Tumgik
#one shot
endlessthxxghts · 1 day
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Dr. Miller
Orthopedic!Joel Miller x afab!Reader || W/C: 3.5k
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Summary: You’ve been dealing with a pain in your hip for a few weeks now, and it’s time you visit a specialist to see what’s going on. Part 2 coming soon.
Warnings: Reader is able-bodied. No physical descriptions for reader, all neutral (“your thigh”, etc). She/her pronouns for reader. Your occupation is a writer (LOL😙). Reader has a weird hatred for doctor appointments. Slight clothing description, no sizes mentioned. Pet names (darlin, angel, girl). Canon divergent - no outbreak, medical professional AU. You and Joel are literally strangers… like… ya just met today. 18+ MDNI. Inherent power imbalance (doctor-patient relations)….doctor’s office….Lots of teasing/dirty talk...oral (f receiving)…“author chose not to use archive warnings” - I don’t want to say too much!!! But pls note that there is explicit sexual activity occurring!!... proceed with horny caution… Please let me know if I need to add anything up here!
A/N: I was talking to @javierpena-inatacvest about a doctor’s experience I had (IT WAS NOWHERE NEAR INAPPROPRIATE LIKE THIS LMAOO JUST TO CLARIFY), and then we started joking around about if Joel were the doctor that I saw. So, I wrote this👹. Also I must mention!! I wouldn’t have been completely inspired/motivated to write this if it weren’t for @swiftispunk’s gynecologist!Joel Miller series she put out a little while ago!! It’s fucking amazing and yummy, and if you haven’t read that yet, DO IT NOW! 🫶 Alrighty, I love you all, I hope you enjoy xxx
MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG || see end notes
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Your appointment with DR. MILLER is coming up! Please arrive 15 minutes prior to your appointment time: 4:00PM. 
You got this text yesterday, grumbling to yourself about the fifteen minute early request. Why not just schedule the appointment for 3:45 then? you thought. 
Doctor appointments were your least favorite thing on the planet, no matter the reason. So when your hip started giving you trouble these last few weeks, so much so that you began to walk with a limp, you knew you weren’t going to get away with time as your medicine. 
You were pretty knowledgeable when it came to your body — that’s what years of not wanting to see medical professionals have trained you for — so with this particular pain, you knew you had to see a specialist. After doing some research to see which doctors took your insurance, you finally settled on a practice just ten minutes from your house. 
You arrived at your appointment at exactly 3:45, filling out the preliminary paperwork in less than five minutes leaving you to wait for ten.
Around 4:01, your name was called by one of the nurses, directing you to a room with two chairs, a medical bed, a light screen on the wall to display x-rays, and a computer screen mounted to the wall with a shelf below for the mouse and keyboard. The computer screen was facing away from where you’d be sitting. 
You settle yourself into one of the chairs, waiting for the nurse to start his round of questions only for the doctor to ask you the same thing over again. 
“Can you confirm your name and date of birth for me?” 
“Mhm,” you reply monotonously, stating your information back to him. 
“Great, thanks! And what brings you in today?”
“Well, the last few weeks I’ve had this dull pain in my left hip. It hurts in any kind of position I put it into, and I haven’t really done anything out of routine to trigger this,” you explain, still pretty annoyed. 
“And do you have pain right now? Can you rate it, 1 to 10?” The nurse asks as he types up your explanation. 
“Mm, I’d say about a 6 right now. Though, the pain has gone up to a 10.” 
The nurse hums in acknowledgment, clicking a few things on screen before he sets the computer into sleep mode. “Alright, I’ve put everything you told me in your chart. Dr. Miller will be in here shortly to review it over with you and get to the bottom of your pain. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this for a few weeks!”
His sweet and validating demeanor is like a slap to the face. He’s just doing his job, while you’re over here being not as sweet for absolutely no reason. You let out a deep sigh before you give the nurse an apologetic smile. “Thank you,” you say sincerely. “I really appreciate your help.”
“Just doing my job,” he responds with a smile, shutting your door softly to give you some privacy while you wait. 
Maybe you’ve been a little harsh towards the people in this field. Yeah, you’ve had some shit experiences, and maybe that’s why you’ve always loathed appointments of any kind, but not all of them are that way. Some are simply just doing their job. 
A few minutes pass, and a small knock to your door pulls you out of your thoughts. 
“Hey, there, I’m Dr. Miller,” the man says, a deep southern drawl blessing your ears. 
The moment your eyes drag up to meet the tall man before you, all words and breath are stolen from your lungs. 
Oh, fuck. 
Dr. Miller is fucking hot. 
His eyebrows begin to furrow, staring at you a little longer before saying your name questioningly, followed by a “Right?” 
Finally, you break out from your trance, realizing you’re utterly staring. Your eyes go wide, and you realize he’s been holding his hand out for you to shake. “Oh, shit..” you mutter to yourself. “Hi, yes, that’s me- sorry, Dr. Miller-” you ramble, cheeks on fire as you shakily reach for his hand. 
A soft chuckle escapes his mouth, and God, your entire body starts to grow hot. “No worries, darlin’,” he smiles. God, his smile. What kind of water does this man drink?
You laugh nervously as your heart lurches in your chest from his name for you. Bedside manner, you think. He probably calls all his patients some kind of nickname. For comforting purposes. Right? You keep quiet, not wanting to let more words slip from your mouth in the case that you embarrass yourself more. 
Dr. Miller logs himself into the computer, his eyes squinting at the screen as he reads the notes the nurse left behind. 
“Few weeks… dull pain… left hip…” he whispers to himself. “Uh huh,” he says as he finishes reading. “And you’re sure you don’t recall doin’ anythin’ out of your regular routine?”
“No, Dr. Miller, I really can’t,” you grimace, hating that you really don’t know what’s wrong. 
As he sits there contemplating, you can physically see the gears turning in his head, and it’s just about the hottest thing you have ever seen. He is just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen-
“Wait,” he says, the lightbulb shining bright above his head. 
“What?” You reply a little too eager for your liking. 
“What do you do for work, darlin’?” He asks, scrolling through your chart once more to see if your occupation is on file. 
The second he asks the question, you feel your face flush impossibly more, knowing damn well where this conversation is going.
You hesitate before you answer. “...I’m…I’m a writer…” you whisper, a defeated smile weakly plastered across your face.
His eyebrows raise, a silent smug uh huh already bouncing around in your brain. 
“And do you, uh… you sit a lot? Don’t ya?” Dr. Miller asks, knowing your answer already. 
“I do,” you admit, your hands going up to cover your face, your guilt. 
“And I reckon you forget to take them breaks? Stretch out your body a bit, huh?” Dr. Miller has given up hiding his shit-eating grin at this point.
“You reckon right,” you mirror his sentiment. 
“Mhm,” he hums. He waits for you to remove your hands from your face and you meet his eyes. When you do, he cocks his head to the side, gesturing to the bed. “Hop up there real quick, I wanna try somethin’.” 
“Oh, okay,” you say softly, sitting at the edge of the bed timidly. His hands reach for your shoulders first, guiding you to lay flat on your back. “I’m gonna slide you closer to the edge here, so your legs dangle off. That okay?”
“Yeah,” you squeak out, your breath struggling to make its way to your lungs at the way his ginormous hands ghost the coast of your thigh. 
At your confirmation, his hands secure themselves on the underside of your thighs, pulling you to the very edge of the bed, your hips nearly an inch away from being right against his own. You swear he can hear the rapid beat of your heart right now. 
“Still alright there?” he asks. So attentive, you think. You catch yourself smirking, immediately placing your hand over your mouth. You give him a muffled mhm in response. 
“Let me know if I’m hurtin’ ya at all, okay, darlin’? I’ll stop,” he tells you as he slowly begins guiding your legs open. He spreads your legs into a near butterfly position — you can feel the tightness in your hips slowly start to release. “Deep breath in and out, it relaxes your body more.”
And to your surprise, it does. You take one deep breath in, then out, and you can feel your legs fall even wider, your hip joint completely relaxed and not as tight as it was when you came in. 
“Atta girl,” Dr. Miller beams, feeling the stretch. Your heartbeat floats down to the heart between your legs under his praise, and all you wish you could do right now is shut your legs in case of any wetness that’s bound to say hello any minute now because you are fucking soaked. You knew you should’ve worn underwear today, damn it. 
He keeps you in this position for a minute, letting your body enjoy the freedom of pain. If he can feel your body beginning to squirm — and not out of any discomfort — he doesn’t say anything. Although he can’t deny the pretty intimate position he’s put you two into. And, you are quite beautiful. He couldn’t help the butterflies in his gut when he first walked in. And seeing you get all flustered with him? It was so damn cute-
“Why the left?” He blurts out, trying to get his thoughts away from the fact that he’s holding you open and can practically smell the arousal radiating from you — nevermind the tiniest hint of your wetness leaking through your sweatpants.
You track your eyes to his. His gaze was somewhere else before he met yours. “Huh?” You ask, too distracted to register his sudden question. 
“You, uh- you say you write. And you sit. A lot. How are you sittin’ that it’s only your left buggin’ ya?” 
“Oh,” you sigh. “Yeah… I probably don’t sit in very good positions…” you admit. His eyebrow quirks. You explain more. “…I sit…with my left leg propped up-”
“Jesus,” Joel cuts you off with a headshake. “Well, I mean. You’re pretty flexible,” he says as he, without thinking, squeezes your thigh. “Maybe you oughta incorporate yoga or somethin’ throughout your day,” he suggests. 
The tiniest of gasps leave your throat at the sensation. “Yeah, maybe,” you reply breathily. 
“Y’know what, let’s try one more thing, alright? How you feelin’, you okay still, darlin’?” 
“I’m good, Dr. Miller,” you reply honestly, your head feeling like it’s floating already the longer you stay in his presence and his touch.
He smiles at you, his eyes warm with a hint of something else you can’t — or shouldn’t — pinpoint. He places both hands on your left thigh, one on the outside and one on the inside. “Alright, I’m gonna pull your thigh over your right one. Try ‘n keep your back flat on the bed. I wanna see how this stretch makes you feel. Again, darlin’, let me know if I’m hurtin’ ya.” 
The second your thigh crosses over, a shameless moan leaves your throat — your legs crossing did absolutely nothing to ease your aching center, only stimulating the smallest but sweetest amount of friction to get you to break. “Fuck-” you gasp, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry- that was loud-”
You glance at Dr. Miller. He’s already looking at you, a pained look on his face. He’s tense. The grip he has on your thigh is tightening, but you don’t say anything. You don’t want to. “You don’t need to apologize for that, angel,” he coos. “It’s such a relief when you finally get that release, huh?” 
“Ye- yeah,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes transfixed on the way his hands look on your body. He’s guiding you back into your first position, the one that opens you for him. 
“Yeah,” he repeats. “Ya just needed to be opened up a bit. Ain’t that right, angel?” He asks, hands fixed on the inside of both your thighs, dangerously close to where you desperately need him. 
Your breathing is heavy, heart running a mile a minute. “Dr. Miller,” you whine. “Please,” your eyebrows furrow, eyelids fluttering shut on the high your body is giving you. 
One of his hands scoot closer in, his thumb slowly starts to caress the outer part of your pussy. “What‘s wrong, darlin’? Are ya in pain now?” 
“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking into his hold. 
“Where, baby? Tell me where, let me fix it for you,” he says in a baby, almost mockful tone. You’re too fucking turned on to analyze how he’s speaking to you. All you know is that you need his fingers, his tongue, his cock — something, to fuck you right now. 
You buck your hips once more, wordlessly showing him where. That won’t do for Dr. Miller. “Need to hear ya, angel,” he says, a mix of comfort yet stern in his voice. 
“F-fuck-” you let out. You are not about to beg your doctor to touch you right now. That is wrong on so many levels. Especially for him. He could lose his license, his entire career, his-
“Touch me, Dr. Miller, please,” you whisper desperately, not wanting to be too loud in case anyone passes by. 
A satisfied grin spreads between his cheeks. He taps your hip once, and you lift up, letting his fingers hook themselves in the hem to slide them off you. He whistles lowly at the sight, his head softly shaking in disbelief. “God damn, angel. This messy for me, baby?”
You nod your head rapidly, soft mewls of an affirmative leave your throat. 
Dr. Miller pulls the rolling chair underneath himself and he sits, lining his face right up against your sex. His hands are fixed on the outsides of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He leans in and breathes deeply. His lip twitches. His eyes are on yours again, dark, pleading. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters. 
“What?” you ask, dizzy at the notion that this man — your doctor — that you just met is mere centimeters away from your face. 
“Tell me to stop,” he nearly demands. 
You shift your hips, bringing yourself closer to his mouth. 
“No.”
“Fuckin’ christ, girl,” he snarls. 
His fingers dig into your thighs, his face diving right into your core. He licks the entirety of you with the flat of his tongue, the slick building between your folds causing his eyes to fly back. 
You’re no better as your hand flies to your mouth, biting into your flesh to stop yourself from moaning out. He can feel your body writhe in his grasp, your hips utterly begging to grind against his scruffy face and hooked nose. 
Your fast-paced breathy whimpers mixed with the sounds of Dr. Miller’s slurping are all what consumes the room — consuming him, consuming you. 
His tongue massages around your entrance before he finally pushes himself in, his nose pushing against your pulsing clit. 
“Oh, Dr. Miller, yes-” you gasp out, particularly loud, at the action. You fully slap your hand over your mouth this time, immediately muffling the uncontrollable lewdness spilling from your mouth. 
Dr. Miller reluctantly pulls his tongue from you and wraps his mouth around your bud, sucking and swirling his tongue against every sweet spot of yours, nearly yanking you to your mind-blowing high. One hand leaves your thigh and makes its way to you. He rubs his middle and ring finger in your arousal before he pushes his fingers inside of you, pumping at the same pace his tongue works your clit, and that’s what does it. 
“Fuckfuckfuck-!” You scream out into your hand, biting into your palm with a sheer force you know your hand will suffer the consequences from later. He groans into your cunt, his vibrations sending further tingles up your spine. Your hips buck into Dr. Miller’s face once more, drawing out the pure ecstasy you never knew existed. 
Dr. Miller’s head finally lifts off you, a blissed look written all over his shiny face. His fingers come to a halt and find their way into his mouth; Dr. Miller is very thorough in making sure he doesn’t waste a drop. 
The action sends you clenching on nothing, and Dr. Miller’s knees damn near buckle at the sight. 
He checks the clock on his watch, and he’s still on track with his timing. His hands mindlessly reach for his pants, but he pauses as he finally realizes what the fuck he’s just done and actually doing right now. 
You notice his hesitancy, and you know it’s probably the more rational decision to just stop right here. To stop this from going any further. To let this appointment come to an end, go home, and search for a new doctor. But when your eyes drag down to the tenting fabric of his scrubs, all rational thought fades from your brain. 
“Dr. Miller,” you whisper, bringing his attention back to you. You let your legs fall impossibly wider, allowing him the space to slot his broad body between your thighs. And just like that, his hunger is back. 
He pulls his pants just enough to free himself, and holy fuck, is he huge. Thick and uncut, a slight lean to the right, and your mouth fucking drools. “Good god, you’re fucking huge,” you laugh nervously, your face hotter than the depths of hell. 
He pumps his length once, a smirk forming at your comment as he makes his way to you. He lets it rest against your drenched folds, advancings his hips softly. His tip catches at your clit, your heart skipping a beat at the sensation. “Yeah?” Dr. Miller asks. “You nervous, angel?”
You look away from him, bashful at the question. “A little,” you admit.
His hand reaches for your face, his thumb and pointer finger grabbing on your chin to make you look at him. “It’ll fit, angel,” he reassures. 
“You sure?”
“We’ll make it fit,” he tells you. 
Withdrawing himself all the way back, he guides his tip to your entrance, settling his fingers to your clit, pulling more wetness from you to make this as easy as possible. 
Steadily, Dr. Miller begins to push in, and right away, the stretch stings, a pained groan falls from your lips. He stops, his hands on your cheeks immediately. 
“You okay?” he grunts, trying his best to stay composed at how tight you are with him barely inside you. 
You open your mouth to answer, but something else — someone else beats you.
“Dr. Miller,” a nurse talks through the door, two knocks preceding their words. “Everything okay in there? Your next appointment just arrived.” 
Calm and collected, like the head of his cock is not inside of you right now, he responds. “Just finishin’ up,” he calls out. “Gimme a minute.”
Both of you remain completely still, waiting to hear the footsteps walk away. After a beat, both of you release a heavy breath neither of you realize were holding. 
Dr. Miller looks at you apologetically, both of you wincing as he pulls out of you. He pulls his pants back up in an awkwardly charged silence, tucking his shirt back in before he picks up your sweats off the ground and helps you back into them. 
Without another word, he starts for the door.
“Dr. Miller…” you trail off, nervous. 
He freezes, turning his body to you, but not meeting your face. He knows if he looks into those eyes, no one will be able to pull him from this room. “I’ve gotta get to my next patient, darlin’,” he tells you. “I’m sorry.”
The door clicks, and you’re all alone, the tears threatening to fall at the whiplash of emotional highs. You hear another soft knock, so you wipe your eyes away, your wishful thinking hoping that you don’t look as wrecked as you feel. 
The nurse who took the intake questions opens the door. “You’re all set,” he says with a smile. 
“Thank you,” you say as you gather your things.
Before you can reach the exit, a woman calls out for you. “Oh, wait up! Did Dr. Miller say when he wants to see you next?” 
“Oh, um…” you pretend to recall. You two were a little too occupied with other things to get to that part of the appointment. 
“No, he didn’t- I don’t think- I, um, I can’t remember,” you stammer, the flow of your beating heart roaring in your ears. 
“That’s no worries at all, honey. You’re good to go, then, I’ll talk with Dr. Miller, and we’ll get scheduling to call you back, okay? Have a wonderful rest of your evening,” she tells you.
As soon as you get home, you plop into your bed, eyes stinging, pussy pulsing and wet, your heart full of every emotion under the sun. 
You’re unsure of what to do or how to feel now, but one thing is for sure.
You need to see him again. 
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“Dr. Miller,” his nurse calls.
“Yeah, Dee, what’s up?”
“Your 4 o’ clock-” Dee repeats your name from the patient chart she’s looking at. “When did you wanna see her again?”
“Oh, uh-”
She speaks once more, her eyes fixed on the paperwork before her. “Her problems sound like a chiro’s issue, don’t they? Why don’t I just send a referral-”
“No,” he cuts off, a little too much power to his voice. He clears his throat. “Sorry- uh, I mean- no as in, I’ll treat her. She mentioned somethin’ else that seems more complex for one of them chiros, no offense to them. I just wanna check one more thing before I can diagnose and create a plan,” he explains. 
“Okay,” she says without rebuttal. “When should we schedule her?”
“As soon as possible.” 
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Please let me know what you guys think!!! Your feedback keeps me going, and interacting with everyone literally brings the brightest smile on my face. All my love xoxo
I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links highlighted in red on my pinned post to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.
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cutielando · 3 days
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love in a bakery ~ mick schumacher
instagram au
synopsis: Mick falls in love with a beautiful young baker and doesn’t shy away from showing her off to his fans.
my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
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liked by mickschumacher, francisca.cgomes and 103,594 others
yourusername ahhhh!!!! a dream come true!!! my very own bakery, my dream ever since i was a little girl!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
view all 29,184 comments
francisca.cgomes sooooo proud of you babe❤️❤️❤️
yourusername ugh i love you !!😭😭
mickschumacher seeing you in your element has been my favorite thing to see. forever proud of you, liebling❤️
yourusername i love you mickie 🩵
mickschumacher i love you more
user1 YES FINALLY!!!!
user2 half of her sales are gonna be generated by me🫠🫠🫠🫠
user3 i just went there this morning!!!!🤭🤭
user4 OMG HOW WAS IT?????
user3 ugh she's so sweet. her pastries are the best thing i've ever tasted. it was packed even this morning, but she took time to make small talk with every single customer and was overall really nice and thoughtful🫣❤️
user5 was Mick at the opening?
yourusername he was!! albeit very hidden away because he "didn't want to steal the spotlight away from me", but he was there!!🥰
user5 we love a supporting Mick🥹🥹
user6 is it normal to feel jealous of Mick for bagging her?
mickschumacher yes.
user6 BAHAHAHAHA MICK
landonorris where is my package? 😔
yourusername almost finished, slow your horses
landonorris i thought you'd forgotten about me
yourusername you spam mine and Mick's phones every day. i couldn't forget if i wanted to
landonorris 😁😁😁😁
corinna.schumacher so proud of you, dear ❤️
yourusername you’ve been the biggest help, thank you for everything that you’ve done for me ❤️❤️❤️
corinna.schumacher you have a gift, people will be lucky to have a taste of your pastries ❤️
yourusername 😭❤️❤️
mickschumacher added to their story
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caption: woken up with a lot of love this morning <3
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liked by yourusername, estebanocon and 2,194,582 others
mickschumacher special guest in the paddock with me today ❤️ tagged: yourusername
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yourusername i love you🫶🏻🫶🏻
mickschumacher i love you and your pastries🫶🏻
yourusername is that why you keep me around?
mickschumacher basically
user1 OMG DID SHE BRING PASTRIES TO THE PADDOCK?🫣🫣
user2 I'M DEAD she's so precious😩😩😩😩
landonorris thank you for the package😁😁😁
yourusername i'm glad you liked it
landonorris my trainer might want to have a word with you later😆
yourusername thanks for feeding me to the wolves
mickschumacher don’t worry babe, i’ll protect you
charles_leclerc Y/N should receive an award for baker of the year👏👏
yourusername thank you, charles. did you like the eclairs?
charles_leclerc i did...
yourusername wonderful😋
user3 not y/n making fun of charles' name😭😭
user4 i need to taste her pastires. IT'S A MUST🫠🫠
lilymhe she's an absolute goddess🩵🩵🩵
yourusername you're too kind lils🩵🩵
kellypiquet P is in love with Y/N now🫶🏻
yourusername precious little P🥹🩵
maxverstappen1 you're gonna get all of us fat🫣
yourusername don't blame this on me. i just brought them, i didn't make you eat them
maxverstappen1 but they looked so good...
mickschumacher stop attacking my girlfriend😠
user5 mick's instagram is slowly becoming a fan page for Y/N and i'm here for it😩😩
mickschumacher can you blame me?
user5 absolutely not. completely valid
yourusername i'm just too perfect😋🥰
mclaren we'd like to submit a request to have your pastries at our motorhomes from now on
mecerdesamgf1 so would we
redbullracing same here
astonmartinf1 put us on the list
mickschumacher OKAY WE GET IT
yourusername that's a whole load of pastries to bake
user6 every team on the grid has fallen in love with y/n and her baking
user7 watch y/n dominate the entire paddock from now on
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liked by mickschumacher, lilymhe and 392,185 others
yourusername my forever favorite company❤️ (look at my precious pookie angie😭😭❤️❤️❤️) also taking a little break from baking because Mick thinks i'm too involved or something tagged: mickschumacher
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mickschumacher i sometimes think you love Angie more than you love me
yourusername that's because it's true
mickschumacher ......
yourusername love youuuuu
mickschumacher you do bake too much lately
yourusername my demand is high. i'm just that good
mickschumacher ugh
lilymhe you’re so pretty 😭😭😭
yourusername staaaawp you’re gonna make me cry😭❤️❤️
landonorris how are my croissants doing?
yourusername you realize i do have a life, right?
landonorris i do. now, the croissants?
yourusername ….
yourusername almost ready
landonorris 😁😁😁
charles_leclerc we cannot wait to see you at the paddock again, y/n😃
mickschumacher are you using my girlfriend to get sweets?
yourusername be nice, mickie
yourusername charles_leclerc don’t worry, i’ll bring you the eclairs as soon as i get there
charles_leclerc you’re the best☺️☺️☺️
user1 the drivers being obsessed with mick’s girlfriend was not on my bucket list for this year 😅😅
user2 she’s being so sweet to the entire grid 🥺🥺
maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to see you either
yourusername my precious sweetheart 🥺🥺❤️
user3 at this point, everyone loves Y/N more than they love Mick🤣
alex_albon that dog is really cute
mickschumacher she is a beauty, isn’t she?
yourusername do you think your pets would be up for a play date?
alex_albon we can arrange something. as long as you bring some cupcakes 😁😁😁
yourusername deal
user4 they look so cute together 😭😭😭
user5 that dog is their child, nobody can change my mind
lilymhe i miss little angie so much😭😭
yourusername she misses auntie lils as well 😭
alex_albon we have so many pets and you're missing someone else's dog?
lilymhe YOU DON'T GET IT ALEX
yourusername MEN.
mickschumacher you messed with the wrong people Alex
alex_albon 😟😟
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liked by yourusername, mickschumacher and 493,185 others
mercedesamgf1 Very big thanks to yourusername for providing us with the best pastries in town!!!❤️ tagged: yourusername
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yourusername always happy to provide for the team❤️❤️
mercedesamgf1 ❤️
mickschumacher this is getting out of hand
yourusername relax mickie, it's my job, you know
mercedesamgf1 yeah mickie, don't interfere with the job
landonorris you made mine with papaya cream
yourusername extra special dose of love and kindness for the team
georgerussell63 MINE WAS SO GOOD
yourusername i’m glad you liked it georgie 😁😁
lewishamilton Roscoe was so happy when he saw the cupcake of himself
yourusername his was made with an extra dose of love 😭😭
mclaren thank you yourusername for the delivery!!! you can mark us down as regular clientele from now on 🥰
yourusername of course you guys 🥰🥰
mickschumacher you people do realize she needs to breathe, right?
mclaren no
redbullracing no
astonmartinf1 no
mercedesamgf1 you have a problem with us?
mickschumacher …no
maxverstappen1 P cried from excitement when we showed her the cupcake with her 😩
yourusername 🥺🥺🥺baby P is my favorite client
mickschumacher didn’t realize i would have to share my girlfriend with the rest of the grid…
mercedesamgf1 make peace with is, Mick. your girlfriend is now our girlfriend
yourusername ☺️☺️i love it when you fight over me
user1 this is actually so sweet of her 😭😭
user2 the fact that she spent so much time making these for them just proves how perfect she is ❤️❤️❤️
user3 how did her and Mick get together?
user4 hahahaha funny story. they actually met in a little bakery in Mick’s hometown, ordered the exact same order and then started talking and here they are almost 3 years later
user3 that is so sweet and so fitting for Mick 😭😭
user5 if Mick doesn’t marry her, i will
user6 mickschumacher can you fight?
mickschumacher for her, yes. bring it
user7 mick willing to fight over Y/N’s pastries 😭😭
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imaginesmai · 3 days
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Hewn City, where nightmares come true
Maybe this is a bit long and excesive? Maybe, but we love good angst, hurt and comfort. Thank you @marscardigan for your request! Feel free to send anything else. This is places inside the baker!reader universe, but it's independent. You can find other parts here.
Plot: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.
Warnings: males being a lil creepy with their comments, Keir, violence.
“Az” you sighed for the third time that afternoon, staring at your stubborn mate. “It’s no big deal. Feyre has done it, Nesta has done it. Why can’t I?”
“They have done it because they have powers. They…” his words died when you raised a brow and dared him to tell you that they could and were different. More capable. “It’s not even about them, don’t change the topic. It’s about us. I don’t want you to do it”
“So, it’s fine when you leave for weeks to the mountains with a target on your back but I can’t accept one dance where you and your brothers will be watching?” you asked, and he finally looked away.
Azriel and you had been arguing about the same topic for two days in a row. Since Rhysand, who you had become fond of in the last years, asked you for a favor. He had been hoping you would come with them to Hewn City and dance with some males while they snooped around. You didn’t even have to carry weapons with you, since you would be introduced as part of their family.
It wasn’t dangerous or risky. It was a favor from your friend because Hew City didn’t know you. An unfamiliar face they would be too preoccupied studying to notice Feyre, Nesta and Mor sneaking into their studies. They would play the hard part. You just had to dance.
And Azriel was having a tantrum about it.
“The fact that you can’t even answer that question is enough. I’m going. And you can’t decide what I do and don’t”
“I can talk Rhysand out of it” he tried, not looking at you.
“Oh, like you haven’t tried that already”
You decided the conversation was finished and turned around to finish decorating the trail of cookies. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his usual place to watch you work in silent adoration. The storm in his eyes died down a little at the familiarity of your movements, at the comfort of the bakery.
Yes, he was mad. Mad at Rhysand because he hadn’t asked him first, mad at himself for considering he was your owner and needed to be asked for permission for you to do something. Mad at you because you couldn’t see how tight his heart became at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, dancing in a room full of vipers.
Half of the citizens of that rotten place had been tortured by Azriel at some point, and the other half had been gently tortured. He trusted Rhysand’s glamour to hide your bonded scent, but his rebel heart seemed to think otherwise.
For a while, he watched you work in silence, hands working your own particular magic with common ingredients. The fire eventually left his soul and he felt guilty enough to leave his spot. When you set the last trail in the oven, he took advantage of the vulnerable position and wrapped himself around you.
His wings created a small cocoon for the two of you, light barely seeping through the thick membrane.
“I’m sorry for being an overbearing mate” he apologized against your earlobe, letting his warm breath make you squirm. “You’re amazing and brave and you can handle everything you want, but I worry because I love you”
“And I’m also too smart and beautiful for your own good” you scoffed when one of his hands sneaked beneath your apron. “We’re gonna burn those cookies”
“Won’t the only thing burning for you tonight”
You bursted in a loud laugh and the rest of his anger faded away, giving up space for the usual love and adoration for you. In his arms, he could hear your heartbeat, smell the faint remains of vanilla from the previous muffins and your shampoo.
Azriel pushed you farther into his arms, and you didn’t complain. One of his arms was settled on your waist, under your apron but with no further intentions. The other one crossed your chest, and you gripped his forearm between your hands.
He was all hard muscles and soft skin. Even under his usual leathers, you could feel the familiar outlines of his arm. You looked up from his chest and saved the height different when you locked your eyes with him. From upside down, he was just as beautiful as ever.
His lips curved into an apologetic smile, although you were certain it wouldn’t be the last time you heard from it. Azriel was just a little less stubborn than you.
“I forgive you on one condition. You don’t bring it up to Rhys anymore. He already feels bad about it, you don’t have to remind him” you gently reprimanded him. “If he could, he would have searched for other solution. And I’m happy to help”
“You’re happy here, but down there it’s horrifying. And Rhysand and Hewn City can fuck – “
“Besides, I like doing things with you. From your other life”
Azriel’s life as the shadowsinger, as the spymaster, was still a bit hidden to you. You had gotten him to open up little by little, and he had shared some details that had you almost regretting your decision. But it was true that, besides doing Rhysand a favor, you wanted to do it with Azriel. Watch him work and be that tough male everyone feared.
That point made him roll his eyes and drop the matter with a brief kiss to your nose. He captured it between his teeth and playfully bit you, which earned him a swift elbow to his groin. Azriel teared apart just in time for the next customer to arrive.
With a sharp look that promised worst thing than an elbow, you left him in charge of the cookies and went to the front door.
-
Azriel hadn’t been allowed to see you before he big night. He had tried, but had received an arguable reason – that he would leave his smell all over you. As if he was a teen with hormone problems that couldn’t control himself. He was still fuming about it as he waited in silence by the throne, still pouting but intimidating.
His shadows were scattered all over the room, and he was purposefully ignoring Cassian’s warning glances. The last thing he could do to show his discomfort was terrorize a little their guests.
Rhysand had been introducing you in the dinner hall, where he hadn’t been allowed in. For centuries, the rules had kept Illyrian out of the finest and most elegant parts of the city, and it was one of the few rules he liked. He avoided pointless and tedious conversations waiting in the throne room.
“I bet Rhys he would wear line for a week you won’t last more than five dances” Cassian muttered under his breath, not looking away from the early guests. “Mor placed it at two”
“Glad my discomfort brings you joy, Cassian” he replied. “I plan to endure the whole night, if only for your troubles. What did Rhys bet?”
“Sex ban for a week”
Azriel rolled his eyes and finished the conversation. He was in for a long night, and he would try to endure it for you. Because you had looked so excited to be part of the plot, so bright and happy, he would never smudge that out.
The remains of your smile warmed his heart, and he relaxed a bit. You had been sitting right by his side as Rhysand went over the last details the previous night, listening to him like a hawk. Where you needed to dance, opposite from the entrance. Who you needed to charm or avoid, what you needed to act like.
He hated all of that, but he couldn’t deny that it made you happy. And whatever made you happy was worthy. The part he couldn’t stand was his absence during the grand dinner, during your introduction. It would raise many suspicions since Azriel never accompanied Rhysand there, therefore he had to wait at his usual spot.
Rotten on the spot with unusual nerves and doubts, he listened with trepidation the incoming steps.
“Don’t make me lose the bet. You don’t want to see me in a sex ban. Or Nesta” his brother announced quickly before the big doors opened.
“Shut up” Azriel hissed.
“A fair warning”
Rhysand walked in with cold indifference, Feyre walking by his side like the queen she was. His high-lord deemed worth the risk shoot him a warning glance, and Azriel thanked him, because it half-prepared him.
You walked right behind them, talking softly with Mor, and you were stunning. Beautiful. Bright. Radiant beyond the stars.
Azriel found the simplicity of your bakery uniform charming and perfect. The constant stains on your clothes, the sunny dresses you wore for your dates. Even training clothes made him stare longingly.
The dress you were wearing was long and dark, hugging all your curves and letting your left leg at plain sight. The cleavage lowered down to your waist, so low he could see the burnt scar you had gotten when you started your bakery. It showed your shoulders, your arms covered by a transparent, thin sheet of stars and bright dots. Azriel was glad he got a moment to digest the sight before seeing your exposed back.
You were so beautiful he stopped breathing, that he lowered his guard for the first time in that place. Someone could have tried to assassinate him from the front and he wouldn’t have seen them coming. Not when you were looking like a dream come true.
Rhysand was by his side before he could tear his eyes away from you, Feyre on his right.
“You may dance and drink and do whatever you like tonight” Rhysand motioned with a vague hand around. “But kneel first at your majesties”
“Lower” Cassian roared when only their heads lowered.
They all fell to their knees, as you and Mor watched by the side. While all their eyes were fixed on the ground, you looked at Azriel for the first time. He tugged frantically on the bond, proving Cassian wrong and behaving exactly like a hormonal teenager. You pulled back with a small smile – so small, so hesitant, that Azriel frowned.
It was different from the radiant one you had gifted him so many times during the last days.
He didn’t have to bother looking at Rhysand to have him speaking mind to mind.
“It’s her first time, she’s just nervous” his voice broke through the mental barriers, wary and full of concern. Azriel forced himself to look away from you, for your safety and his.
“What happened?”
“Nothing”
Rhysand knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe his answer, so he was met with flash of images of the previous dinner. How you had been introduced under predatory eyes, how your smile had died down a bit at the darkness and the coldness in their stares. Azriel’s whole body became alert as he watched through Rhysand’s eyes the dinner, no one daring to come close to you.
It would be different now, he knew, so he steeled his nerves as the first fae rose his head. 
They rose up one by one, and when Rhysand just kept mumbling something in Feyre’s ears, they deemed safe to start moving. Music started playing and males started looking for the company of women. Azriel’s neck vein pulsed painfully when a lesser fae walked up to you and Mor, asking for your hand.
From up there, he could smell your hesitance. You would follow the plan, as Mor stepped out with a small vow, Nesta nowhere in side. Feyre would leave shortly too, and you would only have to stay there until they came back. But Azriel had to remind himself to breath when you were taken to the dance floor by another male.
He had to give it to the first one – he was respectful enough to keep his hands your waist and not lower them. Azriel felt his power roaring inside him the whole time, and he couldn’t help but stain his ears to listen to the conversation.
Through the dances you granted, he did that, ignoring the rest of the world and looking without seeing through the room.
You’re beautiful, how is it we haven’t seen you around earlier?
I have a son, he has lands and power. Would you like to know him?
I was hoping to catch you all night. What is such a sweet flower like you doing here?
You smell nice, unbonded
Rumors say you are an unmarried female. Such a pity
The comments grew more unfortunate the longer the night went. Rhysand power was gently holding him in place, reminding him the importance of giving the girls time. The High lord was looking too much at you, for his sake, so they wouldn’t notice Azriel acting like a boiling bull next to him.
And that started to draw unwanted attention, the notice of his High Lord staring at a woman. You were nothing like the female that had walked hours ago into the ballroom. Once you had seen what Hewn City was, what your mate had to work with, you were withering away – and Azriel noticed.
Azriel was seeing every drop of your smile, every muscle you tensed. Blood dripped to the ground behind him from how hard he was clenching his fists. His shadows curled in the edges of the room impatient, ready to attack. He broke every bet they had and then the last male walked up to you.
“May I have this dance?” Keir asked as you were dropped by your last companion. “You are hard to catch, my dear”
You brushed off the last feeling of discomfort from hands on you, all night, and tried to think quick. He had been one of the few males Rhysand had warned you to stay away from, but he had scared off any other options. And your friends weren’t back yet.
“I was hoping for a break” you tried to seem confident. “Sit this one out”
“Pretty things like you shouldn’t be sitting”
You bit your inner cheek, regretting the help you had offered. You had been regretting since you had stepped in the hall, and you had met Azriel’s eyes. The way they shone with worry and concern, the desperate tug on the bond. He had warned you and you felt foolish, because you thought you could handle it.
There were reasons in fate why you worked in a quiet bakery and he spent his life in dungeons.
“Shouldn’t have dance with every male in this room if you’re gonna get scared now” he chuckled, all void and dark. It made the hairs of your arms raise. “I won’t bite. Not too hard”
Apparently out of options, you accepted his hand and kept a straight face when he pulled you closer. If you were honest, you were too close to crying. Your feet hurt, your heart was pounding way too loudly against your chest and you had been touched way too many times. Every inch of your body felt dirty and wrong, and Keir certainly had big hands.
You had avoided Azriel’s eyes all night. You knew Rhysand was looking out for you, maybe to draw attention away from your mate. But that had made more males, the worst type it seemed, to become interested in you.
Keir was the last of a long list you had endured so far. He shamelessly inhaled when he pulled you closer, his nose brushing the space between your shoulder and neck. You convinced yourself it was his nose, not his lips, that traced your pulse point.
“You smell divine. So sweet” he commented, keeping you close to his body. “Have you been taken yet, dear? Has a male unfiled you?”
“That’s not a question I want to answer” you complained. You weren’t sounding confident at all, not with his hand pressing against your waist. It sounded more like another question itself.
“Oh, how I will like to see this city defile you. A little, sweet thing. Didn’t your mother warn you about wolves and rabbits?”
You kept quiet at his words, looking down at your moving feet. That way, he couldn’t see the way your expression broke. You noticed your lip quivering, your body trying to become smaller in his grasp. Just a dance, you reminded yourself. The heat of Azriel’s eyes was still present on your back, Rhysand glamour tight around you.
Keir’s shoes became blurry when your vision filled with tears. So desperately, you wanted to be home, with Azriel. You wanted Rhysand to never need you again, to have Keir moved to another continent along with the rest of that doomed city.
“I wonder if you’ll be as quiet in bed. How much will your father make me pay for you? Maybe we can arrange things for this week” Keir suddenly gripped the edge of your chin and made you look up, with a serious look on his cruel face. “Are you fertile, dear?”
The way he was speaking about you, his fingers gripping your face, was enough to make the first tear roll down. The male actually looked surprised at the sight, but once it had fallen, you couldn’t control yourself.
It could have been like that, you realized, if you hadn’t found Velaris. If Az wasn’t your mate, instead a male like Keir or someone worse. Your eyes searched desperately for him, without need to ask for help.
Azriel had reminded you many times that only one look and he would be right beside you, court matters dammed. He had made you say it out loud multiple times, had gotten you a small bargain tattoo on the back of your ankle. His eyes were already dark and troubled when you met them, his body ready.
He winnowed between shadows before anyone noticed, and then those same shadows were besides you. Keir’s fingers were ripped from you with a sickening crack, and you only saw Azriel’s fighting leathers. His rough hands tucking your face farther into his body, his shadows crawling up to your knees and calves.
They were cool against your sweaty skin, Azriel a calming and safe presence. Your face scrunched in a silent cry as you let your pent-up emotions consume you. You hugged him tight, not looking at the source of the screams.
“Scum” Azriel scoffed at the male in the ground, shooting Rhysand a warning glance.
“This is over. Forever”
“Azriel. They will know”
“Fuck you”
Rhysand could only witness in tense silence as Keir’s body tried to fight off Azriel’s shadows. Always so gentle around your body, they wrecked the male on the ground. They burnt his arms and snapped his fingers, squeezed his throat until his eyes budged. Azriel watched with murderous indifference as he held you trembling.
That was what he had wanted to tell you, to warn you about. You were capable of everything, you were brave and amazing. But that city was filled with trash and they could suck the life out of anyone.
“I want to go home” you whispered against his chest, your knees trembling.
“You have always been stupid, Keir, but you can always surprise me” Azriel growled, so primitive and feral that the room fell quiet. “Let’s see if you can quiet your screams tomorrow”
Feyre running out of one of the many doors was the last thing Azriel saw before winnowing you both away from Hewn City. He let his shadows hide you, but used his wings for good measure of protection.
In a few seconds, you were back in your apartment in Velaris, above your bakery, the sweet scent of summer nights filling the space. It no longer smelt like death and expensive perfume, like rotten flesh and arrogance. Azriel didn’t let you go as you squeezed his middle with a surprising force.
He knew what you needed without explanation. Carefully, he unlaced the dress on your back, his hands brushing any inch of skin those males had touched. Each trembling sigh, each tear he smelt on you, made him physically hurt to go back and kill them all. Pull at their limbs and hang them from their insides.
Rhysand would be hearing for him for a while, everyone in his family would. He squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to your whimpers, that stabbed into his heart like sharped knives. Azriel ripped the sleeves off your dress and could have burned it with the sheer force of his hate.
When you were finally standing with just your underwear, he allowed himself a moment of reassuring. Since the moment he had met your eyes, he was done for. The destiny of the world could have been in risk that he would have had still acted.
His hands were shaking too when he pulled your face away from his chest, cupping your cheeks. They were wet with tears, Keir’s fingers marked on your chin. He watched those beautiful eyes, that had shone at the idea of working with him, carry the burden of that night.
“I’m sorry” you whispered brokenly, your breath speeding up again. “I’m sorry I messed it up”
“You did perfect, darling. You did so good. So good” he assured you with passion, bringing your face closer to him until you couldn’t avoid his burning gaze. “They got out and you did perfect, but you won’t have to do it never again. I promise, Y/N, never”
You cried in his hands, and Azriel broke at the sight. What type of mate allowed their partner to go through that? To have strangers’ hands on them for hours? He hated himself a little bit more for that, but tried to hide it as he kissed your forehead.
He tangled his fingers between your locks as his lips lowered down your face. To your closed eyelids and wrinkles. Azriel kissed every tear, your nose, the edges of your pointed ears. He let his lips linger at the bruises on your chin, and found comfort at having Keir paying for them next morning.
Azriel ended up picking you between his arms, and carrying you to your room. It still held the remains of your excitement – scattered clothes close to the wardrobe, make-up products opened and half-used. He pointedly ignored them as he carefully dropped you in bed. Your arms didn’t unhook from his shoulders, and he didn’t complain.
“I hate them so much” he admitted in a whisper, close to your ear. “I hate them”
He had hated them since he was a child, had wanted to keep them away from you. He considered if moving to another continent with you was far enough, or if he would be forced eventually to kill them for breathing the same air. Those decisions would have to wait until the next morning.
Still on his leather clothes, Azriel let you lay on his chest and draped the sheet over your bodies. He ignored Rhysand’s talons against his mental shields, only hug you closer. He listened to every shaky breath of yours, caressed away with his thumb the last tears you shared.
“I’m sorry I doubted you” you said eventually, almost when Azriel thought you were asleep. Raising your head from his chest, you met his eyes. “You were right. I’m sorry”
“I wish I had been wrong. I… sometimes I wish it was different. That I worked in the Archives or owned a coffeeshop” Azriel talked just as quietly. “Then I could have you with me always. I hate my job, but I love my court. I love Velaris and I want it to be a safe place, so I gotta endure those things”
“I wish that was different too”
It was foolish to wish on things that couldn’t happen. Azriel would die before letting you close to that part of his life again. He wasn’t done by far with Hewn City or his own brothers, but that night he only held your naked body close. Every now and then, he would recall a certain moment of the night and remember the exact point a stranger’s hand had touched – Azriel would caress that same spot, feeling you hug him tighter.
Neither of you slept that night, and you didn’t open the bakery the next day. It took Azriel two days to be able to leave your presence without feeling the need to rip Rhysand’s head off his shoulder, five baths to erase the memories of those hands. Keir rotted in a cell, accompanied only by Azriel’s shadows, in the meantime.
Three days later, when Azriel came back to Hewn City after leaving you in the bakery, Keir couldn’t keep quiet.
Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated
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scarletttries · 2 days
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What The Straw Hats Are Like in A Relationship... (One Piece Request)
Pairings: Luffy x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Nami x Reader, Usopp x Reader (All Fluff)
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Monkey D Luffy
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- Luffy is the epitome of someone who views being in a relationship as just having the Ultimate Best Friend. He loves to collect people who can depend on him, and who he can support and inspire and encourage to be their best and boldest self, and having you as a partner only motivates him to reach his full loving potential.
- Luffy is incapable of limiting the intense amount of physical affection he showers down upon you, regardless of the time, the place, or the present company. He feels practically adrift without a gangly arm draped over your shoulder, or his head resting in your lap. He's 100% guilty of not even realising someone else is in the room when he hasn't seen you in hours, barging around the ship, desperate to fulfil his most basic need to be near you. He'll launch himself at you, wrapping you up in his arms and lifting you into the air for a kiss before you can even protest and point out Nami and Zoro are right behind him. Cue gagging noises that do nothing to quash his frantic kisses.
- Luffy doesn't have much of a sleep pattern at the best of times, but since you came into his life he has completely lost the ability to fall asleep without you. At night his stretching limbs seem to wind completely around you, pulling you closer and making sure there's absolutely no chance of being seperated in the night. If you do need to get up without him for any reason you'll hear the most sorrowful whimpering as you pry his hands off you, breaking your heart until you inevitably see him again, his koala-like nature vigorously renewed by the brief break from your company.
- Without fail, no matter how long the two of you are together, Luffy will never stop marvelling at how happy he is to be with you. He'll smile from ear to ear every single time he sees you, galloping over without a moment's hesitation to scoop you up into a hug. He'll softly sigh out a 'wow' every time the two of you kiss. Whether it's the first kiss or the thousandth, he can hardly believe just how soft and loving your lips feel against his and the flush of warmth it sends through his entire body. He'll giggle basically every time you say his name, like it just sounds so much better coming from you, like you're the only person that was ever supposed to truly see him. Luffy will never take that, or you, for granted.
- Luffy is a constant source of sunlight in the dark and any troubling times you might face. He can never give you enough praise and encouragement, and his smile and support makes you realise just how much you're capable of, especially when you've got the right people around you. But perhaps what's even more special is being the person Luffy turns to when his own brightness is wavering, when he questions himself and his vision. When his smile falters you know it's time for you to be the one to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling his weight collapse against you as suddenly the pressure on him doesn't seem so stifling, and maybe with you by his side he can finally breathe again. His low moments usually pass quickly, but watching his battery recharge as he curls up in your lap is when you really see how much your love means to him.
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Zoro
- Love and warmth are all new to Zoro when he finally embraces his feelings for you and admits he can't go on without you by his side indefinitely. He's spent so long perfecting his stoic demeanour, living a life of solitude and self-sufficiency until you and Luffy came along, that he's not sure exactly what he's supposed to do now that he can finally call you his.
- As much as Zoro isn't a fan of publicly displaying his affections, he's never far from your side. Wherever you go, he goes, usually clinging to your hand or with an arm around your waist, his emotionless expression hiding the depth of adoration behind each touch. He wants to look nonchalant, like he never hasn't been your boyfriend, like there's nothing that could come between the two of you, two figures locked in a permanent connection, physically and emotionally. He hopes if that's the message he portrays to the outside world, nothing will dare to challenge him for your attention, or have the nerve to try and separate the two of you, Zoro slowly starting to feel like he's more himself around you than he's ever been in his years alone.
- Behind closed doors he's far more expressive, although rarely through his words. Not one for big beaming smiles, Zoro tends to show his love through the unflinching intensity with which he gazes at you, eyes constantly mapping out each of your features as he draws ever closer. His grip is firm on your waist as his broad chest meets yours, long, slow kisses Zoro's favourite way to try and express the deep adoration that devours him. It's overwhelmingly intense how all-consuming it feels when his focus is solely on you, every fibre of his being pouring out unspoken truths. Every so often a simple 'i love you' or 'i need you' will be whispered through the darkness as his fingertips dig into whatever soft flesh is in his reach.
- As well as his undeniable intensity, you also bring out a certain levity in Zoro you might not have seen before. Sometimes you'll catch him furtively smiling your way, or chuckling at a comment you made just loud enough for him to hear, a weight lifted off his shoulders just from being loved by you. He slowly starts to unburden himself around you, opening up a little more about his past, worrying less about looking a little bit silly when he tries something new, thinking less about how others perceive him, and more about how he wants you to see him. He wants to be his most authentic self, the real Zoro rather than the blank mask he's plastered on his face for far too long. Before you, he feared no one could love the man behind that facade, now he wants nothing more than to be loved for the man he truly is.
- Despite being a man of few words, you never have to worry about where you stand with Zoro, and not just because he is so frequently looming beside you, statuesque in his ability to perpetually be by your side. Whilst his sarcastic sense of humour never grows old, when you ask him how he feels or anything about the bond between the two of you, Zoro will answer honestly. He might not spend hours confessing his every waking thought and feeling, but if you worry your feelings are outpacing his, he'll easily admit that he thinks of little but his future with you, that his every dream is about your smile, that he no longer wants to die by sword when instead he could grow old by your side. Zoro falls hard, and he's never fallen like he has for you, so you never have to worry about what's going on behind his expressionless face, because it's always thoughts of you.
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Sanji
- Sanji truly thought this day may never come. It's one thing falling madly in love, heck before you Sanji thought he'd been in love a dozen times before, but it's entirely different loving someone so wholly and so deeply and then finding out they actually like you back. You wanted him. He could scarcely believe it the day you confessed, and he can scarcely believe it every day since, no matter how obvious your feelings are to every other member of the crew. Although any feelings of yours are so overshadowed by the enormity of Sanji's love for you that it's hard for them to pick up on anything else.
- Sanji has spent a lot of time fantasising about what it would be like to finally be someone's boyfriend, so much so that when he finally takes up the role as your partner he feels like his heart might just burst with excitement. He's not sure he can remember the last time he wasn't smiling, his cheeks threatening to ache as he goes about his day, floating almost weightlessly as if carried by thoughts of you wherever he goes. He wakes up with his heart hammering in his chest as your presence floods his senses before his eyes even open, tucking his face into your shoulder so he can breathe you in and taste your skin on his lips before he has to start the day. Some mornings he bursts out of bed to hurriedly make your breakfast, but other days he feels so enamoured by you that all he can bring himself to do is stare longingly at you as his fingertips trace along your skin until finally your eyes blink open. He half expects you to frown at the sight of him, or scorn him for bothering you, feeling entirely undeserving of your love. But instead you show him that soft smile that has him giggling at nothing, pulling him back on top of you with absolutely no resistance as he hungrily captures your lips over and over again.
- Sometimes Sanji can hardly believe your kindness towards him, a fresh flood of adoration spilling out of him at almost every sweet little thing you do. Every time you compliment his cooking he wants to drop to his knees and cry, like his every life ambition has been met because his dish made you smile and hum. When you thank him for having your back in a fight, or for a thoughtful and elaborate compliment he spills out with wide, wonderstuck eyes, it truly takes his breath away, the sweet feeling of being appreciated more than he had ever dared to hope for. Call him 'your love' and the chef will throw his arms around you, squeezing you desperately as his eyes start to well up, choking out how much he loves you in frantic gasps. He takes immense pleasure in returning the pet name, proudly calling you 'my love', 'my sweet', 'my beauty', 'my everything', 'my whole heart', really anything to celebrate his love and to label you his.
- Usually laser focused in the kitchen, you might be the only thing that can distract him from his arts. That doesn't stop his constantly 'suggesting' that you drop by the kitchen company, never wanting to outright ask you for anything as you already give him so much, but his desperately pleading eyes do a good enough job of begging that you often find yourself perched on the kitchen counter next to him, listening to him narrate his moves to you and occasionally swing by for a kiss. But sometimes one kiss isn't enough, and the minute he steps between your knees he's caught in your gravitational pull. The first quick peck reminds him just how sweet you are, just how good it feels to have his affections reciprocated, so he needs more. He needs to slide his tongue between your lips as his hips press closer, hands finding the outside of your thighs to pull you snug against him. When your fingers comb through the hair at the nape of his neck his eyes flutter shut and he has to hold back from moaning into your mouth, touch starved and smitten and not sure how he ever existed in the same room as you without confessing his every obsessed thought.
- Sanji is really not sure what he ever did to deserve you, like at any moment you might pull away and ridicule him for spending so much time bothering you, but as time passes and the love the two of you share only deepens he starts to finally believe that not only can he do everything in his power to make you happy, but that he might actually be the man to deserve to make you happy.
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Nami
- The path to Nami's heart would be slow and winding, months of adventure and trust and support passing before she could truly accept that she couldn't live a life that didn't include you anymore. By the time you two are officially an item, there's little about each other you haven't already shared, your love built on a solid foundation of honesty and deeply relying on each other in a way Nami never thought she'd be able to.
- For all the long nights of deep discussions it took to finally be Nami's other half, once you two are finally together your relationship is surprisingly light, effortless and easy. The darkness of well-built walls has been torn down to give way to a sweet dawn of hope for Nami. With you she gets to feel safe again. Safe to pour out her heart. Safe to sleep with both eyes shut as she feels your slow, deep breath on her cheek where she's rolled onto your pillow to never be too far away. Safe to smile and laugh and trust and explore. Truly with you Nami can feel safe to just be happy again.
- The two of you are constantly having fun. You meander through shore line stalls looking for new fabrics Nami can turn into almost matching outfits for the two. You play games and make bets on everything from the weather to how many times Zoro will scowl at Sanji. You two will play fight when you're supposed to be training, rolling around on the mats together until you're both in fits of laughter and all your limbs are so entwined neither of you can, or wants to, move. You enjoy easy nights passed in bars, watching the rest of the crew try and score free drinks when Nami does it effortlessly. You read books, and have sleepovers in the crows nest, and make little trinkets for the cabin you share. You get to have the fun and family and home that Nami never did, slowly mending every childhood scar and deeply dug wound that a troubling life had left imprinted on Nami, until joy becomes her default over sadness.
- After years chained to a table and forced to make maps, Nami takes great comfort in resting her legs in your lap while she draws, asking your opinion on her maps despite your limited understanding of how on earth she constructs them. The things that she had slowly grown to despite start filling her with joy again when you get to do them together. Nami has spent so much time just trying to make it to her goal of freeing her village, never thinking about her own happiness or the future beyond that. But now with you, her future seems wide open, stretching out in front of her like a sunrise highlighted horizon, full of warmth and light and wonderful possibility.
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Usopp
- You came into Usopp's life as such an unexpected wonder that he almost struggles to come to terms with his newfound role of boyfriend. Half of his life has been lived in his imagination, dressing up his every memory and adventure until it feels worthy of sharing and declaring to those around him, but now he has you and he can't believe that the best thing that's ever happened to him is actually his reality.
- It feels almost effortless for Usopp to fall in love with you, but being in a relationship takes him a little bit longer to settle into. He finds himself worrying about whether he's told some daring tale that he now has to live up to, like he should be jumping in front of you at every danger and filling every silence with further proof of his bravery. It would take your quiet acceptance of the everyday calm of life aboard the Merry with him to realise that your company isn't dependent on anything but him being himself.
- You'd slowly bring a more honest Usopp out of his shell, realising that he is enough exactly as he is, without embellishment or exaggeration. At the same time the crew would notice he becomes bolder and braver when the situation calls for it, a new source of strength found in his deep love for you. No matter how many times you tell him that he's already your brave hero, in his heart he just wants to keep getting better so he can keep impressing you, and always know that he can keep you safe.
- That doesn't mean he is any less ridiculous of a person in your relationship though. The man is constantly looking for a reason to dance with you, or carry you, or anything that means he gets to hold you close and maybe show off a little, wanting nothing more than to feel your heartbeat against skin as his muscular arms cage you in.
- He also becomes more open about the parts of his past he hasn't shared before; his parents, his obsession with the impending threat of pirates, and the journey that brought him to be a pirate himself. It feels so easy to share with you, letting his words spill out as his head rests in your lap, deep brown eyes blinking up at you as if you were a shooting star in the sky that he's sure could make his wishes come true.
- Usopp is a classic gentleman in some of the ways he shows that he's there for you; opening doors, saving you a seat that he pulls out for you, even standing up when you enter the room. He wants to show you that he's serious about putting in the effort, and the insecure part of him can't help but want to show everyone that he's yours and that he's doing everything he can to try and be worthy of that title.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the kind responses to my One Piece headcanons 🥰 please keep sending in requests for these characters, and while i've mostly been focused on fluff so far, let me know if you'd be interested in some similar headcanons for these characters but NSFW.
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luv4-liv · 3 days
Text
❝First time❞
Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader
Warnings: Smut. +18. First time (hers). He's older (only two years, but, you know). Unprotected sex (do not do it please¡!).
Summary: You and him have a secret relationship, because he is two years older than you, and in fact, he is your brother's best friend. So, this is the first time they have had sex, basically..
The plot of this One Shot is totally mine and my imagination.
I have changed my W account, so you can find this in Spanish in my new wattpad account (delicateew)
Remember that English is not my language so it may contain several errors, please be patient with me
And I want to apologize for being inactive for too long, just things happened to keep me busy, so so sorry:(
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(that's not my gif)
____ was in her room, Theo sitting in the desk chair, reading a book for one of his exams, and she on top of him, her face hidden in his neck.
"Fuck, I already read twenty pages and none of the information stuck in my head."
The girl closed her eyes and stroked the opposite's hair.
"You're going to get frustrated and stressed and it's going to make you sick. Relax and go back to reading them patiently.."
"I have no choice..." she let out a sigh and continued reading the book.
Minutes later, she felt his hand fall heavily on her thigh, but she said nothing.
She opened her eyes as he began to caress her thigh, it felt like tickling, but strange.
She began to hold her breath the moment he squeezed it and began to sink his fingers into it.
It felt strangely good.
Theodore gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate on the book, but every time he felt her breath on his neck or her leg brushing against him, it was getting harder and harder.
He tried to ignore it but to no avail. Finally, he closed the book and set it aside, sighing deeply.
"I can't concentrate like this with you.." she murmured, bending down to stroke his cheek. Nott leaned closer, his lips barely brushing hers before he pulled back with a smile. "I really just can't resist you."
He kissed her slowly, placing his hand carefully on her neck.
He moved his hand up to her jaw, pulling her away from the kiss and ran his face to the side gently, so he could gain access and kiss her neck.
Theo gasped against her neck, running his lips along her soft skin. He tightened his fingers around her waist, letting out a choked breath when she tugged on his hair lightly.
His lips moved to her face again and kissed her.
She let out a barely audible moan as she felt his bulge grow between her legs.
Realizing it, he pulled away from her quickly.
"Fuck, I'm sorry.."
She denied, thinking about what he would answer her.
"I want to."
He looked up at the sound and suppressed a smile to look more serious.
"Are you sure...you don't have to, ____"
"Theo.. I really want to, I promise."
The Slytherin looked into her eyes, seeing that she was serious.
His lips curved into a slow smile. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then began to unbutton her shirt, until it was off, revealing her bra.
He removed his own shirt and reconnected their lips. The hufflepuff closed her eyes, accepting his kiss. His tongue entered her mouth and ____ let herself be swept up in the moment.
Nott's hands traveled down her back, until they reached the clasp of her bra. He stood there for a few seconds until he managed to remove it, getting rid of it.
He knew she would feel embarrassed and insecure, so he preferred to continue kissing her to make her feel comfortable.
He got up from the chair, carrying her over to the bed and laid her down there.
Theo looked at ____ and slowly removed her skirt and underwear, after that, he unbuttoned her pants letting them fall down along with her boxers and moved even closer, brushing his member against her intimacy while he started to leave kisses all over her face, until he stopped at her lips.
Their lips joined in a deep kiss, with one of his hands he positioned his member at her entrance while with the other he caressed her cheek to soothe her.
Then, she parted the kiss as she felt him slowly enter, he for his part, continued to leave kisses on her cheek and neck as a way of soothing her.
Soon, he was completely inside. He was so careful and gentle that she barely felt a little sting, but it didn't hurt.
"You tell me when you're ready, my sweet." he said waiting for permission to continue or if she felt uncomfortable, to leave things just there.
"You can move now.." he whispered, trying to get used to the strange sensation.
Theo, without taking his eyes off her, slowly, began to move slightly, prioritizing that she was comfortable and felt safe.
When he saw her satisfied face, he began to increase his speed and intensity, but without allowing himself to be so rough or go at the pace he wanted, so as not to hurt her.
Still, ____ began to feel increasing pleasure.
She felt him going in and out so satisfyingly, it felt incredibly good, it was like nothing else in the world.
As it was all happening, she began to scratch his back, and somehow that turned him on more.
He with his hands fixed on her hips, spreading kisses down her neck and leaving several marks along the way.
Theo let out a moan of pleasure that was impossible to contain. His rhythm became louder and faster, feeling himself getting closer to the edge.
"Merlin, I love you so much.."
He felt her walls tighten around him and seconds later he felt her cum.
It took only a couple more thrusts to stop, withdraw from inside her and cum, dripping into her abdomen.
"Oh, Merlin..." she relaxed her body and closed her eyes completely exhausted.
"Oh, my sweet, you can't fall asleep like this, let's clean you up first." he said stroking her hair.
____ felt like sleeping a lot, she didn't know if it was just because it was the first time, but if she closed her eyes for a moment more, she wasn't going to open them for a couple of hours..
"Although I admit you look pretty all smeared with my cum." he laughed
"Theo!" she rolled her eyes smiling.
She'd had her first time.
And she was pretty sure no one could have done it better than he did.
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cillianmesoftlyyy · 2 days
Text
Sweet Revenge | Tom (The Party) x fem!reader
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Summary: Tom is acting strange and it doesn't take long for a friend to notice while at a party celebrating their mutual friend's political victory. When she steps in to question him about it, she learns more than she thought she would... but it makes their ride in the elevator a little more interesting.
Warnings: Infidelity (from multiple characters), drug use, dubious consent, semi-public sex, smut, p in v, guns, mentions of attempted murder, revenge.
word count: 3386k
Nothing Matters- The Last Dinner Party 🎶
Personal Jesus- Depeche Mode 🎵
Note: Sorry I disappeared for so long! I was dealing with some things and had to put Cillian to the side. I've missed this awesome community! I hope you all still remember me lol.
Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!
She heard about the election on the news that afternoon. Saying that she was ecstatic was an understatement. In fact, the moment she heard that Janet won (as she assumed she would) she dressed quickly and arrived at the celebratory party early. She fixed the bunched up fabric on her thigh and scratched an itch beneath the collar around her neck. She raised her fist to knock on the door when the elevator doors pinged and she turned. Tom stumbled out of the elevator, slightly disheveled and sweaty. When he noticed her he ran his hand through his hair and sniffed loudly, his eyes rolling over to meet hers. 
“Tom?” She smiled, her tone friendly and soft. Her eyes traveled up his body, dressed in a dark tailored suit. 
Tom cleared his throat before responding, strangely breathless. “Hello.” He looked behind him at the empty elevator and debated going back inside. The doors slid closed and he turned back dejectedly like a child caught in a crime. 
“You’re here early too,” she rubbed the top of her shoe down her leg, an anxious gesture. 
“Right, right… it's early. Maybe I should come back later.” He muttered beneath his breath and jabbed at the elevator call button. 
“I’m sure it's alright. I’m here early too,” she studied his nervous posture and the way his eyes darted between the hallway’s walls, anywhere but her face. “Where’s Marianne?” 
His face twitched at the mention of his wife’s name. His shirt was sticky against his skin and he wanted to leave. This was a mistake. 
“She’s coming later, told me to go ahead.” He sniffed loudly again and jerked his finger at the door behind her. “Have you already knocked?” His dark hair fell into his eyes where crow’s feet gathered. 
“No, I was just about to.” 
The elevator door opened with a second ping. Tom looked at the open doors and back to her. “Fuck all,” he cursed beneath his breath and met her at the door to Janet’s apartment. She resisted the urge to smell him, though his cologne wandered easily the short distance to her nose (notes of bergamot and spice). 
“Are you alright, Tom?” She asked cautiously and watched as his left hand flexed. He clenched his jaw and forced out a laugh. 
“Never better,” he rang the doorbell and waited anxiously as his heart raced in his chest. Janet opened the door and greeted them with overwhelming excitement. Tom’s resolve weakened and he struggled to remain level headed as he greeted his wife’s friend. This was not how it was originally supposed to go but he still had time… 
Janet invited them into the apartment and talked with her as Tom excused himself with a shaky smile. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he removed his jacket and checked the holsters on either side of his body, draped over his shoulders. Sweat pooled on his shirt and he fanned his hands over it, hoping it would dry. 
The girl watched the bathroom door while keeping a polite smile on her face for Janet who was retelling the events of the day. Loud music erupted from the speakers in the living room and she jumped, her hair standing on end for a brief moment. 
“That’s Bill, will you excuse me for a moment?” Janet wiped her hands on the front of her apron and disappeared into the next room. Her conversation with her husband was muffled by the music. She looked once again at the bathroom door and wiped her clammy hands on her forearms. There was something different about Tom and it irked her, not knowing what was going on. She was closest in age to Tom and Marianne and considered them her friends, though she didn’t actually know them well. She knew, however, that Tom had a problem with coke, all of the finance boys did. His attitude was stranger than usual, more paranoid and jumpy. The music quieted and Janet returned, humming happily to herself. As soon as she did, the doorbell rang and she spun around, clapping her hands excitedly. 
Tom splashed his face with cold water and let it run down his neck, far below his collar. He shivered beneath the water’s temperature and looked up into the medicine cabinet’s mirror. He imagined Bill in the next room, smugly splayed out in his old recliner. He imagined how good it would feel to shoot him, to get revenge against the man that defiled his wife. His wife. Anger flashed in his eyes and he bit down on the sleeve of his suit jacket, screaming silently into the fabric. He heard the doorbell ring and jumped, his heart dropped painfully into his stomach. He checked the gun in his holster for the fiftieth time that day, counting the round of bullets in the chamber. He waited until the new guests moved further into the apartment before leaving the bathroom. 
The girl watched Tom leave the bathroom and pause just before the door frame into the living room. His stomach quivered beneath his dress shirt as he breathed heavily. When she noticed him spin his wedding around his finger in an anxious instinct, she averted her eyes and flushed. He spun right around and went back into the bathroom. She followed him with her eyes, brows furrowed in extreme distress. 
Tom closed the door again and rubbed his face with his shaking hands. He rummaged through his pockets and retrieved a vial of white powder (coke… obvi). Yes, he had a problem. Obviously. Tom wiped the edge of the sink clean with his elbow and shook powder from the vial onto the surface. He arranged the powder in a line and did the line, shaking his head and sitting back against the rim of the bathtub. A smudge of powder stayed on his upper lip, providing evidence of what he’d done. He knocked his knuckles against the soft sides of his head and tried to regain control. He just needed to act normal, go into the living room and be fucking normal. He wiped away the traces of coke on the sink and fixed his hair in the mirror, trying to slick the greased strands back over his head. 
The girl twirled the cord of her necklace around her finger, her eyes stuck on the bathroom door. She jumped again when the door slammed open and Tom stumbled out, his pupils dilated and his eyes crazed. Tom bounded for the doorway into the living room and stopped abruptly. He walked back and forth, muttering beneath his breath as he did. 
“Tom?” She approached him carefully. Her voice startled him from his erratic state. He licked his lips nervously. 
“I forgot something in my car,” Tom blurted out and spun around a last time, walking quickly to the car. She followed him immediately, her eyes trained on the width of his shoulders. 
“I’ll go with you,” she insisted with a backwards glance at the living room, loud with guests. Tom didn’t respond as he made wide strides to the elevator doors. His breath was heavy and hard as he punched the call button and looked down at her, standing at his side. 
“What are you doing?” He asked. 
“I’m going with you.” She answered apprehensively. Tom cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. 
“You don’t need to do that,” his eyes flicked back at the apartment door. When the elevator doors opened he sighed, debating what to do. He knew better than to go back into the apartment. He’d have to come back another time. She followed him into the elevator and pressed the lobby button for him, her ears growing hot. Tom coughed into his closed fist and started to sweat as the doors closed. 
“Is everything alright, Tom?” She asked him directly as the doors closed and the elevator sunk below the floor. 
“Fine. Fine.” He avoided eye contact and put his hands on his hips, the crotch of his pants bunching around his thighs. He looked up at the floor numbers flashing across the screen above the doors. 
“You don’t seem fine, Tom. What the hell were you doing in there just now?” She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. Tom groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. 
“I’ve just had a long day.”
“Just one?” She asked him with a grunt. “You look like you haven’t slept in days… plural.” 
“Bitch.” Tom snapped and crossed his arms, mirroring her. 
The elevator jolted suddenly and the lights flickered. They stopped their bickering for a moment. She noticed the floor number had stopped at three. The buttons for each floor flashed across the board. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Tom repeated frustratedly and jabbed at the buttons. 
“Stop, you’ll make it worse.” She slapped his hands away and he groaned, resting his head against the wall of the elevator. 
“It’s stuck,” he mumbled and she nodded, her lips falling into a nervous frown. 
“Yes, it appears so.” She studied the buttons and jabbed at the one labeled “call.” 
Hello? The operator answered after a few seconds. 
“Hello, hi. We’re stuck in the elevator.”
I’ll call the fire department and maintenance. There might be a delay due to the parade traffic but we should have you out soon. Call again if anything happens.
“Damn, it sounds like we’ll be in here for a while.” 
“Fuck, just my fucking luck.” 
“You say fuck a lot,” she laughed off some of her discomfort. 
“Fuck you,” Tom added disheartedly. 
She moved back into a corner of the elevator and watched as Tom leaned into the wall, his breath fogging up the gold aluminum wall. 
“You might as well tell me what it is, now that we’ll be here for a while.” She looked down at her shoes and cleared her throat. “Just tell me,” she urged him but Tom only rolled his eyes, the reflection of it projected back at her. 
“Is it the coke?” She tried and Tom laughed. 
“You think I’m like this because of the coke?”
“You’re not giving me any other reason.” She shrugged and Tom turned to face her. 
“That’s not the reason.” 
“You have some of it left above your lip there,” she gestured to her top lip and Tom wiped his mouth quickly with his sleeve.
Tom sighed and slid down the wall into a crouching position, his hands clasped together in front of his face. He exhaled deeply and looked at the opposite wall, away from her. 
“I found out the other day that Marianne has been cheating on me.” His voice wavered as he spoke. 
“What?” She gasped softly. 
He twisted the wedding ring on his finger and chuckled darkly. 
“It’s been going on for months.” 
“Do you know who they are? The person that she’s cheating with?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed and her heart beating quickly. 
“Yes,” he answered again with a chuckle, his voice pained. “She’s been fucking Bill.” 
“Bill?!” She slapped a hand across her mouth. “Her advisor? Bill’s cheating on Janet? What the fuck?!” The words all fell out of her mouth. Tom shook his head and with one angry movement chucked his wedding ring across the elevator at the opposite wall. The small piece of metal bounced off the wall with a sharp noise and settled between them on the floor. 
“So you were going to confront him?” She asked, everything coming together. 
He nodded and without warning, started to sob. She immediately knelt beside Tom and patted his back awkwardly. Tom, rather comedically, collapsed into her chest, his hands grappling at her sides. Her heart began to race as his face inched closer to her breast. Her hands shaked as she combed his hair (heavy with product) out of his eyes. 
“He stole my wife! He stole my wife,” he cried against her chest. 
“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she carded her fingers through his hair. The texture of his warm skin beneath her fingertips distracted her. The smell of his expensive cologne and hair product flooded her system. She resisted the urge to lick the scent from his neck, taut with tendons. Geez, she was a creep. Tom’s baby-like tears stained her shirt and made the material stick to the skin below. 
“Does Marianne know that you know?” She tried to focus herself back on the situation. 
“No, I saw it on her phone,” he hiccuped pitifully. “They’ve been fucking in my bed, our bed!” 
She shushed him softly as he started to cry again. His manic sobs racked his thick and muscular body. 
“Are you going to divorce her?” She whispered and Tom shook his head softly.
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” 
Tom pulled away and laid his head back against the elevator wall. She could make out all of the freckles and sun spots across his high cheekbones. She sighed as she reached a hand to his face and swept a tear away from his jaw. Tom turned his clear blue eyes to her’s. His wide lips quivered slightly as he panted from all of his emotions. 
“What she and Bill did is inexcusable, Tom. She doesn’t deserve you if she thinks this casually unfaithful behavior is ok.” She was on her knees now, her thighs flexed beneath her dress. 
Tom’s eye traveled up her body, starting on her fleshy thighs. She watched him curiously. Was he doing what she thought he was? Was he checking her out? Tom’s hand rose from the floor beside him and moved to her knee. 
“Y/N…” he whispered pitifully. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she nearly choked on her own exhale. His thumb rubbed circles into her exposed skin. She knew that she shouldn’t but what more harm could it do? Tom wanted to get back at his wife and she wanted to be fucked by Tom. Win/win situation- no, stop it. Don’t look at me like that! It’s totally ethical. Besides, the way his body leaned into her brought about a powerful force of attraction between them. The streaks of graying hair caught the fluorescent light like plastic rhinestones. 
She leaned forward, into his mouth and exhaled softly against his lips. Tom kissed her first, capturing her lips into a harsh kiss. She kissed him back and tugged gently at the roots of his hair. He moaned excitedly around her lips. Words failed them as they kissed. Their hands spoke softly to each other, begging and asking for more. She pushed off Tom’s coat, exposing the holster strung between his shoulder blades. 
“What the fuck?” She whispered, her eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing with a fucking gun, Tom?” 
“I-I just wanted to get back at them, at him. I’m just so angry,” Tom panted emotionally, his hands shaking. She looked between him and the gun and sighed. 
“I can think of another way to get back at them that doesn’t involve this,” she pointed at the gun strapped around his shoulder. Tom looked up at her, his eyes wide as she closed the distance again. She rose on her knees so that she could be taller than him and cupped his jaw. 
“I can think of something that we should do to get back at them,” she whispered against his wide lips. Tom didn’t respond, his heart beating fast and not just because of the cocaine.
“It goes something like this,” she kissed him with hesitant pecks before settling into a deep rhythm. His hands finally started to move up her hips, grasping the edge of her waist. His breath labored against her and she allowed a shuttering moan to escape; a product of pent up energy. 
“Tom… Tom..” she muttered between kisses, her hands pulled up on his stiff white collar, urging him closer. 
“Mmhm..” Tom hummed softly and guided her onto her back, sitting up between her knees. He towered over her and panted, his hands fumbling over his fly. She pulled down her own underwear and kicked it off her ankles. Tom pulled down his pants slightly and boxer briefs, immediately freeing his cock from his pants. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer. She slid across the elevator floor and slammed against his waiting hips. She giggled nervously, her face pink. 
“Are you wet enough?” Tom asked quickly, his hand fisting his erection. His dress shirt trailed over his hands, hiding some of his actions from her view. She nodded eagerly and raised the excess of her dress, pulling the material over her upper thighs. Tom nodded breathlessly and entered her without much warning, she gasped and clenched her fists. 
Tom cursed loudly beneath his breath as he filled her up completely. Her body stretched to accommodate him and the sensation sent shivers up both of their bodies like a cold chill. Tom thrusted at a slow rhythm as he worked himself deeper inside her. She whimpered loudly and steadied herself against the hall of the elevator as she slid back and forth on the floor. 
As her body opened more and more, his thrusts became harder and faster. He leaned over her and planted his hands firmly on the floor on either side of her waist. Bringing his hips closer to her, he fucked her aggressively. Instead of dragging out his hips before each thrust, he stayed as deep as possible inside of her and thrusted farther. 
“God you’re so good,” Tom panted as his mouth fell open into a moan. His eyebrows furrowed to keep him focused. 
“Mm-Marianne is an idiot,” she whined around her words and dug her fingers into Tom’s back. Tom fucked her faster as a response, proving himself to her. 
“Fuck- take it. Take it.” He commanded and she gasped as her orgasm grew. He panted with his mouth held open, his hips thudding against her. His curses flew from his mouth in octaves that grew higher as he felt himself spilling over the edge. 
“Tommmm,” she trailed off, mumbling incoherently. He slowed down as he reached his climax so that he could see her reaction. He lowered himself closer to her and laced his fingers gently around her throat. Pulling one of her legs closer around his hip, he fucked her deeply but slow. His fingers flexed and tightened around her soft neck. He studied her closely, sweat pooling between his shoulders and the peak of his brow.
“I know, honey. I know. Marianne could never handle this but you like it when I fuck you. You’d beg me, wouldn’t you?” He whispered as his cock began to flex inside of her. She squeezed her thighs and he grunted, forcing himself through her body’s automatic resistance. She nodded and licked her lips. 
“Fuck, you feel so much better than her.” He continued to grunt, his teeth gritting. She pulled at the graying roots of his hair, her palms cradling his face. With a sharp yell, Tom finished inside her. His hips rocked against her until he had spilled everything out inside her. Their panting filled the air between them and synced into a rhythm. 
“That was fucking amazing, Tom.” She whispered, her voice weak over her racing heart. 
“Kiss me,” Tom growled. She raised her head slightly to place a kiss on his chapped lips. They kissed sweetly, until a steady beeping noise drew them away from their bodies. The elevator’s panel lit up as it was restarted. They hurriedly separated. Tom tucked in his shirt and buttoned his pants. She pulled her underwear back on and smoothed down her hair. Seconds later, the elevator doors opened to a team of mechanics. The mechanics raised their eyebrows collectively at the couple inside, their faces flushed and sweaty handprints still visible on the elevator’s walls. 
“Thank you so much,” she tried to smile normally at the men as they stumbled out of the elevator. Tom gave the mechanics one more backwards glance before they hurried for the stairwell. Slamming the door closed behind them, Tom shoved her up against the wall inside the stairwell. The sound reverberated up the cement structure, ringing in her ears. He kissed her neck, sucking parts of her flesh to make small hickeys. She sighed as she pulled his face to meet her again and kissed him, her lips pulled into a smile.
“We should do this again,” Tom mumbled darkly against her lips. She nodded and bit his bottom lip gently. 
“How about right now?”   
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alltheirdamn · 1 day
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DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader
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*The Oil Change*
Summary: Joel decides to give you a lesson in changing oil... Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 4k Warnings: Pre-Outbreak AU, mechanic!Joel, f! masturbation, fingering, squirting, power dynamic shift, submission, overstimulation, unprotected piv sex, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (babydoll, darlin', cowboy), ROUGH sex, creampie, lots of banter, questionable information on how to change oil, joel being the MAN that he is A/N: Just a fun lil drabble about our two favorite people ever... also, I am definitely NOT a qualified mechanic with this story, so pls don't follow these instructions when changing your oil lol unless you want to include a mind-blowing orgasm to the mix
Masterlist | Ko-fi
“Okay, so what now?” You asked, staring at the engine of your car.
It was a quiet Saturday at the shop, and Joel had insisted on teaching you how to change the oil. You were ready to get greased up with the car on a jack and the hood open. Joel leaned over the car, pointing to the oil cap beside the engine. 
“See that? That’s where the oil is. We gotta check the levels first before changin’ it,” he explained.
“So… just unscrew it and look into it?” You sounded like a typical dumb girl in a mechanic shop.
Joel was patient with you, though, and far too eager to teach you the ropes. Untwisting the oil cap, he pulled out a long stick beside it, covered in dark liquid. Holding it on the base of a dirty towel, he presented it to you, pointing at the lines on the bottom of it. 
“S’called a dipstick,” he said. “Those lines on the bottom show your fuel levels. If it’s below that line, means you needa change it. What’s it sayin’, babydoll?”
You inspected the dipstick and saw the oil coating it under the line. So far, so easy. 
“Says I need new oil,” you nodded. 
Joel hummed his approval, putting the dipstick back into its spot and leaving the oil cap open. Rounding the car, he pulled up some sort of flat-rolling device. He nodded his head over to it, wordlessly instructing you to follow him. He put it at the side of your car, moving it back and forth to show you how it worked.
“This’ll help you get under the car. S’called a creeper. You just lay down on it and slide under. Think you can do it or want to watch me work?”
You contemplated it, knowing you had seen him on it plenty of other times. You spent countless afternoons watching him lying on the underside of a vehicle, with his thighs flexing under his jeans and his shirt riding up to expose his lower stomach. He always had a particular look when he came back out from under the cars, his hair disheveled and a stupid grin plastered on his face. For such a simple job, Joel sure did love it. 
“I can do it,” you decided. “You can’t be the only one getting all greased up and dirty.”
Joel smirked at you, his hand coming to palm your ass. Leaning into his touch, you pecked him on the cheek and lowered yourself onto the creeper. Staring up at him, you gave him a questioning look as if to ask what now? Pressing his word boot against your shoe, he slid you under the car slowly, your view of him being replaced by the underside of your car. Everything looked just as confusing as it did under the hood. Joel pushed an empty metal pan under with you, along with a wrench and a towel. 
“Alright, babydoll,” he said, his voice closer as he crouched down. “This is where it’ll get messy. Just listen to my instructions, and you’ll be fine.”
“I’m trusting you with my life,” you grumbled. “Don’t let me get covered in oil down here, cowboy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, babydoll. Now, take a look up and find the drain plug. Should look like a lil’ metal screw. You got it?”
Your eyes scanned upwards, straining until you settled on the screw. You grabbed the wrench and lined it up with the screw. 
“I just unscrew it?” you hollered. 
“Wait! Hold on, babydoll!” Joel called out. 
You heard shuffling beside the car and suddenly felt his shadow beside you. He squeezed his way under the car with you; his body angled sideways to get a view of the drain plug. You glanced over at his face, giving him a soft smile. He had that look of focus cresting over his features, his lips pursed, and forehead scrunched together. It was cute seeing him take this so seriously.  
“Alright, alright,” he exhaled. “The oil s’gonna come out fast, so be ready for it. Try movin’ your body my way so you don’t get it all over ya’.”
“You make this sound so dirty,” you laughed. 
“It is dirty,” he said pointedly. “Get that pretty lil’ mind outta the gutter.”
“Or what?” you questioned, shuffling your body against the creep. You leaned into his broad frame, feeling his chest press against your back.
“Focus,” he growled. Despite his irritation, you could feel him harden against you. 
“Okay, okay,” you relented. 
Reaching up, you used the wrench to loosen the screw, utterly oblivious to the chaos that was about to transpire. The screw shot out onto the metal pan with a thud, followed by a heavy stream of oil splashing against the empty pan. Thick, black oil splattered onto your cheek and neck, the warmth of it staining your skin. You yelped at the contact, rolling off the creeper and falling into Joel’s open arms. His chest shook with laughter as he hauled you further from the oil, still steadily draining out. 
“I warned ya’,” he said. “It’s messy.”
“You didn’t tell me I’d get hit with the oil!” you yelled, jabbing him with your elbow, which only sent him into another fit of laughter. “It’s not funny!”
“S’kinda funny,” he chuckled. “I’ll get you all cleaned up after, don’t worry.”
“You fucking better,” you grumbled.
You watched the oil finally finish draining, a slow drip falling into the filled pan. Joel shimmied out from under the car, whispering in your ear to stay put. He came back a moment later, reaching down to hand you some sort of metal canister. Turning it in your hand, you read the label and saw OIL FILTER plastered on the side. 
“Now we gotta change the oil filter,” Joel explained. “First, y’gotta get the old one out, then we can replace it.”
“Why don’t you do the rest? I’m already messy enough.”
“Oh, so you can talk dirty, but I can’t, huh?” He teased, squeezing your calf as it stuck out under the car.
“Oh, shut up!”
Joel bent down to lay under the car with you again, tilting his head to look at the oil filter. His hand twisted the old canister until another glob of oil fell into the pan, smearing over your t-shirt. The oil leaked down his hand, covering the straps and face of his watch and coloring his tan skin. 
“Jesus Christ, Joel!” 
“Why don’t ya’ save that hootin’ and hollerin’ for after the oil change,” he quipped. “I’ll make sure ya’ say that again, just in a different way.”
You glanced at him, welcomed by an overdramatic wink on his handsome face. He nudged you with your elbow, turning your focus back to the oil change. Guiding your hand up to the empty space, he helped you install the new filter, both of your hands working in tandem as you twisted it back into place.
“There ya’ go, babydoll. Good job.”
“Joel,” you warned. “If you keep talking in my ear like that, I’m going to smack the shit outta you.”
“I reckon you’d rather fuck me,” he whispered in your ear.
Joel shuffled out from under the car, leaving the space vacant around you. You managed to get your body back onto the surface of the creeper, propping your knees up to help propel you forward and out, but as you did, an oil-slicked hand grabbed your ankle. You yelped at the contact, your body lurching from under the car and back into the sun-drenched garage. Joel stood over you with a coy grin and a stiffness in his jeans you were all too familiar with. 
You cocked an eyebrow at him, an unspoken warning to him about what he was thinking. You were covered in oil and felt absolutely disgusting… he was not touching you.
“Don’t you even think about it,” you warned, sitting up on the creeper. It rolled back against the car, hitting the side door with a soft thud. 
Joel stalked forward, crouching to meet you at eye level. He had those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes, and his bottom lip was pushed out and extra pouty. He was undeniably cute, but you wouldn’t cave. 
“We got ten minutes to kill ‘til we can recheck the levels,” he insisted.
“Ten minutes? You won’t even last two, cowboy.”
That did him in.
Pulling the edge of the creeper forward, Joel came down to eye level, a flash of intensity cresting over his brown eyes. His hand brushed over your neck, tugging at your ponytail.
“Says you, babydoll. I’ll have you coverin’ the floor in your juices in less than a minute,” he argued.
Your mouth fell open, both shocked and a bit turned on. He wasn’t wrong, but you were determined to prove him wrong. Arching your body forward, your hands gripped the collar of his flannel, hauling him into a long kiss. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, making you moan helplessly. Damn this man and his ability to make you submissive and pliable.
“Do you think you’re that good?” you taunted, working your mouth down to nip at the patchy beard covering his jaw.
Joel’s hand untangled from your hair and moved to your neck, squeezing your throat gently—a warning. He held you steady as he met your eyes with a fierce look, his eyes nearly black.
“Do you need a reminder, darlin’? ‘Cause I ain’t afraid to teach you a lesson.”
“You’re already teaching me a lesson,” you reminded him, with a touch of sassiness in your voice. “A lesson in changing oil.”
“Keep it up, babydoll. Y’know I love it when you’re a brat. Means I get to fuck it right out of ya’.”
“And I give you full permission to fuck me later. Right now, oil change,” you emphasized.
He huffed a loud groan, rolling his eyes and straightening to his full height. Offering a hand, Joel helped you stand back up, pecking you on the cheek before leading you back to the open hood of the car. 
“When the oil’s settled, we’ll check the dipstick again to make sure the filters workin’,” he explained.
“Sounds easy enough. And that’s it?” You asked.
“Yup. All good after that, babydoll. We just gotta kill them ten minutes.” He gave you a side eye, insinuating what you both could be doing.
“I’m sure you can make yourself busy,” you smiled, blissfully aware of how much you were killing him.
“Rather be busy makin’ you scream my name,” he grumbled, inspecting your car's engine.
“Aw, is my man pouting?” You teased, rounding the edge of the hood to hug him from behind. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder blade, working your grease-covered hands over the buttons of his flannel. Your fingers danced over each one, toying with them just to elicit his response. 
“You’re killing me, babydoll,” Joel groaned. 
“Am I?” You asked innocently. Your hands trailed down his stomach, inching closer to his belt. 
Joel’s hand shot forward, his thick fingers wrapping around your wrist. You gasped as they tightened around your skin, his arm twisting until he maneuvered you around to stand in front of him. Your ass hit the edge of the bumper at the exact moment his hands came up to pull your face to his. His lips crashed onto yours, his tongue seeking yours as he forced your mouth open wider. A desperate whimper escaped your mouth, only making his movements more intense and all-consuming. Your teeth dug into the plush skin of his bottom lip, tugging gently as he broke away. 
“I’m beggin’ you, babydoll. Please let me fill that pretty pussy, I’m about to lose my damn mind.”
You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. His eyes were saucers; his pupils lost amidst the brown in his irises. Despite the afternoon sun still flecking across the corners of the garage, shadows danced over his features, emphasizing the hungry look he was giving you. You knew it would be easy to cave into his needs—you wanted to—but maybe, just maybe, you’d enjoy seeing him work for it. 
“You wanna beg for it, cowboy?” You asked. “Let me see it.”
Joel’s mouth parted, words failing him as he studied your posture and dominant voice. You lifted your chin, trying to level him with a heavy stare even with the inches of height he had over you. 
“Well?” You questioned. 
“Whatcha want, darlin’? Y’wanna see me on my knees?” He suggested, shifting slightly. 
Your eyes flicked down to the bulge in his jeans, watching it strain against the zipper the longer you stared. Your tongue darted out, rolling over your bottom lip before you bit into it. Joel let out an impatient groan before sinking to his knees before you. Now, the eye contact shifted, your height imposing over his. Seeing his eyes strain upwards to look at you gave you a new sense of control. You liked it.
“Is this what ya’ wanted?” His voice dropped an octave. 
“I don’t hear any begging,” you shrugged. 
Joel clasped his hands together, holding them in front of his chest, as he met your eyes with a pleading stare. His kiss-swollen lips pushed out into a pout, and his voice was agonizingly desperate as he spoke.
“Please, babydoll,” he begged. “I’m dyin’ to see you ruin the floors of this damn garage. Fuckin’ desperate to make you cum all over my cock, please.”
“I like you begging,” you mused. “You’re so handsome on your knees.”
Joel groaned, letting his head fall against your thighs. Running his hands up your jeans, his fingers worked towards your zipper, which you quickly swatted away. Carding your hand through the sweaty curls atop his head, you yanked them back to force his eyes on you again.
“Do you want to see me cum?” You questioned. 
Joel nodded pathetically, his thick neck straining the longer he looked up at you. You noted the outline of his veins under his sun-kissed skin and how his throat bobbed with each word you spoke. 
“Fuck, babydoll. Yes. Please, I want it s’bad,” he pleaded.
“Then be a good boy and watch,” you commanded.
Arousal flooded through your veins as you unzipped your jeans, shimming them down your hips and thighs before discarding them somewhere amidst the mess of the workspace. Standing before him in only a tiny lace thong, you watched as Joel wordlessly tracked your movements, his eyes zeroed in on the apparent slickness between your thighs. You had done such a good job of restraining yourself earlier to saying no, but how could you deny a man on his knees? 
“No touching,” you ordered. “You’re only allowed to watch.”
Hooking your thumbs under the band of your underwear, you let them slowly fall to the ground, your legs stepping out of them as you adjusted yourself against the bumper of the car. Pressing your ass against the cold metal frame, you lifted one leg to rest on top of the bumper; your foot pressed down as you shifted your weight to support your body. Joel obediently watched, his hands resting on his thighs as ordered. 
You moved your hand down your abdomen, your fingers drifting lower as you teased your wet folds. Joel watched with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving the sight of your hand. You made small circles over your clit, the brush of your fingers against it electrifying your nerves. Unrefined pleasure coursed through you as your movements intensified, your hips rolling against your hand as you chased your orgasm. Joel let out a strangled groan, and your eyes snapped to him, only to catch his hand palming over his cock beneath his jeans.
“No,” you said firmly. “You can’t touch yourself yet.”
“Babydoll,” he whined. “S’fuckin’ killin’ me.”
You leveled him with a heavy stare, pushing two fingers inside your aching cunt with a cry of pleasure falling off your lips. You wanted to see him work for it and see how long he’d last without snapping. With two fingers curling deep inside you, you brought your other hand into the mix, drawing those same lazy circles over your clit until you felt that white-hot pressure building inside your core. Joel still hadn’t moved an inch; every muscle in his body tensed as he watched helplessly. You curled your fingers harder, pulling more soft sounds from your mouth as you teetered on the edge of release.
“Joel,” you panted. “I—I need your fucking mouth.”
There was no hesitation.
He crawled to you, replacing the fingers on your clit with his mouth, his tongue stroking the aching bud with fervor. Each flick and drag of his tongue was another shockwave through your nerves, pushing you closer and closer until you were crying out into the space around you. With one large hand gripping the back of your thigh, Joel pressed his tongue harder against your clit until you were crashing over the edge. You came with his name falling off of your tongue, your wet arousal dripping down the bridge of his nose as he pushed his face further into you. Joel wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling your fingers from your wet entrance, and sucked them into his mouth. Your eyes connected as he stared up at you, his tongue gliding up each finger as if he were a starved man. 
Fuck control, and fuck the oil change; you needed him. Now. 
“Take me, cowboy,” you pleaded. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
“Y’gonna regret sayin’ that,” he warned, hauling himself to his feet. 
Joel’s arms wrapped around the back of your knees, throwing you over his shoulder. You yelped at the sudden movement, your hands bracing against his lower back. The garage became a blur as he moved past the cars and mess of tools on the ground. Maneuvering you onto the workbench, Joel guided you back until you were flush with the wooden bench, his body hovering over you. His hands moved swiftly on his belt buckle, letting his cock spring free as he hauled your legs over his shoulders. 
“Don’t get grease all over me,” you said. “Keep your filthy hands to yourself, cowboy.”
“Oh, don’t worry, m’gonna make a fuckin’ mess of you,” Joel smirked and lined his cock up with your entrance. 
He drove into you with such force your body shifted upwards on the bench, your skin digging into the wood as you tried to adjust to his size. No matter how many times Joel fucked you, you were always breathless when he filled you with every inch of his cock. He had you bent in half in this position, his hands braced behind you on the bench, and your legs folded over his shoulders. The strength behind each thrust was brutal, and you cried out with each snap of his hips against yours. 
“Did ya’ enjoy teasin’ me, babydoll?” He grunted. “You like seein’ me on my knees beggin’ for this pussy?”
“Yes!” You wailed, tears forming in your eyes. 
“Gonna make you fuckin’ beg for my cum, darlin’. Let’s fuckin’ hear it. Scream for me.”
Joel fucked you with abandon until you were a crying mess. Your hands wound around his neck, nails digging into his skin just for stability. The flutter of your cunt around him sucks him in further, plunging his cock at a deeper angle that brings you right to the precipice of release. He knows it, too. If you thought his pace was brutal before—this was violent. He was claiming you in every single buck of his hips, and you steal a glance upwards to see his face twisted up in determination. 
Your voice was becoming hoarse from screaming his name; the void of the garage filled with the sounds of your cries and the disgusting slap of his hips against your slick cunt. Every muscle in your legs tensed and shook as you tried to quell the desperate need for release. You couldn’t hold it much longer; his cock was rubbing against that perfect spot inside you. 
“I can feel that pussy clenchin’ my cock, babydoll,” Joel whispered, lowering his mouth to your ear. “Don’t fuckin’ cum yet. Not ‘til I tell you.”
“Joel, I—I can’t wait,” you sobbed. “Please, I need it.”
“Be a good girl for me,” he growled. “You can do it.”
Your chest heaved with another sob, the tears overflowing as your cunt clenched harder. You were using every ouch of your energy to hold your orgasm at bay, to force your body to wait until he gave you that release. His greased fingers found your overly sensitive clit, pressing right against the bud and alighting the nerves inside you. Your back arched off the bench as you stifled another scream of pleasure. 
“Look at you,” he taunted. “So fuckin’ desperate now, huh? Teased me all day, and now y’wanna cum so bad? Alright, babydoll, cum for me.”
The world fizzled out as your orgasm wracked through your body, lurching you upwards into his arms as you clung to him with shaking limbs. A stream of liquid poured from your pulsating cunt, a ripple of pleasure folding over your nerves and tumbling you into oblivion. Joel’s body tensed under you as he filled you with his release, hot ropes painting the inside of your cunt. Another wave of arousal tore through you, drenching the bench beneath you and dripping onto the floor. Even amidst the haze of your orgasm, you could hear Joel chuckling softly.
“Told you I’d have ya’ drenchin’ the ground.”
“Shut. Up.” You panted. 
“Mhmm,” he hummed, kissing your tear-soaked cheek. 
Joel removed himself from you, easing your sore legs off his shoulders and placing your feet on the floor. Your vision was still blurred as you stared at his face, his lips twitching with a smug grin and a trail of sweat rolling down his temples. 
“I reckon that oil’s ready to check now, darlin’,” he said, offering you a hand.
You took it, winding your fingers through his. With a squeeze of his fingers, you walked over to the car, trying—and failing—to hide the limp in your steps. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and down your thighs, but you watched silently as he pulled out the dipstick and presented it to you.
“Good job, darlin’,” he smiled. “Now ya’ know how to change the oil. Whatcha wanna learn next?”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing your underwear from the floor and slipping them over your hips. 
“Maybe I can teach you how to slow down your damn sex drive, cowboy. You’re gonna fucking break me in half one day,” you grumbled. 
“Don’t think you’d mind it much, babydoll.”
Joel tugged you close, tipping your chin up to meet his lips with a tender kiss. You were pliant in his hands, molding yourself to each hard muscle of his body. Running your hands up his biceps, you gripped his shoulders and slipped your tongue over his. He palmed your ass, pressing your body tighter against his chest. 
“You’re a terrible teacher, you know that?” You mumbled against his mouth.
“But ya’ love me,” he tossed back, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. 
“Yeah, I do,” you sighed happily. 
“And I love you, babydoll.”
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~THE LATE BLOOMER~
Angel Dust x gn!virgin!reader (requested, smut)
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Dying a virgin had never been in your plans.
Ending up in a hotel that rehabilitates sinners hadn't either.
You and the other residents of the hotel decided to go out for once, after some encouragement from Cherri. She's not a resident, but a friend of the one and only Angel Dust.
Oh... Angel. The tall, breathtakingly beautiful spider demon. You never thought less of him because of his occupation. He's so much more than that in your eyes. He's smart and goofy all at once, unexpectedly protective of you as well...
He has saved you from three spiked drinks so far.
The feeling of one of his arms snaking around your waist and dragging you to the dance floor makes you feel butterflies. It's the fourth club you and your friends visit tonight. You're definitely a bit tipsy by now but that's not a sin, is it?
You start moving your body, letting go of the nervousness that comes with being so close to Angel. He's dancing as well. Your bodies are complimenting each other's moves. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and you're glad the club's lights prevent your blush from showing.
You've heard countless jokes about him being a power bottom, but you can't help but feel intimidated... He has so much experience while you.... well, you've never gone all the way with someone.
The whole night drags on like so, but there's a shift in the air. There's tension, your skin coming alive with goosebumps when he gets too close. Angel keeps throwing horny comments around, that's just him (or his persona), but tonight something feels different.
You surprise yourself, going as far as flirting with him. Your insecurity making matters more complicated in your head. You're inexperienced, very much so, why would he ever want things between you two to escalate?
What would you be able to offer him he hasn't seen or felt before?
You'll realize, a lot. Genuine reactions being one. Actually feeling being another.
The lot of you return to the hotel almost in the morning. You and Angel walking side by side. You wish you had the courage to reach for one of his hands, but then again, hand holding? Not good enough.
The porn star and the virgin. You hate the sound of that.
But in all honesty, your body counts shouldn't define you. Angel is such a sweet guy, so sexy and charismatic... And you... Compliment yourself you idiot! You're awkward, but sassy in your own way.
You don't go straight to your room. Before you know it, you and Angel are having even more drinks at the hotel's bar.
He talks about his shitty boss and you can't help but stare. His expressive eyes have captured you entirely.
An almost undetectable smile appears on Angel's lips. Finally someone that really does look him in the eyes when he speaks. It makes him feel validated... and horny. He's holding a glass in one hand and a cigarette in another. He stomps out the cigarette
"Hey sweetie, wanna move this somewhere more private? I sure hope so~"
You're in his bedroom before you can blink twice. It's a mess, with clothes strewn about and a few sex toys scattered on the floor. The walls are adorned with graffiti and posters. But there are some rather cute nick-nacks lying around as well. Photos of all of you together, like a family. Selfies of him with Cherri. Nugget's bed and toys.
You're feeling particularly hot. Small talk cannot save you now.
"You look nervous sweetener~"
"I... can you just... can we just kiss? Get it out of the way?"
"Oah darling, now that's what I like to hear."
Angel looks at you, a playful grin on his face. "Sure thing, sweetie." He leans in and presses his lips against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore it thoroughly.
You practically moan. The sound is muffled by his hot mouth on yours. Your breaths are mixing and the alcohol in your veins is making the euphoric feeling even better.
Angel breaks the kiss, panting only slightly.
"You taste good. So fucking good."
He starts to unbutton your shirt, revealing your chest. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and groping as he continues to kiss you.
"Oh... I... mmm~"
You can't help but enjoy yourself. He makes it look so easy, effortlessly making you come undone under his skilled fingertips.
Angel Dust pulls away, looking into your eyes with a predatory glint.
"You're gonna make me fuck you, aren't you? Admit it."
You gulp, trying to catch your breath. At last, you manage to get the words out without stuttering.
"You have to know something... I-"
"Oh, I know everything I need to. Trust me."
He pushes you onto the bed and climbs on top of you, his fur tickling your skin. He starts to kiss and nip at your neck, moving down towards your chest.
"A- Angel! Wait!"
"Too late, sweetie." He continues.
Still, he soon realises you mean it and notices you look rather scared. His gaze softens.
"What is it?"
"N- nothing... Forget about it..."
For now he shrugs it off. Angel resumes his previous descent, teasing your nipples with his tongue before taking one into his mouth and sucking hard. One of his hands finds its way between your legs, rubbing against your clothed sex.
You moan and grind your hips into his hand.
"That's it" Angel spits out, "let me hear you."
He increases the pace of his fingers, sliding two inside to stretch you out as he begins to lap at your sex with his tongue.
He's not usually the one in the dominant role, but it makes him feel good to be in control of the situation for once.
"Fuck, you're so fucking hot" he pants, his eyes practically glowing with lust.
He removes his fingers from your virgin hole. You can't help it now. You just blurt it out.
"I... I haven't done this before."
Angel stops what he's doing and looks at you in surprise.
"You're a virgin? Why didn't you say so?"
He sighs and shifts so that his hips are above you, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh. He reaches for a drawer in his bedside table, taking out a brand new condom.
You feel raw embarrassment and your cheeks are burning up.
"I didn't want to be such a turn off."
"Don't worry, sweetie. It's not a turn off. In fact, it's kind of hot~"
Without wasting any time, Angel positions his cock at your entrance and slowly pushes in, groaning as he feels you around him.
"Fuck, you're so tight baby."
Your eyes roll back in your head. Angel, being a porn star, hadn't had a chance to go with someone that inexperienced in a good while.
"Ooooh, you like that?" Angel asks as he begins to thrust in and out of your tightness in a gentle and swallow pace.
He uses two arms to pin you into position, while another hand finds its way back to your sex, rubbing it roughly as he peaks up pace.
He would have never guessed he'd had to break his bottom reputation just for you. He's not mad about it though. It's nice. Your expressions of pure bliss and ecstasy are the best reward he could have asked for.
"Aww, shit... so good~"
Angel growls out, pulling your leg up over his shoulder to change the angle of penetration. His hips snap faster as he takes you harder, slamming into you with rough strokes.
"That's it, baby. Take it all!"
His high pitched voice is like music to your ears and all you can do is moan and whimper and huff out puffs of air.
Angel's thrusts become more erratic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your tight hole. His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting every wall as he fucks you hard and fast. "Fuck yeah!"
He hadn't enjoyed himself in such a long time. With you he can actually feel pleasure. No cameras, no posing and no pretending.
"Cum for me, baby... We... Gotta... Getta there-"
Angel's voice is shaky with need. He continues to pound into you, feeling your walls clench around him as your orgasm approaches.
You're a sweaty mess.
" I... Oh... I'm scared..."
"Don't be, just let it happen and I'll help you through it."
Angel Dust whispers these words of reassurance as his thrusts become more gentle. He's waiting for your climax. He keeps nibbling at your collarbone.
Your legs start trembling involuntarily.
The spider demon smirks, knowing that he has you right where he wants you.
"That's it, baby. Come for me."
Angel encourages you, his eyes locked on yours as you begin to tremble. His hand squeezes your thigh, causing you to moan loudly as you finally orgasm.
"Fuck yeah!"
With one last thrust, he releases his own pent-up tension, filling the condom with his hot cum. His cock twitches inside you as he groans in pleasure. He did well with you. He knows it.
"Such a tight hole you got there for me darling..."
His words come out slurred, like a murmur.
Angel slowly pulls out of you with a pop, he discards the condom and then just looks at you. You appear to be spent but content. A warm and fuzzy feeling overwhelms him and he smiles.
"A- Angel... Can you cuddle me?"
"Such a brat, aren't you now?"
You chuckle. You feel giddy and exhausted at the same time. That was a good way to lose your virginity.
"Can you or not?"
"What do you think I have all these extra arms for suga?
Angel liked that you stayed after your intimate moment had passed.
Cuddling was another intimate moment that followed and he looked like he needed that more than you.
You're gonna make it work now. Both of you. Or should I say the three of you, fat nuggets included?
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*this is an old request you can find here -> the request
*once again this is twice the size I had intended it to be
*my masterlist has info on requests
*tips are highly appreciated 🩷 (click here)
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dewdropdinosaur · 9 hours
Text
Go Heavy on the Red
ALASTOR x (F) READER
Summary: SOULMATE AU. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. Till you died and met him
Warnings: Mentions of death, drunk driving, dugs, alcohol, and sex. Rating: PG-13
For the lovely @anon-of-the-void
Requests are OPEN
In the chaotic realm of Hell, where demons and lost souls roamed endlessly, there existed a peculiar demon named Alastor. With a penchant for mischief and a flair for the dramatic, he ruled over his domain with unmatched charisma and power. But beneath his imposing exterior lay a longing, a desire for something more profound than the endless cycle of torment and chaos that he so loved. 
All his life, Alastor’s wrist had been adorned with perfect neat red cursive spelling out the words ‘Going heavy on the red, huh?’. Whoever you were, your handwriting was pristine, perfect for someone like him. Yet, despite this, Alastor never truly believed that he would ever find the soulmate behind the words inked upon him. His tattoo was in red…his soulmate was alive or not yet born. A strange phenomenon for a soulmate not to be born within one’s time but then again Alastor was a strange phenomenon in and of himself. 
You were no different. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. ‘New to the whole being dead thing my dear?’ Your soulmate was dead, you always wondered how. You were born with the ink so black and murky that it looked like a void space. The handwriting was a fine print, definitely from a time long past. It looked as though it was printed by an old typewriter or someone who had an orderly and steady hand. Crisp and clean. Maybe your soulmate was like that too?
But fate is an even crueler mistress, and despite laying on the load of soulmates from different eras - your mortal thread was also fragile. As the years passed, your time on Earth drew to a close and when you closed your eyes for the last time after being slammed into by a drunk driver - you awoke not to pearly white gates but deep dark brimstone ones. Your bearings were slim and despite trying to orient yourself to your new environment, nothing was working. 
Slowly working your way along the smoky streets, you peered upon an ad for a hotel - the Hazbin Hotel to be precise. The ad was clearly hand drawn with what seemed to be childish crayon but nonetheless the happy picture seemed to stand out amongst the dismal exterior. Following the directions, the streets you walked were perilous. Screaming, crying, the heavy smell of alcohol, sex, and sin filled your nose. Holding your stomach, you convinced yourself that expelling the contents of your stomach right before you approach a hotel didn’t seem like the best idea. You would at least wait to find a decent bathroom…if there was such a thing in this place. In fact, where were you anyway? 
Soon, you came to gaze upon an older structure with a giant vacancy sign. Entering the Hotel, you observed your surroundings. A…cat…stood at the bar with a…spider demon there too? A shorter hyperactive woman ran around with a knife…and were those walking eggs?! 
“OH MY GOSH!! Hello~! Welcome to the Hotel, my name is Charlie!” Without warning a younger woman with blonde hair and a red suit came up and shook your hand furiously. Dazed and confused, you shook back slowly. 
“Oh, hello.”
“So wonderful sinner, would you like a room?”
“Wait, um sinner? I..I am not a sinner.”
“But you are—oh. OH. I see. You’re new!”
“Umm..new to what exactly?”
“Oh, this…this is Hell. You…died?”
“Oh.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. You saw the headlights, he sped through the red light. Crash. Now..now you’re here. Not in your car where you were. But here. In Hell. Hell, the supposedly a fiery pit of destruction and seduction that held the most enigmatic and psychotic of characters.
“Well, let’s get you settled in! Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone!”
Grabbing your arm and dragging you around the Hotel, Charlie introduced you to everyone in an effort to get your bearings and settle down. Little did you know that from the shadows a figure lurked. Watching with glowing red eyes, Alastor peered and sized up this newcomer to the Hotel. Fresh meat was always a good idea and especially with all the changes going around, he felt a need to grasp onto some entertainment. Distract himself with unworthy souls who would fail here spectacularly. 
His soulmate tattoo had turned black this morning and his mind began to reel with all the possibilities. Would his soulmate be in Heaven or in Hell like himself? Would fate be too cruel again and separate them not only across time but planes of death? Throughout the day, his wrist started to burn with a fiery pain. They were close…and as this newcomer approached the Hotel, his interest peaked. Maybe they knew something, he would find out sooner or later.
“Alastor, where are you? We have a new guest for you to meet! Oh, he may be a bit creepy but just don’t try and focus on that.”
With a flicker of shadow, Alastor appeared in front of you in all his 1930s red pinstripe radio glory. His voice was static with radio waves, he extended his hand to you.
“Going heavy on the red, huh?”
Static crackle. His grip tightened around your own as he heard your words. With an evil crackle he spoke with a smirk.
“New to the whole being dead thing my dear” 
Alastor's grin widened as he reached out, grasping your hand and drawing closer to his wrist.
 "Look closely, my dear," He started tracing the intricate patterns etched into their skin. "Do you see it?"
Your eyes widened in awe as you beheld the tattoos adorning their wrists, glowing softly amidst the darkness of Hell. "It... it's...," you trailed off, breath catching in your throat.
"Our soulmate tattoos," Alastor finished, his voice softening with an unexpected tenderness. "Fate's cruel joke on us my dear has come to an end."
For a moment, you were speechless, heart pounding with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. "I... I never imagined..." you began, voice trailing off as you searched for the right words. 
But before you could speak further, Alastor locked his gaze with yours in an unspoken promise. Manipulation has its place and it was Alastor’s preferred tool. 
"In this realm of chaos and despair, we may have found each other against all odds," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of Hell. "But together, my dear Y/N, we shall defy fate itself."
And as they stood there, their souls intertwined in a bond that transcended the boundaries of Hell, you knew that they had found not only their salvation, but also your truest companion amidst the darkness. Alastor knew that he had found his only weakness, the tinge of his dark black heart beating once again. Feelings he knew were real despite his aversion to such moments. Maybe hiding and indulging in this one weakness wouldn’t be so bad after all. 
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jrooc · 2 days
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Self Rec Saturday 🫣
Thanks for the tags you wonderful writers/artists & humans @mybrainismelted @juliakayyy @mmmichyyy @deedala @deathclassic @doshiart @energievie @doshiart
Fuck it, gonna say my first ever piece of fanfic Drunk Text. A short little one-shot hurt/comfort s3 fill-in that is riddled with typos but I still like it.
Summary: Mickey shows up to the Gallagher house drunk in the middle of the night needing a little TLC.
Special guest appearance from the backyard van.
Tagging @gallapiech @sgtmickeyslaughter @stocious @transmurderbug @heymrspatel @crestfallercanyon @rayrayor @ms-moonlight-inn @notherenewjersey @ian-galagher @bawlbrayker @heymacy @whatthebodygraspsnot @darlingian @gallawitchxx
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not used to normal ~ chris evans
word count: 2533
request?: yes!
@vrittivsanghavi​
“Hey! I love your imagines!
Would you be up for writing one with chris x reader? Something similar to this song?
Love youuu”
description: in which she struggles to adjust to normal after a toxic relationship, but he’s willing to help her figure it out
pairing: chris evans x female!reader
warnings: swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship, rpf
masterlist (one, two, three)
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You and Chris could not be more different. Your entire life was chaos and mess, from your family to your past relationships. Your definition of “normal” was leagues different than most people’s. Then there was Chris, who had the healthiest family out of anyone you had ever known and, for the most part, he didn’t have anything bad to say about his exes and their relationships. He just said the relationships came to an amicable end.
You were just out of a particularly toxic relationship when you met Chris. You weren’t looking for another serious relationship and were instead just hooking up for some rebounds. Chris was very sweet, but you couldn’t let yourself fall for him. You weren't ready to let someone in, even if they were sweet and incredibly handsome. You were a little surprised when Chris was so understanding of your rejection, and something told you to give him your number anyway to keep in touch.
That was a few months ago, and now you were going on your first date.
He hadn’t pushed for it to happen. He had been very respectful and hadn’t once brought up going out again since your initial meeting. To your surprise, you were the one who asked him about getting dinner. You found yourself falling for him with every passing day and eventually you just couldn’t stand being only friends. And thus, you asked him out for dinner and he happily agreed.
You were mere minutes away from Chris coming to pick you up and you were still struggling to find an outfit. Everything in your closet gelt wrong. Jeans and a blouse? Too casual. A long, elegant dress? Too fancy. A maroon cocktail dress that was just above the knee, had spaghetti straps, and showed off a little cleavage? Well, you really liked that one actually. You thought with the right makeup and maybe a cardigan just in case, that it could be the perfect first date dress.
But you couldn’t stop the nagging voice in your head. It sounded like your ex, and he was snapping at you for wearing something so short and revealing. You  could hear the insulting names he had called you so vividly, as if he were still there yelling.
You had to remind yourself that your ex wasn’t here anymore. Even if he was, he had no control over what you wore. No one did, besides you. But even reminding yourself of that didn’t do anything to ease the memory of his voice. Before you knew it, so much time had passed and you were still staring at yourself in the mirror. Chris would be here any minute and you still didn’t have your hair or makeup done.
You were just finishing your hair when a knock came at your front door. You cursed under your breath as you raced to answer it. Chris was stood there, looking handsome as ever. You couldn’t help but smile upon seeing him.
“Hey,” you said. “You look great.”
“So do you,” he said.
You shook your head. “Ah, I’m not fully ready yet. I don’t have my makeup on or anything.”
You were stunned into silence at his comment. You were almost tempted to call his bluff on it; to say you didn’t believe that he actually meant it and was just saying it for your sake. But you knew Chris was an honest man. He genuinely thought you were beautiful without makeup.
There wasn’t any time for you to try and do your makeup anyways, so you grabbed your purse and followed Chris out to his car. Like a gentleman, he held the door open for you as you got in. The ride to the restaurant was mostly some small talk. Since you two had been talking for months, you had already gotten past the getting to know each other phase, which was good because you usually hated that phase, but it made first date conversation incredibly awkward.
He opened the door for you again and even offered you a hand to help you out of his car. You were continuously shocked by how much of a gentleman he was. You made a mental note to send his mom a bouquet of her favorite flowers.
The restaurant was one of the most fancy places you had ever been to. You had been to a number of fine dining places before, but nothing as upscale as this. Looking at the prices on the menu almost made you nauseous. It was the one moment you were grateful for Chris’ celebrity status.
He ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you to share. After pouring up two glasses, he raised his glass towards you.
“What are we toasting to?” you asked.
“You decide,” he said.
You thought for a moment before saying, “To finally giving this a chance.”
His smile was like a child on Christmas morning.
You ordered an appetizer and your entrees. When the appetizers came out first, Chris started digging in right away. You hesitated, another unwelcome memory coming up in your mind: your ex telling you how gross you looked when you ate. He had told you it was his biggest pet peeve about you. You tried so many times to fix the problem, but it never worked and he just continued to complain.
“Are you okay?” Chris asked, bringing you back to reality.
“Oh, yeah,” you said. “Just zoned out, sorry.”
You took some of the appetizer onto your small plate and began eating, being mindful of taking small bites and covering your mouth as you chewed. When your main course came, you repeated the process.
“I’m not used to knowing so much about someone before the first date,” Chris said at some point after the two of you had been silent for a while. “It kind of takes away every talking point I had.”
You chuckled. “I was thinking the same thing. Like, what do people who know each other even talk about on first dates? The weather?”
“Well, you’ve never told me much about your family. Maybe we could talk about that, if you want.”
Your smile faltered, but only a little. You hoped Chris didn’t notice.
It wasn’t that you didn’t love your family. You did, very much so. And they weren’t bad people or anything. They were just messier than Chris’ family, so to speak. Your parents had gone through a messy divorce, the kind where they still hated each other’s guts to that day. They couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as one another. When you graduated, you had to have them sit on complete opposite ends of the auditorium for your cap and gown ceremony. You were an only child, and you had a good connection with both of your parents. There was just always some sort of crisis between them, and they always managed to drag you into the middle of it.
“It’s just me, no siblings,” you started. “My parents got divorced when I was a kid.”
“How young?”
“I was like, five or six I think?”
Chris whistled. “That’s rough. I thought it was hard when mine got divorced when I was 18.”
There was some comfort in knowing that Chris was also a child of divorce. At least his home life wasn’t as picture perfect.
“Do they get along, at least?” he asked.
You laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah, they get along about as well as cats and dogs. Actually, that’s giving them too much credit. They get along as well as cats and mice.”
“Jesus. I can’t imagine having to deal with that at such a young age.”
“Be lucky you didn’t have to.”
You tried not to sound too bitter, but you also couldn’t help but stab your food with your fork as if it had personally offended you.
“I think their divorce must have something to do with why I usually date such shitty men,” you said before you could stop yourself. Your eyes widened as you looked back up at Chris. “Ignore that. I don’t even know where that came from.”
But he didn’t seem offended or weirded out by what you said. Instead, he responded, “It’s alright. You mentioned you had a bad breakup when we first met. I assume he was also a bad person in general.”
You nodded. “You have no idea.”
You thought back every time you heard your ex’s voice in your head. Not just tonight, but in general. Even when you were just trying to go about your day to day life, you could hear the way he criticized and berated you. You had always known while you were in your relationship that he wasn’t a good guy, but you turned a blind eye to the red flags for so long that it just felt like a normal relationship. It took a lot to get you to finally come to your senses and dump his sorry ass, but by that point the damage had been done. He gave you trauma that you would be carrying around for a very long time.
You glanced up at Chris, who was still looking at you as well. You wondered if he really deserved to be with someone with so much baggage. Sure, he liked you now, but how much would he like you once he knew what he was dealing with? He was such a nice guy, he deserved to be with someone else who was just as nice and not damaged as he was.
The thought brought tears to your eyes and you quickly looked away from him. Not quick enough, though, as his hand quickly reached over to take hold of yours and he said, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
A noise came out of you that was half laugh and half sob. You shook your head. “You didn’t make me upset. Trust me, you’ve made me very happy in the few months that we’ve known one another. You are one of the most genuinely good people I think I have ever met.”
“Thanks, I pride myself on not being an asshole.”
When you laughed this time, it was definitely just a laugh. “I just worry that...if things go further with us, that it won’t be good for you.”
He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my last relationship went on for a long time. Far too long. To a point where the only thing I knew was a toxic and shitty relationship. I have a lot of bad hardwiring in my brain right now around relationships. That’s why I turned you down when we first met. I wasn’t ready to get back into anything serious because I was too afraid. But I really like you, so I wanted to give this a try, and now I’m worried that my baggage is going to be too much for you to handle and you don’t deserve that.”
He squeezed your hand, which caused you to stop talking. You realized you had been rambling, and you weren’t really sure if you were making any sense.
“Listen, I understand,” he said. “When something like that happens, it fucks with your mind for a long time. I never wanted to rush you into something you weren’t ready for, but I also don’t want you to push me away because you think it will be better for me. Whether you want me to be a friend or a boyfriend, I’ll be here for you. I’ll help you through whatever you’re going through. I really like you, too.”
You tried to blink back the new tears that were forming in your eyes, but it was nearly impossible. To try and lighten the mood, you joked, “Stop being such a good guy. Seriously, have one flaw please.”
He laughed, and the mood was successfully lightened.
You continued on with your date and it went very well from there on. You were so full from your appetizer and meal, but Chris insisted on ordering a dessert to take with you. He said it was some of the best dessert he had ever had, and if you didn’t eat it now you had to have it later on (his words).
He paid for your meal and the two of you left. It had gotten a bit colder while you were inside, and you only then realized that you forgot to bring a cardigan like you planned. You shivered as the cold air touched your bare shoulders and legs, and wrapped your arms around yourself to try and retain any heat you had left from being in the restaurant.
“Are you cold?” Chris asked.
“Yeah, I forgot to bring a jacket or anything,” you responded. He started to shrug out of his jacket. “You don’t have to give me yours! Your car isn’t parked that far away.”
“Once you catch a chill, it’s hard to get rid of,” he explained. “Here, just wear it till we get to the car at least.”
He wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. You pulled it close to you, letting the heat from it warm you up. You took a moment to breathe in the scent of him that was on the jacket.
The ride home was more lively than before. You had managed to finally find a good conversational stride that hadn’t died down since you had been eating. At some point while driving you home, Chris reached over to take your hand in his. He held it the rest of the way back to your place. You hoped he couldn’t feel the fact that your body was on fire just from his touch.
He insisted on walking you to your front door once he had reached your house. You weren’t about to say no. You almost didn’t want the night to end and any amount of extra time you could get you were going to take.
“I had a great time tonight,” you told him once you had reached your door.
“So great that you’d like to do it again?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face.
You smiled and nodded. “I would very much like to do this again, yes.”
“Great. Okay. Yeah, great.”
You giggled. The two of you lingered for a moment. You wondered which of you was going to break and leave first.
“Can I kiss you?” he finally asked after some time.
Instead of responding, you moved to kiss him first. It wasn’t perfect, you kind of lunged at him at first. You both stumbled and laughed about it. Once you had regained yourselves, Chris kissed you again. This one was definitely better than the first, but now it also made it difficult to want to stop kissing.
When Chris finally pulled away, you tried to follow him, but he laughed and held you back.
“If I don’t stop, I won’t leave,” he said.
“That doesn’t sound too terrible, though.”
He shook his head, but had an amused smile on his face. He kissed your forehead and took a step back. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
You couldn’t stop smiling until you fell asleep.
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teigo-the-explorer · 2 days
Text
Stressed Out
MAIN MASTER LIST
Word Count: 1.k <
Warnings: Not really any, kind of ooc Sherlock (but who cares)
Author's Note: Finally feeling like I have time to write and that the writing gods have been in my favor. This was a fun little one-shot to write. While I'm still trying to get back into my writing groove, this one shot definitely helped get some of the dust off my creative writing brain. So, thank you @my-dear-sweet-melody for requesting this one. I hope you enjoy it!
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You weren’t sure how you’d been doing it: managing the day-to-day lives of two people who also happened to be good friends of yours, assisting Sherlock with cases, seeing things you’d never thought you’d see in your lifetime (both good and bad), juggling relationships, your own well-being and health, and time to relax. Although it seemed like you had less and less time to do the things concerning yourself. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but when you were thrust into the world of Sherlock Holmes, more important things came into play.
Sherlock was the first to notice how the stress was weighing on you. It was a total shock when he casually announced your current state to John. The moment the words of concern were uttered from Sherlock’s lips, the puzzle in John’s mind had been completed. With the help of Mrs. Hudson, the two men began to conspire to make life easier for their dear friend.
At first, Sherlock’s conscious decision to wash his dishes and put them away in the correct cabinets struck you as odd. Sherlock’s mind was usually too busy for such arbitrary tasks, and such magnificent brain power couldn’t be wasted on such a thing. Then came the tidiness of his experiments. You could swear you hadn’t seen a stray finger or eyeball dissolving in vinegar for quite some time.
When you had asked Sherlock about his new behavior, he shrugged it off with some wildly strange research idea he had come up with. You tried to follow along, but your brain began to hurt after a moment, so you opted to believe him instead.
Meanwhile, John took extra care to charge his and Sherlock’s devices. He knew no matter how brilliant Sherlock was, the man seemingly ceased to forget that computers, phones, and the lot needed to be charged via a charging cord and port. On the other hand, Mrs. Hudson made the note to prepare extra tea and biscuits to save yourself the trouble of doing that for Sherlock and John.
Now, you felt no need to question John and Mrs.Hudson’s new behavior. It was in character for them to do small things like that. However, you continued to question Sherlock; he grew tired of it. Why couldn’t you see that he cared for you, too? That maybe he cared a bit more for you than he should. He was growing weary of the excuses he made to your insistent questions when all he wanted to do was throw them up and tell you the truth. Truthfully, the truth was something he insisted upon. Sherlock always found it one way or another. Yet, he could only fib when you had a new query about his altered behavior. Was it hard for you to understand that Sherlock could care? That he, too, could be human?
“Sherlock,” you called as you sat on the couch, pouring over the current case. It was usually your job to organize each thing into its Sherlockian category to save Sherlock his brain power. However, when you opened the file, it had already been done. “Did I happen to organize this in my sleep?” You raised the file and peered at him. Sherlock felt his mind conjure up the latest lie. Just before it left his mouth, he paused. He got up and marched to the window, where he began to gaze out onto the street below. He couldn’t lie anymore. He had to tell you the truth.
“I organized it,” Sherlock said.
You froze. Something was seriously wrong with the man if he was now organizing his own cases. “Sherlock, you never orga–”
“Why can’t I?” Sherlock’s voice grew tense. His eyes clenched shut, all while his back was still towards you. He wouldn’t dare look at you. He knew if he saw your eyes, he’d crumble and tell you everything, but everything was what you needed to hear. Everything was what he needed to say.
“I never said you couldn’t. It’s just,” you faltered, “…strange.”
Within a moment, Sherlock whirled around. His icy blue eyes began to thaw under your gaze. “I observed you have stressed: Your trousers falling to your hips instead of hanging snuggly on your waist, the dark circles under your eyes that only grew prominent by the day, the growing urge to sleep instead of join Mrs. Hudson for the weekly watch party of the latest soap opera,” Sherlock shut his mouth. He had said too much already; he shouldn’t say more, but his lips moved again. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed, John and Mrs. Hudson, too. We devised a plan to lessen the blow of our–my constant mess.”
As Sherlock spoke, you realized his words were only the truth. You had noticed you suddenly had more time to eat a meal, spend time with your favorite landlady, who was more like a mother, go on walks in the park with John, listen to Sherlock compose his latest piece, sleep, and live life as it should be lived. Amidst Sherlock’s rambling, you whispered, “Why?”
“Because we–because I care you for,” Sherlock choked.
Slowly, you remove yourself from the comfort of the couch cushions and find a place in front of Sherlock. You watch as Sherlock shudders from the touch of your hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said as a smile grew. “Thank you for caring when I forgot to take care of myself. Although…”
Sherlock frowned.
“…while I appreciate the sentiment of you organizing your own cases, John charging the computers, and Mrs. Hudson always preparing tea, I’d still like to be able to do my job. After all, the great Sherlock Holmes still needs to use his brain power to solve cases and save the day.”
Sherlock could only smile at that response for he'd give you anything you'd ask. "Of course. Of course, Y/N."
____
Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list! Please comment or reblog if you can; I want to hear from you.
Tag list:
@bartokthealbinobat
@astudyinlaura
@sherlockstrangewolf
@yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair
@biggerthancalli13
@themartiansdaughter
@sunsumonner 
@silversword7000
@starlightaurorab
@my-dear-sweet-melody
@neroarrow83
@khaleesihavilliard
@agentxx92
@myszur-blog
@halestorm0707
_____
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cutielando · 18 hours
Text
monaco ~ charles leclerc
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Summary: Being in a relationship while living in 2 different countries was proving to be an inconvenience for you and Charles, so he decides that it's time for you to move in with him in Monaco.
Words: 1.2k+
Other works: my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
Being with Charles had been the best thing that had ever happened to you. Ever since the two of you were introduced by Lando, you had instantly felt something between the two of you.
Your relationship started after the summer break, which meant that you spent basically the whole second half of the season traveling with your boyfriend for his races, not really being apart for any amount of time.
However, when the winter break came along and you had to go home for the holidays, the longing and missing had set in.
With Charles in Monaco and you back home in the UK, it was sometimes tough for you to talk, both of you having your own activities to tend to, him having to start his training for the next season and you spending some much needed time with your family.
You missed him terribly, and every time you would say goodbye after hours spent on FaceTime talking to each other, your heart would break a little more. Long-distance relationships were tough, not being able to see or touch your loved one causing you pain like no other.
Charles was losing his mind over missing you.
He had been kept busy during his skiing trip to Austria, not really being able to really let the distance set in because he was constantly on the move.
However, once he got back home to Monaco for a couple of weeks before he would have to go to Italy, he found himself longingly walking around his apartment, feeling alone and almost waiting for you to walk through the door. The place wasn't the same without you, it was cold and lonely, missing your warmth and your scent that he had grown to love so much.
It was after a particular phone call with you one night, the both of you expressing how much you wanted to be with the other, that he decided he would propose the idea of you moving in with him to Monaco. He knew he might come off as selfish, but he felt like he couldn't function without you by his side, like a piece of him was missing and he couldn't fill that void with anything else.
He decided he would do it once you had flown out to visit him, a couple of days before he would have to leave for Maranello as the season was inching closer and closer.
The moment you had got off the flight and were in his line of vision, he forgot about everything else around him, walking towards you rapidly and enveloping you in his arms. Being in his arms felt like heaven, finally being face-to-face with your boyfriend after months of being apart, feeling the way his embrace soothed your aching soul, the way his scent filled your senses, the smell of being home.
"I missed you so much" you whispered in his neck, salty tears soaking in his hoodie.
He didn't say anything, not trusting his voice not to completely crack, and instead opted to squeeze you even tighter in his arms, knowing that you would understand his gesture.
Joris, who had taken Charles to the airport, was stood behind the two of you, secretly filming the reunion and knowing that his best friend was finally whole again, now that he had you with him.
♡♡♡♡♡
"What do you want to eat?" you asked Charles, who now stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist as you rummaged through his fridge.
Ever since the two of you got back to his apartment, he hadn't let go of you for even a second. He kept you trapped on the couch, cuddling with you and smothering you with kisses and love confessions. You basked in the love he was giving you, having been deprived of it for almost 2 and a half months.
"Anything is good" he mumbled, now resting his chin on your shoulder and burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving little innocent kisses along your warm skin.
"You're clingy today" you fondly said, reaching back to run your fingers through his soft hair.
"I missed you, a lot. The apartment doesn't feel the same without you here" he confessed, burying his face further into your neck as if to hide from embarrassment. 
You smiled, pulling away from his body just a little in order to turn around to face him.
"I missed you too. My family kept complaining that I was sulking the entire time I was there because you weren't with me" you joked, making Charles also crack a smile.
Despite his good mood, you could see that something was nagging at him. Like he was in deep thought.
"What's wrong?" you asked, caressing his cheek with your thumb.
Charles closed his eyes, letting the feel of your skin on his soothe his nerves.
"I wanted to talk to you about something, amour" you nodded, signaling for him to continue. He sighed, gulping before nodding. "These past few months have been very hard on both of us. I've been busy, we've barely got chances to talk for longer than half an hour at times, you were also busy with your family, the distance has been killing me. Coming back to an empty apartment has never felt worse, I kept waiting for you to pop up from somewhere, to be here. I've realized that I never want to be apart from you like this ever again. I want you to move in with me"
Your eyes were as wide as oranges, the statement hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had been wanting this too, having realized over the time you spent apart just how much you loved his presence and being with him, but it was a surprise hearing it out loud for the first time.
"What about my family? Or my job?" you found the words stumbling out of your throat before you could stop them.
"I've talked to your family and they would be happy either way. We can visit, I can fly them out here whenever you want. As for your job, I'll arrange everything here, you don't have to worry about that. You can give it up entirely, I'll support the both of us and you'll be my full-time girlfriend. Whatever you choose, we'll do it" he explained.
Charles began panicking internally when he noticed you weren't reacting like he thought you would. He wanted to apologize immediately, to tell you that he wasn't being serious and he didn't mean to scare you away. 
The words died in his throat once you began smiling and nodding your head at him.
"Okay. Let's do it" he thought he had heard it wrong, or you were just making fun. But when he saw how widely you were smiling at him and how bright your eyes were sparkling, he picked you up and twirled you around, making you squeal in delight.
After he set you down, he took your face in his hands and kissed you, pouring all of his feelings into the kiss, the intensity making you weak in the knees.
"I love you so much" he whispered against your lips, making you smile and bite your lip.
"I love you too"
♡♡♡♡♡
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yuiopiklmn · 1 day
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a cute little blurb drabble or what not because i can't get this out of my head its 18+ content and slightly edited enjoy (with leon kennedy and female reader in mind but you can use whomever since its vague)
Knees turning red from the carpet beneath her, head leaning forward, hooded eyes scanning over his length. One of his large hands went to her hair starting at her neck and moving backwards to the nape. His hand flipping so his thumb could hook underneath while the rest of his hand gathered her soft hair in a swooping motion, putting it into a makeshift ponytail to keep it from getting in the way. His pretty pink tip throbbing with need and leaking pearly white precum down the rest of his shaft. His prominent vein pulsing as she grabbed his shaft in her small hand giving him a few strokes starting at the base and moving up before leaning forward and licking the precum from his slit. She moved down switching between licking and kissing along his long, gorgeous, and thick shaft. When she made it back to the top she took his tip in her mouth causing a throaty groan to escape his throat. She swirled her tongue around his tip, his breathing picking up, the grip he had on her hair tightening, his legs spreading further as he relaxed. His head leaning back against the couch, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, hair framing his gorgeous face slightly sticking to his forehead as she continued to work on him. She took more of him into her mouth feeling fuller and begining to breathe out of her nose. She hallowed her cheeks, while relaxing her jaw and throat taking more and more of him. His other hand moved to her cheek wiping away the tears that began to form at the corners of her eyes as they feel down her cheeks. His fingers caressed her cheek while moving down to her jaw his fingers feather light to not startle her and allow her to continue her minstations on him. His fingertips touched her pulse point feeling the way his dick proded the side of her throat only egging him on. His hips began to buck, he started to fuck her throat his hips thrusting and grinding against her mouth. He was losing it his voice barely above a whisper it was gruff and desperate, "Baby you are doing such a good job." He began thrusting faster whimpering as he began to get closer to finishing. "You look so pretty on your knees, Darling, always so….so perfect for me" His voice was filled with nothing but his need for her. Once he was fully fucking himself with her mouth she gagged slightly trying to keep herself from pushing him off she wanted him to finish so she stayed relaxed. Her hands were on his knees keeping herself grounded, the feeling on his muscular thighs beneath her hands. She felt arosual pooling in her lower stomach as she pleased him his praises from earlier making her head hazy. Red crescents formed on his thighs as her nails dug into his skin, he eased up noticing her mascara marking her face her ears red and watery. She moved on her own, with his grip loosened, going back to his tip the rest of his shaft covered in saliva. She sucked and licked switching between deep throating him and teasing his tip. “Fuck sweetheart……I’m going to” His words cut off with a pornagraphic moan, his eyes shutting, hips bucking to spurt loads of cum down her used throat. She swallowed while looking up at him, his eyes meeting hers, she pulled off of him with a pop a string of saliva on the bottom of her lip connecting her to his red tip. He wiped the spot from her mouth with his thumb, releasing her hair letting it drape back on her shoulders. He leaned forward kissing her forehead and standing up, pulling his pants up and adjusting himself. He extended his hand to her lifting her up, brushing his fingers through her hair. “Thank you pretty girl”
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A Shot to the Heart - Bucky Barnes x OC
warnings: mr & mrs smith vibes, injuries, hurt x comfort, hospital stay
word count: 6.9k
WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1431325298-a-shot-to-the-heart-florence
vibe: "How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."
"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.
Tumblr media
Masterlist
It was quiet. Too quiet.
His target’s villa was supposed to be littered with bodyguards, even as Bucky made his way silently through the hallway leading to the man selling the latest deadly drug on the market, something felt off about the silence.
He’d encountered almost no resistance.
His heartbeat was thrumming steadily in his ears as he neared the main bedroom, the door beckoning him like a bullseye. His steps were quiet as he closed one fist around the handle while the other tightened on his trusty blade. 
The door didn’t make a sound as he opened it and slipped through it, closing it swiftly as his ears caught the faint sound of music. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he inched closer to the noise leaking through the spacious wing. His intel was solid, he’d been monitoring the French-Algerian mercenary for a month now.
Batroc had a set routine; hide in plain sight while making connections with the local higher ups of the island he was currently hiding in, stay in his villa to host parties on the weekends, and he was always alone on weekdays. He even went to bed early.
Which is why Bucky was confused as to why he was awake– apparently with a companion from the sounds of seductive music filtering in through the walls, when he was supposed to be sleeping. The job was supposedly an easy in-and-out.
Pulling his gun with the silencer attached, he held the two weapons and decided to spring into action with quick steps only for his feet to stop at the sight of a very familiar body swaying seductively in front of a dazed looking French asshole. The woman’s back was to Bucky while she slowly stripped off a trench coat and dropped it to the floor. The blood rushing through his veins was boiling hot but not because of the black corset that was painted on her every delicious curve. No, it was because that body with a distinctive constellation of birthmarks on the back belonged to his wife.
Betrayal. Anger. White hot rage burned everywhere.
“Florence? What the fuck?!”
"Bucky," a tiny whisper left her lips, whether it was annoyance or surprise, Bucky wasn't quite sure. 
His eyes flickered between Florence and Batroc, a dangerous man now with the upper hand as his realization clicked into place that he was in danger.
"Guards!" He bellowed, scrambling up from his seated position and tumbling over the side. Within seconds four sets of boots were rushing down the hall at them. 
"What the hell are you doing here?" She whipped around on her stilettos. Clicking across the floor toward Batroc as she swiped her jacket from the floor, but it wasn't the jacket that came up in her hands, it was a slim, black pistol. Poised to kill. 
"What am I doing here?" Bucky growled, slamming the thin doors closed behind him. They wouldn't keep the guards out but it would buy them some time. "You're a  kindergarten teacher!" The shock was settling in, grasping a hold of any rational thoughts he might have had coming into this mission. "What are you doing here?" He kicked his boot against the couch and sent it flying up against the doors, barricading them inside.
“Listen, clearly we need to talk but this really isn’t the time, Bucky.” 
Bucky stared at her bewildered, struggling to wrap his head around what his sweet, civilian wife was doing in the home of a French mercenary.
“No shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, head snapping at the sound of quickening footsteps and growing shouts. “Can you run in those?” He asked, pointing to her shoes. 
“You know I can. I take it this is a normal Tuesday for you so what’s the plan?”
“Normal Tuesday,” He scoffed “I’ll talk to you about a normal Tuesday you just w-”
“James!” Bucky’s mumbles were cut off by Florence’s exasperated voice piercing through his ears, “not now.”
He shook his jumbled thoughts from his head as he found her eyes and nodded sharply, turning towards the door and pushing her just slightly behind him as he braced himself for the incursion. 
“What are you doing?” She hissed. 
“Florence just,” 
Both their heads turned to the sounds of Batroc clambering to open a window on the far left side of the room. He watched her in complete awe, mouth agape as she raised her gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing straight through his hand. 
“You were saying?” 
“Just, do exactly that I guess,” He turned back towards the sounds closing in on them and back to her, not a sliver of trepidation in her beautiful chestnut eyes. “And don’t get hurt, please.” His brows knit in worry before he took a steadying breath and turned away once more.
Florence scoffed as she stalked over to where Batroc lay on the ground, clutching his wrist and moaning painfully. She bent over, displaying her ass and the length of her legs, which had Bucky moaning almost as loud as his target but for an entirely different reason. His distraction was soon over as his wife scooped up her jacket and slipped it on before turning to Batroc once more.
“Where are the files, you piece of shit,” she hissed, pressing one stilettoed foot against his throat.
“Wait a second,” Bucky interrupted. “Files? What files?”
He saw his wife release a sigh of annoyance as she pressed the heeled foot into Batroc's chest now, making him wince in pain when her heel dug deep.
"I would say it's classified but..." she gave Bucky a wickedly brilliant smile over her shoulder that almost had him forgetting he was angry.
"...I'm guessing you're here for the same reason, my love. I want the files on the new drug he has circling around."
"I was sent to take him out," Bucky narrowed his eyes. 
Florence rolled her shoulders and dug her heel deep into his chest as he tried to squirm away, mumbling something about internal communication under her breath. 
"You were never supposed to find out this way." She looked up at him. Regret painted across her beautiful face. 
Bucky opened his mouth to respond when the door behind him flew open and three men crashed into the room with their weapons drawn. He was quick on the first, grabbing his gun hand and slamming it against the door frame painfully and with enough force to snap the man's arm in half before kicking him backward out into the hallway. 
"This conversation isn't over!" He grunted, taking a gunshot to his vibranium arm. It shuddered in response, curling up and rebounding the bullet away. "You guys never learn." He hauled back his arm, the plates shifting and clicking before making contact. The man yelped and stumbled backward, dropping his gun and clutching his crushed face as Bucky stalked him. 
A gunshot rang out in the room, Bucky turning only to catch the third man crumbling to the floor, a leaking hole through his temple. 
"You're welcome, sweetheart." Florence quipped with a shrug of her slender shoulders. 
"Ren!" Bucky barked as a second shot echoed. Batroc's bloody hand curled around the handle aimed at Florence. Bucky slammed his boot against the throat of the second guard, rendering him unconscious as Florence exhaled a shaky breath and her fingers found the blood that poured from her shoulder. 
"You shot me!" She groaned loudly, turning on Batroc and laying a swift, hard kick across his face. Clipping his arm in the motion, his gun went sliding across the room as more footsteps pounded down the hallway toward them. "We need to..." her words faltered and so did her step as the color drained from her face.
Bucky's eyes widened and he rushed forward, adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins as he reached for Florence. She glanced down at the blood pooling from the bullet hole and swayed, stumbling for the wall as Bucky swiftly caught her. He pressed his fingers to her shoulder, trying to staunch the wound. 
"Fuck! Florence, sweetheart, you gotta stay with me long enough for us to get out of here. Think you can do that for me?" He murmured as he tried to tamper down the rising panic. Never mind that she'd lied to him, if anything happened to her he'd lose it.  
"Huh?" Florence hummed, glassy eyes meeting his. 
"We gotta get out of here, Ren. I gotta get you out of here."
"Batroc..." she mumbled but Bucky couldn't dart his eyes away from her while he tried to hold her upright.
"I don't give a fuck about Batroc. All I care about is you right now, pretty girl." Her weight was getting heavier in his arms and he forced himself to look around for any other danger. He wouldn't risk her getting hurt again only because he let his emotions take over for a short moment.
Instead of using the advantage, Batroc was glued to the floor in front of them, the gun still in his bloody hand. Bucky's eyes narrowed and he shot the French a death glare that normally was reserved for Red Wing. 
"You!" he started, adjusting his grip around Florence's middle while his vibranium hand reached into the holster that was securing multiple knives to his thigh.
"Merde," Batroc hissed, spinning around and trying to open the window behind him with his good hand. Bucky flicked the knife and it pierced effortlessly through Batroc's hand, making him grunt in pain.
“No-one. Touches. My. Wife.” Bucky growled through gritted teeth, shoving down the urge to make the mercenary’s last meal a mouth full of vibranium.
A gentle touch to his cheek brought him back to himself and he looked down at his precious burden, who stared at him with a look of utter adoration.
“That was really hot,” she slurred but then her eyes rolled backward and her lids fluttered closed, her hand falling from his face as she slipped into unconsciousness.
“Ren, REN! Shit!” Bucky hissed as he held her tighter, running out of the room as carefully as he could.
“Medic, we need…agent down…shot. I need her…just…help…” he babbled into his comm, his voice cracking as he tried to relay the information.
The response confirming they heard him and help is on the way was muted by the chaos around them both.
"Fuck! Just– just hang on baby, I'll get you out of here." 
He told Florence, trying to keep her concious enough to get them out of there safely. Her body was getting heavier in Bucky's arms as he carried her and maneuvered around the room with shots coming from every direction and headed to the only exit available; the window.
Peering out once he was close enough, Bucky tightened his grip on Florence. All he could see was a thin ledge running along the outside of the villa, the one Batroc must have clung to before climbing in through the window. There was no way he would be able to balance on that with his wife in his arms, or use it to leverage himself down further. 
The drop wasn't huge, but he still didn't like the idea of jumping, not with Florence fading in and out, her blood seeping into his own tac jacket, hot and sticky, as he held her closer. She groaned softly, skin pale and dewy with sweat. 
"It's alright, pretty girl. I got you," he gritted out just as a shot whistled past him, shattering the plaster of the wall in front of them. "Fuck. Okay, we gotta go. Hold on tight, Ren. S'gonna be okay." 
Bucky heaved himself up onto the window ledge, glancing once behind him. Pressing his lips into Florence's hair, he put his focus on his landing point and counted down quietly before jumping.
“Just… fo- for the record… I’m as ba- badass as you,” she mumbled, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips. 
“Shhh. Save your energy, baby. You can show me all your badass-ness later.” He couldn’t stop his heart from going haywire. 
Boot steps were echoing through the room he just climbed out of and while tightening his one arm around Florence, he held his gun through the window with the other, shooting completely blind. To his own surprise he heard the thud of a body right after the ringing of the shot vanished in his ears. 
With quick head movements he scanned their surroundings.
Pressing them up against the wall of the villa, he took a glance back down at Florence and his heart sank even further when he saw she’d slipped back into unconsciousness.
Quickly sliding along the wall and back around to his entry point he blinked away the tears that threatened to cloud his vision as he rasped against the lump that had formed in his throat.
“I know you’d have made that jump, pretty girl, even in heels. God, I’m so proud of you, I mean, I was before too, wrangling toddlers needs nerves of steel but…I’m rambling, sweetness, I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to wake up.”
He sniffled loudly and carefully adjusted the long leather jacket around his wife’s lingerie-clad form, making sure she wouldn’t get too chilled.
He took a glance to the left and right before dashing across the villa’s courtyard and towards the side gate where he’d entered not ten minutes before.
Reaching his car, Bucky laid Florence delicately in the passenger seat, as if she were made of glass, before climbing behind the wheel and setting off in the direction of his rendezvous point, hoping beyond hope that the med-evac would get there in time.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as Bucky drove. Voices over his comm directed him where he needed to go but it all seemed to fade in the background as images of their life together flashed before him. The night they met, their wedding...Bucky felt a pang of hurt in his chest when his mind raised the question of if any of it was real. 
Saddened blue eyes flickered to his wife, her chest barely rising and falling with her shallow breaths. Waking her up would mean having to face the fact that their relationship he thought was built on honesty and truth was tainted with a secret so big it got her hurt. 
After a few sharp turns and questionable roads he spotted the med-evac waiting for them just beyond the brush. Bucky quickly threw the car into park and slid his wife from the vehicle, her soft groans and whimpers only shattered off pieces of his heart the more he jostled her around. "You're gonna get through this." He whispered into her hair. "Don't you die on me Ren."
"Sergeant Barnes! Sergeant!" 
The shouts made the woman in his arms flinch for a moment as he turned to see a handful of people coming towards him, carrying all kinds of medical aid.
"Sergeant Barnes! What happened?" One of them questioned while he rushed to get her on the stretcher they laid for her. His wife's whimpers of pain pierced through his heart as they started to undress her from the top to see the wound.
"Be careful with her," Bucky whispered. Not really paying attention to anything else but the love of his life as he cradled her pale face in his palms.
"Sergeant? May I ask who this is?" An agent accompanying the medical team asked in a careful tone, "we were not informed there would be anyone else but you, sir." 
He didn't answer. He didn't know how to even begin to explain the situation when his head was swarmed with questions of his own. 
Another pained whimper left Ren's mouth, this one louder and breaking through his thoughts.
"I said be fucking careful!" Bucky seethed at the medic.
The woman's eyes flicked to him but her expression remained passive as she examined the bullet wound, unaffected by his anger. He supposed they had to be. 
"It was a through and through, but she's lost a lot of blood," Bucky explained,  "just-- fuck, you gotta save her." 
"We'll do our best, Sergeant. Are you travelling back with us?" 
It took a second for the medic's words to catch up and he glowered, stepping closer with his vibranium hand balled into a fist.
"I'm sorry? You'll do your best? You fucking save her and that's an order." 
"Sergeant, stand down," a voice piped up amongst the fray just as the medic murmured out a weak, "yes, Sarge."
The medic started to put ECG electrodes all over Florence‘s upper body and Bucky‘s eyes darted over to the monitor to see how his wife was doing.
Her heart was beating regularly, but slower than usual. The sound of her normal, steady heartbeat while he had his head resting on her chest was burned into his brain.
He struggled more and more to keep the concern at bay, but when they placed the cuff around her good arm and he saw how low her blood pressure was, his heart ached and he was sure someone was tightening a rope around his chest. 
“Do something,” he whispered, his eyes wandering to Ren‘s unconscious face. She looked almost peaceful, like she was sleeping. And she was so fucking beautiful even with her paled skin and sweat all over her face. He’d been the luckiest man on earth that she chose him all those years ago. At least he thought he was, until today when his world was turned upside down.
“You listen to me, Florence Barnes,” he gritted, shouldering a poor medic out of the way as he leaned towards his wife’s ear. “I know we said in sickness and in health but this is taking things a bit too far now, don’t you think?”
The medics eyed each other in shock and surprise, one mouthing his wife?! at the others before they doubled-down their efforts to stabilise the fallen agent.
“Baby, you just gotta…fight…you know? I know I’m an absolute train wreck, ha, but I need you, Ren, I need you so much.”
A harsh beep from the equipment had the medics moving even more frantically as one of them turned to Bucky and grabbed his elbow.
“With all due respect, Sergeant, move, now!”
Bucky glared down at the medic, wrenching his arm out of their grasp. "Save Her.” 
The medic gave him a solemn nod before Bucky stepped back and let them get to work. He watched from the edge of the bay, pacing every few moments before stopping whenever they'd start barking orders at each other. He knew enough medical terminology to patch a bullet wound, but anything deeper than that he was foggy. It felt like his heart wanted to explode out of his chest until a familiar voice came over his comms. 
"Florence! Buck you brought Florence on a mission with you what the hell man!" Sam's angry voice echoed through his ear. 
"I didn't bring her." Bucky muttered as he stared at his wife. 
"What did you just say?" 
"She was already there."
“The fuck? Man what the hell is goin’ on?!” 
“Fuck if I know, Sam,” Bucky replied. 
He hated this, the helpless feeling he never thought he’d experience with Florence. The worst case scenario played out in his head as he watched on — he would have to tell her family, her kids, fuck, who wants to tell a bunch of kindergarteners their teacher died? He let himself wonder briefly what song she would want played and that’s when he broke. A sob worked its way up his throat, his bottom lip quivering. 
“Hey,” Sam’s voice came again, softer this time. “She’s still here, Buck. She’s gonna fight and you gotta be strong for her.” 
Bucky nodded, sure Sam could probably see him somehow, and wiped his eyes just as a medic approached him tentatively. 
“Sergeant, we have her stabilised but we need to leave now, are you coming with us?”
“Yeah, yeah” He whispered, clearing his throat. “Sammy,” 
“I’ll see you two in a few Buck, we’re not losing her. That’s a promise.” 
Sam’s voice faded into static as he disconnected on his end and with that Bucky took out his earpiece with a disheartened huff as he made his way to the med-evac. 
When they reached the van’s double doors he paused, taking a deep breath before the agent next to him spoke. 
“Sir, we’re not too far from base and we’ve got her covered until we get there. Would you like to ride alone with her in the back?” The blonde smiled sympathetically as he raised his eyes from the road to meet hers. 
“Is that safe? I don’t- I need her to be okay,” 
“I can jump back if needed but she’s stable for right now. She does need to go into surgery as soon as we get to base, so you know,” 
“As long as you save her, anything.” He whispered before adding. “I apologize for my outburst, agent.” 
“Understandable. I hope you don’t mind my saying but, I think we can all agree you’ve lost enough in your life already, Sergeant. We’ll do everything we can.” 
Bucky nodded, holding back tears as his heart clenched tightly in his chest before stepping inside the cabin, settling gently in the bench beside the stretcher where his entire soul lay still.
He could make out a thick bandage secured with tape over Florence‘s shoulder, her arm bent and held by a makeshift sling. 
“You can grab her hand if you want to. Show her that you’re here by her side,” the medic suggested but Bucky hesitated.
“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt her,“ he mumbled, struggling more and more to hold back the tears that made his vision blurry. He needed her to be safe in an OR at the base before he would let himself fall apart. 
“You won’t. She’s a fighter, that's for sure.” the blond smiled again. Bucky reached out a shaking hand and grabbed Ren‘s small one in his. He’d done that thousand times before but today everything was different. His thumb brushed over the top of her hand before he pulled it close and placed a tender kiss on each of her knuckles.
And despite his best efforts, in this moment Bucky let the emotions break him. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he breathed “I love you” and “Please don’t leave me” shakily on her skin over and over again.
By the time they’d arrived at the base and whisked Florence into surgery Sam had landed. He stalked over to Bucky, his wings still in the process of folding, and wrapped the super soldier in his arms. 
Bucky shattered. 
He didn’t think he’d cried that much or that hard since the night that Ayo had taken him into the Wakandan bush. His friend murmured platitudes in his ear and stroked his back, holding him as tight as he needed to feel grounded again. It was only when Bucky’s sobs finally subsided that Sam let him go, leading him over to some hard plastic chairs that were bolted to the floor.
Bucky slumped into one, his elbows on his knees as he rested his head in his hands, clutching at his hair in desperation.
“Why was she even there, Sam?” He asked weakly.
“I did some digging on the way over, called some people. Ren’s one of us, man. She’s an agent,” Sam said gently, leaning forwards to try and catch Bucky’s eye.
“I figured,” Bucky mumbled, his words almost slurring together, “but…but…how?!”
“Sleeper agent,” Sam tried to clarify. “Trained with SHIELD, and then reintegrated into society when it fell. Her job is legitimate, she is actually a qualified kindergarten teacher, but her backstory is…crafted and she’s called on when she’s needed for a job. Obviously this was one of those times,” Sam shrugged, looking almost as confused as Bucky.
"How the hell did I not know? For years?" Bucky muttered. 
"She's still Ren, Buck." Sam said. "What you guys had was still real. You know how this works." 
"She lied Sam." He glanced over at him, "she knew about me. Hell, she knows everything." 
Sam let out a sigh as he leaned back into the chair, "and you know how SHIELD is."
"I just don't get why she couldn't tell me. What difference would it have made?" 
Sam chuckled lowly and somehow Bucky knew exactly what he was going to say. 
"You can't honestly tell me that if you knew she was an agent, you wouldn't have pulled some over-protective bullshit every time she was called up on a mission?" 
"She's my wife, Sam. I made a promise to keep her safe. After everything, the least I can do is keep the love of my life safe. She had no back up in there, I would have seen them if she did." 
"Head over heart, man," Sam murmured, "it's the core rule of this job." 
Bucky huffed, eyes on the double doors that led to Florence. The waiting was unbearable, the longer he had to think, the worse his thoughts became. 
"That's a fuckin' stupid rule," he muttered, pushing to his feet when the need to move, to do anything but sit still, took over.
Bucky stalked to the double doors leading to the ORs before turning back to Sam. "Why send us separately to the same target with separate missions though? It's hard enough to accept Ren's an agent but," his voice wavered. Shaking his head, he stalked past Sam and towards the external doors.
"Hey man, where are you going?" Sam called after him, "Bucky, stop, Ren needs you here." He chased after Bucky and, placing his hand on his shoulder, his friend stilled. "You need to be here, Bucky. Ren needs you."
"I need answers Sam, I could have gotten her killed by bursting in when I did. Someone's fucked up big time and I've got to find out who!"
Any further argument was lost as the doors opened before them and a doctor appeared.  Both men eyed him warily and there was a moment of silence so profound that they could hear the subtle whir of the plates in Bucky’s arm as his fingers twisted nervously together.
“Doc?” He croaked, needing to know but not wanting to hear.
“Sergeant Barnes, your wife’s out of surgery. We cleaned up the wound and stopped the bleeding. We’re giving her medication for the pain and some additional blood but taken her off sedation. She should wake up soon.” He paused, seeing the incomprehension on Bucky’s face. “Your wife’s going to be ok, Sergeant.”
Bucky barely grunted his thanks before pushing through the doors behind the doctor in search of his wife.
His hand trembled against the door of her room, everyone seemed to disappear around him as he came to a halt. He could hear them talking to him, at him but none of it mattered. Ren was on the other side of that door and he wasn't sure he would ever be ready to face what condition she was in. 
As the adrenaline settled and his thoughts started to slow down the guilt and grief seemed to flood in. 
"Do you want me to go first?" Sam asked from his side, the only voice that cut through the static. 
"No," Bucky shook his head and inhaled deeply before pushing the door open and wandering inside. The faint beeping of machines and the smell of cleaning solution clouded his senses. Florence lay in the middle of the tubes and machines, so still it made his heart constrict in his chest. He hated it. "Oh baby," He sunk down on the side of the bed and rested his head against her hand, taking a moment to forget about his anger and frustration and to just worry about her.
Sam slowly made his way around the bed and rubbed Bucky's back. "I'm sorry, man," he murmured softly. "But she'll make it. Florence is one heck of a tough girl." 
Bucky raised his head and looked at her, she looked so small in that bed, and her face was so pale. Despite all the tubes and wires, the beeping of the monitors was kind of reassuring. "She has to put up with me," he responded, "but when she left the house this morning..." He gulped and shook his head again. "How did I miss this, Sam? Some fucking super soldier I am."
"Don't beat yourself up about it, Buck," Sam replied quietly as he gave Bucky's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You good here? Or do you want me to stay for a while?" 
Bucky heaved a sigh, eyes never straying from Florence as the thought about his answer. He reached across the bed to brush a stray hair from her face, fingertips lingering. She had more colour in her face now, cheeks warm and pink, but Bucky still found himself begging for movement -- a flicker of her eyelids, twitch of her mouth.
"I'm alright," he breathed after a moment. "Can you stick around the base though, as soon as she's fit for transport I wanna get her back to the compound and I want you travelling with us." 
"Course, man. Give me a shout if you need me." 
Bucky listened as the doors swung closed and the room fell into an eerie quiet save for the beeping of machines and Florence's steady breaths.
Reaching up carefully, he wrapped his hand around hers, tangling their fingers together. "What the hell were you doing there?" He whispered to her, knowing she wouldn't answer. At least not right now. Confusion and anger wrapped around his insides the longer he watched her sleep. A thousand unanswered questions plagued his mind and only caused more tiny little fractures in his heart.
It confused to no end why she didn't tell him, why she wasn't honest with him about this part of her life. His wife almost never lied to him— intentionally or not. 
Didn't she trust him? Did she think this kind of a secret could be kept forever? What if—
The twitch of her hand in his cut off his destructive train of thought. Ren's eyes were flickering open and closed causing Bucky's heart to still as he willed her chocolate eyes to open and reassure him that she was okay. Her hand tightened only slightly around his fingers and her head turned slowly in his direction, the softest smile graced her lips as she settled again, eyes closed but her posture more peaceful.
"Just be okay," he whispered. Leaning in to pepper kisses on the hand cradled in his while tears stung his eyes.
"We'll figure out the rest."
Bucky sat in that room for hours, going back and forth on what he would say to her the moment she woke. The doctors came and went and his impatience grew with every passing second and annoying beep or question. 
He wanted answers, he wanted his wife. 
He didn't know what he wanted but he knew if Steve had been there he'd have the answer and that only made him more angry. He had moved on, he had worked so hard to find a person that could understand him the way Steve had and it felt like a lie. He knew better than to believe that, he trusted Florence with everything so short of her being assigned to him and their entire marriage being a ruse. Nothing she would say could convince him she didn't love him too. He had felt her love every single time she was near him. So patient and delicate as he worked through so much unforeseen trauma. 
"Come back to me baby," he whispered from trembling, exhausted lips.
Time dragged and the monotonous beep became the background noise to his cheek pressed to Florence’s arm, resting his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dozing when he heard it, the soft croak of a voice he’d been dreaming of somewhere above him. 
“Bu- Buck?” 
Bucky snapped his head up.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured as Florence tried to speak again, her eyes fluttering open.  “Shh. Shh, hang on, baby. Lemme get you some water.” 
He propped her bed up a little before guiding the straw to her dry lips. 
“I was shot,” she whispered once she was done. “Fuck.” 
Bucky chuckled, cradling her cheek delicately and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."
"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.
"Stay still," Bucky admonished, "you almost died today." Florence closed her eyes and took a breath before looking at Bucky's hand on hers, she twisted her fingers to take his wedding ring and begin turning it.
"You weren't meant to find out this way, Buck. I never meant for this to happen."
He sucked into a breath and shook his head, his hand tightening in hers for a moment, "why didn't you tell me?" 
Her eyes found his and his heart dropped seeing the hesitation in her features. Ren's lips parted to say something before all that came out was a breath.
"Please tell me." 
He begged in a hushed tone, trying to have the patience to manage her fragile state while pushing away doubts and fears of his own. 
"This was the first mission I've been put on since we got married, Buck. I thought.." her voice trailed off and she bit her lip nervously. 
"I thought I was done with that part of my life. I told my superior that I was off the day we met, I didn't want to do that anymore." Ren continued, the words rushing out with the rising frustration clear in her eyes. 
He didn't understand. Bucky's eyes were searching her own but there was nothing but sincerity and anguish as Florence delivered the final punch to the gut.
"We met while I was on an assignment, and I just.. quit. Or so I thought." She mumbled the last part as her fingers dug into his palm as if willing him to believe her.
"So why this case? Why lie?" Bucky searched for answers to help make sense of her explanation. 
"It wasn't my choice," She moved uncomfortably, just trying to close the gaps between them. "I couldn't tell you and when they call," she stopped. 
"You go." Bucky knew that well, there was always another war to fight, another bad guy to bring down. It never ended and someone always came looking for help. It's not that he didn't want to, but he was tired and looking at Florence he had thought he found his haven from that. Someone who would never need him in that way but now... "I'm not mad you," he said. "I know it seems like I am but," he rolled his fingers over her cheek. "Tell me and don't lie to me. Was I ever a mission?" 
"No," she answered without hesitation. "Never. Not once, they never even tried to take that route. It's why I quit in the first place."
"It was never going to be easy for me, was it?" Bucky murmured sadly and Florence made a little wounded sound as she brought his hand to her lips. "Makes sense that I'd fall in love with someone whose seen just as much bloodshed as me." 
"Is that such a bad thing?" Florence countered. Bucky let out a shaky breath. "C'mere." Bucky scooted closer as she pressed soft kisses to his knuckles before turning his hand and kissing his palm. With her eyes closed, her long eyelashes fanned out over her cheeks and she looked every bit the angel she is. 
"I never wanted you to see that side of me, of my job, Ren. Not first hand, not like this." 
"I don't care, Bucky. I've always known who you are and what you do and I married you anyway. And besides, it was my job too. I knew I could have handled anything you decided to show me."
"You may not care, but I care!" His voice raised and almost broke. He pulled his hand away as he stood, the chair flew back abruptly and came to rest against the wall. Ren winced at his raised voice but knew with confidence that he'd never hurt her.
Bucky had begun to pace the room. "You're my angel, it's my job to protect you, to keep you safe...." His hands fisted his hair, "My whole world relies on the normality and routine of our lives...." He looked at her for the first time since he stood up. "This blows everything I believed we had out of the water."
"I'm still me!" She yelled, "I'm still the woman you fell in love with and I'm still the woman who is in love with you James Barnes." 
His face crumpled for a moment as he stared at her. 
"Now I am not throwing years of marriage away because of this. *I am not going anywhere*." Her brows furrowed as those big brown eyes looked up at him. Those eyes he tripped in the first time he saw her. Stumbling over his words, his heart racing with every moment she spared him and that smile. God that smile lit up every dark corner of his mind the first time he saw it. "Are you?" Her voice cracked softly as they watched each other. Both expecting to make a decision. 
Bucky let out a long drawn out breath and shook his head. "No."
A weak, teary laugh escaped her and Bucky's heart broke over the sound.
"Good. Because you're stuck with me," she announced. "One injured shoulder won't keep me away from you." She told him, trying to smile through the tension and tears pooling in her eyes.
He couldn't stay away from her any longer when she buried her face in her hands and started crying, the soft sniffling and hiccups coming from her had Bucky closer in a heartbeat, his arms enveloping the love of his life gently. Protectively.
"I'm telling them I'm out for good," Florence mumbled into his chest, her voice thick. 
"Are you sure? I know you said--" 
"Yes. Fuck, Bucky. I don't want to do this anymore. I wanted normal too, you know. I wanted to *be* your normal, your safe space. I want to keep coming home to you and telling you stupid stories about my kids, I want to keep having lazy weekends with you and late night grocery store runs." 
Bucky laughed wetly, pressing a kiss into her hair, careful of her shoulder as he held her tighter. 
"I want that too," he whispered, "just, no more secrets, sweetheart, I don't think my old heart could take it."
They sat quietly, as if counting their blessings, murmuring their wishes and promises for their lives moving forward, everything now out in the open.
They were interrupted by a rapping at the door and both of them turned as it opened. Sam poked his head through. "I was just checking in, Bucky..." he began. "Oh thank god you're awake, Ren, Bucky was out of his mind..."
"Is there any wonder?" Bucky retorted, turning back to Ren. "I thought I'd lost you for sure."
"I've told you, I'm not going anywhere, Buck. We're going to grow old together," Florence smiled, moving to sit up. "Ooh that fucking smarts."
"I'm sure you're due some more pain relief by now," Sam responded. "Let me go find the doc to sort you out, and start arranging  for the airlift home."
Bucky watched Sam leave before turning back to Ren. A soft grin spread across her face as her fingers traced along the edges of his scruffy face. "You know, seeing you in action was pretty hot." She said lowly. 
He laughed and shook his head. "Me? What was that outfit you were wearing and why the hell have I not seen you in it?" 
"That old thing?" She whispered, "was cheap and not my style." 
Bucky leaned down, bringing her hand to his lips kissing the inside of her wrist, "Could it?" 
Florence raised a brow at him with a smirk. 
"I mean when you're healed." He clarified, "You aren't doing anything for the next few weeks except bed rest." 
"It's a shoulder wound." Florence laughed at him. 
"And you are my wife." Bucky countered, "Which means I get to dote on you until you're better." 
Her hand curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the short hairs there, "I could get used to that." 
"Good." He said as he leaned into her, whispering against her lips before kissing her for the first time since he left home that morning, letting the monotonous beeping and horror of the day disappear until all that was left was them.
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starslovechasers · 2 days
Text
My muse
James couldn’t breathe.
Regulus. A mark the shape of a skull and a snake which felt like pure evil. A locket. A cave.
Loss, so much loss.
He felt hands grab him, shake him. He couldn’t breathe. Stop, Please. Let me go, let me go back to him.
Sobs wracked his chest, make it stop.
A soft hand touched his face, and he grabbed it on instinct. He opened his eyes to see Regulus looking down at him, worry scribbled into his forehead.
‘Jamie, i’m here.’ He whispered, his thumb running lines over James check.
James copied Regulus’ demonstrated slow breathes. His eyes glued to Regulus’ as they breathed in sync.
‘Are you okay?’ Regulus eased one James had regained composure, his thumb rubbed away stray tears that had stained James’ cheeks.
James shook his head.
‘I don’t know what happened, I felt like we were back there.’ His voice shook. ‘At Hogwarts, and you had taken the mark instead of leaving, and—‘ James hesitated.
Regulus continued to rub his cheek reassuringly, urging him to go on.
‘You died,’ James bottle lip quivered and Regulus gaze softened. ‘It felt so real.’ He sounded questioning, his voice cracked.
‘Hey, hey.’ Regulus soothed. ‘I’m right here baby. I’m real, I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere. We won.’
His other hand came up to the other side of James’ face. Both of his thumbs ran comforting circles around James’ cheeks. James clutched them like he was afraid at any moment Regulus might slip through his fingers.
Regulus leaned down to place a soft kiss on James head. James leaned up to connect their lips.
‘I love you.’ He whispered upon parting.
‘I love you too.’ Regulus pressed a gentle peck to James forehead, a caress.
‘I’m right here.’ Regulus repeated, his voice ever so soft, like he was scared James would shatter at any moment. ‘We got out, we survived.’
He pulled James’ head into his chest. James complied with his touch, shuffling closer, he wrapped an arm around Regulus waist.
‘We survived.’ He mumbled into Regulus chest.
He felt Regulus kiss his hair and felt his chest warm. We survived.
The war had impacted most of their friends and family in one way or another. Most nights James woke up crying or screaming, haunted by memories and even worse— false realities where Regulus didn’t make it out.
Although, on those nights, he was lucky enough to wake up to Regulus by his side.
‘I’m sorry for waking you.’ James sat up slightly to look at Regulus.
Regulus scoffed.
‘Don’t be silly,’ His voice was gentle despite his words, ‘I was awake anyway.’ He ran his hand through James hair, twisting and twirling the locks through his fingers.
‘Were you drawing?’ James asked excitedly.
Regulus let out a low chuckle.
‘I was.’
‘What were you drawing?’
‘What I’m always drawing, my muse.’ Regulus said with a teasing tone. He rolled his eyes and picked up his sketchpad off their bedside table, passing it to James.
James sat straight up.
‘Reg… this is beautiful.’
He stared in awe of the simple sketch of asleep, peaceful James, that looked so realistic it was jarring. It took Regulus years of dating before he got comfortable showing James his work, and James felt so lucky he was allowed to see it.
His fingers traced a line that ran off the page.
‘I dropped the pencil the second I saw you struggle to breathe.’ Regulus admitted.
‘Aw you love me.’ James said matter of factly, turning to look at him with a goofy grin.
He didn’t miss the light blush that fell across Regulus’ freckled cheeks.
‘Oh really.’ He said dryly. He gave James a look and held the back of his hand up.
‘Who would of guessed.’ He said, pointing at his wedding ring.
‘Oh yeah, that old thing.’ James grinned, he leaned up to kiss Regulus again.
Regulus kissed him back with a sigh.
‘Sometimes, I regret my choices.’ He said dramatically. He shook his head disapprovingly.
‘Liar.’ James feigned hurt.
‘You see right through me.’ Regulus said, biting back a smile.
James wrapped his arms around Regulus’ neck. He pulled him down into another kiss.
‘Promise me you’re real.’ He whispered, leaning his forehead against Regulus’.
‘Don’t worry baby, you’re stuck with me.’ Regulus smiled.
‘Always?’
‘Always.’
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