#this wrinkled mess of adorable perfection

[pucksandpower]

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

[k0juki]

heyyyy!! trying my luck here😅

imagine a smoker!joost x non smoker!reader hanging out or smth, and joost just had a cigarette and tries to kiss the reader but since they don’t like the smell or taste of it they don’t give him a kiss😭😭😭 and then he gets all sad and starts pouting and the reader just giggles and stuff😭 just a lot of cuteness and fluff💗

also ps! you’re literally my favorite author who writes for joost!!!

A/n: someone is lucky🤞🍀 and that's you anon🫵

Kisses and cigarettes

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine. Credit goes to owner!

Wc: 452

---

Joost leaned against the railing, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers as he took a drag, letting the smoke curl up into the evening sky. It was a long day for him, but you were here to help him with anything, and he was glad.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over everything, and he couldn't help but think how perfect the moment was. His eyes flicked over to you, sitting on the porch swing, a soft smile playing on your lips as you watched him.

With a final drag, Joost stubbed out the cigarette on the railing and made his way over to you. He could see the way your nose wrinkled slightly, a sure sign you weren't a fan of the lingering smell. But he hoped maybe this time you'd let it slide.

"Hey." he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. You turned your head the last second, and his kiss landed on your cheek instead. "Joost, you know I don't like the smell." you said, trying to keep the teasing out of your voice. Just messing with him a bit.

He pulled back, eyes wide and a pout already forming on his lips. "But... I missed you." he said, his voice taking on a whiny edge that made your heart melt a little. He looked so crestfallen, like a puppy who'd just been told no.

You couldn't help but giggle at his expression, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Oh, Joost, you're adorable when you pout." you teased, pressing a kiss to his forehead instead.

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away, though the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "It's not fair." he muttered. "I just wanted one little kiss."

You laughed outright then, the sound bright and musical in the evening air. "Well, you can have as many kisses as you want." you stated, "as long as you don't smell like an ashtray."

Joost's pout deepened for a moment before he finally cracked a smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "Fine, fine," he said, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. "I guess I'll just have to brush my teeth and freshen up for you."

You giggled again, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down onto the swing beside you. "Now that sounds like a plan." you said, resting your head on his shoulder. "Besides, I love you more when you smell like you and not smoke."

He sighed contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too," he murmured. "Even if you are a bit of a kiss tease.”

---

A/n: sorry I wasn't here xdd I had finals, but now I'm free and ready to start writing again! Also my last post "Wolf in sheep's clothing" I spent so much time on it and I would love to if you give it try...:))🩷🩷

[getodrools]

Suguru giving backshots plsplsplsplspls 🥺

ᯓ★ warnings. mdni | f! reader | pwp, spanking, praising, creampie, reader lowkey a pillow princess ngl, he miiight've stuck his thumb somewhere. ( wc. 1.2k + )

THE ENTIRETY OF THE left side of your face was scrunched in; ridden cheek and throbbing temple mushed right into the warm pillow ahead, even your puckered mouth curved a wrinkled ‘o’ the harder his hips bucked — forcing you to sink further and slip with drool… Dribbling into the cushion with a mix of moans and a slathered mess, the sheets shade darker the longer his barrage held on behind you…

Suguru’s nose wiggles up high and mighty, almost a selfish pride swelling in his chest as you struggle to gather your thoughts. Only dreams nestled into your pillow, some babble out your puffy lips, “Yes Getō! Harder, please 〜 !”

“Don't worry baby.” Invading your soft, gummy walls with focused thrusts, Getō was like a damn jackhammer in response to your bursted outcry….

Getō’s rough grip clipping around your waist dragged you with him each time he reeled back, and with each rhythmic slosh your pussy gushed with, he'd rush back forward — though never letting that bulbous capped tip pop out, he'd sink all nth inches of pale, fat meat to the hilt when ragged hips would kiss again. All strong with a loud clap ricocheting harder than the ones before.

And it was rapid.

Groping at the squishy flesh bending into his pelvis, he squeezes down with firm, gratifying force — kneading those two doughy globes he adores. And he couldn't help but spread them wide. Soiled eyes mimicking, he ogled how your pussy sucks him right him up. Watching how the tight skin wraps around him, like a suction trying to keep him trapped there…

… Admiring how easily stretched your slippery folds get when he'd bring you to be beyond a draining faucet.

“Pretty pussy milking me baby, she's creamin’.” No wonder the milky, translucent ring globbing at the thick end of his base churned; his cock pistoned on a wild onslaught relentlessly.

Spreading those fleshy orbs as wide as that perk hole did when a sleazy thumb ringed around it. A perfect parabola fromed at your back; arching and earning ease to slide through your sopping cunt with further wrath as he toyed at your little hole.

Your moans were no louder than the clapping behind you. Mewling out his name in a spew, half the time incoherent or a long drawl in syllables… Pussy too wrecked at the stuffing length pumbling through you. Sticking every bit of girthy inch ‘till those muffled cries in the cushion tickled your lips, and that pesky thumb adding to the riding pleasure broke something in you.

“Fuck—” Your eyes knock back.

Nuzzling that pretty face into the comforting like safe heaven — the only thing you could reach for to suppress that agonizing scream of monumental high, since trying to press the tips of your fingers at the working pelvis clapping against you in mercy, yet he swatted those weeping hands away.

“Don't you try runnin’—augh—take it baby.” You did, especially after the mean swat cracking right down your crack… but even then, pleasure over feening thoughts, you were reminded again, and again, how good of a fuck he truly is when you begged for more…

Forcing you to ride out that sweet high as he barreled in you. Getō wanted to hear it all — grabbing at your shoulders, he lifts you up from shying into the sheets, and your tits jiggle freely in the open air as you popped up; back stretching and head knobbly, you wail out jaggedly.

His breath fanned close to the shell of your ear, “Yeah, cum on my dick, pretty girl.” Getō wormed his way into you too deep, bucking achingly hard that's all you could do!

His swollen dick sunk inside by the inch, moving into that utterly soaked tunnel with the utmost ease — now deeper with languid strokes in a never-ending onslaught.

Warm, gooey walls convulse, and the liquidy embrace hugged him just perfectly. It all squished around him like a wet sponge with honest, earnest appraisal, making the man sigh out pleasurably too.

Getō groans as heavy balls tighten up, “Fuck!”

Feeling as if a bird in the sky, the thumb in your ass wiggled out and quickly mashed at the glowy curvature of your back as his other squeezed at the back of your neck, pushing you straight down. Smothering you back into the sheets with all of his weight; his curling toes press into the covers to bury further into your tight, wet core with all his might.

Shoving his pulsating cock straight into your pussy and impaling you with nothing but turgid meat, you could feel how he throbbed a few times. And with the fourth hump, Suguru’s heavy balls popped.

That flushed crown spurt out in a sticky mess; white seed spattered the inner lining of your pussy. Hot and wet cum rushed along the length of your insides all at once — A fast, quick heap of fluid that lashed out and stained your gummy walls in oozing white. Enough batter to pack you full, and fill the nooks and crannies of that tight channel he purely buries himself in. His hips grind against your ass to shimmy the rest his high further; stirring his swollen dick around with warm and sticky juices offering in thick globs and little gushes of wetness…

Groaning and shuddering, eyes squeezing, you both moan in unison.

He pushed down, not quite stopping, always moving, yet with a slower, languid pace, “That was cute of you...” He huffs, swinging his head back to swipe away his hair, and your tired eyes flutter open, confused, “You tryna run from my dick, heh, that was a cute attempt.” Asshole!

<– BACK: PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT: MORE SUGURU –>

[corroded-hellfire]

Inked - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie loves the doodles from his favorite girls so much that he gets them permanently etched on his skin.

Note: Dad!eddie, mom!reader

Words: 1.8k

“I can’t study anymore,” you whine, dropping your head down on your kitchen table. 

Eddie watches you with an adoring smile on his face. He slides his hand over and snatches up the pen you were taking your notes with. A tapping on the back of your hair has you picking up your head and looking at your boyfriend.

“Take a break,” Eddie says, offering the pen to you. “Do a little doodling.”

“I don’t wanna mess up my notes,” you say with the most adorable pout Eddie’s ever seen. 

“On me,” he answers. He flips his arm over so you can draw on the inside of his right wrist.

“I dunno what to draw,” you tell him.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

You wrinkle your nose in concentration, practically making Eddie fall in love with you all over again. Sometimes he feels like he has to restrain himself from telling you just how much you mean to him. He’s afraid he’ll scare you off if he tells you that he’d marry you tomorrow if you’d let him. 

An idea finally comes to you, and you hold his arm steady with one hand, and put the pen to his skin with the other. Your brow pinches in concentration as you drag the tip along to make the design. Eddie decides not to look until you’re finished, wanting to be surprised by your completed masterpiece. 

“Am I hurting you?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Not at all.” 

“Almost done!”

“Take your time, baby.”

“Tada!” You lean back and put the cap on the pen. Eddie raises his wrist up to inspect your artwork. He grins at the little stick figure kitty cat you’ve drawn. 

“He’s perfect,” he tells you.

“She,” you insist. “She’s a female cat.”

“My apologies. She’s perfect,” Eddie corrects. 

“Thank you very much,” you say, pulling your textbook closer towards you, ready to study again. 

Between work and a family member’s wedding, you don’t get to see Eddie over the weekend. When he picks you up for school on Monday morning, he has a bright beaming smile on his face.

“Someone looks happy,” you say as you click your seatbelt into place. “You know we’re going to school, right?”

Eddie’s too excited, he can’t even find the words. So instead, he tugs up the sleeve of his leather jacket and shows you the inside of his wrist. At first you don’t understand what’s got him so worked up. It’s just the cat that you drew on him a few days ago, what’s the big deal? But you pick up on how the drawing doesn’t look the least bit faded after all this time. In fact, it looks a bit darker. The skin around the outline of the cat also looks raised and red. You suck in a harsh gasp as your eyes widen in realization.

“You got it tattooed on you?!” The pitch of your voice rings in Eddie’s ears and he lets out a chuckle.

“I did. Now I can look at my baby’s artwork anytime I want to.”

You want to tell him how absurd it is that he did this, that he might regret it later on. But you’re too overwhelmed by the fact that he got your cartoon permanently inked on his body. It’s not even anything meaningful, just a silly little cat. But to him, it was important enough to keep forever. Your eyes mist over, and you shake your head. 

“You don’t like it?” Eddie asks, his heart plummeting.

“Eds, I love it. I just can’t believe you’d do this for something I drew on you.” 

“There’s nothing I’d rather have on me,” he says. 

You unhook your seatbelt and launch yourself across the van at him. He laughs as he catches you, settling you in his lap as best he can. 

“I love you so much,” you mumble into his neck.

“I love you too, baby.” He tilts your chin up and presses his lips against yours. “Purr-ever.”

You wrinkle up your nose at the pun and shake your head. “No, we’re gonna have to come up with a name for this little feline. I will not stand for awful puns about her.”

Eddie laughs and nods his head in agreement. 

“We can do that.”

Ten years later, it’s a rainy Monday and Eddie’s trying to keep your four-year-old daughter entertained until you come home from work in a few hours. So far, they’ve played Barbies, Go Fish, and even watched The Little Mermaid twice. All after her day of preschool. 

Bailey’s now itching for another activity to amuse her and stumbles upon the box of crafts in her room. 

“Ooh, Daddy!” She shouts, even though he’s right behind her. “Can we color?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

He helps her carry the coloring books, crayons, and markers to the kitchen table. She spreads them all out, needing to see every last thing before she decides what she wants to work on. Settling on a Minnie Mouse coloring book, Bailey situates herself in her chair to get as comfortable as possible. Eddie selects a coloring book full of fairytales because he knows there are a few creatures in that one who remind him of D&D monsters. Father and daughter color in silence for a while, only the occasional hum of approval coming from either of them. Eddie glances over to see Bailey’s nose wrinkled up as she concentrates and her small tongue poking out of her pink lips. Traits she inherited from each of you right there on display. 

“Done!” Bailey announces once she’s finished her rendering of Minnie in a purple polka dot dress. Eddie looks over at it and nods appreciatively. 

“That’s real pretty, princess.”

Bailey flips through the pages but huffs when she can’t find another one that she wants to color. Eddie notices her impatience and quirks an eyebrow at her.

“What is it, rugrat?”

“Dunno what I wanna color,” she says, resting her chin in her hand, elbow propped up on the kitchen table. Eddie decides to let her figure it out on her own, wanting her to be able to make her own decisions. He goes back to coloring his picture of a fairy, but before long he feels a poking at his arm. Turning his head, he sees Bailey giving him an adorable grin—the one she uses when she wants something. 

“May I help you?” he asks. 

“Can I color on you?” Bailey asks, eyeing the pale expanse of Eddie’s left arm that his Iron Maiden t-shirt leaves uncovered. 

“I guess so.” Eddie caps his marker and holds his arm out to his little girl. Bailey grabs a lime green marker and holds it above the skin on the side of his elbow. She stares, little brows furrowing together.

“Dunno what to draw.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Bailey thinks a few moments longer before lowering the marker, letting the green ink stain her father's skin. Eddie hears the front door of the apartment open and a giddy smile spreads on his face, excited to see you even though it’s only been a few hours. He can hardly wait as he hears you taking your shoes off and setting your things down. When you walk into the kitchen, you chuckle at the sight in front of you.

“What’s going on here?” you ask.

“Hi, Mommy,” Bailey says, not taking her eyes off of her creation.

“A little artist is at work,” Eddie says, holding his right arm out for you. You take his hand, and he presses kisses across your knuckles. 

“Tada!” Bailey leans back and puts the cap back on the marker. Eddie turns to see a bright green smiley face on the side of his arm, one eye bigger than the other, and squiggly lines coming from the top of its head. 

“It’s lovely,” Eddie says, grinning at his daughter.

“He’s lovely,” you correct him, knocking your hip against him playfully. “I love the squiggles on his head.”

“That’s his hair! It’s like Daddy’s!”

Now that she says it, the green spirals do resemble Eddie’s curls. 

“I love it, princess,” he tells her. There’s a proud smile on her face as she leans up and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

When you and Eddie are getting ready for bed that night, you chuckle when he takes his shirt off, giving you a better view of the green art. 

“Don’t be laughing at my new ink,” Eddie teases. “Best tattoo artist I ever had.”

“Oh, really?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay, it’s a tie,” Eddie relents. He turns his arm so he can get a better look at his little Picasso’s work. “Think I’ll get this inked too.” The way he smiles so fondly at the marker design gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling. 

“She’d love that,” you say as you pull down the blankets on your bed. 

“Don’t be jealous,” Eddie says as he climbs in on the other side. “Dinah is still my favorite.” Your husband holds up his wrist to you, showing off the stick figure cat you drew back in high school. “Favorite tattoo, that is. She’s my second favorite pussy.”

Eddie barks out a laugh as you lean over and swat at him.

The next day, Eddie waits anxiously outside of Bailey’s preschool classroom. Kids could be blunt and would tell you if they didn’t like something. What if Bailey wasn’t happy he got her drawing tattooed on him? Would she understand the emotion and sentiment behind it? Eddie doesn’t have time to think about it before the door opens and a dozen munchkins are swarming around, trying to find their parents. 

“Daddy!”

“Bailey!”

She runs to him, arms raised, and he gladly snatches her up and holds her on his hip.

“How was school, princess?”

“Was good,” she answers.

He starts to walk out of the school with her, and when he gets out into the parking lot, he jostles her a little in his arms.

“Wanna see something?” he asks.

“Okay.”

Eddie sets her down so she’s sitting on the trunk of the car and turns so she can better see his left arm. He tugs his sleeve up a little to give her a better view. Bailey grabs his arm in both of her small hands, making Eddie wince when she gets too close to the still-sensitive area. 

“I drew that,” Bailey points out. 

“You did,” Eddie says. “And this morning I got it tattooed on me.”

Bailey gasps and holds his arm even tighter. 

“You did?! My drawing is your tattoo? Forever?”

Eddie can’t help but chuckle at how awed she sounds. 

“Yeah, princess. Forever.” He turns to face her again and moves some of her unruly hair out of her eyes. “That’s how long I’m going to love you, too. Forever.”

“It looks cool, Daddy.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Cooler than Dinah the cat.”

Eddie laughs.

“Don’t tell Mommy.”

[snailpebbles]

Charles Tries Piano Tiles - CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x long-time gf!reader

summary: it's bedtime and Piano Tiles is kicking your ass, so why not spread the gift to your loving boyfriend?

tags: vomit-worthy domesticity, purely fluff, yeah they're just too cute

a/n: this is kinda all over the place and ass but whatever

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

It's late at night, both of you tucked up into bed all cozy besides one another. Charles is reading some book he found at the local market, glasses you fondly refer to as old man spectacles propped on the end of his nose. Your arms are pressed together just like your legs are tangled beneath the soft blanket, the comfortable silence having been curated over your long term relationship. Charles loved the peace you brought into his life and how everything seemed to soften around you; every moment with you is one engraved in his heart, soul, and mind.

"Fuck!" The explicative comes out of the blue, your boyfriend startling next to you. As he glances over in confusion, his heart melts further. You look absolutely adorable with your little frustrated pout and furrowed brows. A smile tugs at his lips as he peers over your shoulder, only to dim once more to confusion.

"Love.. what are you doing?" He murmurs, watching your fingers tap little black boxes on a scrolling screen. A faint song plays from your phone, one he'd previously tuned out in favor of listening to your breathing; a sound that always soothes him.

"Piano Tiles." You mutter, too focused on correctly playing the Can-Can to look at your darling boyfriend. You've been trying to beat this song for God knows how long, the Can-Can haunting your dreams like Ferrari haunts his. At your response Charles leans closer, his warm breath brushing against your neck and cheek to distract you. From this, you mess up and the Can-Can mocks you from Hell.

"Why are you playing this game? I can teach you piano!" He offers, the idea making him light up in a way that relaxes the wrinkle between your eyebrows. You place your phone down beside you, knowing if you see that losing screen for one more second your phone will end up embedded in the wall. Charles, unaware of your seething rage at the children's game, seems absolutely taken by the thought of teaching you his passion.

"I have many books we can use and I'm sure you will love it.. oh, we can do duets!" He borderline squeals, already halfway out of bed as if it isn't almost twelve. You gently take his hand and pull him back, chuckling quietly.

"It's time for bed, remember?" A grin spreads across your face as a pout takes over his, his body slumping back beside you. Charles sulks, but then again, he sulks at everything. Knowing the perfect remedy to his silly dilemma that is time, you grab your phone and open the cursed app again.

"Would you like to play Cha?" The sickeningly sweet smile on your face should be noticeable, but Charles is too excited to learn something from you to care. Whenever you offer to teach him something, no matter how miniscule or simple, he suddenly becomes the most dutiful student with a slight (extreme) staring problem. He carefully takes your phone and, after a bit of direction, begins playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He finds it easy, just like how his ego is easily inflated.

"My love, this is so simple. I promise that real piano is much more challenging, you would like it more." Charles exclaims, your earlier frustrations still not clicking with him. A wonderful, potentially cruel idea forms in your brain. That same smile spreads across your face and you rest your head on his shoulder to further lull him into a false sense of security you secretly use any excuse to touch him.

"Here's the one I was playing, maybe you can teach me it?" You click on the dastardly Can-Can, almost feeling pity at the naive confidence he displays. An excited smile glows on his face at the mention of teaching you; He'll take any excuse to spend time with you and getting to be squished beside you on a piano stool is a definite plus. When the song starts though, that confidence drains almost instantly. He manages to play for roughly seven seconds.

You giggle quietly as he tries again, and again, and again... and, you guessed it, again. By this point he's frowning and mumbling curses you don't think he even knows the meanings of, his shoulder tense beneath your cheek. Trying to draw him out of his relentless torture cycle, you gently kiss his stubbled jaw. Charles puts your phone down, all attention instantly on you as he relaxes.

".. Why would you introduce me to this game?" Charles asks, wrapping an arm around you to hold you closer. You cuddle into his side, tracing shapes over his white sleep shirt.

"Everyone needs Piano Tiles trauma, it builds character." You explain, peering up at him from his chest. Unable to resist such a cute sight, he kisses your forehead as his other arm comes around to hold onto your hip. A laugh bubbles in his chest though once he registers your words, only growing when he realizes you're fully serious.

"Really? You do this to me for character development?" Charles gasps as though you've offended every part of him, shaking his head.

"I can never forgive this crime my love." He tuts as you sit up a little. It's obvious what his charade is since he does it at any chance he can whether that be you forgetting a goodbye kiss or just bumping into him. A dramatized sigh escapes your lips as you cup his face, ready to plead for mercy over this horrendous offense.

"How can I make it up to you hm?" You hum, kissing the tip of his nose and giggling when it skews his old man spectacles. His nose scrunches at the peck and he glances up at the ceiling, clearly deep in thought. As he ponders what could give you retribution, you play around with his soft hair, giggling to yourself as you make pigtails and whatnot.

"I will forgive you if.." He dramatically pauses, of course, and you tap the top of his head as a mock drumroll. A goofy grin breaks through his serious facade before he fixes his face.

".. You let me teach you piano tomorrow." He says decisively. Obviously you saw this coming and can only pray he forgets (he won't). Charles can get.. passionate while playing piano and with you struggling to play alongside him.. well, you've fallen off the bench enough that he puts pillows down to catch you.

"Yes, yes alright." You groan, tucking yourself back up under his chin. He laughs quietly, knowing your exact train of thought. As compensation though he holds you extra close, arms tightly wrapped around you and legs hopelessly tangled while he rubs your back. You feel sleep tugging at your eyes, the steady heartbeat of your boyfriend only makes it harder to stay up. Wordlessly you reach a hand up to take his glasses off, the movement second nature from the many times you've had to help out the forgetful man. He murmurs a quiet thank you, followed by an 'i love you' that never fails to warm you right up. At your whispered reciprocation his heartbeat speeds up a tick, one that you can hear and makes the task of tomorrow worth it.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

[somber-sapphic]

Hii!! Been a fan of your of your stuff for a while now, could I please request Nat x reader with maybe Nat coming back home from a mission sick or something? using prompts: "Could you pass me a tissue, please?" + “I think I caught something. My head is pounding." + “Let me fuss over you."

Thanks!!

Healing Hours

〖Summary: Natasha returns early from a mission with a bad case of the flu.〗

〖Word Count: 1.3k〗

〖Pairing: Sick Natasha x R〗

〖Notes: I hope you all enjoy this!〗

You sighed and slammed your book shut, unable to on the words on the page. Natasha was supposed to be back from her mission in two days and you were a mixture of excited and nervous. She had been radio silent for days, only sending messages concerning the mission. 

That meant no sweet texts to you, only communication with Cap and Tony.

It was standard for a mission like this, she was in a potentially dangerous situation and to minimize any danger they minimized contact. Even though you understood it didn’t mean you had to like it. You had continued to train while she was away, the physical act of hitting something distracting you from your anxiety. If you could keep your energy up you could keep the emotions at bay. 

With a frustrated groan you pulled out your laptop, resigning yourself to some YouTube cat compilations. Those usually held your attention, and it helped that cats were adorable. Maybe you could convince Tony to let you have a cat, if you laid out a good enough argument he might let you. 

For a while you let yourself be captured by the videos moving across the screen, watching the pixelated cats fall off of things only to get up unharmed, attack humans, and be afraid of toasters. You were pulled out of your feline trance by a slight jiggle of your doorknob.

You looked up from your laptop, staring at the door handle and reaching for your weapon. No one was supposed to come into your room, and you had strict rules about knocking before opening the door. You grasped the smooth handle of the knife under your pillow, tensing your body in preparation for a fight. 

There were a million thoughts swirling through your mind, how had someone gotten into the tower? Why hadn’t FRIDAY alerted you? Were the others safe? 

A dark silhouette appeared in the doorway, and you threw your knife, the blade sinking into the wood of the door frame beside the person's head. It was a warning shot, you didn’t miss. Your goal was to scare the person off to avoid an altercation that you didn’t want to get into.

“Jesus Y/n, what the fuck was that?” A raspy voice asked, someone flicked on the light illuminating a very grumpy-looking Natasha. She walked into the room and threw her toolbelt onto the dresser, being much less careful than she usually was. She loved that belt; it had saved her life many times and she always handled it with care. 

“You fucking scared me! You’re supposed to be in Latvia, not breaking into my bedroom!” You shot back, lowering yourself against the headboard, the tension leaving your body. The adrenaline coursing through your veins began to calm down, slowing your rapid heartbeat. 

“And you’re supposed to be asleep, it's 2:00 in the morning.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Like you're any better,” Your words trailed off as a sharp sneeze cut through the room, leaving Natasha hunched over and sniffing. 

“Why are you back early?” Suspicion laced your words as you took in her disheveled appearance. When she was in uniform, she went to extensive efforts to make herself look professional even in a more relaxed setting. 

This time her clothes were slightly wrinkled, and her hair was a mess. You didn’t expect her to look picture-perfect after coming back from a mission, but she did try to make herself look stoic coming home to impress the men. She turned to face you, revealing an unnatural flush to her cheeks and red-chapped nostrils, the telltale signs of the flu. 

“I think I caught something; my head is pounding. Steve pulled me, decided I wasn’t healthy enough to be in the field. He threatened to come and get me himself.” She mumbled, sniffling again. She rubbed her nose against her sleeve and coughed into the air. 

You smiled at the idea, picturing her arguing with Steve who would seriously come and get her if he felt the need. 

“Okay love, go get showered and I’ll get some supplies. Do you think you’ll be okay to do it by yourself?” You asked, concerned that she might fall over if left alone. Natasha rolled her eyes, wincing at the motion. She shook her head slightly as if to clear it then nodded.

“I’ll be fine. Just want to get it over with, then sleep.” 

“Yeah, I bet you do. It’ll feel really good I promise.” When you heard the shower running you climbed out of bed, getting to work. You rifled through the drawers of your bedside table and pulled out a bottle of Nyquil alongside a thermometer, a box of tissues, and a bag of cough drops, all things left over from the last time you’d gotten sick. 

Next, you tiptoed into the kitchen and got a glass of water and one of juice, not wanting to make tea until Natasha asked for it. She rarely drank it and you knew she didn’t like it but you’d be happy if she consumed any fluids. 

When you returned to your room you were surprised to find your shivering girlfriend curled up in the bed, her wet hair splayed out over the pillow. You’d only been gone for ten minutes tops, you hadn’t expected her to have showered so quickly. 

“Did you enjoy your shower?” You asked, setting the glasses of water and juice on the small table by her side of the bed. She shrugged and sniffled thickly, rubbing her fist against her red nose. 

“Could you pass me a tissue please?” Her voice was so stuffy, poor thing sounded awful. And she didn’t look much better, not that you would tell her that. You grabbed a tissue from the already prepared box and pressed it into her hand, turning a way to simulate privacy as she blew her nose weakly. 

“Oh, my sweet Natty, you really don’t feel well do you…” You muttered, more to yourself than to her. Natasha nodded and turned to look at you with a pout set on her chapped lips. Barely three seconds later her gaze unfocused and she snapped forward with a rough sneeze that she didn’t have time to cover. 

“Okay well that wet hair isn’t going to help. Sit up for me, take some medicine, and I’ll dry your hair while we watch a movie.” The redhead did what you instructed, lifting herself onto the pillows with a wheezy sigh. 

You poured out a dose of the medication and watched her drink it, making sure that she got all of it. The gulp of “grape” flavored goop was quickly followed by half a glass of juice. You were internally pleased with the amount of juice she had just willingly drank, usually keeping her hydrated was a chore. 

“Get comfy and pick a movie, I’ll grab the hair dryer.” She settled on Jaws for reasons that you couldn’t explain. You knew she loved it but you didn’t exactly consider it a good sick day movie. It didn’t matter, she already looked half asleep. You doubted she’d make it through the first act even with the sound of the hair dryer. 

“C’mere baby, let me fuss over you.” You climbed into bed and pulled her into your lap, positioning her so that she was laying back against you with her head on your chest. Just as you’d predicted it didn’t take long for her eyes to start drooping, the sound and warmth of the hair dryer seemed to be lulling her to sleep. 

“M’sorry for getting sick.” She mumbled, a huge yawn escaping her lips. You rubbed her shoulder and pulled the blankets up around her, making sure that she was comfortable. 

“No apologizes necessary Nat. You just relax, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

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[liv2post]

Hii!! I'm not sure if you're still taking requests but I have one if you are, one of my favorite chapters in itlt is the baking one, and I was wondering if you could write a separate fluffy baking fic!

Hi gracie! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy it :D

Cinnamon Rolls

Summary: After a long first day of the school year, Severus returns to your chambers in need of your presence and excellent baked confections.

Word Count: 1179

it's the little things story here (if anyone wants to read!)

The door to your office closed with a punctuated clang, the grumpy potion master leaning against it and letting out a weary sigh. He had gotten used to the summer months he was afforded that he had forgotten how cumbersome each new batch of first years’ incompetency was. One boy had not been paying attention during the safety demonstration for handling sharp tools properly and had cut his thumb open so deeply that he needed to be sent to the Hospital Wing. He swore each new injury or exploded cauldron was going to give him a new wrinkle or grey hair.

It was only until the sound of soft music and the smell of cinnamon spice hit his senses that he was able to let go of his frustration. They were a sign of your presence. His love.

He trudged silently through your living space toward the kitchen where he was met with a sight that made his heart flutter with equal intensity each time. 

You were flitting about the kitchen, a jumper with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows and lounge shorts on, but the front of your legs was partially covered by the apron you had tied around you. Your hair was clipped up and out of the way, allowing him a view of the chain you wore around your neck, one that held the ring Severus gave you that remained hidden beneath your day clothes. He could also make out a bit of flour caked along your jaw and near your neck, how you always managed to make a mess he’ll never know. It didn’t matter though. He thought you looked adorable.

As you finished stirring the bowl of glaze, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you back into a firm chest. 

“Hi, Severus,” you smiled, letting go of the wooden spoon and resting your hands on his forearms.

He sighed into you, his face nuzzling into your hair as he inhaled your scent, loving the way your natural fragrance mixed with the sweetness of the confections you baked. 

“You smell so good…” he remarked quietly.

You chuckled. “I sure hope so.” 

He tugged you a little to the side with one arm, the other coming up to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back and up, his lips eagerly connecting with yours. You hummed into the kiss, your lips moving just as enthusiastically against his whenever he was domineering with you. You felt his tongue swipe against your own and on your bottom lip, sampling the remnants of cinnamon rolls and the glaze you had been perfecting for the last five minutes.

“You taste good, too,” he pulled away with a smug smirk. Oh, how he loved the way such words reduced you to a blushing mess, your face blazing with redness as you managed to turn into his hold and bury your face into the crook of his neck, your arms coming to wrap around his back. His arms readjusted similarly, stroking up and down the length of your back as you both breathed each other in, missing each other's presence as the both of you had classes to teach on the farthest sides of the castle. The both of you had gotten so accustomed to waking up next to one another, absorbing each other's constant presence in your summer cottage. But it was autumn now and the both of you had your respective duties in the school. On the flip side, it was also a school term he greatly looked forward to because you’d bake some of his favorite treats which just so happened to be in season.

What felt like many minutes passed before either of you spoke up once more.

“I missed you,” you said, voice partially muffled by his body.

“And I, you.” He pecked the side of your head.

“How was your first class?”

Severus huffed, holding you tighter. “The words necessary to describe the anticipated ineptitude I’ll be dealing with elude me.” He could feel your smile in comiseration against him. “Yours?”

“I have a feeling I’ll know who my ‘problem children’ will be, but otherwise not bad.” You kissed his neck before he released you. “I imagined you would have a rougher day than I would, so I made cinnamon rolls!” you announced, pouring the glaze over the brown, puffy rolls. “And I believe we still have some Earl Grey in the cabinet.”

The longing in his gaze deepened, the need to be close to you making him press against you his hands lightly grasping your waist as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, just above the chain. “You’re too good to me…” he murmured. His fingers began to undo the tie around your waist as well as the one resting on the base of your neck. “Allow me to make us the tea. Have a rest on the sofa.”

“Severus, I still have to clean up—”

“Have a rest...on the sofa” he repeated more firmly, a mixture of a warning and a plea. You had done something so nice for him and now he wanted to reciprocate. And he knew that you knew this. “Don’t be stubborn, you silly girl,” he kissed you once more, this time on the forehead as he peeled the apron off of you and proceeded to kick you out of your own kitchen.

The low fire blazed away, washing the office in warm yellow-orange and flickering on along the tan pages of your book. It wasn’t even dinner yet, but the dungeons had a way of making it seem like it was always nighttime. Severus’s soft footsteps caught your attention as he entered your field of vision. A snort escaped you.

“Something amusing?” He lifted a brow. 

“It seems the flour on my apron transferred onto your black robes.”

He looked down at himself and scowled. Indeed, the flour from your apron and on your face had imprinted onto his robes and collar. He set the cups of tea down on the coffee table and handed you the small plate holding two of the cinnamon rolls so he could swipe off as much of the flour as he could manage, though some appeared to be stuck.

“You could always just turn your robes white,” you teased.

“Absolutely not,” he gruffed, giving up on the attempt to clean himself in favor of being next to you. Severus settled down on the couch with you. His side pressed against you as he took a cinnamon roll and bit into it, moaning quietly at how good it was, how the sweet glaze mixed wonderfully with the spiced dough. You automatically leaned back against him, resting your head against his shoulder. The simple bliss of being with one another and enjoying the little domesticities of life washed over the both of you, his other hand interlacing with yours and his thumb gently rolling over the skin of your hand, grateful for his love that brought him so much peace. 

His love, who smelled like cinnamon rolls.

[ladybirdswritings]

Bound - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: The crimson phantom steals you to keep for himself… dark!miguel x reader fic. very steamy as always <3

TW: mentions of kidnapping, abuse, and other dark subjects.

two

The scream, it was an awful and otherworldly sound. A thing meant to only exist in the skin glistening terrors that greet you at nightfall. Yet you were very much awake.

Mother…

Your flame dances by the wind of your hasty departure, it had been serving you well as a gold star lighting the ridiculous letter from lord Wickham of Newbury, a town away. You’d met him once, and a handsome thing he was, undeniably. Yet he was also most successfully a bore. A great one at that.

Perhaps you’re just picky with your men. His sapphire eyes and blonde locks tied back by onyx colored ribbons just weren’t enough to catch your steady eye— much to mama’s dismay. He was far from a poor man, quite the opposite. Yet you swore this to yourself, you wouldn’t marry for anything other than true love. The purest, truest love and adoration like that of storybooks. Like that of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre.

So you wouldn’t marry at all, you’d decided. For that kind of longing was far too grand for this simple world with its simple people. This you knew well.

The ink stained paper was waxed and perfected. No stroke faltered or bled from its place. An invite to a ball, as if you had anything other than wool tresses and scratchy cloth to don. You’d prepared to have a laughing fit in your tiny cot at the thought of it all, of a man’s stupidity and their clueless nature but— the scream.

You took the steps two at a time, ignoring their complaints by noisy creaks. Shadows of your siblings circling mama in panic greeted you round the corner. All but the moon and her stars lit the wooden home— besides a single wick candle that dripped on to mama’s wrinkled palm.

She’s a mess of sobs and panic when you reach her, immediately snatching the candle from her palm and placing it in its rightful russet holder. You turn your eyes to your sister, nearly the eldest had you not beat her by a month.

“What’s happened?”

The poor thing, her eyes are wide as the moon herself. Perfect, round circles they are— adorned with cyan and onyx to craft the most delightful gaze. Men throw themselves at her, and for good reason.

“S-she claims to have seen a phantom…”

“I did see a phantom you foolish girl! Right there in the window, clear as morning hour. Can’t you see how my nerves have betrayed me you rodents!? I am being truthful!” She sobs again, face scrunched up into an unpleasant expression.

You swallow, knowing full well what this means. Your eyes shift to little Thomas, adorned in a frayed night shirt and a flimsy cap. His bright blue eyes are worrisome, looking upon you for aid. He’s only six.

You place a cool hand upon his reddened cheek before ordering your sister to help him find slumber in his cot.

You know familiarly what this is and how insignificant it is for him to see it. For you’ve dealt with it in all your time here and it has done nothing more than cause you worry and heartache.

Your palms halt themselves, then find courage in the moment to cautiously rest upon the shoulders of a madwoman.

“Mama, have you taken your medication this evening?” It’s a weak, gentle whisper.

First, you believe yourself to be in the clear. She snaps her head up in panic, and the itch of realization that bites at her gaze relaxes your shoulders for a quick moment; but then, she squints. Before you can straighten your back or step apart from her, she slams her hand hard against your flushed cheek— turning it the color of the mysterious bloom you’d seen in the bend.

Your siblings gasp, falling quiet. Particularly your brother is dismayed, for he averts his eyes and clenches an angry fist. You stumble backward, fingertips grazing the heat of the slap with a certain shakiness. It is your nerves that have fallen sickly now.

It is far from the first time, and it most certainly won’t be the last. You breathe out your frustrations and pain through petal-pink lips— allowing the night itself to have them. Reminding yourself that she is unwell in mindful matters.

She is overtaken with sobs again, murmurs of the phantom and a disappearing flower being planted throughout her words. You swipe away at the warm water rolling singular down your cheek before straightening your back and snatching at the candlestick. You’ll remain strong as the eldest should for your siblings, and for your mother.

“I’ll go search for the phantom, mama. You may watch me from the window if you’d like.”

Worry embroiders itself in her wrinkles, and she reaches a weak hand out for you. You ignore it before making your way past your siblings and out into the icy night.

The creak of the window follows not long after, and your candlestick flame dances wildly with the wind, as though they are in a quarrel. As though they are cross.

You squint, midnight surrounding you. Blackness, nothingness.

Yet even so, you make a show of searching the grassy plain for this phantom she speaks of. You don’t seem to find him.

“Oh sweet girl, have you found the creature yet!?”

Your mother cries. You ignore it, inhaling a shaky breath as the wind lashes its anger upon your skin. The grass is dampened and soft, you’ll have to find new socks for they are browned now by dirt.

A bite of breeze steals the flame from you, and your siblings gasp as your glowing features are taken by the night.

“Be calm! It is just the wind! It is creating faces in midnight, mama. That is all!”

A softer sob now, one of realization and perhaps shame. It renders you content, you can rest now. For the hunger of her paranoia and fantasies are fulfilled.

“Follow the sound of my voice!” Your youngest sister Charlotte calls. It is a faint thing beyond the wind. A faint call.

It is as if onyx curtains have been veiled around your eyes. You search the night for a glisten of light and yet there is none.

Your sister calls again, and you stumble over a vine as you walk further toward her humming.

Your eyes shift to the earth’s core to find that odd blossom from earlier on. A strong color of red and blue— and it seems as though it has the power to shine brightly even at the devil’s hour.

You gape at it, grazing your fingertips cautiously against the petals. You must pluck it and use it to lead your way. Yet soon as your touch greets it, it disappears into darkness— into the night.

You gasp, falling onto your bum at its little trick.

It is you know that has fallen ill with ailments of the mind, it seems. The thought frightens you, enough so that the darkness seems to create more faces now. Enough so that you feel far from alone in the dead of nightfall.

Panic constricts you.

“Call for me again, Charlotte!”

A soft hum, but it sounds so far away now. You take a steeling breath and focus, taking only a selfish moment to hesitate before chasing after the sound. Closer and closer, your arched feet press against soft soil as you near the moonlit window.

Your brother holds a match flame so to find you, and you breathe in relief once you near it. Your nightgown is now stained with mud and the earth, you’ll have to sew another one.

The greeting of panicked eyes settle to relief once you near the window— and yet it is not so far after that they widen to saucers again. Another scream from your mother, then from small Charlotte with glossy eyes.

You gasp, turning against the hold of the night to find two crimson orbs staring right through you.

The phantom.

You know those orbs well.

The mysterious townsman who snatched you from immediate death.

Your body finds itself still, but your mind cannot be. It overtakes you, stumbling you backward till your eldest sister’s palm grazes the muddied gown you wear through the window. Reaching for you through the cries.

She cannot snatch you so soon- for the phantom beats her to it.

The sky itself cracks open in a flash of all the colors your mind can create, and a shadowed creature you’re confined to by the night itself snatches you by waist into the painful sight. It is far too bright for gentle eyes.

The sounds of fading screams and panic pools at the bottom of your pounding chest as you’re rushed through a space only meant to make your head ache. You’re certain you’re stuck in a terror now; but your mind is far too weak to bare it. So? You faint.

In the arms of mother’s phantom and his crimson gaze…

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @queenb27sblog-blog @dprmooni @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things @heartfeltlonging @coralreefses @knightowl019

[kgetb]

I like shiny things *⁠.⁠✧, but I'd marry you with paper rings ! ||>> Blaize Zabini

song to listen to : Paper Rings (Taylor Swift)

summary : The thought of Marriage seems to already peek Y/n's interests, as she talks about how much she's looking forward into her Married Life, with her husband, and Kids. Blaise pretends not to care, as he concentrates on folding... paper?

established relationship, fluf, literally around 10% of reader's yapping‼️

lover masterlist ! ♡

⤷ : : YANNA'S MAP .. : :

A usual day at Hogwarts, wherein Blaise has to endure Y/n's holy mother of yap about a random topic, again. not that he was complaining though... It was adorable watching her express what was on her mind, every day. It was interesting to say the least, And for what Y/n chose to talk about today was... marriage.

“I just can't wait when I finally graduate, and get married! I wonder what it'd be like!” Y/n chirped excitedly, in her own little world as she yapped to her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini about how excited she was to get married. Hell, they were still in their 6th year!

“Ugh.. like I can just imagine my wedding dress, and the cake.. ooh! and my bridesmaids! Definitely gonna be my bestest friends, of course!” She stated excitedly, with a huge grin plastered on her adoring face.

Blaise nodded nonchalantly, remaining quiet while focusing on folding the piece of paper in a ring shape. An origami heart that serves as the small little crown on the ring.

“Ooh! I also cannot wait to have children, they're so cute! Blaise, have you met my younger sister? I told you about her, right? she's the absolute cutest!” Y/n continued, empathizing the word 'cannot'. She kicked her legs forward, then backwards repeatedly. Making hand gestures as she talks.

She paused, and sat in silence for a few minutes, her puffy cheeks warming up at the thought of her and Blaise... actually having children. She shook the thought away, and leaned back on the chair she sat on. Then there she realized.. Blaise has been oddly.. quiet

As Y/n sat in silence, Blaise finished folding what looks like a Paper Ring.. It was a little bit wrinkled by the many failed attempts. but other than that, it was pretty, and adorable.

“Blaise? What're you doin'?”The girl piped up with a confused tone, and one eyebrow raised at Blaize's hand that hid behind his back with his lips curving upwards

“Close your eyes, milove.” Blaise spoke softly, while he tried his best to stifle a chuckle. Y/n complied by closing her eyes, Blaisw then stood up from the couch Infront of her, and slowly got down on one knee..

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at all the shuffling, yet her eyes remained closed until Blaise told her to open them. “You can open your eyes now, Y/n..” Blaise once again used the soft, and the ever sogentle tone he used only ever with Y/n.

Y/n slowly opened her eyes, and was immediately met with the sight of Blaise on one knee, smiling at her while laughing. He held up the Origami Paper Ring that he spent literally the whole day folding, as he spoke such words... “Y/n Y/L/n, Will you marry me?”

He jokingly proposed with a sarcastic, and also serious manner, and the sight, along with Blaise's words had Y/n’s stomach infested with butterflies. Even if they were both just messing around

She let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on her mouth, as she slowly nodded. the teenagers both giggled at the same time, Blaise slipped the Paper ring easily on Y/n’s ring finger, as if it's actually made for her..

“I thought you weren't listening!” Y/n let out a huff, as her lips curved downwards into a frown. Then, wrapped her arms around Blaise's neck. As they shared a tender kiss, filled with nothing but affection, and love for one another.

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds, before the two broke it. Blaise looked at Y/n, admiring all of her features that made up.. her. What Y/n saw as her imperfections, was the most perfect to Blaize. Everything about her, was perfect.

“Of course I was listening, I want to fulfill whatever dream you have, milove. As it is the only way I could ever show my undying appreciation, and love for you. I love you, forever. Y/n.” Blaise caressed her cheek with his thumb, as his other hand caressed Y/n’s hand which wore the Paper ring perfectly on the ring finger.

His smile was full of adoration towards his girlfriend, and also, his soon to-be wife, and most especially the mother of his future kids..

“I love you too, Blaise. soso much.” Y/n whispered fondly, both of their words. genuine and looked at Blaise with the same devoted look he gave her. Both of them already sure, of how their future will unfold. With them, still together, both with a ring that identifies their loyalty, and times spent together. Along with the family they will built, out of the passionate moments they've shared.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

The Final Draft - Spencer Reid +18

Summary: Spencer and Reader have a perfect day together and cling to each other under their sweet nothings

Word Count: 4K

Content Warnings: incredibly cheesy and borderline saccharine, smut (oral sex- female receiving, sexual intercourse, dirty talk but very sweet and romantic, breeding kink but it’s like sweet and cute) basically this is entirely self fulfilling and indulgent

The Final Draft

My hair stuck to the soft cotton pillow case as I rolled over to my side. I landed into Spencer’s warm, welcoming yet sleeping figure. He hummed in his sleep, unconsciously enveloping me into his strong frame. With my chest flush to his, I gently wrapped your arm around his upper torso and casually draped my leg over his much longer ones.

He was always warm, nearly burning, when he slept. Long ago Spencer hand abandoned sleeping in a shirt, opting for either simply boxers or old, worn plaid pajama pants. His chest was smooth and strong, and each wrinkle, scar, stretch mark reminded me of all my years spent loving him. Sometimes, when I looked at him, it just reminded me that I was simply too soft for all of it. And Spencer Reid, just might be the softest and most gentle of them all.

“G’ morning,” Spencer mumbled, sleep was still evident in his voice, “how long did you stare at me for?” He asked.

“Not long enough to admire how pretty you are, fiancé” I quipped, reaching over to the night stand to put the shimmering ring on my finger.

“Let me,” Spencer interrupted, grabbing the ring and placing it on my ring finger himself. He smiled to himself and it seemed like it was one of those smiles that was intended to be private. I watched the way his lipped curved upward as he held my hand in his palm. He has always touched me with the most love and adoration, but there was something different about the way he touched my hand when he slipped my engagement ring onto my finger.

“There,” Spencer said, “It’s back where it’s supposed to be.” He kissed my hand, the sweetness of the gesture making an embarrassed heat crawl up my face and into my ears.

“You know you don’t have to do that every time,” you muttered, covering my face as if it could possibly shield me from Spencer’s unabashed affections.

Spencer swung his legs over my frame so his body caged mine. He kissed my hairline and then down to the bridge of my nose. I brought my hand to his cheek, brushing my thumb against his cheekbone. He closed his eyes at the gesture, basking in my gentle touch as if he could commit it to memory. And if there was a person who could, it would most certainly be Spencer. 

“I do.” Spencer said, the irony of his words not lost on either of me. He smirked, peppering kisses down my throat. “You’re going to be my wife. And I want to spoil you completely rotten with fancy jewelry and all the iced lattes and books you could ever want.”

“Hmm,” I said, brushing my hands through the mess of brown curls on Spencer’s head, “you sound like a man you want a handjob with the hand with the huge rock you bought me.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” Spencer started, he lifted up my sleep shirt to stick his head underneath the soft, cotton fabric and place wet kisses against my belly, “all I can think about would be the staggering amount of germs collecting on your ring. And I don’t think either of us want me focusing on the amount of bacteria per square nanometer on your ring while you're stroking my dick.”

“God, I love you and your weird, wonderful mind,” I laughed, hauling Spencer up by his face to finally kiss him. I felt teeth and his soft lips in the kiss. It was a mix of sweet and something less sweet, as it usually was when I kissed Spencer.

“Ha, thank you very much,” Spencer quipped back, quickly kissing your cheek as a chaste thank you, “but I’d much rather go down on you anyway.” He grinned in a smile that spread throughout his entire face and, of course, leaked to mine.

“And what about the germs from that, Spence,” you teased, knowing that even Spencer Reid could make a couple excuses for germs when it came to me.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Spencer said, brushing you off as his hands traveled down to my pajama pants, “How fond are you of these pajamas. Because I want you so bad, I’m ready to rip them to shreds to get your pussy.” He lamented.

His eyes bore fire into my belly as he stared at me down, clearly waiting for an answer. 

“Quite fond, honey. But there’s other things I’m more fond of, if we’re being honest here.” I confessed, dragging my fingertips up and down Spencer’s smooth chest. He had a dusting of hair that led down to where his pants hung dangerously low on his hips.

“Hmm, well you’re lucky because you're too cute for your own good in those little shorts, I’ll make sure to not rip them. This time that is,” Spencer promised with a dark tone clouding his voice.

He shed me of my shorts, lightly tapping my thigh to lift my hips to help him. Spencer sighed contently as he got himself eye level with my legs. He peppered kisses against my inner thighs, nipping and sucking in perfect tempo with my whimpers of pleasure.

“Spence, please you’re killing me.” I groaned, gripping his hair with my hands.

“Already?” Spencer tsked, his condescending tone sent waves of pleasurable humiliation up my spine. “I hardly even touched you yet. My girl is getting so spoiled. It’s a good thing I’m making you my wife. You’ll never have to worry about not getting your way, honey. I’ll always give it to you, you know that, right?”

I attempted to catch my breath as I scratched Spencer’s scalp. He groaned, the anticipation of what was to come, clearly got to him as well. You could feel his erection pressed up against your leg. And the thought of still having that kind of effect on him made me smile with pride.

“I need it, Spence.” I chanted his name, desperation clouded my mind. “I need your mouth on me, please.”

“Just because I love you so much I’ll give it to you, darling.” Spencer cooed, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin as he spoke.

Spencer, with relative ease and muscle memory, lapped at my center with his tongue. He groaned as he tasted me, the sound simultaneously passionate and romantic. All I could do, as his mouth attached to my clit, was sit and let him have his way with me, not like there was anything either of us would have rather been doing.

His fingers dug into my fleshy hips so deep that they left colorful bruises in the shape of his hands. Spencer kissed my thighs, moaning as my pleasure-filled mewls filled our shared bedroom. He rocked his hips against the mattress, his erection hitting against my leg as he writhed in between my legs.

“Fuck,” Spencer cursed, his mouth massaging my clit as his right hand snuck closer and closer towards my soaked center, “I’ll never get tired of this.”

As much as I craved the familiar fire that Spencer set to my entire being, I found myself needing the quiet peace he provided as well. Even as his tongue danced against my sensitive folds, I still found myself noticing the faint wrinkles in Spencer’s forehead and the slightest sliver of silver in his scalp. And it wasn’t sexual desire that fueled the fire in my veins, it was yearning for the life we've yet to create.

With every kiss, every nip and bite of my skin, every rut of his hips against our perpetually squeaky mattress, I found myself closer and closer to the edge of climax.

Spencer’s finger breached me as his tongue continued to pry against my throbbing pussy. I knotted my hands into his hair, tugging with force just as I knew he loved. He groaned in response and it was frankly scientific. When I tugged his hair, it earned me a wanton moan from the man that found himself in between my legs wreaking havoc against my heart and nervous system.

“Spence…it’s…it’s too much for me,” I whined, yet I wrapped my legs around his torso, forcing his entire face flush against my skin, “Oh fuck, I love you.” I whispered, as I saw my glittering ring shimmer against Spencer’s mousy brown curls.

“I’m going to bury my face into your pussy until you’re begging to come against my face.” Spencer heeded, his patronizing tone casting a different light on the man I loved. Despite my distraction, I made a mental note to have Spencer explore that commanding side of him another day.

Because we had just that. The thought made me smile.

And then, along with Spencer’s eager tongue and continued moans of pleasure, I came undone.

Ever eager to please and see things through, Spencer kissed my inner thighs with persistence. A stray finger pumped in and out at a fervent pace as he milked the reminder of my climax.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” Spencer murmured, the vibrations from his throat tickled my skin. A sappy smile slipped onto my face as Spencer’s eyes finally landed on mine. “You coming on my face is something that I’ll never get tired of.”

“You certainly know the exact way to charm a girl, Spence.” I teased, stroking back strands of hair that fell against his forehead. His brown hair, dusted with golden, copper highlights complimented his eyes so perfectly that my heart twinged when I looked at him. “Besides being perfect in like every way possible.”

Spencer blushed and buried his face against my leg. He dragged his fingertips along my calf and up to my knee. “You’re the perfect one,” Spencer said, kissing my knee. The sweet gesture signaled that it was my turn to flush.

“That’s debatable,” I countered, locking my fingers into Spencer’s long, yet slender hands, “So you’re up at bat, buddy.” I teased, leaning over to playfully slap Spencer’s butt.

He smirked, his eyes ranking over my sleep shirt that was hastily unbuttoned in Spencer’s earnest frenzy to undress me. Though my eyes were caked with sleep and my hair had seen much better days, I had never felt more beautiful than I did under Spencer’s fiery, yet loving gaze.

“You know that doing that is more enjoyable for me than it is for you. And that’s saying something by the look on your face.” Spencer asserted, earning a playful eye roll. “And, don’t get me wrong, I love you more than life itself, but I really need to shower this off.”

“Such a dork.” I tsked, threading my fingers through Spencer’s hair. He leaned in at the touch. “How ‘bout I wash your hair as a thank you, baby.” I offered, sliding up to get off the bed.

“Hmm,” Spencer hummed, closing his eyes, “That sounds excellent.”

After a nearly 45-minute shower intermission, Spencer and I found ourselves standing at the kitchen counter debating over breakfast. Spencer, like usual, insisted on something sweet, covered in syrup and butter, with an unhealthy amount of coffee on the side. 

“I vote for bagels and lox.” I countered, placing my hands on the counter for emphasis. Spencer cocked his head to the left as he reached into the refrigerator for my non-dairy milk of choice. 

“I don’t know about that,” Spencer said, “I was kind of in the mood for something sweet. Like chocolate chip pancakes. Or waffles with mixed berries.” 

I sighed and snuck to behind Spencer’s tall frame. I could feel his muscles tense at my touch; it was something that made my heart swell with pride. I was intensely proud of the fact that I could still make this man squirm at the gentlest, lightest, sweetest of touches. 

“You’re not being fair, Y/N.” Spencer whispered, his voice caught in between a whine and an argument. “But maybe we could make a bargain.” 

“What do you want to offer?” I asked, slipping my hands under Spencer’s shirt. My fingers skirted around his smooth torso, loving the feel of his soft body underneath my touch. When he spoke, his voice was shaky, confirming to me the power I held over him. 

“I want cookies. Those peanut butter and marshmallow fluff ones. With chocolate chips, of course,” Spencer said, “And blueberry-lemon pound cake with icing.” 

Spencer spun around so he faced me. He licked his lips, perhaps thinking of all the sweet desserts he’ll get out of me. Or, rather, maybe he was thinking of taking our bedroom-turned-shower tryst into the kitchen. Whatever it was, I loved the way he looked at me like I was sweeter than my blueberry-lemon pound cake that he begged me to make at least three times a month. 

“You have quite the sweet tooth,” I stated, hooking my arms behind Spencer’s neck, “and you drive an easy bargain. I was already itching to bake today. I love it when our place smells like cookies and all that sweet stuff.” I confessed. 

“Our place,” Spencer repeated, “I can’t tell you how much I love the sound of that.” He smiled. Spencer brushed a piece of my hair that fell across my eyes. His stare bore into my soul and it wasn’t fire or desire or anything like that filled me, it was that familiar, the comfortable, that sweet nothing. 

“You know what I can’t wait for,” I whispered, burying my face into Spencer’s chest, “when our place is filled with our kids.” 

“I hope that they look like you.” Spencer wished. “And I hope they’re just like you. Your smile. Your eyes. Your heart.” His hand rubbed my back in small circles. It felt steady and strong against my back. It was like his hand was meant to be there– like Spencer was always meant to be touching me, holding me, loving me. 

“I hope they have your sweet tooth,” I smiled, “Think about all the cookies and brownies you’ll get if there’s mini-yous running around begging me to bake.” 

“I don’t think I want cookies anymore.” Spencer gasped, his hands finding their place at my waist. He kissed my jawline, smiling through the affection. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as my nails scratched up and down the expanse of Spencer’s back. 

“What’s got you so insatiable this morning,” I questioned, my attention span dwindling as Spencer’s careful mouth skated across my jaw and down to my neck. 

“You.” Spencer said definitively. I could feel his toothy grin as he kissed me. It was like he was unable to contain himself from smiling against my skin. I felt a warmth spread from my

skin and find its way to my heart. It was quickened by Spencer’s persistent kisses, something that I decided a long time ago I’d never want to live without. 

“Your choice.” I breathed. “Couch or counter.” 

I broke from Spencer, eager to watch the wheels of his mind churn as he made a decision. In an attempt to both distract and excite him, I grabbed his arm that lay lazily over my shoulder. I placed his hand against my cheek and Spencer subconsciously stroked my face with his thumb. I twisted my mouth to place a kiss against his cupped palm. 

“Couch.” Spencer said with certainty. “But your shirt comes off this time so I can watch your boobs as you ride me.” 

Spencer giggled with glee as he led me to the couch. He sat, patting the spot on his lap for me to sit. I obliged.

He kissed my hairline, smiling into my forehead. Spencer’s hands flitted down my arms and grazed across my waist. He was the one that made me love the softness of my figure. I never felt like I had to hide the way my body naturally folded and creased. Spencer made me feel beautiful in my most raw and natural sense. 

“Your skin is so soft,” Spencer said, “if there’s something I could spend the rest of my life doing it would be touching you. Your waist. Your chest. Your legs. Everything about you. It’s soft and supple and smooth. I adore you. The way you feel.” 

“Spence,” I croaked, overwhelmed by the way his words stained my cheeks with flush, “God, you make me fall for you over and over.” 

“The plan’s to keep you forever.” Spencer mumbled, his teeth grazed my ear as he whispered in my ear. “Is it working?” 

Spencer’s fingers found their way to my waistband. He looked at me for either praise or permission, I wasn’t sure. But my hands cradling his head and my lips crashing to his was consent enough. 

He was quick, slipping his fingers into my shorts elicited a complimentary proud grin from the pair of us. I twisted his hair into my hands, tilting his head up

to expose his neck. He moaned shamelessly, his thighs shaking underneath me. 

“I think I’m the one making you fall to be honest, Spence.” I cooed, my fingernail tracing down Spencer’s scalp as he puffed out a shaky breath. 

I lifted my hips and Spencer slipped off my shorts, leaving me completely bare. I swore I felt Spencer’s heart skip a beat as I pressed my chest against his chest, our bodies and hearts flush against each other. 

I rolled my hips against Spencer’s erection, starting to laugh mercilessly as Spencer moaned wantonly. Pleasure looked good on him. And it looked even better when it was me who brought him to the brink. 

“I need to be inside you.” Spencer panted in my ear. “I need you all the time, baby. I crave it. Take my cock inside of you.. Feel how hard it is. Feel each rib against your walls. That’s it. Moan for me, just like that, baby.” 

I couldn’t do anything, but moan as Spencer slipped himself inside of me. He was painfully still as he allowed me to get adjusted to erection. I kissed his cheeks, a saccharine action that contrasted the filthy way he fucked me. 

“Spence,” I cried out, only able to whimper his name at that point, “please move. I need it, baby.” 

“I know, I know, darling,” Spencer said, kissing my face, “you take my cock so well. Now let me watch you bounce on my cock.” 

Spencer’s quick movements hastened my climax. I clenched down on him, proud of myself as his face twisted in pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck.” I cried out, watching as Spencer’s erection disappeared and reappeared from inside me. Our moans filled the silence of the apartment. I felt his soft belly tighten, his tired muscles working overtime as he held me up. “Please, Spence. Please,” 

“Let you come? Hmm,” Spencer hummed, his voice losing the power and control it so carefully held as he neared his own climax, “already, my love? I’ll let you come, my sweet girl. Don’t you dare look away from me. I want to see you explode as you cum on my cock.” 

“No, no. Not that, Spencer,” I corrected, shaking my head to alter my previous correction, “Well, yes you are right. Fuck, it’s hard to concentrate. But no, I need you to come inside me. Please, I need you to fill me up. To give me a baby. Your babies.” 

He was buried so deep inside of me, hitting all the right places as I continued to thrust my hips. Spencer attempted to keep a pace, but grew sloppier and more uncoordinated as I felt his sex twitch inside of me. He huffed in pleasure, his hot breath stinging my skin as he kissed me. The kiss was wet and needy, a testament to the tiniest thread that held our climaxes together. 

“Oh God, I love feeling you like this.” 

“I’m yours, love. I’m yours,” Spencer chanted as he kissed my throat. His groan spilled over my skin as he dripped from me where our two bodies met. He continued to thrust up into me, gently guiding me to come undone. 

I collapsed in a heap on his  sweat covered chest and felt our two hearts beat in tandem. 

“Hmm,” Spencer hummed, his hand spread against my back, “I can’t wait till the day that that works for real.”  

“Me too.” I confirmed. “Who knows maybe it did this time?” 

I felt Spencer’s head raise up and down in agreement. He shifted underneath me, hissing with sensitivity as he slipped out from inside me. I plopped down on the couch next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. And so sore. So you owe me another hot shower, a massage, and at least three overpriced lattes. And a bagel.” 

“Deal.” Spencer said. “Anything you want.” 

Spencer held my hand as we made our way down the street. We hadn’t walked downtown like this in awhile, but I loved the way it looked in the beginning of spring. It was like life itself was pumped back into the world and we were lucky enough to be there to witness it. 

My iced latte, though slightly burnt, revitalized me from the morning’s extracurricular activities. The other hand held Spencer’s hand. It was warm against my palm. I hadn’t had the opportunity to hold many hands in my life, but I realized soon after meeting Spencer that I didn’t care much about all the hands that I didn’t get to hold. 

“Your perfect day getting more perfect?” Spencer asked. He had a canvas bag filled with wildflowers, carnations, and asters that he insisted on buying me. “How about we venture into

that used bookstore. I’ve been searching for a first edition of Camus’s The Stranger. It’s quite rare, but considering the morning we’ve had I think I’m getting lucky today.” Spencer winked. 

“Ha! You mean how to practically jumped me both times. First time you didn’t care about my morning breath and messy hair in the bed and you certainly didn’t care about being so insatiable when you begged  me in the kitchen.” I teased, turning around to whisper with emphasis. Spencer smiled, still holding on to my hand. 

“And I won't care about your disgusting coffee breath in the car when we find somewhere to park later.” 

“Park?” I said, pretending to be aghast at his insinuation, “If I didn’t know you better, Spencer Reid, I’d say you’re propositioning me. Yet again, I might add.” 

“It’s not my fault I can’t get enough of you. That blame falls squarely on your shoulders, darling.” 

I stopped at the bookstore front door. Though it was our next stop, Spencer’s words also threatened to stop me in my tracks. He had this uncanny ability to completely sweep me off my feet with just a few simple words. 

“Insatiable.”

*** 

“I wrote a poem.” I said, looking over at Spencer’s reaction. I could see where his lips folded upwards into a smile. 

“What a mind.” Spencer said, moving his hand to my thigh. He squeezed. “I know you’re shy about sharing them, but can I at least ask what it’s about?” 

“You.” I confessed, my face flushing at the thought. It was silly, given all the things I’ve thought about Spencer, that a poem about living to love him would bring me to the brink of embarrassment.

“As I expected.” Spencer teased. He sounded a little shy himself, like was proud of inspiring all the scrawled away lines in my poetry book. Nearly half of them would never see the world beyond my two eyes. 

“Well, it’s really about the sun. And how it dances on your eyelashes when you sleep in the hammock at the cabin. And your bitter coffee, sweetened by your smile. It’s not very good, incredibly cheesy and saccharine, I’ll admit.” I glanced over at Spencer, again testing his reaction, “But if I’m being honest, it might make better wedding vows than poetry anyway.” 

“You wrote your vows for me?” Spencer asked. We had stopped at a red light and he took advantage of the opportunity to lean over across the console. His right thumb rubbed the back of my hand over and over. 

“And you haven’t?” I mused, welcoming Spencer’s gentle affections. 

“No, well,” Spencer sputtered, shifting gears as the light turned green, “I wrote them already. Well, the first draft, at least. That was done around November 15th, 2016.” 

“The night of our first kiss?” I practically squealed, squeezing Spencer’s hand this time. He blushed at my excitement at my realization. “Ha! You really are being honest when you tell me you’ve loved me since the beginning.” Spencer pulled into our apartment’s parking lot, driving down the winding side roads.

“Of course I did, I do,” Spencer said earnestly. He pulled into the spot. I looked up at our second floor apartment. We had several plants sitting in pots, hanging over the ledge and lined up against the wall on the little balcony. I loved our flowers. 

“Y/N,” Spencer said, holding my hands in his. The ring sparkled in the afternoon light, “when you met me, my job nearly took everything from me. Everyone expected me to bounce back just like that. But I couldn’t bear it, not anymore. I didn’t think there was much light anymore. Much of anything good, if I'm being honest. And then I met you. To you I can admit, I’m too soft for all of it.” 

“Spence,” I said, my voice breaking as I spoke, “you’re the light. You’re the sun, Spencer. You’re the one I want. The one I need, you know that, right?” 

“I do,” Spencer whispered, kissing my hands as he held them to his lips, “Can you promise me something, though.” He asked. 

“Anything.” 

“That we’ll have days like this forever. Loving each other, even when things might be hard. Even when love may not seem to be enough. We’ll make it enough. Because we have to have each other in a world like the one we got. Because otherwise it’s pointless. That’s life– my life without you, Y/N. Completely and entirely and entirely pointless.” 

“Spence.” I whispered, bringing my hand to his cheek. “I really hope that was the final draft.”  

Taglist: I'm not sure who's still active, but here's the people I don't feel bad bothering

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @ofwilliamandwalter @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @radiant-reid

[lovelyd0gg]

BoB hc!

Finally have a good headcanon!! How would the BoB boys react on your birthday and how they would plan it when you're at work.

Warnings: none<3

Extra: I'll try and post this today if I am able to think of the ideas, I'm also using the boys I normally use and adding a couple more. I'm not using all of them but I'm using the ones that are seen more on the episodes<33

Richard Winters.

•He wants to make sure you have a really nice birthday.

•He would buy you presents like 1 week before your birthday and checking up on them from time to time to make sure they are good before he has to wrap them up.

•When you go to work, he starts working on the cake, wrapping the gifts and just basically hard work.

•He made sure to wrap the gifts perfectly and neatly, making sure there were no rips, wrinkles or anything out of line.

•And he tried so hard on the cake.

•He isn't a really good Baker but he went on a trusted site to learn how to make a good cake and he decorated it with your favorite colors and stuff that you'd like.

•When he hears the keys jingling outside the door he immediately went into action and put the cake on the table.

•You entered the house and were so happy to find out that he made you a cake and did all of this for you!

•He gave you a hug and the rest of the day was just you both chatting about some things that you both find interesting.

Y/N: "How did you make the cake so good?"

W: "You don't want to know how long it took to find a a website for a good cake.."

Lewis Nixon.

•This man knows a lot about you.

•He knows what you like and immediately goes to buy that.

•Originally he was going to buy some vat 69 but then remembered your birthday was just around the corner and he started buying you the gifts.

•As soon as he came home, he went straight to work.

•He made a couple of wrinkles on the wrapping paper and tiny rips but from afar, it looked perfect.

•He made the cake and he looked left and right and behind him and everywhere to make sure nobody was there... He sneaked in a little bit of vat 69 in the batter... Shh. Don't tell anyone.

•He decorated it and when you came home, you were welcomed by a smiling Nixon with a cake in his hands.

•You laughed because of how silly and adorable he looked but you knew how much time he was spending to make your cake and wrap the gifts.

•While you were opening the presents, you were ecstatic and excited while he leaned on the couch watching you open them with a smile.

•The rest of the day, you both were laughing and cracking jokes. It was a nice birthday:)

Y/N: "Nix, why does this taste like alcohol?"

N: "Eat your cake, birthday girl."

Ronald Speirs.

•Let's be real here, he'd definitely mess up on the cake by accident no matter how hard he tried.

•He was never a baker and you couldn't blame him, sometimes cakes were hard to make.

•He would also end up ripping the failed attempt of wrapping paper when he tried wrapping your gifts.

•He was so stressed and angry, he just wanted you to have a perfect birthday.

•When you got home, you weren't greeted by a cake at the table or presents neatly wrapped.

•You saw Speirs on the couch trying to wrap your gifts then ripping the paper when it went wrong.

•He saw you and immediately aapologized for the mess and he shouldn't have acted this way.

•But you just hugged him and laughed.

•You told him that the birthday was already amazing because he was there for it.

•Of course, his mind thought that was really weird...

•But then he understood and hugged you back.

•The rest of the time you guys were talking and laughing about how work for you was.

•It wasn't the perfect birthday he was hoping to give you, but if you liked it, he liked it too.

Y/N: "It's okay Speirs. You matter more than my birthday."

S: "I never heard anyone say that before."

Carwood Lipton.

•This man made everything perfectly.

•Kinda like Winters but a little better.

•He made the cake perfectly, decorated it perfectly, wrapped the gifts perfectly.

•Everything was done perfectly.

•Well of course everything was perfect, you're so precious to him that he wants to do everything perfect for you!

•He made sure that the dinner table was nice and neat and everything was in place.

•And by the time he was done, there was still so many hours left until you came home!

•So he cleaned up the house a little and when you came home he surprised you!

•You enjoyed the gifts and the cake! And he was happy that you enjoyed everything.

•You both talked the rest of the day and how your day went, etc.

•He enjoyed the day and so did you :)

Y/N: "This was an amazing day, thank you Lip."

L: "I'm glad you enjoyed it, my dear."

Joseph Liebgott.

•He messed up at times and sure, he did have to give you one present without the wrapping paper because it was in a weird shape.

•But he was hoping you'd find everything he did for you sweet.

•He knew the flavour you wanted the cake batter to be and at least he made the decorations on the cake pretty.

•He also managed to get some of the things you liked as gifts. Sometimes he accidentally bought you a gift that you got a long time ago since he didn't know.

•But it was cute and adorable how he forgot and how he smiled at you nervously when you said he bought the same thing you got a long time ago.

•He apologized but there was nothing to be angry about anyways so it was fine.

•Then the rest of the day, you both watched a movie while eating popcorn.

•You guys were so invested since it was an ACTUAL good movie.

•At times you both had to pause the movie because of how good it was💀

•The day was nice and relaxing for both of you in the end.

Y/N: "WOA--"

J: *hand over your mouth* "SHUT UP IT GET'S BETTER!"

Joe Toye.

•Joe was angry, at himself, because he forgot to get you gifts and make you a cake.

•There was 5 hours till you came back home, that should be enough for getting the presents and making the cake right?

•It took him an hour in the store to get you the gifts, making the cake took another hour, decorating the cake took maybe half and hour and wrapping the gifts took 2 hours.

•He was so frustrated at himself, not knowing how to wrap gifts! Forgetting your birthday! Everything!

•When you came home, you noticed a messily decorated cake and badly wrapped gifts and a very exhausted Toye.

•He was on the couch, he looked like he gave up on everything and felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

•You smiled and laughed at how he tried his hardest for you.

•You told him that it was okay and all that matters is that he tried as hard as he could.

•He smiled a little and trusted you. You always knew better, so the rest of the day you guys ate the cake and went to sleep. Cuddling :)

Y/N: "It's not a big deal To-"

T: "I am the shittiest boyfriend ever."

Bull Randleman.

•He knew everything you liked and was determined to make this a good birthday.

•His big hands making something so soft and cute like a cake was so adorable, sadly, you didn't see it :(

•He managed to wrap the gifts nicely, and putting ribbons on it for the nice presentation.

•He put the cake in the fridge carefully, making sure he didn't mess up or smudge the cake by accident.

•After everything was done, he was waiting for you to return from work.

•Once you came home, he greeted you with a kiss and told you to follow him in the living room.

•You saw presents and a cake on the table! And everything looked so amazing!

•You were quite impressed by his skills.

•You guys tried the cake and it reminded you of your parents cake whenever it was your birthday.

•It hit the nostalgia part of your brain and it made you cry a little.

•He chuckled a little, crying over a cake? Seemed a little silly but you were the good type of silly.

•The rest of the time, he was watching you using the gifts he got for you.

•He thought that you probably loved this birthday.

Y/N: "How long did all of this take you?!"

B: "Not a long time, darlin'."

Eugene Roe.

•He wanted to make sure you loved everything about this birthday.

•You got lucky there, didn't ya?

•He made the cake and decorated it with your favorite colors and added sugar paste for it.

•Making sure it was perfect and nothing bad happened.

•He tied ribbons on all the presents, making sure the ribbons were tied beautifully and the gifts wrapped nicely.

•He made sure everything was beautiful and perfect just for you.

•When you came home, you were ecstatic and kissed his cheek.

•He closed one of his eyes and smiled. Happy that you liked the things he did for you.

•In his opinion, he would've done all of this even if it wasn't your birthday.

•You tried the cake and had to put the fork down to actually process the perfect amount of flavour.

•You opened the gifts and jumped up and down repeatedly due to him remembering what you wanted and liked.

•You gave him tons of kisses and cuddling him.

•You definitely loved this birthday<3

Y/N: "This was the best birthday ever..."

E: "Maybe I'll repeat it again next year."

Donald Hoobler.

•He was determined to make this AT LEAST a good birthday.

•He was very clumsy and was praying to god that he wouldn't drop your cake when he handed it to you.

•He did get the right presents, and he wrapped them well but then after he made the cake, his balance immediately became wobbly.

•Perfect timing am I right?

•He heard you enter the house and when you entered the kitchen, he looked at you with those innocent sweet eyes.

•He held the cake out for you. And you smiled at him because of how sweet it was...

•You guys tried the cake and it was good, especially for a person like Hoobler who made it.

•Then you opened the gifts and you were happy to have them!

•You decided to tell him "But you're the best gift." And he blushed HARD.

•He hugged you and was happy that you were in his life<3

Y/N: "But you're the best gift."

H: "Don't tease me! You're better!"

Donald Malarkey.

•He was stressed out because he wasn't 100% sure of what you liked for gifts.

•So he went with the classic, candy and legos. (I know it's childish and some of you don't like legos but please don't shit on me for this choice, alright? Thanks <3)

•He wrapped them nicely but when he decorated your cake, it was clear there were wobbly lines, due to his hands shaky and how he was hoping it would be a good birthday.

•When you came home, you noticed he wasn't done decorating the cake, you saw actual sweat droplets going down his face, which he wipes with a towel because he didn't want you to taste his sweat!

•He noticed you were there watching him and he chuckled nervously.

•He didn't know you were standing there! And for a good five minutes at that!

•You chuckled but told him to not work so much just for your birthday. Especially since you wanted him to relax.

•Relax? What's that? He HAD to finish this cake for you!

•But you stopped him and told him not to overwork himself.

•He nodded and chose to obey you.

•The rest of the day was just you two talking together and laughing. Just enjoying each others companies.

Y/N: "Don't overwork yourself next time, okay?"

M: "...I'll think about it."

George Luz.

•No, you don't understand. He NEEDS you to have the best birthday known to man kind.

•He won't just get you a cupcake and two gifts, NUH UH, NO WAY.

•He bought you tons of presents and when the cashier asked him why he bought so much, he told the cashier to just keep scanning.

•He wrapped the gifts as well as he could, scared that he would mess up any second.

•Luckily he didn't. And when he made the cake he made it colorful for the decoration and he was relieved.

•As soon as you opened the door he ran to the door saying "happy birthday, babyyy!" Then hugged you.

•He covered your eyes and led you to the living room.

•You opened your eyes and your jaw DROPPED.

•twenty presents?! What?! Is his bank account physically okay?!

•You ate the cake and he was admiring you, watching you eat as he asked you how it tasted.

•Then he watched you open the presents and smiled happily.

•After the birthday shenanigans, you both cuddled on the bed and gave each other small little kisses on the head and cheek and lips.

•He was happy when you told him that it was the best birthday ever<3

Y/N: "I love you Luz.."

L: "I love you shortie~"

David Webster.

•He wants to make sure you have a great birthday!

•How hard could it possibly be?

•He makes sure that the presents are nicely wrapped, made the cake with nice flavours and a pretty decoration. He even decorated the house a bit!

•Putting those hanging "happy birthday!" On the window and all sorts of things.

•He even takes a picture of the cake, gifts, the house after everything is finished so he could have it in his gallery.

•Once you come home, he welcomes you with a kiss on the cheek and leads you to the kitchen (where the decorations and stuff are.)

•You guys had a nice dinner as well then went to the cake.

•Don't judge him for this, but he still sings happy birthday for you before you blow out the candle.

•And he asks you if you made a wish.

•Childish? Yes. Do I care? Nope!

•He loves to sing happy birthday for you.

•After opening the gifts. He watches you use the gifts happily and while he sat on the couch peacefully.

•You both talked for a while then went to sleep after all of that.

•Pretty normal guy <3

Y/N: "Webster, you're like over 20."

W: "I like singing it. Don't judge me."

John Martin.

•Kind of like Lipton, but he doesn't make every single thing perfect.

•But he does get you the right gifts and he does wrap them pretty well.

•And the cake was nicely decorated and made.

•He patted his shoulder as a good job, hoping that you'll like the gifts and the cake.

•When you came home, he greeted you and smiled.

•He led you to the living room and smiled when you looked excited at the gifts and the cake.

•To be honest, this was his first time actually trying hard for someone's birthday.

•He only tries for like relatives and close friends. But when you came in his life, he tried extra hard for you.

•The day was perfect in your brain but of course, because Martin being Martin, thought he could do better.

•But you told him that he did everything amazingly and you enjoyed the day.

•He eventually agreed with you and then for the rest of the day watched a movie.

•It was a nice day for the both of you<3

Frank Perconte.

•Bless this poor short man😭

•Nobody takes him seriously and he thought you wouldn't too for your birthday.

•He was already humiliated at the grocery store when he was buying ingredients and gifts for you.

•The cashier didn't see him at first and then saw him paying with cash.

•He was embarrassed to say the least but when he got home, he started making the cake and wrapping the gifts.

•At first he wanted to give up on wrapping the gifts but he didn't, he was determined and he had a mission.

•He decorated the cake and stood there just looking at it, scanning it for any mess ups or what it needed.

•He put the cake in the fridge and then he places the gifts from big to small. The big presents on the bottom and the small presents on the top.

•When you came home you were greeted by him and he told you to open the presents first before having the cake.?

•Weird but sure!

•You opened the gifts and then had cake. No time for dinner honey.

•After the day was done. You both got in bed and watched a movie. He passed out first..

Y/N: "Was there a reason I should've opened the presents before having cake?"

P: "I'm...not sure."

Bill Guarnere.

•He was very late. He forgot it was your birthday.

•"OH SHIT." he shouted at the store.

•He didn't even care that people were watching him, he RAN to buy the gifts.

•There was only 2 hours until you'd come home so he had to do things super sonic speed.

•He ran home and then immediately started wrapping the gifts. His hands shaky and fast as he wrapped them, making little wrinkles there.

•He then made the cake which was quite messy and fast. He was horrible at baking😭

•He tried decorating it but he decided to only put frosting on it instead of all those fancy things on it.

•As soon as you came home he hid the cake behind him.

•You tilted your head and asked what was behind his back and he moved out of the way. Revealing a white frosted yet messy cake.

•You could tell on his face that he tried his hardest and he felt ashamed for forgetting your birthday and not knowing.

•You loved how he tried his hardest but he kept mentally putting himself down🥺

•But you told him it's truly okay and the thing that mattered was that he tried and was there in your life.

•You guys have a good time, cracking jokes, laughing and having fun. It was a nice day despite his small mental breakdown<3

I really hope you guys enjoy this. I'm really surprised i managed to do this all in just two days. Music helped me actually finish it LMAO. tell me if you have more ideas! Love you! Mwah😚

[lunarthecorvus]

Six Of Crows College/University Modern AU fanfiction recommendations part of Lunar's soc fanfiction rec series

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Birds of a Feather by @sc11vb

Wordcount: 8.8k Chapters: 6/? (It's still being updated:)

Characters: Nina Zenik, Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker, Matthias Helvar, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lanstov, Tolya Yul-Bataar, Leoni Hilli, Alina Starkov, Maleyn Oretsev, Background & Cameo Characters

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Friendship/Love, Plot What Plot, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff without Plot

Author's summary/notes: “You know what they say, ‘trouble is my middle name’.” “Your middle name is Deirdre,” Inej said. “Don’t remind me,” Nina groaned. My summary/notes: In this fic we have a years worth of Kanej pining and currently there is some drama between those two, let's just say the angst is angsting. We have some other grishaverse characters featuring in the fic as well, there's established helnik and established wesper. I love Nina so much and in typical modern!au Nina fashion she comes up with a plan to stop the Kanej pining and it certainly is a plan... Nina and Inej's friendship very important in this fic (as it should be) and its written so well.

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I Like You a Latte by sevenofcrows

Wordcount: 45k Chapters: 28/? (Hasn't been updated since Janurary but the last chapter works well and doesn't end on a cliffhanger)

Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik

Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Kaz Brekker Needs a Hug, Kaz Brekker is Bad At Feelings, Texting, Fluff, Tooth-Rooting Fluff, rated explicit but the chapters are marked + not related to the plot, so the explicit parts can be ignored

Author's summary/notes: "Kaz Brekker was not your usual college student. He didn't leave assignments until the last day, he didn't stress over finals, he never left the house in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He was always put together, dressed in jeans and a properly ironed shirt, the answer keys to his next three exams hidden away in his computer and essays already written even before they were assigned. He didn't leave things to chance. If you asked any of his friends, they would call him a control freak. He liked to say he was born to be in charge. So, seeing him rush into a coffee shop with his hair messed up and shirt wrinkled was a once in a lifetime event." What happens when Kaz Brekker meets Inej Ghafa, a bright eyed barista who seems to read his mind when it comes to his drink orders? They fall in love, of course. This is the story of what happens in between. My summary/notes: You ever get that fic that you don't entirely remember whats it about because you haven't read it in a while but when you read the title the flush of serotonin and you just start to smile because you just remember that it was SO GOOD, this is one of those fics for me. Honestly the author's summary is just perfect, but heres some notes. The recipe thing is so cute, the kanej here is so adorable, Inej with the doodles is again so cute. The last thing I will say is they're both down so bad, especially Kaz.

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honey, honey by halfahint

Wordcount: 21k Chapters: 3/3

Characters: Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, POV Inej Ghafa, Friends With Benefits (sort of), To explain the Friends With Benefits tag it basically means that they agree to work on healing their respective touch phobia together, Intimacy, (but also emotional intimacy, feelings are hard

Author's summary/notes: “Look,” Nina says. Inej has startled her badly enough that she’s made a mess of her eyeliner – the wing on her right eye careens wildly to one side. “I’m all for reclaiming your sexuality. Seriously. Two thumbs up from me. But, honestly, Inej, does it have to be with the most emotionally unavailable man you know?” “Well, who would you suggest?” Nina’s eyes bulge. “Oh, I don’t know, literally anyone with a pulse and a conscience?” “Kaz has – “We don’t know that,” Nina says sternly. My summary/notes: A story of healing as Kaz and Inej work on their touch phobia and while doing that they fall harder for eachother (they already knew eachother 2 years before the events of the fic). They have some cute moments. The crows dynamics in this fic are showed so perfect, it defintely reminds me of book!crows.

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You'll Be With Me Wherever I Go by @rupturedhaven

Wordcount: 35k Chapters: 18/? (It's still being updated:)

Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Genya Safin, Maleyn Orestev, Nikolai Lanstov, Zoya Nazyalensky

Tags: Six Of Crows AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Grishaverse, Texting, Drunk Texting, Chatting & Messaging, Fluff, Background Relationships, Background Characters Freeform, Slowburn, minimal angst

Author's summary/notes: It's their last year of university, and Jesper has insisted on starting a new group chat. There's chaos. There's bickering. There's friendship. There's love. Six of Crows texting fic. My summary/notes: Ok, ok, I love Rupturedhaven's fics, they write brilliantly so recommending this fic was a must. In this fic you get to see more of the Wylan and Matthias friendship dynamic. There is of course some Kanej pining after eachother and the latest chapter-. A TON of Wesper flirting and you get to see them go from friendship to lov- as well as going into some of Jesper's troubles. The Nina and Kaz dynamic in this fic is definitely siblingly and I adore it. Helnik also develops in this fic and we get to see them be as amazing as ever but also go through a couple problems but nothing can ever stop Helnik those two are so adorable in this fic. I was about to write about the amazing Nina and Inej friendship in this fic but I'm going to finish off by saying that all the friendships in this fic are just beautiful.

[poetryandfluffycats]

Hiii how are you? :D can I request Natsume teasing a soft dom reader who is usually very innocent and dense until they snap and punish him? Like they're all "I don't wanna hurt you are you okay with this are you sure? :(" so Natsume's just like "just rail me ffs" and purposely getting on their nerves so they act up afhgahfgaf I hope I made myself clear ^^"

A/N: I cant tell whether I hate this fic or love it

Pairing: Natsume Sakasaki x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, choking, teasing, degrading(natsume to reader), prasie(reader to natsume), marking/biting, hair pulling, oral over clothes, natsume is a head pusher, finger sucking, handjobs, fingering(reader to herself), rough sex, riding, soft dom reader turned mean, kitten used as petname, reader is mentioned to be taller than natsume

Content: Its been a long day, all you want to do is fall into your bed and rest. That's until your boyfriend shows up offering a... different way to relax.

Words: 2.8k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Punish me~

Collapsing onto your bed, you let out a heavy sigh, the events of the day weighing on your mind. Its not like it had been a horrible day, per say, just one of those days where everything seemed so dull and exhausting. With idol work, school, and your after school job, you were so stressed and completely burnt out. There was nothing more you wanted to do than curl up in your plush sheets and drift off into a nice slumber-

"(name)? ArE yoU home?"

Ah. Right. Natsume was coming to the dorm tonight, wasn't he? How could you have forgotten? It was a plan you yourself had made! And he had been so excited about it too, talking about how he couldn't wait to have fun with you...

Yet here you were, already half asleep in your nightgown, having completely forgotten about your dear boyfriend. How selfish were you? You had cancelled your previous plans due to idol work so many times, and when you finally had time you couldn't be assed to remember you invited him!

"Y-yeah! In here!" You called out, forcing yourself to get out of bed. The least you could do for him was keep him company for the night, considering you forgot about him and all. Quickly, you made yourself presentable, straightening out your gown and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

You opened the door, allowing the red headed man to walk in and make himself at home. Compared to you, he looked immaculate. Hair brushed to perfection, not a single wrinkle on his school uniform, even the pendant around his neck looked shinier than usual. He scanned your figure, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"AlreaDY in your nightwEAR? How scandalOUS" He teased, standing up on his tippy-toes to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You smiled, leaning down to make it a bit easier for him.

"Sorry Natsume... I'm really tired from training today" You admitted, giving him an apologetic smile and ruffling his hair.

He swatted your hand away with a small "Hpmh!" and smoothed out the mess you had created, returning his hair to its original form. The childish action earned a sheepish smile from you. He had always hated it when you did that, saying it only reminded him of how much shorter than you he was. It was adorable.

"Hmm, is thaT so?" He intertwined your fingers together as he led you over to the bed, settling the two of you down on the edge. "I suppoSE I don't minD a slEEpy girlfriEND"

Another small smile tugged at you lips as you scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He was so warm, so comfy. his scent was a mix of salty sweat-most likely from his own idol training-and the tea leaves he commonly used in his spells. It was a smell solely unique to him, one you found comforting.

"YoU know, I might have a waY for yoU to reLAX, (name)" His voice was low, huskier than usual.

The hint of sultriness in his voice was undeniable, causing a warm blush to take over your cheeks. Was he really suggesting that? Right now? You couldn't help but feel impressed by his level of boldness, since you were usually the one to take initiative. It also warranted a bit of concern however. The last thing you wanted was to be taken advantage of because you were stressed out-

"YoU look scarED, kittEN. WhaT'S so scary aboUT a massAGE?"

Oh. That made more sense. Of course he wasn't trying to be suggestive, he was being sweat! You cursed your stupid mind for immediately going there, the embarrassment still lingering on your face.

"R-right, sorry, I guess I'm just a bit on edge today" You gave a nervous chuckle, moving your head back from his shoulder and shifting onto your stomach. "A massage would be lovely, Natsume"

The weight of the bed dipped beside you and you soon felt a pair of slender fingers tracing the bumps of your spine. He slowly moved up to your shoulders and neck, kneading the tensed flesh of your back between his digits like so. His movements were slow, calculated. Clearly he had some sort of experience with this. A pleasant hum left your lips as he worked on the muscles in your shoulders, easing the tension you didn't even know you had been feeling.

"Feels gooD, righT?" He cooed, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to the nape of your neck. You possibly would have noticed the hint of seduction in his tone if you hadn't been so blissed out by his touch.

You could only muster a hum in response, closing your eyes and feeling sleep creep up on you. Natsumes hands trailed down your back once again, removing all the knots and kinks he came into contact with. It made you feel like heaven, like you were the luckiest person in the world to have such a wonderful man with you. You could feel yourself drifting into unconsciousness...

"Natsume!"

The feeling of him lifting up your gown and giving a firm squeeze to your butt cheeks pulled you out of your massage induced trance. You crawled to your knees and whipped your head around, staring at him with wide eyes. Here you had been thinking he was simply trying to be kind, when he was just as pervy as you had originally thought!

"You're not being very good right now, you know..." Your futile attempt at scolding him fell on deaf ears as he crawled onto your lap.

"Am I noT? Hm, maybe you neeD to puniSH me"

He picked up your hands-which had previously been resting by your sides-and brought them to his neck, intimating being choked. Almost as quickly as he had brought them there you pulled them back, trying your hardest not to give into his advances.

"My love, that's dangerous. I could really hurt you doing that, and I'm too tired to take care of you if I do" You sent him a smile, hoping he'd back down from the idea.

Instead, he crawled further into your lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and settling himself right on your crotch. The thin layer of his pants did nothing to hide the throbbing tent poking against you, and the way he pressed himself down against you was not helping the matter.

"StuPID, I can handle iT. Or are you scarED?" A smug grin played at his lips as he continued to grind on you, the look in his eyes growing intenser by the second.

Shit. He knew you all too well. Knew your weaknesses, your turn-ons, and most importantly, how to press your buttons. There was no way you'd back down from a challenge-and you were fully aware he'd never let you forget it if you chickened out-even if this could have some negative consequences later...

It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

"You want it so bad, don't you?" Your voice dropped an octave as you grabbed his hips, swiftly flipping the two of you over so you could be on top. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, that painfully annoying smirk still plastered on his face.

"What a silly quesTION, kittEN. Why else would I asK for iT?" He mused, eyes glistening with mischief.

You brought a hand to his neck, testing the waters with a gentle squeeze to the sides. A small moan was torn from his throat, followed by a giggle as he placed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

"That all yoU goT? HurrY up alreaDY"

His voice was laced with annoyance and boredom, but the growing budge pressing into your thigh told another story. Clearly, he was enjoying himself, you didn't need to be a genius to figure that out. How much he was enjoying this... it almost made you want to stop out of spite. Make it a real punishment for him, one he'd never forget and have trouble walking because of...

"This is taking too loNG" Natsumes whiny voice broke your train of thought. "Just fuck me (name)-aH!"

Before he could finish you wrapped both hands around his pretty little neck, pressing down hard on his pulse points. The gasp that left him, the way his eyes widened, the way his hands flew up to meekly pull at your own, it made your head spin. His face turned a pale shade of red as you grinded your hips against his clothed erection, his chokes and moans only fuelling you on further.

"You wanted this, take it" You hissed, leaning down to nibble softly at his mouth, scraping and grazing the sensitive skin. "Take it like a good boy"

You released your hands from him, only to pull him up and crash your lips against his. It was a sloppy and harsh kiss, more teeth than anything else. You bit down on his bottom lip, creating a sea of drool and blood to drip down his chin. Tangling your fingers in his hair you yanked him forward, deepening the kiss and giving yourself more area to explore.

He eagerly returned the kiss, grabbing onto your hips and fiddling with the hem of your panties, pulling them down to your ankles with ease. You shimmed out of them without breaking the kiss, throwing them somewhere on the floor. You could deal with that later, being too indulged with him to care now.

"Take this off" Tugging on his tie, you pulled away from the kiss, earning a whimper from Natsume and a whine of protest. "Now"

He didn't waste much time. His tie and shirt hit the ground before you could blink, and his pants came quickly afterwards, leaving him in just his boxers. Whilst keeping your eyes glued to his body you mimicked his actions, striping yourself of your nightgown and exposing yourself fully to him. His eyes trailed up and down your figure, taking in each curve and crevice. He simply adored your body, and clearly so did his cock. It stood up proud in his boxers, a wet patch of pre-cum already seeping through the fabric.

"So cute, so desperate" You cooed, tracing a finger over the wet spot and palming his throbbing member. "Aren't you a cute little boy? Getting so worked up for me"

You lowered your head, resting your chin on his thighs and blowing your hot breath on the cloth of his boxers, drawing out a straggled moan from the trembling man. Licking your lips, you inched closer to his covered length, giving it a few small kitten licks before mouthing at it and sucking out the moisture of his pre-cum. His hips bucked upwards, suffocating your nostrils with his musk.

"Stop teasING!" He spat, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling downwards, forcing you to take his clothed cock further in your mouth. "Use that mouTH for something usefuL!"

Was he really trying to take control? You didn't like that.

With one swift movement you slapped his hand away, climbing on top of him to wrap your fingers around his throat. Using your free hand you hooked a finger under his boxers and pulled them off, finally freeing his swollen erection. The tip was a glowing pink colour, shiny with pre-cum and tiny droplets of your saliva.

"Don't fucking talk to me that way" You used all your strength to push him down hard against the pillows, tighten and loosening your grip on his neck. "Brat"

He opened his mouth to respond but his words were quickly replaced with a raspy moan was you gave his shaft a firm tug. You released his throat, opting to silence him by shoving two fingers down it instead.

"Suck"

The command was met with an eye roll from Natsume, which you put a stop to by shoving your fingers even further down his throat, causing him to gag and spit up on the tips. You gave his length a few lazy pumps as he hesitatingly compiled, a cocky grin appearing on your face.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" You cooed.

The redhead whined in protest, swirling his tongue around the digits, successfully coating them in slick. Satisfied with his performance, you continued pumping his cock, starting out with a fast and harsh pace. He gasped at the sensation, moaning and whining around your fingers like a whore.

Once they were properly lubed up, you retracted your fingers from his mouth with a nice "pop!" sound. You brought the hand down in between your legs, pressing them up against your entrance. You eased them in slowly, making a sure to make a show of groaning in pleasure to work him up. The way his dick twitched in your hand at the sight was almost comical.

"Stupid bitCH. S-stoP playing with yourseLF! Hurry uP!" There was a primal lust in Natsumes gaze, one that showed just how much he wanted-no, needed-to-be fucked silly. You simply chuckled, pushing your fingers in deeper and increasing the pace of your hand on his cock.

"Oh? I can always stop, if you don't like it..." You taunted, teasingly releasing your grip. "It would be such a shame though, I feel so good right now. I could cum just by fucking myself. Agh~ Fuck!~ Yesss!~"

You threw your head back in mock ecstasy and arching your back, putting on the most erotic display you could muster. The sound that left Natsumes mouth was near animalistic, so desperate and needy. He almost sounded in pain. It was a beautiful view, and it only edged you on further.

"Just let mE stick it iN alreaDY! You'RE wasting your timE!" He wailed. His tone was on the verge of being borderline aggressive, as if he was trying to swap the roles by throwing a temper tantrum. It was adorable.

"Huh? Wasting my time? Darling, aren't you the one who wanted this?" You dragged your fingers out of your dripping hole, using them to jerk him off with both hands. "Didn't you want to be punished?"

Without giving him time to reply you climbed back on top of him, positioning yourself right above his needy tip. You rubbed it in between your folds, mixing his pre-cum with your juices. Natsume bucked his hips and grabbed onto yours, digging his nails in deep and pulling you down ever so slightly. His patience was wearing thin, too desperate to care about your little show.

You took one hand off his cock, using it to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. "I'll give it too you now, okay?"

"Fucking finaLLY"

You dropped down, taking him in inch by inch with ease, hissing as he stretched you out. He fit inside so smugly, like your cunt was moulded for his cock. A low growl left his lips when you took all of him in, your hips falling flush against his. That full feeling, it was one of your favourites.

You didn't spend much time getting adjusted to his length before you lifting your hips up and slamming them back down, creating a fast pace to ride him at. He clawed at your hips as you bounced up and down on him, using his dick as a toy to get off on. You gently wrapped both hands around his neck once again, using it as leverage as you rode him.

His head flew back onto the pillows as a loud, broken moan torn from his throat, hips snapping to meet your movements. His face was twisted with pleasure and pain, mouth wide open with a string of drool hanging out the side and tears forming in his eyes. It was pathetic, you loved it.

"Ngh~ so fucking good" You grunted, feeling your climax coming closer and closer each time his tip grazed over your cervix. "So prefect for me"

He couldn't even response, only letting out another lewd moan, this one even louder than the last. His whole body was trembling like crazy and the small gasps and grunts that left him were straight up sinful. It was clear he was getting close too.

It wasn't long until your walls were clamping down around him hard, the pleasure you were feeling coming to an explosive peak and your juices spraying all over his cock. You were so caught up in your own high that you didn't even notice when he came too, his hot seed filling you to the brim. It all felt so good, like you were in heaven.

Only when you had come down from your brain-numbing high and your brain had regain proper function you noticed just how tight you were squeezing Natsumes neck. The poor boy looked like he was about to pass out. You released your hold in an instant, adrenaline kicking in as you quickly hopped off him and began checking his neck for any damage.

"Shitshitshitshit! Natsume? Natsume! Are you okay?" You cursed yourself for being so careless with him. How could you let this happen?

Your concerns were met with a cough and a small giggle from the man, a small but genuine smile forming on his face. "I'm finE. Told yoU I could handLE iT"

[queenie-official]

Chapter Seven: ‘Something New’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

a/n: i’m back 🤭 this is a lot of fluff y’all so i hope you eat it up 💪💪 it’s bit long because i sort of combined chapter 7 and chapter 8 since it made more sense for it to be in this one compared to what i have planned out. anyways that’s all i’ve got say love you all 💋💋

seven days, that’s how long you had with Anakin before the responsibilities of the world would catch up with you two. seven days then your honeymoon would be over. thankfully even though the first day was a little bit of a rough start it was what you needed to begin truly getting to know each other. and that’s exactly what you’d been doing, over the last four days you’d learned a lot about him- like his favorite color was light blue. and he wasn’t the youngest but in fact had a little sister making him the middle child, which honestly explained a lot.

you were currently taking a stroll with him in the royal garden, conversing and listening to him explain his family dynamic a bit more thoroughly. Anakin had told you how he’d purposely mess with his older brother to keep him on his toes since in his words ‘he’d be to stuck up and a complete stick in the mud’ if he wasn’t there. which prompted you to then ask what would he be now since he was here.

“that’s what my little sister is for, she looks up to me. practically a mini me but smarter” you snort a laugh at that and he smiles brighter. he truly had a pretty smile. “you sound like you adore her” you say with a soft smile and he chuckles “i do but never tell her i said that.” you quirk a brow “why not?” you ask curiously. “because she’d never let me live it down” he states a bit dramatically but completely serious and you can’t help the smile that never leaves your face only growing with each interaction.

“so Obi-Wan can never escape you then” you voice the thought out loud and Anakin laughs, everything about him you’ve been finding incredibly charming. “oh yea he’s never going to have it easy- Ahsoka is like my apprentice of mischief. star pupil” he said with a mischievous smile leaning in towards you as he speaks making you blush slightly. “only pupil” you point out and he rolls his eyes “for now.” your brows knit together in confusion “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“time will tell” he says with a shrug, you scoff and think about pressing more but decide to drop it. you’re both quiet for a moment, silently enjoying one another’s company as you continue the walk in the garden. the warm sun and floral smell from all the flowers creating the perfect bubble. it was your idea, coming on this walk- in fact you insisted he’d join you so you could show him your favorite spot. he seemed reluctant at first but you quickly realized that was just him messing with you and not how he truly felt. you felt your mind wonder back to his sister “it sounds like she cares about you as much as you do her, so how come she wasn’t at the wedding?”

“my mother was afraid she’d cause a scene- which to be fair i wouldn’t put it past her, she can be a bit….snippy and she’s not afraid to speak her mind it was just not the right time or place for that.” you let his answer hang in the air for a bit, in all honesty she sounded like a good person. a free spirit for sure but still a good person “she sounds like she’d make a good leader” you offer as a response. “i suppose” he says with a wrinkled nose, clearly not agreeing with the thought. “i personally can’t see her as much more than a bratty teen.”

“i’m sure that’s how Obi-Wan feels about you” you counter and he can’t help but laugh “well then i guess i got a taste of my own medicine” you giggle at the thought and begin to lead Anakin across the bridge. you where close to the spot you wanted to show him now, just a bit more of a walk but Anakin had stopped. when you turned to see why his footsteps ceased you where met with him looking over the bridge out across the water admiring the view of the fish swimming up the stream and the way the sun reflected across it. you take a moment to admire him first before walking back over and standing beside him to look over the stream yourself.

“i wish i could meet her, i feel like id love her” it came out soft, almost like you hadn’t fully meant to say it out loud. you could feel his eyes on you now, and then a sudden warmth on your back. his hand was pressed against the small of it, you had to fight back the way your cheeks burned at the action. “if she warmed up to you i think she’d like you as well” he says and you finally force yourself to meet his gaze. “as of right now i’m guessing she’s not to keen on me” you ask with a tilt to your head and he bites back a smile. “very much so” not surprising you did technically take away her brother.

“she’s the main reason i agreed” you blink a few times trying to process what he meant. “huh?” he pulled his hand from you and you had to fight a frown at the loss of contact as you watched him lean an elbow on the bridge railing “well i wasn’t really given a choice- but the reason i was so compliant in the matter, and i know this is selfish. was for her not my kingdom.” you mimic his actions leaning onto the bridge railing yourself as you listened to him speak carefully.

“the kingdom of Tatooine is falling, already on its last leg. i knew if i went along and everything went well then we would get the support we need from Alderaan, which would mean my sister would not have to bare witness to what would happen if we hadn’t gotten the proposal and that was the only reason i was remotely okay with everything.” you felt your heart tug at the confession, that familiar feeling of guilt resurfacing. “you’re a good brother Anakin” he smiled at the sentiment. a small silence filled the air before he spoke again.

“could you tell Obi-Wan that, he seems insistent on the fact i’m nothing but a bad influence” clearly the conversation had gotten a bit to emotional for his liking judging by how quick he was to play it off. you smile at that and pull off from the railing “well i never said you weren’t a bad influence.” you retort as you begin to walk off the bridge and continue the original intention of this walk. “ouch, you wound me” he places his hand over his heart in mock offense “honestly me a bad influence? doesn’t even begin to sound true.” he was smiling as he said it unable to take himself seriously with that statement and you can’t help but laugh “you are full of yourself.” he shrugs “i think i have every right to be” he says smugly and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“so what does Tatooine need most?” you ask, promptly changing the question as you both round a corner, now in a much smaller section of the garden. the flowers where much more overgrown here the only clear pathway was leading to the center of some pillars. you turn to him with a smile, this was what you wanted to show him. it was your favorite place to hide when you where younger and upset. you’d stumbled across it on accident but it quickly became your favorite place.

he raised a brow but smiled regardless, taking the time to look around before following you up the path. the center of the pillars was clear just a bunch of grass. you plopped down on the ground opting to lay rather then sit after all your dress wasn’t exactly the sitting kind. he stood over you for a moment looking down and contemplating something, you weren’t sure what but you decided to just brush it off once he followed suit and laid down beside you. “what do you mean” he finally asks in response to your question. “i know our coronation isn’t for another few days but we could begin preparations now, and then once we are officially crowned we can take immediate action. so what in your opinion does Tatooine need most?” you explain, turning your head to the side to face him. tracing over his jaw with your eyes and trying to memorize each detail of his face from this angle as he thinks. it was strange how quickly you found yourself falling for him, but he made it easy and you honestly weren’t mad about it.

“the route of our problems is lack of funds. we have a high crime rate, not for lack of laws but lack of ways to in-force them.” he begins and you move your gaze back upwards, staring out at the passing clouds. “go on” this time he turned to look at you “the only jail we have is the palace dungeons, outside of that there’s nothing. and there chalk full already. we’ve thought of building more but all of the money rightfully goes towards feeding the people” he continues and you nod, turning back so you both where facing each other now. “so funds and military support would be most welcome?” you ask carefully wanting to make sure you got what he was implying.

“yes, of course food and supplies would also be a good help but with money they’d be able to buy their own” you hum a brief response before giving him an affirming nod “understood, then we have our priorities” he raises a brow, a small half smile appearing on his face “just like that?” you smile back “well we are to be king and queen, our word is law.” not entirely true, you both did have your own set of rules and regulations to follow. but overall you two where at the top, the people look to you not parliament. “i guess being a king isn’t as bad as i thought” he joked.

a comfortable silence fell once more, only this time you where staring at each other when it happened. you hadn’t realized just how close he’d laid next to you until now, his entire body pressed against your side. faces only inches apart, if you moved any closer you’d kiss. the thought made your stomach erupt with butterflies, it wouldn’t be your first kiss since technically that happened on your wedding day. however it was different then than now. now it was you wanting to kiss him and not a requirement, you felt uneasy. not use to this type of thing, you force yourself to break the eye contact looking back up to the sky before starting a conversation for a distraction.

“tell me more about Tatooine- the good parts what’s it like there?” you ask him and he laughs.“Tatooine has very few good things in my opinion- for starters we’re a desert kingdom, which means there’s sand for days.” he says annoyed and you turn your attention back to him with a raised brow “not a fan of sand?” you ask and bite back a laugh. “i hate it. it’s course and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.” you couldn’t hold the laughter in anymore especially with how serious he meant it, brows furrowed like he was cursing the sand in his mind. “well remind me to never take you to a beach” you say in between giggles, it was his turn to roll his eyes at you as you kept laughing. “there is one thing that i love about Tatooine- aside from my family” his sentence pulls you back and you force yourself to calm down. “what’s that?” he relaxes more once you ask and smiles as he speaks “the races.”

“races?” he nods and begins to explain “we have horse races, i was a rider- against my mother and fathers wishes but they never exactly stopped me either. it’s not like i took place in the gambling side of things, i just like the adrenaline of it.” you watched as he spoke with the enthusiasm of a small child. it was cute and his eyes sparkled “have you ever won?” you wonder out loud. “oh yea just about every time i’ve raced, ill miss it” he says rather solemnly and that made your heart ache.

“what if we introduced the races to Alderaan? it seems like a harmless enough tradition” you spoke before really thinking and he snapped straight up like you’d just told him the best news in the world before he quickly shut himself down not sure if you where being serious. “honestly?” he presses needing confirmation before he allowed himself to be to excited. “why not, it could be fun a way to unite our kingdoms- people from Tatooine can come here to compete and vice versa.”

he’d kissed you then. it was gentle but passionate, a smile on his face the whole time. it made your head spin, face burn but you liked that and when he pulled away you did your best to act unaffected not quite ready to express yourself.

The next two days with Anakin where just as sweet, you both where getting along great. opening up about any thought that came to mind. it was wonderful and then something changed.

you weren’t sure what caused it but he was acting different today. more shut off and distant, it hurt. this was the last day of your honeymoon and somehow you’d messed it up without even realizing. all day he’d been brushing you off and keeping as much physical distance as possible, your head was spinning trying to find where you’d gone wrong. each conversation you’ve had with him running on repeat looking for even the smallest inkling that you’d crossed a boundary of sorts but you kept coming up empty. you tried asking him what was wrong as well wanting to just rip off the bandaid but he simply said nothing was wrong.

talk about emotional whiplash, if nothing was wrong why was he acting this way. why would he not even let you get near him. you’d let him be alone for about an hour before you couldn’t take the pit of anxiety anymore and decided to face him once more. This time you weren’t going to stop asking him until you got an answer, so you made quick work to hunt him down. which was surprisingly easy compared to the last time he’d disappeared. you found him struggling to walk up the stairs, you where quick to rush up to him not even giving him a chance to process it was you who now stood beside him. “Anakin what happened?” you ask concerned reaching out to help him but he moves away from your touch. “i’m fine” he says curtly and you’re taken aback briefly but recover “are you confident in that fact because-“

“i said i’m fine!” he shouts and you go silent letting your arms fall to your side as you begin to pull back, feeling yourself mentally shutting down. you see a look of regret on his face when he finally looks at you, as well as a sheen of sweat on his forehead. actually now that you got a better look at him he was pale, sickly so. he took a deep bated breath before proceeding up the stairs.

“i mean it i’m fine.” you scoff at him before following behind, he was heading in the direction of his room and you where going to make sure he got there safely. “could you just leave me be” you roll your eyes and cross your arms “i’m not going anywhere Anakin so would you just let me help yo-” you watch as he began to fall backwards, in a panic you do your best to catch him only to realize just how heavy he was the second his weight hit your arms and you fall down with him.

he was out cold, you on the other hand where now stuck underneath him. at least you’d broken his fall.

you wring out a wet cloth before placing it on his head that rested in your lap. you had gotten the attention of your guards and made them carry him to his room as you got a hold of the royal physician. that was two hours ago, now he was resting much more peacefully after he’d been woken up to take some medicine to help fight a fever. The Flu was what the physician said it was, and he’d insisted you not be in the room with Anakin in fear you might get it as well. as if that would stop you, he was sick and you wanted- needed to make sure he was okay. if you got sick in the process then oh well.

you watch over him carefully, running your fingers through his damp sweaty curls. what irked you about all of this was that he said nothing, suffered in silence instead of asking for your help. you thought you guys where finally getting somewhere. finally trusting one another- liking one another, learning to love one another and then he does this. ignores you, pushes you away when he needs you most. you see his eyes twitch and your mind goes blank, waiting patiently to see if he’d finally fully wake up. at least enough to have a conscious conversation.

soon enough his eyes do flutter open, looking around himself briefly to process his surrondings before looking at you. “you said you where fine” was the first thing out of your mouth a frown gracing your features and he had the audacity to smirk. “i was” he huffed, and you had to fight the urge to flick his head. “i’d believe you if you hadn’t passed out right after you said it” he remained silent after that statement and so did you. upset with his actions and not wanting to make a scene while he was sick you figured it best to just quit speaking entirely.

“why are you doing this” you raise a brow and he sighs knowing what you where going to ask “caring for me i mean” you feel your nose scrunch up, what a stupid question in your opinion. “I am your wife, it is my job” he closed his eyes at that “i didn’t think that applied to us” he said simply. “what?” your brows knit together “the duties of a married couple” he adds. it triggered you a bit, why would he think you wouldn’t want to help him. “you’re sick, was i just supposed to stand to the side and watch you suffer?” he opens his eyes and shrugs. “the vows i said may have been empty when i made them but i still made them nonetheless and i for one keep my promises.”

“so you’re only doing this out of obligation?” he asks and you frown “no-” he shifts slightly so that his head is more propped up on your thigh, closing his eyes and letting out a soft groan like it physically pained him to move. “then why? because you like me?” he smiles as he asks- unbelievable he could not possibly have the energy to be teasing you right now. “i’m doing this as your wife and nothing more” you say but it’s clear you aren’t being entirely truthful with that statement and you can tell by the look he gives you he’s not buying it.

“i think you just don’t want to confess you like me” he chuckles but quickly regrets it, closing his eyes again in pain. “if i did i would tell you” you say and begin to run your fingers through his hair again and watch as he relaxes. “well make sure you shout it” he mumbles. “i’m sorry?” he opens his eyes again, scanning over your face before answering “when you tell me you like me, shout it so i can hear you and know you mean it.”

“you’re delusional” you huff but can’t hide your smile and he’s quick to mirror you. “that’s probably the fever” he says with a shrug before allowing himself to doze back off to sleep in your lap.

part 8

Tag List: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss @bimbo-baggins86 @iluvanakinskywalker @bby-imasociopath @curlycarley @burnthecheshirewitch @misscaller06

AHHH OKAY HERES CHAPTER SEVEN LOVES💋💋 side note i could not resist the urge to include Anakin’s hatred for sand- it was too good of an opportunity 😭 not to mention idk about you guys but i am completely with him on that ☝️as someone with sensory issues sand is one of my worst nightmares💀 anyway i hope you huns enjoyed Xx<3

[qqtxt]

[🌸] hold me w/ txt.taehyun [4/5]

✿ pairing: taehyun x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / fluff / cursing / a bit of crack at the end-scene but i had it in my drafts so i had to include it lol ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 1000 words for each member / [word count: 721 words] ✿ in which you’re in a demand for hugs and this is how they react [masterlist 🌸] / other members will follow suit!

this... was quite unlike you. normally, you’d be level-headed enough to know that it’s late, you should probably go home now, maybe tell him to stop by instead. but no. here you are, making your way to where he works as he’s mentioned he’s by himself in the studio; playing with some melodies, messing around with song-making. it’s currently close to midnight but you can’t–just can’t–seem to fall asleep. the thought of being in his arms is more tempting than anything in the world, and so, you decide to go to just where you want to.

[🐿] taehyun you decide to give the door a knock, seeing if he’ll come to answer it. based on the telltales of rummages from the other end, and his voice muffled with a reply of coming!, it seems like–”oh?” his eyes grow wide at the sight of you, yet adoration soon fills over when he processes who he’s looking at. with one hand on the door, the other automatically reaches out to pull you in.

he manages to close the door behind you, now focusing his attention on you with a gummy smile on his face. it’s as if it forms on its own accord just with the sight of you. despite the warmth you feel all over from his gaze alone, you remember you’re supposed to put on a different front so you start frowning, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

he’s clearly amused, not buying it one bit as he raises a brow at you. he keeps an arm by your waist, the other reaching up to cup your cheek where he tries to soothe away the creases lining your forehead.

“augh, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be frowning. what a shame for wrinkles to appear,” he coos, now lightly pinching your cheek. when you don’t respond, remaining quiet, he lets out a soft sigh to lean down to gently rest his forehead on yours, a small frown lining his lips as he asks: “okay, you got me. what’s going on in that mind of yours?”

it gets you to crack almost immediately. seeing how attentive he is despite the late hours into the night and how he’s probably tired. you can only take a step back given his hold on you but you’re able to create a small distance nonetheless. he lifts his head up, gaping a little when you don’t say anything but spread your arms out... that frown now turning into a cute pout he wants to kiss away but finds his heartstrings being tugged at the sight of you being like this.

no good. no good for his heart at all.

"you’re way overdue to you hugging me.”

laughs. he laughs. the kind of laugh that makes you laugh in return because whenever he laughs, it sounds so pretty. he doesn’t bother saying anything, using the arm he has around you to pull you towards him and he uses his other arm to hook you in his embrace. one hand anchors you down and the other reaches up to slot your head to the space between his neck and shoulder.

“c’mon, give in already,” his eyes flutter shut as he indulges in the hug, noticing that you however, have not. with a sigh, you decide to let go of your façade and wrap your arms around him. it elicits a soft, peaceful sigh from him as he nuzzles the side of your head, “perfect.”

one of the many times taehyun was right, he was right once more.

this was indeed perfect.

((”when’re you gonna be done?” you ask, peering up to him as he gazes at you with a small smile, fixing your hair, nonchalantly touching you to keep you close. “i can be done now.”

“that’s not what i asked...”

“but that’s my answer...”

“...”

“...”

“okay,” he snorts, “i was planning on staying on for a bit longer to just write some lyrics... if you wanna help?”

you tap your chin as he gently sways you by the hips, anticipating your answer.

“what’s in it for me?”

“hm... you get to sit on my lap, be with me, and i get to keep you warm in such cold weather. not good for your health, y’know?”

“...you son of a bitch, that’s a great deal.”))

[heyidkyay]

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name

Part Eight

A/n: Just that I honestly love these two a whole lot x

Also- a change of pov in this one, so just a forewarning!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Similar to the last chapter- mentions of trauma and some references to a serious but past event (not too much detail but still be mindful)

Masterlist

--

Ross’s face when I trailed into the pub just behind George was a right picture. Pint glass halfway to his lips as he stilled, shock freezing him in place. 

“Erm, alright Y/n?” He finally greeted me, flashing a look of apparent confusion over towards George who’d just headed straight on over to the bar without saying a word.

I grinned at the bearded weirdo, snatching up a seat and settling in. “Perfect, thanks! Everything is just perfect. We’ve worked it all out and at this rate, I figure G and I will be having a springtime wedding.”

Startlingly, Ross seemed rather chuffed by the idea. 

I stared back at him, gaping a tad. “I was being sarcastic, Ross.”

He pursed his lips at me, mumbling into the froth of his pint as he took a sip. “And you wonder why it all went to shit.”

In retort, I smacked him hard on the arm, catching him off guard which caused him to choke on the large swig he’d taken. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/n!”

I gave him a mocking grin in return, paired with a narrow eyed scowl. “And you wonder why people think you’re such a tit.” I snarked back, deepening my voice to imitate him.

Ross curled his lip up in retort, wiping down the front of his now beer soaked jumper just as George padded back on over. He frowned, taking in the scene as he handed me a rum and coke. I flashed him an appreciative smile and gave my thanks.

George simply waved me off though as he took the seat beside me, raising an eyebrow over at Ross. “What happened to you?”

“Ask your missus.” Was what Ross decided on, shooting me a half glare before he shucked off the jumper completely. 

I rolled my eyes at him, pleasantly sipping my drink and not paying any mind to the colour that now tinted George’s cheeks as he mumbled a quiet correction. 

Ross mimicked my first action, huffing out a put upon sigh, uncaring. “Whatever. You two gonna let me in on what happened then, or am I gonna have to work it out through a round of charades? I’m guessing that it must’ve went alright though if she ended up back here with you.”

“Lovely to see you too, Ross.” I dragged out, but he merely swatted away my sarky comment, his focus on George.

“You saw me last night and- oh, did you like your present by the way?”

Frowning, I tried to recall him or any of the others gifting me anything yesterday. I’d been quite adamant about the fact that I hadn’t wanted a thing. “What present?”

His forehead wrinkled and so he moved forward to pick up his pint again, sipping at it before a look of realisation dawned on his face. He was bobbing his head as it all flooded back to him. “Oh yeah, left it in the car. I remember now. Was meant to grab it before I left for Matty’s, but G was rushing me out the door.”

I blinked slowly, glancing between the two men. George was giving Ross a vengeful stare down, whilst the latter merely grinned over at me.

“You’ll have to come by and grab it soon.” He mentioned.

I shrugged, “Yeah, alright. We can watch a couple films, order something in. Make a proper day of it.”

Ross nodded his agreement and just like that I’d invited myself over to his and our previous spat was long forgotten.

The two of us had always been like that though. Out of all of the guys, Ross and I had always shared more of a sibling dynamic. He’d been the big brother I’d never asked for in a way. Looked out for me on nights out and made sure that no one messed with me when he was about, but we also bickered and fought like no one else I knew. We’d tussle and come to actual blows sometimes, then forget about it completely at the mention of food or after all the lingering anger had worn off. No apologies, no love lost. Just snap right back to normal again.

Because really, when push came to shove, Ross was someone I could always depend on. I’d call and he’d come running. And me, I’d do just about anything for him in return.

“Um.” George started then decidedly shook his head, not wanting to waste his time questioning us further. He should’ve been used to it by now though, so it was his own fault, really.

“Okay, so come on.” Ross prompted with a jerk of his chin, “Out with it. I want to know all the ins and outs. All the gory details. Did G cry like a baby? Did you kiss and make up? Was there any slapping of any sorts?”

“Why would there’ve been any slapping?” George asked him with a bewildered look, then proceeded to regret it. 

Ross cocked his head towards George, looking at him as though he thought he was stupid, then glanced back towards me from over the rim of his glass. “He says something daft. She slaps you. Pretty simple deduction, mate.”

“Why-”

But I cut the beginnings of George’s rambling questions short, unfazed by Ross on a whole.

“There was no slapping of any kind.” I informed the idiot, “There wasn’t much actual talking, in truth.”

Ross’s mouth pulled into a sly smirk, getting the complete wrong end of the stick there, before he proceeded to wag his eyebrows between the pair of us. I grimaced faintly, tilting my head in a way that said ‘really?’. He just opted for a grin.

“Not what I meant, you twat.”

The bearded giant actually looked a bit disheartened upon hearing that, but it was wiped hastily away when George cleared things up. “Actually, mate, we sort of ended up spotting Birdie’s mum.”

I peered down into the dark swirling liquid in my glass, suddenly finding it far more intriguing than the current topic at hand. But my interest was piqued not too soon after when I noted that Ross still had yet to utter a word, staying eerily silent.

When I chanced a glance back up, I found him looking more serious than I’d seen him in a very long time.

“What happened?” Was what he asked in the end, casting a long, hard glance over at George, who he knew would give him the God’s honest truth.

“Nothing.” I attempted to intervene with a scoff, “I didn’t even get the chance to speak to her.”

But it was a futile effort on my part and I should've known it. 

Growing up around a bunch of clingy lads often meant that you got tuned out whenever it came to any upset which involved you. They were fairly over-protective. Over-protective being the kindest way to put it. And whilst I typically loved the fact that they cared so much, it was tiring at the best of times. Take this as an example.

“George.” Ross then prompted with a no-nonsense air, and the man in question shot me an apologetic look before he turned to tell Ross exactly what had gone down. I huffed, realising it was a battle lost and slumped in my seat, forced to trump through it all over again. 

It was almost harder going through it the second time around, especially hearing it from George’s point of view. He made it seem so much bigger than it had been. When in reality, I’d just been severely caught off guard by seeing her. Which I granted to be a rather fair reaction in any case.

“So yeah, she ended up slipping out before we could really internalise the fact that she was there too.” George wrapped up and during the course of his long story, Ross’ face had only hardened. Any further and I figured he’d be made of stone.

“Good riddance, I reckon. Don’t know why you’d even want nowt to do with her after all the shit she put you through.” Ross scoffed unhappily, shaking his head as he lounged back further in his seat. But his words really rubbed me the wrong way.

“Well, that’s all good for you. Ain’t it? But you’re not the one who lived through it, so I think I’ll decide what’s best for me.” 

I necked the rest of my drink then, ignoring the blunt burning sensation that stung the back of my throat as I scrapped my chair across the floor and stood from my seat. 

“Headed to the loo." I mumbled, "Unless you want to dictate that too.”

—GEORGE’S POV—

George watched as she strode away, chewing harshly on the inside of his cheek. He should’ve just left it. Let Ross think that they’d talked somewhat and were on the mend. But he couldn’t. He was worried, and he supposed he had a right to be after that reaction. Still, his next breath was tinged with a smidge of regret. 

Ross’s voice is what drew him back to their table, his words still fuelled by his apparent irritation. 

In truth, George could understand his frustration, he really could, they’d all seen what it had done to her, they’d all had to watch on from the sidelines and allow it to play its course. Too young to do anything worthwhile, or to be heard by anyone who should’ve listened. And even now, after all these years, it was still so fucking hard having to watch her crumble at the very mention of it. To see the way she hardened so quickly in an attempt to not feel anymore hurt. But they couldn't be the jury here, they couldn't dictate her life for her. Because then they'd be just as bad as the rest of them.

“I’m right though.” Ross determined, scratching thoughtlessly at a fraying thread in his jeans. “She knows it deep down too, otherwise she wouldn’t be this pissy.”

George’s brow pinched as he tried to sympathise somewhat. “Yeah, but it must kill her, mate. I know it does me. You should’ve just seen her today. Never looked so small. Almost as bad as-”

“Don’t.” Ross cut him off before he could dredge up any old memories. One’s they all surely wished they could just burn and forget. “I know exactly what you’re about to say and I don’t want to hear it.”

“But that’s exactly why I’m saying it!" George implored, keeping his tone hushed even as he leant in a little closer, subconsciously fiddling with one of the table’s beermats. "We saw it, Ross. We were there, sure. But she fucking lived through it, mate. All of it.

“We don’t have a leg to stand on telling her how to feel about seeing her mum, or a right as to how she goes about handling it. That’s down to her. If she wants to ignore it, we’ll ignore it. If she wants to get stoned out of her mind and forget, then I���ll light the joint. But until she decides, we just have to wait.”

“But,” Ross hissed through clenched teeth, dragging an agitated hand across his face. “I just want to take it all away, you know? She’s… she doesn’t fucking deserve this crap! Never did.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” George retorted far too quickly, venom evident in his heated whisper, “I was there, man. I was the one she called! The one who held her, just the two of us alone, sat on that curb outside her house listening to the sirens as they grew louder and nearer.”

George stopped himself short, words now clogging up his throat. He sucked in a sharp breath, allowing his eyes to meet Ross’s for a moment. 

“She wouldn’t stop crying.” George choked out, saliva only thickening as a wave of nausea rolled through him at the sudden reminder. He'd blinked and it was almost like he was back there. “And me? I couldn’t do anything- say anything to make it better. I just had to be there. Me. I was the one who had to hold her hand, to whisper gently and calm her enough so that she’d let the paramedics near enough to get a good look at her, let alone touch. Me, Ross. She fell asleep in that hospital bed all those hours later, still tossing and turning, and I just remember walking silently into the bathroom and throwing up everything my stomach had to offer. Don't think I ate properly for days after that. And her? I couldn’t even imagine how she must’ve felt. Even now.”

The pub noise had since dimmed, it’d just become a frequent buzz in the background, like a fly trapped indoors. You just learned to tune it out until it was hardly there at all. 

George had to work on calming his breaths. Blinking back the wetness that had welled in his eyes and turning away slightly so that Ross could no longer see. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose before picking up his pint and taking a hefty gulp. Downing what little had remained.

It seemed like so much time passed before Ross finally spoke again.

“I’ve no right to put my two cents in. But I am sorry, mate. I didn’t realise just how much more of it you’d seen.” He inhaled quietly then, and George watched as he worked his jaw, gaze flitting over the other patrons briefly. “Listen, if you ever need to talk about it, or you know-”

With a hard glower, George cut him off, having just spotted Y/n making her way back over. Her hair tied up now, eyes red and glassy once again. He felt his heart break a little more each time he looked at her, but today, she was really going for the kill.

—

The wind outside the pub had just begun to pick up as we trudged our way outside. We’d stayed for another round, tried to talk about work and other things that were going on in our lives, but after the mention of my mum and my abrupt departure it had been a difficult task.

I rubbed at the back my arm as a chill danced past us, coming to a slow halt on the other side of the pub’s garden gate.

My mouth pulled up into a soft smile when Ross dragged me in for a long hug, me on my tiptoes whilst he crouched down so that I could comfortably rest my chin on his shoulder. He squeezed me tight, acting on the words he wouldn’t say. But I understood him all the same, and doubled my hold in turn, allowing my eyes to fall shut as I stole some of his heat.

“God, you’re like a furnace!” I giggled, and Ross chuckled into my ear as he moved to press a kiss to my cheek. It wasn’t typical Ross behaviour, not with me at least, but it wasn’t unusual. It’d occurred a couple of times over the years, but only whenever the situation had called for it. Still, I found myself smiling at the faint peck.

“Here if you need anything, remember that.” Ross murmured to me softly before he pulled away and casted me one of his cheeky grins. “And make sure you keep me in the loop too, alright? I want updates on this big makeup of yours.”

I raised a brow at him, having since parted, and glanced over towards George who was just shaking his head at the bassist in turn. “Why’re you so invested, MacDonald? Been betting on the pair of us?” I queried, sharing a knowing smile with George. 

“Only with Hann- he figures G will fuck up again. But I’m routing for you.”

I gave him a dirty look, wrinkling my nose and curling my lip on impulse. “That I’ll be the one to fuck it up?”

He snorted, amused. “That you’ll both stop being such dickheads and just get your shit together.”

Ross pivoted to embrace George then, clapping him heartily on the back, and the drummer shot a loaded look at me from over his shoulder that told me he was just as exhausted as I was. In the moment, we both deemed ourselves better off just letting it go and let Ross be, well Ross.

The two bandmates parted ways and Ross gave us another quick goodbye paired a flippant gesture in jest as he trailed backwards onto the street, starting his trek home. I waved and watched on as he drifted around a corner and disappeared from view, leaving George and I alone once more.

I figured it was probably about early evening now, round about the time the sun began to set, and was only proven correct when I glanced up at the sky to find a hazy whirl of colour pooling overhead. I found myself smiling at it, basking in the reminder that the day would soon end and a new would take its place. That no matter how bad things got, there was always a beginning and an end.

When I tore my eyes away, I found George just watching me- waiting, I supposed.

I stowed my hands away in the lining of my jacket to shield them from the nippy air and tilted my head up at him. “You headed home then?”

He stared back and gifted me a small smile, kicking off from the wall he’d propped himself against. “Not yet. Why, you got somewhere better to be?”

I chuckled, turning away from him for a split second when a wave of wind swarmed us, blowing some of the hair I’d thrown up in a bun earlier into my face. A hand reached out to tuck it behind my ear and out of my eyes before I could think to do it myself, and I swallowed thickly when the tips of George’s fingers gently caressed my cheek, trailing down to knock against the underneath of my chin. He was smirking down at me when I met his gaze again.

“So, have you?”

My mouth opened ajar as I blinked up at him, a little thrown. “Have I, what?”

That smirk of his only grew and he leant in closer. “Got somewhere better to be.”

I released the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding onto and minutely shook my head. “Nowhere as of yet.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m starving.” George grinned, then rocked back to make his way down the cobbled path, leaving me to gaze after him. He pivoted on his heel to glance back at me and jerked his head, “You coming or what?”

I had to fight the bright smile which threatened to make itself known, dipping my head slightly to hide my face from view. Then promptly fell into a small jog so that I could catch up with his much longer legs.

Because when had I ever been able to turn George Daniel down?

Part nine>