#he’s just a baby please don’t hurt him

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are pleading now, already worried.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steals his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Hood clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

[ttsukiimi]

˗ˏˋOPEN ARMS! (AND LEGS) ´ˎ˗

୨୧⋆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ After your divorce, you’re devastated. Devastated enough to welcome the same man who hurt you with open arms. (And legs!)

୨୧⋆ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ Ex-husband!sukuna x fem!reader, smut (mdni), unprotected sx, lowk hate fckking, hair pulling, overstim, sukuna is feening, mention of slight toxic relationship, slight rough & mean!sukuna, light gaslighting, reader referred to as (baby, princess)

“I hate you,” you whimpered through gritted teeth, the absolutely pathetic noise that left you soon after betraying your previous words. Your eyes threatened to fill with tears, and your throat grew a lump you knew was too hard to swallow.

This was all so stupid—you were stupid for welcoming him back into your home.

You questioned your own moral, your self-respect; where did it all go? Maybe he had taken it with him. And with the way he had you acting such a fool, maybe it was right to assume that.

“Y’hate me, baby?” Sukuna mumbled, and you wanted to slap that stupidly hot smirk off his lips, but something in you also wanted to kiss it, caress his face and let him do as he pleased. But you didn’t.

“Inviting you here was a mistake,” you sighed, trying your best to ignore the way chills erupted on your body from just a touch of his hand. Sukuna stroked the supple skin of your cheek and let his thumb roam to your lip, pulling down and watching as the plumpness sprang back in place. His eyes bore into you as he stared down, a mischievous tilt to his head.

“If you think so, why don’t you kick me out?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—“

But Sukuna was faster. He had his lips plastered to yours before you could even react, holding your hips so softly in a way that wasn’t him, and that made you melt in his arms. Your knees buckled under the now tenfold weight pushing down on them and he chuckled, deep and taunting.

He pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips together. Somehow, he seemed more passionate with you than before.

Had he changed? Had he finally bettered himself? Your heart fluttered in your chest at the thought—albeit against your own will.

And maybe he had changed, but the way he handled you was still the same. All he seemed to want was to use you for his own satisfaction and pleasure.

Which was subsequently why he—seconds after consoling and convincing you that he loved you—had you sprawled out on your bed, stripped of any clothing.

“Wider, f’me, princess,” he ordered, palming himself through his sweats, and you’d be lying if you said that the way that he groped his cock through the material wasn’t captivating. Sukuna crawled onto the bed, making and claiming his rightful place between your legs.

“I missed you, y’know?” he asserted in your ear, cupping your cheeks together to force you to look at him. He let his free hand drift down to your chest, and fondled with your tit, admiring how his palms fit so perfectly around your mound. “Missed these pretty tits too.”

“‘Kuna,” you whined, arching up into his touch so quickly like the movement was ingrained in your brain. You’d been with him for so long, accommodated his every move, it felt wrong not to be with him.

Hence why, out of confusion for your own mental state, you hit him up. However, perhaps this was okay.

Sukuna between your legs, right where he always belonged. Stroking himself with such fervor that it seemed he had been thinking about you too. But he wouldn’t admit it, of course.

“Most of all,” he hummed, snaking his large hand down to your core, cupping your pussy. “Missed this filthy fucking cunt.”

It was all so lewd. His words, his touch, the way he glided the head up and down your sopping folds, coating his tip with your seemingly endless stream of dribbling slick.

"Gonna show you just how much I missed all of you."

And that was the problem. Sukuna wanted you, but not you. He had an obsession with this image of you he created in his head—this perfect wife—which was essentially you, but not.

You also found it hard to love a man that had an insane sex drive. Granted, the dick was heavenly, just not when you weren't in the mood. These little cracks between you drifted you both apart, and that led to the divorce.

With a swift movement, Sukuna had turned you around onto your stomach, propping you up on your knees. He inwardly cursed at how plump your body looked; and was immediately drawn in to smack the malleable flesh of your ass.

Hissing, you turned to glare at him, the complaint about to roll off your tongue caught in your throat as he thrusted in. Sukuna noticed this and rasped, voice so sexily low, and took a handful of your hair. "Shuts you up just like it always does, hm?"

"F-fuck you!" you replied, and one smart remark was all it took for him to have your head shoved into the pillows, rough hands gripping so harshly at your hips.

"'M already doing that, baby." As he pulled your head back by your hair, making sure your eyes held contact with his, sadistically finding satisfaction in the way tears welled in your waterline. Sukuna watched as each ram he drove into you caused your eyes to roll back—your mouth falling agape as soft little ah, ah, ah's fell from your lips.

The sight was unbearable to him, he had to see more, more of that already fucked-out expression taking place on your face. He found his rhythm quickening, the slaps of your bodies becoming more frequent, and your cries became louder.

Sukuna looked down at where you both connected, whistling and smirking to himself at the sight. "Always been so good at takin' dick."

"Mmf—it's easy cause y'r microscopic," you were quick to retort, smiling as you felt his grip on your hair and hips tighten, a little annoyed 'tsk' rolling from his tongue. But he was more than annoyed, he just played along with your little game.

Your cocky grin was wiped off of your face the moment you felt his tip repeatedly ram into your g-spot, stimulating you so much to the point it had you stuttering and your vision blurring. He was essentially taking his anger out on you and your poor pussy, fucking wildly into you like it'd be the first and last time he did so.

"I'm small, huh?" he murmured in your ear, breath fanning past your neck now, smiling against the skin of your shoulder. "I'm fucking small?"

He repeated his question again, though it didn't sound like a question initially, gripping your hair even more tighter.

You whimpered in response, shaking your head no, however, he wanted an answer. Though he knew you were in no state to talk.

"Yeah? Not so small when I'm ruining you." he licked a stripe up to your ear. "And not when I made you cum four times in a row, either, hm?”

#ꔫ : ˚ ͙۪۪̥◌⎯ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈’𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 #jjk smut #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jjk ryomen #true form sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #gojo smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna ryoumen x reader

[turcott3]

First of all thank you for the Rempe content

Second of all, I’ve been thinking about this:

You’ve been dating Matt since just after he got to Seattle. You’re openly aware of his fighting and you don’t mind it but once he gets to the NHL you can’t help but let the media and the backlash get to you about Matt fighting. When he gets ejected from a game on a match penalty, you find yourself going down to see him, clearly upset and trying to drill into it him that he doesn’t have to fight all these people, he has nothing to prove. He doesn’t see it that way and you two go back and forth for a little while. He turns to you and says ‘this is who I am. I am working on it, I ask you to accept that’ or something like that and then you have to accept that his fighting is a thing but it doesn’t mean you’re happy about it still. So now every time he gets in a fight he brings you flowers and chocolate after the game

kisses

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, mild arguing, fluff, kisses

masterlist

-

“matthew rempe.” you yell busting open the door.

“jesus you scared me.” he jumps, giggling.

“what have i fucking told you matt.” you say sternly as the boy sits down in front of you.

“what?” he shrugs.

“matt please for the love of god stop all this fighting crap. i mean it.” you press, tears welling up in your eyes.

“it’s fun, i never mean any harm by it.” he replies.

“matt, i know. but please. just stop. for your own sake and the sake of your health please. it hurts my heart having to stitch you up after every game. please just at least take a break from it, or only fight when it’s necessary. i just wanna see my boys face healthy again.” you say wiping a tear of frustration that fell.

“come here baby.” he says lowly, opening his arms for you to sit on his leg as you brushed his soft hair from his face.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you felt that way. i’ll try to dim it down okay? this is just the kind of player i choose to be y/n, and that’s how it is but i promise im gonna try to dial it down for you.” he says pressing a kiss to your temple.

“but just know if any guy ever chirps about you they’re dead, okay?” he giggles wiping your tears away gently with his thumb.

“okay.” you smile lightly, finding it hard to ever stay mad at him.

“and i’m sorry for getting ejected again, i know you like staying for the whole game.” he giggles with his chin rested on your shoulder in a hug.

“it’s okay baby. i can’t be mad at being able to have you at home sooner. i always miss you when i can’t come.” you giggle, scratching his scalp with your nails, something he always loved you doing.

“is it bad that i feel that way too.” he says pulling away, locking eyes with you.

“no it just means you love me.” you smile, squishing his cheeks like a baby before he pulls your hand away.

“would you stop that, you know i don’t like it.” he laughs

“well i think it’s funny, and i feel in this moment you deserved it.”

“touché”

-

“matt.” you mumble under your breath as you sat on the couch with a load of emails on your laptop, the game on your tv. of course, another fight. a much more evenly matched one this time. you shut your laptop with anxiety waiting for the final buzzer of the game to sound, eventually dozing off as your mind scrambled at what possible injuries you would have to ice or stitch tonight.

“y/n?” you wake up to the sound of matt’s voice in a low volume, trying not to startle you as his hand rested softly on your leg.

“what, huh? oh my gosh.” you say realizing that you had fallen asleep.

“i got you these.” matt says, revealing the gorgeous bouquet of roses and your favorite chocolate.

“awe matt what is this for?” you ask with your lip pouted, observing the sight in front of you. a beautiful bunch of roses and your beautiful boyfriend.

“for breaking my promise. i’m sorry baby.” he says as you lean over to kiss him on the lips.

“it’s okay my love, you know how hard it is for me to stay mad at you for literally anything. these are beautiful.” you smile lightly at him.

“i had to hand pick them, only the best for my beautiful girl.” he smiles kissing your hand delicately.

“but seriously, promise after tonight, im gonna try to be better.” he swears, setting the objects on the coffee table.

“all i ask is for you to try.” you reply as you stand up, wrapping yourself up in his large frame.

“i’ll think of you out there, every game. every time i get challenged. i swear to god i will.” he mumbles into your hair as he kisses you on top of the head.

“i love you so much.” you say looking up into his deep brown eyes.

“i love you too.” he smiles, leaning down to attach your lips once again.

-

#matt rempe fluff #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe imagine #ny rangers #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #turcs’ talk

[salsasvault]

okay i know for a fact you have drafts your hiding something for us pretty please 🙏🏼

okay fine was debating posting this but

Babysitting

“Shh shh, okay, okay honey I got you.” You sway side to side rocking an almost 5-month-old in your arms. Trying to soothe her proved to be a harder task than you anticipated.

Your sister recently had a baby, and with the recovery and almost no alone time with her husband she all but begged for you to babysit.

You were somewhat reluctant, but with Simon on leave, and a soft spot for your niece, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to take care of her for a couple nights.

So here you were, at four in the morning, a lightly fussing baby in your arms as you heat a bottle in the kitchen. The city surrounding you provides just enough light to illuminate your apartment.

The gentle hum of the microwave proved to help both of you.

Busy with your task you didn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open, or the footsteps that followed.

All Simon saw upon entering was the sight of you with a tiny baby in your arms.

His heart stopped in his chest, he’d only been gone 3 months, sure longer than normal but not long enough to produce-this.

Flabbergasted he did the math, retried it, and thought of every possibility but it all came to a grinding halt at the sound of your voice cooing to an almost smaller version of you.

You looked so perfect, rocking her just right, grabbing the bottle, testing the warmth, so incredibly attentive to her needs.

With you busy it seemed the baby had noticed him.

Wide eyes, the same color as yours looking back at him. Her fussing stopped for a second, entirely enamored with the strange man standing almost in the shadows.

The lack of babbling or crying caught your attention, turning your head toward whatever had encapsulated her-

“Simon! You didn’t tell me you’d be home early.”

Setting the bottle down, baby still in your arms, you made your way over, half hugging him.

It took him a second before he was wrapping his alarms around you and the 5-month-old.

“Didn’t know myself-who…who’s this lovie?” Thumb going to touch her cheek, you turn, looking at him, realization coming to you.

“My sister Si, remember she had a baby a few months ago, this is her.” Your voice slightly goes up in pitch toward the end, directed toward the baby.

“Gave me a scare.” The baby grappled onto his finger.

“I bet.” You snort in laughter.

“Strong grip on this one.” He laughed lightly.

“Oh yeah, you're a strong girl aren’t you.” You redirect your attention, and Simon can’t help but stare.

“Yeah, you are.” You kiss her face and look back toward him. “You like Uncle Simon don’t you, yeah you do look at that smile.”

His heart warmed, he hadn’t been referred to as uncle in a long time. He couldn’t help but think, think about what this would be like. 

He’d never given it much thought, always assumed he’d be a shit father, but the way you were so in your element.

He’d give everything to see you happy, and your niece already resembled so much of you, what would your baby look like? A baby made from the two of you.

His mouth opened before his rational could catch up.

“You want one o’ these?” He almost facepalms right there.

“One of these?” You immediately burst into laughter.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” You look back down at the baby in your arms and smile wide.

“I-“ You pause, “I think so.” It sounds unsure, and as you hold her in your arms you can’t help but warm to the idea more.

“You know what, I think I want one of these.” You beam up at him.

“Then let’s go make one of these ‘eh.” 

“Simon! Not in front of the baby!” You jokingly cover her ears, both of you retreating toward the kitchen.

“Wha’ s’not like she knows what I mean.” You smack him, just for good measure, and your niece laughs in response.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #fluff #simon riley fluff #selias drables #selias asks

[tayytayy12]

imgonnagetyouback | CL16 x reader

Summary | After reader and Charles brake up, she releases a song about her mixed feelings in the separation, leaving the whole internet wondering if the pair are back together

Warnings | Mention of a brake up, swearing

Requested | no - yes

FaceClaim | Sabrina Carpenter

Type | SMAU

Its.Y/n

Liked by, JackAntanoff, Gracie Abrams and 1,875,232 others

Tagged | @/Kika.cgomez, @/Lilymhe

Its.Y/n - Did someone say girls night out?

View all comments

User1 - MOTHER IS ALIVE! MOTHER IS ALIVE!

User2 - I would pay billions to hang out with THE it girls of formula one

User3 - Charles is currently regretting every life choice he ever made

Kika.cgomez - We devoured

Its.Y/n - Oh we so did

User4 - I still can’t process that she and Charles broke up, LIKE, WHY?

User5 - GIRL NO ONE KNOWS

User6 - WE NEED TO KNOW

Lilymhe - My girlfriends guys

Its.Y/n - *wives*

Kika.cgomez - We’re married…

PierreGasly - @/alex_albon

Alex_albon - You should be used to this by now mate

User5 - Album when?

User6 - NEW MUSIC PLEASE Y/N

Its.Y/n

Liked by, Lilymhe, LanceStroll and 1,086,122 others

Its.Y/n - I’m the Aston Martin that you drove right into the ditch

View all comments

User7 - Excuse me?

User8 - She’s back in the paddock. In Aston. Not in Williams with Lily. Not in Alpine with Kika. In Aston. With Lance. Okay.

User9 - I’m so confused

User10 - Girl we all are

User11 - It has to be song lyrics right?

User12 - That’s what I was thinking

User13 - Yeah it’s too random

SabrinaCarpenter - 👀👀

Its.Y/n - 🤫

User14 - No Sabrina, don’t shush

User15 - The brake up hurts even more once you find out Charles ended it out of the blue on her birthday

User16 - IM SORRY WHAT?

User17 - Its true, its all over Twitter we don’t know why he did it 😭

Lilymhe - Looking hot

Its.Y/n - Learnt from you BBY

Its.Y/n

Liked by, GracieAbrams, CarmenMundt and 2,081,998 others

Its.Y/n - imgonnagetyouback, out tomorrow night 🤍

User18 - NEW MUSIC

User19 - Y/n baby, there’s this lovely large button at the bottom centre of your keyboard called a ‘space bar’, did you forget how to use it?

Its.Y/n - LMAO

User20 - SCREAMING

User21 - I can’t feel Charles nerves from my bed in Florida

GracieAbrams - I CANT WAIT I CANT WAIT

Liked by author

User22 - the vibe from these photos is just yes

User23 - CRYING IVE BEEM WAITING FOR THIS

ChappellRoan - Wanna go on a date ?

Its.Y/n - When and where?

User24 - I WANT A DATE TOO CHAPPELL

Twitter

User25 - THIS SONG WHAT OMG

User26 - HER VOCALS?!?!!?

User27 - THE LYRICS?

User28 - MOST OF ALL THE DOUBLE MEANING

User29 - WAIT WHAT DOUBLE MEANING

User30 - BASICALLY THE WHOLE SONG SHE SAYS ‘IM GONNA GET YOU BACK’ BUT SHE KEEPS CONTRADICTING HERSELF. LIKE ‘DONT KNOW IF IM GONNA BE YOUR WIFE OR GONNA SMASH UP YOUR BIKE, BUT IM GONNA GET YOU BACK’ SHE DIESNT KNOW IF SHE WANTS HIM BACK OR WANTS TO MAKE HIM REGRET LEAVING HER

User31 - SHES A MASTERMIND OML

Its.Y/n

Liked by, CharlesLeclerc, LanceStoll and 3,928,192 others

Its.Y/n - Get him back option one, or get him back option two?

Kika.cgomez - One one one one one one one one one one

Its.Y/n - Maybeeee

Lilymhe - If it’s not one I’ll use you as a golf ball

Its.Y/n - woah aggressive

User32 - Both Charles and Lance in the likes…

User33 - I smell the drama brewing

——

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 one shot #cl16 x y/n #cl16 fic #cl16 fluff #cl16 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #ln4 one shot #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #lando norris x you

[miley1442111]

but daddy i love him- r.cameron

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: yes, i am a swifty- sorry lmao.

intended for fem!reader

summary: based off of but daddy i love him by taylor swift

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: happy ending, talk of fighting, kissing, marragie, pregnancy

the tortured poets department masterlist

I forget how the West was won

I forget if this was ever fun

I just learned these people only raise you

To cage you

Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best

Clutchin' their pearls, sighing, "What a mess"

I just learned these people try and save you

'Cause they hate you

You ran through the Midsummer's party tears flowing freely down your face. Your parents had given you a final ultimatum. Break up with Rafe or be cut off from them and kicked out. They didn’t approve of him, he was too immature. He was bad for you. 

The Outerbanks was a small place, everyone thought they knew everyone. Rafe was a party boy, yes. Rafe did drugs and rank too much, yes. Rafe didn’t give a shit about others most of the time, yes. But all of that was before you. Before he got better, for you. Though all anyone ever saw was the playboy with too much of daddy’s money. 

Too high a horse for a simple girl

To rise above it

They slammed the door on my whole world

The one thing I wanted

You weren’t perfect either. You were a Kook too. Your family worked with the Cameron’s. You’d grown up with Rafe. You were done with their impossible standards. You had to be their perfect daughter, you didn’t want to be anymore. 

You ran straight into Rafe, who was chatting with his dad. 

“Baby?” He questioned, worry coating his words. “What’s wrong?”

“M-my parents,” you cried into his chest, his hands pulling you close to him as he led you somewhere less public. “T-they’re going to kick me out if we don’t break up!”

Rafe’s face set into an emotion he rarely showed, genuine upset. He felt for you, obviously. He regretted his past actions and guilt ate at him everyday. He’d done everything to try and show your parents that he was good. Good enough for you anyways, even if he didn’t believe it himself. He thought he was evil, that you deserved better. But he wasn’t a strong enough man to shy away from your unconditional love and kindness. Your beauty and grace. Your intelligence. 

You.

Now I'm runnin' with my dress unbuttoned

Scrеamin', "But, Daddy, I love him

I'm havin' his baby"

No, I'm not, but you should see your faces

I'm tellin' him to floor it through thе fences

No, I'm not coming to my senses

I know he's crazy, but he's the one I want

Your father turned the corner, a hardened look on his face. “You’ve made your choice?”

“Dad, I love him!” You cried to your father, begging him to see how much you cared for each other. 

“He’s not good for you! He’s dangerous!” Your father shouted back. Ward walked in, attempting to quell the situation. 

“Sir, please-” Rafe started but your father silenced him with a punch to the face. You cried as Ward held your father back from hurting an apologising Rafe. After what felt like hours, though truthfully, it was minutes, Sarah came in to take you away from the situation, driving you to Tannyhill as you sobbed silently in the passenger seat. She brought you up to Rafe's bedroom and sat with you until you fell asleep. 

Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid

Tendrils tucked into a woven braid

Growin' up precocious sometimes means

Not growin' up at all

He was chaos, he was revelry

Bedroom eyes like a remedy

Soon enough, the elders had convened

Down at the city hall

You woke up to Rafe’s arms around you, his comforting scent engulfing you. For a moment, everything felt alright. 

“Morning baby,” he smiled softly. You looked up to see his face. He had a split lip and a black eye, clearly the fight had progressed after you’d left.��

“Rafe,” you whispered, brushing a finger over his bruising softly. He tried to hide his wincing, but you saw right through it. You felt a sickening blame settle in your stomach. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered, changing your position so that he could put a hand on your cheek. He pressed a kiss to his cheek and allowed for comfortable silence before he spoke again, a certain insecurity in his voice. “I don’t mind what choice you make, I love you more than anything but I don’t want to take your family away from you-”

“You. I pick you,” you said, the most certain thing in your mind was that you loved Rafe and that Rafe loved you. You felt that the only thing you’d ever know was Rafe.

“Baby…” He started, trying to reason with you. “They’re your family-”

“And you’re the love of my life.”

"Stay away from her"

The saboteurs protested too much

Lord knows the words we never heard

Just screeching tires and true love

Months and months of your parents attempting to get you back, threatening the Cameron’s, calling you everyday begging you to come home, you’d walk out of the house and there they would be, screaming and shouting, calling you all sorts of names.

You stayed by his side and he stayed by yours. 

And I'm runnin' with my dress unbuttoned

Screamin', "But, Daddy, I love him

I'm havin' his baby"

No, I'm not, but you should see your faces

I'm tellin' him to floor it through the fences

No, I'm not coming to my senses

I know he's crazy, but he's the one I want

Midsummer’s came around again, you felt good. Rafe and you had both finished your college degrees and you were a working psychologist and he was working in a family-friends business. You’d moved out of Tannyhill into a charming cottage on the edge of the island, surrounded by trees and grass, your dream home. 

Rafe and you stood hand in hand as the entire island stared at the two of you. Everyone knew what had happened, the island was a small place after all. You wore a beautiful dress and Rafe’s eyes were on you all night, you ditched the party and danced on the beach. There was no music, but the moment was too perfect to not want Rafe as close to you as possible. 

“Thank you for staying,” Rafe whispered into your ear as he held you to his chest. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Thank you for being there for me,” you smiled back. “You’re the most caring man in the world.”

Rafe blushed, he wasn’t unused to your compliments, though he still got giddy when he remembered you truly did love him. He never thought he’d ever be called ‘caring’ or ‘thoughtful’, but here he was. Here he was, dancing on the beach with the love of his life. 

“Marry me,” It wasn’t a question he had asked. This was a promise. This was a dream. You looked up at him, a shocked smile on your face. 

“Really?” You asked.

“You need me to beg?” He joked and you laughed, pulling him in for a kiss. He would’ve begged.  

I'll tell you something right now

I'd rather burn my whole life down

Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'

I'll tell you something 'bout my good name

It's mine alone to disgrace

I don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing

Wedding planning was amazing, though it brought up certain feelings of sadness for you, knowing your family wouldn’t be a part of it. You picked out your dress with Wheezie and Sarah and a couple of your friends. Your ‘something borrowed’ was from Sarah, a beautiful necklace with a heart locket. Your ‘something old’ would be from Ward, a watch Rafe’s mother used to wear.  

There's a lot of people in town that I

Bestow upon my fakest smiles

Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer

We came back when the heat died down

Went to my parents and they came around

All the wine moms are still holdin' out, but fuck 'em, it's over

After a few months of planning, the word got around and your parents showed up at your door, wanting to apologise and to be a part of your life again.

“Fuck,” Rafe breathed out as he closed the door behind your parents. “That was a complete 180.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled humorlessly. “What should I do?” 

He wrapped his arms around you, his hands on your waist. “You should do what you want.”

You rolled your eyes and he smiled. “Helpful,” you sighed sarcastically. 

“Seriously, if you want them at the wedding, have them at the wedding. If you want them in our life, have them in our life. It’s up to you baby,” he smiled, pressing kisses all over your face. 

“I’ll think it over,” you whispered to him.

Now I'm dancin' in my dress in the sun and

Even my daddy just loves him

I'm his lady

And, oh, my God, you should see your faces

Time, doesn't it give some perspective?

And, no, you can't come to the wedding

I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want

You didn’t allow your parents at the wedding, but you let them back into your life. You were happy that they’d come around and were now supportive of you and Rafe, but you were also weary of how much they’d approve of. 

You adored Rafe, Rafe adored you. All of the Outerbanks had their feelings about you two, and you let them. You didn’t care, you were happy. Happier than you’d ever been. 

Screamin', "But, Daddy, I love him

I'm having his baby"

No, I'm not

But you should see your faces

But, oh, my God, you should see your faces

(He was chaos, he was revelry)

(He was chaos, he was revelry)

When both you and Rafe’s eyes landed on the tick of the pregnancy test, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be. He pulled you into his arms, celebration and excitement filling both of you. 

You loved each other. 

That was enough.

#rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader fluff #rafe cameron x reader angst #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smut #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks #obx x reader #obx #taylor swift #taylornation #tswift #swifties #taylor nation #taylor swift eras #ttpd #the tortured poets department #ttpd era #taylor swift ttpd #ts ttpd #ttpd spoilers #the anthology

[sl0t4matt]

p. gonzalez | whipped (requested)

warnings: smut! 18+

“pedriii!” you call out for him from your bed. “what is it, baby? are you okay, do you need something?” he asks while sprinting to the bedroom.

“can you get me some mc donalds, pretty please i’m not feeling well.” you fake a cough. “you’re so dumb. yeah i’ll get you your mc’s.” he rolls his eyes.

“thank you, my whipped boyfriend!” you giggle.

pedri has always been a bit embarrassed when you would point out how obsessed with you he is.

he is a complete different person with his friends, which confuses them, how can he act so soft with you and do anything for you, when just the other day he told cancello to fuck off because he asked him to bring his water bottle that was literally beside him.

“you’re so fucking weird.” he shakes his head grabbing his wallet and keys from the night stand. “don’t act like you don’t love it.” you furrow, throwing a pillow at him.

he looks at you with a questioning look as you miss him, trying not to laugh. “i want those-.” you start but you get interrupted by him sighing. “nuggets and fries.” he finishes for you.

“okay cute bf move, remembering my order huh?” you taunt, smirking. “shut up.” he laughs before leaving to get your food.

not much longer than ten minutes he gets back with your order. you jump out of the bed, not even bothering to dress up, still being in pedris calvin’s and a way too tight barca jersey pedri bought for you back when he didn’t know your size yet.

you smile jogging up to him, instantly regretting it because of how your tits hurt while jumping. you immediately snatch the bag from him.

you peek in seeing both of your things and a few burgers for if you’re still hungry. he knew you so well.

“woah! where are you going, get back here.” he says turning you around by your waist. “ahh get off me you weirdo!” you say trying to push him away.

he smirks, watching you try to push him away. “you look so good in my jersey, ma” he whines.

he spins you around checking out how your butt looks in his boxers. he bites his lips shaking his head.

“you can get it later, pretty boy. your girl has a whole mc’s meal waiting on her.” you smirk even though you couldn’t care less about the food now. you’re soaked.

“i don’t think so.” he shrugs picking you up. you shriek. “pedri, you dumb shit let me down!” you scream.

he opens the door to the bedroom and drops you on the ground, making sure you stand on your feet though.

you hit his chest chuckling. he looks down on you, eyes on your tits. he couldn’t help it, the way your nipples were peeking out due to the tightness of the jersey.

“you know you normally look a girl in the eyes.” you roll your eyes dramatically.

“oh yeah?” he chuckles pulling you closer by the waist. “mhm.” you try letting his deep voice not distract you.

“sorry then,baby.” he mumbles, lips millimetres away from yours. “shut up and kiss me.”

he didn’t need to hear you twice, instantly meeting your lips in a heated kiss.

you tilt your head for him to deepen the kiss. your tongues meet, the only sound in the room heard being your lips smacking.

you gasp quietly as he lightly pushes you in the bed, tugging your clothes off.

he starts sucking on your nipples, then moving his mouth further down to your belly and thighs, dangerously close to where you need him the most. “look at you all wet already and i haven’t even done anything yet.” he mumbles “pedri..” you almost whine.

“patient, ma.” he says looking up at you biting your bottom lip. “you look so good.” he pecks your lips, before pulling your panties to the side.

his cold breath meets with your core, sending shivers down your spine.

he blows it softly making you shut your legs at the sudden coldness.

he chuckles parting your legs again.

his tongue meets with your cunt, licking it before wetting his fingers with sucking them then plumping them in you. you blow out a breath, your head falling back.

his tongue keeps licking and sucking your clit, letting the most unholy sounds out of you. your hand moves to his head pulling him closer, needing to feel him deeper.

your hips buckle up, in need for a release. “you like that, ma?” he mumbles in between licks. you roll your eyes. “shut up.”

suddenly he hits your g spot, that had you screaming out his name every time finds it. you link your legs in between his head, clutching his hair.

he squeezes your thighs, repeating to go over your sweet spot until your thighs between his head begin shaking as you come in his mouth. the doesn’t fail to swallow every last drop of you.

his head shoots up face sweaty and chin dropping with cum. he wipes his mouth with the bed sheets then kisses you, making you taste yourself. “fuck, you taste good.” he let’s himself drop beside you on the bed.

you breathe out a laugh, putting your head on his chest, hearing his heart pounding.

#barca #fc barcelona #pablo gavi #fermin lopez #pedri gonzalez #joao felix #pedri #pabolito #pedri x reader

[spacebarbarianweird]

Could you please write more about pregnant Tiriel? Your writing about her finding out she's expecting and about Astarion hearing the baby's heartbeat were one of my favorites?

Synopsis: Astarion takes care of pregnant Tiriel.

Tags: dadstarion, pregnancy, fluff

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Waiting

“I think I am going to die in childbirth,” Tiriel says, pressing her face to her knees.

Astarion would sigh if he could. Tiriel sits shoulder-deep in a bath of warm water, as the vampire washes her hair and rubs her back.

“You aren’t going to die. You are a half-elf and I am sure the child is rather small. Look at your belly, you are in your last month and it’s not really showing.”

Tiriel turns away. Well, to call her belly small would be an underestimation – her slim body is currently betraying pregnancy. It’s covered in stretch marks that won’t disappear, ever. But again, Astarion has seen many pregnant human women in Daggerlake within the last five years and Tiriel has definitely been spared, carrying someone who takes after their elven ancestors.

But once Astarion thinks he’s managed to cheer her up, Tiriel sniffs.

“What if something is wrong with the baby? You are a vampire! I love you and all that, but you are still undead! What am I even carrying inside? And what if the child is sick? Or deformed? Or…What if it is going to kill me?”

“I can promise you, if something goes wrong, we are saving you,” Astarion splashes water on her hair.

“Thank you.”

He kisses her shoulder. “Don’t worry that much, the last thing you need is to cause a complication.”

Tiriel touches his fingers. 

Astarion adds more soap to the tub. The scent of vomit and sweat still lingers on Tiriel’s skin and Astarion takes a clean piece of rug.

Tiriel has been feeling so bad in the last few days she barely left her bed. Her legs hurt, she couldn’t eat without vomiting, and she hardly slept because of back pains. She finally made herself go out that evening to eat properly, but, the moment Tiriel finished her dinner, she felt nauseous and everything Astarion had cooked for her ended up on her home shirt.

That moment, Astarion had enough of that and carried Tiriel to the bath. 

“I'm sorry,” she says.

“What for?”

“I look disgusting.”

“Nothing is disgusting about a pregnant woman,” Astarion says, rubbing her left ear. “Besides, I’ve seen and done much worse things than giving a bath to someone I’ve knocked up. Your condition is my fault and I am taking full responsibility! Now, let me wash your front.”

Tiriel presses her back against the tub allowing Astarion to get to her belly and legs. Astarion smiles seeing the visible bump and carefully rubs the skin.

He is so close he can hear the second heartbeat. 

It is not clear to him when the child is going to be born. Elves are pregnant for two years, but Tiriel’s body is hardly capable of doing so. Humans need nine months for the same process, but Astarion has learned from the healers in Secomber, the closest big town to Daggerlake, that it’s never clear with half-elves. And it also depends on the child – Astarion tries to think about the baby as an elf with just a bit of human ancestry (still enough to fuck up the gentle elven biology).

But in reality…

The child is half-him, half a vampire anyway. And that should bother him.

He is afraid of that moment. He waits for that moment to come. And he also misses Tiriel in sensual terms. He wants her blood (which is out of reach for him till she stops breastfeeding), he wants her body (they haven’t had sex ever since she got pregnant). 

And he wants her to stop being in such pain daily.

“I look ugly,” Tiriel chuckles. “Don’t try to say it’s not true.”

“It's not. You are beautiful!”

Suddenly Tiriel flicks his nose. “My eyes are here.”

Astarion realizes he’s been staring at her swollen breasts and small droplets of white liquid on Tiriel’s nipples.

“Stop all this nonsense, Tiriel!'' Astarion takes her leg and stretches it to wash it better. “I like caring about you. I like how you look. And I absolutely love that it's me who did this to you. It all feeds my vampiric possessiveness, after all!”

“And I love that it was you who did this to me,” Astarion feels Tiriel’s fingers on his cheek.

“Now, get out of the water before it gets too cold!” Astarion brings towels. “Is food still out of the question?”

“I want something hot to drink.”

“I will make you herbal tea, then.”

Astarion, after making sure she is dry, carries Tiriel to bed.

He looks outside. What he loves about his house in the underground part of Daggerlake is the big windows. There is no point in hiding from the sun, and Astarion can enjoy going outside whenever he wants. Besides, the biggest part of the town is underground too, and Astarion also doesn’t feel like an outcast.

And his neighbors have seen much worse things than vampires who know the law.

Suddenly Tiriel yelps. He turns to her and notices the night shirt she’s put on is wet. 

But wasn’t Tiriel's skin dry when he took her from the bath?

Tiriel hugs her belly and lets out a cry of pain. 

“Tiriel…” Astarion rushes to her. No, not today. He still needs time to get ready.

Tiriel grabs his shoulder. “Go to the healer… I am.. Gods…”

The child has decided to be born today. ------ You can read what happens next in Little Bundle of Darkness --

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

#bg3 fluff #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #oc tav tyrael #dadstarion #tav oc #astarion x reader #astarion x barbarian tav #astarion fluff #tiriel of the sunset mountains #astarion x tiriel #tiriel the barbarian #oc tav: tiriel #pregnancy

[midnightloversmusic]

Ruined Movie Dates ✧.*

James Potter x Reader

Hurt/Comfort

“Did you think I would have been mad? because i’m not mad, honestly I don’t think I could ever be mad at you even now when you hide yourself in a bathroom to avoid me helping you when you are hurt, I can never be mad.”

masterlist

————————————————————————

You are currently hiding from James in the bathroom.

It’s not like you want to be hiding from James, you want to be cuddled up in his arms watching a movie right about now as you had planned yesterday, but here you are with a black eye hiding in your bathroom as you hear James letting himself into your apartment.

It really wasn’t your fault it’s not like you prompted this person to punch you, she mistaked you for the girl who slept with her girlfriend and that’s fair.

but god does it hurt like an absolute bitch.

And all you know is that James can not know about this. Your sweet, kind, lovely, caring boyfriend would flip the absolute fuck out if he saw that you had a black eye.

in a loving and concerned way of course but, how exactly are you going to hide it from him when he’s literally in your apartment right now for a movie date?

you have absolutely no idea.

“Love?”

you hear James call from the entry way

“I’m just in the bathroom i’ll be out in a sec!”

fuck.

you usually keep your makeup in a drawer under the sink but as you open it is you realize you left your foundation in your purse yesterday when you were running late to work. Now you really have to option but to kick James out and wait until your eye heals to see him again.

“Um James can you come here please?” you ask in a small voice

you hear his footsteps come from the kitchen up until the door and you open the door a crack so that he can’t see your bruised eye

“I’m really not feeling good tonight and I know it’s a little late to cancel seemingly as you’re already in my apartment but I hope you’ll understand when I ask you to please go?”

he stands there silently staring at you, evaluating you, looking right into your soul, and stealing all the thoughts from your brain.

how dare he.

“If you really are feeling unwell and want me to go, I will but I don’t mind getting sick and I would rather take care of you, if you’ll let me?”

and shit. When he talks in that sickly sweet voice it’s really fucking hard to lie to him.

“Jamie I appreciate the offer but I just really need you to go-“

as you are as politely as possible asking him to remove himself from the premises of your apartment complex he shifts his position allowing him to see just a little further into the bathroom. Just enough to see your absolutely fucked eye.

“Baby what happened?”

All the sudden his concerned look gets ten times worse. his eyebrow scrunches more and is frown deepens and he opens the door to grab your chin and examine your eye.

without the stress of trying to hide from james you can finally feel the throbbing pain in your eye and you really wish you had sneaked an ice pack before you scurried into hiding

“lovie you have to tell me what happened”

you just whine.

he lightly brushes his finger over the bruise and you wince

“sorry”

“it’s okay” you say taking a deep breath

“This girl mistaked me for the girl her girlfriends been cheating on her with but it’s not her fault because she showed me a picture and we do look exactly the same I mean I was wondering if i was secretly adopted and had a twin that I didn’t know about-“

and now youre rambling and it doesn’t seem to be soothing james’ pitying expression

“ Love why didn’t you call me immediately? I would have been there in an instant. Did you think I would have been mad? because i’m not mad, honestly I don’t think I could ever be mad at you even now when you hide yourself in a bathroom to avoid me helping you when you are hurt, I can never be mad.”

“i’m sorry I just didn’t want to make it a big deal”

“it is a big deal, you’re hurt, cmon love let’s go get an ice pack that must hurt”

and he scooped you up into his arms as if it was your legs that were hurt and carried you the couch as he grabbed an ice pack

you can’t lie, there are much worse things than being taken care of by james. much much worse.

#james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter x fem!reader #jamespotter #james potter hurt/comfort #marauders era

[hitlikehammers]

time for that age old question: is love enough to beat back the apocalypse?

Because Steve's right there to protect everybody like the self-sacrificing asshole he is help Eddie make the music he's not strong enough for yet help them all put Vecna in the ground for good this time, right?(!??!)

or: what's the song for your walkman, baby? does it even matter?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< three: sleep 🌗

🎧 🎹 four: play 🎶 🛡️

To tell the whole truth of it: it comes too quickly—Vecna’s last stand. Of course it does.

But probably, if he’s being fair: they’d never have been really ready. Not for this, and so maybe it’s best that they’re not fully healed, not at full strength when it all comes to a head, not least because that means Vecna and his petal-toothed brigade aren’t at full strength either. And that choice, for their side, is sloppy; the Party stands on the right-side-up against the attack because they have to. Vecna makes his move because—or else, Eddie’s fairly sure—because the sadistic ballsac is losing his fucking mind.

Which is terrifying, sure, but fuck if it doesn’t help their cause.

It’s actually over pretty quick, even compared to Spring Break which, while it felt like a lifetime for how much it changed Eddie’s own, it’s only been those handful of days—but it’s kinda like the grand finale at a fireworks show: everything all at once then, done. In the everything’s though: he might not like it, but Eddie’s not so foolish as to believe he’s not still too tender, still too deep in healing the finer points of being gnawed alive to be anything but a burden in the thick of it. He refuses to be sidelined, though, and he thinks it says a lot for the long-term health of this glorious impossible thing he’s…building? Yeah, he, umm, he, Eddie Munson, is building a real goddamn thing where he doesn’t even just let someone into his heart and treasures them there, no, he’s building a thing where he gives his heart and gets on new and soft and trembling in kind and they both get to work at the treasuring of something more precious than just their own vulnerable insides, but yeah, yeah:

Eddie thinks it bodes really fucking well for the hopes he has that lean hard toward forever, already, in Eddie’s chest at least when Steve looks his way as they’re planning the teams and he locks eyes with Eddie and Eddie doesn’t even get his mouth open to breathe, to plead don’t cut me out, don’t send me to Wayne to be ‘safe’ or ‘out of harm’s way’ or whatever, don’t leave me so fucking far from you my heart hurts just because it’s beating in the middle space unmoored and shaking around all bruised up with it for not knowing and I know I can’t do what everyone else can but it’ll be bad enough not being next to you please don’t push me far enough that I won’t know the moment you’re safe, just—

Steve meets his eyes, and Eddie’s breath catches before his heart trips, and then Steve speaks up—and he doesn’t, not all that often when the nerdiest among them are shoring up the battle plans—but he watches Eddie without blinking when he pipes up:

“Eddie’s on medical and audio, with Erica and Jon.”

And maybe it’s his tone—this almost wholly novel thing in Steve that’s steely and unquestionable but no one pushes, they nod and get back to work, totally seamless and, and…yeah. That’s all Eddie wanted. Best he could hope for. Just outside the gate they go through. Close enough to hold a hand on the way down, and reach for purchase on the journey back.

Steve swallows hard, and nods at Eddie before he looks away and starts gearing up, twirls his fucking nailbat so it catches the sunlight even thought the metal’s mostly rusted, now and just…Eddie hadn’t needed to say a word. And Steve wanted to send him to safety, the way his throat had bobbed made it real clear there was something heavy he’s held back but: he’d said what he said. He’d laid the line in Eddie’s favor. Eddie wants to hold him, wants to pull him close and feel him breathe, and—

Yeah. Eddie kinda feels like the way it goes is a really good sign for their future as a couple. A couple. Them. Together.

With an always on the other side of all of this that could be kinda fucking magnificent, maybe. Given the chance.

Point being: Eddie gets himself set up with at least a full ambulance’s supplies for first aid, definitely not acquired legally, and a stereo set up he really wishes someone had been kind enough to outfit him with in not-the-apocalypse, holy shit is it gorgeous, but since the strength in his hands is still a work-in-progress, he’s gotta be ready to crank up the noise as a distraction from arm’s-length. It’s actually driving him fucking crazy—or, was; it was, pre-active return to the regularly scheduled world ending—the whole not being able to make music, to translate the noise in his head into sounds on the strings but even that, even that’s been tolerable, survivable because of Steve—who he loves, he gets to love Steve Harrington holy fuck—but Steve’s not just there to be everything and more than the air Eddie goddamn breathes, to become the music just by existing, nope, he one ups that shit: he asked Eddie if it’d be enough to learn the chords he needs. So Eddie could match the words with the notes right, so Steve could be a—

“—kinda piss-poor substitute but,” Steve had shrugged for it with a crooked grin; “but even a bad translator gets a message across, and you’d know when it’s wrong so we can figure out how to fix it and—“

And Eddie’d grabbed Steve’s chin and yanked his mouth close to fucking consume that man like a soul goddamn starved.

“I’d be a shit teacher,” Eddie had mouthed against Steve’s lips after they were sucked well-swollen; “if I still can’t lift the fucking neck for more than a minute,” but Steve had heard none of it, just shot right back:

“You don’t think we’ve beat steeper odds than that?”

And in the face of that raised brow, those red lips parted, that pulse in that neck still a little bit visible like a tease: the fuck was Eddie supposed to do but dive back in and love on the man who’d somehow agreed to be his, and to claim Eddie of all people in turn?

Which is a whole other reason why everything’s gonna be fine: Steve’s gonna make music with him. Steve’s gonna be Eddie’s muse and the vessel for what he inspires. It’s gonna be like Greek fucking poetry, except it’s gonna be them.

So Eddie’s all stocked up, s’got everyone’s floaty-bone-breaky songs queued up on blast for immediate deployment as necessary, and Steve’s the last to go through—he always is, in Eddie’s experience, waits for everyone to be safely accounted for before he spares a thought for himself and it might kill Eddie one day but not fucking today, because it’s gonna be fine—

“Eddie.”

It feels a little like history repeating itself, the way Steve huddles him in a little. Henderson’s through, with Lucas and Hopper and the weird stray Russian, but it’s not like history repeating, because Eddie’s got different words to see him off with; so fucking different.

“Last time I didn’t have,” and Steve reaches, cups Eddie’s cheek, drags down to press on his chest as his voice strains hard: “and it almost killed me,” and Steve usually pinches between his eyes to keep his feelings in check but instead of using his free hand to hold back the tears he reaches for Eddie’s and laces their fingers as his voice cracks and he chokes out:

“Please,” and it’s for everything. For all the almosts from last time; for all the possibilities rife this time. For all the hopes Eddie thinks they share beyond how this shakes out.

“Exceptionally underqualified field med,” Eddie breathes, and squeezes Steve’s hand so, so hard like a promise, because it is; “exceptionally overqualified DJ,” and Steve chuckles, wet but real and it’s enough, because:

“I got it, Stevie,” Eddie bends his forehead to Steve’s to say better than with words that he’s not in this to be a hero, he’ll be right here the whole time, but that doesn’t mean he…that doesn’t mean he can help but to ask this time:

“Just,” and the breath in him punches out unexpectedly as he damn-near begs:

“Only bring me back the little things, yeah? That I know how to fix?”

And they both hear what’s said underneath it:

Don’t turn around and die down there, and kill me in kind..

And—if anyone’s keeping track—they turn out not to need it but: the way the kiss is a wholeass wartime farewell, man.

And then: Eddie waits, and fucks with the speakers for less than an hour before the earth shakes, and his heart drops, but then he hears it.

The fucking whooping of those shitheads echoing through the cracks.

And then he sees it, runs, grabs the first hand that’s clinging to the rope this time and pulls with strength he doesn’t have, is probably more a hindrance than a help but he steadies them each back on the ground and hugs them so tight, kisses more than one of them on the head or the cheek as he doesn’t pretend not to be sobbing through the laughter because they did it, they fucking did it, somehow it’s over and he loves these people and he’s so fucking happy they’re alive and safe and here and—

And the person he loves more, loves most, brings up the rear, a little bloodied, a little scratched up, dingy with the fucking air down there but smiling and Eddie…

Eddie falls into him so fucking hard they both hit the ground and just, just grab onto one another. Just hold and breathe and catch lips every few seconds like an afterthought because they feel each other’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed tight and it’s, they’re…

Steve’s got four broken fingers across both hands. None in a row. He’s basically giving a Vulcan salute by default for how they’re taped.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much it hurts.

And Eddie’d obviously known—once things start to settle in the days that’ve followed—that teaching Steve guitar with those Spock-y hands was on the back burner, but he does ask Steve to sit, and to rest, and to help hum back the tunes in Eddie’s head while Eddie jots lyrics with a hand that’s still shaky but steadying out more every day, and it’s kind of perfect, and Steve adds some things into the melodies either on purpose or by accident but they’re better for it every time and—

Muse and vessel, man. The light of Eddie’s whole goddamn life.

With fucking Vulcan hands still, though, so: excuse Eddie for being…bewildered when his boyfriend—boyfriend, that’s his boyfriend—but his taped-up-healing-Vulcan-handed boyfriend is propping the front door open and lugging in a long, not-recovery-friendly thing that looks close to dropping on his toes and—

“The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks with a little more panic in his voice than he’d hoped for as he rushes as best he can to where Steve’s kicking the door shut behind him, fluttering his hands around uselessly as Steve maneuvers past him, leans across for a peck at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and calls—“It’s fine, it weighs, like, nothing”—over his shoulder as he settles the, the thing down on the coffee table in the living room they’ve started actually using for, y’know.

Living.

Eddie follows him in, though, because of course, he’s half-a-dog on that man’s heels, whole-caught-in-the-gravity-of-his-everything: but Eddie follows as Steve tosses himself backward with something in his hand, rolls and rucks up his fucking absurd Hawking Middle tee across the sweet curve of his hips, the way the soft give of skin tempts Eddie to run his tongue over the trail of almost-curls, like baby-curls where they lead under the waist of his jeans: Eddie would happily volunteer to survive on the taste of that musky-delicate space until the end of goddamn time—

But then Steve’s huffing a breathless ha from behind a chair where he’d been stretched to reach and a light catches Eddie’s eye from his periphery where he’d been staring unblinking just at Steve: the big long black thing on the coffee table. It takes a genuine concerted effort not to keep at the Steve-staring—not an uncommon state of Eddie’s existence, in all fairness—and check what’s glowing on the table: something turned on. Was plugged in, right, that’s what had Steve rolling on the floor without Eddie on top of or being deliciously pinned down by him.

The something being the big long black thing that Eddie takes in for the whole of it, now: a keyboard.

“Jon picked it up for me second-hand from the place next to Fox Photo when he drove down for his camera, and Rob vouched that it’s a good brand and like, really good condition,” Steve’s raised up on his knees, now with his hands braces on his thighs as Eddie studies the keys, fingers the ends of a every few of the naturals.

“Rob helped with those, too, so I’d know the right, like, chords,” and yeah: they’re stupa of masking tape stuck to the keys with letters in blue, black, and red pen, alternating so they don’t get mixed up, some with and arrow, Eddie assumes, to indicate a sharp.

“I only remember like half of one song from when my parents thought it would look good to have me take piano lessons,” Steve huffs in whole-ass judgment; “my mom wanted the endorsement of the guy who was stepping down from city council, and his wife taught private lessons, so, y’know,” Steve rolls his eyes; “super convenient leading up to the election.”

“What song?”

Steve blinks, tips his head in askance for what Eddie recognizes very clearly as something closer to a croak than a question, his throat all tight. He tries to cough, to clear it.

“What song do you remember?”

Steve snorts at that, leans back on his palms, and fuck is he beautiful.

“Clair de Lune,” Steve grins crooked; “the one song I was allowed to pick, instead of just being assigned.”

“Why’d you pick it?” Not that Eddie doesn’t like it or anything. It’s more that…he knew Steve could more than just drum fingers on keys, if only just, and that a baby grand used to sit in the corner where there’s a stereo cabinet now, but.

But: see, there’s like a whole half of his heart that’s dedicated to collecting new knowledge about everything Steve: his favorite food when he was 12 versus the now. How his favorite color became his favorite color. The story behind all the polos. The nitty-gritties about why he’s in a big-ass house alone for approximately 360 days a year, and how long it’s been that way. Eddie’s whole heart is basically Steve’s but every day that half overflows a little, and Eddie’s only keeping it relegated to parts filled with Steve-lore so he can feel the collection break containment every other day, this grand and joyous bursting under his ribs as everything spills over again, and again, and again until it’s all just Steve, and his heart has to burst or stretch, or both.

Eddie thinks both will be amazing.

And right now, in the interest of building toward that amazing-both: he wants to know why Debussy.

Steve chuckles to himself—better music than any dead French guy by a country mile—and eyes Eddie almost slyly.

“Do you remember Claire Reynolds?”

Vaguely. Like, very vaguely. He remembers…uneven pigtails. Very actual-cult-like vibes about her family as a vague impression and now that he’s bringing it to mind he feels a new wave of indignation: those Children-of-the-Corn motherfuckers were just fine but Eddie liked a board game and he was probably a murderer.

“When we were in like, first grade,” Steve’s continuing on; “she asked me every, single, day, to come over and see her sheep.” Steve looks up at Eddie and bites his lower lip, lets his gaze dance and lets Eddie fall into it for a few dazed seconds before he spells it out.

“She had these crazy eyes about it, it was kinda unsettling,” Steve nudges, but Eddie’s doesn’t get it until:

“And it’s not like I do now, because obviously I don’t, but I definitely didn’t speak a lick of French when I was eight.”

It takes Eddie a hot second before he snorts hard enough to hurt:

Claire, da Loon.

“I was eight,” Steve protests Eddie’s laughter halfheartedly even as he joins in, reaches to slap at Eddie’s upper arm which honestly: just makes him laugh harder.

“Anyway,” Steve fights through the last of the chuckling as it peters out between them, drags himself to sitting next to the coffee table and taps his hand to the top of the keyboard.

“I know it’s not the same as learning guitar to help, and I can probably only get the top and bottom notes with these,” he lifts his Vulcan-fingers his a shrug; “but I was hoping that’d be better than nothing?”

And, like, how Eddie was talking about his heart having to swell, for all the things he gets to tuck inside of it that come with loving Steve Harrington?

He might crack a rib, just now, because—

“This is for me?”

Steve purses his lips, lifts a brow:

“Well, technically it’s for me,” steve singles his fingers, which looks absurd with the splints; “but yeah. To help you get the songs out. I mean, once these are free again, you can help me with the guitar like we talked about, until you’re—“

And Eddie cannot be blamed, see: he cannot be fucking blamed for tackling Steve to the floor and kissing him hard enough to bruise because…

“You got hurt,” Eddie half-breathes between kisses; “you got hurt and I was so afraid I was gonna lose you,” and Eddie reaches for those taped fingers and kisses them, too: so gentle and Steve’s expression softens so quick:

“I was scared, too,” he whispers between them, cups Eddie’s face with his unloaded hand; “you were as safe as I could make you within the fucking city limits but I was still so goddamn scared.”

Cue more rib-cracking for the heart-swelling, because Jesus fucking Christ.

“And you,” Eddie exhales, slow and shaky; “you’re hurt, but you went and got,” he nods to the keyboard;

“I know it’s not ideal,” Steve’s quick to, to what, apologize? For being insane and perfect and—

“Shut up,” Eddie says, voice low and watery and he’s still kissing at Steve’s fingers, holding his wrist delicate but also like a lifeline.

“You’re hurt,” Eddie maybe kinda moans it because he hates it, as much as he’s so fucking grateful that’s it’s just this, no worse than this; “and you still—”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

And that…that’s one thing Eddie’s learned beyond reproach; that even to his detriment, Steve keeps his goddamn promises.

And he’d promised to help Eddie get his words out, to place the lyrics to the notes and help unclutter his brain so he didn’t lose his mind.

Holy fucking hell.

“Steve,” Eddie starts, shakes his head, needs to find the right words. “You’re alive,” the most important thing. “You are healing,” another most important thing, for Eddie to oversee and make sure of, even as Steve keeps an eye on the last lingering threads of the long haul on Eddie’s road to recovery in kind, his beloved mother hen.

“This is,” and he runs his fingers too light to draw sounds across the keys, hopes he sounds as awed and grateful as he feels; “but you, you’ve gotta test, you have to,” and Eddie shakes his head and lifts his eyes to just fucking ask it:

“Why?”

And Steve: Steve just studies his face for a few seconds, reads what he needs before he smiles kinda exasperated, mostly fond and answers so simply, while also breaking a few more of Eddie’s ribs when he just says:

“Because I love you.”

And Eddie’s heart’s not so overfull yet of all of Steve, it’s not fair that it just bursts right then and there, Eddie propelled into Steve’s arms to kiss him deep this time, like he’s searching out Steve’s soul to taste and maybe he is, save that he needs his heart to not have exploded for feeling if he’s going to keep the memory of it safe in his chest for always, he needs to patch his heart back up first but he’s too distracted, too drowned in the way love actually fucking feels, fucking shifts his cells around and makes a new version of him, lets his heart grow bigger except it went and blasted apart with the unprecedented immensity of loving and—

And then Eddie’s got Steve’s taped up hands on both his cheeks, and he remembers that night, in the shower, where Steve ripped the seams from his shirt so taking it off wouldn’t hurt him; notices how Steve is wearing that same fucking shirt in this very moment, all in one piece, like it never split apart in the first place.

Master seamstress, tried and tested and true; truer than anything.

So Eddie just dives back in and kisses with everything in him, thinks maybe when Steve tastes the pieces of Eddie’s blowout heart under his tongue while Eddie goes diving for the sweet lick of Steve’s soul:

Eddie thinks Steve’s mouth might know how to stitch up torn things, too. Especially the kinds that are ripped at their seams wholly for the sake of loving that fucking hard.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #hurt/comfort #whump #fluff #happy ending #angst with a happy ending #soft #pining #slow burn #(ish) #steddie fic #deep devoted caretaker steve #smitten recovering post S4 eddie #sharing a bed #sleeping together #not like THAT #HE'S RECOVERING OKAY #nightmares #though maybe it IS time to address the...crush-confession-dick-grazing-shower-thing #like: just MAYBE #love confessions #domestic fluff #5+1 things #stranger things #gift fic #penny00dreadful

[gardenschedule]

Perceptions of Paul as calculating & John's paranoia

“McCartney’s mistake, which he now admits, was to seem invulnerable. […] And yet, he says, the contrast between himself and Lennon, so assiduously cultivated by journalists, was a fabrication. “I wasn’t brilliant at school. I was trouble, just like John. I got caned practically every day, and the only exam I ever passed was Spanish. John and I weren’t black and white, although people took John, for all his aggression, to be the good guy, because he showed his warts. I’ve only just realized, after all this time, that people like to see warts. It makes them sympathetic. I’d always though that, in order to be liked, you had to be unwarty.””

Living with The Beatles’ legacy, the smears that Lennon left behind… and the battle to win my babies back, The Times Newspaper, Monday January 4, 1982.

Paul was the easiest to talk to. He had such energy and such keenness and, unlike John, enjoyed being liked, at least most of the time. I don't see this as a criticism; John himself could be very cruel about Paul's puppy dog eagerness to please. The irony was, and still is, that John's awfulness to people, his rudeness and cruelty, made people like him more, whereas Paul's genuine niceness made many people suspicious, accusing him of being calculating. Paul does look ahead, seeing what might happen, working out the effect of certain actions, but he often ends up tying himself in knots, not necessarily getting what he thought he wanted. I think there is some insecurity in Paul's nature, which makes him try so hard, work so hard. It also means he can be easily hurt by criticism, which was something that just washed over John.

Hunter Davies, Western Mail: The Beatles. (April 9th, 2004)

Even Paul’s immaculate manners could not thaw her. ‘Oh, yes, he was well-mannered–too well-mannered. He was what we call in Liverpool “talking posh” and I thought he was taking the mickey out of me. I thought “He’s a snake-charmer all right,” John’s little friend, Mr Charming. I wasn’t falling for it. After he’d gone, I said to John, “What are you doing with him? He’s younger than you… and he’s from Speke!”’ After that, when Paul appeared, she would always tell John sarcastically that his ‘little friend’ was here. ‘I used to tease John by saying “chalk and cheese”, meaning how different they were,’ she remembered, ‘and John would start hurling himself around the room like a wild dervish shouting “Chalkandcheese! Chalkandcheese!” with this stupid grin on his face.’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

“He always suspected me. He accused me of scheming to buy over Northern Songs without telling him. I was thinking of something to invest in, and Peter Brown said what about Northern Songs, invest in yourself, so I bought a few shares, about 1,000 I think. John went mad, suspecting some plot. Then he bought some himself. He was always thinking I was cunning and devious. That’s my reputation, someone who’s charming, but a clever lad. “It happened the other day at Ringo’s wedding. I was saying to Cilia [Black] that I liked Bobby [her husband]. That’s all I said. Bobby’s a nice bloke. Ah, but what do you REALLY think Paul? You don’t mean that, do you, you’re getting at something? I was being absolutely straight. But she couldn’t believe it. No one ever does. They think I’m calculating all the time.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

In the wake of his death you didn’t tour for most of the ‘80s. People suggested that you were scared to go on the road. Was that true? No. People speculate about anything. They always credit me with motives I haven’t even dreamed of. It’s interesting, the way they sort of perceive my life and analyse it for me. In that case, I never thought about touring much. People used to say, “Oh, it’s 10 years since you’ve toured.” I’d go, “Is it? Y’know, I’m not counting.” That’s all that was, really. I don’t know why. Maybe I didn’t fancy it.

The Q Interview, 2007

Astrid in Germany was always a bit suspicious of Paul at first, though his relationship with Stu was also bound up in this. 'It used to frighten me that someone could be so nice all the time. Which is silly. It's ridiculous to feel at home with nasty people, just because you feel that at least you know where you are with them. It's silly to be wary of nice people.'

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

Paul is the easiest to get to know for an outsider, but in the end he is the hardest to get to know. There is a feeling that he is holding things back, that he is one jump ahead, aware of the impression he is giving. He is self-conscious, which the others are not. John doesn't care, either way, what people think. Ringo is too adult to think about such things, and George in many ways isn't conscious. He is above it all.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

Paul today is still the public Beatle, giving interviews at fairly regular intervals, being open and honest about himself and his past, his worries and his pleasures. Naturally, as ever, there are people who suspect his motives, putting him down for being too charming. Paul may be a bit of an actor, acting the part of Paul McCartney, the charming superstar, still loved by every mum, which can make him sound rather prissy at times, but I believe he does tell the truth about himself.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

“My problem is to me, I come over as this very together guy, always got his finger on top of everything: the man with no problems. School – a doddle, got all the exams. This is the sort of image of me. Actually, I had murder getting through exams, like I was saying about being on tour during my GCEs. I was like the kid who was getting the cane. Just like John was, but he [Phillip Norman] makes me the very shrewd, always-going-to-succeed guy, and John is the kind of cute, working-class hero. In actual fact though, John was just as shrewd and ambitious as I was. What does me in is he adds to this image I’ve got; I resent that, because I know I’m not that, and I know I’ve never been that.

Paul McCartney’s thoughts from 1983 on Phillip Norman’s ‘Shout!’

The funny thing is, when Apple [started], everything was laid out on the table, it’s like a Monopoly game. We saw who had what. I suddenly had more Northern Song shares than anybody, and it was like, oops, sorry. John was like, “You bastard, you’ve been buying behind my back.” John saw everything like a Harold Robbins movie, you know, which it was. He’s not incorrect. I couldn’t get over the fact that we were really involved in all this. I think to this day, he’ll not understand. I don’t think he would accept right now, my naïveté in it. I think he still suspects me of trying to take over Apple. He still suspects that when I offered the Eastmans as [managers] instead of Allen Klein, he naturally assumed that I would be taken care of better than the others, and that the Eastmans could never be moral enough to be equal in their judgment and do the Beatles’ thing rather than Paul’s thing. I think they still suspect to this day.

The point I was trying to illustrate is that it wasn’t so much John being a bastard as it was his being suspicious towards me, always being suspicious towards me. There was Northern Song shares. And I swear on any holy book you want, I know he won’t believe it, but I know for sure that I didn’t buy them with the view to— If I was really trying to do it, I could have bought an awful lot more. So it does hurt a little bit that there’s someone who still thinks, like, I’m out to get them, or that I always was. That’s one of the nice things about it— It’s a pity [I never said to John, “Fuck off, I’m not trying to do it”—and never was]. But he knows I was kind of— We were behind the scenes, and we did a few little [things] that we had to do, and our ambitions, and it was never a kind of terrifying skeletons in the closet. It was always just normal—but, uh, they …

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

SG: Were the other Beatles anti-Linda? PMcC: Uh, yeah. I should think so. Like we were anti-Yoko. But you know John and Yoko, you can see it now, the way to get their friendship is to do everything the way they require it. To do anything else is how to not get their friendship. This is still how it is with John and Yoko. I know that if I absolutely lie down on the ground and just do everything like they say and laugh at all their jokes and don’t expect my jokes to ever get laughed at, and don’t expect any of my opinions ever to carry any weight whatsoever, if I’m willing to do all that, then we can be friends. But if I have an opinion that differs from theirs, then I’m a sort of an enemy. And naturally, paint myself a villain with a big mustache on, because to the ends of the earth, that’s how they both see me. They’re very suspicious people [John and Yoko], and one of the things that hurt me out of the whole affair, was that we’d come all that way together, and out of either a fault in my character, or out of lack of understanding in their character, I’d still never managed to impress upon them that I wasn’t trying to screw them. I don’t think that I have to this day.

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

I was never out to screw him, never. He could be a maneuvering swine, which no one ever realized. Now since the death he’s became Martin Luther Lennon. But that really wasn’t him either. He wasn’t some sort of holy saint. He was still really a debunker. “For ten years together he took my songs apart. He was paranoiac about my songs. We have great screaming sessions about them.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

SALEWICZ: Oh, he was presumably very paranoid. PAUL: I think so. I mean, he warned me off Yoko once. You know, “Look, this is my chick!” ’Cause he knew my reputation. I mean, we knew each other rather well. And um, I felt… I just said, “Yeah, no problem.” But I did sort of feel he ought to have known I wouldn’t, but. You know, he was going through “I’m just a jealous guy”. He was a paranoid guy. And he was into drugs. Heavy.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

Miles says, “I think Jane was always a bit irritated by John. Because he was so acerbic and difficult to get on with. And paranoid. He didn’t make life easy. I suppose it’s a sort of rapier wit, but it was usually just plain ordinary rudeness. There was nothing special about it.”

Paul McCartney profile for FAME Magazine (March 1990)

“They [Lennon & McCartney] saw each other again in 1977. The Lennons and McCartneys ate dinner together at Le Cirque, Paul’s favourite French restaurant in New York. John regretted going; it was a loathsome night. Paul and Linda blathered on and on about how perfect their lives were, how they had everything they’d ever wanted, and how they were as happy as they’d ever been. Something very paranoid suddenly occurred to John. Maybe Lorraine Boyle was spying on him for the McCartneys! He woke up the next morning still feeling disturbed; he consulted the Oracle. Swan assured him that Paul and Linda were frustrated and unsatisfied. Their marriage was in trouble, he said, predicting it would break up within the year. Lately Swan’s visions had been astonishingly accurate. Relieved, John began composing a song—a little ditty, really, that would never be released—in praise of the Oracle’s powers. But he still couldn’t understand why Paul and Linda had been together for as long as they had. There appeared to be a psychic connection between John and Paul. Every time McCartney was in town, John would hear Paul’s music in his head.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

JOHN: […..] And he’s (Jagger) goin’ on about “he never calls. Do you think he ever calls? He never calls me. And he keeps changing his phone number all the time… And he’s hiding behind the kid.” I was hurt by it! You know… The fact that… A, I never call anybody. It’s not pride, it’s just that I never, ever have. REPORTER: Why? JOHN: I never call the other Beatles, I never call anybody. They always call me. REPORTER: Why? JOHN: Cos I’m self-involved! I’m paranoid, too. I don’t like phones… There’s nobody on this earth ever got a call from me that isn’t related, probably. Or a very old friend…

Sept 1980 – John

“Yoko was an extremist and was even more intense than John taking any idea or comment of his to the limit. If, for example, he complained about any of his fellow Beatles she would hint that that Beatle had always been an enemy implying that John should never deal with that person again. Her extreme positions fascinated John and help him take his mind off himself but when she became self-involved and paranoid herself -her paranoia usually dealt with her career, her fame and the fact that even though she had always been famous everyone conspired to keep her from getting even more famous- he had no place to turn. His insecurity about his solo career, his childhood, his relationships with the other Beatles, the way the public perceived Yoko overwhelmed him and he became more and more involved with drugs.”

May Pang, Loving John (1984)

John was lucky. He got all his hurt out. I’m a different sort of a personality. There’s still a lot inside me that’s trying to work it out. And that’s why it’s good to see that wedding-funeral bit, because I started to think, ‘Wait a minute, this is someone who’s going over the top. This is paranoia manifesting itself.’ And so my feeling is just like it was at the time, which is like, He’s my buddy, I don’t really want to do anything to hurt him, or his memory, or anything. I don’t want to hurt Yoko. But, at the same time, it doesn’t mean that I understand what went down.

Paul McCartney: An Innocent Man? (October, 1986)

Some three year later, during the making of Abbey Road, Lennon installed a twin bed in the studio so that Yoko, recuperating from a car crash, could survey proceedings and pass comment though a mike he had suspended over her. The other Beatles positioned themselves around the room as best they could. Yoko would later tell Paul that if, for any reason, he’d seemed to be standing too close to her, all hell would break loose when John got her home. Lennon, she said, was ‘very paranoid’ like that.

McCartney by Chris Sandford

But we were actually quite supportive. Not supportive enough, you know; it would have been nice to have been really supportive because then we could look back and say, “Weren’t we really terrific?” But looking back on it, I think we were okay. We were never really that mean to them. But I think a lot of the time John suspected meanness where it wasn’t really there.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Chris Salewicz for Musician: Tug of war – Paul McCartney wants to lay his demons to rest. (October, 1986)

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #i wonder how much of their issues were due to john suspecting paul of things that just weren't true #then again maybe paul is secretly an evil mastermind #can't put it past him

[mattscoquette]

FIRST TIME W CHRISS!!@

“ 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝜗𝜚 “

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris sturniolo x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of sex

𝐚/𝐧: tysm for the request! i feel like these r kinda bad but i didn’t wanna copy the ones i did for matt LOL so i tried to switch it up. i have a lot of exams coming up so i prob wont be posting a lot in the next couple weeks pls try to bear with me !! i’m currently working on a one shot rn but i still have a lot to do so don’t count on that lol. as always i hope u all enjoy! love u all so so much <3

xoxo ₊˚⊹ ୨ৎ

⋆｡˚ ౨ৎ

chris often shows his love for you in the form of touch, so when you told him you were ready to have sex, he was ecstatic. the whole time, he has his hands all over your body, making sure to show love to every last inch.

chris has always been a big time yapper, even when you two are doing the deed. he wants to make you feel comfortable, and if hearing his voice makes you feel better, best believe he isn’t shutting his mouth once.

he would be gentle yet possessive at the same time. he’s going slow, but he’s saying things like “you’re my girl, no one else’s”

chris would be very nonchalant about having sex with you for the first time. he wants to make sure you’re comfortable, and feels like if he goes too over-the-top it’ll feel forced. he doesn’t plan a day, he just wants to let it happen naturally after you say you’re ready.

he’s so scared of hurting you the first time, he goes unbearably slow. you have to beg him to speed it up.

“chris i’m not gonna break, go harder please”

after you’re done, he’s grabbing you water and a t shirt of his, letting you cuddle into him while you two just talk after. he cares more about you're comfort than his so he's making sure you're okay before he does anything for himself.

he’s calling you absolutely every pet name in the book during it. “baby” “my love” “pretty girl” “sweetheart”

he goes slow the first couple times you guys have sex, it taking everything in him to not absolutely pound into you. after the third or fourth time he’s fucking you into absolute oblivion.

Ⓒ 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 | taglist

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

@alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos @strombolilovr @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @mattscurlygirly @simply-a-simper @sturnrc @sturnifyed @freshlovie @imwetforyourmom @69isabella69 @mattsturnxoxo @stonermattsgf @pettydollie @fawnchives

#𐙚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ #‧₊˚ 𓂃 𝜗𝜚 #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic

[mhahaikyuus]

Hair

wc:; 1.4k

tags: black reader x katsuki, newly established relationship (still trying to keep up the illusion for your partner), black reader doing her hair, emotional reader, Katsuki being the rational calm boyfriend, fluffy, cute ending.

a/n: i skimmed barely proofread sorry for any mistakes, hope you guys enjoy. reblogs appreciated.

“I can come over tonight?” Katsuki asked on speaker of your phone. 

You two spent everyday together since he had confessed to you by shoving flowers into your hands and running off before you had a chance to respond in slight shock. 

“Uh I’m busy tonight sorry.” You said watching yourself in the mirror studying your scalp distracted. 

“Okay what about tomorrow?” Katsuki grunted unhappy he would spend time away from you. 

“Tomorrow I'm busy too, i can’t hang out this weekend.” You said eyeing the thin black plastic bag filled with beauty supplies sitting on your vanity. 

He frowned, you always told him about upcoming plans you had. At lunch always rambling about whatever you wanted and him listening with small grunts and nods. You didn’t mention anything before about plans. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. Not wanting to pry so early into a relationship and scare you off. He had plans to make you his permanently but he was nosey. 

“My hair,” You answered honestly.

“What do you mean your hair? It takes that long?” He asked confused. 

“Yeah, it does. I have a lot of hair and it takes a lot of hours sometimes a couple of days.” You admitted with a sigh already dreading the process. 

Katsuki sat there on the other side of the phone with a small sigh of relief. You weren’t blowing him off with anyone else, just your hair. He had no idea about black hair but he knew he cared about you and that meant this was important. 

“Do you need help?” He offered making you silent in surprise widely blinking at the phone. 

The man that would tell his partner in the field to fuck off when he asked. Was readily offering you his help. 

You let out a small laugh, “I do but I don’t think you know what that entails. It’s a really long process and it’s tiring. Im okay though thanks for asking.” 

He just wanted to see you. After spending every day together for a month, he doesn’t know if he could go 3 days. 

“Alright the offer still stands if you change your mind. Don’t tire yourself out.” He sighed and you both said your goodbyes. 

You fiddled with the ends of your hair with a huff. 

“Let’s get this over with.” 

~

You wanted to ram your head into a wall. Staring at half your head being braided, 10 hours down and probably another 7 to go. 

Your back hurt, your arms hurt, your head hurt it was not ideal. Not eating all day and getting irritated at everything you were in a mood. 

Throwing the rat tail comb from your hands on the floor you flopped onto your bed in tears needing a break. 

Your phone began buzzing, face still in the mattress you reached around til you found it and pressed answer button. 

“Hello,” You answered muffled 

“Hey how’s it going?” Bakugo asked 

You sniffled pulling your head up tears running. 

“It’s fine.” 

Bakugo heard how upset you were causing his forehead to crease, “What’s wrong baby?” in a softer voice. 

“It’s nothing it’s just my hair and i’m tired and cranky and i haven’t eaten all day. I’ve only done maybe half of my head and i want to stop.” You said through tears. 

“Hey, hey please stop crying it’ll be okay.” Katsuki said trying to soothe you through the phone but it wasn’t working. Noticing a twinge in his chest at the sound of your soft sniffles.

You left out small huffs trying to control your breathing, “Yeah…sorry I should go you don’t want to hear me crying. Sorry to bother.” You realized you were probably scaring away the one guy you did like with your hysterics. 

“No I didn-“ 

“I have to go thanks for calling.” 

Katsuki stared at the phone feeling his stomach sink. 

~

You cried until your eyes were puffy and reluctantly went back to braiding your hair. You were so impatient and tender headed but you would not spend 200+ dollars on box braids. 

After about an hour you heard a knock on your door. You opened it to your boyfriend with a bag of takeout and one from the pharmacy. 

You yelped in surprise slamming the door just as fast as you opened it. 

Katsuki was very confused and kind of hurt at your reaction. 

“Y/n! What the fuck come on.” He yelled from the other side of the door. 

Your face held such embarrassment, hoping this was a figment of your imagination. 

Your boyfriend was NOT here when you looked like a hot mess. 

Your non-black boyfriend at that. 

This is a nightmare. 

“What are you doing here!” You yelled back through the door. 

“Baby you were crying and I haven’t seen you in almost 2 days!"

You groaned, “You can’t see me like this! you have to go home.” 

He grunted in annoyance, “You better open up. Im not leaving when you were crying.” 

You were silent waiting for him to go home and he wasn’t budging. With a sigh you opened the door peaking out at him. 

“Are ya gonna let me in?” He asked with raised blond eyebrows and pretty crimson eyes.

You opened the door and stepped aside. 

“What’s wrong why are you slamming doors and crying?” He asked looking down at you as he entered your apartment.  

You slowly closed the door behind you and leaned back against it. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You admitted thankful that you didn't blush noticeably.

“Baby like what.” He sighed dropping the bags on your coffee table and bringing you in close. 

Your head fell into his muscular chest, smelling his cologne.

“My hair.” You mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled back and used one hand to push back your hair to see your face. Your hair is in sections and a half-braided mess. 

“I like you and your hair. So will you calm down please?” 

“Really?” You asked with teary eyes looking up at him. 

“Yes, I do.” He reassured his hands gently holding you, his main goal to calm you down from this tired anxiety driven mood.

“Okay.” You mumbled head falling back into his chest. 

He rubbed your back, “What’s going on?” asking again. 

“I stayed up all night and im not even halfway done. I have a headache.” You mumbled in tears. 

Katsuki led you to the couch and made you take a seat. 

“Take a break. You look hangry and I brought food.” He said propping you in his lap and handing you takeout. 

You finished your food and leaned your head in his neck. Your headache stopping. He was right as usual, you were hangry. 

“I’m sorry for slamming the door in your face that was mean.” You said wrapping him in a side hug. 

His hand rubbed the side of your thigh with a light kiss on your nose. 

“It’s okay, ya didnt break my nose with the door slam.” Katsuki said making you laugh.

“Can I?” He asked gesturing to your head and you nodded. 

Katsuki’s thick fingers touching your blow dried hair. 

“It’s soft.” He said with mild surprise, “Like really soft.” 

You laughed, “Yeah I do have soft hair, but so do you.” Reaching up and lightly tugging on his spiky blonde hair. His hair was getting longer in the back. It may be because he loves your hands all over him and especially his head, giving you more hair to yank. Just a theory of course you would never say to him.

He grunted, “You feel better?” 

“Yes…” You nodded as he smiled knowing what he was gonna say

“Crying over the being hungry?” He teased showing his canines with his smile and you rolled your eyes. 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m just saying.” 

“Are you discriminating against a black woman?” You squinted but Bakugo had heard that before. 

“I just came over here with food to stop your crying and got a door slammed in my face.” He said with narrowed eyes matching your own.

“Uh fine.” You sighed, “Can you not be a good boyfriend so I can call you a bigot.” Your hand trailing up his stomach under his shirt, wanting skin to skin contact.

He pinched the inside of your thigh making you yelp in pain in response. His head deeply buried into your neck just enjoying your touch

“Ow…”You whined rubbing the bruised spot. 

#mha #mha imagines #mha scenarios #my hero academia #mha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugo x black reader

[posionhaze]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

dollhouse

❥ summary: having to work with an old flame doesn’t exactly go to plan

pairing: finnick odair x fem! victor reader

warnings: brief mentions of prostitution | dark themes | slight toxic-obsessive behavior | some fluff!!

genre: I don’t even know

❥ words: 2k

please read at the end of the fic for more information 🫶

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It hadn’t always been so tense between you and Finnick.

You were friends before his games- and before yours. You would have been the youngest victor, just a year younger than him- but of course he got to it first.

After he came back he was different, you expected that- but he had put up a front.

He had never told you what actually happened. What happened with Snow. You found out later- you witnessed it.

With that being said, you were reaped. Mags and Finnick himself mentored you.

Finnick never told you but he wished that you would’ve died in that arena. He knew your fate would be the same as his. Even at the age of 15 during your games, he knew.

He knew how sick Snow was.

You had made it out, purely based on hiding and stealth. You did it.

It took days, 28 to be exact.

They both thought you would’ve died off either by starvation or hypothermia.

You didn’t- you almost did.

You could recall the snow surrounding you, really almost choking you.

The arena was an iceland- cold and white, nothing to it.

You remember after your victory tour Snow wanted to meet with you.

You wished you had died in that arena.

Finnick remembers when you came back to the victors village- you hadn’t spoken to him or even looked at him.

That day you were never the same- like someone took your soul, and in a sense- Snow did. He did much more than that.

Three years passed, you and Finnick had brief interactions when needed.

He was the Capitols Darling and you the Capitols Doll.

Your eyes widened- why was Finnick here?

You were at a Capitol clients party as his side piece for the night- rather his doll. He was actually a regular, he wasn’t that bad considering the extent of the situation.

You didn’t understand why Finnick was there, he could only have been invited by your client…

“Oh! And I’m sure you know Y/n!” Your client says with a wide smile, arm wrapped around your waist.

You were wearing an extremely uncomfortable dress, not that it was bulky or unnecessary- no it was quite the opposite.

Thin and revealing, a baby pink mixed with seafoam green, clients request.

Finnick had a lady at his side, wearing an equally revealing and stupid outfit.

“Of course..she’s a doll..” Finnick replies with his charming grin- you knew it was simply an act. He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to it.

You saw the flash of realization in his eyes- you both had the same fate, the one he tried to hide you from.

You give him a sweet smile, letting out a giggle at his words, “You flatter me Finnick!”. Those words never felt more sour coming out of your mouth.

After that night you both grew close again.

You were often in his arms at night, both wanting a sense of normalcy, just for a few hours.

And for a bit it did feel normal, and at some point it felt real.

It was real, you both loved each other. You couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened but you guys ended up in something more than a friendship but never said it out loud.

Now of course you couldn’t tell anyone- not even Mags.

But somehow Snow found out, you weren’t sure how but he did.

Two years of peace disturbed.

Now you figured Snow had only talked to you- only threatened you.

He would’ve killed Finnick if you didn’t comply.

You begged him not to hurt Finnick. For Finnick you sacrificed what was left of you.

When you had gotten back to victor's village, you had ended it with Finnick. That day you broke his heart. Yours was already broken by Snow- much of you was.

You and Finnick stopped talking. Well you did, he didn’t stop.

He was insufferable, petty, pathetic but most of all someone you still loved.

That’s what you hated. That you couldn’t move on.

So it was a year of no contact for you, not playing into whatever game he was playing.

Not until the 73rd hunger games. Yourself 21, Finnick 22.

You both were chosen to mentor district 4. You didn’t know why- well you had a guess.

You and Finnick had two great tributes, a boy named Bay and a girl named Alana.

Bay was shy, a soft spoken teenager who just wanted to go home- while Alana knew what she was up against, she was more insightful- observant.

Alana and Bay knew each other, not very well but close enough to not hate each other.

“Y’know..you can’t spend all this time ignoring me, doll” Finnick says, looking at you from across the table.

It was the second day at the penthouse, you hadn’t spoken to Finnick since the reaping or during the train ride, you didn’t bother.

“Yes I can” You state simply, briefly glancing up at his beautiful sea green eyes. But you quickly avert your eyes, suddenly taking an interest in the glass of scotch you had been “nursing”.

“Really now?” He says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “And do you think that’s how an actual conversation works?” His voice is still playful, but he can’t help his curiosity.

Why were you ignoring his presence, why was it so easy for you to do after everything?

You wish you could tell him, let him in again, but you couldn’t. It would have pushed you over the edge, the one you were so close to falling off of.

It was painful having to keep up your capitol act, but you had to. Over and over again, night after night, party after party.

It was that- or have Finnick killed.

“Yeah- I do” You say with a tight lipped smile, focusing on the ice slowly melting in the liquor you barely touched.

“Y/n, you can at least attempt to hide the disdain, the fake smile, and the eyes that are screaming to run straight for the hills.”

Finnick can’t help but notice how you seem to act as if you never loved him, never cared. In that moment his face softens, a rare sight.

“Oh and, let’s not forget the drinks you hardly drink!” He teases a bit, leaning back in his seat. There was the Finnick you knew- the one who would pick and prod until nothing was left.

“You are such a pain” You say with a roll of your eyes, fighting back the urge to punch him in the face- really you would never do that, but it would feel nice to, at least in this moment.

“Yeah well it’s my speciality!” He smiles, leaning over the table as he takes the glass out of your hand- he finishes what is left in one gulp, putting the glass down before leaning back in the chair.

He’s still looking at you, clearly amused by how you act- you can’t help but wonder if it all is an act.

“Will you stop staring?” You grumble out, irritation clear on your face and tone.

“Only when you look at me.” He replies, leaning on his elbows, propping his chin up on fist.

He’s staring you down, he wants that reaction. It’ll tell him everything he needs to know.

And eventually you look at him, your eyes look dull and tired. Your mouth is a straight line.

You notice how his smile has disappeared- he studies you closely, like you did all those years ago- wondering what’s actually behind your eyes.

For the first time in a while you take in his features, his golden-bronze hair, and those sea green eyes.

Oh how you love those eyes.

You let out an awkward cough, breaking eye contact after a moment, “Bay and Alana seem good..I think Alana has a good chance of making it out..” You say, trying to distract Finnick.

“You think so?” Finnick says almost in a hum of approval, a smirk etched on his face.

Your distraction was futile, Finnick is stubborn- he’d get the truth out of you tonight.

He nods, “Bay, I can tell he’s a sweetie, a quiet one- but I think he’ll surprise us. Alanna though! Oh I’m putting my money on her- we’ll see her in that arena.” Finnick takes his eyes off of you for a moment, “You should help them with the training more, doll.”

“Stop Finnick- stop whatever it is you’re doing” You say, the tone of his voice- it disgusted you.

That look, his tone, why does he keep using it on you?

“Aw am I hurting your feelings? I’m so very sorry, doll.” There’s that damn smirk again, how did he not see the look on your face.

It was as if he was teasing you, enjoying the slight torture he was bringing on.

“I just want you to tell me those secrets you’ve been hiding..”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, “Drop it Finnick”

“No.” He replies, his voice sharp and stern- he wasn’t going to let you brush him off.

He reaches for your hand, your skin so soft under his fingers, your hand so perfect under his.

He brings it up to his mouth, and kisses one of your knuckles, “Just talk to me…please…”

But you could still feel his smirk.

You’re quick to pull your hand from his grasp, a sick feeling forming in your stomach.

“I’m going to sleep” You mutter out, leaving your seat and the table, going to your room in the penthouse.

“Damn it..” He mumbles, leaning back into his chair.

He couldn’t leave it alone, he just couldn’t.

He wouldn’t let himself rest either, getting up and walking towards your room- he knew you wouldn’t appreciate it.

He stands outside your door for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts.

Before eventually opening the door and inviting himself in.

“Go away Finnick..” You mutter out, not even having to turn and look to see who it is.

“No.” He says in a stern voice, but there’s hesitation in it.

“I’m not leaving until we talk.” His voice softens as he takes a step forward, “Doll, don’t do this…”

“Finnick..” You say, pausing momentarily. Maybe it was time to let him in again?

“I can’t- I can’t do this right now..” You finish.

“Do what, Y/n?” He steps forward again, closing the distance between you and him- his hands rest on the sides of your hips, chest against your back.

You can feel his breath against your neck, your muscles tense up but he just waits for your reply.

“Just talk to me, please. Let me in, doll.”

“Snow had found out about us..” You say blankly, “He talked to me, threatened your life..he didn’t want us together..because we were so- so useful to him..”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, I thought it would be better to just end it” You add on.

Your words didn’t come to a surprise, he knew Snow would find out eventually.

He’s silent for a moment, before his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close against him- he doesn’t care how tired you are.

You could feel the anger and rage building inside of him, towards Snow.

Finnick moves you in his arms, kissing your forehead before looking right in your eyes, “I still don’t understand why you never just talked to me about it…”

“I was scared he’d do something to you Finn..” You mutter out softly.

“I’m not that fragile, doll.” His lips brush against your temple, he can tell that you’re tired.

“I would’ve been fine, you know that right…”

You honestly didn’t know what to say, what could you?

“I’m sorry Finnick- I’m tired..I- I need sleep..” You say, pulling away from him. You wouldn’t let yourself go back, why wouldn’t you?

“This isn’t a good time....” You add on, averting your eyes again from him.

His grip tightens on your hips slightly- he can tell you’re pulling away from him yet again- and it’s driving him mad.

You’re refusing to let him in completely, refusing to let him love you.

“And I’m telling you- we’ll talk about this now.” He’s persistent, unwilling to be denied.

“Finnick..we’ll talk after the games, after this is done” You say, voice soft yet stern.

Your eyes meet his, both of you don’t say anything for a moment.

“Fine”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

❥ notes: hi!! so this is my first fic on this blog- I want to say I’ve written fan fiction before, so I’m not new- but I’m not the greatest either! I’m new to the hg fandom, so bear with me if my work isn’t accurate or the best! I will be making a masterlist of who I will write for soon!!

❥ uploads certainly won’t be frequent or consistent- I’m sorry to say. I do have an old blog, which I won’t be mentioning. that blog negatively impacted my mental health so I wanted a fresh start with a new fandom and blog :))

❥ once again- I am new so sorry if this isn’t accurate or not the best!! I’d love for any comments or suggestions! I was scared to post this, mostly because of backlash but I hope this was good!! ☺️

#hunger games #the hunger games #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #hunger games finnick #finnick x y/n #finnick fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg #thg series #why aren’t there more tags wtf #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #x reader #posionhaze fics #thg katniss #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #finnick oneshot

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 11/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 12, PART 13

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

Lilith: Sign the papers, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Wha- Why?

Lilith: I don't think- This needs to end now. We both knew it won't last for all eternity.

Lucifer: Lily?

Lilith: I'm leaving.

Lucifer: Lilith, please! Talk to me! At least tell me why! How about Charlie! Our daughter, Lily!

Lilith: It’s just better this way. Believe me. You’ll understand someday. And she will too.

Lucifer: Is this because you’re afraid I'll overshadow and control you? That I'll hurt you like Adam did? Because I won’t. Lilith, please. I love you so much. I can step down! You can be the sole ruler of hell is that's what you want. Please.

Lilith: Stop this, Lucifer. Don’t make this harder than it is.

Lucifer: I.....can’t stop you, can't I?

Lilith: No.

Lucifer: I guess you’re the one doing the hurting this time. Is that what you’ve wanted all along?

Lilith doesn’t respond. She leaves. 

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

Lucifer awakens to the scent of Marigolds and the sound of strangled crying. He's vaguely aware of the weight of his body being cradled by someone, their tears falling onto his still form.

With a lot of effort on his part, he commands his vision to clear and the ringing in his ears to subside. Gradually, his surroundings comes into focus, revealing Charlie to be the one holding him, her face contorted with anguish that should never be present on his little girl's face.

'Who did that? Who made my Charlie cry?'

Her words tumble out in a frantic stream, but Lucifer struggles to respond, his voice caught in his throat. It dawns on him that Charlie isn't aware of his consciousness, her attention absorbed by her own distress.

Squinting against the haze of confusion, he realizes she's speaking to someone else entirely.

Charlie: A-angel hurry, please! I don't know what just happened. You're the number I- and I'm sorry please help me!

Lucifer can't hear what Angel was saying on the other end but they're muffled. Each unintelligible word seems to only worsen his daughter's tears, and oh, how he longs to comfort her.

Helplessness washes over him as he wishes to move, to reach out and wipe away his most precious' tears.

'That's what a good dad should do, right? Yeah. Yeah. It's kinda funny how Charlie is the one craddling me right now. I miss her baby days.'

He must have chuckled because Charlie whips her head down to him.

Charlie: Dad! You're awake! Thank you. You're okay, dad, don't worry. I- Angel, he's awake! I don't know! I just found him, oh god, Angel- I thought he-he-

There's frantic voices on the other line, the residents are all probably huddled in the phone attempting to calm Charlie down. Lucifer didn't get to hear what the overlapping voices were saying when the sanctuary's doors fly open revealing the radio demon.

Suddenly, the sanctuary's doors burst open, revealing Alastor. With a keen eye, he spots Lucifer and Charlie, and wasting no time before teleporting to their side in a blink, concern evident as he checks on them both.

Charlie: A-Al, thank god you're here. I- I

Alastor: My dear, you must calm yourself. Breathe.

Charlie: I can't!

Alastor: Yes you can. Count from a hundred backwards.

Charlie: 100, 99, 98.....80... I ca-can't please-

Charlie freezes as a gentle hand touches her cheek, prompting her to lower her gaze. With deliberate tenderness, he reaches for her hand, guiding it to his chest, positioning it over his heart. A silent reassurance pulses beneath her touch, the steady, calming rhythm of her father's heart.

Lucifer: I'm okay, duckie. Feel it. I'm okay. I'm breathing. I'm alive.

Charlie: D-dad.

Alastor: Match his breathing, dear.

After a minute, Charlie managed to calm down enough to form coherent sentences. She reiterates what she walked in on earlier and Lucifer is horrified. His daughter shouldn't have seen that but he's also berating himself. He knew that he shouldn't have told Keekee that Charlie could come. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID-

A snap of a finger stops the start of another spiral.

Alastor: None of that. We will have a talk about this but first, let us go back to the hotel for now. It must be uncomfortable laying on a frozen floor, no?

The King of Hell wants to say something but he knows there's no arguing with a fretting Alastor. Charlie is already outside on the phone again, most likely talking to whoever was at the hotel or maybe the Sins. He's hoping she doesn't call them right away; they're bigger worrywarts than him.

Charlie: -no no. He's fine now We're going to take him back to the hotel. Yes. Yes. Of course. Maybe in a few hours? Yes, I'll call you after we check him over. Yes. Thank you, Aunt Bel.

He yelps in surprise as the radio demon picks him up and holds him bridal style.

Lucifer: What the hell you doing??

Alastor: Why, carrying you, my love!

Lucifer: I can walk just fine.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at this then promptly dropped him.

Lucifer: Ow! What the fuck?!

Alastor: That does not look like standing. Perhaps it's opposite day today?

Lucifer all but growls but knows he's got him there. With a groan, he relents, deciding that he's going to be complain all the way back if he can help it.

Lucifer: Fine.

Alastor: What was that~?

Lucifer: I said fine! Carry me you tacky piece of shit!

He's pouting but he doesn't care. He's the King of Hell for Father's sake! Why is he letting this man bully him??

Alastor only smiles as he picked him up again. At least someone is enjoying this humiliation.

The way Alastor is holding him is doing something to him and had Alastor always been this handsome??

They meet Charlie outside already with one of their limousines. Thankfully, no reporters are camping anymore around the palace or this will be another big scandal that will most likely damage his image. Not that he cares what people in Hell think of him but whatever they they perceive him as extends to Charlie and he's not going to give them any ammunition on her.

Charlie: You sure you're alright, Dad?

Lucifer: Yes, sweetheart. I just want to be in a bed right now.

Alastor: I could always teleport you there, my dear. Would be faster than this death contraption.

Lucifer: I will throw up on you.

Alastor's eye twitches but doesn't say anything back. They sit in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the ride.

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

Alastor: Charlie, why don't you talk to the others and your uncles and aunts about your father's condition? I'll take his majesty up in his room. I'm sure the last thing he needs is to be bombarded with questions at this time.

Charlie: You're right. Thanks, Al.

Charlie squeezed Lucifer's hand in a silent reassurance.

Charlie: I'll follow you later, Dad. Love you.

Oh, how he loves her so.

Lucifer: Okay, duckie.

He almost threw up when Alastor teleported them up to his tower but before he could, the sinner put up a lemon tea up on his face. Muttering a small thanks, the King of Hell took a few sips before deciding to lay down.

Alastor is still not interrogating him but maybe the other can smell his exhaustion. No. The guy did not talk at all. He only moved to sit by his side, leaning back to the headrest. Lucifer takes this as an invitation to hug the other's waist like a bolster and snuggles closer. The Sin of Pride feels his partner's hand combing through his hair and humming an old tune.

He's afraid of seeing Roo again as he tightens his hold on Alastor. The other doesn't even flinch and Lucifer is glad. Alastor usually doesn't like touch so whenever the other allows it, Lucifer savors every second.

Lucifer: I won't blame you, you know?

Alastor: Hmm?

Lucifer: If it's too much. If you wanna leave, you can.

The hand in his hair stops moving but Alastor still said nothing.

Lucifer: I'll remember you though.

Sleep is calling him. He only wishes that he'll dream of nothing this time.

Lucifer: I remember everyone that leaves.

He passes out not hearing Alastor reply, words laced with a genuinity no one else had the privilege to hear.

Alastor: I can assure you, my king, I am not one to give up what I adore that easily.

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

I adore that Lilo and Stitch line. It really struck me when I first watched it.

YT also played this Hour of Joy VHS tape and that background tune really gave me inspiration on some future scenes. So, stay tuned.

#hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lilith #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #hazbin emily #hazbin sera #hazbin michael #hazbin adam #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam

[holly-opal]

Hi Pal is it OK if you can do mr. Puzzles x reader more romantic I just really am into romance and stuff sorry if you don’t feel very comfortable or not

Sure!

Tw: Low self esteem and depression

You stared into the mirror, you were crying for at least an hour, but felt like an eternity to you. You go to the weight scale and stand on it. Only 120. You kick it in frustration, hurting your toes in the process and you curl up in a ball. You sob into you knees once again, you felt miserable and useless. You pulled at your hair and bawled your eyes out, you struggled to even breathe from how hard you were crying. Then someone started knocking on the door very loudly. "Oh Y/N! You've been in there for a while! Are you done, dear?" Mr. Puzzles yelled through the door. You weren't ready, you were never ready. You weren't ready for this. You managed to mutter a no and put your face in your knees. He must've heard you crying, or maybe it was the tone of that "no", cause he kicked down the door immediately. This wasn't exactly a surprise, he would always kick down the door if he wanted something from you. He saw the state you were in and kneeled down, he picked you and held you in his arms. You tried to resist, but he was far to strong. And let's be honest. You are very, very tiny compared to him.

"Starlight, what's wrong?" Mr. Puzzles said as he cleaned your tears, you remained quiet and didn't respond. Which made him even more anxious and concerned about you. "Were the dresses not to your liking? Did you not like the food? Was it something I said or did? Are you sick? Are you hurt? Please tell me what's wrong, darling." He said, desperately trying to get to the root of your problem. You sniffled and managed to make him let go of you. You held his hand and took him to the weight scale, you stood on it and pointed to the number. Mr. Puzzles understood the problem almost immediately and picked you up again. You started crying again, you buried your face into his chest and hugged him tightly.

"Baby, you are beautiful just the way you are. I don't care how your body looks, you are amazing just the way you are, sweetheart." Mr. Puzzles said, rubbing your back and kissing you on the forehead (which just felt like glass gently pressing on your forehead but whatever), he carried you princess style into your dressing room. He put you down and snapped his fingers, he changed you from your formal attire into your maroon colored nightgown. Floating hands grabbed your hair brush and products, they started doing your hair for you. Other hands came over and started massaging your shoulders. And other hands started giving you a manicure.

Mr. Puzzles changed into a blue robe with a nightcap and slippers, as you were getting pampered, he made sure the bed was to your liking and even changed the sheets. Once you were done, he carried you to the bed and laid you down gently. You both snuggled up together, you had your head on his chest, using him like a pillow. Puzzles kissed you in the head and whispered sweet nothings to you. You began to get tired and before you went sleepytime, you said thank you to Mr. Puzzles. He smiled and caressed you cheek.

"You're welcome, mi amor."

#smg4 mr puzzles #mr puzzles x reader #mr puzzles #smg4 fanfic #smg4 fandom #smg4 ships #smg4 puzzlevision #puzzlevision arc #smg4