#hi yes I’m yearning if it wasn’t obvious

[theemporium]

What about... Pining and yearning driver (doesn't matter who he is tbh) but in reality he's just stupidly in love and doesn't realize reader is also in love with them 😭 happy ending of course <3

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“You’re glaring.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Mate, she’s his assistant. Stop planning his murder,” Lando grumbled, though the amusement was clear on his face. He was enjoying each and every second of this.

It wasn’t uncommon for Max to find him in the McLaren motorhome on a Thursday afternoon, especially if they knew they would be in a conference together. The Dutchman would most likely just spend time catching up with his friend, laughing and joking about before they would be guided to the interview by their PR teams. 

However, more recently than not, Lando was starting to notice that Max was showing up to the McLaren motorhome for a different reason. A reason that had everything to do with the fact the motorhome beside the papaya orange team was none other than the Ferrari one. And Max had his eye on a certain member of the Ferrari team. 

You. 

You, who was Charles’ assistant. You, who was currently standing outside the Ferrari motorhome with your boss and his teammate. You, who currently had your hands on Charles’ chest as you tried to smooth out his team polo as best as you could. 

Not that Max cared. Not at all. He had no reason to care and he certainly didn’t. Or at least, that was what he was telling himself.

“You know,” Lando continued when the Dutchman had fallen silent. “Charles was telling me he thinks she has a crush on a driver.” 

Max’s head whipped around. “What?”

“Yeah,” Lando shrugged casually. “Apparently she admitted it when she was drunk.” 

“Who is it?” Max asked almost immediately.

Lando grinned. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” he retorted defensively. 

“Right,” the Brit laughed before patting him on the back. “God, you are so easy to wind up.”

“Lando,” Max grumbled. “Name.”

“Huh? Oh, it must have slipped my mind,” Lando sighed before shifting the conversation onto something else. 

But it didn’t leave his mind. It couldn’t leave his mind. Instead, Max spent the whole press conference wondering who the driver was. He racked his brain on who he saw you interacting with, who he had seen you hanging around more often than the others. 

The obvious answers were either one of the Ferrari drivers. But you had always insisted you viewed Charles as a brother, yet that didn’t cross Carlos off the potential list. He wondered if it was either of the McLaren drivers, or maybe even Daniel, his own teammate. He wondered maybe if it was one of the drivers he wasn’t as close to on the grid, that maybe you hung out with them for more than he realised. 

His answers during the conference were short, blunt and distracted and everyone noticed. 

You had been standing off to the side, phone in hand as you answered a few emails here and there whilst Charles dealt with his media duties. However, your attention was quickly pulled away from your work when you heard the Dutchman speak. And then, you were distracted by your own concern for him when you realised how off he was acting. 

You had waited until the end of the conference before you approached him, a sheepish smile on your face when you realised he was far too lost in thought to even realise you were beside him. You placed your hand on his arm, causing the boy to jump slightly and you quickly pulled your hand back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised with a smile. “Are you okay?”

Max blinked. “What?”

“Are you okay?” you repeated as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “You seem really off today.”

“Uh, yeah,” he muttered, a crease forming between his brows. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?” 

Deep down, Max knew you were probably only asking to be polite. He knew you probably expected him to just shake his head and say no so you could run off to help Charles like you should have been doing, rather than standing there talking to him. But the question was plaguing his mind, and who better to give him an answer than you?

“Do you like one of the drivers?” he blurted out.

You blinked, slightly surprised. “What?”

“Do you like one of the drivers?” he asked again, his eyes never leaving yours. “Lando says you did.”

“He did?” you questioned, your voice a little high-pitched and you hoped the Dutchman couldn’t tell your face was burning up. “I wonder where he got that from—-”

“Charles told him,” Max told you.

And you cursed your boss for opening his mouth.

“I…might,” you muttered shyly.

“Who is it?” 

“Max—”

“I won’t tell him,” he continued, pretending like the idea of you saying one of his friend’s names wouldn’t make his stomach churn uncomfortably. “I could even help you if you want—”

“No, Max, it’s you,” you interrupted, your nails digging into your palm as you blurted out the words. “You’re the driver.”

Max nodded once but stayed silent.

You instantly wanted the world to open up and swallow you whole. You cleared your throat, taking a step back as you tried to pretend the embarrassment of his blatant rejection wasn’t making you want to curl into a hole and never come out.

“I’m sorry, I should just—” you started but Max quickly intervened.

“Do you want to get dinner with me?” 

You blinked at him. “Dinner?”

“Yes, with me,” Max continued. “Tonight. Or tomorrow night. Whenever it works for you.”

“I—” you paused, letting out a breath as you smiled at him. “I would like that.”

Max didn’t bother hiding the small smile on his face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you said and nodded. “I’ll message you when I’m free.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, watching as you headed back towards the Ferrari garage, a weight having been lifted off his chest as he watched you go. He couldn’t even deny the butterflies in his stomach as he thought about your message.

Max was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even see Lando approaching his side, grinning wide like a madman.

“I knew you liked her!”

“Shut up.” 

“Max and—”

“Fuck off, Norris.”

“Sitting in a tree–”

“You know what, you can get your own plane home.”

.

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen oneshot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

[krewekreep]

2.7K Words. tags: Committed Relationship AU, Date Night/Car Sex AU, (Ownership kink??? I don’t know wtf I’m talking about), Your man asks if he can get you tatted on him.

“Can I get your name tattooed?” You almost spit your drink out at the question. You turn to your boyfriend absolutely stunned. “A tattoo? O-Of what?” You couldn’t believe how casual he was as if he wasn’t essentially asking to be imprinted. He shrugged his shoulders saying, “I don’t know maybe your name? Maybe a symbol or honestly whatever you want to see on me.” You stared analytically at him. Was this his attempt at a prank or your sincere realization your man was crazy. “Are you serious? Where would you get it? What if people see it and ask about it? Oh my- boy youre wildin’ right now.” You had to laugh. This was the most outrageous he could’ve ever been but nothing really about his expression changed. If anything he seemed a bit disappointed at your reaction. You saw the slight fall of his eyes, oh no he’s deadass.

You sat back sincerely considering your man with your name on his body. What seemed the most appealing? His face? Absolutely not…his neck? Maybe but kinda ghetto. As if fixating on the perfect sketch you cleared several versions of it through your head: arms, back, legs, hands. You thought of the big words branded across men like Tupac or Cholos, and while absolutely hot…it didn’t suit him. You thought of how sexy tattoos were ones that peeked out—those conversations starters when you just can’t get the image of it without a full closer inspection. You thought of his ribs, his collar bone, his wrists…what seemed an awkward silence for him was a deep meditation that led you to consider it now with more excitement than consolation.

“Okay,” you returned to him with your considerations. “I thought about tattoos of all kinds all over you…it’s pretty hot.” He rolled his eyes at you. “No-no,” you went for his thigh grabbing it in reassurance. “I’m so serious right now.” It was hard in your very unserious, light hearted relationship to maintain a kind of sincerity that wouldn’t send the both of you laughing your heads off. You understood he really liked the idea of it and you didn’t mean to have shut him down. He heard you. Trying his best to not openly forgive you because his pout earned him a pleading and yearning partner. He liked when you made up to him. “Y/N,” his face fell. “It really hurt me.” A cold wind caught him and his face sunk so deep you thought he would wither away. “Baby, I’m serious. You would look so good but I had to think on what suited you.” His ears perked up a bit, raising a quizzical brow towards you but still sulking. You sat up in the car seat leaning over to grab his face and kiss him all over. Before whispering which spots had riled you up the most you kissed him deeply running a finger across his ear which sent a shiver through him.

“So I thought about the obvious: your face, your arms, your hands. I thought I liked something being on your ribs or your wrists. I still do BUT I decided top two goes to the collar bone or your fingers.” He had to scoff to himself. Of course you chose the most sensitive, possibly painful areas. You didn’t have tattoos yourself, not against them, but not up for the possible pain at all. He, on the other hand, was very tatted including a full sleeve. It was his thing so to speak so the idea of getting your name tatted seemed less and less crazy. “Hmmm, you like those places?” He watched your eyes linger on his neck and clavicle wishing to decorate him in hickies to show your earnestness. “Mmhmm.” You touched along his neck and collarbones earning a muffled groan. He twitched under your tickling fingers watching you dazed.

You unlocked your seat belt and leaned over grabbing him by the hair and pulling him into a sloppy, eager kiss. “You sure?” He always is the one to double, triple, quadruple check. “Yes baby,” you pull away to look him in the eyes. “I just immediately thought of those huge ass ones you see people get on social media.” You scoffed a bit thinking of images of blazing red skin with huge cursive names. You had no issue if it were family members or even friends, but lovers? Seemed a bit too close to branding and ownership, and you never knew of a lasting relationship with that going on.

Unbeknownst to you your bae’s absolute acceptance of being yours. He heard once of someone in the media proving his love to his new girl by tatting his dick…. He thought long and hard about it…honestly into it. And had you thrown that out there, even if a pure joke—He’d win by trolling you with your name inked large across his length. He’d fuck you into the mattress, dick hitting your cervix unknown to you until pillow talk time. How’d he’d thank both Y/Ns for the fabulous time tonight. How he knew you’d snap up and throw the blankets away quizzically investigating his cock. How he loved the idea of not telling you at all…seeing how long it took before you’d scream in astonishment lamenting his idiotic love struck ways. But he’ll settle for now.

He liked the idea of his fingers…closest thing he had comparable to his dick given their own girth and length. How two fingers were genuinely too much for you until you grew fully accustomed to his cock. How when he tried to enter a third once you winced looking back at him like the devil. “Don’t piss me off,” you spat closing your eyes with a lifted warning brow. “You know you be trying to do too much.” He was sympathetic but horny. And had the worst kind of fantasies pinning you in all sorts of positions, crumbling you up into a sex ball. You were so beautiful all the time. Now sitting in his car at the top of a parking garage, after an amazing night out where you both seemed to fall in love all over again. He really felt compelled to ask, damn near blurting the question out. “Would you get a tattoo of my name?” You didn’t have to think long this time. “Nope. Not your name.” His face fell, he couldn’t even hide it. You knew what you were doing leaning over to reach your hand in between his legs, cupping his balls and dick easily. “I’d get a symbol for you. Or like an animal. You know I like subtle things.” You rub his tip through his pants almost luring a whimper from him. He swallowed hard. “Tell me more.” “What? I don’t know there’s really so many things I associate with you or us…I weirdly want it to be perfect. I want it to mean I love you, I trust you, and thank you all at once. Not my fault I’m sentimental.” You tease yourself and him laughing softly. “I’m just…actually happy as fuck to know you’d consider it. You don’t have to, baby girl.” “Aht aht,” you tisk. “Already in motion, you know I was thinking about finally getting one too? So I’ll really think about it and I want your help okay??”

How could you look at him so innocently when your hands were making it hard to keep his eyes open. How could you so lovingly declare all this as he adjusts his waist to more firmly plant himself in your palm. How you squeeze him ever so slightly eliciting a full blown moan. You wanted him bad. The night out, the drinks, the conversation over ice cream, now sitting with your love as the night sky passed on. It was perfect. You leaned up in the seat on your knees, reaching over him to crank his seat back. It went down smoothly and he set both arms behind his head. Ready for you to handle him however you pleased.

You leapt over onto him sitting flush on his extremely hard, bulging length. You cooed at the sensation of pressure against your clit slowly grinding against him. He didn’t wanna control you this time but it was hard to not go to grab at you, to which you swatted his reaching hungry arms away. “Uh uh,” was all you had to say. You needed him inside you now. You lifted your hips, giving you space to undo and unzip his pants. You learned with him he doesn’t put on underwear all the time. And considering how his outfit squeezed him all over perfectly—You didn’t want your favorite guy all smothered and claustrophobic. He needed to breathe didn’t he?? His dick agreed hungrily leaping out his pants thwacking against his belly. You spit in your hand taking him in it with a sloppy dribble of saliva falling to his tip. He shivered throwing his head back. You pumped him swirling your thumb over his blazing leaking tip. He was nothing more than a mumbling, groaning, praising mess. “Fuck, you know what you doing, Y/N.” He can’t help himself. He knows you like to treat him like this, like your little bitch.

His chest was lifting and lowering so erratically. His abs tensing and sweat brimming all over his skin. He wanted to get inside you, fuck your hands. “Mmm, baby please.” He cooes. “Sit on me baby, I need to feel that.” You obeyed swiftly giving him a few more hard pumps making his head lift as his mouth was agape breathlessly. “I got you. You know I do.” You lifted up, your ass facing the windshield. You pulled your panties to the side with one hand, still keeping the other on his waiting cock. He watched you in awe, how fierce you were when you wanted him. How he loved how loud you were and couldn’t wait to hear his name ring his ears as your shameless calls for him filled the car.

You lifted his dick vertical to your pussy, squatting down meeting his hot wet tip to your soaking loving core. When he entered it felt like heaven. What little stress you had already gone, so it was nothing for you to bounce down on him roughly. Both of you yelping at the sensation of his cock hitting your cervix. “Hey, be gentle. Don’t hurt yourself.” He said cautiously. He didn’t care about himself but you? No, don’t hurt yourself or even discomfort yourself just to feel him.

He took extreme pride in treating you like a princess even declining trying degradation. You, a bit too persistant at a point causing him to snap: “You can like what you like but I’m not degrading you. That’s my last word about it. Find someone else if it’s that big of a deal.” He was frustrated and regretted the last sentence the minute he finished. How he couldn’t face you cause he knew tears had fallen. How you gasped at his rejection and meanness, storming out of his apartment. How the minute the door slammed he rushed to his phone calling you profusely. How he showed up to your place with tears of his own. How he kinda maybe went a little too crazy banging on your door like a madman demanding to talk to you. When then as you opened the door warning of a police call for disturbance he blew past you into your living room. How he kinda scream talked his way through admitting he was so in love with you, so literally stuck on you he couldn’t imagine himself talking down on you. It just wasn’t him.

How you just wanted him to calm down and that you understood. You really did. Reaching towards your bellowing boyfriend cooing him to cry it out in your bosom. How he ended up more upset than you just because he felt awful even snapping at you like that. How you rolled your eyes at yourself thinking while he might be domineering he was a big ole baby. How you told him you accepted his apology, leaning him away from you and hitting your knees to suck him off. How he broke through the tears saying he didn’t even deserve this but you shut him up with a swirl of your tongue.

How now he had no choice but to give you the entire fucking world. How you unlocked a kink of being dominated for him. Sitting back with his head resting up, watching you use him to your delight. How his cock twitched inside you and his hips lifted in mindless splendor. The car nothing but an enclosed cacophony of praise, I love you’s, and the sloppy slick of your fluids as they kept you two sticky and connected. The weight of your ass on his pelvis as his hands guided you up and down. How your head was thrown back like an animal, calling out to him how only his cock could make you feel this way. How he demanded you say more, more about him and his dick and how useful he was to you.

“Ah, Ah, Ah,” you couldn’t even think straight. Your mind overwhelmed with the orgasm you actually didn’t want to reach yet. Truly how sweet his cock met the ridges of your pillowy heat. You really didn’t want to stop but when you gazed at him he was as gone as you. His eyes closed tight, so tight you almost told him relax. His arms extended, flexing every active vein as he held your ass while you began growing even wetter around him. “Ain’t no way,” his hips stall slightly. “You’re so fucking wet, it doesn’t even feel like I’m in you. Ah, you so fucking good to me baby girl.” You knew by his fighting vocals he was about to cum. His previous warning to take it easy was nothing but noise as you began throwing your pussy down against him. You wanted to cum how you wanted to cum. “Baby, no, I—“ a pathetic accepting mess he was. They better not complain in the morning, he thought. And let you bounce on him mercilessly slapping against him loudly with a bit of a sting. You wanted to feel it in your throat and you did. That rare (less rare with him now your partner) special confusing but absolutely mind numbing pleasure. You seized around him, chocking his cock as you came hard. Your entire body shook now exhausted as you could only just sit on him letting him finish. You bounced as his dick drove in you sloppier and sloppier. “Oh fuck,” his own body now quaking, ropes of semen making your belly warm as your pussy hugged him wanting all he had.

His body went limp and so did yours. You fell on his chest with little concern, nuzzling into his neck peppering him with kisses. “I told you…I told you to not to go so hard…” he scolded wiping his dripping face with his arm. “Mmhmm,” was your only response soon falling asleep with him still inside you. You bundled up so innocently considering the mad woman you had just been. Pleased, full, and ready to cuddle him proper back home.

He kisses you on the forehead, still catching his breath although it is increasingly becoming balanced. You were already about to knock out. “Baby?” He cooed. “Let me put you in the back seat okay? Just rest until we get home, okay?” How now you were his baby princess again. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed you got. How you mumbled nothing coherent barely able to lift yourself off of him. A bit awkward since you literally couldn’t move but once he laid you down, making sure your legs were comfortable, he kissed you passionately. You couldn’t really kiss back but you did pucker your lips with what little strength you had. He smirked to himself fixing his thankful dick back in his pants and getting in the drivers seat. Keys in the ignition, your couples playlist auxed on low, and a big dumb smile on your lover’s face. “How could I ever disrespect you goofy?” The most he’d ever insult you laughing as he pulls out the parking garage heading on home.

Who: GOJO, CHOSO, Zoro, Nanami, EREN, BAKUGO, Human INUYASHA, Ichigo + whoever else is this love dumb.

#x black fem reader #black fem reader #eren x black reader #aot x black reader #black fanfic writer #choso x reader #choso x black reader #nanami x black!reader #nanami x reader #inuyasha x reader #inuyasha x black reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x reader #ichigo x black reader #ichigo x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x black reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x black reader #kinktober

[mrkis]

⛧ this is apart of my ‘MARK BDAY REQUEST SPECIAL’ event that i will be doing for his bday (originally wednesday-sunday, but now im posting them when i can). requests are now CLOSED for this.

REQUEST: ⇢ for the bday mark request!!! maybe reader sends mark several videos and sexts throughout the day since mark is busy with schedules on his bday, then surprises mark when he finally gets home hehe

⛧ WARNINGS: social media format at first but then writing, 18+ content, sexting, mean!mark, bratty!reader, mentions of cum, choking, fingering

[ AUTHORS NOTE. sorry that i'm so behind, i'm still sick and not really in the mental state to do anything lmfao. but i managed to pump this one out, i hope you enjoy <3 ]

Your body buzzes with excitement as you read Mark’s last text, a grin forming on your lips as you shut off your phone and place it on the bedside table, keeping your position on the bed as you know your front door is already unlocked—it always is for him.

During your relationship with Mark, he’s always been very caring and loving, always careful and delicate when touching your body and making you cum on his cock, fingers or tongue and kissing you so sweetly after.

He rarely ever shows his mean side, something that’s constantly locked away and something you’ve only seen once. 

You remember it well. You visited him after hours at the studio, watching him work on lyrics and testing a few beats for a song he was working on. It wasn’t your fault that he looked so attractive with a serious expression that made you desperately want to sit on his face. You had teased him, seating yourself in his lap and subtly rubbing yourself against his cock, ignoring the warnings he was giving you due to you being so clouded by lust. 

The next thing you remember was suddenly being bent over his lap, stomach against his thighs, skirt flipped up over your hips and ass raw as he spanked you, muttering the most mouth watering filth that made you cum on the spot. But after that, he returned to his normal and loving self as he wrapped you up in his arms on his lap, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and claiming how much he loves you. 

You wanted that Mark back. You love soft Mark, you love caring and gentle Mark, but there was something about a mean and dominant Mark that makes you feel crazy. You yearn for him to come back, to snap and have you any way he pleases. 

It makes your thighs clench thinking about it, a giddy smile spreading across your cheeks as you hear your front door open and slam shut, loud footsteps moving along the floorboards heading in your direction—the bedroom. 

The door to your room swings open and you almost jump Mark when you see the look on his face, eyes wild and brows furrowed, clearly angrily at your swarm of texts and videos you’ve sent him throughout the day. 

His breathing is steady despite the look on his face, hands buried deep into the pockets of his sweatpants and fail to hide the obvious hard on he’s sporting, and you bite back the urge to make a comment about how much you must’ve really affected him.

“What game are you playing right now?” He asks you, tone deep which makes your pussy ache. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing” You feign innocence, giving him a smile. “I’m just giving you your birthday presents”

“My birthday present is you?” Mark asks you again as he steps a few steps further into your room, standing at the edge of your bed. His question sparks interest in you, the way he said it has your tummy rolling and tightening in knots. 

“Yes” You confirm, spreading your legs to show him that you’re bare beneath the shirt of his you’re wearing and he exhales deeply, pressing his lips together to suppress any other sound. “I’m all yours. You can do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want?” Mark repeats as his hands reach forward, curling his fingers around your ankles which causes your brow to raise up in question. “Are you sure you want to say that to me, baby? After all the texts and the videos you sent?” Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when you feel his grip on you tighten. “Do you know that Jaemin and Haechan saw how hard I got after I saw them? How they teased me about the hold you got over me?”

“I do, don’t I?” You tease despite your voice wavering a little, biting your bottom lip nervously as your thighs press together for some friction. You decide to push the buttons, testing him to see if he snaps by using words that aren’t even true. “Every single thing I do makes your little cock hard, doesn’t it?”

He grins with a soft hum as his thumb strokes your skin, tongue prodding at his cheek and the look in his eyes darken before his tight grip returns, a yelp erupting from your throat as Mark suddenly drags you down the bed, the silk sheets sliding against your skin as he pulls you flush against him. 

One hand wraps around your throat as his mouth attacks yours while the other slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your wet folds before he pushes two fingers in without warning, the arousal and cum from your previous orgasm making it an easy access.

You gasp against his lips as you feel him pump his fingers inside you, brushing over the spot that has your toes curling and mind whirling, unable to keep up with the kiss to which he slides his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of drool and spit seeping past your lips as his tongue glides with your own.

Mark’s putting the right amount of pressure on your neck to keep you still and the shockwaves of pleasure courses through your veins, thighs trembling around his hand that fucks your pussy into oversensitivity, your own hand flying down to grip his wrist to try and stop his fast paced movements but he grunts, biting on your lower lip in warning.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Mark speaks low as you pant into his mouth, whines and cries spilling from your lips. “For me to do whatever I want?” He then pouts at you mockingly, head turning to the side. “Aw baby… don’t tell me you regret it already?”

“I don’t” You manage to choke out, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep them open. “Do your worst. Show me what you got”

“Oh, my pretty girl…” He hums softly as he presses his thumb to your clit for extra stimulation, relishing in the sounds you make as he stares at you. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you”

#mark lee smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee x reader #[ mark bday special ! ]

[kuntniss]

hmm i think denying will’s jealousy in both st3 and st4 is erasing an important part abt his love for mike and who he is, esp with how it’s different both seasons. because it’s often associated with homophobes trying to act like will was evil for being jealous and a little upset w/ his friends, so it’s dismissed overall but like. okay. ignore them for once. in season three, it’s still a more childish thing—which yea ofc it is. he’s a kid. he wants to cherish that time and his friends. he feels left behind (he IS left behind) but this is also the first time he sees mike with someone else, somewhat of the way he was with will. and it isn’t like will was planning on making mike his boyfriend, but he assumed they’d just stay closer than everyone forever. he wants them to love each other but he wasn’t expecting some love declaration, it would just be their thing. and that’s another part of what upsets him—besides him feeling so invisible and stuck in the past, he’s mad because he expected so much. hence him calling himself stupid while looking at that picture. it was almost like it was foolish for him to even feel jealous, for him to want to be noticed again. i wouldn’t necessarily call it selfish because that isn’t will, but it isn’t like it is in season four. it’s not as resigned. and it comes from a place of sadness and anger and so much fucking hope that it’s embarrassing for him. but then in season four, he really only gets annoyed that day at rink o mania, specifically that talk with el while mike gets his socks. this is also right after that wack airport hug, so he’s upset with both mike AND el. and guess what? the jealousy is more of an i’m disappointed and i’m upset and i can’t believe this is what’s happening when it was supposed to be good. like how it was in the summer. and then other times when he seems to be jealous (mike walking up to give el her eggos), it’s quiet, it’s less obvious, it’s more yearning. even when el’s brought up in a lot of conversations, he doesn’t get mad. if it was st3, he would’ve rolled his eyes, he wouldn’t have wanted to engage in the conversation. he’s tired and he’s trying to grow up. and then again right before the byers brother™️ talk, he’s looking over at mike and el and again, it’s that quietness, that sadness, that loneliness. literal hours after he lies about the painting and resigns himself to a life of this silence, this secret. he’s exhausted and just doesn’t expect things to ever be the same. it’s still jealousy, nonetheless. the script confirms it, yes, but it’s not even that hard to realize. people just do it wrong. and jealousy isn’t always bitter or angry, will rarely is. it stems from this love he’s had since he can remember and this pathetic-ness he’s felt many times, but never because of mike. until things change (ahem. one summer can change everything or whatever it was) and mike was the one aspect of his life he didn’t expect to change!!! the contrast between his st3 jealousy and st4 jealousy is so insane and tragic but beautiful because you know he loves mike so much but he doesn’t want to fight for him or with him.

#st #will byers #byler #txt #*

[sainzfilm]

hiiii i would love to please request carlos introducing you to his friends/family.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

a/n: im so SOOOOFT for these things :( and also thank you for requesting a drabble with carlos hehehe i just love him sm. i hope you like this anon! :)

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Your relationship with Carlos was along the lines of private but not secret, which can probably attribute to why things have been going steady with him for the past six months.

Everything was great, he was truly the guy you’ve always yearned for. You knew it was coming sooner or later, but you weren’t ready when he proposed for you to meet his family and friends.

“Now, Mr. Sainz,” You teased as you set down your glass of wine, “What’s the special occasion as to why you wanted to cook for me?”

Carlos laughed and shook his head, “Nothing, mi amor. It’s just a regular day and I want to cook for my girl.”

“The c in Carlos stands for cheesy,” You rolled your eyes playfully as you twirled the pasta with your fork, “Thank you for dinner, baby.”

“Of course,” He smiled and reached out for your hand across the table, “I have one thing to ask though.”

“Hm, what is it, Carlos?”

“I think it’s time for you to meet my family and friends during my birthday dinner this weekend.”

If it wasn’t obvious enough to Carlos, you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror for the past five minutes. Were you dressed up okay? Was it too much? What if they don’t like you?

“Amor, it’s ti- are you okay?” Carlos frowned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, “You know you’ve been standing for a few minutes.”

“Do you think my outfit is okay?” You mumbled as you played with his fingers, “I feel like I’m underdressed.”

He sighed as he leaned up to kiss your cheek, “Underdressed? You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Ah, there it is,” Carlos smiled softly as he turned you around and held your face in his hands, “Y/N, I talk to my mother about you every time I get the chance to. My sisters? They’re glad I’ve finally found a partner like you. Don’t get me started with the guys, they tease me when I uncontrollably smile when you text me before and after races.”

You pouted and hugged him tightly, mumbling against his chest, “I hate you. Why are you so perfect and I’m me?”

“I could throw back the question to you,” Carlos chuckled as he kissed the top of your head, “C’mon now, they’re waiting downstairs.”

Taking a deep breath, you put on a smile and held Carlos’ hand as the two of you exited the room and made your way downstairs.

“There he is! My birthday boy,” Carlos’ mother exclaimed and walked over towards the two of you, engulfing him in a hug, “Feliz cumpleaños, mi hijo.” Happy birthday, my son.

“Gracias, mamá,” Carlos smiled and kissed his mother’s cheek, “Mamá, I want you to meet Y/N. Ella es el amor de mi vida.” Mama, I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the love of my life.

Before you could smile and respond, Carlos’ mother gave you a big hug and kiss on the cheek, “Oh, tan hermosa, Carlos! Nice to meet you, Y/N. Carlos has told me such wonderful things about you.”

“O-Oh, thank you, Mrs. Sainz!” You blushed as you smiled softly, “It’s really nice to finally meet you too.”

“Nonsense, mi hija,” She gently patted your shoulder and smiled, “You can call me mamá, too.”

“Mamá, donde estan Blanca y Ana?” Carlos asked his mother, looking around for his sisters, “Ellas estan atrasadas?” Mama, where is Blanca and Ana? Are they late?

Carlos’ mother snickered and nodded, “Sí, estarán aquí pronto. Blanca recogerá a Ana.” Yes, they’ll be here soon. Blanca will pick up Ana.

“Ay, ¿por qué son tan lentas?” Carlos laughed as he shook his head, “Mamá, voy a presentarla a los otros conductores, ¿de acuerdo? Estaremos de vuelta.” Ay, why are they so slow? Mama, I’ll just introduce her to the other drivers, okay? We’ll be back.

She nodded, giving Carlos a quick hug before she turned to you and smiled as she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Thank you for taking care of my son’s heart.”

“He means the world to me,” You smiled, “Thank you for being so kind to me, mamá.”

Carlos put his arm around your waist as he led you to the patio, where the other drivers were, “See, amor? Nothing to be nervous about. Mamá adores you.”

“Is that the birthday boy coming?” Daniel exclaims, clapping his hands and cheering, “Finally letting us meet his girl.”

The drivers greeted Carlos one by one, smiling and hugging him quickly.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Carlos smiled as he put his arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple, “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Charles grinned as he looked over at Carlos, “You know he always turns as red as a Ferrari when you text him.”

“Shut up, mate.”

Everyone was welcoming, either shaking your hand or bringing you in for a hug. It was nice meeting your Carlos’ friends– especially the ones he was with so often.

As everyone mingled and enjoyed the night, you stayed beside Carlos as he blew out the candles on his cake, wrapping you in a hug.

“So, what’d you wish for, birthday boy?” You smiled as you brushed his hair back, “Think it’ll be granted?”

Carlos looked at you lovingly as he nodded. Anyone in the room could tell that you were his wish, a different sparkle in his eyes since you came in his life, “It already was, mi amor.”

#sainzfilm drabbles #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz imagine #f1 driver x reader #f1 imagine #fluff #f1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #ferrari #carlos sainz jr fluff #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr oneshot #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz jr fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr drabble #carlos sainz drabble

[kevainthemultiverse]

April Fools - Kate Bishop

Pairings: Kate Bishop x Fem! reader.

Warnings: Fluff, romantic comedy, cuteness overload because I miss Kate, reader is Spider-Girl.

Word count: 1765.

Kate looks up from her place on the couch to see Y/n in the kitchen with Yelena teaching the blonde how to make her favorite dessert, Brazilian brigadeiro, after they made the whole dinner by themselves. Both were entertained as Y/n made little balls of chocolate and rolled on the sprinkles, completely unaware that Kate is observing Y/n’s every move.

“You look like a stalker,” Clint said next to her, making her, reluctantly, look at him with a questioning look. “Have you ever realized how much you stare Y/n? Every time move she makes is caught because you look at her like a motion detection camera.”

Kate opens her mouth to say something, but it closes quickly. There is nothing she can tell Clint to get out of this position, he caught her, and both know it. The raise of his eyebrow is enough evidence.

“Don’t you think it would be easier if you just talked to her?” He continues to question.

“She is my best friend, Clint.” Kate sighs, looking over her shoulder and seeing Y/n hand Yelena one small chocolate ball, the blonde caught it looking for a few seconds as if inspecting. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, it’s better if we stay like this.”

“I think that’s stupid.” He bluntly says, shaking his head and sighing. “And you’ll just keep looking at her like a puppy waiting for an owner?”

“Yes.” She said without thinking much, before turning to him quickly. “Wait, that’s rude!”

“It’s the truth.”

“Oh, this is good!” Yelena says in the kitchen, and Kate looks back at them. Yelena has her eyes wide, one hand holding Y/n’s forearm and the other throwing the rest of the chocolate in her mouth. “This is very very good.”

“Right? Now you understand why it’s my favorite.” Y/n replies with a cute small laugh that makes Kate look at her yearning. “Now c’mon, help me make the rest.”

“She will find out, you’re very bad at hiding.” Clint was vocal again, but this time he was getting up, about to stop the commotion in the kitchen due to Yelena making another brigadeiro just to throw in her mouth. “Hey, get out of there, Yelena.”

“Shut up, these are made to be eaten.” Yelena narrows her eyes at him, challenging him.

“Go sit with Kate, Yelena, I will make some extra for you.” Y/n sighs as she points to the living room. “But only if you sit there and don’t steal more brigadeiros.”

“Fine.” She fake complains and gives Clint a hard stare as if saying ‘don’t you dare eat my damn chocolate’.

“Can you make little balls for me, Clint? I’ll make more for Yelena before she kills someone because of chocolate.” Y/n asks before showing Clint what needs to be done.

“Smart girl, I would not hesitate,” Yelena replies as she sits on the couch where the older archer had been before. “You were staring like a creep, Kate Bishop.”

Kate almost chokes on her saliva as she hears it. Not only her mentor, and best friend, had noticed, but now Yelena had noticed too. And maybe Clint was right, it wouldn’t be long until Y/n realizes as well.

Okay, she was a bit slower at noticing romantic advances and Kate would often give really good excuses for her staring, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Is it that obvious?” Kate asks and Yelena nods with a funny face.

“Maybe not to her yet, but she is a superhero. Quick thinking and all of that.”

“Goddamn it!” Kate complains putting her hands on her face with a sigh. “I’m doomed, Yelena.”

“Tomorrow is that day,” Yelena says, trying to remember. “April Fools, use that!”

Kate looks at Yelena clearly confused.

“Do I have to do everything? A prank, that is not a prank.” She rolls her eyes at Kate. “Jesus, Kate Bishop, love made you slow.”

“I’m both offended and grateful.” Kate said as she shook her head.

As the archer leaned her back into the sofa thinking about what she would do tomorrow. Yelena was right, she could use this opportunity to put up to test the strong chemistry between them, but Y/n didn’t make it much clear if she actually felt something romantic for Kate or just as a friend.

△

Yelena had left Kate’s apartment late at night, Clint went to sleep on Kate’s bed while Kate and Y/n had left early to go to her apartment. Y/n had inconveniently forgotten her Spider-Girl suit charging and the other one was still drying from when she accidentally fell at the lake. But it allowed Clint to have a better night’s rest with Lucky and no unstoppable laughs coming from the girls.

Kate woke up in the morning confused as to why Y/n was screaming her name in desperation, she sat up trying to open her eyes and focus on her distressed best friend.

“I’m up, what’s going on?” Kate asked shoving the covers to the side and getting up, almost falling in the process, vision still blurred.

“I lost my powers!” Y/n said and to make her point she tried to shoot a web and miserably failed.

“What?!”

“Exactly!” Y/n ran her hands through her hair, which was very disheveled. “I have no idea why this is happening, oh my god.”

Kate is still trying to process as she gets close and puts a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “Is there something stressing you up? We will get to the bottom of this!”

“I mean, yes… My ex texted me saying they want us to get back.” Y/n sighed as she revealed.

“That little shit-“ Kate breathes in angrily. “I have excellent aim Y/n; I will shoot them!”

“Kate, there’s no-“ Y/n interrupts herself and scrunches her nose up, her mouth opening as she is clearly about to sneeze. “A-a-atchoo!”

Y/n sneezes and Kate’s face is suddenly full of webbing. Her best friend laughs out loud, helping to take out all the webbing covering her eyes, nose and mouth.

“Oops, I think it was webbing constipation.” Y/n defends herself poorly. “April fools!”

“Oh, you-!” Kate says as both manage to take the web out of her face, and she goes to the bathroom to take out the rest and brush her teeth, ignoring how Y/n’s cute smile released the whole zoo inside her stomach.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist!” Y/n defends herself, leaning on the door. “You always do something, so I wanted to get you first!”

Kate silently brushes her teeth taking the rest of the web and Y/n helps clean her hair. Kate finishes brushing her teeth and suddenly pulls the other close, pressing the spiderling against the sink, one hand on each side of the woman. Y/n’s demeanor changes immediately, eyes widening, breath hitching, cheeks burning crimson and making it very visible to the archer her frustration.

“You shouldn’t play with me like that, Y/n.” Kate says slowly, and Y/n visibly gulps looking deep into her dark blue eyes.

Kate’s fall comes quickly after that, Y/n forcefully changes their places and now the archer was the one being pressed against the sink, eyes wide in surprise at the overconfident way her best friend had done that.

“You accepted that the day you turned into my best friend, Bishop, you were very aware and if anything you think I'm funny as hell.”

Kate gulped, before blurting out. “I like you.” Y/n rolled her eyes as the other one added. “Romantically.”

“Haha, Kate, I already know it’s April Fools.” The spiderling answers, shaking her head. “C’mon I thought you could be more original.”

“I am being original; this is reverse April Fools.” Kate defended herself. “I’m telling the truth instead.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Y/n still didn’t believe her as she pulled away.

Kate then put both hands on the sides of Y/n’s face and pulled her in for a long peck. She felt Y/n get rigid, then sigh slightly as she relaxed, however as if a sudden bucket of cold water was thrown in her head, she gently pushed Kate back.

“Katherine!” She said with wide eyes and crimson cheeks.

“I am being serious now; I didn’t know how to tell you and Yelena suggested doing a prank that was real.” The archer started to talk, looking away a bit embarrassed. “I was planning on a more elaborate prank to see if you felt something for me too, but… I kind of lost my cool.”

“I…“ Y/n was speechless, finally downing on her what was happening.

“I am in love with you, reverse April fools!” Kate sings shaking her hands a bit as silence fills the room.

The other woman suddenly scoffs, shaking her head as she clearly cannot believe her ears. But it’s Kate that is shocked when she speaks again.

“It fucking took you long enough, Kate, seriously. Yelena had to suggest that? Jeez.” Y/n rolls her eyes as she gets closer and kisses Kate’s cheek. “I’m also in love with you, idiot.”

“I swear to god if you’re playing me right now-“ Kate narrows her eyes, getting distrustful.

“I will kiss you to prove it.” Y/n shrugged.

“A real one, no bromancing!” The archer raises an eyebrow, defying Y/n to do that. “Bromance without the bro.”

“…Mance?” Y/n asks in confusion.

“I meant romance actually.” Kate corrects herself, sheepishly.

“I think you should stop talking.” Y/n laughs as she shakes her head.

“I am trying to, but you’re taking too long to kiss me!” The other one defends herself yet again.

Y/n makes the last step and kisses Kate, first a long peck, but then both deepened the kiss putting all their bottled-up feelings into it. When they separated, breathing hard, both laughed.

“Okay, this really isn’t a prank.” Kate said, breathless as she looked lovingly into Y/n’s eyes.

“I’m not sure yet, I think you need to keep kissing me to try and convince me.” Y/n says, clearly not meaning it, but making more excuses to kiss Kate.

“Oh, how dreadful.” Kate replies, smiling. "Normally I'd say you need to put more trust in me but... I don't know, we need to really make sure this isn't a prank."

She had to remember to thank Yelena later, maybe pamper the shit out of her with some brigadeiros and spicy food as a thank you. She would definitely be happy with that.

In the meanwhile, Kate would take her time kissing her best friend, current lover, and future girlfriend. They obviously needed to make sure it wasn’t a prank (an excuse they would use even in the future).

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop #mcu imagine #hailee steinfeld #kate x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x y/n #hawkeye #hawkeye kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #marvel x reader #kate bishop one shot #kate bishop fanfiction #marvel #mcu #yelena belova #clint barton

[elysian0612]

sending my mutuals silly little drabbles of them with their faves 🥳

John Price, a man feared by many recruits soon learn just what a goof he truly is. Nudges and hard teasing with teammates and recruits and overall dad energy

John Price, a man who is loved by you and loves you. He can't help but look at the beautiful smile you give him every morning without feeling so goddamn lucky.

A beautiful laugh and giggle you had, music to his ears.

The only thing his grouchy ass wanted to wake up to in the morning.

Like a coffee, one glance at you and he feel energized and ready to start his day again. Of course he will soon

Just let him hold you a little while longer

a little while longer may be 4 more hours but that's okay 💗

ugh. YES. This is my favourite thing ever. Is it that obvious that I’m a Price girly? I hope it is. Thank you for this ask <3

Obviously the beginning of your relationship was a bit rocky, given he was your Captain. John was determined to make you his, HR and Laswell be damned

It wasn’t hard for him to woo you, of course. Look at that face. And his body, too! But more importantly, the sheer adoration on his face when he looks at you. His soft words of encouragement whenever you were too hard on yourself. The extra training sessions to help you hone your skills. Anything to help his team

Really, he was just obsessed with you. John needed you near him. His heart yearned for you. It wasn’t long into your relationship until he’s dragging you down to the courthouse and making everything official. After all, he wanted nothing more than to court you and settle down

Years later, you’d retire from active duty upon learning of your first pregnancy. John is ecstatic. He has a picture of the ultrasound on his desk and tucked in the pocket of his vest. He keeps your dog tags tucked into the very same pocket. Every time a new ultrasound is done, he replaces the photo and stores them in a photo album

Eventually, you give birth to a very strapping lad, who’s the spitting image of John.

He’s there for the birth, having barely made it. He still smells of smoke and gunpowder, but you don’t care. You reach for him and press your sweaty foreheads together.

He takes your hand and whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you push. You end up naming your son Simon, after the Lieutenant.

John retires from service after the arrival of your son. He still keeps in touch with your friends from base, but with five children running around the house, his hands are often full of toys or other shrapnel the kids throw around

#captain john price #john price x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #elyasks #john price is daddy

[josiewinters1999]

Normal (p1)

L Lawliet x Chubby!Reader

Part 2

Summary: It lights a fire inside L that Light Yagami is allowed to be a "normal" young man. He has a loving family, a bright future, and... a girlfriend that isn't thousands of miles away.

Words: 1528

Contains: established relationship, angst, jealousy, pet names, L being depressed, takes place right before Yotsuba arc.

A/N: This is my first time writing for L but I just really wanted to dive into the facet of his character that truly just longs to be a regular guy with regular friends and a regular life. It's very obvious he loves his job, craves his work even, but you can see his yearning for something normal peek through here and there throughout the series. So this is just a little something to indulge him in that desire ^.^ I will most likely do a part 2 so stay tuned and comment below if you wanna see it!!

***

Looking out of the corner of his eye, a certain detective watches as the blond model fawns over the teen boy on the couch next to him. He pretends not to notice the way she looks at him, with the pure adoration and affection in her eyes that only young love like that could produce. With every move she makes, climbing all over her beau, the chain attached to him rattles. 

L covertly reaches down to shove a hand in his pocket. The linty insides of his jeans hold a roughly folded, and long faded photo that meant more to him than even the resolution of the Kira case. He dare not pull it out, in fear the man handcuffed to him sees it. L thinks back to the summer it was taken, the first time in his life he had ever felt like just a normal boy. These days, he thinks more and more about that summer. The summer he fell in love. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of what Light had. He had Misa… right there in his arms; close enough to touch, to hold, to kiss. What did L have? A crumpled photo, the occasional hurried phone call, and an annual one weekend visit… if he was lucky. 

Sighing, the black haired detective turns his attention back to the couple next to him, the two unknowingly taunting him with memories he can’t shake any longer. Forcing his usual stoic expression back onto his face, L calls for the blond girl’s attention. “Misa,” he groans, tired of listening to her shrill voice all afternoon, “Would you mind giving Light some time alone for now? I have some things about the case I’d like to discuss with him in private.”

She pouts, clinging even harder to Light’s shirt, “Aw, Ryuzaki, do I really have to go now? I feel like I’ve barely had enough time with Light today. You guys are always so busy.” Gritting his teeth in annoyance, and envy, L nods, “Yes, we have, and the sooner you leave, the sooner we can catch Kira, and the sooner you can have all the time in the world with your beloved Light.” The last two words came out a bit harsher than he intended, but he always had a tendency of being blunt, something she loved about him. Huffing, Misa gives Light a last kiss on the cheek as she struts out, promising to see them in the morning before shutting the door politely behind her. 

Straightening his shirt, Light smirks in L’s direction, “If I didn’t know any better Ryuzaki, I’d say that Misa was making you jealous.” Damn Light’s deduction skills. L clenches his jaw for a moment, then pulls out his phone. 

Choosing to make no remarks about Light’s previous comment, L instead decides to ask him a question, “Light, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to make a quick personal call.  How good is your English?” Dumbfounded at the ridiculous question, Light struggles to come up with the appropriate answer, “At a basic conversational level, I’d say. Not any better though, I’m afraid.” 

Quickly dialing a number into his flip phone, L mutters flatly… “Good.” 

The bakery phone rings during what was certainly the early morning hours in New York, the most busy time of day for a bakery. Finally catching a break from the rush, Mr (L/N) answers the phone in the back, barking harshly into it, “What do you want? We ran out of chocolate cannoli for the day, if that’s what you want, you’re gonna have to call back tomorrow.” 

“Is this (L/N) Cannolis?” L’s tired, unsure voice timidly asks. “I don’t know buddy, is it?” Mr (L/N) snaps back, “You called me. What do you want? These customers are busting my balls here today, I don’t got time to sit and chat.” 

The detective rubs his toes together as he stands on the other side of the room, staring out the window at the night sky, “Is your daughter there, Sir?” 

“My daughter? Who the hell is this?” 

Sighing, L looks over his shoulder at Light sitting on the couch looking through documents, seemingly, and thankfully, uninterested in this entire conversation. The last thing he would want is his prime suspect hearing the name he’s about to ask for. “It’s Luke… I’m… I’d like to speak to (Y/N)… if that’s alright.” 

“Luke?” Mr (L/N) tries to wrack his brain for memories of anyone named Luke, “You the skinny English boy my little girl insists on throwing her life away for? Spiky black hair and raggedy clothes? Sits stupid in the chair?” 

“Uh… yes… that would be me. Is she there?” The last thing L needs right now is to be reminded how out of place and odd he was in the world of everyday people. 

With a groan, Mr (L/N) hums, “Yeah she’s here lemme go get her for you.” After letting his daughter date L for five years now, he knew better than to interfere with their shambles of a relationship anymore. 

“Hey darling,” he yells to the kitchen, “your deadbeat boyfriend is on the phone askin’ for you.” 

L smirks as he hears a mad scramble through the phone and it’s snatched out of the Italian man’s hand. A tired, panting, and excited, feminine voice calls to him, “Luke? Is that really you?”

Just hearing her voice, even calling him by yet another alias, after all these months, made half the tension from L’s shoulders lift and float away in the breeze. God, he’d missed this so much… “Yes, it’s me,” he smiles fully, unable to hold back the joy any longer. 

Clutching the phone to her ear, the portly, curly haired girl smiles back, “I was so scared something had happened to you, I haven’t heard from you in forever.” A pang of guilt to his heart, L purses his lips, “I’m sorry for that, I really did mean to call. I just haven’t had the chance lately.” 

The woman hums, “I figured. You’re working that case in Japan, right? I read about it online. Kora, it was?”

“Kira,” he gently corrects. There is a pause for a moment, he can hear the papers shuffling in Light’s hands behind him and the bustle of the bakery through the phone. What he wouldn’t give to be there with her right now… 

“Is everything okay?” the baker finally asks after some time, “It’s not like you to be so quiet, especially during the few times you actually get a chance to call like this.” 

Always so intuitive. L sighs, reaching into his pocket to feel the folded photo. The photo of her smiling face from all those summers ago. “This case,” he begins, “it’s been slow these days. I feel… I feel deflated… in lack of a better word.” 

She hums, “Ah, I see…” There is another awkward pause before she perks up, “Well when you crack it, there’s a raspberry cannoli here with your name on it. I… I think about you every time I make one. They’re all you eat when you’re here,” she chuckles. 

Another smile tugs on his lips, “How can I resist when they taste so divine? They’re only prepared by the most beautiful baker in all the world… and I would know that fact more than anyone.”

Her infectious chuckle nearly threatens to stop L’s heart. “Cream puff!” her pet name never fails to make him blush as red as one of the raspberries she makes the cannolis with, “You better hope papa isn’t listening on the other line.” 

“The old man hasn’t scared me off yet,” he retorts, “And what man wouldn’t want his daughter to be admired like the goddess she is?”

Before she can scold him again for flattering her too much, L can hear her father yelling at her on the line. He can’t quite make the words out, but knowing him, it probably wasn’t too kind. With a defeated sigh, the woman on the phone mumbles, “I’m so sorry cream puff but I gotta… I gotta go soon.” 

L’s shoulders sink, his heart along with it. Why was his precious time with her always cut so short? “Well, I suppose it’s for the best,” he huffs, “I have things to do here as well. I… thank you for talking to me. I… missed hearing your voice. It’s been hard to focus without it lately, if I’m being frank.” 

She holds back the tears welling in her eyes, “I missed your voice too… I hope you solve this case soon.” 

He nods, looking down at his feet on the carpet, “As do I. The second I do, I’m coming to see you, for a week at least… I miss you… quite a bit, in fact. I-” 

“Cream puff, I really gotta get going now,” she interrupts hurriedly, “I’m so sorry. Call again soon, will you? I’ll catch you later, bye!” 

As the dial tone rings in his ear, L slumps his shoulders and clenches his jaw, muttering to himself the three words he meant to tell her just seconds ago, “I love you…”

#l lawliet x reader #l lawliet #death note fanfiction #death note l #l death note #death note

[whumpsoda]

imagine Nevan having a want, a need of sorts. Darius wouldn’t care of course, but Adrastus spots it simmering beneath the surface and invites the thrall to state his need, without any punishment, but also without guarantee that it could be accommodated.

Nevan fights it at first but after Ad commands it via thrall he finally whispers that he wished Malak was less enthralled so he could have someone to talk to—like he had been when he was sick. a disgustingly selfish need on Nevan’s end that he fully expects to be punished for suggesting.

idk what happens next but I doubt Adrastus would be angry, perhaps having sympathy for the thrall while remaining firm that Malak would remain the way he is(??)

WOHEO Masterlist cw: hypnosis, captivity, servant whump, vampire whumper

———————————————————————

“Something wrong, dear?”

It was obvious to the vampire that something just had to be poking at the man’s usually muddled brain. From Nevan’s furrowed brows to his lack of concentration, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Adrastus had been aiding him in washing some of the thrall’s dishes, bored of sitting around endlessly with nothing to do. The kitchen was tainted with a pinch of awkward air, but neither seemed to mind too much.

Nevan blinked hard, catching himself and swiftly continuing to scrub the dish between his fingers, flustered. “Um… no, no, of course not, master.”

“Nothing troubling you? Nothing at all?” They pressed, leisurely scraping food scraps into the sink.

Adrastus wasn’t an idiot. Of course he’d say no. He’d probably learned very quickly that his own master was in no way fond of entertaining the feelings of a thrall. A bit sad, if you asked them.

“No, sir.”

They sighed. “Nevan,” he stopped as they turned to face him, avoiding eye contact and biting his lip. “Do not lie to me. If something is the matter, tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitated. “Everything is, is fine, master. Nothing… nothing is wrong.”

“Love, I don’t appreciate you hiding things. I’m not going to punish you for whatever you have to say, I swear on it.”

“Master, I’m, I’m fine!”

They placed a hand to his exposed shoulder, rubbing their thumb over his lush skin. “Shhh, darling, you can trust me. You can trust master, I would never hurt you.”

Their smile only hardened as they noticed him easily slipping under their luscious control, eyes going glassy and muscles relaxing under their sweet, sweet touch. How utterly adorable. “Master… I… I’m fine…”

“You trust master oh, so much. You trust me with every single thought in that little mind of yours, even the bad ones. Master just wants to help you. Master can help you.”

He carefully dropped his plate to the counter, body swaying with silky ease and calm. “I’m… I…”

“C’mon, baby. You can tell Master. You want to tell Master.” Their aura was amping up with hypnotic force, tugging his secret right out from under him.

“I… I wish…”

“Nevan. Tell me.”

His voice fell to a soft whisper as his relent snapped into a shatter of tiny pieces. “I, I wish Malak was… awake. Like me. So, so I could have someone to talk to… like when he was sick.”

“Oh.”

How pitiful.

Yet, how utterly and undeniably endearing at the same time.

“Oh, dear.” Adrastus’ grin faded, falling into that of a compassionate pout. Pulling Nevan into a tight embrace they dug their head into his chest, contact he fully melted into.

After a moment of pleasant, warm hugging, Adrastus pulled the thrall to their level, cupping his chin. “I… understand that. Yes, I could see why you’d yearn for such a thing.”

Their heart split just the tiniest bit at the glimmer in his eye, like he dumbly believed they would consider such a thing. It was silly, really, but only made him ten times cuter. “Though, I’m sorry little love, I just can’t ease up on him like that. He needs such a heavy spell to quell his ever present anxiousness and messy mind. He needs it to feel good.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes… master…” his words were coated with dissatisfaction and disappointment, but still muddled with daze. So eager to please, he was, even when had he been more conscious he would’ve easily argued.

They would never let that happen.

Adrastus’ grin returned in full, almost as if it had never left. “Good, good. Such a good boy, you.” They tussled his hair, sending his mind reeling and his dopily happy expression to return as well. “Now, just remember, you can always tell me anything else your little mind stirs up, alright? No judgement here, baby.”

“Oh- okay. Of course… sir. Tell… tell you… anything…”

They chuckled, pecking him right on the forehead and whispering beside his susceptible ear. “Such an obedient thrall. Just splendid.”

In that of a flash their demeanor flipped, patting the thrall on the cheek and awakening him from their trance. “Now, back to your chores you go, darling!” Nevan quickly picked back up his task, this time with complete focus and attention like always.

Before they let the conversation go and risk the talk washing right out from Nevan’s memory, Adrastus leaned in close just one more time. “Then make sure you go spend some time playing with your little friend, okay?”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

#asks :) #anonymous #anon ask #we only have each other #Adrastus oc #Nevan oc #whump #whump story #writing #whump writing #my writing #hypnosis #hypnotized whumpee #hypnosis whump #mind control whump #mind control #conditioning #Conditioning whump #Brainwashing #captivity #servant whump

[am-i-interrupting]

Hello!I see that your requests are open so!If you feel like it,maybe something on Viktor with a touchstarved s/o who has trouble initiating physical affection?

The Warmth In A Touch

The first time Viktor touched you it was an accident, a misunderstanding of direction which resulted in the touching of shoulders. It was accidental, not at all deliberate, and something that should not have stuck inside your head but it did.

Warmth wasn’t something that you could often get outside of warm drinks and underneath a pile of blankets. When it came from someone else, when it came from Viktor, it stuck in your mind. It didn’t matter that it was an accidental brush of the hand or shoulder.

The first time he deliberately touched you, it was as he showed you something using his microscope. You hunched over so you could peer through the lense. His cane was propped up against the desk as he leaned close. One hand went to adjust the focus of the microscope and the other rested on your back, between your shoulder blades.

His hand wasn’t warm but it was warm in comparison to the slight chill of the lab. That one point of focus drew all your attention and you could only hum and nod along as he began to prattle on about a theory he was in the process of making. Even when his hand disappeared, the imprint was still there, like it’d been stamped on your skin. It lingered.

You quickly found yourself yearning for his touch but unable to ask for it. You were both friends, work partners. You couldn’t ask for his touch. It’d be breaking so many boundaries but even when those boundaries were crossed anyway, you couldn’t find it within yourself to ask him.

He was the one who’d asked you on a date. Of course, you said yes. It was hard not to when it was Viktor of all people who asked.

You had dinner with him. It was nice. You walked each other home, not living too far apart and within eye distance of one another. Things started to develop.

It was slow. He wasn’t afraid to lean into your personal space now. Sometimes you held hands. It wasn’t much but it left you yearning, hungry for more. It was hard to realize how starved you were of touch until you had an appetizer in front of you.

Jace had left for the day nearly half an hour ago, when Viktor walked over.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and he looked at what you had in front of you. You couldn’t help but lean into it just the slightest bit. You always did.

He gently massaged the muscles of your back, working out knots mindlessly. He rested his chin atop your head.

“I have a theory of sorts,” he said and you hummed. “I’ve been taking notes. At first, I thought it made you uncomfortable when I touched you and you never initiated touch yourself. It seemed very obvious but I had to test that hypothesis and I do believe it’s been proven wrong.

“You still seem to tense but you’ve also begun to lean into any touch. I thought maybe you’d bring it up yourself but you haven’t. So may I ask if I’m right?”

“I— I don’t mind when you touch me, Viktor, I just— I don’t—“ words failed you as you attempted to gather your thoughts and place them into something understandable.

“It’s okay,” he said, “you don’t have to explain, just answer this. Is it enjoyable when I touch you?”

A deep breath, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

And that night Viktor pulled you into his bedroom. He pulled back the blankets of his bed and laid beneath them, beckoning you to follow suit. Then he wrapped his arms around you and it was like you could breathe as the kind of warmth you so long craved finally engulfed you.

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you

[theladyofbloodshed]

Be Consumed By The Flame - Chapter 5

(a short update but we're yearning)

It was difficult to settle on any place for Nesta. Safety was Lucien’s priority but he also wanted Nesta in a place of wonder because she deserved to see the good in Prythian. The issue was that no matter where she was, if pressure came from the Night Court then most would give up her location. She needed somewhere fairly isolated where she was unlikely to be spotted or known whilst she wanted to lay low, which meant - for now - the only place Lucien could be confident in was the mortal lands. Jurian and Vassa were loyal to him. In fact, Jurian would delight in lying to the Night Court. Any opportunity to exceed expectations whilst causing chaos and Jurian was there.

When the idea was proposed to Nesta, she didn’t wrinkle up her nose, but thanked him for helping her when he had no reason to. The obvious reason should have been that Nesta was his mate’s sister. That should have been what he said. 

Instead, his tongue worked quicker than his sense and Lucien said, ‘You deserve to shine wherever you are. I’m glad to be a part of your happiness.’ 

Her lips parted slightly, eyes softening as she looked at him. Then Nesta swallowed, swallowing her words too.

Her slender fingers slid into his hand, the grip firm. Very slightly, her thumb brushed against his hand, feeling the curve of his own.

‘To the mortal lands then.’

***

The hand that gripped hers was warm to the touch. A rustle of wind enveloped them as their feet landed on the worn front step of the mortal manor.

An awning hung above them with wearied summer flowers sagging out of baskets either side.

The summer air of the mortal lands had a coppery tang. Nesta scrunched up her nose.

‘Can you notice it?’

Nesta raised her chin. ‘What?’

‘The lack of magic. It’s not noticeable with more fae present, but just us?’ Lucien gave a soft chuckle. ‘The only fae this side of the wall. The only magic from here to Spring.’

Once, Nesta might have turned her nose up at the state of the manor house. The ruined decadence added character. Although the walls needed a fresh lick of paint and the furniture had seen better days, the house was clean. And, crucially, a safe place for Nesta.

The stairs creaked under quick steps.

A dark-haired man rounded the corner, brown eyes lighting with surprise at the sight of Nesta in his home.

‘Taking up with the other sister instead?’

‘Don’t.’

Whatever was in Lucien’s expression and rough tone had Jurian backing up an inch. Jurian’s features softened as his eyes roved over Nesta’s face.

‘Another mouth for dinner tomorrow then?’

‘Yes, but if anybody asks, you have not seen Nesta Archeron in months.’

Ever the soldier, Jurian gave a salute then sauntered down the corridor.

When his footsteps had faded, Lucien’s hand settled on her shoulder, turning her towards the lounge. ‘His bark’s worse than his bite – Jurian – but there is a goodness in him.’

She did not doubt that Lucien could coax goodness out of anybody.

Soon, Vassa would be awake but Nesta could not take an evening conversing with strangers when her heart was raw, her muscles ached, and sea sickness still held her stomach hostage. Lucien took no offence when she requested time alone rather than sitting on the lurid, pink couch in the living room.

She was shown to a room bedecked in hues of gold and scorched orange; so exceptionally Lucien Vanserra. It was small but tidy except for the busy desk in the corner that was laden with rolled up scrolls and elaborately decorated daggers.

‘Where will you sleep?’

‘Jurian’s bed.’

She arched a brow. ‘You’ll share?’

‘I’ll push him to the floor. I have a habit of sprawling.’

‘Remind me never to share with you then.’

The words slipped out unannounced making her cheeks heat. As usual, Lucien took it in his stride, grinning without a comment as he waved a goodnight over his shoulder.

That night, it wasn’t her mate who she thought of. Cassian never even crossed her mind. No, it was the delightfully charming male whose easy laughter carried up the stairs. Not a boom or a bellow but soft, true laughter that alighted wherever he went.

Nesta remained in a state of disbelief that Lucien had tracked her down. He hadn’t chided her or spirited her back to Velaris. Lucien had put himself at risk to bring her somewhere safe – he’d given her his own damn room.

It was difficult not to compare her mate to her sister’s. Cassian’s friends had trodden on her endlessly, but at the first sign of cruel comments from Jurian, Lucien had plucked it out, roots and all, to protect her from thorns. He had no reason to do it other than trying to win favour with Elain. That, or because he was genuinely good.

Nesta tossed and turned in the sheets. The window was open, trying to cool the room from the heat of summer, but the sheets carried his scent of roasting chestnuts and warmed apples. She could not shake Lucien from her mind.

She thought of the male – how she had first met him on that awful day that ruined her life. Nesta had barely registered him until he had tried to claim Elain. All Lucien had done since then was shine like the sun. He had proved his worth over and over, first escorting Feyre through Prythian under the threat of death at the hand of his family, seeking help for Elain’s wellbeing, then heading off to the Continent and bringing an entire army to the war.

***

‘Move up. You’re taking up all of the room.’

‘I am hanging off the edge.’

A heel pressed into Lucien’s thigh, trying in vain to claim a few inches of the mattress.

‘You won’t win this, Jurian.’

‘I spent five hundred years in a ring. Do you think a high lord’s outcast son scares me?’

Each time Jurian pressed against him, Lucien refused to give in. It was a hot, sweaty night in the room which was made worse by the pair of them trying to share the bed.

‘You would be much more comfortable on the couch.’

Jurian made a noise of outrage. ‘This is my bed!’

‘And I’m a spoilt lord’s son who isn’t used to such rough sleeping arrangements. I'm delicate, Jurian.’

It was time for underhand tactics. Being from the Autumn Court meant that fire ran through Lucien’s blood. Winter was always manageable with the slight increase in his body temperature, which meant in summer, he could act as a furnace.

His arms and legs clamped around Jurian. Soon their skin was slick with sweat, but when Jurian tried to peel his limbs away, Lucien refused to relent. He knew the man too well. Jurian never gave in easily.

‘If you wanted to bed me, you only had to ask,’ came his rough voice.

A stalling tactic.

‘A little tighter then,’ replied Lucien, as he constricted his arms around Jurian’s body.

The minutes ticked by. It came to the point where even Lucien was made uncomfortable from their sweaty bodies. Then, finally, when hope seemed lost, Jurian cracked.

‘You’re a dick. Let me out. I’m on the floor.’

Lucien couldn’t suppress his chuckle. To offer a little grace in his victory, he tossed a pillow down to the floor for Jurian.

‘Cheers,’ he muttered.

‘You could be in Vassa’s bed. She’s awake.’

He knew his friend would be rolling his eyes in the darkness. That was a topic they had unanimously agreed not to discuss without needing to ever discuss it. Whatever sparks flew between the pair, Lucien knew better than step in between them.

‘Yeah, and you could be in bed with Nesta Archeron.’

‘She has a mate.’

The floorboards creaked as Jurian rolled onto his side. ‘Interesting. So do you. You could have said we have mates. Is Nesta’s mate the only thing stopping you from sharing a bed?’

The noise that came out of Lucien’s throat sounded as if somebody was choking him. No. Yes. No. Absolutely not.

‘I don’t know how to feel, Jurian. I was always wary of her. She’d be the biggest obstacle between me and Elain, but so much time has passed and Elain has made it clear that she does not want to pursue even a friendship, let alone a bond. Nesta is surprisingly wonderful. I think she needs to be with somebody on an individual basis to shine.’

‘Does Nesta know what happened on Solstice between her and the shadowsinger?’

‘Yes, and she was furious,’ Lucien admitted.

'You're ready to plough new pastures - and her?'

He kicked the thin covers off of his legs. ‘If you saw the way they treat her in Velaris – Nesta, I mean – you’d have helped her to leave too. Cassian acts as though he owns her, still favours Morrigan, Rhysand, even Feyre. She’s a prisoner. She’s so miserable. She-’

‘Reminded you of your mother?’ Jurian gave a sigh. ‘You’ve a soft heart, Lucien. It will not win favour with the Night Court.’

‘She will go back eventually. Cassian needs to realise how damn lucky he is before that happens.’

Jurian made a tsking noise from below. ‘That male has waited five hundred years for his mate and treats her like shit. He won’t change.’

Lucien was inclined to agree. Despite being loyal, Cassian’s loyalty extended as far as his family, with Nesta an afterthought. Being mates meant he took her for granted. Did Cassian know that Nesta adored the ocean and could spend hours gazing at it in silence? Had he ever asked her what she wanted her future to look like? Would he ensure she reached it even if it was without him?

Eventually, Lucien drifted off though his dreams were plagued with the day he had set eyes on Elain and Nesta for the first time. It wasn’t a day Lucien ever wanted to remember. He hadn’t quite forgiven Jurian for it though he understood the sacrifice that Jurian had made was part of a bigger plot. It still hurt two innocent females and had irrevocably changed their lives.

It was the man’s groans as he stretched that woke Lucien.

‘Must you always be loud?’

A hand slithered up the bed and yanked the sheets from Lucien’s body. ‘I’m too old to sleep on a floor. I’m older than you. I’ll be feeling these aches for a week.’

Lucien swung his legs from the bed then clambered over his friend. ‘Which means I’ll be hearing about it for a week. You should share the bed with Vassa.’

Like a cat, Jurian swatted at him with his hand. ‘And you could share a bed with Nesta. Fuck mating bonds. They’re vile things. Choosing somebody, against the odds, well, that’s special.’

There were many reasons why Jurian held that belief and Lucien wasn’t about to argue fae traditions with a man who had gone to war against his kind.

There was noise in the kitchen as they descended the stairs. Jurian paused to glance behind himself at Lucien.

‘Vassa’s curse,’ he whispered.

‘Don’t be thick, Jurian.’

He felt cruel to say it when hope had shined brightly in Jurian’s eyes so he murmured an apology.

There, making herself at home behind the stove, in the sunny yellow kitchen, was Nesta. Her hair was plaited and pinned, with not a single hair out of place. Her thin blue gown tucked in at her waist but there was a heart-shaped cut out that exposed her back – and the tattoo burnt into her skin of a shimmering silver wave.

‘Who did you make a bargain with?’

At Jurian’s rough voice, Nesta glanced over her shoulder at them. ‘I don’t know. I offered to give up my power to save my sister.’

That did not sit well with Lucien. ‘That Night Court have surely investigated? Feyre is saved – and the child – surely the tattoo should no longer be there.’

‘Unless she’s not given up all of her power,’ said Jurian.

Nesta’s gaze flickered between them both then she turned back to the pan, avoiding discussing it entirely. It worried Lucien though. Who had she made a deal with? And if she had not surrendered all of her power, that meant her portion of the deal had not been fulfilled.

‘There are three glasses here.’

Jurian gestured to the three glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. At the stove, Nesta extinguished the flame and began serving the food onto plates. ‘Very good, Jurian. Maybe tomorrow, we will teach you how to count to four.’

Anybody else might have found offence in it.

His own lips curled into a grin as he watched Jurian crack up into a bellow of laughter.

‘I like her,’ he said, jerking his thumb towards that magnificent female.

Nesta served them with scrambled egg on toast then seated herself at the head of the table. ‘Sorry, I was up a while and decided to help myself.’

‘If you’re going to make us breakfast every morning,’ said Jurian between mouthfuls, ‘stay as long as you like.’

She gave a shrug of her shoulders. ‘A house usually cooks for me. Do we have a plan for today, Lucien?’

With her steel gaze, Nesta pinned him. He couldn’t help his eyes from roving over the planes of her face; once, Lucien had been foolish enough to find them severe. That was before he had seen how brightly she could shine when she laughed, or how her eyes lit up when she smiled. Those smiles were like catching a shooting star as a child, a rare, fleeting thing that he was desperate to see again.

‘I haven’t decided where is safest to keep you yet. If you can stand a day here, it would give me more time to think about it – unless you want to return to Velaris. I am happy to take you back.’

Her face fractured slightly, but Nesta quickly composed herself as she likely had many, many times. The cracks were held together and repaired with every knock until she no longer felt the wounds.

‘You would like me to go?’

‘No, of course not. I want you wherever you are happy.’

‘Stay forever,’ grunted Jurian through his eggs. ‘Can you make a dippy egg tomorrow?’

‘With soldiers?’ Nesta said, a brief smile flitting across her lips.

Daringly, Jurian gripped her hand to brandish it at Lucien. ‘She’s never leaving. We’re keeping her.’

‘I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with this cuisine.’

Jurian launched into a lecture on the perfect way to make an egg that still had a runny, golden yolk to dip fingers of toast into then different ways to prepare eggs, ranking them as he spoke. He washed down his orange juice then cantered out through the door, explaining he had to meet with Grayson. The man was a hurricane in mortal form.

‘Is he always so…’

‘Chaotic?’

Nesta let out a brief laugh. ‘I like him. I haven’t ever really spoken to him this way. He’s not as bad as I thought.’

Lucien gave a low whistle. ‘Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll be grinning like the cat that got the cream. Jurian has a big heart though he pretends he doesn’t.’

***

The breakfast was unexpected. Not the food, of course, as Nesta had made it herself, but the company. Jurian had been a surprising delight, but it was Lucien’s steadfast presence that had Nesta peeling back layers as if the sun was beating down on her. He was pure sunlight, warm and radiant, bringing out the best in everybody that he met.

Another day spent here was not an issue. The thought of Cassian coming to this place was far-fetched but it still made her pulse leap – and not with excitement at a reunion. The storm would come for her. His rage would meet her stubbornness. It never ended well.

‘It’s a beautiful day,’ said Lucien, using his chin to gesture to the window where a sparrow hopped along the windowsill. ‘Would you like to spend it outdoors?’

‘Who doesn’t look at me and think of the outdoors?’

Despite her lack of enthusiasm, Nesta still followed Lucien out through the creaky back door and into the large garden. She couldn’t help but think that Elain would love to get her hands on the place. The weeds had stolen territory and grew as high as her knees. She followed Lucien’s path as he trampled down brambles or held them back so they did not snag on her hair or clothing.

‘Whose bow is that?’

One hung from a branch. The trunk beside it was dented with tell-tale marks of arrowheads.

‘Mine,’ Lucien said with a sigh, ‘that Jurian is incapable of putting back when he has finished abusing the trees.’

A wild thought seized her.

‘Could you teach me?’

In the handful of times that Nesta had asked Cassian to teach her, he’d claimed the Illyrian bow was too big for her to manage, that males even in adulthood still struggled. It stung that he never gave her the chance to try. Nesta was dismissible. Any want or need – if it didn’t align with Cassian’s ideal – was unimportant.  

‘The long bow can be a bit fiddly initially and it can make your arms ache, but archery is fun.’ Lucien prised the bow off the branch then inspected the string. ‘Maybe you’ll get a liking for it and we can get you a cross bow.’

Lucien slung the bow over one shoulder then stood in front of Nesta. As he turned her so she was standing sideways, the warmth of his hands bloomed over her skin. With a familiarity they had never shared before, he rolled up her sleeves so they remained wedged around her elbows then he fastened a guard around her wrist. Nesta could barely breathe from his delicate touches. There was no hesitancy or fear of her reaction. His fingers enclosed around her own as they settled on the pliant wood of the bow.

‘Knock your arrow to the string. The strength doesn’t come from your fingers.’

 Nesta followed his instructions but the arrow slipped out of her grasp and dropped at her feet.

‘Ferocious,’ winked Lucien. ‘It happens. If you’d have shot first time, I’d have been utterly gobsmacked.’

Again, Nesta tried to draw back the bowstring but the unruly arrow began bending away from the bow. She felt Lucien’s chest brush against her shoulder.

‘Bring this arm up.’

A gentle pressure lifted her elbow. His other arm reached around her back. The soft material of his shirt grazed against Nesta’s bareback, sending a shiver rippling down her spine. She could not think with Lucien’s presence so close to her. Nesta was aware of her breathing, her heartbeat, how close her body was to his, the heat of his fingers as he tangled with her own to pull back the string. In her peripheral vision, she could just see the curve of his nose, the slightly parted lips as he aimed for her.

‘Let go,’ he breathed.

For a moment, Nesta did not know what he meant. Her mind was tangled with thoughts of her sister’s mate.

The arrow dived low but embedded itself into the root of a tree.

Nesta turned slightly, gaze catching Lucien’s in such close quarters. This close, Nesta could see the flecks of gold in russet eyes, the slight freckles across the bridge of his nose.

‘Not a perfect beginning, but it doesn’t mean it won’t get better.’

It would have been easy to lean back against him, to tilt her forehead to Lucien’s, to brush her lips against his.

Lucien had a mate.

She had a mate.

She couldn’t catch sunlight. Couldn’t hold it in her hands. Sunlight was only to be looked on, never touched.

#be consumed by the flame #lucien x nesta

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Love, Napoleon!: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Please Mr. Postman

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Black!OFC

Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Word Count: 2.3K

Series Summary: Love letters can only do so much, sometimes you need a grand romantic gesture. This is the love story of Napoleon “Leon” Solo and Roberta “Bobbie” Collins.

Chapter Summary: Bobbie waits impatiently for word from Leon. 

Warnings: female masturbation, mutual yearning

A/N: New Story Art! Woot woot! So, in my story, Leon is an Aries. I just found out that in the Fandom Wiki, and listed in the film’s ending credits, his birthday is March 9th which makes him a Pisces. Since this is MY story, I’m ignoring the facts. He’s a damn Aries. Don’t @ me. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics (envelope), @saradika (hearts)

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Bobbie woke up the next day to an empty bed and an aching core. A smile graced her face when she noticed the note on her nightstand. It never left as she read it over and over, memorizing Leon’s handwriting style.

She had to admit, he had a way with words. From his praise of her passionate vocals to how he said he missed her already. If she was honest with herself, she missed him too. 

And yes, this was quite sudden and he was ten years her senior. But the way he looked at her? The way he held her. The way he made her feel, on and off her feet? It just had to be real.

Of course, he was pretty slick. He could’ve just as easily been trying to chase a skirt. She did agree to give him a little something the same day she met him. What does that say about her? She decided to push that down and see it as it was.

Two dynamic personalities enjoying each other. And enjoy each other, they did.

Bobbie quite enjoyed how she seemed to have Leon wrapped around her little finger. He loved kissing her so much, he told her he was addicted to it. Who says things like that? Well, Napoleon Solo does apparently.

She spends most of the day lounging around her apartment with Leon’s note close by. If she tried hard enough, she could close her eyes and envision his beautiful aquamarine orbs looking back at her. She could feel his lips on hers and his hands exploring her body. 

Soon enough, it became too much and she had to retire to her bedroom. She explored herself the way Leon had. Although it had its intended effect, it just didn’t seem to be enough. When his name escaped her mouth, he wasn’t there to smile down at her and soothe her. 

With a hand still in her panties, she turned her head and chased the remnants of Leon’s scent that lingered on her pillow. That spurred on two more heights of pleasure. When she finally felt satiated, she drew herself a bath and relaxed with a glass of wine and a good book. 

“There’s something different about you, Cowboy,” Ilya says over his cup of coffee, “You didn’t flirt with our waitress. You going blind or something?”

Napoleon starts to reply but Gaby beats him to it. “It’s obvious, Ilya. He met someone in the States. I’m sure of it.” Gaby raises her eyebrows at him, daring him to deny it.

Napoleon rolls his eyes and gestures for Gaby to continue.

“While it is true, you haven’t been as flirtatious with any woman that has been in your path, that’s not the only sign. You not only haven’t had any guests in your hotel room, but you have this longing look in your eye that can only mean one thing,” Gaby takes a sip of her water, “And I also saw you buying that stuffed dog which couldn’t be for you. That trinket box from the embassy will surely look good on her vanity, as well.” She pats Napoleon on the shoulder.

“If you met someone, odds are she is civilian,” Ilya supposed, lightly tapping his thigh underneath the table, “What does she know, Cowboy?”

“She knows your first names. She understands she can’t know where I go for work, what I do for work, or who I even work for. She is also aware that you two are an item, even though neither of you has confirmed it yet,” Napoleon smiles as he looks from a flushed Gaby to a frazzled Ilya, and his suspicions are confirmed, “So, instead of worrying about what a civilian may or may not know? Maybe you should focus on your relationship, eh comrade?”

“How long have you known about us?” Gaby asks, leaning over to peer into her water glass.

“Since we became U.N.C.L.E., I just as easily assumed you two got married while we were Stateside a year ago. Your ring was picked out because it looks like costume jewelry. But a seasoned thief, me, could tell in an instant it was the real thing. And the fact that Ilya now wears a ring didn’t go unnoticed either. You two really thought it would slide right by me?” He shakes his head and purses his lips before speaking again, “We may still reserve three rooms where we stay but only two rooms ever get used. Doesn’t take a genius to put it together.”

“Point taken,” Ilya nods at Napoleon and looks off into the distance, “When we’re done here, we meet this woman.”

“Nice try. Give it a little time before you interrogate her, Ilya,” Napoleon using his given name makes Ilya turn to him and throw his hands up in defeat, “Great. Well, I need to head to the Post Office, if you’ll excuse me.” Napoleon stands, buttoning his blazer before heading toward the town square.

On his way to the Post Office, Napoleon stops at the hotel to grab the gifts for Bobbie and the letter he had written. He smiles as he hands over the package with her address on it to the clerk. The blonde taking the package tries her best to flirt with Napoleon and he feigns ignorance. It’s not that he doesn’t find her attractive, he just only has eyes for one girl.

“It shall arrive by the end of the week, Sir.” The fair-haired woman smiled as she leaned over the counter to accentuate her ample bosom.

Now, had this been about a week ago, Napoleon would have responded to all of this flirting with his own. He would have accompanied her back to her home and used all of his charms to knock her socks off. And plenty more.

But this wasn’t a week ago. This was now. And his flirting was spoken for.

“Thank you, Miss. Have a great day.” He walks off just as it seems the clerk wants to say something more. He may be a strong man, but he’s no god.

Four days. Four whole days of waiting for something, anything from Leon, and nothing. Bobbie has been checking her mailbox multiple times per day this week. She’s been biding her time at work, barely listening to her Boss’ demanding tone while he asked her to do various things around the office. At least he isn’t flirting with her today, that was a welcome surprise.

She would much rather be flirting with Leon.

Leon.

What if something happened to him on his mission? What if that’s why she hasn’t gotten anything? What if–?

She takes a deep breath and calms herself. Getting all worked up was not going to make the day go faster and it surely was not going to help keep her wits. Instead, she decided to get busy with extra work. 

Technically, it wasn’t extra work. It was things she hadn’t finished so far this week. If she kept her head down and made sure to come around with a fresh coffee pot around break time, she could get all of these done before 5 pm. Thankfully, her Boss didn’t have any meetings for the rest of the day so she wouldn’t be needed for some time. 

Soon enough, at 3:30 pm, she came around to fill coffee cups around the executive office. Only receiving a nod as thanks, she smiled in return and got back to her desk. The rest of the day was quiet and she was able to finish everything before the end of the day.

Boarding the bus back to her apartment, she chose a window seat and watched as all the business people moved throughout town. Families and couples strolling along made her miss Leon even more. She would love to be able to take walks with Leon around town, window shopping while enjoying an ice cream cone.

Bobbie didn’t want much, but one of her biggest fears about moving to a new town was being lonely. And Leon just stumbled into her life, or rather, she stumbled into Leon. She wouldn’t lie, she did like his outward appearance, of course. But it was his personality that got her. 

She loved the way he made her feel like the only other person in the world, giving her his undivided attention. He also had a way with words and a way with his hands and tongue. She felt heat rush to her cheeks at the thought and was happy to be almost home.

As she saw her apartment come into view, she signaled the bus driver to stop and exited right in front. She checked her mailbox and there was something inside. A small note card from the postman that stated a package was delivered upstairs to her front door. She relocked the small mail locker and tried to be as cool as possible but gave up and ran up the steps to her door.

She picks up the parcel and unlocks her door. She closes it behind herself before she kicks off her shoes and sits on the floor of the living room to dig into the box. She grabs a pair of scissors and cuts the thin twine that holds it together. 

Unwrapping the brown paper, she is greeted with the most adorable brown stuffed dachshund.

She immediately picks it up and cradles it. The dog is so soft to the touch and it smells like Leon. He must have sprayed some of his cologne on it. Clever man! 

Shuffling through the box’s packing material, she also finds a small silver trinket box.

So shiny and intricately designed with a simple red velvet lining inside. She took the box into her bedroom and decided to put it on her dresser to hold her rings and smaller pieces of jewelry. 

Coming back into the living room, Bobbie picked up the stuffed dog again and cuddled it while digging through the box. Picking through the rest of the box, she found at the bottom what she had been looking for. 

Lifting the envelope from the box, she puts the stuffed dog down in her lap. Her name was written in Leon’s handwriting in red ink on the front of the envelope. Turning it around, she found a wax stamp holding a sprig of dried lavender that sealed it close. Opening the envelope, she unfolds and begins to read the letter.

My sweet Bobbie,

Not a day has gone by without my thoughts straying to you.

The sun here just isn’t as bright without you. Just imagining it on your skin is mouthwatering.

I can still taste you on my lips, and it’s the only thing keeping me going.

If you’ve somehow forgotten, let me remind you. 

I am addicted to your kiss. And yes, I am claiming it for myself.

I hope you like what I’ve included in this little care package.

The trinket box was not easy to come by, but you deserve only the best.

But by far, I think your favorite will be the stuffed dachshund.

Let him keep you company while I’m away, and do give him a sniff.

Smell that? That’s me. I do hope you enjoy Aqua Velva.

Won’t be much longer now til I have you back in my arms, and maybe more if I’m lucky.

I am enamored with you, and that doesn’t happen to me. Ever.

If I timed this correctly, you should receive it shortly before I come back.

See you soon, Sweetness.

Love,

N.S.

Napoleon held his suitcase in one hand and a bouquet in the other. Staring up at his apartment building from the street below, he steadied his nerves before walking through the front door. Climbing the stairs, he stops at his apartment first and drops off his overcoat and luggage. Locking the door behind him, he leaves to head upstairs.

Knocking on the door to her apartment, his knuckles turn white around the bouquet and he searches his brain for something to say. As the door opens, their eyes meet and no words are exchanged. Bobbie grabs him by his tie and drags him into the room, closing the door behind him. 

Napoleon gives Bobbie the bouquet, which she takes and inhales the scent of the fresh flowers. As he looks around, he notices the package he sent. The letter and stuffed dog were next to each other on the floor. He smiles at the stuffing of the box strewn about, obviously opened in haste. 

Bobbie walks up to him after putting the flowers in a vase quickly, tangling her fingers in his silky hair. “You’re here, Leon. I missed you.”

“I’m here, Bobbie. I missed you too,” Napoleon brings his hands up to hold her hips, bringing her closer, “I’ll be here for a while, as well.”

“Well then, I have a few ideas of how you can spend your time, Mr. Solo.” The devious smile on her face warmed his blood.

Instead of asking how they should spend their time, Napoleon’s hands move down under Bobbie’s thighs and picks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and captures his lips hungrily.

The kiss he missed so deeply was back in his clutches. The taste of her was like ambrosia, food of the gods. He could and planned to get lost in this kiss over and over. He takes a moment to lean back, licking his lips and cradling her face in his hand. “Shall we move this elsewhere?”

“Bedroom, Leon.” Bobbie pleads, tightening her legs around him before leaning back in to kiss him.

Devouring her moans, he moved slowly through the apartment in the direction of her bedroom. Finding the door open, he enters and closes the door behind them.

To Be Continued…

Chapter 3

A/N: I ended this on a cliffhanger because I kind of plan on the next chapter being solely smut. This chapter’s song was Please Mr. Postman by The Marvelettes. It captures the angst of waiting for word from your man. Bobbie is the only one who refers to Napoleon as Leon, so in this story, you will see a back-and-forth between the two.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@kingliam2019

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#henry cavill #henry cavill characters #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #napoleon solo fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #napoleon solo fanfiction #the man from uncle fanfic #the man from uncle fanfiction #napoleon solo fic #the man from uncle #love napoleon #ellethespaceunicorn made a playlist #napoleon solo x black!plus size female #napoleon solo x black!plus size female oc #napoleon solo x ofc #napoleon solo x black!ofc #napoleon solo x black ofc

[litres-of-cocaine]

what’s so awesome about the early episodes of better call saul - i’m talking before chuck has his ‘you’re not a real lawyer speech’ - is how painstaking jimmy’s love for his brother is. it’s obvious how great an actor bob odenkirk just from…. everything aha but. hmmmm. hmmmm!

even before it becomes completely transparent how chuck feels about him, the way jimmy looks at him is devastating. and i don’t mean because we already know how the story turns out from brba, because even if we are looking at it completely isolated from context, jimmy’s care for chuck feels almost like grief. there are lots of ways to communicate love across media in joy or happiness or whatever but i think what makes the way BCS shows what jimmy feels for his brother so unique is that jimmy’s love is conveyed through sadness anytime he looks at chuck.

there are two types of looks/interactions i would categorise this presentation of love:

a) the caregiving kind - it’s jimmy in the hospital, jimmy leading chuck out the door of his house to hhm; the kind where this view of what was compared to what is sits so stark against everything else. it’s like anytime someone’s loved one is suffering, like this failing desperation to help.

b) the ache - this desire jimmy has to not be viewed as a ‘scumbag’, basically beyond slippin’ jimmy. it’s him telling chuck he passed the bar and having to ask if he’s proud because his brother won’t say it at first. jimmy is yearning for his brother to think highly of him and even if chuck did what makes the way jimmy responds to him in these situations so goddamn sad is the way it illustrates how low his self esteem is. he needs chuck to encourage him and tell him he’s good otherwise suddenly all his worst fears about himself are just bam correct in his mind.

and like if we compare these showcases of feelings to the flashback of jimmy in custody after his chicago sunroof incident i would argue that we *don’t* see this kind of display. like here he’s interested in escaping the charges and he wants chuck to help him, yes, there’s the underlying tensions of chuck being successful in a way that jimmy decidedly isn’t but this crushing desire to be better at all costs doesn’t appear here. it’s not in the scene where we see a flashback scam play out or barely at all when jimmy has *just* got off his charge and is heading to new mexico.

chuck’s urgency for jimmy to quit his scams and be better is what crushes any positive idea jimmy has of himself (granted if we’re speaking morally - which we aren’t bcs this is fictitious but still - is a societal improvement as he was a con artist) and then his refusal to validate any progress he makes just pushes him down further and further. but jimmy loves him for it anyway. jimmy genuinely wants to be good, he wants so so so much to be a good lawyer and a good person and *like chuck*. he returns the kettleman’s money, warns them about nacho, and actually wants to advocate and help (in exchange for payment ofc, he is a lawyer) for the elderly people he works with.

like he’s viewing his brother as like this redemptive figure for him to a certain extent as he’s realised that he wasn’t a good person before. but chuck ‘saving’ him does make him a better person but just makes him feel crap about himself.

jimmy’s love for his brother is folded over and over and over again and seems so genuine and sincere so that watching chuck’s kind of dispassionate coldness even in the first episode makes it seem all the more desperate and intense. (you could compare him to the way jesse’s parents act a lil probably)

i’m not suggesting that chuck is like malicious in this or anything, but what he does for jimmy seems wayyy more like obligation than care. like he has an understanding of the familial responsibility he has and what i’d call an objective ‘love’ because of that connection, but that’s it. jimmy, on the other hand, idolises him. jimmy in trying to be a good person is still so far from perfect lmao even with the way he is with chuck but it’s clear that is brother is everything to him. the short (and not very revolutionary) answer lol: jimmy loves chuck more than chuck loves jimmy. and again i’m strictly talking. like. episodes 1-9 here.

and now if we put that -back- in context of breaking bad…..

it’s like a fucking sledgehammer to the chest.

we known that jimmy becomes saul before the program starts. even if someone who hasn’t seen breaking bad is watching BCS chronologically, they are seeing saul after the events of the initial show from the start. it’s clear exactly *what* he ends up as. so we know what saul represents in relation to this ideal of a ‘good’ lawyer.

the cars already crashed, the bomb’s gone off, we are reading jimmy mcgill’s obituary.

this care that jimmy shows for chuck (even after the betrayal yaknow) feels so fucking cataclysmic because of that as not only is he trying so hard and the viewers are seeing from his perspective in the early episodes but. we know that he fails. and we know that chuck, the arsehole who i would say, if not directly causes, at least contributes to jimmy’s negative arc, ends up being right.

#i am going slightly insane with this btw #brba #better call saul #what’s that quote about tragic heroes being dead from the beginning? #anyway #that! #jimmy mcgill #chuck mcgill #all the homies love jimmy mcgill #i do think the relationship is so so interesting tho #and cry worthy so that’s fun

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

NSFW Headcanons~ Jerome Morrow

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I’m not totally well versed in how this would realistically work; given the fact that Jerome's in a wheelchair, so I hope this is okay!)

- The thing about Jerome is that he’s technically had a lot of experience in his lifetime; sometimes with multiple people at a time, but he hasn’t had any since his “accident”. And even though he fronts with a big ego, there’s still a part of him that’s embarrassed and insecure about his “usefulness” in the bedroom; particularly because of his “humiliating” lack of self control.

- He’ll sarcastically inform you that his parts do work whenever you seem somewhat surprised by the fact, but truth be told, he isn’t especially aware of when his appendages respond to stimuli or when he’s about to finish. So basically: yes, he’s capable of having sex, but he doesn’t feel any of it and has little control over what his body does.

- Yet; even so, he still yearns for the intimacy that sex provides. He wants to pleasure you and wants to see you in your barest form, wants to know that he’s the one that’s making you feel good, and on occasion, thank you for being with him; as though he has to. 

- Somedays he feels the need to prove himself: to silently scream that he is useful and that he has all the proper equipment to keep you satisfied. He doesn’t stop until you’re limp in your bed, too sensitive to touch even if he wanted to; sated and tired and ready to take a nap as he watches over you in a proud silence. 

- He loves going down on you and would still love it even if he wasn’t in a wheel chair. He’s plenty experienced and can do wicked things with his tongue; things you’ve never experienced before and will never experience again. He’s very proud of his abilities and he loves when you come to him and ask for his help, shyly beating around the bush before admitting that you need him. He’s a patient man and seeing you desperate for him is more than worth the wait. Sit on his face 

- Put your hands in his hair or he’ll put them there himself. Don’t let him catch you fisting the sheets instead of his locks because he wants you lacing your fingers in his hair while he occupies his mouth down south; pleasuring you and using your tightening fists as an ego boost that lets him know how good he’s making you feel.

- Oral, for him, is perfectly pointless: he doesn’t even entertain it. He lets you get him ready to take you before he ushers you somewhat shyly to move on; gulping and looking around like you’ve finally cornered him the minute you praise him or express your pleasure. 

- Since cunnilingus is usually the main attraction for most of your sexual encounters, you can technically consider most of your experiences with him as foreplay instead of “actual” sex. Regardless, stereotypical foreplay is where most of his pleasure is at: being able to kiss and touch you however he likes while you caress him back and purr in his arms like a cat. He’s always so good to you so who are you to deprive him of such earthly pleasures?

- He usually plays a fairly dominant role in your sex life but he can’t deny the fact that he occasionally enjoys it when you take control instead. He’s not too fond of you ordering him around but he does like it when you act all soft with him and treat him lovingly; taking his mind off of whatever's bothering him by demanding his full attention. 

- When he isn’t being submissive, I feel like he’d enjoy being referred to as sir, acting like he’s your owner as he orders you around in a cool and collected manner. He won’t be able to deny that he likes when you play nice; obeying his every command with a sweet smile plastered across your face. 

- For obvious reasons, you set the speed, but he does direct you quite a bit. You don’t want to accidentally hurt him so you usually move at an average or somewhat slow pace; doing everything for your own pleasure without a single complaint from him. 

- You almost always ride him: whether you’re in bed, his wheelchair, a seat, or wherever else you can think of. He stares at you whenever you do so; at your face more than anything, watching it contort in pleasure as he talks to you in a steady voice; telling you to work yourself down onto him and other filthy little things. 

- He’s a talker in bed; it’s how he makes up for his lack of movement. He puts you over the edge with his voice: talking about his cock and how good he’s making you feel, calling you pet names as he mentions his superior genes, etc. He likes seeing you struggle to focus on what he’s saying and/or your attempts to agree with him; whimpering and nodding along to his words. 

- He likes watching you undress, watching you run your hands down your body and pleasure yourself for his own entertainment. He’ll talk you through it: asking if it feels good, if you can fill yourself up enough, if you can even finish without his help, if he’s spoiled you too much for your own good.

- He definitely has a praise kink. Beneath his egotistical façade, he feels as though he’s failed at everything so your compliments are very much appreciated; even if they’re just simple yet erotic comments in the heat of the moment.

- He likes hearing you tell him what you’ve fantasized about and what you need from him. He’ll ask you what you’ve been thinking about with a small smile on his face and tell you that “he can do that” once you’ve finished, more than happy to fulfill your desires.

- Funnily enough, for someone who doesn’t necessarily get any pleasure out of having sex with you, he sure does come onto you quite a bit; especially when the two of you are just getting to know each other.

- Having kisses peppered across your body; usually along the lengths of your inner thighs as he goes down on you.

- Most of the feeling he gets during sex is from the passion and love between you: the way you touch him above the waist, pressing kisses to his face and hair and shoulders; holding his face in your hands as you tell him how good he is. He likes the intimacy of it all, how no one else gets to have you the way he does.

- To tell you the truth, your face and your hands turn him on more than any other part of your body. He’s used to naked figures but he’s not used to seeing the face of the woman he loves and who loves him back, and watching her move the hands that have shown him so much kindness and care.

- Eye contact. He wants you to keep your eyes trained on him no matter what he does and watches your face every time he does something to you; committing all of your pleasure filled reactions to memory.

- Edging. Hearing you beg and seeing you desperate for him as he keeps you just on the brink of ecstasy effects him more than words can describe.

- It’s not a huge thing for him but I definitely think that he has a slight innocence kink. He can’t help but enjoy it when you lean your arms on his legs and look up at him with batting eyes of adoration, smiling at him as he strokes you hair and calls you good.

- He’s got a bit of a nurse kink but he doesn’t necessarily like to admit it. It probably comes from being in the hospital and around medical equipment for so long: his axons had to be firing like crazy and the fact that you may or may not have been his nurse doesn’t help. So yeah, dress up in the little outfit, wear the gloves, massage his body, use technical terms and praise, and watch as he loses his mind.

- Same with maid outfits; especially when there’s nothing underneath. That one probably comes from his time as a big shot swimmer with too much money and fame for his own good.

- Don’t let him call you poppet. It’ll ruin your life.

- He’s kind of an exhibitionist. He likes showing off and letting people know that you’re his and that he can make you do whatever he wants you to. He’ll oftentimes keep a hand on your thigh and have you kiss him in front of people; especially when he catches someone looking at you: wanting them to know that you’re off limits and watch as the envy fills their faces.

- I feel like he likes those little moments where it’s obvious where the two of you are going together and what you’re going to do, or having someone walk in on you just as you’re beginning your night together. It makes him smile to think about how there’s now no doubt in their minds that he can satisfy you and that you’re completely happy with him.

- He likes that he doesn’t have to be perfect with you and do everything he can to prove that he’s superior or worthy of your time. He likes being able to shut his brain off for a while and get lost in the love that he has for you; to know that he’s all you want even after you learn about all of his flaws.

- Tipsy sex. You always find it crazy how he can still manage to get it up. The world may be against him but his body is not and he’s giggling as you climb on top of him, happy as a clam and rasping out about how “god he loves you”.

- He’s definitely hired hookers at some point and you may or may not have been one of them, just saying. 

- Sometimes he argues and annoys you just to be a dick, but on occasion, he’ll mouth off to you in order to get your attention and frustrate you enough to confront him; telling you to “shut him up then” in the most matter-of-fact and earnest voice you’ve heard  all day. His taunting and pleased with himself demeanor makes you not want to give in but sometimes you just cant help yourself. 

- I have a feeling he’d let you have sex with Vincent and would order the two of you around, telling you what to do and egging him on while he watches from a chair by the side of the bed. You’ll crawl over to him afterwards, sharing a smile with him as he asks how it was; enjoying the subtle sign of you still being his. There’s poly vibes between the two of them except your boyfriends a dick who calls him “nothing but an overrated toy” when he gets upset and feels inadequate. 

- He has a big dick. I can’t tell you why I know this, I just do. 

- Condoms are definitely a must when it comes to sex with him; unless you have a really strong birth control. He doesn’t know when he’s cumming so he can’t exactly warn you and you’d probably rather be safe than sorry; regardless of how good his genes are. 

- Please lay with him when the two of you are done. Slide into bed next to him and wrap your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his lips while he watches you cuddle into him. He might not act like it’s important to him but it is and he relishes in it whenever he can. 

#jerome morrow imagine #jerome morrow imagines #jerome morrow headcanons #jerome morrow headcanon #gattaca imagine #gattaca headcanon #gattace headcanons #gattaca imagines #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanon

[frozenbound]

dragon hybrids anon here to say u absolutely knocked it outta the park w/ my request thank u very much. glad to hear ure feelin a bit better and even more glad to see more of ur excellent writing. ive got another request if u feel like it: time travel shenanigans where an older hanzo (around overwatch recall-ish age) ends up in the past somehow and gets seduced by a very needy younger version of his little brother (pre attempted fratricide) who has a thing for older men because of obvious reasons. maybe throw in some daddy kink and some mild identity porn if ure so inclined :3

I'm glad you enjoyed them, Anon!! Dragon hybrid Shimadas are just...so good. I really enjoyed writing it!

And now time travel shenanigans! Man oh man, I LOVE me some Shimadacest time traveling and identity porn, let me tell you!! Another high quality ask! Thanks so much for the request, I appreciate it!

Time traveling Older Hanzo with Young Genji, coming right up under the Read More!

Hanzo sprawled out on his back, staring at the sky through a canopy of pink and white cherry blossoms.

He knew joining Overwatch would be a bad idea. He just knew it.

As soon as he could breathe again, he was going to get to his feet, find Genji, and drag him away to…somewhere. Somewhere that wasn’t the middle of a battle between renegade Omnics and renegade heroes.

Genji wouldn’t be too surprised. As soon as he had finished giving Hanzo a tour of their base…a dilapidated, obsolete eyesore…and introduced him to his teammates…a ragtag group of overly-loud, overly-enthusiastic extroverts that had Hanzo itching to disappear at the earliest possible moment…Genji had brought Hanzo to a quiet rooftop overlooking the Mediterranean, sat him down, took off his mask, and said with an mirthful will of iron, “Yes, they’re insane, but so am I, and so are you, and I’m convinced this is where we can do the most good, brother.”

Hanzo had scoffed. “You may be insane,” he’d grumbled, looking out over the orange water towards the setting sun, “but I am not. What makes you think I’m staying after seeing all that?”

“This,” Genji said simply.

And he had leaned forward and kissed Hanzo.

With tongue.

Then with moans, deep, drawn-out moans as Hanzo pressed forward and laid them both out full-length on that roof, chasing the flavor, the feel of Genji’s mouth.

At last. At long, long last.

There, under the open, darkening sky, Hanzo had, with trembling fingers, pushed his trousers down and then felt and poked and prodded between Genji’s legs, finally fondling Genji’s cock and ballsack that fell into the open air when his little brother released his codpiece, and sighing when long-held yearning was finally relieved as his fingertips found the soft, clenching muscle of Genji’s entrance.

By the time the sun disappeared under the horizon, Hanzo was buried in Genji, holding back sobs at how good he felt, how perfect he was around him and laid out under him, so willing and relaxed and buzzing with desire, desire for him, Hanzo, which he had only dreamed might exist in his little brother’s heart.

Then, after Hanzo had thrust his way to both their completions, Genji spilling across his own stomach and chest untouched with a cry that echoed Hanzo’s as he erupted deep inside, they had lain there together under the stairs, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I’ve wanted this,” Hanzo murmured into Genji’s hair, drawing him closer to his chest, “since the moment you earned your dragon. You looked so handsome, bathed in light and power. I knew then I wanted no one other than you.”

Genji chuckled. “I wish,” he said with a trace of trepidation, “that I could say the same. Don’t get me wrong, brother, I’m flattered that you’ve wanted me for so long, but the world might’ve been kind to keep us apart so long. I’ve always admired you, looked up to you, but would I have returned your affections? Well…not until I saw you again in the castle.”

Despite having Genji here in his arms at last, it was something of a blow to hear that Genji hadn’t shared his feelings as long, but that wasn’t anyone’s fault, much less Genji’s. However, curiosity piqued, Hanzo asked, “Until you saw me there? Why?”

He felt Genji sigh against his chest. “I’m a little wiser than I was in our youth, brother, but one thing hasn’t changed.”

Hanzo furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I’m still as shallow as ever. When I saw that you were…” Genji fell silent and shifted around for an uncomfortable moment, before he awkwardly laughed and continued, “that you’d grown into a DILF, into an oji-san, I instantly got hard as a rock and stayed hard during that entire fight.”

Genji chuckled when the skin pressing against his face warmed up. Hanzo’s blushing was so intense it had reached all the way down to his chest.

“I am not…” Hanzo mumbled.

“Yeah, you are,” Genji said with a laugh. “Accept it. Be grateful for it. Once I caught the oji-san bug when I was nineteen, I’ve chased them all my life. Now I’ve got one for my very own, and I’m not letting go.”

Hanzo was silent for a few moments, before he ventured, “So…if I had…confessed to you earlier…”

“Honestly? If you had confessed before you hid that long chin of yours under your beard, automatic no, and I wouldn’t have been nice about it. After you grew your beard, I might’ve been up for being fuckbuddies, but I suspect that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“No,” Hanzo agreed, his heart clenching.

“I think,” Genji said gently, “that we could’ve had something that wasn’t perfect, but good enough…maybe…to last until you aged like a fine wine.”

“Humph.”

Genji shrugged and stroked his hand up and down Hanzo’s flank. “I’m sorry, brother, but I’m only being honest.”

“I know,” Hanzo said with a huff. “And I accept it, but I wish many, many things could have been different in the past.”

“As do I,” Genji said softly. “But I wouldn’t change this, right here, right now. Never. Not for anything.”

And for one perfect moment, Hanzo was content. With everything. Past, present, and future.

The moment had passed, of course, but with Genji at his side and in his bed and in his heart, much of that contentment managed to stick around.

But enough was enough.

After being forced to return to Hanamura to face an alliance of Hashimoto and Talon just in time for a Null Sector attack to send everyone, friend and foe, scrambling for cover, enough was finally enough.

The battle against Null Sector had been hard, but ultimately successful, and Hanzo had even allowed himself to be briefly impressed by this ragtag group of heroes…then a lone Null Sector omnic soldier had reared up out of its hiding place and blasted Hanzo off his feet, along with Tracer, the time-traveling, hyperactive poster child of the new Overwatch, right into one of Symmetra’s teleporters.

Hanzo attributed the sudden silence and abrupt change of scene to the teleporter. The only place there could be this many cherry blossoms was on the castle grounds, so they were evidently not in Kanazaka any longer. 

So he could afford to lie here for a little while before he finally got up and made the long trip back down the hill and find Genji.

“Well, well! What do we have here?”

Hanzo started at the familiar voice, his eyes widening, but no…that was impossible.

“Another drunkard left behind after the Golden Week crowds, huh? You’d better get up, old man. The Shimada family may open the grounds to the public out of the goodness of their hearts, but most of them aren’t as laid back and…forgiving as…I am…”

There was a moment of silence…charged silence, as Hanzo felt eyes rake up and down his body.

“Hey there.”

Hanzo sat up with a jolt when someone crouched beside him, and the sight was as impossible as the sound: Genji.

Young, unscarred, fully flesh, looking down at him while licking his lips.

Seductively.

“G…” Hanzo started to say, breathless, astounded, shocked to the core.

Then he picked his jaw off the floor, clicked his mouth closed, and scowled, because the answer came to him in a flash.

He was dreaming. The blast hadn’t thrown him into the teleporter after all; it had thrown him into a wall and he had suffered a major head trauma and he was hallucinating-slash-dreaming.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening because Genji, young, whole, untouched, hadn’t appeared in his dreams since the real Genji, with every mark Hanzo had carved into him, had dropped out of the shadows and back into his life.

Before then, however, he had appeared often enough…and wearing that exact expression, exuberant, confident, and utterly shameless as his lively eyes traveled up and down Hanzo’s body, lingering on his torso and arms because each muscle was outlined by his skintight, longsleeved compression shirt.

He licked his lips again, in that characteristic way that always forced Hanzo’s eyes to watch the perfect lines of his mouth.

“Well, oji-san,” Genji said in a voice so low it was nearly a growl. “I don’t think the guards know you’re here. What will you do if they find you?”

Hanzo’s hackles immediately raised at the word oji-san. This was the Genji who would have rejected him if he had confessed his feelings long ago, precisely because he wasn’t an oji-san.

And this Genji knew that, because this was a dream and Hanzo’s subconscious delighted in torturing him at every opportunity.

And indeed, Genji smiled teasingly at Hanzo’s deepening scowl. “Oh, yes,” he drawled. “Lucky for you, I think I could be convinced to help you out a little, if you were to do me a little…favor.”

And Genji reached out to trace his finger down Hanzo’s arm.

Hanzo snorted.

One of these dreams, huh? he thought as he watched Genji waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

Fine, then. If even Dream Genji preferred DILFs, then he’d get one.

“O-oy!”

Hanzo surged up to his feet and, grabbing Genji by the shirt, hoisted him to his feet and slammed Genji harshly against the nearest tree, causing the blossoms above them to quiver.

Normally, he had enough propriety not to kiss his little brother out in the open.

Here, though…

“Mmf!” Genji tried to shout past Hanzo’s lips, but like so many times before, he struggled for only a moment or two before his eyes rolled back and his lips and mouth and body relaxed under Hanzo’s, and Hanzo permitted himself a thrill of triumph as he sought to get a taste of this Genji, the one who had enraptured him for so long.

He tasted shockingly similar to how Genji tasted now, despite everything…

But reality bleeding into his dreams was to be expected. Hanzo had always been overwhelmingly practical, so that even when he was lucid dreaming and had the power to do literally anything he wanted, he was content with Genji’s soft lips under his own, with Genji’s skin under his hands as they roved under his shirt, and with Genji’s sigh, so relaxed, so accepting of this oji-san version of his older brother sticking his tongue down his throat and pinching and tweaking his nipples and pressing the whole length of their bodies together…but only for a moment.

Then Hanzo was sliding down, breaking the wet kiss even as Genji chased after him, before his little brother gave up and threw his head back and let out another long sigh as Hanzo pressed kisses to his throat and to the swell of muscle underneath his shirt until his knees hit and ground and he was facing the bulge in Genji’s short shorts.

He deftly unbuttoned and unzipped them and was not the least bit surprised when Genji’s heavy cock fell out, uncontained by any underwear.

And Hanzo drew in a long, indulgent sniff, filling his lungs with Genji, before he opened his mouth and effortlessly let Genji slide past his lips and tongue and straight into his throat.

“Fuck!” Genji yelped, his hands clamping onto Hanzo’s head, his fingertips curling into his graying hair. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Hanzo would have chuckled if Genji weren’t blocking his airway.

Then he would have sneezed, since Genji’s pubic hair was tickling his nose.

But he managed to suppress it as he drew back, hearing Genji’s breath catch as he stopped to nurse right on the head of his cock, drinking in the precum that was all but spurting out.

Then he laid his hands over Genji’s, still fisted in his hair, looked up at his little brother, and nodded.

Genji was impetuous, self-assured, and most of all, intense when he had been this young.

Dark lust dimmed Genji’s eyes.

His grip tightened.

And he slammed his cock back into Hanzo’s throat.

Hanzo would have sighed in utter contentment, if…

As it was, he had to steal what gulps of air he could in the split seconds of freedom, between the brutal slams of his little brother’s cock into the warm, slick, tight confines of his DILF older brother, so pleased to have found such the perfect little cocksleeve he’d always needed.

Hanzo started to make obscene and wet noises every time his airway was clear because he knew the fire it would set in Genji’s blood, the carnal conflagration, the absolute need to fuck and pound into that welcoming mouth until he shot his boiling load straight down into Hanzo’s stomach.

Genji shuddered and thrust Hanzo’s face into his pelvis, burying his nose into his pubes one last time, and Hanzo was a practical man; all he wanted was to be this close to Genji, with Genji’s length pulsing in his mouth and throat, and Genji’s heat blooming and burning all the way down to his core.

Black spots danced in his vision and his fingers tingled and his blood screamed for oxygen, but nothing could come between him and this most intimate moment that he craved more, much more than air.

It was Genji who eventually drew back and allowed Hanzo to suck in a long, deep breath.

Then Genji reached down and tilted his wet, drool-covered bearded chin up and they locked gazes for a few endless moments, simply staring, with Hanzo panting, open-mouthed with red lips, and Genji had something akin to worship in his eyes.

Once Hanzo had caught his breath, Genji tugged him back to his feet and kissed him, gently, licking over his sensitive lips.

And with his free hand, he pushed those short shorts to the floor and stepped out of them.

And he pulled Hanzo forward.

And he unbuttoned and shoved Hanzo’s trousers down just enough to free his weeping, rockhard erection.

And he urged Hanzo to press forward harder, to press Genji firmly against the tree trunk, and to support his weight as he wrapped his legs around Hanzo’s hips.

And he guided one of Hanzo’s hands down and under the curve of his perfectly muscled, round ass…

…to the soft flared rubber handle of a buttplug.

Hanzo chuckled into Genji’s mouth as he tugged on it.

This really was a dream come true.

Then he swallowed Genji’s moans as he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, pulled it out, stretching Genji’s rim until it popped free.

And Hanzo tossed it aside and lined up his cock with Genji’s loose, lubed, and welcoming entrance and drove in as deeply and easily as Genji had driven into his throat.

“Ah!” Genji cried out, breaking their kiss.

He sounded so sweet that Hanzo didn’t resume it; instead, he latched onto the side of his neck, sucking and raking his teeth and mouthing and licking as he gently rocked in and out of Genji, as gentle now as he had been the first time they’d made love, because Genji was the wild and ferociously free brother who wanted to bust his nut into his devastatingly handsome older brother and mark him as his as quickly as possible, and Hanzo was the practical and patient brother, and he wanted the slick, velvety heat of his little brother around his cock for as long as possible.

“Ah! Ah!”

Genji sounded wonderful. Divine.

He sounded almost as good as he felt.

So hot, so smooth, so perfect, molding around him as though he was made to be the lock to Hanzo’s key, his body parting and opening to Hanzo’s gentle yet insistent nudging and chasing after him as he glided out, and Hanzo felt like he had all the time in the world, here under the cherry blossoms, to work his way gradually up to his pinnacle, the smell of his and Genji’s sweat and arousal slowly intensifying and combining, their breaths getting increasingly ragged with Hanzo’s being particularly raspy in his abused throat, a constant reminder of the contrast between their radically different yet complementary styles.

“O-Oji-san,” Genji panted, right when Hanzo was on the edge.

“Say my name, Genji,” Hanzo bit out harshly, teetering.

Genji blinked rapidly.

Then, slowly, “H…”

Hanzo paused and waited.

“H…Han…Hanzo…” Genji breathed.

“Again,” Hanzo ordered.

“Hanzo.”

“Again.”

“Hanzo!” he yelped as Hanzo bucked his hips, burying himself balls-deep in the first abrupt movement he had made since crushing their lips together at the beginning of this sweet, teasing dream.

“Again, Genji,” Hanzo panted. “Never stop.”

“Hanzo! Hanzo!”

He followed the rhythm Genji set with his name, spearing up into him and punching that sweet call out of his little brother…

“Hanzo! Hanzo! Hanz…ah!”

…until he felt Genji’s hot essence erupt between them, soaking their clothes, seeping in to wet their skin, as Genji again shuddered and trembled all around him.

He drove in one last time, seeking to surround himself with Genji as much as possible.

“Genji,” he hissed as he flooded into his precious little brother, painting him, filling him, marking him as his, as he always was, as he always would be, as his cock throbbed and his nerves sang and the need he had to unite with his brother, to always be united with him, was sated…again…for a little while.

His orgasm slowly tapered off, leaving him as content as he had learned was only possible when he was here, in Genji, buried in him and covered with him and holding him both deep inside and in his arms.

He bent his knees and lowered them both to the ground. When the motion eventually popped him out of Genji’s sloppy, red entrance, Hanzo returned the gentle favor Genji had bestowed on him by lifting his hips, nearly bending him in half, and burying his face in Genji’s musky valley and laving his tongue over the red skin, licking up the errant white ropes of cum leaking out until Genji managed to wink closed and keep the rest deep within him, where it belonged.

Then he lowered Genji’s hips to the ground, his legs splayed on either side of him, and they just looked at each other silently for a few moments, breathing slowly, the smell of sex heavy around them.

Genji suddenly smiled, lopsidedly, and opened his mouth.

There was a flash of white light.

And Hanzo slammed against a wall.

“Oof!” Tracer grunted alongside him, and then, with a flash of blue light, she was gone and suddenly thirty feet away, on her feet, uninjured, and flashing away, firing into the rogue Omnic’s sides with her pistols.

Hanzo laid on the ground, nearly catatonic with whiplash and confusion.

What…?

And suddenly Genji was there, all sleek and white and metallic with his cybernetics, crouching beside him…

…tucking his flaccid penis back into his trousers and buttoning him up…

…then gathering him into his arms and running, carrying him to safety and the warm glow of Mercy’s healing staff.

Later, hours later, when the battle was over and the sun had long since set and Hanzo was as well as circumstances permitted, he went in search of Genji.

He found him on the rooftop, gray against the night sky.

They stood side-by-side for a moment, looking up at the stars.

Hanzo turned to Genji, opening his mouth to speak…

…but Genji was already pushing him down to his knees.

Hanzo let out a little annoyed huff, but he supposed they could talk later.

For now, he simply kept his mouth open.

#shimadacest #older hanzo younger genji #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #requests #my stories #anon #hangen #identity p*rn

[diana-bookfairchild]

@fluffbruary Bonus

Part 1 of 5

Prompt: Yearning

Telling stories of James and Lily was difficult.

Sirius could readily admit that to himself. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Harry, and the fact that Harry had been denied this part of himself and his heritage for nearly six years now. So it didn’t matter that even saying his best friend’s name made him feel like he was seventeen again and drowning in sadness and memory.

What mattered was Harry sitting in front of him, Lily’s green eyes shining, wanting in a way he never was.

Getting Harry to tell anyone he wanted something was a bigger task than killing Voldemort. He had been so obviously scarred by the Dursleys in so many ways – but the biggest way, in Sirius’ opinion, was just how insignificant he considered himself.

Remus had told him to be patient, and Sirius wasn’t an idiot. He’d known he had to be.

And Harry had blossomed. He was still cautious, still careful not to ever openly state he wanted something, but he’d grown into the confident young man before him, who smiled freely while looking into his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Sirius, really,” he was saying.

“You have Hedwig?” Sirius fussed anyway. “And the emergency portkey? And the snack bag? And you’re sure Susan is bringing Bambi?”

“Dad!” Harry laughed, and Sirius felt his heart skip a beat, like at every time Harry called him that. It wasn’t often – only casually emotional moments, but Sirius still loved it, he still treasured every time.

“Do you think my parents are haunting us?” Harry’d asked one day, and Sirius hadn’t been able to breathe for a moment through the pain and the memories, knowing his godson wasn’t asking about actual ghosts - that discussion, painful as it had been, had already taken place.

“I think—” he’d started carefully, knowing he was, for all that he was only twenty-nine and fresh out of Azkaban, one of the only true guides and grown-ups in Harry’s life, “That we can never know that for certain. But if you’re asking if that’s a bad thing, I don’t think it is.”

“Why?” Harry had frowned, swinging his legs, “Muggles always talk about ‘haunting’ like it’s a bad thing.”

Sirius had had many years to contemplate the intricacies of grief and how ephemeral life was, but he didn’t know how to express that other than through wildness - sex, alcohol, cigarettes and recklessness. “I don’t think it can be as obvious as good or bad,” he told the quiet boy finally. “But – we carry their love, their memories along with us on our own lives. And if they’re there, they not only see the bad stuff, but they see the good, they see the best.”

He hoped James and Lily hadn’t seen how their boy had been treated by his so-called blood family. He yearned to know if they thought he was doing a good job raising him.

At least he knew James would’ve never had a problem with Sirius taking on the mantle of ‘dad’. James had always, always wanted the people he loved to be happy, and nothing more or less. As long as both Sirius and Harry were happy, he would’ve been fine with it.

God, and Merlin, and everyone, he yearned for James.

“—eleven years old now. I’m all grown up!” Harry was saying importantly.

Sirius smiled and ruffled his hair. “You sure are, bud. Can’t blame an old man for being cautious, though, can you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know I call you old, Sirius, but you’re only thirty-one. That’s, like, youth for wizards.” He paused. “Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Whatever. You’ll take care of Sanju, won’t you?”

“Mooncalves don’t really need caretaking, but yes, you know I will.” Sirius dragged Harry into another hug, telling himself not to cry. Harry wasn’t even on the Express yet, and Sirius already yearned for it to be Christmas.

This type of yearning, though, was much better than others.

“Be careful, okay?” He added quietly. “You know that there are other Noble Houses’ heirs in your year – many children of suspected Death Eaters.”

“I know,” Harry his beloved hooligan of a child was replaced by Harry the rising political and business star for a moment. “I’ll introduce myself to those I haven’t met before. I’ll try to find out the lay of the land before the vote.”

“Don’t forget to have fun, though. Explore the castle. Fly. Make some new friends.  Bask in first-year lessons, they get very hard soon. Just don’t challenge anyone to duels before you’ve gotten used to your wand. Don’t sneak out after curfew alone without telling anyone – someone should always know where you are.”

“I will, promise.” He hesitated, and then in a whisper so faint Sirius could barely catch it, “You’ll write?”

Sirius swallowed, wanting all over again to find and murder the Dursleys. “Of course. Are you kidding? And I want return letters from you at least three times a week. I don’t care what you put in them. Tell me what Ron has been eating, for all I care.”

Harry smirked. “That’d take three parchments at least.” 

The ten-minute warning whistle rang out. Sirius’ heart clenched as he hugged his godson one last time. “I love you, Harry.”

“Love you too, Sirius.” Harry blinked up at him as though he were about to cry. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, but just wait for it. At Christmas, you’ll be begging me to let you stay.”

Harry laughed. “I know I’ll love Hogwarts, but I promise, nothing will make me want to stay there when I can come home.”

Sirius swallowed. It was all he had yearned for, back in the first hard days when Harry had been so wary and so cold, when trust between them had seemed a hopeless thing. For Harry to consider his place home, and for him to be the kind of child James had been and Sirius and Remus had not: who loved Hogwarts, but never preferred it to their own home.

“Go find Ron, Susan and Neville,” he said. “Leave me to my maudlin musings.”

Harry clicked his tongue. “You are going out with Moony and the Weasleys tonight, right? No musing by yourself?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Harry!” They heard Ron’s voice, and turned to see the ginger boy waving enthusiastically through a window next to a hastily backing away Neville. “C’mon, mate! You’ll miss the train!”

“Coming!” Harry called back, and he turned, grinning brightly, to his godfather. “Bye, Sirius!”

“Bye, Harry.” He said softly, watching him climb onto the train, run to his friends’ compartment and collapse on the seat next to Susan, who was trying to get Bambi to behave. The haughty half-kneazle jumped onto its owner’s lap with a loud purr, and he could see Susan throw her hands up in exasperation.

“Sirius!” He heard Arthur call, and turned.

“Hey, Arthur,” he said. “Boys all aboard?” Ginny gave a sniff, peeking out from behind her father’s legs. “Don’t worry, Ginny, the year’ll fly by and you’ll be the one going to Hogwarts soon enough.”

The girl smiled weakly. “I hope so.”

“Are you okay, Sirius?” Arthur asked in an undertone. “The first time can be hard.”

He watched his godson squabble with his friends, punching Susan on the arm as he laughed. So different from the boy he’d been four years ago, when Sirius had first taken him in.

There would be dangers, he knew that, but he’d equipped Harry to the best of his ability to face them. He knew his godson would not shy away from adventure.

He was, after all, his parents’ son.

The train began to chug and move forward, thick smoke pouring out, and Ginny ran beside it, waving frantically to her brothers with tears running down her face.                                                                        

“Fred, get in the train properly! Ginny, come straight back!” He heard Molly scream, and laughed as he waved to Harry, who pressed his face to the window, grinning and waving back, jostling for a place there with Ron and Susan, who were also waving.

“I reckon we’ll be fine,” he replied to Arthur, feeling the yearning and yet the peace he’d made with it wrap around his heart.

#fluffbruary 2023 #fluffbruary #harry potter #sirius black raises harry potter #harry james potter #sirius black #fanfiction #fanfic #my very late submission for fluffbruary #father son relationship