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lupinqs · 14 hours ago

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CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader.

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

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xoxoch3rry · 3 days ago

Text

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℙ𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

Word count: 1,005

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Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, torture, regular criminal minds stuff.

Summary: The case goes wrong and Spencer's there to save you.

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The case had seemed straightforward: infiltrate a suspected trafficking ring, gather intel, and leave without raising suspicion. You were one of the FBI's finest undercover agents, and this wasn’t your first high stakes assignment. But something about this one felt…off. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Spencer Reid asked, leaning against your desk in the bullpen. His concern was evident, his hazel eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You smiled, trying to lighten the tension. “I’ll be fine, Spence. It’s just another day at work.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Be careful,” he said softly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

The plan unraveled faster than you could have imagined. Your cover was blown within hours, and before you knew it, you were blindfolded and thrown into the back of a van. The next few days were a blur of pain and terror. The room where they kept you was cold, damp, and reeked of mildew. Your captors weren’t interested in negotiations or even interrogations—they wanted to break you. Torture was their game, and they played it well. “You think your team will save you?” one of them sneered, leaning close. “They don’t even know where you are.” You bit back a retort, refusing to give them the satisfaction of your fear. But inside, doubt crept in. Did they know where you were? Were they even looking?

Back at the BAU, Spencer was unraveling. The team had realized something was wrong when your scheduled check-in never came. The unsub’s profile was already on the board, but without knowing your location, they were running out of time. “She’s strong,” Emily Prentiss said, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “She’ll hold on until we get to her.” Spencer nodded, but his heart was heavy. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think clearly. The thought of you in danger consumed him. It wasn’t just worry. It was something deeper, something he’d been too afraid to acknowledge. But now, faced with the possibility of losing you, he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

The pain was unbearable, but you clung to hope. Your team was the best, and if anyone could find you, it was them. Still, the days stretched on, each one darker than the last. One of your captors, a wiry man with a cruel smile, had taken a particular interest in you. “What’s it going to take, Agent?” he taunted during another grueling session. “How much more can you handle?” You didn’t answer, but the tears streaming down your face betrayed your resolve.

The breakthrough came on the fourth day. Garcia had hacked into a security feed from a remote warehouse in the middle of nowhere, and the footage showed a glimpse of you being dragged inside. “That’s it,” Spencer said, his voice sharp. “That’s where she is.” Hotch nodded. “We go in tonight.” Spencer insisted on going with the extraction team, despite Hotch’s initial hesitation. “I need to be there,” he argued. “For her.” Hotch finally relented. “Stay close, and don’t take unnecessary risks.”

The sound of the explosion was deafening, shaking the walls of your prison. Shouts and gunfire echoed through the building, and you barely had the strength to lift your head. You heard the unmistakable command: “FBI! Drop your weapons!” Hope flared in your chest, but your body was too weak to react. You slumped against the wall, the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. “Where is she?” Spencer’s voice rang out, frantic and desperate. Footsteps pounded closer, and then, there he was. Spencer Reid stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with worry. “Spence,” you croaked, your voice barely audible. In an instant, he was at your side, his hands gently cradling your face. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re safe now.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he untied your restraints. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, as if saying it would make it true.

At the hospital, the team hovered around your room, each offering words of encouragement. But Spencer never left your side. “You should rest,” you said weakly, your voice hoarse from days of screaming. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied firmly, his hand clasping yours. You studied him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his jaw. “Spence, I’m okay.” “You’re not,” he said, his voice breaking. “You’re not okay. And it’s my fault.” “What? No—” “I should have stopped you,” he interrupted. “I should have—” You squeezed his hand, cutting him off. “Spencer, listen to me. This wasn’t your fault. You saved me.” He looked away, his shoulders shaking. “I almost lost you,” he whispered. “But you didn’t,” you said firmly. “I’m here. Because of you.” He hesitated, then turned back to you, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I love you,” he confessed, the words tumbling out as if he’d been holding them back for years. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I was too afraid to say anything. But when I thought I might never see you again…” Your breath caught, and tears filled your eyes. “Spencer…” “I know this isn’t the right time,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “But I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in anymore.” You reached for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. “It’s the perfect time,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “Because I love you too.” The relief on his face was palpable, and for the first time in days, a genuine smile broke through the tension. He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. “I’ll never let anything happen to you again,” he promised, his forehead resting against yours.

And at that moment, despite everything you’d been through, you knew it was true. With Spencer by your side, you felt unbreakable.

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buddiebeginz · 3 days ago

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For everyone hoping and or expecting there to be something huge in the mid season finale on Thursday and who will feel let down and upset if there's not I wanted to point out some things.

First of all Tim just came back in s7 and it was a shortened season. I know we all had issues with how that season was handled but I also think Tim had a lot to figure out for having just come back to show. He was bringing 911 to a new network had only 10 eps to tell the entire seasons stories in. It was also a rather important season considering it was where they finally had Buck come out and where the pieces were finally being put into motion for Buddie to happen eventually (like in episode 704).

But I also think a lot of stuff Tim wanted to do in s7 he didn't get to and instead carried it over to s8 where he felt he had more time. The majority of 8a was spent closing out storylines that started in s7. What people have to realize is that a lot of this likely would have been the second half of season 7 had that been a full season. Now going into 8b I expect to see more focus put on Eddie's coming out and more movement towards Buddie happening.

None of this means that the mid season finale will necessarily be a huge ep or have a nde or have Eddie come out or Buddie kiss or anything like that. This ep may be pretty similar to the one we saw last week especially because like some have pointed out Tim and the others may have been expecting 809 to be the mid season finale not 808. And besides that 911's mid season finales have rarely been these huge events. Those were usually saved for other eps.

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

S1 -

shortened season - no mid season finale

no real NDE's although you could say the plane disaster was one for Bobby

S2 -

210 - mid season finale - It's revealed that Chim's friend is Doug

*2b*

211/212/213 - Chim begins/ Doug attacks Chim and takes Maddie

217 - Shannon dies car accident

218 - Buck NDE truck bombing

S3 -

302/303 - Buck and Chris NDE tsunami

308 - Hen NDE car accident (a few eps before mid season finale)

Bobby radiation exposure 309 (one ep before mid season finale)

310 - mid season ep - Michael cancer diagnosis

*3b*

314 - dispatch center/Maddie held hostage

315 - Eddie NDE well

317 - Athena NDE r*pist

S4 -

shortened season because of Covid no mid season finale

405 - Buck NDE fire

409 - Albert NDE car accident

413/414 - Eddie NDE shooting

S5 -

506 - Buddie kidnapping

508 - Hospital (where David worked) fire

510 - mid season ep Eddie leaves the 118

*5b*

513 - Eddie breakdown

516 - dispatch fire

517 - Hen/Chim - NDE - jonah

S6 -

Mid season ep - Bobby's sponsor dying

*6b*

610/611 - Buck NDE lightning strike

618 - 118 NDE bridge collapse

S7 -

shortened season - no mid season finale

701-703 - Bathena NDE - cruise ship disaster

708-710 Bathena NDE - Cartel/Fire

S8 -

802/803 - Athena NDE plane emergency

805 - Denny NDE

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

Looking at the way 911 has structured it's seasons in the past it's far more likely that if we're going to get a nde for Buddie or one of them we're going to get it later in the season and not at the mid season. We could get a more surprising moment like we've seen in the past like with Eddie leaving the 118 but like I said before I think it's highly probable that 808 wasn't meant to even be the season finale so a more shocking or surprising moments might not even be until 809 when the show comes back.

I just really think we all need to take a look how the show operates and prepare ourselves so we're not too let down. Also as much as I love coming up with theories and love listening to theories everyone else comes up with I feel like it's become a habit lately in our fandom for some people to get everyone excited and expecting certain things from the show. Then when the show doesn't deliver every single episode people are left feeling angry. This isn't just the fault of the people talking about their theories it's a fandom issue in general I think. I wish our fandom would just be more realistic going into each ep and not so quick to turn on the show if expectations aren't met immediately.

I 100% believe Eddie is going to come out and Buddie is happening. I've been watching the show for years and things have never been as close to Buddie canon as they are now but that doesn't mean it will happen instantly. Everything that's being shown and said (in interviews) is telling us that the show is playing the long game. We have to be patient and wait for them to get there, which I know can be really frustrating, trust me I've been waiting for Buddie's love story to be canon for what feels like forever. I think we will see more movement in Eddie and Buddie's story this season but maybe not this episode coming.

----

I also think it's important that we show our love for the show and the people who work on it more. I feel like a lot of the stuff I see out of our fandom lately is pretty negative. I'm not saying it's not warranted or that I don't do my own share too (I was talking just the other day on twitter about my issues with Athena's storylines) but I also can't help to think of how Oliver and Ryan and the others must feel. Imagine working really hard on something and then going online to see how the audience feels about it and the predominate reaction is about how awful the episode was. I definitely believe it's possible to love 911 (and any media really) and still be critical of it at times but I also think sometimes our fandom focuses too much on what we're not getting from the show and less on what we are.

We are incredibly lucky to have two amazing actors who put such love and care into playing Buck and Eddie and who have always been supportive of our ship. We're lucky that pretty much everyone involved with 911 (minus maybe KR) seems to be supportive of Buddie happening because trust me that's not common among a lot of other non canon queer ships. We're lucky that Buck has finally come out and that all signs are pointing towards Eddie coming out too. We're lucky that the show is even still on the air because it was seriously on the brink of being canceled before abc picked it up. If it had been not only would we have no chance of Buddie but Buck would never have come out and both men would have ended their run on the show with those lackluster partners. And speaking of lackluster partners we're lucky that Tim got rid of Tommy. I know he could have done it sooner but he also could have kept him around longer. I think some of you need to realize that making Buddie a reality is still a risk for the show and for abc. Having another main come out is still risky but they seem ready to take the risk.

Sorry this post got so long. I just had a lot of thoughts with the new ep coming and seeing everyone already prepared to be upset about it. Let's just go into this ep with limited expectations and be happy we get to go into a hiatus for the first time in a while without b/t being a thing. Thanks if you taken the time to read all of this. ❤️

#buddie #911 buddie #911!#911 spoilers #911 8x08 #long post

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imawreck · 14 hours ago

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His

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky broke up a few months ago against your wishes, and you’d been trying to move on. When Bucky sees you flirting with another member of the team, he leaves for the next mission to avoid getting in your way. Unfortunately, the mission goes bad, and Bucky isn’t himself when he comes back. He also has a lot to say…

Author’s Note: I realize that in most of my fics Thor is the other romantic interest/situationship, but you CANT tell me that man wouldn’t flirt up a storm with a beautiful woman any chance he got. Also, this is my first smutty fic so feedback and comments would be much appreciated! This is on the more explicit side, so please read with caution.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), choking kink, Possessive!Winter Soldier, flashbacks, hair pulling, fingering, metal arm kink, dominant!winter soldier, probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 4,850

Breakups are ugly most of the time, and almost always one sided.

You and Bucky had been apart for at least three months. You’d stopped counting, wanting to forget it and focus on anything else. It was easier that way, to ignore the heartbreak and clutter up your life with other things to do.

Unfortunately, you still lived in the same tower on the same floor, right across from one another. He was constantly around, and no mattered how hard you tried, you just couldn’t avoid him.

It was hell.

And it was only hell because Bucky hardly gave you a good reason for the break up. Sure, you had your arguments. Mostly about his past and how much better he thought you deserved, to which you’d list all the reasons he was wrong. In reality, those weren’t really arguments. It was just Bucky having a low point, which you were more than willing to help him work through. Outside of those moments, you had felt that your relationship with Bucky was near perfect.

So when he had come back from a mission and broke up with you, his only reason being ‘I can’t be with you,’ it’d been a slap to the face. Like someone had shoved a knife in your heart and twisted.

The worst part was that he wouldn’t even allow you the chance to talk to him afterwards. Every time you were in the same room together alone, he’d find every reason not to speak with you.

So, you’d taken the hint and were now trying to figure out a way to move on.

That was made a little easier when a certain God of Thunder made his interest known to you. Thor was sweet, charming, and a little goofy. Not to mention handsome, with his blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

He’d made an effort to woo you not long after you’d parted from Bucky, and you’d informed him that the breakup was hard for you and that you couldn’t really do something new right now. Thor had been surprisingly understanding, and even took to just being friends quite well. Granted, he was still flirty, but he knew where you both stood and was always happy to lend an ear when you needed one.

He turned out to be just the friend you needed.

From the outside looking in, none of the others thought it was ‘just friends,’ especially when Thor would openly show his interest in you. Especially to a certain Super Soldier.

Bucky was painfully aware of what was going on between you and Thor even though he desperately tried not to be.

His super hearing picked up on the soft laughter you and the god would share, on the hushed whispers you’d exchange late over a mug of coffee when you thought everyone was asleep. His every fiber was attuned to you, and he couldn’t help but fixate on your presence.

You were like gravity to him, and he always found himself near you when he knew he should be as far as humanly possible. He saw the little looks you shared when Thor would compliment you, noticed your shy smile when the god would enter the room. He could tell that Thor was winning you over slowly but surely.

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when he shipped off on the next mission possible.

You worried, your heart still set on loving him, but you tried to pay it little mind. And after a few days, it actually helped. You felt better, found yourself smiling more. You were beginning to move forward.

That was, until the jet was reported missing. Then Bucky was all anyone could talk about in the tower.

Thor tried his best to keep you in the dark about most of what was going on, and it wasn’t hard seeing as you were just a rather good strategist and not a serious Avenger. You were only really included in skimming over preplanned attacks and making sure they hadn’t missed anything critical.

But word still spread, and worry was ever present.

Needless to say, it was very strange when Mr. Stark called you into a private meeting with himself and two other of the elite team.

“Y/N,” He spoke softly in the kind of tone that lets you know that whatever he says next is going to ruin your whole week. “There’s a situation with Barnes.”

You frowned, eyebrows scrunching at him from where you sat at the rather empty end of the long black table. “I’m confused. Bucky and I broke up months ago. Why are you talking to me about it?”

Steve, who you’d befriended while dating his best pal, looked at you with poorly concealed pity from his seat next to Stark. “Because we know he still means a lot to you and that you’re our best hope in this situation.”

That didn’t make you feel better about whatever was going on at all. “What do you mean ‘this situation?’” You eyed them both, before dragging your eyes over to Doctor Banner who hadn’t done much more than stare at you with a concerned expression bordering on panic.

Stark pressed his fingers to his forehead, “Barnes got triggered on his mission and has infiltrated the tower. We have reason to believe he’s after you.”

You gaped at him. That didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important, at least not as important as one of The Avengers. “Me? Why me?”

“We’ve silently shut the building down and we’re working on evacuating the floors without anyone freaking out.” Tony went on, ignoring your questions, “He doesn’t know that we’re aware he’s here, and we’re trying to keep it that way.” Tony motioned towards a monitor, and the image of Bucky popped up on the screen.

Only he was in your room, and he was dragging his fingers over the picture of the two of you that was perched on the nightstand. They way his fingers smoothed over the glass, the slight pinch in his brows as if calculating instead of recalling. It was like he’d never seen it before in his life. Like he had no connection to the image of himself.

It was a picture he had taken, his arm extended and a smile on his face with your lips pressed to his cheek. You had meant to take it down and stuff it in the box under your bed with all the other memories you had hid from sight, but it was just too painful. You needed something to hold onto.

You watched through the screen as he moved around your room, taking note of certain things and taking careful precautions to ensure that anything he moved was set right back in place. It was eerie to watch a man who was once so comfortable in your space tread with so much hesitance. Like it was the first time he’d been in the space all over again.

“Y/N.” It was Steve’s gentle timbre that brought your attention away from the screen this time. He tried to smile, though it was clearly forced. “We need you to lure him down towards the lower levels. We have to get him to a room where we can better contain him. If he finds out we know he’s back and not… him, then he could snap.”

“You want to use me as bait? For the Winter Soldier?” You stared at them both with wide eyes, panic blooming in your chest. “This is insane!”

Steve sighed, “Y/N… Bucky told me about the incident that happened in the beginning of your relationship.”

Your attention zeroed in on the blonde’s words, your breath hitching.

“He told me what could’ve happened… and what didn’t.”

You walked down the corridor of the Stark tower office floor heading back towards your desk from a late night research meeting with a few of your coworkers. You had decided to stay later than the others so that you could collect and organize the information you needed for the meeting with Mr. Stark the following morning. It was very late, and you were tired, the heels you wore had begun to irritate the soles of your feet hours before.

You clutched the files you collected in your arms, heels clicking on the glossy floors and echoing into the dimly lit corridor. So dim that you didn't see the silhouette of the man standing just feet from you until it was too late.

You only saw a flash of silver before the door beside you was torn open and you were roughly shoved inside. Cleaning supplies clattered onto the floor, spilling liquids over your feet as you cried out. A hand clamped over your mouth, and your head hit the wall with a thunk.

Stormy blue eyes stared at you, cold and unfeeling. Eyes you had seen just days before smiling at you and filled with life.

Your lips moved to say his name against the cool metal of his hand, but his grip on your face was nearly bruising. You could only stare back in fear and attempt to press your body further from him.

He didn't speak, only stared at you and kicked the door to the closet shut.

Fear was a living thing in your stomach, writhing as his eyes snaked down to your red heels and back up again. His head tilted to the side, as if he was trying to remember something. But his eyes remained cold and unrelentingly empty. His flesh hand came up to press a finger threateningly to his lips.

‘Quiet.’

You weren't stupid enough to scream, not with the way he was looking at you, with how close he was. When he removed his hand, you did exactly as he wanted. Silence hung in the small closet, suffocating you. Would he kill you? What did he want? Why hadn't he killed you already?

The cool metal of his palm slipped further down, wrapping around your throat and pressing against your thundering pulse. Your head pounded along with it, and a foggy feeling settled over your mind.

But your lungs still filled with air, and you remained aware. The pressure of his hand was ever present, but it was light enough not to cause real damage... Almost like he didn't want to hurt you.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, the movement catching your eyes. His body leaned forward, his nose pressing into your neck and his warm breath hitting your skin. Goosebumps rose in its wake, and that lick of fear heightened again. He was acting so strangely, and the longer it went on the more unsettling it was.

When he pulled away, there was a heat in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A hunger, and… and recognition.

“Hello, Beloved.”

“We know that he didn’t hurt you, and that he displayed… certain feelings towards you.” Steve’s voice brought you out of the memory, dragging you back to the reality at hand.

The one where he wants you to put yourself smack dab in the path of the Winter Soldier.

“You’re serious about this?” You blink up at him, trying to gauge if he was joking or not. Level headed as Steve was, you trusted him with your life. But this? This was terrifying and completely unexpected. Ridiculously dangerous.

“It’s the only nonviolent way we can think of. And we’re almost certain there’s no high risk for you.” Steve tried to give you a reassuring smile, tried to hide the hint of unease that shone in his tense shoulders.

“You’ve all lost your mind.” You laugh, sighing and raising your chin. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Apparently, so had you.

You stared at the metal doors of the elevator, your heart pounding with each toll of the floors passing. This was probably—no, was— the riskiest thing you’d ever done in your life. You trusted Steve and Mr. Stark, but your brain was trained to find the flaws in plans like this. And so many things could go wrong.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Steve said calmly into your ear, startling you. You’d forgotten they’d given you the earpiece. “I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll guide you through the compound and make sure you stay out of danger.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if they could see you.

“Bucky is leaving your room. We’re going to drop you off in the commons area of your floor. All you have to do is make some noise and then head for the stairwell. Just listen to me, and I’ll get you through this.” Steve sounded so confident in your ear, but it did little to soothe the nerves.

The elevator leveled out, and the doors quietly opened. The large living room opened up before you, unnervingly bright and welcoming despite the danger you knew lurked just down the hall. You stepped out onto the carpet, walking towards the kitchen. Your palms sweat, heart pounding, as you made your way up to the cabinets.

You just had to make some noise. Easy, right?

But your body wouldn’t move.

“Y/N.” Steve’s voice called in your ear again, gently coaxing you from where he watched the cameras. “Make some noise, and then head for the stairs.”

You swallowed, nodding again, and reached with shaky hands towards the cabinet. You grabbed a bowl, and hesitantly set it down on the granite counter. The echoing pok of the ceramic felt too loud in your ears, like a gunshot.

“Good, now move quickly. He’s just down the hall headed your way.”

The words sent a chill down your spine… and something else followed. Something you’d never felt before.

You headed towards the stairs, but your feet felt like lead weights. Like you couldn’t move fast enough even though you knew you were going as fast as you could.

But you could hear the faintest scuff of boots coming behind you and the sound sent your heart into a frenzy.

You raced down the stairs, tripping a few times before righting yourself and continuing your decent down towards the lower levels. Your floor was four levels up from ground level, which meant you had six floors in total to descend before you could get to the containment floor.

Six flights of stairs being chased by The Winter Soldier. A superhuman man who was definitely faster than you, and probably wanted to do something terrible to you. Like a wolf hunting a sheep.

Oh God.

The thought only served to spur the panic rising in you. You kicked up your speed when the door slammed behind you, footsteps pounding after you as the dark silhouette of Bucky Barnes rounded the stairs two flights above.

He took the stairs four at a time, his long legs swallowing up the distance between you. The panic clawed its way up your throat in a strangled cry, and the sound just seemed to quicken his pace.

“I’m not fast enough!” You tried to keep your voice even, tried to keep it quiet in the echoing stairwell so that the soldier behind you would hear.

“You’re almost there, Y/N. Just keep up the pace. Two flights left and—“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

You watched in shocked horror as Bucky’s figure leapt over the railing and plummeted towards the ground. He dropped several flights before his arm snapped out and wrapped around the railing. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out around you as the railing dipped under the crushing pressure.

He hauled himself back onto the stairs just before you. Those cold eyes found yours, dark hair framing sharp features, painting him into something primal. Something wild.

That feeling pounded through you again, skittering along your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. You still couldn’t place it, not with him stepping towards you with a look that promised violence.

You heard Steve’s voice ordering something over the earpiece, but it was distant. It became clearer a moment later. “We’ve got a team heading in. Just… just hang in there.”

You swallowed, but your throat had gone dry in the presence of the assassin before you. His eyes held you in place as his towering form finally stopped a stair below you, leveling with you face to face. So close you could count the stitches in the Kevlar of his suit.

You felt your body shaking, heard your heart thundering in your ears as your chest rose and fell with each short breath you managed to drag into your lungs.

And he watched every move you made.

His head titled to the side exactly like it’d done the first time you’d been trapped with him. His gaze never left you, eyes wandering over your face and heaving chest before that faint look of recognition settled into those hollow eyes.

And then that heat you’d seen before consumed them.

He stepped forward, and you answered with a step back. For each one he took, you pedaled backwards until your body was plastered against the wall. When you tried to flee back up the stairs, his metal hand planted itself against the wall inches from your head.

You were utterly trapped.

Rough Russian left his lips in the softest whisper. The sound was the same as you’d heart him say before, though you didn’t understand it.

Not until now, as the earpiece Steve had given you translated his words as he spoke them.

“Hello again, Beloved.”

Those blue eyes bored into yours, as his other hand came up to brush your cheek with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of.

“He’s kept me from you for so long.” Bucky’s body leaned forward, caging you against the wall. His metal hand remained pressed against the wall beside you, and the other dragged across the skin of your neck and shoulder in an almost reverent manner.

Bucky’s— no, this wasn’t Bucky. This was the part of Bucky he kept farthest from you. This was a man known for cruel, unimaginable violence. An assassin known by reputation around the world by both hero and criminal alike and feared by all. This was the Winter Soldier.

Winters lips brushed your jaw, stubble tickling the column of your throat as his voice rumbled against your skin. “Kept you to himself. Never let me touch you. Worried I’d damage you, Beloved. Couldn’t see you needed me.”

His teeth nipped at your skin, and a shiver rolled down your spine in answer. That feeling tugged at your mind again, spurred by his words. But still, you couldn’t place it. Not with your mind consumed by his statements and barely contained yearning.

When his head lifted to find your eyes again, the fingers of his right hand tangled themselves in your hair and pulled hard enough to have your scalp stinging. His next words were guttural and biting, “And then he let you go.”

Winters grip loosened a bit, but his hold on your hair remained. “He pushed you away, and then that god tries to take you from me?” His eyes held you, demanding your utter attention as his head shook slowly, “You don’t belong to him.”

Tugging your lip between your teeth, you clenched your eyes shut. God, you wished Bucky would say that to you. Having Winter here saying these words with Bucky’s voice, Bucky’s face. Touching you with familiar hands…

Heat had begun to pool low in your belly.

The words were spoken in English. “Open your eyes.”

There was no room for objection in his voice, so you did as he said. With his jaw was set in an angry line, and those blue eyes boring into your soul, he leaned in closer. “He thinks that being with you is too dangerous, that you aren’t safe with… with us.”

“What?” Your heart hammered in your chest at his words. It was the first real reason as to why Bucky had broken up with you.

Those silvery blue eyes zeroed on your lips as he spoke again. “He thinks we can’t protect you, that I’ll hurt you. That somehow being further from you keeps you safe from what comes with being what we are.” His metal hand left the wall in favor of brushing over your lower lip and trailing the cool tips of his fingers down to the dip of your breasts and back up to the column of your throat. “I’d never hurt you, not the way he has. Not if you didn’t want it.”

“W-what do you mean?” You just knew he was picking up on how your heart beat harder as his fingers trailed over your skin. Or the way you kept shifting on your feet to stave off the heat thrumming in your veins with an all too familiar want blooming and begging for his hands to explore more.

The faintest hint of a smile graced his face as he gave your hair another gentle tug, then loosened his grip once more. “You like this. I’ve seen how you react with him. How you quietly treasure the marks he leaves on your skin even when he feels nothing but guilt.” That metal hand slipped over your throat again and pressed on your neck exactly as he’d done the first time you’d seen Winter. Your head spun at the pressure, but you could breathe easily under the cool press of his palm as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “I see how badly you wish he’d touch you with this hand,” he squeezed your neck and loosened it quickly, “How badly you want those marks. How badly you need me.”

You had no words. Nothing to say as he wrung out the truth you’d thought was hidden from him— from Bucky.

Bucky was notorious for avoiding any situation that would make him use the metal arm. He would much rather let it hang there, or act as if he didn’t have it at all. That included when the two of you would get intimate. He never dared to bring it anywhere near you no matter how many times you’d reminded him it was fine, that you weren’t afraid of it. He outright refused to allow it to touch your delicate skin, to let such a catalyst for agony so close to something as precious as you.

Winter knew that you’d secretly craved to feel the cold metal in contrast to his warm skin when he held you. He knew that you would always find it more satisfying when Bucky would lose himself and get rough with you when things got heated. How his flesh hand would leave bruises on your thighs or hips to keep you steady as he thrust himself deeper.

Just the thought had you aching, and here was Bucky’s darker half offering you everything you’d ever wanted.

You were losing your fucking mind.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, but the words were flimsy and meaningless. He knew the truth, but that didn’t mean you had to say it aloud.

His metal fingers dug into your jaw, his grip near bruising as he tilted your head up to level your eyes with his. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dollface.” His lips were a hairs-width away, his warm breath fanning over your face.

The scent of him was intoxicating, muddling your mind even further with heady leather and metal invading your nose. The hint of that aftershave you’d missed so much since Bucky broke your heart.

Winter was tearing you apart at the seams.

“Please,” you whispered. Please what? You didn’t know. You could hardly think straight. That feeling was so strong, thrumming along with your pulse and the ache for something. Anything.

“Tell me I’m right.” He mumbled against your skin. Soft lips, a vast contrast to his rough demeanor, to the calloused hand that remained tangled in your hair, trailed down your cheek. “Tell me that you want me. Not the pathetic excuse for a god, or him. That you want me.”

His metal hand released your face, drifting over your neck and dragging over the left side of your chest. He circled once, thumbing over your nipple with a knowing look filled with every sinful promise known to man.

And then he went lower and lower…

His fingers caught the waistband of your leggings, the chill of his fingers raised goosebumps across your stomach, only serving to worsen that burning need.

“Doll,” a command and a question wrapped in one word.

All you had to do was admit your darkest most guarded secret. Confess, and he would give you what you wanted most. What Bucky was too afraid to do.

You opened your mouth, the words tumbling out as he gave your hair another tug.

“I want you.”

That smirk grew just a fraction more, his fingers slipping past your waistband and toying with the hem of your panties.

Fuck, did you wish you’d gone commando today.

“Who am I?” He asked, teeth nipping down your neck hard enough to know they’d leave marks. “I want you to say it, Y/N.”

Those fingers slipped further, rolling over your aching clit in a teasing stroke before he pulled them away again.

If he wasn’t a literal assassin, you’d consider strangling him.

“For fucks sake,” you gripped his arm, your voice unfamiliar in your own ears, ragged and broken. “Winter, please.”

He didn’t waste time, deft, cool fingers dipping into your core with confidence. Soothing that aching heat.

Fuck.

His thumb circled slow as he pumped his fingers, his mouth leaving wet kisses along your jaw up to your lips where he paused long enough to catch a glimpse of your face. You knew you looked like an utter mess, but those blue eyes showed nothing but twisted delight. He leaned forward and tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, bitting hard enough to make you groan.

Winter’s answering grunt of approval urged you further towards the edge of oblivion those perfect metal fingers were working you towards.

God you were so close. Each movement, every touch and bruise he left on your skin pushing you closer and closer. Just a bit more, a fraction more and you’d—

His fingers wrenched away, gone in an instant.

Your eyes, closed from the pleasure just moments ago, snapped open just before the doors to the stairway above and below you burst open. Floods of agents filed through the doors, and a gun fired.

The sharp sound echoed in the confined space making you flinch. Winters back pressed you against the wall, a solid shield of muscle keeping you out of harms way.

Then the weight was too heavy. His body crushing you as he slumped toward the floor. You screamed, immediately thinking the worse as your eyes searched his form in a panic.

But you found no blood, thank God.

“He’s fine, Y/N.”

Steve’s hand on your shoulder had you flinching back, head snapping to his suit clad form. “The gun—“

“It’s just a tranq. I promise, Bucky will be fine.” His face was the picture of practiced reassurance.

A horde of agents rushed forward and cuffed Winters hands and dragged his unconscious body out of the stairwell and further towards the confinement room. Steve remained with you, his eyes flicking to your neck a few times and checking you over to make sure no serious damage had been done.

When you’d gotten yourself back to your room away from the prying eyes and the relentless questions, the reality of what had happened slammed into you.

You just let the Winter Soldier finger you in a fucking stairwell.

And you liked it.

Plunging your fingers into your hair, you took a shaky breath. What the fuck were you thinking? Had you lost your damn mind? Bucky broke up with you three months ago! You were done; over, moving on. He could remember this, for Christ sake! How would you explain it?

Panic writhed in your stomach, but so did the faint ache of need that reminded you of what had just happened mere minutes ago.

The feeling of his metal hand on your skin, the feeling of those fingers working you perfectly and the pressure of his bruising grip.

And that feeling that you couldn’t place.

But now you had a word for it.

From the thrum of your heart as he chased you down the stairs, the promise of violence and sinful pleasure in his eyes. The roughness of his actions…

It was the thrill.

You liked the chase. You liked how rough he was. The delicious blend of panic and pleasure.

And he’d been interrupted before you got the release you’d craved. That you needed.

Frustration boiled to the forefront of your mind, a dozen different strategies with it.

He’d made you confess your darkest secret only to leave you high and dry.

And damn him if he wasn’t going to finish what he started.

#winter soldier #drama #👀#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #x reader #angst #smut

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vervainandspritz · 3 days ago

Text

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

It's a little addition to the three part fic! A little closure for people who needed it!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, comfort

A/N: that's it guys, they're gonna be happy I promise

If someone asked, Y/N wouldn't be able to pinpoint the moment when she started feeling like home in the Arrow house. The realisation at first made her… fearful almost, as she knew how comfortable the boys became with the house. With Tommy. They’ve spent nearly a year here since the ongoing threats from the Changrettas. Could she take these young boys away from what they’ve known? Before, Y/N was doing her very best to focus on day to day life, back when her relationship with Thomas was very difficult and… barely there. Now, on the other hand, things looked different and day by day he kept proving to her that he deserved to be a father to Nick and Tommy.

Functioning around and with Thomas grew on her more than she'd like to admit. Subconsciously, she memorised his work schedule to make sure he had something warm to eat after coming home. Whenever she wouldn't know how to handle an issue, she would come to him instinctually. No matter whether it was a serious matter, or a stubborn lid on a jar she couldn't open.

Basically, they lived like a family. Neither of them expected the shift in the air that would happen after realising that… they weren't forced to live together anymore. The threat was gone, and so was the excuse for living together despite their uncertain situation. It was easier to brush it away, having an excuse other than… the want to stay. Thomas didn't dare to touch this topic, maybe fearing he'd give her an idea to leave.

So they both pretended like the matter didn't exist.

Y/N thought about it while she scrambled around the room, looking for Nick's pants in the midst of chaos as Tommy ran around fully dressed.

”Bloody hell” She mumbled, moving around in her nightgown, not prepared at all. Guests would start arriving in about forty minutes so she had to be quick.

“There!” She exclaimed happily, pulling out the small piece of clothing from their wardrobe as she grabbed the boy to put it on. A satisfied smile appeared on her lips as she took in their appearance. Their white shirts contrasted with the dark blue suit pants and suspenders which ensured that, well… their pants would stay where they're supposed to.

As she moved towards her vanity, Y/N looked at her face to check whether her makeup that she put on while her boys were taking a nap still looked neat, letting out a sigh of relief as it was all fine. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Tommy wearing only his right shoe, running towards the door while holding the other in his hand.

”Thomas!” She yelled after him, using his full name for a better effect, which… clearly didn't work, as the boy ran out of the room.

Without a second thought, Y/N rushed after him, immediately fearing that he'd fall down the stairs.

She repeated his name, falling out of the room at high speed, and before she could react, she stumbled upon the one person she didn't expect to stand there, Thomas. He stood there, cocking an eyebrow at the way she looked with her hair up, body covered by the thin fabric.

“Got places to be?” He asked with a head tilt and grin on his lips, causing Y/N’s cheeks to turn bright pink at the way he looked at her.

“No, I–I was dressing up and he.. bolted out of the room.” Y/N couldn't hold in the giggle, seeing Tommy clutching his father's hand and still holding the other shoe, looking proud of himself as ever.

Thomas watched her carefully, secretly loving the way she scrunched up her nose while laughing.

“Don't look at me like that, Shelby. It's your fault.” She pointed out, raising her eyebrows as she put her hand on her hips, causing him to eye her once again before indulging in the banter.

“How so?” He chuckled, still standing really close, and without any intention of moving.

“First off, you went to get ready first and left me with BOTH of them,” she pointed out, counting on her fingers for a dramatic effect. “...and he's a troublemaker because of you. Like father like son,” She added with mischief, causing him to shake his head with a smile.

“Well,” He started before glancing down, “I am in fact wearing both of my shoes, he probably got it from you.” Thomas pointed towards her bare feet, making her blush more fiercely. “And haven’t you always bragged to me about how well you’ve learned to multitask?” he added.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his words, secretly enjoying the exchange.

“I have,” She responded confidently, taking a step forward to reach for the shoe little Tommy was holding, unconsciously closing up some proximity between them. As she straightened her back, she was mere inches from the man's face, gasping as he leaned closer.

“Is that right?” He said with a cocked eyebrow, seeing the way she reacted to being so close to him..

“Mhm” She nodded, trying to hide away how flustered she suddenly felt. Thomas looked at her lips for a second, before smiling and clearing his throat.

He reached a hand out to her face to lightly brush her hair back into place, causing Y/N to involuntarily let out a quiet sigh.

“I’ll have to test it at some point,” He responded in a voice a little too husky to take it as completely innocent, yet nothing bold. It delicately danced on the line she firmly set between them after moving in.

Y/N’s pupils dilated, playfully scoffing at his words, yet unable to find anything smart as an answer. It wasn't often for her to run out of things to say, but it was one of these rare moments, which clearly amused him.

A peal of laughter interrupted the moment, bursting the bubble of tension which seemed to be surrounding them throughout the whole encounter.

Thomas glanced at the small carbon copy of himself, suddenly remembering they weren't alone.

“What's so funny, little man, eh?” He asked in a softer voice, the one he was using purely with their boys.

Without an audible answer, little Tommy's hand shot up, his chubby little finger pointing towards the room.

Looking back, Y/N suddenly froze at the sight in front of them.

The briefly unsupervised Nick had climbed onto the vanity chair and applied a nice thick layer of “crimson passion” lipstick to his nose and forehead.

“As of right now, that's your son” Y/N sighed with a glimmer of humour in her eyes.

Even though it was a joke in this instance, hearing her calling the boys theirs or his always melted his heart. Back when he first discovered their existence, he wasn’t sure Y/N would ever acknowledge his role in front of them.

With a shake of his head, Thomas took a step forward, to her surprise leaning down as he kissed her temple before moving past them.

“I'll take care of them, you go get dressed. Polly and Ada will arrive in less than half an hour.”

***

The small amount of powder on Y/N’s face was the only reason why her cheeks weren't pink as she walked downstairs, catching everyone's eye. She looked radiant wearing her blue evening dress combined with the pearls adorning her neck.

Thomas stood back, watching and he couldn't help but feel almost giddy at how pretty she looked. As everyone greeted her, they moved to the dining room, still chatting, as maids slowly brought out the food and drinks. The atmosphere around the house was much lighter since the threat wasn't hanging above them like a dark cloud anymore. Ada took the opportunity to talk to Y/N about the kids, gushing over their resemblance to her brother.

Arthur and Linda arrived a little later, explaining the delay as their kids had been more fussy than usual.

Y/N listened closely as Polly talked away, trying not to get distracted by Tommy's hand on her lower back whenever she was within his reach, which was quite difficult.

Soon enough he asked the maids to look over the children, giving Y/N a wink before he and his brothers moved to the office, having to look over one of the contracts.

The women were sitting in the living room drinking and gossiping when the conversation turned toward the whole Changretta affair.

“Y/N, you must give me your new address once you and the boys move out,” Linda said with a knowing smile. “Because you're planning on moving out, right?” The straightforwardness of her allusions made the chatter die down, stirring up an awkward atmosphere.

Polly and Ada exchanged awkward glances as the entire mood of the room shifted.

“I'm sure Y/N will let you know about any changes should they occur” Polly replied with a warning tone.

“Should they occur? I don't understand. I thought she only lived here for protection, not to live in sin,” said Linda, glancing around their faces as she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Linda was always bold with her words, but

“I think you've said enough, Linda” Ada coldly said as she glared daggers at her sister-in-law. Y/N rubbed her hands against her lap, looking around nervously. Finishing up her tea, she got up from the couch, thanking them for coming.

“It's about time for my boys to get ready for bed. I think I should go check on them and Frances. Please excuse me” Y/N said with a growing blush of embarrassment and fury on her face. Polly saw how nervous this exchange made her, so didn't dare to try and stop her, instead glaring eloquently at the blonde woman.

Being just around the corner, Y/N overheard the last few sentences.

“What?” Linda asked with a huff, “These were her words at the beginning, don't you remember? Plus they're not even Shelby's technically.” She offered with annoyance, lighting a cigarette and inhaling the smoke as the older woman got up angrily, pointing towards her face.

Y/N walked away before Polly's heated response came to her ears, scooping up Tommy and grabbing little Nick by the hand, as he rubbed his eyes with his fist.

“Let's get you two to bed, hmm?” She said in her softer voice, feeling Tommy nodding against the crook of her neck.

“Noooo” Nick replied in a sleepy voice, watching his steps intently with half lidded eyes, as to not trip over any stairs. Y/N just smiled under her breath, his stubbornness reminding her so much of his father.

After changing them into pyjamas, she managed to put them both to bed despite some fussing from Nick, as expected. She couldn't help but spend a few minutes watching them sleep so peacefully, feeling relief that they were both happy and content.

Standing up from the bed, Y/N froze for a second, only then noticing Thomas standing in the doorway, watching over them calmly.

“What happened?” He asked begrudgingly as soon as the door behind them closed, his eyes scanning her face in search of truth. Y/N didn't meet his gaze, looking ahead as she hugged herself lightly.

“Nothing happened, it was a nice evening” she replied in a tone that didn't even sound convincing to herself.

“It's still early, they're all downstairs.” He pointed out, raising his brows, fully knowing she wasn't being truthful.

“Boys were sleepy,” She pointed out, finally looking at him. He blinked a couple times, before narrowing his eyes.

“Alright,” he eventually said, “They're asleep, so let's join everyone downstairs then” his voice suggested a challenge in his tone, as he tried to get her to… start talking. Y/N sighed with annoyance at his digging, knowing damn well how stubborn he was.

“No, I just–” she stopped, pulling back ”I don't feel good–” Y/N offered but Tommy cut her off,

“It's what she said, isn't it?” His voice was rougher, eyes carefully studying her expression, which was enough to know the answer. “Polly told me,” Immediately added to the question she had written all over her face.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked towards the stairs, hearing fairly loud voices from downstairs, making it all the difficult to process her feelings. His eyes followed hers, sensing the anxiety she was feeling. He knew her too well.

“Let's not talk about it here, come on” Thomas said finally, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards his bedroom. Y/N let him lead her, quietly shutting the door behind as he walked further into the room. She crossed her arms, looking in his direction.

“She's not wrong,” Hardened expression and weak voice were giving away her mixed feelings on the matter, but Tommy let her speak. “I should–should find an apartment somewhere, and go back to work… We're not in danger anymore. We should go.”

Her words created some serious chaos in his head, as he watched her face for a longer minute. Eyes frantically grazing over her expression, unsure whether she was serious. Turning around, Thomas let his gaze drop to the floor as he came up to the window, searching for answers to the questions that weren't even asked.

Not directly. Again this fucking uncertainty, he thought, tired of dancing around the situation they didn't address for so long. The realisation dawned on him, as he felt the real threat of losing them. Of losing her again.

Facing her again, Thomas looked her in the eyes boldly, taking a step forward.

“Did I cause that? Have I don't something wrong that makes you want to leave?” His voice steady, demanding a direct answer. “Tell me what's missing and I'll fix it.”

Y/N groaned with frustration, stepping closer to the wardrobe, creating some distance between them that she do desperately needed to think clearly.

“No, Tommy, it's not that— fuck” she cut herself off with a sigh, looking for the right words. “You didn't do anything wrong, it's just… just not—”

“I don't want you to go.” He said suddenly, cutting her off as she fell silent, looking at him with wide eyes. “I can't stand the thought of losing you again, and.. and this�� He pointed towards the door, referring to the situation that took place downstairs. “Should have never happened in the first place. I can't stand this fucking distance. Knowing I can't touch you, that i–i can't kiss you despite having you right here.” His voice grew rougher with simmering anger, directed to nobody but himself. “Having you sleep in another room even though your fucking place is by my side.” He took a step forward, looking in her eyes with emotions swirling in his mind. “Knowing that I have no right to keep you here, and.. and after what i did, I will never deserve you.” He said quieter, reaching for her cheek “But I'm selfish, and I can't let you go when you're standing right here, Y/N. I'm tired of hiding how crazy I am about you.” Tommy's eyes were fixed on her lips, as he licked his own, feeling the sudden dryness in his throat. “But uncertainty is the worst, so… so tell me. I need to know—”

This time, Y/N pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes. Her hand gripping onto his vest, feeling his heart thumping beneath her hand. Kissing him slowly, without any rush, as his words rang in her ears.

“Please” He said weakly as she finally pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. Y/N’s hand combed through his hair, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body.

“Please, don't break my heart, Tommy.” She whispered, feeling the weight easing off of her chest. “Because I won't survive being punished for loving you again.”

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @honeymoon8 @chaimaarouaine11 @hatethis29 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @preparedfruit @emptyvoidofmine @dornishannie

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saltnsugarbear · 1 day ago

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Lip with “Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” “Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” “…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.”

so like on the low i ate this up

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: KAREN SLANDER IM SO SORRY (I don't like her but I hate slut shaming more) they don't enthusiastically consent but they're both into it I'm sorry 😔, so ig dubcon, oral (m!receiving) (don't ask for this ever again), Lip is kind of mean (the voices olive got to me on that one)

side note: don't expect any bj fics again cause I hate the idea of giving men head SORRY also I like triggered my own life apocalypse (got sick at work, power went out, etc)

come celebrate!

One of Lip's favorite things about you is your competitive nature. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, but it's one of the things that endeared him to you.

It made him like pushing your buttons even more.

So complaining while you actually work on your group project is the perfect way to annoy you today. However you've stopped paying him any mind, about three minutes into his griping. So he tries a new approach.

Bringing up his most recent conquests. So obviously that means he feels the need to mention Karen.

And the fact that instead of being tutored, she gave Lip head instead. The story makes you roll your eyes, shaking your head when he comments that it's probably the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

"It could not have been that good.." You scoff, trying to focus on finishing the sentence you're writing. "Actually, I take that back. Given how big of a slut she is, she's probably had plenty of practice."

"Oh fuck you-" Lip starts.

"Am I wrong?" You challenge him quickly, glaring up from your page.

"You're just pissed off you're not getting any." He sneers. You roll your eyes, you're not having this conversation with him.

Lip takes your silence as agreement, snickering lightly. "No wonder you're so uptight, you're not getting laid."

You have to bite your tongue to keep from retorting. He's fucking insufferable.

"Everything makes so much more sense now. Because I kept asking myself, y'know, why you're such a bitch. But it makes sense now, you're not getting away so you need to take your frustrations out another way."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You don't know shit about who I'm fucking." You snap at him, putting your pen down none too gently.

"Right, like anyone would be able to fuck you. Probably too fucking tight up there, can't even get a finger in you." Lip's look is gloating, like he's won some verbal sparring match.

You don't know why you're moving. Pushing out of your chair and tugging Lip's back. Lip sputters at the abruptness of your yanking, arms flying out for balance. Once there's enough space for you, you quickly step in between his legs before dropping down to your knees.

You're a little surprised at the small tent in Lip's slacks already, scoffing after you piece it together. "You get off on the sound of your own voice?"

"What? No. What are you-" You cut Lip's questioning off quickly, pushing yourself up to rest on your toes so you can easily rest your arm on his thigh as you press your palm against his half hard dick. Lip's words are muddled as you bully him through the fabric, fighting himself for some composure.

With one last squeeze, you bring both of your hands to his hips, pulling him forward until he's sitting at the very edge. You don't miss how he inhales sharply at your rough handling.

Once he's positioned better, you sit flat on your feet before looking up at him through your lashes and leaning forward, licking at his erection through his slacks. Lip groans as you continue to mouth at his cock, head falling back as you suck softly around the fabric.

Once you're satisfied with the wet patch you've made in his pants, you bring your hands to unbutton and unzip them before tugging them down slightly. Lip helps you out by lifting his hips up, letting drag them down past his knees. Your saliva bled through his pants, dampening his boxers where you had been teasing him.

Taking your time, you go back to mouthing at his erection. You can hear him shifting above you, glancing up to see him bring his hands around. Lip's hands are pushy as they hold the back of your head.

"Uh-uh.." You pull away from his bulge, catching his wrists before leaning forward and tucking them behind his back. "Those stay there."

"Fuck..." Lip mutters.

"Lift." You tap his hips as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Lip is a quick listener, lifting his hips up so you can tug his boxers down to his pants. He breathes out heavily when his cock springs free, hitting his stomach.

You're quick to take him in your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underneath of his length. There's a sense of pride as Lip struggles to form any words, the only things leaving his mouth a mix of whines and groans.

"Fuck, wait- shit-" Lip grunts as you sink back down to the base, glancing up at him with your nose brushing against his happy trail. "Mm- fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?"

You hum around his length, feeling how he twitches in your mouth before pulling all the way off.

"Well, the noises you're making are a pretty good indication of how you like it." You grin up at him, bringing your hand to wrap around the base of his cock.

"...God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it's turning me on even more." Lip's eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, watching as you slowly jerk him off. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back towards his cock.

"I liked you better when you could barely speak," you tell him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of him.

"Fuu- ughh.." Lip grunts as you suckle at his head. His hips buck up into your mouth, pushing himself farther in. You hum sharply, taking your hands away from his base and pushing back against his hips. Lip breathes heavily as you keep his hips in place, flicking your tongue over the slit before pressing gently at the underside of his head.

"Wait-" Lip chokes out, hips bucking up again. "Shit, shit- fuck-"

Lip's release is thick on your tongue and you're quick to open your mouth, letting him watch as his cum coats your tongue. Doing such makes Lip swear, another rope covering your tongue. You pull away from him, sticking your tongue out for him to see all of his release before making a show of swallowing it.

"Still think she gave you the best blowjob of your life?"

#saltnsugarbear #200 grains of salt [ 200 followers celebration ]#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher smut #too much salt (18+)#cloak and dagger of it all [ anon ]

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zaldritzosrose · 3 days ago

Text

Insatiable (Armand x Fem Vamp!Reader)

Summary: Escape. That's what he craved. Somewhere away from everything. Instinct had brought him to the club, not his usual scene. But it was you that kept him there. You were the escape he needed. Feeding desires he didn't know he had. And satisfying cravings he didn't know needed satiating.

This was originally meant to come under @lady-phasma's Fangtober Celebration but I got a little sidetracked (using the prompts exhibitionism, overstimulation (sort of) and blood).

CW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of vampiric feeding, mentions of blood, mutual feeding, mentions of clubbing, (slight) mentions of sex work, exhibitionism, little bit of overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), dry humping, blood play, p in v sex, (slight) rough sex, public sex.

Words: 4260

Please enjoy my dive into a new fandom!

The music thudded low through the club as Armand entered. It wasn’t his usual choice of evening activity, but something drew him in. His feet took him out of the apartment and into the city.

He’d wandered aimlessly to begin with. Simply wanting to be away. But before he knew it, he was at the doorway, illuminated by the sign above.

And then he was walking in. Armand barely noticed the stamp to his hand, marking his patronage. He barely noticed the bodies he had to wade through to make it anywhere close to the main floor.

He was almost working automatically. Mind completely detached from his body.

If he’d been paying more attention, he’d have noticed the decided lack of mortal pulses.

But you saw him.

You were on stage, black lace forming perfectly to the swells and dips of your body. The music almost ran through your veins, your body moving of its own accord.

Your mind was entirely focused on him.

Ink black curls, blending into the all-black outfit he wore. There was just something about him that you couldn’t take your eyes away from.

And then he looked at you. He was at the bar now, drink in hand.

Even in the low light, the amber shade of his eyes was clear. As you imagined the preternatural shade of your own eyes was clear too. The customers in front of you faded to nothing.

All you saw was him.

And all he did was stare.

Armand could feel the other vampires, though their existence wasn’t his main priority. Nor was the coppery scent of blood coming from behind the bar. He wasn’t surprised such a place existed, some of his kin were far more frivolous with hiding what they were than he was.

Including you, it seemed.

The men in front of you were without a doubt human. He could hear the blood rushing through their veins, all with the same destination at the mere sight of you. Armand wasn’t faring much better, though he hid it well.

Watching your body sway to the music, he allowed his gaze to wander shamelessly over you.

And then he noticed, your eyes never left him. No matter what you did, you looked right back at him.

The song ended and he followed your retreating form. Disappearing seamlessly into the crowd before he knew it.

But Armand could feel you, the siren call of your mind.

“Come find me…”

He knew it wasn’t necessarily the right choice. He was only out tonight because he was upset, angry…any and all words that could describe his state of mind. None of them good.

But you were somehow cutting through it all. Taking the threads of his thoughts and tugging at them until he could only focus on you. And just like his walk here, his feet worked on their own accord, following the call of your mind.

You had disappeared into another room, similar to the last but with fewer seats around the podium. There were a few patrons within, and Armand didn’t hesitate in taking the free seat in a secluded corner of the room.

He could hear you, the faint thrum of your thoughts becoming more familiar by the second.

And then he saw you again. The black lace switched out for a deep red dress, far too similar to blood to be accidental. The silk skimming your thighs, barely covering the shape of your body.

There was something different about this room. The sound of the main club could be heard just through the arched door, muffled by the heavy red drapes. But the energy was different. It was clear the other patrons were not human now, no rapid pulses to be heard anymore.

Was this a room purely for his kind? Or was it nothing more than coincidence?

The darkened glass that had appeared before him answered his question. There was no doubt that it was not wine inside. Armand swilled the liquid in the glass, head tilted like a sommelier inspecting a vintage.

The music spilled through the speakers slowly, and again you moved fluidly to the sound as though you were one with the music.

“Is it to your liking?”

Armand’s lips twitched at the corners at the sound of your voice, slipping into his mind so easily. Part of him wondered if it sounded just as sultry when you spoke aloud.

“I think you know the answer to that. Do you choose all your patrons’ beverages?”

He sipped the blood with a satisfied sigh. He wasn’t in dire need of feeding, per se, but he’d never pass on it when offered.

The song changed to a faster beat, and you danced seamlessly.

“Only for those I find interesting.”

Interesting? You found him interesting. It wasn’t a word many threw in his direction. But it brought a surprising warmth to his chest.

His eyes finally turned back to you, following the undulations of your body to the music.

“Interesting? What about me is interesting?”

Armand could see you smile, eyes meeting his for just a moment.

“Now that would be telling.”

His glass soon emptied, and the waiter quickly refilled it.

What kind of club was this? And how had he never known of its existence before now?

“I can tell you’re curious. About me. About the club. About where the blood in that glass comes from.”

Your voice was both a mixture of seduction and boredom. Drawing him in whilst showing your disinterest in such boring questions.

Armand raised a brow.

“I am curious about many things, but those are certainly at the forefront.”

He could hear your soft giggle as the music changed, volume dipping for just a moment. Two more dancers joined the stage, allowing you to move closer to where Armand sat. For the first time, you were quite thankful for the circular shape of the stage.

There was still a little distance between you, but you hadn’t expected what a marvel it would be to see him up close. The light hitting his eyes and making them almost glow. The permanent smirk that only widened as you crouched down before him.

“Are you curious still?”

Armand had been right. Your voice was just as tantalizing aloud, cutting through the music just for him. Your finger circled the rim of his glass, picking up the small drops of blood that had been left behind and bringing them to your lips.

It was like everything you did was designed to entice and torture in equal measure. Armand could hardly imagine how humans fared against you.

“Hmm, there is that saying. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

You smiled, dropping to your knees now as the music changed. The song had switched back to a slower tempo and Armand couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from how your body moved. Almost like water, a snake even.

It was almost hypnotising.

His head moved every time you turned. Your sole focus was now on him. This wasn’t a strip club, you danced only because you enjoyed it. But something about Armand had you wanting to pay special attention to him.

“And how can I…satisfy you?”

The waiter continued to fill his glass. Between you and the deep red liquid, Armand had no intention of moving from his seat any time soon.

You rolled to your back, arching with your head draped back over the edge of the stage. Looking directly at Armand, body continuing to move to the music.

Armand smiled, bringing the glass to his lips and watching your eyes follow it. With little thought, he brought the glass to hover over your face. Instinctively, you opened your mouth, tongue rolling out.

With precise movements, Armand let the glass tilt. Droplets of blood hitting your tongue before he tilted the glass back.

“Your company is satisfying enough,” he purred, draining the glass of the remaining blood.

Your smile was genuine, making the corners of your eyes crinkle just a little. You took a quick glance around the room, the other patrons were occupied, and you had quite a lot of freedom as a dancer to start and end your performances as you pleased.

The song ended and you saw the flash of surprise in Armand’s eyes when you hopped off the stage.

“Then let me continue to satisfy you…” you ended the sentence as though it were a question and Armand realised what you wanted.

His name.

“Armand. You may call me Armand.”

You answered with your own name and Armand half expected you to join him at his table. But you smiled, disappearing quickly behind another curtain and returning only moments later. He could see the red lace of your dress still, peeking out from the burgundy leather skirt you had slipped over the top.

He chuckled to himself. Your outfit was no less revealing now than it was before, but it was almost like you were leaving the dancer behind and simply being you. As though the performer on stage was no more than a character.

Armand could feel you behind him, the scent of your perfume almost sickeningly sweet in his nostrils. Your nose brushing barely against the shell of his ear.

“I am all yours now, Armand.”

His name had never sounded sweeter, your words dripping into his ear like honey. The implication of what you said had his mind whirring. His foot pushed the seat out beside him, silently offering it to you.

As you sat, the same waiter as before set another sanguine glass in front of you. But your focus remained on Armand.

Your hand moved almost inches from where his rested on the table, watching him the entire time to gauge his reaction. And when he didn’t move, you continued. Perfectly manicured nails ghosting over the skin of the back of his hand.

“Now you can sate your curiosity, uninterrupted.”

Armand watched your finger trace his hand, mapping out every dip and ridge under his skin. If you had taken a peek, you would have seen the questions racing through his mind, unsure which to ask first. But when his gaze met yours, you knew he’d chosen.

“I want to know you. You offer me your company, but you don’t know me.”

You clicked your tongue a little at his answer but smiled anyway.

“Do we need to know each other?”

Everything about you was a mystery, every answer you gave only offered Armand more questions. You truly were fascinating. A puzzle he was determined to solve.

But you could see it was a genuine concern. Well, maybe concern was not the right word, but it clearly put him on edge.

You were taking away his control, something you had noticed he held tight to from the moment he’d entered the club. He was calculated in everything he did, and you were an obstacle he simply couldn’t manoeuvre.

Your finger trailed down to his wrist, gently flipping it over and circling his vein.

“But if you truly wish to know me, ask me something.”

The tension between you was palpable, almost buzzing in the air. Both of you torn between delving into the other’s psyche and tearing each other’s clothes off.

Armand thought for only a moment. You had a point, he didn’t need to know you. He didn’t need to know the inner workings of who you were, he didn’t need to know your past. His true curiosity lay with your interest in him.

“Do you offer all your patrons company?”

The question could be answered in so many ways, but there was an insecurity in how he spoke. Like he needed to know.

“I don’t. I pay attention to them when I dance, but nothing like I have for you.”

You could almost see him relax. It was like there were two masks he wore, the calm, calculated man and the fragile, desperate boy.

What you saw now, was somewhere between. The real Armand, you guessed.

“Then why me?”

His own hand now wrapped around your wrist, pulling you and the chair closer. Not an inch between the two seats anymore. Your hand was brought to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss before trailing down to your wrist.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you heard him inhale.

“Like I said, you’re interesting. And nothing like my usual admirers.”

Armand wasn’t the first customer to stare so intently, but he was the first to have caught your attention back. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it. But there was a pull, deep down, a primal urge to get closer.

You could barely hold back your sigh when his teeth nipped at the skin of your arm, not sinking in but the feeling sent a surge of heat down your spine.

“Interesting. Shall I show you how interesting I can be?”

Flashes of his thoughts entered your mind, teases of all the things he wanted to do to you.

Your teeth nibbled at your lip at the promise.

You stood fluidly, lacing your fingers together and tugging him away.

“How can I say no to that?”

Armand followed without question. You were intriguing, a welcome distraction from the maelstrom of emotion that was his life. Back through the crowd and into some more secluded corners, shielded from prying eyes with more heavy drapes.

The sofas inside were of the same deep red fabric as everything else in the club. And Armand didn’t resist when you urged him towards one of those couches, leaning himself back with his arms spread against the backrest.

You turned to close the drapes entirely, when Armand stopped you.

“Leave them, if you want,” he said softly, gesturing towards the drapes.

Your back remained turned as your teeth tugged at your lip, a smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“An exhibitionist then?”

You glanced around before leaving a gap in the velvet, just enough that if anyone paid attention, they’d be able to see right in.

You heard Armand chuckle, giving you all the answer you needed.

Your walk was slow, purposeful, as you returned to him. Standing between his spread legs with your head tilted. You watched as his eyes trailed from your feet all the way up, though he stopped at your throat. Lingering perfectly over where your pulse would be.

With a smirk, you knelt down in front of him, watching as his breath just a little as your hand rested on his thigh, squeezing just a little.

“Want a taste?”

Your free hand raised in front of his hand, holding out the same wrist he had held at the table. Armand huffed out, reaching out and bringing your wrist back to his lips.

This time, though, he sunk his teeth right in. He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t mind. And the rush through your veins had you clenching your thighs together. A soft moan slipping from your lips as he only pulled you closer.

You barely noticed that Armand was offering you his own arm, until his fingers tapped at your chin.

“Share and share alike…”

Armand’s voice slithered into your mind, making you sigh even deeper in pleasure.

There was no hesitation, leaning down and sinking your own fangs into his honeyed skin. Your moan of satisfaction vibrating through his body and you were sure you felt Armand growl against your own wrist.

Armand was the first to let go, the remains of your blood on his chin but he made no move to clean himself. His tongue laved over your wrist as he finished, drinking down anything that continued to spill.

You were so focused on the sweet taste of him on your tongue, that you barely noticed Armand lifting you into his lap. So smooth, his wrist remained latched between your teeth.

The new position gave him freedom to grind against you. One arm around your waist as he slowly rolled his hips. The tension, the teasing, the feeling of your teeth in his wrist all combined to make him almost dizzy with pleasure.

You were just as messy when you pulled away. His blood dripping down your chin and onto your chest. There was no hesitation as your lips crashed together.

Sense had been overtaken by lust.

Your own hips began to roll down against his. Skirt pushed higher over your thighs with every movement you made. Armand’s free hand moved up the expanse of one and round to the flesh of your backside, urging you to move faster and faster.

Neither of you held back the sounds that slipped past your lips. Most sounds swallowed as your lips came together in a clash of tongues and teeth. The mixed flavours of your combined blood only adding more to the haze of desire.

You could hear people passing the room, but neither of you cared. It certainly wasn’t the most depraved thing to have ever happened within these walls.

Armand’s lips moved down your jaw and to your neck, leaving bloodied kisses in his wake before sinking into the juncture with a groan.

Your hand tangled into his hair, holding him tight to your body as you felt your release crash over you, chanting his name as you continued to roll less rhythmically against him. You could feel his length twitching beneath you, the hand on your rear squeezing and pulling you down harder against him.

You had barely come down from your high when you were on your back. Skirt tugged down your body, legs spreading instinctively as Armand pressed kisses to your thighs.

“I wonder if you taste as good down here…”

The shredding of lace was a welcome sound, you could easily replace it. Armand’s hands gripped your thighs tight, teeth nipping your skin only to soothe every bite with a kiss.

Your hand tangled into his hair, urging him to where you wanted him the most, despite the way your core still pulsed from your last release.

Not trusting your voice, your words slipped into his mind.

“How will you know how I taste…if you don’t hurry up?”

His tongue was slow, teasing, at first. Swiping up and down until you pulled harder on his curls. You could feel his smirk against your skin, but he didn’t take the warning. Slender fingers parted your folds, tongue now circling your bud purposefully slow.

Armand’s nails dug into your skin, partly teasing and partly a warning. But it only spurred you on. Your own nails digging deeper into his curls, scraping against his scalp.

Two could play at that game.

With a swift movement, Armand had your legs slung over his shoulders. Nails gripping the flesh to hold you tight against his face. The curve of his nose rubbing perfectly against your pearl, but you bit down hard on your lip to hold back a moan. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction that quickly.

His tongue delved back in quickly, switching completely and devouring everything you had to offer. Eyes locked on yours, waiting for you to break.

But you were a stubborn creature, it seemed.

Armand was relentless. A mix of tongue, teeth and lips, and before long two fingers joined them.

“Come on…I can feel you quivering already…” he murmured, swirling his tongue over your bud as his fingers began to piston in and out of you.

One orgasm quickly became two. And you were bordering on the third almost immediately. Vampire or no, pleasure was pleasure. And it seemed Armand was intent on tearing you apart, delicious piece by delicious piece.

But you still weren’t going to let him break you that easily.

A firmer hand pushed him back, the same hand now holding him down on his back. You could see just a little flicker behind his eyes, a glimmer of submission.

You crawled up his body, letting Armand feel every little movement. Pressing kisses over each bit of skin you began to reveal as he helped you remove his shirt.

Your cunt pulsed at you settled over his stomach, thankful the velvet couches were just a little bit wider than average. Purposeful, of course.

Armand was quick to bring your lips to his, sitting up to throw his shirt out of the way. The torn lace bodysuit was the next to follow, joining the haphazard pile of clothes on the floor. Bare chests now pressed together as a battle for dominance was fought in the kisses.

You could feel Armand shifting to remove his trousers. Your hips lifting as he shimmied them down his legs. Not a single article of clothing lay between you now.

Armand groaned at the feel your bare core against his length, hips rutting instinctively. But you had a little plan for revenge…

You pushed him back down, turning in his lap until your back faced him. And you could barely stifle your shiver as his nails trailed a line down your spine. Head falling back as he continued to trace patterns on your skin. For just a moment, you could pretend you hadn’t been strangers up until only a couple of hours ago.

But desire still coursed through both of your veins.

Your body tilted forward, hands running down the length of his thighs as you felt the muscles of his stomach tighten in anticipation.

And the gasp as your mouth wrapped around his cock was all the satisfaction you needed.

You got your revenge with your own slow pace. Swallowing him down and retreating. Again, and again until his nails began to dig into your back. Moving down to the flesh your backside and squeezing. The groan that left your lips vibrating through his length.

“Payback, hmm?” Armand chuckled, words falling to his own moan as his tip hit the back of your throat.

His hands gripped your hips, tugging you up to hover over his face as he began to lap at your cunt.

It was like a competition, racing to bring the other to completion first. Moans, grunts and growls reverberating throughout the room combined with the wet sounds of lips and tongues.

Your two orgasms became three, nails scratching at his thighs as you spilled over his tongue. But Armand didn’t stop and neither did you. There was much to be said for the use of vampiric stamina, and this was certainly an exciting use for it.

It wasn’t long before Armand pulsed on your tongue, salty precum a welcome appetiser for what soon followed. Spurt after spurt filling your mouth as you swallowed everything you could with moans of satisfaction. He slipped from your lips, your forehead resting against his thigh.

But when he dared to try and pull a fourth orgasm from you, your teeth sunk into the meat of his leg, not to feed. Simply as a warning.

You could see the passing shapes of other patrons beyond the curtains, some even peeking in. And you knew Armand could see it too. The prospect of an audience giving you both a bite of confidence.

Your tongue lapped at the blood that trickled from his thigh before Armand’s hand found your back, making patterns again as your hand palmed over his already semi-hardened cock. You sat back up, hand continuing to move.

“Do you need more, hmm? Or have I satisfied your curiosity?” you teased, Armand’s hand reaching up to toy with your hair.

Your head dropped back, letting him tangle hard into your locks.

“I fear I may never be satisfied, but we can continue to try?”

You had awoken something in Armand, his free hand urging you to turn and settle over his cock.

“Then we will try, and try…”

The hand wrapped in your hair kept you still as he sunk you down onto his cock. A hand on your thigh as you began to slide your soaked walls over his length.

The pace was slower now. Savouring the feel of him sunk deep inside you. Armand’s hand moving from your hair to your breast. Kneading the soft flesh in his hand in time with your hips.

“For someone so sinful, you feel heavenly.” Armand groaned, hips rising to meet yours.

The combined sounds of pleasure echoed in the room, no one outside could doubt what was happening. Armand’s eyes flitted over to the drapes, telekinetically moving the curtain just a little wider.

You were a show worthy of an audience. And he was more than prepared to make it a show worth watching.

Your hips moved faster as pleasure began to overtake you, hands planted on his chest as he took control of the pace. Slamming his hips up into yours until you were chanting his name.

“So beautiful…”

Armand’s words fell to growls as he thrust up a few more times until he painted your walls with his spend. Hands holding your hips tight and holding you down on his cock until he was fully spent.

The exertion overtook you both, Armand more than happy to let you plant your body weight atop him as you relaxed.

His hands ran up and down your back, your lips pressing lazy kisses to his throat and jaw.

No words needed to be exchanged anymore. Not aloud anyway.

“Still curious?” you asked, even your mind’s voice sounded tired.

“I will always be curious about you.” He replied, holding you tighter to his chest.

You really had woken something in him. An escape. A sense of both control and submission.

Freedom.

Armand Taglist:

@lady-phasma @sylasthegrim @anjelicawrites

(If anyone wishes to be added, please let me know!)

#the vampire armand #armand x reader #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #armand iwtv #armand the vampire #amc iwtv #armand smut

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lazycats-stuff · 23 hours ago

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Could you write a batfam story where the reader, who's in an established marriage with Bruce Wayne, accidentally triggers Jason? Perhaps the Wayne family has kept Bruce and Jason's past hardships a secret from the reader, thinking it wasn't important to discuss. However, a misunderstanding between the reader and Jason causes Jason to run away after being triggered of his pass. The rest of the family understands that it was a misunderstanding and tells the reader that Jason will come back and not to worry. They explain Jason's troubled pass with Bruce. However, the reader is consumed by so much guilt and sets out to find Jason. Literally the reader goes and searches Gotham top to bottom IN THE MIDDLE OF A HURRICANE! 😭The reader ends up locating Jason in a warehouse, where Jason’s freezing and the rain is pouring right through. More happens but I want the story to like end where the reader and Jason are crying together in the pouring rain and Jason realizes that he now has a loving dad that would do anything to ensure his and his brothers safety. And like the reader brings Jason back to the manor and everyone else is thinking to themselves like damn, (y/n) really is the best thing to happen to this family, literally the damn glue. Or something… like if (y/n) wasn’t there to save Jason he could have been dead… again.

I am sorry this is so long… i just couldn’t stop thinking of this story dynamic 😊

Oh, my jay bird... Of course I can do it... My poor bird. Also, 2k followers? Why thank you. Also, taking some time off to focus on college because I have some shit coming up. To say lightly.

Summary: The family didn't tell (Y/N) about Jason's trauma. And that causes problems and some broken hearts.

Warnings: Mentions of Jason's past, but nothing graphic, (Y/N) is done with emotional constipation from everyone, but he still loves them a lot, also hurricane.

(Y/N) has been in the family for a few years now. Married with the patriarch of the family, Bruce Wayne, was the best decision he has ever made. Bruce, while known to the public as a playboy at the time, abandoned that mindset, all for (Y/N). Boys accepted (Y/N), once they saw that (Y/N) wasn't marrying Bruce for money. (Y/N) will be marrying him for love.

Were there a few hiccups with Bruce being Batman and all the nightly patrols? Yes. However, (Y/N) and Bruce worked through it. And more importantly, (Y/N) essentially adopted all of the boys as his own. He saw them as his own sons rather than looking at them as their stepsons. And besides, saying that they are his sons brings (Y/N) an indescribable amount of happiness. And besides, living with 4 boys is always fun.

(Y/N) knew about their trauma, but what no one told him was the trauma that Jason went through. He had a vague idea, but never knew exactly. He didn't feel qualified to prod around in anyone's head, anyone's mind, but he made sure to let them all know that if they need to talk about something, get something off of their chest, he is the person they can come to talk to.

And it has happened a few times. Sometimes they would come after a nightmare, squeezing between (Y/N) and Bruce, looking for comfort. Now, everyone was unsure as to what to call him. Batdad or mother hen... That one remains to be determined soon enough by the boys.

It was a tough day for everyone in the household and everyone was ready to straight up murder each other. (Y/N) had an awful day at work, Bruce had a bad day as a CEO and as Batman, well, the Batman part was only the night before, but has moved onto the day. The other boys had difficult days at school and at patrol. Jason had a big problem with his nightmares and flashbacks. Not to mention, Gotham was expecting a hurricane to come over and just sweep over it. It shouldn't be bad and there shouldn't be any damage besides any heavy rain.

Gotham natives are used to rains, whether they be small drizzles or storms. However, Bruce worried about it and made sure to get enough supplies, just in case. Safe to say, everyone was on absolute edge. Closed into the same house, despite it being a manor and absolutely huge, tension could be cut with a knife.

And then, Jason and (Y/N) started fighting. It started off as bickering, but then it turned into a fight where hurtful things were said towards each other. Jason, mentally pushed to the limit by the nightmares and flashbacks has had enough and went to his car. He drove off and (Y/N) was fuming still.

But...

When the anger went away, (Y/N) was mortified. Completely and utterly mortified. He essentially crushed whatever relationship he had with Jason. Words hurt more than any punches and any kicks. No matter what Jason went through, (Y/N) was sure that Jason was hurting like hell now.

(Y/N) couldn't stop pacing in the living room, wondering what is happening to Jason at this very moment. A hurricane is going to pass through soon enough, Jason went to God knows where and (Y/N)'s own heart was breaking apart.

" (Y/N), love, you need to calm down. Jason will be fine. He just needs space. "

" Space?! In the middle of a hurricane?! " (Y/N) now yelled, upset beyond belief. He has upset his son and he was telling him to calm down? He might kick Bruce out of their bed.

Bruce then talked about all the trauma that Jason went through, before he adopted him, after he adopted him at the hands of Joker. (Y/N) was now absolutely mortified.

" Father is right. Jason needs some time to cool off. " Damian said in passing, making (Y/N) throw his hands up in the air.

" Is anyone in this damn house emotionally available?! "

Tim shrugged from the sofa and (Y/N) took a deep breath. Bruce watched intently and he could see what (Y/N) was thinking.

" Do not tell me you are going out there. " Bruce said as (Y/N) put his jacket and shoes on.

Dick and Damian paused to watch the entire thing unfold. Tim looked up from his tablet.

" I am. Jason is my son and I'm going to get him back. Tim, track Jason's phone and send me the location. " (Y/N) said, ignoring Bruce. Bruce rubbed his forehead. (Y/N) is a stubborn bastard when he wants to be. And does Bruce love him for it? Yes. Is it annoying sometimes? Yes.

" There is a hurricane! " Tim yelled after (Y/N) as he stormed out.

" (Y/N)! " Bruce yelled after his husband, but it was too late. (Y/N) was already out the door.

" He's nuts, " Damian said underneath his breath.

" And I married him, " Bruce added.

Jason has started to regret the fact that he has decided to even come out here. Sure, (Y/N) and him got into a fight, nasty things were said, but it would be better if he has just stormed up to his room and slammed his door shut. That would have been a better option than this. This damp warehouse, where there was leaking rain wherever you looked...

Jason was shivering, teeth chattering. Cold probably seeped right to his bones. Hypothermia was also on its way too, Jason had no doubt about it. He leaned back against the wall, curling into himself as much as he could and allowed himself to think about what happened with (Y/N), his dad in a way.

They were all on edge from the hurricane, supplies, wifi and all that stuff was needed just in case. Bruce made sure to make the manor proof of any natural disasters. Gotham wouldn't be hit that badly, so there was no need for evacuation, but there was advice to be cautious about it. Everyone was on edge as it is from being cooped up together too much, since Bruce didn't want them to stray too far, just in case.

And Jason being in a foul mood from his nightmares already, he didn't like this one bit. He wanted to be alone, but no. Common areas are a must according to Bruce. So the fight happened and both of them said really hurtful things to each other. And Jason felt guilty. He knew that emotions took over them both, but still... (Y/N) was always trying to be good to them all.

It was wrong.

Jason looked up at the door when he heard a slam. It could be wind. Or maybe someone trying to find shelter?

What Jason didn't expect was (Y/N), wet to the bone, looking around frantically. When his eyes fell on Jason, he sighed in relief.

" Oh Jay, I've been looking for you everywhere! Are you okay?! " (Y/N) ran up to Jason, quickly kneeling down to check to see if he had any injuries. Jason was touched... To have a genuine parent, a loving parent, alongside Bruce, but Bruce is a bit emotionally constipated so (Y/N) is essentially everything that the boys need.

" Bruce told me what you've been through... And now I know why you ran, what made you so upset. It was a combination of everything plus the hurricane. "

Jason nodded and (Y/N) hugged him tightly. Jason hugged him back just as tightly, if not more.

And the two broke down in tears, holding onto each other tightly.

Bruce was pacing in the living room, worried about (Y/N) and Jason. He should have gone after Jason too. He shouldn't have been so stupid. He should have chased Jason down the moment he left the mansion. But no, he's too emotionally constipated to deal with this. Great. Absolutely great.

He flipped his head around when he heard the front door open and then close and then two sets of footsteps. Jason and (Y/N) stepped into the living room, both soaked to the bone.

" Bruce, " (Y/N) said calmly and Bruce had a feeling he would be kicked out of the bedroom.

" (Y/N)... Are you two okay? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) nodded, smiling at Jason.

" We are B. Jay, go down to the Batcave. Take a warm shower and get changed into warm clothes. I'm sure the others are there too." (Y/N) softly nudged Jason to get going.

Jason took the hint and went to the Batcave. Once he was gone, Bruce turned to (Y/N).

" I'm sorry. I truly am. I should have gone after him, but I was- "

" Stupid? Yeah. Clearly. But I'm willing to forgive. I assume that the cots are ready? "

" Yup. I prepared you warm clothes, some earplugs so that you can't be awaken by the bats. And also a mask so that you won't be awoken by the lights of the cave. You know, reflectors, Batcomputer... Come on. " Bruce gently lead his cold and wet husband to the Batcave. " A warm shower is in order too. "

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, knowing that he will be forced into a warm shower, warm and dry clothes and an intense cuddling session, where Bruce won't let go, out of fear and love... How did he even marry into this crazy family?

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader

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maidflowery · 3 days ago

Text

POV: Aventurine Gave you his Perfume

Deep Sea Aurora

"Do you like that perfume so much? Why not drown in me instead?"

Tl;dr “Aventurine, c’mon now… you can’t be jealous of your own perfume?”

Your boyfriend, Aventurine, would often go on a business trip, after which he'd bring home all sorts of trinkets and oddities from all over the world.

But this time, he gave you something before he went on a trip.

"Here, something to remember me by."

With a smile, Aventurine placed an intricate, square bottle in your hands. It had a deep cyan and teal gradient, encrusted with a silver and cyan shovel crest in the middle. The name “Carnaval Nocturne” was engraved at the bottom.

Under the light, the colorful bottle shone like the Northern Light, mesmerizing you.

When you gave your wrist a quick spritz, you caught a whiff of the citrusy kumquat and red currant, ending with a harmonious floral symphony that blended an exquisite assortment of blooming flowers.

You noticed this scent immediately, it was the same as the one he always wore!

You wouldn't deny that it got lonely sometimes, but with this, at least it'd feel as if he was there with you!

"Wooow! Aventurine! This is the best! Thank you so much!"

Seeing you hold the perfume like the world's most precious treasure, Aventurine flashed you his trademark smug grin.

“Don’t bother thanking me—just promise me you’ll wear it everywhere you go. Deal?”

"Okay!"

And wear it everywhere, you did.

Little did you know, it was his way of marking you, and keeping the insects away while he was gone.

Unbeknownst to him, this plan would backfire immensely.

♤♤♤

Two weeks later, Aventurine was back from his business trip, but when he invited you out…

“Sorry, not today! I had a reunion with my highschool friends! Ugh, I’m so nervous, but with this perfume, I’m sure I’ll manage!”

And so on…

“I’m going to practice for a group presentation! This perfume always calms my nerves!”

And so forth…

“I need to study for my exam. Mr. Nocturne will be a great company for it! He helps me focus!”

“...”

…”Mr. Nocturne”? It has a name now?

Aventurine stared at your back as you walked away, off to handle whatever it was while clutching the perfume like a lucky charm.

He felt complicated. Although it was great that his gift was boosting your productivity and all, why did it feel like you were spending more and more time with his perfume?

He gave it as a reminder of him, not a replacement?

“...Well, aren’t you brave?”

♤♤♤

That evening, you found your trusty partner and sidekick, Mr. Nocturne, missing from your drawer!

You immediately went to look for Aventurine, who had been home all day. Maybe you misplaced it, and he knows where it was? Even after he returned from his business trip, he still had work to do at home, usually lasting until the evening.

So, to his room you go!

“—Aventurine! Mr. Nocturne is missing!”

"Well, good evening to you, too. Welcome back. How was your day? Mine was the same as usual, by the way. Are you hungry? 'Cause I’m starving. What do you want for dinner? You know, just a few of the things you could’ve bothered to ask your boyfriend, along with a million other things. Oh, and a knock on the door, let’s not forget that one.”

Aventurine, who had just finished an online work meeting, was visibly taking off his elaborate attire, starting from his dainty jewels. The movement, initially careless and rushed, slowed when he noticed your arrival—and your gaze.

“S-sorry… this is kind of an emergency…”

Aventurine’s grin widened, his smile growing more mischievous. His fingers rested on his black leather collar, leisurely unbuckling it, before sliding down to unbutton his shirt, revealing his slender, smooth neck.

There was something hypnotizing about his movement, which made you unable to look away—until something gleaming caught your eye.

“AH! There it is!”

You found the missing Mr. Nocturne on top of his desk. Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw Aventurine frown, but you were too relieved to think about it.

“Phew! I’ve been looking for it everywhere! Thank god—”

But just as you were about to reach for it, Aventurine swiftly grabbed Mr. Nocturne, pulling it out of your reach.

Then, with a flawless smile, he asked you, "Between me and Mr. Nocturne, which one do you like most?"

Suddenly, a suspicion arose in your mind.

“Aventurine, you… did you take Mr. Nocturne on purpose?”

He didn't answer and simply maintained his smile.

So, you had walked into a hostage situation all along!

“Aventurine, c’mon now… you can’t be jealous of your own perfume?”

You tried to mediate the situation.

“Haha! That’s funny. How can someone be jealous of an inanimate object? If anything, I’m just looking out for you. My girlfriend’s overdependence on an object is getting rather concerning lately.” Aventurine chuckled, brushing it off as something silly.

“How so?!”

Why did he make you sound like an addict?!

“Oh, I’m sure you know what I’m referring to. It honestly reminds me of a certain anecdote. A boy, once afraid of the dark, overcame his fear after his mother gave him a protective necklace. As long as he had that necklace, he didn’t fear the dark. Naturally, his fear returned in full force once it went missing. So, what does it solve, really? That’s right, nothing.”

…What a long-winded speech. Still, the persuasive, convincing way he presented it made you doubt yourself for a moment. As expected of the Senior Manager of the Strategic Investment Department in IPC!

Certainly, you couldn’t function without Mr. Nocturne lately. What started as a way to kickstart tasks quickly became a necessity before you could begin anything. It was certainly… concerning.

“...So, I should stop using Mr. Nocturne?” you asked him dejectedly, your shoulders drooping.

While you were lowering your head, you heard him say, “…Do you like that perfume so much?”

Although you couldn’t make out his expression, his tone no longer held any hint of a smile. Instead, it sounded sulky.

"If you're asking whether I like it, then of course... it's something you gave me."

After a brief silence, Aventurine spoke, “Then, why not drown in me instead?” his tone laced with irresistible temptation.

Wondering what that could possibly mean, you raised your head, just in time to see him tilt the perfume slightly. The falling droplets glittered, splashing against his exposed chest. Some trickled down the gilded cutout, outlining the reverse heart shape.

You unconsciously gulped.

"Good girl... you're being honest, aren't you? How is it? I heard this place smells the nicest.”

…Huh?

Before you knew it, you were pressed against his chest, with him tenderly stroking your head. Moreover, the intoxicating fragrance of fruits, flowers, and him were pervading your senses.

Where am I?

Who am I?

There was a brief gap in your memory.

All you could recall was how his chest gradually came closer and closer into view, even though he never left his spot.

Your legs had betrayed you, didn’t they?!

Belatedly, you noticed that you were hugging him close—with both arms, to boot.

…And these arms too!!

“Aventurine, this is…!!”

You let go of him and looked up, trying to explain, a large hand gently pushed your head back to where it had been.

“Hey!”

You protested amidst the firm tenderness that enveloped you.

“…Won’t you tell me?”

Once again, you couldn’t see his expression. Yet, the unmistakable care and affection in his tone caught you by surprise.

“T-tell you what?” you asked, flustered.

“You use Mr. Nocturne whenever you’re facing something difficult or feeling down. So, won’t you tell me? What’s wrong?”

“It’s… not important.”

Gently, his fingertips cupped your chin, lifting it so you faced him.

“It is to me.”

Violet-cyan eyes bore into yours, filled with concern and worry.

“I-it really isn’t, besides, you seem busy…” you insisted.

“Nonsense. I’ll always have time for you. What else would I be doing? You should lean on me a bit more …or am I that unreliable to you?” Aventurine smiled wryly, his eyes narrowing sadly.

Argh!

“...Okay, I get it, already! But promise you won’t laugh…”

Finally, you told him what was going on.

“So, you’re worried about posting your writing, thinking that no one will like it?”

Aventurine summarized it while folding his arms.

“Yeah, basically… I-I told you it wasn’t important…”

You lowered your gaze in shame.

You couldn’t believe you troubled your trillionaire, goal-driven, high-profile boyfriend with your gripe about the story you posted in Ao4!?!?

But then, Aventurine took your hand in his.

As he earnestly peered into your eyes, he smiled and asked you, “What’s 10% of the world?”

“Huh…?” you were caught off-guard.

Instead of offering a word of encouragement or reassurance, he asked you a mathematical question. Naturally, you couldn’t come up with an answer, at least not right away.

Besides, knowing him, was he telling you to just gamble at it?

"Let’s say there are 8 billion people in the world. What is 10% of 8 billion?"

“Uhm…”

“Or, what is 1% of 8 billion?”

“...A lot, probably.”

"That's right. The world is vast. Can you really be sure that no one will like what you created?”

“...!”

You finally understood what he was trying to say.

Seeing the look of realization on your face, Aventurine beamed.

“It’s 80 thousand by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Aventurine… Thank you so much! I won’t give up! Now, to the drawing board I go!”

Brimming with motivation, you spun toward the door, about to rush back to your room!

Suddenly, he was right behind you, pressing his body against yours. He trapped you against the door, catching your wrist, which was about to reach for the doorknob. Then, he leaned in and whispered right into your ear.

"...And spend more time away from me? Not a chance."

Briefly, you wondered if Mr. Nocturne was just a bait to lure you in here.

♤♤♤

"‘...Knight Captain’s Leonard had hair as white as snow, and carmine eyes reminiscent of blood,’ huh? A direct reflection to his ice block personality and tragic, murderous past, no doubt. Well, this is enlightening. I never knew you had such preferences."

“Shut it! White hair is pretty, especially when coupled with red eyes! And he’s just misunderstood!”

“Yeah, yeah, you couldn’t have stressed that enough with this paragraph over here. ‘It turns out that the Knight Captain’s heart is snow-white, just as he is a virgin and maidenless.’”

"Hey! Don’t read it out loud! And I never wrote that last part! Stop altering my story as you please!"

…And the consensus that the two of you reached was, this.

You sat on his lap, a laptop resting atop yours. Aventurine rested his chin on your shoulder and read the whole thing.

That was how you found out that your greatest motivator was also your harshest critic.

"I’m not altering it. This is basically what you wrote: Knight Captain Leonard waited a whole decade just to say hi to his beloved maiden. Which part of him contradicts what I said, exactly?"

“What I’m trying to emphasize here is his loyalty and sincerity!”

“Ah, yes. Great job on that one—I love how he worries over every little thing, perfectly ruining the mood and stalling progress. Well, that explains why we’re chapter 86 and handholding is still the peak of his romantic efforts. I’m on the edge of my seat right now—the gripping tale of the chaste Knight Captain Leonard as he embarks on a journey to find a safeword.”

"That's it! Aventurine, whatever grudge you have against quiet, dignified knights ends today! Knights are the epitome of grace and honor—chiseled features, noble hearts, and unwavering loyal—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he sealed your lips with his, stealing your breath away. Fiercely, he claimed every inch of your lips, as if demanding all of you. Then, he ended it with an angry bite on your upper lips.

“I get it. Now stop swooning over another man.”

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

No, I wasn't put by Hoyo to make this. This is simply self-indulgent. Anyone who wants to buy me Churin's perfume is free to slide into my DM, though. 🕶️

#aventurine fanart #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine honkai star rail #fanfic #fanart #hsr fanart #hsr x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr #hsr x you #hsr art #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanart

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pandapetals · 22 hours ago

Note

…i have an idea that im unsure on whether or not i can write it myself & i’m OBSESSED with how well you always characterize logan so hear me out

i’m always thinking about the boxing scene in origins, so perhaps some boxer!logan where he’s teaching his girlfriend self defense in the gym after hours? you can make it as steamy or fluffy as you want!

i’ve just been dying to submit a request because i’m a fan of your work <3

AHH, thank you so much. I love your account so much! I have been wanting to write about Boxer Logan for some time so this request is literally perfect.

boxer!logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, fighting, teasing, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, established relationship

"Alright, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the empty gym walls. He stood in front of you, hands casually raised. The white tank top he wore clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the sheen of it caught in the flickering overhead lights. He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing in a way that seemed entirely unfair. "You gotta learn how to defend yourself."

You fiddled with the straps of the red gloves he’d given you, tugging at them. "I know, Logan," you said, arching a brow, "but do we really need to do this? I mean, c’mon—what’s the point? I don’t want to hurt you."

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Hurt me? Darlin’, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried." He tilted his head at you. "But you’re welcome to give it a shot."

You narrowed your eyes, torn between amusement and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. He looked too at ease, standing there with his hands up and that teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," you huffed, stepping forward. "But don’t come crying to me if I accidentally break that pretty nose of yours."

"Pretty?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you muttered under your breath.

Logan spread his feet into a fighting stance, nodding toward you. "C’mon, then. First lesson—don’t telegraph. You gotta keep me guessing." He raised a hand to gesture toward your shoulder. "See, you’re tense here. Makes it obvious what you’re about to do. Relax."

"Relax? That’s easy for you to say," you shot back, shaking out your arms. "You don’t have to punch you."

"Exactly," he said with a wink. "Now focus. Don’t think. Just swing."

Taking a deep breath, you stepped in and threw a jab toward his chest—not too hard, but enough to show you meant business. Logan dodged it effortlessly, leaning to the side as though it were a breeze that brushed past him. He gave you an almost pitying look, clicking his tongue.

"Sloppy," he teased, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. "That all you got, sweetheart? I thought you said you didn’t wanna hurt me."

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. "Oh, I will hurt you, Logan," you shot back, a spark of determination lighting in your chest. "Just wait."

He chuckled, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "That’s more like it. Now stop aiming for where I am—aim for where I’m gonna be."

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing as you watched him move. He was testing you, but there was something about the glint in his eye—like he was enjoying this, not just the sparring, but you. You tried to read him, to guess his next step, and when he shifted ever so slightly, you swung again, this time aiming lower.

To your surprise, he stepped right into it, catching your gloved hand in his palm with a sharp smack. His grip was firm but careful, and he grinned down at you, clearly pleased. "Not bad," he said, his voice softening. "You’re getting there."

You groaned, tugging your hand back. "You let me get that one."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, the cocky edge returning. "But you still gotta work on your follow-through. What if I wasn’t nice enough to stop it, huh?"

"Nice? You’re about as nice as a brick wall," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the way he was looking at you.

Logan’s grin softened into something almost fond. "You’ve got more fight in you than you think," he said, reaching out to gently adjust your stance. His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a second before he stepped back. "Now, one more time. And this time, I want you to mean it."

You nodded, steeling yourself. He was still smirking, but there was something else there too—a flicker of pride, maybe, or just the satisfaction of seeing you rise to the challenge. Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him down.

You shifted your weight, fixing your gaze on his chest as if it were a target. Then, without warning, you lunged forward, throwing your whole body into the punch. He moved to dodge, but this time you were ready—you adjusted mid-swing, your fist just grazing his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him blink, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Well, look at that," Logan said, stepping back and rubbing his side with exaggerated drama. "You almost got me."

"Almost?" you said, crossing your arms. "Pretty sure I felt that connect."

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Next time, maybe try a little harder. You might even make me flinch."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Whatever, let’s just go again.” You stepped back, shaking out your hands like a boxer psyching themselves up.

Logan smirked, circling you slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. His confidence was infuriating—like he was untouchable, always one step ahead. But as he moved, you caught his focus was on your gloves, like he thought that was all you had to work with.

Big mistake.

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as if you were done. "Alright, you win," you said, feigning defeat. "You’re too good, Logan. I give up."

He tilted his head, one brow quirking in suspicion, but the grin never left his face. "Oh, c’mon now, don’t quit on me, sweetheart. Where’s that fire I saw a minute ago?"

"It’s gone," you sighed dramatically, letting your gloves hang at your sides. Then, as he paused in his pacing, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Logan’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something coming.

Instead of throwing a punch, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a split second, Logan froze. His lips were warm and slightly parted, caught completely off guard by the sudden move. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, and then—just as he started to kiss you back—you shifted your weight and swept your foot behind his ankle, knocking him clean off balance.

“Whoa—!” Logan grunted as he hit the mat with a thud, his broad shoulders absorbing most of the impact. He blinked up at you in shock, sprawled out flat on his back.

You straightened, grinning down at him as you tugged your gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. “Gotcha,” you said, hands on your hips.

He stared up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was more surprised or impressed. Then, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’ll be damned. That was sneaky."

You crouched down beside him, trying to look innocent. “What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle a little creative thinking?”

“Creative thinking, huh?” Logan propped himself up on his elbows, his grin turning wolfish. “I don’t think that counts when you cheat.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cheat? Cheat? I think you’re just mad I finally got the drop on you.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he drawled, his tone playful but laced with a hint of a challenge. Before you could blink, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You let out a startled laugh as you tumbled down onto the mat, landing half on top of him.

“Logan!” you protested, trying to pull back, but his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. He was grinning up at you now, his eyes bright with amusement that made your breath catch.

“You’re gettin’ cocky, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I gotta admit, that was a hell of a move.”

You smirked, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “Guess you’re not as quick as you thought you were, huh?”

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along your side. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, your voice dropping to match his. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, Logan pulled you down the rest of the way and kissed you, slow and deliberate. His lips were warm and firm, and he kissed like he fought—with total confidence and just a hint of something wild beneath the surface. The world narrowed to just the two of you: the heat of his body against yours, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his hand slid up your back like he didn’t want to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was a low, satisfied rumble. “Lesson one,” he said, his smirk returning. “Never let your guard down.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #x men logan #x men wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan x reader #james logan howlett #marvel #hugh jackman #fluff #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett origins #origins logan howlett #x men movies #x men origins wolverine #boxer logan howlett #boxer logan #x men

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 days ago

Text

Surety of Ghos-ti

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: You are held hostage, and Luca and his team have to save you and your baby.

Warnings: angst, violence, threats of homicide, comfort/fluff

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Hondo!” Luca calls as he enters SWAT HQ.

Hondo stands immediately, his eyes wide as he asks, “She’s in labor?”

“No, man, and she won’t be for a while,” Luca replies with a smile. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous, jumpy one.”

“Give it a few more weeks,” Deacon interjects. “It gets easier after the first one, though.”

“We ain’t all like you, Deac,” Hondo teases. “What do ya need, Luca?”

“50 Squad’s serving a felony warrant with the Marshals in Santa Clarita, so Hicks wants us to be ready to pick up the slack.”

“They better not go to Magic Mountain without me,” Street grumbles from the other side of the room.

“Priorities, Street,” Deacon reminds him.

“Yeah, they’re sorted.”

“I have to be at the party supply store before they close at 9,” Chris says. “As long as our shift ends when it’s supposed to, I can let Rocker slide this one time.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Luca responds.

Chris turns to stare at Luca, and after a moment, he concedes and raises his hands. The team decided to throw you a baby shower, besides the one you had for friends and family, because you are part of 20 Squad, and you’ve gained another family. Luca expected Annie to be the one who took the reins of the shower. He has seen how well you and Chris get along, so he shouldn’t be surprised by her insistence on making the party perfect.

“When does she learn the gender?” Street asks. “If it’s a boy, Streeter has a nice ring to it.”

“They’re not going to set the kid up for failure before birth, my man,” Hondo calls.

“Her appointment was supposed to be today, but the doctor had to reschedule,” Luca answers. “She’s not sure she wants to know, though.”

“Chris works for a niece or nephew,” Chris points out.

Luca laughs, then remembers that Hicks asked him to review a new strategy with Hondo and, despite his preference to continue discussing you, he focuses on work.

Los Angeles has every kind of store you could ever need, but when a new handmade baby goods store opens a few miles from your place, you know you must visit. Luca is at work, you’ve done everything Chris allowed you to for the upcoming baby shower, and even though you’re 20 weeks pregnant, you’re restless. So, you gather your phone, wallet, and keys, then lock your front door and begin the short drive to the store.

The pastel blue façade welcomes you after you park, and you run your hand under your growing bump as you enter the store. A handwritten “Cash Only; Sorry!” sign is displayed on the counter, and you mentally thank yourself for asking Luca to take you to the bank over the weekend. He’s the best part of your life, the love of your life, and his insistence to help you prepare before giving birth has been a godsend.

“Hi!” a smiling employee calls. “Welcome in, let me know if you need anything!”

“Hello,” you reply. “Thank you. I’m just looking for now.”

“Awesome! There’s so much cute stuff in here, take your time.”

You smile, then trail your eyes around the store. It’s larger than it looked from the outside, and you decide to start in the back corner and work toward the front of the store. There’s a small cart return area at the front of the store, likely from the building’s past resident, now blocked off with a sign that says, “We got you, mamas. If you’re shopping alone and need assistance, let an employee know and we’ll keep your stuff behind the counter so you can relax and focus on finding the perfect items.”

As you reach the back of the store, there’s a corner filled with onesies and toes relating to parents’ jobs. A pair of pajamas catches your eye, embroidered with a police van that reminds you of Black Betty and “Relax, my dad is a police officer.” You lay it over your arm, then laugh at the one behind it. With both secured, you continue walking around the store. The employee from earlier checks in with you as you walk past and graciously offers to take the items from your arms and hold them behind the counter for you.

“Thank you,” you call as she uses a dry-erase marker to write your name on a plastic bin beneath the register.

“Of course!” she replies.

She waves to another employee, returning from somewhere, and you continue shopping. You look at some BPA-free bottles and specialty pacifiers rather than looking up when the bell over the door rings.

“Welcome in.”

You hear the strain in the cashier’s voice and shift your attention quickly, reaching for your phone when you see a man dressed in all black blocking the doorway. He puts his gloved hand against his hip as one of the women places her hand against the edge of the counter, her fingers underneath the lip. You assume she presses a panic button and stay behind a shelf as you click your screen to find Luca’s contact.

“Empty the register,” the man demands.

“Okay, okay,” one of the women mutters, opening the register and dumping a few bills and loose coins onto the counter.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s all. We just took most of it to the bank, we only have enough to make change.”

“Open the safe!”

“Don’t have one.”

The man jerks his head to the side quickly, then pulls a black gun from his waistband. You forget about texting Luca and press the button to call him instead. The man pulls his black cap off, running his fingers through his hair. He turns toward you after his arm falls out of his peripheral view, suddenly aware of your presence.

“What are you doing over there?” he yells, aiming the gun at you.

You raise your hands quickly, but not before setting your phone behind a bottle on the shelf and praying Luca answers. “I was just shopping,” you answer as you step away from the shelf.

“Give me your money, too!”

You swallow as you pull your wallet out, then hand over the cash you have. The man holds the gun on you with one hand as he counts the money with the other. He sighs, then backs toward the door. He twists the lock until it clicks and flips the sign on the door to say Closed.

“This isn’t enough,” he says as if he’s having a normal conversation and not threatening lives over less than $500. “What are we going to do about that?”

“What about a bottle warmer?” Street asks, scrolling through a baby registry on his phone.

“Got one,” Luca answers without looking up. “I told her to make her own registry.”

“Towel warmer for Mom?”

“I bought her one,” Hicks interjects. When the team turns toward him, he shrugs and says, “New moms need comfort and new things, too.”

Luca smiles and shakes his head as his phone begins ringing. “Speaking of new moms,” he murmurs before answering the phone. Luca doesn’t hear anything, so he repeats your name several times. Just before he hangs up, he hears muffled speech.

“What’s up?” Tan asks, noticing the concern on Luca’s face.

Luca gestures for him to be quiet, places his phone on speaker, and turns it up.

“I was just shopping,” you say, your voice growing quieter like you’re stepping away from the phone.

“Give me your money, too!” a man yells.

Hondo reaches across Luca’s chest and mutes the microphone to ask, “Where is she?”

Keeping the phone call connected, Luca navigates to your contact and reads your current location so Street can type it into the computer.

“Home Grown Baby, it’s a handmade baby goods store,” Street says. “The silent alarm was activated less than a minute ago.”

“Maybe you should put the gun down,” another woman says. “We can help you.”

Someone screams, and you plead, “Stop, stop.”

Hicks raises his own phone to his ear, whispering hurried commands. “I called off local PD. That’s a hostage situation. Luca, if you need to sit this out-”

“I’m good,” Luca assures the team. “Let’s do this.”

“Luca,” Deacon calls, stopping him on the way to Black Betty. “Your girl, your unborn child… he’s going to try to use them as insurance, a surety that things stay in his control. We need to you think with her if this is going to work.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Luca answers, letting his training override his emotions. At least until he gets to the store.

You hold a hand against your stomach as you sit beside the employees, tucked under the front of the counter as the armed man paces before you. Glancing over, you see that the woman who returned from the bank, Elizabeth, is looking better. He hit her over the head with his gun, but her color is returning, and the blood on her temple is drying.

“Is-" the other woman, Jane, begins. She stops when the man turns toward you. When he turns away again, she whispers, “Are you really with a cop?”

You nod once and squeeze her hand in a silent promise that your cop, your love, your Luca, will get everyone out of this building alive.

“Guns blazing,” Hondo suggests.

“I doubt he’ll like that,” Deacon argues. “He clearly wants to be in control based on the phone call.”

“They haven’t spoken since he made them sit,” Street adds, Luca’s phone pressed to his ear. “Not loud enough to hear at least.”

“We can’t risk spooking him into hurting anyone,” Luca agrees. “Try hostage recovery, talk him down, then go from there?”

“Thirty seconds,” Tan alerts from the driver’s seat. “Lights and sirens?”

“Lights only,” Hondo answers. “Park right outside the door, I want him to see us.”

Hondo takes a deep breath, then stops. He passes the phone to Deacon and nods once. Deacon dials the store number and waits for an answer as he trades places with Street to sit in the front.

“Hello,” he says after a moment. “I’m Sergeant Deacon Kay with LAPD SWAT. Who am I speaking to?”

“How’d you know I was here?” the man demands, in stereo for Street, listening to Luca’s phone and Deacon’s call.

“It’s a busy parking lot, someone got suspicious,” Deacon says carefully. “Is there something we should be worried about?”

“Yeah, there is!”

“What’s going on, sir?”

“I need money! She took everything from me, I can’t even see my kid and now I’m going to lose my apartment.”

Hondo holds up his left hand and taps his empty ring finger. Deacon nods, then takes a dramatic breath.

“I get that,” he replies. “My ex took all three of our kids, told the courts I would neglect them because of my hours as a cop. They- women take and take.”

“I need $1,200 but there’s only $300 here!”

“Listen, you come out, and I’ll help you with a plan to get the other 9.”

“No, no, I walk out there, I lose it all anyway. That isn’t how I’m ending this.”

“The women in that store didn’t do anything wrong, Mr.?”

“Kirkfield,” the man says quietly. “Keith.”

“Alright, Keith, my name’s David. I can help you, but not until I know the other people inside are safe.”

“I got a cousin who’s in jail for assault and battery, he called this part ghos-ti, you know what this is, David?”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s like the root for our word hostage. I’ve got three ladies in here unwilling to cough up the cash I need.” He raises his voice, likely so you and the employees can hear, and adds, “If they’d listened, I’d be gone already!”

“Keith,” Deacon begins.

“No, I’m thinking you don’t get it either. So, remember next time you call without my money that ghos-ti also sounds a lot like a dead baby.”

Luca’s eyes widen as he grips the non-lethal gun across his chest. Hondo informs them they can’t get the money quickly, and Street shakes his head to communicate that Keith isn’t talking.

Suddenly, Deacon’s phone rings again.

“Change of plans, Sergeant,” Keith says. “Ten minutes, or I start shooting.”

“That won’t-“

The line beeps, and Luca tightens his jaw as Hondo begins brainstorming a plan to get inside.

You hold your hand against your mouth, growing nauseous from the stress of your situation, pregnancy hormones, and hunger. It’s been eight minutes since Keith gave Deacon ten minutes, and you know that the team is working to get inside if they’re not already.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks. “Move your hand.”

“I’m getting sick,” you explain before pressing your lips together.

“She’s pregnant, her blood pressure is probably too high or her sugar’s dropping,” Jane says. “I have snacks in my bag behind the counter, please just let me-“

Keith fires one shot into the wall, and you drop your head to cover your ears, fighting the rolling sensation in your stomach.

“Hold,” Hondo commands after the shot. “Street?”

“He-“ Street looks toward Luca. “He was talking to her, and one of the women asked to get her a snack. No one’s talking.”

“Stay here,” Hondo tells Luca.

“Absolutely not,” Luca argues. “We’re wasting time, Hondo.”

Luca’s chest tightens; he feels like taking a full breath would kill him, and this time, he can’t rely on his training. He heard the shot but no screaming, so he has no idea what they are about to walk into. Maybe Keith shot on accident, or maybe there’s a bloodbath. Regardless, you’re inside, and he will not sit on the sidelines.

They move silently through the back room of the store, pausing against a wooden door separating them from the showroom.

“I’ll give you my credit card, whatever you want, just please stop,” one of the women pleads through tears. Street thinks it’s Elizabeth, and as they review the thermal scan of the room, he tries to find where your phone could be.

“He’s pacing,” Tan says quietly.

“When he turns toward the front again, we’re breaching,” Hondo decides. “Don’t give him a chance to get another shot off, Chris.”

“I won’t give him a chance to pucker,” she mumbles as she moves into position.

Tan watches the image, raising his fingers to countdown from three. Hondo pulls the door open, and Chris shoots Keith’s upper leg before he even turns all the way around. Luca calls your name, rushing toward the counter as his team finishes their job. When he sees you, your arms wrapped protectively around your bump, he drops to his knees and pulls you against his chest.

“He’s cute,” the woman beside you – bloody woman Luca notices after – whispers.

You nod against Luca, carefully moving your arms to hug him. As you thank him repeatedly for coming, Chris and Tan haul Keith to his feet and take him toward an approaching patrol car.

“You hid this well,” Street applauds as he extends his phone toward you. “That microphone is nice, I should get one.”

“Priorities, Street!” Deacon yells from the back of the store.

“Thank you for coming,” you tell Street. “I need to pay for my stuff and then- I actually need to get up first.”

Luca holds your arms carefully, and Street lays a hand on your back as you stand. Once you’re on your feet again, Luca wraps his arm around your waist.

“These are so on the house,” Elizabeth tells you, passing two bags over the counter. “I’m going to the hospital with Jane but thank you for everything.”

“Thank you,” Luca tells her, pulling the bags to his side. “Now, we’re going home.”

You smile and lean tiredly against Luca. As he helps you into the passenger seat of your car, Street runs over and hugs you. Luca shoves him away from the back door before sitting in the driver’s seat and sighing.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he tells you, holding your hand against his thigh. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you reply.

“Isn’t it cute?” you ask, spreading the police van onesie over the table before you.

“Not cute enough to risk you getting shot at,” Luca mumbles against your temple. “But very cute.”

“Then you’ll really like this one.”

You pass the folded cloth to Luca, leaning harder against his side. He unfolds the onesie, reads it, and laughs. The sound feels like home, and as you curl up beside Luca, you know you and your baby will always be safe.

“Proof my mom loves policemen,” Luca says after a few minutes. “That’s funny.”

“And true.”

“Prove it,” he requests, smiling as his lips brush over yours.

#dominique luca x fem!reader #dominique luca x reader #dominique luca fic #dominique luca #luca x reader #swat imagine #swat fic #swat x reader #swat cbs #hanna writes✯#fem!reader #requests #cw pregnancy

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bohemianblasphemy · 7 hours ago

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Okay well now I need to know what’s written on the “paperwork” Spencer drops off at work. 😳 Tell me bestie, I need to know. I NEEEEEDDD!

Secrets in Ink

Based on a headcanon from this post ✨

(Also thank you cas for your help 🥺🖤)

There were perks of working at the BAU with your partner- being around each other for the working hours, spending breaks talking about your day; a downside however is having to keep your hands to yourself.

And man, was it difficult with Spencer Reid is your partner.

The day was dragging, and it seemed that the pile of loose papers and files to be sorted wasn’t getting any smaller.

A small frustrated groan left your mouth, rubbing your dry tired eyes as you tried to keep yourself awake.

Spencer observed you from his desk, seeing your weary demeanour and he frowned a little bit- trying to think of a way to make you feel better.

And of course, with that IQ of 187 and knowing you like the back of his hand, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and acquired his pen.

He took his time to write you a note- carefully obscuring what he was composing to any wandering eyes that may be present, wanting to create something that was going to make you shiver and look forward to your… after work activities.

With a small, satisfied smile he signed off of the sweetly sensual letter- folding it neatly in half as he stood up to make his way over to you.

You were so deep in your paperwork, not noticing the tall figure walking toward you- not until he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey sweetie…” he whispered, observing you as you had broken out of your trance. You looked up at him, seeing his small smile and tousled curls, god he looked good- he always did.

“Hey Spencer… more paperwork for me?” You chuckled half heartedly, gesturing to the folder piece in his hand.

“Not work related… just a little something for you.” He smiled, placing the paper on the desk in front of you. Spencer’s hand gently reached your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb.

“Just to make you feel better…”

That gentle gesture… fuck it did things to you.

“Thank you Spencer…” you leaned into his touch, gazing up at him with a small twinkle in your eye.

He gazed back at you, as though you the centre of the universe - the centre of his.

Spencer bent over slightly to whisper in your ear.

“Read it, but make sure no one else sees it. For your eyes only.” His gentle yet firm words were followed up with a sweet kiss on the cheek, seeing the blood rush to them as he pulled away and began to walk back to his desk.

Your curiosity overwhelmed you, unfolding the piece of paper to see what he had been written…

My sweet girl,

I don’t think you realise how hard it is to keep my hands to myself as I see you across the room, wanting to take you into one of the vacant offices and absolutely enrapture you.

The mere thought of bending you over on that empty desk, hearing those sweet sounds that you make as I take you from behind- makes it hard for me to control myself.

It should be a crime that I can’t touch you while we’re on cases; the temptation to let my fingers wander under your skirt and play with you whilst we fly in the jet - the added risk of getting caught whilst doing so making it all the more thrilling.

All I crave everyday is your lips, your touch, the taste of you between your thighs.

Once we are home tonight you are mine; to take care of, to love, to make you cum…

Yours,

Spencer

The fire that burned within you created a deeper red flush to surface on your skin as you finished reading it.

His words stirred desire through you, biting your lip as you thought of them and glanced back at him- cocking your eyebrow suggestively at him.

Spencer smirked as he saw your flustered expression , knowing that his words affected you greatly - but that changed when he noticed Garcia sneaking behind her, her eyes trying to focus on what’s there.

“Whatcha got there, sunshine?” Garcia grins, pulling you from your focus on Spencer. Your eyes widened, rapidly folding the sheet in half and shoving it into your bag on your desk.

“N-nothing- nothing at all Pen.” You replied, clearing your throat to try to seem inconspicuous.

“Mhm sure honey, I know that look, and Spencer’s not exactly making your case any better.” She teased- waving at Spencer across the way in which he returned with a sheepish expression.

After giving you a wink, she turned to walk back to her office- her heels clicking on the floor as you look down at your desk in a flustered manner.

You looked back up at him, not being able to keep a straight face as you started to giggle, which in return made Spencer smile in adoration for you.

Tonight couldn’t come any faster…

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x you #mgg #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x you

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wosowffc · 2 days ago

Text

RELATIVES

Part 2

My hand was slightly clammy as I walked towards the door of where the girls are when I saw Kyra out of the corner of my eye, walking in a hallway. My excitement and energy got the better of me when I ran toward her and jumped on her back, Caitlin foord on her left and Victoria pelova on her right both looked at me in shock, I hadn't spoke to them before but I suppose they know who I am.

"IZ?!?! OMG" Kyra shouts spinning your round on her back before darting forward, you bouncing up and down. "BETHHH LOOOK" Kyra shouts down the hallway finally letting you down quickly engulfed in Beth's arms within a few mins girls had come over giving you hugs or handshakes saying hello and welcoming you. Then you saw her.

Leah stood in the corner of the snack bar keeping her focus on the group huddle round you, your gaze trying to see over then people to her. You break free Beth walks behind you as you sit on the sofa.

The rest of the training you stay clear of Leah, the interaction with her wouldn't have been good on the first day mabey tomorrow you said to yourself. Heading home to your new apartment ordering some food from macdonalds not really bothered to work out the cooker -too tired.

That night when you were chilling trying to find something to watch that won't bore you too much, you recieved a text from alessia asking if I needed anything round or if there's anything I need unpacked to which I don't but I think I'd like some company. The moving has been a lot and being alone with no family for a good while now meaning the travel and things inbetween you do alone, you lived with your older teammates before as coach thought it was best.

Alessia arrived bringing Beth with her, you let them in apologising for the boxes near the wall. You and the girls spent a while of catching up talking about how the travel was and how the training schedule is at Arsenal.

"We better get going soon, what did you think of everyone?" Beth asked as she took a bite of the chocolate brownie tray you had bought

"Yeah I like everyone they seem dead chill" you figet with the skin on your finger as stand up while they chat getting bored of the sitting.

"Have you met Leah before?, you didn't seem to talk ,niether did she" alessia points out. As you stand you house you knee bouncing.

"Yeah no, just met her before and we arnt very let's say close anymore" you say back to alessia putting hands in your tracksuit bottom pockets and walking a little but not too much trying to make it not noticeable.

"Sorry didn't want to make you uncomfortable" alessia started with a smile so much for not noticeable.

"Um no,no it's just." You take a break contemplating "Please don't say this to anybody I might have adhd the pysio at Washington noticed but I never got tested" you said the reason you didn't was , well, you didn't want to be alone while getting tested you were scared.

"Ohhh it's alright, it's totally fine we won't judge and promise we won't say anything unless you do alright" Beth smiled as they both stood up to leave. I showed them out saying goodnight and moving back to the living room of the apartment cleaning the bowls and sitting down.

Soon you found yourself going on a late night walk and by late night you ment about 2 in the morning you needed to release some energy you could sleep, you could sit on the sofa so it was the last resort. Before returning home you added some of the girls back posting a photo on your insta of the night and empty streets.

An-don't be timid to give feed back or if u want anything in it :)

#arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #woso x reader #alessia russo #arsenal wfc #england football #katie mccabe #leah williamson #beth mead #kyra cooney cross #steph catley #wsl #barclays wsl #womens football

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ruhua-langblr · 2 days ago

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Language Apps Suck, Now What?: A Guide to Actually Becoming "Fluent"

The much requested sequel to my DL post that was promised almost a year ago.

I'm going to address all of the techniques that have helped me in my language learning journeys. Since 95% of these came from the fact that in a past language learning mistake, they are titled as my mistakes (and how I would/did things differently going forward). For those that read to the bottom there is a "best universal resources" list.

Disclaimers:

"Fluency" is hard to define and everyone has their own goals. So for the purpose of this post, "fluency" will be defined as "your personal mastery target of the language".

If you just want to pick up a bit of a language to not sound like a total foreigner on vacation or just exchange a few words in a friend's native language, feel free to ignore what doesn't apply, but maybe something here could help make it a little easier.

This is based on my own personal experience and (some) research.

Mistake 1: Asymmetrical Studying

Assuming you don't just want to do a single activity in a language, or are learning a language like ASL, a language requires 4 parts to be studied: Speaking, Listening, Writing, Reading. While these have overlap, you can't learn speaking from reading, or even learn speaking from just listening. One of my first Chinese teachers told me how he would listen to the textbook dialogues while he was biking to classes and it helped him. I took this information, thought "Yeah that's an idea, but sounds boring" and now regret not taking his advice nearly every day.

I think a lot of us find methods we enjoy to study (mine was reading) and assume that if we just do that method more ™ it will eventually help us in other areas (sometimes it does, but that's only sometimes). Find a method that works for you for each area of study, even better find more than one method since we use these skills in a variety of manners! I can understand a TV program pretty well since I have a lot of context clues and body language to fill in any gaps of understanding, but taking a phone call is much harder—the audio is rougher, there's no body language to read, and since most Chinese programs have hard coded subtitles, no subtitles to fall back on either. If I were to compare the number of hours I spent reading in Chinese to (actively) training my listening? Probably a ratio of 100 to 1. When I started to learn Korean, the first thing I did was find a variety of listening resources for my level.

Fix: Find a variety of study methods that challenge all aspects of the language in different ways.

A variety of methods will help you develop a more well-rounded level of mastery, and probably help you keep from getting bored. Which is important because...

Mistake 2: Inconsistent Studying

If there is one positive to a language app, it is the pressure it puts on keeping a streak. Making studying a part of your everyday routine is the best thing you can do. I benefited a lot from taking a college language course since I had a dedicated time to study and practice Chinese 5 days out of the week (and homework usually filled the other two). Memorization is a huge part of language learning, and stopping and starting is terrible for memorization. When I was in elementary school, we had Spanish maybe a couple times a month. Looking back, it seems like it was the first class to be cut if we needed to catch up on a more important course. Needless to say, I can't even speak Spanish at an elementary level.

However, I'm sure many people reading this don't have the time to do ultra-immersion 4-hour study sessions every day either. Find what days during the week you have time to focus on learning new vocab and grammar, and use the rest of the week to review. This can be done on your commute to school/work, while you do the dishes, or as a part of your morning/evening routine. Making this as realistic as possible will help you actually succeed in making this a habit. (Check this out for how to set realistic study goals)

Fix: Study regularly (ideally daily) by setting realistic goals. Avoid "binge" studying since remembering requires consistent repetition to be most effective.

Mistake 3: Resource Choice

This is really composed of two mistakes, but I have a good example that will cover them both.

First, finding resources that are at or slightly above your level is the most important thing. Easy resources will not challenge you enough and difficult resources will overwhelm you. The ideal is n+1, with n as what you know plus 1 new thing.

Second, getting distracted by fancy, new technology. Newer isn't always better, and there are often advantages that are lost when we've made technological developments. I often found myself wanting to try out new browser extensions or organizational methods and honestly I would've benefitted from just using that time to study. (Also, you're probably reading this because of my DL post so I don't think it has to be said that AI resources suck.)

A good example of this was my time using Clozemaster. I had actually recommended it when I first started using it since I thought the foundation was really solid. However, after long term use, I found that it just wasn't a good fit. The sentences were often too simple or too long and strange for memorization at higher levels or were too difficult at lower levels. I think that taking my textbook's example sentences from dialogues into something like Anki would've been a far better use of my time (and money) as they were already designed to be at that n+1 level.

Fix: "Vet" your resources—make sure they will actually help you. If something is working for you, then keep using it! You don't always have to upgrade to the newest tool/method.

Mistake 3.5: Classrooms and Textbooks

A .5 since it's not my mistake, but an addendum of caution. I think there is a significant part of the language learning community that views textbooks and classroom learning as the worst possible resource. They are "boring", "outdated", and "ineffective" (ironically one of the most interesting modern language learning methods, ALG, is only done in a classroom setting). Classrooms and textbooks bring back memories of being surrounded by mostly uninterested classmates, minimal priority, and a focus on grades rather than personal achievement (imagine the difference between a class of middle schoolers who were forced to choose a foreign language vs. adult learners who self-selected!) People have used these exact methods, or even "cruder" methods, to successfully learn a language. It all comes down to what works best for you. I specifically recommend textbooks for learning grammar and the plentiful number of dialogues and written passages that can function great as graded readers and listening resources. (Also the distinction made between "a youtube lesson on a grammatical principle" which is totally cool, and "a passage in a grammar textbook" is more one of tone and audio/written than efficacy).

Classrooms can be really great for speaking practice since they can be a lot less intimidating speaking to someone who is also learning while receiving corrections. Speech can be awkward to train on your own (not impossible if you're good at just talking aloud to yourself!), and classrooms can work nicely for this. Homework and class schedules also have built in accountability!

Fix: Explore resources available to you and try to think holistically about your approach. CI+Traditional Methods is my go to "Learning Cocktail"

Mistake 4: Yes, Immersion, But...

I realized this relatively quickly while learning Chinese, but immersion at a level much higher than your current level will do very little for you. What is sometimes left out of those "Just watch anime to learn Japanese" discussions is that you first need to have a chance at understanding what is being said. Choosing materials that are much higher than your level will not teach you the language. It doesn't matter how many times someone at HSK 1 hears “他是甘露之惠，我并无此水可还”, they will not get very far. Actual deduction and learning comes from having enough familiar components to be able to make deductions—something different than guessing. An HSK 1 learner, never having heard the word 老虎 will be able to understand "tiger" if someone says “这是我的老虎” while standing next to a tiger. This is not to say you can never try something more difficult—things should be challenging—but if you can't make heads or tails of what's being said, then it's time to find something a bit easier. If mistake 2 is about the type of method, this is about the level. If you wouldn't give a kindergartener The Great Gatsby to learn how to read, why would you watch Full Metal Alchemist to start learning a language?

Side note: Interesting video here on the Comprehensible Input hypothesis and how it relates to neurodivergence.

Fix: Immerse yourself in appropriate content for your level. It's called comprehensible input for a reason.

Mistake 5: On Translation

I work as a translator, so do you really think I'm going to say translation is all bad? Of course not. It's a separate skill that can be added on to the basic skills, but is really only required if you are A. someone who is an intermediary between two languages (say you have to translate for a spouse or family member) or B. It is your job/hobby. In the context of sitting down and learning, it can be harmful. I think my brain often goes to translation too often because that's how I used to learn. Trying to unlearn that is difficult because, well, what do people even mean when they say "don't translate"? They mean when someone says "thank you", you should not go to your primary language and translate "you're welcome" from that. You should train yourself to go to your target language first when you hear the word for "thank you". A very literally translated "thank you" in Chinese "谢谢你" can come off as cold and sarcastic. I don't tell my friends that, I say "谢啦～". Direct translation can take away the difference in culture, grammar, and politeness in a language. If there is a reason you sound awkward while writing and speaking, it's probably because you're imposing your primary language on your target language.

Fix: Try as hard as you can to not work from your primary language into the target language, but to work from the structures, set phrases, and grammar within the target language that you know first.

Mistake 6: The Secret Language Learners Don't Want You To Know...

...is that there is no one easy method. You are not going to learn French while you sleep, or master Korean by doing this one easy trick. Learning a language requires work and dedication, the people that succeed are those that push through the boredom of repetition and failure. The "I learned X in 1 year/month/week/day!" crowd is hiding large asterisks, be it their actual level, the assistance and free time available to them, "well actually I had already studied this for 4 years", or just straight-up lying. Our own journeys in our native tongue were not easy, they required years and years of constant immersion and instruction. While we are now older and wiser people that can make quick connections, we are also burdened with things like "jobs", "house work", "school work", and the digital black hole that is "social media" that take up our time and energy. Everything above is to help make this journey a little bit easier, quicker, and painless, but it will never be magic.

I find that language learning has a lot in common with the fitness community. People will talk about the workout that changed their life and how no other one will do the same—and it really can be the truth that it changed their life and that they feel it is the ultimate way. The real workout that will change your life is the one you're most consistent with, that you enjoy the most. Language learning is just trying to find the brain exercise that you can be the most consistent with.

Fix: Save your energy looking for shortcuts, and do the work, fail, and come back for more. If someone tells you that you can become fluent in a ridiculously short amount of time, they are selling you a fantasy (and likely a product). You get out what you put in.

For those that made it to the end, here are some of my "universal resources":

Refold Method: I don't agree with their actual method 100%, but they've collected a lot of great resources for learning languages. I've found their Chinese and Korean discords to also be really helpful and provided even more resources than what's given in their starter guides.

Language Reactor: Very useful, and have recently added podcasts as a material! The free version is honestly all you need.

Anki: If I do not mention it, the people with 4+ year streaks with a 5K word deck will not let me forget it. It can be used on desktop or on your phone as an app. If you need a replacement for a language learning app, this is one of them. Justin Sung has a lot of great info on how to best utilize Anki (as does Refold). It's not my favorite, but it could be yours!

LingQ: "But I thought you said language apps are bad!" In isolation, yes. Sorry for the clickbait. This one is pretty good, and more interested in immersing you in the language than selling a subscription to allow you to freeze your streak so the number goes up.

Grammar Textbooks: For self-taught learning, these are going to be the best resource since it's focused on the hardest part of the language, and only that. If you're tired of seeing group work activities, look for a textbook that is just on grammar (Modern Mandarin Chinese Grammar is my rec for Chinese, and A Guide to Japanese Grammar by Tae Kim is the most common/enthusiastic rec I've heard for Japanese).

Shadowing: Simply repeat what you hear. Matt vs Japan talks about his setup here for optimized shadowing (which you can probably build for a lot cheaper now), but it can also just be you watching a video and pausing to repeat after each sentence or near simultaneously if you're able.

Youtube: Be it "Short Story for Beginners", "How to use X", "250 Essential Phrases", or a GRWM in your target language, Youtube is the best. Sometimes you have to dig to find what works for you, but I imagine there is something for everyone at every level. (Pro tip: People upload textbook audio dialogues often, you don't even have to buy the textbook to be able to learn from it!)

A Friend: Be it a fellow learner, or someone who has already mastered the language, it is easier when you have someone, not only to speak to, but to remind you why you're doing this. I write far more in Chinese because I have friends I can text in Chinese.

Pen and Paper: Study after study, writing on paper continues to be the best method for memorization. Typing or using a pen and tablet still can't compare to traditional methods.

The Replies (Probably): Lots of people were happy to give alternatives for specific languages in the replies of my DL post. The community here is pretty active, so if this post blows up at least 20% of what the last one did, you might be able to find some great stuff in the replies and reblogs.

I wish you all the best~

#langblr #mandarinblr #language learning #resource #dare i put this in the duolingo tag lmao

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