#A puddle of giggles on the floor or in their arms

[d3adgayw1zardwr1t3r]

Jegulus / Jegulily Microfic (can be read as both)

TW: flashback/panic attack (it's not super clear which)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, toddler Harry Potter, everyone lives/no one dies, Jegulus, Jegulily, if you squint, Lily is fantastic, Jegulily co-parents Harry

Summary: Regulus is recovering from a flashback/panic attack, Harry, James, and Lily all help take care of him <3

Rating: Teen for paniced themes

Word count: 1.3k

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It was quiet. It wasn't a bad quiet, it was a sort of quiet that felt like what home should be. Comfortable. Safe. Tense, at times. It was a homely quiet.

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Regulus Black had been having a shit day, a really, inevitably, utterly shit day. He's spent the Saturday doing all the unfun errands, alone nonetheless.

Lily was having afternoon tea with her girlfriends (platonic? Maybe not? He wasn't sure on the current crush status, he might ask tonight if she was 'round the house.) James was with Harry for the day, presumably at home, Regulus wasn't sure.

It wasn't a sunny day. Atleast not when Regulus was on his way home. It was raining, pouring, and the thunder screaming. He was a half block away, he could see Harry in his little red boots and a slytherin-green Pancho (it's a multi-house family, ofcourse Harry doesn't choose a team, what is the 4 year old? The sorting hat?)

Regulus can see James on the front stoop, under the over-hang 'Finally' Regulus thought, he gets to see his sun.

Regulus is 3 houses down when the sky decides to roar louder than a crashing plane. Regulus is 3 houses down when he suddenly cannot breathe. Regulus is 3 houses down when he feels like his lungs are filled with water and he's drowning again.

James Potter is standing outside, playing with Harry in the rain. Lily had gotten home a few minutes ago, she was inside getting clean clothes and making Harry a little snack as a surprise for the fawn. James Potter sees Regulus when he's half a block away, and he's excited to see his bright star again.

Regulus was a fast walker, he'd be home in a moment. James directed his attention back to Harry, who was splashing in puddles, and definitely was going to need a bath tonight

A sharp crack of thunder and lightning tore through the sky.

"Hey, little love, let's step inside and get dried off, Papa's right down the road!"

Harry giggled excitedly, "Yay!!" He turned to look down the street, and surely enough, his papa was right there. Something didnt look right, was papa crying..? "Dada, what's wrong with Papa?"

"What do you mean, little love?" James looked up the street, and 3 doors down, Regulus was frozen, face pale and hyperventilating, 'shit'

"I see little love, I don't think Papa is feeling very well, can you go inside and find Mama to help you with your rain clothes? We'll be inside shortly, okay Haz?"

"Okay Dada" Harry said nervously, he wanted to help, but he wasn't sure what was wrong, so he listened, pulling open the storm door and disappearing inside.

Regulus black was in James Potter's eyes within 30 seconds of sky's war cry.

"Love, it's me, you're okay, you're almost home, you're with me love, it's alright." James frantically reassured

Regulus could slowly ground himself, he was okay, he was almost home, he was with James.

"C'mon love, let's get you home, it's alright"

Regulus nodded, but he did not move. Thunder shook the sky, and Regulus jumped each time.

"It's okay love, I'll bring you home, I've got you, you're here, with me."

Regulus barely registered getting picked up, one of James arms wrapped around his lower back, and the other supporting his entire body under his legs. Regulus tucked his head in the curve of James neck, eyes closed.

"We're home, love"

'I'm home'

"We're safe, it's alright"

'I'm safe'

Regulus could see again, but he kept his eyes closed. It was too much to register right now. All he needed was James.

A moment ago, Lily had heard a tiny Harry potter crash into the house, rain boots being tossed to the floor, she set down her book immediately to find her little guy. When she stepped out of the living room, she saw a disturbed Harry, frantically trying to tear off his rain coat. The zipper caught.

"Hey little love what's wrong?" She tenderly asked. Harry got upset like this sometimes.

Harry just made a high-pitched, frantically sad noise

"Here Haz, let me help you" Lily zipped the coat back up a little to get it uncaught, and them back down and right off. Harry sniffled as small tears fell under his foggy glasses.

Sometimes it was hard to talk when Harry got upset, and all the adult new this, so it's best to stick to simple questions

"Uppies?" Lily offered, Harry nodded. As she picked him up she glanced out the storm door and saw Regulus in James' arms, and she peiced together the situation as best she could.

Lily carried Harry to the kitchen and set him on the counter as she spelled the kettle on. She walked to the fridge to pull out a small container, grabbed 2 spoons from the drawer, and walked back to stand next to Harry, handing him a spoon and giving him a little kiss on the head.

If Regulus had opened his eyes, he would have seen Harry and Lily eating sugar covered strawberries on the counter of the kitchen island. Regulus kept his eyes closed, he was fighting his own battle right now.

James carried Regulus to his room, dark and peppered with books and pens. Carefully, he placed Regulus on the floor in the back corner, Regulus's favorite place to sit, and sat down next to him. They shuffled around for a moment amongst the pillows and blankets, James wrapped Reg's favorite blanket around him, without a word. Did you need a word when you were home?

Regulus opened his eyes as soon as they reached his room, and as soon as he was on the floor wrapped in a blanket, he curled up all the way against the walls in the corner, protected by his sun.

James wrapped a comforting arm around Regulus, and pressed a loving kiss to his forehead. An unspoken 'you'll be alright, you aren't alone, I'm here with you, and I love you'

It was unclear how long they spent huddled in the corner together, but time didn't matter when they had the rest of their lives together.

A gentle knock came to the door, Regulus flinched but didn't jump. Lily cracked the door to peak inside. "Hey loves, if it's alright, Harry would like to come and bring you something?"

"Yeah, c'mon in fawn" Regulus quietly stated.

Harry stumbled in, holding a large mug that was only half full (a negotiation with no spilled fluids) and in dry clothes, although the scent of rain proved he still needed a bath tonight. His eyes were a little red, James felt a pang of guilt when he'd realized Harry had been crying, but he seemed alright now, and that's what matters.

"Hi Papa" Harry sniffled, holding out the mug of tea

"Hey, small star" Regulus took the tea and gave it a curious sip 'mint with just a little sugar' he thought, it was perfect.

Harry dug into his cargo short pocket and brought out a small bandage "I brought you a bandaid because you looked hurt, and I saw Dada carry you through the kitchen so it had to be bad, and bad boo-boos get band-aids"

Regulus lightly giggled at the sweetness and gratefully accepted the bandaid, "That's very kind of you, thank you, little star"

"You're welcome Papa, I love you!!" Harry said, as he scooted in with his dads, between James' legs as he played with Harry's still damp hair.

Lily looked over lovingly at the pile of human in the corner. She was perfectly content with this life. She silently closed the door as Harry sleepily lay against his Dada's chest.

Harry's bath would have to wait till tomorrow.

#baby harry potter #jegulus fic #jegulily fic #w1zzy writes #hurt/comfort #lots of it #Lily Evans is a queen #harry potter is just a gentle little baby #marauders fandom #marauders fic #everyone lives/nobody dies #regulus black #james potter #lily evans #james x regulus #lily and james #lily and regulus #lily and harry #lily ily

[rainbowwing251]

Ouroboros and how each member tends to tickle Noah (because the lee!Noah brainrot never dies!).

Lanz- Either he’ll trap Noah in a bear hug and tickle his sides, back, and/or belly, or grab him by his sides so he can scoop him off the ground and tickle him. He will tickle his sides as he’s lifting him off the ground.

Yes, he does scoop him up bridal style sometimes. No, he doesn’t care if anyone sees him, he cares more about satisfying his desire to hear Noah’s precious laughter.

Mio- She’s a jack-of-all-trades, a master of soft, heavy, slow, and fast tickles. She can go from slow, light traces on the shell of Noah’s ears to lighting-fast tases to his sides in the blink of an eye, and vice versa. She’s also an evil teaser!

Eunie- She’s the queen of rough tickles and loves to use tickle tools whenever she can. More often than not, you’ll find her digging her fingers into Noah’s sides/armpits/tummy and/or pulling a loose feather from her headwings so she can twirl it in his ears and belly button. She may or may not have taken an unused electric toothbrush from the City and used it on his belly button after learning how useful it was as a tickle tool.

Sena- Loves to use pokes, squeezes, pinches, and tases. She tends to poke or tase Noah’s sides as she walks by him while they’re at a Rest Spot. This has resulted in him falling out of his chair multiple times out of surprise.

Taion- Searches for hidden tickle spots, such as the space between Noah’s underarms and the spot just underneath his belly button. He’s also in charge in trying to understand the mystery of the ever-changing worst spot on Noah’s stomach (it’s a personal headcanon of mine that Noah has one specific spot on his tummy that kills him if you tickle him there, but it randomly moves to a different spot, and no one knows why. The rest of his stomach is still deathly ticklish, it’s that one area that will straight up obliterate him).

#tickling #xenoblade chrontickles #xenoblade chrontickles 3 #lee!Noah #everyone’s got their own way of tickling Noah but the result is the same #A puddle of giggles on the floor or in their arms #when everyone combines their methods of tickling him in a gang tickle #it’s a miracle that he comes out of those alive #because they all kill them individually but together?! #he just?! Can’t take it?! It tickles so BAD?!

[hawkinsbnbg]

Soulmates au where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

ao3

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek.

It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare.

Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all.

Even though it kind of looked like one.

It was the first words his soulmate would say to him.

When Steve first got it, his friends had given him odd looks in the locker room.

Tommy would use many excuses to touch and even Billy wouldn't shut up about it.

As for Carol, she just cackled her head off when he showed it to her.

Still, whenever Steve was alone, he would look at the words in the mirror and feel kinda giddy about the whole thing.

Who would call someone they had just met "good boy"? What if they were far older than him?

And what would his words be for them? "Yes sir"? "Hello sir"?

Soon, he found his answer when he learned about the BDSM world, which Robin had jokingly mentioned one time.

And Steve sort of fell down the rabbit hole since then.

He met many men and women who would call him "good boy", and occasionally "good girl".

But none of them felt right.

Until he heard about Kas.

Who was known to be an experienced dom and knew how to treat his subs right.

Most of the subs in Steve's circle put the man on a pedestal. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

And Steve had become curious enough to seek him out.

A quick text over the phone and Steve already had a date with Kas at a hotel on Friday night.

Once the day arrived, he dolled himself up a little, knowing many doms liked how rosy cheeks and pouty lips he was.

He even wore lipgloss and mascara just for good luck.

His outfit was simple enough to take off, but cute nonetheless.

A yellow and pink graffitied black sweater that was a little baggy on him, a tiny pearl choker, silver bracelets, a pair of jeans shorts, and baby pink sneakers.

He looked like a twink, all things considered.

It wasn't his first time dressing like this and it wouldn't be the last time, either.

Steve just..

Well, he just wanted to make sure if he stumbled on his soulmate who happened to be a dom, he wouldn't disappoint them too badly.

It had been years since his word first appeared. So he had the right to be a little bit desperate.

Steve didn't know why, but by the time he got to the hotel, he was a puddle of nerves.

He figured that maybe it was the "Kas' effect" that many people had told him about.

When the door opened to let Kas into the room, Steve just knew this man was going to rock his world.

Kas was attractive and tall. Easily having a couple of inches on him.

With long curly hair, big brown eyes, and plump lips, the man looked surprisingly intimidating.

He wore a burgundy shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing his tattoos and chunky silver rings.

His pants and heavy boots were made of leather, which Steve suddenly wanted to rub himself on.

He seemed to be a lanky type, but Steve knew better than to assume anything.

As Kas languidly made his way to the bed, Steve unconsciously slid down to the floor and got on his knees, waiting for his order.

Yeah, he was a good boy like that.

There was a reason why many doms had asked to keep him despite knowing he only let his soulmate own him.

Kas wasn't any different.

The man smiled at him, dimpled and warm, making Steve woozy a bit at being praised even wordlessly.

Once Kas sat down, he spread his thighs slightly and patted a hand on his lap.

Understanding the silent command immediately, Steve climbed up on it without being told twice.

He blushed and giggled a bit when strong arms wrapped around his waist securely.

"Good boy," said Kas huskily, smelling of cigarettes and something spicy. "What do you want for your reward, sweetheart?"

Steve felt his breath hitched at that. He knew the chance wasn't high but–

"Can I kiss you, sir?" He asked coyly, playing his role to perfection.

This time, it was Kas who took a sharp intake.

Surprise, disbelief, uncertainty, hope, and finally, joy settled on the man's handsome features.

Kas smiled at him again, more genuine and hopeful.

"Baby boy, do you know that I have those words written on my left ribs my entire life?"

"Show me," Steve demanded, unable to keep up the act when he was so close to finding his soulmate.

Without protest, Kas unbuttoned his shirt and there it was, scribbled on the man's pale skin was Can I kiss you, sir? in his handwriting.

Smiling fondly, Steve traced his fingers on those words.

They sounded so sweet. And yet concerning if being put into the wrong context.

What a pair they made.

"Can you show me yours, sweetheart?" Kas asked tentatively, looking unsure despite having been so confident just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Steve scrambled up from the man's lap and blushed as he turned around to unzip and pull down his shorts.

Hearing Kas curse quietly behind him was, perhaps, the most flattering moment in his life.

He could see what kind of an image he made with his baggy sweater bunching up around his waist, white thong, and Good boy being inked on his tanned buttcheek.

Some would call it hot, sexy, or erotic.

But Steve knew how obscene he looked with those words on him.

Especially when he was face down and ass up, waiting to be fucked into oblivion.

Not that he had let anyone fuck him, yet. But he wouldn't mind if Kas did it tonight.

Steve shuddered slightly as calloused fingers brushed on his cool skin, and let out a moan when hot lips placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

Then without pausing, strong hands grabbed his hips before sharp teeth sank into his flesh, eliciting a yelp from him.

It wasn't painful. It just made Steve want to ask for more. So he turned around to do exactly that.

"Kas–"

"Call me Eddie," the man tugged him back into his lap.

"Eddie," he breathed out as he straddled the man's thighs.

"Yes, my sunshine?" Eddie smiled adoringly at him.

"Can I kiss you now?" Steve braced his hands on the broad shoulders with a raised eyebrow.

Tightening the arms around his waist, Eddie pecked him on his chin, sweet and loving.

"How about I let you kiss me for the rest of our lives, my pretty angel?"

"And I'll be yours for as long as we live?" Steve murmured against those plump lips.

"Yeah, gonna treat you right, my good boy," Eddie chuckled before drawing him into a fervent kiss.

Steve was so going to thank that Chrissy girl who had sold him her mascara and lipgloss later.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates steddie #sub steve harrington #dom eddie munson #meet sexy #sionewrites

[writersdrug]

Simon Riley x DogSitter!Reader pt. 4

<- Previous - Next ->

Warnings: Cursing, caught half-naked (don't get ya knickers in a twist, it's not by Simon), possessive behaviour, pining

A/N: Good morning! typed this up last night, wanted to post it but Tumblr mobile hates it when I try to edit my drafts. but I cracked open my computer and got it finished! enjoy the day! xoxo

"You need to stay still." You said quietly, your hands gently laying on Riley's stomach as she lay on her back. Her eyes flickered between you and your hands curiously with a nervous look on her face. Her tail swished, brushing with a whoosh against the unkempt grass of Simon's backyard.

"Good- play dead, good..." You slowly removed your hands, placing them against your thighs as you knelt next to her. "And stay-"

As soon as your hands left her fur, she twisted back onto her feet and sat upright. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted, looking at you for the next command.

"No!" You cried, holding the sides of her face and pointing her snout towards you. "You just had it! C'mon, we've got to get this down - need to show off your skills at the dog park, yeah?"

You flopped down on your back and raised your arms in the air. Riley took a few steps back and stared at you - her toe was pointed in anticipation. She had no idea what you were doing.

"Like this-" you said, "Play dead." You rolled back onto your knees, giggling at the flabbergasted expression on her face. "Really- it's easy, let's give it one more go."

You guided her to lay down again - she huffed, seemingly annoyed with whatever it was you were trying to do. She let you roll her onto her back, her legs awkwardly sticking out straight. You tutted and bent her paws at each ankle.

"Good. Sta- stay." You said as she tried to wiggle up. You kept your hands on her belly again, and she boredly looked at the blue sky above.

"Good, Riley. Play dead." You slowly sat back on your haunches, and she managed to stay put. She looked at you upside-down as you fished a few treats from your pocket.

"Stay..." You cooed, holding the treats up to her muzzle. "Good. Play dead."

She gently lapped up the treats when you opened your palm, chewing noisily and looking back at you for direction. She remained on the ground, feet pointed in the air and her tail still.

"Ok, Riley." You said, and she scrambled back onto her feet. "Now, let's try again. Play dead."

She looked at you, tilting her head in confusion. You could see the gears turning, and your skin was nearly on fire with anticipation. "Play dead." You repeated slowly, pointing towards the ground.

Sure enough, she sank to the floor. When she saw the excitement growing in your eyes, she rolled onto her back, letting her legs relax above her.

"Good girl!!" You squealed, rubbing her belly and her face and showering her with kisses - she groaned and yapped, hurriedly getting back up onto her feet.

"Oh, you're so good, Riley!" You exclaimed and handed her a few more treats. She scarfed them down in a matter of seconds as her tail thwapped against the ground.

You felt proud of her - and of yourself. You'd never really considered yourself an actual dog-sitter before. But now, after this achievement, you felt like the dog-sitter.

"Mitchell had better watch his sorry ass..." You stated, standing up and brushing your hands on your thighs. You paused when you felt something cold - you turned to look over your shoulder, and sure enough, your entire back and rump were covered in mud. You sighed, looking back down at where you had laid in the grass. There was a decently sized mud puddle, with the perfect imprint of your torso and backside.

"Oh, for Christ's sake-" you grumbled, trudging back towards the house. Riley hopped through the doorway and made a beeline straight to her water bowl. She lapped up the water messily as you toed off your sneakers, leaving them by the backdoor. You closed the door behind you and groaned as the damp fabric clung to your skin.

"Just my bloody luck." You murmured. You began peeling your clothes off in the hall, starting with your socks, then your sweatshirt, then your top. You were just about to shimmy out of your jeans, when you heard Riley whine.

Turning around, you saw her walking- no, limping, to her dog bed. She groaned as she shuffled around, scratching at the fabric, before plopping down onto the plush cushion.

"Y' feeling alright, girl?" You asked, and she turned her snout towards you. "Time for some medicine, hmm?"

You padded into the kitchen, grabbing her medicine from the counter and popping a pill into your palm. You stole a jar of peanut butter from Simon's cupboard and scooped a spoonful, shoving the pill into the sticky glob and heading back to the living room. "Don't worry-" you said, holding the spoon down to her as she licked it greedily. "I won't count this as one of your daily cookies."

You felt a chill against your bare back - you looked up, noticing that the AC vent was positioned right above Riley's bed.

"Well, that can't be good..." You grumbled. You quickly ran and snagged a worn-out blanket (decorated with bones and tennis balls, most likely from when she was a puppy) from the hall closet, before returning and draping it over her. She let out a wary groan as you tucked in the edges, cocooning her in a layer of felt.

"Need t' make sure you're not too chilly-" you said, securing her under the blanket. "That cold doesn't help your leg, does it?"

She made a content sound and sank her head down onto the cushion, making you chuckle. "There, isn't that much be-"

You stood back up, your sentence interrupted by your own panic. The mailman was outside the front window, staring right back at you. He was frozen, eyes wide with a shocked flush on his cheeks, as he was putting the mail in Simon's box.

In a fit of horror, you glanced down at yourself, being met with the sight of your shirtless torso and jeans. You shrieked in embarrassment and ran into the hall, quickly throwing yourself into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you.

Riley tilted her head as she watched down the hall, the sound of your "Fucking hell!!" Echoing from beyond the bathroom door - she flopped hear head back onto the cushion and sighed.

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The cot groaned and creaked beneath Simon as he dropped himself onto it. He tossed his duffle bag on the floor next to him, letting his arm hang over the edge for a moment. His entire body ached - he had let himself relax too much on his time off with Riley, and had nearly forgotten just how rough this job was on his bones.

"Never thought we'd be back 'ere, eh?" Soap said, trudging into the small dorm. "Alejandro said we're always welcome on 'is base, but I ken he meant other circumstances."

Simon groaned in agreement. "Brings back memories, eh?"

Soap scoffed. "If ye say so, LT. Rott'n ones, that's fer sure."

"A' least it's over."

Soap grunted. "Gonna celebrate with a cup o' joe." He said, rolling out his shoulders with a pop. "Need me t' grab ye some?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Like to try n' get some sleep 'fore we head home."

"Suit yourself, LT." Soap said, before he left Simon alone in the dorm.

He sighed heavily. Simon was lying to himself if he thought he was going to get any sleep. During the entire mission (save the parts where he was snapping a bloke's neck, or planting bullets in bodies), he couldn't stop thinking about Riley - which was also a lie. Truthfully, he couldn't stop thinking of the both of you.

Were you treating her well? Did you end up using his shower? Did you remember her medicine? Did you use the throw blanket when you slept on his sofa? What did you two do all week? What did you do all week?

It was hard to realize that he'd only seen you in person twice, with the way that he was constantly plagued by you. You and your overly-bright and bold personality. He wondered if you'd be there when he gets back home, or if you'd-

Oh, right. He'd be home tomorrow night. He'd forgotten to text you. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed up a message.

coming home tomorrow evening. it'll be late. don't worry about being there, but if you are, that's fine.

He hoped you would be there, he thought, as he sent the message, letting the phone drop onto his chest.

Not a minute had passed that Simon had fought with his own mind, when his phone buzzed. He pulled the screen back above his face and opened the message from you.

Glad to hear you're back safe!

Buzz

If you are actually back, I guess I don't know where you are...

Buzz

Anyways, that's fine! I'll walk Riley around 7 pm, she's good after that until bedtime

Buzz

Of course, you know that, she's YOUR dog after all, lol

Buzz

Get back safe! And I mean get HOME, not just wherever you are right now!

He stared at each message as it popped up, one after another. You must type fast - and god, were you annoying... but he didn't hate it. He should hate it, he'd hated every other person he'd run into with your attitude. But he felt the depth and the honesty in your words, even over text. It was aggravating him, but instead of stomping your sparks out, he wanted to hide them in his dark corner, where no one else could see just how bright you were.

Shut the fuck up, he thought. Man whore.

He began to reply to your message, thick fingers struggling to tap away at the tiny screen.

How are my girls?

Fuck- backspace, backspace- Christ, that was a close one.

How's my girl?

Send.

He groaned, staring at the screen, hungrily waiting for you to respond. He thought of the sound of your nails clacking away on your phone. What would you say? "Good"? "Fine"? "She's sleeping"? He wished you'd go on another tangent, stringing him along in a conversation where one message hardly had anything to do with the last.

Buzz

You sent a photo.

Simon's chest felt tight with anticipation - he hurriedly clicked on the image to make it bigger.

It was you and Riley, both lying on the couch. You were curled up against the arm of the sofa, wearing your pajamas and tucked under his throw blanket with a book in your hand. Your hair was down, and a bit damp, too. Riley was cozied up to your side, her snout resting in your lap. The both of you looked up into the camera - you, with a sweet, soft smile that nearly put Simon in cardiac arrest.

Doing good! I think she likes it when I read to her!

Simon exhaled heavily through his nose. You read to the dog- of course you fucking read to the dog. Why was that attractive? Why was he so warmed by your matching daisy pajamas? By the mug of tea on the coffee table (in his mug, which made it worse)? By the way Riley was so comfortable around you?

How were you doing this to him - infiltrating his brain so easily, consuming it like a weed? A beautiful, elegant weed?

He groaned and laid his phone on his chest, rubbing his eyes. He let his palms linger over the sockets for a moment. Something must be wrong with him. Simon was never so easily distracted by anything, let alone anyone. Had he gotten soft on his time off? Was this some sort of pre-middle-aged hormone cocktail that was controlling him? How the hell was he supposed to snuff this flame out? He could never request your services again; but as soon as the thought entered his head, he threw it out. He'd keep you, if not for his own selfishness, then for the way you were so excited to have the job in the first place. This would have to be a project of self-discipline. He would have to figure out how to-

"Steamin' Jesus- that's who ye got watchin' Riley?!"

For a moment, Ghost nearly came out and landed a punch to Soap's gut. But Simon simply jolted, catching his phone right before it slid off onto the floor.

"Bloody- fuckin' hell, Johnny." He grumbled.

"Bloody fuckin' hell indeed-" Soap agreed, trying to swipe at Simon's phone. "Pull 'er up again, lemme see-"

"Bugger off." Simon warned. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pocketed his phone.

"Awe, this why ye dinnae want te talk 'bout 'er earlier?" Soap said with a playful grin, collapsing onto his cot on the opposite side of the room. "Been hidin' tha' pretty thing all te yerself?"

"'M not hidin' anythin.'"

"Then lemme see- might snag 'er number, too-"

"No you won't, Johnny."

"Why not?"

"Because y' don't need a bloody dog-walker."

"Maybe not, but I could always use a lass, eh?"

"She is off limits-" Simon said, narrowing his gaze at Soap, "- n' there's not gonna be another word 'bout it."

Simon laid down and rolled to face the wall before Soap could utter another word. He heard Johnny scoff, followed by the sound of him removing his boots.

"Dry piece of shite, ye are..." he grumbled.

Despite his instinctual reaction to Johnny's instantaneous attraction to you, Simon was a bit shocked with himself. Again - you weren't his. The only tether he had to you was strictly monetary and contractual. He even imagined that you might be pissed, having a client treat you like they were your bodyguard. He needed to figure this out and de-root it from the source, before it got any worse.

But... if he allowed himself to entertain the idea, just this once... Would it be such a bad thing? To attempt- to convince you that he wasn't so horrible a person, really- if you could just see past his hard, outer shell, built up from years of trauma and blood. Who knows how long it would take you to see him as a decent person, but he could think about the logistics later. It wasn't against the law to date your pet-sitter, he just had to make himself believe that. Maybe you were just the perfect amount of sunshine that could melt the iciness within him.

With a glance over his shoulder, making sure Soap was minding his beeswax, Simon pulled his phone out of his pocket. He gave your picture a long, favorable glance, before he sent you a final message for the night.

keep reading to her for me, and tell her I'll be home soon. thanks again.

------------

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae @cum-tea-and-towels @boystepper @definitelynotaclown @your-wifes-boyfriend @ghostslittlegf @bossva @poppingaround @yannvi @katzykat @mileyraes @chocolate-noodles @jupiternighties @sadlonelybagel @rorysbrainrot @identity2212 @pricescontroversiallyyoungerwife @reevesdriver @kingshitonly @ghost4love @lilyofhoon @xxkay15xx

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! It might need to be a reblog at this point lol

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod fanfiction #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod x reader

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

[luveline]

I am begging for tasm!peter with his clumsy girlfriend please

“What's that?” 

You jump in surprise, the water in your cup lapping like an angry wave over the rim. Peter laughs, sounding vaguely sorry as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, locking you and your wet hands in tight. Water drips on your socks. 

“It's not even the worst thing that's happened to me today,” you say, sighing. 

“I believe you.” 

Peter turns your face to his for a kiss. His fingertips on your jaw, he feels along the line of a new scratch, and asks into your lips, “How'd you get this?” 

“Folded a jacket too eagerly. The zipper…” You know he's going to kiss you, though how you can tell is explained by a deeper level of intimacy. Maybe the way he breathes, or the slight movement of his fingertips. Whatever it is to clue you in, you close your eyes and kiss him softly. 

“Sorry,” he says when he's left you suitably starstruck, “I'm kissing you and you're standing there in a puddle. Not cool.” 

“I'm not very cool,” you say. You put your glass down and Peter lets you go, leaning down to wipe the puddle up as you take off your wet socks. You almost trip as you pull off the second and Peter puts his hand out to steady you without looking. “Thanks, Pete.” 

“You're welcome.” 

He bins the paper towel while you trek to the bedroom for new socks. You keep a bursting storage box of his and yours mixed under the bed, but when you pull it out the lid isn't on and all the socks at the top roll onto the bedroom floor. You can hear Peter giggling in the kitchen at your misfortune, because he can hear the plopping sound of the socks as they fall. Even if he's rooms away, he can pretty much always hear your accidents. 

“Mean,” you whisper, knowing he can hear that too. 

You shove all the socks back inside, realise you forgot to leave a pair out, and pull three pairs in an attempt to get just the ones. Peter does his boyfriend duty that time and pretends he doesn't hear it, though maybe he's not listening. 

You're sitting on the end of the bed with your new socks finally equipped when he finds you. “Oh, there you are,” he says, like it wasn't obvious, “good. I got some antiseptic for you.” 

The scratch is too small to need antiseptic, in your opinion, but you let him because it'll be nice to be cared for. Peter sits next to you and turns your face to his, smiling when your eyes catch, and frowning as the antiseptic lid pops off to reveal a foil seal.

“I hate these,” he says, needling at the side. 

You take it from him and use your thumb nail to slice it open. The pressure in the tube must've been high, because a moment later pale ointment is bursting out of the spout and painting a curled line on your sweatpants. 

You sigh in defeat. Peter starts laughing, big, shaking, awful pangs of laughter that rock the bed, his face dipping down to your shoulder as the strength leaves him. He finds your hands and squeezes your wrists, giggling and rubbing his thumb into your pulse. “Sorry,” he says weakly, “sweetheart, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't know why you have such bad luck, it must be hell.” 

He sounds happy, and it's no big deal. None of this stuff is. You press your lips together to smother a smile as he raises his head. “It's not that bad,” you say, thinking of his nice laugh, the echoes of joy etched into his eyes and their smile lines. “I'll live.” 

His laugh turns slow with affection. “You'll be fine,” he agrees, kissing the corner of your mouth sweetly. 

#tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman fanfiction

[linopls]

kinktober day four

roleplay hyunjin x fem!reader summary: hyunjin has invited you to his art studio where he says you need to brush up on some of your basic art skills. warnings: professor/college student roleplay, lots of praising, nipple play, unprotected p in v 1.2k words

“are you sure you should be asking a student that, mr. hwang?” you’re sat on one of the stools in the middle of hyunjin’s small art studio. he’s sat across from you, an easel with a large canvas acting as a barrier between you.

he peeks out from behind the easel and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “knowing basic human anatomy is a very important basic art skill all my students should have an understanding of.” 

“but how am i supposed to learn when you’re the one painting?” you ask while slowly starting to unbutton your shirt.

“a bit of a smart ass, aren’t you?” he retorts, tying his hair back and out of his face.

you giggle and slide the silky white fabric of the shirt down your arms and toss it at the foot of his easel.

“now your skirt,” hyunjin instructs while picking up one of the large brushes from his side table and dabbing into a color and smearing it on the canvas.

you stand up from the stool and make a show of sliding your skirt down to the floor and kicking it with your shirt.

“do you often forget to wear panties when you're having one-on-one meetings with your professors?” hyunjin asks, observing as you sit back on the stool.

“just the hot ones,” you tease. 

hyunjin chuckles and makes his way to where you are sitting. “i’m gonna put you in a pose, and you can’t move or you’ll mess up my proportions, okay?”

you nod and hyunjin slowly parts your legs to face his easel. he places one of your hands on one of your knees and the other to rest gently on your exposed clit. you gasp slightly at the sensation. hyunjin then positions your head to look directly at the easel. he moves back to his seat and admires the positon for a second.

“hmm,” he thinks aloud. “that works.”

he sits back on his stool and grabs another brush and begins to work on the canvas. you’re entranced by his focus expression looking to your and back to the canvas.

“you’re doing so well for me, staying still,” hyunjin praises. 

his words run straight to your core and you whimper softly. the gentle feeling of your fingers resting over your clit are driving you insane.

after about thirty minutes of working silence, hyunjin sighs and leans back to look at the canvas. 

“what’s wrong, mr. hwang?” you ask.

he doesn’t answer you, instead he gets up from the stool again and walks behind you. you notice the tent in his pants as he makes his way around you and you can help the rush of arousal that runs to your core. 

you feel hyunjin’s soft fingers on your back and fidgeting with your bras clasp. you feel the clasp release and your lacy bra fall down your arms, getting caught on your arms. hyunjin walks back to stand in front of you and assists in moving your arms from the spots to remove your bra and places your arms back.

“i need to see your full beautiful figure to finish my painting,” hyunjin purrs, moving one of his hands to your breast and pinching one of your nipples between his finger tips. you moan out in response and hyunjin smiles and sits back on his stool and begins working again.

in between one of his glaces from your body to his canvas hyunjin smirks.

“what are you thinking, mr. hwang?” you ask, curious about his expression change.

“i’m debating on if i should paint the puddle you’ve made on my stool,” he laughs.

you face flushes a deep run and you quickly look down at the stool below you.

“i didn’t say you could move,” hyunjin snaps. you quickly look back up at him and fix your pose.

hyunjin laughs again. “i’m doing final touches now, it’ll only be a minute longer.”

he keeps to his word and as the minute passes hyunjin turns the easel around to face you. you stare at the painting for a bit. embarrassed that its your naked body on the canvas, but amazed by his ability to capture details in such a short amount of time.

“it looks amazing, mr. hwang,” you say sweetly. 

“thank you, y/n.” he smiles.

“will you now tell me how i can improve my own work?” you ask.

“touch yourself for me,” hyunjin says blankly. “you deserve a reward for being so good for me.”

you whimper and slowly and finally put pressure on your begging clit. you rub small circles on the aching bud and hyunjin watches in awe. after a minute, hyunjin unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down just enough to free his aching cock. 

hyunjin notices your attention shift from his face to his cock. “come here, y/n.”

you quickly get up from the wet stool and make your way in front of hyunjin. “yes, mr. hwang?”

hyunjin puts his hands on your hips and guides you to stand above his lap. he grabs his cock with one of his hands and lines it up with your entrance. you slowly slide down on his member and wrap your legs around hyunjin’s middle. you place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself and hyunjin moves his hands down to cup your ass and meets his lips with yours. 

hyunjin kisses you with passion and lust like never before. he begins to thrust his hips up to meet yours and you both into each other's mouths. hyunjin stands up from the stool and walks you both over to his desk and sits you down on it. he breaks away from the kiss and places one of his hands on your hip and the other to cup your cheek.

“mr. hwang, please fuck me,” you purr.

“jesus,” hyunjin moans. 

he slowly slides his cock out of your slick hole and slams it back in quickly. he starts to fuck into you at a steady pace. you move one of your hands down to your clit and rub circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. you unconsciously clench down on his cock and hyunjin hisses and quickens his actions.

you both moan out loudly and hyunjin moves his head so that his mouth is next to your ear.

“do you fuck all your professors, y/n?” hyunjin grunts.

you shake your head, “no, just you.”

“good girl,” hyunjin moans.

he moves his hand from your cheek and grabs the underneath of your knee and push it up against your body. the new position has you seeing stars and moaning out of control.

“hyunjin! please!” you cry.

“what did you just call me?” hyunjin grunts.

“i’m sorry!” you exclaim. “mr. hwang, i’m sorry.”

“good girl, good girl,” he says before pulling you into another kiss.

you whimper loudly and feel yourself coming closer to your release. you pull away first.

“mr. hwang, can i cum please?” you whimper.

“fuck, yes, cum with me, please.” hyunjin moans. he quickened his pace and with a few more thrusts you both finish with loud moans and cries. 

hyunjin slowly continues to fuck both of your through your orgasms and you rest your tired head onto his chest. when hyunjin stops he sighs loudly and places one of his hands on the back of your head and rubs small circles on your scalp. 

“you’re such a good student, y/n,” hyunjin giggles.

“thank you, mr. hwang,” you mumble into his soft chest.

HYUNJIN GLASSES >>>>>>

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[paimonial-rage]

consequences - alhaitham

[random writing event] | requested by @milkstore

Quite frankly, it was ridiculous. It only happened three times. Three times! However, that was enough to make, not only your friends, but even your brother go crazy over it. And for what? It was such a small thing! It really wasn’t anything special. More of a coincidence, really. 

The new student, Alhaitham, simply stopped you from falling three separate times. 

That was literally it. No, he did not catch you like a prince, nor did you fall dramatically into his arms. It wasn’t like it wasn’t normal for you to fall either. You fell all the time. It just so happened that Alhaitham was behind you three times in a row. And just for reference, no, this was not a sign of God. This was not you tripping over the famed red string of fate. It was a coincidence. A simple uncomplicated coincidence.

But no matter how much you tried to insist, people would never stop teasing you about it. One told you to divine the stars to see if he was your soulmate. Another said that at this point, you should just ask him out. What did they not get about coincidences? The only consequence you should have received for falling was a twisted ankle, not any of this!

So as you walked to your next Rtawahist class, you paid extra attention to the floor. You would make sure there would be nothing to trip you up this time—not a root, stray paper, or puddle. You would make it to your class safely to spite the teasing eyes of your friends and family. No matter what they said, you would make it to your next class unscathed.

At least, that’s what you would’ve done had the huge student in front of you not stopped walking out of the blue. Unfortunately, because your eyes were glued to the floor, you suddenly and rudely found yourself ricocheting back, and once more came the familiar dropping sensation in your gut and loss of your limbs. But before you could fall to the floor in a crumpled heap, a firm hand caught your back.

A very familiar hand.

…

“If you’re trying not to fall, staring at the ground isn’t going to be the answer. Try being more careful.”

And with that, the hand left your back and his arm brushed against yours as he passed. Though his eyes were upon the book in his hand, there he went navigating the busy halls of the Akademiya with ease. 

A giggle came to the side from your friend.

You gritted your teeth.

“Shut up.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #my writing #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #request #writing event #milkstore #dedicated to you know who ;)

[onlyhuis]

for 1k.. mtl likely to completely melt when u go into subspace and say "thank you" after your orgasm? 💤

member — svt ot13 x gn reader  genre — mtl, fluff (18+) word count — 1.3k (each member has a paragraph) warnings — subspace (reader), just aftercare but there’s allusions to having sex (not explicitly described), implied that svt are dom/reader is a sub, all are gn except shua's uses “good girl” as a nickname notes — requested by @junhuisms for my 🐈 1k event — this has been in my inbox forever i'm sorry nhdnsjs. honestly i feel like all of them would melt but in slightly different ways so i did a little blurb for each. i hope you enjoy! <3

most

1 - seungcheol

this man is the biggest simp on the entire planet and he would be so so good at taking care of you. i think it’s about 50/50 the amount of time he spends as a hard dom and a soft dom, but regardless of what activities you get up to he is the best at making sure you always feel good. he would melt the hardest on the nights he’s been a little meaner and a little rougher, because how can you be so sexy and so adorable at the same time, especially after you just came four times from his mouth alone? it boosts his ego so much not only that you trust him with all of yourself, but that you love him enough to say thank you afterwards? his day is made. his week is made. his whole year is made.

2 - seungkwan

he is absolutely obsessed with you. his reactions are always big whenever he's around you because he's so in love with you; you could be doing the most mundane thing in the world and he'd react like you just saved a burning building full of orphans and solved world hunger. he’ll melt over literally anything you do, but especially when you get that dopey smile on your face after you cum because your pleasure is his pleasure so your reactions only make him melt even more. he gets so caught up in how cute you are, he’d probably end up falling asleep with you tucked in his arms and forget to clean up.

3 - joshua

he thinks you’re just so adorable. most of the time he enjoys a little pushback when he’s fucking you; being a brat tamer is what gets him off, so he’s always making you beg him to let you cum. but he can never tease you for very long, especially on the times when you decide to be well behaved, so of course he has to reward you for being such a good girl for him. he lives on giving and receiving praise so he’d be thanking you too for letting him take care of you like this.

4 - mingyu

he completely melts. literally reduced to a puddle on the floor or the bed. he would get the biggest puppy eyes and be so pouty because he’s so whipped and he believes you shouldn’t ever have to do any work. he’s the one who needs to be thanking you, actually, because he's so honored that someone as beautiful and perfect as you decided to choose him of all people. he will give you anything and everything you could ever need because he doesn't want you to have a single care in the world, especially when you're being so sweet clinging to his arms. he may not be perfect but he's going to try his damn hardest to make sure he truly earns your thankfulness.

5 - jun

he’d start smiling and giggling, and he wouldn’t stop until you came back out of subspace. he would also get super clingy and hold you close to his chest and stroke your hair and grin uncontrollably. he’d give you the sweetest “you’re welcome” you’ve ever heard and just keep praising you for being so darn cute. he is the snuggliest boy and his aftercare would be the softest and best part of the whole experience.

6 - hoshi

everything about him is intense, especially when you’re in subspace. he fucks you hard and loves you even harder, so when you thank him after your orgasm it would make him so happy and he’d love you even more than before (if that’s even possible). he thinks your reactions are the cutest thing in the world and once you come out of that headspace he’d be begging for another round just so he can see you like that again.

7 - jeonghan

he’d mostly be cocky and proud of himself for making you feel so good, but deep down he'd be so giddy about your reaction. he doesn’t always explicitly say it or show it, but you’re so precious to him and all he really wants is for you to be satisfied and happy. he would absolutely tease you later about thanking him, but inside he’d be blushing and hoping it’s something that’ll become a habit of yours. he’s a fiend for praise and would want to get you there all the time.

8 - seokmin

he has hearts and stars in his eyes for you on a normal day, so it’d only increase when you’re in subspace. he’d get all blushy and embarrassed and tell you not to worry about it because it’s his job to make you feel good, so there’s no need to thank him. he’d wrap you up in blankets if you’re too cold and he’d put a cool washcloth on your forehead if you’re too hot and he’d coo over you with the purest little smile on his face.

9 - minghao

he gets so soft and he would be so gentle with you. even if he'd been a hard dom earlier, he'll flip on a dime as soon as he notices you in subspace. the responsible dom in him comes out and he tries not to dwell on how cute you look because instead he's busy making sure you’re feeling comfortable and safe and loved, bringing you water and helping you calm down. he’d melt at your reaction, but in more of a protective way because he’s not gonna let anything happen to his baby. 

10 - wonwoo

he wouldn’t not be into it exactly, but he wouldn’t have as much of a big reaction as the other members. he’d mostly be proud of himself for being able to satisfy you so well, and he’d be ready to give you whatever else you asked for or what you needed. he knows what his job is and he does it well. he smiles when he thinks you're not looking or when you aren't paying attention and the sight of you makes him feel warm inside.

11 - woozi

he wouldn't melt so much as he would just be fond of you. he’d smile at you, let you rest on his lap and play with your hair until you come back to him. he's usually quiet, not making a lot of noise unless you ask him to, but when you tell him “thank you” he'll hum and blush a little to let you know he's listening and that he appreciates you.

12 - chan

he would love it when you go into your subspace, but at the same time i think he would get a little panicky. it’s a lot of responsibility to take care of you when you’re so vulnerable, and he would be so focused on that that he’d forget to think about his own feelings. he would still adore you and how cute you are, but it would be more at the back of his mind.

13 - vernon

quite honestly i don't think he'd even notice when you're in subspace. looking back later he might realize you were suddenly acting a little calmer and a little clingier, but he wouldn't treat you any differently than he normally does. he loves you and thinks you're cute all the time, why would he be any different now? he's just happy to be along for the ride, but he won't deny it feels good to be thanked, even if he thinks he hasn't really done much.

least

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[1644s]

ruination

warnings/tags: minors DNI, dark themes, Bridgerton!AU, woc!reader, playing fast and loose w/ how things work in the regency era, Prince!Charles, soft dark!Charles, manipulation, peer pressure, possessive behavior, these tags are not exhaustive

wc: 6.4k (this is so aksdfljas)

summary: Royalty and greed go hand in hand. Prince Charles is no exception to this rule. If he must ruin you to have you, then so be it.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

rewatched Bridgerton, thought about Charles, and here we are :) obligatory unedited, unbeta'd etc. please let me know your thoughts! and happy reading :P

You wonder how one finds themselves in a position such as your present one.

He is dripping water onto your floors but your other choice was to leave him to his devices and so really, there was no choice at all. You can only hope your cousins remain engrossed in their conversations with the King and his ensemble. Though, you are certain they would find much more enjoyment in finding out you’ve snuck a boy into your quarters right underneath your parents’ noses.

You bring him all of the towels you have and thrust them into his arms. “The bathroom is over there. I left some of my cousin’s clothes in there but…” you trail off, unsure of how to tell him they might be too big. Your cousin was quite testy at this age and you do not wish to further ruin this boy’s day.

“Thank you,” he says politely, a far cry from the bumbling boy you were ushering into your room just minutes ago. The red in his cheeks hasn’t faded away yet but he no longer resembles a tomato.

You sit on your bed, feet dangling, as you wait for him. Luckily, the day is warm and sunny so his clothes will be dry within the hour. Unluckily, you do not know if you have an hour to spare.

Chewing on your cheek, you wonder how you’ll manage to keep this boy hidden for so long and without suspicion. You are due for lunch soon but there should be a delay due to the royal family coming for a visit. Your father is a man unable to not try and seize every opportunity given to him and these types of opportunities can only be taken advantage of with the absence of children.

The bathroom door opens. There’s a disgruntled look on the boy’s face as he tries to adjust his sleeves to no avail. They hang limply over his hands and it takes every ounce of your etiquette training to not giggle.

“Don’t worry. Your clothes will be dry soon,” you say. Unfortunately, nothing can be done about the wrinkles that are certain to appear. But that is an issue he must deal with so you don’t bother to apologize for it.

“Oh, sorry about the water,” he says, noticing the puddle by your vanity. He drops one of the damp towels on top and half heartedly wipes it away with his shoe.

“It’s fine. I think.” The dirt at the bottom of his shoe is going to leave a mark but you’ll worry about that later. The dress your mother put you in has ensured that you won’t be able to do anything other than breathe carefully and sit upright until the King and his entourage leave.

“If it’s not, I can let my father know and he’ll find a way to fix it,” he says unhelpfully. An almost resigned expression flits across his face but he quickly smooths out the wrinkle of his nose with a bland smile.

For some reason, his immediate assumption that you will take him up on it irritates you. He will be long gone by the time a punishment comes if one is to come. Instead of acknowledging his offer, you ask, “How did you end up in the fountain?”

He blinks, surprised. Then he averts his eyes. “I tripped.”

You twist a loose strand from your bed covers around your finger. “Ah.” If only you had come by five minutes earlier, you would’ve had something to laugh about during lunch. “You aren’t bleeding anywhere, right?”

“No.” But he’s looking over himself as he answers you. “No,” he repeats, more assured. “Mother would’ve killed me if I showed up to lunch with my clothes in disarray. Again.”

“You’re going to the lunch too?” you ask, tilting your head. As far as you know, your family and the King’s immediate family are the only ones allowed. Surely, one of the King’s own wouldn’t find himself in such a silly position.

He cuts you an aghast look. “I’m the Prince.”

You can’t help yourself from giving him a once over. “Are you?”

His clothes are quite nice, you will admit to this. It was the first thing you noticed when you saw him toppled over in the water. But what sort of prince falls into a fountain? And wouldn’t the King ensure his sons are by his side his entire time? You glance out your window as if you’ll suddenly see the Kingsguard crawling up the walls and to your room.

“Yes! I am,” he says, flustered.

He seems sure of himself so you choose to believe him. Maybe the kingdom of Monaco is a much more relaxed place than you have been led to believe. “Alright,” you shrug.

“I’m Charles,” he introduces. Charles stands expectantly as if awaiting a dramatic reaction.

It takes a second for his name to register. The spare as he’s been so crudely called.

You give him your name easily. Your father is a lesser known Earl. He’s clawed his way into his position so you aren’t surprised when there is no flare of recognition in Charles’ eyes. Your title hardly matters as you are merely a pawn for your father to move around the board as he sees fit.

“That…makes sense,” he says after a moment. “I was wondering why you were in the garden without a chaperone.”

Distaste sours your mouth. Ever since your first cycle, you have not been left alone without someone to watch over you whenever guests are around. Fortunately, your estate is not plagued with visitors but it is annoying having to seek out one of your cousins when your family does find itself with visitors. You tend to avoid any man older than you by default so you believe you have more than earned the right to wander your own home no matter how improper your mother finds it.

“Speaking of chaperones, where are your guards?”

At the reminder, he scoffs. “I snuck away from them.”

It’s nice to know even the prince feels smothered at times. “And here I thought you lived a charmed life.”

He wavers and then sits a polite distance from you. It should feel illicit—because it is illicit—but the shame never comes.

“I’m old enough to be on my own,” he complains. “It’s not as if Father forces me to train because he thinks I find it fun.”

“Do you find it fun?”

“I do. But that is not the point,” he huffs.

“What a trial it is to have a father that loves you,” you say with a hand to your chest. “Oh, the travesty!”

Your dramatics earn an amused scrunch of his nose. He flops on your bed, head just below your pillows. He tucks an arm underneath his head and sighs. “It sounds bad when I put it like that, huh?”

“No. I get it.” However, to a lesser degree. For all the freedoms Charles is granted in comparison to you, there are restrictions you can not even imagine that he must have. “Somewhat.”

The bed creaks as he shifts to his side. “Really?” he asks.

“Really,” you confirm with a nod. And then you shrug. “But it will not be forever.”

“It will not,” he agrees quietly. “Once I’m of age…”

You wait for him to finish but he doesn’t continue. But it doesn’t matter for you hear your maid knock on your door with three rapid raps. You scramble off of your bed and hold the door closed.

“I’m coming,” you call, hoping the reediness in your voice isn’t noticeable.

The handle stops turning. “Hurry.” With that, she leaves.

You exhale. You do not want to imagine what would have come if Karina had barged in as she usually does.

“You should leave first,” you say. The spike of anxiety has yet to retreat so you sound harsher than you intend.

Charles does not need to be told twice. His gait is stiff as he leaves. He looks back at you before he disappears around the corner.

After a respectable amount of time passes, you walk to the dining room. You can hear your mother chiding one of your cousins and pray she is too distracted by whatever mischief they’ve gotten into to notice your late arrival. And because you are not known for your luck, you accidentally come across Charles and his mother as they enter.

“Why are your clothes damp?”

You’re close enough to catch the Queen’s question to her son. Charles tries to wave it off but she pinches a cuff between her fingers and asks again.

The resigned downward curve of his mouth is what drives you to interrupt them. “It is my fault, Your Majesty. I was getting a drink of water and managed to spill it on His Highness. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Her eyebrows raise. She inspects her son further. Something about him must amuse her for she smiles in that knowing way all mothers do and says, “It is fine, my dear. Let us go eat.”

Charles tries to catch your eyes during lunch but you keep your gaze steadfast on your cousins whenever you speak. It is only when the adults turn their attentions away from your section of the table that you meet Charles’ earnest gaze with a smile. You tip your chin in the direction of your father and give the barest hint at a shake of your head.

Before he and his family depart, Charles pulls you aside. Your parents are too focused on saying their farewells to the King and Queen to notice you’ve been sequestered away. Unfortunately, Charles draws the attention of his older brother much to your horror. Your urge to stomp on his foot is only quelled when Lorenzo shakes his head with a little laugh and holds a finger to his lips.

“Write to me,” Charles says in one breath. “Please.”

“Your Highness,” you say, unsure.

“Charles,” he corrects. He digs into his pocket and slips a folded piece of paper into your hand. He closes your fingers around it. “I’ll await your letters, my lady.”

He’s hurried off to his family before you can say another word. Shaking off your bewilderment, you tuck the paper given to you into your sleeve, and go to join your parents in wishing the Leclercs a safe journey home.

Hours later, when you are finally alone are you able to unfold and read what Charles has written you. It is an address with instructions on how to write it so that any letter of yours arrives at his personal quarters.

You press your tongue at the back of your molars, a little impressed at his confidence. It is not unfounded as that same night, you pull out a piece of paper and begin writing to him.

-

It is seven long years before you see Charles and his family again. But it is as if no time has passed as you and Charles exchange letters in your time apart.

You were able to conceal your correspondence with Charles with the simple lie of having befriended one of the maids the Leclerc’s brought along with them. Guilt did not swirl in your stomach at the disappointment in your father’s face when he realized the sturdy letter in his hands did not come from the King or Queen asking for your hand in marriage whenever you were eligible. It is pure luck you happened upon your father receiving the mail and were able to extinguish his hopes with a nonchalant lie.

He’s funnier than a prince ought to be. It doesn’t take long for you to forget you are talking to a prince and not one of your peers and formality becomes a thing of the past. By the end of that year, you considered Charles one of your closest friends.

You were one of the first to find out about his father’s passing. It took hours of convincing and a smidge of bribery to coax your cousin into bringing a gift to Charles from you the next time he went in for training at the palace along with your condolences. Letters from Charles ceased for a handful of months understandably but you sent your weekly letters faithfully. You detailed everything from your days to your studies to the little warm pockets of memories you had of his father and his kindness to whatever else crossed your mind. You didn’t know how else to comfort him from so far but when Charles finally returned his pen to the page, it was to thank you for allowing him some respite during the worst of his grieving period.

The years pass and while communication becomes strained as you two come to grow into your respective roles, you still consider Charles a very good friend. He’s one of the first to hear about your woes on your upcoming debut into society. You are approaching your twenty first year and you are sweating at the thought of what’s to come. You detail to him the families that have begun sniffing around you as if to test the waters of what sort of prestige your father is expecting. It is taxing but you deal with it well. You have no other choice after all.

Charles is strangely reticent at the topic of your debut. He offers a sympathetic ear but struggles to reassure you in ways that don’t make you vaguely uncomfortable. You can’t quite put your finger on why but his insistent claims that you will not have to worry about the men circling you like vultures does not set you at ease as you suspect he thinks it does. It reeks slightly of ownership but you brush it off as surely his written word is more one dimensional than his thoughts. It is far more likely Charles thinks to soothe you by the implication of an order of protection as he has no way to actually prevent someone asking for your hand. It is the thought that counts, you think.

This time around, the Leclerc’s visit is rather unexpected. You are due to travel to Monaco in a week’s time to make your debut but you cannot say you do not welcome the chance to see your old friend sooner.

Except, he is not the Charles you have kept so dear to your heart over the years. He is a man grown now. And you do not recognize him.

“Hello, Your Highness,” you greet, curtsying as suited for your station. You do not let yourself linger on him, to soak in how much he’s changed over these years.

It feels like a slap in the face even though it is to be expected. With your correspondence spanning from childhood until now, it should not come as a surprise to see Charles as the prince he is. But foolishly, you’ve held onto the image of him as the boy whose sleeves were a tad too long and whose smile hadn’t quite grown into the charming one he’s sporting now. Before, you could trick yourself into believing Charles was a friend of equal standing. But now you know that has never been the case.

He has always been Prince Charles Leclerc.

You greet his younger brother next, dutifully reciting your introductions to one another. A flash of recognition crosses his expression and his eyes flick to Charles for a moment. You pretend you do not notice.

His older brother, the king, makes idle conversation with your parents. Your fingers twitch against the fabric of your lehenga. The weight of your necklace is suddenly stifling and you bring your hand up to adjust it.

“Are you excited about your debut?” Arthur asks politely.

Seeing as your parents and the king have left the three of you to your own devices but within their eyesight, your shoulders loosen. “If my mother asks, I told you I’ve never been more excited in my life,” you say, sharing a conspiring smile with him. There is little doubt in your mind that Arthur is expected to happen upon a wife during this ball somehow.

“And if I ask?”

Charles’ voice is smooth and playful. He is not someone you can ignore regardless but you wish he made it a little easier to look at him without feeling blinded by his beauty.

“I am dreading it,” you confess. And he is well aware of that.

“Still scared no one will ask you for your dance card?” Charles teases.

You look up as if considering the possibility. The thought crossed your mind months ago but your mother had quickly assuaged those fears. “No,” you say. It isn’t arrogance that fuels your adamant denial. It will be a shock if not one man approaches you for a dance at your debut of all things. “More that I am scared my father will throw me to the first man who extends his hand.”

Your dry confession wipes the smile off of Charles’ face. “He would not do that.”

Arthur looks aghast. “Would he?”

“He would,” you say seriously. “We all have our duties do we not?”

You manage to shut Charles up while encouraging Arthur to complain about how his mother plans to spring a bride upon him to keep her wayward son home. Said mother beckons to him after ten minutes to point him towards Lorenzo’s guard, leaving you and Charles with the illusion that you two are alone. Hyperaware of his presence, you take a step back. You may not be searching for a husband but it does not mean you can tarnish your reputation by being careless. You turn to head back to your room with the intention of feigning ill. Except, a set of footsteps echo your own.

Charles follows after you. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

Not particularly, you think but force the thought into the recesses of your mind. “While that sounds lovely, your Highness, I really must go.”

His hand wraps around your wrist before you can take another step away from him. “Must you be so cold?”

“Your Highness,” you whisper warningly. Your voice pitches at the end as your eyes dart around the two of you. There are eyes in every corner and none are to be trusted.

“Charles,” he corrects. “I’m Charles.”

His grip isn’t so tight that you cannot pull away and yet, you do not make an attempt. You stand there with his hand around your wrist and your heart in your throat like a fool. “We cannot be alone, Charles.”

“We’ll sneak off then,” he implores. His voice lowers. “Please. I’ve missed you.” The words linger as if he has more to say but he limits himself to this vulnerability.

The ache in his voice threads through your ribs until it wraps around your heart and squeezes. You chew on your lip for a moment you do not have to spare and then admit defeat. “Wait for me in my room,” you whisper. “I trust you remember how to get there?”

A boyish grin tugs at his lips. “How could I forget?” And then he is off, walking through the halls as if they are all he’s ever known.

You make your way to the kitchen with half a mind to sneak off into the gardens on your own. But you banish the thought, having briefly imagined the disappointment on Charles’ face if you do not show up. You quickly pack lunch and loop your arm through the handle of the basket.

It’s easy enough to get to your room without any prying eyes but you can never be too cautious. You peek around yourself, angling the basket so it looks smaller than it is to a wandering eye, before opening your door. Charles is digging through your vanity and spins around when he hears the creak of your door.

There’s something crumpled in his hand that he quickly shoves into a pocket. He grimaces. “You are back.”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “I am. Are you ready for lunch?” You do not have the patience to question what he’s taken as a souvenir. It is likely something innocuous and something you’d give to him without thought anyway. Nothing you have is of value to a prince of all people.

“Are we to eat in here?”

You shake the basket hanging from your arm. “Of course not. We shall eat in the garden.” Eyeing the worn out throw on your couch, you point to it. “Take that so we may sit on it.”

Charles acquiesces, carefully bundling it in his arms. The hallway is empty and there are no echoes of hurried footsteps so you motion for Charles to follow you. Instead of leaving how you came, you lead Charles towards the rarely used back hallway. With two quick turns, the two of you find yourselves near the unused lower quarters.

Charles glances around himself, mildly surprised. “I was not aware these were here. Even from the outside it looks so…”

“Decayed?” you offer, amused at how he doesn’t correct you. “My grandfather never bothered to include these in the renovations so they remain empty. Every once in a while, someone will come down and clean it but if anyone is down here, it’s either me or my cousins.” You think it’s haunted as well but you don’t tell Charles that.

Pushing open a door with your back, you bring Charles to the very edge of your mother’s garden. A quaint pond sits off to the side, hidden from view.

Once the two of you are settled atop of your blanket with food in your hands, you ask, “Is this the season you intend on finding a wife?”

Charles chokes on his sandwich. You jerk back, nearly dropping your own due to his coughing fit. He thumps at his chest a few times before clearing his throat. With watery eyes and a raw voice, he says, “No. It is not the right time yet.”

Charles is twenty two to your twenty. He is considered young in a way you are not granted. Envy begins to drip into you but you quickly cauterize the entry point of it. The freedom you long for is no fault of Charles.

“You do love your dalliances,” you agree teasingly.

Embarrassment scalds his face to a deep red. You are confident if you were to hold your hand up an inch from his cheek, you would feel the residual heat.

He splutters, unable to form a string of words in defense for himself.

You laugh loudly. His reputation as a rake has preceded him. You don’t think it to be as scandalous as higher society wishes to believe but there must be some kernel of truth mixed in with the rumors. Despite the rumors circulation, it certainly hasn’t affected his value on the marriage market.

“I don’t—“ Charles presses his lips together and sighs. “Okay, that is true. To an extent.”

“Oh, is it now?”

He throws a piece of carrot at you. The red in his cheeks is receding but not by much. “I’m young,” he defends. “And I am trying to be patient for her sake. Or else, I would already have a betrothal in the works by now.”

Your ears perk up. “There is someone you wish to wed?” you repeat excitedly. He has not mentioned anyone in particular to you but perhaps they are someone he wishes to keep close to his heart until the match is secured. While so far none of your letters to each other have been placed into the wrong hands, some subjects are too delicate to risk the chance.

Charles looks off to the distance and then back to you. A crumb rests on the corner of his mouth and the casualness of it is at odds with the severity that pinches his face. “Yes.”

“Do they know of your intentions?” You try to think back on if Charles has accidentally hinted at someone being in the picture but you are drawing a blank.

He scoffs. He sounds almost bitter but when you look at him, the purse of his lips is closer to self-deprecating. “Not in the slightest. She would run in the other direction if she knew.”

“Oh please, you are a prince,” you say, exasperated. “You will be hard pressed to find a woman who wouldn’t swoon at a proposal from you.”

“You would be surprised.”

You knock your shoulder against his. Many dream of becoming a part of the royal family and romanticize it to an extreme degree. The insight Charles has given you over the years has proven it is anything but and you do not envy the women who will find themselves by the Leclerc’s sides.

“I am surprised. Besides being a prince, you’re charming too,” you say thoughtfully.

“And handsome.”

“And handsome,” you agree much to his delight.

“See? I knew it. I knew you thought this as well.”

“So then you understand why I think it is absurd you are so hesitant. You’ve always been brave. But maybe that is a testament to how fond you are of her.” You will have to make sure to keep a careful eye on who captures Charles’ attention at the ball. Perhaps, you may even need to deploy Arthur to gather some intel.

“I am very fond,” he says softly.

You look up at him to find his eyes already trained on you. Unease weaves itself through you, opening a pit in your belly. But you ignore it. “Hopefully, you will invite me to the wedding.”

He is silent for a long enough time that you fear you’ve overstepped some boundary you weren’t aware was in place. Before you can apologize, Charles brings his hand up. For a moment, you think he will lay his hand against your cheek and you begin to move away. But he merely picks a stray rose petal that has somehow found flight in the wind and tangled itself in your hair.

Whatever look is on your face softens him and the intensity radiating from him peters off into something less stifling. He leans back and examines the petal in his hand. It’s ruby red and faintly fragrant. It seems to center him for Charles says to you, “Save me a dance?”

Your answer is an easy, “Of course, Your Highness.”

Seven short days later, you find yourself in Charles’ home. The ballroom is stunning but its beauty cannot take away the nerves that have overtaken you. Your bones feel soft and weak and you fear you won’t have the strength to stand in front of the Queen. You long to hold your mother’s arm, clinging to her as a child once more, but you force yourself to take each step into the ballroom by yourself. You take a cursory look around, relief overlaying your anxiety at how many other nervous debutantes there are. Your anxiety is fully extinguished once you see Charles chatting with who you believe is Pierre. As if sensing your attention, he slowly turns to your direction and finds you almost instantly.

You give him a mockery of a curtsy.

He gives you a wink.

And so, your debut comes and goes with Charles dominating your dance card. Arthur manages to sneak himself on there as well as Pierre but other than the Leclerc brothers, Pierre, and a few others, your dance card is barren of any of the men your father hoped to potentially marry you off to.

A sticky sort of relief coats your lungs at managing to delay the inevitable for a while longer.

“Last night would have been awful if not for you. Thank you.”

You must head back to your home this afternoon but somehow, you have managed to carve out some time after breakfast to sneak away to say your goodbyes. It took the length of one dance to convince Charles to abandon his duties to allow you to say goodbye. It makes you think perhaps it is a good thing Charles was not the first born.

The glances you keep taking over your shoulder are more instinctual than anything. According to him, this part of the castle is secluded.

“I am indebted to you.”

Charles puts a hand on the ledge to lean forward until he’s all you can see. This close, you can the brown ring around his irises. He studies you, studies how you can’t help but sneak a peek at his mouth, and hums.

“I’ll be sure to collect my debt then.”

-

You enter your twenty fourth year with no prospects in sight. It horrifies your father.

You have become accustomed to it. The disappointment used to sit bitterly in your stomach but now you’re able to set it aside and put acceptance in its place. You’ve joined your younger cousin for her debut as her chaperone. The castle is as you remember it and so you’re able to impart onto her the two places she can go to for a breather if the chance arises and is needed.

She’s already danced with three gentlemen when she makes her way back to your side. You almost shoo her away but she grabs at you insistently. “The Prince is looking at you,” Sarish whispers.

“He’s probably looking at you,” you whisper back, distracted. You’re tempted to rip your bracelet from the thread it’s caught upon but with your luck, you’ll end up unraveling a good portion of the delicate seam work your mother labored over.

“No, he is not. Look,” she says urgently.

To appease her, you look around until you find one of the younger Leclerc brothers. Arthur has been coerced into a dance with another young woman but Charles remains off to the side. As Sarish says, he is looking at you.

He raises his champagne flute to you, earning the attention of those around him as he does. People crane their neck to see who has caught the eye of the ever elusive Prince Charles Leclerc.

Thankfully, the ballroom is so full, it is impossible to pick out who Charles motioned towards. You have learned to be grateful for the little things and that does not stop now.

“See!”

“I see,” you say through gritted teeth. “Oh look, more gentlemen are coming.” And then you leave your cousin to the swarm of men coming her way because while you are a chaperone, you never promised to be a good one.

It is surprisingly easy to escape to the backyard. Fleetingly, you think they should have more guards around but the lack of them works out in your favor.

You head towards the fountain a few feet away. The gentle lapping of the water soothes you and you take a fortifying breath. Charles can afford to be reckless but you cannot.

Gravel crunches beneath someone’s feet behind you and you whirl around, a hand to your heart. But you find that it is only Charles.

“I hear another betrothal is in the works for you,” Charles says after the silence stretches on for a moment too long. He adjusts his cuff links, smile thin and eyes devoid of all feeling.

You cast a wary glance over his shoulder. The party is in full swing and the guests haven’t quite yet begun to trickle into the backyard. “You called me out here to speak to me about rumors?” you ask doubtfully. Your father, a greedy man with an even greedier extended family, has been anguishing over your lack of proposals. The few courtships you’ve had have extinguished before they could get off the ground. And it is not for a lack of trying on your behalf either. Marriage may not excite you but you see its practicality. It helps that marriage will mean you are no longer be under your father’s thumb and beholden to his politics.

As the months drag and your various suitor’s indecision remains, your father’s hopes at finding a match lessened until he’s now grasping at straws.

“Your father has sent a letter to Carlos,” Charles informs you in a tight voice. “Expressing his interest in potentially being a foothold for the Sainz in Monaco.”

You close your eyes, cursing your father. He must truly be desperate if he thinks to weaponize his little influence to sway an outsider. “The Sainz are a smart family. They will not entertain such a clumsy scheme.”

The gravel shifts underneath his shoes. “Do not worry. I am the only one who saw the letter and I do not think your father so stupid as to think he can insert himself into matters such as this. Desperate, yes, but not stupid.”

The ironclad grip on your heart releases. “Thank you.”

“You have met Carlos though.”

He does not frame it as a question but you answer it like one anyway.

“Yes.” It had been a peculiar week when the Duke’s son found himself at your family home. An accident you still find hard to believe. You smile at the memory.

Charles grinds his teeth. “He is considering making his own offer for your hand.”

That stops you short. “What?”

“He sent the letter before your father’s arrived. The Duke was kind enough to inform me of your father’s…lapse in judgment. He also let me know of his son’s intentions.”

You did not think you left such an impression on Carlos but alas, maybe your luck is looking upwards for once. You cannot control the grin that graces your mouth at this information. If you must marry, you suppose he is a fine choice for a husband. He is certainly someone you know you can come to love and it would be far from a chore to do so. “I see,” you say diplomatically.

“Will you marry anyone then?”

His tone is disapproving and it immediately makes your hackles rise. Charles is a second prince and with his nephew’s arrival, he is no longer considered the spare. He is free to choose who he wants rather than what is good for the nation. Surely nothing holds him back from marrying the girl he loves he mentioned just a scant four years ago.

“I will marry anyone my father finds suitable,” you correct coolly. “It seems you forget my station.”

He rubs his mouth angrily. “Why haven’t you considered me?”

One second you are capable of breath and in the next, you feel as if your lungs have been compressed. The corset is much too tight and there is a sudden lack of air.

“Pardon?”

Charles steps towards you. A perverse sort of torment crosses his face. “Have you not thought of me as I have thought of you?” Another step. “Not even once?”

You must not hide your expression quick enough for his eyes light up. “Charles,” you say with a touch of warning.

“You must have,” he decides, advancing forward. A pleased smile stretches across his mouth.

“If I have, it was fleeting,” you say, taking an equal step back. “I do not dare to wish for more than I can be granted.”

“But you can be granted me.”

“But I don’t wish to be a part of your family, Charles.” Your head is spinning. “I am ill suited. I cannot be your wife. I cannot handle those expectations with grace, Charles.”

“And I cannot bear to be without you,” he interrupts desperately.  “I tire of waiting. I tire of waiting for you to come to your senses.” He says your name, a longing whisper on his lips. “I tire of you refusing me.”

Your blood turns to ice. There is a brief swoop of your stomach as you take another step back from Charles. The back of your heels hit the fountain and you nearly buckle backwards.

“I think you should go inside now, Your Highness,” you say, voice caught in the back of your throat.

Charles has no care for your personal space and neither your propriety for he comes closer. He cups your cheek with a too warm hand despite your flinch. This point of contact is damning. “Why would I do that?”

“Charles, I don’t have a chaperone.” The music is winding down and perhaps that is why your heartbeat sounds deafening in your ears. It will be no time at all before the guests begin to trickle out to enjoy the night air.

If Charles will not course correct, you will. You have every intention of slipping off and fueling a different type of rumor but Charles doesn’t move out of your way. Instead, his thumb rubs across your bottom lip with reverence. His touch anchors you to your spot.

Dread runs sluggishly through your veins when his eyes trail down your face. You are beginning to understand that there is only one way this night will end. And you are a fool for not realizing it the moment Charles stepped foot in this courtyard.

Your ankle scrapes against a sharp edge on the fountain, reminding you of your place. You have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide from Charles. He’s set the trap and you’ve found yourself a willing participant in your demise.

“You haven’t had a chaperone with me for years, my lady,” he points out softly. “Must you start now?”

Charles doesn’t wait for an answer.

For all of Charles’ gentle appearance, he kisses you like he’s starved. He dips you slightly, placing his other hand flat against the small of your back for stability. Without his foresight, you might’ve taken you both into the fountain.

Your hands weakly push at his chest but he pays no mind. Instead, he deepens the kiss. Scandalized does not cover what you feel when his tongue slips past the seam of your mouth.

A gasp is what allows you to pull away from Charles. Shock still clings to you, making your limbs stiff and your reaction delayed. His hand cradles your face even as you turn your head ever so slightly to gauge the damage.

And with the multiple pairs of eyes staring back at you, all with varying degrees of incredulity, you know there is no way for you to sweep this under the rug.

He gently turns your face back to him. A satisfied smile rests upon his mouth. Victory lurks behind his smile as he says, “Spring is a lovely time for a wedding, mon amour.”

this fic is finished. there will never be a part 2. thanks!

#charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #Charles leclerc imagine #soft dark!charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #x reader #dark fic #writing: charles leclerc

[dolldefiler]

[Mostly inspired by an ask I got a few weeks ago. This is fiction and aftercare is a must, babes.]

C/W: Manipulation, rape (not cnc), after-...abuse? Whatever the opposite of aftercare is

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I’d say, watching you with cold, indifferent eyes. You’d sit in a puddle of our cum, your skin gleaming with sweat and spit, your hair a wet, slick mess. You’d look so fucking pathetic in that moment, a broken little rape toy. I’d snap my fingers and point to my lap. If you still snivelled and hesitated, I’d cough very, very softly. Your eyes would widen. You’d scurry over, resembling an animal more than a civilised member of society. How pathetic.

“Have you been a good girl, today?” I’d ask, almost rhetorically. You’d nod, hoping that today I might show you mercy. That today you’d get some of my scarce aftercare. How cute. I’d gather you in my arms, and plaster soft kisses on your bruised lips. Fuck, I hope you’d feel safe in that moment. As if your torment and troubles are over. I’d nibble your ears softly and watch you giggle softly, drifting into a well-deserved sleep. You’d feel my arm creep up and you’d think nothing of it until you realise I’m gripping your neck tightly. Your heart would drop. Today would not be the day.

You’d feel my cock sliding into your cunt, slick from the previous loads I’d poured into you. Fuck, you’d break into tears, your hopes dashed. You didn’t deserve it today. I’d shift your fleshlight cunt across my cock, pumping into you while telling you what a pathetic fucking piece of shit you are. That your only purpose in life is to serve me. That today you didn’t hurt yourself enough for me. I hope you’d sob harder against me, while I fuck your purpose into your tight fuckbox.

Even as I rape you gently, tearing down your boundaries and limits, I’d hint at aftercare afterwards. “If you’re really good, I might show some love. Can you do that for me, baby?” I’d ask, groping your vulnerable body. “Aww, don’t cry. You just weren’t good enough today… but tomorrow, you might get some cuddles.” I’d feed you promise after promise, all of which would be broken. And you’d know I’d break them too. You’d simply be a dumb little bitch, too afraid to leave her abuser for fear of the unfamiliar. And I’d take advantage of your weak, docile personality until I’ve spent my last drop of seed inside you. “I know it hurts baby… but if you want to be looked after, this is what you’ll get. Rough sex that makes me happy. You want to make me happy, don’t you?”

You’d sob into my chest and say yes. Neither of us would believe that. I’d dispense another warm spray of cum into you, before throwing you to the floor and spitting on you. 

“Clean up your mess. I want dinner soon.”

#rapedoll #rapekink #gaslighting kink #r@pe play #r@pe fantasy #rough cnc #rough daddy #free use slvt #free use kink

[moonstruckme]

I would loooove Sirius taking care of reader after a GNO like he’s so supportive of girls night and then reader calls him to pick her up or she gets dropped off at his flat/house and she’s just all snuggly and lovey and Siri is just all 🤭😚 “you’re cute when you’re needy”

Thanks for requesting!

cw: drunkenness

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Sirius!” You tear out of Lily’s grasp as soon as the door is open, pitching forward. Sirius scrambles to catch you, his arms compensating for your jelly legs when your face lands just north of his navel. 

“Hi,” he says, surprised but not at all displeased. You’re not typically a very tactile creature. You and Sirius have hugged a handful of times, but only when you were feeling in need of comfort or especially overwhelmed by affection. Or, apparently, squiffed. He tries to pick you up to your full height, but you lock your arms around his waist and don’t let go. He looks at Lily. “Is she alright?” 

Lily nods, giggling as Mary mumbles something nonsensical (at least to Sirius) into the skin of her shoulder. “Yeah, she’s okay. I think she’s having a great time, actually.” She grins at the way you’re smiling contentedly into the fabric of Sirius’ shirt. “Could you have her call us in the morning? I’m very curious to see what all she remembers from tonight.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “What should she remember?”

“Well, I fucking hope she hasn’t forgotten the part with the bouncer,” Marlene guffaws. “She promised she’d bring him cupcakes, and I think he’s expecting to collect.” 

“Just have her call us,” Lily says, dragging the other two girls away. “Thanks, Sirius!”

“I want to be allowed in on the debrief!” he calls after them before shutting the door, careful not to let it hit your ankles. 

He looks down at you, still vaguely smiley but otherwise seeming like you might be dozing. Your eyes are closed, one of your cheeks is squished up against his abdomen, and you’ve got your hands bunched in the fabric of Sirius’ shirt at the small of his back. He pets the back of your head, thinking of what to do with you. 

“Doing alright, sweet thing?” he asks softly. 

You pick your head up, setting your chin against him so that your face is tilted upward at an awkward angle. You look at Sirius, and the sun rises in his chest. Just like always. “Hello,” you say. 

Sirius smiles. “Hello, lovely. Did you have fun?” 

“Mhm.” You seem to realize that the position you’ve chosen is less than comfortable, slipping down his legs and puddling at his feet. One of his calves still firmly in your grasp. He can feel the cold of your hands through his pajama pants. “Still having fun.” A tiny giggle bubbles out of you, amused with yourself. “The fun never ends.” 

“Not with you,” Sirius agrees, deciding to sit on the floor with you. You make it look like the place to be. “Say, doll, Lily’s got me curious. What happened with the bouncer?” 

“The bouncer…oh!” Your eyes light up. “He wouldn’t let us into the club, but I got us in.” 

“Yeah?” He laughs as you take one of his hands and bring it into your lap as if this is something you do every day, playing with his rings. “How’d you manage that?” 

You look at him gravely. “I did what I had to do.” 

He blinks, then reminds himself that Marlene had said something about cookies. “And what did you have to do?” 

“Nine rounds of rock-paper-scissors.” 

Sirius guffaws at the solemnity in your expression, leaning forward to peck you on the cheek when you seem a tad wounded by his levity. “Well, I suppose sacrifices had to be made,” he tells you. “You got your way in the end, hm?” 

“I did,” you agree, looking rather pleased with yourself. “Though I did have to promise him baked goods as payment. Bribery, you know.” You lean forward until your forehead lands on his chest, his hand still in yours, and sigh heavily. Sirius brings a hand to your back, rubbing between your shoulder blades. 

“Feeling alright, doll?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh again, and then you’re shuffling into his lap, setting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m just really happy you’re here.” 

“Well,” he jokes, “it is my flat, so.” 

“I love you so much.” You sound vaguely teary, and Sirius’ heart contracts painfully. 

“I love you too, baby,” he says back, letting the sappiness you both usually tend to shy away from seep into his tone. 

“And I love when you call me that.” Your grip tightens around his ribcage. He presses his palm in between your shoulder blades like he can steady you. “You’re so nice to me, Siri.” 

Sirius hums noncommittally, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “If I were really that nice,” he says, “I would have been a better boyfriend and gotten some water in you as soon as you got here. C’mon, sweetness.” He hoists you with him as he stands. “Let’s go have a drink.” 

He changes his mind when you seem unwilling to walk by yourself, taking you to bed instead so he can bring you water there. He finds your favorite pajamas and helps you change into them, telling you to close your eyes when he uses the emergency makeup wipes you’ve left at his place to fast-track your skincare routine. You laugh and play-fight him as he manhandles you beneath the covers, but he’s only reminded of your true strength when he goes to get your water and you latch onto his arm in protest. 

“Don’t leave,” you beg, looking partly like you’re having fun with this game and partly like you might be genuinely upset if he does. “I don’t need water.” 

“Course you do,” he says, working a hand behind your ear so he’s holding your face. You lean into the touch fondly. “All flowers need water.” 

To his disappointment, you don’t seem to recognize the compliment, pouting at him. “M’not like other flowers,” you argue. “I need you tons more than I need water, Siri.” 

He smiles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You’re awfully cute when you need me, you know that?” 

You beam in response. 

Sirius debates whether he’s going to tell you tomorrow how lovey-dovey you’ve been tonight. On the one hand, it’d be the highlight of his week to watch how flustered you get, but on the other you might very well break up with him out of embarrassment. He’ll have to decide later. 

“You’ve still got me,” he reassures you. “I just need you to have some water, too, baby.” He wields his new knowledge of how that particular endearment affects you to his advantage, and it works; you go all soft around the edges. Sirius pushes his advantage. “I won’t be gone more than thirty seconds, promise.”

You seem to deliberate for a few moments before capitulating, giving him your most severe look. It’s adorable. “I’m going to time you,” you threaten. 

“Sounds good.” He gives your cheek a little peck and starts for the kitchen, your voice mounting behind him as you count upwards. 

He’s back quickly with a tall glass of water and a couple of pain relievers, and you glare at him. “That was more than thirty seconds.” 

“Sorry, doll.” He doesn’t mention that you’d skipped the twenties. “Guess I’m not as fast as I thought.” 

You make it very clear he’s not yet forgiven, but you still seem to want to hug him. Sirius is delighted, palming the back of your head when you bury it in his shoulder. “Missed you,” you mumble, and he thinks he finally detects some sleepiness in your voice. 

“Baby, I was gone for less than a minute.” 

You nod as if in agreement. “It was horrible,” you grumble softly, breath warming his skin through his shirt. “Never do that again.” 

“Alright.” Sirius lets his palm coast down the line of your spine, back up again. “Alright, I won’t.”

#sirius black au #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black drabble #sirius black baby blurb #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[steddieas-shegoes]

so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is coparenting

[mariahcarreyyy]

congratulations on 2k!! deserved 💌

how about charles being an ABSOLUTE cat dad like reader has a cat and once he gets introduced to it they become inseparable

# i'm very much a cat person this was so cute to write. i imagined this early on in the relationship but dream as u will!

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

When jealousy took form and blossomed in a person's wretched heart, it did so in two branches: rational and irrational. The glint coloring your eyes in an ugly green after witnessing Charles enter your flat for the first time, automatically gasping and fawning over the white ball of fur idly strolling past the hallway, was certainly the latter of the two.

A gentle, startled sort of coo slipped past your newly minted boyfriend's lips. "A cat! Oh," his dimples form in slopes on his plump cheeks, his eyes creasing in a giddy smile as he drops his belongings and rushes to craddle the kitten in his arms. "I didn't know you—aww, bebé, qu'il est mignon!"

The otherwise quiet hallway was filled with the fondness of Charles' voice and soft, satisfied purrs reverberating in the kitten's throat (who looks comically small in his bulging biceps, by the way). Past the lingering envy and sudden urge to morph into a cat and have Charles hold you carefully, you can't help but grin at the sight.

Charles neck must hurt from looking down sideways and murmuring sweet nothings to the cat as if it were a baby. Or it didn't, very possibly, seeing as you've walked into one too many workout sessions of him training his neck. You allowed him to topple closer to the edge of a cuteness overload before the fatigue piling in your waterline proved too heavy to bear.

Kick off uncomfortable heels; Charles giggled when the ball of fur nuzzled its tiny, pink nose into his neck.

Shrug the jacket onto the floor; Charles dips down to rub the button of his nose against the kittens.

Hang it on the coat rack; Charles melts into an incoherent puddle on the floor when your pet reciprocates his movements.

Pad against marble floors, rubbing your eyes sleepily and shutting the door of your bedroom halfway once you get there; Charles lets out a distant, "Y/n? Mon amour? Where'd you go?" from the hallway.

A smile, your heart appreciating your boyfriend shifting his attention from the cat, threatens to crack at your lips until—

"Oh, mon dieu! He's rolling on the ground. Y/n! Y/n, viens! Viens, come see!"

You throw your hands up exasperatedly despite your solitude, hastily take off your makeup, and nestle into the coldness of your generously sized bed; Charles will come later, but not alone. The warmth radiating off the tiny ball of fur is easily noticeable, squished between two frames and contrasting heavily with your boyfriend's presence.

"I love you," the monagesque murmurs; and then, after a few beats of silence, before you were to open your mouth and echoe his words, he says, "You too, Y/n."

As his cackles bounce off the walls of your bedroom, only growing louder and intensifying when he receives a harsh slap on his shoulder, you find yourself joining in the laughter, unable to resist.

#mariahcarreyyy . . . 2k celebration #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #cl16 x you #cl16 x y/n #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 one shot #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you

[jyoongim]

OKAY I DID THE GAME AND GOT PROMPT 4 SO IM REQUESTING AN ALASTOR X READER WITH 50 AND 58 PLEASEE 🔵

(also I did the game with my gf and showed her all the stuff I'm into 👀)

Prompt 4, #50 & 58: smut no plot “behave, I wouldn’t want to have to punish you now w/ act like a brat, Ill treat you like a brat”

Alastor x brat!reader

The lounge was buzzing with people.

You were nursing a drink, looking at all the people dancing.

You wanted to dance.

”c’mon Al lets hit the dance floor” you chirped. The red demon shook his head and went back to talking with Mimzy.

You pouted.

You had got all dolled up and he wasn’t even paying any attention to you.

So you took matters into your own hands.

You slipped from your seat and headed to the dance floor, spotting an attractive demon who would love to feed your ego for the night.

You flashed him a flirty smile as you began to dance, encouraging the man to approach you.

He took the bait.

A warm body slithered behind you, hands grasping your hips.

You happily accepted his advances, keeping your smirk hidden when you saw Alastor turn and meet your eyes.

He beckoned you back and you threw your hair over your shoulder, giving your dance partner your attention.

You rubbed yourself the demon, letting his hands roam as you danced to the music.

Warm breath grazed your neck ”why dont we get out of here huh?”

You giggled and before you could utter a response you felt a familiar shadow wrap around your leg, tugging.

A warning.

Behave dearest

You ignored it, shooing the shadow away. You didn’t have to listen to him. You were out to have fun and if Alastor wasn’t going to pay attention to you, then another would do just fine.

”Buy me a drink at least” you purred and the demon happily wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to the bar.

Alastor was staring into the side of your face as you flirted with the demon.

The demon excused himself to the restroom and Alastor gripped your arm, lips at your ear “I suggest you stop this behavior darling, wouldn’t want to ruin our night” his voice was void of the radio filter.

You huffed, glaring at him “I am having fun! Something you seem to want no part in”

His claws tightened around you, pulling you into his lap “now now dont go acting like a brat, you dont want to be punished do you?”

You swatted him away when your date came back.

You ignored his warning and turned your attention back to the male.

Alastor had had enough of your antics and bid Mimzy a goodbye, as he plucked you away from your date.

You resisted, pouting and huffing as he dragged you out of the lounge.

”Al! Let go! i was just having a bit of fun. There was no harm-”

He pushed you into a dark alley, your back hitting a brick wall.

You grunted as he pushed you to your knees, shadows restraining you.

He leaned down, fingers gripping your chin, sneering 

“You want to act like a brat, then Ill treat you like a brat”

You went to make a smirk remark when a tentacle slithered against your pulsing cunt. “!” You bit your lip.

”You’re not to cum until I see that pretty face smeared in tears and even then I wont stop until you soil the ground”

You jerked against the feeling of the appendage toying with your slit, slipping into your panties and playing with your clit.

You whined as it dipped into your cunt, curling and  wiggling around your gummy walls.

In the quiet alleyway, the sounds of your wetness echoed as you tried to hold your orgasm back.

Your face was buried in Alastor’s pant leg as you panted and push your hips back against the squirming tentacle.

Your thighs were sticky with your slick and a small puddle had formed underneath you.

”A-Al please…I-I fuuuck” you whimpered, tears running down your face, smearing your mascara as your cunt tightened.

Alastor hummed, running a hand through your hair 

“Brats dont get to cum darling”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut

[inuyashaluver]

saviour - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which your girlfriend forgets everything, good thing you’re at home due to injury and being able to read her mind

warnings: swearing, nothing much i don’t think

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, alessia, had the power of reading each other’s mind. it was an unspoken, mutual understanding between one another, you just knew what they needed. just through a simple glance, you both had the ability to decipher the needs of your girlfriend, something you both got teased about relentlessly.

—

one day, you and alessia had just finished training drills, about to complete a mini game to wrap up practice. you were talking to beth about an upcoming england camp that she was finally able to come back to after her acl injury. you were a little breathless while talking to the girl, in desperate need for some water but you didn’t want to leave your conversation.

suddenly, beth stops her words at seeing a certain blonde approaching from behind you, smirking and claiming viv had called out to her. you watch her departing figure confused, until you feel a familiar, warm hand gently placed on your hip.

you can’t help but let out a little smile, turning to face your beautiful girlfriend who was looking at you with affectionate eyes. “oh, hello” you smile up at her, the girl returning your grin before directing a water bottle to your mouth. “hello, my love, drink up” she holds the water bottle for you, giving it a gentle squeeze, you hold her arms in place as you drink from the bottle, giving her a light tap on her wrist when you were done.

you grin at her appreciatively, “thank you, lessi baby” you pucker up your lips at her and she happily closes the gap, giving you a short, quick kiss before pulling away to face you again. “of course, baby, gotta look after my girl” she shrugs cockily, you giggle and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. you look at her hand holding the water bottle you drank from, ‘alessia’ in big, black writing prompting butterflies to swarm in your stomach.

a pink tint settles on your cheeks and alessia raises her eyebrows at you, she moves her free hand from your waist to rest on the curve of your jaw, “aw, my baby is shy” alessia teases, tone laced with adoration as she maintains sweet eye contact with you. “that’s your water bottle” you stated with a bright smile, “couldn’t find yours” alessia shrugs and this time you raise your eyebrows at her, your water bottle was always next to hers, she just wanted you to drink from hers.

“right” you remark unconvinced, the girl in front of you just grabs the water bottle and squeezes some water in her mouth, sending you a wink before bumping her hip with yours and running off to put her bottle back, leaving you completely flustered.

suddenly, beth returns, throwing an arm over your shoulder, you already knew you were about to be mocked for your pink cheeks. “the girl does practically nothing and you’re a puddle on the floor” beth laughs, viv joins her teasing, appearing out of nowhere on your other side.

“no, beth, i think it’s cute” viv teases, you shake them both off and run away, trying to get away from them and their teasing, until you bump into your girlfriend, she catches you instantly. “all right?” alessia laughs at your dazed face, you just nod and wave her off, running off to your national captain, leah for comfort but you ended up getting teased even worse.

everyone knew that it was always you and alessia, people honestly unable to pinpoint when the two of you started dating because your friendship was always heavily blurred at the lines of a romantic relationship. to put it simply, you and alessia just knew each other too well.

—

when you and alessia were separated, you both had to admit that it was extremely hard. you’d always been at arsenal, being in a long distance with alessia while she was at united was torture for both of you, now that she’s a gunner, being separated was just gruesome, not willing to put distance between the two of you again.

so when you pull your hamstring in a game, alessia was heartbroken, she couldn’t spend a big chunk of her day with the love of her life for over a week and a half. alessia is known to be clumsy, something that you loved to tease her about whenever you could. not only was she physically clumsy, this girl would forget to put on her socks if you didn’t remind her. alessia had a slight dependency on you to remember what she needed for the day, so you not being there to give her the friendly reminders proved difficult for alessia.

every night when alessia would pack her kit bag, she always made sure to do it in front of you. she would trail off in thought as she pondered what to pack, but you would happily chime in and remind her of what she needed. she would just stare at the bag and you would remind her of something like, “a change of clothes for after?” alessia would make noises of understanding, giving you a little kiss after each reminder (maybe this is why you both loved it so much) “oh you’re so right” alessia sighs, leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly before walking over to the wardrobe, grabbing a change of clothes, holding them up for your approval, you cheekily nod at her.

—

due to your small hamstring injury, you were out for a week and a half, meaning that you would be out of training for a short amount of time. instead, you would come along to training for a separate session after a quick physio session, staying with laura and leah for their rehab sessions. due to your sessions being at different times, you would carpool with leah to training or you would just drive yourself, your injury thankfully on your non-driving leg.

this whole driving situation was something alessia would complain about every morning.

“don’t give me that look, alessia, go to training” you say sternly, alessia sends you a little scowl, rolling her eyes at the use of her first name. “don’t call me alessia” she crosses her arms in front of her, standing in front of the closed door. “sorry, lessi baby, you’re gonna be late, go on” you coo, your hands wrapping hers around her car keys and giving her an encouraging smile but she wouldn’t budge.

“i’ll see you soon, lessi” you peck your girlfriend’s lips quickly and try to part from her but her grip around your wrist restricts you from any movement. “kiss me” she whines, pulling you closer to her gently. you shake your head at her amusingly, kissing her quickly on her lips but she immediately places her hand on the back of your neck to keep you to her. she swipes her tongue on your bottom lip and you can’t resist her even if you tried. she slips her tongue in your mouth and kisses you deeply, you sigh into her mouth when she gently grazes her nails on the skin on your neck.

you feel her grin into you, kissing you for a little longer before pulling away with a smug grin. “see? that’s all you had to do” she pecks your lips one more time before opening the door, “bye, baby” she mumbles on your lips, throwing you a wink before closing the door behind her. you smile at the back of the door, she was really something else, you thought. you look down and that’s when you see it, her kit bag, along with the smoothie you’d made her. you let out a little laugh, looking in the driveway to see she’d already pulled away.

you quickly get dressed and grab her stuff before hobbling over to your car. you’ll be at training a lot earlier than you need to be but you can just ogle over her from the sidelines.

by the time alessia had arrived at training, she went all the way to her locker, realising that she’d forgotten her stuff at home. she lets out a frustrated groan, “russo already needs her missus, what did you forget this time?” katie teases in the corner, gaining a little slap on the shoulder from caitlin warningly.

alessia sighs, unable to mutter up the strength to argue back because she felt so stupid for forgetting her stuff. training was in 10 minutes, home was 25 minutes away, she couldn’t go back. she pops down on the bench, a pout evident on her face as she whips out her phone to call you, feeling incredibly guilty she had to call her injured girlfriend to rescue her.

when she unlocks her phone, she hears your giggle coming from the hallway, one she knew better than anyone. she whips her head up, and that’s when she sees your bright grin, slightly limping into the room, alessia’s bag and her forgotten smoothie in each hand. she sends you a sheepish smile, shaking her head in embarrassment as you teasingly wave her items in your hand.

“long time no see, stranger, here you are, my love, delivery” you tease, handing her the items with a shit eating grin. “i’m so sorry” she quickly places the items down, pulling you to sit sidewards on her lap. you kiss her cheek reassuringly, “don’t be sorry, lovey, i’ll just watch you train for a bit before physio” you grab her hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

“god, i love you” alessia breathes out, thumping her head on your shoulder with a tired expression. “i love you too, beautiful, now go get changed” you squeeze her hand again and she removes her head from your shoulder. she makes eye contact with you and her cheeks go slightly pink, she smiles before puckering up her lips for a kiss which you happily give her, leaning in to place one on her lips.

you get up from her lap, shoving the kit bag in her hand and encouraging her to get changed. she smirks when you whistle as she takes off her hoodie, replacing it with her training shirt. “cheeky” she grins, giggling at your lovesick expression as you sat next to her.

training goes well, and your own session goes well, you end up going home before alessia, as she has media duties to attend to.

you make dinner for the both of you, completed when she walked through the door. “how did you know i wanted this for dinner?” alessia gasps excitedly, wrapping her arms around your waist and attacking your cheek with kisses as she squeezes you tightly. “girlfriend intuition” you smirk, leaning your head back to make eye contact with her. “hello” you smile brightly at her, she returns the gesture, kissing the tip of your nose. “hi” she replies softly, her pupils completely dilated as she looked at you.

—

that night, she was on the verge of sleep, promising you that she would pack her kit bag in the morning, begging you to come to bed because she was absolutely exhausted and honestly in a food coma. you hesitate but agree, feeling tired yourself, you both drift to sleep easily that night, tangled up in the bedsheets together as you both drifted to sleep.

the next morning, she’d woken up a little late, quickly rushing to get ready as quick as she could. she kisses your tired form on the bed goodbye, rushing out the door without another second wasted. you wake up five minutes later to see she’d forgotten her boots, as well as her morning smoothie that you’d pre made for her. you genuinely couldn’t help but laugh, your girlfriend still as clumsy as ever.

you quickly get ready for your own training, deciding to watch her again before your own session. you grab her stuff, as well as an extra snack as they had a longer session today, knowing that she’d want something for later. when alessia arrived at her locker, she quickly changes her clothes, training was in 5 minutes, she sits down on the bench ready to change her shoes, only to realise, she’d left her boots at home, as well as her beloved smoothie her girlfriend had carefully crafted for her, just the way she liked it.

“oh for fucks sake” alessia groans, throwing her head back in frustration. katie next to her opens her mouth to say something but alessia holds her hand out to her with a scowl. “not a word” alessia grumbles and katie surprisingly doesn’t argue back. alessia leans forward and puts her head in her hands, she was going to have to just do training in her runners, something she’d definitely get in trouble for.

she’s about to get up when she feels a warm hand on her thigh, a light squeeze following the contact. she snaps her head up, seeing your pretty face smiling at her worriedly. “are you okay, lovey?” you whisper, rubbing your hand up and down her thigh in attempts to calm her, completely working as you felt your girlfriend melt into your touch. she looks at you dazed, looking as though she was on the verge of tears at seeing you.

“baby” alessia whimpers, pulling you into a tight hug and tucking her face into the crook of your neck. you coo, rubbing comforting circles on her back. “it’s okay,” you reassure, kissing the side of her head gently, you pull away, handing her the boots, her smoothie and her snack.

she could’ve broken down right there, you knew her too well. “you’re literally my saviour, thank you so much, my love” she says earnestly, you just nod and peck her lips gently, ushering her to change and get onto the pitch. it was your last day of rehab, finally getting clearance to return to regular training, alessia was so excited.

now that you were back normally, alessia hardly ever forgot anything again..well, she would pretend to forget something at home just to coax kisses out of you, and you knew that, but none of you were complaining.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you!! ily viccy bby

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,233 others

alessiarusso99: my baby is back, missed you so much

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yourname: my clumsy cutie, i missed you more!

↳ alessiarusso99: stop it, i’m not clumsy

↳ yourname: sorry, baby, but you are and it’s so cute

↳ alessiarusso99: i’m not!!

↳ ellatoone: alessia, be so fucking for real right now

↳ alessiarusso99: fuck off, tooney wooney

↳ yourname: it’s true, lessi baby

↳ alessiarusso99: time out

katie_mccabe11: thank fuck she’s back, you’d forget your head if she wasn’t there

↳ alessiarusso99: no comment for that

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader