#It might come back around so hold onto your hats!

[readngandweepng]

rambling about a dom ftm low-honor arthur with a sub top reader.

gn amab top reader. pretty much just a bunch of unprotected sex so some talk of pregnancy and a little bit of public sex. mostly proofread. also this IS supposed to be consensual, even if it's not blatantly stated.

just thinking about low honor arthur who, after a quick cat and mouse game, has your wrists tied to the headboard of a hotel room you’d been staying the night in. he still has his hat on his head as he rides your cock, rolling his hips with a crude grace befitting of him. his walls squeeze around you with the periodic drop of his hips, and even though you’re tied up (and well. this is arthur’s doing after all) he’s still got a hand pressed against your chest to keep you held down. 

his groans can only barely cover up the wet squelching sounds coming from his cunt as he humps your cock. you’ve already cum once—or maybe twice now, you’re not really sure—but a wave of euphoria washes over you anyway as the coil in your stomach snaps, his pussy having successfully milked another one from you in what felt like no time at all. 

for a moment arthur keeps rutting on your cock, until finally the ache subsides and he’s pulsating around you, his rough motions slowly coming to a stop. while you manage to keep your eyes open you can see arthur setting his hat down onto the table beside the bed, his hips raising off your aching cock. foolishly you think he’s giving you a break, but you know better. this is arthur; he wants to be filled to the absolute brim. as expected, he sits on your dick again, evoking a long, breathy groan as his head falls back. 

“jus’ sit tight and let me use this cock o’ yours, all right?” he reminds you gruffly at the sight of your twitching arms, his hand residing on your chest keeps its hold as if you’ll break out of the restraints. not that you’re trying to, and he knows that, but the feeling of holding you down is evidently making him as wet as it is making you hard. 

he leans over you, his hands now gripping the headboard that shakes against the elegantly-plastered walls. you weakly buck your hips in an attempt to meet his determined bouncing but it’s futile when he squeezes around you. your mind goes blank, and now arthur’s lips are at your ear as he groans, muttering a nonsensical mix of praise and whatever else. he’s so slick that you slip out of him for a moment before he takes you again, humping your cock until once more you cum inside of him with what little you can and he immediately follows before stopping and leaning back. 

his chest is glistening with sweat as it rises and falls with his now evened breathing. he groans as he falls forward again, this time resting his body against yours, his lips back to your ear to kiss beneath it. he unties your hands with a dirty smile before he closes his eyes. you follow suite in slumber, only occasionally waking up to the feeling of arthur’s hips moving in his sleep, and the thought of arthur riding your aching cock again in the morning has your head fuzzy and your dick twitching with an exhausted but enticed delight.

thinking about how if you were fucking him without a condom he would lock his legs around your waist when you’d try pulling out and make you cum inside of him, just for the hell of it. afterwards he’d give you a faux scolding, talking about how irresponsible you ought to be to do something like that, only to flip the both of you over and ride you ‘till you cum inside of him again and again until he’s really had his fill. 

i also like to imagine the confidence that low-honor arthur has; if he wanted you, kissing up your neck and pulling you flush against him works well enough, but sometimes he likes to lay flat on his back, stripped naked with his legs spread, giving his pussy a good slap before taunting you with some sort of challenge. if he’s up for it, he might rub his clit, making you watch as pumps his fingers into his cunt. if he cums, he’ll spread himself open to entice you with the sight of his gushing cum. most of the time he’ll let you have your way, fucking into him at whatever pace you desire so long as your cum ends up in the same place, nestled deep inside him.

you’d fuck arthur while he’s bended over where after you’re done, you’ll pull out and watch as he spreads his legs, pulling at the folds of his pussy to show your cum oozing out of him like honey. he might even sit on your face and have you lick him clean too.

now arthur wouldn’t actually want to get pregnant.. however that doesn’t stop him from wanting to get fucked like he does. he’ll loll his head back and let you fuck him like you're trying to breed him, splitting his pussy open on your cock and filling him up to where his legs feel like they’re permanently spread apart to give you room to slot yourself back into him. arthur will lay back and listen to the sound of your cock pounding into his wet cunt and only when your old cum is forced to seep out of him in favor of a new batch will he close his legs, making sure his belly is kept full with just you. 

(and god knows if he let it happen he wouldn’t be caught dead without a big belly, always walking around camp barefoot having to stick to just doing chores. he’d be popping out kids left and right without a care in the world. abigail would faint if she saw arthur’s belly growing again months after already just having one kid. thinking about it, abigail or dutch would probably have to give you and arthur a different version of The Talk if he doesn’t wave it off or else he might really find himself bedridden with child more times than he can count)

arthur doesn’t need to be pregnant to have the whole camp know what you’re up to when you go out at night. you’ll return the next morning with bags under your eyes alongside an arthur with a little pep in his step. although you’ll be lucky if he’s considerate enough to actually leave camp; he may even offer an innocent night bath at some lake where he’ll strip his clothes directly in your line of sight, sauntering into the water with a not very innocent smirk on his face to pair. you might actually get a bath in, but it probably won’t do you any good when he just lays you on your back on the grass and rides you anyway. 

as much as he loves being on top of you, arthur also likes being flat on his stomach. he’ll moan and groan more than usual, especially if you’re at camp he’ll be egging you on to take him harder and will reach back to grab your legs and fuck himself on your dick if you slow down or try to pull out. he likes having you press him against the dirt or grass so that afterwards he can really see the mess you made painted on his body (as well as use it as an excuse to bathe together). 

he’ll talk a lot during sex too, but it’s mostly just muttering about your dick or calling you names. he’ll call you a whore as he bounces on your cock while leading your head to his chest to suck on his nipples. arthur would also leave marks on your body where everyone can see and will revel in the comments unsuspecting people will make that want to know who left them. (john will roll his eyes because dear god does he know who left them.)

of course i have to add how much arthur would love clothed sex. he likes it fast and dirty, and the time it takes to undress is simply one minute too long for him. he’ll ride you through your jeans if he has to, he’ll hump and grind against your cock until the front of your clothes are soaked.

among things like a game of chase i think a form of foreplay for arthur would be something like poker. especially if you’re bad at it, he’ll play any type of game with you if he knows he’ll win so he can have his way with you. if you want he’ll even hunt you down like a wolf, stalking you in the woods until you’re so eager you can hardly stand it, and then he’ll strike; knocking you down so fast you won’t even know what hit you until your belt is unbuckled and arthur’s on your dick looking down at you like he just caught his prey. 

one of arthur’s favorite things is having you eat him out, he’ll keep his legs around your head to make sure your mouth stays on him. he wants everything you’ll give him, your tongue diving into him stretching him out. he wants to feel you suck and spit on his clit, your teeth nibbling on him and pulling his lips apart to dip your fingers into his cunt. if his legs aren’t shaking by the end of it he’ll make you do it all again till your jaw is aching and your face is covered in his slick.

last thing i think arthur would actually like getting caught having sex. he likes the thrill of fucking at camp where someone like micah or john can hear, but even more so would love getting caught and walked in on. even if he's wanted, he'll ride you in a hotel room with the door cracked open, moaning just a bit louder than he usually would. arthur will have you bend him over somewhere in the woods, and isn't afraid to make direct eye contact with any passer by who sees. he'll shoot anyone who's truly a threat of course, but if he were to hear or see someone touching themself as they watch you, he'll cum on the spot with his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

[arbuthnotblob]

Sometimes I think he should get Outrage berserker powers, as a treat! Just lay eyes on Giovanni and spontaneously combust into red-blue flames - saves all the hassle of even getting Dragonite out to use Hyper Beam 😌

[Lance Week 2023, Day 3 - Superpower, Emergency Pinch Sketch]

[briefinquiries]

Spencer Reid x Reader: Until You Do

Prompt: You & Reid have unspoken feelings for each other.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood / injury mention

A/N: This is a shameless repost (still trying to repost my fics since they got deleted. Enjoy :)

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer says as he hurries into the briefing room. In one swift motion he slides his bag off his shoulder, laying it gently on the floor beside him, as he takes a seat in the only empty chair around the table. 

Emily nods slightly in response, simultaneously telling Spencer that his lateness was excused, while also encouraging Garcia to continue presenting the team’s current case. 

“Right, um, two people have been murdered outside of Seattle in their homes all within the last two weeks-”

While Garcia continues to speak, you let your gaze wander towards Spencer.  His eyes are intently staring at the picture presented on the screen. He looks okay today, still tired, but not as disheveled as you’ve seen recently. You wonder if maybe he slept in today, and that was why he’d been late to work.  

Prentiss starts talking about the victimology of the case when Spencer’s eyes shift and catch yours. Instantly, you’re flooded with the embarrassment of being caught staring. You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly move your gaze into your hands resting in your lap. You feel Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a few moments longer, all the while hoping that he doesn’t notice the shade of pink your cheeks are slowly turning.  

Focus, you think to yourself.You have a job to do. You turn your attention to the grisly murder scene displayed on the screen and tune back into Garcia’s voice.

“But hold onto your hats, crime fighters, because that’s not even the worst of this whole thing,” she elaborates. “On top of… all the gory things Emily just said, these poor people were all found missing parts of their liver and pancreas.” Her face contorts into a look of disgust, as if just saying the words out loud brought a bad taste to her mouth. “And check this out,” Garcia clicks a button on her remote and brings up a coroner’s report on the screen.

Reid scans the document faster than anyone else. He’s the first to speak. “They were alive when the Unsub cut out their organs.”

Garcia’s sad inhale can be heard throughout the room. “And that is why I am perfectly happy staying in the safe confinement of my bat cave while you all go out and fight evil.”

After Emily calls for wheels up in twenty, the team disperses out of the briefing room, each heading to their desks to gather their to-go bags and whatever other materials they might need for the ride to Seattle. 

“Does Spence look off to you today?” JJ’s voice comes from behind you while you rummage through the top drawer of your desk for your cell phone. She leans against your chair casually and looks towards Reid. He’s standing across the room, clutching his shoulder bag and listening intently to something Matt was saying. 

“What?” you sputter, just the sound of Spencer’s name sending you into overdrive. “How should I know?”

You realize only after the words leave your mouth how defensive they sound. You bite your lip and try to backpedal. “I mean, I don’t know. He seems fine to me.”  

JJ narrows her eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. She is a profiler after all. But before she can interrogate your strange behavior any further, you stand up, grabbing hold of your duffel bag, and brush past her towards the exit. 

The truth is, you’ve had feelings for Spencer for a while now. Longer than you’d like to admit. But you’re barely able to admit that to yourself, let alone anyone else. Especially anyone on the team.  

Your love is unrealistic and unrequited. A combination that is destined for disaster. So, despite everything inside of you screaming for you to act on your feelings, you choose to bury them.  Because that is what’s best for everyone. Everyone except for you.  

…

Spencer tries not to overthink you staring at him. Or the way your cheeks blushed that beautiful shade of pink when he caught you. He can’t keep getting his hopes up when it comes to you, though. He’s already been let down so many times.  

He thinks back to the very first week you joined the Bureau. God, he was absolutely starstruck as soon as you walked through the door. And if Luke hadn’t commented on the drool pouring down Spencer’s chin, he’s sure his mouth would’ve dropped all the way to his feet.  

He’s even more intrigued the more he gets to know you- or rather, not know you, as time went on. Your incessant need for privacy peaked Spencer’s interest. You are mysterious, and Spencer’s always loved a good mystery. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me tonight?” Spencer had asked you, only a month after you’d joined the team.  

He still remembers how nervous he was, his clammy hands clutching tightly to the strap of his bag. He had to remind himself to breathe or else he might have passed out. 

You barely looked up from the paperwork at your desk before turning him down. “Can’t tonight, I’m playing catch up,” you had said, your voice was void of anything even resembling interest. 

“Don’t give up,” Luke had told him, clapping his shoulder roughly in the elevator. “I think she’s into you. Just ask again in a couple days, maybe she really was just busy.”

Now that his confidence was shaken, it took extra convincing in order to gain enough courage to ask you to dinner a second time.  His stomach was full of butterflies, which Spencer always thought was a stupid analogy until now. But he swears he can feel their wings fluttering around inside of him as he approaches you, putting your coat on and ready to head home. 

“Uh, H-Hi,” he stutters. “Do you want to grab some dinner? With uh, with me?” He can hear the shakiness in his own voice.  

“Sure,” you had replied, looking up just as you finished doing up the last button on your jacket.  You pushed the hair out of your face and smiled at him before turning around to face your coworkers. “Hey- JJ, Pen, Rossi. Spencer and I are gonna grab dinner, you guys in?”

All the butterflies in Spencer’s stomach instantly stilled.

You had made it painfully obvious to Spencer that you were not interested. And he wasn’t one to push. 

Spencer tried getting over you. He tried stifling his feelings, ignoring the way he’d drop anything as soon as he heard your voice, or the way his spirits would instantly be lifted if Emily assigned the two of you the same task during a case. He tried not to notice that your favorite breakfast was toast with avocados or that you always bite your lip whenever you were stressed. And he tried not to pay attention to the fact that you liked your coffee with honey and jiggled your leg whenever you had to sit in one place for too long. Because that’s not the type of thing coworkers noticed about one another. 

But you had a way of always pulling him back in.  Like that morning you brought Spencer a coffee. You had laughed and said the barista messed up your original order, so you got that one for free, honestly it was no big deal. But Spencer tasted the hint of cinnamon and extra cream, and smiled to himself. He spent the entire morning dwelling on the fact that you also knew exactly how he liked his coffee.    

Or, like when he’d catch you gazing at him during the briefing meetings. 

He’s almost sure that it was nothing. He did barge in late, afterall. Everyone stared at him, right?  So why can’t he stop thinking about it?

…

Seattle lived up to its rainy reputation. From the minute the team lands, the skies were dark with storm clouds.  

Currently, you are all held up at the police station. After coordinating with the captain and deputies, you all start setting up in the back conference room. You work with Matt to start tacking up the info you already knew– pictures of the current victims, lists of possible witnesses all within a three mile radius of each crime scene, and any evidence that had been found.  

Spencer immediately delves into cracking the geological profile, he has his nose practically pressed into the map of the area an officer had provided, seeing things no one else could. While the rest of the team worked through the Seattle PD’s casefiles, Garcia is on speaker phone, the light tapping of her keys can be heard faintly in the background.    

“Garcia, any known connection between the victims?”  

“Not that I can immediately see,” her voice rings through the speaker phone. “Katie is a second grade teacher, Ethan is a personal trainer at the local gym.”

“No gender preference,” JJ says while comparing the driver’s license photos of the victims. 

“No race preference either,” Luke observes. 

“Probably not surrogates,” Rossi drums his fingers together, too many differences.

“We have to be missing something,” Tara’s eyes wander from the photos of the victims.  

“I’ll keep digging,” Garcia assures you all. “I just might need to get my bigger shovel.”

That evening, a third victim is found just across town.  

“Luke, Matt– I want you to head to the dumpsite, canvas the area.” Emily orders. “Y/N, head to the coroner and check if the MO is the same for this victim as it was for the other two. See if you can find anything out about the missing organs. That has to mean something, we just don’t know what yet. JJ, Rossi, can you check out the victim’s house? Maybe we can start narrowing in how these people are all connected. Tara, the victims' family will be here soon. I’d like you to talk to them.”

Emily turns her back towards Spencer. He’s drawing lines on the map. “I’d like you to stay here, Reid. Maybe that third dumpsite can help you narrow down the geological profile.”  

The team all nod in agreement, before beginning to disperse out of the conference room.  

Garcia’s soft voice can be heard through the speaker ordering everyone to “Be safe!”

…

Once Reid is able to finish up his geological profile, pinpointing the Unsub’s comfort zone within the city, he really starts to feel like they’re closing in.  

“Using the abduction and dumpsites for each victim, I was able to narrow it down to this area,” Reid explains to Emily, drawing the lines on the board. Connected, they formed a small radius. “I think the Unsub lives in one of these three neighborhoods. Matt and Luke are in this area,” he points to one district. “And JJ and Rossi are here,” he points to the second. “If it’s alright, I’d like to head out to the last neighborhood, Medina. I’ll talk to the witnesses there and see what I can find out?”

Emily nods, “Good work, Reid.”

With Spencer gone, Tara and Emily are the only two left at the police station. Emily continues pouring over the evidence while Tara speaks to the victims’ families. About fifteen minutes after Reid leaves the precinct, Emily gets a call on her cell.

“What do you have?” 

“Emily, I think I might have found the connection we were missing between the victims.” You say through the phone. You’re at the coroner’s office still, the bodies of the three victims laid out in front of you. “The doctor said each of the victims had the blood type AB-negative.”

“That’s the rarest blood type,” Emily adds. 

“Exactly. Which could be a coincidence, but the fact that he’s removing organs makes me wonder– what if he’s trying to do a transplant?”

The pieces missing from the profile slowly start to click together in Emily’s mind. “Good work,” she says quickly. “Can you stay on the line for a minute? I’m going to patch Garcia through.”   

“Yeah,” you confirm. You wait a few moments before you hear a dial tone. After only one ring, the line connects. “Garcia, I need you to tell me if any of the names on our lists are suffering from fatal illnesses involving either the pancreas or the liver.”

Emily can hear the clicking of Garcia’s keyboard keys on the other end of the line as she works. 

“Zilch,” she says, disappointment evident in her voice.  

You sigh, but your gut really told you that this was important, so you pressed on. “What about family members of the names on our lists?”

After a few moments of searching Garcia inhales sharply. “There’s a Philip Gardiner on our list and his father, Joseph Gardiner, is currently suffering from stage 4 pancreatitis cancer.”  

There’s a brief pause before Garcia adds, “His medical records show that his father has AB negative blood type.”

“How would he know which victims have the same blood type as his father?” You ask. 

There’s a brief pause before Garcia says, “Philip Gardiner is a medical assistant at the family practice in Medina.”

“Let me guess–” Emily’s voice trails off. 

“All three victims were patients at that practice.”

That’s all that Emily needs. “What’s his address?”

“Already sent to all your phones.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” 

In a haste, Emily dials in the remaining members of the team. One by one, each group answers.  Everyone except for Spencer. His phone hits his voicemail, but Emily continues anyway. 

“Guys, I think we got him. A guy named Philip Gardiner, he was on our list of witnesses. His father has stage four pancreatitis cancer and we think he’s trying to find a healthy pancreas to give to his father.”

Emily looks up the address on the map Spencer so carefully drew out. She runs her finger along the map before finding the exact address.  

Meanwhile, you hear the ping of Garcia’s text ring through your phone. When you check the GPS distance, it says you’re only a mile away. In a haste, you offer the coroner a quick ‘thank you’, before heading out of the medical examiner’s room.  

“I’ve got his address here on the map,” Prentiss explains. Her finger trails around the region of the Unsub’s house, her heart stopping when she realizes that was the area that Reid was going to question witnesses… Alone.  “Penelope,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Give me the list of witnesses in the Medina area.”   

Garcia begins rattling off a small list of names through the phone. But she inhales sharply after a moment before reading out the name, “Philip Gardiner.”

“Reid went to question the witnesses in the Medina area. He left just over an hour ago,” Prentiss explains.  

“What?” Your voice rings loudly on the line, as you hoist yourself into the SUV. Your entire insides fill with dread. 

“Can we try his phone again,” Matt suggests. 

“I’ve tried three times now, the first time it rang, but now it’s going straight to voicemail,” Garcia says worriedly.  

“Who’s closest to Medina?” Luke asks.  

“I am,” you say, checking your GPS. You’re only a few minutes away from where Reid was. Instantly, you fumble with your keys before harshly turning them and throwing the vehicle into gear. On impulse, you began speeding down the road in the direction of Spencer, pressing the pedal continuously harder.. 

“I want you to wait for backup,” Emily declares sternly. “This Unsub is armed and dangerous, I do not want you going there alone.”

“Emily–” you argue. Your knuckles are growing white with how hard you’re gripping the wheel. The sheer thought of Spencer, alone with that monster, makes you cringe. He had no clue that he was walking into the house of the Unsub– therefore he could have been jumped, or blitzed, or worse… You shake the thought out of your mind and focus instead on the road ahead. 

“Wait for Alvez and Simmons, they’re only ten minutes behind you,” Emily says over the phone.  

You shake your head, even though you know none of them can see you. “No, no, no,” you say, your voice starting to waiver. “No, that’s too long– he doesn’t know–”

“We’re on our way now,” Luke’s voice rings through the line.  

“It’s Reid–” you gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “I can’t leave him in there alone.”  You can’t stand the thought of Reid being hurt, when there’s the possibility of stopping it. If you go there now, you can save him– but if you wait for backup, like Prentiss suggested, he could die. 

“Y/L/N,” Emily states sternly. “I am ordering you to wait for backup, is that understood?”  

You continue speeding down the road, the Unsub’s house just up ahead. You can see Reid’s discarded vehicle parked on the side of the street, confirming what you already knew. He’s there. Your heart clenches in your chest.  

“It’s Spencer–” your voice is just above a whisper. You have direct orders from your supervisor.  Direct orders you know you need to follow, or else there would be serious repercussions. You could be demoted, or transferred, or fired from the Bureau all together. But then you imagine Spencer’s face, and you pictured the crime scene photos from the case. What if Spencer wound up like all those other victims? Cut up and discarded on the side of the road like a piece of garbage? You imagine him in there– alone with the Unsub, wondering if anyone was coming to save him. Yes, you think. You’re coming to save him. “I can’t wait, Emily. I’m sorry.”

You only hear the beginning part of her protest before you end the phone call with a click. You waste no time in launching yourself out of the black SUV, weapon drawn and quickly approaching the front door of the house.  

The drizzle that had been steady since that morning has turned into a hard rain fall. It makes seeing anything around you increasingly difficult. But once you approach the Unsub’s porch, you’re able to take a peek through the windows.  You’re hoping to see any sign of Spencer,  but instead, the curtains are drawn obstructing your view. 

With your heart beating wildly underneath your own chest, you burst through the unlocked door of Philip Gardiner’s home.  

As soon as your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, you’re shocked by what you see.  The first thing you notice is Reid. He’s kneeling on the ground with his hands placed above his head. His gun was laying on the ground five feet away from him, discarded like he’d been ordered to drop it. The second thing you realize is that you’re outnumbered. Because not only is Philip Gardiner pointing a gun at Spencer, but his father, Joseph is as well.  

You realize that you just assumed Philip’s father was incapacitated, too sickly and unwell to play any part in these murders. But now you can see that obviously isn’t the case.  

All eyes turn towards you upon your sudden entrance. But you only look at Reid. His sunken eyes widening when he sees you.    

“Put the gun down,” Philip orders, his voice deep and thick with malice. Joseph steps forward and grabs the back of Reid’s head, hoisting it back. He presses the barrel of his pistol right into Reid’s temple.    

“Okay,” you say instantly, trying not to panic. “Okay, okay–” you slowly start to lower your gun.  “I’m putting it down.” Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him, your mind raced.  

You slide your glock across the floor towards Philip and his father carefully. The younger of the two Unsub’s wastes no time in scooping it up off the floor, before aiming his own gun at you.  

“Why’re you here?” he bellows, his voice shaking with emotion. “Why can’t you people just leave us alone!”

You take a deep breath, a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. “Philip, I’m here to help you,” you say calmly. 

The confusion on his face urges you to continue. “Actually, I’m here to help your father,” you tell him.

“My father?” he asks, his voice littered with skepticism.  

“That’s right, I heard he was sick.”

Philip steps closer to you, the gun never wavering in his hand. “That’s right.”

“I’m here to help. You need a transplant. Pancreas, right?”

Philip’s eyes widen and that’s when you realize you’ve gotten him right where you wanted him.  “Your father is AB-negative, right? That’s the rarest blood type, it’s hard to find a match.”

Your eyes dart to Spencer quickly, who’s still kneeling on the floor. He’s looking at you with desperation and fear plastered over his face. You wish he could read your mind, could hear what you were thinking. You are going to get out of here, you’d tell him. I am going to make sure that you get out of here alive.  

Even if it means I don’t. 

“He can’t help you. He won’t be a match,” you tell them, gesturing towards Spencer.  “But I am.”

“Is this a trick?” Philip asks, his hand was starting to shake from how firmly he was holding the gun. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head in unison with your words. You’re surprised at how calm you’re starting to feel. “No tricks. Just a trade. Let him go, and you can take me instead. Cut me open, take what you want. Just– just let him go,” you plead.  

Philip and his dad both nod slowly.

“Okay,” you say, slowly walking towards the unsubs, your hands raised in the air to show them you aren’t going to play any tricks.  

“What’re you doing?” Reid’s voice is high pitched and panicked. He’s looking frantically at you for answers 

But you ignore him.  

“Let him go,” you urge Gardiner. He nods, and his father uses the fist full of Reid’s hair he still had a hold of to hoist him up on his feet. 

Reid stands, but his eyes remain trained on you. “Y/N, stop– what’re you doing?”

Gardiner grabs a hold of your vest when you’re close enough, tugging you into his embrace. He bars his arm around your neck and plants the gun on your temple. “Go–” he orders Reid.   

Spencer’s stumbling towards the door. “No, no, no–” he stutters. 

“Go, or I’ll shoot her right here,” Gardiner orders. You feel the hard, cold barrel of the gun press deeper into the tissue of your temple, but you still don’t shake. Spencer is going to be safe, you think. That’s all that mattered.  

Reid’s eyes are wide and watery. He’s looking at you wildly, like his genius brain can’t comprehend anything that’s happening.   

But you nod towards him reassuringly. “Spencer, it’s okay,” you tell him, surprised, yet again, by how calm you feel. “Go, it’s okay.” 

It was an easy choice sacrificing yourself for Spencer. The concept of death was scary, but the idea of losing Spencer? That was just unbearable. Plus, there’s no doubt that he’s infinitely more valuable to the team than you are. You know they’d mourn your loss. But they’d get over it, you were replaceable with any other agent. But Spencer? That would leave a wound no other profiler could fill. 

You catch one last glimpse of Spencer before Joseph Gardiner's dad escorts him outside of the house. As the door shuts, ensuring Reid is safe, you’re finally able to exhale the breath of air you’ve been holding in. Spencer is going to be okay.  

“Come with me,” Gardiner orders gruffly. He grabs you by your elbow and drags you towards the back of the house. You stumble on your feet, trying to keep up with his pace. Gardiner leads you all the way through the hallway, around a corner, and through the sliding back door. The exit leads to a deck on the back of the house. It looks old, with chipped red paint and clutter scattered all around it.  

You make your way across it and down a few stairs. When your feet hit the ground, they squish from impact on the wet grass beneath them. Gardiner leads you just a few feet forward. Attached to the back of his house is a cellar door. He undoes the latch before hoisting it open, revealing a pitch black basement. 

“Get in,” he orders, pointing the gun right between your shoulder blades.  

You hesitate briefly, which proves to be a costly mistake. Gardiner hoists the pistol back and rams it into the side of your head. Your entire body whips forward and you stumble on your feet.  “I said get in!” he screams. 

As you feel the blood already trickling down your temple, you nod.  

Taking one step forward, you begin descending into Philip Gardiner’s basement.  

The first thing you do when you’re fully inside is gasp at the smell. It ensnares all of your senses, completely overwhelming you. The back of your hand pressed against your nose does little to mask it.  

Gardiner climbs into the basement after you and turns on a light, illuminating the horror scene in front of you. There are surgical tools and blades on a metal tray wheeled next to a bed with restraints. The bed has dark, crimson blood still on it.  

You’ve walked into horror scenes, much like this one, a countless number of times. But now that you knew this scene was set for you, it sent unsettling shivers down your spine. Better you than Spencer, you remind yourself. The thought makes you instantly feel calmer.  

Gardiner grabs a pair of zip ties on top of the shelf and throws them towards you. “Put them on,” he orders. You nod, and quickly obey him, your head still throbbing from the last time you hesitated. 

Now that you’re restrained, Philip steadily works to set up equipment by placing a wide variety of tools on the metal tray. You realize that he was getting ready to kill you.  

Despite the obvious fear running through your veins, your mind slowly begins to wander to Spencer. The look on his face when Joseph hauled him out of the room, away from you, is burned into your mind. The hurt, the fear, and the confusion all on full display. But he is safe now, and that is all that mattered. 

You wonder if Spencer would figure out why you took his place tonight. You wonder if he’d realize that it wasn’t even an option for you not to, that you had no other choice. You wonder if he knew you couldn’t live without him, or would ever want to.

Philip Gardiner continues stalking around the room. The knives laid out on display make you nauseous. You combat it by taking slow, deep breaths, all while repeating the mantra in your head; he was safe. 

Except suddenly, your mantra is interrupted when the latch to the cellar door bursts open with a bang. Two tall, muscular figures descend down the stairs and into the cellar, their guns drawn.  

“Drop it,” Luke orders sternly, he’s moving in towards Gardiner with a look of pure hatred on his face. Philip raises his hand above his head, the scalpel still clutched tightly in his grasp. But Luke is quick to disarm him before grabbing a pair of handcuffs and clicking them around Gardiner’s wrists.   

Matt, meanwhile, attends to you. He uses his knife to break through the zip ties that have managed to almost cut all the circulation off from your wrists.  

“Let me see,” he says softly, tending to the cut on your forehead. You only now realize that the blood oozing from it had mostly dried, caking itself to the side of your face.    

“I’m fine,” you grumble, trying to stand up. Luke drags Gardiner past you and Matt and up the stairs.  

“That doesn’t look fine,” Matt says. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, raising your hand to touch the wound. Despite your efforts, you wince at the contact. As you finally make it to your feet, you’re woozier than expected. You waiver slightly in place, your head spinning.   

“Easy,” he says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.  

“Said ‘m fine,” you grumble again.  

Matt nods and adds sarcastically, “Whatever you say.”

He leads you out of the basement, his hand never leaving your shoulder. It’s not until you’re outside, in the cool night air, when you see an entire scene unfolding around you.  

All four of the black SUV’s are parked outside the Unsub’s house– yours with the driver’s side door still wide open from when you’d previously left it in a haste. There’s also an abundance of squad cars gathered, their lights flashing blues and reds, reflecting grimly in the dark. There’s two ambulances parked near the road, two medics rushing frantically towards you.   

“Where’s Reid?” you ask Matt, your eyes searching the crowd for him. 

“Medic’s checking him out right now. He’s okay though.”

You sigh a breath of relief, exhaling tension that you didn’t even realize was still inside of you.  That’s all that mattered. You can handle everything else. 

At least that’s what you thought. You groan when you see Emily jogging over, her vest still strapped on.  

After disobeying her direct orders, you immediately know you were in for it. 

“Matt, how is she?” she asks, refusing to actually look at you. 

“Banged up, possible concussion– I think she’ll need stitches.”

“I can hear you,” you say, wondering why the two of them were talking about you like you were unconscious, or not even present. 

“Get her to the medics,” Emily orders. “We’ll talk later,” she says, her dark eyes piercing yours. 

You nod slowly. You’d gone against her wishes and broken her trust. The adrenaline that had previously been rushing through your body prevented you from originally seeing that. But the rush is starting to fade, and in its wake left a tremendous amount of guilt and shame. You never meant to cross Emily. You had only wanted to save Reid. She had to understand that, right?  

Either way, you made a choice, and now you’d pay the consequences. But it was an easy choice. One that you would make over and over again. Because you’d always choose Spencer, no matter what.  

Matt only lets you go when the medics reach you. They lead you the rest of the way to the ambulance, where you sit on the edge of the back door. The EMT wraps a coarse blanket around your shoulders before starting an exam. He shines lights in your eyes, asks you repetitive questions, and checks your wound. After a while, you zone it all out.  

Until you see him. 

He’s walking past the second ambulance with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. He has a small bandage placed just above his left eyebrow. You gaze at Spencer, checking him over. He looks okay, other than the bandage, he’s unharmed. You exhale another breath of relief. When he locks eyes with you, you can’t help but smile.  

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, but he doesn’t smile back. Instead, his face remains stoic and serious, his eyes glaring with anger, before looking away. He turns on his feet and walks towards one of the black SUV’s, climbing into the front seat and snapping the door shut  Your smile quickly melts away. 

… 

On the plane ride home, you take a seat directly across from Spencer.  He’s got his nose already stuffed in a book. He doesn’t even glance up when you sit down.  

“Spencer,” you say, trying to get his attention.  

But he ignores you.  

“Reid,” you huff, quickly growing frustrated by his silence. 

Spencer snaps his book shut suddenly and stands up from his seat. Without so much as a single glance he strides across the jet and finds a seat next to Luke and Matt. He crosses one leg over the other and opens his book back up again, going back to his literature like nothing had just happened– like he hadn’t just ripped out your entire heart. 

You’re in the process of biting back tears when Emily replaces Reid’s seat directly across from you. You tuck your feet up on the seat and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to take up less space, or better yet, disappear altogether. 

For a moment, neither one of you speaks.  

After a few seconds, Emily sighs. “How’s your head?” she asks, breaking the silence.  

“It’s fine,” you mumble. That’s a plain lie. Your head throbs. But it’s nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.    

“You were out of line.” Emily states calmly.     

“I know,” you whisper, refusing to meet her gaze. 

“I gave you a direct order–”

“I know,” you repeat. 

“When I give you an order, I need to be able to trust that you’re going to follow it. If this team doesn’t have trust, this team doesn’t have anything.”

You nod, your cheeks flushing hot. She’s putting you on the spot, and speaking loud enough for the entire jet to hear. You deserve it though, you know you did. 

Emily lets out a sigh, her tone suddenly softening and her voice growing quiet.  “What were you thinking?” 

You bite your lip harshly, fighting to hold back the sob boiling in your chest. You wipe your cheeks feverishly before replying. “I was thinking better me than Spencer,” you whisper. “I’m replaceable. He’s not.”

Emily shakes her head.  “You are important to this team.”

You stare down at your lap, unable to truly hear the words Emily was saying. 

But she reaches across the gap and gathers your hands in hers. “Listen to me,” she says sternly. You finally gather up enough courage to look up. “You are important to this team.”  She repeats the words slower and enunciates them more. 

You slowly nod, letting them seep into your skin. You aren’t sure if you believed her, but it’s a start. 

“Okay,” you say. Slowly, you pull your hands away.  

“Do you want to tell me what else is bothering you?” she asks gently. 

You bite your lip harder. You aren’t sure if you can trust yourself to speak without crying.  

“I did it for him,” you finally say. “Because I wanted to keep him safe. But now he’s so angry at me.”

Emily scoffs at your statement, making you narrow your eyebrows in confusion at her.  

“Yeah, right,” she says, amusement dancing in her words. 

“He won’t even look at me,” you say quietly. “I mean– I get why you’re mad at me,” you admit. “I disobeyed your orders, I broke protocol– you could’ve gotten in trouble if anything had happened. But I don’t understand why he is too,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “I was just trying to do the right thing… And now he hates me for it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I may not know much, but what I do know is that Spencer Reid isn’t capable of hating you.”

…

Reid hurries off the jet before you’re able to talk to him, which is what you’d been planning since taking off in Seattle. You groan and wonder if maybe you should just give him space. Clearly that’s what he wants.  

But, when you’re back inside the BAU, cleaning out your desk. Just as you’re about to go home, you look up and see him in the briefing room. Through the glass, Spencer’s thin frame can be seen cleaning up some case files that were left on the table. His back is to you and suddenly, the idea of cornering him in there entered your mind. He has to hear you out, he has to understand why you did what you did.  

Before you can chicken out or change your mind, you hurry upstairs and hoist open the glass doors to the room. Spencer turns around, your sudden entrance jumping him. His face actually looks angrier when he realizes it’s you entering his space. 

“Spencer–” you say, your voice already cracking. You aren’t sure how you’re going to do this. 

“What?” he snaps back harshly, the first words he’s spoken to you since the event. His eyes are sunken and tired, his hair disheveled and messy– still you don’t think you’d ever seen someone so beautiful in your entire life.  

“What did I do?” you plead. 

“Are you kidding me?” he says in disbelief.  

“I just– I was trying to do the right thing,” you explain. 

But Reid cuts you off. “You completely disobeyed Emily’s orders,” he takes a step closer to you.  “You were reckless and selfish and stupid and–”

Your eyes widen. “Selfish?” 

“Yes, selfish!” he bellows, his hands raising in frustration. “You broke protocol. And willingly put yourself into the arms of an Unsub, just so that you could play the hero!”

“I was not trying to be a hero!” you start to raise your own voice in defense. 

But Spencer shakes his head. “Then why’d you do it?”

By now, you’re biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. The anger and frustration you’re feeling towards Spencer left a bad taste in your mouth. Why can’t he understand, why can’t you make him understand?

Did you have to spell it out?

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the idea of something bad happening to my team,” your voice is low. “Even if that meant something bad had to happen to me.”

Spencer stands still, his gaze never softening. After a few moments you speak again. “It worked, didn’t it? I don’t get why you’re so upset–”

In a rushed tone, he blurts out, “I’m upset because you put yourself in danger! I could have lost you!”

Spencer’s words take you back. And you find yourself speechless. Your face immediately softens as you try to absorb what he said, but you’re exhausted and concussed and honestly, don’t trust your own judgment at the moment. 

All you can manage to mutter out is a soft, “Oh.”

Spencer’s anger seems to slowly be melting into just plain sorrow. It hurts to see him looking like he’s in pain. 

“Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?” he asks, his voice is gentler now. 

“Because,” you whisper. It seems like you do have to spell it out for him. “Because that seemed more bearable than the idea of anything happening to you.” The words spilled out of you uncontrollably. You've kept your feelings a secret from Reid for so long, you’re afraid what would happen if you finally revealed them. “The truth is… I’m kind of in love with you. And I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

At that, Spencer's mouth fell open slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  

He takes another step forward, and in that moment, for the second time that evening, you wish you could disappear, just dissolve into nothingness, out of sight. You’re feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, you wish you could take the words back– just suck them right back into your mouth and keep them there, a secret forever. 

But Spencer speaks softly, interrupting your thoughts. “What?”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me say it again–”

“I love you too.”

You hear it– but you don’t believe it. Because it can’t be true. 

“Please,” you whisper, wondering if this was just some cruel joke. There is no way Spencer could love you back. “Don’t mess with me. I can’t take it, not from you.” 

Reid shakes his head. “I swear to you, I would never joke about something like this.” 

“Don’t–”

He takes another step forward and reaches his hand out, touching your cheek softly. His fingers graze your jaw line. “I am in love with you, and I have been for quite some time. Pretty much since the first day I met you. That’s why I was so angry today– imagine if I’d done that to you– taken your place in that house– forced you to leave me with that monster.”

Just the thought made your blood start to boil. The idea of Spencer actually loving you back was just over the horizon– the thought that maybe it’s true was within reach. 

You bite your lip nervously, the feeling of Reid’s thumb gliding across your skin sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t know if I can believe you,” you whisper. 

“Then I’ll just keep telling you,” Spencer says softly. “Until you do.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Iconic

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: you make it your life goal to embarrass Oscar and annoy him, keeping things fun in his life

masterlist

———————————

“He’s so cute,” a girl sighs in the McLaren fan zone.

“He really is,” you smile, leaning against the barrier.

“Oh my god, hi!” the girl gasps, recognizing you from your boyfriend’s Instagram. You haven’t had social media since you were cyber bullied in middle school, so you were a mystery to his fans. It also let you go to fan zone and have fun with them. You also run a fan page for Oscar on Instagram.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind that I am standing here?” you say, holding a folded poster in one of your hand and an arm full of friendship bracelets that Oscar helped you make.

“Not at all, oh my god. Sorry, it’s just that you are so iconic,” the girl says and you quirk your eyebrow.

“How so?”

“You don’t have social media which is iconic, but all the fans know how nice you are, and you are always hanging out with us here,” one of her friends say, you nod along.

“Of course I would be here, I gotta support Papaya boys,” you smile. “Wanna help me embarrass Osc?” you ask the group around you.

“It would legit be our honor,” the one laughs, you laugh with her.

“Here,” you take off some friendship bracelets and exchange them with the girls.

“You are the best WAG,” another girl says and you blush a little, dutifully putting on each bracelet.

“I really do try. I even run a fan account for Osc,” you laugh, not revealing more than that.

“No way, that’s actually icon behavior,” the first girl says and you grin.

“Want to see the sign?” you ask, excited to show your latest sign off. Oscar tried to look but you refused to even work on it until he left the hotel.

“Yes!” you are quick to unfold the sign. Your neat handwriting carefully placed each letter just large enough so Oscar could read it.

“Omg, I can’t wait to see his reaction,” one of the fans say, the area is brimming full now, ready for the drivers to come out in a couple minutes.

“Make sure you get pictures of his reaction, he’s so cute when he’s embarrassed,” you giggle, getting ready to hold the sign in front of you as Lando walk onto the stage, excited to see what you wrote this time. He reads it and laughs, turning towards where Oscar is entering. You watch his brows furrow as he reads it. Oscar- I want to eat you up like a pastry :). The Australian’s face turns bright red as he laughs and winks at you, trying to hide his awkward embarrassment at the pickup line. It wasn’t your best, but it was the perfect amount of cringe. Lando gives you a thumbs up from the stage.

“You were right, his face was priceless,” the fan says as you watch Oscar push back his mousy brown hair before putting the hat back on. You swear you might be drooling while watching him, but you catch his gaze falling on you too.

“I LOVE YOU OSCAR!” you yell as he waves goodbye to the fans, giving you a wink. You make sure all of your friendship bracelets are given away before thanking the fans for being cool about you chilling with them. You head back to the paddock, scanning your pass, and beelining to the McLaren motorhome.

“Y/n, can I have that sign?” Lando asks and you happily hand it over.

“As long as you don’t use it to steal my man, have at it,” you chuckle as the Brit hugs you in thanks before walking away.

“Eat me like a pastry?” Oscar gives you an amused smile. “You do know my parents watch that, right?” His favorite thing about you his your playfulness, you can be serious when needed, but your teasing and jests keep his life fun.

“Oh, I know, your mom helped me with that one, the fans loved it too,” you laugh. “You did look so hot up there,” you slightly exaggerate checking him out.

“Why don’t we go back to my drivers room and you show me how you’d like to eat me?” Oscar whispers in your ear, trying to seduce you, but you resist.

“Oh, I’d probably start with the thighs, best muscle to fat ratio in my opinion. Hm, now I’m kinda hungry, what is in hospitality?” you ask, moving towards the food area. Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him as he picks you up to carry you to his room.

“Nope, don’t start things you can’t finish,” he says, clearly a little hot and bothered.

“Osc, I’m not a cannibal, I don’t actually eat humans,” you tease, not giving up on what you started. Oscar clearly had a different interpretation, maybe the right one, maybe not.

“Shut up before I make you shut up,” Oscar growls in your ear, quickly turning you on and making you drop the joke.

“Yes, Mister Piastri,” you say, knowing it’s affect on him as he drags you into his room, locking the door behind him. Oscar was a couple minutes late to his meeting, Lando holding back giggles as Oscar walks into the room.

“I see the fans aren’t the only ones who love Y/n,” Lando whispers to Oscar, who shoots him a glare. Meanwhile, you scroll Instagram using your fan page, laughing as some of them post the pic of you and the sign, the comments calling on your to reveal yourself via the fan page. You make a post about it as well just to blend in, thirsting over Oscar as well. You can’t imagine if he ever finds out about the account.

“Good luck, Osc. Drive safe,” you kiss him before he puts his helmet on.

“I am always safe,” he gives you his usual awkward smile, you smile back as he puts his helmet on. He squeezes your hand before walking over to the car. You take a seat in the garage, the headphones unflattering as always.

Your stomach drops as there is a crash late in the race, but you are instantly relieved when you realize that Oscar made in through and no one was hurt. He ends up in P2 for the race and you join the team in celebrating at the podium.

“Thank you for being my number one fan, even when you run a secret fan account,” Oscar hugs you in his drivers room.

“How? What?” you play if off but he just laughs, pulling out his phone.

“My private account follows you,” oscar laughs, and you just stare at him.

“That’s actually you? I thought it was a fan,” you quickly pull out your phone and request to follow his account, which he immediately accepts so that you can see all the cute posts he makes about you.

“Stop, Osc, you’re basically running a fan account for me,” you say, admiring his posts, including one from today of you holding the sign. You quickly type a comment that has the other drivers replying like crazy claiming that they found your secret account.

“You two decent?” Mark Weber’s voice says through the door, after a confirmation from Oscar, he lets himself in.

“Why wouldn’t we be decent, Mark?” you ask from the couch.

“I used to be a driver too, and after your fan zone sign nothing is off the table,” Mark shrugs causing you and Oscar to blush. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you great race, I will see you in a few days,” Mark tells Oscar before leaving the room again. You still aren’t sure how Oscar was able to bag the former F1 driver as his manager. Oscar yawns and you notice how tired he is, sleepy Oscar is your favorite version of Oscar.

“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel, first loser,” you tease, helping him gather his things to leave.

“Hey,” he groans at the jab.

“You could be Lando NoWins, my love,” turning your jests onto his teammate.

“That is true,” Oscar yawns, holding your hand as he leads you to his chauffeured car.

“Osc, would you marry me if I was a worm?”

“Who said I’d marry you at all?”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m deleting your fan page,” you pull out your phone. Oscar basically tackles you in the back seat as he lunges for the phone.

“I take it back, I’ll marry you right now if you want,” Oscar pleads.

“Who said I wanted to marry you? Do I look like a worm?” you retort, putting your phone away. Oscar just sighs in defeat.

“God gives is strongest people his greatest challenges, I’m not strong enough for this,” he groans a few seconds later, the tiredness setting in.

“Sorry, baby, I promise you will get unlimited cuddles when we get back to the room,” you smile softly, holding his hand tight.

“I love you,” he whispers, his beautiful brown eyes gazing into your eyes.

“I love you too.”

[ghouljams]

I feel like each of the 141 has a difference preference when dicking down their mate.

Kyle prefers to stay human, it lets him really get a good show while fucking into the pretty thing he managed to take home. Seeing how your skin contrasts to his softly colored sheets is more reassuring to him that you're his than any scenting could be. Also, he's a lighter sleeper as a human, letting him keep you in his bed if you try to slip out while he's asleep.

Price likes the little hint of other, as a sign of his age and experience. He's the only one of the 141 who can shift only a few senses instead of having to start properly shifting. Let's him memorize your scent while fucking you, all so he can let you have the illusion of choice by letting you go and "finding" you again later. Eventually, he'll make it seem like a bit of fate and offer you out on a date.

Ghost partially shifts, and that's the most he can hold himself back when it comes to you. Claws and teeth come out, drool dripping from his maw to your skin. He needs to taste you, to make sure you taste the same. Taste like his.

Soap is a dog and he will fuck you in full transformation because of it. This man needs you on the most primal level, so why not just fuck you at his most primal. It also gives him a better nose to smell your sweat soaked skin, a longer tongue to shove into you, better hearing to catch each and every whimper you make. He needs to consume you and the best way to do that is with his wolf.

At least, that's my thought.

As usual how does it feel to be so fucking right?

Gaz absolutely prefers fucking you as a human, it feels too much like taking advantage of you when he has his semi-transformed strength and the idea of fucking you fully wolf makes him itch a little. He's so worried about damaging you with his claws and fangs :( his poor human mate, he doesn't want to ruin you. We'll, not like that at least. That won't stop him from knotting you, that's a luxury he can't afford not to indulge in. He loves the way you squirm and complain about the stretch, shushing you with soft coos, promising it'll be over soon, even when he knows it'll be a good 20 minutes at least.

Price is old hat at transformations and after years of growing and shrinking it's worn on his joints, if he doesn't have to transform he won't. He'll indulge in the sensed his wolf-form lends him, pressing his nose to your pulse and getting himself drunk on your scent. His eyes are always dark, animalistic, when he drags his flat tongue against your sex, and you worry that the teeth he's hiding might bite too hard, but he hasn't hurt you yet. And the only scare he gives you is when he presses his hand against your come filled stomach talking about pups.

Ghost simply lacks self control around you. The man has the control of a saint, but once he gets drunk on the scent of your arousal it's over for him. He grips you with heavy clawed hands, his skin splitting with fur and his nose starting to lengthen, and it scares you a little. His breathing is uneven, but his hips don't stop moving even when his bones start to break and his joints begin to pop. His drool dripping onto you is the only indication you get before he's sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You'll have to take wolfsbane in the morning if you don't want to end up going through the same pain.

Soap though... Soap fucks you like a dog, literally. He'll hunt you down on a full moon and hold you down with big paws, murmuring canned tones from his open maw about how he can't stop himself. He's all instinct, all panting and howling as he mounts you and ruts his cock against your sex, uncaring what hole he fucks himself into as long as it's yours. He'll lay directly on top of you once he's knotted you too, licking your face in apology but you know he doesn't mean it because he keeps asking for another round.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eighteen

Eddie looks up, towards the front of the house, “car.”

It’s a good count of five before Steve hears a car pulling up onto the drive, “do you want to get it? Surprise Robin?”

Eddie just shakes his head, suddenly shy. Steve remembers how loudly she had shrieked over the phone, “yeah, that’s fair.”

Steve waits until the bell is rung, and Eddie does come and stand in the hallway, half hidden in the lounge doorway, watching as Steve gets the door. Just as he’s opening it he realizes just how uncharacteristically polite she’s being; normally Robin just barges in.

He gets his answer a second later; it’s not just Robin.

She does cross the threshold first, hugging Steve and then clearly spotting Eddie, Steve grabs her, “do not be loud.”

“Okay, okay,” and she goes in.

Joyce is next, carrying a big pot with a lid, she leans over to kiss Steve’s cheek, Jon and Nancy follow, both equally laden down, Nancy holding what looks like a cobbler in a large dish, with a grocery bag hanging precariously from each wrist, “we didn’t have many left overs, so mom put together a quick dessert, it’s only canned filling, hope that’s okay.”

“That’s...so great of you Nancy, she didn’t need to-”

“Hush, Steve,” and she goes in, Hopper, Will and El bringing up the rear. Everyone has their hands full.

“Okay, lets move along, we need to get all this warmed up,” Joyce says to clear the blockage of Eddie gawkers in the hall. Steve watches as Eddie nods at people, looking on curiously, as they all move past.

“Jon, bring through the kitchen chairs honey!”

Joyce has completely commandeered Steve house, and he’s totally okay with it. Jon and Hopper move the chairs so there’s enough seating around the dining table. They might be elbow to elbow, but Steve wouldn’t really have it any other way.

“We brought what we had honey,” Joyce tells Steve, passing him a bowl with a cucumber, a lettuce and some apples in it, “I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

Steve’s heart melts, “he actually might try a meal.”

Joyce absolutely lights up, and she takes the bowl back, setting it on the kitchen counter, “then lets get him a Christmas dinner. Can you deal with the roast please Hop, I’m bringing the rest out now,” and like a sergeant major directing her troops, Joyce calls on people to fetch and carry as she plates things up, “El honey, take all the cutlery please. Will, jugs of juice, thank you.”

Steve just smiles and watches it happen, “better be a beer in it for me,” Hopper grumbles from behind Steve.

Eddie’s been half watching from doorways, occasionally retreating to the couch and then coming back again, but he seems to be drawn by the smell of all the food. “Come on, come and sit at the table.”

“Table,” Eddie repeats, following as Steve leads him by the hand into the dining room.

Eddie sits, and Steve sits next to him.

“Well, Merry First Ever Christmas,” Joyce says to Eddie, before she’s distracted again, “Will, vegetables please.” Will huffs over his plate of meat and potatoes.

“What do you want baby?” Steve whispers to Eddie while everyone helps themselves.

Eddie shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the spread Joyce has put on. Steve smiles reassuringly, giving his thigh a squeeze before he makes him a plate with a little of everything. While he’s occupied, Steve is vaguely aware of El saying, “I love your hat.”

“Eddidie hat?” Eddie replies, “thank you, El.”

Eddie likes meat. He also still really likes his vegetables; he just likes them hot.

Once everyone’s eating the conversation dies down, Eddie uses a combination of claws and his fork to eat, and Steve doesn’t think he’s doing too badly for his first proper sit down meal, when Joyce asks, “Eddie, do you like the food?”

Eddie nods, “good good. Many good.”

Joyce smiles, “and how are you finding having legs?”

“Good, not different Stee.” Joyce seems to get the drift of what Eddie kind of means. This clearly gives Eddie an idea though, turning to Steve he asks, “Eddidie work? One dollar bill gro-ser-ees.”

“Uhm,” Steve chuckles, “maybe. Need to work on a few things first. Maybe.”

“Eddidie car?” And Eddie mimes turning the steering wheel back and forth.

“Need a license first,” Hopper interjects from the other end of the table.

“License first?”

“A drivers license,” Steve clarifies, or tries too, “so you can drive the car.”

“He’s going to need a birth certificate and all that,” Nancy adds.

Joyce elbows Hopper, “I’m sure Hop could help there.”

“Yeah, like I don’t have enough-” Joyce elbows him again, “yeah, okay. Watch it woman, your elbows are like knives.”

“Eddie,” El starts in, “your birth certificate is important, you can choose where you were born.”

“That’s not actually how it works for the rest of us,” Will whispers to her, smiling.

“I got to choose,” she tells him, “I chose Hawkins.”

“Eddidie born?”

El nods, “where you’re from.”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie announces with some confidence, raising a round of, maybe slightly weirded out, chuckles from around the table.

El shakes her head, “no, where are you from now?”

Eddie nods, grasping that part, “Hawkins Indiana. Pool,” and Eddie points, back through the house at the yard, just to clarify. Steve hides his laughter behind his hand.

“Might want to loose the ‘pool’ part,” Hopper adds, helpfully.

“No no,” Jon suggests, “if you make him like, from another country, it’ll explain the language barrier.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Joyce muses, “where would you suggest?”

“Well, there’s only one obvious place, right? Fin-land.”

Everyone groans, and John gets balled up napkins thrown at him.

“In all seriousness kid, going to need a full name and date of birth,” Hopper tells them.

“Oh! Christmas Eve! That would be a lovely birthday for Eddie,” Joyce tells him, excited.

Hopper hums, “uh hu, what year? And a surname, write it all down for me kid.”

“Obviously Harrington,” Steve says before he can really think about it.

Hoppers eyebrows are in his hairline, “so...brothers?”

Robin nearly chokes on her drink.

“Okay, time for gifts, and then dessert after,” Joyce says as she shoos everyone into the lounge, “the boys can do the dishes later.”

Jon and Hop share a look, and Steve knows instantly it’s a look they’ve shared quite a few times.

Everyone spreads around in the lounge, El putting on the Christmas tree lights with a little frown of concentration.

“Okay, me first,” Joyce says, getting up, and she gives Steve and Eddie a wrapped gift each.

“Joyce, you don’t have to, I didn’t get chance to-”

“Don’t worry about any of that honey,” she waves him away, sipping her drink, “just open them.”

Eddie looks perplexed by the thing he’s been handed, just turning it over and over in his hands, “here, watch,” Steve says, and carefully tears into the paper on his own gift.

Eddie seems to be delighted by this turn of events, and uses his claws to easily tear into the paper.

Matching knitted material unfurls onto both of their laps, Steve unfolding his to find a red and green knitted sweater; clearly home made by Joyce.

Eddie holds his up, “sweater? Gift?”

“Yeah, look,” Steve holds up his own.

They are a little different; while the sleeves of Eddie’s are the same as Steve’s, the middle is a hell of a lot shorter, and it takes a second for Steve to realize why; it would stop it from dragging on the ground.

“Stee Eddidie not different!” Eddie says, all excited, just as Steve looses his battle and starts to cry.

A little less than twenty four hours ago, the deepest parts of Steve were convinced that Eddie was dead in his pool. Before that, days of...of torture, knowing that Eddie could very well be dying in the black water. The sleepless nights. The slow erosion of Steve’s hope, and the guilt that came with it, all seem to hit Steve all at once.

Eddie could have died, and now they’re here, sitting on the couch together, holding matching Christmas sweaters. They got insanely lucky.

Steve’s tears come harder, and a sob escapes him, “sorry,” he chokes out, excusing himself and heading into the kitchen.

“Stee?” Eddie creeps in quietly after him.

“Hey, I’m okay.”

Eddie frowns, following Steve across to where he’s leaning against the counter, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, “no.”

It does make Steve laugh a little through his tears, and he lets Eddie carefully wipe his face before he licks the moisture off his fingers, “called?”

“Tears. I’m crying. I got upset.”

“Stee ow? Tell Eddidie.”

Steve swallows thickly, but his tears abate in the face of Eddie’s clear concern, “when you were in the pool...I had to wait. Days. And I was...so frightened. Scared. That you were dead.”

“Eddidie not dead.”

“No,” Steve huffs, “I know that now,” and he wraps his arms more firmly around Eddie’s middle, “I missed you.”

“Called missed?”

“I was sad, Steve ow, Eddie wasn’t here. You were gone. In the pool.”

“Eddidie no missed Steve. Sorry. Eddidie…” he taps the side of his head, the bobble wobbling as he cocks his head in thought, “no TV. TV inied. Together now. Many tomorrow.”

“All tomorrow?” Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie nods, his bobble rocking back and forth furiously.

And then he leans forward the scant inches between them, and kisses Steve. It’s slow, gentle. A soft brush of lips before Eddie shifts on a sigh. The gentlest, barely there sucking of Steve’s bottom lip; the softest of scratching claws against the back of his head, Eddie’s hand sliding into his hair.

“Oh!” Eddie pulls apart, but not away. If anything he instinctively holds Steve tighter, “I’m...I’m sorry,” Nancy says, wide eyed from the doorway, before she backs back into the lounge.

Steve sighs, “cats out of the bag now.”

“Cat? Lion. Tiger? Called bag?”

“I’ll explain that one another time, okay?”

When they sit back down on the couch, Steve has a fuck it moment and holds Eddie’s hand. He has to keep letting go so Eddie can open his gifts, but still. It doesn’t take long for Hopper to notice, and then he says, “oh, Harrington,” in the most unhelpful way ever.

Steve looks down at their linked fingers, and it suddenly occurs to him exactly which finger it is that next to the pinky finger. Oh. Oh, well. Eddie doesn’t understand what it means...and it’s not like Steve isn’t all in anyway at this point. Not that they can even get married but...he looks up, happening to make eye contact with Robin, who has the most ‘what the fuck?’ look on her face Steve’s ever seen.

Steve eyes her back, ‘not now.’

He gets some world class shit eye in return.

All of Steve’s gifts are...standard. Fairly thoughtful, but mostly just...standard. The toiletries he likes. Some cleaning stuff for his car. Another, not home made, new sweater.

Eddie on the other hand, makes absolute bank. Notebooks, coloring books, pencils and pens. A nice case to keep all of his stationary in. A four pack of fancy beer from Hopper of all people. Plus books, granted, they’re all kids books, but they’re perfect. Steve figures Eddie isn’t that far off learning to read, he has been nailing the alphabet for a little while now.

One of Eddie’s gifts from Robin is a calendar; it’s full of pictures of month appropriate trees. Steve sees cherry blossoms and ripe apples and snow covered firs as Eddie flicks through, reading the months out loud. “That’s a whole year,” Steve tells him, once Eddie has haltingly read out, ‘December,’ “we can write important things in there.”

Eddie perks up, “Eddidie Birthday?”

“Yeah, you want Christmas Eve?”

Eddie nods, and once Steve finds the right box on the right page, Eddie uses one of his new pens to, very carefully, write his name in the box. “Birthday?”

“How to spell birthday?”

Eddie nods, “letters.”

Steve tells him, one slow letter at a time, as Eddie writes it out, showing everyone proudly once he’s done.

Eddie insists on inspecting every single gift thoroughly, and saying thank you, before tucking it all around himself on the couch, like a little dragon with his tiny hoard.

Steve sighs when Eddie unwraps a VHS of ‘Splash,’ from Jon. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m hilarious,” Jon replies, deadpan.

Part twenty

[penkura]

Had a thought about Trafalgar law, you come across a little boy and his little sister who are being chased by other pirates for whatever reason and you decided to protect them (basically adopt them at first sight) you tell them to run to the docks to find your captain/love interest for help. While holding off the pirate crew you take damage....I could picture law seeing him and lammi in the little ones and becoming protective just as you are with them

I turned this into a full one-shot, scenario thing cause I just couldn't NOT after I read this! I hope you like it!! 💚

“Law, I can explain.”

“Please. Enlighten me, [Y/N]-ya.”

With his arms crossed, Law listens very closely as you start to explain the situation you’re in now, why you were injured and why the hell there are two children on the Polar Tang now, a set of siblings that you swear you hadn’t fully intended to bring with you. A boy no younger than five and a girl no more than two, they’d ran into you on the last island you docked at, the place having been taken over and ravaged by another pirate crew, begging you for help. The orphanage they lived at had been burned down, their caretakers were missing, and no one had been willing to help them until you stopped. Their story felt like a knife twisting your heart, causing you to direct them to the docks and that as soon as they found the big yellow submarine, to look for the guy with a spotted hat and tattoos, tell him you sent them there if you didn’t get back first.

You hadn’t fully intended to bring them on board, but your crew ended up being in a rush when you came back with a gash on your temple and a stab wound on your arm, you ushered them on board and not even Law noticed them at first. It wasn’t until he went to treat your wounds and the two were holding onto you for dear life that he questioned you on where on earth these two came from, leading to the current situation.

“That’s, that’s really it, I swear,” you quickly bend down and lift up the girl as she starts to whine a bit, Law watching you, “I didn’t think we’d end up taking them with us.”

“Their caretakers are probably looking for them.”

“They said no one was around that they recognized. Law, please, I’ll—”

“This ship isn’t a place for children, let alone toddlers.”

You know he’s right, based on the small nod you give as you look at the girl, laying her head on your shoulder, still whining a bit with her thumb in her mouth. You don’t even have items on the Polar Tang to help you take care of two small children, but even still, you want to help them. You’ve heard your captain/boyfriend tell you before that pirates don’t help people, but the Straw Hats do that everywhere they go, why can’t you do the same for these two orphans? Even if it’s until the next island, you could do something positive for them.

Knowing you as well as he does, Law is aware he’s not going to win this battle. You’re already getting attached, even if he tells you to leave them at the next port, you’re going to be heartbroken doing so. As soon as Bepo sees them it’s going to be even more difficult, the mink loves children and will fight to keep them on board too, even if it might be seen as insubordination by some. He can’t even deny that there’s a part of him that wants to help them, clenching his jaw as he watches you comfort the girl, asking if she’s tired or hungry before her older brother says she’s hungry, knowing her so well.

It reminds him of how well he knew Lami, every little tick and tell that showed what she needed or wanted when she was little. The age gap between these siblings is about the same as his and Lami’s was.

If she were there she’d be on your side to keep these kids around.

“Law,” the disappointed look on your face makes his heart drop, and Law sighs knowing he’s lost this one, “I’ll look for an orphanage at the next island, for now—”

“As soon as Bepo sees them it’s going to be impossible to let them go…”

“Then…!” You brighten up so quickly that Law has to look away from you as he nods. Your smile is too bright for him sometimes, despite how long you’ve been together.

“They’re your responsibility.”

Nodding, you take the boy’s hand and start to lead him to the kitchen, only stopping long enough to kiss Law.

“Thank you, Law. I love you!”

“Yeah,” Law sighs and watches you leave, asking the newest Heart Pirate crewmates what they want for lunch, “love you too.”

+!+

Their names are Noa and Luna, you find out while you make them something to eat with Penguin’s help. He holds Luna as she fusses for something to eat, promising her it’s on the way, as Noa tells you a little more about what’s happened to the two in recent months.

Their parents died in a house fire that happened while the siblings were with their grandfather for the day, who ended up taking them in after the accident. He unfortunately passed a few weeks ago from pneumonia, leaving the two with nowhere else to go but the orphanage, until it was ransacked and almost burned down by the pirates that invaded their home the other day. Noa did all he could to keep Luna safe and fed the last couple of days, and when he saw you, he just felt like he hadto try, he hoped you would help them and luckily you did.

The story almost gets Penguin to even cry, but Luna’s little cries keep him from doing so. You take her from him once it’s all ready, a very basic chicken fried rice you made with some leftovers for Noa and some mashed potatoes with bites of the same chicken for Luna, sitting down with the toddler in your lap to help her eat. Penguin joins you and just watches, it’s such a domestic scene, very strange for a pirate crew.

“Can’t believe captain is letting them stay…”

“I guess something convinced him it would be okay.” You shrug as Luna attempts to take the spoon from you, but settles for holding onto your hand while you keep feeding her. Noa digs in so quickly and is nearly done, ready for seconds that you’d think he hasn’t eaten in weeks, not days.

“Yeah, that something is you,” Penguin grins while you roll your eyes, “but maybe also cause he was reminded of his sister.”

You know Law’s life story very well at this point, you can easily tell when it’s all gotten to him again based on how he stays in his office those nights, only letting you come in when you realize what’s happening again. Letting you almost coddle and pamper him with love and sweet words of how proud they all are of him, it’s enough those nights to bring him back to your shared bed, though he keeps his face buried in your chest and if there are any tears you don’t let on that you notice them.

It's been a long time but it still affects him all the same, you’ll gladly stay and help Law through all of it. You love him too much to let him deal with it alone.

“Ah, who knows,” he shrugs this time before getting up to leave after serving Noa more fried rice and ruffling his hair, “Maybe captain is thinking of you two having a kid now!”

That comment just makes your face heat up as you glare at him and he laughs.

“Shut up, Penguin.”

+!+

Everyone takes to the young siblings quickly, especially Bepo when he does meet them. Luna becomes attached instantly and falls asleep without much problem for a nap, Noa trying to climb on Bepo to play until he lays down with the toddler asleep on him, the five-year-old joining for a warm, comfortable nap that afternoon. It becomes quite common to find the three napping together over the next few weeks.

Lists are made of what you need to pick up next time to ensure these kids have a chance and can live comfortably on the submarine, Ikkaku and Hakugan taking the reins on that when you dock again. Uni and Clione watch the two whenever you’re busy elsewhere, and Noa treats Jean Bart like a jungle gym too, though he doesn’t complain simply because it’s cute. The whole crew enjoys helping care for the siblings, Noa and Luna being seen as a full-fledged members right away, in spite of how young they are. Noa constantly asks to help people with things and it normally ends up with him helping fold laundry as Luna toddles around, giving bright smiles and giggles to everyone.

It’s takes more time for Law to warm up to the two, even as they’ve been sharing your room and bed, since there’s no other place for them on the ship. He hasn’t argued with you about it, even when he’s woken up with Luna snug against his side or Noa on top of him, it’s weirdly sweet and he doesn’t seem to mind it.

You can tell he’s becoming more accepting of having these two kids around, as he starts to carry Luna when she lifts her arms up to him, he easily scoops her up in his arms and continues what he was doing even when she lays her head on his shoulder and yawns. Noa has come to start asking Law all kinds of questions about medicine and medical procedures, your boyfriend explaining it the best he can so a child can understand it.

A part of you wonders if he’ll be like this with your own children one day, if you have any.

For now, you soak up the moments like this one, where you catch the three fast asleep in your bed, Noa curled up beside Law while Luna is asleep on his chest, a copy of Sora Warrior of the Sea in your boyfriend’s hand, obviously he’d been reading to them before they’d all fallen asleep. It makes you smile to yourself as you cover them with a blanket, placing soft kisses on foreheads and cheeks where you find them, enough so that it wakes Law and he just looks at you.

“They both love you, Law.”

He hums a bit, gently grabbing your wrist to pull you into bed with them, you bring Noa close to you and let him snuggle against you in his sleep.

“…did I tell you she called me dada the other day?”

“No, you didn’t!” You have to keep your surprise down to not wake the two, “When did that happen?”

“Luna wanted my attention but I was busy with something. I guess she got frustrated and it just came out…I didn’t mind it.”

“That’s good, Law,” once you kiss his cheek again, you lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes while Law brings you closer to him, “I’m glad you let them stay.”

“Yeah…so am I.”

Maybe one day Law will admit to you he saw himself and Lami in Noa and Luna, but for now, he’ll just accept that most of his days will be cut short with naps and bedtime stories and his work will he interrupted by the little girl that needs held. He really doesn’t mind it, it’s a nice change of pace.

Maybe the Straw Hats have it right that you can be a pirate and help people after all.

[demonpiratehuntress]

The Straw Hats (+Ace) with you being injury prone

Featuring: Zoro x Reader, Luffy x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Usopp x Reader, Ace x Reader

Summary - you get hurt very easily. waking up with random bruises, tripping over your own feet, walking into walls, etc. and your boyfriend is extremely concerned.

Warnings - like one swear word

A/N: im super clumsy and VERY injury prone, so i thought this might be fun to write. writing this with ice on a bump on my head :))))

ZORO

Zoro tends to get murderous when he spots an injury or even the smallest cut on you. He is immediately ready to tear up whatever caused it, or slice the person responsible into ribbons. So you try to hide it as best you can, especially since you are especially clumsy and getting hurt is your biggest skill. Got a cut or bruise? You're wearing long pants and long-sleeved shirts. Bump on your head? Beanie or hat.

Sometimes, though, your body forgets you're trying to conceal your clumsiness and it will blatantly expose you, such as right now.

"OW! DAMN IT!"

You had been trying to sneak up on Zoro, who was laying out on deck - you guessed it - taking another nap. One of his eyes opened at the sudden cry, landing on your figure nearby. You were hopping around on one foot, clutching your knee with both hands, your expression pained. The swordsman sat up.

"How did you hurt your knee?"

Indeed, there was nothing around for you to hit your knee on - a precaution taken by Nami and Chopper, the only two who knew about your unfortunate tendency to get hurt.

"I...I kicked it."

"How did you-" Zoro was absolutely stunned. He was an idiot, but even he knew there's no way you could kick your own knee. It was physically impossible. He got up to come an inspect it.

"I'm fine!" You promised, setting your foot down - unfortunately for you, it twisted and took you down with it. "OW!"

Zoro's jaw dropped. It took a hot minute for him to react, too shocked to fully comprehend what had just happened. When he got over it he carefully lifted you up, taking you back to his hammock so he could take care of you. He had turned his back for a second before he heard a loud thud.

You groaned.

"HOW DID YOU FALL OFF THE HAMMOCK?!"

He was immediately rushing over to pick you up again, keeping you in his arms this time. He was so worried, the poor guy, eyes grazing over your body in concern. You didn't look physically hurt, but he could tell you were in pain. Mostly from the impacts of your falls. From then on, he's your personal bodyguard, having to physically move some things so you wouldn't knock against them, or move you so you wouldn't hit anything. As for the hammock...he always made sure to get on first so he could hold you and keep you from rolling off.

Good luck convincing him to ever let you walk anywhere - or do anything - alone again.

LUFFY

Luffy is a menace. Far from being concerned about you when you would trip or bump your head, this damn idiot has the nerve to burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.

"You're funny, (Name)!"

And he doesn't mean to hurt or upset you, it's just the way he is. He's seen you on the battlefield, mercilessly crushing whoever got in your way, so he doesn't think much of these little accidents. He thinks you're not hurt, that you're completely fine and doing it on purpose to - yes this is his reason - entertain him. After all, why else would such a ruthless fighter just flop and fall around for no reason?

"Luffy, I don't think she did that on purpose..." Usopp tried to tell the captain, who was trying to convince you to fall again.

You frowned, trying your best to not get upset with your dumbass boyfriend, and before you could stop yourself, your body already obliged. You turned and walked right into the mast - face smashing against the hard wood. You groaned and stumbled back, your nose hurting and eyes glossing over. You fell onto your butt, earning another round of obnoxious laughter from Luffy.

"DON'T JUST SIT THERE AND LAUGH!" Sanji knocked Luffy so hard on his head that the captain fell to the floor, hitting the deck face-first. Then the cook came to help you up.

"Thanks," you mumbled, feeling so embarrassed.

It was then that Luffy noticed your tears, and he sprung to his feet - completely unaffected by Sanji's attack. He came up to you and grabbed your arms, making you look at him.

"(Name), what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," you smiled, shaking off his concern. You made to walk away, but you once again turned and slammed into the mast.

"CAN WE MOVE THIS DAMN THING?!"

"But that's...that's always been there?" Usopp said-asked meekly.

You shot him a glare so withering that he screamed and cowered behind Luffy, who just laughed and wrapped his arms around you, extending them until he had you completely encased in a cocoon made by his arms.

"There, now you can't get hurt!"

SANJI

Sanji, like Zoro, tends to overreact when you get hurt. And by overreact, I mean he dropkicks everyone and everything that dared to cause you harm. So you try to hide your injuries from your overly concerned boyfriend, opting to cover them with layers. Sanji found this a bit odd, but otherwise didn't press. But slowly he started to notice things he hadn't before.

"My love, watch that-"

You bumped into the wall, sending your book crashing onto your face.

"-wall."

He rushed over to check if you were okay, laughing a little when you pulled the book away from your face to smile at him sheepishly.

"I'm fine."

Seconds after you said that disaster struck again, with you tripping over your own feet - with absolutely nothing being in the way - and falling over. Sanji's eyes widened and he quickly helped you back up.

"You are very clumsy, (Name)," he chuckled, not knowing that was exactly it.

"I am," you agreed, hiding your embarrassed blush behind your book.

Before he could say anything else, you took off and tried to quickly walk away before he could notice the growing bruise on your knee. That failed, as you hadn't taken three steps before you crashed into one of your oncoming crewmates, and fell backwards.

"Mosshead! Why did you push (Name)!" Sanji yelled, coming over looking ready to throw hands.

"As if I would do that!" The swordsman snapped back.

"Well she's on the floor isn't she?!"

"She bumped into me!"

"How dare you blame (Name) you big oaf!"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

You quickly stood up and got in between them, averting the total destruction of the Going Merry.

"He's right, Sanji. I bumped into him. I told you I'm clumsy."

You didn't have to say more before you were suddenly scooped up into the cook's arms, hearts in his eyes with his next words.

"Well then I'll just carry you everywhere my love!"

USOPP

Generally speaking, Usopp is a lot more alert than most of the crew. So it's no surprise that he picked up on your clumsiness early on, but he didn't think it was anything to worry about since it was just small stuff. But the moment you walked in one day with a bag of ice on your head, unsuccessfully trying to conceal it under a hat, Usopp grew alarmed.

"(Name), is everything okay?" Your concerned boyfriend asked you, stopping you from lifting something up. "Your head-"

"Is fine," you finished with a smile, kissing his cheek. "But thanks babe."

You walked away before he could insist on you telling him what was going on. But unfortunately for you, your two left feet gave you away and you stumbled forward, dropping the box and then tumbling over it. Usopp cried out in alarm and ran to your side, helping you up.

"(Name)!" He fussed over you. "Okay that's it, what's going on?"

"Should have known I couldn't fool the brave Captain Usopp," you smiled, trying to divert his attention.

"Well, I-" He stopped laughing confidently when he realised what you were doing, "Hey! You can't do that! Tell me, I'm worried."

You sighed, "I'm just clumsy, that's all. And injury prone."

"That...explains a lot..."

You growled and smacked him, "Is that all you can say?!"

"S-sorry!" He apologised quickly, rubbing his head. He was about to take you to Chopper for nothing other than he was worried you were hurt internally, when you suddenly tripped and fell on top of him.

He groaned, "Clumsy is an understatement."

ACE

He notices right away. There was no way it was normal for someone to walk into a wall that they knew was there, or to trip on a flat surface, or bonk their head on a shelf that they knew was over their heads - multiple times. But somehow, you managed to do all of that and more, and poor Ace was sick with worry about your physical health.

"OW! FUCK!"

Ace's head shot up from the bed, "What happened?!"

"I hit my head again..."

"Same shelf?"

"...Same shelf."

He chuckled before getting up and going over to you, bringing you into his strong arms. He placed a kiss on your head, replacing your hand rubbing your sore spot with his hand.

Later on, you were trying to bring him something, when you stubbed your toe on the bedframe and tumbled onto the bed, startling the poor man out of his nap.

"(Name)!" He figured you must have tripped, but he was not prepared for your tears. "Where does it hurt?"

"My toe..." You pouted. "I hit my food on the bed."

He face-palmed. It takes a lot for Ace of all people to face-palm, so embarrassment creeped up on you. Before you could protest, he pulled you on top of him and made you lay on his chest.

"I swear, you're a walking safety hazard," he teased. "Looks like I can't let you leave the room now."

He meant it. And if you did leave, it was with him. He was just too worried about not being around when you hurt yourself, which was valid because he was always your source of comfort.

Later...

"What happened to your eye?"

"I...fell...out of the bed..."

"...."

You are on the verge of making Ace cry.

[meazalykov]

goosebumps

lena oberdorf x reader

summary: your girlfriend is super touchy.

"you know how I get those goosebumps every time, yea?"

bayern munich vs wolfsburg, one of the most exciting days in the women's bundesliga.

moving to bayern munich from chelsea in 2022, you were adjusted into your new life.

this meant that you were prepared on going against wolfsburg-- and you were prepared of playing against your girlfriend of two years-- lena.

your mutual best friend-- lea-- put the two of you onto each other, lena and you had many similarities that didn't go unnoticed between your peers.

being silly, sweet, dedicated, and motivated were the top four personality traits in the both of you.

overly competitive is another.

during the rivalry game, you had the ball and were going to pass down to sydney. before your foot went to tap the ball, lena's body side tackled you-- which caused you to trip onto the ground.

you were not hurt, but you were concerned about wolfsburg aggressive approach this game.

staying on the ground, you clenched your teeth as you held your ankle.

lena stood up in horror, before she realized that you were trying to get her carded.

the german noticed how relaxed you looked, in comparison to times when you were injured. she looks over at popp and shakes her head before walking over to you.

you told the ref that you're fine to play and stood up to be checked into the game again. looking over at lena, she shakes her head with a smirk-- which caused you to give her one back.

a minute later, she was behind you when a corner kick was being taken for bayern-- conceded by wolfsburg.

"you know-- your acting might be believable to them, but not to me." lena whispered.

you rolled your eyes, playfully, before speaking--

"as longs the ref believes it, I'm calm." you say as you move forward to receive a possible header from your teammate.

suddenly, you felt a pair of hands holding onto your waist tightly-- and the familiar body of your girlfriend pressed against your back.

"your ass looks so good in those shorts, too bad its in the wrong color." lena whispers in german.

this time, you rolled your eyes seriously as you jump up to get the header. unfortunately, the ball was too high.

a wolfsburg defender conceded a corner kick again, so you were set to try and head the ball once again.

"do you think you're getting away from me?" lena asks, licking her lips but still paying attention to the game in hand.

"lena we are in a middle of a game." you scoff.

lena is very touchy, you are obsessed with it, but you were surprised that she would do it to distract you in a match.

"I am aware." lena blows on the back of your neck, goosebumps immediately appeared.

thirty minutes later at the end of the game, it was a draw between the red and green. 2-2.

by the locker rooms, in the privacy away from fans and cameras, you saw your girlfriend and gave her a wave.

you assumed that she was busy with her teammates so you didn't want to disrupt her.

however, lena waves her hand for you to come over to her.

your face showed a look of content and joy as lena wrapped your body with her strong arms-- her right arm holding your waist and her left arm around the back of your neck.

she kisses your temple a few times before moving down to kiss your lips.

you forced yourself to pull away and look at your german girlfriend with a smirk,

"well, neither of us won today." you comment in a low voice.

"yes but don't get too excited, we will crush bayern next time." lena's hands move up and down your waist softly as you scoff.

"what other methods are you going to use next time?" you ask, your arms going to smooth lena's freshly washed hair as her eyebrows knitted together.

"huh?"

"I thought your touches and comments on the pitch was a tactic to prevent me from getting a hat-trick after my second goal." you say as the taller girl is rubbing your back now, under your shirt.

luckily, everyone was in the locker rooms or already headed out to go home (or on the bus for the bayern girls).

"no not really, you're irresistible." lena smirks, leaning her head back on the wall as you gave her another kiss.

"same goes for you--i'm coming over tonight, so I'll see you later oberdorf." you smirk before exiting her arms, walking away as she watched you with desire.

<3

[enwoso]

grumpy r going to the beach with the arsenal girls

SANDY — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

"wait a second missus!" mummy laughed as you tried to run out of her hold, as you were stood next to her as she rubbed a second layer of sun cream into your skin.

"but- krya is waitin' make a sandcastle!" you frowned at your mummy as she started to spray more sun cream onto your legs, your skin starting to feel really sticky.

"don't worry lovie, the sand isn't going to run away!" alessia pointed out as she grabbed your little sun hat from her bag beside her, listening to you mumble on about how the sand might run away.

while alessia fixed your hand on your head for what have may been the thousandth time today, you had been insisting all morning that you didn’t need it on but with the it being a pretty hot day in portugal alessia was taking no chances of you getting sun stroke.

“please lovie, keep your hat on! otherwise you’ll have to sit under here where there’s no fun!” alessia pointed to the shade where all the bags had been put while the rest of the arsenal girls were playing beach game.

“okay! bye mummy!” you yelled running along the sand to where kyra had already begun your huge sand castle which you wanted to be the size of you.

alessia watched amused as you ran off toward the young australian, your pink bucket and spade already being put to use as alessia finally got a second to breathe this morning after having you jumping off the walls about being excited to go to the beach with all the arsenal girls.

the day passed and the arsenal girls played on the beach in sunny portugal up until the evening, you happily creating a sandcastle of your dreams as each arsenal girl came over and helped adding there own little thing to it, as a smile never left your face the entire time.

“mummy! come look!” you yelled out, as alessia stopped her game of rounders spinning around to see where you were.

“duty calls!” katie called out as alessia laughed as you ran into your mummy’s leg grabbing her hand as you pulled her towards where you’d been making your sand castle there only being one thing alessia could find that was missing?

“lovie, where’s kyra gone?” alessia asked, considering she was the one that had been with you all day. the blonde being quite confused but also concerned about one how long you may have been on your own for and where had the australian gone as she wasn’t with the rest of the girls who were playing rounders.

“oh! kyra is-“ you began a giggle coming from you, a one alessia knew all too well.

“here!” you cheered as alessia’s eyes widened. the young australian was buried to her chest in sand as the blonde tried to stifle her laugh.

“how do you end up in these situations kyra?” alessia tried to stay serious as it maybe wasn’t the best thing that her three nearly four year old was going round burying her teammates in the sand but then again for once it wasn’t kyra who was the perpetrator she had fallen as the victim.

“well she asked me and i originally said no but then cute little pouty eyes got me and i couldn’t say no-” kyra explained as you were sat on the sand patting any sand that had came undone back into place.

“actually think she might of hypnotised me!” kyra mumbled rolling her eyes as you yelled out you were going to get the other girls to show them your castle and kyra who you deemed as your body guard for the castle — not a very good one though since kyra’s arms were trapped under the sand but nevertheless alessia didn’t want to dampen your imagination!

“kyra she three! she doesn’t even know what the word means!” alessia laughed as kyra began to plead with the blonde to help her out the sand before the rest of the girls come over.

“alessia! help me out of the sand now. otherwise i’m never going to live this down!” kyra pleaded bringing out the same puppy dog eyes you always try on the blonde.

“oh them eyes don’t work on me… i’m so going to enjoy this!” alessia paused as she moved to sit down next to kyra, patting her on the head who shot alessia a scowl as they both watched you drag all the arsenal girls over in the direction of the two.

[kiribakuswife]

Love Thy Neighbor

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Kinktober day 14!!

There was something weird about your next door neighbor. You had moved in about a month ago, and every interaction you had was not exactly what you had imagined. It was a small neighborhood, and you had gotten close with nearly every other neighbor around you; everyone besides the grumpy man next door.

It started your first day after moving in. Ever the hostess, you decided to bring cookies to all of your neighbors, sort of as an introduction sort of thing. It went great until you reached the last house in your loop, smiling brightly with your last batch of cookies as you knocked on the door. Your smile didn’t falter as the door opened slowly, revealing an exhausted looking man. You had to admit to yourself he was quite handsome, hair pulled back as his blank expression looked down at you.

“Hi!” You said, “I just wanted to introduce myself! I just moved in next door, my name’s (y/n).” You beamed at him as his eyes followed your thumb pointing to your house. “I brought these for you.” You continued, holding out the tray for him. He stared down at it briefly before looking back to you with a quizzical look.

“Why?” He asked, with a brow raised. You flattered for only a second, stumbling over your words. You had thought it was pretty normal. No one else had questioned you.

“Um, as a welcome, I guess?” Your response sounded more like a question, even to your own ears, causing you to cringe internally as his heavy gaze watched you intently.

“I don’t take food from strangers.” Was all he said, closing the door gently in your face, causing you to defleat, both with embarrassment and relief that his stupidly captivating eyes were no longer on you.

The next time you saw him, you were outside planting flowers, trying to add some light into your incredibly bare front yard. He was leaving the house in a suit, looking far more put together from the last time you saw him. His hair was brushed back off his forehead, allowing you to get a good look at him this time as you squinted up at him from below your sun hat. He was clean shaven this time, a scar under his eyes, pulling you in a way you didn’t want to think about.

“Hi neighbor!” You called, waving at him. He seemed to pause for a moment, startled by your voice. He waved a hand awkwardly in your direction, as you stood, wiping your hands on your apron before making your way over to the waist high fence that separated your yard. “I never got your name.” You prompted, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Shouta.” He provided plainly, squinting at you as he went to open the door to his car. “You have dirt on your face, (y/n).” Your face flamed as he got into the car, driving off as you watched, gaping. You weren’t sure if the blush was from embarrassment from smearing dirt on your face or from the fact that he had actually remembered your name.

The fact that he had actually remembered your name spurred you on though. You didn’t have to be best friends, but you were determined to at least develop some sort of acquaintance ship with him. The type of relationship where you wouldn’t feel bad if you had to ask him for a cup of sugar or something. 

It had continued on like that for a few weeks, a few words here and there as you passed each other. His hours were weird, typically working throughout the day, concluding he might have been a teacher or something, but every so often he wouldn’t come home until late in the evening, headlights shining through your window as you curled on the couch. It wasn’t like you were stalking him, you worked from home, your office window looking out onto the street. It wasn’t like you were trying to learn more about him than the little bit you had pulled out from your brief conversations. It wasn’t like you were interested in him or anything. Nothing like that.

The summer had turned into fall, morphing into winter as snow began to fall outside the window. He was home today, sort of confirming your teacher theory as the news droned in the background, calling out the cancellation of certain schools due to the weather. With the weather as nasty as it was, you decided it was time to bake. The warmth of a fresh out of the oven pie as the snow piled outside your window was a feeling next to nothing and you smiled to yourself as you pulled ingredients out of the cabinets. 

You had everything you needed for a pumpkin pie, everything except the eggs. You grimaced as you looked outside. The snow was only piling higher, and even if you did trust your car to get to the store without sliding off the road into a ditch, you would have to unearth it from the snow to even start the drive. A pie was not worth that effort,deciding today was going to be a lazy day as soon as you woke. As you looked outside weighing your options, your eyes suddenly flicked next door. Shouta! He was sure to at least have two eggs!

You rushed to the door, pulling on a jacket, boots, a hat and a scarf before throwing the door open. The chill from  the wind ripped into you as you marched down your drive and up his. You regretted not grabbing a pair of gloves as your hands shook, red as you knocked on his door. He sure took his time coming, shivering on his porch as he swung the door open, almost looking concerned as he took you in.

“Are you alright, (y/n)? What are you doing out here?” He questioned before you could speak, brows pulled together as he scanned you over.

“Hello Shouta!” You smiled at him, “I’ve come to ask if I could pretty please borrow two eggs.” You asked, placing your hands together and squeezing your eyes shut. He said nothing as you waited, cracking an eye open.

“You braved this shit for two eggs?” He asked, opening up the door further, gesturing you inside. “Come in, I’ll grab them.”

“Thank you!” You cheered, following him inside as he grunted out a reply, moving deeper into the house as you bounced on your toes by the closed door, trying to warm up. His home was sort of what you had expected, clean and quite minimal as you looked around. It seemed cozy though, a fire burning in the fireplace and a book placed open on the table, a blanket pooled on the couch. You almost felt bad for bothering him as he approached from the kitchen, eggs in hand.

“Ah, thank you! I owe you!” You smiled up at him as he held them out to you. “I’m making a pumpkin pie, I’ll bring you some!” You decided as he nodded.

“Perhaps wait until after the storm to come back out.” He said, and you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile across his face.

“Only because you said so,” You winked at him, pulling your scarf tighter as you turned to the door. “Thank you again, Shouta. I totally owe you.” You added with a wave as you exited, braving the cold as you hustled back home, a stay warm! Echoing behind you.

You had seen less of him in the days following the storm. The streets had been cleared, and the only interaction you had actually had was the plate left on your doorstep with a note saying “Pie was great. Thank you.” Maybe it was the end of the grading period, you reasoned as you looked outside. He was gone before you woke in the morning, and didn’t get home until way late in the night. You almost missed the little waves he had started sending in your direction as he drove off in the morning, or the small conversations you had as you conveniently had to take the trash out as he pulled in.

You shut off your computer with a sigh, heading into the kitchen to scrounge together a dinner of whatever little bits of foods you could find in the fridge, leaning against the counter as you scrolled on your phone. You nearly jumped out of your skin as a stern knock rang out, banging on your door. It was dark outside, nerves setting in as you read the time. It was nearly midnight, no reason for anyone to be knocking. You glanced out the window as you approached the door cautiously. Shouta had gotten home at some point, and you hoped that if something happened and you screamed loud enough he would at least call the police for you.

The knock came again as you grabbed the knob, honestly starting to get annoyed with whoever was on the other side. If they were banging on your door at midnight, they could at least have some patience. You nearly fell back as you swung the door open at the sight before you. Shouta stood on your porch, breathing heavily as he stared into your soul.

“(y/n) I-” He cut himself off, shaking his head, “I’m so sorry to bother you, I don’t know what’s come over me.” he shrank into the shadows of your porch, stepping back as his nose flared.

“What happened, are you alright?” You rushed out, reaching a hand out to grab his arm as he stumbled back further. He was dressed differently, all back with a heavy looking belt, a gray scarf wrapped tight around him. He shook his head again, trying to pull his arm away before freezing as he looked down at you. You squirmed in his gaze, you hadn’t even thought to throw on a jacket or something over your thin tank top as you opened the door, chills going through your skin at the icy air, nipples hardening to a point.

“Did you mean it?” His voice was low, almost a whisper as you shook your head, not having a clue what he was talking about, “When you said you owed me.” He explained, grabbing onto your own arm, embarrassingly making you lean into him. His words sent a spark through you, a spark you had been trying to snuff out since you first stood on his doorstep offering him cookies.

“Of course.” You mumbled out, eyes caught in his own.

“I was hit with a quirk.” He explained, guiding you back into your open doorway. “But I promise you, this is not just because of the quirk.” he slammed your door shut behind him, dragging you further into your house. He looked around, finally pulling you up the stairs. “Room?” he asked suddenly, whipping around to you.

“Room? What? What is going on?” Your head spun, gesturing to a door down the hall anyway.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked bluntly as he dragged you through the doorway, causing you to choke. 

“Well I’m not going to say no.” You laughed awkwardly. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, you had fantasized about him in your bed more than once, and you were going to take the chance if it presented itself to you his words of it’s not just because of the quirk echoing in your mind. “What do you mean by the quirk what happened?” You questioned, breath catching as he pulled you close, hands sliding under your shirt as his lips fell on your neck.

“Stupid fucking sex quirk.” He breathed out, “Makes you irresistibly horny for the one you’re most attracted to.” His words made you flush, suddenly feeling almost too hot as he lifted you, legs coming around his waist as he led you to the bed.

“Most attracted to?” You squeaked as he dropped you, soon coming back and capturing your lips on his own as a response. Your shirt was fully pushed up now, his hands cupping your breasts in a way that had you moaning into his mouth.

“I’ll tell you everything later.” He huffed out as he pulled back, a heavy gaze falling down to watch as he massaged your boobs. “I’m sorry if I came off as rude.” He continued, pulling your shirt over your head, his own following. “You make me-” He cut himself off with a groan as he ground against you, causing you to arch into him. “Fucking insane.” he finished, pulling back to yank off your shorts.

“In a good way?” You asked, trying for a joke but failing as you moaned out, his fingers sliding along your entrance.

“The best way.” He answered, sliding a finger inside and curling it, your hips bucking. He added another finger, easing you open. “I won’t be able to be gentle with you.” he sighed out, almost sounding disappointed as he pulled his fingers out, causing you to whine at the loss.

“I never said I wanted you to be.” You whispered out, watching as a smug grin split his face as he leaned back, pulling down his pants.

His cock was incredibly hard, almost looking painful as he looked down at you below him, stripped bare, legs spread wide and cheeks flushed. “You’re irresistible, you know that.” he cooed down at you, hair falling in his face as he looked down, guiding his cock to slide along your core. You groaned at the sensation, breaking out into a high pitched moan as he slid in roughly, entirely in one motion. 

His pace was almost brutal as he gripped your hips, pinning you to the bed as you cried out below him. “Look at you…” He said, brushing your hair back from your face as he grunted, “Just letting me in to fuck you.” You cried out at his words, your moans filling your empty halls. Your brain had officially left your body as you melted into him, pliant in whatever he wanted from you.

Your voice only raised in volume as his hand snaked down between you, finding your clit and rubbing with a brutality that matched his thrust, the pleasure almost making it hard to breathe. You felt the pressure increase, and knew you were close, far closer than you imagined. He leaned down, sucking harshly at your nipple, and with that you were done, nearly screaming his name as you came around him. He moaned at the feeling, hips stuttering before pulling out suddenly, grasping his cock in his hand, and with a few jerky movements he was cumming too, painting your skin with thick ropes.

He held his eyes tightly shut as he came, stilling above you. He looked like a god in this light, and for this moment he was yours. “I’ll grab you a towel.” He murmured, finally pulling away from you. Your eyes followed him as he left the room, brain finally deciding to reconnect as you asked yourself what the fuck just happened?

[ruruumin]

put me in, coach

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x fem! reader.

⤷ you were given one last chance in the industry.

with a sharp inhale, you choked up a sob, biting down on the bottom of your lip as you lay on the ground, helplessly waiting for a medic. your cheeks were burning with a mixture of humiliation and frustration. on the ground, like a damsel in distress, you were waiting to be saved. holding onto the fake grass with enough force to rip the tarp from the ground up, you stare at the clear sky, trembling. the game comes to a screeching halt but unable to catch a break, your lungs burn at every instance. the wind had been knocked out of you. 

squeezing your dominant leg with one hand, you restrained seething tears. looking up at your opponent, your eyes widen. standing above you with the sun shining down upon their shoulders, they smiled slowly, pupils collapsing in on themselves like a spiral wishing well. unbeknownst to the cameras, they watch gleefully as you were carried away on a stretcher, your arms reaching out to them as if to grab a hold of their throat. 

after making it past the dark tunnels, you finally let yourself cry for the first time in years. an unfortunate mishap that caused you not only the world cup, but your pride and soul. you held your face in your hands, shielding your pitiful expression from the blinding lights of the ambulance. 

→ WORLD-CLASS ATHLETE (NAME) TEARS THEIR ACL: IS THIS THE END OF HER SOCCER CAREER?

↳ retrogamer129: no way, this might actually be the end of (name)’s career

↳ fuumuni: did you guys see the way the other team sabotaged her? so fucked up

↳ (name)fangirl101: they need to be held responsible, if you look back on the clips, you can see they had no remorse for what they did

↳ cherrybomb_249: it looked like it could have been an accident. don’t point fingers and ruin someone else’s soccer career over a mistake

that was a year ago. 

your physician told you it was best to retire your gear. athletes like yourself wouldn’t be able to compete on a competitive level. unable to go back onto the field, your absence hung heavy over the country. your team weren’t able to make the world cup without you. with your injury, your career was left hanging on a balance. the club you were once in had to disband. things just began to spiral out of your control. from friends and family sending you get well messages and flowers, none of it could have filled the void in your heart. 

everyone hears stories about people’s dreams getting cut short. 

but not a single person wants to be in that story, including you. 

wrapping your arms around your legs, they are pressed flush against you. forehead against your knees, you think about the events that led up to this moment. all the things that made you, you. from the day of your birth, to your first soccer game, to accepting the biggest offer of your life, it was all seen through a small looking glass. 

you remember when you were younger, you would play a lot of soccer with a boy named itoshi sae. he had this light, red-bean-colored hair with his bangs pulled back, exposing not only his forehead but the permanent scowl he was born with. he was a good player. taught you a few things that led to you getting accepted into a fancy soccer club from out of the country. you dedicated a hat trick to him before. 

he had a rowdy little brother that always looked up to you. when he wasn’t playing with his ultraman and dinosaur toys, he would be at your practices, watching you kick a ball into a goal. your friends would tease you about his small crush. but you chalked it up to admiration. he looks at you the same way he does to sae. like an older sibling figure you caved the way for him. he’d always tug on your hand whenever you bought him popsicles, reaching out with his chubby fingers as he insisted you share with him (a rare feat, his mother once told you, rin doesn’t like to share. especially when it comes to popsicles). 

he and sae had a lot of similarities. whether it be the scowl on his face or the way they both liked to eat those cheap, blue popsicles from the nearby convenience store, they were bound by more than just blood. they had a lot of talent riding on them and even the most ordinary of people can see it. however, for you, it felt like a looming figure that held its hand over your eyes. one day, you knew, they would overshadow you. 

when you left to study abroad, you were a little sad to see a tiny rin wave to you at the airport. it was obvious he was holding back tears. you were the first person in his little circle to leave japan. the second would be his older brother who followed closely behind you, insisting that there were better plays out in the world, and that he needed to expand his mind to keep up. 

unlike sae however, you would frequently keep up with rin on the phone. calling him once in a while, checking up on his studies and watching recorded videos of his games (curtsey of his mom, as you begged her before to record his games). it seemed like things hadn’t changed since you left. you knew in your heart that the two itoshi brothers had something special within them, something so odd it kept you on your toes, expecting something spectacular to come in the future. but the overwhelming presence of their talent left you with uncertainty about your career. 

regardless, when you left japan, you had met another oddball: a tall, lanky man who loved nothing but soccer. he was your coach leading up to the world cup. you had once asked him, ‘if there was anything you wanted to be in the world, what would it be?’ and he replied rather eagerly. 

number one. 

after that point on, you knew he was the right person for you. he pushed you in ways other coaches hadn’t and created what might have been the best female soccer player at the time. you owe your career to him. and while you were only able to play a few games with him while he was training you, you learned so much more than you could have ever dreamed of. 

from small quips here and there about a person’s talent and ego, as well as the brutal reality that is overexhausting yourself, he was one of best coaches you had to this day. he gave you a chance that everyone else on the team overlooked and brought you into this world. 

ego had given you something no one else did. 

so when a mysterious letter shows up at your doorstep, you were certain it was him. 

✦

“please welcome my former student and previous runner-up for the world cup: (name) (last name).” 

walking through the dramatic double-sliding doors, you push back your bangs, huffing as you tilt your head off to the side. observing the large room, you were met with a large group standing tall and excited. the first thing that came to mind was how colorful they looked. 

“she’ll be training and determining whether or not you’ll make it to the next selection. if you play less than satisfactory, you can kiss your soccer dreams goodbye, and lock off,” ego claps his hands together, “for this small buffer period, you’ll be playing against each other using your current team. when you are not on the field, you’ll be given individual training periods to help strengthen yoru skills.”

a voice quickly pipes up: “why is a girl teaching us? couldn’t you have gotten someone from the men’s world cup?”

“isn’t she still injured?” 

the man could only hum. cracking his neck, he looks off into the crowd with the same deadpan expression, “even if she is injured, it wouldn’t matter. she was a good player, therefore she’d make a valuable coach. it’d be a waste to let that level of talent slip by and rot.” 

with that, ego turns his body around, straightening his back as he walks through the doors. you were surprised to hear that was all he had for you. you half-expected him to chew you out for losing the world cup so easily. but perhaps there was some semblance of pity and understanding on his side that no one else could see. 

a shiver runs down your spine. rotating your body in the direction of danger, you face this overwhelming beast amongst men. in front of everyone else, rin stands alone, arms dropped to the side. he looks to you with a cold stare. awkwardly avoiding his gaze, you let out a deep sigh, head pointed down as you read off the list of names given to you on your tablet. 

the correct term for the feeling in your chest is shame. you don’t want him to see you so instead of being the bigger person, you hide behind a screen, reading off everyone else’s name slower than you did his. 

when you left for the world cup, you promised him that you would return with something to show. to come back to japan with nothing in your hands meant you failed in more ways than one. not only did you let your team, club, and country down, you had shattered the promise you had given to rin several years ago. 

at the very least, sae had something to show for all his efforts, but for you? there was nothing. all you had was the legacy you left behind for the next person to take up. a stepping stone for someone else’s ambition and a figment of history.

now the boy you used to share popsicles with was growing far out of your reach, the imaginary shadow of his talent shines greater above you. not only was he a lot taller and leaner than you remember, he was getting better at an alarming rate. and with him at blue lock, it was almost certain you’d see his name show up in the u-20 match that ego promised everyone. 

you’re starting to feel pressure rising to your ears. like water getting funneled into your canals and deafening any sort of noise that flies past you. if it was anyone else, would they have failed this badly? or was it a fate simply destined for you? 

squeezing your eyes shut, you leave the room, not before announcing the first set of games. you drag your feet as a familiar pair of turquoise eyes follow. 

✦

“this is a lot harder than i thought.” 

as the day comes to an end, some of the boys at blue lock finally get to settle into their rooms. gathering around at the edges of their bed, they sigh in relief, free from the training many dubbed hell. 

most of them thought training would be as easy as any other task. however, it seemed like they underestimated blue lock again. instead of the standardized tests like shooting goals, every person had a different task and weakness they had to work through. for example, reo needed help to hone his new chameleon technique, nagi had to work on his stamina, and isagi had a full-body workout to perfect his direct shots. everyone else was in a similar boat, having been worked to the bone.

chigiri falls back onto the soft, comfortable mattress, too tired to brush out the knots in his hair. “she’s crazy strict. i had to do 30 laps around the field before i could even shoot a goal. by that time, my legs were already giving up on me.”

“laps don’t sound too bad, i had to kick like–a hundred soccer balls just to get even close to replicating rin’s arc shot.” 

“i would have never expected her to be so strict,” isagi comments, “i knew she was good but this is on another level. she can see all of our weaknesses and tweak our training as needed. i have to admit, my muscles are feeling prepped and ready for our next match.” 

“only yo uwould think about it so positively,” these were nagi’s last words before he closes his eyes, falling asleep immediately like a light switch.

isagi can only scratch the back of his neck, “this is going to be the hardest test by far. i don’t think rin is having it any easier.” 

at the mention of his name, the rest of the room groans in unison. what lies ahead of them will be more games to come, and more training alongside with it. if the token blue lock boy had it hard, everyone else would be in for a hell of a ride. 

meanwhile, in the other room, there were two people left on the pitch. 

raising his right leg, rin kicks the ball using equal amounts of spin and force. watching as it soars through the air and curves to the top left of the goal, it collides with the net easily. raising his eyebrow, he quickly looks over at your direction, seeing you crouched with an unamused expression on your face. this reaction causes him to deflate slightly.

“again.” 

hitting the ball once more, it spins with the same amount of curve but with more power. the force from this kick nearly knocked over the goal entirely. even though it was better than his previous shot, there was no denying the cold, slick sound of your voice cutting through his ego like butter.

“again.”

same with the third time, you continue to ask him for the same kick, over, and over again. and while he’s all for long training sessions, this was getting ridiculous. for once, he’s feeling the burn in his legs and the tickling sensation on the tip of his tongue. bending over, he wipes away the small trickle of drool that escapes his lips. 

“why am i doing the same thing? we should be moving onto something else.” 

“because it’s not good enough,” you reply, tapping your fingers on the small tablet, “with a kick like that, it’s difficult for it to be properly reproduced with the same success. your accuracy is off at times and the power you put in is fluctuating.” 

standing up, you brush the dirt off your knees, “but if you think we should move on, we can start doing laps again. i need to see how you do when you’re at your worst.” 

“no.” 

“huh?”

“i can make the next shot.”

“you just told me you wanted to do something else—” stepping forward, you press a finger to his chest, “so you’re going to do another lap until you’re ready to take another shot.” 

his gaze sharpens to a pinpoint. wiping away the bead of sweat on his temple, he huffs. slapping your hand away, he stands before you, unwavering in his form. he was towering over you with a force weighing you down. wrapping your fingers around your tablet, you straighten your back, exhaling with nervousness. 

“what is it?”

taking a step back, he takes one forward, closing the distance. 

with him being so close to you, he can see the way your eyes have aged over time. they no longer held the same light he grew up seeing as a child. the fiery passion that once ignited your soul had now died into a small, handheld flame he could smother in an instant. so things have drastically changed since he last saw you at the airport. 

are you going to come home soon? when is the next time i’ll see you? rin asked, holding onto his older brother’s hand. although it must have been at least five years since he said those words, he could still taste the sweet and bitter chocolate from the croissant you bought him. this memory was when it was early in the morning, right before you were going to board the next flight. alongside your mother and father, his family was accompanying them to say their final goodbyes.

only when i win the world cup! you replied, throwing up a confident peace sign in his direction, when i come back, let’s play a game together!

rin shouted, you promise?

yup! popping the p, you turned around and waved, grinning for what felt like the last time.

the shock that washed over him the day you lost was like cold water. submerged in the dark, cruel ocean he watched as you covered your eyes from the cameras, your body getting carried away as your knee pulsated with pain. 

instead of coming home with pride, you returned timid and afraid. after losing the world cup to another team, you had lost everything. from trophies to respect, it was gone in an instant. in one, final crushing blow to the knee. 

he had always hoped it wouldn’t be you that had fallen. but now that it’s been an entire year, the truth remains the same. 

“when did you get so pathetic?” he brushes you aside, drawing a breath between his lips, “you used to be the best player, right next to sae.”

he audibly grits his teeth, “and now you’re playing coach to a bunch of children.”

“what?”

“you heard me. you’re wasting all of our time here, including yours.”

rin reaches out to one of the soccerballs on the ground, rolling it against the tip of his foot as you stand off to the side, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“what happened to you that day?” 

from the painful ride to the hospital to the familiar shade of cheap, blue popsicles, your memory grows a bit hazy. when the paramedics pushed down on your muscle to try and support your leg, you barely remember what they told you. let alone, what they whispered about when you were stationed in a private room.

so when rin asks you about the events that led to this moment, to you standing in front of him not as a player but a coach, your lips grow dry and chapped. 

→ POSSIBLE SABOTAGE FROM ITALY? (NAME)’S TORN ACL CAUSES TROUBLE FOR HER TEAM

↳ numba1soccerfan10: (name) was totally robbed at the last play

↳ jurassic_lover: nah i think she got skill diff’d, she wasn’t all that good anyway

↳ gojoisthebest03857: are you crazy?? did we even watch the same game

→ TOP TEN WORST ATHLETE INJURIES OF ALL TIME

↳ furumuni: that’s so fucked up, (name) just got injured and there's already a youtube video about it. do you guys have any respect for the players on here?

↳ silent_ninja: all these clips are insane to watch

→ (NAME)’S RETIREMENT? WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO THE NEXT UPCOMING STRIKER?

↳ (name)fangirl101: she’ll bounce back, she has to

↳ [deleted]: this is some serious cope 

→ ANOTHER UNFORTUNATE CASE OF A TORN ACL: (NAME)’S CAREER HANGS ON A BALANCE, WILL SHE RECOVER?

↳ JBlue: if she can recover, it’ll be a miracle.

“just face it, you’re lukewarm.” 

before rin could make any other comment, a ball collides with his nose head-on, having been launched with enough force to make him fall to the ground in shock. eyes blown wide as he looks up to your heaving figure. your breaths were becoming sporadic and difficult to control. and while everything around you was contorting, from the black and blue uniforms to the redness in rin’s face, life itself was beginning to morph into a terrifying sludgepool. 

despite it all, the black and white color of the soccer ball was impossible to miss. 

so when you barreled that ball towards rin using your non-dominant foot, it wasn’t out of malice or hatred for the younger man. you didn’t hate him for what he was saying. nor could you fault him for saying the truth. 

what he missed however, was the fact that you still loved this sport. there was something that kept you going. a force that will keep pushing you towards this cutthroat world.

that kick was made from love. love for a sport that had flown too far out of your reach.

and now with ego’s permission and blessing, being at blue lock was your last chance at staying within this exclusive world, and out of everyone, you were most determined to stay and stake your claim.

“i’m the last person you should be calling lukewarm, rin,” grabbing him by the collar of his jersey, you raise him off the ground. 

→ (NAME)’S RETURN TO THE SCENE AS BLUE LOCK’S NEXT COACH

[celandeline]

can u do an enemies to lovers story with carl?? and with smut? 🤟

yes i can!

listened to oceanographer's choice by the mountain goats (obv) while i was writing this to set the mood - highly recommend, listening to the mountain goats always gets me writing the filthiest shit

Oceanographer's Choice

Carl Grimes X Reader

There’s someone in your house. 

You can tell - someone knocked the pen from your dad’s desk to the floor, and it definitely wasn’t you. So someone’s here, likely snuck in through the window to wait in his office until he comes back so they can try to kill him. Wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened - of course not, your dad’s Negan for christs’ sake - and it won’t be the last. The only problem is that it’s the middle of the day, and most of the other Saviors are out collecting dues. 

So you’ll take care of it yourself. 

You step fully into the office, not bothering to try and stay quiet. As expected, the would-be assassin jumps out of their hiding place, gun pointed in your direction. You dart forward, grabbing the gun and pointing the muzzle away from you, trying to wrestle it out of the assassin’s hands. They’re not letting go though, and you look up, expecting a man, only to be met with a boy. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You laugh. 

Carl Grimes scowls back at you, still trying to get you to let go of his gun. Of all the people you expected to try and murder your father, you wouldn’t have picked him. From what you’ve seen of him, he seems like the type to follow his own dad’s rules, and you’re sure Rick didn’t sanction this. Still, he’s here, and he’s not letting go. 

You kick at his knee, causing him to stumble, and you almost slip the gun out of his grip, but at the last moment he grabs it again. His scowl turns into more of a snarl, and he pushes you out the door of the office as hard as he can. Still holding onto the gun, you drag him out into the hallway with you, and wince when your back hits the railing, hard. 

“Let go.” He growls, trying to pry your fingers off one by one. 

“So you can shoot me and I end up looking like you?” You say, using your leverage against the railing to kick him again. “No thanks.”

He dodges your kick, stepping to the side, and you push off the railing, sending him slamming into the wall beside the office door. His hat falls into his face, and you pull at the gun with all your weight. You both stumble forward, falling against the railing in a jumbled pile, and the gun goes clattering down the stairs, stopping a flight and a half down. 

“Fuck.” Carl says, going to stand up. 

You wrap your arms around his knees, pulling him back down to the floor. He lands with a thump, and you go to grab his hands with the intention of pinning him down. You only get one, wrapping your hand around his left wrist before he’s pulling your hair, trying to get you off him. 

“You’re such a bitch.” You grit out. You abandon holding his hand down in favor of yanking his hair just as hard as he’s pulling yours. 

His hand leaves your scalp to try and unwind your fingers from his hair, and one of his feet finds its way to your chest, pushing you back towards the wall with all his might. You just hold onto his hair tighter, and then he’s pulling his own hair as he tries to kick you away. You laugh at the way he scrunches his face, and then he’s pulling you closer across the floor instead of kicking you away. 

You let go of his hair in favor of stopping him from slapping you across the face, and kick him with your full strength in the stomach, twice. He grunts, and then he’s tackling you (which you’re not really sure how that works, considering you’re both on the floor already), pinning your arms to your side and squishing you to the floor. You lay your cheek against the hardwood, craning your neck to try and look at him. 

“You can’t hold me down and go get your gun at the same time, gonna have to pick one.” You taunt. The moment he tries to run for his gun - and you know he will - you’re going to do your best to push him down the stairs and hope that he breaks his neck. 

“I can if I tie you up.” He says, taking one arm off of you to start shucking his flannel off. 

The moment he’s preoccupied, you buck under him with your whole weight, and blindly reach behind you, trying to find his hair again. 

“Motherfucker-” He grunts, slamming your arm back against the floor, and pressing his whole weight down on you. “Just stay still-”

You laugh the hardest you have so far when you feel it - he’s hard. He’s hard and pressed right up against your ass and spitting insults like pillow talk right into your ear. “Are you hard right now?” You tease. “Are you into this?”

That shuts him up. He doesn’t move, and you can almost hear the wheels spinning angrily in his head, trying to think of something to say. You expect him to deny it, or bring the subject back to the fight you’re locked in. What you don’t expect him to do is start to fumble for the button of your pants. 

“Fuck you.” He spits, popping the button of your jeans open. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re about to.” You say. You’re not exactly upset at the turn of events - strategically speaking, the longer you can keep him here, the more likely it is that someone else will come across you. And you can’t pretend that he’s not attractive, even with the bandage covering half his face. No, you’re not too upset about this at all. 

You lift your hips so that he can pull your jeans halfway down your legs, and you feel him wriggle against your back as he shucks his own jeans down too. He doesn’t bother waiting before he’s sinking into you, hips crushing into yours, his forehead coming to rest against your shoulder. You can feel him panting against your shirt. 

“‘S bigger than I thought.” You say, pushing your hips up against his just to make him twitch.

“Will you just shut up?” He hisses, low in your ear. One of his hands goes to grab at your jaw, but you open your mouth, catching his fingers instead and biting down. 

You can feel his dick kick up inside you. 

“So you do like it painful.” You say, letting him pull his fingers back. “Good to know-”

The rest of your teasing is broken by a moan as he starts really fucking you, throwing his whole weight against you over and over again. He is by no means gentle - you have to grab onto the railing to stop yourself from sliding along the floor with the force of his thrusts, and sinks his teeth into the side of your neck with no mercy - but it’s good, so good that it has heat pooling low in your gut only a few thrusts in. 

“I like you better when you’re not talking.” Carl says, his voice breathy and strained. 

“You like me- ah - the most when I’m- mm - kicking your ass.”

He pushes his lips against yours, tongue sweeping into your mouth roughly, and picks up the pace, snapping his hips against yours. You weren’t expecting him to kiss you - not when only a few minutes ago you were wrestling for a gun (a gun, that, you know whoever had won it would have shot the other without a second thought), but his tongue is in your mouth, and you’re kissing him back on instinct, swallowing all his moans and whines. 

He takes you by surprise again when he snakes a hand around to your front, fumbling around until he finds your clit. You jolt as he starts to thumb over it, and he presses his weight down harder on you again, keeping you wedged between him and the floor. 

“The fuck are you doing?” You breathe. 

“Want you tight when I cum.” He says. 

And fuck, if that isn’t enough right there to almost push you over the edge by itself. Never in your life did you think that you’d be here, pressed to the floor, Carl Grimes fucking you from behind, panting in your ear about how he wants you to cum so you get tighter. It’s enough to have you doing your best to meet his thrusts, pushing your hips back against his. 

With him thumbing over your clit and fucking you with his whole body weight, it doesn’t take you long to tumble over the edge. 

“Fuck.” He groans as you cum, and pushes his hips against yours, once, twice, three times before you can feel him shuddering against your back. After a moment, he slumps against you, breathing heavy. 

With the absence of your fighting and fucking, the hall is quiet, save for the both of you trying to catch your breath. He rolls off you, landing on his back on the floor beside you, pants still hanging around his thighs. You can’t even find the strength to shift from your place on your stomach, slightly numb from the hips down. 

“Truce?” You ask. 

“Truce.” He agrees.

[mrm0rgansw0man]

hi guys!! i am alive and well and still writing lol, im so sorry to not have pubished anything in so long!! life has just been crazy lately and i just haven't had as much time as i would like to work on things, but you'll be happy to hear that i TEN DRAFTS that i am working on currently and even more things to start!! you guys WILL get your arthur morgan content lol. but for now, heres a quick little something as an peace offering for being gone so long Xx

- a quiet little night ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ -

summary: arthur morgan settles down for the night.

As Arthur stumbled into his little makeshift room, half dead from exhaustion and the cold, it took all his might not to just topple over onto his cot and sleep. Boots and hat and all, in fact he almost did.

It was the slight shift of his blankets that stopped him.

Arthur let out a deep and loving sigh. He quickly undid his boots and took off his hat, setting them both down next to his bed.

'Now what could this be?' Arthur thought to himself with a light chuckle.

Arthur lifted up his blankets- which he noticed he had at least three more in his bed now than when he did when he woke up- and that's when he saw you.

Your hair was wrapped in a scarf, and you were still in your clothes from the day. You had bundled yourself in blankets and practically buried yourself into Arthur's cot to sleep.

Arthur couldn't help the grin spread across his face as he gently crawled into the bed next to you. You stirred, but thankfully didn't wake.

Arthur yawned, already partially asleep as he re adjusted the blankets over the both of you. Once you were both tucked in and as sheltered as you could be from the cold, Arthur leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He stroked as much of your hair as he could, almost wishing you hadn't fallen asleep in that scarf. But it kept you warm, and right now that was more important than anything.

This move to Colter had been hard, on you in a different way than the others. You were the type that just didn't do well in the cold. Arthur didn't know what it was, but it just sucked the life out of you. You could never truly be warm, your nose ran constantly and you were in pain more often than you weren't.

Arthur at first just thought you needed some more meat on your bones, but now he thought it was something more. Maybe you were sick somehow, making you weaker to the strong weather? You didn't do too well in the extreme heat either.

Never mind that now. Even if the thoughts lingered in his mind like the howling cold winds lingered around the outside of his walls, he refused to let this moment with you go to waste.

Arthur finally laid down fully, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him. You partially woke, just conscious enough to cuddle into him and gently kiss whatever part of him was closest to you, tonight it was his chin. You had the fleeting thought that you hoped tomorrow night it would be his lips before falling back to sleep.

No matter where you had kissed him, it filled Arthur's heart with joy. He loved you, so god damn much. Coming back to this each and every night, made the troubles of the day worth it. No matter how tired he was, he would always make sure to be there with you and hold you while you slept. To kiss you goodnight, to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you slept.

"Arthur.." You mumbled sleepily. "I missed you s' much..."

"I missed ya' too sweetheart." Arthur whispered soothingly, gently rubbing his hands up and down your back underneath the blankets. "I love you baby.. C'mon not. Let's go back t'sleep..."

"I love you too.." You breathed out, it was said so quietly it was barely audible. Arthur closed his heavy eyes, and listened to the sound of your gentle breathing.

With the sounds of the wind and your breaths as a lullaby, Arthur drifted off to sleep for the night. Dreading the moment he would have to wake up.

so sorry this is short!! i literally couldn't stand going another moment with publishing something im so sorry guys

[griffintail2]

Wolf in Duck's Clothing

Summary: A small child sinner tries to navigate her way through Hell.

Pairings: Lucifer x Child!GN!Reader

Warnings: None that I know of but it's Hazbin, we'll find them eventually.

This is a part one for now to test out the new writing grounds! Hope you enjoy! ♥

Part 2

-------

Sinners couldn’t have children in Hell. It was common knowledge. So, an actual child running around hell was rare.

For a child to be there, they had to be a Hellborn or…the most rare choice, they were a sinner themselves.

There were some that took in the rare little sinners. However, there were a few that continued to wander the streets. Alone and helpless. It was how (Y/N) got into the situation they were in.

Ducking between legs and slipping through the crowd, their breath came out quickly as they looked back to see their pursuer still following, but falling behind. They needed to hide. Alleys were obvious and usually, more trouble than they were worth, inside another building was even more reckless.

Then they spotted hedges surrounding a large home. The big bushes might be dying, but it would be enough to slip into. Quickly, they slipped through the crowd, diving through the hedge to hide beyond it. On the other side, the large home stood in its glory along with a neglected garden in front of it.

Holding their breath, they watched the hedge, waiting to see if their pursuer followed but breathed with relief when a minute passed and the hedge didn’t move from any disturbance. They waited a few more minutes before they’d make their hasty escape from the land they had stumbled upon. Looking around, (Y/N) could imagine how beautiful the garden might have once been.

The pretty colors and life that would have flourished in the dark place. There was one living plant, making them wonder slightly closer in curiosity. A large tree that still stood…

“You’re trespassing.” A voice spoke behind them.

The small child, jumped, giving a small scream as they turned, clutching onto the stolen goods they had in their arms. Behind them, a man with pale white skin, red cheeks, and hair hiding under a large hat looked down at them with crossed arms.

Lucifer stared at the small sinner. Their form was one of a wolf’s, their ears currently pointed back and tail pressed close to them as they stared up at him in fear. In their arms, he spotted a few bits of food. Bread, cans of something, and…apples. He stood straighter.

“Did you take from the tree?” He growled.

“W-What?” They looked at the tree seeing it was indeed an apple tree. “No! I’m-I’m sorry sir! I-I didn’t mean to come h-here.”

He scoffed. “Then what are you doing here if not to steal?”

“I-I was hiding…” Tears welled up in their eyes and Lucifer looked confused. “I-I’m sorry, I did st-steal, but not from you…I st-stole this food from the store.”

Now Lucifer was utterly baffled. They were confessing their wrongdoings? Why weren’t they lying, they’re a sinner. He stared at their terrified form trying to figure them out. When he’d seen them from his office window, he'd confidently assumed that they were just a short adult sinner. But…

“How old are you?” He asked.

“…Eight.” They muttered.

He sighed deeply as he looked away from them. An actual child. He knew there were children, sinners, he’d just never met one during his centuries, not that he went out much to have the chance to meet one.

“Where are your parents or the people taking care of you?” He huffed.

They looked around, sputtering. “I, um-Well I—”

“Any time now.” He waved his hand.

“…I’m-I’m taking care of me.” They muttered.

He once more stood in confusion. They were on their own? But he looked them over again. Ratty, torn clothes, food they stole in their arms, on their own to begin with.

He crossed his arms again, gripping them as he stared at the small child, making them squirm in place.

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, before walking to the house. “Come on.”

“W-What?” They sputtered.

“Come on, in the house.” He motioned to it as he looked back. “I need to find somewhere to bring you and I don’t know where to start. So come inside so I can figure it out.”

They stared in shock before quickly scampering after him. He sighed as he led them in. He wasn’t fond of sinners by any means. He hated his own subjects. But the father side of him couldn’t just leave a child out on their own to fend for themselves. He’d find somewhere to send them so he could be done with it.

“Thank you, sir.” They muttered.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled.

[milqueandsugar]

🌼☕` Wearing His Clothes`☕🌼

Gen / Fluff

Includes / Alastor , Lucifer

| ALASTOR |

If Alastor could spend every evening like this, he would. A warm hellish day, a pleasant breeze that made the usual sulphuric smell that lingered in the air tolerable, and most of all, you by his side. The scarlet parasol you carried over your shoulder sifted the dying rays of the sun into a glorious red. If Alastor could devour an image he'd have this walk on a plate.

"Have I ever mentioned how marvelous you are in red?" The static of his voice crackled to life, so did the blood in your cheeks. "Very, very often." You tease, his grin widens. "Oh so not nearly enough."

You were working up a come back when something heavy dropped onto your shoulders. It smelled of chicory and black coffee, it smelled of Alastor. You poked your head up out of a collar, his collar. You stared up at your lover who twirled the parasol you must have dropped in hid hand. Spinning the red refracted light around the both if you like a kelidoscope.

"You are darling in red, I'll have to ring up Rosie to get you one of your own."

"Matching outfits Alastor? Tattoos next?"

"I was thinking rings, but by the by."

Alastor is definitely a possessive character but I don't think that translates at all to you wearing his clothes

He's actually quite protective of them, he's as particular as he is possessive and it has to be some sort of gesture for him to lend it to you

He especially holds off on lending clothes to you if you make it know you like it, just for teasing purposes of course!

He only truly lends you his bow tie or jacket and only, of course, on his terms

He finds it endearing, how flattered or excited you are at something as simple as a coat, though he holds this little secret close to his chest

It's not as fun if you can tease him back!

Due to his more animalistic tendencies/physicality he is particularly sensitive to smell

If you REALLY want to rile him up use his cologne or soap, it might take a day or two but it's impossible not to notice his increase in physical affection

Once he registers that wearing his clothes is another, far more subtle way of having you smell like him he'll be far more generous with lending you garments.

| LUCIFER |

Every few months you cleaned out the closet, Lucifer liked to buy things, you liked to wear things, both of you were terrible for over filling your closet. He was out for a day out with Charlie, which made things easier. You loved him truly but he made tossing things out difficult, it was too pretty or to cute, to sexy for him to part with. He wasn't wrong, he had an excellent eye for picking clothes you liked, but at this rate you'd need to buy a new home to accommodate for the mass amounts of clothes!

It was when putting the keeps back when you noticed it, his hat. A hat you both loved and hated, the golden snake around its brim gleaned in the light. You snatched it from the shelf at the top of the closet. Your surprised he didn't bring it today, he wore it always, especially when with Charlie. You wondered if she liked it, or if she liked it when she was a kid and bright colours were like moths to light.

You step over to stand in front of the floor length mirror. It felt like a normal hat, of beautiful craftsmanship of course, but just a normal hat. You couldn't see why he was obsessed with the thing. You felt a little silly wearing it, you felt even sillier when a snort sounded from behind you.

"Oh so that's where my hat went"

He thinks it's cute!!

He's confident so he doesn't see any real need to mark or claim you, he knows he loved you, and he knows you love him just as much!

Absolutely pleased to lend you clothes!

If it becomes a habit of yours he even goes out of his way to pick up clothes he thinks both of you will like

Turns into a fun shopping activity!

Be fully prepared for him to start stealing your clothes too though this is a two way street

Maybe it's for the best too he's got no style let's be honest

Absolutely tortures you if he discovers you think it's hot, wears your clothes out, wears your clothes in private, when your on a date

Good luck, they're pretty much his now

No hiding if you dress more feminely either he's not afraid of rocking a mini skirt

The act itself doesn't do anything but seeing you so excited about it?? That does it for him