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#if you’re wondering why I’m like this
irndad · 2 days
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Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-
Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹
Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.
my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k
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“Is Maeve okay?”
It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 
She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 
Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 
She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?
It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 
He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?
“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”
She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 
“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”
She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 
“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”
It’s only then she frowns. 
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”
“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 
“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 
“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”
“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“
“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”
“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”
A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 
She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 
Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 
Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 
And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 
“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”
Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 
Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 
“You’re important to me.” 
She has no idea how much. 
Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 
“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.
Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 
The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 
He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 
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f1goat · 2 days
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more than friends ; lando norris + part eight
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In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.
masterlist - playlist
fem!y/n x lando norris
warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.
requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things
part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven
“Still nog dating Lando?”
You let out a soft chuckle. Lando is walking in front of you, while you’re slowly walking behind him. Oscar is walking right next to you, which gave him every chance to ask his new favorite question. Together with Lando, Oscar and multiple other team members you’re doing the track walk. Normally you skip this part of the day, but Lando almost begged you to come with him. So here you are - and Lando isn’t even paying attention to you right now. You wonder why he wanted you to come with him. 
“Still single,” you answer.
Oscar has made it his new found mission to keep track on everything between Lando and you. After you picked Lando and him up that night, he has asked you a couple times how things are going. It’s nice to talk with someone about the things between Lando and you. You didn’t tell him about the sexual part, but some how you suspect that Oscar already knows about that. 
“Still waiting for him to make a move,” Oscar states.
“True,” you confess.
Oscar lets out a loud laugh after hearing your blunt answer. You can’t help yourself and laugh with him about it. Lando is quick to take a look behind him when he hears your laugh. It surprises him to see you talking and laughing with his teammate. He decreases his pace until he’s walking next to Oscar and you.
“What are you talking about?” Lando asks curious when the two of you stopped laughing. 
You don’t know what to say at first. You can’t be honest with him - because that would mean confessing that you were talking about him and dating him, but you’re also a terrible liar. What are you going to answer? Before you can think of an answer, Oscar is already talking. 
“Pierre,” Oscar answers with a matter of fact tone. He brings it if it’s not even weird that he’s talking about Pierre with you. Lando is quick to ask a follow up question, “Pierre?” He asks confused. He wonders why you’re talking about Pierre with Oscar. A strange feeling comes up inside of him, he feels ashamed for his quick reaction but he wants to know everything right now. 
“Yeah, I’m trying to get her on a date with Pierre,” Oscar continues. He knows he’s taking a risk right now, a big risk even, and that Lando will get mad at him but he’s done with the way his friend is handeling this situation. He isn’t going to standby and watch for years until one of you finally does something. Oscar has decided that Lando needs a push and quick. 
“But you already said no to Pierre, right Y/N?” Lando questions you confused. He feels himself getting annoyed with the subject Pierre and with his teammate. He told Oscar about his feelings, right? So why is Oscar trying to set you up with Pierre. 
You are also getting a bit annoyed with Oscar his answer. What is he trying to do? You know that he’s waiting for Lando to make a move on you - just like you do, but you told him not to intervene. When you look at Lando and notice his frustrated look, you suddenly start to think that Oscar might have done a good thing. Lando is waiting for you to answer. He looks annoyed en his relaxed smile that normally lingers on his lips is also gone. 
“Yeah,” you tell Lando, “but Pierre asked again.” It isn’t even a lie. Pierre texted you again this morning. His text was stupid and a big cliche, you didn’t even answer it yet. It’s something in the line of you needing to give him a chance, because he wanted to settle down and get to know you. This time he didn’t even said something about the way you look, while his earlier messages all said something about that. 
“Why would you change your mind?” Lando asks you confused, “I thought you already decided that Pierre wasn’t your type.”
“You decided that,” Oscar butts in. Lando sends his teammate an angry glance to his teammate. 
“Maybe I should give him a chance to prove himself,” you shrug. 
You don’t know why you just said that. Why did you say something as stupid as that? You can only hope that Lando is going to say something against it, because you really don’t want to go on a date with Pierre. There’s not a single cell in your body that likes the thought of you going on a date with Pierre. Impatient you wait for Lando his reply. In the mean time you look at him. It’s clear that he is pretty frustrated, but he doesn’t act on it. Yet. Suddenly you start thinking about Lando being this frustrated with you while being alone with him. Would he punish you in a sexual way? You shiver while thinking about it, but you can’t stop thinking about how much you would like it.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Lando replies frustrated, “He’s a fuck boy and only wants sex with you.”
The frustration is obvious in his voice. In some weird way it only causes you to say something else about Pierre. Oscar doesn’t even need to say anything anymore, he can just watch how this mess unravels. 
“According to him he’s changing,” you inform Lando. It’s not like you believe it yourself, but you still say it to Lando. 
“He still wants to fuck you,” Lando says with a more angry tone this time. 
“Maybe I want him to,” you reply sarcastically. 
Lando doesn’t realize that you’re talking sarcastically. He can’t stop sending you angry glances. You’re also a bit shocked from your own sharp answer. This isn’t you. But in some way, you don’t know how to behave yourself right now. Lando is annoying you, why doesn’t he want you to date Pierre? You want him to be honest. Maybe it’s just because of your own hope that it means more for him as well… Oscar is looking at all of the drama unfolding before his eyes. He wonders how this work out. Maybe Lando will finally confess? He doesn’t think so, his teammate looks way too mad to say anything good right now. 
“You don’t,” Lando mutters angrily. 
“How would you know?” You ask annoyed. 
You don’t know why you’re getting mad. It’s going about nothing, about fucking Pierre - who you don’t want to date let alone fuck. But Lando annoys you right now and you have the urge to annoy him back. Lando stops walking and grabs your arm to stop you from walking further as well. He stands in front of you right now.
“You told me I’d be your first,” Lando eventually says to you with a softer tone. His eyes are begging you to agree with his words. He needs to hear you say it - he still wants to be your first. “You can’t expect me to believe that you suddenly want to have your first time with a fuck boy like Pierre,” Lando adds when you’re not answering fast enough according to him. 
You let out a soft sigh. “You’re still going to be my first Lan,” you tell Lando. It’s not hard to miss Lando his expressions brighten up a bit. “But maybe I want to date someone,” you add while thinking about your words, do you even want that? “I mean I have to get some experience on dating and Pierre can be useful for that.” 
“No,” Lando states firmly, “You’re not going on a date with Pierre. End of discussion.”
“And who says you can make that decision for me?” You ask. 
“Come on babygirl,” Lando sighs, “not him.”
“Okay,” you reply, “then I’ll say yes to Logan.”
“No,” Lando says again, “you told me you wouldn’t date him.”
“Maybe I changed my mind,” you state. 
“Fucking hell,” Lando mutters. You don’t say anything. “After the track walk I’m taking you on a date and I swear to God, I don’t want to hear you about any other boy for the rest of the day.” 
Oscar lets out a loud laugh. You almost forget that he was here as well. Lando sends him an angry look. He knows Oscar is enjoying his meddling between you two, this must have been his idea. He will talk about this with his teammate later. When he wants to make a sneer directed to Oscar, he starts to notice your look. You have a small smile plastered on your face and you seem quite happy with yourself. It makes him forget about Oscar. Did you do this on purpose? Maybe you wanted him to snap like this? Lando realizes that you’re more of a brat then he knew, he can’t stop thinking about how much he likes that. 
Lando gets a bit closer to you. “And after that date, I’ll deny you your orgasms until you’re screaming out your apologies for even talking about them,” he whispers in your ear. 
Fuck. What have you gotten yourself into?
+++
“We’re going to try something new,” Lando states. The two of you are in the hotel room. You’re standing in front of the mirror, looking at the dress you’re wearing for your date with Lando. It’s fitting you tightly, maybe a bit too tight even, but you want to show off your body to Lando. While applying your mascara, Lando takes place on the bed. “Come here babygirl,” he tells you. 
You don’t even think about it, within seconds your standing in front of Lando. He takes a good look of you, admiring your beauty and the way your dress is fitting you. It’s making him hard already. Lando grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him. 
“I want you to get on my lap,” Lando informs you. You start to move towards Lando, but when you try to take a seat on his lap Lando stops you. “Not like this,” he continues, “Lay on my lap and make sure you’re ass is high up.” Nervous you do what Lando says. You feel Lando caressing your ass, the only thing in the way is your dress and underwear. 
It doesn’t take long before Lando pulls your dress up, sliding it above your ass. Slowly he traces on your string. 
“I want to try something, do you trust me?” Lando asks you suddenly. “Yes Lan,” you tell him without even thinking about it. “Before I’m going to do something, we’re going to work with colors. Okay babygirl? If I ask you for your color, you will answer me with green, orange or red. Green is continue, orange is for taking a break and red is to stop,” Lando explains. You tell him yes again. 
Your stomach tightens when you wonder about what Lando is going to do. You have no idea about what’s going to happen. Lando caresses your ass in the mean time. 
“If I’m not asking, you can still tell me a color if you want,” Lando adds. You tell him another yes. 
Then Lando softly slaps your ass. You let out a soft cry when he does. It didn’t hurt, you’re just shocked. 
“Color?” Lando asks you, “Green,” you answer within a second.
Lando repeats his earlier movements, only this time the slap is a bit harder. You feel a small sting on your ass. Lando slaps you again, even harder this time. He asks you for your color again, you reply with the same answer as before.
“You know what they always say right?” Lando asks you, “Bad girls get punished, good girls get rewarded. I think you’ve been quite bad this afternoon, don’t you think so?”
Before you can answer Lando slaps your ass again. After the hard spank he caresses it. You let out a soft moan. “But I believe you’re enjoying your punishment,” Lando remarks, “Isn’t it babygirl?” You nod. “Words,” Lando reminds you. 
“Fuck,” you stammer, “Y.. yes I enjoy it.”
 “Want more?” Lando asks you.
“Yes please,” you reply.
Lando spanks your ass even harder. He slaps it multiple times after each other. It causes you to let out multiple moans. Maybe this is exactly what you hoped for when you got Lando frustrated earlier today. It feels good that he’s taking it out on you. 
Lando lets out a soft chuckle, he lets his finger slide through your slit. “You like this, don’t you babygirl?” He asks you. “Yes,” you confess quickly. He gives you another slap on your ass. “Look at you,” he says, “all worked up because of me, all horny because of the way you’re getting treated. Fucking hell babygirl, you should know how hot you look right now.”
After that he stops. You let out a whimper when Lando his hands aren’t touching you anymore. Then he pulls something out his pocket. You’re still laying on his lap with your ass up. Lando pulls your string a bit aside. Suddenly you feel a soft vibration against your cunt. It causes you to let out a surprised yelp. You realize that it’s a small vibrating toy that’s being hold by Lando against your entrance right now. What’s going on?
Lando slides the toy inside of you. He gives you a soft slap on the ass and pulls your string back. Then he also slides your dress back over your ass. He helps you to get back on your own feet. After that he opens his phone and you feel the vibrations increase. You let out a soft moan. 
“You okay with this?” Lando asks you. 
“Green,” you tell Lando with a small smile. 
“Good girl,” he states proudly. Lando presses a kiss against your forehead. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he continues, “Keep acting like this and maybe you’ll deserve to cum. And now we’re going to the restaurant.”
“I’m going to a restaurant with a toy inside me?” You ask Lando surprised.
“A toy which I can control,” Lando adds.
Fuck. This will be a difficult dinner. 
“Color?” Lando asks just to be sure. When he hears you say green, he grins. You’re everything he wanted, now he only needs to figure out a way to keep you forever. 
+++
Lando is trying. He really is. But why is it always when he takes you somewhere, that there are so many people interested in you? When he took you to a Grand Prix for the first time, it was his own teammate - Carlos Sainz, who was interested in you. When that faded there were others, new found friends of his who wanted to get to know you better. There’s always someone interested in you. On the grid right now, he knows that Pierre and Logan have interest in you. He hoped to escape from that tonight, but it seems like the waiter has found you as well. 
He tried so hard to think about a nice date for you. He took you to a good restaurant and made sure to check the menu, so he would know for sure that you’d like the food. He acts like a gentleman, opening the car door for you and seating you. It seemed like things were going really well, but now there’s this stupid waiter who is flirting with you. Lando is sure he’s going to lose it soon. He tries to ignore the waiter, but every time he comes around Lando is reminded that your not his. 
Earlier this evening Lando stopped the toy inside of you, but now that he sees the waiter coming again an evil idea comes up. He grabs his phone and opens the right app, when the waiter is standing by your table, Lando turns the toy on again. You are quick to get flustered, the setting is low but it’s enough to make you tremble. Lando takes a look at you, hoping that you’re alright with this. You show him a small nod. 
“Do you want anything else to drink?” The waiter asks Lando, he orders another soda. “And what about you?” The waiter asks you, Lando swears that he saw him wink. He opens the app again and changes the setting to a higher one while you’re telling the waiter about your order. It causes you to stutter while saying the last words. 
Lando chuckles. When the waiter walks off, you show him an angry look. “Dick,” you mutter. Lando changes the setting again, even higher this time. It makes you let out a soft moan. 
“Color?” He asks you. “Green,” you answer again. 
He smiles at you. You show him a small smile back. 
“Such a dirty girl,” Lando softly says to you, you can only nod.
Lando decreases the settings of the toy for you. He doesn’t turn it off completely like before, there’s still a small vibration inside of you. It’s making you slowly go insane. The vibrations aren’t enough for you to get close to a orgasm or to be loud, but it’s still all you’re busy with. The feeling is nice, but it keeps reminding you that you still haven’t orgasmed. Lando has been teasing you since you’ve been in the hotel with him and it’s making you loose your mind. When you remind what he told you earlier at the track today, you wonder if he’s even going to give you the pleasure of an orgasm today. 
When the waiter comes to bring your drinks, Lando can’t help himself and starts to feel annoyed again. He’s so sure of that the guy is flirting with you. It’s not that you’re flirting back, but Lando still feels really annoyed by the situation. You try to make a conversation with him, but he keeps fading out of it. 
“What’s going on Lan?” You eventually ask him. 
It’s your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts about the waiter - and all the other boys who want you. Lando tries to shrug it off at first, but when he notices your strict gaze he realizes that he won’t get away this easily.
“It’s just that everywhere I take you, there seems to be someone who tries to get with you,” Lando confesses with an annoyed sigh. He sounds childish. He doesn’t have the right to complain about it.
You show Lando a small smile. It’s really bothering him apparently. Can that mean that he’s jealous? “I’m not interested in any of them,” you tell Lando, “so just ignore them.”
“Promise?” Lando asks you. “Promise,” you reply.
“Not even that waiter?” Lando asks you, he needs to be sure.
“Waiter?” You ask surprised, “Which waiter? I thought you were talking about Logan and Pierre.”
“The one who just brought us our drinks,” Lando explains.
“What’s with him?” You ask confused.
“He’s trying to flirt with you,” Lando tells you. 
You let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t notice,” you tell Lando, “but still, don’t worry about them Lan.”
“Sure?” He asks you. 
“Yeah, if I was interested into one of them then why would I be here with you and a toy inside of me right now?” 
“That reminds me,” Lando jokes while pulling out his phone of his pocket and increasing the setting from the toy. Now he’s making it harder for you. The vibrations are increasing and making you feel more pleasure then before. Earlier it was just a small thing in the background, now the vibrations are doing a lot more to you. 
The evening is progressing quickly. When Lando and you walk away from your table, you’re shaking. The toy inside of you is making you go crazy. Lando slides his arm around your waist, walking towards the exit together with you. You can only hope that he’ll make you orgasm when you’re back at the hotel. You can’t go on like this much longer. When you notice that Lando his expressions change, you’re quick to follow his new angry glances. They are directed at the waiter. You notice that the guy is walking towards you. Maybe you have forgotten something at the table?  Lando is worrying about other things, he knows for sure that the guy is going to ask for your number or something.
“Uh hi,” the waiter greets you again, “I wanted to ask if you’re still single? And if so, can I get your number?” He asks.
Oh fuck. Lando was right apparently. You feel the way his grip on your body tightens. He pulls you even closer to himself. It’s almost if Lando is trying to show the guy that you’re his. But you’re quick to realize that you’re probably imagining things. You’re not his. Something that seems to be a growing problem. 
Lando can’t stop his movements. After pulling you close to himself and sending angry glares at the guy, he’s still nervous about your answer. What are you going to tell the guy? What if you do want to date the waiter? He feels himself getting more stressed.
“No sorry,” you reply.
“Protective boyfriend,” the waiter remarks while nodding at Lando, “Sorry wasn’t sure before, but it’s pretty obvious now.”
That’s not what you meant. You just meant that you didn’t want to give the guy your number. Why does he think Lando is your boyfriend? Before you can say anything about it, Lando is already talking.
“Glad that it’s obvious,” Lando says annoyed. He can’t help it. He knows he’s crossing the line, but he can’t stop thinking about you being his. You just play along to his words and try to hide your confused feeling. Lando starts to walk off with you in a fast pace, wanting to leave the place as soon as possible. 
He takes you back to the hotel with him. You’re feeling a bit tense because of what happened earlier, but you’re quick to forget when you see Lando pressing something on his phone. It’s the toy. Now you’re back in the car, Lando feels save enough to push you a bit more. And maybe he just wants to hear your moans for him, he can use a reminder of those sounds for him. You let out a loud yelp when the vibrations increase a lot more then before. Fuck. Moans are trembling from your lips and you feel your body shaking in the passengers seat of Lando his rental car. Lando lays his hand on your thigh in the mean time, softly squeezing it. You stare at him for a bit. Could it be possible that Lando likes you back? After today you have gotten a bit of hope. His jealousy is making you question everything.
When the two of you are in the parking lot of the hotel, Lando looks at you. “If you can get back to the room without making a sound, I’ll let you cum,” Lando tells you strictly. You nod desperately. You’re in desperate need to orgasm. The teasing is almost getting to much. “Not even the softest moan babygirl,” Lando continues. You show him another nod. “Good girl,” he mutters before pressing a small kiss against your cheek.
Lando is quick to get out of the car and open your car door as well, you take his hand and together you walk inside. Walking towards the elevator went fine, but as soon as the elevator closes Lando is holding his phone again. He looks at the app from the toy and doubts for a few seconds. He takes a look at you and decides that he is going to try it. Without giving it another thought, he puts the toy on the highest setting. He notices the way you start to tremble. Your lips are pushed onto each other, it’s causing you a lot of effort to keep silent. Lando grabs your arm and pulls you in front of himself. 
“Such a good girl,” he whispers in your ear. After that he presses a kiss against your neck. “Only a couple more minutes,” he continues to whisper. He peppers multiple kisses against your neck and shoulders. “So good for me.” “The best I’ve ever had.” “Fuck.” “You look beautiful like this.” He keeps continuing to praise you. 
When you’re finally back into the hotel room, Lando helps you onto the bed. He pulls up your dress, lifting it to above your ass. 
“How do you want to cum?” Lando asks you. 
“I don’t care,” you whimper, “just make me cum.”
“Me or the toy?” Lando continues to ask.
“You.”
Lando is quick to take your words into action. He slides your string aside and pulls out the toy, quickly tossing it aside after putting it off. Within seconds his fingers are inside of you. Instantly you feel more filled up then before, you let out a hard moan. He presses his lips onto your clit and softly sucks it inside his mouth. When he releases your clit, he looks up to you. “So beautiful for me,” he mutters again. You barely hear him. 
“So close,” you tell Lando. 
Lando decreases his pace. “You know what to do baby,” he instructs you. Without thinking about it, you’re begging Lando for your release. Pleading him to increase his pace again and to make you cum. He doesn’t. “Maybe I would be nicer if you weren’t talking about dating Pierre and Logan earlier today,” Lando suddenly says.
Fuck. You knew this would be coming back to bite you in the ass.
“Sorry,” you whimper without thinking about it, “Shouldn’t have said that,” you continue. “Only did it to get your attention,” you even confess.
Lando increases his pace. “My attention?” He asks you. You nod frantically. Lando lets out a deep chuckle. “Fucking hell babygirl,” he says, “don’t do that ever again.”
“Sorry,” you whimper.
“You always have my attention,” Lando states. He shows you a small nod to let you know that you can cum now. It doesn’t even take more then five seconds before he feels your pussy clenching around his fingers.
The two of you are silent for a bit. Lando lays down on the bed as well and pulls you on top of him. You feel yourself relax against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, you let out a relieved sound. Lando presses a small kiss against your cheek. 
“You’re still ready to lose your virginity?” Lando suddenly asks you. 
“Yeah,” you reply, “as long it’s with you.”
He doesn’t reply further. What you don’t know, is that Lando is starting to think about the perfect way for him to have sex with you the first time. When you fall asleep later that night, Lando turns to his phone and starts to figure out the first things.
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azsazz · 2 days
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Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader
Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 1,217
Notes: Love this tbh!!!
_________________________________________
You feel him before you see him. 
You can feel him all the time; even when he’s courts away there’s that connection humming blissfully in your chest. It’s comforting, to know that your mate is alive and well, that there’s a surety you’re aware of him and how he’s feeling. When he’s content in a warm bath with a glass of fae wine smoothing the creases between his brows. When he’s squaring his shoulders and surging with pride for the sparring with his brothers he has won again. When he sends a warmth so suggestive down the bond late at night when he’s sure there’s no one around. The very one you feel deep in your soul, that makes your core melt like his fire-filled hands are working your center. The one that leaves no questions whether he loves you or not.
Of course, there are times when you can’t feel him. When he’s blocked the bond from ever reaching you when his father brings his wrath down on him like he’s young and defenseless again. He always hides that from you. When the distance from you becomes too great and there is no choice for him but to block the bond because he knows that there is nothing that can be done in the current state of Pythian. No way for the both of you to be together, no way for him to seize you from the control of your older brother. If you were lesser than the High Lord’s younger sister, he’d sneak across the border lines on a whisper of autumn winds and find his way into your bed. 
It’s been ages since you’ve seen your mate, since you looked into those warm russet eyes, ran your fingers through his auburn hair, counted the freckles dotting the pale skin of his cheeks. 
Your breath catches in your throat as Eris is escorted into Rhysand’s office and your eyes meet. 
A sense of relief floods the bond as his eyes move over you in an intentional sweep that to everyone else in the room looks like he’s wondering why you’re here, but you know your mate is assessing you for injuries even though you’re nowhere near injured. Not even a scratch or a bruise on your perfect skin. 
No one notices the slight falter in his steps. All Eris wants to do is rush over to you and sweep you in his arms and press you into his chest, feel your heartbeat against his own. He wants to taste that smile you’re trying all too hard to hide from him, move his mouth across the color dusting your cheeks to feel his fire dancing underneath your skin. He wants to strip you bare, devour every inch of you. He wants to hear you scream his name, whisper that you love him, cry for him to take you away, admit that you never want to be apart—
But he’s not even allowed to sit next to you. 
Across the large table is as close as he allows himself to get. It’s not close enough that he can accidentally kick his foot against yours and he doesn’t like that you’ve been meticulously placed on the opposite side so he can’t even walk past you and brush his fingers against your hand or the back of your neck. 
His bond keens in his chest and he tries his best to stifle it, ripping his gaze away when he’s drawn to you like this. 
Eris is flanked by Cassian and Azriel, and even though he feels as if he’s on the best terms he’s ever been with the Night Court, this feels like a set up. A trap.
You allow a caress of reassurance down the bond to your mate. Your brother doesn’t know, no one in this room, in this court, in this continent knows of your connection to the heir of Autumn. Eris’ throat works as he swallows, and you turn your attention away from him as he sends a feeling of understanding back to you.
“Eris.” Rhysand gestures to the autumn born royal to sit. He’s lounging in his own chair at the circular table, an arrogance to him that irks you. It’s all a front, of course, one Rhysand has carefully crafted to perfection from centuries as High Lord. You don’t like that it’s directed at your mate, and you’re feeling more protective than ever, flickering a glance over to the males sitting on either side of your mate, as if they’re caging him in.
Not unusual for an untrusted male in your court. You’ve seen your brother pull this same maneuver more times than you can count, but there’s a charge to the air that feels different. Your spine lengthens and you flare a warning down the bond, praying your mate doesn’t react but readies himself. 
He follows your heed with unfaltering trust. Eris’ fingers flex where they’re resting on the arms of his chair, and you watch him unhinge his jaw only slightly, so that he doesn’t flex it. The scalding look on his face stays directed at your brother.
Your lips part and the muscles of your legs tense, ready to jump out of your chair in the next moment, when you catch Rhysand’s smirk, the one that spells trouble. His violet eyes are dark with the promise of violence and his shadows are quick to strike, tendrils of nightmares winding their way around Eris’ wrists, trapping him to the very chair he was offered.
Eris shifts his hands in a nonchalant motion, testing out the strength of the sentient darkness Rhysand uses to hold him hostage. They don’t give an inch and he wonders for a fleeting moment if he can burn them away. If your worry wasn’t heavy in his chest, the beat of your heart spiking double, he would try it. But with you here, he’s not willing to try anything that could potentially put you in danger.
Plus, a part of him wants to hear what Rhysand has to say. The other part of him wants to get you the fuck out of here.
The High Lord of the Night Court plants his hands on the table. High Lord, because there is no ounce of your brother in his eyes and actions right now.
The chair scraping against the floor as Rhysand stands is the only sound in the room. Cassian nor Azriel moves from their seats, but they pin your mate with the menacing kind of looks that mirror Rhysands, ready to follow his every demand, no questions asked. 
“Eris,” Rhysand’s voice is not its usual purr as he leans forward. A strand of hair falling across his forehead is the only sign of the crack in his facade, the utter rage filling the room with an unbearable tautness.
The words are sticky in your throat. You can’t move, can’t seem to take your eyes off of your brother as your heart splinters in your chest like it’s his own shadows tearing you to strips. You’re only able to manage a quiet, “Don’t,” that’s filled with too much desperation.
Rhysand ignores your words. He hisses at Eris, dark and low. “How long have you and my sister been keeping this little mating bond of yours a secret?”
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moonstruckme · 2 days
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Hiiii!I hope your doing great I saw your requests just opened and I was wondering if you would mind doing a poly emt marauders with a reader that’s in hospital and they don’t know until they’re like bringing in someone in or something and their like why didn’t you tell us and she’s like oh cause I didn’t want you to worry.Something like that if not it’s fine have a good day!!!🌊
Thanks for requesting gorgeous! Not super sure if this is accurate since I don’t think paramedics usually spend much time inside the hospital but oh well haha. Hope you have a good day too! <3
cw: hospital/emergency room, mention of broken bone
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 827 words
You’re just on your way out of A&E, feeling sore and shattered and more than a little sorry for yourself, when someone says your name. With an odd mix of relief and trepidation mingling in your chest, you turn. 
Sirius makes it to your first. He takes your face in his hands, eyes scanning it over thoroughly before starting to make their way down your body. “Baby, what’s happened?” 
“Hey,” you say, “what are you doing here?” 
“Um, no.” James gives you a funny-looking smile, amusement tangled up with worry. “It’s fairly normal for us to be here, what are you doing here?” 
“I, um—” 
“Idiots.” Remus bypasses them both, taking your injured hand gently and holding it up where your other boyfriends can see it. “What happened here, lovely?” 
“I broke my finger,” you admit. 
Sirius looks devastated, though with the splint binding your two fingers together you thought it was fairly obvious. “How?” 
“Shut it in my car door.” 
James winces and Remus tsks compassionately, turning your hand so he can see the injured digit from another angle. 
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
You shrug, not quite looking at any of them. “I had to wait a while. A few hours.” 
Remus’ look lets you know your sheepishness isn’t without good reason. “Did you drive yourself like this?” 
You nod meekly. 
“Angel!” James wraps his arms around you, tucking your head underneath his chin, and you go happily. You’ll take his mollycoddling over Remus’ reproachful stare any day. “Why didn’t you call us? I can’t believe you had to sit here all by yourself.” 
“I knew you were busy at work, and I didn’t want to worry you.” Now Sirius is glaring at you, too. You snuggle further into James’ embrace. “It wasn’t so bad.” 
“Did they have to set it?” Sirius asks. 
Your face heats. “Yeah. It was pretty weird-looking when it first happened.” 
James makes a pitiful whining sound. “Poor love.” 
“How long did they tell you it’d take to heal?” Remus’ voice sounds somewhat gentler now. He finally relinquishes your injured hand to Sirius, who starts turning it about and inspecting it in the same manner, like the doctor who splinted it for you might not have done a good enough job. 
“Six to eight weeks,” you say glumly. It already feels annoyingly constraining not being able to bend either of those fingers; you’re not sure how you’re supposed to deal with it for weeks on end. 
The boys exchange a look, and James drops the protective circle of his arms from around you. “I’m going to go find Amelia,” he says, “see if she’s on break.” 
You clutch at his shirt with your good hand. “Don’t leave me,” you whisper. 
Your boyfriend smiles, dropping a kiss on your head. “Sorry, lovie.” 
“I think we ought to feel insulted,” Sirius comments as James walks away. Remus only shrugs. 
He reaches for your face now that it’s not hidden under James’ chin, wiping frownily at something on your cheek. 
“Are you feeling alright now, dove?” he asks, and you veritably liquefy at the tenderness in his voice. 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You shrug one shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it really wasn’t awful.” 
Sirius gives your wrist an admonishing little squeeze. “You have tear marks on your face,” he contradicts you softly. 
“Oh.” You run a finger under your eyes, feeling your face heat. 
Remus tuts and lets his hand against the side of your neck, thumb stroking at your jaw. “We’re only on shift for another hour,” he tells you. “James is finding our friend Amelia so you can stay in the break room with her until we can come back and get you, okay?” 
You shake your head, and his stare hardens but you say anyway, “I don’t need to be babysat. I can get home on my own.” 
“You shouldn’t be driving after having anesthetic.” 
You narrow your eyes. “Wouldn’t they have told me if that were the case?” 
“We don’t want you driving with a numb hand,” Sirius clarifies. When you turn your attention to him, he gives you a stern look. “You should have called us in the first place. Just let us do what we can for you now, okay?” 
You sigh in resignation just as James comes up behind you again. Seeing as no one has taken over hug duty, he wraps both arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. 
“Okay,” you tell Sirius. 
“Oh, excellent. All on the same page, are we?” James turns his head to smooch your cheek. “Knew you’d come around, angel. Amelia’s ready for you, so you can hang in the break room until we get back.” 
“Is she going to baby me too?” you joke, letting him steer you towards the hallway. 
“Probably not,” Sirius says, “but don’t you worry, sweetness. We’ll make up for that when we get you home.” 
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miryum · 3 days
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☆ 18+ minors dni ☆
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who comes over to your house just at first to get away from Crime Alley and his parents. Your parents welcome him with open arms and encourage him to come over because they don’t want to see him stuck at home with abusive and addicted parents
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who doesn't think much of you at first – you’re just another person in his sphere of knowledge. You’re just the little sister of his best friend and someone else who sits at the dinner table when he stays over 
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who begins to notice you once you enter high school after him and your brother. His place in your family is becoming more solidified as the years go on and as his father is sent to prison 
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who begins to tease you when he comes over to hang out with your brother. He begins to ask offhandedly where you are and seems a bit disappointed whenever you’re out with friends or at an extracurricular
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who tags along to see all of your performances or sporting events or concerts and sends you a little smirk after each one, congratulating you along with the rest of your family
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who slowly becomes more integrated into your world and who you begin to notice – not as simply one of your brother's friends, but as a potential crush as high school continues 
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who makes sure to smile at you in the hallway during passing times and who never acts like the stuck-up upperclassman who’s too good for you (even if that’s how your brother acts)
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who begins to routinely flirt with you whenever he comes over. Snide little comments like “Y/n knows what I’m talking about” and “Princess, you want me to proofread your essay? Lord knows you need it” with that infuriating smirk
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who gets a glow-up over the summer between 11th and 12th year and sends your little 10th grade heart beating wildly
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who sees this and sends a simple wink your way
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who spends sleepless nights debating whether he should act on his feelings or if he was just being creepy thinking about an underclassman 
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who can never explain why he doesn't go on any dates anymore and stays stubbornly single even when your brother begins to date more steadily
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who won’t ever admit that thoughts of you on your family vacation to the lake that he was invited on, wearing your swimsuit, water dripping down your body after he threw you in the lake, enter his mind when he has his hand down his pants
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who cheekily asks you if you have a date to his senior prom, heart actually beating in his chest, worried you would just see him as a friend of your brother’s
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who picks you up in a handsome suit and tie, hair coiffed and jaw dropped when you hurry down the stairs in your prom dress, your mom gushing over you two. Your brother’s brows furrow slightly when he sees Jason’s blush and wide eyes, but doesn’t say anything of it
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who makes sure he’s the only one who dances with you at prom and brushes aside any glances of a senior and sophomore together. There are other sophomores there, but usually in a friend group comprising of both juniors and sophomores
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who corners you after prom before school, beginning the conversation all smooth and suave with “how’d you like being on my arm last night, sweetheart?” but by the end of the conversation he’s a bashful little boy, stuttering out how he knows he’s a senior and going off to college soon, but also really likes you and was wondering if you wanted to go out to a movie or get ice cream later
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who tells your brother he’s officially dating someone, but doesn’t say who. Never mind that you’ve been coming home more happy and blushing 
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who, once he turns 18, gets a little nervous that people will think of him as a paedophile. He worries that once he goes off to college, you’ll forget about him and move onto a “younger” man (even though Jason’s only two years older and is going to Gotham University so he’ll still be close by)
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who takes you out on the weekend of your seventeenth birthday (you told your parents your friends were taking you out, which wasn’t lying, per se) and treats you how he always thought you should be treated
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who books you two a hotel room that night and positively keens at the idea of taking your virginity
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who lays you down on the hotel bed and takes his lovely time with you. Whenever you mutter, “if my brother finds out…” he rewards you with a little swat to the thigh and replies, “I don’t wanna be thinking about your brother right now”
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who finds that sweet spot behind your earlobe and a million other sweet spots all while circling your clit over your underwear. “Oh, sweetheart, look at how wet you are for me,” he coos and when you blush, he kisses your cheeks and says, “no, no, it shows me how much you want me”
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who gets addicted to your pussy. He decides that your pussy ruined all other pussies when you clenched around him; but what really did it for him was that little whimper you made, murmuring out his name, when he first pushed into you, bottoming out
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who makes sure you spend the rest of the weekend trapped in his arms, his body braced above yours. He treats you to a bubble bath and kisses and cuddles afterwards, gently massaging your clit, another hand cupping your breast
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who drives you back home and finally has to confront your brother, who’s standing, cross armed, in the doorway of your home
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who carefully explains the situation to your brother, making sure your brother knows you were fully consenting, and even then, if there was any blame to place, it would be on him. Your brother finally relents on the condition that he would beat Jason up if he ever hurt his younger sister. Jason replies, “you won’t have to worry about that. If I ever hurt her, I’ll beat myself up”
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who makes time on weekends and in between college courses to visit you and who even “helps” you with homework (i.e. distracts you by pressing lazy, open mouth kisses on your neck from behind as you try to study)
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who spends even more time at your house now, an arm around your shoulders and kissing your forehead every three seconds. Your parents are much more chill with Jason dating you than your brother and officially think of him as part of the family
Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd who, by the time he’s picked out the engagement ring, your dad is already calling him “son”
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sunnyaelia · 2 days
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Captain Orders
For the anon who asked for this and also requested it back then 💓 here’s the request and my apologies for the spam today as I’ll probably upload another one later 😭
I know you write for Leah and I was wondering if I could request something else ? Still with jealousy r goes on a date with an opposing player and Leah forbids them via captain’s orders and they have a fight and confession in from of the whole team ?
“Oi, y/n.” You looked up at Katie’s yell through the whole changing room, face immediately heating up when you heard her next words. 
“What did player #19 give you, hm?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and you rolled your eyes at her as now everyone in the changing room expectedly stared at you. 
“Asked me out.” Internally cursing Katie for bringing the attention of the entire team on this, you begrudgingly went to your bag, having already showered thankfully as you now couldn’t wait to get out and away from the curious looks from your teammates as quick as possible.
The whole room erupted in chatter at your words, everyone apparently needing to get their opinion out on this. 
The only one completely silent was Leah, frozen on the bench where she had been putting her shoes on. You’d been asked out. And it wasn’t by her. 
Leah had been into you for quite some time, probably close to a year now. She had never dared to say anything, still scarred from the experience with Jordan and the breakup causing Jordan to basically flee to another team. It had hurt horribly and Leah didn’t want to lose you like that too. 
Well, she was apparently about to lose you anyway but in a different way. You’d been single since you’d met her as far as she knew and she had been glad, not being able to stomach seeing you with someone other than her. 
If only she knew that the only reason you had stayed single so far was because you’d been hoping that Leah might ask you out one day. You were way too shy to do it yourself and had lost hope after a few months since she only seemed to see you as a friend.  A close friend - but just a friend.
When the player had approached you earlier you weren’t particularly interested but also not opposed so maybe this date would finally take your mind off of it. 
“Did you say yes?” 
You jumped nearly a foot in the air at Leah’s sudden voice right next to you. 
“Jesus, Leah. Don’t give me a heart attack.” 
“Did you?” There was impatience in her voice and she looked especially serious right now, forever seemingly having a frown etched on her face that got even deeper when you answered. 
“Uhm yeah, I did.” 
“Tell her you can’t go.” 
At first you thought she was joking, surely she couldn’t be serious. 
“I’m sorry, what?” 
“You’re not going on the date. We have an important game tomorrow.” 
“Yeah, I know.” You were honestly a bit lost on why this was relevant right now and attempted to ease the slight tension by making a small joke: “I’ll be back home by 9 p.m. don’t worry.” 
Leah was not in the slightest amused, crossing her arms while still staring down at you. 
“No, you’ll be back by 2 p.m. because you’re going home right now.” Your brows furrowed, still completely lost on what Leah’s problem was. 
“I think I can decide by myself what time I’m home, Leah.” You turned towards your bag again, quickly shoving everything in, now desperate to get out of here. 
“I’m being serious. Text her and say you can’t go anymore.” 
You turned back around, crossing your arms as well. 
“And why would I do that?” 
“Because I’m your captain and I said so.” 
Scoffing at her ridiculous words you make quick work of pushing your last shoe in your bag and zipping it up rather aggressively. 
“You’re not seriously pulling your fucking captain card right now. We are not on the pitch and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want in my free time.” 
“Captains orders go even if we’re not on the pitch last time I checked.” She sounded so arrogant while she was saying it that you couldn’t suppress an eye roll. 
“Yeah and last time I checked, it’s none of the captains business who I go on a date with. And you’re the vice captain - not the captain.”
Your voice was getting a bit too loud to still keep this conversation on the low, gaining the attention of the ones immediately around you two. Neither of you noticed though, too caught up in your argument. 
“Look, y/n this game is extremely vital for us, I’m not risking anything like strategies getting out.” 
You had to restrain yourself this time from outright yelling at Leah, internally seething at what she just said and your voice getting louder with every sentence. 
“Did you just imply that I’d go on a date with someone and drop strategies we are going to use for our game tomorrow? Do you think I’m fucking stupid? You do realise that I’m part of this team and want to win just as much as everybody else here does, right?” 
You distractedly noticed how silent the room had gotten, some - like Katie and Kyra - were unabashedly staring at you and Leah, others  like Alessia and Lotte seemed embarrassed and were trying to quickly gather their stuff and get out. 
“Can you just stop being difficult? For the last time you’re not going.” 
“God, fuck you Leah. Are you into my date or something? You know, before you pull the Captains card you can also just be a normal human being and just ask her out instead of harassing me about it.” 
Leah’s eyes almost dropped out of her head at you implying that she might even be remotely interested in the woman that had asked you out and her next words spilled out of her before she could hold them back. 
“I’m not into her you idiot, I’m into you!” 
Now she noticed the silence as well, realising that she had just revealed to the entire changing room that she was in love with you. 
You didn’t have any time to react to her words before she turned on her heels and was out of the room. 
For a second you were frozen, completely caught off guard with how this conversation had went. When your head finally caught up with everything you immediately scrambled after Leah, leaving a very shocked and silent changing room behind. 
“That was… something.” Kyra was the first to speak. 
“Not sure if this was a good argument to have right before an important game,” came from Lacasse who was especially intent to ace the match tomorrow.
“Why? Free entertainment for ya. Helps relaxing.” Katie’s signature smirk was on, of course completely unbothered and even amused about this whole thing. 
“Alright guys,” it was Kim who spoke up now, clapping her hands twice to get everyone’s attention. “Get your stuff and get out of here and focus on the game tomorrow, not…” for a moment unsure what to say herself Kim paused before continuing. “Not on whatever that was. Come on, get moving.” 
The quiet murmuring started up again, everyone packing up their stuff and getting ready to leave, knowing better than to ignore Kim’s orders. 
Meanwhile you were desperately trying to find Leah, being completely clueless on where she could be. You had checked the toilets and a few of the maintenance rooms now but the toilets were empty and the other rooms locked. Cluelessly trying to open every room that you walked by and getting more nervous, not wanting Leah to just run from you forever. 
Until you pulled on another door and it revealed her, sitting on the floor with her legs pressed to her body. She ignored you, not even looking up as you came in and sat down next to her. 
When it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything, you tried to break the tension a bit. 
“You know, you could have just asked me out instead of making such a scene,” lightly bumping her shoulder so she knew that you weren’t mad. 
“Does it matter? You’d have said no anyway.” Leah still refused to look at you, gaze fixed on her knees. 
Your eyebrows furrowed at how sure she sounded. “Says who?” 
“Says the fact that you just got asked out by someone else and said yes.” 
You couldn’t suppress your chuckle, honestly surprised at how jealous Leah had gotten. If you had known that… 
“Yeah but only because I was trying to get over you.” 
Leah finally looks at you at that. “What?” 
“I like you too Leah. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen for you quite some time ago.” 
“You really do? You like me?” She sounded like she still couldn’t believe it and you were lost on why. Leah had a lot of people that would want her, obviously. You’d be blind not to. 
Reaching out you gently caressed her cheek with one hand. 
“Leah, how could I not? You’re incredible. So intelligent, sweet and usually also very kind.” 
She chuckled lightly at your insinuation of her behaviour earlier, carefully shuffling over a bit more so your sides were touching.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was behaving like an idiot.” 
You hummed, nodding in agreement. “You really were.” 
With a content sigh you put your head on her shoulder, like you’d done so often when you two were just friends, smiling when she wrapped her arm around you. 
“Sooo.. are you gonna ask me on a date or should I just go with that girl from earlier?” 
Completely offended Leah immediately sat upright and scoffed. “You’re definitely not going with her. Text her and tell her you can’t.” 
You chuckled at how Leah immediately turned into strict and demanding again after that pretty rare show of hurt a minute earlier. 
Pulling your phone out you tipped your chin thoughtfully, deciding to tease Leah once more. 
“What do I write? ‘Sorry I can’t go anymore, my Captain has forbidden it.’ Or should I go with ‘sorry I’m actually in love with someone else who finally confessed infront of the whole changing room so I can’t go anymore’” 
You let out an undignified squeak when Leah charged at you at that, grabbing you and tickling you, knowing exactly how incredibly ticklish you were as you laughed and tried to squirm away from her.
“Okay, okay I’m sorry,” you gasped out in between, your sides already starting to hurt. 
You were laying on the ground now, your hair splayed out over it and Leah hovering above, her face quite close to yours. 
You noticed how she glanced down at your lips and smiled, watching her slowly get closer. 
A satisfied exhale escaped you as Leah leaned down a bit more and pressed her lips to yours, softly kissing you. 
Finally. 
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ao3commentoftheday · 2 days
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I’m thinking about perfectionism again, specifically with respect to how it can skew your opinion of success and failure.
There’s this concept that comes up a lot when you read about issues like perfectionism: all-or-nothing thinking. It’s a trap that’s easy to fall into.
If you’re a fic writer falling into this trap, you might feel like you’re an absolute failure if your fic isn’t a 100% accurate depiction of the scene you see in your head with flawless grammar and zero typos. That is a, quite literally, impossible standard to meet and as a result of never meeting it, you probably feel one or more of the following:
lack of motivation
certainty that there’s no point in even trying
self-hatred or some other form of intense dissatisfaction with yourself and/or your skills
This is a completely logical way to feel in that mindset, by the way. Your standard for success is so high that you’re constantly a failure. If your standard for success is impossible to meet, then there is no point in trying. If there’s no point in trying, how could you possibly feel motivated?
In order to move away from those feelings, you need to move away from that all-or-nothing, black & white mindset.
One way to do this is by figuring out a new standard for success that actually can be achieved. For example, give yourself permission to have occasional typos in your stories. Gaiman’s Law states that an author will always find a typo the first time they open their published book. If even Neil himself has resigned himself to this fate, then hopefully you can too. If you managed to write your story then that’s a success and finding a typo after you’re done doesn’t turn that success into a failure.
Another thing that’s helped me is to think of every failure or mistake or dissatisfying result as a learning opportunity. If I’m not able to do something now, that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to do it at some point in the future. I just need to keep trying. Practice makes better. Practice also helps you figure out the things that are easy for you and the bits that are hard and where you might need some help - either from a fellow fan or from another kind of resource.
I think part of the reason why people can get so anxious about their fanworks is because we care so much about them. We love the characters. We love the world. We want to do them justice in our writing, and we want other fans to love our creations too.
It’s important to remember that all of us love imperfect things all the time. It’s not perfection that makes a thing lovable. It’s the heart that’s put into it.
There’s a lot of fear behind perfectionism. Fear of being caught doing something wrong. Fear of being shamed for a mistake. Fear that imperfection makes us unworthy or unlovable. Fear that a single flaw will ruin an entire work. Fear of failure.
If you want to be able to move through that fear, you need to be able to reduce it somehow. The most effective way that I’ve found is to stop writing with the goal of posting something online. Write for the sake of writing, without the pressure of showing it to someone else. That might help you to get out a first draft (or second or third) without that worry about being judged and found wanting.
If you’re not ready for positive self-talk or reframing the internal narrative (I get it. Been there.) then allowing yourself to be less than perfect in a place where no one else can see you might be a good first step.
And just because I think it’s important that you hear it from time to time: you are a wonderful, creative, amazing human being - mistakes included.
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luveline · 2 days
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hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3
kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k
“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers. 
Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking. 
“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.” 
“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.” 
Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks. 
Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.
“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says. 
“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.” 
“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does. 
She grins. “Thank you.” 
“You’re welcome. You all done?” 
“Yep.” 
“Not hungry anymore?” 
“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.” 
“Thanks, beautiful.” 
She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?” 
Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night. 
Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch. 
She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests. 
“I’m tired.” 
“It’s not bed time.” 
She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat. 
“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?” 
“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it. 
“That sound fun or what?” 
She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder. 
He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.” 
You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.” 
“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask. 
“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns. 
You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided. 
Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids. 
I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday. 
“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now. 
“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily. 
“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.” 
Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath. 
“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.” 
“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter. 
“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!” 
“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says. 
He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?” 
“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?” 
“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.” 
He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”
“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.
“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says. 
“I didn’t say one!” 
“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.” 
“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”
You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.” 
“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks. 
Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?” 
Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips. 
Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying. 
Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says. 
If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.” 
“I love you too.” 
“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?” 
You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest. 
You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out. 
“Oh, no,” Avery says. 
“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.” 
They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else. 
“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks. 
Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.” 
“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.” 
You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say. 
“Gonna get Beth changed.” 
“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.” 
It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed. 
“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?” 
The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask. 
Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?” 
“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.” 
“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says. 
“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?” 
“I want to share,” Beth says immediately. 
Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.” 
“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.” 
This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!” 
“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.” 
She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.” 
“Sorry,” she laughs. 
“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?” 
Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player. 
“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.
He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?” 
“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs. 
“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in. 
Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time. 
Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 
“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time. 
You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.” 
He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous. 
“You want a glass of water?” Steve says. 
You catch his hand. “I got you one.” 
Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth. 
“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter. 
“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?” 
“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?” 
“What?”
“You okay?”
“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin. 
He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff. 
“Feels too good to be true.” 
“My turn tonight,” he says. 
“No, baby, it’s my turn.” 
“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”
“I want them too,” you say. 
“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.” 
“Less when they wake me up,” you joke. 
Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?” 
“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.” 
“‘Cept here,” you whisper back. 
“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 
“I love you.”
“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.  
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ninzied · 3 days
Text
where ground meets light
alex and henry go on a double date. modern au. based on the prompt: a kiss to distract, for @caressthosecheekbones. ~1.2k.
They’ve only been dating a few weeks when he suggests it.
“Sorry.” Henry has to take this all in for a moment. Surely he must have misheard. “You want to go on a double date? With Alex?”
“Is that weird?” Gregory asks, in the manner of one who’s merely being rhetorical. “He’s your best friend. I want to get to know him better.”
“Well. Sure,” Henry says, because he cannot think of a single reasonable objection that a normal person would make. A normal person who’s not been harboring an ill-advised torch for his best friend for years. “Though,” he hedges, as if the thought’s just occurring to him, “I’m not sure he’s dating anyone at the moment.”
Henry would know if he is. In fact, according to Pez, the whole world would be hard-pressed not to notice because of the moods Henry gets in when it happens.
But it’s been well over a month now since his latest “little London fog,” as Pez calls it, so Henry mentions the idea to Alex as an afterthought, thinking there’s no real danger of him saying yes.
“Great!” says Alex brightly. “I’ll bring Yvette.”
He’ll bring fucking whom?
.
Yvette is a bloody knockout, of course.
Henry expects nothing less. Alex is only the most beautiful man who’s ever walked the planet, so it stands to reason that his date should look as she does.
The more unfortunate thing is that Yvette is also supremely likable. She’s warm, and funny, and seems to share Alex’s knack for livening up the conversation as though they’ve all been friends for years.
By all counts, the date should be a success. Henry laughs more than he thought he would and drinks far less than he thought he would need to. Alex is impressed by the food, which makes Henry feel absurdly pleased to have chosen this particular restaurant.
And, perhaps most importantly: because they’re seated at a round table with Alex angled off to his left, Henry hasn’t caught himself staring at him even once.
Perhaps he’s not so at risk of giving himself away as he’d thought.
.
The trouble, turns out, starts elsewhere.
The trouble is that Henry doesn’t have to be looking at Alex to be attuned to his every feeling and movement.
The way Alex’s knee keeps jittering under the table. The tic in his finger as he taps, then stills. Taps, then stills. The fact that he’s hardly stopped for a breath since they sat down.
He’s antsy, and miserable, but he’s trying so hard and his smile’s so vibrant that not a single person can tell. Not a one but Henry, and he needs to do something, needs Alex to know that he’s seen.
“Darling,” says Henry, without even thinking, and puts his hand on Alex’s wrist. Christ. Fuck. What did he say? What is he doing? But none of that seems to matter right now. “Are you all right?”
He feels Alex relax as though instantly calmed by that one simple touch, and Henry knows that if Alex hadn’t been all right before, he is more so now, somehow.
“Another round of drinks?” Henry asks the table, not even waiting, not even looking, before pulling Alex to his feet. “We’ll be right back.”
.
This is the difference between them. They both have their moods, but Henry wears his on his sleeve and has to shut himself away until it’s passed.
Alex, meanwhile, hides his in plain sight from most people, but Henry likes to think he’s not most people, and as soon as they’re at the bar out of earshot he looks Alex in the eye and says, “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“Was it that obvious? Fuck.” Alex shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Hen, just—want to make a good first impression, you know?”
Henry’s brow furrows. He tells that jealous little twinge in his chest that now is not the time. “Is this your first date with Yvette or something?” No wonder he’s not heard of her earlier. “Christ, Alex, why didn’t you say so sooner? You didn’t have to come if you didn’t—”
Alex laughs under his breath for some reason. “We’re not dating.”
“You’re—what?”
“She’s a friend,” says Alex. “She’s helping me out. And if the lov—I mean, if my best friend’s boyfriend wants to meet me, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Henry’s chest is positively aching now. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he says, firmly despite how breathless he feels. “It’s not that dire, trust me. We’ve only been on, like, three dates before this one.”
“Oh.” Alex seems to process this. His expression looks lighter for just a split second before it gets all heavy again. “Well, if you’re wanting there to be a fifth, you should probably talk to him before it’s too late. Looks like he’s about to leave.”
Henry glances over his shoulder, and sighs. “I should probably talk to him, yeah.”
.
Gregory is putting his coat on as Henry walks over. They both muster up a small smile, Henry’s more rueful, Gregory’s resigned.
“I’m really sorry,” Henry says, and means it.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to make it into a thing,” Gregory says. “Unless you’re about to tell me to stay. That would be pushing it.”
“I’m not,” Henry admits. “What I did want to say is that—well, I haven’t been entirely honest with myself about what I want. Which means I haven’t been honest with you, and that’s not fair to you at all.”
Gregory nods. “I do like you, Henry. You deserve to be happy. And I deserve to not be the guy that you use as an excuse to keep standing in your own way.” He glances at Alex back at the bar. Yvette is there now too, flirting up a storm with the bartender.
“I wanted to get to know your best friend,” Gregory continues. “And now that I have, I can say that he’s a really lucky guy.” He gives Henry a meaningful look. “Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
.
Alex straightens as Henry approaches the bar, an untouched whiskey in one hand. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to go talk to him.”
“I did.” Henry shrugs, and helps himself to Alex’s drink.
Alex is looking as though he’ll never again know happiness in this world. “I fucked things up for you, didn’t I. Fuck.”
“What? No,” says Henry, but Alex doesn’t seem to be listening. “Alex. Alex.”
“Do you want me to go talk to him? I can explain.” Alex runs a hand through his hair, sending his curls all breathtakingly askew.
He doesn’t even know, Henry marvels. He doesn’t even know.
“I mean, it’s not your fault that I—” Alex breaks off with a frustrated sigh before starting back up again. “I’ll tell him that you don’t feel the same way, and that I’m really fucking sorry I ruined your night with my—you know—feelings, and—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Henry says.
Then he leans in and kisses him, because Alex is an unstoppable force, and this is the one place where Henry has not been brave enough to meet him, until now.
Alex goes quiet at last, save for the sigh he lets out as their lips part and his hands find Henry’s waist and pull in.
“Whoa,” he breathes after a moment. “Yeah, we gotta do that again.”
“Shh,” Henry murmurs, “we were doing so well.” He puts his hand on Alex’s nape, drawing him back in.
Alex kisses him back like it’s the only thing that centers him, the only thing that keeps him grounded, and Henry—well.
Henry can’t help but think that it feels a bit like flying, too.
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dandelions4us · 3 days
Text
Party’s Over
Regina George x Reader Summary: Where Regina ends her own party for her cramping lover Words: 1,1k A/N: Is it noticeable I’m having period cramps and need some comfort from the prettiest (and meanest) queen bee of all? I hope not
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As the night went on, Y/N couldn’t believe how many more people could crash into her girlfriend’s party. To say the house was full would be an understatement. She sipped on her solo cup, something she could not pinpoint, even if her life depended on it, and searched for Regina with her eyes.
Spotting the blonde head among the croud was easy, though, she could recognize the girl with her eyes closed. She was talking with some people, standing confident in her beautiful maroon dress – it hugged her soft curves perfectly –, her signature smirk adorning her crimson lips and she gently flipped her hair off her shoulder.
Y/N smiled to herself, feeling lucky to have such a wonderful girlfriend. But it faltered quickly as she felt the pressure she knew way too well right at the bottom of her belly. It wasn’t surprising, giving the ache she felt on her lower back since the moment she woke up.
“Fuck.” She mumbles, walking off towards a bathroom to make sure she didn’t just start her period. She didn’t, which was good, as she sighs in relief. Washing her hands and splashing a bit of cold water on her neck, she embraces herself ready to play it cool for a few more hours, not wanting to ruin the party for her girl.
“Hey, I was looking for you. Everything ok?” Regina asks when she finds her, hands gingerly resting or her waist. “Yeah, I’m good. Just went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.” Y/N smiles, placing her own hands on the blonde’s shoulders.
“Good. Come here, I have a few people I’d like to introduce you.” She responds, kissing her girlfriend quickly before pulling her by the hand to a small group of peers.
To be honest, Y/N did a fairly good job of play pretend for two hours, but it was starting to get to her. The cramps were just getting stronger, making her whole body achy and tense. But she kept her facade as better as she could, not willing to spoil Regina’s fun, knowing she would drop everything to make sure she was fine.
They were now sitting outside by the pool, an array of chairs and couches, talking animatedly with everyone else. I mean, most likely Regina talked and Y/N just agreed and nodded along, smiling every now and then.
When a strong cramp came, she scrunched her face and pressed on the pillow covering her stomach. The blonde must have felt how her body tensed under the hand she had on her girlfriend’s thighs ‘cause she turned her head, a concerned look on her eyes as she looked in hers.
“What’s wrong, baby?” She whispered, her thumb caressing soft shapes where it rested. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Y/N tried reassuring, but it wasn’t as convencing as the previous times. Sensing her discomfort, Regina excuses both of them and walks away to a more secluded area, hand now on the small of her partner’s back.
“Wanna try again and tell me what’s bothering you?” She asks softly, looking down with honeyed eyes. Y/N sighs and relents. “It’s just cramps. I have them a few days before my period also. Nothing too bad, I promise.” Right after she ends her sentence, another wave of piercing pain stabs at her womb, making her fold and frown.
“Oh, I can see that.” Her girlfriend says, sarcastically, but sighs, concerned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve got you some painkillers and a hot water bottle, maybe also put you to bed.” “Thay’s exactly why.” She furrows her eyebrowns, confused. “I didn’t want you to step out of your own party just to take care of me.”
“That’s nonsense. Baby, I would drop everything to take care of you, gladly.” She takes the shorter girl’s cheek on her hands, soft but firm, to prove her point. “You’re my girlfriend and I love you. Of course taking care of you and making sure you’re ok is my priority. Not some silly party that wouldn’t be as joyful if you weren’t with me, ok?”
Y/N couldn’t help but tear up a bit, but she blamed her hormones. “Okay.” She agreed quietly. Regina smiles, leaning in for a brief but passionate kiss, trying to show all of her love and care through it.
“Now, come on, let’s get you upstairs. Somewhere quieter and confier.” And holding hands, they both walk up Regina’s room. She sat her girlfriend in her bed and then rummages through her closet for comfortable clothes she could wear.
“Here, love. Change into these while I go downstairs to grab you some medicine and put an end to the noise.” She hands her the pile of clothes. “You don't have to end the party just because of me, Gina. I can rest just fine.” She frowns. “Don’t be silly. I’m coming back to cuddle you so there’s no reason to keep randos in my house. So stay put, I’ll be right back.”
She leaves, closing the door and Y/N can’t help but smile like a school girl over her affectionate lover. She changes clothes, relaxing breathing Regina’s perfume on them. She also puts a pad on, just in case her period comes while she sleeps – she’d die of embarrassement if she bleeds on her girl’s bed.
The noise disappears quickly, Y/N can hear the commotion of people leaving and a faint voice of her girlfriend shouting. In about ten minutes, she returns, bearing meds, water and snacks.
“I have not idea where my mom put our water bag and my heating pad broke, so I’m sorry.” “Gina, it’s okay! This is more than I could ask for, thank you.” “Only the best for my baby.” She smiles and walks over to the bed, giving her partner a few pills and the water.
The hurting girl drinks half the water bottle and nibs on the snacks so her stomach wouldn’t be so upset because of the meds and alcohol she consumed.
“There you go. You should rest now. I’m sure you'll be feeling better tomorrow.” She fluff the pillows and covers her sweet girl with the thick duvet before climbing in bed herself (now in her sleep attire).
She scooches closer, tangling their legs as she holds her tight against her chest, kissing her head lovingly.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Gina.” Y/N whispers, face nuzzling oh the blonde’s neck. “Of course, baby. You don’t even have to thank me. I’d do it over and over again, just for you.” She responds, one hand scratching her girlfriend’s scalp while the other held her as close as possible.
“I love you.” Y/N says, feeling relaxed, loved and safe. “I love you, too, princess. Sleep tight, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Regina whispers, kissing her temple tenderly.
And just like that, they both fell asleep in each other’s arms, secured in a cocoon built with pure love and care.
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A/N: I had to take matters into my own hands. I could not go any longer without more fanfictions of my favorite blonde. Hope you guys liked it! <3
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mountainsandmayhem · 2 days
Text
Shhh...Just A Little Bit More
Part Three (Soft Version)
DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+
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Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Spicy Version)
Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 4.7k
CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of a collar, use of toys. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.
AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. I was in my feels when I wrote this, so this is the sweeter version of the two. I'd love to hear which version you preferred!
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“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”
“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!” 
“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?” 
Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”
“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.
You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.
A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more. 
“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.” 
You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair. 
Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me. 
As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much. 
Got ya, you think to yourself. 
He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago. Deeper, more commanding, and it reverberates through you, right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.” 
Joel’s front door has barely closed before he’s pushing you up against the wall, caged in by his arms and strong chest. 
Every bump on the drive home had you twitching, you tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you. 
“Did you come on the drive home?” He says coldly, lips pressing against your neck, hitting that sweet soft spot just below your ear. 
“No, Joel,” you whine. 
His teeth graze your throat and you cry out, “It’s Mr Miller, don’t make me remind you again.” 
Your hands scramble for purchase as your knees start to give out, wrapping around the open flannel shirt he’s wearing over a fitted black t-shirt. 
“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I don’t…” you trail off, you aren’t sure if you should say you’ve never been a sub before, at least not to someone this experienced. You don’t want him to stop, you love what happened tonight and you want him to show you and teach you what this all means. But even more so, you trust him to teach you. 
Joel stops kissing you, hands coming to your waist and lifting you so your eye level. When you wrap your legs around his trim waist you gasp out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your poor cunt is begging for relief but you can’t barely stand your clit to be touched. His eyes look at you with concern. 
I deserve to go to hell if she tells me she’s a virgin. Fuck, you were so stupid when it comes to her. 
“I need you to finish that sentence, babygirl. You don’t what?” 
Your cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, so shy compared to that bratty girl who told him to kiss his ass. Joel has the gut sinking feeling that you might have him wrapped around your little finger already.
Dangerous.
Very very dangerous.
Not to mention stupid. 
“I’ve just..” you start, he brings his hands to cup your face, moving a few strands of stray hairs that are stuck to your lips. “I haven’t had a Dom before. I don’t know what to do or what to call you.” 
Cute, Joel thinks to himself, she’s so fucking cute right now. 
“Well babygirl, when we are playing like this you do what I tell you, and if you don’t like what I tell you, you use the safe word. Do you remember it?”
You nod, biting your lip as you whisper, “Cowboy.” 
His face lights up with pride and in that moment you realize you’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again. And when he throws in a gravelly, ‘good girl’, any inhibitions you had go out the window. You are a good girl, you want to be his good girl…forever. 
He continues, “And when we are playing you call me Mr Miller. Otherwise, you can call me whatever you’d like.” He places a light kiss on the tip of your nose and you melt a little more into him and the wall behind you. “Do you have any other questions, baby?” 
Do you know what it does to me when you call me baby? 
Or kiss my nose or forehead like you have? 
Can you spank me again? 
Can you make me come? 
Can I suck your dick? 
How do you feel about anal? 
“Umm,” you press your lips together, eyes taking in every little bit of his face, trying to memorize this moment. “How will I know when we are playing and when we aren’t?” 
Fuck, if this girl lets me put a collar on her I’m going to come in my pants and then propose. 
“There’s my smart girl,” he praises, his coffee and caramel coloured eyes washing over you. “We can have a symbol, something I give you when we play. And when you’re wearing it you’re mine.” His voice sounds full of passion all of a sudden, each work almost sears itself onto your heart. 
Your heart is pounding at what he’s implied and you’re almost sure he can hear it. “What kind of symbol?” 
He puts you down and then gets on one knee to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. His warm fingertips trail up your legs as he stands before taking your hand in his. With his large palm encasing yours, suddenly you feel safe and loved, your pussy flutters at the promise of him taking care of you in a way that only he can. You know you’re going to be ruined for all other men. 
He leads you to his bedroom and it’s nothing like you remember when you’d play hide and seek while Sarah babysat you. Gone is the old wooden furniture and mismatched bedding. Replaced with a black metal bed frame, along with matching bedside tables and dresser, and the fluffiest white sheets you’ve ever seen. You so badly want to just sink in and get naked with Joel. It looks like it would be like getting fucked on a cloud or cotton candy and those thoughts are only solidified when he tells you to sit before he heads to the closet doors. 
He slides the barn door of his large walk-in closet open. The room seems to wrap you up in Joel’s scent, warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. As he walks into the closet he toes off his boots and then slides his flannel off, placing it on a hanger. It might be your very neglected pussy talking, but you swear you can see every muscle in his body underneath that shirt and you unconsciously spread your legs a little bit. He reaches up above the clothing and pulls out a black box with a lock on it and then looks at you mischievously as he pads back over to you. 
“Sometimes,” he says gently, “A dom will give their sub a collar. When it’s on, we’re playing. You belongs to me. When it’s off, we can just act how we normally would.” 
A collar, definitely not sure how you feel about that. You don’t want to be like a dog with a black leather collar around your neck. He slides the numbers to enter the combination and then flicks the clasp open. 
To your surprise, he pulls out a dainty golden chain. It almost looks like a bunch of yellow paper clips strung together, and there’s a tiny lock pendant on the end. He runs the thin links through his fingers before looking over at you. 
“You don’t have to do this, I can just take you home and we can go back to how things were. Ultimately, you always have the choice.” If a stranger could see the way he was looking at you right now, they’d never be able to tell he was capable of the spanking he gave you earlier. 
“You’ll stop if I say ‘cowboy’?” You say, voice cracking, nervous and excited energy fighting for first place. 
“Always, babygirl. I’m here to dominate you, but I’m also here to take care of you. A good dom will always take of their sub.” 
“Then I want to. Please, Mr Miller. Make me yours.” 
He almost growls as he pulls you to your feet. You squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, his hands strong on the back of your thighs as he carries you to the floor-length mirror at the end of his closet. He stands behind you as he works the clasp, placing the thin gold collar around your neck and then doing it up. He’s so close that you can feel his cock harden at the sight of you as he officially makes you as his for the first time. Joel's thick fingers trace along the rings, he thumbs the little lock pendant before he grips your throat just below your jawline. He applies pressure to your pulse point as his now black eyes come to meet yours in the reflection and brings his lips to your ear. 
With a growling, rough whisper he says, “You have five seconds to get naked and lay in my bed with your legs spread as wide as you can.” 
The instant his hand releases, you sprint to his bed, stripping your clothes as you go. He counts to five with authority and after what happened his truck, and now this, you’re sure you’re never going to be able to count without getting turned on ever again. 
“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you?” 
Desperate to hear him praise you, you lay on your back, planting your feet on the bed before letting your knees fall open. 
“Straighten your legs and put your hands above your head.” You position your body how he says, even though you’re completely exposed to him his eyes stay locked on yours. “This is how I want you when we start playing. Exactly how you are now.” 
He grabs another box from his closet and places it on the foot of the bed, eyes travelling up your toned legs, “I’m going to show you what you’ll be going to work with inside of you tomorrow if you decide to stay there. I haven’t forgotten that you were a brat tonight.” 
He opens the box and pulls out a black U-shaped piece of silicone and lays it on your belly. “Do you know what this….” 
He stops mid-sentence, eyes lighting up as they rake over your tits. They dance from each nipple, taking in the tiny barbell and the thin hearts that encompass each one. “You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” 
“I like pain,” you whisper, throat going dry at the admission. 
“My little masochist,” he hums. “As I was saying, do you know that is?” He nods his head towards the little toy. 
You shake your head, “No, Mr Miller.” 
“That goes inside your gorgeous pussy. One part pushes on your g spot, the other on your clit. I have the remote.” He holds up a small plastic remote with a few shiny buttons.
“Oh,” you moan, your lips forming in the shape of the word, nipples getting harder at the thought.
“I will keep it turned on low enough that you will not come. In fact, it might be more like torture than pleasure.” His eyes are sparkling at the thought of you squirming for hours.
“But I don’t want to quit,” you whine. You’re a glutton for punishment and you know Joel will dish it out. 
“How long is your shift?” He says, picking up the toy, the graze of his fingers along your belly sends an electric current through your body. 
“Four hours,” your voice is husky with need. 
“I’m going to get some lube and then put this toy inside of you now, babygirl. We’ll see how long you can last. Is that okay?” 
“Of course, Mr Miller.” You try to sound confident but in the bright lights of his room, you can see how dark and serious he looks. 
He lubes up the toy and then swipes some lube through your folds. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud high pitched moan when he hits your clit. 
Fuck. I’m gonna come with the tiniest vibration and it’s probably going to hurt. 
“So wet. So swollen. My poor girl,” he says mockingly, he’s loving that you’ve been suffering and on edge since the minute you saw him in that alleyway. 
The toy slides in and the pressure just from the silicone alone sends the air whooshing out of your lungs. You’re gasping for breath, your clit feels like it’s being zapped with electricity and you immediately slam your thighs together and start to whimper. 
A small, almost evil sounding chuckle comes from Joel as he holds up the remote. “Ready?” 
“No,” you gasp, rolling onto your belly. “I can’t. Please don’t.” 
“Are you going to quit?” 
You cry out in frustration into one of his fluffy pillows and then whisper a sad, “no.” 
The vibrator comes to life and the most intense mix of pain and pleasure floods your body. He’s right, the sensation isn’t enough to make you come, just enough so that you know it’s there. You bury your face deeper in the pillows, curling yourself into the fetal position, back towards Joel, as you try to breathe normally. 
Joel strips down to his boxers before shutting off the lights. He slips into the sheets, covering you up along the way. “Good night, baby girl.” 
“What?” You gasp. “Mr Miller. I….oh god…I c-can’t. It’s on.” 
“You may as well get used to it. You’re going to work with it in tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep.” 
Joel lays on his back, one arm behind his head, the other palm spread out on his chest. You flip around to face him, the early morning sun lighting his profile. There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep, you shift your legs around. 
Maybe if they’re spread I won’t feel the vibration as much. 
That doesn’t seem to work so instead you squeeze them together. More pressure might make you come and then you can finally get some rest. Joel looks over at you as you jerk around silently. 
“Come here,” he says, patting his chest. You cuddle into him, one leg draping over his warm body. The arm behind his head wraps around your naked body. He feels so soft but hard against you. You can’t help but hump against his hip bone. You’re right on the edge. So close to tipping over it and coming. So very close. 
“Baby, it hasn’t even been four minutes, how are you going to last four hours?” He’s taunting you, trying to get you to beg. “You’re pathetic.” 
You can feel sweat breaking out across your body. This is torture, was right. You hate that he was right, but you hate even more how much he’s loving it. 
“Please,” you whisper. 
He pulls back to be able to look into your eyes. “What are you going to do for me if I make you come?” 
“Anything. Just. Please, Mr Miller.” You grind yourself into him harder, you’re so close that it’s almost unbearable. 
“Quit your job, baby girl.” He demands again. “I’ll tell your parents you’re going to work for me.” 
You start to pant as the pressure in your lower belly increases, you can feel wetness pooling inside of you, begging to be released. “I can’t take your money. Oh god - please - I ca-can’t. Hnnnnng. P-please.” 
A tear runs down your cheek and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, probably out of frustration.  
“You can. I’ll pay you to help around the house,” he holds up a hand, almost like he knows exactly what you’re doing today. “Not for the sex you’re guaranteed to get if you quit and come here.” He wipes the tear away and hikes his leg up to increase the pressure that’s already on the verge of making you pass out. 
Stars start to blur your vision as you whisper, “ok. I’ll quit.” 
Joel has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him. 
“Please!” You cry between kisses. 
His thick fingers slide between your puffy folds and the toy, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you. 
“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing. 
“Please. Please. Please, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible. 
“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.” 
His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision. 
His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?” 
You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips. 
“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?” 
His words from earlier echo through you. Ultimately, you always have the choice. 
Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. You are not a burden to him. 
“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin. 
“What’s your safe word?” 
“Cowboy,” you hum, never taking your eyes away from his blown out obsidian gaze. 
“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. “No no baby girl, eyes on me.” 
You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure. 
“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 
Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’. 
He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.” 
Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, he knows he should punish you for not calling him Mr Miller but you look so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart. 
“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars blur your vision again, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure. 
“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.” 
You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop. 
“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”
Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows. 
He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”
You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time? 
“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready. 
“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.” 
There she goes again, being so fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his t-shirt a soaked, he’ll need to change things before you both get some sleep. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.” 
You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job. Made a huge mess. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”
Every bone and muscle in your body seems to have dissolved and all you can muster is a weak smile and a little whimper of thanks. “I need to get you cleaned up. Stay here.” 
Stay here? I have no bones. Where else will go? 
The sound of running water coaxes your eyes to close. The mattress shifts under Joel’s weight as he sits beside you, lightly trailing his finger down the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to carry you to the shower. Ok?” 
You let out an agreeable hum as he scoops you into his arms. His warm naked chest pressed against you. He walks into the shower with you, the steam warming your skin. He places you on your feet and guides you under the water with him. Water is hitting you from all angles. You open your eyes to see 3 showerheads in his large, modern glass shower. A large rainfall one above the two of you, then two down the wall. The bundle of fresh eucalyptus hanging from one head fills the shower with a fresh scent. 
His fingers fumble with the clasp of your collar behind you, “how are you feeling after what happened tonight?” 
You smile at the white and black tiled wall as the collar slides off your neck and into Joel’s hands. “Mmm - like I’m not gonna quit my job so we can do it again.” 
“Don’t think I won’t put this on again right now and make you regret that.” 
You giggle and press your body back into Joel’s. He’s completely naked behind you and you have the sudden urge to taste him. As you spin around and get to your knees he stops you, “don’t interrupt my aftercare, please.” 
“Your what?” 
He grabs the soap and a fresh wash cloth and starts to work it to lather. “I told you, it’s my job to take care of you.” It’s too early to admit it to you, but aftercare is Joel’s favourite part. He’s grumpy and rough on the outside, but he loves the tender moments after playing with his subs. Especially you, and that’s something he won’t even admit to himself yet. 
He runs the soft cloth over your arms and chest, using extra caution not to catch on your nipple piercings. I like these,” he says, eyes memorizing every inch of the skin he’s washing. 
“Thanks, you’re actually the first person to see them.” 
“That right?” He moves the cloth down your stomach before kneeling in front of you and washing your legs. “You know what I think you should pierce next?” 
“I have an appointment next week for something,” you tease. It’s not a lie, you have an appointment to get a second hole in each earlobe, but may as well play with him a little. 
“Oh? Don’t tease an old man like that, baby girl. What new surprise am I gonna find?” He brings the cloth up and down your other leg. 
“What do you want to find?” 
His hands grip your hips and he spins you around. You have a small bruise forming on your one ass cheek and his cock jumps at the sight. “Belly button,” he says. 
“Oh?” You say with surprise as he stands behind you and scrubs your back. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and add, “I was thinking of doing my clit.” 
Joel’s hands come to his heart as he moans. “Fuck me, baby girl. I’d have to leave the god damn continent until it healed.” 
You laugh as he brings his lips to yours. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you aren’t wearing a collar. But he’s kissing you and washing your body. Does this mean that Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, might have the same sort of feelings that you have? Or is this just what he does with his subs after dehydrating them with his fingers and tongue. 
“Stay in the warm water while I change the sheets. I’ll be back,” you look over your shoulder to finally take in his naked body. His back is lined with corded muscle, water droplets filling the dips and grooves of his sculpted body. It looks like you could bounce your whole fucking bank account off his round ass. 
Am I salivating. I feel like I’m salivating. 
He wraps a white bath sheet around his waist before you get to see his front - as much as you loved being taken care of earlier you should have looked down. You run some shampoo and conditioner through your hair, rinsing it out just as Joel comes back, now in a pair of fitted boxer briefs. He holds up a towel for you, and after turning off the water you pad over to him for him to wrap you up and gently dry you off. 
“Thank you, Mr Miller,” you say instinctively. 
He smiles softly at you as he dries every inch of your skin. “Go lay down, babygirl. I’ll get some lotion and then you need to get some sleep.” 
When you walk out to his bed there’s a t-shirt and a bottle of water on the pillow for you. 
Fuck. I’m in love. 
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184 notes · View notes
bigfatbimbo · 2 days
Note
saw u we're thinking about the vees again 😇 anyways heres some rambles
spitroasting vox w velvette- ur pegging him while she rides his face and yall can makeout in the middle (val may or may not be watching)
humiliating any of them in front of the others
not punishing them for once and maybe having a night of just gentle fucking? like your all taking care of eachother just like softer sex
THEY GIVE WONDERFUL AFTERCARE FIGHT ME
this one is pretty sfw but imagine going to like a fancy event/gala with the three of them and they're all fighting for your attention/over who ur plus one is
The Vees with a dom!reader headcanons [pt3]
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a/n — On my Vees shit again, because i’m fucking crazy. Also I swear i’m working on actual fics like I swear on my life they won’t be messy headcanons for ever.
summary — further continuation of the post where the reader was basically the Vees collective fuck, specifically with a dominant reader.
warning — smut, unorganized headcanons, dom reader, sub… everyone else, NOT PROOFREAD!! kind of long too
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Rose, You’ve literally never let me down when sending in requests. I love this and you. I’m going to actually try to make this one coherent and organized! So i’ll break everything you said down into categories.
Spitrosting w/Vox and Velvette
No because imagine this as a punishment for Val and Vox but a reward for Velvette. Like maybe she has been nicer than usual, well, in a general way (snarky comments aside). Say she was being thoughtful and made you a nice homemade shirt that suits your fashion sense perfectly. How sweet!
However, while the other two weren’t exactly worse than usual, they certainly weren’t better. Valentino was just as depraved and perverted as usual, and Vox was just as annoying with his facade dominance and quick temper.
Valentinos part of the punishment is obvious; he’s tied to the other side of the bed, both sets of hands bonded together, prohibiting him from moving and leaving him to watch. That is clearly torture for him.
But Vox is a little more confused about his punishment. He gets pegged, and gets to eat pussy. Why is that bad? Vox fully thinks he knows what’s happening, and he thinks he has it better than Val, too.
But he’s wrong. Because not only is he overwhelmed to the point of struggling to breathe, he’s also getting virtually none of you or Velvettes attention. Because that’s Velvettes reward; she gets all of the praise and full, undivided, attention.
In fact, you didn’t even gag Valentino, so you can hear his whiny complaints as clear as day. And even then, you ignore him and go back to passionately kissing Velvette.
Her hands are clinging to your shoulders as you two make out, and every now and then she lets a moan out into your mouth. Although your hips are roughly ramming into Vox, who’s crying like bitch if you can believe it, you’re more concerned with Velvettes perfect lips, and marking up her smooth neck.
And the part that really infuriates Vox and Val, is how kind and gentle your being, despite how much of an attitude Velvettes had this week! Seriously, it was only that stupid gift that warranted all of that praise? AND their terrible punishment! That wasn’t fair.
“So pretty baby, so good for me,” you’d mumble into her neck as you begin to suck on her delicate skin. Velvette is biting her lip to stop herself from making any unwarranted comments, and so instead she’s just shooting smug looks at Val inbetween whines and occasionally pushing her pussy further into Vox’s tongue.
And then you make your way back up to her lips, “Look to perfect, my sweet girl. So proud of you, so well behaved.” Boy, that fucked with Vox, whose tongue is getting increasingly tired, and who’s already crying from the rough sensation of you fucking into his ass. Let alone the emptiness of his attention deprived dick.
And even though the sound is muffled, you can still hear every sound he makes because that’s how fucking loud he is. He’s whining for a break, and sobbing uncontrollably. Valentino on the other hand, is yet to break down into tears, but is tiring from complaining. His bratty attitude is obviously faltering, being overcome by a longing to be taken care of, to have your attention again.
But you refuse to give in to either of your brats. At least, not before your angel, Velvette, has the chance to cum again for the countless time tonight.
Humiliation in front of the other Vees
With Vox, this would be very easy. He has an incredibly fragile ego and gets defensive and embarrassed fast. Like any small comment about his submissive behavior in bed would get him absolutely pissed. Because you know that he’d be made fun of relentlessly. He’d be yelling at the other Vees to do something and they’d be like “Or what? Are you gonna tell your [mommy/daddy] on us?” and his screen would heat up and turn a shade of pink, and his voice would glitch out when he yells “FUCK YOU!” at the top of his lungs.
With Velvette, I don’t think it would be hard, but definitely not as easy as Vox. It definitely would have to be more than just making a few offhanded comments, that’s for sure. Like maybe actually fucking her close to a public space, specifically where the other two Vees would be able to hear her if she was too loud. And of course she’d do okay for a while but she’d let a few loud moans slip. And Vox or Val would be snickering at her when you two got back like, “Did you have a good time? Sure sounded like it..”
With Valentino…. yeah good luck. He’s not normally, or at all, embarrassed when it comes to sex things. I think the only thing that would actually get him would be like his power bottom facade being revealed to be a whiny little bitch in secret. Like maybe a picture of him crying his eyes out on bed slips into the Vees group chat… oops! See that would bother him. He’d be spam texting you to “Delete that right now or I swear to FUCK—“ but the damage is done and you’ve successfully humiliated that dumb slut of an overlord.
Gentle sex with the Vees
So when I say RARE CIRCUMSTANCE, I mean it. Because they are such fucking shits all the time, relentlessly. But on occasion, everyone needs a nice, tender fuck. Including you.
Like I could all see them kinda taking turns with your attention, getting you off semi-selflessly so you’d be nice with them in return. I’m going to be real though, I don’t have a lot of ideas for this one, because I haven’t put much thought into it.
Basically, if you have any ideas for dom reader and gentle sex with the Vees, send them in. I’m lost.
BONUS*** Fancy gala idea
Drawing attention to this idea because it is GENUINELY SO SILLY AND REALISTIC.
You’d arrive at the fancy gala and they’d all be all over you. Velvette holding onto your arm with her hand on her hip as she surveys the area, Valentino sanding directly behind you with his hands resting on your shoulders, and Vox hovering close by, making sure he’s just a little bit in front of you but talking at you so obviously everyone in the room thinks you’ve arrived together.
Because then absolutely they would be telling everyone they talk to, like just slipping in the idea that you’re their plus one. And they’d even talk to some of the same people and have to clarify like “Oh those two have no idea what they’re talking about, y/n arrived with me, let’s get that straight.”
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a/n — I actually have nothing to say for once in my life! Hope you enjoyed.
261 notes · View notes
sprytesukii · 1 day
Text
you know me (better than i know myself)
bakugou katsuki x reader
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katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.
rating: mature, 18+, MDNI
wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)
tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T
an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)
read on ao3
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the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.
“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”
the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.
“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.
he feels like he might die.
“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”
there it is. fuckin’ kaito.
katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.
part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.
of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.
bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.
he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.
and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.
it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.
perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.
katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.
too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.
but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.
that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.
but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.
he’s moving out.
he’ll be gone forever.
subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.
fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.
“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”
the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.
he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.
katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.
it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.
he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.
fuck.
with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.
“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”
the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.
“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“
katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.
he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.
he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.
he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.
it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.
by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.
kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.
it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.
he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.
nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.
he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.
a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.
(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.
he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.
EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><
katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.
EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you
he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)
the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.
a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.
the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.
it’s sustainable until it isn’t.
a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”
it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.
at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.
most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.
the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.
his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.
it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.
izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.
a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.
when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.
he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.
izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.
“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”
a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.
“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.
with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.
now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.
“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”
katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.
“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.
he never deserved any of it.
with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.
“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).
“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”
maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.
if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.
katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.
izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).
“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.
he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”
the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.
they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.
katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.
the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.
when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.
after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.
that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.
he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.
katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.
the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.
he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.
he posts an ad on craigslist that night.
the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.
“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”
the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.
the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.
katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.
something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.
“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.
the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.
“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”
denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”
he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.
the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.
in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.
katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?
ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested
ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td
ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry
ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back
ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while
ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever
katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.
he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.
katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.
you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.
you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.
you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.
it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.
“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.
you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.
“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.
pretty.
“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”
katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.
“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”
you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.
“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.
“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.
what the fuck?
in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”
your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.
the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.
a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.
katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.
suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.
it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.
“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.
your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.
“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”
the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.
“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”
your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.
the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.
you agree.
the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.
your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.
(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.
“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”
you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)
your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.
(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)
your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.
(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.
“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.
“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”
your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)
the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.
he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.
after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.
you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.
but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.
“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.
“fuck no.”
“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”
and that’s that.
you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.
it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.
occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.
it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.
“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.
“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.
“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”
what the fuck.
katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.
he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.
he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.
katsuki would not dream of stopping you.
it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.
(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.
you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.
“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)
katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.
you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.
when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.
katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.
your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.
“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.
the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.
it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.
it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.
he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.
it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.
the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.
fuck.
katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.
he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.
“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”
katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.
(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.
katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.
“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.
denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.
“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)
katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.
kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.
“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.
the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”
his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.
at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.
he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.
“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.
“i was in love with you.”
the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.
“wha- bakugou, what?”
“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”
kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.
“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”
katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”
kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.
“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.
katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.
“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”
katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”
kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”
after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?
he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.
“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.
“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”
katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.
“i think i’m in love with them.”
kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.
“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.
“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.
he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.
kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.
katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.
his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.
he’s home.
you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.
katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.
you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.
he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.
you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.
“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”
katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.
you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.
“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.
“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.
a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”
it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.
the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.
katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.
these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.
he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.
he thinks it’s his.
you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.
katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.
“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”
his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”
and that he does.
katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.
the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.
“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.
he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.
or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.
“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.
you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”
katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”
you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”
“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.
he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.
a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.
“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.
your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.
“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.
“nah.”
“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.
“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.
“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.
he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.
you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.
he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.
you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.
“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?
katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.
your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.
“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.
“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.
“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.
if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.
“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.
he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.
of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.
“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.
he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.
his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.
after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.
you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.
“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.
you know, though. you always do.
“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.
by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.
“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.
speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.
“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.
you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.
“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.
he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.
“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.
he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”
you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.
katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.
“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”
even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.
he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.
the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.
you already know.
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kjhmyg · 2 days
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blooming
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader trope: sunshine oc x grumpy jk au: florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk wc: 1k
a drabble request from anon for sunshine protector jk. honestly was doubting the capability of writing jk as a grump but anon, i hope i did it justice and i hope you like it! <3
the tiny bells attached to the entrance chimes as you enter the shop, the smell of fresh flowers greeting you so kindly in the morning. the hour leading up to opening is one of your favourite parts of the day. your flowers are your babies; you sing to them, you change their water, place them gently back into their little spaces, assemble new bouquets to put up for sale, then choose which ones go up front on the daily display.
upstairs, you hear the clinking and clanking of your neighbours. the tattoo parlour above starts a little later than your flower shop, usually seeing their first customer around noon. an unlikely combination, one which leaves most of their clients confused as they step inside, till you point out the steps to the right of your shop which leads up to the parlour. 
but you don’t complain. it brings a nice mix to your client pool. besides, your other favourite part of the day is getting to see your favourite tattoo artist. 
“ahem⎼”
you turn on your heel, snapping out of your thoughts. putting on your best service voice, you were ready to greet a customer, only to find the next best thing. “oh,” your face softens, “good morning jungkook.” 
“morning.” he leans against your counter and nods to the spread of flowers laid out on the long table behind you. “are those flowers that interesting? didn’t even hear me come through the doors, did you?”
“sorry,” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but to mirror it. “i was looking through this customer’s request. it’s a little odd.” 
“why?” 
“because see,” you bring the request ticket over from the table and lean over the counter so he can see it, “these flowers don’t go well together at all. and i know, i know, it’s a custom order. but as a florist, i should be able to tell them if i think it’s not a good combination right? i mean the colours are all over the place. look, you can’t have too many bold colours together, it’ll take away the beauty from each flower. plus it'll look so messy. but at the same time it’s their choice and they are paying for it so i don’t know.” 
jungkook looks at you with a blank expression. his arms are crossed on the counter, and his freshly washed hair rests nicely on his shoulders, curved at the ends. 
“what?” you ask him, shrugging like you didn’t just spit out an entire rant contemplating someone’s custom order.
“is it really that deep?” 
you give him an exasperated look. of course he wouldn’t get it.
he raises a brow, then smirks at your silence. you’re never quiet. not for long anyways. for a moment he wonders if he's hurt your feelings. he tends to do that sometimes. “i’m sure you’ll figure it out. besides, bold colours can look good together.” 
“but not always.” you drum your fingers on the counter, pursing your lips in thought. 
jungkook keeps staring. till your eyes flutter back to him, and you lock eyes for far too long and your heart starts racing. he blinks away first. dropping his bag and leaving his helmet on your counter, he walks across your shop and takes a look around before plucking out four flowers. two yellow flowers and two black ones. 
“hey!” you protest, “those are expensive!” 
jungkook ignores your nagging. he places them on the counter top and pairs them up, one yellow daisy with one black hellebore. then he starts intertwining their stems, creating a tiny knot at the bottom for each pair. the yellow and black flowers sit nicely next to the other. “see? they look good together, don’t they?” 
he reaches over and places one of them into the front pocket of your apron. the other, he slides across the counter in front of you. 
“or maybe not,” he shrugs, “you’re the florist here.” 
“execution could be better,” you giggle, admiring the flowers in your palm, “but it’s cute. maybe you should rethink your career. come and work with me instead!” 
jungkook lingers just to watch the way your eyes twinkle as you twirl the flowers between your fingers. all he did was tie two flowers together, yet you act like a kid with a new toy. and when you look up at him again and give him the widest grin, he decides it’s time to go (else he’d spend the entire day down here). 
he starts collecting his belongings, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his headgear. “oh,” he says, remembering, “this is for you.” 
he’d placed the cup carrier aside earlier while talking to you. jungkook checks the order plastered on the side of the cup before placing it in front of you. 
“wait but,” you start, “i don’t drink cof⎼”
“it’s earl grey.” 
your smile drops momentarily out of surprise. you had mentioned a while ago how you couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. 
“later, flower girl.” jungkook makes a turn for the steps. 
after the first few steps, he pauses when he feels something tugging on his arm. he turns to find you standing there, with the flower he’d made earlier in your hand. getting on your tiptoes, you tuck his hair back and gently place the daisy and hellbore combination behind his ear. 
“aw, you look pretty!” his brows furrow and you know he’s probably going to remove it as soon as he makes it up the steps but you don’t care. you wrap around him briefly before letting go. “thank you.” 
before he can say anything else, the bell chimes and you welcome your first customer of the day. jungkook walks up the steps with a roll of his eyes, listening to how excited you get as you go through your collection of flowers. how you could be so chirpy at this hour, he’ll never understand.
upstairs, he drops his stuff in his corner and brings suga his cup of coffee while sipping on his own. the older friend, sanitising his tools for the day, stops mid-clean. “what the hell is that?”
he refers to the flower behind jungkook’s ear. “oh. nothing.” 
“ah…” suga smiles, accepting his drink. “you and flower girl have been getting along well.” 
“she’s nice to talk to.” jungkook says, not thinking much of it. suga scoffs, knowing his friend too well. 
jungkook walks back to his corner, removing the flowers. his hand hovers over the trash can, flowers in his palm. he looks at it again, then smiles. instead, he places them on his desk, right next to the pressed flower coaster you had given him months back. he chuckles, looking at the contrast of these items to the rest of his workspace. 
sighing, he starts his day, with a flower blooming in his heart.
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mapiforpresident · 3 days
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Please Don’t Leave Me Part 2
Happy Ending
Part 1 Part 2 sad ending
~~~
​​Alexia couldn’t hear anything besides ringing as she fell to the floor on her knees. 
“Ma’am, Mrs. Putellas, can you hear me? Y/n needs to be rushed into emergency surgery. I need your verbal consent as her wife to operate on her.” The doctor stood there trying to get Alexia coherent enough to listen to watch what she was saying.
Finally Alexia replied, “yes, yes do anything possible to save her please. I can’t live without her. Please help her.”
Hearing the commotion from the hallway, Mapi stepped out of Ingrid’s room just as the doctor rushed back into the room to take you to the operating room.
“Ale what happened? Is y/n ok, they said she was stable.” Mapi said becoming more frantic at why Alexia was balling her eyes out on the floor in the hallway instead of by your bedside. 
“She… she… her heart… they have… to operate… now. Her heart … it was beating so fast. I was just holding her hand … talking to her. I… I told her that I’m pregnant.” Mapi let out a gasp at this, handing going to cover her mouth as the other pulled her best friend closer. “I found out this morning, I was planning… to tell her tonight. I had it all planned out. I bought a little Barca jersey with her number and everything. We’re going to be parents. We’re supposed to be parents together. I can’t do this without her. I can’t lose her. I can’t do this alone.” 
Mapi sat there in shock for a minute taking in what her best friend told her as she gave her as much comfort as was possible for the situation. Mapi knew that the two of you had been trying for a baby for over a year now. Alexia had confided in Mapi many times throughout the rough journey. There had already been many failed IVF attempts and this was going to be your final one. You and Alexia agreed to take a break if it didn’t work. She knew how excited Alexia must have been just that morning when she saw the test was positive. She also realized she and Ingrid were going to be aunts. She couldn’t imagine what her best friend was feeling now. Sure her wife was also in the crash, but Ingrid was for the most part ok and would just need a couple of months to heal. You were in much worse condition. Neither Mapi nor Alexia filling knew what the emergency surgery you were just rushed to even entailed. 
Mapi decided that sitting on the floor would not make either of them feel better, so she stood up. She then lifted her best friend up who gave little protest before leading her into Ingrid’s room. As soon as she entered the room with a sobbing Alexia, Ingrid’s face dropped.
“What happened, where’s Y/n. You told me she was stable. Oh my god,” she said, fearing the worst. She had never seen Alexia looking like this, she knew something terrible happened to you. She had actually been planning to get in a wheelchair and come visit you in a couple minutes. 
“Something happened and her heart started beating really rapidly. She is still alive, they just decided to operate on her now instead of waiting until tomorrow.” Mapi said as she led Alexia to sit in the chair in the corner of the room.
“I’m so sorry Ingrid, I’m so sorry,” Alexia said as a fresh wave of sobs fell over her.
“It’s not your fault, Alexia. Y/n is strong, she will pull through. I know she will.” Ingrid said to both Alexia and herself. Her older sister is the strongest person that she knows. 
“It is my fault I was talking to her when it happened. I told her that she has to get better and that she can’t leave me b…because I’m…. I’m pregnant.” At this Alexia looked up at Ingrid for the first time. Ingrid was laying in the bed looking bruised and banged up, but overall ok, and Alexia was relieved to see her sister-in-law ok. She knew her and Ingrid would both need to lean on each other and Mapi no matter what happens. 
~~~  different ending starts here.
“You’re pregnant? You’re really pregnant. Oh my god you’re going to be parents. I’m going to be an aunt. No wonder Y/n’s heart raced went off the charts. She probably wanted to rush through surgery now so she can hug you and the baby. You know how impatient she is.” Alexia let out a wet laugh at this knowing that Ingrid was right and her wife was really impatient. 
Mapi and Ingrid sat there talking to Alexia trying to keep her both optimistic and distracted throughout the surgery. Three hours later, the doctor finally walked into the room with a smile on her face. “The surgery was overall successful and y/n is stable. She is back in her room and should wake up within the next couple of hours. You can all go visit her if you would like. I will have a wheelchair brought for you, Ingrid. She is still very fragile and will continue to remain in the ICU for the next couple of days. Be very gentle and quiet when you are in the room.
~~~
Alexia sat at your bedside with Ingrid on your other side and Mapi at the bottom corner of your bed next to her wife. You could hear them saying something about a baby as you slowly tried to open your eyes. It took a couple of tries before you were suddenly blinded by the bright lights in the room.
“Amor, y/n, oh my god you’re awake. You scared me so much,” Alexia said as a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face, this time out of relief. You groaned as you continued to blink, trying to take in who all was in the room with you and trying to remember where you were. All of a sudden you remembered the crash and the ringing that you had had in your ears. You also remembered that your little sister had also been in the car. The little sister that you swore to always protect no matter what. You had failed her and a few tears ran down your own face as you tried to process all this information and all the information running through your head. 
You turned to Ingrid. “You ok, are you hurt?” Your voice was incredibly raspy and dry as Ingrid looked at you confused.
“Am I ok? y/n you… you almost… I don’t even want to think about it. I have a few minor bruises, but you…oh my god… I thought I lost you…I don’t know what I would have done. You can’t scare me like that ever again.” Ingrid remembered just how selfless you were as your first thoughts were about her safety, not about your own injuries. 
Alexia and Ingrid took turns giving you extremely gentle hugs and kisses on your forehead before you fell back asleep, which the doctor had assured everyone was completely normal. Your body was exhausted from surgery and trying to heal you. 
After you were soundly asleep and Ingrid had seen that you were alive and ok, she and Mapi returned to her own room so she could sleep as she was exhausted herself. Alexia stayed by your side, refusing to move her eyes off the rise and fall of your chest. She was still gripping your hand next to you when you woke up a few hours later.
“Wa..water.” You asked towards Alexia as you opened your eyes and felt how dry your throat was. Alexia immediately brought the straw from the cup of water up to your lips and helped you take a few slow sips before she set it back down.
You both sat in silence for a minute as you adjusted yourself to get as comfortable as possible in the tiny hospital bed and Alexia moved the blanket further up your body. 
“Are you really pregnant?” You asked. Alexia looked at you shocked that you really had her talking about it to you earlier. She slowly nodded not knowing what else to do.
A huge smile broke out on your face as you opened your arms for Ale to hug you. “I heard you and Ingrid talking about it earlier. I can’t believe we are going to be moms.”
Alexia clung onto you as tightly as she could without hurting you. You were going to be moms together and hopefully you would be a good bit into your healing and recovery by the time she gave birth.
~~~
Gracie was playing with her magnets on the floor in front of the TV while you were in the kitchen hugging Alexia from behind. Alexia was making breakfast before you had to leave soon to head to the stadium. Barça had a home Champions League game to play today and you couldn’t wait for you and your five year old daughter to cheer on your wife and sister in the game. 
After your accident you were never able to play again. You were heartbroken at first, but it led you to find a new passion, physiotherapy. You had been a physiotherapist and trainer for the Barcelona women’s team for four years now and you really wouldn’t trade it for anything. 
“Gracie breakfast is ready,” your wife shouted out. You then turned away from her, not without leaving a hit to her butt, to which she yelped and swatted back at you, and went to go get some plates out. You heard Gracie run into the kitchen and giggle as Ale scooped her up into her arms and helped her choose what to put on her plate. You loved your family so much and couldn’t wait for the surprise you had for them both later. 
The three of you sat down at the table and talked about the game today. Gracie absolutely loved football and was always asking both of her mothers questions about the game. She also loved to watch old videos of when you and Alexia played together. She was currently trying to guess the lineup for the day as you reminded her to drink all of her juice. Alexia looked so at ease and happy sitting with her wife and daughter and couldn’t wait to spend another day with the two of you.
~~~
There were only a couple minutes left in the game and Gracie was sitting next to you on the bench trying to discuss tactics with one of her favorite aunts, Lucy. You had your medical bag next to you in case it was needed, but you were also checking to make sure you had your surprise in there as well. 
“Mommy, I see Mamí now?” Gracie said as soon as she heard the whistle signaling the end of the match. You nodded as she took off in a sprint towards her other mother who immediately threw her up in the air and caught her, smiles on both their faces from the decisive win.
You got the jerseys out of your medical bag and made your way over towards your wife and daughter. As you approached them, Gracie held her arms out towards you and you took her in your arms as you pecked Ale’s lips and told her how proud you were.
“That first goal was for you, amor,” Alexia said as she pecked your lips again as Gracie kissed your cheek.
“I want a goal,” Gracie whined towards her Mamí, hating being left out.
“The second one was for you, bebita, it was the best one.” Gracie smiled contently at this.
“I have an idea who the third one was for,” you said as you smirked at Alexia.
She gave you a confused look wondering who you could be talking about. She was even more confused as you got out two jerseys and handed one to each of them. She opened the jersey to the front and it looked exactly like the jersey she currently had on. When she turned it over though she let out a gasp. It read Baby Putellas with the number 2. She looked at you to confirm it was what she thought as you nodded confirming her suspicions. She launched forward and hugged you so tightly. 
“What’s wrong mamí, do you not like mommy's present?” Gracie asked confused why Alexia was crying and what the jersey in her little hands meant. She just thought it was another jersey to add to her extremely large collection that she had gathered over her five years. 
“No, no bebita, I am so happy, this jersey means you are going to have a little sibling. Mommy has a baby in her belly.” Gracie got very excited at this. You and Alexia had been trying for over a year to get pregnant again and after Alexia didn’t get pregnant right away again, you offered to try and all the work had finally paid off. 
Alexia couldn’t believe how much her life and perspective had changed in the last five years. She was grateful every single day she woke up next to you and she loved the life the two of you had created with Gracie, and soon to be a second child. 
“I love you mis amors, I can’t wait for our family to grow.”
~~~~
On another note I just wanted to let everyone know that I recently adopted a kitten, but I found out that he needs a really expensive procedure to fix his painful gingivitis or it could become irreversible. I currently can't afford it. I'm reaching out to as many people as I can and I know it's a lot to ask, but if you could spare a few bucks or anything at all to help out, it would mean the world to me and my adorable orange kitten. Thank everyone of you so much!!
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bau-muffin · 2 days
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“Pure Intentions”
Ship: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Rating: E
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 1,162 Words
Summary: You are an agent who is also spiritual and loves crystals. So, you decide to give your favorite boss man, SSA Aaron Hotchner, black tourmaline.
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Hotch really didn’t know why insomnia had chosen to haunt him on a Sunday night, but he felt the full extent of it when he stepped into the bullpen the next morning. He wasn’t really given to vanity, but he felt like his eyebags were eye-totes now, and even though he had downed a cup of coffee before leaving the house, he felt like if he was still for even a second, he’d fall asleep.
Of course the weekend he had off was when his mind barred him from a good night’s rest- the night before work, no less.
He had not been at his desk for more than ten minutes when you bustled into his office, your smile wide as usual despite being almost eight in the morning.
“Good morning! I was going to wait closer to lunch, but then Penelope told me a case came in, so I decided to give this-“ you stopped to actually look at him, and even though an amused smile was pulling at his lips, he looked so exhausted. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked how you were doing first.”
“I’m not sick, just tired,” Hotch said kindly, “what do you have?”
“Black tourmaline! I know you’re not much of a spiritualist, but the low down on it is that it sponges up negative energy! And I mean… I know you don’t exactly have a choice, you know, to be or not to be around negative energy but…” you shrugged before admitting, “It also reminded me of you too. Also, again I know you don’t put huge stock into it, but I also charged it for you.”
You put the shiny black chunk on his desk, almost shyly. He picked it up, studying it and turning it over in his hands. You half expected him to pull his reading glasses out to look at it, and if he had- well, you couldn’t rightly be held responsible for the noise you might have made.
“This reminds you of me?” Hotch asked skeptically, his brows knitted slightly.
“Mhm! It’s a bodyguard type crystal. And… I guess you have that sort of… vibe? To me anyways,” you added on a little less than tactfully as you were visibly becoming fidgety, your hands smoothing down your skirt.
“You see me as the bodyguard type.”
You put your hands on your hips, an eyebrow raising. “Did you or did you not become overprotective when I said that my car alarm was going off in the parking lot and you insisted on stealthily going towards the car first with your pistol? Or did I hallucinate that?”
“I’ve seen some things in my time, and I know malevolent people would target a woman who’s alone when she’s leaving her workplace,” Hotch said defensively. You only smiled.
“Whatever you say. Regardless, that’s for you. Maybe, one day, I’ll get a keychain for you.”
“Thank you, that was… actually thoughtful and sweet of you. You’re right that I don’t put a whole lot of stock into this… sort of thing,” he admitted as he turned the crystal over in his palm again, “but I think… I think the weight of intentions are real.”
“Maybe those intentions will carry you home safe from this case, then. Judging from the groaning sounds coming from Garcia’s cave, I’m thinking it’s a doozy. By the way…”
“Mm?”
“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before you go in to briefing?”
“That would be wonderful of you, thank you. One sugar-“
“-and no cream. I know how you make your coffee, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” you teased.
Hotch shook his head. “The full government name.”
You turned to walk out when he called your name, and you turned back to him.
“Can you come to my desk for a second?”
You complied, going to his desk with a nervous giggle. You thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply rose from his seat and kissed your cheek.
You touched your flushing cheek with a slightly shaky hand. “What was that for?”
He shrugged. “Just a thank you for being as thoughtful as you are. Truly… you make working here a bit easier.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me cry, so I’ll laugh instead.” You were going to turn to flee, but boldness filled you and you leaned up to kiss his cheek, except he moved, and you kissed the corner of his stern lip.
“Uh-” you backed away from him.
“Don’t panic,” Hotch ordered calmly- almost too calmly- “it’s not your fault, it was mine for reacting too quickly.”
Your cheeks flushed hot red and despite his command to not panic, you immediately fled the scene, leaving behind a confused but slightly amused Aaron.
A few minutes later, JJ entered his office with his cup of coffee in one hand and sat it on his desk, the other arm full of file folders. She gestured with her head towards the bullpen, “Hey, um, Agent-“
“I know,” Hotch said with a minuscule smirk, sipping the coffee, and almost immediately moaned aloud. True to your word, you knew exactly how he takes his coffee. He kept glancing towards the crystal sitting on his desk, and when Garcia called for him to come to the briefing room, he carefully slid it in his pocket.
On the jet, after all the details of the case had been discussed, Hotch leaned back in the chair, his fourth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. Even though he made his coffee exactly the same as always, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one you made for him. He took the black tourmaline out of his pocket and held it in his hand. It works on a jet, right? It’s closer to the sun, it has to be like the best charging method.
“What do you have there?” Rossi asked from across him, looking up from a book- a compilation of Garfield comic strips over the years.
“A crystal. I think it’s… black tourmaline?”
Reid, of course, overheard this and had to jump in with, “you know, within pagan and spiritual circles, black tourmaline has protective properties, banishing negative vibrations, and it’s also supposed to be grounding.” He looked at the crystal in Hotch’s hand. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this crystal on that agent’s desk. She and Anderson talk about them all the time, and apparently she keeps some of them in her desk, as does Anderson.”
“She and Anderson are good friends,” Hotch volunteered. “She’s the one who gave this to me.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” Rossi commented, sounding too innocent for Hotch’s liking.
“She is,” Hotch agreed simply, not taking the bait.
He and “that agent” were going to have to have a conversation when he got back home- he was entirely too intrigued by you. Perhaps he could ask you what crystal was the best for asking someone on a date.
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