#up and let him in and he knows he's gotta make it up to her....... SO thematic for SO much of it..........

[jade-zzz]

INTERMEZZO

( platonic batfam x neglected reader)

SUMMARY : The family reels under a rising tide of public backlash. As headlines vilify their pursuit against crime, an unexpected solution is offered: reaching out to Bruce's estranged firstborn, a figure trusted by the people, ultimately forcing the family to confront their past. TRIGGER WARNINGS ! Child Neglect. No other warnings at this moment.

a/n : this is just me spitting out an old idea i had, most likely wont become a series or a p2. but a lot of neglected reader stories start off with them young and uninvolved with the vigilante scene and i was like 'oh yeah, let me make reader a badass crime fighter so they have a chance against these crazies. if this was longer it would eventually continue into batfam becoming yandere but theres none of that here dw Interactions and Reblogs encouraged!

The Batcave was bathed in the cold, sterile glow of the Batcomputer’s multiple monitors. A sickly blue light flickered over the dark, cavernous space, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch in every direction. The screens were awash in a flood of headlines, each one a blade dipped in poison. Bruce sat motionless before them, his jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin, hard line, as if the words themselves had weight enough to crush him. The same phrases repeated over and over, like the beat of a relentless drum:

“Vigilante Justice: A Dying Breed?”

“Do vigilantes cause escalation in criminal activity?”

“Batman’s War Against Crime: Our Cost”

Each headline felt like a knife twisting deeper, the rot of public opinion spreading faster than a wildfire. The truth, it seemed, no longer mattered—only the perception.

Jason’s figure loomed above them, leaning casually against the railing of the upper level. His arms were folded tightly, muscles tensed in a way that seemed natural to him. The flickering glow of the monitors cast eerie highlights across his face as he surveyed the headlines with squinted eyes. “I gotta admit,” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. “This one... actually makes a few decent points.”

“Don’t start,” Dick shot back, his voice sharp but tired. He was sitting on the stone steps, his hand running through his hair in a frustrated motion. 

Tim, seated at the foot of the steps with his legs folded cross-legged and a tablet in hand, was already knee-deep in data, scanning through analytics with practiced ease. Empty energy drink cans—some familiar, some strange—littered the ground around him, a quiet testament to his dedication to stay awake for this situation. "They’re using our own cases against us," Tim said, his voice low and serious, his gaze never leaving the screen. "Even if we are the good guys, that only goes so far. Gotham knows we’re willing to work outside the law.”

The sharp clicking of keys echoed in the cave as Barbara’s fingers flew across the Batcomputer’s keyboard. Every keystroke seemed like a futile attempt to dam the rising tide of bad press. But for every article she deleted, two more appeared. "I won’t be able to keep this under wraps for much longer," she said, her voice tight with frustration. “Gotham Gazette ran the story last night, but now it’s on CNN, Forbes, The Times. The commentators are tearing it apart.”

Barbara paused, scanning an article that flickered on her screen. “It’s all cherry-picked data,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “They’re drawing correlations without even attempting to prove causation. It’s all smoke and mirrors. But people are desperate for a reason to turn against us.” She looked up, her eyes meeting Bruce’s. “And that’s what they want. Someone to blame.”

From the dark corner near the Batmobile, Damian’s voice cut through the tension like a dagger. He had been silent until now, observing from the shadows, his figure barely visible in the dim light. “They don’t want truth,” he said, his tone cold and detached, almost predatory. “They want a scapegoat. And Father”—his eyes flicked to Bruce, his expression unreadable—“is the easiest target.”

No one dared to disagree.

The Batcave settled into a thick, suffocating silence. The low hum of the machines filled the space, a soft, mechanical murmur that only seemed to highlight the oppressive quiet. From the cavernous walls, water dripped steadily, each drop a tiny echo in the vast emptiness. Above them, the city pulsed with life—its towering lights burning bright against the ink-black sky. Below, however, the family who had sworn to protect it sat, bound together by blood, sweat, and the weight of their shared past, in a silence heavier than lead, an unspoken acknowledgment of something that had shifted irrevocably.

Bruce stepped away from the console, his movements slow and deliberate. He stood for a moment, staring at the glowing screens before him, his face drawn, his expression unreadable. “We’ve survived worse.” His voice, when it came, was low—raspy, like it had been dragged through the years with him. Yet there was something different now. This wasn’t just another crisis. It wasn’t just the press or another criminal on the streets. This hit too close to home. This was a reminder of his very beginning, of the fragile thread that connected him to the man he had once been.

‘Armed robbery, double homicide, has a taste for the theatrical, like you.’ The words Jim Gordon had spoken to him long ago echoed in his mind, the memory of that first case—a playing card left behind, like a message that would haunt him forever.

Barbara’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft but firm. “But we haven’t mended worse,” she said, her gaze not leaving the screen in front of her. “This one’s different. People used to think of us as the lesser evil. Now, they’re starting to wonder if we’re just another form of crime.” The words struck Bruce harder than he cared to admit. She wasn’t wrong. In their attempt to be Gotham’s saviors, they had come to embody something far darker in the eyes of the public. They had always lived in the shadows, but now those shadows were threatening to swallow them whole.

Alfred, standing near the table with a tray of untouched tea—its warm fragrance drifting through the room—cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. "Perhaps what’s needed," he said carefully, his voice measured, "is not another war fought in the shadows, but a reminder that others still stand with you."

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward him, his gaze narrowing, as if weighing the butler’s words. The others followed suit, their expressions unreadable, waiting for Alfred to elaborate.

“What are you suggesting, Alfred?” Bruce’s voice was edged with uncertainty, something he rarely allowed to show.

The butler gave a small, measured nod, his hands setting the tray down with the practiced grace of someone who had spent decades in the service of this family. "I believe, Master Wayne, that what the people need is reassurance. A bridge. Someone they trust. A voice they still believe in."

Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "There’s not exactly a waiting list of pro-vigilante influencers out there, Alf."

“On the contrary,” Alfred said, a quiet confidence in his tone. "There is one. Someone still admired by the people. A symbol of protection, not fear. They’ve worked openly with first responders, collaborated with officials, stayed in the public’s good graces and operated within the law..."

Tim blinked, his mind struggling to process the thought. “In Gotham?”

Dick’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. “Wait… you’re talking about—?”

Bruce’s expression darkened, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. But the question hung in the air, unspoken, like an invisible thread tugging at the edges of his resolve.

Alfred’s lips curled into a faint, wistful smile, his voice gentle as he spoke again, almost as if recalling a cherished memory. “Yes. I am referring to your firstborn child, Master Wayne.”

The silence that followed was absolute, a sudden detonation of shock and disbelief that rocked the room. Damian froze mid-step. Tim and Jason exchanged a glance, eyes wide with uncertainty. Barbara shifted in her chair, almost as if waiting for someone to confirm that she hadn’t misheard. Dick’s throat tightened, a knot of guilt coiling in his chest. The past was a fragile thing, fragile enough that sometimes it felt better to pretend it didn’t exist. But in moments like this, the weight of regret bore down on him like an anchor, pulling him deeper into a well of emotion he had long since tried to forget.

Bruce remained still, frozen, his gaze distant. "They haven't been involved in family matters like this for years..." His voice trailed off, thick with the unspoken history between them. The bitterness in his words wasn’t lost on anyone in the room.

“And yet,” Alfred countered, his voice soft but unyielding, “they have remained exactly what this city needed from us.”

A long, heavy pause lingered in the room. The truth was that Bruce had not heard from them in years—not since they had left everything behind at eighteen, vanishing from the world they had known. Alfred had maintained a fragile connection, sending occasional messages through a burner phone, reminding Bruce of their existence whenever he saw their exploits on the news, despite his stubbornness to avoid all topics linked to them. But how long had it been since any of the family had tried to reach out? How long since anyone had even bothered to speak to them, beyond the occasional fleeting word, a distant acknowledgment of someone they once knew?

“People trust them,” Alfred continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “They believe in their methods. Their clarity. Their distance from... all of this.” He gestured around the cave, to the monitors, to the chaos, to the shadows. “If there’s anyone who could speak to your cause and be heard, it would be them.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “They wouldn’t want to be dragged back into this.”

“No,” Alfred agreed, his voice calm, “but perhaps they deserve the choice. After all, they didn’t walk away without cause.”

Another silence fell, heavy with the weight of years and regrets left unspoken. Bruce’s mind churned, searching for answers in the fragmented memories of a younger version of himself. He tried to picture their face, but the years had stolen the details—just a pair of small eyes peering up at him from behind Alfred’s legs when they had first arrived at Wayne Manor. 

“It might be nice,” Alfred added softly, almost as an afterthought, “to have them on your side again.”

A/N: feeling devious hinting towards something happening in the past but not mentioning it,, meanwhile reader is sitting on their sofa, watching the news as their prayers for their families downfall worked

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

Don't wake daddy dad!bucky x mom!reader

synopsis: you've never been able to surprise your husband considering he's an ex trained assassin, but he'll make an exception for you and your daughter on fathers day. not proofread.

wc: 1081

"Mommy when is it gonna be done?" your daughter tugged at the hem of your shirt.

"Shh baby, we don't want to wake daddy." You smiled and whispered to her as you finished plating your husbands food.

Giggles and the smell of breakfast filled Bucky's senses as he woke, eyes fluttering open from the couch that he most likely fell asleep on from being to tired to get to bed after getting in from work last night. He watched his four year old daughter clumsily walk into the living room with a marker and paper in her hand. Placing the paper on the coffee table, she locked eyes with her father and let out a gasp.

"Mommy he's awake!" She ran back to the kitchen shouting.

You looked down at your daughter who had the cutest little pout on her face, you opened your mouth to speak before you felt an arm slither around your waist.

"Mornin' love." Bucky mumbled into your neck, the grogginess apparent in his voice.

You turned to face your husband and gave him a slow kiss on his lips, "You aren't supposed to be awake mister."

"Daddy ruined the surprise." You looked back down to your daughter who was now teary eyed staring up at her father.

You glanced up at your husband who was now looking at you wide eyed before he crouched down to pick your daughter up, "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean too."

She sniffled in his arms and you watched as he gently wiped away your daughter's tears, Bucky tried to get her to stop crying but nothing was working.

You walked over to the two and placed a hand on your daughter's back as she cried, you slowly placed your head beside hers on Bucky's shoulder, "Don't be upset honey, daddy didn't know."

Bucky could feel his heart twist at his daughter's upset, especially since he's the one who caused it. The moment was too sweet for Bucky to handle, seeing his daughter cry over something so innocent while you consoled her so gently. Becoming a mother came so naturally to you, you were nurturing, loving and so selfless when it came to your family.

Your daughter wouldn't let up about the problem her poor father unknowingly caused, so Bucky decided to try and create a solution.

"How about I go back to sleep, hm? And then you and mommy can finish the surprise?" Your husband suggested in a hushed tone. Gaining not only your attention, but your daughters as well.

Your daughter's head shot up and she nodded with teary eyes. Bucky set her down and walked back to the couch but not before grabbing the hands of your and your daughter, "You and mom gotta tuck me in though, okay?"

"Okay!" Your daughter replied cheerfully, the way her could change so abruptly always surprised you and your husband.

You rolled your eyes playfully at Bucky earning a wink from him, as the three of you walked into the living room. Bucky returned to his original sleeping position and gave you a cocky grin while you placed the blanket over him.

You were just about to walk away before your daughter grabbed onto the hem of your shirt, "Mama what about goodnight kisses? Daddy needs them to sleep!"

"Yeah mama, I want my goodnight kisses." Your husband restated, the man was quite literally beaming while awaiting your kiss.

You giggled and bent down to give Bucky a peck on his forehead, but he swiftly angled his head upwards and your lips landed on his as he gripped your face gently, causing you to squeal slightly before pulling away.

"Okay, Daddy is going to bed now." You picked your daughter up as Bucky shut his eyes and went back to 'sleep'.

You walked back into the kitchen and finished setting up the breakfast tray with your daughter. You carefully walked with the tray in your hands as your daughter held a handmade drawing and a small wrapped rectangular box.

You set the tray down on the coffee table and signaled for your daughter to wake up her father. Bucky pretended to stir in his sleep earning a small chuckle from you.

"Mmm, m' so tired princess. How about you and Mommy join me?" Before either of you could respond, Bucky pulled both of you on top of him and squeezed you both. Your daughter shrieked with excitement before somehow freeing herself from Bucky's grasp,

"Daddy look what I made!!" She revealed the drawing to your husband, it was a picture of you and Bucky holding your daughter's hand along with a scramble of letters that didn't spell out anything, but he wasn't gonna tell that to his little girl. "Look I drew your arm!"

"Oh my. I love it, princess." Saying he loved it was an understatement. Bucky was on the verge of tears, he had been all morning. Bucky never thought in a million years that he would get to experience peace like this. He never thought he would ever deserve to live the domestic life, hell he still doesn't think he deserves it.

"Sweetheart, give daddy the present you got him. " You whispered.

You watched as her tiny fingers handed Bucky the small box. Your daughter watched eagerly as your husband opened the box to reveal a necklace with a small silver rectangular locket, similar to the shape of his dog tags he always wore around his neck.

Bucky's heart almost stopped as he opened the locket, inside was a picture that he had taken of you and your daughter on the beach during his birthday two years ago. The photo was of you holding your daughter in your arms, the two of you smiling in on the sand as the sunset painted the background with beautiful shades of pink, red, and orange.

That was it.

That was Bucky's breaking point, he could no longer hold back the stinging in his eyes. Tears slipped down his cheeks, he wiped them away quickly but not without you seeing.

"Daddy? You don't like it?"

"No no, I love it princess. Thank you." He said while clearing his throat, he pulled the two of you into his lap and smotherd you both with kisses.

"I love you both," He said softly

"I love you too." You pulled him into a kiss before your daughter separated the two of you.

"Ewww."

Bucky snorted out a laugh,

"Let's eat hm? Im starving."

a/n: this is completely self indulgent but idc. also late fathers day post, this was supposed to be posted three days ago oops. anways this is like a test run for me maybe posting a bucky mini fic I've been working on lol.

like, comments, and reblog appreciated!

[dixonsdarkelf]

Oh my god oh my god oh my god I'm so normal about this fic idk what you're talking about...

But you weren’t stupid. The scrunchie under your pillow wasn’t yours and the way he started turning his phone screen down whenever you were together wasn’t subtle. You saw it coming.

Oh no...I feel like that was left there on purpose, but I can't tell if the girl he was cheating with would do that or not.

You looked her dead in the eye and said, calm and flat, “His dick’s not even that good.”

You fuckin' get him, baby 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

-in a sing-song voice- I know who that is!

He let out a low whistle. “Now you’re just makin’ me feel bad for the guy.”

You shouldn't baby, trust me...for a number of reasons.

You stared at him. “Are you saying I should…?” He didn’t finish the thought for you, he didn’t grin or wink or push it. All he did was give a small shrug.

Oh boy, here we go 👀

“He couldn’t cook, couldn’t fix anything, couldn’t win an argument without quoting Andrew Tate. I swear to God, if I had to hear about ‘high-value men’ one more time—”

Ewwww 🤢🤢🤢

“Just amazed she lasted five years,” he said as if reading your mind and finally glancing over his shoulder. “You make dumb look like a full-time job.”

LMAO FUCKING GET HIM JOEL!!!

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid.” he said, not blinking, not smiling. “You’re gonna turn around and walk back to your little friends, and you’re gonna keep walking and count yourself lucky, because if you stick around long enough to say one more word to her, you and I are gonna have a different kind of conversation. One that ends with you choking on your teeth.”

He's so hot when he's angry 😩

Because now Joel was looking down at you on your knees, the shadows of the side alley carving deep lines across his face. His voice came low and rough, barely more than a breath.

Oh...my god...

“Go on then,” he murmured, voice like asphalt, steady despite the heat you could feel radiating off of him. “Show me.”

You got it, gorgeous. Don't gotta ask me twice

You hated to admit it, but there was something so hot—so unfairly, stupidly hot—about watching him smoke while you blew him. "You got the prettiest lips, baby," he groaned, "Look so good around my cock."

I love everything about this. I have no notes 😵‍💫

“You live far from here?” he asked, voice low again, steady and curious like he already knew what answer he wanted. You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching. “Why?”

Ope--I think I know why

“Because I’d much rather fuck the birthday girl in a bed than in some dirty alley,” he murmured. “Somewhere I can really take my time.”

OHKAAAAY SIR

“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingers skimming your side, tracing the curve of your hip, his hand up under your jacket, “but I’d rather make through the night so I can live to hear what you sound like with my cock in you, pretty girl.”

WHOA WHAT AN ENDING

Jesus Christ this was incredible. Holy shit. I need a while to recover (and I'm billing you for it teehee)

summary: You didn’t expect to spend your birthday catching your boyfriend cheating in your own bed. You definitely didn’t expect to end the night on your knees for someone else while on the path for revenge. || nsfw (?) MDNI 18+, m!receiving oral, blowjobs, Joel smokes cigs, cheating (not w Joel/reader), annoying ex bf, age gap (15yr gap mentioned but not specified), no outbreak, reader is drinking age, revenge, based off a song but not gonna mention cause singer is a trumper boooooo || a/n: good morning I woke up with the need to blow joel miller like his life depended on it. had this in my docs for a few weeks and decided to finish it up with some goooood ol' smut. enjoy!

Tyler was easy on the eyes. He came from a rich family, always looked put together and had a job at his daddy’s company, but truly… that was about it. He wasn’t clever, or thoughtful, or even remotely romantic or slick. If he had tried to cheat, he didn’t have the brain cells to pull it off. But you weren’t stupid. The scrunchie under your pillow wasn’t yours and the way he started turning his phone screen down whenever you were together wasn’t subtle. You saw it coming.

But you held your tongue, waiting. You gave him rope, a chance to prove that you were wrong.

And then, on your birthday—your fucking birthday!—you walked into your apartment after a long shift, already picturing the glass of wine and that nice dinner he promised he'd made a reservation for. You were halfway to slipping off your shoes when you heard the moaning.

High-pitched, theatric as hell, and coming from your bedroom.

Oh, Tyler!

Yes, Tyler!

It was like nails on a chalkboard.

You stood frozen for a second, your hand on the wall. It felt like something inside you cracked. And then the heat came boiling with rage filling your chest, crawling down your arms.

You crossed the room, your steps marching and purposeful, heart hammering behind your ribs. You didn’t even knock as you slammed open the door.

There she was: naked and sitting square in your bed, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like it was a trampoline. She turned at the sound, and her face went pale. Tyler’s too. Like a couple of deer in headlights.

You didn’t flinch. There were no tears.

You looked her dead in the eye and said, calm and flat, “His dick’s not even that good.”

They scrambled, tripping over each other like some half-assed comedy sketch. You just watched, arms crossed, unmoved. Tyler, once she was gone, spent the next hour groveling. Begging, bargaining, spinning his bullshit into excuses—something about how he thought you didn’t care, how you didn’t love him enough, how it was your fault. You let him talk himself in circles until he started getting angry, like his pathetic little tantrum might undo what you’d seen with your own two eyes.

You waited until he shut up, then threw his duffel bag at his chest and said, loud and clear, “Get the fuck out.”

Which brings you to now.

You knew exactly where he’d be on a Friday night. It was with the same group of knuckle-dragging football bros, drinking cheap beer and hollering at whatever game was on. You pulled into the gravel lot and spotted his car instantly. That brand-new black Jetta gleamed under the parking lights like it was proud of itself. Rims all shiny and new, fresh wax job and leather interior. 

You parked a few spaces down and killed the engine. For a second, you just sat there, breathing, fingers curled tight around your steering wheel. Your pulse thudded hot behind your ears.

Then you looked around. The sidewalk was empty, the lot full of cars but no one to be seen. And the nice thing about dive bars was they didn’t give a damn about security, so no cameras that you could see.

Good.

You stepped out, walked up to the Jetta, and just stood there for a moment. The night was quiet, but all you could hear was the roar of your blood in your ears.

 What a stupid fucking idiot. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant for him or you were talking to yourself. Tyler was a dumbass, no question, but you knew what he was before all this. You’d seen the signs, but you ignored them, made excuses for his sorry ass. So what did that make you? 

Still, you shook your head. No. That wasn’t on you.

Any decent person wouldn’t cheat on the girl who stuck by him for five damn years. The one who pulled him through college, helped him look for internships, edited every shitty cover letter he ever wrote before he'd given up and begged his own dad for a job. And not to mention, the girl who gave the best head he’d probably ever get in his sad little life.

Your grip tightened.

You flipped your keys in your palm, pressed one between your fingers, and brought it to the shiny sleek passenger door. You dug it into the steel, and began dragging it nice and slow and deep, carving a line into the shiny paint.

The screech of metal on metal made your jaw clench, but you didn’t stop. Because it was so fucking satisfying too. You moved to the driver’s side, dragging it around to the front, then the other side. One long, continuous line until his car looked like it had been attacked by a wild animal with a grudge.

Maybe that’s what you were, afterall.

You stepped back and admired your work before turning back to your car for the next step.

Next came the knife—his pocket knife. The one he gave you last Christmas because he "forgot to buy a real present in time." You took it from your bag and knelt beside the driver’s side tire and made a clean slash, the hiss of air escaping was music to your ears.

You did all four, each one a little more satisfying than the last. By the time you were done, the car sat sagging on those dumb, overpriced rims, looking completely defeated.

And then you reached for the bat.

A Louisville Slugger. Wood, not aluminum. Shiny and classic. You’d kept it waxed and clean since high school softball. You gripped it with both hands and stepped up to the front of the car, lining up your swing.

Your body tensed, knees bent, and you drew it back.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Your heart kicked up in panic as you spun, bat raised and ready, in case one of Tyler’s meathead friends had stumbled outside to play hero.

But it wasn’t any of them. It wasn’t anyone you recognized at all.

A man stood just beyond the glow of the bar’s neon sign, a cigarette balanced between his fingers as he exhaled smoke into the night. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with messy dark hair and a beard to match. The light above him flickered, buzzing with moths, casting a yellow wash over his face.

You didn’t lower the bat completely, but your grip relaxed just a little.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He shook his head slowly, taking another drag. “Nope. I’m good.” He tipped the cigarette with two fingers and gave you a look. “Can’t say the same for you, though.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back on him, raising the bat again. “Mind your own goddamn business.”

He let out a low whistle. “Now you’re just makin’ me feel bad for the guy.”

You huffed a dry laugh. “He had another girl in our bed just hours ago, wouldn’t feel too sorry for him.”

That shut him up for half a beat. Then he gave a soft laugh behind you. “Shit. Sorry about that. Sounds like a real winner.”

“He’s a piece of shit.”

“I believe you.” He nodded toward the car. “Still wouldn’t do that.”

You swallowed, throat dry, peering back at him, eyes dragging from his dirty boots up to the dark glint in his eye, “You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours.

“You could explain away the scratches. The slashed tires, maybe. But bashed in headlights?” He shook his head. “Harder to blame that on a wild animal.”

He dropped the cigarette, pinched it out beneath his boot.

“And for the record,” he added, blowing out the last plume of smoke, “I’ve never cheated. If that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I wasn’t,” you said, a little too fast.

Silence stretched between you as you felt all the adrenaline, anger, and fire draining from your blood. Your shoulders dropped, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in your chest. Your fingers loosened, the bat slipping from your grip and hitting the ground with a dull thud. You covered your face with your hands, trying to hold back the sting in your throat.

The crunch of footsteps moved toward you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but close. He didn’t touch you, just stood nearby, hovering. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

You shook your head, swiped your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I’m fine, I’m good. I just… I shouldn’t have come here.”

He was quiet for a beat, then said, “Come inside.”

You blinked at him, confused. “He’s in there with his idiot friends.”

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at you again, steadier this time. “All the more reason.”

You stared at him. “Are you saying I should…?”

He didn’t finish the thought for you, he didn’t grin or wink or push it. All he did was give a small shrug.

And now that he was closer, you noticed just how big he was. Broad in the shoulders, tall enough to cast a shadow over you even in the low light. He smelled like pine and something woodsy, warm and clean even with the leftover tang of cigarette smell. The scent clung to the cool night air as the breeze passed between you.

You looked up at him, and he met your eyes without flinching. Even in the low light, they held a thousand colors—green and gold and deep, earthy brown, all muddled together in a warm, unreadable hazel.

“I’ll buy your first round,” he said, voice softer now. “If you change your mind.”

Then he turned and walked back toward the bar with that same calm, heavy gait.

The inside of the bar was dim and loud, but not packed. Neon lights flickered above the bar shelves, a pool table clacked somewhere in the back, and country music played just low enough not to drown out conversation. You sat on a high stool, elbows on the bartop, a fresh drink in hand. Joel, you’d learned his name, was next to you, close enough that you couldn’t move an inch without brushing up against him. His legs were spread wide, thighs solid beneath his worn jeans, your knees between his, both turned toward each other in a natural way of things.

There were enough people that you at least were well hidden from Tyler and his friends who packed into a booth at the far end by the jukebox.

And you were two drinks in, starting your third, warm enough to finally feel loose.

“He wore loafers with no socks,” you said, scoffing into your drink. “Like, on purpose. He said it made him ‘look sophisticated’. I told him he looked like a youth pastor.”

Joel gave a low chuckle, eyes fixed on the beer bottle in his hand, but his smile curved deeper when you kept going.

“He couldn’t cook, couldn’t fix anything, couldn’t win an argument without quoting Andrew Tate. I swear to God, if I had to hear about ‘high-value men’ one more time—”

“Jesus,” Joel muttered as his lips met the rim of his drink, shaking his head.

“Yeah, real winner.” You echo his earlier quip, tipping your drink back, then nudged his inner thigh with your knee. “But the real tragedy is he’s never gonna find another girl who gives head like I do.”

Joel choked. Like, spluttering his sip of beer kind of choking.

You watched with satisfaction as he coughed mid sip, nearly slamming his beer down on the bar as he wiped his mouth, eyes wide.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he rasped, clearing his throat hard, still catching his breath. “Warn a guy first.”

You tried not to grin, but it was impossible. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

“You can’t just…say shit like that outta nowhere,” he said, still recovering, voice lower now, rougher. He looked over at you, eyes flicking to your mouth, then down to your legs before dragging back up again. “Damn near killed me.”

You smirked into your glass. “You walked up on me with a bat in my hand, remember? I’m not exactly the ‘ease into it’ type.”

Joel laughed, a quiet sound that curled low in his chest. He leaned toward you more fully now, his thighs pressed warm against yours. His eyes twinkled in the dim bar light as his grin settled across his face. He was handsome. Not polished or pretty, but rugged and built like a man who worked with his hands. Masculine in a way that felt rare now, like he was made of dirt and calluses and something heavier. You couldn’t tell exactly how old he was, but he had to be at least fifteen years your senior. And somehow that didn’t bother you. Not one bit.

You were leaning in too, your fingers wrapped around your glass, the condensation slipping over your knuckles as your blood warmed beneath his gaze. The space between you buzzed.

But then, remembering yourself, you looked away and sat back a little more.

“Thank you, by the way,” you said, voice a little softer now.

Joel’s smile faded into something more curious. “For what?”

“For... this. For making it so my birthday didn’t totally suck.”

His brows furrowed, the smile wiping from his face entirely. He was just opening his mouth to say something when he was cut off by the sound of your name beside you.

You turned, and standing there, in all his fuckboy glory, was your ex. 

You rolled your eyes as you set your sight on him, turning away as soon as you could. Joel’s knees still bracketed yours, still facing you, his hand coming down to your thigh to steady you.

“The hell do you want, Tyler?” you asked, voice flat.

You didn’t look to see the expression on his face, and you wondered what the slow cogs in his brain were thinking as he looked between you and the man in the barstool across from you.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, voice pinched and high with something that sounded suspiciously like jealousy.

You took a slow sip of your drink, thinking through how you wanted to go about this. 

You could feel Tyler standing there, stewing, his presence irritating as the whine of a mosquito. Joel didn’t move, didn’t even look his way. He just kept sipping his beer, calm as anything, one hand still resting on your leg.

Tyler finally broke.

“So what—what is this?” His voice was tight, defensive. “You cheating on me now?”

You turned, purposely slow, and looked at him like he’d just said the dumbest thing in the world. Then you laughed. Not a chuckle, a full, disbelieving bark that caught the attention of the bartender and a few people down the bar.

“Cheating on you?” you repeated, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? We’re broken up, you asshole.”

Tyler blinked, thrown off by your tone. “We didn’t break up.”

“Yes,” you said, voice clipped. “We did. You just weren’t listening when I kicked your ass out of the apartment and told you never to speak to me again. You remember? When I came home from work to the sound of you fucking some girl in our bed?”

His face twitched, jaw tightening. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that,” you snapped. “You couldn’t even give me one night for my birthday.”

Tyler looked confused, like the words hadn’t registered.

“I was gonna take you somewhere nice,” he said, voice rising as he gestured between you and Joel. “I figured you just needed to cool off. We were gonna go out tomorrow.”

You stared at him open-mouthed. “Tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I had a whole thing planned.”

“Tyler,” you said, voice flat with exasperation, “my birthday is today.”

He blinked again. It took a second, but then he winced.

You gave a soft, bemused laugh, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe the universe had really let you waste five years of your life on this man.

And then, beside you, Joel started laughing.

Not a big, loud laugh like yours, but just a low, quiet one. A little huff that grew into a full chuckle, deep in his chest. He shook his head, sipping his drink casually.

Tyler’s head whipped toward him.

“The fuck’s so funny?”

Joel didn’t look at him right away. He tipped his beer toward his mouth again, finished the rest in a few slow gulps, then set the bottle down on the bar with a soft clink.

“Just amazed she lasted five years,” he said as if reading your mind and finally glancing over his shoulder. “You make dumb look like a full-time job.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. Joel didn’t so much as blink.

Tyler bristled, standing up straighter. “You don’t even know her.”

Joel shifted beside you, his legs brushing yours as he twisted on the stool, planting one boot firm on the floor. He didn’t look at Tyler, hardly even acknowledged him. Like the kid wasn’t worth the breath it would take to answer.

“Know enough,” he said easily.

Tyler scoffed, puffing his chest like he could make himself bigger. “She’s not some prize, you know. She’s a fucking slut.”

The word hung there for a second. Long enough to feel the floor shift under you.

Joel went still.

Completely still.

His hand left your knee.

He stood and looked down at your ex.

And for the first time, Tyler actually looked nervous.

Joel stepped forward, close enough that Tyler had to tilt his head back just slightly to look him in the eye. Joel didn’t yell, didn’t shove. He didn’t need to.

He just looked at him hard and cold and steady.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid.” he said, not blinking, not smiling. “You’re gonna turn around and walk back to your little friends, and you’re gonna keep walking and count yourself lucky, because if you stick around long enough to say one more word to her, you and I are gonna have a different kind of conversation. One that ends with you choking on your teeth.”

Tyler didn’t move at first. He just stood there like he thought he might still be able to win whatever stupid pissing contest was playing in his head.

But Joel didn’t look away. He barely blinked, barely even moved.

And something in Tyler finally folded.

He scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and backed away. His footsteps were loud against the sticky floor as he turned and stalked over to the other end of the room.

You let out a slow breath, heart pounding harder than you’d expected.

Joel turned back to you, his eyes softer now.

“You alright?”

You nodded. Your voice wasn’t quite ready yet.

He sat back down beside you, the warmth of his presence sliding back into place. His legs bracketed yours again, your knees brushing his upper thighs.

“Didn’t mean to make a scene,” he added, picking up his empty bottle and signaling the bartender for another.

You looked over at him, studying the curve of his jaw, the easy set of his shoulders, the slow breath he took like nothing had just happened.

“That was…oddly really hot.” you said, almost before you could stop yourself.

He raised an eyebrow, but his grin tugged wide.

“That right?”

You blushed crimson, feeling the warmth of blood rush to your cheeks, “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He chuckled, soft and pleased, and when the next drink landed in front of him, he slid it your way instead.

“Happy birthday,” he said.

Looking back, you couldn’t exactly say how it happened. 

You remembered following Joel outside for a smoke, the air cooling your flushed, feverish skin. You shared the little white stick between you, the cigarette passing hand to hand, his fingers rough and warm every time they brushed yours. That simple touch felt electric.

You knew it was you who leaned in first. You were the one who grabbed his shirt, pushed him back against the siding, your fingers going straight for the thick hair at the base of his neck.

He smelled so damn good. Beneath the cigarette smoke and cheap beer was something deeper—pine, woodsmoke, a trace of sweat and musk that made your stomach twist with heat. He seemed so masculine and wild and grounding all at once.

His arms wrapped around you fast. One slid down to your lower back, the other tossing the cigarette aside without a second thought before wrapping a fist through your hair. He kissed you back just as hard, tongue sweeping into your mouth, like he’d been waiting all night for you to get the courage.

From there, it all moved very quickly. 

Because now Joel was looking down at you on your knees, the shadows of the side alley carving deep lines across his face. His voice came low and rough, barely more than a breath.

“What was it you said before, huh?” he said as his hand touched your hair, fingers curling around your ear as he tucked some of it back, “About givin’ the best head that prick ever had?”

You looked up at him with a slow, wicked smile, your palms dragging up his legs. You squeezed the thick muscle of his thighs, fingers digging into denim. Your heart thudded with anticipation, your mouth already watering as he cupped your cheek in one hand, thumb brushing your skin.

The other hand went to his belt.

The sound of the buckle unfastening made your breath hitch. The sharp metal clink, the slow drag of the zipper felt like a dare.

Joel’s hand dropped, wrapping around yours. He pulled your fingers from his thigh and placed them right over the hard bulge in his jeans, pressing your palm down slowly.

“Go on then,” he murmured, voice like asphalt, steady despite the heat you could feel radiating off of him. “Show me.”

You lifted your hands to the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down along with the band of his briefs, just far enough to free him.

His cock sprang up in your face, thick and flushed, the tip already glistening for you. It slapped lightly against his stomach, curved upward with a heavy weight before falling back into your eye line—aching, proud, and impossibly hard.

You swallowed.

He was thick from base to tip, the head swollen and flushed a deeper shade of pink, a bead of slick gathering at the slit and catching the low light. His cock twitched once as you stared, greedy for touch, for heat, for your mouth.

You wet your lips with a slow sweep of your tongue, your hand lifting as if drawn there by instinct. Joel hissed softly when your fingers wrapped around him. He was warm, so warm, the weight of him heavy in your palm. The dark, coarse hair at his base tickled your skin as you pressed your hand flush to him, steadying him as your grip tightened.

You glanced up, eyes meeting his.

He was so beautiful like this. Pants half down, jaw tight, hair mussed from your hands, chest rising with a slow, shaky breath. 

And in that moment, you made a decision. You were going to ruin him.

You were going to make him come in your mouth.

His expression told you he already felt it coming. His brows drawn, lips parted, eyes so dark they barely looked human. There was pride in that stare, but something else too. Need, barely held together, a tension you were about to unravel. He knew you’d ruin him too.

Your mouth opened slowly. Your breath stopping as you leaned in, the scent of him thick and heady, musk and skin and arousal coiling low in your gut.

You leaned in and ran your tongue along the slit at the tip of his cock, catching the bead of precum as it touched your tongue. He moaned breathlessly, and the sound went straight to your head, turning your thoughts to static.

You flattened your tongue along the underside, dragging it along the ridge where head met shaft. Then you pressed slow, wet kisses to the bulbous head, your lips soft, your breath warm. You licked and suckled, easing into a rhythm, teasing until his hips gave the slightest jerk.

Joel groaned, his breath hissing through bared teeth as he looked down at you. His gaze was heavy, unblinking, fixed on the sight of you between his legs.

And then, casually, he reached into his jacket and pulled out another cigarette.

You blinked, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “Seriously?”

He just grinned, the cigarette resting between his lips as he cupped the lighter and struck the flame. His eyes never left you, even as he took the first drag, the orange tip flaring in the dark.

You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t laughing. Something about it made your blood run hotter.

You sank down and took him fully into your mouth, lips sealing around the thick heat of him, your tongue flattening to feel every vein and ridge as he slid deeper. He let out a quiet curse under his breath, and his head dropped back against the brick behind him as he exhaled smoke into the night air.

You hated to admit it, but there was something so hot—so unfairly, stupidly hot—about watching him smoke while you blew him.

"You got the prettiest lips, baby," he groaned, "Look so good around my cock."

You pulled back slowly, letting your lips glide over him with just enough pressure to make his stomach flex as you moaned at his praise. Your hand wrapped around the base, slick with your spit, and you stroked him, watching his abdomen tighten with each pass of your warm slick palm.

Then you took him deeper this time, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue traced the underside, catching every pulse of blood in his veins. Your jaw ached almost immediately from the sheer stretch of him, but you didn’t stop. You wanted it to ache, to feel it for days after.

Joel groaned, quiet at first, like he was trying to keep it in. But the longer you worked him, the less restraint he seemed to have. His hips rolled slightly, not enough to choke you, just enough to meet your rhythm. You could hear the drag of his breath between his teeth, the low rumble in his throat as he let out a breathy curse. His free hand slid into your hair, just holding, his fingers curling loosely at your scalp.

His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven waves. The glow of the cigarette tip pulsed with each drag, the smoke curling upward and disappearing into the night as he watched you again.

You moved your hand in sync with your mouth, stroking the base as you bobbed slowly, building a rhythm he could sink into. Every time you pulled back, your tongue dragged along his length, warm and wet and unforgiving. You twisted your wrist when your hand met your mouth, just like you knew drove a man insane.

You could feel the tension in his thighs now, in the way his muscles tensed beneath your hand, in the little shudders that ran through him each time you went a little deeper. His groans were getting rougher. Louder.

You pulled back for a second, just long enough to kiss along his shaft, your mouth slick and open, tongue dragging up the side before you sucked his head in again, swirling your tongue in slow, teasing circles.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word barely audible, his voice rough as gravel, "Gonna let me come in your mouth? That what you want?"

You looked up at him, nodding as best you could as you licked at his cock again with eyes wide and doe-like. His head tilted back, lips parted around the cigarette, brows drawn tight. His hand tightened slightly in your hair, and you took that as agreement.

You smiled, slow and smug, and ducked your head again.

This time, you didn’t stop. You let him hit the back of your throat again and again, worked your hand in tandem, made every pull of your mouth feel deliberate. The kind of rhythm that unraveled men. You moaned around him, lost in it too.

You felt him start to shake.

"Oh god, oh god," he chanted.

His thighs were trembling now, the muscles locked tight. His hand fisted in your hair, not to stop you or guide you, but to hold on for dear life.

And when he came, he swore. Loud, rough, his body curling forward over you like the force of it knocked the wind out of him, cigarette burning forgotten on the ground. You hadn’t even noticed when he dropped it.

His cock pulsed in your mouth as thick ropes of his come painted your throat, and you took it all, salty and thick but somehow not entirely unpleasant. You were surprised how easy it was to swallow every drop.

You didn’t move right away. Just rested there, mouth soft around him, lips still closed as he twitched once, twice, breath dragging heavy from his chest. When you finally pulled off, slow and careful, your chin was slick, your mouth swollen, your throat sore in the best way imaginable.

Joel stared down at you, completely undone. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, then looked up at him, breathless.

“Told ya,” you said with a sly smile, voice a little hoarse but playful.

He let out a laugh that cracked right down the middle, then leaned back against the wall, head tilted up toward the sky, needing a second to recover before remembering how to speak.

You stood slowly, wiping your hands on your thighs before reaching into your bag for your lip gloss. The little click of the cap echoed in the quiet alley as you twisted it open and ran the wand over your mouth, smoothing it back to its glossy sheen. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the nearby window: hair wild, lips swollen, eyes a little too bright, and gave a small, satisfied smirk.

Joel hadn’t moved. He was still leaning against the wall, pants zipped back up, cigarette now completely gone, the filter crushed under the heel of his boot. His chest was still rising and falling like he hadn’t quite gotten a full breath back yet.

“Well,” you said as you tucked the gloss away and gave your jacket a tug into place, “thanks for the fun, Joel. I’ll see you around.”

You turned toward the mouth of the alley, but his voice stopped you before you could take more than two steps.

“Now where do you think you’re goin’?”

You glanced back over your shoulder, brow lifted. “You seem tired, old man. Didn’t think you’d make it to round two is all.”

Joel pushed off the wall with a slow roll of his shoulders, his mouth twitching into something between a grin and a challenge. He stepped toward you, his boots crunching quietly in the gravel.

“You live far from here?” he asked, voice low again, steady and curious like he already knew what answer he wanted.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching. “Why?”

Joel stopped just to the side of you, looming close enough that you could smell the last trace of smoke on his breath, the salt of his skin. His hand reached up to push your hair behind your shoulder, and he dipped his head, speaking just beside your neck.

“Because I’d much rather fuck the birthday girl in a bed than in some dirty alley,” he murmured. “Somewhere I can really take my time.”

The goosebumps hit instantly, your lips parting as the space between your legs pulsed with fresh heat.

“Ten minutes,” you managed. “Give or take.”

Joel pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, but his hand moved to rest at your waist.

He looked down at you for a beat, then gave a small shake of his head. “You’ve been drinkin'.”

“So have you.”

“Neither of us should be drivin',” he said, voice still soft but firmer now, threading just enough authority through the warmth. “I’ll call a cab.”

You let out a slow breath, a half smile playing at your lips. “Being responsible is such a buzzkill.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingers skimming your side, tracing the curve of your hip, his hand up under your jacket, “but I’d rather make through the night so I can live to hear what you sound like with my cock in you, pretty girl.”

That shut you up.

[op1umeyes]

firefighter simon and reader who I babysits a five month old? established relationship with Simon, i was thinking with no smut and female reader.

maybe reader works a daycare job or something and she n must bring the baby home to make sure she is safe? firefighter Simon is home to see girlfriend tend to baby and hbe likes it?

⌖ i love babies! I hope this is accurate since i do not work with kids, nor do i think i will have the patience to care for a kids for more than eight hours. I am glad Firefighter!Simon is getting so much love! Stay alive.

⌖ You come home with five-month-old Lorraine for a few days. Simon isn’t as familiar with kids as you are, so it’s heartwarming to see him like this.

But when you got the call from work that you were needed to assist with a malnourished five month old, you let your boyfriend know as you drove to the centre, sending him a voicemail to let him know you probably would have another person- albeit tiny- staying at his home for a while.

So that’s how you got acquainted to the sweet Lorraine: a quiet, too-thin baby who had accusing eyes and a loud shriek. Apparently, she had been giving Sally (your coworker who also specializes with the little ones) hell all night- fussing whenever she was held, screaming when put down, refusing to eat, and scratched Sally whenever the poor girl rocked her. But for you? Lorraine was an angel.

That’s why you were currently talking to Lorraine while Boone got the appropriate car seat into your truck. Boone was another longtime coworker, the man who’d been fostered by the owners of the daycare/foster center you worked at. “Say thank you, Boone,” you said brightly to the still five-month-old in your arms, earning a bubbly giggle from the girl. You turned your head to the man you’d go as far as to call your brother. “Thank you. I’ll let you know if anything happens, but… I think we’ll be alright for a few days.”

Boone wrapped an arm around your shoulder and offered Lorraine a finger to shake as a goodbye. “It’s nothing. I think ‘Raine, here, will be good with you. I think we’ll try for four days and then… I mean we’ll hopefully have someone lined up to take her.” Boone fell quiet, thinking. “But, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I know your man’s probably waiting for you if he’s at home. Bye, good luck,” Boone offered you, patting your shoulder before taking his leave.

You quickly got Lorraine in her car seat, surprised at how well she took being away from human warmth. She babbled quietly in her seat as you drove and that gave you time to think about Simon. You’d probably have to stay in the guest bedroom with her for the night… You didn’t want Simon’s already messed up sleep schedule further interrupted by the little freeloader you’d happily host for a few days. You hope Sally packed enough formula and diapers. As you turned onto the road where you lived, you heard Lorraine’s breathless giggles.

“Almost home, Rainey girl,” you said through a chuckle. “But you somehow knew that already didn’t you?” You slung Lorraine’s diaper bag over your shoulder before unbuckling the giggling girl. Huh. You really can’t believe that this was the baby that turned purple when she wasn’t being rocked right.

You saw Simon’s truck in the drive and pointed it out to Lorraine, saying “that’s the guy I was telling you about, Lorraine. You gotta be nice, okay? He might be a little scared of you at first.” Lorraine laughed like she knew what you were saying as you unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Simon was already walking to the door when you brandished Lorraine like a shiny new toy. “Isn’t she adorable?” You exclaimed, seeing Simon’s wide eyes. “Can you hold her while I put her stuff away?”

Your boyfriend still hadn’t said a word as you grabbed him by the comfortingly calloused hand and led him to the living room so he could sit down. “Here,” you said, carefully resting Lorraine’s body into Simon’s massive hands. You could see the tremor in his arms so you gently placed your hand around his wrist and adjust his hold so he was supporting her head. “Keep a hand here so she can see you,” you said dropping your volume. You fixed his other hand and stood back to admire your handiwork. Simon watched you solemnly. You smiled a little- the sight more than a little comical: Simon- a large and hulking man- holding a squirming five month old- a small and not at all hulking baby- away from him like he was going to crush her.

Gently urging Lorraine closer to Simon, you finally saw your boyfriend’s eyes drop to the baby girl. If you had to guess why he was so nervous about holding her, you would guess that he’s not held a child since his days training. Whenever there’s a call and there are babies involved, Simon lets the more… equipped people care for them while he battles the smoke and fire to get them out safely. But you saw his eyes soften. Lorraine observed him carefully, one hand reaching up to his face. Warmth blossomed in your belly seeing Simon like this. Made you wonder if he wanted his own kids and if he did, would he want you to be their mama?

After you rose quietly and found room for Lorraine’s stuff, you took a picture of the two on your phone, centering Simon’s frame huddled over a babbling Lorraine. You could see the slight curvature of Simon’s lip.

Later that night you were feeding Lorraine, your plate of half-eaten chicken on the coffee table. Simon was just sitting down on the couch after getting his third plate, lifting your legs so he could have one hand resting on you while the other hand had the job of diligently bringing chicken to his mouth. Lorraine was great with a bottle and even better at spitting it back up.

Simon looked over to see a wide smile lifting your beautiful features. In that moment, Simon wondered how he’d done it: earned a beautiful girl who had a beautiful heart and loved a man who wasn’t all that beautiful. But he was too captured by the way your bottom lip pushed out as you cooed at the adorably tiny human in your arms that was blinking tiredly at you. Simon thought you were saying something like ‘I know! So much for a little girl! You’re so tired aren’t you, Rainey girl?’ His heart squeezed in his chest.

He patted your leg and you looked up and that look of adoration didn’t leave your eyes and Simon was sure you wanted to kill him with your sweetness. “Hi baby,” he greeted quietly to you. “Hungry?”

You nodded, still smiling. You watched Simon place his plate by yours before snatching up your unfinished food. He speared some chicken and brought the fork up to your lips. Simon wanted to pause the moment and soak in this feeling forever. Your eyes didn’t leave him until Simon set the fork back down onto the empty plate. “Thank you, Si,” you whispered.

The man nodded, all soft eyes and sweet thoughts and melting heart. “Burp her, I’ll get the crib ready.” Oh! You remembered Boone putting a small and movable crib in the backseat. You had no time to thank Simon before he took your plates and got up. Oh well. You knew his love language was acts of service anyway.

Lorraine went down easily after an obscene amount of spit-up and hiccups. But oh well- wins with the losses! Simon had already had your shower water at the temperature you liked and he waited shyly by the door. As if you would ever say no to showering with him.

And when Simon was slipping his shirt over your arms, you felt that warm feeling in your stomach as you watched him through the mirror. “Simon?”

Solemn and strong as ever, Simon fiddled with the lace of your underwear as he reached for his toothbrush. “Hm?”

“I love you, Si,” you said quietly.

Simon looked up and caught your eye. “Brush your teeth and then we’re going to bed, love,” he rasped. His hands were all over you: grabbing your ass, sliding over your thigh, ghosting over your underwear… You’d barely put your toothbrush into the toothbrush holder when Simon snatched you up and headed for the bedroom. He tossed you into the bed and crawled over you, gaping your chin with his hand and ‘tsk’ing your giggles. “Stay quiet, love, else you’ll wake the baby.”

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

Pain Relief Pt. 3

Jack Abbot x chronically ill f!reader

series masterlist, pt 4

synopsis: jack immediately regrets asking you to paint him when you leave him a blushing, stuttering mess

warnings: fluff! some angst? reader has chronic illness, jack lost his leg in the war, suggestive

words: 1.2k

a/c: i was going to write this tomorrow but got too excited. let me know what you'd like to see next!

“Nice place.”

You blush as you step aside so Jack can enter. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious,” he says, taking off his shoes as you lock the apartment door. “It’s a nice area.”

Nodding, you take his jacket and hang it on the coat rack. When you turn, you take in Jack’s appearance. “No scrubs today, huh?”

He shrugs, looking down at the white t-shirt and loose pair of jeans. “It’s my day off.”

“Oh,” you realize that of course it is - he usually works at this hour. “Well, thanks for choosing me to spend it with.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, studying the way you squirm under his gaze and taking in the pale blue button-down you’re wearing, the way it falls over your shorts, spotlighting your legs. When he tilts his head back up, slowly, you’re smiling so brightly it lights up your eyes.

“What?” he asks, crossing his arms self consciously.

You bite your lips to hinder the smile. “Nothing.”

A door further in the apartment shuts, and a woman about your age with light brunette hair struts out. “So you’re the famous Jack,” she says, stuffing her phone into her purse and plucking her car keys from the key bowl. 

“Keira?” Jack guesses.

She nods and slips on her shoes. “I gotta go out, but we have to invite you over for dinner sometime to chat. I’ve heard lots of good things.”

You blush, and Jack grins. “I sure hope so.”

“I’ll make lasagna,” Keira decides, scooting between the two of you and heading out the door, but not before telling you to “Have fun, Lovebirds” and winking goodbye.

You lock the door behind her, bracing your back against it like you’re fortifying a wall.

“She seems nice,” Jack says, still grinning.

You chuckle, pushing yourself from the door and past him. “She’s a terrible cook. I’ll order a pizza or something.”

Jack chuckles, following as you give a tour of what you call home. The living room is spacious despite the massive couch taking up space across from the tv, and the kitchen, while small, is pristine and homey. “You’ve caught me on a good day,” you tell him. “I did the dishes and everything. Very productive.”

When you lead Jack to your room, he gulps with anticipation as you push the door open.

It’s very you, and Jack means that as the biggest compliment. Your room is welcoming, artsy, and decorated by various posters and figures representing your interests. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say nervously, holding your arms out like you’re Tony Stark. “This is where the lovemaking happens.”

Jack startles, and you bend over with laughter. “I’m just joking,” you assure him, wiping tears from your eyes and moving to riffle through the art materials at your desk. “Where are you most comfortable?”

“What?” he chokes, looking up from the floor.

You nudge your chin in the direction of his leg. “Where do you want to sit? My bed’s got a super fluffy mattress, so maybe the chair out in the living room? It’s a lot sturdier. But my desk chair is higher and stiffer if you want the support.”

Jack blinks. He’s not used to being accommodated like this. “I should be fine in the living room,” he decides, watching in awe as you collect your tools, oblivious to his staring. 

“Alright,” you say, dropping your stuff onto one of the chairs beside the couch before heading back to your room for an easel. Jack takes the seat across from you as you come back.

“Full body or just head?” you ask, and Jack chokes. You’re setting up your canvas, watching him expectantly. 

Oh, to draw. “What’s easier?”

“Do you want to take your leg off?” You’re very to the point with your questions, and Jack feels like you see directly through him.

“Is it okay?” he asks shyly.

You nod like it’s obvious. “I want you to be comfortable.”

He softens at this, and then he’s leaning down to pull up his pants leg and take off the prosthetic. You watch silently as he sets it to the side, massaging the skin it was once attached to. 

Jack looks up at you, scared of what expression you’ll have on your face. Pity? Disgust? But he is met with nothing but love and understanding. “Full body or just head?” you ask again, and Jack understands the deeper meaning. Is he ready to accept that this is who he is and let you paint all of him in his vulnerability? Meeting your soft gaze, Jack makes his decision. “Full body.”

You smile at him, almost proudly, and pluck a paintbrush from your pile. “Sit however you want. But remember you can’t move.” Your eyes flicker mischievously. “Or I’ll have to tie you down.”

Jack blushes, looking down at your hands as you take out several paints, waiting patiently. He moves into a position that feels right and nods that you can start.

You’re quiet as you paint, the brushstrokes against paper lulling him into a daze. Jack watches your face as you concentrate, noting every time you scrunch your nose or squint your eyes. When you meet his gaze to study him back, he blushes. This repeats several times before you’re speaking up.

“If you keep blushing, I’ll have to add more contrast,” you note. Your voice is monotone, but you’re grinning.

Jack can only nod.

You call for a break after forty minutes. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water will do just fine,” he says, adjusting in the seat and pulling out his phone to see a text from Robby.

How’s the date going? Is she painting you like one of her French girls?

Shaking his head in exasperation, Jack puts the phone back down just as you come back in. You hand him a glass of cold water, and he drinks it gratefully before setting it on the coffee table. “Can I see it so far?”

“Not until it’s finished! Don’t rush perfection.”

Jack huffs, but there’s a smile on his face. He settles back into position and lets you do your magic.

Twenty five minutes later, you proudly set your brush aside and step back to check for any errors. “I guess it’ll do,” you decide, standing to approach him. “It doesn’t capture all of that handsome ruggedness you’ve got going on, but it might just be one of my best works.”

Jack takes the canvas from you, and his jaw drops when he slides his reading glasses on so he can see your painting. You’ve detailed him and the chair with such care and precision, blurring the backdrop like Jack’s all that matters. As he stares in silence and awe, Jack realizes that this is how you see him. And he looks good. When Jack lifts the canvas closer to his face, he sees the worshipping way in which he looks back at you.

Jack’s falling for you, fast. And he doesn’t want to ever stop. 

Taglist:

@miraclesabound @qardasngan @mads198-9 emma8895eb @celiacallsitcausal @interestellarprincess @kmc1989 @wisps-writes-fic

[hey-itsdollie]

I just had the best idea...

Reader is a fan who went to one of their games and ask them to sign her boobs.

What are the reactions and who's actually signing the bitties. Could you do this with [Sae, Kaiser, Isagi, Kunigami, Rin, Nagi, and Reo] please?

I just gotta read this

Sign my tits (respectfully)!

tots would get the signature tatted lmao

‧₊˚ ┊ In which you ask for the bllk guys to sign your tits<3

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » sae. kaiser. isagi. kunigami. rin. nagi. reo.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ crackfic, female reader, suggestive?, aged up

── .✦ Sae Itoshi

Sae had been pulled over by one of his team mates to do fan signatures. Something he didn’t like to do much saying “it was troublesome”.

In his defense, signing a shirt or some poster that would either end up in the trash one way or another wasn’t going to help him get better at football.

So as the red head was grabbing a marker, he noticed someone step up to him. Inwardly sighing as he prepared to get this over quickly. “Where do you want me to sign?” He questioned not hiding his dead tone. “Uhm could you sign here please?”

The male raised his gaze, eyes slightly widening at the sight of you pointing at the spot close to your cleavage. Your gaze is soft, slightly nervous to be in the midfielder’s presence.

With a sigh, Sae straightened his posture. “Are you… sure?” He questioned the cap to his pin already snapped off.

You nodded with a slight blush. Sae looked at you before shrugging and leaning forward, getting a whiff of your perfume as he signed your breast. Trying to keep it quick yet clean so his face wasn’t just inches away from your tits for too long.

“Alright… there you go.” He let out a breath as you smiled, “Thank you Itoshi!”

── .✦ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser walked up to the group of fans that were waiting after the game. Ness followed behind him, waiting till the blonde came to a halt before giving him the marker.

Kaiser looked around spotting you, wearing a low cut v-neck jersey for his team. You smiled gently at him as he walked up to you, “Where?”

You pointed to your chest making his eyebrows raise before he smirked. “Your tits hm?” He questioned, gleefully leaning down placing his free hand on your hip as if to stabilize you as he wrote.

You let out a breath through your nose as your celebrity crush signed your tits.

“There we go, Liebe.” Kaiser hummed, pulling away gazing down at the signature as if it was his best work yet. Wetting his lips slightly as his eyes drew up to yours.

“Thank you, Kaiser…” You reply looking down at the writing he had done in marker.

── .✦ Yoichi Isagi

Isagi was still getting used to having fans. His heart still skipping at the sight of people grouped together during and after matches wishing for a single interaction with him. It was crazy to him–but he was slowly getting used to it.

So you could only imagine how he currently felt, staring at you like you just asked to film a 18+ video with him. But in reality all you asked was for him to sign the top of your breast.

“Uhm… can you repeat that… please?” He asked awkwardly, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head.

You nodded, “Can you sign right here?” You pointed to the place on your breast, his ears reddening at your unchanged words. He mentally cursed as he couldn’t help but stare at your cleavage.

“Like right on your breast? What if the marker is toxic… ya know?”

You laughed softly, “I’ve seen people get their tongues signed, I’m sure I’ll be okay- unless you don’t want to do it then that’s fine.”

Isagi shook his head and leaned down hesitantly signing his name. Making sure to not overly touch you more than he needed to.

“Yay! Thank you honey!” You exclaimed happily as Isagi nodded clearly flustered. “No problem…”

── .✦ Rensuke Kunigami

Kunigami walked over to the spot where fans were at, some of his team mates already started conversations and signing different things for the fans. As the ginger walked over he went up to the first person he saw.

Who just so happened to be you.

“Where?” He questioned getting to the point. Just like Isagi he wasn’t that used to attention from fans. You pointed to the area you wanted signed, his eyes widening at the fact it was literally next to your cleavage.

Not wanting to upset a fan–and also be disrespectful he leaned down and signed just above your breast.

Kunigami was sure to keep his free hand away from you as he quickly yet neatly signed your skin. Backing up once he was finished, “There you go.” He spoke in a deep voice matching his look.

“Yay, thank you!” You smiled not minding he didn’t sign in the exact place–feeling better he stuck to what he was comfortable with.

── .✦ Rin Itoshi

Rin, like his elder brother, had a dislike for meet and greets. Especially after a game. He was all sweaty and exhausted. Rin wasn’t in a mood to draw all over objects or bodies.

So when he was dragged over to do some fan service, he was already in a bad mood. He caught sight of you and his team mate pushed him towards you, slipping a marker in his hand.

“Where?” He questioned with a bored look, with a shy smile you asked him to sign your boob. In response he just stared at you unamused. His ears slightly red.

“Where do you want it?” He asked again, making you blush and point to a spot on your shirt.

He scoffed and signed it, turning away and leaving the field. You sighed in partial embarrassment and defeat.

You almost had your celebrity crush sign your tit…

Almost.

Meanwhile in the locker rooms, the tall male stood in the shower, his mind racing with thoughts about you. Now it wasn’t only his ears turning red but also his face.

── .✦ Seishiro Nagi

Nagi was brought over to a bunch of fans by Reo. Lazilly looking around since all he wanted was to shower and play on his phone again.

“Hey ladies.” Reo greeted the girls as his more introverted friend stood behind him. It didn’t take long before the purple-haired male was surrounded by fans. Thinking he could sneak away, Nagi was turning around but then someone tugged on the end of his jersey.

He looked back and his eyes met yours. “Uhm… yes?” The male questioned not too sure on what to do.

You held up a marker with a shy smile, “Can I get a signature?” You asked as Nagi looked over at Reo seeing what he was doing, but just sighed turning back to you once he saw his friend just signing the breasts and shirts of the girls.

“On your tits?” He questioned blankly, making you flustered. “Oh, uhm sure. If you’re okay with it.”

Nagi leaned down and wrote out his signature, not being able to help the whiff of perfume he got as his nose was inches from your chest.

“You smell nice…” He muttered before walking away completely forgetting to give you your marker back.

── .✦ Reo Mikage

Reo had dragged Nagi over to a group of fans, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of them wearing look alike jerseys or matching colors to his own look. He left Nagi alone as he talked to the fans, his gaze landing on you.

“Want a signature? Picture? Both?” He questioned holding up a marker he had gotten from one of the other fans.

“Uhm, are both alright?” You asked hesitantly as he nodded with a smirk. “Where do you want the signature?”  Reo asked as he uncapped the marker. You pointed to a part of your breast as he grinned and nodded. “Alrighty.”

Reo leaned down and signed your breast with ease, standing back up with a cocky smirk. “Picture now?”

He questioned as you pulled your phone out, he placed one arm around your waist and then held up a peace sign.

After the picture was taken, it was unblurry and the signature was on display perfectly. You said your goodbyes to him.

“Thanks again, Mikage!” You waved slightly, already beginning to walk away.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[sparkler-v]

He remembered the stories Sparkler had told, of a little girl who'd once struggled with the glitch in her code. Before learning how to turn it as an asset, a super power as Sparkler described where it no longer hindered her. It instead added to her, made her stronger in a way no one believed she could be.

Here he was thinking of the little girl. Of how she'd done it all on her own, and how it felt a little less impossible for him to do it as well. Though how? Where even to start? He understood how difficult this would be, how unlikely it was he would reclaim his freedom in the skies with just a few days of work. This would be a constant in his life, something he'd always be learning from and adapting to. Until hopefully one day it became as second nature as drawing an arrow. He had to believe he could do it, he was more then willing to the work as he had with learning to fly, to use a bow, to perfect his father's recipes, to understand and befriend Irene. He just needed to figure out where to begin.

"Hmm, alright!"

Jay's head jerked at her voice, lifting his head as he looked over.

"What...?"

"You wanna learn how to control your glitch? I'll help you with that."

Breath catching, Jay suddenly perked up as a hopeful smile pulled at the corners of his beak.

"You know how to control a glitch?"

"Oh!" Sparkler’s eyes widened before she shook her head, "Oh no. No no no. I don't have a clue how Vanellope does it. But uh I wouldn't mind helpin' you figure it out. I owe you anyway."

Letting out a sigh, Jay leaned onto his knees again as he clasped his hands together.

"I don't even know where to begin."

"Hm, how 'bout with just holdin' stuff while glitching," she suggested with a shrug, "You wanna fight an' all, but ta do that you've gotta make sure you don't drop your bow."

Jay remained silent for a moment, before chuckling softly and smiling over at her.

"Yeah. That sounds like a good starting point."

Certainly no one would begrudge him that... But it would be a difficult task, to say the least. Especially when the only one any of them knew with a glitch that was under control was likely far away and oblivious to what was happening to her friends.

If he wanted his glitch under control before this disaster was over, he would have to learn to tame it without any guidance. Without the added knowledge and experience of someone who had lived with the same condition for who knew how long... It would be hard. Extremely hard, without help. But if one person had done it... maybe he could, too.

[melodyofmbaku]

Signed in Crayon, Sealed in Cash (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: "Ain’t nothing to stress about mama. We done did this before.” he said while zipping up the back of her dress. 

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio Word Count: 1.6k A/N Something less heavy but hopefully no less enjoyable. I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! 😘 My Masterlist ___

The Moore’s had a problem. She was about 3 ft. tall and 5 years old. And a perfect combination of their unit. 

They really didn’t know what they were expecting. With their personalities it was no surprise that Ari turned out the way that she did. 

Smart, fearless, and most of all spoiled. 

That’s how the three found themselves in their bedroom discussing just how they got here.  

“You be telling her stuff Annie. Playing both sides against each other when it suits you.” Stack accused. He was looking at her through the mirror as he did up his shirt. 

Annie shrugged and admitted while lotioning her legs as she sat on the stool of her vanity.

“Just evening the playing field. It’s been ya’ll vs. me for so long. Lord saw it fit I get some backup. Ain’t a crime.” She huffed. 

“It’d be easier if your brother didn’t train her to be a master negotiator.” She looked at Smoke pointedly. 

The man sat on the bed and struggled to do up his cufflinks. He liked when Ari was able to make a good case. Prepositions and negotiations. He was setting her up for her future. 

Ari believed everything could be discussed. That made things particularly difficult when her parents wanted her to do simple things like eat her breakfast or take a bath. 

He shrugged. “That ain’t a bad thing. She’s our firstborn, she gon’ have responsibilities one day.” 

Still fiddling with the link he continued.

“It’s Stack’s “Whatever Ari wants Ari gets” mindset that’s the issue.” he said. 

“Oh I’m wrong?” The younger twin responded. 

“You want our baby to be out there — wanting? When she got not 1 but 2 able bodied daddies and a mama to boot? The hell she will.”

“Ari gets what Ari wants. And that’s law.” The man huffed before stalking over to do up his brother’s cufflinks. 

“Well that law is why we gotta put on this big ol’ party. Mind you— it’s for the dang dog.” Annie deadpanned. 

“You love that dog.” Stack replied over his shoulder... “It’s your dog!” 

“Not the point.” She replied singsongingly. 

But it was true — Ari had them getting all dressed up to throw a birthday party for their rottweiler — Peony — named after Annie's favourite flower.  She had had them invite the neighbors and everything. 

It was a sight to see Smoke standing uncomfortably at their neighbours door inviting them over for a party over the weekend. He thought about bailing but when he looked down at the small hand that held his on those doorsteps — how could he not do everything she wanted? 

At first the trio thought she'd forget about it. Let things die down, she was a kid. How hard would it be? But not their Ari, she was steady counting down the days. 

Smoke recalled knocking on her bedroom door earlier in the week to get her up and downstairs for breakfast. Annie had sent him up and little did he know he’d come down with a tot and a task.

He had barely got her into the kitchen before the girl started her campaign.

“It’s bout’ 4 days for Peony’s party, daddy. I’m gon’ need a new dress.” She said while scooting into her chair at the table.

Smoke grimaced. Earlier that week Annie had whispered sweet things into his ear and looked at him with them eyes and he found himself signing a cheque to add a plethora of new crystals to her collection — it was witchcraft if you asked him.  

Ari wasn’t big on things like that but she was big on looking pretty. If he’d have to blame anyone for that it’d be Stack - she def got that from him.

Annie—still tugging her robe belt into a hurried knot—arched a brow. Ten seconds earlier she’d been pinned between Stack and the corner cabinets, with hands greedily exploring her body and lips full of flour-dusted promises. The moment little footsteps hit the stairs, Stack sprang back, palms in the air like a boy caught in the pantry.

Now he leaned against the counter, trying for nonchalance.

“Thought Peony was happy just turnin’ six with extra gravy,” Annie said, smoothing her collar.

“Peony’s a lady, Mama. Mr. Whitlock’s taking a picture, and I gotta look fancy standing next to her.”

Stack stifled a grin and leaned on the counter. “Girl’s got priorities. Told Whitlock I’d give ’im fifty cents to set up the backdrop.”

Smoke crouched to put slippers on her feet, hiding the faint tremor in his wrist. “Pictures cost money. I best hear a counter-offer, Miss Moore.”

Ari pulled a folded paper from her dress pocket —crayoned swirls titled Daddy & Me. She slid it into his hands like a lawyer presenting evidence.

Stack gave a low whistle. Annie’s mouth twitched.

Smoke shot them a look.

He felt his chest thud a slow, traitorous beat. She knew how to pull on his heart strings. He smoothed the paper. “Fine draftsmanship,” he murmured. “But a good proposition needs terms.”

She lifted 3 little fingers.

“I’ll take my bath every night ’til the party— with no sassin’.”

“Well praise be.” Annie muttered. 

“I’ll eat all my breakfast, even when there ain’t peaches.” She looked at Stack pointedly. 

The girl was obsessed with peaches. She’d have em’ on the side of every breakfast if she could. On days she couldn't, she rarely cleared her plate.

Stack scoffed. He had a tendency to fuss when she didn’t eat enough, it looked like she knew exactly what it’d do to him. 

“Mama gets a dress too, ’cause she works hardest.” Her third and final term. 

Annie grinned. ““That’s my girl.”

Peony’s tail thumped beneath the table as if seconding the motion.

The man looked from Ari’s earnest face to Annie’s surprised smile, then back. He blew out a breath. How could he say no to his girls?

“Reckon that’s a respectable bargain,” he said, tapping the paper once. “But keep every promise, else that dress stays at the shop. Your mama will take you on Friday.”

Ari grinned wide before rewarding him with a smooch on his cheek. “Yes, sir!” She grabbed her piece of toast and scurried back up to her bedroom. No doubt to scheme and celebrate some more.

Stack muttered, “Dog’s birthday gonna bankrupt us,” but the pride in his voice gave him away.

Peony barked once—deal sealed and Mr. Whitlock’s fifty cents practically spent.

The girl had won. Again.

Smoke glanced at Annie— lips kiss bruised, robe belt in a crooked knot—and at Stack, who tried to look serious while hiding a proud grin. For half a second Smoke thought we’re raising a tiny Stack in ribbons and lace. The idea was terrifying.

Smoke shook his head before he tucked the drawing into his pocket, half-amused, half-resigned. Four days, he’d thought. Girl’s gonna hold us to every word.

Four dawns later, the house hummed with party nerves as they continued to get dressed.

Back in the master bedroom Smoke buttoned a starched collar, Stack tugged suspenders into place, and Annie—in a half-fastened dress—did up the clasp of her bracelet while side-eyeing the men.

Stack continued on.  “Never seen a dog rack up so many charges.”

Annie scoffed. “Dog didn’t do it—your daughter did.” She smoothed her bodice, thinking how Ari had spent the last three evenings taking her baths without sass and gulping every crumb of breakfast down without peaches.

“I’ll fry up the catfish around 6. That time everyone would had come round’ — Sun would be lower. ” she said to herself, almost a reminder. 

Stack looked up from his brothers cufflinks before crossing over to his wife. He took her hand and pulled her up from her vanity to assess her, brushing some lint off her dress.

He wasn't ignorant to the fact that Annie wanted the party to be perfect for her baby, regardless of the occasion.

“Ain’t nothing to stress about mama. We done did this before.” he said while zipping up the back of her dress. 

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You a good mother. She loves you so much. We talk bout’ spoiling her, but we’d have it no other way. Just a couple hours now.”

She took a breath, and looked up at her man before responding, softer. “After the party, she’ll be asleep in five minutes.”

Smoke confirmed from across the room. “Whole house will.”

Stack stopped them. “Nah, then it’s grown-folk time.” Smiling wickedly. 

Smoke’s mouth curved— “Let’s get through the day before we talk grown-folk plans.”

Stack snagged the tin of pomade, Smoke pocketed the bow for Ari's hair, and Annie gathered her skirt. Together—three parents in harmony—they headed down to the yard, ready to celebrate the most elaborate Rottweiler birthday rural Mississippi had ever seen.

It wasn’t long before the party was in full swing. The backyard bloomed with bustle: neighbors laughing over lemonade jars, kids darting after bubbles, and Mr. Whitlock adjusting his big box camera beside the barn wall.

Peony—ribbon tied, coat brushed—sat on a low crate like a queen in waiting. Ari, face bright with excitement, raced over the grass toward her parents.

“Picture time!” she squealed, tugging Annie’s hand first, then Smoke’s sleeve, then Stack’s trouser leg for good measure.

Annie knelt, smoothing Ari’s dress. “Where you want us, Sugar?”

Ari pointed—one finger left, one right—no words needed. Smoke took his place to Peony’s left; Stack claimed the right. Annie settled between the dog and her daughter, fitting just so.

Whitlock ducked under the dark cloth, shouted, “Hold still… three… two—”

Click.

For a second, everything held: Ari’s proud grin, Peony’s patient pant, Annie’s soft exhale, the boys steady hands resting atop Annie’s back.

The moment printed itself on more than just film.

The party rolled on—getting funner as the night progressed, children chasing chickens, Peony gnawing a birthday bone bigger than her head. The trio moved through it together—not flawless, but whole—while Mr. Whitlock’s camera cooled in the shade, holding proof that love, once negotiated, can still develop clear.

__

A/N Thought I'd give ya'll some sugar after what I put you though in Touch of a Woman 🤭 For those curious about how we got here... you'd enjoy Late, but Loved.

I am still working on the fic with Annie soft-domming Smoke. This has been one of the most challenging works I've written. I've got to get the dynamic just right. But it will come!

Always eager to hear your thoughts and encouragement it keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think 🥰

____

My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

___

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[estrellami-1]

Electric Touch

Full fic on ao3

Eddie’s phone reads 1:56 when he finds the video that starts it all.

He’s scrolling TikTok, because that’s a viable source of income now and somehow people think he’s worth watching.

He’s scrolling and comes across a video of an angel, he thinks. She’s beautiful, ethereal, sun-kissed skin dotted with moles.

Then she stands up, and moves away from the camera, and holy mother of Thor she has thighs.

She could sit on him and he would genuinely thank her.

He hits React before he can think too hard about it. He turns his lamp on, vaguely brushes his fingers through his hair, and hits the record button. “Okay,” he says, eyes wide, “someone find me that Mommy? Sorry, video, because that’s- that’s me, right now. And then also- who is it, from that Disney movie? The really hot dude? I don’t know who you are, nor how I came to find you, but may I just say… hi. How ya doin’?” He shakes his head. “Cause that’s also me, right now, okay, I don’t know who you are but I know you’re an angel, and I’m sorry if you have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or whatever, but- listen, I had to let you know, okay? Um. That- that’s it, I guess.” He shrugs, gives the camera a little half-smile, and ends the video.

He posts it, shuts his phone off, and rolls over to go to sleep.

He’s awakened in the morning by a phone call from Jeff. “Dude,” he mutters, squinting at the clock. 9:04. Way too early to be awake. “Where’s the fire?”

“The fire is the fact that you post first and think later,” Jeff tells him, then laughs. “And it might’ve actually worked in your favor this time. You remember the video you posted last night?”

Eddie blinks, thinks, and remembers a blinding smile and moles and thighs. God. Really, what was he supposed to do? He’s only a man. “Uh… yeah?”

“She responded.”

Eddie nearly falls out of bed. “She what?”

Jeff chuckles again. “Uh-huh. You know who she is?”

“An angel?”

Jeff hums. “Try Stevie.”

“Um. Okay? Cute name?”

“Stevie, as in the most recent artist to sell out the Garden.”

Eddie nearly falls out of bed again. “What?”

“She’s a pop star, dude. I’m looking her up right now, ‘cause I don’t know much more than that. She’s won nearly 300 awards, she’s the most decorated artist in Billboard Music Awards history, and somehow, she found your feral rambling endearing.”

“Fuck you, I’m plenty endearing,” he says. Then his brain catches up. “Oh, shit, I’ve gotta- she responded, you said?”

“Mhm.”

“Shit, I’ve gotta answer!”

In his haste to get to TikTok, he accidentally ends the call. He doesn’t realize until he sees a text notification from Jeff: five laughing-crying emojis.

He sends back the middle finger.

He opens TikTok, realizes holy shit that went viral viral, and clicks on the video.

Her comment is on the very top. The hot Disney dude you’re thinking of is Flynn Rider from Tangled. Does that make me Rapunzel?

He flops back down onto his bed with a giggle. She’s flirting back. This is actually happening.

He pulls his phone up again, quickly types out I wouldn’t mind getting tangled in your hair. Hesitates for a second, then presses the send button.

That’s when he sees his notifications. He knows it’s just going to be everybody commenting to and saving that video, but he likes his screen clean, so he taps on the notification bar.

Except- it’s not just people commenting to and saving the video.

He has a DM.

From Stevie.

@madigoround - about a week late but it’s here!

[starburstsamo]

take control, please own me; only love can save me

pairing: sammy bryant x f!reader

warnings: smut (unprotected sex, oral - f!receiving, fingering, some spanking, pussy slapping, light bondage - handcuffs); use of drugs (weed), and fluffff. also, reader has hair long enough to braid it.

summary: it seems unfair to you that you never got to smoke weed with sammy

w/c: approx 6.6k

a/n: so here’s the thing. on some occasions, i get inspired and write something. but i can’t, for the love of god, manage a blog. this is the occasion. and while i love pope and jack, i couldn’t stop the fall that this guy here is responsible for. i hope you enjoy him just as much as i do!🥹🧡

“I gotta say, I’d never would have guessed that a guy like you would make me cum so easily.”

“A guy like me?” Sammy’s face scrunched up in offense, looking at you from his position on his back.

You turned your face to him, your chest expanding with deep breaths, matching his own. His skin glowed with all the sweat that was the result of your morning sexcapades, the short her around his ear also damp.

“Well, you know. A cop. They are usually all talk, no game. But then again, you are too sweet for a cop, too.”

He let out a deep breath as his heart finally slowed, his face turning to the ceiling for a split second and his eyelids fluttering before his eyes locked with yours again.

“You wanna tell me how many cops you’ve dated?” he asked, rising an eyebrow as he propped himself on his forearm, his body moving closer towards yours. It was almost like he was a magnet, and you were cobalt, the was your body was being pulled automatically toward him. Just an inch. Enough to feel his body heat and the air coming from his nose bouncing off your skin when he exhaled.

“Please. You’re lucky I’m even dating you. I would never date a cop voluntarily.”

Sammy’s arm wrapped around your waist. His sweaty forearm stuck itself to your sweaty stomach as his fingers squeezed at your side, making you jump just slightly. Ticklish. He pulled you closer to him, his robust figure creating a fort around you. Your hand automatically went to his thick forearm, just resting there, your thumb stroking over the bump of his vein. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes flickered between yours.

“So, let’s clear some things up. You’re saying that not only am I holding you hostage, but you’re also ashamed of me? And to top it all off, you were what– hoping for the best when you first slept with me?”

You turned on your side, your lower body now pressed flush against him, your legs tangling together. It put your neck into an uncomfortable position, having to crane it to maintain eye contact. Sammy’s hand had now slipped to your ass, mindlessly tapping his fingers against the flesh.

“Did you not catch the part where I said you were sweet?”

Sammy sucked in a breath, his fingers squeezing your butt as he leaned deeper into your space.

“You mean the part where you were trying to sweet-talk a cop?” he asked against your lips, grabbing you more tightly and rolling you back onto your back as he kissed you, his tongue sliding against the seam of your lips. You wrapped your arms around his back as his thigh slipped between your legs, pressing against your still wet cunt. A grunt got caught in Sammy’s throat as your fingers tangled in his dark curls, tugging slightly. Then he rolled on his back, flipping both of you over.

“I was a stoner before I dropped out of college, sweetheart. You get into lotta freaky shit when you’re stoned,” he said in some-what cocky tone when you pulled away, circling back to your earlier statement.

You were now straddling his hips with your hands resting on his chest. The light touch of the pads of his fingers to your knees sent tingles up your body as he unconsciously tickled the skin there, waiting for some kind of response. One of your roasts. Anything.

But you just locked your eyes with him, pursing your lips as you held back a smile. His eyebrows furrowed at first, but then your lips twitched, and it clicked. He rolled his eyes, before he grabbed your hip and forced you off him and back into the softness of your shared bed.

“Absolutely not.”

“Sammy,” you whined as he got up from the bed, grabbing some clean boxers from the dresser before heading into the adjoined bathroom.

“No!” he said incredulously. “I haven’t smoked in years! And while you evidently weren’t planning on dating a cop, I should remind that you are dating one.”

“And a good one at that! Caring. Smart.” He walked out of the bathroom, now clad in his boxers and with a washing cloth in his hand. “Loyal. Dreamy. With a heart of gold–“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, throwing the cloth onto your stomach. “Now you’re really trying to sweet-talk me.”

You rolled your eyes, taking the cloth and cleaning yourself up, while Sammy headed to the dresser again, opening the top drawer to pick a shirt.

“So, you said it just to make me jealous or…?”

Sammy threw a glance over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look before focusing back on the search for a decent shirt. Before he could find one, you shuffled toward him and wrapped your arms around his sturdy front, now clad in his shirt that he’d thrown on the floor earlier that morning, the hem pooling around your thighs. You peppered a few kisses over the freckles on his back before standing up on your tiptoes and kissing the specks just behind his ear where his hair curled.

“Have you ever smoked?” he then asked.

“Never.”

“You could get sick, you know. It can make you drowsy or– or anxious. It’s not always good.”

“I would have a competent police officer to look after me, wouldn’t I?”

Sammy closed the drawer and turned around with a shirt clutched in his hand. He looked defeated. You locked your hands behind his neck, hanging onto him as he watched you, the corner of his mouth quirked up. And yeah, you were his weakness. Sammy simply couldn’t resist the way you were looking at him, in his shirt no less. So lovingly. Like he was your whole world. He liked to pretend that he was.

Suddenly, you stretched yourself up on your tip-toes again, pressing your forehead against his, your noses brushing against each other.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” you said gently. “It was just an idea. Just thought it could be fun. But I don’t want you to feel obligated now. I get it. And I love your sober, righteous self the most, of course.”

You pulled away with a smile, teasing but genuine, and he couldn’t help but huff out a smile too, shaking his head at your antics.

“I love you too,” Sammy said, and your smile only widened before you kissed him. And what the hell, he had some time for another round.

Two weeks later, you came home to the smell of delicious Pad Thai. Sammy had learned how to cook the meal just for you, and you almost felt like you didn’t deserve him.

Passing the living room, your brows furrowed at the bowl of chips set on the coffee table, right next to the Pringles tube. There were also some unopened packs of gummies lying close to the edge of the table.

Sammy had probably found a new movie he wanted to watch, and this was his way of bribing you to watch it with him.

“I fucking love you, you know that?” you said as you entered the kitchen, skipping the hi's and how are you's.

Sammy looked over his shoulder, his dimple making an appearance as he smiled at you. He didn’t even stop stirring the noodles as he waited for you to reach his side and kiss him. Sliding your hand under his shirt, you stroked the skin of his back as you pulled away and leaned over the stove.

“It looks delicious.”

“Yeah, I just hope I didn’t add too much soy sauce. My hand kinda slipped.” He then twirled some noodles around the fork and brought it in front of your mouth. “Careful. It’s hot.”

You wrapped your fingers around his hand to keep the fork steady as you blew some air on the food. Then you opened your mouth and closed it around the fork, the flavor spilling all over your tongue, your tastebuds soaking it up. You couldn’t hold in the moan even if you wanted to, because it really tasted delicious.

“It’s perfect,” you said after you swallowed, feeding his ego in exchange. It made him smile, all proud and happy that he gets to treat you like you deserve. You kissed him again and then went to get the plates.

“I’ll just go change. Be right back,” you told him once you set the table and went to change into some comfy clothes. “Oh, and I picked up some Claritin for you. Noticed you were running out,” you said, loud enough for him to hear you as you put it in the med cabinet in the bathroom.

Once you were seated, you talked about work, he spilled some gossip about the Hollywood division and half-joked that he should probably visit an ophtamologist, because his sight was getting worse.

“Oh, you’ll definitely look hot in glasses.”

“Yeah, right. You look hot in glasses,” he remarked, stuffing mouthful of the noodles. “I don’t know about–“ he continued, barely intelligible as he spoke through the food.

“Sammy, please.”

He shut up immediately, nodding his head in understanding as he swallowed. “Sorry.”

You chatted some more before you went to load the dishes into the dishwasher and transferred the rest of the noodles from the skillet into a box. You left it open to let it get cold before you’d put it into the fridge.

“So, what’s with the set up in the living room? You find another ancient movie you don’t wanna watch alone?”

Sammy faced you, taking your hand and walking backwards to the living room.

“That is the reason you’re gonna fucking love me even more.”

Your brows knit together, confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, matter-of-factly. He held your gaze, his mouth growing into a small smirk. Waiting. Your eyes widened.

“No.”

His eyebrows raised.

“Are you joking?”

“Go take a look,” Sammy prompted you with a jerk of his head.

You hurried to the living room, looking around like a child on a Christmas morning.

“Getting warmer,” Sammy quipped when you reached the couch. You took another step between the table and the sofa. “Warmer.” You knelt on the couch with one knee, bracing yourself on the backrest. “Warmer.” Then you took the pillow in the corner of the couch and placed it aside, revealing a small, brown paper bag. “Burning.”

You snacthed it and flipped over, your butt sinking into the cushion after two swift bounces. Sammy came over too, sitting in the opposite corner of the couch and throwing his arm over the back, watching you as you clutched the bag in your lap, making it crinkle in your hold.

“Open it,” Sammy encouraged you and you did.

When you pulled out a roll along with a lighter, your mouth was already wide open in slight surprise.

“Sam, are you sure?”

“Are you?”

You stared at the two small items in your hands, contemplating.

“Hey, if you changed your mind, we don’t have to do this, alright? Say the word, it’s down the toilet.”

“No. I want to,” you quickly said, put both the lighter and the joint on the table, throwing yourself at Sammy and kissing his cheek. “I would love you even more if it were even possible.”

Sammy chuckled, grabbing you and creating some distance between you. “Alright, I have some conditions though.”

You relaxed, sitting on the heels of your feet.

“You need to tell me if you get too dizzy or anything, alright?” You nodded quietly, focused on the police-mode tone. “If and when I see or think you have had enough, I’m getting rid of the weed, okay? Right away.” You nodded again. “And also… I won’t be smoking.”

Your face scrunched up. “What?” You shuffled a little closer. “I thought that was the point of it all.”

Sammy tugged a stray hair behind your ear.

“Sweetheart, I don’t need to be stoned to fuck you good," he said, blunt as ever. He brought his face closer to yours, the smile had already fallen from his lips. “Or are you saying I’m not fucking you good enough? Hm?” His head cocked to the side as he followed your eyes, wide and innocent. “You sayin’ that you barely holding yourself up after I fuck you against the counter is not enough?”

You shook your head. You were speechless. He barely talked to you like that.

“See? I don’t think I’m the one who’s shy to fulfil their potential. You on the other hand… You could use some loosening up. And as much as it pains me that I couldn’t do it myself–”

Oh, God. You couldn’t let him think that you didn’t feel comfortable with him.

“It’s not like that–”

“No. You don’t get to speak on that now,” Sammy said sharply, but then his voice softened again, and he brought his hand to your cheek, his thumb stroking back and forth over your skin. “It’s alright. Good girls like you are always a little shy to let go at first. And I can’t even begin to imagine the pressure you feel, dating a man of the law and all. It must be so hard on you, hm?”

You nodded your head again. Sammy whispered a quiet yeah as he nodded along with you, brushing his thumb over your pouty lips.

“So, what do you say? You okay with all that I said?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Sammy explained you the ropes as well as he could without actually smoking himself.

Woah, hold your horses, would ya? Just… start with small puffs, okay? Don’t rush it. Sammy told you when you put the joint between your lips and brought the lighter to the tip. You almost burned him when his hand shot up to cover your hand that was holding the lighter.

Sammy instructed you not to hold the smoke in for too long, but it wasn’t even physically possible. At one point, you wanted to give up when you still couldn’t get over all the coughing. Sammy even had to take the joint from you, so you didn’t drop it as your reflexes took over you.

After some time had passed, the world was spinning enough to make you giggle, but not enough to make you sick. Sammy made sure you had some snacks at arm’s reach all the time, feeding it to you so the high wasn’t so intense.

To be honest, Sammy had already been hard when you listened to his rules, all pouty and doe-eyed. He wanted to fuck you right then and there, to hell with some fucking weed. But he couldn’t help but be curious too. He was being selfish, not allowing you to see him high, but surprisingly craving to see you out of it.

You played a few rounds of strip UNO, and you kept insisting on taking off a piece of your own clothing even when he was the one who lost. Yeah, thank God you had never been high before. Sammy swore that he would have killed anyone who had seen you like this, clad only in your panties.

He was getting a little uncomfortable, his cock pulsing every time you giggled or rubbed against him.

And now, you were straddling his lap, grinding onto his bulge while you made out with him. Your panties had been soaked for a while now, and you were definitely creating a wet spot on Sammy’s shorts. Too bad you couldn’t see it, because they were too dark of a shade. His head was resting against the back of the couch, angling his head slightly to the ceiling. He was looking up at you when you pulled away from the kiss.

“You sure you don’t want to?” you asked, twirling a stray curl around your finger. Sammy snorted, because you asked him that after every kiss.

“Yeah, I’m sure. And I’m cutting you off too.”

“Whaaat? Nooo.”

“Yeees. You’ve had enough,” he told you with a smile, his teeth peeking out of his mouth. Your grin only grew wider, and you brought your thumb to his incisors, brushing over the uneven surface of one tooth overlapping the other one. “You have such nice teeth. Beautiful smile.”

He chuckled and shook his head, catching your wrist and pushing your hand down “Alright.”

“Wait. One more time. Please.”

It didn’t take him long to think about it when you were looking down at him with those puppy eyes. He allowed you one last hit. He watched you suck in the smoke, but what he wasn’t prepared for was you grabbing his chin and pulling his mouth agape as you leaned down and kissed him while letting some of the smoke escape your lungs.

He didn’t have to inhale it. He could just keep it on his tongue and exhale once you pulled away, sabotage your plan. But Jesus Christ, this was hot. You were hot. Fucking minx.

So, he sucked it in, letting the smoke expand his lungs. Once you both exhaled the rest of the smoke, Sammy locked lips with you, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moaned against him, your fingers grasping his hair and nails scraping against his scalp. You rubbed yourself against his cock some more, and his arm wrapped around your back and pushed you against his front, making your tits rub against the material of his t-shirt. Your teeth were clashing against each other, saliva was collecting in the corners of your mouths, creating strings between you when you pulled away just to change the angle.

And then you had the audacity to giggle into the kiss. It was short-lived though, because you were silenced by the smack of Sammy’s hand against your ass. You gasped, the surge of warm air from your lips hitting his lips. He smirked then, that disgusting, cocky curl of his lips followed by his front teeth biting into his lower lip. But God, was it sexy. And he knew it.

“Such a bad fucking girl. Didn’t really take much to turn you into one, huh?”

You mewled at that, and when you didn’t answer, you felt another surge of pain in the same place, making your skin sting. Your hips jerked with the slap, a groan escaping Sammy’s throat from the stimulation against his clothed cock. For what it’s worth, he was trying to soothe the pain by stroking his palm against your burning skin, but it didn’t really do much. It just made the anticipation in you grow, your body just waiting for another spank.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed out and his jaw clenched, his nose scrunched up into a sneer, and you almost thought he wanted to hit you again.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I was a bad girl.”

He strengthened his hold on you and leaned forward. It took you by surprise and you franticly tightened the hold around his neck, because you thought you were going to fall. Sammy would never drop you. That would be a crime which there is no punishment for. Unforgivable.

His other arm reached forward, taking the joint and putting it out before making you squeal when he stood up. Wrapping your legs around him, you giggled again when you realized he was holding you with only one arm. Your strong policeman, you swooned internally.

In the bedroom, he dropped you onto the mattress and then he disappeared into the bathroom. You squirmed on the bed, not able to stay still as you called out his name three times. Mind you, he was only gone for ten seconds, but it felt like two hours had passed. At one point, you heard the toilet being flushed and then he stormed back into the bedroom.

You shot him a dopey smile, and when he reached the foot of the bed, he wrapped his hand around your ankle, muttering a deep come here as he dragged you towards him across the sheets. They felt like clouds as they slid against your skin, and before you knew it, Sammy was pulling you into a sitting position and swiftly locking a handcuff around one of your wrists. It clicked in place, leaving the other cuff dangling down, bumping against your forearm and sending shivers through your body, not only because of how cold it felt.

Sammy crouched down, wrapping his arm around your waist. His knee brushed against your cunt as he bent it to kneel on the edge, crawling up the bed and taking you with him. Your head hit the pillow and soon, your arms were above your head. You tipped your head back, watching as Sammy’s hands looped the cuffs behind the metal bar of the headboard. He secured the cuff around your other wrist, making you completely trapped.

You zoned out, mesmerized by the shiny, fancy bracelets adorning your hands, but Sammy brought you back as he latched his lips to your still exposed neck. Your hands instinctively moved to grab on his hair, but were stopped by the chains, a clanking sound combined with your mewls resonated throughout the room. Sammy felt your neck vibrate from the sounds, and it made him scrape his teeth against the skin.

It didn’t take long before he was kissing down to your chest, sucking a few bruises into the skin of your boobs, before maneuvering his lips towards the side of your ribcage, that one specific spot that always made you squirm.

And as if on cue, your body jerked upwards. Sammy’s hands grabbed your hips and held you down, spending some time to torture you through that sweet spot, kissing, biting and licking, before he continued his descent. Over your hips, to your stomach, twirling his tongue around your belly button and kissing down toward the hem of your panties.

He hooked his index finger behind the hem, right at the center where the little bow decorated your underwear. Sammy tugged, just enough to expose the skin there and lay a kiss there too, but he went nowhere near your clit.

“Sammy,” you moaned, desperate for him to touch you where you wanted him the most. Instead, his mouth disappeared, and he let the elastic of your panties snap back into its respective place, stinging your skin for a millisecond.

Sammy shuffled down the bed just a little more to give himself a good look at your cunt. The sight almost made him roll his eyes into the back of his head, the wet spot outlining your engorged clit.

“Jesus Christ. You’re fucking soaked.”

He didn’t waste any more time. Leaning forward, he grabbed the undersides of your thighs and pushed upwards, giving himself a space to lick you over your panties. Your back arched at the sensation and Sammy followed your pussy lips as they tilted downwards, not taking his mouth off you even for a second.

“Sammy, please.”

You felt like you were sobering up, now drunk on the feeling of his mouth against you. But you wanted more, you wanted to feel the soft tongue lavishing around your clit. Sammy was nothing short of spectacular when it came to eating you out. He was like an artist, always focused to angle the strokes of his tongue just right, painting your pussy with his spit. However, he would always tell you, that you were the art.

He groaned, but didn’t comment, just hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them off. In swift motion, he appeared above you and gripped your jaw, forcing your mouth open before he stuffed the wet material into your mouth. You tasted the tanginess as you bit down, your noises now muffled by the cloth. Sammy kissed your open mouth, but he was actually really just kissing your underwear, and then he was lying back on his stomach between your legs again.

His hips grinded into the mattress as he pushed your legs together and lifted them, essentially bending you in half. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your weepy cunt. His eyes fell shut at the delicious scent and then he finally dove in and licked through you, collecting your wetness on his tongue and slurping it up as he reached your clit. You were tight in this position, and it only added to the sensation. You twitched and he was gone again, pushing your thighs against your stomach and lifting your calves to give himself a good access and good lighting.  

“Keep your legs up. Like this,” he said, his hot breath hitting your cunt as he talked. It was an order, and you tried your best to oblige. You really did. You even caught yourself from opening your legs when he blew some cool air on you before he attached his mouth to your cunt again.

But your legs had a mind of their own. And it was hard to keep them in this position with your hands tied and without his support. It took only few swipes of his tongue over your clit for them to start falling open, and as soon as Sammy felt it, his mouth disappeared. You squeezed your eyes shut, cries catching in your throat at the loss.

“Close them. Keep them up.”

So far, it was relatively easy to do so, but you’d be stupid to think that he’d make it simple for you. So, when you lifted your legs again, he got back to swirling his tongue around your hole, humming into you as he felt another surge of wetness coming out of you.

Sammy then moved to work on your clit again. He was building you up and when he gave a particularly hard suck, it made you moan through your underwear and your heels brushed against Sammy’s ears when they fell down.

“Up,” he instructed you again, his voice scarily calm, but still domineering. You just needed a little time to get over the mixed sensations. You hadn’t even cum yet, and you were already sensitive. “Lift ‘em up, come on.” Now his tone changed to condescending. He wouldn't put his mouth on you until you did as he said.

You hitched them higher again, presenting your pussy to the menace of your boyfriend, and this time when he leaned down, his fingers joined his tongue. Sammy slowly inserted two his fingers into your tight hole, pushing some of the wetness back where it came from only to pull out more and spread it over your clit. He rolled the bud between his index and forefinger before putting the flat of his tongue on you and moving his head in slow circles, sending delicious sensations through your body.

Sammy slid the fingers down to your opening again and locked his lips around your clit. You received several harsh sucks while he crooked his fingers inside of you, massaging your sweet spot as he nibbled on your bundle of nerves. He slowly picked up the pace and the knot in your stomach started tightening, your pussy squeezing around his digits.

You threw your head back, focusing on the orgasm he was about to bring you. Sammy fucked you with his fingers hard, making sure you heard how fucking wet you were, how easily you swallowed him. You didn’t even realize your legs spread in the air, providing him with full access, your pussy exposing herself to him in her full glory. But Sammy wouldn’t have that, muttering a quiet fuck before he pulled out his fingers just as you were tipping over the edge. His mouth was gone too, and before you could even realize what had happened, a hard smack landed on your pussy, causing you to squeal and your legs to close.

“See, it’s not that hard, is it?” he muttered, but the next thing you knew, Sammy was moving, kneeling up and positioning himself next to your hip, still facing your lower body to get a good hold on your knees and jerk them apart, keeping them spread in the air as he slapped your cunt again, right on your clit.

“Is this what you wanted?” Spank. “Huh? For me to smack the shit out of your little pussy?” Spank. “I mean,” he coughed out a condescending laugh, shaking his head, “if you’re not inviting me, I don’t know what you’re doing.” He landed one last spank and you trapped his hand against your sensitive cunt when you closed your legs. Not that he wanted to move anyway. The tip of his finger slipped into your hole as he faced you, leaning over you. His nose was now brushing yours, his free hand coming up to squeeze your cheeks together.

“You’re such a spoiled little girl.” He was heaving like a predator ready to eat its prey. “Trying to get me high so you can have the shit fucked out of you, huh?”

You shook your head, tears now rolling down the corners of your eyes and over your temples, landing on the soft pillow underneath you.

“Oh, no?” He forced his finger deeper into you and your legs fell open once again. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy again.” He removed his fingers just to bring them in front of his face and spit on them. Returning them to your pussy, he started fucking you again, squelching sounds bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. “Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how wet you are?”

You were seeing stars again, ignoring the straining pain in your arms as you arched your back. Sammy’s fingers were slamming into you in ruthless pace, but then all of a sudden, his fingers were gone. Again. You wanted to scream, but you just settled for a long groan. The muffled noise amplified when your underwear was suddenly ripped from your mouth and replaced by the wet fingers that were just abusing your cunt. He pushed down on your tongue, nearly making you gag.

“What about now, hm? If I could, I would make you eat yourself out. I should feed every single drop to you, just so you finally realize how many buckets your sweet little cunt can fill.”

He massaged your tongue and you closed your lips around his digits, sucking on them, your eyes fluttering shut.

“So, I’ll ask again. Did you want me to ruin the absolute fuck out of your pussy?” 

You looked up at him then. His pupils were wide, the ring around them green under this lighting. He was biting his lip too, something he never truly realized he did. And you nodded.

“Yes. I want you to ruin my pussy,” you replied, sounding as coherently as you could with the limited movement of your tongue.

He already did anyway.

“Atta girl.”

And with that, his fingers inserted themselves back into your cunt, and he fingered you until you made mess of them and the bed. Then he licked the cum off your pussy before he finally took off his clothes and fucked you into the mattress.

He barely looked at your face as he slammed into you. With his arms hooked behind your knees, he was too focused on his cock ramming into the tightness of your hole. You swallowed him too good to not look. And he would take a picture if you asked him. He might as well do it now, nothing you could do about it anyway, with your hands tied to the bed, stretching your figure into a magnificent arch. You were truly a sight to behold. Samuel Bryant’s Institute of Art. That’s where he would put you, where only he would have access to the art that was your body. Shit, he was doing it again.

Sammy grunted as you pulsed around him, letting the weight take him as he braced himself on his fists next your shoulders. However, he still kept his eyes glued to where he was sliding into you, his curls tickling your chin.

“Sam,” you moaned, getting his attention.

He couldn’t even mock you, because he was just as fucked out. Your pussy was making his brains dissolve. He kissed you, taking in a sharp breath and huffing it out. A thin string of spit formed between you when he pulled away and he began snapping his hips faster, chasing his orgasm and taking you right with him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

“Hold it for me, sweetheart. I’m right there with you.”

He lifted himself a bit to give himself more leverage, the pistoning of his hips against your ass creating slapping sounds that made your cheeks flush.

“Fuck. Cum for me,” he encouraged you, and with a few more snaps of his hips and give it to me, baby, you fell over the edge, milking his cock as he came too. “Fuuuck,” he growled, his moves slowing down to a complete halt. With a final, forceful press, he grinded against you, stimulating your clit one more time as he circled his hips for good measure, just to hear you whimper.

Sammy lowered himself on his forearms then, kissing your swollen lips as his cock softened inside of you. It made you instantly melt into him, the tips of his fingers gently playing with the strands of your hair.

Your hips shuddered as he pulled out, your mixed cum spilling on the bed. Sammy fell on his back, his chest rising once, twice as he caught his breath before he rolled onto his side with his back facing you. He reached down for the shorts he discarded on the floor earlier, stuffing his hand into the pocket and fishing out a key. Rolling to the opposite side, he tried his best to unlock the cuffs without having to get up, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

Once you were free, Sammy threw bot the cuffs and the key on the nightstand. You had to stifle the groan as you finally changed the position of your arms, the muscles in them pulling in different directions.

You shifted closer to Sammy, lying on your stomach as you rested your chin on your forearm which was now on top of Sammy’s chest. He looked down at you with hooded eyes, a small, proud smile adorning his face when he brought his hand to your head, stroking and playing with the hair there.

“How are you feelin’?”

“Heavenly,” you replied, making him chuckle.

“Was that freaky enough for you?”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “I dunno. I have a feeling you still have some tricks up your sleeve.”

Sammy huffed, shaking his head. He didn’t deny it though, which made you smile to yourself. You kissed him then, hair falling around his face like a curtain, tickling his ears.

You smelled so good, too. He wasn’t sure if it was the weed, but with every touch of your lips, every brush of your hair, every molecule of your scent he inhaled, he felt like you two were merging into one. Like you possessed him, spreading through him like Venom.

And when you pulled away and smiled down at him, he was a goner. God, how he loved that smile.

“Marry me,” he blurted out and your smile faltered, your brows twitching without you realizing.

“What?”

He lifted himself up on his elbows then, forcing your body off his. You sat up on your knees and wrapped the cover around yourself, suddenly becoming shy again.

“I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be yours.”  

Hell, God knew Sammy already was yours. Just as you were his. But he wanted to wear that ring, to proudly and selfishly show that he had a fucking wife waiting for him at home. Ben was getting on his ass about it, too, always bugging him about “putting a ring on it”. Sammy always just rolled his eyes, shooting back with some off-hand comment about Ben’s he-whore ways of playing the field.

Not that Sammy wasn’t sure about you. He fell in love with you the second he recognized the brat in you that was perfectly matching his own. You kept him on his toes in the best way possible and it was because he loved you so much, that he didn’t want you to bolt if you weren’t ready. But this really felt right. And he had an inkling you felt the same way. He wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t sure.

“…Sammy, are you high?” He had inhaled that smoke you sent down his mouth.

“Probably, a little bit, yeah. But I was high when I sent my application to the Academy. And it was one of the best decisions in my life. This will top it, no doubt. If you say yes.”

You worried your lip, playing with the loose thread of the sheet and wrapping it mindlessly around your finger. The thread dug into your skin, probably cutting off the circulation to the tip.

Honestly, you wanted nothing more than to grow old with Sammy. But you just had an amazing sex after getting baked. You didn’t want to wake up the next day with Sammy taking it all back.

When you still didn’t say anything, Sammy got up, taking your hand in the process and pulling you to the end of the bed until your legs swung over the edge. He pulled his shorts on as he handed you his shirt, and you took it, throwing it over your head, confused.

Once you both were decent, he got on one knee right in front of you, taking your hands in his. His eyes shone with the sun coming down behind the windows and his lips were little chapped from all the kissing.

“I don’t got the ring. But I promise we will go pick one up first thing tomorrow. Or if you want it to be a surprise, I’ll go by myself. Whatever you want. And I promise to try to keep doing that. Getting you whatever you want, I mean. As your husband.” Fuck, he had no idea he’d suck at this so much. His fingers tightened around your hands. “And, I mean if you don’t want to marry me, I’ll do it as your boyfriend. I don’t care. But you are the best thing that’s happened to me and it would be an honor to be your husband… Please, say something.”

“Nothing would make me happier, Sammy,” you said, and his smile started growing. “But what if you change your mind? What if you wake up tomorrow, realize I basically drugged you and decide to break up with me instead?”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from his throat, and he brought his hand to the back of your neck, squeezed and pulled you down to lock lips with you. He smooched you sporadically, lips smacking against each other before he pulled away, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You could kill a man, and I would still come visit you in prison and braid your hair.”

“If you really loved me, you’d pull a few strings and wouldn’t let me go to prison in the first place, actually.”

He formed an o with his lips, his eyebrows shooting up in amusement, but the shape of his lower eyeline still emphasized the invisible smile.

“Okay, smartass, if you ever commit a capital crime, I’ll make sure to cover your tracks. Do we have a deal?”

You cupped his face, your thumbs stroking the skin under his eyes back and forth.

“Yes.”

The plush of his cheeks shifted under your touch as he smiled at you, wrinkles forming from the corners of his eyes. They reminded you of small comets, shining like the North Star and burning into you the majority of the time.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

And with that, he tugged on your arm, pulling you into his lap and showering your face in kisses.

fin

[followthebluebell]

I’m sort of accidentally fostering three kittens in my bedroom. By that I mean I found a litter of kittens in my backyard and was only able to catch one, the rest evaded capture for another two weeks. I have never fostered before. I was just like ‘I gotta get these kittens inside and vetted’. I didn’t think beyond that.

Anyway, I got involved with a rescue and they had a singleton a little bit older than the one kitten I had. She needed socialization and I already had my room set up for kittens so they asked if I could take her. I said sure.

But I was already planning on keeping the one kitten I found and couldn’t keep two kittens, I already have one cat. And the kitten they gave me to socialize really needs another kitten. The kitten I found actually prefers humans and my adult cat. So I am now taking on a third kitten to adopt out with the second kitten.

Anyway, the second kitten still doesn’t let me pet her. I’ve had her for a week and a half. She’s 9 weeks old. She will approach me but she’ll run as soon as I look at her. She’ll climb on my back and legs if I’m laying on my stomach but as soon as I move she runs.

I’ve tried churus but she finds them scary. She still hasn’t figured kibbles yet so I doubt dry treats would be very helpful. She likes wet food but won’t eat it if I don’t mix in kmr stage 2. I’ve been sitting with her while she eats but she still runs if I move.

She likes toys, I have a wand with ribbons attached that she really likes but as soon as she notices that I’m moving the wand she hides. I have also been reading aloud to them every day while sitting on the floor.

She was caught the same day they brought her to me, so around 8 weeks old. And that is the very end of the ideal socialization period and she was the only kitten in her litter so it makes sense she’s nervous and harder to socialize but I am brand new to this as well.

The kitten I found, the first one, barely took any work. I got him around 6 weeks. I picked him up, pet him around his cheeks, and that was that. It took about 30 seconds for him to be completely comfortable with me. Idk if that’s typical or he’s just fearless and super social but I didn’t really have to do anything with him.

Can you give me any advice on how to get the second kitten more comfortable with me and other people too eventually? At this point I’d have a very difficult time getting her into a carrier to get her to the clinic let alone trying to give her flea meds or trim her claws. She is not adoptable like this.

Side note: the kitten I found is an absolute madman. Today I saw him jump onto and bounce off of the other kitten like she’s a trampoline to try and jump onto my desk. She just looked like ‘wtf just happened!?’

He has at least 3x the energy of the other kitten. He’s also the friendlier one. He just has the most chaotic energy.

He once spent 30 minutes straight launching himself off my bed, limbs out like a flying squirrel, then climbing back up onto my bed to do it again.

kittens are like potato chips. You can't have just one, otherwise the first chip will be lonely and start picking up bad habits.

I think I lost the metaphor somewhere. Probably somewhere in the chip bag.

Ok, so the good news is that you've got more time than you think: the socialization window doesn't close until 12 weeks, but you're right that you need to move quickly. Once that window closes, it's snapped pretty tightly unless you really know what you're doing.

I normally don't advice forcing an animal into social interaction, but kittens are different than adults. What kittens (baby mammals in general) really, desperately need the most in the world is comfort. That's where you get them. You need to be the metaphorical cloth mother here.

you said the baby wants KMR, so take advantage of that. Instead of using churu, use KMR as a special treat. I also advice no longer free-feeding food, if you are free-feeding. You should be present the entire time they're eating so they associate you with food.

You also gotta touch that kitten, whether it likes it or not. I know this sounds very counter-intuitive, especially since I'm generally advocating letting the cat have a choice. But this is a kitten, not an adult.

I have my issues with some of Kitten Lady's stuff, but her socialization is pretty consistent with my own programs.

[lmaowhatt]

DONT STRAY TOO FAR

requested by: anon

can i request loverboy! jj and how he is protective he is of reader during like morroco and barbados since they’re not used to their homebase

pairing: lover boy!jj x gf!reader

warnings: nothing??

if theres any others feel free to let me know!

lover boy!jj masterlist | main masterlist

jj is always the worrier. he's protective of those closest to him because they're all he has in a world that always seems to be against him. he would do anything and everythign for those he loves, even if he doesn't get the affection back. that being said, he's always protective of the pogues, especially you.

in the obx, he’s not as protective, mainly because you’ve both grown up on the island. he doesn’t worry about your ability to get around or stay situationally aware of who to avoid, mostly because you keep a tight circle of those closest to you. the only times he does worry is when he's reminded about the type of people that live and work on the island—more importantly, how they work.

but, when the group is in a place they aren't familiar with, jj never settles. just the thought that something could happen to you at any time lingers in the back of his mind. and no matter how many times sarah assures the group that she knows her way around barbados, or the group swears the map will help them around morocco, jj never lets you out of his sight.

- in barbados, jj is on even higher alert than usual with kiara getting taken. he holds your hand almost any time he gets to, so much so that you're sure your hands will be stuck together permanently by the time you leave. still, you don't complain because if you weren't so surrounded by your friends, you'd act the same towards jj.

he will constantly mutter reassuring words into your ear when he thinks you're asleep. one night, you'll be cuddled up next to him, your head on his chest and eyes closed, listening to the steady beat of his heart along with the faint sound of the north atlantic waves crashing against the shore. just as you feel yourself drifting, you'll catch the soft murmur of his voice against your hair, "i got you, sweet girl. always have, always will."

he always had to hold some form of physical contact with you. he will hold your hand as you two walk the long roads of barbados, tuggin' you forward gently when he feels you slow down. if the group ever gets a chance to rest, which is rare, he'll let you curl up into his side. and sometimes, he'll move you to sit between his legs, pullin' you as close as humanly possible when necessary. he hugs you every once in a while to make sure you're real. to make sure you're still there.

- in morocco, however, things are a different story. he's more protective because not only is the group an entire ocean across from home base, but more so because of the fact that there are bigger things at stake. there's more to lose. and as if adding fuel to the fire, rafe, who he has yet to get used to being around, is there.

on the boat ride to morocco, he never once leaves your side, and you make it your mission to never leave his either. you notice very early on how he's using alcohol to drown out his thoughts, and you don't want him to fall further by any means. so, you're there. "no matter what," is what you tell him when he asks, "y'ain't gotta follow me around, baby. so why d'ya do it?" he smiles, very faintly, but it's there.

in morocco, he stays by your side constantly. the physical touch thing continues, mainly because he needs to convince himself—truly believe—that you're there. the hand holding becomes consistent, the hugs turn into arms wrapped around your shoulder just because of the head he keeps on a swivel.

forehead kisses become a new normal for the two of you, a silent reminder that you're both there, and you're not going anywhere. jj even lets you place a couple kisses to his forehead randomly. he claims you do it because he does it, but deep down, he wants your touch to linger in case something ever does happen.

the one thing that does feel like a curveball, are the 'i love you's' he whispers into your hair, or your neck, or your cheek, depending on where he kisses you. still, you always turn your head up to kiss him back in that exact same spot he kissed you, following his whisper with one of your own. "see you later, promise," as you two interlace pinkies before separating, which again, is rare and only happens when necessary.

if anything is proven to be a constant in jj's life, it's how far he will go to protect those closest to him.

a/n: i feel like some of this is more about obx jj but thats just how he IS.

[lestatthelioncourt]

Fanfic Teaser 👀...

Sinners modern au, Mardi Gras concept by @brownskincheyenne

Idk when I will have parts ready to post because I started work again, but I just had to share a segment because I'm excited with how many ideas are flowing in my brain over it. Hope it gets y'all excited too!

Disclaimer: 18+, I jumped to some smut cuz yeah, ik what we all really want smh ☠️

“You out there showing out for them people but you all shy in bed with me, ma?” His voice grunted before slapping her ass, the loud sound covering up her pathetic moans. So did the pillow that her face lay on.

“Why is that huh? You wanna speak up?” He grabbed her hair from the back and pulled it towards him, the sight of her sweat dripping down her neck was enough to make him wanna lean down and lick it off. 

“A-Ain’t shy…” Her voice strained as her body shook with want, and her acrylic nails ran along the sheets as she tried to balance herself. 

“Huh? You talking all quiet, boo.” He let go of her hair to let her upper half fall into the bed, but he held her hips firm and pressed them up against his own. He didn't move, just admired how turned on she was. Then it dawned on him, and he let out a soft, frustrated laugh. “You like when I get like this, don't you?”

He was finally getting it, which made her cruelly laugh into the pillow. She turned her head to the side and looked back at him the best she could; he, of course, was wrapped up in her little game. He was too hot-headed to have gotten to the conclusion sooner. She moved against him, and he hissed. 

He slapped her ass again, shutting her up immediately. “Don’t laugh at me, woman, you know not to play with me like that!” He huffed and finally started to grind on her; it was rough like the calluses on his hands. “Fuck that nigga who was touching you in front of all those people, fuck you for letting him.” 

She whined at how sore her ass cheeks were getting from his merciless slaps, she shut her eyes but let out a sigh as he finally gave her body the attention it wanted. She didn't feel entirely guilty for letting that man rubbing against her in the parade, Smoke had been irking her nerves- but with how angry and hurt he seemed, she decided to grant at least an apology. 

“I'm sorry.” She genuinely meant it; however, he didn't take it that way. 

“No, you ain't.” He huffed, he let up his grinding and then was just gripping her ass and rubbing it.

That had her groaning in agitation all over again, “Nigga yes I am, damn. Why would I apologize if I ain’t!” She rocked her hips, but he just slapped them again.

He was giving her a hard time, mainly because he was hurt, but he wanted to see her work for his acceptance again. Since she wanted to play games tonight, he could as well. 

“Nah, you gotta prove you sorry now, baby, what you gonna do?”

[ellitx]

Goodmorning, noon, or evening !! I have a lil question I would like to ask- Since Venti is highly respected by the Witches from the Hexenzirkel, especially by Alice, there’s a saying that goes around that Alice often shares tales of Barbatos to Klee as a form of respect and admiration— I was wondering if Alice ever asked for Venti (and Darling~) to babysit Klee, be parents for one day. Wondering how it goes. Do you think that’s where it stemmed Venti’s obsession of having wisp babies with his darling? 🥹

Babysitting klee is definitely one of venti’s factors for wanting to start a family with his darling!

I mean have you seen him during the first golden apple archipelago??? When klee said that she wanted to be part of dodoco’s family his voice instantly softens???? Like you already know children is one of his weaknesses and he has a SOFT SPOT for them. My man’s gotta make them smile and fulfill their wishes or else he fails as an archon if they cry GRRRR bites the pillow and sobs

I can already see the first thing that came in his mind was his darling 😭

The way he gently talks to klee is melting me ughhh 😩😩 and regardless if she also called him tone deaf bard due to paimon’s influence he just brushed it off and played along hngggg VENTI’S LITERALLY THE GREENEST AMONG GREEN.

HE IS PREPARED TO BE YOUR HUSBAND

HE IS PREPARED TO BECOME A FATHER FOR YOUR CHILD

Who else is better on taking on a such a big responsibility but none other than venti???

Heck if you tell him you’re pregnant he’s 100% excited about it. Period.

No doubts.

No hesitation.

Nada.

Venti is ON BOARD and he will do his very best to keep you and his baby safe and well

Every time children interacts with him he just has this instinct to protect them and his father mode is activated. Venti didnt even hesitate to call dvalin to give them a ride to GAA for fucks sake UGHHHH

Now here’s the exciting part. Ever since venti had a suspicion alice was the one who set up the GAA adventure for little klee, he just had this urge to call alice with the dodocommunication device. That if she needed any help in babysitting klee, she can always ask him and his darling for help.

He’s trying his best not to sound so eager and yknow just barbatos offering a helping hand to a hexenzirkel member so their relationship is still good and all

Oh alice immediately knew.

She knew you and the anemo archon are together so this makes it even more interesting.

Honestly she wouldn’t mind at all and she’ll indulge in playing as the love cupid for a while as long as klee is safe from harm. So when alice prepared the second summer adventure for klee (sumeru summer event), she asked venti to babysit her.

Venti’s eyes glimmered in excitement and he prepared EVERYTHING. He even had to drop his other plans and invitations to sing at taverns.

He has his priorities straight.

He will spend this vacation with his lovely darling and babysit klee. He gets to spend an alone time with you and both of you get to take care of the spark knight as per alice’s request

Knowing klee, he expected— and warned you— it might get a bit chaotic. Despite being a walking ball of chaos, she had this way of making everything feel like home.

And oh, what a chaotic delight she was.

Upon entering the mirage, klee had already darted ahead of you two, ready for an adventure. She squealed, arms spread like wings as she ran toward some suspiciously bouncy flora.

“Klee! Watch your step!” you called, instinctively reaching out, already knowing it was useless. She’s already running ahead, yet somehow you could still hear her giggles fleeting.

Venti walked beside you, chuckling softly as he adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder stuffed with clothes, snacks, and bandages. He may have overpacked, but it’s better to come prepared on certain situations than not.

“Energetic as ever. Klee never gets tired at all,” he remarked before taking your hand in his. “Come on. Let’s look for her before she does anything dangerous.”

There were some moments that made the whole trip feel like a dream. Like when klee fell asleep on venti’s lap after a long day of adventuring. His fingers carded through her hair while you leaned against his shoulder, both of you watching the stars peek through the canopy.

“She’s so full of energy, isn’t she?” you murmured, half-asleep.

“She is,” venti whispered. But when he looked down at you, the expression on his face wasn’t just fondness for klee. It was filled with warmth and love that brimmed with unspoken things. “She really makes me wonder… what it would be like...”

You blinked up at him, curious. “What what would be like?”

He hesitated, lips parting but no words coming out at first. Then, so softly you almost missed it, he said, “Having a home. A real one. With you.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just looked at him and he feared maybe he said too much. But your hand found his as your fingers intertwined, with you leaning your head against his again.

“Let’s talk about that more… after this,” you whispered.

That night, venti didn’t sleep. He just held you both close to him. One hand cradled the sleeping spark knight and the other rested against your back. He listened to your soft breathing, think about his future with you and what it would be like to hear tiny footsteps running across their home early in the morning.

Far away, a mysterious figure watched through a dodo-scope, simply sipping her tea as she smiled at the three sleeping figures.

“Ah, young love. Such fun to meddle in.”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Ive been thinking, what if like when she goes into the games with tyson and haymitch does the “star-crossed lovers” with them, how would it be like if she still fell for haymitch and he for her and like they got together behind the capitols back, and how would it be like if children came into play like, she got pregnant with haymitchs child how would they explain ou play it to the capitol like it’s Tyson’s and all the lore… how would it happen? Btw love the fics it’s amazinggg

Thank you! ❤️

Ok so let’s set the scene a little bit, I feel like in this universe Y/N is probably a little older when she and Haymitch finally start having any kind of romantic relationship. She probably has a child with Tyson, (the baby she’s pregnant with when they’re crying to Haymitch.) Let’s say Y/N is 25 and her daughter is 5, when Y/N and Haymitch start seeing each other.

For the sake of this AU we’re going to call their daughter Darling. (I think Haymitch probably had a hand in advising them in how to name the kids for Snow’s and Capitol favor.) So Darling looks a lot like Y/N but with Tyson’s hair and eyes (I picture Tyson as biracial.)

Imagine everyone’s surprise when Haymitch Jr. Victor is born and Y/N and Tyson try to pass him off as biologically theirs. I think after years of Tyson insisting that Victor is his biological son (of course they’re all being threatened by Snow at this point) everyone really doubles down on their claims about the parentage of this child. We’ll say their son, Victor is now 4 and looking more and more like Haymitch each day.

————————————————————————-

“Would you look at him!” Caesar rejoices, “such a dapper young man. Tell me, where did he get that head of blonde hair?”

“You know my mother and father are blonde, Caesar.” Y/N smiles, smoothing down her son’s hair.

“And my sister, Olivette, has blue eyes.” Tyson adds.

“Does she?” Caesar says, playing into it as best he can. He does have to ask, for the viewers, of course.

“She does.” Tyson begins rubbing circles into Y/N’s back. “Besides, we’ve gotta fill that house in Victors’ Village. Genetics are wild. Maybe we’ll even get a red head somewhere down the line.”

“Perhaps you will.” Caesar nods.

Y/N cups her husband’s face in her hands, “so sweet.” She presses her lips to his and the crowd erupts into applause.

Tyson grins into the kiss, his signature smirk Y/N loves so much.

And she does love him. She always has and she always will love him…just not the way she loves Haymitch. Not the way Tyson loves the woman he grew up with in the Seam.

They need to be more careful now, and they are.

Two days later, when they arrive home in 12, Haymitch is waiting. Watching from his kitchen window, as the Carells return to their mansion.

“He looks pissed.” Tyson whispers, so their children remain blissfully unaware.

“Yeah.” Y/N breathes.

“You should go see him.”

“Ty,” she shakes her head. “It looks really bad for me to be there. Especially right now.”

“No, you’re right.” Tyson clears his throat. “I’ll go.”

“Daddy, can you play scotch with us?” Victor asks.

Tyson takes a steadying breath, leaning down so he’s at eye level with the four year old. “In a few minutes, ok?”

Victor nods.

“Go help Mommy unpack until I get back.”

“Ok.”

“And remember it’s hopscotch, not scotch.” Tyson reminds the boy. “Makes it sound like you’ve got a drinking problem.”

Darling giggles at her father’s words.

“You think that’s funny?” Tyson says, tossing an arm around his daughter’s shoulder and mussing her perfect manicured hair.

“Dad!” The girl sways at him, “stop!”

“Go inside and wait for your mother.” Tyson insists, shooing them away.

Y/N remains as their children rush into the house, screeching and laughing all the while.

“Those kids.” Tyson chuckles.

“Do you think Snow-”

“No, baby.” Tyson takes Y/N’s hands in his. “I’m sure everything is fine, he’s probably just…you know how Haymitch gets.”

Y/N nods, choking down her worry.

“Go inside and relax, ok? I’ll handle it.”

“Ok.” Y/N agrees, turning away from him.

“Relax,” Tyson repeats, swatting his wife on the behind, playfully.

She glares at him, slamming the door of their house behind her.

Tyson stuffs his hands into his pockets as he approaches Haymitch’s porch, only a few feet away. There’s no need to knock, the man inside is waiting. Swinging open the door.

“Get in.”

“Hello, Haymitch.” Tyson sniffs, stepping over the threshold.

“Are her eyes blue?” Haymitch demands.

“Who?”

“Your sister.” He snarls, “Snow’s gonna fact check.”

“Yes,” Tyson breathes a sigh of relief, “her eyes are blue.”

Haymitch clenches his fists, “you need to be careful. If all these kids you’re planning look like me, we’re fucked. And if all the rest look like you then-”

“Looks bad for Victor. I’m aware.” Tyson pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “He’s not mine, but I love him. I love him as much as I love Darling.”

Haymitch takes another long swig from his bottle.

“I love Y/N too.” Tyson presses on, past the point of discomfort, to the place where it downright hurts. “Not like whatever you guys have, but I do love her. I would never let anyone hurt her.”

“I know that.”

“As long as she wants this, you have my blessing. I’m not your enemy. The rest…we’ll have to figure out.”

“You can’t have more kids.” Not safely. Not after all this.

“Haymitch, she’s pregnant.”

Too late.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | supercut

set in an alternate universe where luke and five star's relationship didn't make it past camp half blood.

or

luke and five star make their way back to each other in any and every universe.

series masterlist | smau masterlist | alternate universe masterlist

--

two weeks before

"thank you, new orleans!" luke spoke into the microphone, sweat dripping down from his forehead. he grinned widely as he looked out into the crowd, hundreds of poisoned mercury fans grinning right back at him. "you have been such a great crowd. thank you for having us. we're poisoned mercury!"

travis ran down to the front of the stage, playfully bumping connor with his hip as he reached an arm around his brother. chris took his usual spot to luke's left and connor to his right. the four of them took their final bow before getting off the stage.

luke, as he always did, made a beeline for his phone, sitting untouched on top of an extra amp they kept backstage. his fingers seamlessly navigated his phone, muscle memory taking over as he scrolled to the phone app and clicked on your contact.

he placed the phone to his ear, waiting for the rings to end and for your voice to echo through the phone. when he was met by the sound of your voicemail, luke tried his best not to let his heart drop to his stomach. it was late after all and he knew you kept a strict schedule during the school year to stay on top of your school work and field hockey.

he patiently waited for the beep at the end of your voicemail before he started speaking, "hey five star. you're probably asleep right now, so you won't hear this 'til the morning but i miss you lots, baby!"

luke swiped his forehead with a towel someone handed him, grimacing as the scratchy cloth rubbed across his skin, "we just finished playing in new orleans and the energy was electric. if you have time, i think we should go here for mardi gras. it can be like a whole group trip. kinda like camp, but with a lot more alcohol and beads, i guess."

he laughed at his last sentence. he didn't know where this voicemail was going. he was hoping to speak to you, so he didn't really have anything planned. "i can't wait to talk to you, babe. i feel like we haven't talked in forever. i know we text but it's not the same, y'know? i miss your voic-"

"castellan, who are you talking to?" travis hollered, dragging chris and connor with him to where luke stood in the corner. "is it y/n? why did i even ask? of course it is!"

luke let out a laugh, removing the phone from his ear, as he replied to his bandmate, "i got her voicemail."

"y/n!" connor yelled through the phone, "we miss you! wish you and clar were here."

"i think you guys should just drop out and travel the world with us," travis added, "mr. d won't mind."

"don't listen to this high school drop out, y/n," chris scoffed, "someone's gotta have the brains in your relationship and we both know luke isn't the one to have it."

"hey, fuck you!" luke snorted, a joking tone in his voice. "you highjack my call with my girlfriend and then you insult me?"

shaking his head, luke shoved his friends away with a smile before putting the phone back up to his ear, "sorry, five star. too much adrenaline here. but i just wanted to call to tell you i missed you. i'll end this super unnecessarily long voicemail now. talk soon, baby. i love you."

the day of

it had only been two hours since you ended things with luke and he already felt like his world was falling apart. had he been so blinded all this time to realize that your heart wasn't in this anymore? was he so preoccupied with everything that he hadn't been paying attention to you anymore?

the conversation lasted maybe three minutes-- a series of rushed texts from his end while the three dots on your text threads appeared and disappeared every few seconds. as he scrolled through your text history, luke cringed at the amount of blue blocks on the screen.

his thumb hovered over the call button on your contact. maybe if he just called you, the two of you could talk it out, get to the bottom of things. with a false sense of confidence, luke pressed the button and clicked the speaker icon. he put his head in his hands, silently praying that you'd at least answer the phone.

he glanced at the door of the tour bus, looking for a sign that the boys had returned from picking up dinner at the olive garden across the street. luke let out a sigh of relief that they were nowhere to be found. this wasn't really a conversation he wanted them to overhear.

the dial tones seemed to mock luke. it felt like an eternity, the ear piercing sound of a phone ringing filled the silence in the bus. luke scrunched his face up in defeat when the ringing stopped and the automated voice on your voicemail hit his ears. it was a sound he became acquainted with over the past few days.

with a shaky sigh, he began to speak after the tone, "hey, i don't know if you'll get this voicemail, but can you call me if you do?"

"this can't be it, five star," luke gulped, "i just-- can we talk? i feel like this is too big of a conversation to have it through text."

he paused, starting to feel his throat close up as the weight of the situation settled on his shoulders, "call me, yeah? let's talk, five star. take all the time you need. i'll be here. i'll wait as long as you need-- just, make sure to call me, okay? okay, yeah. talk soon."

three weeks after

luke stood outside your dorm building, a pathetic box of stupid memorabilia from the different cities the band played in during the tour clinking as he adjusted his grip. his fingers dialed the all-too-familiar number and held the phone to his ear.

as expected, his call went straight to voicemail. he cleared his throat, recalling the words he recited in his head a million times over. he was prepared this time. "hey, y/n. i-- uhm-- we, the band that is-- we're in north carolina for a few days. which i'm sure you probably know since chris picked clar up this morning, but uhm i have some things for you that i got for you before... y'know."

luke closed his eyes for a second. it's been weeks yet he can't say the words out loud. each time he tried, the words got caught in the back of his throat, suffocating him. "but yeah, i can drop it off or something. i'm actually here outside your dorm and i can't get in since i'm not a student, but i don't wanna leave it outside and have someone take it. i'll probably have someone who lives here leave it at your door or something."

"unless you wanna meet up to pick it up," he added, then shook his head, "it's fine. whatever you wanna do. anyways, we're here til tuesday so just let me know. thanks."

luke groaned as he ended the call, knowing that he went off script. he probably sounded desperate on that voicemail. he felt a bit of comfort knowing that you'll probably never listen to it anyway.

"luke, is that you?"

luke turned around on his way back to his rental car to see clarisse standing outside of the building. she smiled sadly at him, walking towards him with her arms outstretched. luke forced a smile, stretching his arm to greet her, "oh, hey clar."

she gave him a brief hug, looking down at the box in his hand, "what are you doing here?"

"oh, i.." he scratched the back of his neck. "i got these for five- y/n while we were on tour and i wanted to drop it off, but she's not answering my calls. is she home?"

"oh she's actually not staying here while chris is visiting," clarisse explained, her eyes sorrowful, "she's staying with lena. she wanted me and chris to have some time together."

"gothca," luke replied. he cleared his throat, straightening his back, "hey, maybe you can just bring this inside for me? i don't know if she'd want them, but i didn't think i had the right to throw them out since they're technically hers. she can do whatever she wants with them."

"for sure, i can bring it inside," she took a closer look at the random knick-knacks in the box. keychains, magnets, small memorabilia from each city poisoned mercury played in. "do you wanna come in? chris is inside taking a nap but i'm sure he won't mind getting up."

"nah," luke's voice cracked, "you guys enjoy. i'm with him 24/7 so i'm sure he needs a break from me. i know i need a break from him."

clarisse let out a small laugh at luke's attempt at a joke, "okay."

"it was nice to see you, clar."

"you too," she said, "hey, luke?"

"yeah?"

"you guys will work out. i know it."

"sure," luke nodded, hoping that she wouldn't notice the glossiness of his eyes, "we'll come say bye before we hit the road again."

eight months after

luke stumbled out of the packed club, letting out a breath of relief as the chill london air hit his skin. they just played their last of five sold-out shows in london and decided that it warranted a celebration. luke was happy. the band was thriving. they were growing bigger and bigger with each show.

but something felt off. and he knew what.

he was pretty sure you had blocked his number months ago. he hasn't texted you in months, too afraid that his texts would send as green bubbles, confirming his assumptions. he wasn't ready for the confirmation. not yet. maybe not ever.

he managed to make it a few blocks away from the club, finding a small alleyway far enough away from the bustling crowd of drunk 20-somethings singing an off-key rendition of 'vienna' by billy joel.

he leaned against the wall as he mouthed the words of your voicemail tone. "hey five star."

there was no doubt in his mind that his words were slurred. he had too much to drink tonight. his bandmates kept offering him shots and fans in the club bought them some champagne to celebrate. he probably should've stopped drinking four drinks ago.

"i'm in londoooonnnnnnn," he giggled, "wish you were here. the big ben is indeed big. i rode the london eye yesterday with the boys, which i suggest you never do because travis was jumping around in the little pod thing trying to kill us all."

"i think i unlocked a new fear of heights today," he continued, "connor and i went to the touristy market place and had beer-battered fish and chips. it's not good, by the way. the chocolate covered strawberries were killer though. i think you'd like them. ooh, that sounds good right now."

"mmmhm," he hiccuped, "i miss you. i hope you're doing okay. i'm not."

he removed the phone from his ear as he felt it buzzing. chris was calling him. he hit decline and continued his voicemail. "i think i'll always love you. in a few months we'll be broken up longer than we were together. isn't that crazy?"

luke let out a laugh, "man, i sound fucking pathetic, don't i?"

"luke?" chris' voice echoed through the alleyway. his silhouette appeared around the corner. "bro? where are you? i tracked your location and it says you're here!"

luke placed a hand over his phone's speaker, muffling the sound, "i'm here!"

chris appeared, eyes widening as he saw the phone in luke's hand. "dude, who are you calling?"

"hmm, who else?"

chris snatched the phone from his hand, "luke, you promised you wouldn't call her."

"give me my phone back, chris. i need to tell her i love her."

"luke, you need to sto-" chris placed the phone against his ear, shaking his head when he realized it was just your voicemail. he pressed the red button and shoved the phone in his back pocket. "let's get you back to the hotel, yeah? c'mon man."

one year after

"hey, y/n," luke said over the phone, "sorry for calling but i just wanted to let you know that clar and chris locked their phones in their car. i called triple a to unlock the car but that'll take a good 45 minutes to get here. anyways, she needs you to let her back into the dorms later because she lost her id. she said chris will drop her off at like 8? 8:30 maybe?"

"sorry, babe," clarisse yelled, hoping that the phone picked up her voice. "my replacement gets here on monday!"

"she said she's sorry and that her id replacement gets here on monday," luke repeated, just in case you couldn't hear clarisse. "yeah, that's all. around 8 or 8:30, she'll be there. thanks."

1 year, 2 months and 24 days after

unc were national champions again. you were ending your senior year, your final year, as a national champion. luke hasn't stopped smiling since you hit the game winning goal.

he was now in his hotel room, staring blankly at the ceiling, with his thumb hovering over your contact in his phone. he clicked the call button and held his breath.

one ring. two rings. three rings. four rings.

as he was about to give up, thinking he'd hear the automated message again, rustling on the other side of the call made him sit up on his bed.

then, your voice, "luke?"

"five star?"