#I KNOW I SAID I WAS GOING TO BED BUT I JUST NEEDED TO GET THIS OUTTA MY SYSTEM THANKS 🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖

[luveline]

Hey lovely !! <3 could we see Spencer’s bombshell! Reader going into labour at the BAU but trying to downplay it like Pam did on the office !! (So sorry if you’ve already done a request like this) <333 have a lovely day ☺️

thank you <3 pregnant!reader, 1.3k

“Spencer?” 

Spencer groans into his pillow. 

Your hand slips onto his stomach. “Spencer, can you wake up?” 

“No,” he mumbles, lifting his head off of one of the many pillows of your bed. He thought his bed at his apartment was comfortable, but Spencer has never slept so well as he does in your new bed, in your new home, with you warming the sheets beside him. What a miracle to live with you, the rush to get everything done before your due date complete. 

You make a strange noise, hard to see in the dark as he opens his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

You struggle into a sitting position. Angel, he thinks sympathetically, you’re fit to burst, your baby bump as big as it’s going to get and awfully heavy. He sits up with you, putting his hand behind your back. “Baby?” he prompts. 

“I think,” —you sound meek, not yourself, each word said reluctantly— “that I’m having real contractions.” 

Spencer’s head isn’t working. He takes a few seconds to hear you, and then another few to realise what you’ve said. “Are you sure?” 

“They’re really painful.” 

Braxton Hicks (which you’ve had, and not enjoyed) aren’t usually really painful. They’re also irregular. “How many have you had? Has it been long?” he asks. 

“Maybe five. They’re like…” You take his hand. “They’re like, they go on for ages. I’ve never felt anything like it.” 

“So you’re in labour,” he says, grasping your hand back. “Definitely. Let me get my watch, I need to time your contractions. Are you okay?” 

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not in labour. I’m going in to labour.”  

“It’s the same thing,” he says. He has boxes and boxes of mental knowledge explaining the difference, but he’s too excited to catch your strange tone. “I’ll be right back.” 

He races from the bed to the bathroom where he’d left his watch. You should be having contractions far apart at this point, around fifteen to twenty minute gaps, but it could be much further or far sooner, and Spencer doesn’t know when you had your last. He needs to time them properly so he knows when to take you to the hospital. 

“Good thing we packed your bag yesterday morning, huh?” he asks, sliding back into bed with a huge smile on his face. “And you showered last night, you’re ready to go. I have all our things in the trunk, but Morgan’s gonna have to come and do the car seat, I forgot all about it.” 

You shake your head again. 

He worries it’s from pain. “Is it starting?” 

“No, no, I’m not having any. I think it’s just cramps, actually.” 

“What?” He puts his hand on your bump. “That’s what they feel like, honey, it’s cramps, it’s your cervix contracting, it feels just like a cramp.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Spencer cups your cheek, his fingertips sliding softly to the corner of your eye, his thumb by your nose. You look younger without any makeup on, younger still with your creeping frown. “Hey,” he says, his voice half breath, hoping you’ll look him in the eye, “hey, what’s going on?” 

Your eyebrows start to pinch down. “It’s not labour.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I’m not having her.” 

“She had to come out some time,” he says, attempting to be funny and lighten the mood. 

“I really think it’s fine. I’m just having those Braxton Hicks again, it’s too far from my due date–”

“Angel, it’s a week away. We knew it could happen now.” He strokes your cheek again. “We don’t have to go yet. Let me time a couple of your contractions and see what we’re working with.” 

“It’s not…” You duck your head. The catch of pain gets you, and Spencer checks his watch. Four minutes past four in the morning, the longest hand at five seconds. Then he looks for your hand again to hold in his, his own panic backseated by your denial. “They’re not that bad,” you say stiffly. 

“That’s good, honey, but they’re going to get worse. Remember what we said, huh? The pain will get really bad, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. We have a plan.” 

“It’s not real.” 

“Baby,” he says, tugging your hand imploringly to his chest, his voice having descended to a place it so rarely goes, “what are you scared of?” 

“That I can’t do it,” you say. 

“Is your contraction over?” he asks, noticing the laxening of your fingers. 

“Yeah.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. 

“Is there anything in the entire world that you can’t do?” 

You sniff. 

“Seriously. I can’t name a single thing you can’t do. This isn’t different. It’s going to be scary and painful, and it’s not something I want for you, not really, but you’re about to have a baby.” He rubs your thumb, ducking his head in the hopes that the movement will make you raise your own. “Our baby. We’ve waited such a long time.” 

“Nine months.” 

“Thirty nine weeks and two days. That's two hundred and seventy five days waiting. This is a good thing,” he says, meeting your eyes the moment you raise your head. “The waiting is over. This is the fun part.”

“‘Cos our girl is coming,” you say. 

He grins. “Exactly! I know you’re scared, but thinking you can’t do it? Of course you can. And I’m gonna be with you the whole time.” 

“You promise?”

“Of course I do.” 

You wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands. Spencer lets his palm fall onto your thigh. It really is going to hurt. It’s gonna be pain like you’ve never felt before, and he’s terrified of everything that could go wrong, but what’s important now is making sure you know you’re going to be alright. 

“You’re going to be a beautiful mom,” he says, rubbing your thigh, softer from time spent resting. “I’m so excited I can’t describe it. This time, the day after tomorrow, we could be here with her. We’ll be putting her down to sleep in the nursery in her newborn onesie we picked out, the–”

“Little rabbits,” you say, the hint of a smile on your lips. 

“I can’t wait to see her face.” 

“Her little fingers.” 

“Her nose, her eyes–”

“You said babies have their moms hands.” 

He smiles. “I have my mom’s. Can you imagine? And we get to find out today.” 

You let him touch your stomach. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You always do.” 

“I’m so scared.” 

“Sweetheart, let me be the scared one.” 

“You’re not gonna dilate ten centimetres!” 

“You’ve probably already done one,” he says. “Just nine more to go.” 

His joke doesn’t land. To his horror, you end up sniffling and locked up with panic. He rubs your back in long sweeps, feeling younger than ever kneeling in bed at your side, minutes droning on. He’s pulling your head into his neck thinking he’s completely out of your depth when you say, “It’s starting again, Spence.” 

He checks his watch. “That’s eleven minutes.” 

Your contractions will get worse soon, and closer together. You probably don’t have long until it starts, and labour might go on for hours. To do this, you're going to have to believe That you can. 

Spencer takes your face into his hands and looks you right in the eyes. “You can do this. I know you can.” He pecks you gently. “Angel, if anyone in the world can do this, it’s you.” 

You take a deep breath. He watches your nerves turn to determination, turn to love. “I know.” 

“Is there anything you need me to do before we start getting ready to leave?” 

You give a soft smile. “Kiss for luck?” 

He’s gonna need it. 

[xetlynn]

hii i have a little request for ekko like omg i love him so bad

so imagine winter times come around and you an ekko are in your shared room (the firelights bases ofc)

and he sees you shivering under your cover so he comes over and just cuddles all up under you

thennn a few words and giggles are shared and thingss get a little heated between yall and ykyk 🤗

I hope you wanted smut. That’s what I made.

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Still Cold

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUTTTT

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: it’s cold, you need to be warmed up. (Established relationship)

Contains: hand job, oral m! Receiving. Afab. Whimpering, whiny sub Ekko:(

You shiver, wearing a few layers of clothes along with tons of blankets. Your nose practically freezing off since you feel claustrophobic if you put your face under the covers. You hear the door open to you and your boyfriend’s shared room. Steps coming towards you. “You cold or something?” He asks, You just scoff in response like it wasn't obvious.

He snickers, throwing the blankets off of you causing you to whine. “Oh shush, c’mere you big baby.” He climbs into bed, pulling your body on top of his.

”You’re warm.” You mumble, clinging onto him. “I’m so cold.” You complain, he puts the covers back over the both of you. 

“I know a way to make us even warmer.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you shove his face away from your neck before he got the chance to pounce on it with his lips. He got hard before he even got into the bed. “I’m too cold to think about that.” You huff, adjusting yourself on him so you were more comfortable. 

It didn’t help Ekko’s situation though. He needed you badly and you put yourself right over his crotch. He tensed up but nonetheless stayed quiet, rubbing your back to get you warmer. “My body aches from how cold it is.” You wiggle over top of him. Ekko lets out a low, almost inaudible grunt. “Stop moving so much.” He grabs your hips to keep you in place. “Sorry, sorry.” 

A few moments go by and you begin to understand why he told you to stop moving. You feel something poking against your core. Your lips lined into a smirk, deciding to mess with him. “Ekko, massage me again.” You look at him with a pout. His eyes met yours, he seemed extremely nervous. He never wanted to push anything on you, so when you said you were too cold to think about it he stopped and he tried to take the thought out of his brain. 

“Um, alright.” His hands move on your back again, you let out a soft moan, humming into his chest. The vibration only worsening his perverted thoughts. Your digits find his hips, going up and down his body in slow motions. He wanted to stop and shove you off of him. 

You were so soft, such a comforting body he just wanted to explore every part of you. Keep you warm and safe. His member twitches and you chuckle. His face flushes. 

“He sure has a lot to say.” You tease him, not looking at him as your hand goes underneath you, trailing all the way down to the place he needed you most. He lets out a gasp. 

Your smaller hand palms him through his sweatpants. “Pretty girl, please.” He whimpers, he pulls his arms up to his head, watching your focused expression. “You wanted to keep me warm, right?” A smug smile tugging upwards, “my hands are pretty cold.” You go to his ear, kissing it softly as the hand that was once palming him went to the waistline of his pants. “Gonna treat you so well.” You lay your head back down on his chest, moving your body slightly off of him so you could get a better view of your actions. 

Ekko watches as his girlfriend extracts his dick from his clothing agonizingly slow. Spitting on your hand before smearing it on his tip, mixed with his precum. “So cute.” You compliment. 

“Cute?” He huffs, your thumb rubs it over the sensitive mushroom top. “Mhm.” 

He bucks his hips up, desperate for you to touch him more. You take your hand away to shove his hips back down. “Be patient.” You sit up with the blankets over your shoulders. You spread his legs apart enough so you could sit in between them. You yank his pants off half-way, keeping them at his thighs. 

His orbs grow darker by the sight of you on your knees before him. Even though you're clothed up you are the only one to affect him this way.  

“What do you want?” You ask, your fingers dancing around his skin. “Take your shirt off. Please.” He mewls in a soft tone. “Then I’ll be cold.” Your bottom lip puckers out as you give him puppy-dog eyes. “I need to see them, they’re so beautiful.” He begs, his hand going down to his dick, using your spit to pump up and down. “If that’s what my boyfriend wants. I guess I can make some sacrifices.” You take off your sweater along with the tank top that was underneath. Flaunting your breasts. 

“Stop touching yourself.” You prod aside his wrist replacing it back with your palm once again. Stroking his cock while leaning over to pronounce your boobs out. “I was supposed to b-e warming- shit- warming you up.” He stammers, grabbing at your left tit, massaging it gently. “This is warming me up.” You giggle, laying a kiss on the cockhead. He squeezes his eyes shut as your tongue kitten licks him. 

Your hand is still kneading at the base. “I- ohmygooodd.” He groans. “Use your mouth.” He runs a hand on top of your hair, grasping at it. “Not very good manners.” You glance up at him. He holds a breath. “Please use your mouth pretty girl. Please.” He whines like a dog, rutting his hips up only to be knocked back down. “Patience, Ekko.” Your voice was soft but stern.

You’ve never acted like this before, it was new to him. He was normally in control. “Fuck, okay, okay.” He throws his arm over his eyes. You snigger, sticking your tongue out. You smack his cock on it repeatedly until popping it between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks, sucking on his tip. 

You lower your head until your nose hits his pelvic region. His happy trail tickles you ever so slightly. You go back up then continue at a leisurely state. Frustrating him ridiculously. “[Name] please stop messing with me. I need more.” He tugs at your hair. “Mmmmhmmm?” Your noises pleasuring him. “I’m going to fuck your throat if you don’t do something.” He tells you through gritted teeth. 

The thought of him facefucking you aroused you. You felt the wetness in between your thighs even through all your clothes. You move your heel underneath your cunt. Pressing your butt down to feel the friction as you bob your head up and down on your boyfriend's thick cock. 

Now being more mindful of his needs. The slurping sounds with a mix of occasional gags. You hold onto the top of his thighs as you get faster. Ekko’s toes curling from your skills. He felt like he was about to cum at any moment. His abs tightening, flexing just for you. 

“[Name], pretty girl. I- oh fuckfuckfuck… I’m close.” Once again his pelvis went up. You weren’t expecting it causing your upper torso to contract as you gag. You lift up, his dick falling against his stomach. The saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your chin. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. I promise.” He implores, his hands wandering on your chest down to your stomach. 

“Fuck my throat.” You vocalise, sounding raspy. “A-are you sure? You don’t have to do it because I mentioned it.” He double checks and you smile, pulling forward by his shirt, kissing him. Your spit and his own liquid smudges across his mouth. 

You drop him back down on the pillows. He plants his feet down on the bed, lifting himself up a tiny bit and you put your mouth back on his dick. “You ready?” He bites his lip, your eyes look up at him. Your cheeks rise, making you seem like you’re squinting to show that you’re smiling. You give him a thumbs up. Both of his hands go to your head. 

He thrusts up into your muzzle, starting off tender you wink at him then his hips begin to accelerate. You hold onto his legs for support. His hands pushing you down as far as you can take him. 

“I’m going to cum! Fu-uuuuck!” He keeps the quick pace. Your pussy spasms at his moans and whimpers he made. “I love you so much, pretty girl. So so so much.” He breathes heavily. “Gonna let me spill into your throat? Swallow it like a good, beautiful girl that you are?” He questions you and you hum out. Slightly nodding your head. “Fuck, that’s my girl.” 

His cock convulses, his tip bruising your uvula. “Ohhh, love you, love you , love…” His voice gets cut off as he cums, his mouth hanging open with no noise coming out. His seed spurting down your throat as your nose pressed against his skin. He restrains you in place until his balls are completely empty. He roughly drops down and you swallow everything before coughing to catch your breath. 

His dick lays limp and his face looks fucked out. “Hope you know I’m not done with you.” You smirk, grabbing his soft cock and he whines, attempting to push you away. “Too sensitive, pretty girl.” He complains. “Mmm I’m still cold though.” 

He tiredly rubs his face realizing how long of a night he was about to have.

[misswynters]

More than a Transaction

featuring. sevika x gn!reader

requested by anon

The brothel wasn’t a place for love. It was a place for survival, a stage where affection was an act and intimacy a commodity. You’d grown used to it, the numb to the fleeting touches, the hollow words whispered in your ear. Love had never been in the cards for you, and you’d long since accepted it.

That was until she walked in. The first time you saw Sevika, she stood out from the usual clientele. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a presence that turned heads and silenced conversations. Her mechanical arm gleamed under the dim lights, and her dark eyes swept the room like she was looking for something, or maybe someone.

“I need a room,” she said, her voice gravelly and low, the kind that made you pause.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask questions. You’d heard whispers about her before, Silco’s right hand, a woman to be feared. Yet as she followed you upstairs, her heavy boots echoing against the floorboards, she didn’t seem dangerous. Just… tired.

In the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She looked around, her gaze lingering on the peeling wallpaper and the flickering candle on the nightstand. “You don’t look like you belong here,” she said, breaking the silence.

You crossed your arms as your looked at her. “Neither do you.”

Her lips quirked into a smirk. “Fair enough.”

At the time, you thought she was just another patron. Someone passing through, here for a night of comfort before disappearing back into the shadows of Zaun. But Sevika wasn’t like the others. The first few visits were business. Silco had sent her to gather information, and the brothel was the perfect place for secrets to spill. She came to you because you were good at what you did: disarming people with a smile, coaxing out truths without them realizing.

“What’s he like?” you asked one evening, lounging on the bed as she nursed a glass of whiskey.

“Who?” she asked.

“Silco. Your boss.” you said plainly.

Sevika leaned back, her smirk fading into something thoughtful. “He’s… complicated. But he knows what he wants, and he doesn’t stop until he gets it.”

“God, sounds exhausting,” you said with a wry smile.

She chuckled, the sound low and rough. “It is.”

You didn’t press further, and she didn’t offer more. But as the weeks passed, her visits became less about Silco and more about you.

One evening, Sevika arrived looking worse for wear. Her knuckles were split, her lip bruised, and a storm cloud seemed to hang over her head.

“What happened to you?” you asked, grabbing a damp cloth to clean her wounds.

“Work,” she muttered, wincing as you dabbed at her lip.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended.

She smirked despite the pain. “What, worried about me or something?”

You didn’t answer, focusing instead on her hand, where fresh blood was crusted over her skin. Her gaze lingered on you as you worked, softer than usual.

“You’re different,” she said after a long pause.

You glanced up. “Different how?”

“From the others. You don’t… fake it the same way.”

You laughed bitterly. “I fake it just like everyone else.”

She shook her head. “Not with me.” Her words hung in the air, heavy and confusing. You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. The silence even though had some tension lingering was comforting.

Over time, Sevika became a fixture in your life. She brought small gifts when she visited. A book she thought you’d like, a bottle of wine she’d picked up on the way, a scarf when the weather turned cold. “You’re spoiling me,” you teased one night as you unwrapped a delicate silver bracelet she’d brought.

“Maybe I like spoiling you,” she replied, her smirk softening into something almost shy.

You’d never had someone treat you like this before. For so long, you’d told yourself you didn’t need love, that it wasn’t meant for people like you. But Sevika made you question that.

One evening, she arrived in an even darker mood than usual. Her fists were clenched, her jaw tight, and the tension radiated off her like a storm.

“Rough night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. She didn’t answer right away, pacing the room like a caged animal. Finally, she stopped, her eyes meeting yours.

“Why do you do this?” she asked abruptly.

“Do what?” you asked with a slight concerned look on your face.

“This,” she said, gesturing around the room. “This life. You’re better than this place.” Her words stung more than they should have. “And what should I be doing instead?” you snapped. “Changing the world? Leading a revolution?”

“You could,” she said simply.

You stared at her, caught off guard. She wasn’t mocking you as you thought a second ago, she meant it.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

She stepped closer, her rough hand brushing against yours. “Because you’re worth more than this. You just don’t see it yet.”

That night, something shifted between you. Sevika stopped pretending her visits were for Silco and started coming just for you. She stayed longer, lingering even after the candles burned low. You talked for hours, about everything and nothing.

“What do you want out of life?” she asked one night, her voice softer than usual.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, think about it,” she said, leaning back against the bed with a rare, relaxed air. “You deserve more than this.”

Her words stayed with you long after she left. The brothel wasn’t a place for love, but somehow, Sevika had found you there. She wasn’t perfect, far from it. She was rough around the edges, guarded and prone to anger. But with you, she was different. Softer. And for the first time in your life, you felt truly seen.

“Stay with me,” you whispered one night as she pulled on her jacket to leave.

She paused, her hand hovering over the door handle. “I can’t promise you a happy ending,” she said, her voice heavy with regret.

“I don’t need to be happy,” you replied. “I just want you.” Sevika turned, her dark eyes searching yours. Finally, she closed the distance between you, her calloused hand cupping your cheek.

“You’ve got me,” she said softly, her lips brushing against yours. “For as long as you’ll have me.” And for the first time, the brothel didn’t feel like a place of survival. It felt like home.

taglist: @cewl-casper @hutaotown @lunatakashi18 @shinyshayminflower @pipirka827363829 @dragonfly41777 @themostlesbianever @abbyssgf @kissyslut @ayedomino0 @amenazaaaa @usedmilkdud @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @ekkosh

banners: @anitalenia

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject III pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst and comfort. fluff. mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth and DUI. wc: 2.7k part 3 and the last part of touchy subject! click here for part 1, click here for part 2 i really liked writing for them and honestly i'm considering occasionally writing blurbs for them and what their relationship would shape into, lmk if you'd be interested!!

seeing you in front of that store felt like it might've killed rafe. the first face he fell in love with, the woman who'd left him with nothing but scars and an engagement ring. somehow, he still managed to stay alive.

but hearing you say his name in the soft voice he hadn't heard in over four years, the same one that you used to tell him you loved him every single night before your body went slack in his arms, that might have been the final blow.

"what are you doing here?" you managed to mutter, your hand instinctively going to your locket, squeezing it in your hand, and the gesture didn't go unnoticed by rafe.

"what's this?" rafe asked as the two of you laid in bed, his finger tracing the patterns on the heart-shaped locket resting on your chest, the one you'd worn around your neck for as long as he'd known you.

"this?" you asked, opening the locket, displaying two pictures; one of them was of you when you were a little girl, standing between your parents with a wide, toothy grin on your face, and the other was a picture of you and rafe, taken at midsummers. "i got this from my mom. it's a family heirloom of sorts. when she's born," you looked down at your stomach, "we've gotta get a picture taken of us three so i can put it here."

he let out a small chuckle, "i'm honored that you want me in your heart."

"i think you're always going to be in my heart," you rolled your eyes, "whether i want it or not."

"i'm here to see you. i thought that'd be obvious." rafe said without an ounce of emotion in his voice, the sound causing a shiver to run down your spine. grieving your daughter on what would've been her fifth birthday wasn't a moment you exactly wanted your ex to witness, but this was still rafe. the man you loved for so long, the only man you ever loved, the one you were going to marry, and this was still the house that was supposed to be your home.

so you stepped aside, pulling your cardigan closed as a way to close yourself off from the man as you walked further into the house, not daring yourself to look back at him, fearing the urge that still remained in your chest to just pull him close to you and be in his arms.

you heard the door close, pressing your eyes shut as you stood in front of the fireplace, your arms crossed in front of your chest as if defending yourself, the man's footsteps echoing in the room, "it's cold in here."

"the radiator's broken."

"can you just, at least look at me, or something?"

"do i have to?" you chuckled humorlessly, and when you felt his hand on your shoulder, it felt like the room got ten degrees colder, the man slowly turning you around to face him, and when you refused to look up at him, focusing on the baby blue sweater he was wearing, he brought his hand to your chin, gently lifting it up, just like he did every time he was about to kiss you.

"we need to talk."

if someone was to ask you what would be the most uncomfortable situation you had ever been in, this would be among the top 3, right after you got the 'birds and the bees' talk and the time you said your goodbyes to the same man now sitting beside you, the space between you two big enough to fit another person.

"why did you come back?" rafe asks, without even sparing you a glance. you decide to do the same, your gaze staying on the fire crackling in front of you.

"i don't know. a part of me thinks it's because i missed home."

"and the other part?"

missed us. missed her. "missed my mom, i guess."

your mother had driven you home from the hospital, insisting that she'd stay with you for the next few days; you still hadn't seen rafe. you couldn't face him, couldn't face the guilt you carried around for being the reason your daughter would be coming home in an urn.

she'd gone to the store for groceries, leaving you to sit on the couch you and rafe had picked out, staring at the engagement picture that hung above the fireplace.

you didn't know how it started, how every single vase ended up as nothing but shards of glass on the floor, how the coffee table had ended up as planks of wood, how your fists were bruised from beating them against the walls, your knees bloody from when you'd collapsed on the ground amongst all the glass.

"do you know what day it is?" rafe asked with a weak voice, and you could hear him try to swallow down the emotion crawling up his throat.

his question made you want to let out a small, humorless laugh. you don't know how you could ever forget. "of course." the day i killed her.

rafe stood up, running his hand over his chin before trailing over the short strands of hair on his head, "why did you do it?" he looked to you. "why did you leave?"

"i had no reason to stay." you say emotionlessly, your fingers intertwined as you kept your eyes on them as if you were praying.

"you had me. you would've had me if you just let me be there."

"rafe, i killed our daughter."

"what-"

"i'm the reason our daughter isn't here. i'm the reason she doesn't exist. i'm the reason that today isn't only her fifth birthday, but also the fifth anniversary of her death."

rafe kneeled down in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, not caring if it made you uncomfortable, or that this was the first time he'd properly touched you in over four years, the only thing that mattered to him was that you listened.

"you did not kill our daughter."

"i did."

"no." he scoffed, "you aren't the reason she's dead. the reason is the drunken asshole who drove at you. you loved her with your entire being, with everything you had, even before she was born. you would've been the most amazing mother in the world. don't you dare blame yourself for something you had zero control over."

"i shouldn't have driven in that weather. i knew it was gonna be raining, that the roads would be slippery-"

"no." rafe said sternly, "look at me."

your eyes moved to look into rafe's steel-blue ones, shimmering with unshed tears, his jaw clenched, and only then did you realize that he was cupping your face in his hands, his touch somehow managing to make you feel warm even in the cold apartment.

"i won't have you blame yourself for something you had no fuckin' control over. evelyn was so wanted, by both of us. she would've been so loved. we would've done anything to protect her, and to keep her safe. if any fucker even thought about hurting her, i would've made sure they'd regret ever being born. but you are not to blame for her not being here."

rafe's hands moved from your cheeks to your hands, the man instead taking your clenched fists into his, letting out a small sniffle, and when he pressed his eyes closed and let out a sigh, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"yeah, you could've not driven in the rain. but i should've been the one to drive you to your mom's, you were eight months along, an insane man would make you drive yourself, or i should've made sure you got home before it was dark, or i should've picked you up myself. there are so many things we could've done differently, but that doesn't mean that either of us is to blame for it."

"i spent so long blaming myself for what happened, but not even for a moment did i blame you. you did everything to keep her safe, and i know it, and i'm sure that she knows it too. you loved her more than anything, and i won't let some drunk driving idiot make you feel like you did anything wrong."

slowly, you opened your fists, half-moon prints on the palms on your hands caused by your nails, and without even realizing, tears had been rolling down your eyes the entire time that rafe had been speaking, the man standing up and pressing a kiss on your forehead that felt like it burnt and would leave a mark that'd be there forever, before he settled down next to you.

a strand of hair was stuck on your cheek, almost glued on there by the tears you shed, the blonde man tugging it behind your ear, his eyes still on you, his hands still cupping yours.

"i don't blame you for what happened, nor do i blame you for pushing me away. but i wish you would've let me in, to be there for you, instead of leaving. so we could've grieved her together."

"i think we should break up, rafe."

"what?" rafe turned to look at you; this wasn't what he had been expecting to hear after two months of silence, "if this is about the baby-"

"i can't do it anymore." you closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek, "i need to leave. start over."

you turned your head to look at him, his words feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and even though you tried to find it, there was nothing in his eyes that said that he was lying.

"you don't blame me for any of it?"

your voice was weak and feeble, as if a part of you was expecting him to tell you that he did, but when he pulled you into his embrace, he told you the truth in the best way he knew how to: without saying a single word.

you didn't know how long you had been in rafe's arms; it felt like hours, while also feeling like the moment had lasted mere seconds, like you two lived in your own bubble. it felt like the last four years hadn't happened, like you had never left.

but when he pulled away from the embrace and looked down at his watch, letting out a sigh, you knew what was coming. the bubble burst.

"i should probably get going." rafe let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before starting to get up off the couch, stretching his long limbs.

"yeah, yeah." you said softly, clearing your throat, trying to act like nothing had happened, like you hadn't gone through every memory you shared while he was just holding you to comfort you, "your girlfriend's probably waiting for you."

rafe stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at you, "girlfriend?"

"shit," you chuckle softly, fidgeting with your hands and chewing on your lower lip, "i guess she's your fiancée, now."

he sat down on the couch next to you while you simply avoided his gaze, not wanting him to read everything you were feeling like he so often seemed to do, but your attempt was unsuccessful, the man bringing his hand to your chin and gently turning your head so you were forced to look at him, his brows slightly furrowed while he looked at you pointedly.

"what girlfriend, or fiancée?"

you didn't know if rafe was acting stupid, or if he was genuinely confused, but you could still remember the woman with him at the jewelry store, the woman who had managed to make him smile, whose back rafe placed his hand on.

"you know," you clear your throat, taking his hand off your chin and turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes as you thought about him waiting at the aisle for another woman, "the woman at the jewelry store."

rafe let out a soft laugh, and when you turned your head, facing him, he was nearly keeling over in laughter, his head in his hands.

"what?"

"that-" rafe said inbetween laughs, "that wasn't my girlfriend."

"what?" you mumbled softly, your brows furrowing, "what do you mean, rafe?"

"sorry-" he continued laughing for a while only to be stopped by a soft smack you delivered to his shoulder, before the man took a deep breath, looking at you with a small smile gracing his lips, a sight that still got your heart to flutter, "that wasn't my girlfriend, or my fiancée."

"then... who was she?"

"that was," rafe let out another chuckle as if you had said something foolish, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, "wheezie's girlfriend."

you tried processing the words that had left his lips, but no matter what, they didn't seem to make since. "why were you in a jewelry store together? wheezie's only like-"

"wheezie's nineteen." rafe shook his head, "her girlfriend, lucy, asked me to help her pick out a ring. sarah was supposed to go with her, but she had some preschool stuff to deal with relating to jack, so i got stuck with that duty…"

"isn't nineteen a bit... young?"

"it is. but you remember how young we were when we got engaged? or sarah?" a fond smile took over rafe's lips as he turned to look at the fire that was slowly burning out, letting the next words out in a hushed tone. "guess it runs in the family."

"guess so." you say, biting down on your lip, turning to look at the fire with him, your cheeks warm as you felt like an idiot for your assumption.

"i still haven't moved on." rafe said, letting out a breath, "i don't know if i can. i don't think i even want to." you turned to look back at one another at the same time, both of you seeing the same melancholy in the other one's eyes, "there's no one i would ever want to be with other than you."

you took a deep breath, his words ringing through your head as you looked at him, a damp trail running down his cheek was still visible from the tears he had shed, and you took a deep breath, making a decision that you knew would impact the rest of your life.

"me neither, rafe."

you brought your hand to his cheek and felt the tear he had shed under your touch, pulling his face to meet yours until your lips clashed, feeling the exact same that it did four years ago, making you wonder how you ever let it go.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

you laid on a blanket in the middle of a field of sunflowers, your arms crossed behind your head and your eyes pressed closed, letting the sun beam down your face, warming you up as your bare feet were being tickled by blades of grass.

your daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and you opened one of your eyes to see rafe stumble through the long flowers into the small clearing you'd found, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"don't laugh at me." he scolded, shaking his head as he landed on the blanket next to you, letting out a soft grunt.

"why not?" you asked, sticking your tongue out at him, your boyfriend gasping in feigned offence, about to quip back at you, only to be stopped by the small, chaste peck you pressed on his lips, even the small display of affection managing to leave him speechless.

as he settled down next to you, you smiled while looking up at the sky, white clouds covering a part of the beautiful icy blue nothingness that was so much like rafe's eyes, your thoughts on her. you took rafe's hand in yours, keeping your eyes trained up while you let yourselves just exist together.

"you're always going to be in my heart, evelyn louise cameron." you said softly as you traced the patterns on your locket, rafe turning his head to look at you, a somber expression on his face as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"yeah, she will. and neither of us will ever forget her."

[bunnys-kisses]

on top of the world

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, post-las vegas gp (2024), pregnancy/pregnant!reader, tender & gentle sex, established relationship,

a/n: congrats max for another wdc!

max wrapped you up in his arms and held you tightly. he kissed you on the side of the face with such love. such affection, there was a fire to his kiss, the after burn of a heated race. he came in fifth this weekend, but he was just that good that he managed to get enough points to secure his fourth world champion!

and when max pulled away with misty eyes. the thrill of the wdc never damped. he smiled brightly at you and said, "i won the wdc."

you swallowed and in the heat of the moment replied, "and i'm pregnant." you wished you could've taken the words back, but instead max just kissed you once more. your legs felt like jelly as you clung to him. wrapped up in one another, but max's grip loosened on you. after all, you were pregnant.

"you're pregnant." he said as his hands trailed up your sides once you were in the privacy of the hotel room. during every interview with what felt like every news network in the world. not only did he want to talk about his win, but the growth of your family.

you traced your hands down the front of his red bull branded t-shirt, "remember why we were so curious why jimmy, sassy and donatello were always hanging around me?"

he nodded as he undid the buttons of your blouse.

"the entire weekend i felt sick in brazil and we chalked it up to something not agreeing with me." there was another nod from your boyfriend, "and then when you put your face between my breasts and i always yelled because they were so tender? yeah... i'm pregnant."

he looked at your face and then your middle. he patted a hand across the soft flesh and licked his lips, "you're serious, right? no joke?"

you held his face in your hands and looked into his blue eyes, "max... maxie... my love. i took five of them. i'm pretty sure it's impossible for all five to be false positives... when i head back home i will get the blood work done."

he beamed at you and pulled you in for another heated kiss. soon you were pulling at the shoulders of his t-shirt. his hat was flicked off onto the floor and with a bit of help you were both soon completely nude on the bed.

he looked amazing, even post-race. he was well showered and out of his driving clothes. but, he still looked flustered from the heat of the race, and even though it was so late into the evening. you both couldn't sleep, not while your brains were running a mile a minute. he admired you, loved you as his hands spread across your form.

"you and i made a baby, huh?" he said as leaned down and kissed your stomach, how much it would change while you carried his child. his kisses continued to trail across your body and you felt a shiver of euphoria through your system as he got between your legs. his cock stood at full attention and he wanted to map out every inch of you skin. as much as possible. he wanted to feel the love of his life as much as he could, to worship your body.

"yes, that's what happened." you giggled as your combed your fingers through his dirty blond hair, "that's usually what happens when you have unprotected sex." you smiled then kissed him when he rose his head.

"i hope you know, i'm here for you and our baby, okay? i'm not walking out, no, never." he nodded earnestly, even though there was no doubt in your bed. it was sweet for him to confirm it for you. you pulled him into a searing kiss and got him onto his back with you on top of him. you spread your hands across his broad chest, you could feel his racing heartbeat.

you rubbed your hands up and down his chest as you pulled away. you looked down at him before you slowly sank on his cock. before he could say anything you replied, "we'll go soft. no need to get too worried there, mister verstappen." you moved your hips slowly against him and he tensed up for a moment at the feeling.

max knew you were going to be his wife, he was certain anyone at the team could see that. the way max held you and kissed you. the infamous maxplaining about you and your own accomplishments. while you weren't a superstar driver, he wanted everyone to know that you got your master's degree. he simply hadn't popped the question so your last name could on every degree you earn. but that might have to change a little prematurely with the news that you two were expecting a child. he groaned a little as he felt the circulation of pleasure through his body. the rise and fall of your hips as you made love to him.

both of you still running off the high of the race and of the victorious news. you moved a little faster, but he slowed you down. he panted, "i want to feel you, all of you." he swallowed back a heavy moan as he moved against you. he admired every curve of your body. you were his, all his. the two of you were going start a family. be a family. one thought crossed his mind, he'd need to go ring shopping.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

you continued to work his body slowly, feeling every each of one another. max's hands tickled you a little and your giggles made his pulse leap. you could feel the circulation of pleasure in your brain as you moved against him with such affection and love. you loved max, you loved him more than you could put into words. there were no words in any language that could describe your affection towards the man. your man.

your bodies moved together. but it wasn't fucking, it was making love. you were enjoying each other's bodies with heated want while you moved against him lovingly. you moaned a little louder when the pleasure started to creep up through your body. you leaned in to kiss him once more as you moved your hips. you braced yourself on his toned chest and moaned deep into the kiss. that seemed to excite max as he held onto you a bit tighter. not tight enough to bruise. but, enough to be protective over you. over his beloved woman.

when you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his and giggled, "soon we're going to have to find new ways to do this." then kissed him on the face.

"i'll take you anyway i can, my love. anyway you'll let me have you." he shuddered at the feeling of you. the two of you moved against one another during heated kisses and you could feel the pleasure spike in your body. when you broke the kiss, he said, "i won this all for you. but i think you upstaged me." he chuckled lightly, his cheeks dusted with pink, "i was going to come home with the world championship, but you were to come home with our child." he kissed you again, "i guess i'd rather be beaten by my wife than anyone else."

you felt a rise in you from his words, only to spur you on with slow but steadier movements. you raked your nails dwon his pale chest and whispered praise towards him. it wasn't erotic so much as intimate. how much you loved him, how much he meant to you. "when i see your eyes, i feel the future, max. and not just trophies and fast cars. i see a home, a life, a family." and he shuddered at your words. you knew how to make him feel so comfortable, safe and sound.

you marginally picked up speed and knew you weren't going to last much longer. you kissed him deeply as you rode him perfectly. your pussy fit perfectly, and he loved the feeling of you around him. cunt around his cock, hands on his chest,t he weight of you on his hips as you moved against him. everything oozed with perfection and made his heart stammer.

the two of you continued, the kisses only furthered. you held onto him tightly and with a few more movements of your hips. you clamped down around him and came. you moaned deeply into the kiss and let the pleasure wash over you.

max felt a similar feeling and while you rose through your orgasm. he finished inside of you as well. mindful not to be too rough with you. you two kissed more as you felt up his chest and he felt up your hips. you stayed seated on his cock for a few moments while you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on you.

but a night of euphoric highs led to emotional crashes that left you sleepy. soon you got yourself off of him and laid next to him on the king sized bed. you were panting heavily. max was playing with your left hand, especially your ring finger.

you smacked him on the chest with that hand while you laid out on the bed, "and no, max. we're not getting married in vegas." then looked at him, "we'll do it right... plus i'm certain your sister and my sister would kill you."

max just beamed and pulled you into a tight cuddle, "fair, fair, mrs. verstappen."

-

you told very few people about the pregnancy, especially not the press. people did notice the slow down of photos of you on max's social medias as you got further along.

one fan wrote online, "maybe they broke up?"

another said, "he better not embarrassed with her now or something stupid like that!"

you found the comments endearing while you were in your home in monaco, the cats still gravitated towards you. with the newest of the bunch always finding their way around your swollen middle. max did take photos of you, every chance he could. but, those were for his private collection as the following season started to wind up. while you would've loved to be there, the swell in your middle was only getting more obvious.

"you better facetime me." your lover wagged his finger at you.

"not if jimmy lies on top of my phone and i lose it for an hour." you giggled before you kissed max on the mouth. it was hard to see him go, especially when any updates about your child with him were over text and calls. it was hard.

he would eventually post a photo after a mysterious absence from social media around the summer break, "going to win a fifth world champion for you the way i won the previous four for your mama." and that answered every questions fans had. the photo was max holding his son with the stupidest grin on his face.

and by the end of the 2025 season, he had secured a fifth victory. for you, for him and for the son you both loved dearly <3

[vibeswithdivs]

You are not alone anymore

pairing: reader x max verstappen

The thermometer beeped, its sharp tone cutting through the quiet of the room. Max frowned as he glanced at the small screen. 38.9 degrees Celsius. He sighed heavily, setting it down on the nightstand and turning back to her.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice a low murmur that carried both concern and frustration.

She barely opened her eyes, her face flushed from the fever. “It’s just a cold,” she mumbled, her tone defiant despite the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Max crouched beside the bed, his tall frame folding awkwardly, but his gaze was steady as he studied her. “Not worry me?” he repeated, a small crease forming between his brows. “You’re burning up, lieverd. You’ve been running on fumes for weeks, and now look where that’s gotten you.”

Her lips quirked up faintly at his Dutch endearment, but she quickly tried to sit up. “I just need to—”

“Stay. In. Bed,” Max interrupted, gently but firmly pressing her back against the pillows. He shook his head, his hand lingering on her shoulder as his blue eyes softened. “For once, can you let someone else take care of you? Please?”

Her lips parted to argue, but the warmth of his hand against her arm and the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his expression made her stop. She exhaled deeply, leaning back into the pillows with a reluctant nod. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like fighting you right now.”

Max chuckled softly, leaning in to press a light kiss to her forehead. “That’s what I thought.” His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his frown returning. “You’re too warm.”

“It’ll pass,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah, with rest, food, and water,” he replied, standing up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

The clinking of glass and the low hum of the kettle drifted into the room as she lay there, too tired to do more than close her eyes and wait. The mattress dipped slightly when Max returned, a steaming mug in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

“Here,” he said, sitting beside her and holding out the mug. She took it reluctantly, the warmth seeping into her cold hands.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she murmured.

Max raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “Trouble? Meisje, this is nothing. You’ve been the one holding everything together while ignoring your own needs. If anything, I should’ve noticed sooner.”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether it was from the fever or his words, she couldn’t tell. “I’m fine, Max.”

“No,” he said softly, his tone firm but filled with affection. “You’re not. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

She looked down at the mug in her hands, her fingers tracing the rim. It was hard to let go, hard to admit that she couldn’t do everything on her own. But Max’s hand on her knee, warm and steady, grounded her.

“Drink,” he urged, his voice gentler now. “Then we’ll work on getting some food in you.”

She obeyed, taking slow sips as he watched her carefully, his eyes never leaving her face. The concern etched into his features made her chest ache, but it also filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tea.

Over the next few hours, Max stayed by her side, tending to her every need despite her half-hearted protests. He adjusted her blankets, made sure she took her medicine, and even coaxed her into eating a few spoonfuls of soup, his patience unwavering.

At one point, she woke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone while his other hand rested lightly on her thigh. She blinked at him, her heart squeezing at the sight of his familiar profile softened by the glow of the bedside lamp.

“You’re still here?” she asked, her voice rasping slightly.

Max looked up, his lips curving into a small smile. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her throat tightening. “Racing? Sim practice? Anywhere but stuck in here with me.”

“Hey,” he said, setting his phone aside and leaning closer. His hand slid up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her warm skin. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. You’re my priority, remember?”

Her eyes stung, and she quickly blinked away the tears threatening to fall. “I just… I’m not used to this. Being taken care of.”

“I know,” Max murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. “But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me. So let me take care of you, schatje.”

She nodded, her eyes falling shut as his words wrapped around her like a cocoon.

The fever broke by the following morning, leaving her weak but significantly better. When she finally managed to sit up without help, Max was already there, propping her up with pillows and offering her another mug of tea.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice laced with relief.

“A little,” she admitted, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Thanks to you.”

Max grinned, his usual confidence returning. “Told you I’d get you through it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture lacked any real bite. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her. His lips were soft and lingering, a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his hand finding hers beneath the blanket. “Promise me something,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Next time you’re not okay, tell me,” he said, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her palm. “Don’t wait until you’re falling apart to let me in.”

She swallowed hard, the sincerity in his voice breaking through the last of her defenses. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling in her chest.

“Good,” Max said, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Now, finish your tea. You’ve got some recovering to do.”

As she sipped the warm liquid, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks, she couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—leaning on someone else wasn’t so bad after all.

[nicholasgoodgirl]

in the sheets- spencer reid

summary: sleeping with spencer and caring less about the consequences from your dad.

warnings: smut, no protection (wrap that shit), aaron is your dad, age gap (4yrs), multiple rounds, slight squirtung, aftercare

a/n: i wanna be that one writer who writes the reader as aarons daughter.

me and spencer were kissing from the front door all the way to my bedroom. stumbling on eachother while moving backwards towards the bed unable to move off of eachother.

i fall onto the bed; with him ontop of me. he kissed down my jaw to my collar bone leaving sloppy wet kisses.

i reach down, palming him through his pants, looking him straight in his eyes. i see the intense desire in his eyes making me smile.

"can i?" i ask messing with the waist band of his pants. "please" he begged.

i get up from the bed sitting spencer down then unzipping his pants. he helped me pull them down; pulling his boxers down as well.

i grab ahold of his now free cock letting my tounge swirl around the tip, my mouth taking more of him. he gasped at the feeling.

surprisingly he took ahold of my hair and forced my mouth down further on his dick, it caught me off gaurd making me cough a bit.

as i bobbed my head i tried my best to supress my gag reflex everytime he hit the back of my throat.

"k' thats enough. get up" he helped me off the ground and pulled me in for a kiss then made me lay on his bed; turning me over on my stomach.

"please baby take off your shirt" he said while taking off my pants already, then tossing them to the floor.

i took my shirt off and just threw it away from me. his shirt tossed in the same direction.

he runs his hands down my back then to my hips. he guides the head of his cock to my hole, teasing my entrance.

"can we just fuck for now. and not tease eachother" i propose the possibility. "sounds like a plan" i audibly gasp at him slipping into me, bottoming out.

spencer was thrusting into me so easily "god you feel so good" his words wobble out.

he increased his speed gripping onto my hips which i knew were gonna leave marks.

if i was being honset with my self i didn't think he had it in him, but i never fully doubted him.

he brings his hand down to my clit rubbing it in circles while also applying pressure. making me squirm under him. "mm- fuck m' gonna cum" my words muffling into the matress.

"thats fine" i didn't even have to look back to know he was smiling, just from the way he said it.

just one more rut and i felt myself get filled. he fucked his seed into me some more and i had climaxed.

i wanted more, i was yearning for more i wanted him to pull so many orgasms from me tonight. just looking at him made my eyes glaze with lust.

he pulled out and turned me over "can we go again?" i asked before he could say anything. a warm smile and a nodd is all i received before he penetrates me again.

he scans over my face as he pushes inside of me "you're really pretty y'know that?" he leans down to press a sentimental kiss on my lips.

"thanks baby, thats-.. sweet" the last word choking out when his tip brushes my cervix.

he puts his hands back at my waist for leverage to hit into me deeper. i pull at the blankets underneath me. i was still so sensitive from my last orgasm but my need for him was much more stronger.

"I can't really last-" his cock twitched then filled me up again "-that long looking at you" it was endearing really and i can't even be mad about it, but he was still hard.

it was like having sex with a horny teenage boy with much more stamina.

he lays down ontop of me not really putting his full weight on me, he pulls out and turns over; flopping onto his back.

i get on him, straddling his lap "can i ride you?" he just groaned a 'mhm' so i grabbed his hard cock and aligned it with my somehow slick entrance.

i sink down on him, leaning down to place kisses on spencers neck while rocking my hips back and forth. i sit up and use his shoulders to help me go up and down on him. at the certain angle his dick was hitting inside of me made pornographic moans leave my lips and also made me see stars. i was onto my second orgasm tonight.

"ahh.. shit" i laid ontop of spencer, rocking my hips a little; riding out my orgasm feeling pure ecstasy.

i was so tired but the room was thick with tension and lust. i couldn't physically get enough of spencer reid, as the minutes passed i found new things about him that turned me on. like right now, his heavy breathing and the light tracing that his hand is doing on my back.

"turn over. might be a while til' we can do this again" he turned me over; my face laying into the pillows. "can you breath?" he asked fisting some hair into a make shift ponytail. "yeah" he released my hair after the response

his tip dragged through my sensitive folds, he then fucks his tip inside me. my brows knit and my mouth falls open.

he slams inside of me "im goin' all the way" spencer warns.

i put my face into the pillow and let out a scream. I'd never been fucked like this ever. and i never had someone go multiple rounds in different positions for so long, it's been atleast 30 minutes.

his leverage this time was the headboard of his bed. he kept him somewhat steady

he slams into me repeatedly, his tip brusing my cervix. i clench around him, a whimper falling from his mouth it sounded like music to my ears I'd do anything to hear it again.

spencer was using everything in him to hit deeply inside me, it was making my mind go blank. all that was leaving my mouth was moans and his name as if thats all i remembered

"spencer!!" i screamed. i held onto the blankets for dear life as if it could help me take it.

"sorry.. sorry" he began slowing down "no dont stop!" i yelled quickly. so he reverted his speed and continued to go as fast as before.

i possibly could have squirted, i just know my own cum is leaking out of me while he's still going.

"jesus fuck-" he moans, pulling out with a slick pop then collapsing next to me.

i felt worn out, but like i could go just one more time but i highly doubt I'd even be awake for it

"im sorry about that" he sighs into my hair.

"don't apologize" is all i could utter in the moment.

i let my eyes rest and he tucked the hair that fallen in my face behind my ear. i opened my eyes to see him admiring my face "that was eventful wasn't it?" i smile nodding, i could feel butterflies in my stomach just from looking at him.

"lets get cleaned up" spencer sat up but i didn't sit up with him, i actually got under the blankets that were already a mess.

"m' tired" is all i said while snuggling into the balnkets "thats fair." he got out of bed and went to the bathroom with some clothes in hand. which im not quite sure when he got them.

--

i wake up to a damp haired spencer reid. and looking around it was still night. I've only fallen asleep for a few minutes "c'mon sweet girl you need to get clean"

he carried me into the bathroom and placed me in a bath. "im gonna go change the sheets and blankets. try cleaning yourself.. and please dont fall asleep in the tub. it's a major safety hazard" i nod along to what he's saying so he know im listening.

when he leaves i start getting all cleaned up. i could really get used to this princesses treatment, and the thing is we aren't even together and this is the best I've been treated by a man.

i got out the tub and dryed myself off. looking around i saw no clothes, so i wrapped the towel around me and walked out the bathroom.

"spencer!?" i yell out for him but there was no reply. i hear footsteps approaching the bedroom "yeah?" it was just spencer.

"i have no clothes" it's like a instant lightbulb went off in his head "i totally forgot" he went in his closet and came out with a black t-shirt.

"thanks" i walk back into the bathroom but before i could close the door spencer told me he ordered pizza and it should be here by time i was completely finished.

i put the shirt on and it was at my mid thigh so i think i was good for tonight.

i sit on the bed and get comfortable under the blankets of the replaced bedsheets. spencer comes in the room with a box of pizza and two bottled waters in the other hand.

"got the goods" he chuckled placing the food and drink on the bed. "thanks spence"

he climbed into bed next to me "so how are we telling your dad about this" i nearly choked on air.

"he's not finding out about this moment-" ,,no no of course not he'd kill me. i mean us. whatever this is." his words were kinda doubtful of what he thought we were.

"oh.. lets just wait it out and hope I'm not pregnant" i lightened the moment with reid laughing at my half joke.

[v6quewrlds]

Dad Joe X reader have to go pick up their teenage daughter because she snuck out her friends house to go to a party and calls crying

your eyes snapped open to the sound of joe's phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand. the digital clock on the wall blinked 1:23 am. his sleepy "hello?" grew tense as he sat up, the mattress shifting beneath him.

"it's amara," he murmured, sliding out of bed with a concerned look.

your heart skipped a beat. joe's voice grew softer, but the tension in his words was palpable as he listened to your daughter's trembling voice. "okay, pumpkin, it's alright," he said, his own voice calming her, "we'll be there soon."

he ended the call and turned to you. "she's at a house party," he explained, rubbing his eyes. "some things got out of hand, and she wants us to pick her up." your eyes widened. "but she's okay," he quickly added, noticing the alarm in your gaze. "she just needs us."

the car's headlights sliced through the darkness as joe navigated the quiet streets just outside the city, his mind racing with questions and concerns. you reached over and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "it's gonna be okay," you assured him, your voice a gentle whisper in the tense silence.

you pulled up to the house, the pulse of music thumping through the walls and spilling into the night. you spotted amara immediately, huddled on the porch, wrapped in a much-too-thin jacket, her eyes red from crying. joe parked and you were out of the car before the engine had fully died, rushing to your daughter's side. "hey, baby girl," you said softly, wrapping your arms around amara's shoulders, "let's go home, okay?"

amara nodded, her cheeks still damp with tears as she stepped into the car. joe put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, the house party's music fading in the rearview mirror. the ride back was filled with an uneasy silence, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and amara's occasional sniffles.

when you arrived home, the house was as still as you had left it. you led amara to the living room, the warm light casting a comforting glow. "do you want to talk about it, honey?" you asked, your voice tender.

joe leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "did anyone hurt you?" he asked, his tone firm but not accusatory.

amara shook her head. "no, dad," she said, "i just…i didn't like how some boys talked to me. are you mad at me?"

joe's expression softened. "mad? no, sweetheart," he replied, "we all make mistakes. what's important is that you knew to come to us. that's braver than you realize." you nodded in agreement, your hand moving to gently brush amara's hair from her face.

the two of you hugged her close for a moment, letting her tears soak your shirts, before gently releasing her. "why don't you go upstairs and try to get some sleep?" you suggested.

amara nodded, her feet dragging a bit as she made her way up the stairs. nyla and joe shared a look of concern before joe broke the silence with a sigh. "i'll go talk to her in the morning," he said, his voice low. "i didn't think she was going to parties like that yet."

"me either. but thank you for being there for her," you whispered, "you're an amazing dad. i don't know what we'd do without you."

joe leaned over to kiss her forehead. "you're an amazing mom," he said, his voice thick with affection. "we're in this together."

[demonicintegrity]

I remember when my middle school counselor was encouraging me to get more sleep at night, as that would help some of my irritable moods. And I, a spiteful nerd, pulled out the facts that

Teens are more likely to get hardwired to stay up later and sleep in later

Teens needed a full 10 hours of sleep (if not more)

I had to catch the bus that came at 7am

I didn't get home until 4pm

Often parents wake up their teens on weekends so they don't sleep the day away, my mother was sometimes like this.

Would better sleep had made a difference? Should I have followed her advice by trying to sleep just ten minutes earlier each night until it stuck? Who knows. In high school I was going to bed at 9pm again and was still depressed.

But absolutely absolutely seconding what mossiest said. My schedule was essentially being between a rock and a hard place in terms of making time for any sort of mindfulness (and trying not to get ridiculed for it in the process.)

Throughout high school and college I was getting the same advice again. And part of me was resistant at times (wdym I have to drink more water. Coffee and juice is just fine) but the absolutely trial and error of realizing what dehydration does to you once it catches up to you puts things in perspective.

I also wonder how much of the disconnect was simply a miscommunication. Especially with things like changing your attitude/mindset. It can come off as backhanded (which teens get often) or confusing (doubly if youre neurodivergent, shocker) or just plain impossible (there was no clear instructions. Best I got was the same counselor giving me homework to write five nice things about myself. I think I was able only to do two on my own? Kudos to her I was a hardheaded case fnsdkjnfsdj)

In high school when I had a proper therapist she was quickly on the same page as me. Realized how little I could do about some of my circumstances and lifestyle, and really honed in on the things I could do. And then was willing to advocate on my behalf for things that I couldn't on my own in joint sessions.

Anyways, all this to say: Kids you absolutely do need to eat enough protein and an occasional vegetable and drink water it does help your mood. Maybe you're not in the position to go buy the foods that would make this easy and simple for you to do. Maybe you have responsibilities and stressors that keep you up at night. OP is right though, it does help. Not solve everything, but help. If you can, honestly pick a struggle; choosing just one to improve might give you the boost enough to get some other things in order. Even if its just journaling or doodling on the regular.

15 year old me would be so annoyed with 21 year old me for being like I have a lifelong mental illness but I’m essentially symptom free right now and that’s partially because of my medication, but things like regular exercise, keeping a routine, trying to get enough sleep, and changing my attitude really do help keep me stable. but that’s not “do yoga” advice, that’s getting a different perspective as you grow up and I really wish I didn’t dismiss stuff like that as wellness blogger self help book bullshit back then

[billthedrake]

THANKSGIVING QUICKIE

It must have been a special occasion, because Cooper's parents let him sleep in. But it was Thanksgiving and the high school senior had turned in an incredible performance on the football field the evening before. He had come back home amped up on adrenaline and in no mood to go to bed at a reasonable time.

The jock stirred in bed now, his short sandy brown hair all mussed. It took a second to realize that a knock had roused him. The door opened, and his father peeked in.

"OK if I come in, buddy?" he asked.

The 18-year-old leaned up in bed, the covers slipping off his bare torso. He'd packed on muscle over the last couple of years, a lot lately. His dad had encouraged his gym and diet obsessions, maybe but it was kind of Cooper's thing. That need for perfection and athletic excellence.

"Um yeah," he answered with a soft croak.

Brian Murray slipped in and quietly shut the door behind him. That's how Cooper's still groggy brain knew what was on his father's mind. Indeed, as the 48 year old stepped in, there was a noticeable boner in his sweatpants.

"Your mother's making the turkey," he said, with a conspiratorial smile. "I figure that buys us a little time."

This was a game Cooper and his dad were playing. More and more it seemed. Neither knew if the risk turned them on, or if it was just too hard to resist fooling around.

The teen nodded. "It's been a few days," he said. Seductively, he slipped the covers down to reveal his half naked body. Mostly smooth, though some soft hairs were growing in on his chest and down a treasure trail leading to this boxer briefs, which were tented with morning wood.

It was Brian's turn to feel his voice catch as he stepped up to the bed. "That's beautiful," he said softly, his finger tracing along Cooper's strong quad muscle with its short brown hairs. His eyes swept up his son's form, taking in the eight pack and the taut chest and shoulder muscle. "You're beautiful, Coop."

The athlete's eyes swept up his father's form. The old man was beautiful to Cooper too. Handsome. Masculine. Whatever the word was, Cooper felt his Dad would make fun of him for saying it. But Brian Murray was in his prime, the ex-jock build thicker and bulkier these days but kept in fine form with manual labor and devoted time at the gym.

With a naughty grin, Cooper lifted his hips and slid down his underwear. The shank of cock hadn't softened a bit since waking up and it practically jerked in excitement now, especially with his father's eyes on it.

Brian gave a soft horny grin as his fingers traced up Cooper's legs, admiring all that tight end muscle he'd practically memorized for his jerk off sessions. 6'5" and 230 pounds of hard muscle. A beast on the field, but at home Coop was something else... a sweet kid who'd grown in to a bonafide Daddy's boy. Brian didn't deserve a son like this. And yet...

The father looked over his shoulder and tugged down his lounge pants. The thick piece of paternal cock stood up, maybe not with the innate rigidity of an 18-year-old, but it sure felt that level of fuck hard.

"How much time we got, Dad?" came the footballer's voice, still sleepy.

Brian was getting full on horny now. Like, seeing white, crazy horny. "Just a few minutes," he replied. Jenn probably wouldn't have any reason to come up to Coop's room, but they were taking a risk already. "Why?"

Cooper took in the sight of his father's cock. It was a like a new toy, though even over the course of the last two months, the jock had become strangely familiar with the dick that had made him. Its size, its shape, its texture and its taste. He looked up into this father's hungry brown eyes. "It's just been a while since... you know?"

Brian smiled. He loved how shy the kid could get sometimes. Particularly after his son's sexual imagination was what had fueled a lot of their crazy affair. "Yeah buddy?" he growled.

Cooper nodded excitedly and spread his powerful legs. The hunky young stud lay back in his bed and pulled those thighs back, showing off his still mostly smooth crack to his dad.

"Fuuuccck..." Brian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. Already his hand was drawn down to that magic spot. Brian had been Coop Murray's first. The first few times had been a real challenge but now Cooper was a little more skilled at taking his Dad that way. The father tried to think with his head, rather than let his dick call the shots. "Maybe we can find some time tomorrow, OK, buddy?"

Coop nodded, but he knew his Dad wasn't taking the initiative to pull back from the soft gentle fingering of his vulnerable pucker. "Come on, Dad... it can be a quickie, right?" he pleaded, like he was asking to stay out past curfew. "You probably won't last long."

Brian chuckled. He had one persuasive kid, but Brian also had to laugh at how right his son was: Brian's normal sexual experience and composure went out the window once he was inside Cooper.

The man took a deep breath and pushed the thin flannel pants all the way down and stepped out of them.

Cooper was already reaching behind his bed, where he stashed the vaseline.

The mattress sagged from almost 500 pounds of male flesh as Brian climbed up onto the bed, hardon pointing up to the ceiling. Normally composed, the middle-aged man's body was shaking as he watched Cooper dig his long digits into the petroleum jelly and lovingly slather it onto his dad's cock. Just as methodically, Brian took the tub from his son's hand and dug in for the own daub of jelly to smear on Coop's tight ring.

Setting it aside, he scooted up and started working the slickness into his son's hole. Eyes locked on Cooper's he did his best to read the athlete's reaction.

"Feel good, Coop?" he asked quietly. This was a crazy risk but both men were turned on like mad.

Cooper nodded. "Yah." Then, "feels great, sir."

God, this kid... Brian pushed a second inside Cooper. "It's gonna sting going in," he cautioned. Giving Coop an out if he wanted it.

The jock was ready for this though. It had been a solid week since their last fuck. "I know, Dad." Then realizing he was speaking too loud, he lowered his voice too. "I like that part, too, actually."

"Goddamn," Brian hissed. He pulled his hand back and moved his hips into place. "I'm gonna have the worst case of empty nest syndrome next year, you know."

Cooper smiled. The separation was going to be hard on him, too. So he was determined to enjoy every minute now. He pulled his legs back tighter now as his dad placed a pillow under his hips to raise the ass just right. The sight was incredible. As much as Cooper loved seeing his dad naked, there was something equally hot about seeing the man in his holiday casual mode, bedhead and a well-worn Bama T-shirt clinging to all that middle-aged beef. Cooper knew the only minor disappointment he'd ever given his father was not signing to play Alabama football.

"Ooof," the jock let out despite himself. Maybe one of these days the penetration would go smoother. Maybe one of these days his dad would learn that an ass takes more patience than a pussy.

Brian looked down in excitement. "Told ya, Coop," he said in apology. "You good?"

"Yeah," the tight end answered as he forced his teeth to unclench.

"Sure?" the father asked, battling his urge to just plow in.

"Sure I'm sure, Dad," Cooper answered just above a whisper. "Fuck me."

If the entry was uncomfortable, the sensation of that that thick dad bone riding over Cooper's internal spot was pure pleasure. THIS is what had him finally losing interest in hetero stories and porn videos and focusing on men. As Brian Murray' dong pressed against his prostate, Cooper's own prick jolted and dripped above his eight pack.

"A quickie, remember, Dad," the jock urged his dad.

Brian's voice croaked. "Yeah." Then his hips powered forward. All the way in. Buried inside his own son, his own flesh and blood. The wrongness of the act had him coming back like a moth to flame, unable to gain any self control.

And beyond the mental pull of mating with Cooper, there was the sheer physical sensation of his son's ass, milking his cock with steady soft clenching around Brian. Each fuck was a give and take between his son pushing him out and sucking him in. Between Brian's restraint and his pure male need.

"Yeah, Dad..."

Brian looked down at Cooper. So innocent. And yet an active sex partner. Active in a way Jenn never was. The jock stud looked up with sheer need, that teen hardon a sign of just how much the kid frickin loved it. How much he needed his daddy.

The father's hips were moving faster now. The bed was squeaking, goddamnit, but it was too late to stop now. Not with his son looking and giving that nod, that silent permission to cum inside him. For an inexperienced young man, at least inexperienced in THIS, Cooper sure had developed a keen sense of timing. He knew when his dad was climbing to orgasm, not quite at the point of no return, but close to it. Just then, the jock wrapped his sticky slick palm around his shank of hard meat and began stroking in sync to his father's thrusts.

"Jesus!" Brian hissed. The way Coop's insides clenched and fluttered around that dad bone was just incredible. They'd never actually done this before, but the two Murray men were gonna cum at exactly the same moment.

The father made sure of that. He may have not been in full control, but he paused his sexual response just four seconds, and it was enough. He could feel his O face forming just as he watched Coop's.

The mutual orgasm was wordless but both men let out a simultaneous grunt. Brian's hips seized into a deep plow and unleashed a load that was bigger than it had any right to be given he'd just fucked his wife the night before. And who knows how often the kid jerked off, the teenager he was, but Brian's nostrils filled with that floral-musky scent of his boy's own cum as Cooper pumped out a healthy load onto his taut, muscled torso.

They stayed locked like this for just a couple of seconds, savoring the aftershocks of the orgasm that were part of the pleasure itself.

Finally, Brian's guilt kicked in and more than that his senses returned. They were crazy for doing this with his wife, Coop's mother, just downstairs. He gently withdrew and then quickly got off the bed, finding his lounge pants to slip back on.

"Get cleaned up," he said brusquely. "Then see if you can help your mother out with anything, OK?"

"Yeah, Dad," Cooper said in polite resignation. He didn't blame his father for acting like that. After all, it was the jock who pushed his dad past his comfort zone, A LOT. But after the hotness of the sex, Cooper felt the urge for a quiet emotional time with his dad.

Brian slipped out a quietly as he entered. He was crazy, but he was glad in a way. It would have been torture to get through Thanksgiving dinner craving Coop the whole time. At least the fuck would take the egde off in a major way.

By the time the father had showered and changed into nicer holiday dinner clothes, he came down to the dining room to see Cooper dutifully setting the table. His son looked up with a smirk. Brian had to let out a silent laugh and shake his head.

He stepped into the kitchen. "Smells great, honey," he said, stepping behind Jenn and massaging his shoulders as she stirred the gravy. He gave a soft kiss to her blond hair. Yeah, Brian was a schmuck, but he did appreciate how his wife made these days special.

"You know you're in the way in the kitchen," she said in a soft laugh that let Brian know she wasn't too upset. "Why don't you help Cooper... the water glasses need to be put out."

"Aye aye captain," the masculine building contractor joked and stepped away from his wife's petite frame.

He entered the dining room as Cooper was finishing placing the silverware around the settings. Silently, Brian set down the glasses and circled that table across Cooper. His eyes watched his son, who returned his father's gaze with a silent communication. Conspiracy. Secret. There were no words to convey the gravity of their affair. But Brian knew that even if his son had showered up, that there was still a healthy load of Brian's cum deep inside the jock. He knew Coop would keep that semen inside him, prized more than one of his football trophies.

Their eyes flitted back and locked once more. Then knowing the coast was clear, Brian stepped around. "I forgot something earlier," he whispered.

"What?" Cooper said.

God, his son talked like a college kid already, testosterone deepness tinging his young voice.

Brian could hear the sounds of his wife whisking the pot. The coast was clear. He raised his hand and wrapped his fingers around his son's neck, pulling Cooper's face toward his. The kiss was soft with lots of gentle tongue.

"Love you," the father lipped silently when he pulled back.

That brought a big smile on the football player's face. Not a grin, a real smile. He now leaned in to place his mouth closer to his dad's ear. "Love you too, Dad."

Just then the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the first of the in-laws.

"Hold that thought, buddy," Brian said with a chuckle as he pulled back, meeting his son's eyes once more before going to answer the door.

[lovegalor333]

lord please save her for me

paige bueckers x fem oc

hello! welcome to my new fic, i hope u like it! please let me know what y’all think, i have each chapter planned out but i’m not sure when i’ll update again. probably soon lmao 💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🪽🌟

chapter one:

leni knew the first time she saw paige again it would feel like a kick in the stomach but to say she felt winded was an understatement. the sight in front of her had her breath stuck in her throat, heart beating out of her chest and her head spinning, she had to rest on the wall to balance herself. it wasn’t out of character for paige to be here. it was frat party at the beginning of the semester. paige was almost guaranteed to be here. but leni would have betted her life that the blonde would’ve come with her friends not the red head, wearing barely any clothes that was latched onto her arm currently.

“you good babe?” leni’s girlfriend, riley asks from beside her. she reached out a hand to rest on lenis back but the curly haired girl shrugged her off, “im fine. just feeling hot. can you get me some water?” leni asks in hopes to have a moment alone with her thoughts to process what she just saw. paige with a girl that wasn’t her. her paige with a girl that looked nothing like her.

despite having a girlfriend herself, leni was far from a hypocrite. a year ago leni was bearing her heart, all but begging paige to turn thier friends with benefits deal into something more serious. they already spent evenings laid together in bed. weekends walking around target or studying together. off days lounging around each others apartments. they were only fucking each other too. what would a title change? apparently a lot to paige.

leni tried for days but paige could not be swayed, shaking her head and furrowing her brow each time leni brought up the idea of them being girlfriends.

“i just don’t do that kind of thing len.”

“what we have right now is good. why change it?”

“i’m focused on basketball, i don’t need distractions.”

leni reached her breaking point, telling paige it was either they make it official or they never see each other again. she couldn’t continue in ‘will they, won’t they’ cycle. leni had caught feelings for paige. feelings so deep she wanted to shout it from the rooftops and it felt like her entire world crashed down when paige said it was best if they didn’t see each other again.

leni cried for days on end. buried under her duvet, waiting and wishing for paige to call or text and say she was wrong. to say she cared for leni they way leni cared for her. but no call or text came and eventually leni had to pick herself up and dust herself off. life doesn’t end when a blue eyed girl breaks your heart.

paige saw leni as soon as she walked in. of course she did. paige would spot leni in a sea of a thousand people. her bouncy curls, longer than the last time paige saw them, her brown skin, still showing the remnants of summer, her dark brown eyes, deep as ever as they flitted around the room. paige also saw the blonde girl next to leni, the way her hand touched her back, the way her lips pressed to lenis temple. paige wanted to punch that girl right in the face.

“where are you going?” camilla, paiges girlfriend asks as paige begins to walk away from her, “just to find a toilet. i won’t be long.” paige lies and she hurries off before camilla can say anything in response. paige wasn’t going to find a toilet. paige was going to find leni and she knew exactly where she would be.

“let me guess. you needed some fresh air.” hearing paiges voice made lenis hairs stand on end. she hadn’t heard that raspy drawl in so long she had forgotten what it sounded like. “you never did like parties.” paige says standing next to leni on the front porch. leni refused to look at paige, staring straight ahead, she focused on a street lamp in the distance that flickered. “i still don’t.” she says and in her head, her voice was strong and brave but her lips betrayed her and her words came out shaky and low.

“why are you here then?” paige asks, ever the curious girl. “i came with my g- a fri-” leni couldn’t bring herself to say the word girlfriend to paige. it was stuck in her throat threatening to choke her. “your girlfriend. you can say it len. you came with your girlfriend.”

“yeah. i did. i came with my girlfriend. looks like you did too. never knew red heads were your thing.” leni all but spits at paige, finally building the courage to look at her. and when she does, the past twelve months of healing and moving on completely unravel and leni feels as though she about to faint.

paige looks the same but simultaneously so different. her hair is still blonde but it’s shorter and a lot brighter, like she’s just had highlights. her skin looks smoother, in fact she’s glowing. leni was sure she’d grown a few inches too, paige was always taller than her but not this much taller. and as bad as leni was trying not to look, it was clear paige had been in the gym. the crop top she wore exposed her toned stomach and muscular arms and leni’s heart rate quickened as memories of those very arms being wrapped around her not so long ago flashed in her mind.

“are blondes your thing or just girls that look like me?” paige retorts and leni scoffs, “get your head out of your ass paige. girls that don’t treat me like i’m nothing is my thing.” paige feels limp as leni says that, did she really make leni think she was nothing?

paige had a difficult time with relationships. she branded herself as ‘not a relationship girl’, blaming her focus on basketball as the reason but paige knew that was bullshit. paige wanted nothing more than to have a girl in the stands cheering for her, to come home after practice and her bedroom not be empty but growing up all paige knew was turbulent relationships and broken homes and she vowed to never hurt someone the way she watched her parents hurt each other. and the only way she knew how to do that was to avoid relationships altogether.

“you weren’t nothing to me, len.” paige defends herself but it feels pointless, lenis feelings were written on her face, she always found it hard to mask her emotions and nothing had changed.

“i’m sorry. what i did wasn’t fair. i was stupid, so fucking stupid. letting you go-” leni couldn’t hear this. not here, not now. not ever actually. leni had gone through hell and back trying to get over paige, just ask her friends who had hugged her while she sobbed, forced her eat when she refused, literally picked her up off the floor multiple nights in a row after she drank enough wine to make her forget paige ever existed.

“paige, stop. this conversation is futile and one year too late.” leni holds her hand up to stop paige from saying anymore. to stop her from saying the words she was begging to hear last year.

“i’ve changed len. i promise. i tried so hard, i worked so hard to change for you. i want to show you that.”

“have you lost your fucking mind? i have a girlfriend paige and so do you. i’m happy. someone loves me, cares for me and it’s not a secret. it’s not behind closed doors. i’m someone’s girlfriend and they’re proud of that. and it’s fucked up of you to say all this stuff now, all this time later. i wasn’t enough for you and that ripped my fucking heart to pieces!”

“you were enough. you are enough. i was just blind and scared.”

leni was fighting the tears that threatened to spill, she didn’t want to cry in front of paige, give her the satisfaction of knowing she still affected leni.

paige couldn’t bare to see leni cry, the way her eyes glossed over and nose turned red, the way her lip quivered made paiges heart pang with guilt because after all, she was the reason leni was crying. “please don’t cry. i meant what i said. i really am sorry. and i know it’s complicated but i couldn’t not tell you this. i couldn’t not at least try it would feel like i’m robbing us of a chance.”

leni has averted her gaze again, there was something about holding eye contact with paige that felt like two hands around her neck squeezing every last breath out of her. it was suffocating and all consuming. when she was around paige, leni didn’t feel like she was in the same realm as everyone else, she felt transported to somewhere far away but she had to bring herself back down to earth before she did or said something she regretted.

“a year ago you looked me in my eyes and said it would be for the best if we never saw each other again and you were right paige. i shouldn’t have come to this stupid party and you shouldn’t have followed me out here. from now on, we go back to how it was before. you don’t know me. i don’t know you.”

“but i do know you len and you know me. so well.” paige does what she’s been dying to do since stepping outside with leni and she reaches out and touches her cheek. wiping a stray tear but her hand lingers and lenis eyes flutter closed at the feeling of paige. a feeling she’s craved for so long now, a feeling she’s dreamt about experiencing again.

paige has always felt a magnetic pull towards leni. the first time she met her, she was intrigued. she wanted to know more about the dark, curly haired girl. they sat for hours the first time they spoke then they ended up in paiges bed and paige got her wish of knowing more about leni. she knew leni so well it was as if she’d studied her. she knew what made her tick, how push her buttons, how to make her feel good. paige could read leni like a book, answering her questions before leni even asked them. that’s not what scared paige though. she knew she could control her feelings. what scared paige was the fact leni knew her in the same way. if paige bueckers was a book, leni had every word committed to memory.

leni placed her hand over paiges, still cupping her face, “paige, i can’t-” she begins to speak but paige cuts her off. “tell me you love her more than me. tell me what you have feels realer than what we had. tell me that and i’ll leave you alone.”

leni couldn’t say that. she couldn’t say any of it because it wasn’t true. she’s never loved anyone the way she loves paige and she doubts she ever will. but leni needed to protect herself. paige hurt her and leni couldn’t cope with that again and she had no reason to believe paige when she said she’d changed.

“don’t do that.” leni says looking at paige, her eyes as blue as ever, round and soft, pulling leni in. “don’t make this my decision. you walked away from me.”

“and it was the biggest mistake of my life.” paige says, eyes flicking down to lenis lips. she wanted to kiss her so bad. push her up against the wall, press her body into hers, one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. she wanted their lips to be on each other’s, she wanted to taste lenis cherry lip balm, tongues moving in sync as they meshed into one being.

“a mistake you’ll have to live with. i care about myself too much to risk being destroyed by the whirlwind that comes along with you paige.” lenis voice breaks as she turns away from paige as much as she believed paige was the reason they never worked out, she couldn’t help but feel like she walking away from what she’s always wanted.

“leni please-” paiges voice also faltered as she tried to pull leni back but the girl was strong and determined, “goodbye, paige.”

leni had no time to ruminate over the conversation and just about managed to wipe her tear stained cheeks before riley appeared in front of her.

“there you are! i got your water. who were you talking to out there?”

“no one. no one at all. let’s go dance.” leni says, plastering the fakest of smiles on her face. she didn’t worry that riley would notice because riley rarely noticed anything.

leni spent the rest of the night knocking back drinks and willing herself to stop glancing at paige but it was near impossible. the six foot, one hundred and sixty pound girl was alluring to say the least and with her also staring back, leni was beginning to lose composure.

“kiss me.” leni asserts, grabbing on to rileys shirt collar, pulling her down. riley looks confused but she would never deny kissing her beautiful girlfriend so she presses their lips together, leni deepens the kiss, her tongue slipping into rileys mouth but it’s not right. it doesn’t feel right. it’s not paige. and that makes leni feel sick. she’ll never kiss paige again and she’ll search for her in every girl but it’ll be pointless because no one could compare. no one could even come close.

now breathless from a phoney, drunken make out session that left nothing but the sour taste of beer in her mouth, leni pulls away from riley but her eyes immediately go to where paige was stood just minutes ago. but the athlete is gone. the only sign of her once being there was her girlfriend, now left holding two drinks. “i’m going to the bathroom.” leni mumbles and she slips away from riley, leaving her too, with a drink in each hand.

the multiple drinks leni had consumed in quick succession were catching up to her and her body swayed as she walked around the frat house looking for paige. she swung open random doors, bursting in on one too many explicit activities that she wish she never saw. “sorry, my bad.” she muttered quickly closing another door. she continued her search and by the time she reached the end of the hall, with no sign of paige, she actually needed to pee.

the bathroom was occupied but leni couldn’t wait, she knocked on the door over and over, “if you’re in there fucking, get out! i’m about to piss my pants!” she shouted over the music and she heard the lock click before the door slowly opened, “you never were very patient.” paige emerged from the bathroom and leni felt like this was fate. “i was looking for you.” she slurred, glancing up at paige. “you were?” leni nods, her eyes are glassy from intoxication, “i hate you for hurting me.” leni mutters but her actions do not resemble hate, they are needy and frantic as she pushes paige backwards into the bathroom, knocking the door closed with her foot.

“you hate me?” paige asks, hearing those words hurt but feeling lenis touch on her chest as she shoved her against the wall overrode any of that. “uh huh.” leni nods again, her hand now travelling down paiges chest and gripping her waist. “how much do you hate me?” paige tucks a piece of lenis hair behind her ear and leni leans into the touch, “so fucking much.” lenis breathing is ragged now as she pushes herself against paige, the craving she had for this woman was carnal and she doesn’t know how she managed to stay away from her for an entire year.

“you know im sorry. im different now len. hurting you is my biggest regret.” paige caresses lenis cheek, rubbing her thumb in small circles, she missed the feeling of her soft skin under her fingertips, “and this might just be mine.” leni says as she stands on her tiptoes to reach paige, crashing their lips together for the first time in over three hundred and sixty five days.

the kiss is sloppy and heated and influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol both girls had in their systems. paiges hands found lenis waist and she moaned into her mouth as her fingers explored every dip and curve on her body. leni felt like she was drowning and paige was air, she needed as much as she could get, nipping at paiges bottom lip before slipping her tongue into her mouth, saliva mixing to create the concoction that both girls missed so much.

“leni, are you in there?” there was a knock at the door and the voice of riley made leni jump away from paige, “it’s riley.” she whispered, eyes wide, “just be quiet.” paige whispered back. “leni?” rileys voice called out again and leni was violently brought back down to earth.

what the hell was she doing? in a frat house bathroom with her ex friend with benefits, kissing her when she had a girlfriend. when they both had girlfriends. this wasn’t leni. it wasn’t who she was and she wouldn’t hurt someone. she wouldn’t allow herself to.

“no. this was a mistake. we’re drunk.” leni fixed her appearance in the mirror, smoothing down her tossled curls that paige had messed up, wiping the smudged lip liner from her cupids bow and re-adjusting her shirt that had been pulled down exposing the lace of her bra.

paige watched her silently, blue eyes several shades darker as they glared into the mirror at lenis reflection. leni caught her gaze and for a split second she considered listening to paige and staying silent but riley called out her name again, “im coming!” leni responded and without so much as a glance at paige she unlocked the bathroom door and closed it tight behind her. leaving paige alone and confused, wondering what the fuck just happened.

thank you for reading baddies!! let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for future updates. ILY 💋💋

tag list: @heart4caitlin @jadasogay @avvwritesstufff @bueckersp

story info

[narnian-neverlander]

What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje láska, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláček, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděl. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

[littlelamy]

Rafe taking care of Reader who goes through a depressive episode. She’s feeling like she is a burden and feels like everyone would be happier with her gone. Maybe things are pretty new between them, only gone on a few dates so she obviously (like most) isn’t going to tell him anything and doesn’t think she matters to a guy she has gone on a few dates with anyway, so she just stops responding to his texts

a/n: thank you for requesting!⭐️ i hope i wrote it appropriately to what you requested 🙂💗part 2

the first time rafe noticed something was off, it was subtle—just a missed text here and there. maybe a delayed reply. nothing unusual at first. he probably told himself you were busy. everyone has those days where life gets hectic.

but when hours stretched into days and your replies went from short to nonexistent, he started to feel that quiet pull of worry.

“hey, you okay?” he texted the day before, after his third unanswered message.

you saw it pop up on your screen. his name glowed against the darkness of your room, and for a moment, your heart ached with the idea of answering. but then the thought crept in.

he’s just being polite. he barely knows you. he’s probably relieved you stopped answering anyway.

so you let the screen go dark.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. it wasn’t like you two were serious. you’d only gone on a handful of dates, and even though every moment with rafe had been sweet and effortless, there was no way someone like him could actually care.

you’d been wrong about people before.

the weight in your chest had only grown heavier over the past few weeks. even getting out of bed felt impossible some days, let alone pretending to be okay for someone like rafe cameron. so, you didn’t bother. you shut your phone off, buried it under a pillow, and let the world fade into static.

the knock at your door startled you.

at first, you thought it might’ve been a neighbor or a delivery driver, someone just passing through. but then it came again, louder this time, more deliberate.

“y/n?”

you froze, your breath catching as his voice carried through the door.

“it’s rafe.”

you stared at the door like it might open on its own. the last thing you wanted was to face him, especially like this. but hearing his voice made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“i, uh…” he hesitated, the sound of him shifting his weight audible through the thin walls. “i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

you stayed silent, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. but deep down, you knew rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to just walk away.

“you don’t have to let me in,” he added, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “just… let me know you’re alright.”

you clenched your fists, trying to will the lump in your throat away. how were you supposed to explain that you weren’t alright? that you hadn’t been alright in weeks?

the knock came again, gentler this time.

“i’m not leaving until i know you’re okay,” he said firmly, though there was no anger in his voice. only concern.

you sat frozen for what felt like forever, listening to the silence on the other side of the door. maybe he’d given up. maybe he was walking away right now, realizing this wasn’t worth his time.

but then your phone buzzed from where it lay buried under the pillow.

you hesitated before reaching for it, your hands trembling as you unlocked the screen.

rafe <3: hey, i’m outside your place. not trying to bother you, i just wanted to check in. if you need space, i get it. just let me know you’re alright, okay?

your chest ached as you read the words. there was nothing demanding about them, nothing that made you feel guilty or trapped. he wasn’t asking for anything except to know you were safe.

and that made it worse somehow.

because you weren’t.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[afterglowkatie]

another one | k.m./c.f.

katie mccabe x caitlin foord x child!reader | 0.6k | caitlin sends katie a video that leads to talks of another baby

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of my new little starfish universe. here's a little blurb/small fic to make it all better after that match! little starfish universe is getting expanded 'three becomes four'

Katie and Caitlin were cuddling in bed, Katie’s head laying on Caitlin’s chest. They’d both just got back home after being apart for the last two weeks representing their countries during international break. You’d joined your mammy this camp since it was their play-offs for the euros next year. Two big games that your mammy needed her little starfish there for, you being there always kept her more calm both on and off the pitch. Caitlin, only being available for the first two of the four friendlies lined up, had managed to get to Ireland for Katie’s second match.

‘You’ve been quiet tonight,’ It was natural for the pair to have more of a quiet night especially when they’ve just come back from an international break, just wanting to enjoy each other’s company. But for Katie, to be as quiet as she has been was more on the unusual side. Even on the plane back, Katie was more just watching Caitlin and you together. Katie knew Caitlin was an amazing mum to you, Caitlin was an amazing mum in general.

They’d both gotten you settled down for the night pretty easily, knowing you wouldn’t wake up until the morning. Camp always tired you out like that. Katie sighed, whenever she wasn’t playing or training there was one thing on her mind the entire time she was at camp. 

Caitlin had sent a video of her with a baby while she was at camp, captioned with ‘I want another one’ and it had Katie thinking more. In the back of her mind the thought of having another baby with Caitlin was always there. Now it was all she could think about. But what if Caitlin had just said it in the heat of the moment and wasn’t as serious as Katie was about wanting another one.

Katie sighed and sat up a little, not leaving Caitlin’s embrace though, ���That video you sent me,’ Katie started off, ‘The one with the baby. Do you really want another one?’ Katie didn’t really want to look up and see Caitlin’s reaction, just in case, so she stayed just looking down at her fingers.

Caitlin’s eyes softened and she brought Katie in closer, if it was even possible. Her hand cupping Katie’s cheek, gently moving her head so Katie was looking at her. You had your mammy’s eyes and whenever Katie allowed herself to be vulnerable, her eyes always matched the innocence in yours. Caitlin thought about you and her life with Katie and she honestly couldn’t imagine not having another baby with her, couldn’t imagine not giving you a sibling just like she and Katie both had. Having a sibling/siblings was the best part of their childhood and they wanted you to have that.

‘Darling, of course I want to have another baby. Especially if it means having another baby with you,’ Caitlin gave a small and soft kiss to Katie’s lips, ‘I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. Multiple little feet running around, seeing Starfish being a big sister, getting to be a mum alongside you. Sounds like the perfect life for me. I meant what I said,’ 

Katie leaned her forehead against Caitlin’s, ‘You really want another one?’ Katie asked again for reassurance.

‘I really really want another baby,’ Caitlin whispered out, arms wrapping around Katie even tighter. 

‘I really want that with you too,’ Katie whispered back, eyes tearing up a little at the thought of extending their little family and going through this process together, ‘Do you think Starfish would be okay with having a little brother or sister?’ 

‘Last camp when she saw Harper with Koby she asked me when she was getting one,’ Katie and Caitlin laughed together at the little memory Caitlin recounted and it definitely helped to settle any of the sudden thoughts she had that you wouldn’t be happy sharing your mummy and mammy with someone else. A thought that now definitely seemed irrational the more Katie thought about it. You would be the best big sister.

‘I love you,’ Caitlin smiled looking down towards Katie.

‘I love you,’

[yslende]

Clark lies on the hospital bed, blanket tangled at his feet and his suit still on. The damn suit that still doesn't protect against the kryptonite bullets Luthor publicly mass-produces. The kryptonite bullets that Luthor has been using for years.

Bruce wants to go shake his shoulders around, rattle his brain enough until Clark can put two and two together and add bullet-proof plating to his suit.

The security camera gives him a mediocre view of Clark’s exit wound once he turns on his side. The bandages aren't cutting it; they're already soaked through after fifteen minutes. Barry’s rush job was just that: a rush job. To be fair, everything Barry does is a rush job. To be unfair, it’s still bad.

The report he was supposed to add quotes to stares him down, the cursor flickering accusingly. “The guy was ugly as [expletive],” Hal Jordan said so kindly, on record, about their latest alien dispute. “His feathers were this shit gr,” which is where Bruce's work stops. He eyes it, before rising from the chair in the monitor room.

The walk to the medical wing is short; walk down three halls, turn left, left again. It’s, unfortunately, familiar enough that Bruce doesn't have to check for directions in the winding halls of the Watchtower. He doesn't pass anyone on the way. 

His cape weighs on him like an oil-soaked blanket.

Clark’s trying to sleep when Bruce reaches his room. They're not in the right orbit for the sun to reach them, which is probably why Clark's breath is snotty and ragged. The bandage is leaking, blood running down his side in loose lines over his waterproof suit. He looks pathetic.

“Clark,” Bruce speaks to the empty room, punching through the cracked silence. 

A beat. “Bruce?” Clark lifts his head up. “What are you doing here?”

Making sure you aren't dead. “Your bandage is due for a change,” Bruce says instead. He sheds the gauntlets, placing them on the bedside table, before going to find the latex gloves.

“Oh,” Clark says, rather dumbly for him. “Did everyone else go?” His head thunks back onto the pillow.

“No.” Bruce finds the size L box and snaps a pair on. It’s quiet for a bit, except for the clinks of the tweezers and such. The sounds of someone preparing to sanitize your insides probably aren't very comforting.

He starts stripping the bandage off, ignoring Clark’s hiss of pain. The wound is ugly, red and flush with blood excited to leave Clark's body for once. Bruce douses it with distilled water, again ignoring Clark's cut-off groan. He's looking for any leftover shells or shrapnel, but he doubts—wait.

“Clark,” Bruce says, 12% more urgent than before. “Barry didn't get all of the residue out.”

“Mmwuh?” Had Clark fallen asleep just now? His eyes look bleary. “What, sorry?”

He glares at the offending shell, which is glowing a subdued green. “There's a bullet still inside your wound.”

There's a pregnant pause. “Okay?”

“I need to fish it out. It will hurt.”

Clark's head hits the pillow again. “Can you distract me?” He winces as Bruce spritzes his wound again.

“With what.” Bruce strips the now bloody gloves off, throwing them in the trash and grabbing another set. What is he supposed to say? Distracting Dick typically ensued getting Dick on a topic and letting him talk for as much as he liked. Bruce doubts Clark would find it as effective.

Clark bites off another groan. “I don't know! Want to play Twenty Questions?”

Bruce pauses, the tweezers hovering over Clark's wound. “Very well.” God, he sounds like Alfred.

They sit like that for a second, Bruce frozen in place and Clark silent. “You go first.”

“What questions am I supposed to ask?” Bruce figures it would be impolite to start digging around in Clark's wound so he doesn't have to play this game. The wound gets progressively bloodier.

“Um, something like ‘what’s your favorite color?’ Or something like that.”

“What's your favorite color.” It comes out more like a statement. 

“Triangle,” Clark promptly replies. “Do you like men?”

What. How is he supposed to answer that.

His hand goes forward on autopilot, forcing the ends of the tweezers to butt into the bullet. Clark full-on shouts.

That works too.

clark: do you want to play 20 questions?

bruce: fine.

bruce: whats your favorite color?

clark, laser fucking focused: triangle. do you like men?

[steddieas-shegoes]

sold out, one night only

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event for Black Friday using 'one day night only'

rated m | 2980 words | cw: implied and referenced sexual content | tags: modern era, pop star steve, rock star eddie, semi-famous corroded coffin, exes to lovers, getting back together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

The poster is huge, takes up most of the board in the club announcing new events. It’s surprisingly simple for something so large.

‘One Night Only’ accompanied by a picture of Steve Harrington, recently out queer pop icon, and a date and time.

Tonight is the one night only.

Eddie stares at it, kind of wishes he didn’t feel like sobbing, and then books it out of the club.

If he’s gonna make it across town before Steve’s show is done, he’s gotta hope for the least amount of traffic he’s ever seen and a lot of luck. Maybe, if he’s really lucky, the show was delayed enough that he’s still on stage singing.

He manages to find an Uber only a block away, offers them a 50% tip if they can get him to the arena in less than five minutes, and leans his head back against the seat.

~~~~

Four years ago, when Steve followed Eddie and his band to Chicago, neither of them expected much to happen. Corroded Coffin was small town good, but they quickly found that they weren’t quite what record labels were looking for.

A small indie label from San Francisco was interested, though.

So they packed up and moved to California, and to celebrate the first recording session, they went to a karaoke bar and all took turns singing songs that you’d never expect them to.

Steve took a turn singing a Harry Styles song and it was game over.

The whole bar went silent until he was done, and then it was pandemonium as people rushed him as he got off the stage, telling him he should be famous, and that he had the voice of an angel, and that he should try to sign a record deal.

And Eddie knew he could sing; he’d heard him in the shower and the car plenty.

There was just something about seeing him on stage and knowing that Steve was meant for more that really cut into his heart and made him bleed out on that bar floor.

It was the beginning of the end for them that night.

Eddie pushed him away. Steve stopped fighting it.

Steve signed with a huge company out of New York and moved before Eddie even realized he ruined everything.

He hasn’t spoken to him since, not even the one time Dustin had to have surgery and requested everyone be back in Hawkins in case something went wrong. He was being dramatic about leg splints, but they did it anyway.

Eddie caught one glimpse of Steve walking out of the Henderson home the night that Dustin got to leave the hospital, but he didn’t stop him.

Corroded Coffin is big enough to do festival circuits, even playing on the main stage for some of them.

Steve Harrington is big enough to go to Grammy parties and duet with Sabrina Carpenter.

And Eddie is stupid enough to think he can get backstage to apologize to him for being dumb enough to let him walk away.

~~~~

When he arrives at the arena, he’s told he needs a ticket to enter. This is a fact he knew before getting here, but one he chose to ignore in hopes that he might be able to bribe someone with his romantic story.

Unfortunately, the middle aged man who reminds him a lot of Wayne couldn’t care less about his need to tell Steve he loves him.

“You and the 20,000 others in the audience, bud,” the man says. “No ticket, no entrance.”

“Okay, I know you probably hear this often, but I swear he knows me. He’d let me in,” Eddie explains, but the guy is somehow even less impressed. “Oh! Wait. I have proof.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and opens his photos. The album named ‘Stevie ♥️’ is still in his favorites, even though Robin made him promise he’d delete it after the last time she visited. He may have promised he would, but he never said when.

It’s hundreds of photos of them together, mostly selfies, personal pictures they took on dates or in bed or on their road trip or-

“I told you to delete those.”

Eddie spins around at Robin’s voice. She’s standing near the set of doors at the end of the long line of doors, two security guards flanking her.

“And I will. Eventually.” Eddie walks towards her, ignoring the man telling him he needs to leave.

“What are you doing here?” She asks even though she has to know.

She’s his friend even though she’s Steve’s platonic soulmate. She isn’t being mean on purpose. She’s just being protective of both of them.

“Robin…” he starts.

She holds up a hand. “If I take you backstage, will this be a one night only thing or a start to forever thing? Because honestly, I don’t think he can take seeing you if it’s only for you to leave right after. He’s barely-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening.

“He’s what?” Eddie pushes, needing to know what she was gonna say.

She sighs. He knew he’d get her to give in easily.

“He’s barely holding it together as it is,” she admits. “I had to bribe him to get on stage tonight.”

“Bribe him? For this show?”

“And the last dozen or so. He’s tired. He-” She sighs again, heavier. “He misses you.”

“If he misses me, then he should call. Or text. Send a carrier pigeon.” Eddie doesn’t mean for the words to bite, but he can’t help the way he feels and he knows he’s safe with Robin. She won’t take it personally or let him stew in it for too long. “It’s not like he doesn’t have access to me if he really wants it.”

“Eddie. You made it very clear you didn’t want to hear from him ever again.”

“I made it very clear that I loved him too much to hold him back. He was the one who pushed it to this,” Eddie tries.

He doesn’t succeed. Robin is shaking her head, laughing with disbelief.

“You two are made for each other. I’ll bring you backstage, but if I see a single tear shed in anything other than happiness, I’m calling Jeff and telling on you.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. Calling Jeff isn’t quite the threat it used to be, not since Jeff got himself a very serious girlfriend who keeps him busy. Even if it was, Robin knows Jeff’s just gonna nod along, give Eddie a sad look, and move on.

He follows Robin through the door she came through, waving at the guard who was giving him a hard time– “he’s just doing his job, Eddie” – and feels his throat catch on his next breath when he can hear the beat of the music.

Steve’s pop rock sound isn’t necessarily Eddie’s favorite type of music, but he did stay up until midnight for the release of his debut album. It’s Steve. What’s he gonna do? Not listen to it?

His voice is just this side of raspy, like there’s a scratch of his throat when he hits the lower register his voice will allow. He almost sounds like when Eddie would-

“Alright. He’s got two songs left and an encore. Encore is usually just one song, but this is a special night so he may do a bonus from his new album. Don’t touch anything,” Robin sends him into the green room, waving off the security person who is standing at the door. “Don’t make me regret letting you in here. And don’t hurt yourself.”

“Jesus, Robbie, I’m not a child. I’m not gonna hurt myself-”

“I didn’t mean physically.” She gives him a sad look. “I care about you, too.”

Eddie’s shoulders fall as he breathes out. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been. Robin hugs him and moves to the door.

“I’ll make sure you guys have some privacy for a bit, but we do have a tight schedule. Security’s only here while the crew packs up,” she explains. Eddie nods. He knows the drill. He may not be an international pop star, but he deals with the ins and outs of venues often enough.

Robin leaves and the only sound is the bass thumping of Steve’s last song. Eddie looks around at how bare the room is. Usually, Corroded Coffin has to share a green room with a few other bands unless they pull off headlining the main stage. Those rooms are usually cluttered, crews and musicians constantly coming and going, leaving trash and guitar picks behind. The only thing in this room that would hint at Steve using it is a bag of half-eaten white cheddar popcorn on the table next to an empty water bottle and a mug of what looks like green tea.

Steve’s a big enough star to make absurd requests for backstage, but it’s clear he doesn’t. Eddie isn’t surprised. Steve’s never really been one to ask for things that would benefit him.

He hears the screaming, knows Steve’s just left the stage. He’s probably standing nearby, hiding behind curtains or stacks of speakers, maybe even in plain sight.

“Wait!” Robin’s voice is right outside the door.

The door opens.

Steve’s there, breathless, sweaty, hot as hell.

“Steve, you still have a song,” another woman in khakis and a polo shirt is rushing up to him, waving a clipboard in his face.

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice is rough when he speaks. Eddie can tell it’s more from emotion than the nearly two hour set list he just performed.

“Steve.” Eddie is waiting for Steve to move, for anyone to move. He can’t.

“Steve, you need to go back onstage.”

Eddie has his arms full of Steve before anyone can respond to the woman just trying to do her job. She looks like she’s a tech manager, but usually they wear all black, and Eddie doesn’t know all there is to know about an international superstar performing a concert even though he does know all there is to know about Steve.

He knows that he prefers earl gray tea with real sugar, not the green tea with honey that’s sitting on the coffee table. He knows that his favorite treats are the mini Kit Kats– “not the regular ones, they taste different, I swear!”-- not popcorn that gets stuck in his teeth for hours. He knows that he likes making places feel like home no matter how temporary he’s there, and there’s not a single item in this room that makes it feel lived in.

The woman seems to give up on getting Steve back on stage, and he’s pretty sure he has Robin to thank for it.

He has Steve in his arms for the first time in way too long. He isn’t wasting a second of it thinking about anyone else.

Steve’s sweat is soaking through Eddie’s shirt already, but he doesn’t really care. He used to love having Steve’s sweat on him; It meant he was doing something right.

He knows a reunion isn’t this easy, and any second now, Steve’s gonna pull away and yell at him, and they’ll fight and Eddie will let it happen because he deserves it and-

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve sobs against his neck, breath tickling his skin as his lips brush against him in an almost-kiss.

Suddenly, Eddie knows that Steve planned this. This whole sold out, one night only show was only so Eddie would come see him.

Eddie should be pissed.

Steve could have just fucking called him. Texted him. Sent a carrier pigeon!

But he’s got Steve in his arms and it’s always been pretty hard to be pissed at him when he’s pressed perfectly against his chest.

Robin is clearing the room and cursing Steve for making her clean up his messes, but Eddie can hear the fondness in her voice. She wouldn’t bother giving them time alone together if she didn’t want them to have it.

“Robin said I shouldn’t do it. She said you wouldn’t show.” Tears are falling from Steve’s eyes on Eddie's shirt. “I swore you would. She thought I was crazy.”

“You are crazy,” Eddie laughs, squeezing his arms to pull him in tighter. “Planning something this big in the hopes that I’d come to a pop concert is fucking insane, Stevie.”

“But you did.” Steve leans back and looks at him, watery smile enough to make Eddie feel like he could melt into the floor. “I knew you would.”

Eddie wants to kiss him, wants to ignore everything that went wrong and everything they need to talk about, wants to take Steve apart in this room and make it feel like home because Steve didn’t do that on his own. He doesn’t think he’s made any place feel like home in a long time.

“You put a lot of faith in a guy who let you go,” Eddie whispers.

“You showed up for a guy who left,” Steve says back.

“You only left because I pushed you away,” Eddie argues.

“You only pushed me away because you thought it was best for me,” Steve raises a brow, challenging him to keep going.

Eddie knows Steve has a response for everything, though. He’ll keep putting blame on himself the same way Eddie keeps putting it on himself, and they’ll go round and round and waste precious time that they could be doing other things. Instead of pushing, Eddie sighs and lets his shoulders drop.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead of arguing.

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve relaxes in his arms.

“We still have to talk, Stevie,” Eddie reminds him as he leans in, feels Steve’s breath against his lips.

“We will,” Steve barely gets out before their lips crash together, bruising and needy.

There’s a lot that Eddie missed about Steve. He’s spent countless hours harping over everything he messed up to himself, to Robin, to Wayne, to the band. Steve was forever going to be the one that got away.

“Can we…” Steve gasps against his mouth, hands grasping at every inch of Eddie that they can.

“What do you need?” Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists to still him, to make him focus on what he wants.

“Just need you.”

It’s a cop out and they both know it, but Eddie’s fine with it tonight. If he has to be the one to take charge and assume what Steve wants, then he will. For tonight, he can give Steve what he wants to, and Steve will take it.

It’s a little anticlimactic when they come barely five minutes later. They don’t even get a chance to properly remove any clothing before they’re making a mess between them, moaning as if they can’t be heard.

As they come down, and Eddie manages to find a rag that may or may not have been used for other things already, Eddie sees Steve wipe his eyes.

He stops what he’s doing and drops the rag on the floor, pulling Steve close again.

“What’s wrong?” He asks because he can’t let Steve leave him again. Not this time.

“I just don’t want this to be one night only,” Steve cries.

“It won’t be, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him, brushing the fresh tears away as they fall. “We’re gonna figure out how to make it work. The band doesn’t have anything for the next few weeks, so we’ve got time, okay?”

“But I have to leave tomorrow. I have a GQ interview in London,” Steve pouts.

Eddie tries not to be distracted by his bitten-red lips, but they’re just so…biteable.

“I could go to London,” Eddie offers, only slightly joking.

Steve’s eyes light up. “You can?”

“I mean, I can definitely blow some of my savings to follow you around for a bit,” Eddie shrugs.

“As if I’d let you pay.” Steve’s beaming at him. “You really wanna come with me? Even though people will start spreading rumors and it’ll ruin your metal band image?”

“Baby, I’ll stand on that stage right now and scream to everyone who will listen that I’m yours.”

There’s still time to do that, too. Even though it can’t have been more than 20 minutes since Steve left the stage, he has no doubt that there are plenty of stragglers in the arena hoping for Steve to still come out and perform his encore.

“Some fans are kind of-”

“Crazy?” Steve nods. “That’s because you’re perfect. But they can’t have you, right? Not like I can.”

“No. Nobody gets to have me like you do.”

If Robin wasn’t banging on the door to warn them they only had five minutes, Eddie would be trying for another round. Maybe this time, he’d get his mouth on Steve instead of just his hand.

“I guess we should get to the car before fans figure out I’m still here,” Steve suggests. “And before Robin kills us both.”

“Imagine that news story,” Eddie laughs. “Best friend and manager of pop icon Steve Harrington charged with double homicide after seeing more dicks than she’s ever seen in her life.”

“Bold of you to assume she hasn’t seen mine,” Steve laughs as he pulls away. When he sees Eddie’s shocked face, he pats his cheek. “I sleep naked, babe. You knew that.”

Eddie’s face goes back to normal quickly. “Still? I thought that was just so I would-”

“I’m coming in!” Robin shouts as she opens the door. Steve turns away to finish buttoning his pants, but Eddie’s soft dick is right out in the open.

“Seriously?” Robin groans.

Eddie finishes making himself presentable and smirks. “You’ve seen what he’s got. You can’t blame me.”

“I can and I will. Car’s already surrounded, so. Hope you’re good with a hard launch.”

Eddie looks at Steve to check in. Steve gives him a nod.

“Blast off, I guess.”