys can share me,, i want to see my keeks😻

liked by kikagomes

alexandrasaintmleux : sooooo proud of you! cant wait to see you mon ange

liked by author

yourusername : my heartttt ily

kendricklamar : The best in the business. All the love for you.

liked by author

yourusername : the GOAT. thank you for believing in me.

username : when you get back from tour will you start master classes again???

liked by author

yourusername : absolutely! so excited to teach again!

oscarpiastri : Excited to meet you, finally. Big fan of your work.

liked by author

yourusername : same to you oscar! seems you’re having a stellar season so far😎

liked by oscarpiastri

lando : osc trying to be sly 😁

oscarpiastri : leave lando

—

lando added a post to his story!

seen by mclaren, oscarpiastri , charles_leclerc & 2,368,296 others.

charles_leclerc : alex said to tell you to hurry up and hand her over

lando : bro all she is talking about is your girlfriend it’s like she didn’t even miss me — driving her over now 😔

charles_leclerc : yay my wife 😚😚💋💋 - alex

oscarpiastri : She’ll be in the paddock tomorrow?

lando : yes lover boy she will

oscarpiastri: Shut up, Lando. I’m just preparing myself to meet the girl version of you.

lando : sureeeee😁

—

The air was thick with salt and heat—Miami’s signature cocktail. Palm trees leaned toward the track like eager fans, and the bass of engines vibrated beneath the soles of my sneakers as I stepped out of the black car. The paddock swarmed with movement: crew members, journalists, influencers dressed like it was fashion week, and the ever-present scent of gasoline and competition.

I kept my hood up—not because I needed to hide, but because it felt surreal being here, back in his world. Tour life had been nonstop: Tokyo, Berlin, São Paulo. Sold-out shows. Headlines. Backstage chaos. But I hadn’t seen Lando in person in almost a year. Not since that night we sat on the rooftop in Monaco, passing a bag of chips and talking about everything except our careers.

Now I was here, finally. And I was nervous. Which was ridiculous. He was Lando. My best friend since we were seven. The one who dared me to audition for my first dance academy. The one who called me right before my first solo show, whispering “You’ve got this,” like it was a promise.

A buzz passed through the paddock crowd. I looked up.

There he was.

Walking straight toward me with that grin—lazy, lopsided, utterly him. His race suit tied around his waist, curls messy, eyes sharp behind the sunglasses he pulled off the second he saw me.

“You actually came.”

His voice broke through the noise, and in that moment, the engines, the cameras, the heat—it all melted away.

“You think I’d miss you racing in Miami?” I dropped my bag just in time for him to scoop me into a hug that lifted me off the ground.

“You’re heavier than you used to be,” he joked, squeezing me tighter.

“I’m stronger than I used to be,” I fired back, laughing.

He set me down but didn’t let go. “God, I missed you.”

I pulled back enough to see his face—flushed, sun-kissed, and that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “You look good,” I said.

“So do you. Better, actually. Must be that stage lighting.” He poked my shoulder. “Or maybe all those standing ovations.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been watching the shows?”

“Every one I could— bits and pieces on tik tok. You kill every performance. Kendrick’s lucky to have you.” He paused, then added more quietly, “But I’m luckier.”

A silence hung between us, not awkward, but heavy with years of shared history. All the missed birthdays, the FaceTimes from hotel rooms, the stupid memes sent at 2 a.m. We’d grown up and grown famous—but we’d never grown apart.

“You look like you’re in your element,” I said, gesturing toward the chaos of the paddock.

“I am. But,” he tilted his head, “it’s better now.”

“Because of me?”

“Because you’re here,” he said, like it was obvious. “You always show up when it counts.”

He slung an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. I want to show you the garage—and maybe steal you for the driver’s parade tomorrow. You know, if you’re not busy headlining the world.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “Lead the way, Norris.”

And as we walked deeper into the paddock, the sound of engines roared louder—but nothing drowned out the quiet, steady rhythm of coming home.

—

The McLaren garage was a different kind of chaos. Engineers speaking in quick bursts. Monitors flickering with data that looked like hieroglyphs to me. The hum of focus in the air—pure, precise.

Lando led the way, his voice cutting through the noise as he introduced me to the crew like I was royalty. “She’s family,” he kept saying, and they all nodded like they already knew. Maybe they did. Cameras followed us, but I was used to that. It was the vibe in here that threw me—intense, but somehow… inviting.

And then he walked in.

Helmet tucked under his arm, race suit half-zipped. Brown hair slightly tousled, brows knit in thought until he glanced up—and saw me.

Oscar Piastri.

I knew the name, of course. Rookie no more. Calm, clinical, fast as hell. Lando had talked about him in that complicated way he talks about people he respects but also wants to beat. But he hadn’t mentioned that Oscar was… cute. Unfairly cute. And tall. And had dimples, which—honestly—should be illegal.

Lando grinned wider, catching the pause. “Oscar! Come meet the real star of the weekend.”

Oscar looked between us, a little cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he was about to be pranked. “There she is,” he said with a smile, offering a hand. “Lando has told me so much about you.”

I blinked at him, then laughed. “And Lando told me you are ‘weirdly good at not talking.’”

He smirked—dimples on full display. “That sounds accurate.”

Our handshake lingered. Just long enough for both of us to realize it. Then we dropped hands quickly, both pretending not to notice.

“I saw the Brazil show,” Oscar said. “It was… unreal.”

“You watched it?” I tilted my head, a little surprised.

“Lando made me. Then I watched the rest on my own.” He shrugged, trying to look casual. Failing slightly. “You move like you’re not even human.”

“Neither do you,” I said before I could stop myself.

His eyes flicked up to mine—surprised. A slow smile. “Touché.”

I was suddenly very aware of how close we were standing. Of how good he smelled—something clean and sharp, like adrenaline and fresh laundry. I crossed my arms, needing to do something with them.

Lando narrowed his eyes like he was watching a tennis match. “Am I interrupting something here, or…?”

Oscar stepped back half a step. I did too. Guilty.

“Not at all,” I said, way too fast.

“Definitely not,” Oscar echoed.

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Right. Okay. I’m gonna go check tire data. You two—try not to combust or whatever that was.”

He walked off, muttering something about “chemistry I did not authorize,” and I turned back to Oscar, trying not to smile too hard.

“So,” I said, shifting on my feet. “Is this where you pretend to be mysterious and brooding, or are you gonna show me what a car looks like up close?”

Oscar grinned. “Depends. Are you impressed by carbon fiber and too many buttons?”

I smirked. “Try me.”

He led me toward the car, gesturing like a tour guide. I followed, but my heart was beating faster than it should’ve been for a garage tour. There was something about the way he moved—confident but careful. Like he was always thinking two steps ahead.

“You know,” he said over his shoulder, “Lando said you were off-limits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did he now?”

Oscar glanced back, and his smile was downright dangerous. “Yeah. I’m terrible at listening.”

—

The party was still going—somewhere behind the hospitality suites, i could hear the bass thumping, people shouting, champagne spraying. But Oscar wasn’t there.

I found him behind the McLaren garage, sitting on the edge of a stacked tire rack, still in his fireproofs, hair damp, champagne-stained suit unzipped to the waist. The golden Miami sunset lit the side of his face, casting long shadows behind him. The world was buzzing around him, but he looked like he’d stepped out of it completely.

“You’re hiding,” I said softly, stepping into his little pocket of silence.

He looked up—eyes tired, chest still rising a little too fast—and when he saw me, he didn’t smile right away. Just exhaled like i was the thing he didn’t realize he needed.

“I needed a second,” he said. “Before the noise catches up to me again.”

I walked over and stood between his knees, my hand brushing his. “Oscar, you won.”

He blinked slowly, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t look happy.”

He looked down at his gloves in his lap, twisting one between his fingers. “I am. I just… I don’t know. You dream of a moment like this, and then it happens, and it feels—” He stopped himself. “It’s a lot.”

I didn’t speak. Just reached for his jaw gently, tilting his face back to mine.

“You don’t have to be anything right now,” I said. “Not the golden boy. Not the winner. Just… you.”

That broke something open in him. His shoulders dropped. His hand came up and slid behind my waist, pulling me in closer.

“You were the only person I wanted to see after the podium,” he murmured.

I smiled softly. “Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t want to see you like… this,” he admitted. “All sweaty and gross.”

I leaned in, forehead resting gently against his. “You just won a Grand Prix. You’re allowed to be gross.”

He laughed quietly, then stilled. “You being here—it made it feel different. Better.”

I let my fingers thread through his hair. “You made it feel real. And watching you today… I think I stopped breathing for a few laps.”

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, his voice low. “I wanted to kiss you the second I laid eyes on you.”

I tilted my head, pulse skipping. “What’s stopping you now?”

He didn’t answer.

He just kissed me—soft and certain.

And for once, the chaos could wait.

—

yourusername

miami 📍

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 4,427,268 others.

yourusername : miami you were a slay — so proud of my little orange minions on a 1-2 — congrats boys 💋

lando : i am so hurt by the hat. take it off NEOWW.

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yourusername : ur so overdramatic #sassymanapocalypse

yourusername : and oscar gave me that one so he could put on his podium cap…you could’ve given me yours if you wanted

lando : i just think you should support your best friend sorry if that makes me sassy

username : bro she was just wearing quadrant merch at her last rehearsal

username2: and she was wearing an ln4 hoodie in the airport

yourusername : ^^tea

lando : okay im sorry im sorry i dont think before I behave

oscarpiastri : we know.

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oscarpiastri : Who knew you’d end up being my good luck charm?

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yourusername : you don’t need luck when you’re already insanely talented ;)

liked by oscarpiastri

username5 : is mr. ‘no words’ piastri flirting with her?

lando : i hope not 🤮

username10 : you look SO GOOD. eat them up pretty

kikagomes : i love you so much !! pierre and I can’t wait to come to the next show:)

liked by author and pierregasly

yourusername : love you keeks 🤩

sza : hurry up and get back to us babes!! one show without you was enough

liked by author

yourusername : omw mamas

—

f1gossipgirls posted!

26,378 likes

f1gossipgirls : Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc, Alexandra Saint Mleux, Kika Gomes, Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri all attended the Grand National tour this evening which is fully choreographed by Lando’s Best Friend, Y/N L/N. She is also in the show!

username : oh Oscar is so down bad

username2 : that man never ever goes to public events like this

username5 : let alone looking as happy as he does now

username10 : guys he is just supporting Lando’s friend cmonnnn

username2 : unlikely^^

username12 : it’s so cute how much the grid supports her

liked by author

username8 : I heard lewis was there too

username7 : he was!!

—

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

seen by yourusername, lando, hattiepiastri & 2,367,533 others.

{caption 1 : good shots, mate. @/lando.jpg} {caption 2 : yourusername, you are insanely talented— i am blown away by you}

yourusername : thank you sm for coming osc— the pre show kiss really helped

oscarpiastri : anything for you, princess. love watching you do what you love

hattiepiastri : so jealous. you don’t deserve to be in the presence of yn or sza. especially sza

oscarpiastri : jealousy is a disease hattie

—

oscarpiastri

liked by hattiepiastri, lando, yourusername & 1,257,543 others.

oscarpiastri: Life’s pretty good.

username : this man is attempting to soft launch and all he says is “life’s pretty good” 😭

oscarpiastri: it’s a “soft” launch for a reason

username5 : i love sassy osc

hattiepiastri : im tagging mum

oscarpiastri : stop being a snitch

hattiepiastri : @/nicolepiastri

oscarpiastri : fuck

nicolepiastri : oscar give me a call right now please

lando : oscy boy is in loveeeee

username : with your best friend bro bro

lando : what r u talking about that isn’t yn

username2 : lando is so so oblivious sometimes

aussiegrit : 😉

username5 : MARK WHAT DO YOU KNOW

aussiegrit : Oscar never shares about his love life and he finally did and I am not gonna make him regret it. My lips are sealed.

nicolepiastri : Mark call me

aussiegrit : Dialing right now

username : AHSJWN^^

oscarpiastri : never again

—

yourusername

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 4,267,255 others.

yourusername : fun stuff

lando : wait a minute

yourusername : what hoe

lando : who r u even dating

lando : why haven’t we discussed this

yourusename : you’ve never asked pookie

lando : answer my facetime

alexandrasaintmleux: you are so stunning it’s unreal

liked by author

yourusername : that’s all you angel

username : the caption is so oscar coded could they be anymore obvious

sza : oh my gooddd ur so beautiful

liked by author

yourusename : says you omg 😭

—

F1gossipgirls

245,267 likes

f1gossipgirls : Oscar Piastri and Y/N L/N were seen together in Australia…getting rather cozy with each other

username : I did not need this to confirm what I already knew

username2 : they r so cute together

lando : huh

username : LANDO-

username7 : baby we all knew we tried to tell you

—

yourusename

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, nicolepiastri & 5,254,208 others.

yourusername : my boyfriend is pretty cool

(our child lando is still adjusting, be kind)

oscarpiastri: not as cool as you pretty girl

liked by author

yourusername : mymanmymanmyman i love u sm

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri : love you too sweetheart

lando : as betrayed and disgusted as I am— you guys are cute ig

liked by author and oscarpiastri

yourusername : lan honey the internet literally tried to tell you 100 times

lando : when I get told something I don’t want to hear I act like it never happened

oscarpiastri : a literal toddler

lando : you both will never escape me 😁

sza : so happy for you queen!

liked by author

nicolepiastri : convinced you made my son 100 times cooler

liked by author

hattiepiastri : agreed

liked by author

oscarpiastri : gee thanks

liked by author

yourusername : love you both !! pilates next week nicole??

nicolepiastri : Absolutely!

username : Oscar are you nervous for your mom and girlfriend to hang out without you?

oscarpiastri : not really, they already gossip about me all the time.

liked by author and nicolepiastri

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, aussiegrit, lando & 2,264,432 others.

oscarpiastri : now I can kiss her in public all I want

lando : that is not what this means

liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri : please don’t start again

lando : I was the one who said off limits and you heard OH make her your girlfriend

oscarpiastri : yes I hear what I want

yourusername : bickering like an old couple

liked by author and lando

aussiegrit : oh good I couldn’t keep the secret anymore

oscarpiastri : you literally didn’t — you told my mum

aussiegrit : doesn’t count — she scared the information out of me

nicolepiastri: you act like I threatened you

aussiegrit : I wouldn’t say you didn’t

logansargeant : Happy for you guys!

liked by author and yourusername

yourusername : does this mean I can be thirsty for you on Twitter now?

liked by author

lando : NO

oscarpiastri : yep

—

tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog , @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo , @majapapaya4 @lina505

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact Marked by the Sea

Summary: In which Neuvillette is your soft husband, a loving one with some dragon tendencies. 

or, here are snippets of a domestic dragon husband. 

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN! Reader! 

Note: Going through my drafts and yes, I had a Genshin phase

Warning: Lots of fluff >.< because we love our hydro dragon sovereign. 

★・・・・・・★

“You’re staring again,” you murmur sleepily.

Every morning, you wake up to long white messy hair on your face and sometimes, even purrs coming from your beloved husband. 

Neuvillette tightens his arms around your waist. 

“I’m simply…appreciating.”

“You’re very clingy for someone who acts like the world’s most composed man in public,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He presses his face into your neck. 

“You’re the only place I feel at peace.”

Your fingers comb gently through his hair.

A soft whine escapes him. 

“Stay with me a little longer.”

“Love, you have to go now.” You managed to sit up and let out a small yawn. You eyed the clock, and realized that it’s time to get ready for the day. 

“Must we get up?”

Neuvillette’s voice was muffled against your hip, arms still around your waist.

You laughed, gently tugging him upright. 

“You’re the Chief Justice. Pretty sure pajamas aren’t court-appropriate.”

You quickly pull him out of bed and help him wash his face and teeth. Help him clean up and look like the respectable Chief Justice everyone knows. 

He blinked at you, bleary-eyed, letting you button his shirt. 

“Now arms up.”

He obeyed, now a bit more awake, but his head thunk on your shoulder. 

“You’re too good to me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased, guiding him to the kitchen.

He sat, still drowsy, while you went to make a quick breakfast. His eyes lit up the moment he saw the carefully packed lunch.

“You made soup again…” he murmured, picking up his spoon. 

“You know me too well.”

You peck his cheek.

“Someone has to make sure you eat something that isn’t stressful.”

Neuvillette caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I don't know I would do without you.” You raised a brow. 

“Dramatic.”

“Truthful,” he said, giving you that soft look that made your chest ache. 

“I’d be lost without you.”

You poured him water, leaning in close. 

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

He hummed, content, and smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

The courtroom echoed with voices, petitions, disputes, and lies dressed as truths.

Neuvillette listened, silent and unreadable as always, yet the weight of it pressed heavily on him today.

Humans, no feelings are difficult to understand for Neuvillette. 

During a short break, he retreated to his office. He didn’t expect peace, but when he opened the simple wooden box you'd prepared for him that morning, the tightness in his chest eased.

Carefully arranged: poached fish, soup, soft rice, steamed greens. And nestled beside it, a folded note.

“Don't forget to eat. And breathe. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

You’d drawn a little doodle of him, half-asleep with his hair floofed.

He stared at it for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile touched his lips.

He took a bite of the fish. Light, clean. Just the way he liked it. His heart unclenched, if only a little.

You always knew what he needed before he did.

He tucked the note back into his coat pocket, among the many others.

Then he returned to the courtroom, still weary, but a little steadier.

You found him hunched over his desk, buried in paperwork. Rain tapped on the windows like it was echoing his mood.

Silently, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"...You always find me,” he murmured after a pause, voice tight. “Even when I don’t want to be found.”

“You don’t really mean that,” you whispered, resting your cheek against him.

When it got late, you knew Neuvillette was stuck at work, being the workaholic he is. 

He didn’t argue. Just exhaled shakily, fingers clutching a paper like it had wronged him personally.

“Why are they like this?” he asked. “Humans. So much… cruelty and lies.”

You held him tighter. You knew sometimes these cases could be too much to listen to, after all, people only go to court for frustration, guilt and confessions. 

“Because we’re messy. But we’re capable of kindness too. You don’t have to understand all of it. You just have to be you.”

“But I’m not human,” he said, looking up at you. “How can I judge them if I don’t understand them?”

For a moment, you hesitated because you remembered the time he told you about his true identity, but even then, you never cared for it because you truly loved this man dragon from the moon and back. 

“You don’t need to be them to care,” you said gently, brushing his hair back.

“You’re already doing more than most. That’s enough.”

A deep breath before he turns in his chair and buried his face into your chest. 

You didn’t speak. Just stroked his hair, kissed his temple, and held him. 

“…Thank you,” he whispered. Then he tipped you down and you let him. He kissed you, slow, tender, like you were sunlight and he hadn’t seen the sky in days.

When he finally pulled back, he glanced toward the window.

“…The rain stopped,” he said, almost in disbelief. You smiled, running a finger along his jaw. 

“Told you. You just needed to let someone hold you for a while.”

He smiled, really smiled, and leaned in for one more kiss.

“My heart listens to you more than it does me.”

Another day, another migraine as you would sometimes say. 

"Neuvi, you need a vacation."

He had meant to protest, he always did, but the look in your eyes had silenced him more effectively than any decree. It wasn’t disappointment or frustration. 

It was care. Concern. Love.

He sat at the edge of the bed, fingers absently tracing the letter you had slipped into his coat earlier. He unfolded it now, reading your familiar handwriting:

“You are allowed to rest, Love. You are allowed to be more than the Chief Justice. Let me take care of you.”

He closed his eyes.

For centuries, he had carried so much. 

Dignity. Duty. Distance. 

And yet you, gentle, persistent, loving you, had chipped away at his solitude like water to stone, reshaping him with kindness.

Perhaps...just this once...

He let out a slow breath. And then, deliberately, he stood, walking to the open balcony. 

The moon was dim tonight, and the streets were empty except the automatons guarding the city. With one smooth motion, he shifted, scales rippling over his skin, horns glinting, wings unfurling into the night air.

A dragon once more. It felt liberating despite only showing his half dragon form. 

And as he looked down at the palace below, a deep, low growl rose in his throat. He wanted to take you far away from this place. 

From politics. From judgment. From all the noise.

He wanted to keep you close. Closer than ever.

He took to the skies and took a deep breath.

Perhaps...a vacation has been long overdue. 

After months of court and chaos, Neuvillette finally, finally, listened to you.

You had never been so excited as you pulled out your notes and forgotten plans of just hanging out without work looming over your heads. Still, you wanted it to be relaxing for your dragon husband because you wanted this to be all about him! 

He deserves rest and you would make sure he gets spoiled! The first thing you did was just take him away from the palace and into the Fontaine wilderness, where it would just be you, him, and the sea.

What you didn’t expect was to see Neuvillette showing off in his half dragon form.

You watched as he shifted, wings unfurled, silver-blue scales gleaming in the sun, and you swore you saw him breathe for the first time in weeks. 

No courtroom. No robes. 

Just Neuvillette, in all his dragon majesty, curling his massive body around you in a protective sprawl. 

“You’re hovering,” you teased when he kept nuzzling you every time you moved an inch too far.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest. 

“You wandered out of sight for two minutes.”

“You sound like you were ready to drown someone.”

“I was.”

Each day, he softened. The weight on his shoulders lightened. 

You massaged the tension from his back, whispered reassurances into his neck, and watched him melt under your touch.

But as the days passed, something changed. His touches grew bolder. His gaze lingered longer.

At night, in human form again, he’d pull you close, hands trembling just slightly. 

“Tell me I’m allowed this,” he murmured once, voice rough and low as his fingers trailed your spine. 

“Tell me I can want you.”

“You’re allowed everything, Neuvi,” you whispered against his lips. “Especially me.”

He kissed you slowly, starting off with gentle kisses before turning desperate, with whispered promises.

By dawn, you lay tangled together beneath his draped wing. His breath is warm at your nape. His arm locked around your waist.

“You’re not letting go, are you?” you murmured, half-asleep.

A hum. 

“Never.”

You could say the same. 

The sky was streaked with pink when you tugged Neuvillette’s hand. 

“Beach walk,” you said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He let you lead him, fingers laced with yours, quiet as ever, but relaxed. Peaceful.

The sea air suited him. Personally, you liked that he was out of his “judge” outfit, and in a more shirt and pants. 

Then you spotted them.

“Otters!” you gasped, pointing excitedly at the group rolling around in the surf. One, in particular, caught your eye, blue-gray fur, an almost regal posture, and sharp eyes surveying the world.

You burst into laughter, as you quickly led Neuvillette to them. 

“Wait, look! That one looks just like you.” Neuvillette blinked. 

“You think I look like an otter?” You nodded as you looked back and forth. 

“Same dignified vibe. Same colours. Same mysterious energy. Very composed. Very you.”

He gave you the most bewildered expression. 

“I...see.”

You giggled and crouched near the water’s edge, where the otters now swarmed, squeaking little “kyu” noises as they playfully nuzzled you.

Neuvillette stayed behind, watching. Silent. Still.

One of the otters nestled into your lap, eyes closed in bliss. You cooed at it.

And he frowned.

“…They’re quite clingy,” he muttered, barely audible.

You looked up. 

“Are you… pouting?”

“I am not,” he said, a touch too quickly. 

“Merely observing. They seem rather… attached.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. 

“You are jealous.”

“I am not jealous of an otter,” he said stiffly, before stepping forward and sliding his hand into yours, gently pulling you up and into his side. 

You laughed, letting him pull you close. 

“Jealous much?”

“I prefer ‘protective.’” 

You smiled up at him. 

“Don’t worry. No amount of adorable otters could ever take your place.”

He exhaled slowly, brushing a hand through your hair, gaze softening. 

“Good.”

Still, you made him take photos with otters anyways. 

And now Neuvillette sees it all the time on your nightstand. 

While he judges it all the time, you know that Neuvillette could never be mad at otters forever.

One night, you lay on deck beside Neuvillette on a ship. The lakeside is quiet, with the moonlight catching in his eyes, stormy and somehow intense. 

What was he thinking about even on vacation?

His fingers traced your skin slowly, pausing at your neck.

“You always touch there,” you whispered.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss to the spot.

“It’s my favorite place,” he murmured. Then softer, with a hint of hesitation. 

“May I leave a mark?” Your breath hitched as he leaned over you, staring at you intently, making you feel like you were in the eyes of a dragon.

“A mark?” You asked, breathless. 

“A symbol. A promise.” His eyes didn’t waver. 

For a moment, you simply stared into his eyes, a little pensive. Neuvillette caught your hesitation but did not falter. 

“In dragonkind,” Neuvillette explained softly, “a mark is a symbol, but also a bond. One created from instinct, will, and power. When a dragon marks someone, it means they’ve chosen them as mates.”

“Mates?” You blinked, your heartbeat fluttering.

He nodded. “More than that. It’s a soul-deep tether. A dragon only marks once in their lifetime. Once we do… that bond cannot be undone. No matter time, distance, or circumstance, our hearts remain bound.”

Your lips parted slightly as you looked into his eyes, searching. 

“So…you can’t ever choose someone else?”

“No,” he murmured, “Even if you walked away, even if I never saw you again…I would remain yours. That is how dragons love. We don’t fall often. But when we do, it’s forever.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. Then, with a soft smile, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

“Forever sounds nice.” You leaned back, exposing your neck to him. 

“I trust you.”

You heard him suck in a breath before he swallowed.

“I love you.” You widen your eyes in surprise, he had never said it so explicitly before, which made it all the more special.  

He kissed your neck, warmer this time, and whispered something ancient, words that shimmered like falling rain. Then, he bit down, making you shiver and gasp, but he held you close, making sure you felt comfortable yet safe in his arms. 

A pulse of hydro energy flowed through you, cool and comforting. You felt it settle, and when he pulled back, a glowing symbol remained, blue and silver, delicate yet powerful.

“It’s done.” He looked so relieved, content and satisfied before kissing the mark again. 

You touched it, awed. 

“It’s beautiful…”

“So are you,” he said, reverent. 

“It binds us. Now and always.” You met his gaze. 

“I was already yours.”

“As I am to you,” he said, pulling you close. “But now the world will know too.”

He kissed you then, deep and slow, as if sealing the bond with his very breath.

From that night on, the mark stayed. And every time Neuvillette saw it, his eyes would soften, and he’d kiss it again, like a quiet vow, Mine.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 05:56 P.M 」

this has been rotting in my drafts for like months :'D based on a suggestion idea a while back—how gojo will definitely land himself in a police station, and since i have no better fic to share yet, i'll just post this :')

a part of gojo's love entries

everyone—or particularly, nanami—has warned you that marrying gojo satoru is going to be far from easy.

and true, less than a month since the two of you were married, he had landed himself in a police station. police station! of all places!

still, you were worried when you got the call, but when you rushed inside the place, all your worries—

“i’m telling you! i’m innocent!”

“sir, please don’t raise your voice here!”

“YOU are raising your voice against me!”

—evaporated. because… what the hell?

satoru, looking cross as if he owned the whole precinct, sat with his legs crossed high. he wore all black and his eyes was covered by that stupid blindfold. and with that haughty attitude, if someone accused him of being a suspicious person, now you would totally understand.

you were fuming as you stomped to where he was. “satoru!”

“oh?!” he turned to you with a wide grin, then to the officer in front of him, pointing at you. “look! i’ve been telling you. i have a wife— and there she is!”

the officer eyed you suspiciously as if he wanted to confirm your identity, and you huffed. “it pains me to admit that i’m his wife—”

“wha?! it ‘pains’ you?! i’m hurt!”

“—but yes, i am. officer, what do i have to do to get him out here?”

you could’ve sworn the officer gave you a look of pity. “ma’am, so we received a report that your… err, husband, was publicly harassing two students—”

you widened your eyes, turning to him accusingly. “you—!”

“i was not!” satoru fiercely interrupted, eyeing the police with clear disdain. “if i want to harass girls, shouldn’t i harass my wife first?!”

you were speechless as you shot him a look of disbelief.

“but sir, the girls said that you have been ‘leering’ at them—”

“i was just passing by! i didn’t even look at them! and when i have a wife this hot—” satoru wildly gestured at you with both hands. “what use is anything else?!”

dear lord. please give me strength. you felt like losing your head over this as you clutched your temple.

“sir, you’re being too loud!”

“i’m telling you, you’re slandering me! that’s crime too!”

this was utter chaos and you finally had enough. “both of you, just...” you breathed out— “shut up!”

both the police and your husband looked at you in surprise as you glared at them with so much ire they would have never expected out of you.

in the end, to settle this fiasco, you ended up paying the fine.

“wifey... forgive me, please?”

satoru dejectedly followed you from behind like a sad puppy as you entered your home. “please? don’t be mad at me...”

you suddenly stopped in your tracks, before whirling to face him, squinting one eye. “you got arrested, made a fool out of yourself, and i bailed you out. so, give me three good reasons why i shouldn’t be mad at you.”

“uh, w-wait...”

“three, two—”

“i-i’m a good kisser! i let you have my body!” he blurted in panic. “and oh—while at it, i also satisfy you sooo well in bed!”

how did you end up with a clown for a husband? despite yourself, you almost laughed at his response, and satoru obviously saw it as a sign of him succeeding. and before you knew it, he leaned and pecked you in the lips.

“look at you, you just smiled!” he giddily grinned as he pulled away. “i’m right, aren’t i!?”

“ha ha...” you let out an exasperated sigh, suppressing your laugh and faint heat in your face at the same time. “satoru...”

his eyes were practically shining. “yes?!”

“you and couch. tonight.”

[bluetimeombre]

☽｡⋆ Learning to fly, starting to crawl

Over one hundred years ago, you lost your wings but the wound still hurts like it was only yesterday. When your brothers mate wants to learn to fly, he doesn’t hesitate in teaching her, right in front of you. And nobody can see the scars except the one you love…

[OMG I'M ALIVE!!!! I've had this sitting in my drafts for months but have only just got around to posting. Basically, I have too many hobbies but i'm in a writing mood again., very fitting to start with my boy AZRIEL, whom i love very much. I hope you enjoy. This is linked to my other Azriel fic but of course can be read alone. Not proof-read and yes, she lost her wings. It's becoming almost a thing but it makes for some good ass angst. ENJOY!!!!]

☽｡⋆

The inner circle all sat around the table, eating and chatting merrily. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, while his mate- Feyre- sat next to him, their hands entwined. They smiled at each other, as so in love they were. Cassian and Mor were joking around along with Amren and Elian listened politely. Every now and then, she glanced the shadow singers way to invite him into the conversation but there was no such luck.

Azriel only stared ahead of him, glaring at the empty space where you usually sat. He wasn’t at all surprised you hadn’t turned up, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry about it.

For a few weeks now he’d noticed the shift in you. You snapped easily and often rolled your eyes at anything your brother- the high lord- had to say. He’d heard you pace your rooms at night and his shadows (that favoured you above all) had reported that many nights you went to Rita’s.

But your empty seat irked him. And it irked him that Rhys seemed to not care in the slightest.

Az was the first to be aware of your presence, the echo of the door opening alerting them all and your scent hit him in the face. He inhaled it- your lavender, your sweetness, tinted by the alcohol lingering.

Rhysand huffed and everyone seemed to notice the shift. ‘I apologize about this, Feyre darling.’

Just then, you and Nesta stumbled into the room, arms linked and laughing your heads off about something or other.

Azriel drank you in. Your cheeks were flushed, your dress creased as you struggled to stay up right. Gods, what had you done?

You pouted dramatically, throwing a hand on your hip. ‘Uh oh, Rhysands got his grumpy face on.’

‘Isn’t that his usual?’ Said Nesta, causing the two of you to laugh again.

Everyone watched the two of you.

‘Where have you been?’ Az asked, wanting to rush to you and support you, but Rhys seemed one breath away from snapping.

‘We’re trying to have a pleasant meal, don’t ruin it,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes sir!’ You saluted.

Rhys growled and Feyre took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

‘Something tells me we’re not wanted, y/n,’ Nesta said to her.

‘Alas, we do not want to be here,’ you said, stumbling your way past the table. Before you went, you gave Feyre a squeeze on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her. ‘Feyre darling.’

‘Enough!’ Rhys shot up, hands on the table.

You barley spared him a glance as you and Nesta went about your way. You tripped on a plant pot, stumbling and apologizing to the object.

Azriel got out his seat, ready to follow you to wherever. No matter if you wanted him or not.

‘Sit down, Azriel,’ said Rhysand, taking his seat again. He picked up his fork and smiled at his mate like nothing had happened. All the while, your scent got further away from him.

He looked between where you’d disappeared and his high lord. He settled down and promised he’d find out what had made you act so.

☽｡⋆

You woke with unbearable pain in your head the next day. And your back. Your head was granted with the amount you and Nesta had drank, seeking to out-do one another so much so you drank out most of Rita’s.

But your back, the pain was new. Almost as if it knew why you were so angry, so bitter and it sort to make it worse.

Your curtains were drawn but the wind blew them back, letting you glimpse the outside world you dreaded to be a part of.

Shadows curled up your bed, brushing your hair back affectionately. They seemed to always be around you, as if they knew the bond that heaved in your chest even if their master didn’t.

You offered them a poor smile. ‘I’m fine.’ But they caressed you and smelt your lie.

From beyond the curtains, you caught a glimpse of figures in the sky. You’d always loved your room for the view it granted, of the sun, the moon, the stars. But after losing your wings, the view turned cold and the sky never seemed as bright.

It only got worse.

Though you knew the pain it would bring you to see, you wrapped a blanket around you and treaded over to the window.

Feyre was trying out her new wings, the black gifts she’d been given. Once mortal, she now had everything you wanted. The power, the wings. Your freedom was now hers.

And you hated it.

Azriel was looking close to her, encouraging her as she went. Though they were small figures to you, you could see his smile, how he held his hands out to her should she lose confidence.

How many times had you flown side by side, acting like the clouds abided you. The times you’d raced or dropped just to have Azriel catch you.

Never again.

The bitterness invaded your mouth again, blocking out all other logical senses.

Your door burst open- the shadows rushing to your side and curling around your shoulders. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the anger radiating from him was enough.

‘How dare you turn up in the state you did last night,’ snapped Rhys. You didn’t turn to face him, shielding yourself from his fury. ‘You had no right to ruin a lovely evening. We are trying to make Feyre and her sisters feel welcomed, its a shame my own sister can’t seem to do that for me.’

The words twisted in your gut. For him… had you not done everything for him? Lost your wings because you wouldn’t give in? Lost fifty years of your life to be with him?

‘Get over whatever it is going on and only return to us when you want to act like a decent human being.’ Rhysand snapped before leaving again, slamming the door- causing her to flinch.

The shadows ran down your hair, your cheeks, your sides. Giving you any ghostly comfort they could. ‘I’m fine,’ you told them again, retreating further into your room.

The shadows followed you, but only half of them. The other half had returned to their master, clouding him and whispering in his ear.

Her wings. She misses her wings.

She hadn’t had to say it out loud, they knew her pain.

Azriel paused in the sky, alerting Feyre. She’d seen the shadows surround him in flourishes. She couldn’t understand they were reporting in on you, that Az needed you to have something there when he could not be.

‘What is it?’ She asked, beating her wings.

He stared at her then at the wings. He was filled with the longing to be with you, in the sky, playing. Your wings were beautiful, just because they were you. A beautiful part of you.

‘I need to speak with the high lord.’

☽｡⋆

‘Ask someone else to train Feyre to fly,’ said Azriel.

He’d insisted he needed to see the high lord on urgent matters that could not wait. He’d expected it to be of the war, but Azriel opened with the line.

Rhysand was sat behind his desk, looking up to Azriel with some amusement. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ask Cassian,’ he said, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

‘Feyre wanted you.’

‘I can’t do it anymore,’ he said, stating it all simply.

Rhysand waited, wondering if he’d be graced with an explanation, but it never came. ‘Might I ask why.’

‘Your sister.’

Rhys’s amusement turned to a deep scowl. ‘My sister has asked you to stop flying with Feyre?’

‘No. She hasn’t asked, she never would. But I can’t teach Feyre to fly anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m confused- what does any of this have to do with y/n?’ He asked.

Azriels shadows wound tight around him, coating him like a second skin. He wanted to yell, and he never let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he curled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. ‘Do you really not think that this is hurting her?’

‘After her behaviour the past couple days I think it’s her who’s doing the hurting,’ he said, picking a bit of invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘She lost her wings,’ said Azriel with barely contained annoyance. ‘She lost them. They were cut from her back and she was left to bleed out.’

‘I do remember that Azriel,’ said Rhys, closing his eyes at the words. ‘I was there when we found her.’

‘So do you not think that teaching your mate to fly doesn’t effect her?’

Rhysand looked at him. His eyes changed, the hue turning darker. No, he hadn’t thought that. You’d never let on to feeling anything for your wings or lack of them. But then again, even if you had, would you ever have gone to your brother.

Azriel took a measured step forward. ‘Do you not think it hurts her that you teach your mate to fly, the same mate that gasped in horror when she saw the scars on your sisters back? That you have us fly in front of the house where she can see? Did you even know that when she bathes y/n covers all the mirrors so she doesn’t have to get a glance at the scars.’

The high lord held up a hand. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t. You could never know what it’s like, neither could I, or Cassian. She had a part of her ripped off and she has to live without it every day. But you’ve gifted Feyre them as if it’s nothing.’

‘Because my mate has the powers,’ argued Rhys. ‘If I could give y/n wings I would- in a heartbeat, I would.’

Azriel nodded. He knew that, he knew the relationship between you and Rhys was fractured at best, but he also knew that if anything or anyone hurt you, Az would kill them. ‘I don’t want to reach Feyre to fly because it hurts y/n.’

Rhys leaned back in his chair, studying him. ‘And you care about her?’

‘More than I can express.’ He would give her the wings from his back if he could. ‘And if something hurts her… it hurts me.’

Rhysand nodded. ‘I’ll take her flying from now on. We’ll do it in the mountains, to spare y/n from seeing it.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

Rhys nodded but averted his gaze. ‘Look after her, Azriel.’

‘I always have.’

☽｡⋆

Nesta had gone to Rita's, expecting you later but you'd already snuck down to the Wine cellar and picked out the finest to drown your sorrows alone in. You'd past Cassian on the way, the male worried about your shifting gaze and the way you held yourself but you brushed him off and carried on your way.

You hesitated outside your door, where shadows lurked. Yes, they liked you and yes they were often with you, but never guarding your door.

Then, you smelt it. Not wine but sweet cedar and moss. Az.

You didn't want this. Didn't want him to see you like this, in pain in your mind and back, in longing for the wind through your hair. You knew he'd noticed your behaviour, he was the spy master, you'd only hoped... only hoped he didn't care as much as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and braced yourself for shouting.

Azriel stood there, looking regal and beautiful. His back was too the balcony, the door open and wind rusting his wings and sheets. His hands were behind his back and his gaze was... soft? It wasn't dark with anger or clouded in annoyance.

It was just Az.

'Azriel,' you do your best to smile, clearing your throat. 'What are you doing? I thought you had flying with Feyre?' you were trying but you were also just you and you missed your wings.

'I'm teaching her anymore,' he said.

You chuckle. 'Is she that bad a student?'

'I'm sorry.'

You look up to him, taking out the cork of the wine. Rose filled your senses. 'For what?'

'That she flys when you don't,' he mentioned it simply, as if you'd already told him what was hurting you and he'd accepted it.

You hadn't said it. You wouldn't. You hated yourself enough for being weak, you didn't need him, perfect Azriel, caring Azriel, to see how horrid your jealousy had made you. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'y/n,' he steps close to you, taking the bottle from you. He drops it at his side but no smash is delivered. The shadows swallow it up. 'Why won't you talk, instead of drowning yourself in pain?'

'I'm not drowning myself in anything,' you deny, moving away from him to close the balcony door. The air drifting in and moving everything but you only mocked.

'You can't fly,' he said.

Your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 'Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me.'

His boots sounded close behind her and he took her shoulders. He didn't force her to turn around, he only held her gently and soothed his thumbs over the knots in her back. 'You can't fly and words don't exist to tell you how sorry I am. If I could i'd give you the own wings off me back-'

'Don't say that.' The only thing worse than your pain, was Azriel going through it all.

'I would and I mean it just to see you smile again, if only for a second. I'd be glad to give them up,' he whispered. Your shoulders slumped under his grasp and he sighed in relief, it was better than tensing up again. 'I miss you smiling. I miss you laughing. I miss you smiling at me. I'm sorry if teaching Feyre to fly has hurt you.'

'It wasn't you, Az,' you turn in his hold, never letting him feel like it was his fault. In doing that, you admitted to being bothered. 'I can't be who I was, because I don't know how. And I don't want to try to only fail.'

He listened, hands trailing down your arms to rub.

You gulp. 'And it's not just losing the wings, it's everything I lost with it. Freedom. I can't join you or Cas, or anyone when you take to the skies. How am I going to cope in battle? I can't run as fast as I can fly, I can't fight as well. I can't hit Cassian over the head when he's being an idiot, I can't-I can't wrap them around you when we hold each other, and it's painful to think of everything I've lost when I've gained nothing.'

He listened, tears watering his gaze. You had not lost any of that, not to him.

'And Feyre,' you pulled away, crossing your arms around each other and looking out the window. 'I don't hate her, I wish I could but I can't. But she's been Fae for five seconds and she has everything I've ever wanted. Wings. My brother loves her. She's happy. I hate it and I hate myself.'

Your confession weighed your gut but your chest rose in a deep breath. You couldn't see Azriel behind you in the reflection of the windows and you couldn't hear him.

He'd gone. Of course he'd left, you'd whined about what you'd lost when you were at least alive. You'd complained about the High Lady- treason in Rhysand's book.

No, you were all alone.

But you weren't.

Az crept behind you and slowly- so you could pull away- wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest and matched his breaths with yours. 'I won't insult you by saying I get it, because I could never. But that time, when I found you after you'd lost your wings, I thought i'd lost you and that-that is how I imagine your feelings. Because I stopped breathing and I didn't think happiness would ever be in the world again. And your blood, you bleeding out has been in my nightmares since. If my hands were to be stained with it, let them, because it was the last thing i'd ever have of you.'

You had no idea. He'd felt terrible yes and been there the weeks and months it took to heal but you'd been so full of pain and guilt you hadn't thought of how he fared. Your greatest friend... your lustful secret.

Your hands came up to hold his arms.

'You do not have to be who you were before,' he whispered, head resting on your shoulder. 'Become better. Become something more. As for training, you're the strongest woman I know and still the only person I'd trust with my life.'

A tear escaped you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. 'And you can still hit Cass as much as you like.'

You laugh through tears, holding onto Az like he was the last thing anchoring you to yourself.

His wings slowly inched over you. 'And I will hold you all day, every day till I die, and i'll keep you safe.' His wings closed around the two of you as yours used to do.

Neither of you realised how much you'd missed it, needed it, craved it until it happened.

You'd lost your wings, but you had never and would never lose him.

[wemalyri]

— ON THE BEACH ⋆｡°⭒˚｡⋆

𐙚⋆° heeseung × fem!reader / genre: est. relationship, fluff, smut (MDNI) / ~2k words

warnings: mentions of the car sex, sex in a public place, mutual mastirbation, unprotected sex (don't!), mention of getting caught, dirty talk, praise, use of petnames (baby, sweetheart), I would say pretty sweet and soft

a/n: i wrote it really randomly.... thanks to the edit with heeseung that made me find out about the song and inspired me! (I have one more draft with a heeseung fic inspired by a tate mcrae song btw)

if you liked the fic, pls repost, like or leave a comment!

You two had gone already three or four times — you couldn't remember. With his mouth on your wet folds, licking all clean, with his fingers, rubbing your cunt, with his dick, buried deep inside you. Everything — in his car with the rolled down windows that weren't hiding the sounds you two were making inside.

Originally, it was a planned trip to a beach. Something relaxing, fantastic, that could distract you from daily life and help to escape from the reality of deadlines and endless tasks. But it ended up in you two finding another way to relax, making a mess in Heeseung's car — he couldn't care less because his baby is you, not the car.

When you finally stepped out of the small space, hanging the door open, you immediately felt the fresh sea breeze. You closed your eyes, spreading your arms and inhaling the air, while Heeseung was still in the backseat, adjusting himself and zipping up his shorts. When he stepped out of the car, you felt his hands settling on your waist, his chest pressing to your back.

"Doesn't it feel good?" you asked, not looking away from the sun, that was about to hide in the horizont of the water.

"I think it felt better back in the car," Heeseung joked with a sly grin, making you slightly hit his hand. "No, seriously. I think we should go back," he added, causing you to roll your eyes.

"We came here for the beach," you whined, turning around to face Heeseung. "You promised," a slight pout on your face softened his expression. He affectionately rubbed your arms, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry, babe. I was joking," Heeseung gently cupped your face, kissing your forehead, then pulling your head to lay on his chest. You wrapped hands around his waist, enjoying the warmth of his body. Heeseung rubbed your back, leaving a kiss on your temple.

You two headed to the beach. It was quite abandoned — a place that someone could hardly find. A bunch of trees were covering the most part of it, so it felt like you were on the uninhabitated island. The sun was settling down, only the crying of the seagulls could be heard. One of the Heeseung's hands was holding a basket with a picnic mat, another one — your hand.

You laid the mat on the sand and sat down in silence, watching the scenery peacefully. Your eyes caught Heeseung's beautiful profile — his relaxed eyebrows, sparkling deer eyes, straight nose, puffy lips. You still couldn't believe that was your boyfriend.

"I'm glad there are no people here," you mindlessly said. "We can enjoy the view alone, focus on each other with no distractions."

"You know that even if there were people, my eyes would be only on you, right?" Heeseung's words naturally left his mouth  — not trying to rizz, to flirt. They were sincere. When you looked into his eyes, they were full of endless love and affection.

Your gaze moved down to his lips. Heeseung noticed. Just after a few seconds of silence, the lips that you were looking at were on yours.

Heeseung's hand moved to your hair, holding you at place, another one rested on your back, encouraging to lean closer to him. His lips were softly moving against yours, already making your head spin. You wrapped hands around his neck, immediately straddling his lap. He rested both of his hands on your waist, tracing them down to your hips.

When Heeseung slipped hands under your shorts, making an attempt to touch your clothed core, you quickly stopped him. He pulled away from the kiss in slight confusion. You stood up, sitting on the mat across from him.

"Babe?" Heeseung enquired with frowned eyebrows.

"I love you," you softly said, looking into his eyes and taking off your shorts. His eyes traveled down your body. "And I'll touch myself for you," you slipped your hand under your shirt, slowly caressing your bare skin of the stomach and moving up your breasts. His breathing hitched. "Watch me," you whispered before hissing, when your fingers pinched your nipple.

Heeseung's mouth slightly opened, but he didn't hesitate and leaned back, holding himself on his arms and watching you like it was a movie. The most interesting, fascinating movie he'd ever seen.

"Take off your shirt, baby. I wanna see your pretty tits while you're touching yourself," Heeseung softly commanded, his eyes traveling down your body, stopping on your panties, wondering if they were already getting soaked.

You listened and pulled up your shirt, tossing it aside after. Your breasts on the display, nipples hard.

"Shit..." Heeseung groaned, already reaching for the zipper on his shorts. "Good girl," he praised, stroking himself through his boxers.

Your hands traveled all the way down your body, touching it everywhere — your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. When control finally felt to slip away and desire started aching between your legs, you whined.

"Wanna touch myself there," your thighs squeezed, trying to get some friction in between them.

Heeseung breathed out, watching you being desperate just from your own touches. That wasn't even his hands. With them, you would lose control already minutes ago.

"You can. But only through your panties," you sighed, already reaching for your aching core. "And don't rush," Heeseung commanded, seeing your desperation, "Take things slowly. Be gentle, baby."

Your shaking hand started slowly caressing your pussy through the panties you were wearing, finger tracing lines between your folds. Your eyebrows frowned, eyes slightly rolling down from the sensation.

Heeseung felt blessed from the sight in front of him. You, touching yourself like there is no other day. On the beach. Just for him. The only thought of having you like this was making his head spin and his cock semi-hard, even though he still hadn't touched it properly.

"Does it feel good, baby?" Heeseung asked, watching you starting to grind your hips against your fingers. "Are you wet down there already?"

"I am," you breathed out in a whiny voice. "Feels so good, Hee. But not as good as when you touch me."

A proud smirk spread on his face. "Is that so? But yet you are already wet. Tell me how wet you are, sweetheart."

His voice and dirty words only intensified the fire inside you. You didn't hesitate to obey, slowing down your fingers on purpose.

"So wet, Hee... My panties are soaked," Heeseung groaned, palming himself through his boxers. "If I took them off right now and touched myself, you could hear it more clearly."

"Do," he said in a low voice, already losing patience. "Take your panties off, baby."

You whimpered at the permission, slightly lifting yourself on your knees, finally pulling down your panties.

"Lie down on your back," Heeseung commanded, when you were already naked. You did as he said, spreading your legs before him. "Shit..." he breathed out, seeing your wet pussy so close and spread just for him. "Just like that, baby. Let me see all of you."

When you finally touched yourself with no barrier, it felt like heaven. Your pussy immediately clenched, sensitive from all the previous waiting. Heeseung pushed his hand under the boxers, pulling out his already hard cock. When you looked at that, your back immediately arched, pussy clenching again.

"Want your cock, Hee," you whined, fastening the speed of your fingers in desperation. The wet sounds now clear in the air.

Heeseung groaned, stroking his cock at the sight. He couldn't take it anymore — seeing you so wet and spread before him, not able to touch what belonged to him.

He snapped out, moving from his position to your body, immediately pressing it to the mat. His hard cock accidentally touched your core, making you two moan.

Heeseung's hands finally settled on your hips, holding you in place, his cock brushing against your folds, savoring the wetness you made just for him.

"H-Hee," you whined, throwing your head back. "Please...I can't wait anymore."

Heeseung drowned in your pleas, taking his cock in his hand to line with your entrance. He traced its tip against your folds a few more times, making you whimper in impatience. When he finally slid inside, it felt like heaven. Like everything was finally on its own place — you under Heeseung, his cock inside you.

He didn't need to give you time to adjust to his size — you were already stretched after a few rounds in his car. Heeseung started slowly moving his hips, pushing all the way in and out.

"So tight... even after I stretched you out so well in the car. It'll never be enough, yes, baby?" he mumbled in your ear, his cock slowly moving inside you.

You desperately shook your head. "Never. Want your cock inside me forever," Heeseung groaned at your words, slamming all the way in and hitting that one spot that made you gasp.

"That's it, baby. Such a good girl for me," he mumbled in your lips before kissing you. The kiss was firm and made the tie in your stomach tighten even more. His hips started moving faster, speeding the rhythm and causing you to moan in Heeseung's mouth. He pulled away from your lips, burying his face in your neck and leaving fresh marks against old ones there. "Don't hold back. Scream my name. No one's here anyway."

You didn't need to be told twice. Every time Heeseung hit the spot inside you, your moans were getting louder. His pace was rapid, trying to give you two that expected release. The sweat was dripping down his forehead right on you.

When Heeseung lifted your thighs, placing them on his shoulders, the new angle started feeling too good.

"Shitshitshit Hee, I'm so close," you managed to mumble, and it felt like he only started pounding into you deeper.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered in your ear, and it made you completely loose. You came with a loud moan, Heeseung's hips not stopping, chasing his own high and prolonging your orgasm. When he finally came to an edge too, you felt his seed spilling inside you. After a while he stopped moving his hips, lying on top of you. You both were heavily breathing.

When you seemed to calm down, Heeseung slowly pulled away, making you two gasp, still sensitive after an orgasm. He leaned to kiss your damp forehead, whispering praises.

"You did so well. Just as always," his lips were all over your face, softly soothing after an intense action. "And I love you too."

You two sat on the mat for a while, enjoying the already darkened sky, then gathered your things and headed to the car. To your surprise, there was another car standing next to yours. Heeseung and you glanced at each other, acknowledging its presence. Then your eyes caught a group of people that was standing next to a car. All of them looked at you two with unbearable expressions on their faces. Like they knew something.

Or heard.

Or saw.

You shyly looked away, putting up with the thought that five strangers probably heard you screaming Heeseung's name. Or maybe even saw your naked bodies, crushing against each other on the mat.

Heeseung noticed your reaction and protectively wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at unfamiliar people with a threat. He guided you to his car, opening a door for you. Inside of it, you were silent. Heessung covered your hand with his, caressing your skin.

"Let them be jealous. They don't know what they're missing."

You gave him a small smile, intertwining your fingers with his. "I love you," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I love you too," Heeseung answered with a smile, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Being caught in the middle of the act by a group of strangers didn't bother you anymore. You loved your boyfriend too much. That's why after you arrived at your place, you had another one round in his car.

And another one in the bed.

And maybe another one in the shower.

You loved your boyfriend too much. And he loved you too much even more.

© All rights reserved. Do not copy or translate without permission.

[plethorawrites]

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

Was that a thing people needed to remember to do?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...You were just his friend, right?

[invoncible]

could you post more of popstar!girly!reader? honestly really love the concept, would love to see that fic you mentioned you have in your drafts 👀

popstar! girly! reader sneaking MARK GRAYSON into her music video ✧˚.

— hiii anon ! im so glad a lot of people love the concept because i've been having brainrot about it for so long. also !! that fic is at 11k words so far 💀 idk if you guys wanna read all that LMAO here's another scenario for the time being <3

i'd like to think when you start dating, mark understands the need to keep public and private life separate. he gets it better than anybody, which is what makes your unconventional relationship work out as well as it does.

that's not to say he doesn't get a little selfish sometimes.

when he's scrolling on tiktok or the reddit page dedicated to you and sees all these people thirsting over you... he feels some kind of way.

people calling themselves your wife, husband, partner, whatever—mark was happy for your success but there was a part of him that wanted to scream from the rooftops that he was yours, not them.

so when you proposed that he feature in your music video, he was overjoyed.

"i was thinking..." you hummed, manicured nails tapping away at your phone screen as you texted your manager. "did you wanna be in my new video? we want to include a boyfriend part and well... you're the only one qualified for that."

mark sat up sharply with an immediate, "yes." he accepted it solemnly, like he was accepting a world-changing quest.

you brightened, glossy lips spreading into a big smile. "really? all you'd have to do is flex and pose and be hot."

he grinned and leaned over to kiss your cheek, pulling you into his arms. "so a regular day, then?"

your crew loved mark. they loved how dorky he was, carrying comics to pass the time while you got ready in your outfits and makeup.

little did he know he had an appointment with hair and makeup himself.

"you can pull out if you want to, you know." you said as you fixed your hair in the huge led-light mirror.

mark was fidgeting beside you, turning left and right and assessing his reflection with a critical eye.

"and have you run around with someone else?" he frowned, a slight pout tugging on his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. "how can you even look in this thing without getting blinded?"

you giggled and dimmed the mirror lights to something he could handle.

"it was either you or no one. i just want to make sure you're comfortable." you said slowly, patiently, walking up beside him and tugging his restless hands away from his face. "this is kind of like a soft launch, you know?"

it'd be a hard launch if he had anything to say about it.

at first, he was a little stiff. it wasn't everyday he had to stand shirtless on a set with cameras aimed right at him.

when you started dancing with him, he acted like he hadn't seen you naked before. hands balled into fists at his sides, a tight lipped smile, the sweat pouring down his forehead...

the filming process might have taken a few more days than intended, but it was worth allowing mark to grow comfortable with the set and the crew. he put his all into his screen time.

fast forward to the release day, the internet was buzzing. you had guys in your music videos before, but they always met horrible ends.

so when you were spinning in some random guy's arms—not even a known model or celebrity—they were thoroughly confused.

it looked like a home video more than anything else. they could tell you two had insane chemistry.

the edits of you two together came first; then, the edits of the mysterious backup guy exploded on the internet. you were eating good for once, having a wealth of edits of your boyfriend at your disposal.

he found you giggling and kicking your feet. "what's got you in such a good mood?"

you just bit your lip, barely containing your smile as you held up your phone. an edit, albeit of low quality, of him smiling down at you in the low light of the scene, shots of his muscular back and arms and oh, you just had to save it and the 100s of others just like it.

he felt his face heat up as he watched it, looking away bashfully. "did... people like it?"

"they loved it." you hummed, pulling him down to bed and kissing his cheek. "and so did i."

he hummed, the sliver of praise making his chest puff up proudly.

"look, they've dubbed you 'boyfriend.'" you giggled, scrolling through fan comments. who is this man?? / that backup boyfriend guy kinda fine tho?? / look at how boyfriend looks at her awww! / boyfriend can't take us all at once. / boyfriend can't handle all that. / can boyfriend fight?

he smirked to himself as he absorbed the playful outrage of your fanbase. they could complain all they wanted, but he can handle all that and yes, he can fight.

© invoncible

[kupidachillea]

Olympians x You (hcs or imagines)

Author note: Geez, it’s been awhile. Sorry, I’ve been in bit of a funk, got both writers block and art block but I just want to drop this. I still have a few things in my drafts, but for now I’ll feed you guys this.

TW (trigger warning):This may have a few Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: readers either 17-18+ (to read this I mean), light mentions of nudity, molesting and sexual harassment, toxic behaviour. General (hinted) Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

🏺- You weren’t sure how you got here but somehow you ended up on mount Olympus of all places.

🪡- Your brain was fuzzy and you hadn’t yet registered the 12 + looming faces above you. When you did notice, they were bickering in a language you didn’t understand (or at the very least, understood a little). It was jarring and you were still trying to get your bearings.

-🏺 You noticed one of them, a woman, dressed in garments fit for royalty (in ancient times at least) and had somewhat of a peacock aesthetic to it, yelling and pointing accusingly at a man, presumably her husband. She didn’t seem happy. Hera. Queen of the Olympians..that means the other must’ve been Zeus..oh boy

🪡- Zeus looked as if he was trying to quell his wife’s anger before things got more out of hand. There were a few others in the back that looked bored of the situation- as if a similar thing has happened before, while others looked mildly amused.

🏺- Despite all that- the argument seemed to have turned completely to you. Hera turning her rage towards you. “You! Where did you come from, how did you arrive here!?” She’d ask in anger, it was evident she had very little patience if any at all, thankfully though she was now speaking a language you could understand. You scrambled to answer her, your body trembling slightly at how her voice shook the marble floor you were sat on.

🪡- You tried to explain to her that you didn’t know how you got here. Your brain still fuzzy with images that didn’t clear up or make sense. This obviously didn’t help the Queen’s anger and you could see her patience slipping. She would scoff and turn back towards the other gods, them discussing what they should do with you.

🏺 - Some suggestions were thrown around, some you weren’t so fond of. Multiple times did they suggest either killing you or throwing you off the mountain (which would kill you anyway). However those ideas were shut down immediately by more ‘kindhearted’ gods. This hasn’t happened in centuries- a human spawning on top of their mountain out of the blue..they aren’t really prepared for this.

🪡- They were almost all out of ideas, until one golden haired music deity bent down to your height and took a closer look at you. His eyes shining as he took in your appearance before a smile started to work its way on his lips. “How about we keep them..?” He suddenly asked, his gaze still set on the little (little to them anyway) human in front of him.

🏺- This made everyone pause and even you were shocked by the suggestion. You found it ridiculous and you argued that despite how flattering it was- you didn’t want to stay with them and you wanted to be returned back to your home. The gods only seemed to ignore you, as if you were a child having an unreasonable temper tantrum. They were all considering keeping you here!

🪡- “Well…” Hermes started. You could tell since he was a bit shorter than the others and he had his signature winged sandals. “It has been quite awhile since the gods have had a plaything..” he would mutter reluctantly. He wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, despite how his father and brothers (most anyway) were grinning like idiots. You, obviously , did not appreciate being referred to as a plaything.

🏺- “Then it is settled..this little one shall be our new plaything!” Zeus grinned, a little too happy for both yours and Hera’s taste. You were about to give them a piece of your mind but was swiftly silenced by a threatening gaze from Hera..to your surprise. And thus began your horrible life with the Olympians..

….

🪡- You were stripped of your modern clothing and given a chiton to wear instead. “It’s too modern for our liking..” Aphrodite would say as she felt up your body in ways that made you shiver in discomfort. “We’re use to our people…how should I say this? Showing a little more skin…” the goddess of love would chuckle sweetly, while you would stare at her in embarrassment and maybe even a hint of disgust. While you could understand where she was coming from- it still didn’t stop you personally from being uncomfortable with they way she was touching you.

🏺-You’d also be dressed up in fine jewellery, much to your surprise..anklets of gold, bangles made of bronze, necklaces etc. sweet smelling oil perfumes covering your body- anything to make seem more ‘appealing’ to the gods and goddess. You were their plaything after all, so it made sense for them to dress you how they liked..no matter how much you disliked it.

🪡- They’d occasionally have you pour them wine at banquets or sit on their laps to just sit there and look pretty. The main gods that did this were of course Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, definitely Dionysus and at some point Hermes. You didn’t really appreciate this, but rejecting their request would result in a ‘punishment’ for you.

🏺- To your surprise..Ares rarely touched you without your permission, but he was a little mean here and there. He along with Athena and Demeter weren’t as…’touchy’ as the others. And Artemis …you appreciated that..though just because they didn’t touch you in inappropriate ways doesn’t mean they weren’t as ‘crazy’ as the rest.

🪡- For example, while Artemis wasn’t big on being a pest in terms of touching you, she did take you out on hunts..which..wasn’t so bad in your opinion. It was much better than being up on the mountain most days..she thought a little more rationally- but of course- her twin, Apollo, would see you hanging out with his sister and get a little possessive about it. Which you didn’t understand- you weren’t any of their lovers (even if they thought so), but even so..most hunting trips were cut short because of him.

🏺- When you finally got moments to breathe away from the gods..you’d spend it out in the garden..hidden away from everyone and thing..it was your quiet time up until one of the gods summoned you. You found out that you weren’t the first human to be in this position (and probably not the last)..according to one of the lesser known gods (maybe Hebe) you were told that centuries before, a young lad was taken into the heavens to serve Zeus but had been placed into the stars as the constellation known as Aquarius.

🪡- You shivered at the thought..you didn’t want that to happen to you. To be placed in the stars? Doomed to forever look down on earth and watch your family and friends grow? It may have been an honour back then but to you it was almost like a death sentence.

🏺- Either way, life with the Olympians got harder to cope with. Your privacy was always compromised and you were forced to many things you didn’t like. Sometimes the gods would be as bold to sneak up on you while you were bathing and either join you in the pool or touching up your nude body.

🪡-Often giving excuses for why they would do so, or simply ignoring your protest. It wasn’t hard to manhandle you after all..they were gods, and you were a puny human. Why should they care about your thoughts and feelings. It progressively got worse with them kissing your neck or cheek without your permission too- Apollo was the main culprit of that..

🏺- Sometimes you found yourself crying in a corner by yourself at the situation you were in. The only person willing to comfort you being Hestia. She obviously didn’t approve of this but she couldn’t do much besides being a safe space for you to turn to, which you appreciated.

🪡- But no matter how you protest, run, hide, or try to defy them; you are still theirs. That how they see it anyway, and they won’t change their mind..

[thestrangepoet]

The Ninth Life | The Magnus Archives One Shot

Based on @ultramarinaa's Cat!Martin AU, and not upon @coworkerjonathan's soul-destroying tragic version of it. If you want that version, it's here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Buttocks-clenchingly sweet fluff. 

DISCLAIMER: I, once again, wrote this in an hour and haven't proofread it. Forgive the typos and any “first draft” vibes. 

UPDATE: 30/04/25: Now available on AO3!

──── •✧• ────

[CLICK] 

Oop, yup, it’s on! Right, erm…This is Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute. I thought it would be a good idea to—

[A VERY LOUD, VERY RASPY HISSING CUTS MARTIN OFF]

[A LONG, WEIGHTY PAUSE FOLLOWS; SOMEONE IS BEING GLARED AT]

What? I-I mean, given the absolute palaver we just went through, shouldn’t we record what happened and how we fixed it? 

[SILENCE FOLLOWS. BUT MARTIN EVIDENTLY GETS HIS ANSWER]

Exactly! Right, so…ah-hem. This is Martin Bla—

[ONCE AGAIN, A LOUD HISS]

What? What is wrong with—No, Jon, you’re going to hit the—!

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[MARTIN RUFFLES SOME PAPERS, THEN EXHALES LOUDLY THROUGH HIS NOSE. WHEN HE SPEAKS THIS TIME, IT’S SOMEWHAT TAUT]

Statement of Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding an encounter with a feline-based Leitner book called The Ninth Life. Recorded by subject, October 17th, 2017.

Happy now? 

[LOUD PURRING NEAR THE TAPE RECORDER SIGNIFIES THAT MARTIN HAS INDEED DONE A PASSABLE JOB]

Good, good. Right, oop! Yeah, okay, you can…sit on my lap while I record this. That’s not…that’s not weird at all. Knowing you’re…you’re Jon. 

…You could at least sit like a cat, Jon. No, no, no, don’t get the claws out, it’s fine! Sit how you want! Heh…K-keeping an eye on me, hmm? While I record? Oh, r-right, yeah, ‘Get on with it, Martin’, noted!

So…about ten weeks ago, I came across a book while tidying through some of the old statement boxes. I’m not sure why it wasn’t in the library or in Artefact Storage, but I suppose that’s a mystery for another time. A-anyway, I had a flick through to try to figure out what it was. Could have just been a normal book, you know? E-especially since it wasn’t put away properly, I mean, really, that’s a health and safety risk that wasn’t my fault, and—Ow! Claws! 

R-right, ‘Stay on the subject, Martin’, loud and clear…

Where was I? O-oh, right. So I took it through to the break room, sat down with it, flicked through, read a few…err, well, ten pages to be precise, and basically, it was written like an old fairy tale. Something about a man who turned into a cat to get away from everyone and…W-well, what I’m trying to say is that it didn’t seem like a Leitner! 

I’d probably have finished reading the whole thing, but the microwave dinging made me jump and look up. No one usually uses the microwave outside of lunch hours, but Jon actually makes cups of tea by microwaving mugs of water and then—Ah-ah-ow! N-no, I’m not getting claw-bullied into not telling people the heinous way you make tea, Jon! 

Right, right, fine! Yes, so, microwave dings, I look up from the book, and…I drop the book. And I drop to the floor, a-and the book’s suddenly huge, and there’s Jon, and he’s looking at me, and…

…and I was a cat. I-I-I guess Jon hadn’t noticed me in the break room before putting his mug in the microwave, because he didn’t realise I was me. Next thing I know, I’m being picked up, held over his shoulder, petted and cooed at and—Owwww, claws, claws! Right, okay, no, no one can know Jonathan Sims has a heart, right you are! 

E-erm, so…Yeah. Panicked a bit. I-I tried to make it obvious to the others that it was me, but they just didn’t cotton on. And I couldn’t read the book to figure out if the ending would tell me how to turn back. O-or if I even would turn back. Honestly, in any other situation, I-I might have been really terrified, but it’s hard to keep worrying when people are suddenly stroking you and giving you all this affection. Heh, Jon even named me Champion. 

But, right, I-I really needed to turn back into a human. You know, as lovely as it was to be liked by everyone, I figured, well, it’s deeply unprofessional to turn into a cat at work, isn’t it? And I really didn’t want to be written up for unauthorised absences when I was technically in the room? 

It took a while – I don’t know who moved it, but the book had gone when I managed to slink back into the break room, had to wait for someone to open the door for me, you see – but I eventually found The Ninth Life again. 

It took ages to drag it over to Jon’s desk. And even longer for him to stop laughing and telling me what dedicated little chap I was. He picked up the book though, and I got so excited that someone would finally realise a Leitner was in play that I jumped up onto his desk and…

…and I…erm…I knocked his cup of tea over the book. 

I could feel my heart sinking. What if I’d ruined it? What if the answer was all smudged up? Jon could tell I was upset, and he started trying to pet me and calm me down, mopping up the tea and everything. Took a while before he got back to the book, and, well…the bookplate had been smeared by the spilt tea, I guess, because he didn’t see any mention of Leitner at the front. He started reading the book, and I tried to nudge him to read the back pages first, to get to the answer before the book could turn him into a cat, but he, erm…well, he read it. Five pages, we think. 

And there he was. 

One minute, Jon’s at his desk, the next, there’s a little black cat with too many scars sitting in his chair. 

Well, after he’d stopped hissing, running around the room – Tim thought he had zoomies, ha ha! – and bapping me on the head every time I got close, he realised who I was. 

And then, he bapped me on the head again. 

So. We were both cats! And it’s so funny, because in the office, Tim and Sasha and me, we all say how Jon gives off major black-cat energy? He’s like this poor wet cat in human form, and now that he was a cat, and it turned out, he is…w-well, he’s not very good at being a cat? 

[A LOUD HISS – EVIDENTLY, MARTIN HAS FORGOTTEN JON IS SITTING THERE]

Don’t hiss at me! You know it’s true. I mean, look, you’re literally sitting in my lap now like a human. Cats don’t do that, Jon! It looks weird! 

R-right, okay, let’s, erm, get on with the story – ah, statement, statement! – before I get scratched again. 

S-so, right, Jon wasn’t really getting the hang of being a cat. He kept clambering up onto desks to type on keyboards, trying to tell Tim what was happening. He wouldn’t even jump up onto the desks, he would literally shimmy up the leg like he was climbing a tree. And, yeah, he doesn’t sit in your lap like a cat, all curled up, no no, he sits…like a person sits. So I figured actually, this was pretty good, someone had to realise something was up with this cat that just wasn’t catting. 

But no. No, no, Tim just laughed and named Jon Skrunkly and got on with his day. 

[A LONG, LOW MIAOW OF CONTEMPT IN THE BACKGROUND]

Nooo! You’re not skrunkly at all, Jon! You’re a very handsome little kitty!

[A HISS]

Right, right! Back to work! Erm, yeah, so, there I am, trying to teach Skr–err, Jon how to act more like a cat. Not because it would help get us back to normal, but because I was worried? He kept falling off stuff, not landing on his feet…jumping and missing things…He was having a really hard time, and I figured if we were stuck like this indefinitely, it might help to, you know…teach him a bit? 

And then, one day, he just…vanished. I wandered in one morning from the canteen, ‘cause Sasha had snuck me a plate of milk, and I couldn’t find Jon anywhere. Tim realised pretty quickly that something was up, that I wouldn’t settle down, and then he noticed Skrun–err, Jon, was missing. 

It took days for me to sniff him out. Which is…a really weird thing to say out loud. On record. Erm. I sniffed my boss out. But it’s insane, as a cat, the difference in senses, a-and to be honest, my eyesight was dreadful because I obviously couldn’t wear my glasses. A-anyway, sniffed him out, and realised he had somehow fallen into the tunnels through the trapdoor? Which is weird as well, ‘cause the trapdoor is always closed. No one would have opened it? 

[ANOTHER LOW MIAOW, BUT THIS ONE SOUNDS STRANGELY LIKE SKRUNKLY IS TRYING TO SPEAK – IT ALMOST SOUNDS LIKE HE’S SAYING ‘SASHA!’]

I know, Jon, you’ll tell us when you, erm, get back. 

So, now I knew where he was, I went into full hyperkitty mode. I was zooming around, miaowing, pawing, jumping on Tim, jumping at Tim, launching myself off bookshelves, you name it! Somehow, I managed to get the message across, and Tim went to open the trapdoor. 

I…I hate going into the tunnels. I really, really hate it. But Jon was down there, and as far as we knew, he’d been down there with no food and water for days! So, down I jumped, with Tim clambering after me telling me to slow down. I kept sniffing, and it was actually pretty easy to find him after that! 

There he was, curled up and shaking near a wall, and I ran towards him, miaowing my head off so he knew we were coming to the rescue, and…

And I…changed back. Right there. Just pop! There I was. 

Tim, erm…Tim screamed. Jon hissed and nearly ran away. It was chaos, and…I’m actually surprised all three of us made it out. Especially with Jon going wild on Tim and clawing him every time he tried to pick him up. What was that about, anyway, we were helping you!

[ANOTHER GRUMBLING MIAOW – DID SKRUNKLY SEE SOMETHING IN THE TUNNELS? OR SOMEONE? WAS HE TRYING TO TELL THEM?]

We got back up to the office, Jon in tow, and now that I could speak, Tim, Sasha and I managed to hash out a theory. 

Basically, we figure that there are a lot of Leitner books that kind of do different things depending on how much you read of them. S-so we have one on record, A Disappearance, if you read one line, you disappear for a bit. But, if you read the whole book, you disappear from the world for good. 

I read ten pages of The Ninth Life, and I was a cat for ten weeks. Checks out! So we reckon Jon read about five pages, and it’s been three weeks, so…two weeks of Skrunkly to go!

Right, think that’s it. Yeah! So, erm, if you’re looking for a cure for The Ninth Life, just enjoy your time as a kitty and wait it out! U-unless you read the whole book, in which case, erm…I-I really hope you enjoy your life as a cat. 

End recor–Ow! What did I miss off this time? 

[SEVERAL LIGHT THUDS SOUND]

Why are you pawing the book, Jon? I…oh. Right. 

Erm…I think Jon wants it on record that, erm…the book is eleven pages long. And…and I read ten pages. 

[THUD-THUD-THUD!]

Yes, yes, all right, you microwaving your tea saved me from an eternity as a cat! That does not mean I am going to let you continue to ruin perfectly good cups of tea like that!

[A LOUD MIAOW OF PROTEST. MARTIN SIGHS]

Recording ends. 

[CLICK]