#Love is stored in the mundane tasks

[actual-corpse]

Did I really just sink 15 consecutive hours into Supermarket Simulator?

Yes... yes I did...

[nexus-nebulae]

one thing i love about being plural is when you just gotta do basic mundane tasks and then another headmate shows up like :o can i help?? like just. our love language is doing Tasks together

[wolviensabes]

Logan gets jealous so he decides to make sure you know who you belong to. MDNI

I love jealousy scenarios so much. So here is one with Logan <3 Still figuring out how to write him so keep that in mind too. It came out to be much longer than I thought lmaooo. Possibly will revise later but for now I just wanted to get it out.

Rating: Mature/Smut

Warnings: Afab reader, jealous/possessive Wolvie, brief spanking, fingering, oral (both receiving and giving), deepthroat/throat fucking, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink. Unedited, I worked on this for three days and I'm too lazy.

WC: 5k

The moment you got home, he could smell it. That scent on your jacket, your shirt, your skin. It made his nose scrunch up in a way that was impossible to miss. He glared down at you, his eyes narrowing as that stranger's smell seemed to seep deeper into your skin with every passing second. You, completely oblivious to it all, casually hung up your jacket on the rack, not sensing the tension in the air. As you turned back to face him, you couldn't help but notice the intensity of his stare.

"What's wrong?" you asked, genuinely puzzled by the look on his face, which was now a mix of confusion and anger. His reaction made you take a step back, trying to understand what could have possibly caused such a strong response.

Sure, you weren't stupid. Logan was always protective of you, and maybe it was that asshole in the store who kept pestering you with questions about where certain groceries were located. Maybe it was because he stood so uncomfortably close that his shoulder brushed against yours, or perhaps it was the intrusive hand he splayed on your back. You felt a deep sense of discomfort with his touch, and tried giving him clear and concise instructions, hoping to get the man to leave you alone as quickly as possible. The whole situation made you feel uneasy, and Logan had seen it from down the aisle.

His first instinct was to slice that man into pieces and leave him on the ground, but he couldn't do that. Not in the middle of the grocery store anyway. He could feel his blood boiling and his muscles tensing up as he stared intently at the man walking off, every fiber of his being urging him to take action. You let out a breath of relief, feeling the tension dissipate slightly, and turned back to the shelves, trying to focus on the mundane task at hand.

Grocery shopping was one of your least favorite things. You didn't like being around so many people, and that man was a prime example of why.

With a shaky hand, you grabbed the bag of chips you wanted, hoping that the simple act of shopping would help you regain some sense of calmness. You couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, just to make sure the man was really gone, before continuing down the aisle to Logan's side.

He said nothing about it, so you assumed he wasn't concerned at all. This lack of reaction from him made you feel a little more grounded and reassured. If Logan wasn't reacting, then maybe that guy was just some harmless idiot and not someone to worry about.

You made the conscious decision to stick next to Logan for the rest of the trip, not bothering to split up and go farther down the aisle as you had done before. The silence between you and Logan seemed to confirm that everything was alright, and you found yourself relaxing more as you walked together.

But you were wrong about his outward stoicism. He was fuming inside.

Not at you, of course, but that man who had the nerve to touch you. Asking where something is in the grocery store already annoyed him, the damn aisles are numbered and have the product written above them. He could've just looked at the signs instead of talking to you and touching you.

Logan let out a deep, throaty growl, staring intensely at you now that you two were back home, the familiar surroundings providing a stark contrast to the tension in the air. "That bastard really pissed me off," he spat, his voice dripping with anger and frustration, his eyes darkened with a mixture of rage and possessiveness. "The damn nerve of him to come up and touch what isn't his," he continued, his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Those deadly blades nearly poking out on instinct.

"That guy is what's bothering you?" you questioned softly, understanding how he might feel after witnessing the stranger be so close to you at the store, having the gall to actually touch you too. You weren't happy about it either, but you tried to keep your cool to show him it didn't bother you, even when it did, so he wouldn't react. "Logan, he was just an assho-"

Your voice was abruptly cut off as his hands slammed forcefully into the wall on either side of your head, creating a resounding echo. He was now standing directly in front of you, so close that you could feel the heat of his breath warming your face. The distinct smell of cigar smoke and musk emanated from him, enveloping you in their combined, heady aroma, you could feel your core clench and dampen.

Your heart pounded in your chest at the close proximity, feeling as though it might burst through your ribcage with each passing second. He took a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest steady and rhythmic, almost hypnotic in the stillness of the moment. His eyes, which were usually dark and troubled, bored into you with an intensity that was both unsettling and captivating. Now, however, they held an expression you could only describe as fierce and feral, a primal emotion that sent shivers down your spine.

"You are mine, princess," he declared, his voice low and possessive. "Clearly, I don't show it enough now do I?" His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and unspoken promises, leaving you breathless as your body was reacting quickly to his words.

His eyes scanned you, running down your body and to your core, his lips upturned in a smirk, "You naughty girl." His voice was gravelly, clearly enjoying the new scent of arousal that he could smell as obvious as a candle burning in front of you. He grabbed you, his calloused hands clasped around the back of your plush thighs and swiftly lifted you up and over his shoulder. He held you still as he turned and carried you effortlessly through the halls and up to your bedroom.

"Logan!" You let out a small yelp as you were effortlessly thrown over his muscular shoulder. He carried you with ease, striding confidently through the room, only to be answered with the quick swing of your body being thrown down onto the bed. You landed with a grunt, the impact bouncing you slightly on the mattress. You looked up at him, standing over you with a commanding presence. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. He reached down, tugging your pants off with a swift motion, letting them drop onto the floor by your feet.

"Hush..." he grumbled, his voice carrying a rough edge as he threw his shirt off with a swift motion. You couldn't help but stare at his chest and abdomen, packed with well-defined muscles that flexed and rippled as he tossed the shirt carelessly to the side. Each movement seemed to highlight his features, he glanced back down at you after he had thrown the shirt off, rolling his shoulders back.

You had seen him shirtless many times before, yet your reaction was always the same. It was as if his physique had a magnetic pull, making it impossible to look away. The sight of him never ceased to leave you in awe, and it seemed each time you saw him like this, you discovered something new to admire.

He lifted his hand slowly, fingers curling tightly to form a fist, and with a deliberate motion, one of his three adamantium blades began to slide out from within him. The slow, smooth sound of it grazing through his knuckles and tender flesh, emerging inch by inch until it was fully exposed, sent a shiver down your spine and made you swallow thickly. The gleam of the claw in the dim light only added to the tension, and you had a pretty clear idea of what he was going to do next.

He leaned down, the claw gently trailing from your knee and up your thigh, moving slowly and deliberately, right up until he reached your center. The sensation was both thrilling and unnerving. Most would flinch at having such a thing near them, the sharp metallic edge so close to their skin, (especially when it came to the person wielding it), but you didn't. You trusted him completely, and while you felt a mix of excitement and slight uncertainty fill you, you stayed still for him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As the claw continued its path until it laid against the center of your panties, you felt goosebumps rise from your skin, each tiny bump cause by the mixture of sensations rushing through you. The cool metal chilled your body, leaving what felt to be an icy trail on your warm skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of your own flesh. The experience was almost surreal, like a dance between fire and ice, and you found yourself lost in the moment, every nerve ending heightened, every touch magnified.

You could sense his intent, the care with which he moved, and it only deepened your trust. He'd never actually harm you, and besides, it was fun to include them. The blade traveled farther up your body, under your shirt until it poked out of your collar near your neck. He glanced at you before jerking his arm back and swiftly tearing your shirt completely in half.

Your gasp was loud and sudden, your eyes widening with shock as you watched him effortlessly rip your shirt off with his sharp claw. He trailed it slowly down your chest, gliding it with a deliberate and almost teasing motion across your body, allowing you to feel its cold, metallic touch on the tender and delicate skin of your soft belly. The claw was lethal, easily capable of inflicting ruthless injury or ending your life in an instant.

But he doesn't, and you know he wouldn't.

The thrill of the danger, the razor's edge between safety and peril, heightened your senses like never before, leaving you acutely aware of every sensation and emotion coursing through you.

You reached down with a deliberate, yet tender motion and gently held his wrist, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingers. With careful precision, you guided his hand upwards to your chest, allowing his large palm to come to rest over your breast. His nostrils flared with a sharp breath, signaling his heightened awareness. Your tongue slowly emerged, and you carefully licked the side of his claw, a metallic taste and cool sensation on your taste buds.

The way your tongue slid over the blade, oh so carefully, made him growl and it retracted once he saw your tongue was safely out of the way. You whined quietly, you were having fun teasing him. "You wanna be a tease, do you?" His voice grunted out, he jerked you up and tossed you to the floor, your knees hit the carpet and you whined.

He paused only for a second, then he fiddled with his belt and tugged it out of the loops in one jerk. The act of that made you quiver below him, blinking up as he harshly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and his thick cock sprang out of his boxers. Red and angry, the tip completely blushed and shiny with the precum that had been spread on his tip.

His hand reached for your hair, grabbing onto it and tugging you closer. His cock brushed against your cheek as he used his other hand to position it at your mouth, "Open," he demanded lowly to you. Your jaw relaxed and your lips parted, allowing his salty tip to slide into your mouth.

You swirled your tongue around the blushed flesh, tasting and cleaning his sticky cockhead. He grunted in response, a pleased sound ripples through his throat as he pushed himself farther into your warm mouth. Your tongue was a soft cushion for the underside of his dick, he relished feeling it with each thrust into your throat.

Logan's grip tightened on your hair, his fingers tangling and pulling with a possessive intensity. He growled deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest, and pulled you even closer to him. You made a muffled whine, a desperate sound that escaped your lips, your eyes looking up at him from where you were below, wide and pleading. He almost looked completely feral, his eyes wild and dark with an unrestrained hunger. He huffed as his chest rose and fell quickly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, the tension between you almost palpable.

"You belong to me, princess. I'm going to make sure every single part of you remembers that. Even when I'm done fucking you." Logan growled out, watching his cock disappear in your throat as he thrust his hips forward. The sudden intrusion into your throat made your eyes widen and you gagged, not expecting him to do that.

"That's it, who's cock do you gag on? Mine. Who's cock do you like to suck on, hm?" He angled you more to look at him while keeping himself safely tucked into you mouth, the tip of his dick brushing up and down the fleshy, soft meat on the back of your throat. Bubbles of saliva popped at the corners of your mouth as he continued to thrust in and out of your throat, each time hitting the back and sliding down.

"Ugh, yeah...that's it...take it down, pup," he chuckled and watched you struggle to take him with each thrust, you still did your best to attempt to swallow all of him, knowing how it drives him crazy seeing you choke. "Slobber all over my cock, mine...the only cock that you get."

Logan grunted lowly, the sound vibrated from his chest and through his throat, his eyes closing as he focused and you could feel his dick twitching inside your mouth. "Here it comes, princess, be a good girl and swallow it." His voice was dominant and demanding, you prepared for his thick, heavy load that was soon to coat your tongue and slide down your throat.

His hips stuttered, his hold in your hair tightened and in one swift thrust, he was sheathed in your mouth. His cum began to flood across your tongue, giving you a slightly salty taste as it continued to spill out of his swollen dick. You had to swallow twice before you could finally breathe again, it felt like he was unloading everything he had. When he pulled out, he watched as his cock popped out, a gasp escaped your throat and your face messy from his thrusts. He grinned down, satisfied with how disheveled you were. "Look at you, such a mess."

You lifted your eyes up, swallowing the rest of his spunk and breathing heavily. You were breathless, your jaw ached and your throat felt bruised for sure. He took a step back and took you in, the image of you ingraining in his brain and blood flowed down to his cock. His fingers ran through your hair lightly but quickly tightened again, lifting you to stand.

Your legs felt shaky and unsteady from sitting on your knees for such a prolonged period, and you were still a bit dazed and disoriented from sucking his cock. The discomfort in your legs was matched by a slight buzzing throb in your head, making it difficult to regain your composure. "Ain't no one makes you such a pretty mess like this but me...you won't forget that. I don't give a damn who hears those sweet little noises that come out of your mouth."

He moved you onto the bed again, this time face down, and your belly hit the mattress with a rough huff. Logan's rough hands ran up the back of your bare thighs and over the round of your ass. "Such a sweet peach, princess..." he grabbed the meat of your ass and spread you open, gazing down at your holes.

He leaned in and inhaled your scent, making you squirm and whine his name, he groaned under his breath in response and spit onto your cunt. You could barely register what he was doing before you felt his tongue push inside and he began lapping at you like a starved man. His tongue curled and gathered as much of you as possible, tasting your arousal from the source as his pupils dilate with desire.

You can't help but moan as he ate you out, his hands kneading and groping your ass as he did so, snarling against your core while his tongue effortlessly assaulted and teased your clit. "You taste so damn good, look at you, soaked already..." he sat up and pushed two fingers inside to stretch you out, making you groan loudly from the sudden intrusion. "Logan!"

"Yeah...you like that don't you...feeling my fingers inside you. Haven't fingered you in a minute huh...feels good? You like when I curl 'em don't you...like..." he adjusted his wrist and he curled his fingers against that sweet, delicate spot inside you that makes you cry out in pleasure. "Yeah...that's it," he chuckled with amusement, hearing your pretty little noises. His calloused fingers rubbed mercilessly against that spongey wall and your legs began to tremble. Your fists gripped the sheets and you cried out against them, your pleasured noise muffled by the blankets. "That's what my girl likes..."

"Logan...oh god..." you whined desperately, rocking back into his fingers, chasing that sweet high that was soon to hit you and explode. "I'm gonna cum..." you rasped and did what you could to drive yourself there, the brink was so, so close...but just as he felt your walls slicken a little and tighten around his fingers, he retracted them. Right before you went over the edge, he denied you, making you groan in frustration. "Logan," you cried desperately and with slight frustration, "I was almost there!"

He had that shit-eating grin on his face, loving how desperate you became when you needed to climax. "Not so fast, sweetheart...I am going to fuck you until you can barely take it. And then some." Logan smacked your ass once, sending a sharp sting up your spine. The noise sounded loudly in the room and making you yelp slightly, your face felt hot and you bit your lip. "Maybe I should lay a few of these to ya...for begging so much...you'd like that wouldn't you? You naughty thing," He gave you another spank and you whined at the stinging sensation.

"L-Logan, please...I-I need you..." your voice was so desperate and pitiful, you could feel his hand on the small of your back, holding you still but not applying pressure. He didn't have to, he knew you'd lay perfectly for him, his pretty girl.

"I know...you need me huh? This poor pussy is so needy for me?" he chuckled, "You about broke my fingers with how tight you were. You gonna be that tight around my cock?" he asked, leaning over your body and placing a hot kiss to the side of your neck. The sensation of his lips on such a sensitive spot almost made you cry out. You felt like your body was on fire.

"Please! Please, I need you inside me! Don't tease me anymore...." your voice begged him, you wanted his cock stretching you out so badly...and he seemed to enjoy your desperation enough to give in. His cock head rubbed between your folds, he grinned and shuddered when he felt just how hot your core was.

Normally he'd just shove himself inside you, filling you up in one quick thrust, but not this time. He loved seeing you needy, especially after that bastard at the store had the audacity to touch you. The mere sight of it made his blood boil and his chest tighten with jealousy. He knew deep down that you hadn't done anything on purpose and that it wasn't your fault, but still, the image of it lingered in his mind. It gnawed at him, filling him with an almost unbearable urge to assert himself. He had to prove something to both you and himself. It was as if an uncontrollable fire had ignited within him, his primal instincts demanding him to take action.

He instead slowly began to push inside, his cock stretching your tight hole and you let out a loud whining cry. It wasn't enough; your desire for him was overwhelming, you craved all of him, every part of his being. Yet, he was deliberate in his actions, taking his time and being slow and precise with you, almost as if savoring each moment. His meticulous approach only heightened your instinctive need, making the yearning even more intense.

When he was fully inside, your cries for him grew even louder, your voice filled with a mix of desperation and desire. Your whining and squirming only intensified as you clung to him, feeling the overwhelming sensation of him deep within you. You wanted him to move, to give you the release you craved, but he remained still, demonstrating an incredible amount of self-control.

The way your body writhed against him drove him absolutely crazy; every movement you made sent shivers down his spine. He wanted nothing more than to hold you down, to keep you in place and listen to those beautiful, intoxicating sounds that escaped your lips, savoring every moment of your shared intimacy.

You were utterly intoxicating to him. His hips finally moved, pumping in and out of you with vigor and passion. Logan's firm hold on your plush hips made him groan and growl against your neck, his warm huffs of breath sending shivers down your spine and warming your skin. Each exhale created goosebumps all over the rest of your body, making you respond with pathetic sounds of pleasure. The heat radiating from him was intense, the man ran hot as it was and it felt like his entire body was a heater on high, intensifying the intimate connection between you both.

As his fingers dug slightly into your soft flesh, his deep desire for you became more apparent when he jerked your body closer to him as he continued to pound himself in and out of your tight cunt. "You love this cock don't you princess? Does it feel good...you are so desperate huh?" he whispered in a throaty, guttural voice, his lips grazing your ear as he held you flush against his body.

You felt tears prick your eyes as the intense feeling began to rush through your body, your pussy was so sensitive and he just kept pounding you. "Mhm....nngh yes..." you rasped weakly, "S-so good...so good Logan...y-you're making me bulge down there..." Your eyes widened slightly, seeing the lower part of your abdomen slightly show his dick from when he sunk into your sex.

"Only I get to make you scream and cry like this, hm? Only me. You love when I fuck you like an animal don't you? Do you want that?" he pushed you back into the bed, your arms wrapped around the pillow for any kind of support as you cried and felt him begin to pound into you even harder. The feeling of your slick warming even more from the friction made you scream in delight. It felt so incredible, no man has ever made you feel so fulfilled before...

"M'gonna put a fuckin' baby in you, gonna fill this pretty belly with my cum and watch you swell up. Then no one will touch you. You're claimed, no one will ever come up and touch you again, you're all mine," Logan hissed lowly and angled your hips up slightly, his cock hitting your cervix and teasing it with the promise of his cum.

Your body reacted to his movements by squeezing him, your velvet walls tightened around his dick and tried milking him even more as he thrusted and claimed you as his own. "My good girl...nngh...takin' my cock so good, fuckin' you to tears hm? No one else can get you this way, can they?" he growled against your skin, holding you desperately close as his hips drove into you more and more.

"Logan, I'm gonna cum...please, let me cum," you whined pitifully, tears rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing your body. Every word that came from his mouth went straight to your clit and you were attempting to milk him before he was ready to climax himself.

"So needy... You really want to? You think you deserve it?" he asks in a low, almost mocking tone, chuckling to himself as he watches you with an intense gaze. Your tears stream down your face, and you mewl pathetically, your desperate cries echoing in the room, each sound seemingly fueling his amusement even more.

The scent of your arousal filled his nose and it drove him into you even more, his His hips stuttered, attempting to push faster than before, driven by a desperate need to increase the pace. Logan groaned deeply, the sound resonating through the room, his arms tightly wrapped around your midsection, pulling you closer. His muscular chest tightened with effort, every sinew straining as he used all the power he had to continue pounding you with relentless intensity. His skin, now slick with a light layer of sweat, pressed damply against your back, providing a heated contrast to the cool air. His chest hair was slightly tousled and damp, scratched along the skin of your back as his hips thrusted.

"Logan, I can't hold it any longer...please let me-" you rasped desperately, your entire body trembling and screaming at you to let it all go. Every muscle was tense, fighting against the overwhelming urge, yet you craved his permission more than anything. You needed to hear him say you could, to feel that moment of release granted by his word...

"Alright pretty girl, come for me, let it out, cum all over my cock...let me know how good I make you feel~" Logan urged you on and his hands roamed up your body, grasping your breasts and gently pinching and rolling your nipples in his index and thumb. That was all your body needed to go over the edge.

You felt an intense wave of adrenaline and warmth spread from your core, radiating throughout your entire body. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you cried out Logan's name, your voice a mix of desperation and euphoria. As your head became fuzzy and dazed, the feeling of pure ecstasy washed over you, filling your senses to the brim. You were completely overcome by the powerful emotions, your body trembling with the intensity as his cock mercilessly continued to pound into you.

"Ohh yes...that's it princess...let it out baby...cream on my dick," he groaned in your ear, the sound making you clench harder, if that were possible. His hips finally began to falter and he leaned over you to let gravity help his rutting. "M'gonna fill you up, til y'r dripping with me." Logan's eyebrows were knit tight and he let out a loud groan as his hips finally stopped, pushing hard against you as he reached his peak.

His cock kissed against your swollen cervix and he unloaded his orgasm deep into you, shooting rope after hot rope of cum until you were so full it began to ooze out around him. The sensation of it dripping down his balls made him snarl, he pulled out just enough to see it slowly coming out of your pretty, swollen pussy before he used his cock to swipe it up and push it back in.

"Keep it in there, sweet girl...keep all of me in you. You love it, being so full of my seed it leaks out of you." He reached around and teasingly wrapped his hand around your neck to give a gentle squeeze.

You, in a complete daze, so high on your climax you could barely think. He hadn't fucked you this hard in so long. You babbled lightly, attempting to form coherent words, but you weren't able to construct a complete sentence. He chuckled softly, his warm breath and lips brushing lightly against your temple. "Atta girl...so dizzy," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did I make you feel good? Hm?" Logan almost purred against you, his voice low and soothing, as you felt the gentle vibrations of his chest reverberate against your back, adding a comforting aspect to the intimate moment.

"Now, now...you just rest. You did so good for me." He placed a gentle kiss to your temple, pulling you to lay on him and reluctantly pulling himself out of you. "We can clean up later...right now, I want you here." He held your body close, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he adjusted a bit to make you more comfortable.

He felt pride and satisfaction when he smelled you, leaning down to inhale lightly. He no longer sensed that awful stench the stranger had left on you from before. Now, it was just his own scent imbedded in your skin, his claim on your was loud and clear to him and it would be to everyone else too. He continued to hold you, his warmth surrounding you, creating a cocoon of security.

You were far too tired to argue. Every bone in your body felt like it was weighed down by an invisible force, and the idea of cleaning up seemed like an insurmountable task. You would clean up later, but for now, you needed a moment to recover from your high and daze. The room felt like it was spinning slightly, and the only thing grounding you was his presence and firm arms wrapped around your body. You were happy laying with him, despite that smug ass smirk he had on his face when he observed you. His eyes had a glint of amusement, and you didn't know why he seemed so full of himself until you saw yourself in the mirror half an hour later.

When you caught your reflection, you were shocked to find your skin covered in dark bruises, all adorning your neck and shoulders. It was then you understood the reason behind Logan's self-satisfied expression. There was no way you could cover these, and he made sure of that.

"Logan!!"

That bastard.

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dividers by @/strangergraphics

[appleblueberry-pie]

Yandere House"wife" Satoru x Reader

Call it a happy accident, the way Satoru transitioned from being a full-time sorcerer to being the man you come home to after he does domestic chores all day. You two talked about it for a little while. There was a time when Satoru would come home late at night almost every day. And he would wind down, take a shower, crawl into the bed into your arms and just pour out his heart to you. He would say he hates his job. He hates how repetitive these days were becoming. Meetings upon meetings in the morning, and then having to exercise curses that never stood a chance for the next 6 hours. You soothed him, of course. Or at least as much as you could.

Then you proposed that maybe he starts taking days off. So you'll go to work and he'll stay home to heal his mind as much as he needs to. He would do anything for you, so of course he tries it out just to make you happy. And a few rest days turned into a few weeks. A few weeks turned into a couple of months. You don't remember the last time Satoru went to work by now, his phone blowing up every day from the people and job he kind of abandoned. He didn't care anymore.

He realized that he was happiest doing these mundane and very human tasks every day. And his motivation to keep going was just you. If he was bored, he would do the laundry that was full. I mean, the washer and dryer was just down the hall, why not? Washed the few dishes in the sink. Maybe he'll stop by the store to restock the fridge. You recognized how much of a....housewife he was being when he would retell his daily tasks to you before you two went to bed. "Oh, so I've got a little housewife now?" The neurons in his brain crackled when he heard that word escape your mouth.

Housewife

You raised your eyebrow when you watched him whisper the word underneath his breath. "You alright?" No, he wasn't. Well, he felt fantastic at the thought of his only purpose being his favorite person's provider and nothing else. But other than that, not really. He shamelessly enjoys having that title over his head. So he decides to play the part.

In the morning, he'll wake up before you, stare at your beautiful face for around 10 minutes before getting up to prepare your lunch and make you breakfast. NO, he can't cook. But he does know how to follow instructions. You wrote him some recipes you loved and he takes extra care to follow every single step to the exact measurements that you want. And when you smile at the breakfast, or make that sigh of relief, his heart jumps. Want more coffee? Do you want tea instead? He could pour you a flask of hot coffee before you go. And don't forget your lunch, either. He had fun making the panda shaped molds of rice.

And when you give your kiss goodbye and he finishes begging you to stay for a mandatory 5 minutes, he begins cleaning up the kitchen. He washes the dishes and clears the laundry if there's any. Mops the bathroom and cleans the tub, toilet bowl, and sink until they're sparkly and clean. Vacuums carpets and turns on a humidifier with your favorite scent lightly wafting throughout the place. Though he usually does this 20 minutes before you come back home so the smell is fresh in your brain when you walk in the door. He checks off the grocery list, visits a few people from his hitlist that he knows either hooked up with you in the past, broke up with you, or just tried to fuck with you in general. Sold a few organs from said people from the hitlist's bodies and goes back home to clean himself up and relax.

Relax meaning checking your location every five minutes, doing a mandatory 10 minute phone call on your lunch break to either try and persuade you to skip the rest of the work day to come back home, have phone sex(you talk him through his orgasm), or just let you talk and he'll listen. After the phone call, he'll eat his first meal of the day. He knows you don't like when he doesn't take care of himself, so he eats as much as his big heart desires. Which usually consists of your scraps of breakfast and dinner that you don't finish, so it feels like you two are bonding over the same meal(even though you aren't there). He does like eating with you and next to you, but it just feels more intimate when you two eat from the same plate. By the end of his meal, he's usually rock hard and close to tears at the fact that you won't be here to help him get off again for the next few hours.

So, he takes a cold shower(or two, if it's serious(and when I say "two" I mean he hops in, finishes, and then has to go back because it rises again with a vengeance)). And after his cold shower, he goes to the gym and does his weight resistance training. He knows you love every part of his body and his beautifully sculpted muscles(your words), so he takes good care of them. Then if he has free time, he'll watch some tv, pop up at Jujutsu Tech to piss everyone off for a few minutes, buy some sweets and desserts you two can share and then go back home to take a nap.

He wakes up about 30 minutes before you come back home so he can cook dinner. You told him you wouldn't mind having something "simple" tonight. And if he thinks carefully, this could mean anything from a boiled stew to TV dinner. Based off of your tone and how you said this sentence, he'll assume you wouldn't want something crazy to eat, so he actually buys some deli sandwiches from a shop not too far away. And when you got home, had Satoru take your coat, shoes, and jacket, you told him you were actually excited to eat. "It's been a while since we went there, huh? Oh, it's still warm!" The bread was toasted the way you liked and everything in between.

You were so lucky to have this man take care of you. You told him you loved him and if there was anything he wanted in return for his hard efforts to keep you happy, you'd do it. He shyly shook his head, a small blush overcoming his soft cheeks. He finished eating his sandwich before you and you noticed how silent he went. You softly grabbed his hand and he immediately looked up at you in question. "You alright? You're being quiet." You raise your hand from his hand to wipe a bread crumb from the corner of his mouth. "Yeah......actually, no. I just miss being able to grab your ass every second of the day, because your job doesn't allow your boyfriend into the building."

"Satoru, you know I can't take work off, I have to take care of us." Satoru flails and grabs your hand. "But babe, you know I have enough money to buy us 16 houses! You don't need to work!" You roll your eyes. "Well, I don't want to be in the house all day rotting away."

"We can rot together." "No!" He's a romantic at heart. He stands to walk off at your rejection and you grab his hand to pull him back. "Baby, you know I didn't mean it like that." "But.....you said we can't rot together...." "I know, but we can just be here right now and enjoy each other. We have all night and even some time in the morning. Right?" He sighs at your words and nod. ".........why are you hard?"

"Because you noticed I was quiet." You roll your eyes. He was also an attention seeker. How could you forget. "Really?" He nods. This time, you sigh, and you walk over to the living room couch, patting your lap. Satoru happily bounces over and plops down his weight on you. "Oof!" Sitting sideways on your lap, you caress his back with one hand and palm his hard on through his jeans with the other. His body immediately relaxes underneath your touch, and you smile up at him. "My baby has been working so hard today, hm?" He nods and stares at your hand. "I'm glad you're being productive. What did you do today, Satoru?"

"Today, I cleaned up the kitchen and did the laundry.." You unbutton his pants when he starts talking. But before you pull them down, you pause. "And what else?" He realizes what you're trying to do and swallows stressfully. He just wants you to take care of him. "And I mopped in the kitchen and the bathroom. I vacuumed, too." You pull his pants down enough to pull out his rock hard cock. It was warm and heavy in your hand, the tip straining with the blood swollen up to it. It was red and glistening with pre, threatening to drip down.

You gently wrapped your hand around him, slowly jerking him up and down, and a whimper slips out his lips. "Come on, baby, keep talking." He grabs your arm that's holding his cock and grabs at the couch with his other. "Um...I also........that's it." He cuts himself off, and his eyelids flutter shut when you put a little more pressure onto your hold, your thumb swiping over his tip.

"Hm? Are you sure?" You know he cut himself off. Which only means he's hiding something from you. He nods his head in response, and you let go of him. He whines at the cold that surrounds him now and looks at you. "Whyy???" "I don't know, baby, I think you're lying to me." You give him a look of fake concern, and your hand instead travels south to very gently fondle his sack, which immediately gets him to squirm.

"I'm not!!" You scrunch your eyebrows. "Are you??" He goes silent, and you stare him deep into his eyes. He can't reciprocate the eye contact and stares at your hand. You stop touching him, and he looks back up at you with sad, glistening puppy eyes. "I went through the list." Your eyebrows shoot up before you start scolding him. "The list??? I thought I told you to get rid of that thing? Satoru." When you first moved in with one another, you found his hit list full of people you used to talk to. He planned to kill them off one by one to have you to himself. You never truly got mad at him for it, because most of those people on the list genuinely were big pieces of shits that you wanted to burn in hell.....but technically it still wasn't okay for him to just do that behind your back.

"No, please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just-" you lightly push him off of your lap, which was basically his equivalent of being shoved off of a cliff and his heart drops when you stand up. "NO! No. Wait, baby, please. Let me make it up to you. Please don't leave me like this." He trips onto his knees but still makes record speed in crawling over to you. He grabs your closest leg and hugs it tightly. You could feel his cock(which was still out) rub against your pant leg. So dramatic, you think.

You look down at him, and he stares up at you with those stupid big blue eyes. "......" He takes your silence as his que to convince you. "I can make it better, look!" He shifts in front of you, still on his knees, and begins to unbutton and pull your pants down. You lose balance and stumble back into the dining table behind you, using it for balance as Satoru yanks down down your pants, his eyes staring at the goal.

"Satoru, what the hell are you doing?" Funny enough, your words contradict your actions, and you instinctually spread your legs farther apart for him to have more space in between. He grabs your legs and places them on top of his shoulders, and you scoot back onto the dining table for more comfort, cups and silverware clinking as you clumsily push them back.

"I can help like this." He pushes his tongue as far as he can past your lips, getting a strong first taste at your pussy. A firm and slow stripe from your hole up to your clit and you hiss, gripping onto the table. Satoru moans loudly and closes his eyes to enjoy himself as much as possible. He shifts impossibly closer to you, hugging your thighs to both sides of his face to be buried deep and makes out with your sensitive bud. You could feel him occasionally exhale his warm breath onto you before firmly flicking his tongue onto you again.

You begin whining at the waves of pleasure crashing down on you. Drool and your essence cover Satoru's chin. His cock twitches endlessly against the hardwood floor, more of his pre dripping onto it the more he gets you to moan. "Get up." His eyes snap open, and he pulls away to look up at you. Your fingers dig into his scalp, and you pull him up, earning a wince from him. He knows what you want and leans in to let you taste yourself on his tongue. In the middle of the kiss, he suddenly flinches at the feeling of your hand once again grabbing his cock. You separate the kiss and his gaze trails down to your pussy.

You took his cock head and pressed it in between your lips, rubbing it up and down against your entrance. Your eyes seemed to glisten in a way he hadn't seen in a long time and you maintained eye contact, whispering to him. "You gonna be a good boy and fuck me how I taught you?" Each word that slipped out of your lips was enough to make him insane, and he was ready to do whatever you commanded. He robotically nods and you laugh at his reaction.

You press a soft kiss to his chin, letting him spread your legs on top of the table. He softly spreads your lips and makes eye contact with your hole. Heat radiates from you and he soaks up every last bit of it. All he can see, think of, and hear is you. "Beautiful." He whispers underneath his breath. You caress his arm to snap him out of his mind and he leans down closer to you, his head now pressing to your entrance gently. "Please show me." And he takes it upon himself to shower you with the affection you deserve in hopes to satisfy you again.

Did I cook????? Cuz I feel like I wrote this way too fast.

[myjealouseyes]

pls more flirty harry i love him so much

(Chewing through the bars of my metal enclosure) of COURSE you can have more!

Harry whisper things in your ear even when you’re alone. Things he could have easily said out loud. He’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist just to whisper something like “I’m going to the store, do you need anything?”

Harry’s always watching you but not in a creepy stalker way. (Although it could be perceived that way with his unmoving unblinking stare.) he observes every move you make simply because he likes looking at you. And he’ll tell you that if you ask.

Love language is acts of service….he likes to do a lot of your mundane tasks for you. Tying your shoe, cutting and messuring ingredients while your cooking/baking, etc…

And if you’re hyper-independent it’s especially satisfying to him when you let him do things for you. He likes it when you get all huffy and start declining his help like “no I can do it” or “it’s just a little thing I can handle it” because he enjoys the way you melt when “I know but I want to do it for you.”

(Pretending to be normal) I just think he’s neat!

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations ❇️❇️❇️

Credit goes to my blog @astroismypassion

❇️Cancer Juno often has a nagging, a bit complaining partner that demanding. I think Cancer placements will do a lot of providing and effort, however they are even more demanding in return. They will keep you safe, as long as you are doing your own part of them, which is not always an easy task.

❇️I noticed people with Libra over the 4th house (also Libra IC, IC at a Libra degree (7, 19) tend to mingle with a lot of posh people at least at some point in life. Their friends might even consider the Libra 4th house native as posh. These people often either went to the top school in the country, had the opportunities to mingle with high profile people in their younger years.

❇️Capricorn over the 4th house and Capricorn over the 7th house are few of the most regimented people I've observed. They usually had a strict school schedule that they had to keep up with, lots of clubs and extracurricular activities. They also sometimes appear a bit socially awkward due to so many schedules, like you get the feel like the person was just busy a lot of the times and didn't have as much free time as perhaps others.

❇️Pisces Moon people, especially if it's also in the 12th house and Pisces IC people have a tendency to rely on assistance. Like someone from the family, a friend, a partner. They might have been a bit co-dependent on a parent. The parent might had the need to be wanted/needed all the time, so they did things instead of the child (the Pisces native). Which ended up making the Pisces native lost, disoriented and not having the know how when left on his or her own devices. Due to this early family pattern, they are often not aware of being prone to this dynamic even with closest friends or a partner.

❇️Saturn Juno all aspects, Capricorn Juno and Capricorn Moon are types to "be married to the job".

❇️People sometimes don't read Ascendant signs well. Ascendant sign very literally indicates people that will come your way throughout your life. If you are Cancer Ascendant, be sure that a lot of people with Cancer Sun/Sun in the 4th house/Sun at Cancer degree (4, 16, 28) will pass you in this lifetime. Even mundane as a cashier at the store, buddy on your volleyball team, a person who does your nails.

❇️8th house Synastry really gets you in your feels. You might not even view yourself as emotional or needy before, but then you unleash all your emotional nature and neediness at once on that person.

❇️Speaking of 8th house Synastry don't underestimate your 8th house sign. You might think you will experience 8th house type of connection only with your 8th house sign. If you have 8th house Taurus, you might have 8th house connection with Taurus Sun, but also with the opposite sign too, such as Scorpio Sun. You are very deeply fascinated by 8th house sign, but also the opposite sign too. So if you have Cancer 8th house, you are fascinated by both Cancer and Capricorn.

❇️If you have Aquarius/Uranus in the 8th house or Uranus Pluto aspect, the people you want to establish a deep trusted bond with, be physically intimate with, might instead want to make you their best friend. People really want to be best friend with you so you can stay in their life as long as possible. These natives might on the other hand be blessed with friends that they have known for decades, like 20, 25 years.

❇️People with Libra Mars don't have a hard time channeling heartbreak into artistic masterpieces.

❇️You could have Cancer MC with your first love in the Composite chart.

❇️Friends often vent to you about their partner or they come to you for partnership/love advice if you have Libra over the 11th house or Venus in the 11th house and Libra Fama.

❇️Whenever there is Moon in the 8th house in Synastry there is a lot of attraction in the early stages, but then one (usually the Moon person) ends up feeling inferior, especially due to 8th house person being so successful.

❇️I noticed it can happen that you come back together if you started dating someone during Venus retrograde. But it's more likely you don't get back together if you decide to break up during Venus retrograde.

❇️If you have Aries over the 7th house in your Natal chart you might always have new opportunities to gain more money right after ending a partnership. You come into more money right after ending a partnership.

❇️Venus retrograde in a Natal chart of a man points to him being let down by his partner.

Credit goes to my blog @astroismypassion

[russellsppttemplates]

Did you lose her? (Lando Norris)

Maybe it was never a change of heart

Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty with a happy ending, and it's also the first piece that's I've written that's based of a song, Stick Season by Noah Kahan. I hope I did it well enough! 🫶 also, it has smut, and if you have followed me for long enough, you know I don't usually do it, but I think it's these AUS pics 😮‍💨😌🥵

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: curse words, previous break-up and themes related to that, smut (mentions protected sex, hormonal contraception, praise kink if you squint at the whole thing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

Doing the food shop was one one of the mundane adult life tasks you actually enjoyed doing. You had some music on your ears and walked along the supermarket, making sure you weren't buying too much outside of your list.

Tomato sauce and two packets of the instant noodles for when you didn't feel like cooking or were in a rush, you told yourself as you browsed through the aisle.

The scent should've been the first give away, but lots of people wore the same perfume. However, not all of them had the characteristic underlying scent that to this day meant comfort.

"Y/N! I wasn't expecting to see you", Cisca said as he placed the item she took from the shelf on her shopping cart, "goodness, how long has it been since we've seen you?", she smiled sadly.

Five months, you thought. One hundred and fifty two days since you and Lando parted ways and you shipped your belongings back to England. You told yourselves it was amicable and that you'd still be there for eachother, but you had published your first article and he had started his season without the other by your side.

"It's been some time, yes. How are you?", you wondered, "we've been good, you know how busy it gets around this time of year. But Savannah had their little girl, Athena - let me show you a picture!", she scrambled her phone out of her bag.

"Oh, how cute!", you cooed at the little baby bundled up in a pink blanket, "Mila is such a good big sister, too!", she showed you a picture with the two of them in Lando's lap, the baby tucked safely into his chest as Mila seemed to be showing him one of her toys.

Gulping and swallowing the tears that threatened to fall, you looked up at her and smiled, "I'm glad everyone is doing good - send Oliver and Sav my congratulations!", you nodded, hoping she would get the hint.

Storing her phone back in her bag, Cisca smiled, resembling the smile that you woke up many times to, "I will, darling. All the best for you, hopefully we'll see you around", she said before rubbing your back soothingly.

You found an aisle without people and allowed yourself to cry. Just for a little bit before you had to go back to pretend it didn't hurt still.

And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

"I'm on the podium, dad!", Lando yelled as he hugged Adam, cackling in excitement as he hugged the team who were there to celebrate and congratulate him.

"Congratulations, baby!", you yelled as Lando turned to hug you, arms going around your waist and pulling you as close as the safety barriers allowed, clicking open his visor so you could look at your favourite eyes in the world.

"I love you so much, Y/N!", he yelled back, winking before he went up to get weighed in.

On the podium, he looked at you like you two were the only people there, smiling up at him as he blew you a kiss.

"I knew you'd be on the podium, baby", you smiled once you were back in his driver's room, "How are you so sure?", he wondered, kissing your neck soflty.

"The development they're doing, your talent, Lando, I knew it was going to happen, and from now on, you better get used to being up there every single weekend", you smirked, kissing from his throat to his jaw and up to his lips, humming when his tongue poked at your lips begging for entrance.

It was hot and he was sweaty. His phone read 4:30am as he stood up against the headboard, finding the light switch so he wouldn't walk around the hotel room in complete darkness.

It was the third night in a row you showed up in his dreams. The first time, it was subtle as he dreamed about flying on plane and he was sure you were there. The past two, however, had you in there as a main character. He dreamed of walking in the paddock with you, of having you there to comfort him and knock some sense in his head when his P4 in qualifying didn't feel enough, and now you were celebrating his podium.

It's weird how his brain went there, how his arms and face felt like they had truly been holding you despite not having done it in months. Muscle memory betrayed, he thought as he poured himself some water and took little sips of it as he looked outside the window.

Fuck, he missed you. And not just for these big moments where he was on a high and wanted to share it with you or when he was do low you were the only person that could make him crawl out of the dark hole he snuck himself into. It's when he's making his bed back home and the other pillow remains fluffed because no one's using it, it's the mug you left behind and he doesn't have the courage to send back to you or give to someone else or when he sees something that reminds him of you and he gets it, hoping one day he can get them to you.

You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

Lando sighed again as the call went to voicemail. It was the third time it happened in the last couple of hours. It was media day at Suzuka and they were having lunch.

"You know it's 3 am back in England, right?", Oscar asked bluntly, "when we were having breakfast, sure, you might have got hold of her if she was doing a late night, but I think you should wait", he reasoned.

Oscar was right. He didn't want to risk it waking you up even though he was sure your phone was on silent since you loved your sleep dearly.

"I hate this", Lando muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Oscar was aware of some of what had happened between Lando and you. The start of the season always came with new gossip and this one's was filled with rumours and conspiracy theories about the paddock's sweetheart and young couple.

Lando started driving in Formula One when he was nineteen, so they had seen his grow up through the years along with your relationship. At first, you were pinned down as his sister, then a best friend when they realised you didn't share genetics, and then you were his girlfriend. The lingering touches and big smiles they caught never rushed you to admit your feelings or put a label on your relationship, but everyone was there when you walked hand in hand on the paddock and confirmed the suspicions they had for months. Lando Norris and his best friend were in love and they all felt like proud parents as they watched you support him unconditionally every time you could.

"Did you lose her?", Oscar quesioned his team-mate as he picked on the food on his plate.

"I don't have her with me, have I?", Lando snapped and regretted it almost immediately.

Oscar put it down to tiredness, jet lag and the fact that he seemed a bit lost on how he was navigating the situation, "What I'm saying is, did you lose her? Did you do your absolute best to keep her with you?", he said sternly, "Used all of the options and possibilities and it still didn't work out? You don't lose someone because things fell apart in a stressful situation", he reasoned.

He was young but not dumb, truly.

"Feels like I have though", Lando added.

"What I'm saying is if you really want to know how she is and if you want to have an honest conversation with her, you have to make an effort. Not just calling and asking your mother to see if she's spotted her lately, or your sisters to check in your circle of friends whether or not she has moved on", Oscar lectured.

"Do you think I can do it? Do I have what it takes?", Lando confessed his doubts out loud. One of the reasons he had yet to act on it was because having a second chance wasn't for everyone and he needed to make sure it went perfect. You deserved that.

"You're a Formula One driver with deep pockets and a massive heart that still belongs to someone. What can't you do?", the young australian driver mused before he got up, taking his plate with him and leaving Lando pondering about what to do next.

I hope this pain's just passin' through

You sang loudly as you dusted the living room shelves, windows open to let the autumn air in. While cleaning wasn't your favourite thing to do, you had woken up with an urge to clean and given that it happened very rarely, you were taking it in stride.

So far, you found a receipt of a pair of jeans you were meant to return but gave your friends instead, a concert ticket and a bigger amount of dust than you'd like to admit. When you pulled the fabric strap, though, you knew that you wouldn't want to get rid of it. The lanyard belonged to one of the passes for one of the Grand Prix weekend you went to see Lando. Inspecting it closer, you realised it was his second home race, the Polaroid picture attached to it confirming the date.

It started with you joking about the fact that the pass was not the prettiest, so Lando hunted down the paddock to find a Polaroid camera, snapping a picture of you two and pinching a hole on it so you could carry it around and cover the supposed ugly pass. The photo was still intact, just a little dusty as you wiped it with your sleeve. Lando was kissing your cheek as you smiled impossibly big, eyes squinty and smile beaming because of the guy whose lips were on your cheek.

A single teardrop fell on the plastic covered paper before a few more followed as you sat down, looking at what you had once been and how things were right now. The missed calls on your phone led you to believe that maybe he still felt something too, but the potential heartache of trying again and it not working would hurt more than it already does.

The vibration from watch caught your attention as you read the two notifications. One from your e-mail with Qatar Airways written in bold and a text from Lando.

Qatar Airways

Thank you for choosing to fly with Qatar Airways!

Lando ✨️

I need you here with me, Y/N, please

I made the flight reservation for you, they will hold the ticket until two hours before the flight leaves, you just have to confirm with your passport ❤️

You promised me that I was more than all the miles combined

Heathrow Airport, 7th October 2023, 6:30 am.

You couldn't back out now, that would mean Lando would lose the money he spent to get you here in the first place. It wasn't by all means quiet, but your thoughts were loud enough.

You shouldn't be here. Why were you here? Why did you accept this, Y/N?

Because Lando needed you there.

Simple as that.

Boarding the flight, you smiled and thanked as the flight attendant pointed to the area where your seat was and where you would spend the next six hours and a half.

"I'm sorry, our seats are by the window", a woman in her thirties said as she bounced a little girl on her hip, making you get up so she could get to it, "thank you", she smiled, sitting down and buclking herself and her daughter to her body.

"Lyla, you can't go pulling on other people's clothes - I'm so sorry", she apoligised as the little girl pulled on your shirt's detailed button buckle.

"No worries, I know how restless they can get. You do the best for your baby. You're only responsible for yours and her emotions, no one else's on this plane", you offered her, remembering the times you would take flights and fully grown adults would go up to a stressed parent to let them know they could hear their crying child as if the parents themselves didn't know.

"My husband is somewhere in there, too", she chuckled, sometimes I feel I'm responsible for his too - accountantable in a way at least", she chuckled.

"You weren't able to sit together?", you wondered.

"My husband planned the weekend to go watch a race and come back, but we found some holiday days and we decided on a spontaneous trip. This was the only seat left they had", she explained.

"I can change seats if you want", you offered, "I'm flying on my own and I'll get to the destination all the same", you giggled.

"You wouldn't mind?", she asked, relief settling over her as she tried to see her husband, waving at him to come closer as you touched the button to call the flight attendant as the passengers were all sat down on your section.

"This lovely young woman says she doesn't mind switching seats with you", she said to her husband as you spoke to the flight attendant.

"No, there's no problem with that if you both agree", the flight attendant smiled as you got up, ignoring the frown on the man next to you who had to get up so you could swap, "bye bye, Lyla!", you waved at the little girl before her parents thanked you once again.

Finding your new seat, you put your bag under the seat in front and sat down, excusing yourself to the older couple next to you, "I just swapped seats with the gentleman that was here, I'm sorry", you smiled, hoping they wouldn't be too mad.

"Oh, he was able to sit with his family after all - I told you, Harold!", the lady winked at her husband, "I'm Francesca, you can call me Fran", she said sweetly.

Despite the early flight, they both seemed to be full of energy as they started telling you stories of their life and family, showing pictures of their kids and grandkids.

"One day you'll have all of that with the person you love, darling - if that's something you want, of course!", Harold peeped in, "our granddaughters are always telling me not everyone wants the same things!", he chuckled softly.

"It's okay - I would like that, actually", you smiled sadly as Francesca landed her hand on top of yours.

"Why does that sound like a confused heart, dear?", she commented, reading you like a book. The flight was closer to be three quarters of the way to the destination, so you still had some time to kill.

"A little bit; I'm actually flying over to see the person who still has this confused heart", you mumbled.

"Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, dear - something tells me he's going to 'unconfuse' your heart", she smiled, "tell me about him".

"Godness", you chuckled, "He's kind, respectful, honest, goofy, cute, charming, loving, he's all that is good. We just lost our way, I think", you recalled, smiling at the thought of him.

"You'll find it back, dear. Life has mysterious ways but it has the right ways - I like to believe it does, anyway", the older lady assured, squeezing your hand in hers.

Waving goodbye to Harold and Francesca when you found the taxi bay, you requested to be taken to the paddock.

When you got there, you payed the kind driver before he helped you take your suitcase from the boot, "enjoy the race!", he smiled.

You were thankful all eyes were on the track already, making you cross the whole paddock and step into McLaren's hospitality quickly after collecting your pass.

"Y/N!", Zak said as he was the first person to spot you, "you're here, you came!", he smiled, hugging you tightly, "we're all very happy you're here", he said as he asked one of the team members to store your suitcases somewhere appropriate before leading you to the corridor to the drivers' rooms.

"Lando is inside, and the race starts in less than ninety minutes, so you won't talk all you need to, but it's a good start", he said, knocking on the door before he left.

When Lando heard the knock, he hoped it was you. Sophie and Oscar were great people, but in the last hour, everytime he opened the door, theirs were the faces he saw instead of yours.

"Y/N", he welcomed you into his room before closing the door, "I hope it's okay that I flew you here, thank you for coming", he said as he hesitated on giving you a hug.

Taking a step forward, you laced your arms around his waist as he did the same around your shoulders, inhaling eachother's scent and feeling like a weight was lifted off both of you, "I missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered before you pulled apart.

"It's not the first time you've done that for me", you fumbled with your hands, "although I was very surprised. We haven't spoken to eachother in some time, Lando", you sterned.

"Not because I didn't try", he bit bat with an ironic chuckle, "Why did you come here then?", he defended, taking your words as immediate offense and not taking a second to process them properly.

"Because even though we're not together anymore, you matter to me. I care about you! I'm not sure what monster you depict me as or that you imagine I've turned into, but I wouldn't dream of wishing you misery! If you call me and tell me you need me here, I'll be here because I care about you!", you snapped, "you have no idea how many times I wanted to give up and cancel this! Why am I here, Lando?", you asked.

You didn't expect him to react that way, not that you had a much better reaction anyway.

"Fuck, this is not how we do this", you took a deep breath as Lando held your hands in his, mimicking your movements as he did the same. Three long deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that", Lando began, hands laced on yours still, "thank you for bring here, I needed you here because there's no one else in the world that can make me feel comfortable like you do, and I need that. I need to feel like myself - and I know it's a selfish ask to make you get up and drop your things to be here with me but-", you interrupted him.

"It's okay, Lando, you're okay", you cooed, searching for his eyes and hoping you'd get the message your mouth was failing to say through.

You pulled him to sit in front of you in the massage table, "I've been seeing all the podiums you've been getting - the team have done such a great job developing, and your talent and skills have brought it to the podium", you tried a lighter subject even though you were 99% sure of his worries.

"Oscar still qualified above me", he began, "He's a rookie and he's managed to do in months what I haven't done in five years", he allowed himself to express his feelings. After all, it was you.

"Oscar is not driving a tractor like you were", you shrugged your shoulders as Lando laughed.

"For someone who was invited last minute and got a pretty good pass, I'm not sure how the team would feel about you talking like that", he smirked, hand finding your own as he rubbed his thumb on your palm.

"I'm only telling the truth", you smiled, "and I mean it. I know how this sport works, but you shouldn't compare yourself to your teammate when the circumstances are so different", you mused.

"The team have been great and they still haven't said anything", he reasoned.

"Of course they haven't because it's something that happens, Lando. I was watching the highlights and so many drivers went over the limits because that's how this track goes", you stated, "there's only so much you can do and you shouldn't put all that pressure on yourself", you tsked, "I know you do, but you shouldn't", you smiled.

"You always know what to say, don't you?", he chuckled, "I have an inkling on how this here works", you winked and tapped his head with your free hand.

A knock on the door interrupted your moment as Jon opened it right after, "Lando, we need to start prepping for the sprint", he said before he turned to you, "Hi Y/N, good to have you back!", he smiled before he let you finish what you were doing.

"I should go, then", Lando trailed off, "are you going to browse around the paddock? I bet a lot of people miss you and your face here", he nudged.

"I came here for you, I don't care about anyone else", you smiled as you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek for a few seconds, smiling against his warm skin before grabbing your bag and walking out.

Most of the team must've known you were coming since not many of them took a second look whenever you greeted them or entered a different area.

One of the media girls got you a set of headphones as she stood next to you, Oscar and Lando getting ready to go to the track.

His routine hadn't changed as your eyes followed him while he got dressed appropriately and safely for the race.

Before Lando put his helmet on he looked back at you, winking and smiling when you winked back.

When the gap wasn't closing in, you knew Lando would be disappointed with P3, not because of the place itself but because his team-mate had done better.

As you moved to a better spot to watch the interviews on the media pen, your heart felt like someone was using it like a trampoline, jumping and stomping on it as Lando spoke about himself with such a negative tone.

Surely, the interviewers were fishing for answers with biased questions and his mind took him there.

As you waited for him to be back to the hospitality, you got yourself something to eat, realising you hadn't done it since the plane.

Lando was beating himself up and he couldn't shake the bad mood he was in even when he thought you had travelled to see him and be there for him.

As Sophie gave him a quick debrief about his interviews, he stepped into his driver's room so he could have a quick shower and then head to the team debrief.

"It wouldn't hurt going up to her, you know?", Jon told him, ready to take any harsh words first if it meant you didn't hear them.

"I know it wouldn't, I'm just going to eat something and then I'll join the debrief with the rest of the team", Lando mumbled as he walked up to you.

"Hey", he said sitting down on the sofa next to you.

"Hey, Lando", you said, testing the waters and approaching his body until you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You are going to get your win, Lando. It's going to be an amazing weekend and it's going to be your first. Surely important, but you'll be a race winner and go on to the next race", you said as he seemed to be unsure of the tone you were going for, "as that will be a big moment in a long career - because it won't define it - this doesn't define you either, as a person and as a driver", you concluded, hoping to bring a little bit of his confidence and self-esteem back up a little.

"And you're going to be there?", he asked. He was feeling like shit and needed to know. It wasn't fair, but he needed to know.

"I can't make promises like that, not before we speak properly", you remarked, looking up at him from where you were, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours, "do you want me to stay here or should I go back to the hotel?", you asked. It wasn't the right time or the right place to talk about it.

"Could you stay here, please?", he said as you took your book out of your bag, knowing it would run long and you'd need some entertainment as there was only so much catching up you could do with the team when they're suppose to be working.

"I will, then", you said as Lando took the plunge and kissed the top of your head.

Ten chapters and a tea later, Lando tapped your shoulders, "I'm finished, are we ready to go?", he asked as you got up accepting his hand to hold as you walked out of the hospitality, grabbing your suitcase from the storage room and bidding goodbye to the team.

"I couldn't get a separate room for you, but the room I'm staying in has this living room area and the sofa opens into a bed, they said it's really comfy and they also left an extra mattress topper and some blankets", Lando said as he drove, "in case you didn't feel comfortable, I- I just want you to feel comfortable", he emphasised nervously.

"Lando, you don't need to walk on eggshells, okay? It's me", you smiled reassuringly as he stole a quick look at you before focusing back on the road, "sounds like a nice solution, fine by me", you reassured him.

Leaving the car to the valet and taking the lift up with you, you stayed silent until you were inside the hotel room, "That's the bedroom area, bathroom's here - and it has a double sink - and then the living room", Lando patted the extra linen folded on the sofa.

"Thank you", you assented, "would you like to talk now or is it bad timing? You must be tired f,-".

"Yes, please", he agreed immediately sitting on the sofa and making room for you to sit in front of him.

"I don't know where to begin", you observed after a while, "it's been tough being without you - I have been so used to having you there for me and to be there for you that nothing quite has the same meaning. I can live without you - barely, but I can -, that's not the question, but I don't want to", you manifested.

"We ended things because we had to, and it did us both well to see from another perspective - that's what it felt for me anyway -, but I want to be with you and to have you with me", he elaborated, "I don't care if you have to spend more time back home because of the distance, or come with me to the races because of the distance, too, I-".

"It was never about the distance, Lando", you interjected. You both used that excuse way too many times but deep down you knew it wasn't because of it.

"We'll work it out then", Lando suggested, "we'll work on us because knowing eachother doesn't mean we don't have to put ourselves first and keep investing on our relationship. I value you so much Y/N, I love you so much and I want to do this right", he whispered as if he spoke any louder would disturb the moment.

"I love you too", you smiled as you laced your hands together, "we'll work on it, together".

It was already late so Lando offered you the bathroom so you could shower and do your night routine first and then make the sofa bed to your liking while he did his night routine.

"Good night, angel", Lando said after you hugged him goodnight, kissing the top of your head before letting you lie down first since the light on his bedside table was the only one illuminating the room.

After you cocooned yourself in the sheets comfortably, you spoke up, "Lando, I'm sorry I didn't answer back sooner", you apoligised.

"It's okay, love, you don't have to worry about that", he cooed softly and you could hear the smile on his voice.

"I know it's not, but thank you for making me feel better about it, goodnight", you smiled, feeling hopeful about it.

The next morning, you were woken up by the noise coming from the bathroom, assuming Lando was showering inside as you stretched, surprised at how well you slept. Maybe the bedding was genuinely nice, the sofa bed wasn't bad to begin with, especially considering the hotel you were staying in, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in months, you fell asleep knowing the person who your heart belonged to was more than happy to let you keep his, too, and he was in the same space as you.

"Good morning, beautiful", Lando smiled as he noticed you were awake already, "did you sleep well?".

"Good morning, Lan", you yawned, "I did, really well, actually. At what time do we have to be at the track?", you wondered. It was a night race, so the call up was later than usual.

"I'm leaving after breakfast, but you can stay and head there later if you want", Lando declared as you walked up to him, "I just need to freshen up and get ready", you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading for the bathroom with your clothes.

As soon as you arrived at the track, you took one of the back entrances as you knew Lando would spend some time with the fans and other drivers he bumped into, finding a nice spot on the lounge and going back to your book.

"I'm going to start race prep", Lando stopped by you in the lounge after a quick meeting, "I probably won't talk to you much until afterwards so I just came to check on you", he reasoned.

Getting up, you moved to one of the corridors, leaning up to kiss his forehead softly, "Good luck, my love, you're going to do so well, I know it", you smiled against his skin.

"I have my lucky charm with me", he smirked, kissing the top of your head before he got back to Jon.

From P10 to P3, Lando had an eventful race. Fortunately, and compared to the rest of the grid, he seemed to be doing fairly well as he stood in front of AC Units while replenishing the water he lost during the fifty-seven laps.

"I'm so proud of you!", you cooed as he got back to the garage, shaking hands with all the mechanics and engineers before he got to you. You hugged his sweaty body, not caring about it as long as you felt his close to you.

"They're postponing race debrief so I'm going to shower quickly and then we can get going, beautiful", he smiled, kissing a spot on your cheek very close to your lips.

Smiling giddily, you went to the bar area to get a bottle of water for yourself as Sophie walked last you, "seems like we will be seeing a lot more of you again soon - maybe Zak can also hire you as our lucky charm!", she winked as you shook your head, blood rushing to your cheeks at her words.

Back in the hotel room, it was your turn to freshen up and get ready to sleep. The spirits were high and you were feeling like the wait time was over. Your heart was healed enough as you sat on Lando's bed, "I'm so proud of you, you had an incredible drive tonight", you smiled as you moved closer to him as he sat on the edge, back against the headboard and one leg on the mattress while the other hung beside the mattress.

"It felt so good", he smiled, "thank you for supporting me", he cupped your cheek as he silently asked you for permission to kiss your lips. Lando couldn't waste anymore time as he pulled you to him so he could kiss you properly, your legs on either side of his as you straddled him, revelling in the feeling of being in eachother's hold as your hands played with his hair while his held your waist.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, I'm exhausted, baby", he rubbed your thighs, "it's okay, my love, I wasn't thinking of letting you do anything else anyway", you smiled, kissing his nose softly before you got on one knee so you could flop to the side and land on the mattress.

"Sleep here, yes?", he mused and you nodded, undoing the bed and getting under the sheets, his arm holding you to him and making sure he didn't let go.

As if you'd leave anyway.

4.30am and Lando woke up again. This time however, the sight he longed to see was right there. The you he had and had got back, cuddled up to his chest as your leg was hoisted up on top of his own and very close to his aching cock.

As he tried to change the angle so every time you moved, your smooth skin wouldn't pratically tease him, you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening as he tried to adjust your knee.

"Is everything alright, baby? Am I hurting you?", you said as you recoiled from his body.

"No, angel, no!", he quickly guaranteed, "I'm sorry I woke you up, it's just that your knee was very close to me and I was having a hard time dealing with it".

"A hard time indeed", you snickered as you felt his hard-on strained on his Calvin Kleins. Dating after being friends for so long brought an easy joking side to your relationship so much easier and funnier as you wouldn't get offended with most of what you said to eachother, "need help with that?", you smirked.

"But I wanted to treat you", Lando pouted, "Can I, gorgeous girl?", he whispered as he kissed up your neck once you whispered "yes", hands roaming on your body as he pulled up your nightshirt, finding your nipples and twisting them slightly to work your body up the way you did with his.

Your sighs and whimpers let him know he was doing a good job as undressed your torso, littering small kissed from your throat to your tummy, "you're so gorgeous, Y/N, I can't believe you're mine", he said as he blew a raspberry on your tummy, earning giggles from you before he licked up a stripe near your panties line.

"You know how much I like it when you wear your pink panties", he voiced as he touched you over the cotton fabric, feeling you pulsate already, "Do you like it when I tease you over your pink panties, baby?".

"Yes", you scrambled out betwen moans and deep breaths, "Oh my Goodness, princess", he cooed as you squirmed, "You want me to fill this pussy up?", he wondered as you let out a yes followed but a deep mewling sound.

"Let me take a little peek, then", as his fingers pushed the fabric down, a string of wetness caught in the material as he smiled, "Oh my Goodness, look at this pretty little pink pussy", he kisses your clit, "all of you, you're se beautiful, baby".

Rubbing the inside of your thighs with his thumbs, pressing the soft skin as he got rid of your underwear, "Are you going to let me fill you up?", he asked as he wouldn't do it without consent.

"Yes, please do it, Lan", you moaned, hand looking for his own to hold.

"You don't need to say please, my love - here", he whispered as he laced your hands together, "you'll always have me, you hear me? I'm yours, sweet girl", he smiled.

His hand that wasn't securely laced in yours helped you take his underwear off before he came back up to kiss your lips softly.

"Does it feel good when I tease your clit like that, gorgeous?", he smirked as he ran the tip of his cock in your sensitive bud, "Yes - uhg, baby", you gasped, looking into his eyes and swearing you could get lost in them had you not been in such a state of arousal as you were.

"You look so pretty like this, my beautiful, sweet girl", he praised as he saw your twitches and heard your moans at his words, "we need protection, though", he stated.

"I'm good, didn't see anyone else - you?", you wondered as he shook his head, "didn't see anyone else either - condom?", he asked, making you nod and separate so he could get it from his toiletries bag. Hormonal contraception left you feeling worse that it made your life easier, so you and Lando always used condoms.

Rolling it down his shaft, Lando climbed back in the bed and kissed your lips, adjusting himself before he entered you.

You whimpered as Lando slid inside you, a low groan escaping from his throat as he gently slid, taking your hand back in his and resting them next to your head on the pillow.

"You feel so good for me, sweet girl, so wet so warm, so good - aah", he breathed out, "so tight, my sweet sweet girl", he squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of your walls squeezing him.

You stretched your arm out enough to pull his face closer to yours, kissing his jaw and then his lips before whispering "you can move, love".

Lando pulled back slowly, thrusting in gently to begin with and savouring how you felt around him.

"I love you", you muttered into his neck between moans as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you faster, harder and deeper.

"I'm close", Lando groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, his hand crawling between your bodies and drawing lazy circles on your clit to get you to your release.

"Me too, feels so good, I feel so good", you moaned out, a high pitch one particularly when you felt the band was about to snap.

“My sweet girl, my beautiful sweet girl, are you going to come for me?”, Lando worked you up as your body started to show signs of it, "let go, my love, I'm here, I've got you”, he soothed, still gently rubbing your clit with one hand and keeping hold of the other.

Your back arched, sensitive nipples rubbing against his skin, as you came with a high-pitched whine, nuzzling your face on his thick neck as you came undone around him. Lando came soon after, his hand that was not holding yours groping your waist as he groaned.

“Good, sweet girl, that was good, you did so well for me. I’ve got you, it's okay", he assured as he felt you flutter around him, probably from overstimulation considering neither of you had been with anyone else and you hadn't slept a full night yet, the tiredness he felt also a cause for how quickly he finished.

Lando kissed your forehead sweetly before he pulled out, getting up and throwing out the condom on the bathroom bin before he cane back to you on the bed.

"Let's put this on, yeah?", he whispered soflty as he helped you put on his linen shirt, buttoning it enough to let you breathe but still feel hugged by the fabric, and then a clean pair of underwear he got from your suitcase.

Before he laid in bed with you again, he put on his own underwear, pulling you to his arms and then pulling the crisp white covers over you.

"Do you feel good, baby?", he asked once you were cuddled up to him, "yes, I do", you smiled, a mixture of post sex glow and being back in his arms.

"Thank you for not giving up on us, I love you, sweet girl", Lando said as he played with your fingers, bringing them up to his mouth so he could kiss every single one of them, "you're the best thing in my life", he mumbled, letting you drift off to sleep.

[ghostlywhiskey]

i fear that if i don't do the most mundane domestic tasks with price i might combust

i literally want it all with him. like when i say fuck men, john price is NOT included.

grocery shopping with him is the best because he takes care of grabbing most of everything. before you can even say you need something, he’s already five steps ahead grabbing that item. i’d like to think price is one of those guys who grills and can actually cook really well - falls into his dad tendencies/skills. i think when you’re dating & early in your marriage before kids, you’ll do a lot of the cooking; want him to relax when he’s back from missions. but after kids, he knows how exhausted you must be after taking care of the little ones, so he’ll take on cooking duties, etc. so you can have some time to relax.

when he’s home he likes to do upgrades around the house (the lawn, painting, building, etc.) you name it and he has done it. he’ll ask if you want to come with him to the improvement store; honestly, more so him saying he wants you to come. he wants your opinions on paint colors, knobs, etc. so, you’ll trail behind him as he leads you through the store. he’s asking you a bunch of questions to which you reply ‘i think that’ll look real nice, baby’. and when the shopping trip is over, you’re trotting in-front of him with bags carrying the lighter items while he carries bags of mulch. when you get back home, he’ll reach over to you in the passenger seat to cup the side of your face. “thanks for coming with me,” he murmurs, tugging you closer to give you a kiss.

sundays are reserved for cleaning; price takes care of the upstairs while you handle the downstairs. if there is one thing you’re thankful for about his military career it is the fact you can trust him being tidy and organized. he’s usually quicker than you since the upstairs doesn’t need so much help (before kids at least), so he’ll come down and help you. he’ll tease and keep telling you that you missed spots or you didn’t get a spot up higher than your reach; his excuse to pick you up. definitely the type of man who takes the cleaning rag, giving it a few spins before letting it smack against your ass. his smile when you turn to give him a look is plastered there every time.

in the morning he’ll cook breakfast while you sit on the counter, cup of tea or coffee in your hands depending on your mood. tired eyes slightly hooded from drowsiness still while you watch him cook. he’ll glance over at you, your sign to grab his own coffee mug thats sat on the counter next to your thigh. you hold it up for him to grab and he takes a quick sip before handing it back to you. one hand focuses on cooking while the other reaches for your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “grab the plates, please? should be done soon.” and you nod, sliding off the counter to get the plates so he can put servings for the both of you onto them. hands grab for his waist as you stand behind him, placing a kiss on his back as your way of saying thank you.

i’m so in love with john price it is sickening. help.

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤LOVE EYES

SUM. : you don't see it but the boys have love eyes for you

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; oblivious, innocent reader ; love eyes marauders ; sirius is a womanizer ; he doesn't care to notice though ; snack runs with sirius on his motorbike ; shoulder massages for remus ; james loves picking you up ; james is so silly ; domestic baking with james ; wolfstar moment ; lots of hugging

LENGTH : 2.7k

Sirius watches lovingly as you balance your laptop on your thighs and work through an essay you had to complete by the following week. When you had time away from final year lectures, seminars and practicals, you would usually occupy the private office and lounge room of the studio’s top floor in order to work through your uni assignments. The university libraries were quite suffocating in that they pressured you into unhealthy productivity mindsets, which often lead to unhealthy eating habits and a shortcut to burn out. However, you had found solace in the calm of the tattoo studio’s office that usually remained empty throughout the day when the boys were attending to clients. The calm silence was welcome and helped with your personal productivity and pacing of assigned workload. 

Usually, Remus would accompany you, doing mundane admin tasks that helped manage the parlour and its clients but he had to leave as he had several appointments today. You’ve made some decent headway with the essay in Remus’s absence and you were using some of the momentum to get even more ahead when you felt a familiar presence take a seat beside you before throwing their arm over your shoulders. 

“Hello, dollface,” Sirius whispers and presses a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“Hey Siri,” you acknowledge him with a sweet smile and tilt your head against him briefly before continuing with your essay. Focused with your brows furrowed and gently gnawing at your lip, Sirius silently admires your concentration; it looks good on you, a meritorious contrast to your usually soft features and expressions.

However, as much as he loves this side of you, he loves your attention more, “...are you really gonna just ignore me?” he whines in his usual playful manner, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

“Sirius, I have to finish this essay—”

“Not until the following week, so you have time right?” you don’t answer him. He was right but you still needed to work on the essay. Grumbling under his breath, Sirius leans his weight against you and sighs and huffs and whines in between minutes of silence. Even though this type of selfish distraction would typically irritate you, you know that you could afford stepping away from the essay so it was more than entertaining to hear his fussing. You also thoroughly enjoyed Sirius’s floundering and adorable attempts to guilt you into paying him some attention; it was almost adorable, like a puppy wanting attention. 

It wasn’t until Sirius gave a significantly frustrated whine that you exaggerated a sigh and saved your progress to close your laptop screen, “...I’m all yours, Sirius,” you finally conceded, reaching a hand up to lift his hair out of his face. 

With a wide grin, Sirius leans his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with content and satisfaction at having finally won you over, “Snack run?” at his suggestion, you almost jump out of your chair in excitement. 

“Yes please!” 

With perked ears, Remus and James smile to themselves at the sound of you and Sirius giggling down the hallway and outside to the leather-wearing tattoo artist’s motorbike. They knew you both made a ritual of going on snack runs for them and, although they appreciated the snacks, they adored your happy laughter echoing in the halls much more.

As Sirius helped gear the two of you up with a helmet for the ride, he whispered his usual promise of taking a longer route than needed to get to the store all while you spotted a group of girls eyeing him up from behind. They looked to be in high school and weren’t subtle about their puppy love for Sirius at all, ogling him with lovestruck doe eyes, whispering amongst themselves and playfully hitting each other’s shoulders over their musings. You couldn’t blame them for their admiration, simply because Sirius was very physically attractive, with his inked skin, sharp features, steel grey eyes, sultry hair, seductive smile, toned physique and nefarious leather fashion—the man embodied an elegant but evil beauty. And, when you got to know him, he became all the more attractive; he was just the perfect amount of chaos and sensual audacity to pair with the softest heart —a dream come true for girls, especially those in their high school years.

Nevertheless, their giggling and kittenish gossiping were like nails on a chalkboard to you, although, that may just be the excuse you came up with for what you were about to do next.

“Woah!” Sirius chuckles, his arms going up as you suddenly wrap your arms around his waist and hold him close, smiling smuggling into his white vest when the group of girls immediately silence their gossiping and giggling at the sight, “what’s wrong, dollface?” Sirius asks dotingly as he lifts your gaze up with a finger under your chin and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “feeling needy are we?” you pout at his teasing, which he laughs at and finally wraps his arms around your shoulders. One hand holds the back of your head and gently presses your face further into his chest, “anything you need, dollface… anything at all, I’ve got you,” he whispers and pulls away to stare fondly into your pretty eyes. You realise that, not once has he noticed the group of high school girls behind him, in spite of all their gossip and ogling. 

“Siri-”

“Such a pretty face,” he coos, lifting a hand to tenderly cup your jaw, “pretty eyes, pretty nose, pretty lips, pretty heart, pretty everything,” just so pretty… sirius completes in his head, resisting the urge to give into his desires and take from you something he knows isn’t meant for him but desperately wishes was his…

His stare lingers on your lips long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to verbalise as the leather-clad tattooist quickly places the spare helmet over your head. 

Remus groans gratefully as he tilts his head back with closed eyes, smiling at the giggle you emit, “That’s just what I need, dove,”

The tall brunette feels your gentle lips against his forehead for a brief moment and sighs pleasantly once more, “you need to better your posture when sitting Remmy,” you softly scold, continuing to massage his tense shoulders and the back of his neck as he slowly opens his eyes to admire you.

Ignoring your reproach, Remus loses himself in the feeling of relief easing into his tense shoulders and stiff neck through your pressing fingers and palms, “heavenly…” he utters in bliss. 

“Don’t ignore me, Remus,” your tone is a little more stern but rather than make him nervous, Remus continues to smile at you. 

“I assure you…” Remus turns his head and presses a kiss against the skin of your wrist, “that I never and will never ignore you, sweetheart,” his words and the look he gives you makes a heat crawl up your neck and spread across your cheeks. 

“Then tell me you’ll aim for better posture when sitting for too long,” at your request, Remus spins in his chain and pulls you close by the hips. His head is at level with your xiphoid process as he looks up at you with a relaxed smile. 

“You have my word,” he brings your hands from his shoulders, holds them together and kisses the knuckles that touch. Almost instinctively, you move your soft hand to hold his face and smile down at him from where you stood. 

It’s a promise he keeps as you often find him squaring his shoulders and straightening his back when sitting in the office too long. It makes your heart flutter to know that he was proactive with your advice but his shoulder massages didn’t stop, which he appreciated greatly. He never said thank you but he always kissed your hands, wrists and knuckles during or after you ease some of the tension off his shoulders and neck. 

“You truly are an angel,” Remus said one day as he buries his face into your stomach, arms wrapped around your hips as you softly squeeze at his shoulders, “James was right,” he chuckles under his breath which you join him with in a brief but twinkling giggle, “are you truly not hiding a pair of wings, dove?” 

“Nope~” you chirp with another giggle as he leisurely stands, pushing his chair away with the backs of his knees. Remus keeps you close, holds you closer even, and sighs into the crown of your head. 

“Lies…” you feel his big hands move up your back slowly, pressing his fingers into your taut muscles and arched spine as if to return the favour you’ve done for his rigid shoulders. Unable to help yourself, a soft sigh escapes you and you fall further into his embrace, “that…or you’re really good at hiding your wings —i feel nothing there,” with one final knead of his strong fingertips, he winks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, similar to the kind you often find in Sirius’s grey pools and James’s hazel jewels. Though different, they were all the same in other ways. 

“I guess you’ll never know,” was your impish reply not registering how Remus’s expression subtly softens into adoring fondness when continuing to stare down at you. 

It’s like she belongs there… Remus thinks to himself, playing with the ends of your hair while you turn your head to rest your cheek on his chest for comfort, perfectly suited to be in my arms.

“There you are!” James cheers with a laugh as you squeal in surprise. Not only did he sneak up on you but he had effortlessly lifted you into the air by your waist, a merit to his muscular physique.  

“James!” you laugh, hands on his broad shoulders as he spins you around, “Put me down!” grinning widely still, he carefully lowers you, grinning wider when your face gets closer and he can press a kiss to your cheek upon finally setting you down. 

“I have everything already, angel, ready to go?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” he links your arms together and leads the way to his and the boys' flat as you try to hold in your eagerness and nerves. 

The flat the boys share is more spacious than you expected, cleaner too, which you suspect is primarily because of Remus. You were shocked to find, however, that Sirius tended to be the clean freak out of the three. 

“I just grew up with clean habits, I guess,” Sirius quickly shrugs off your questioning eyes before ushering you into the kitchen where James was helpfully laying out all the ingredients the two of you needed in order to bake some fruit tarts together. 

“We’ll be in the living room if you need us,” Remus offers with a cordial smile. In his hand is a rather small book, though you’d guess it’s because his hands were so big that the book just looked petite. The pages appeared relatively worn, as if he had flitted through their pages multiple times already despite his pointer finger marking the page he was at being quite early on in the book. 

“With James in the kitchen you may be needing our help sooner rather than later—“ Sirius begins to chuckle but is forced out of the kitchen when James throws a rolled up kitchen towel at him. This makes you giggle as Sirius gives a shout of mock pain and makes his way into the living room with a journal full of sketches in one hand and a pen in the other.

“Right! Let’s get baking Jamie!” You chirp, missing the adoring eyes James looks onto you with, loving the nickname you call him by. Before the two of you get started, James helps tie up the back of your apron as well as your hair. Upon doing so, you do the same thing for him and he makes a show of asking you to tie up his hair for him despite its relatively short length. Even so, James got to work with a scrunchie holding up a small, short tuffet of hair —it made you giggle multiple times but James would just flutter his lashes at you comically and make you laugh even more. 

Regardless of the occasional shenanigans James pulled, the activity was very domestic and made your heart flutter in your chest, not realising that James was experiencing the same sensations ten-fold. 

Everything begins well enough with James obediently following your instructions, helpfully preparing the dough before moving onto the pastry cream. It was when you had to prepare the summer fruits while blind baking the pie crust and chilling the pastry cream that things became a little more chaotic. James had innocently offered you a slice of a strawberry and enjoyed your elated reaction so much that he started feeding you an entire array of fruits. Fearful that there won’t be anymore fruit for the tart, you begin to pull away from James’s kind offerings. 

“Come on, princess,” James pleads with you, offering up a small slice of mango, “one more, you look so cute when you chew your food,” he coos adoringly as you bring your hands up to cover your cheeks and pout at him. 

“James you better not—“ 

“You’re like a baby chipmunk!” He offers the mango once more but you quickly run away, which initiates a playful chase around the kitchen island. A mischievous look is sparked in James’s eyes as he laughs at your feeble attempt at running away from him. He plays easy with you, however; he doesn’t want the game to end too soon.

“James is at it again…” Remus chuckles and sets his book aside to sink back into the sofa, smiling at your squeals of fun from the kitchen.

“Trying to read was a lost cause, Moony,” Sirius laughs to himself, a warmth blossoming in his chest at the sound of your joyful activities. Nevertheless, he continues to sketch in his journal of potential tattoo compositions for a client, “we both knew this would happen,” 

“Which is why,” Remus stresses, “I chose a book I’ve read multiple times already,” 

Sirius looks up with a smirk, “always such a smartass,”

“You love this smartass,” Remus shoots and leans over to kiss the tattoo artist sweetly with light fingers lifting his chin up. 

“I’m not denying that…” Sirius answers with a smirk before realising that the noise had significantly died down in the kitchen. They didn’t have to wait long until it began once again, however. 

“James stop!” You squeal in delight and laugh airily. 

James swings you around and places you on the kitchen island, not too far away from where the pie crust was cooling off on a drying rack. Standing between your thighs, he holds you in an embrace and laughs into your shoulder, “I caught you, love,” 

“You have an unfair advantage,” you huff with a pout that doesn’t linger for very long when you lean back to adjust James’s glasses with a soft smile. Loving the gesture, James squeezes his arms around you and a dopey grin stretches across his face. He’s the image of bliss and summer fun. 

“Not true…deep down, it’s you who has an unfair advantage over me,” and on Sirius and Remus too James was tempted to add but neglects to when he is overcome with the urge to kiss your cheek at the sight of your loveliness, head slightly tilted, lips adorning the sweetest smile and eyes alight with boundless mirth. 

As the three admire you from their seats on the sofas, they share a similar look. All smiling with a hidden secret as their eyes twinkle with agreement. Many times they’ve discussed their relationship with you, knowing full well that they wanted the same thing and that there wasn’t a chance on earth they’d let you go without a fight. 

It’s too cruel to have met a sweetheart like you only to have you drift away so easily. You bring about a softness in them that is typically hidden away, masked by their inked skin and piercings. You are a missing piece and an essential cog in their system that they can no longer live without. 

“Tea’s ready!” you call and turn to them with a tray loaded with mugs of the steaming beverage accompanied by biscuits and cookies. Their gaze isn’t on the tea, however, it’s on you. And their eyes are flooded by a feeling that can only be love. 

A/N : i have several requests for this au but i need to do a little build up on the storyline first, hopefully my lovely requesters don't mind the wait and that this can satisfy you for now (┳Д┳)

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @justkiyomi @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic

[slytherin-pen]

The Nesting Fox

After five years of being mated, you and Lucien are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first litter. As you enter the seventh month of your pregnancy, Lucien returns home from his Emissary duties to find you meticulously rearranging the baby's room, consumed by the need to prepare the space for your growing family. Sensing your stress, Lucien takes it upon himself to ease your worries by drawing a warm bath for you and offering comforting words to soothe your nerves.

pairing: Lucien x Reader

word count: 3.7k

all ACOTAR related credit goes to SJM

warnings: none/ fluff vibes only 🤍

A/N: i had writer’s block for a bit so i missed Elucien week but i started this with the theme in mind last week 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy fluffy future-dad Lucien

As the warm afternoon sun painted the cottage in a golden hue and gently streamed through the windows, you hustled about, checking off tasks from your never-ending to-do list. Your little kit wasn't due for another two months, but time seems to go too fast and too slow while pregnant. You know you have all the necessities and have their room prepared, but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling that there’s still more to do, leaving you restless.

Your best friend Mor has been taking you shopping for baby items and garments to replace your weekly pre-pregnancy coffee dates, and despite your complaints about the extra laundry, you do love spending time with her, however it may be. With your family living in the Night Court and you being heavily pregnant in the Spring Court, it’s easy to feel lonely, but Mor winnows in and catches up with you as if you never left. Aside from her visits, you keep busy preparing for the baby’s arrival by repeatedly cleaning and shuffling things around until it's just right.

Today's list of tasks includes organizing the new clothes in the baby’s dresser, dusting—a task that seems pointless in the Spring Court—and baking snickerdoodle muffins because the baby wants snickerdoodle muffins.

Lucien has had to remind you numerous times to take it easy. He frequently comes home to find you doing something you are not supposed to and swiftly ushers you to a chair. Pregnancy has not been the kindest to you, but you haven’t let it slow you down yet. You wouldn’t be his relentlessly energetic mate if you just sat around doing something mundane like knitting.

Before discovering you were pregnant, you and Lucien spent your days outdoors or traveling across Prythian and the Continent. You were far from being a passive couple. Besides, the basket storing away the yarn and needles became riddled with dust ages ago. It was a lovely gift from a Lord in the Day Court after your wedding ceremony inside the palace, but the longest you’ve sat still was when your previous High Lord, Rhysand, let you hold his son Nyx during a casual meeting in the River House. Babysitting Nyx occasionally has helped ease some of your worries about becoming a mother. Still, your mind was in a constant war between being confident in your abilities and thinking the absolute worst would happen and you would fail at being a mother.

Lucien has been your unwavering support during the most challenging days, helping you combat negative thoughts. He reminds you to breathe and trust that both of you will be loving, nurturing parents. You don’t know if it’s just everyday prenatal stress or the hormones making you an anxious, compulsive mess, but Lucien has remained his kind, witty, and ever-attentive self. He always knows what you need, whether you are cleaning the house inside-out until your feet swell or crying and raging about being out of sugar, and now ‘the baby will be sad.’ He bites down his retort about the baby's inability to conceptualize anything about the situation every time. Instead, he holds you, massages your feet, and goes to the shops as soon as they open.

When you first found out you were pregnant, it was after a trip to the Summer Court with Lucien as his plus-one on an emissary trip. The two of you had dined on shrimp and pasta among Tarquin and his courtiers. After dinner, Lucien attended a private meeting with Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian while you returned to your shared suite. As you bathed and got ready for bed, you noticed you felt nauseous but thought you must have overindulged during dinner. You had just opened your nightly read when the urge to vomit was too strong to swallow down. You ran to the toilet and heaved until there was nothing left. Afterward, you brushed your teeth and requested a servant bring you a cup of ginger tea. You didn’t initially tell Lucien for fear he would fuss over you instead of focusing on why you were in the Summer Court. You had hoped an ingredient just didn’t settle well with your stomach and you would feel better shortly.

The trip lasted for three days, and as per Summer Court, every dish contained seafood. After each meal, you found yourself in the nearest bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten. Lucien became concerned, noticing that you would run off, but you assured him you were fine and that the spices were giving you an upset stomach. He gave you a skeptical look, not believing your excuse due to your frequent travels and exposure to various cuisines. Still, he accepted you were keeping your bathroom habits private, as any gentleman would.

When you touched down in the Spring Court, and Lucien ran off to meet with Tamlin, you found the nearest healer. Something was wrong. You loved seafood. Not every Summer Court dish is delicious, particularly the scallop omelet, but shrimp was one of your favorites, and you threw it up every time. The meals made you sick after you ate, and the smells began to nauseate you as soon as they appeared on the table.

You were shocked when the healer informed you nothing was wrong but that you were pregnant. Your mind became a torrent of different emotions: fear, excitement, hope, and more fear. You and Lucien had stopped taking contraceptive tonics years ago with the knowledge you could become pregnant, but something about it happening made you question everything. Were you ready for a baby? What if Lucien changed his mind and didn’t want children with you? Would you be a good mother? The internal turmoil had paralyzed you, rooting you to the ottoman before the fireplace. That’s how Lucien found you after he met with Tamlin, and he knelt by your side, asking you what was wrong. You hesitated initially, but Lucien whispered encouragement in your ear, and you eventually told him you were pregnant. His gold and russet eyes lit up joyfully and immediately soothed your worries. He assured you he still wanted children with you— lots of them, even–that you would be the best mother, and between his salary and both of your families, obtaining everything the baby would need would be no problem.

A few months into your pregnancy, you and Lucien went on ‘Tour De Baby,’ as he called it, celebrating the news with family and friends. The two of you attended a formal dinner with Tamlin, and Helion and Lady Autumn hosted a baby shower. Eris insisted on visiting him and the hounds so they could ‘learn the kit’s scent,’ and your family in the Inner Circle guided you and Lucien on a rare, non-alcoholic night out through Velaris. Seeing your families so excited to meet your little one made your heart swell with adoration and gratitude. Even if your family was spread across three courts, your baby has a formidable village of warriors and High Lords who loved them endlessly, and that was more than you could ever ask for.

The tantalizing scent of snickerdoodle muffins baking in the oven filled the cozy cottage as you set out to rearrange the baby's room. As you surveyed the room, you realized the crib was too close to the window. What if the moon's light wakes up the little one? You quickly decided to move it. Then, you noticed a framed picture precariously hanging above the changing table. You couldn't risk it falling and hurting the baby, so you made a mental note to relocate it as well. As you stepped back, you noticed that the dresser seemed slightly off-center, prompting you to adjust its position.

Lucien heard a distinct dragging sound across the wooden floor as he walked through the front door. Curious, he followed the noise and poked his head into the room. "Release the dresser immediately," he demanded, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly are you up to, my sly little fox?" A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed your blush.

“I was just tidying a few things up,” you replied sheepishly, putting the dresser back on the ground.

With a playful smirk, he hoisted the dresser and carefully set it in its new spot, perfectly aligned against the wall. Sauntering over to where you stood, he took hold of your hands and teased, "Is destroying our poor floors your idea of tidying up?”

You inhale sharply, glancing around the room and blinking back tears. “I just want everything to be perfect,” you whispered.

Lucien’s face softened with understanding as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping one arm around your waist and cradling your head with the other. “I know, my love, but do you know what I want?”

“For your mother to send me her apple pie recipe?”

He chuckled before shaking his head. “I’m not opposed, but no. I want you to be healthy. I want our baby to be healthy. And then I want all of us to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The dam of tears you held back burst as you listened to your partner's sincere words. “I feel like there’s so much left to do. I know we have gotten so much done, but I can’t help but stress about what else we can do,” you whined.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Perhaps you subconsciously feel the more work you find, the more ready you will feel, but that is not how it works, unfortunately. We still have two months left, but I promise you we will be ready. You are ready. I have complete faith that you will be a natural once our kit is born. As for being physically ready, you’ve handled it all, my love. All that shopping with Mor and planning lists with Feyra paid off. I told you to leave some work for me,” he winked.

You snorted, smacking his chest lightly. “You’ve hardly let me do anything. You made me sit in that chair,” you pointed to the rocking chair in the corner, “while you built the crib, installed the bookshelf, and made me stay at Tamlin’s manor for two days while you painted the room.”

“Technically, it only took one day to paint and one more for the fumes to air out,” he quipped.

Before you could roll your eyes, the smell of burning cinnamon hit your nose. “Muffins!” You turned away from Lucien and waddled quickly towards the kitchen.

Lucien laughed as he followed after you. “I was wondering what sort of concoction you had brewing in there.”

“The baby asked for snickerdoodle muffins, and what kind of mother would I be to deny my child before they’ve even left the womb?”

“Ah yes, this telepathic connection between the two of you. Pray tell, what else does our little kit ask for,” he asked, leaning on his hands, watching you from across the island that separated you as you pulled the muffin pan out of the oven.

Placing the pan on the counter, you hummed before looking up at Lucien. “Well, since you’re asking,” you smiled deviously, “a nice warm bath complete with a massage. And chocolates.”

He licked his lips as he moved closer to you. “I can’t deny my child before they’ve left the womb, now can I? I shall run you a bath this instant.”

You giggled as he kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your belly before leaving the room. Staring at the muffins on the counter, you couldn’t resist eating one while they were fresh and steaming right in front of you. The crumbs of cinnamon and sugar crunched between your teeth as the bready muffin melted on your tongue, and an involuntary moan escaped you. Your baby may not be born yet, but they certainly have good taste in pastries.

“My love,” Lucien called. “I have a warm, lavender-scented bath ready for you.”

“Coming,” you mumbled, swallowing the last of the muffin before rounding the corner and trailing after Lucien.

As you walked through your bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom, you practically groaned in pleasure at the sight. Steam rose from the clawfoot tub, courtesy of Lucien’s heating powers, and bubbles covered the water's surface. You slipped off your clothes, and Lucien held your hand as you entered the tub. He quickly followed, chucking his clothes onto the floor next to yours.

You leaned back onto his chest as he sat behind you, thick, muscular thighs caging you in between them. “This is nice,” you sighed. The bubbles came up to your breastbone as your body slumped against his, but your bump protruded slightly out of the water's comforting warmth.

He hummed in agreement, grabbing a folded washcloth and submerging it in the water before gingerly running it across your arms. “It is the least you deserve,” he murmured. “I cannot thank you enough for carrying our child.”

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me, Luc. I love you, and I love our baby. I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know you do,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I also know being pregnant is no easy feat. First, there was constant nausea and vomiting; now, it’s insomnia, swelling, and back pain. Not to mention the mental toll it takes on you, worrying day and night about what our baby will need, and as much as I hate that you’re so worried, your concern is how I’m sure you'll be a wonderful mother.”

“You can't know that,” you grumbled. “Preparing for it and living it is not the same thing.”

Lucien lathered shampoo in his hands and began to scrub your scalp. “Perhaps, but after believing Beron was my father for most of my life, maybe I’m just content in knowing we can love our child without that monster looming over us. Knowing I will never be like him and you, being an angel sent from the heavens, I think we’re quite set. All I ever wanted was for my future children to be safe, especially in their own home, and they will be.”

You sighed as he rinsed the soap out of your hair, one hand shielding your eyes from the suds. “That is a perspective I haven't considered. I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t apologize, my love. I only mentioned it because I want you to feel as content as I do. I don't want you spending your first pregnancy fretting over the little things when what's most important is that both of you are okay. We don't know what the future holds, and things could change in the blink of an eye, but in the meantime, I want us to love each other and enjoy ourselves while our kit gets ready for their debut.”

You intertwined your hands with his as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. You always know what to say to bring me back to Earth. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas. Starting with rearranging this house until labor forced you to stop, you stubborn female.”

A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned further into Lucien’s chest. “The day can not come soon enough. My back might break if my stomach gets any bigger.”

Lucien chuckled as he caressed your bump with his large palm. Despite how huge you felt, his hand could still cover the top of your stomach, reminding you that you were, in fact, not actually the size of a mammoth. “I hate to tell you that our little fox is not done growing and will get bigger, but-” he leaned over your shoulder to kiss the bump, “I can assure you that you are unbreakable, my brave and resilient mate. Pregnancy is nothing compared to the battles you’ve overcome, but after this battle, we will be blessed with a precious baby in return, and they will be ours to cherish alone.”

You craned your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re going to have to share them every now and then, you know that right,” you teased.

A soft growl rumbled through his chest before he nipped at your nose, eliciting your squeal. “We don’t have to do anything. We could hide in the woods and live like cave dwellers. No one could make us leave.”

“Well, technically, Tamlin could, being High Lord and all.” You trailed off as he began to leave kisses along your neck.

Lucien hummed, the placement of his lips on your throat sending vibrations coursing straight through you. “I’d like to see him try. I do believe he owes me, coming back to help him repair his court and all,” he teases.

“Would he be grateful enough not to mind his Emissary and wife living in his woods like animals? We might scare the villagers.”

“Darling, if the villagers can’t handle two Fae harmlessly prancing about the woods, they are in the wrong court. Their High Lord turns into a beast, for cauldron's sake.”

You laughed, clenching your eyes shut and squeezing your thighs together lest you pee yourself. “I can’t believe I forgot that. My stupid pregnancy brain has me forgetting everything, including changing out my slippers for shoes before leaving the house. I was halfway to town before I realized.”

"Was that the day you asked me to go to the shops for more strawberry jam after you had said you were going to fetch it yourself," he chuckled.

“Yep,” you grimaced. “I had to turn around. That was a whole trip in itself. No way I was walking back to the shops.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I told you to take it easy, not run around town like a headless chicken.” You smacked his arm for referring to you as a chicken, and he kissed your cheek in apology. “I will handle the shopping from now on. You needn’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

“Oh, so now I have a head?”

“You’re a wicked thing when you want to be.” He rose from the tub, reaching for the towels before stepping onto the rug. “Come on out, love. The water is getting cold, and I still owe you a massage.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” your eyes brightened as you took his hand and let him wrap you in a soft, fluffy towel.

You held hands as the two of you walked into your bedroom, cast in the warm glow of flickering candles. Lucien changed into sleep pants while you slipped on a silk nightgown. You sat down at your vanity, and before you could reach for your hairbrush, Lucien grabbed it. “Let me,” he murmured.

Smiling at him appreciatively over your shoulder, you nodded and closed your eyes as he gently brushed through your hair. He was careful to start at the ends with light strokes and work his way up to your roots, mindful of how fragile hair can be while wet. Starting at your hairline, he separated your hair into three sections and began to tie your hair into a french braid. It became your favorite way to style your hair for bed due to all the night sweats you’ve had during pregnancy. Sleeping while pregnant was still uncomfortable, but getting all your hair off your neck helped tremendously with not overheating at night.

“So beautiful,” Lucien whispered, trailing his fingertips down your arms. You made eye contact with him through the mirror and couldn’t stop the blush that crept upon your cheeks. “Let’s get you in bed now, my love.”

You let him lead you to the bed in the middle of the room and watched him pull back the covers. He sat down first, to your surprise, and patted the spot between his legs. You giggled but situated yourself between his thighs and pulled the covers up to your waist.

“First, the chocolate I promised.” He handed you a bowl of small rectangles of dark chocolate. You moaned and popped a piece into your mouth as you grabbed the bowl and placed it in your lap. “Now for that massage,” he leaned over to the side table and picked up the bottle of oil, shaking a few drops on the palm of his hand and rubbing them together. You pulled your braid over your shoulder and let the straps of your nightgown slip down enough for Lucien to access your back. “Where does it feel the most sore?”

“Along my spine and lower back,” you replied, chewing another piece of chocolate.

He hummed in acknowledgment and began to massage your back. Starting at the top of your spine, he ran his knuckles down your back, releasing the tension with his motions. He moved on to massaging circles into your lower back with his thumbs, and the pressure was heaven-sent in such a sore spot.

You don’t know how long you sat there feeling every ounce of love and care he put into relieving your pain. Your eyes remained shut, and you’d never admit that you may have dozed off a couple of times, only once or twice, with a piece of chocolate in your mouth.

After the massage, you leaned back onto his chest, placing the chocolates and oil back on the table, and he wrapped his arms around your bump to lift it. He dipped his chin down to your shoulder and kissed your neck softly. “Does that feel any better, darling?”

Exhaustion consuming you, you could only hum and nod. Lucien chuckled, turned off the flames with a snap, and shifted your bodies so that your head rested on his chest as he pulled you into his side. “Goodnight, my love,” he kissed your temple. “And goodnight, my little fox,” he splayed his hand on top of your bump and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles as you fell asleep.

[pretzel-box]

Hello!! I dont know if your requests are still open but if they are can you do one where sebastian realizes his feelings for reader? If your requests are close you can ignore this i love your writing

Mesmerised

words: 1k

tags: love at first sight, sebastian crushes on you

authors note: I kinda made it into a first meeting scenario, where Sebastian falls in love with reader without knowing them

if you want a friends to lovers type of thing just send another ask❤️

One thing that Sebastian had quickly figured out in the Hadal Blackside was that resources were rare and had immense value. The best source for them? His own customers—unfortunate souls who met their end at the hands of nearly every danger the abyss had to offer.

He didn't need to worry about Pandemonium or Wall Dwellers; most visitors sent by Urbanshade died to mundane things like a brightly burning door or a gas leak in a pipe. To Sebastian, they were nothing more than loot bags, ripe for the picking. He never even had to stress about them getting their hands on the silly crystal. At this rate, they’d all be dead long before they got close.

Tonight, he was out on a routine scavenging run, roaming the dark hallways after spotting an angler rush by. His eyes, perfectly attuned to the darkness, quickly picked out a lifeless corpse lying on the wet ground. Poor guy, Sebastian mused with a smirk, must be embarrassing to die to something so simple. 

He didn’t waste time, immediately crouching down to collect the scattered belongings. Among the items, he found a blacklight in good condition. That would fetch a decent price. He was so absorbed in his task, so confident and sly about securing new items for his store, that he failed to notice a pair of curious eyes watching him from the shadows.

“It’s not healthy to look at things in a dark light,” a voice said, startling him. You turned on your flashlight, aiming it just low enough so as not to blind anyone. You'd learned that lesson the hard way with your now-deceased teammate.

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat as you stepped into the dim glow, unbothered by his monstrous appearance. You were a striking contrast to the grim surroundings—calm, almost serene, as if this hellish place had nothing left that could surprise you. You offered him the flashlight, your expression unreadable.

“No need,” Sebastian muttered in his usual grumpy tone, not expecting to be caught in the act, especially not by someone like you. He raised one of his three arms, switching on his anglerfish lure to get a better look at you.

The soft, eerie glow illuminated your face, and for the first time in a long while, Sebastian felt something strange stir in his chest. You didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil in disgust or fear as most others did. Instead, you met his gaze with steady, almost curious eyes.

In that brief moment, Sebastian found himself captivated. There was something about the way you stood there, unfazed by the corpse, by him, by everything that should have sent you running. Your calm demeanor, your willingness to hand over your flashlight without a second thought, it all left him feeling... something. Was this what they called love at first sight?

He’d always thought it was nonsense, a ridiculous human sentiment that had no place in a world as brutal as this. But now, with you standing there, looking at him with an unreadable expression, he wasn’t so sure.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the unfamiliar feeling. “You’re awfully brave, aren’t you?” he said, his voice gruff but lacking the usual edge. “Walking around here alone. Don’t you know this place is dangerous?”

You shrugged, your gaze never wavering from his. “Dangerous, sure, but I’ve seen worse. Besides, I’m not alone, am I?”

That simple statement caught him off guard. Not alone. Did you really mean him? The idea of someone seeing him as anything other than a monster, let alone company, was new. Unsettling, even. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Sebastian straightened up, awkwardly holding onto the blacklight he’d just looted. “Well, you should still be careful,” he grumbled, trying to mask his flustered state. “Not everyone’s as... understanding as me.”

A small, almost playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Noted. But I think I can manage.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire your confidence. There was something magnetic about it, something that drew him in despite himself. He found himself wanting to know more about you, to understand what made you so different from the others who came through his shop.

“So, what brings you out here?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going, though his usual gruffness couldn’t completely mask the curiosity in his voice. “You don’t exactly look like the looting type.”

You glanced down at the corpse, then back at Sebastian. “Just exploring for something. This place has a lot of... mysteries. Thought I might find something interesting.”

“Mysteries, huh?” He couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “You’ve definitely found something. Not sure if I’d call it interesting, though.”

Your smile widened just a fraction, and Sebastian felt his heart skip again. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He was a shopkeeper, a scavenger, not some lovesick fool. But there was no denying it—he was drawn to you, and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Maybe I’ll find something even more interesting next time,” you said, your tone light, almost teasing. “Who knows?”

Sebastian found himself nodding before he could think better of it. “Yeah... maybe.”

As you turned to leave, he couldn’t stop himself from calling out, “Be careful out there. And if you ever need... supplies or anything, my shop’s just down the hall.”

You paused, glancing back at him with that same unreadable expression. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, your voice soft but clear.

And with that, you disappeared into the darkness, leaving Sebastian standing there, holding a looted blacklight and wondering what the hell had just happened. 

“I should have asked for the name…”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sebastian felt a strange flutter of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was something worth more than all the loot in the Hadal Blackside. And with such a cute prisoner in the hallways, he might feel generous enough to leave you the one or other discount. 

[lxvemaze]

shinee bf! headcanons

pairing: ot5!shinee x reader

tag: fluff!!

warnings: n/a

a/n: this is my first time writing in this format, so pls show this some love if you like it !!

more under the cut!

⚝onew

quietly attentive. he doesn't often tell you how much he loves you, but you can see it through his actions. NEVER lets you pay for dinner. he's always sneaky about it, but even if you put your card down, he subtly exchanges your card with his so you don't have to pay a single cent. he's always interested in what you're doing! even if you're just reading a book on the couch or doing your makeup, he's watching attentively and asking questions. he loves to listen to you talk about your day. as soon as you come home from work or from a day out with friends or family, he's asking you how your day went, what you did, if you had a good time, etc. he wants the details, too. so don't leave anything out! he just loves spending time with you. you could be doing the most mundane tasks, and he'd be looking at you with the most loving face. seriously, you could just be like, cleaning the fridge and he'd be staring at you like 🥹 overall, jinki is the most attentive and loving boyfriend you could ask for<3

⚝jonghyun

very loud about his love for you! words of affirmation are 100% how he shows his love in your relationship. you could have just woken up, crust in the corners of your eyes, your hair a mess, stinky morning breath, and creases on your face from laying on the pillow, and he'd just be like "you're so pretty :3" like, omfg. he loooves showing you off, but still likes to keep your relationship private. it's very conflicting for him. he loves taking you to dinner with his family! he loves to watch you talk with his mom while making food and drinking wine. i think he'd like to let you lead the way in the relationship, just so he knows that you two are always doing things that you love and are comfortable with. but!! if you don't feel like making the decisions and just want him to take you out and make the decisions, he's more than happy to do so! he just wants you to be happy :))) overall, jjong wants you to feel as happy, loved, and comfortable as possible in the relationship! (literally my dream man 😔✊️)

⚝key

kibum loooves going out and showing you off !! but unlike jonghyun, he doesn't gaf about keeping your relationship private- he wants everyone to know that you're his and he's yours! will spoil you to no end! you two could just be walking down the street, and you'd point out a cute skirt or something in a store window, and he'd immediately walk in to buy it for you. he treats valentines day like the most important day of the year. he'll pull out all the stops- breakfast in bed, gives you little presents throughout that day, takes you out for a FANCY dinner (probably reserved the whole restaurant for a few hours just so you two would be the only ones there), he even picks out your outfit and jewelry for the day so you two can match. speaking of which!! he loooves wearing matching outfits! not in a tacky, literally wearing the exact same clothes kind of way- but a "classy" matching. like, wearing the same color scheme. just something subtle as another way to show the world that you two are together. in conclusion: kibum is quite literally obsessed with you, and he wants EVERYONE to know it.

⚝minho

immediately obsessed with you from the beginning of the relationship! he is the single most husband-material man in the world, idc. will make you breakfast in bed as often as he can! even if you guys don't live together, he'll literally doordash a breakfast burrito or smth to your house just so he's sure you eat something in the morning. probably starts looking for rings just a few months into the relationship- but he won't tell you that bc he doesn't wanna freak you out. he's so sure that you're THE ONE, though. acts of service is 100% his love language. he just likes doing the little things for you! whether it's hanging up your jacket when you come home from work, washing the dishes, or learning how to make your favorite food, he's more than happy to do it! probably learns how to braid your hair! idk, i just feel like that's something he'd do. like, he'd wanna learn how to braid your hair so it's out of your face while you're sleeping</3. he loves talking about your future together! marriage, kids, retirement, all of it! he just loves to imagine your life together<3. minho is the guy that's in it for the long haul- he's the one you know you're gonna grow old with.

⚝taemin

he's a little weird!! but you love him, so it's okay!! just has the oddest little ways to show his love for you. like, i feel like he bites?? not hard, it's really more like, mouthing?? like, you guys will just be sitting on the couch watching tv, and he'll just gently bite your shoulder. and he'll stay there for a while, just like, holding your skin with his teeth. he likes to send you songs that remind him of you, but sometimes they're just so?????? like, he'll send you a song and be like "this came on shuffle and reminded me of you :3" and you're just sitting there confused like, bro this is literally "fireball" by pitbull??? silly stuff aside, i feel like he'd like to let you plan things!! not bc he doesn't want to- he just likes to let you take charge! you two will be deciding on where to go for dinner, and you'll be like "let's go here!" and he'll just be like, "okay :3" no arguing at all, he'll just go along with whatever you say! but he still likes to take care of you! like, he'll do little things like, zipping up your jacket, or holding the car door open for you, or bringing the blankets up to your chin while you're in bed so you don't get cold :((( also, kind of like the random biting thing, i feel like he just likes to hold you. like, you'll be standing at the stove cooking dinner, and he'll come up behind you and hug you TIGHT. like, you can barely breathe, but you know he just loves you so much, so let him squeeze the air out of you <3. taemin is the type of boyfriend that wants to be romantic, but he's just not really sure how! you two have your own way of going about things, and that makes you happy :)

a/n no.2: i went a little overboard with taemin, but i had a lot to say about that funky guy!! if you liked this, a like and reblog would be highly appreciated!! i love u guys. thanks for reading<333

[gretavanlace]

Hush

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only Minors do not interact

Warnings: graphic sexual content, dirty talk, choking, light degradation, praise, slight dom/sub/switch dynamic, language, etc

Josh is vocal.

That is certainly no secret.

Anyone who has watched him strut about a stage, microphone in hand, knows that.

Off stage, he talks incessantly about both the things that matter to him, and the mundane. Things he is passionate about. Things that light fires within him and drive him to create and pack this world as full of his heart as he possibly can. Arbitrary ideas and notions. Strange ponderings.

Pontification, he likes to call it.

He’s also vocally boisterous when agitated. He loathes waiting, and will mutter complaints near your ear in line until you’re willing your eyes not to roll. A phone call to vent about the antics of one brother or another from the studio is a regular occurrence and can be counted on just like death and taxes.

“Samuel was even later than I was,” he might huff, “and now Jake’s guitar needs to be restrung because fuck this whole world if he has to use a backup. I hate them, and I want to come home to you, light of my life, keeper of the stars, goddess of all that is— oh, we’re ready…gotta go.”

Josh murmurs in his sleep, sings in the shower, talks himself through menial tasks, hums in the grocery store, carries on one-sided conversations with the cat who simply chirps along while swirling around his ankles.

At least twice a night he snatches you from drifting off to sleep with a question: Do you think I should call my mom more? If I miss her, she must miss me. Or, Did I ever tell you about that time that Jake ate shit and fell in the lake? I was thinking about it today, and…

Random thoughts and idle musings he can’t help but verbalize, you hear them all. Mostly. The ones you aren’t privy to, fall upon the nearest ear - but he’s so fucking charming even a stranger is happy to play sounding board.

Josh is also expressive when you’re wrapped up in soft, linen sheets…or wherever else he’s decided he can no longer wait to have you.

Whispers of devotion swelling like a gentle breeze across the hum of your pulse when he makes love to you. Filthy, dirty, blush-inducing declarations when he’s fucking into your trembling body like he’ll never touch it again.

And you love it…all of it. But now - with your visiting sister slumbering in the guest room on the other side of the wall - is certainly not the time.

“Baby, please…” his mouth is sucking gently along your collarbone as he grinds into you slowly, friction hard and constant against your greedy, swollen clit, “let me fuck you faster…c’mon, I need it.”

”What you need, is to be quiet,” your voice is a stern whisper, but your hands are tender in his hair.

He could easily set a pace as brutal as he desired if he felt inclined to disobey…but, ever the sweetest switch, he has opted to play nice tonight.

”I’ll be quiet,” he promises. It is a lie he truly believes, and to prove that point, you clench around him and draw forth a pitiful groan from deep within his chest.

A swift pinch at his side serves as punishment ”Shut. Up.”

”Fuck you,” he sounds deliciously desperate, “You did that on purpose. Squeezing me with that beautiful pussy…goddamn.”

”What’s going to happen if I let you make me cum? Hmm?” Your mouth falls into a delicate pout as if you just feel so sorry for him, “You know how tight I get. How I just hug your cock all snug and wet…”

”And warm,” he adds, lost in it, daydreaming in the dark of night and twitching inside the embrace of your cunt, “Soft as satin, sucking me right in…oh my god, baby, please.”

He begins moving with more purpose, dragging the head of his cock against that lovely little spot that will render you incoherent if you allow it to.

”Oh my god, please,” you mock quietly, “Look at you Joshua, what a whiny baby. What are you begging for? Pussy? Is that what you need?”

He nods frantically against your sternum, as though he doesn’t trust himself to look up at you.

You feign confusion wickedly “But you’ve got that. You’re already inside me…”

“Faster,” he breathes, biting and mouthing at your shoulder now, “Need it faster, and harder. It’s too slow, I need more.”

Clicking your tongue like he is a poor, pathetic sight to behold, you shake your head, “Slow down.”

”No, please don’t make me,” he slows, as instructed, but trails off with a whimper.

So, maybe there’s no ‘like’ about it, maybe he really is a poor, pathetic sight to behold. Yes, you decide, that’s exactly what he is…

…so why not push him even further?

With a swift tug on the roots of his curls, you issue an order ”Stay still.”

Despondent and mournful, he groans into the crook of your neck and grabs at your hips so tightly you’ll be admiring raspberry bruises in the mirror come morning. “C’mon, baby girl…lemme take it. I fucking want it.”

If he were looking at you, he’d see the devilish gleam in your eye. Aren’t you an awful witch tonight? “What? Don’t you like it when I keep your pretty cock warm for you?”

He flexes hard inside of you, simply to gain even a hint of friction. “You’re being so fucking mean.”

”Mean?” You coil around the throbbing length of him and he shudders out the tiniest sound, “If I was mean, I’d lock your pretty cock in a cage and fuck your face all night.”

For a moment, he shirks his submissive edge and hisses in your ear, low and slow, “Liar. Not with little sister in the next room…you couldn’t keep quiet with my face between your legs if someone fucking paid you to.”

In response, you shove him back and roll until your thighs are locked around his waist, the crown of his cock nestled against your clit as your hips swivel heated circles.

”Does that feel good, baby?” You’re taunting him cruelly while, in contrast, lovingly reaching up to smooth the furrow from his brow. “Does that just feel so good?”

”Wanna put it back inside,” his eyes squint shut and anyone who didn’t know better might think his expression is that of suffering. “Perfect fucking cunt, so tight, so…”

”Shh,” you quiet him with a hand wrapped around his throat, relishing the way his adam’s apple slides against your palm when he swallows hard, “shut your mouth for once.”

He’s staring up at you, wide-eyed and needy, like you painted the stars in the sky, gorgeous and glittering, just for him…and how you wish that were true. How you wish you could give him something so profound. Something worthy of his light.

”I won’t make a sound,” his vow sounds out, a cross between the honesty he wishes it to be rooted in, and the lie he knows it to be. “C’mon baby, please…fuck me sweet.”

Does he really want it sweet? Or is he simply aware that that’s all he is capable of quietly handling?

Likely the latter.

Your fingers have found your nipples, twisting and tugging on them as they tighten into pink pebbles that send shivers crawling down into your stomach with every pull. His eyes lock in on you, watching you tease them as his breathing kicks up into a frenzy.

“You’re pushing it,” he warns, grip pulling you down closer as he rocks his hips up to meet you. “Keep it up and I’m gonna fucking take it. Be a good girl now, baby…I’m done with your shit.”

”Yeah?” Your eyebrow raises in silent challenge. Does he have it in him tonight?

“Yeah.” He nods, licking his thumb to swirl much too gently across your clit.

”I think you should just behave and be grateful for what you’re—“

Stunned and dazed, the room blurs around you as you’re flipped and tossed until your cheek is pressed against the cool, crisp sheets. They smell of him, and you breathe Josh in until your lungs ache while his cock teases at your entrance from behind.

His body folds over yours until his lips sweep the shell of your ear, “You’ve done it now, baby girl. Better be quiet, yeah? Not a sound.”

With a swift snap of his hips, the silken glide of his cock fills you full as his palm presses against your lips to muffle the high-pitched moan that gasps out of you.

”Now who’s the whiny baby?” his perfect teeth sink into your earlobe and tug until it blooms with heat. The moan that seeps into his soft skin causes his lips to curl into a smirk you can feel. “This is what you wanted, you think I don’t know that?”

He has begun moving at an excruciatingly slow place, the head of his cock dragging gently inside you just right…but you need more.

”You think I didn’t know that you wanted me to just fucking take it all along?”

You nod urgently, tangling your hair against the pillowcase. Of course he knew, he knows you better than you know yourself. There are no secrets to be hidden away when it comes to Joshua. He hunts each and every one down like glittering treasure with ease…your body his map, the pools of your eyes ciphers he decodes without even trying.

His tongue is dancing its way along your jaw now, springing chills to life upon your flushed skin ”Tell me how good my cock feels and I’ll fuck you full.”

Another woeful sound shakes out of you and a rumbling, gravelly laugh huffs warm against your cheek, “My poor, sweet baby can dish it just fine tonight, but she can’t take it? Is that it?”

With a shhh that makes you feel weighed down heavy with lust, he lifts his palm away from your mouth. “I can take it,” you promise in a hush, “Please…I can take it, I swear.”

He is so still inside you, but the familiar stretch is enough to send a tremble tripping up your spine, spider-cracking like a jolt of electric pleasure. “But can you take it quietly? Can you be a real good girl or should I gag you like a whore?”

”I’ll be a good girl,” you breathe, relishing the sound that slips out of him, a cross between famished desire and worshipful devotion.

“Yeah?” He’s enjoying this little game too much to wave goodbye to it just yet, “You’ll be a good girl if I give you this cock?” He presses in so deeply there’s nothing left for him to give, “You’ll take it quietly and squeeze it nice and tight? Soak it with your little wet cunt when I make you cum?”

He can feel you clenching already, twisting around him like a fist, milking him, pulling him in, starved for more.

”Yes, yes, yes,” you chant softly, begging for him to get on with it, “Just fuck me, Josh…please,”

There’s that sinful mouth of his again, ghosting over your ear, “Just fuck me Josh,” he mocks in a velvet whisper, “Please.”

A sob escapes you and turns the apples of your cheeks pink…he echoes the sound back to you and fans the flames of your delectable shame.

”Quiet now, baby…” he reminds you, tone taunting and laced with self-satisfaction, “You just bite down on the pillow if it gets to be too much, and I’ll bite down on you.”

You tighten around him at the mere thought of it and tug an achingly gorgeous grunt from deep within his chest, “You like that? You want me to bite you to keep quiet? Mark you up all pretty?”

”Fuck…” you reach back and grab for him, fingers sinking into the curve of his waist, begging for it with your entire body.

You can’t seem to manage much more, but it’s enough for him, and with a swift pull back, he snaps his hips hard and fast and sets a relentlessly feral pace in motion.

The head of his cock, thick and suede-soft, kisses your cervix with each inward push, driving a wild sound out of you that you smother into the pillow, tongue dragging against the worn cotton as though it were his mouth.

His teeth are peppering your back and shoulders, gnashing his own moans way down deep into your flesh where you will secret them away forever. He gifts each sound to you on a gorgeous, stinging platter and you only want more, more, more. It is never enough with him…you are gluttonous for whatever he sees fit to offer.

”You feel so fucking good, baby,” it comes undulating across your cheekbone like a warm, languorous breeze, “So fucking wet, I can feel you all over me. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He grows impossibly hard within you and that, along with the filth he is sighing into the night and the drags of his teeth, sends you careening over the edge you had no idea you were so close to. You explode around him, and his weight grows heavier atop you as his thrusts lose rhythm.

“That’s it,” his praise is clipped and winded, “just - fuck - just like that. Keep going, so tight, messy pretty fucking pussy, make me cum, baby, please…make me fucking cum.”

He’s babbling like a brook you want to lie beside and listen to for the rest of your life. So beautiful. So Josh. But so quietly, and you know how difficult it must be for him, how hard he must be trying, and you love him all the more for it.

With a final, vicious bite, he coaxes a hiss out of you that makes him see stars as he lets go, fucking himself deeper and deeper as he rides it out, moans pressed into your glazed, shivering body like flowers in between the pages of a book.

And still, you only want more. You want his jaw to lock, his teeth to break the skin, to draw blood, to scar you…soft pink, raised marks tattooed by his kiss to remind you.

A long sigh flutters your hair, and your eyes drift closed at the soothing lilt of the sound as his fingers begin to card through your hair.

”You thirsty, baby?” His nose nuzzles at you, drawing forth a lazy smile that is half smashed into the pillow.

“Yes, but stay a little longer.”

He cuddles down into you, cheek to cheek, the weight of his body keeping you warm and safe in the silence.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @profitofthedune @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @jakesgrapejuice @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

[nataliasquote]

Double the trouble | groceries | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

summary: Nat volunteers to do the weekly shop with two babies

Age: 7 months

warnings: none

pairings: WandaNat

note: I got inspired by a really cute baby I saw in the grocery store today

-⧗-

The large glass doors slid open to reveal the harsh lighting of the local grocery store. Sunday mornings weren’t too busy and being the early riser that she was, Natasha took it upon herself to complete this week’s grocery shopping. With Wanda’s carefully crafted list in one hand, cart handlebar in the other, she was armed and ready to conquer.

But she wasn’t alone. Babies didn’t understand the concept of sleeping in on weekends, so she was accompanied by two tiny terrors who were far too busy looking around from the vantage point of their seats. Nat and Wanda had purchased an extension of a car seat that clipped onto most grocery store shopping carts which made their lives ten times easier.

“Ok team, let’s do this,” Natasha muttered under her breath, eyes set on the vibrant display of vegetables located at the front.

As much as she loved any moment spent with her twins, they weren’t much company during this mundane task. Natasha still spoke to them, asking their opinion on the colour grapes she should get or how many bananas a family of four would need. Only the occasional gurgle or coo would emerge as a response, but what did she expect of two 6-month old babies?

“Mommy’s cooking up something special this week, I can sense it,” she once again mumbled, pushing the heavy cart down the next aisle. The bright coloured boxes caught Y/n’s eye and she waved her chubby fist, trying to wriggle out of the way and see. Her determined noises caught Natasha’s attention as she turned around with a bag of granola. Isla was chewing on the ear of her stuffed elephant, completely ignored her sister’s antics.

“What is it malyshka?” Nat placed her items in the cart and leaned down to hold Y/n’s hand, tiny fingers clasping around two of her own. She shook it gently, insides melting at the adorable baby giggles her movement elicited.

Y/n’s reply was incoherent but she blew a raspberry with her mouth and wiggled whilst looking at a bright box of fruit loops. She’d never tried them before but the bright characters and letters had captured her attention like that of a cartoon show. Nat followed her gaze and sighed, smoothing the fine red hairs on the top of her daughter’s head.

“You can have those when you’re older malyshka. For now, we stick to bananas for breakfast.” Y/n blew another raspberry in response, clearly fed up of eating mashed bananas every day. She kicked her feet in her onesie and wriggled from side to side, accidentally tapping her sister’s leg by accident.

One tiny nudge by a small socked foot and Isla started to cry, her tiny face screwed up, turning almost as red as the hair on her face. Natasha grimaced and smiled apologetically at an old lady who walked past, rather disturbed by the noise. Pulling the cart off to the side, Nat quickly leaned down and unclipped Isla from her seat, scooping her up in her arms and rocking her back and forth to try and quickly soothe her cries. Y/n watched them, her eyes big.

“It’s ok, big girl, you’re ok.” Natasha’s voice was soft and calm, turning the screams into whimpers in a matter of minutes. Wanda often joked she had the magic touch when it came to the girls, and although Natasha brushed it off, deep down she knew there was some truth in her words. “There’s no need for this fuss, you’re ok.” She leaned slightly against the shelving unit behind her, rubbing Isla’s back every time she felt her hiccup. “No more tears baby, no more tears.”

Y/n clearly couldn’t care less that she’d made her sister cry. She was much more interested in her feet, a new fascination she’d discovered in the last couple of days. Wanda found it thoroughly entertaining to watch Y/n just sit and stare at her foot, bewildered. With Isla more calm now, Nat carefully strapped her into her seat, offering the now soggy elephant plushie for her to cuddle. A kiss was pressed to each of their heads before Natasha sped through the last aisles, throwing in a couple of surprise snacks for Wanda to find later.

The middle aged woman at the checkout was gushing over the twins, which was nothing new to Natasha. Her twins were beautiful, both mothers loved to brag about it, and daily tasks took twice as long due to constantly being stopped.

Y/n was particularly chatty to Ruthie at the checkout, babbling away as Nat expertly packed the groceries. Isla was still slightly grumpy from earlier so she didn’t contribute to this “conversation” as she usually would.

Babies secured. Groceries packed away. Kesha playing quietly through the speakers. The drive home was relatively short and Natasha pulled into the drive after only 20 minutes on the road.

Her keys jangled in the door, alerting Wanda of her arrival. The Sokovian dropped her tea towel and rushed to the door, desperate to see her girls for the first time this morning.

“How were they?” She asked, taking the car seats from Nat and setting them on the kitchen table. Both twins giggled and held out their arms, wanting to be set free from their strapped in prisons.

“A few tears but mostly good,” Natasha called over her shoulder as she brought the last of the bags into the kitchen. “Isla will probably be grouchy all day, just as a warning.”

“What happened?” Wanda unclipped Isla and hauled her out of her seat, cuddling her close despite the pout she wore. “Hello grumpy butt.”

“Little miss over here accidentally kicked her.” Natasha mirrored Wanda’s actions with Y/n, settling her in one arm whilst she placed a bunch of bananas in the fruit bowl. “She wasn’t hurt, just crocodile tears.”

Wanda pouted at Isla, rubbing her little legs. “Oh babygirl, you’re ok now.”

Y/n started squirming in Natasha’s arms, clearly put out by the affection Isla was receiving. She reached out to Wanda and started whining, hands balling up into fists.

“Baby swap,” the mothers chorused with a laugh, switching the child they were holding with expertise. Y/n gurgled happily and kicked her legs, a movement that was becoming a habit with her.

“This one’s got some power behind those kicks,” Wanda commented, holding Y/n with her outstretched arms and watching the baby kick her legs like a jellyfish. “I spy a future dancer.”

“Or ninja.”

Wanda shot her wife a glare. “I’m sticking with dancer. Does this mean you’ll finally start a baby ballet class?”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh at her wife. Wanda had fantasised about baby ballet classes all throughout her pregnancy, to which Natasha had said no. But with two girls of their own, it had crossed the Russian’s mind more than she cared to admit.

“You already know my answer.”

Wanda peered down at Y/n, softly stroking her cheek. “But how can you say no to this?” She tilted her arms down so Natasha could see the smiling face of the baby in her arms. Y/n’s attention turned from Wanda to Nat and she cooed, letting out a squeal at the sight of Natasha.

“Don’t start using our kids as bribery now!” Natasha Romanoff had very few weaknesses, but her daughters’ faces made her cave every single time.

“I’m not! I’m just-“ Natasha’s raised eyebrow made Wanda halt mid sentence, gulping down her words before busying herself with another task. “Ok! Who wants breakfast?”

“Want me to get their bottles sorted?” Wanda nodded and gestured to the bottles drying on the rack. Both twins were slotted into their high chairs, Isla’s frown still plastered on her face. Y/n babbled at her, the usual baby talk they communicate with now heavily one-sided. As the milk heated up in the microwave, Natasha watched the girls interact and almost laughed at how comically Isla ignored her sister.

“I think we’re gonna see a lot more of this when they’re older,” she muttered to Wanda, who turned around to view the scene. “She’s really taking those 11 minutes between them seriously.”

“Trust me, when you’re a twin, those minutes mean everything.”

[ceruleanchillin]

141 x Reader: Biker!AU

Note(s) -

1.) Nobody asked for this, but here I am combining two obsessions. Congrats, you’re a biker’s old lady now 🎉.

Any media with hot guys in a group should have outlaw MC AUs

2.) I love roughneck Simon. Please give me more of him. I wanna talk about the guys in this AU so badly, don’t (DO) feed my inbox. BlueCollar!Simon, Mafia!Simon, Mechanic!Simon, Idc I love it all. 

3.) If you saw this before, no you didn’t (plus I added more to it). I decided to keep them all together, and it’ll just be long as hell. A long fic stored under a cut never hurt nobody.🤷🏾‍♀️

Simon

Nobody can get him as soft as you. There’s a 3-ringed barrier around his heart. Outsiders < The Club < You.

He loves doing mundane things with you, the kind of things he never saw for himself when he swore to stay single in this life. Like, after a good run fattens his wallet, letting you run wild in the shops.

“C’mon on then lovie, give us a spin.”

You squealed, spinning so the soft fabric fanned around your upper thighs. “I love it! But Si, it’s too much.”

“You let me worry about that sweetheart. Just let me see how it looks comin’ offa ya.” He gripped the very thighs you teased him with, eager for his favorite part besides your smile.

He’d pick up as many extra runs as it took to keep you in small luxuries, as long as he was the one that got to keep that look on your face.

They all have tattoos, but Simon is the king. His body art is top notch, because he’s very discerning with his artists. He’s had the best from Europe to the States. Now, he only trusts Price’s old lady, Johnny, and you. 

In fact, that’s how you met. You started your apprenticeship under an asshole who bailed before it was over, and took a chance on the dangerous shop everyone warned you away from. Mrs. Price was everything you were afraid of AT FIRST. You later understood it was because the shop is 141 affiliated, and she had to be harshly discerning to protect herself and her family.

Once you got over that phase, she was unendingly sweet, and dedicated to helping you hone your craft. 

Simon saw you when he came to fix the sink in the shop’s little kitchen. You were the only one there, intensely focused on a practice skin arm.

You were beautiful, hair wild from you tugging at in concentration, and your tongue poking out slightly. How long had you been working here?

“I knew you needed a hand around here, but that’s a bit far isn’t it?”

You jumped, startled out of your practice, the buzz of the tattoo gun stopping. “Oh my god! I don’t know what scared me more, you, or that joke.”

The two of you kept each other company in your respective tasks, until he was done. In admitting you were aching to do a real tattoo again, he found himself volunteering on instinct. 

At first you resisted, worried about the ethics in your mentor’s shop, and he came up with the genius idea of going back to your place. Smooth Simon.

By the end of the night he was sure he’d never need another artist again.

He’s often as busy as Price, sometimes more so. It takes a lot to run a charter as is, but to establish a table so far from home calls on him more than any other era in his time with the club. On top of that, he often pulls double duty, acting as an enforcer with Konig.

That’s where he really appreciates you understanding, and accepting, his lifestyle. You’ve made a home for him, and he only hopes he conveys how much he appreciates that.

—

He comes home with a headache taking up residence in every corner of his head more and more these days. It was all he could do to kick his boots off, and not collapse on the nearest thing that could hold his weight. His room felt miles away. Downside of living in the dorms.

He drug himself to the clubhouse kitchen, prepared to dig around for some painkillers, when he saw a post-it note on the island next to a napkin with two pills.

Ignore if not Si!

Dinner in the fridge + cake in the dish on the counter. Eat and get your ass in bed with me.

:)

He chuckled, headache long forgotten when he realized you were in his bed. However, his heart and stomach wouldn’t let him ignore the home cooked meal in the fridge, and once he’d savored every bite, he was a blur on his way to his room.

You were curled up in one of his shirts, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed he favored. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, only stopping to deposit his kutte on the dresser, before scooping you into his arms.

“Si..” you murmured sleepily, burying your face in his chest, seeking something to lay on after being picked up.

“‘s alright sweet pea.”

“Glad you’re home, don’t let go.” You were slightly more awake now, but not by much.

“Was never an option.” He got into bed, relaxing in the warm spot you left behind, and situated you next to him in his arms. 

Assuming big spoon position, his hands roamed your form, finding momentary purchase wherever they could. He felt a little guilty for further waking you up, but it occurred to him that you must have seen the day he’d had, and had taken the time to attempt to make it a little better. You could be home in your own bed, but you chose to be there for him. He was starving for you.

His lips created the same desperate patterns across your cheek and neck that his hands created on your body. He gripped your thigh, giving the plush skin a squeeze, before hooking your leg back over his.

There was a sharp inhale of air from you, and you pushed back against him, undoubtedly feeling him firming.

He laid his other arm under your head, letting you lay your cheek against his arm as he grasped your face. He tilted it up to grant more access to your skin for his lips.

“Taking care of me pretty bird?”

“It’s what you deserve, baby.” You slurred, squirming in sensory overload at all of his attention.

“Swear m’ going flat hunting tomorrow.” His fingers skimmed over your covered heat, grinning when your lower half bucked.

“‘s what you deserve sweetheart. Somewhere to put all your nesting to good use.”

You moaned rolling your hips back into your solid wall of a man. “Don’t tease me, I can’t help it.”

“Oh, m’not teasing pretty bird, m’ appreciating.”

He’s been called on to do many dark things for the club. Price doesn’t leave room at the table for anyone not to pull their weight, and he’s even tougher on his titled men. However, the darker jobs fall on Simon more often than anyone else, because he’s thorough, and can put the deed away somewhere, somehow, every time. 

When he pulls on his mask, and just surrenders to being no one but Ghost, he’s ready to work. He never cared what anyone thought about his actions, he never had to, until you. 

You’d been around rough crowds in your lifetime, but Simon was a career criminal, and so was his found family. He was sure some recollection of his deeds would reach you, and that’d be your line. In fact, he was waiting on it.

He was shocked, truly floored, to find that wasn’t what triggered you. It was how you felt he was being utilized. You didn’t like, what you felt, was the unequal distribution of the extreme jobs, and you told him as much.

When he got over his shock, his reaction was fiercely defensive of the club. It was your turn for shock, but he couldn’t help it. He felt judged about the family that owned his loyalty, by the woman that owned his heart. 

You were taken aback by his ferocity, but it didn’t change your view. It created a hotbed of tension that threatened what the two of you had built, until he understood why you felt so strongly. Simon was the one taken aback when he realized your intensity came from your love for him, not a judgement of the 141. He still couldn’t wrap his head around someone loving him to that degree. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he was worthy of that. That’s how he was supposed to, and did, love you.

He admitted as much when the tired topic reached a fever pitch.

Simon’s close cropped blonde hair was riddled with evidence he’d been running long, frustrated fingers through it. Those same fingers pulled a cigarette from his pack,, and lit it with a calmness that didn’t reflect the current mood.

“So now you tell me what I can and can’t do? That it then?”

You snapped at the accusation, breaking the promise you’d made to yourself not to raise your voice. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, stop reframing what I fucking say!”

“Grow the fuck up, you’re not a bloody baby. You knew what I did when we got together. I protect the group, I’m meant to be the first line of defense. I pull my weight, my life be damned!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the underlying implication of his words. His own expression wasn’t familiar enough to you for you to place.

“The table doesn’t make me do the ugly bits, most times I volunteer.” He flicked ash onto the pavement, his finger tapping with more force than necessary. “Whether I die, or get pinched, I can be replaced. ‘s my job to stand in front of the ones that can’t.”

His chest heaved with trapped frustration, voice guttural, raw with emotion. “That’s my use.”

You couldn’t place a time where your heart had ever hurt for anyone the way it hurt for him in that moment. It was a physical pain, pin pricking across your chest in a wave, and momentarily halting your ability to speak. You loved this man, fuck the moon, he hung galaxies in your eyes, and that’s what he thought of himself?

Simon, studying your expression and not liking the shame it made him feel, turned away. He didn’t know what to do with shame, especially in front of you. He’d said too much, and his mind was racing to find a way to undo it. Stiffening at the feeling of your arms barely meeting around his large form, he fought the urge to pull away.

Your voice was shaky, laden with the tears you didn’t bother fighting the fruitless fight to stop. “I wish I could get you to understand how untrue that is. I wish I knew where to start.”

He turned back around, but refused to meet your eyes. That startled you. Simon had never been afraid to lock eyes with you. He backed down from no one.

“Wasn’t an answer you liked then lovie? Sorry to disappoint.” He said quietly, taking a last drag before he ended the cigarette under his boot, and walked off back towards the clubhouse.

Tears streamed down your face at a faster rate now, and you tried in vain to swipe them away quickly. You weren’t sure what to say. Not then, too much was in the air as it was, and things needed to cool, but this clearly wasn’t settled

You only knew what you wanted to do. Hold him. Hold him until he saw how fucked his outlook was, and how much worth he really had.

Long out of town rides to create a bubble with just you and him. No specific destination, you just ride until you can both believe you’re the only two people you know.

He throws you a surprise party when you get certified as a tattoo artist, and Mrs. Price releases you from your apprenticeship to a chair of your own.

No one can believe Ghost is throwing someone any kind of party, but they don’t dare deny him as he enlists them in different tasks. He took the whole thing very seriously, and left no room for mistakes. No one, not even Soap, was careless enough to spoil the surprise. Simon wanted perfection.

It was obvious to anyone who watched his love struck gaze follow you when you were around, but if anyone doubted it before, they didn’t now. This man loves you.

Simon sometimes comes to you with a design he’s made for his next tattoo. It’s never elaborate, and it’s usually more utilitarian than aesthetic. He trusts you to make it pretty, he knows you will. He just wants to better convey his idea, or so you think.

In reality, he just likes when you praise him, and he can be part of your passion. He’s constantly amazed by your artistry, and humbled that you let him be a part of it. Essentially, you two collaborate on his tattoos in an undeniably intimate way.

He unceremoniously comes to you with a scrap of paper, something he’s sketched over the past few days.

“Somethin’ f’ya to look over when you get the chance.” He mutters before giving you a long kiss and leaving the shop.

You study the lines, shaky but serviceable, and the design clear. Your mind immediately began to think of ways to tie it into his existing tattoo’s style and his tastes. All the while, you kicked your feet, ecstatic that once again, the most complex person you knew was trusting you with this responsibility.

Si had some serious, high quality pieces on his body, and he thought enough of your hand to add to that.

Simon is usually more affectionate when you’re alone. In public, it’s mostly gliding fingers across your back, or a quick brush of his lips across your forehead. BUT, sometimes his intrusive thoughts win, and he has to slap your ass. This can happen anywhere, anytime.

You’re bent over the tattoo chair, disinfecting and scrubbing, and you swear you hear his hand cutting through air before you feel the smack.

“Si!”

“You put it there sweetheart.”

Shooting range dates. You’ve been judged by some of your more…conventional friends, but you’re a gun girlie (which turns Simon on like nothing he’s ever experienced), and you don’t care. They tried to make you feel like he was being inconsiderate taking you there. Meanwhile, it was damn near your demand.

Simon loves having friendly competitions, random kisses, and exchanging shitty jokes. Seeing you get excited, and engaging in a little tech/spec talk about a gun you love, gets Simon bricked up in 10 seconds flat.

You truly believe he’s taken you in hidden parts of the range more than either of your beds at this point.

Makes you keep track of football season when he’s away. Almost put you in a box and mailed you far away from him when you assumed he meant American football season.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again lovie, I won’t be held responsible.”

Punishes you with edging and cockwarming if you miss any important details. It’s especially excruciating when he’s just returned, and all you want is him to stretch you out. Simon is a mean dom, and he won’t be moved by sympathy.

“Please Si, I only missed one game.” you whined, trying to get him to come back to where he’d just spent time building you up to fall on his tongue, only to pull away at the last second.

He smirked, rising to his feet which clued you into the fact that he really wasn’t going to finish you off then. “That’s a bad girl. Have the missing orgasm to match.”

——-

Gaz:

Lives for where you live. Your little house is his home away from home. Sometimes the gang can be on business that keeps them on the road for weeks, and the last thing he wants when he comes back, is to continue to be locked in close quarters with other guys.

That’s when you know he’s skipping clubhouse life to crash with you for a while. You love it as much as him.

Scented candles and incense, sweet laundry detergent, soft materials, home cooked meals. It’s such a soft juxtaposition to his previous journey. 

Your hands are all over him, soothing bruises and kissing him over in mapped out patterns only known to you.

Kyle may not know the difference between a single thing on your beauty table, or much about the things in your bathroom cabinets, but he knows he loves how it all smells/looks on you when he’s running his nose across your skin.

“Baby, I gotta get ready for work.” 

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement, but kept you pinned to the overstuffed couch, kissing your thighs in his own personal ritual. The two of you had been sequestered away for two days since he’d been back, but he still couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be good for me love, I won’t make you late.”

“Liar.” You giggled when he pinched you in retaliation. “If you do what it feels like you’re about to do, I won’t make it to the shop until noon.”

“Not a liar babe, you know that better than anyone else.” He pushed your knees up until they pressed against your chest. “I promise, you’ll be the first one there. Can’t say in what state though.”

Being the club secretary, it may seem like Kyle has the plushier job at the table. Wrong. He sees as much action as the other guys, and he likes to stay in shape. That’s fine by you, because you reap the benefits when you get to watch him working out at your place.

Kyle Garrick doing burpees and up-downs in your tiny backyard, clad in nothing but gray sweat shorts, and a thin gold chain against his chest, isn’t a sight that should be free. Yet, after Kyle has finished his mission of witnessing you walk funny at least once, it’s a sight you’re treated to when he sinks back into his home routine.

You somehow think you’re safe to creep-watch from the back doorway while you enjoy your green tea, even though Kyle catches you every time. He just always knew when your eyes were on him.

Without even turning to give you a look he called your name, laughing softly. “I should start charging admission.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You stuck your tongue out at his back, slamming the door when he revealed he somehow saw that too.

Kyle comes to the salon and hangs with you between appointments. Sometimes he watches you work, and fake flirts with customers to get you more money. He’s great for business.

“Cost a little extra, yeah? But myself, I love a bird that sweats the details.” Kyle’s brown eyes and bright smile were a lethal combination against free will, you knew this for a fact.

The soccer mom in your chair ducks her head under his attention, cheeks filling in with red, as she tells you she changed her mind about the rhinestones.

You appreciate the efforts towards fattening your wallet, but sometimes he’s so effective, you get annoyed and drag him to the break room to remind him you own him.

When you ride with him, he loves looking down and seeing the pretty designs of your nails grasping his chest. Something about the contrast of hot pink, or pearlescent purple against the black leather of his kutte does it for him.

Kyle is definitely on the calmer side most times, especially for his lifestyle, but the fastest way to break that is someone meaning you harm.

You were out at a crowded club with the 141, their ladies, and some friends of the club. It was a celebration of good finances and a successful legal dodge. 

The guys clung to a dark VIP section, there for the drinks and victory lap more than the dancing. On the other hand, you and the other girls were not there to sit idle. 

After a tense few months, the cause of your respective relationship ups and downs with the guys, you guys deserved to cut loose. The table agreed, with your men shouting words of encouragement and flirtatious innuendo to hype you up.

The whole bar was enthralled by you and the other girl’s dancing, singing, and general untethered energy. It was contagious. You especially, you had a few drinks in you, and all that could currently keep your attention was the music.

There was, unfortunately, one outsider who got a little too enthralled with the performance.

When you peeled away from the group, following the uptempo rhythm, he thought that was his time to make his move.

You felt him press up against you while your eyes were closed, assuming it was Kyle, you almost ground back against him. Then you smelt the liquor. Kyle liked a drink like everyone else, and you’d even seen him drunk, but this was someone who’d been at it for a while. Disgustingly sour, too close, and ultimately not your man.

You sent a sharp hit back with your elbow, turning to confirm what you knew. It wasn’t Kyle. He grunted, but pushed forward again making you hold your hand up in a warning.

“I don’t think so.” you waved him off, laughing at the prospect of entertaining him.

Angered by your laughter, he got bolder, shouting to be heard. “Well I think so, but I’m real interested in knowing why you don’t.”

“Because I said what I said, and I have a man.” You were tipsy, but there was an underlying fire to your words lending them solidity. “Fuck off!”

He bristled at another dismissal. “Bitc-“

Kyle had appeared, most likely having started making his way to you once the man got too close, and clapped him on the shoulder. His expression said that he had heard at least some of what was said.

“Hi baby!” You shouted, a little loud even for the club, but that made it endearing. “That’s my man.” You told the asshole.

“Use your ears before I send you home carrying them.” He was gripping the man’s shoulder so tightly you should see the sharp knuckle bones flexing, his rings catching the light.

The man looked at the kutte, and the expression on Kyle’s face, and the exact moment he realized the man would act on the threat literally became apparent.

If that wasn’t enough, you had the ladies at your back, and the table alert and waiting for the call. It was over for the bastard before it even started.

He raised his hands and scurried into the crowd, aiming for the door.

“I love you baby.” You crooned, throwing your arms around him and covering his face with kisses.

He laughed. “I love you too, even when I know I’m going to be holding your pretty hair back all day.”

When the gang has to have a tense table vote in a briefing, their equivalent to some other mc’s “church”, you always wait for Kyle. As secretary, it’s his job to gather information on other gangs, as well as any important changes in the area, and his council is called on first.

You’re waiting for him right after, inviting him back to your house for the night, knowing he won’t want to stay in his dorm. He won’t show it then, but he’s disappointed, and when you get him home, you let him vent to his mind’s content.

All the while, you’re drawing him a bath, doing a light skin routine on his face, greasing his scalp, and curling up on the couch with his back against your chest.

You know his brothers have his best interest at heart, and respect his role in the club, but sometimes he can get in his head about it, and that’s when you step in.

——-

Soap:

Johnny kept his lifestyle a secret from you at first. You’d only been hooking up for a couple of weeks before you both confessed to wanting more.

The crew had mocked him relentlessly about his inability to keep a relationship casual. 

“Give it up mate, you ain’t even foolin’ yourself!” Gaz had clapped him on the back, laughing right in his face. “You start up with a girl right, and it’s over. You’re looking for a house by sunup.”

“Och, piss off with ya! I can keep it casual!” Indignant, and maybe a little drunk, he elbowed the man on the other side of him. “Tell em’ Ghost.”

Simon glanced at him sideways, bourbon halfway to his lips, careful it didn’t spill due to the prodding. “Johnny, some pretty bird starts chirpin’ in your ear and it’s curtains. Now fuck off.”

He couldn’t believe his friends, no — brothers, had such little faith in him.

Cut to a few days later, with him balls deep in you, confessing he wanted more. 

“I’ll be good to ya bon, I swear it. I’m all for ya, just be for me?”

The only thing that lessened the embarrassment of proving his friends right, was that you seemed relieved, and admitted it was what you wanted too.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been patched in, besides the camaraderie, he was enamored with the relationship between Price and his old lady. There were plenty of solid old lady/old man pairings around him, but something about the way the club queen cared for her man, kept the other girls in order, and still maintained a life for herself was astounding to watch.

He couldn’t help chasing that in every girl he’d gotten with since he’d joined up. So many girls wanted the mystique of a sexy biker, but that’s all he was for them. Either a living dildo, or an attraction they could make their friends jealous with. Things never got very far outside of the bedroom. Except once, but that didn’t go over so well in the end.

He wanted that ride or die bond so badly, he couldn’t wait to have the perfect old lady to wife up and fill a house with brats. 

With you, he prayed he was it for you, because you had quickly become it for him. 

You were a good girl. Specifically, his good girl now. He felt it was highly unlikely you would go for his lifestyle, and so he kept it under wraps at first. He knew he had to tell you at some point, but he wanted to soak up as much time as he could in case you checked out.

“Nah sweetheart, it’s nah like that. We get a little rough, but mainly, we just appreciate bikes.”

“Do ya think I have what it takes to be in a criminal organization? And with ya not knowin’ no less!?”

“Let’s talk about something else bon, did ya ken your thighs look cute warming my ears?”

Guilt eating through him like acid, especially when the club picks up on the fact that he hasn’t brought you around. Anytime Soap has a girl in his bed more than once, he’s parading around the club with her in no time. They know there’s something special about you, and that baffles them even more. Soap claims it’s because you live one town over, which you do, but Gaz calls him on his shit.

He’s hyper defensive, and fights until he’s blue in the face before he admits it’s true. He’s afraid you’ll turn out like the others, or reject him all together. He’s so far gone at this point, he’d rather you use him than leave him.

Price doesn’t like it, and councils him against lying to you any further for numerous reasons. Soap promises he’ll tell you soon, but he’s trying to convince himself as well as his president.

Eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore, but it wasn’t exactly his choice when the curtain got pulled back. 

The two of you had been to a late movie, Johnny finally having had time to squeeze in a date with you after a series of back-to-back runs. You’d suggested coming to him for once to take the burden off. Before he could object, you’d admitted that you were already in town, and he’d rushed to meet you. 

Though he was nervous about you hearing something, or seeing someone off-color that he knew, he couldn’t deny he loved the day he spent with you.

He never needed a reason to want to kiss you, but something about your soft smile under the parking lot lights compelled him right then. Maybe because your expression said just how content you were to be with him, and he buried that in his heart.

“Wait a minute.” He stopped you, lips on yours before you could ask why.

Parking lots didn’t exactly get safer as they got darker, and emptier, but he couldn’t stop once his lips touched yours. Then you started tugging on the curly hair of his Mohawk like you did when you’d really gotten into things.

He was just about to suggest he stay over at your place, when you were interrupted by a cop. You assumed he was going to warn you about loitering and apologized, but he and Johnny knew that wasn’t what it was about. He called Johnny “Soap”, and you were confused as to how they knew each other.

“Oh, Scotboy here goes back with the law a long ways back home.” The cop tried to clap Johnny on the shoulder only for him to violently dodge it. “Easy. I’m not booking you on anything…tonight.”

You were at a loss for what the cop thought he could book Johnny on, and called it out as harassment. Johnny knew, by the sick expression on his face, that the cop was eager to spill it all once he realized how little you knew about the man you were clutching. He tried to prevent that from happening.

“Yeah well, you’re just wastin’ time then, and we have a drive.” Johnny’s arm tightened around your shoulder as he started to lead you away.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he’s told you, but if you were my daughter I’d want you to know. That’s a dangerous man you’re on the arm of.”

“Shut up.” Johnny growled, and he knew you had to be thinking about how you’d never seen him like this, but he’d also never been this angry around you.

“Johnny…” you pushed at him to try and get him to move, but he was rooted in rage.

He knew where the cop was taking it.

“This was when you were a prospect back in England right? The number you did on the guys from that other charter…interpol still talks about it. Oh wait…they never proved it was you did they?”

Johnny thumbed his nose and sniffed, jutting out his chin in utter opposition of the man in front of him. “Nah, wasnae even in the country at the time.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only read the reports our precinct got when you boys moved to town.” The obnoxious officer bounced his palm off his forehead in a mock gesture.

Johnny felt you squeeze his arm, grounding him for the moment, and he thought you might be saying something. His ears sounded like the Grand Rapids ran through them. A hot rage was settling into his chest, and spilling into other parts of his being.

The smug expression of the cop, one of the ones on the force who’d made things personal with the club was

“Johnny!” You shook him, finally getting through to him. “I want to leave.”

He exhaled, softening at your expression. Little tremors of adrenaline wracked through him, but he still led you towards his bike by a firm grip.

“You know, they included pictures in those files they sent over. What you did to those guys..” The cop whistled from behind you.

Johnny helped you into your helmet, watching as your eyes raced with questions, but you were so good for him. You would wait to ask him. 

He brushed his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “Ignore him bon. Whatever he says, please.”

“But, the real shame is what happened to Anna.” The cop continued.

In a straight shot, Johnny launched himself at him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

“They cut her up pretty bad. Was her nose always on the side of her-”

—

He knew it was bait, and he admitted as much later, but he’d taken the active grenade in his hand all the same. The wounds that piece of shit poked were too raw not to, on top of probably killing everything between you and him. 

Everything was designed to hit a critical point in him. His past deeds, Anna, and most importantly, you.

All he could think about was if he was going to lose you after tonight, there was no way he wasn’t going to make it count all over the bastard’s face.

The local police had been looking for something, anything, to get the club on, but they’d been too careful. That’s what Price had told you on the way to the precinct. Johnny had dialed for you while the cop was getting back to his feet.

“Was any of what he said true?” You were clutching your purse the way you had since you’d gotten into the car with Price and the club’s lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean love?” Price looked at you cooly, not giving anything away, though you were sure he knew what you meant.

“Never mind.” You shook your head. “I know it’s true. Did Johnny really hurt those guys? Who’s Anna?”

Price kept his eyes on the road, while the lawyer kept his attention on his phone. The air couldn’t have been more tense,

“You should talk to your boy sweetheart. Don’t let some future desk-riding prick make you doubt the man who’d rip out his own heart just to show you it’s yours.”

You swallowed, hard, and didn’t say anything else until you got to the station.

“Um…I think I’m just going to Uber home. Tell Johnny I’ll call him.”

Price nodded, but his look was disapproving. “‘m sorry to hear that,” he adjusted his dark beanie. “But if that’s what you think is best.”

You did not call him. Not later when you were sure he had been released, and not the next day. You wouldn’t even open the never-ending text thread between you two.

He texted you early enough to be apologetic about it, and you had to push your phone to the far side of your bed to stop yourself from responding.

You went about your daily routine, getting ready for your shift at the diner. Your one room apartment didn’t allow you the luxury of pretending your phone wasn’t blowing up with text messages, but you were too afraid you’d cave if you saw the screen while attempting to silence it.

He showed up at the diner, and you pretended to be too busy in the back until he left.

He waited outside of your place, but you wouldn’t come down, going so far as to turn off the lights when you realized he was there.

No call was answered, no text replied to.

Johnny was a wreck. So much so, that as furious as Price and Ghost had been, as much as they’d come down on him, they weren’t sure he’d even heard it. They saw his regret, he did have his brothers and their families in mind, along with the fact that he was a higher ranked member who set a piss poor example for prospects and basic members. 

The fact that his stunt could’ve cost them their freedom. He saw all of that.

But he was HURTING. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was all Johnny could do to roll out of bed and do the basics before he crawled back again. 

All the club girls dropped by his dorm. Some to be flirtatious, which he lashed out at, some to show sympathy. 

Mrs. Price and Ghost’s girl were especially gentle. It’s the darkest period in Johnny’s life, even when factoring in the Anna situation. It’s clear to all around him, you’re it for him. His soul is yours, and he’s dying without you.

It was Simon who came to you and changed your mind. He couldn't take seeing Johnny that way. The whole table was worried, but Johnny was a little brother to the taciturn specter. He’d only see him like this once before, and this was ten times worse.

In the early afternoon, the diner’s customers were nothing but truckers and elderly folks. So when the 6’4 blond with trunk-thick arms, and a permanent scowl walked in, there was no ignoring him. You noticed the kutte, and thought about making a break for the back, but his look said ‘try it’, and you thought better of it.

Instead, you wound up in a back booth with him, taking your 15 minute break. 

“‘m not the preachin’ sort, so I’ll get on with it.” He stared right through you, lighting a cigarette. “‘s no business of mine what you and Johnny decide to do, but you need to talk to him.”

You started to tell him no smoking, but didn’t feel like exerting the effort. Let your boss deal with it if it mattered.

Your hands trembled, so you put them beneath the table in your lap. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you here?”

”Because, it’s destroying him. You’re destroying him.” He turned for a moment to exhale away from your face, and then his gaze was cutting right back to you. “Lad’s a mess and a half without you. We’ve tried to sort him out, but it’s gonna take you.”

”He lied to me!“ the exclamation left your mouth without a thought to volume control, and you pointedly ignored the stares you knew were at your back.

”You knew.” he said simply. “You may not have known the specifics, and we told him not to do it that way, but you knew.”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to express the million thoughts in your head.

”You may be a town over, but our name gets around. I know you’ve heard somethin’.” He tipped the ash in the glass of water you’d gotten him. “You’re a smart bird by Johnny’s account.”

“If you told him not to lie, then why are you telling me not to be upset?”

“‘m not, ‘m tellin’ you to hear him out. Put him out of his misery, whatever you decide.”

The man left the booth, standing back to his full height and casting a shadow over the booth.

“He’s a right fuckin’ mess. Loves you more than life.”

“More than Anna?” The name that had been swirling around in your mind came out in a semi-bitter question.

There was something that could have possibly been a flinch, but you weren’t sure. It made you regret mentioning it either way.

He stubbed out the cigarette. “He’ll be round yours by the time you get off.”

He was. Looking completely unconfident and nervous about being there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beloved mohawk showed signs of too many anxious tugs. 

This wasn’t what you were used to with the confident man, and you didn’t like it. You understood, you looked the same way, but you didn’t like it.

He was apologizing constantly, between spilling streams of exposition that only served to confuse you, instead of clearing things up. You finally had to tell him it would just be easier if you could ask questions instead, and he sat back and became an open book.

It went all evening, and then well into the morning. Every question led into lengthy conversation.

—

“Who’s Anna?”

“...A good lass who didn’t deserve what she got.”

—

“So it’s definitely more than just appreciating bikes. Why?”

“They’re my family, and they’ve always had my back while lettin’ me be myself. If I have to do somethin’ a lil dodgy now and then, that’s a small price to pay.”

—

“I don’t doubt you love me Johnny, you make it impossible to, but how can I trust you after this?”

“By takin’ the chance to believe me when I say I’d rather die than go through this again. If honesty brings you back to me, I’ll never leave it out again.”

The sun is rising by the time the two of you are talked out. You make him stay, seeing that his sleep deprivation was starting to collect its due. It was you who didn’t sleep while you pet his hair from where he laid on your lap, and thought over your feelings.

He wakes when you inform him he has a phone call. He tells you to answer it, and you realize it’s a gesture towards the honest leaf turn. 

He took the time to honesty dump with you, so you admit to him that while you’re still hurt, your mind's made up about taking him back.

It should have frightened you how quickly you sank back into things with Johnny, but what actually frightened you was the reason why. You realized you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. How had you lasted the past couple of weeks?

It’s a mutual obsession, only strengthened by a period of absence. Something he vowed would never happen again.

You let him give you your first tattoo, and you even let him pick the design. He couldn’t believe you trusted him with the honor, and he wound up asking if you were sure five times.

“Baby, yes!” you laughed, squeezing his cheeks as a form of cute aggression over his heart eyes. 

This was such an intimate act for him, that he made sure you were completely alone in his dorm room when the day came. The room is spotless for once, sanitized to government standards. You can’t help but notice that he’s lit candles in your favorite scent, and his playlist is all soft music for once.

He spent weeks sketching the perfect concept, and even created variations for your choosing. He went through soooo many pages, unwilling to settle when it came to his girl.

In the end, it was decided, and he got to work on the inner wrist tattoo. All the while, he was checking in with you to make sure you were good.

“It’s just a small piece baby, I’m ok.” You always pressed a kiss to his nose to reassure him and get him back to work.

He looked so handsome, locked in concentration, that it almost completely distracted from the pain. You’d seen him work before, and you loved it, but this wasn’t just work right now. He was giving you something important, and you sensed that. 

When he finally finished, he sheepishly, almost fearfully, asked you what you thought.

“It’s everything Johnny. When everyone asks who’s the talent behind it, I can’t wait to say he’s my man.”

Soap has no regard for anyone or any place when he wants you, which is all the time. You’re all over the clubhouse together. The couches, the hallways, the armory. Officially, clubhouse outer-walls are your spots during cookouts.

Gaz walked into the storage room, focused on finding a part for a customer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you through the empty space on a tall shelf.

“Hi, eh, Kyle!” All that was visible was your face, and he wondered for a second why you were out of breath.

“Hey (Y/N), what’re you doing back here?” He gave you a side glance and smile, his attention mainly on the organized shelves.

“I’m..” you bit your lip, unable to form another word as your eyes rolled back.

Kyle froze, realizing what was happening. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me mate?!”

“You walked in on us!” Johnny’s indignant cry came from below his line of vision.

Sooo many lunch break dates. Technically, Johnny is on shift at the garage, and should be preparing for the next day’s run, but his best girl needs him :( . You work so hard at that cafe, and they never appreciate you. Not like he does.

So when he takes the work pickup truck to get you, knowing Price has told him a million times it’s not for that, he can’t be bothered to care.

“Johnny, tell me you did not go across town to buy me this sandwich.” You already knew the answer, and you wanted to scold him for neglecting himself again. “You’re gonna be late getting back to the shop!”

“You love it though. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of ya.” 

“That’s not the point, you-“

“You’re so pretty baby.”

And you melt and forget to be upset.

You can’t stay mad at Johnny with heart eyes and loving, grabby hands. Especially when those grabby hands start to get a little more focused…

What happens in the work truck, stays in the work truck. Until he gets drunk and brags at a club party….

The fun times were well and good, but Soap knew that the day would come when you got a glimpse at the uglier parts of the life. He barely got you back, and you throwing up your hands and declaring it was all too much was all he could think about.

They’d been having issues with the Shadows MC, and it was starting to boil over. They didn’t like the 141 moving in on their territory, but his table had made it clear that wasn’t up to them. This resulted in many skirmishes he could keep under wraps, but then it came to a head.

They’d hit the Shadows hard at one of their core locations, and in preparation for retaliation, Price and Ghost had called a lockdown. This meant all old ladies, kids, and friends of the club were to hunker down at the club compound until they gave the ok.

The day was here, and he’d been dreading it. He couldn’t very well leave you out there, he hadn’t exactly been subtle that you were his girl, but surely you wouldn’t go for it.

Nothing had been asked of you so far, and he was trying his best to keep from burdening you like the typical old lady. He felt you’d be less likely to leave if he kept the weightier things from you.

He must have paced up and down your street in the dark for over an hour. His phone was blowing up with demands he ‘get his ass back to the compound’ with you, ‘NOW’, but he had to do it right. It wasn’t easy to say “We mowed down some of our enemies, and destroyed their operation, and some guys could make you pay for that.”

He could lose you tonight. He could relive his past.

When he finally did get up the nerve to tell you, he was shocked at how well you took it. He knew you were scared, and you couldn’t have been too happy either, but he loved you for your strength in that moment. 

All you did was quietly pack, while his mouth ran a mile-a- minute. Swinging wildly between telling jokes, assuring you you’d fit in just fine with the other old ladies, and apologizing. You kept telling him you were fine, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

It took a week to beat the Shadows back. In that time Johnny had been in and out of safe houses, with barely a spare minute to check in with you. If he was being honest, he was terrified.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that when he got back to the compound, you wouldn’t be there. You’d be long gone, and when he went to your place, the things he’d left (so sneakily) would be in a box waiting on the doorstep.

He was so sure of this, that he wanted to go by your place first, but his bone-weary brothers were barely sitting upright on their bikes. Battered and bruised to hell, he couldn’t ask them to indulge his paranoia. The table didn’t like to be too far from each other until they were fully assured they were whole back home.

He was the last to walk through the door, to the shock of his brothers, but he didn’t want to tell them he was probably about to scream his throat raw when he saw you weren’t there. 

He clenched and unclenched his aching fists in anxiety. ‘Just look around the room you daft fucker!’ He mentally scolded himself.

He didn’t get a chance to. You barreled into him, arms locking around his neck. He stumbled back, weariness and shock combining to make his footing unstable, but his back hit the solid metal door behind him.

“I was so fucking worried.” You whispered into his neck, and he felt his neck dampen with what he presumed were tears.

“I was too…” he admitted, finding it in him to grip you to his person with a desperate strength.

Relief flooded his body when you started pressing kisses all over his face, and all he could do was stand there. Receiving your love.

“Oh!” You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Johnny put me down, the girls told me about how tired you guys are when something like this happens. You should be resting.”

“I’ll get to that bonnie, just keep kissing me like that.” He whispered, hands slipping into the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close.

You took over as soon as you got him back to his dorm room. You helped him undress, made sure he didn’t collapse in the shower, and even straightened his precious Mohawk while he struggled to pull on the sweats you’d grabbed him. All the while, awkward apologies from him. From you, excited recollections of all the things you’d learned from the strong women around you over the week.

Johnny supposed he had them to thank. In the back of his mind he’d been wondering what flipped the switch, and gifted him the kind of welcome home he used to envy the taken members of the club for getting. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, but an old lady was something else, yet here you were, excelling at that too.

And later, in his room after the hot shower, he collapsed face first on the bed. It took one, deep inhale of the fresh linen to know someone had done laundry. He exhaled with a hum, openly appreciating the clean scent.

“Yeah, you can thank me later.” You laughed, entering the room from his bathroom.

Johnny heard the sound of a lid pop, but was too far gone to look back and see what it was. Then you straddled his back, your soft hands kneading out a week’s worth of tension, self-inflicted and otherwise. He groaned, feeling the soothing lotion follow your hands over the peaks and valleys of his muscular frame.

“Addin’ this to my tab then?” He slurred, half in the dream realm, half with the love of his life.

“Yep, but I know you’re good for it.” You leaned down, nipping his ear, and making him mewl in frustration as he hardened against the mattress, knowing there’d be nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He used the last of what he had to flip you over, mentally cataloging the adorable squeak you let out. Cupping your cheeks, he shared a soft look with you for just a moment, before he sealed his lips over yours. All he could do was hope you could feel everything he wanted to say behind the movement of his lips.

Judging by your soft sighs, he guessed you could.

He pulled away, settling half on you, half off. “I’m settlin’ my debts soon as I’m up hen. Bet on it.”

He makes Ghost promise to take care of you if something ever happens to him. 

“Johnny, shut fuck up,” Ghost glared at him, faint facial scars following his frown. “You’ll outlive us all.”

Johnny stared at him from across the meeting table, more serious than a personification of the sun had any right to be. They were the only two in the briefing room, for some reason the place felt sacred enough to Soap for such a request.

“‘m serious VP, that’s ma heart, I love her.” His accent thickened with emotion, and he sipped his bar as if to wash it back. 

                                                                                                                               His fingers flexed around the sweating glass. “‘m gonna marry her.”

“Lads and I knew that the first time you talked about her.”

Soap smiled at that, but his expression quickly returned to its serious state. “Sweet girl and me have been talkin’ about kids, preferably after.”

A fond quiet bloomed between them at that admission. The two of you had told no one else, and Johnny felt guilty violating your pillow talk confessionals, but he hoped it would get Ghost to agree.

“Want that more than anythin’ VP, but I can’t pull the trigger until I know they’ll be looked after.”

“The club-“

“Not just the club!” He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration. 

Why couldn’t the stubborn fucking giant just agree?

“I know the club will look after them in general. I know I can trust our table, hope I can trust the other charters.” He sighed, refocusing. “You’re my best friend Simon. I just have to know my girl, and my bairn, would always have you at their back. If I died.”

“Wouldn’t happen. I’d lay my life down so you could make it back-“

Johnny shook his head, choosing not to repeat himself. Instead, he gave his friend a pleading look.

He could see a storm of thoughts and emotions competing for dominance in his friend’s mind. His expression didn’t change much, but it was in his eyes if you knew him.

He saw why Simon was resisting, he didn’t feel worthy of being looked to in that way.

Finally, Ghost responded after grinding his cigarette out in the dish on the table. “Promise the same f’me then. I’ve fucked her life up enough, shouldn’t still be doin’ it when I’m gone.” 

“On my honor.” Soap didn’t even have to think, it was an instinct.

“Then tell your missus you’re ready. I’ll cover my end.”

———

Price:

Head honcho. Chief. The Boss. Captain of the ship. It’s all the same no matter who calls him what, President Price is in charge.

He founded the club after leaving his original due to lack of loyalty, and thoughtless endeavors. He works overtime to make sure his club doesn’t fall in the same way. His code of ethics may not make a lick of sense to anyone outside of the outlaw life, but they’ve garnered the respect and admiration of some of the toughest men around the globe.

They’d follow him through hell because they know he’d be the first one in.

When they’re on a run, selling guns or attending a meeting in neutral territory, John’s mind is all business until business is done. Then it’s all you. He loves hearing his guys talk about how they’re going to spend their new check, or swapping stories about their old ladies. Sometimes, he even joins in.

But what he really wants to do is celebrate with you. Most times you’re already up at the compound. Seeing to the legitimate businesses, taking care of the girls, helping the member’s families, etc.

He respects what you do, what you’re capable of, beyond borders. However, he can’t help but be jealous. You always come to him first, tight hug and a long soft kiss, but then you’re quickly looking over his guys. The men revel in it, almost becoming kittens under your motherly ministrations. Especially Soap and Gaz, who you’re in the same age group as, but you scold all the same.

When the last man has been sent on his way, he’s dragging you away to the little bedroom off his office. He knows you find it amusing, to see his selfishness win out over any tiredness he’s feeling.

Before the door can even close, he’s pulling you close and kissing you his favorite way. A kiss he didn’t know he was capable of until you became his wife. Anytime he was gone too long, you did something that knocked him off his feet, or your affection wasn’t directed solely at him, he kissed you that way.

He cradled your head, holding you steady when he pressed his lips to yours. He left no room for there to be room between the two of you. Rough thumbs slid under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before he slid his tongue between your lips. He knew he had to release you soon, let you remember how to breathe, but it was hard to fight the hunger.

“Nothing flatters me like my big biker husband being unable to share me for two seconds.” you teased, but your teasing came out in short puffs, as your lungs weren’t cooperating with you at the moment.

He could feel you swaying, going dizzy, and he brushed his beard over your ear to make you squirm before he said. “Jump love.”

You did, feeling his heavy hands grasp your thighs seconds later. He slid your legs over his hips, encouraging you to lock down around his waist.

“I’m just making sure you take care of what’s yours.” he thrust upward, hardness touching. “I promised it to you that first time.”

He laid you across the bed, staring down at you with a darkened smirk. “Take some responsibility for the state of your possessions.”

He’s the head of an organization that now exists in several countries. All that responsibility is tiring, even for a man so skilled at navigating it, and there’s been many a day when all he can do is lay his head down for the pain of the headaches.

You can’t count how many times you’ve come up to the club when he didn’t come home, only to find him furiously puffing a cigar and downing shots to dull the pain. 

The guys had families to feed, there were good men behind bars for them that needed to be taken care of, he had tables back home that needed guidance, there were property expenses, legal retainer fees, and more. Much more.

That meant more risky non-legit work, which meant stretching the legitimate business to cover what that brought in. He had to know when it was time to expand, when it was time to halt, and when it was time to move to something else.

But he’s just a man, one man, and you’re there to remind him of that. 

“John?” You had been expecting to find him in his office, but the moment you stepped into the club house, you saw him at the bar.

He wasn’t alone. 

Phillip Graves, president of the Shadows MC finished off his drink and clapped John on the back. 

“We’ll talk again.” He nodded his head towards you with a wink and a smile. “Ma’am.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him out of the door, remaining there until his motorcycle’s engine was a distant roar. At that point, you turned back to your husband.

He was gripping his forehead, lit cigar balanced on the heavy crystal ashtray next to him. The last remnants of whisky mingled with the melting ice in his glass, which he threw back before attempting a fake smile.

”Hello darling, you just close up shop?”

”Yeah, and I got home to find my husband wasn’t there. What the fuck John? You said you were going to work on this.” 

You tossed your purse on the counter. “And Graves?! I can’t even-“

”(Y/N), don’t start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have that in me right now.”

Sighing, you placed one hand on his back, using the other to put out his cigar. He protested with a disapproving grunt, but was too tired to do more than that. Your face softened at that realization.

He pushed back from the bar a little, allowing you to slide onto his lap, legs splitting over his thighs. “I’m just worried. You can lead a table, you can lead the whole organization, but you can’t carry the whole thing on your back.”

You cupped his head like he often did to yours, and massaged the base of his skull. His eyes slid shut, body going lax, and he practically purred.

Leaning down, you scattered gentle kisses on his face, careful to leave no spot untouched, before going in for a whiskery kiss. It was here John took over, thanking you for the attention.

“You know that it’s not you I don’t trust right?” you asked between kisses. “It’s him.”

“I know, and you know I value your judgment.” He got underneath your shirt, hands rubbing your sides slowly. 

There was a moment of domestic peace and quiet. You massaging his temple, and he massaging your sides. Though you trusted the capable man going soft under your hands, you hoped he wouldn’t regret whatever Graves was bringing to your door.

John doesn’t come to your shop often, but it’s not because he doesn’t support your career. It’s because he can’t watch you work for very long without wanting you biblically on every surface.

You love his open attraction to you, so it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ignore. No matter how much you try to stay focused on the job, the man is the love of your life, and he looks handcrafted by god.

Hunched over a client’s thigh, your brows were drawn in concentration on the elaborate Victorian cameo piece.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John lounging in the plush desk chair he’d dragged over. A good distance to respect your client, but close enough, he could keep eyes on his favorite person.

Your client was amused, laughing through a wince, she nodded in John’s direction. “You’ve got a not-so-secret admirer.”

“I’ve been caught lovely, what to do now?”

”Ignore you.” You quipped before glancing up at your client. “He’s my husband.”

”Oh,” she hummed. “That explains the heart eyes.”

At that, you did have to look up, instantly wishing you hadn’t. It was a visual trap. 

John, sitting there like the king he was, manspreading with no shame. Black beanie, tight jeans, dark sweater with his royal kutte draped over the sweater, and leather boots. You told him more than once he could model, to which he feigned offense. 

“Focus on your work.” John admonished, but the smirk he said it though was pure sin.

Your eyes had strayed below the belt, and John was fully aware of this. Reveling in it really.

”Don’t you have a bike to fix? A prospect to bottle feed?”

”Nope,” his arms crossed behind his head, an action you saw out of the corner of your eye. “I belong to my missus this evening.”

Your client cooed, undoubtedly enjoying the banter between you and John. You did too, too much, and his bit about belonging to you made you have to pause and readjust yourself.

”Every evening really.”

”That’s nice John.” You hissed, lifting the gun from her skin to wave him off.

Your client laughed, trying hard to hold herself steady for you.

“Don’t encourage him.” you turned yourself at an angle slightly, trying and failing to ignore him. 

“Well, it’s really far more than just evenings isn’t i-“

You lifted your foot from the pedal, and placed the tattoo gun on the tray next to you. 

“Kitchen, now.” You gave your client a sheepish smile. “We were due for a break anyway hun. Can I get you anything?”

She was visibly entertained by you and John, after all, the two of you had become a legendary couple in these parts for a reason.

“I’m good, take your time.”

John winked at your client, strolling behind you into the back. You waited until he was in the kitchenette before sliding the door closed.

”You’re such an ass.” But your hands were already under his sweater, running up and down his chest.

You appreciated that he took up so much space in the little room, forcing the two of you together. You could blame the room’s dimensions for being all over him, and not your unwavering attraction to the man.

“I haven’t seen you in 15 hours, yes, I counted. I’m always counting when it comes to you. You can’t ask me to behave.” 

Large hands slid into your hair, fingers interlocking to cradle your head. He didn’t even have to pull you in to kiss you, and he grinned, clearly also appreciating the size of the space.

“You think she’s a big enough fan to give us thirty?”

You actually have three rings. Your engagement ring, your wedding ring, and one of John’s rings that he gave you the first night you fucked.

In the quiet of the briefing room, somewhere you were surprised to be, you sat on his lap. The two of you soaked up the afterglow, the party raging outside fading to a dull noise outside of your own world. Coming down from your high, you let out a soft noise of surprise when John gripped your hair to kiss you with one hand. The other hand grasped your own, the one that had come to rest on his chest when you’d ridden him into his throne.

He slid the silver, braided band onto your ring finger, promising. “The first to come”

He loves to get in the ring and show off for you. Sometimes, there’s a loud mouth from a visiting club, or another table visiting, and John takes them to the ring they have in the back of the club’s compound. 

Usually, it’s Konig’s or Simon’s domain, but it’s not because John doesn’t love dishing it out as much as them. That becomes apparent when he delivers careful, strategically brutal, blows to his opponent. Enough to win, and then a few more to humble.

You had long ago stopped lying to yourself about how much it turned you on. So when John emerged from the ring, panting, abs catching the compound’s lights on a sheen of sweat, you always dragged him off. Under the guise of cleaning him up of course ;).

John’s breeding kink goes wild when he sees you with a baby, or any kid really. He’s been around the club life long enough to see many couples welcome kids. One of the first outings the two of you made as an official thing was to the hospital to see the birth of a member’s baby.

His old lady bonded with you, and you were quickly given child holding privileges. It came so naturally to you, and John felt what he figured the two of you would get to eventually quickly build itself a home in his chest. New Kink unlocked: breed you on any surface he could find.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, it was hypnotizing. His family around him saw it for what it was. Their president had this future scene, starring you and him, written all over him.

He thought the intensity of it was something he had to keep under wraps until he noticed you had the same feelings. 

Baby showers, shopping for 141 babies, school drives and charities the club did for the local youth, seeing cute kids on social media. It didn’t matter, John caught on to the fact that you fucked him like a feral rabbit whenever you got that maternal glint in your eye. He didn’t call you on it until after you were married. The day when your shop receptionist went on maternity leave. 

You’d been going on all through dinner, and then while doing the dishes, about how cute the kid would be, and you loved helping her with her nursery, and how she was already glowing. The more you ranted, the harder he got, until finally, he trapped you against the counter.

“I reckon it’d be easier to just say you want to be a mum.” he lifted one leg to his waist, and bucked against your clothed heat. “Say it.”

You stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “J-John..”

“Say it.” his voice somehow found a lower octave to sink to, choked with desire.

“What are you talking about?” you whined, embarrassed at being found out.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m hard as steel love, you feel that?” he grabbed your wrist, kissing the knuckles before quickly brushing them over his length. 

“That’s how bad I want to make you a mum, can’t you just admit it too?”

Tilting your chin up, he placed tiny kisses under your chin, purposely dragging his beard across the soft skin after each kiss. 

“C’mon then, tell your husband the truth so I can give us what we both want”

You whimpered, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. “John..”

“Go on, invite me in.” he slipped his index finger in the top of your panties just enough to play with the elastic. Stretching it until it threatened to fly back against your skin before he eased it back in place.

You moved forward in an attempt to make his finger slip lower, and he laughed darkly, holding you in place. Shaking his head, he repeated his precious statement.

“Give me a baby John.” you huffed, frustration rising until all that you could do was spill the truth. 

Gasping, you felt the cold tile of the counter beneath your thighs. You tried to process how he’d gotten you up there so fast, but your mind didn’t want to focus on anything other than your husband kneeling before you with the most determined look you’d ever seen.

As he slipped your panties and pajama shorts down your legs, he whispered how it’d be best if you prepared an excuse for work while you could still think straight.

[lksvi]

love him and let him love you

𝆹⭒ re6!leon kennedy x gn!reader

⏜ ‎ ◯𝆹⭒ synopsis — meeting you in raccoon city was a blessing. now, you've become the light within leon's darkest hours.

𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ content — fluff, probably some angst?, no uses of [name], i love leon kennedy, focuses on leon, a lot of leon reflecting

⏜ ‎ ◯𝆹⭒ word count — 2.2k

𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ note — the mischaracterization of leon kennedy makes me Sad so i wrote this. also requests r open js as a reminder!!!! enjoy this work!

𝆹⭒ masterlist

Leon is a graveyard of empty promises and bloodied corpses. Too many times has he promised what he cannot uphold, given what he shouldn’t– At his core, he is selfless. His heart beats the same direction of Ashley’s veins and his breath is remnant of Luis’ cigarette smoke. Those things kill, you know, he had said, not yet understanding what Spain had in store for him.

If there was any test of loyalty to his country, it was Spain.

He can’t tell you what he went through. The government holds him on a tight leash, never straying too far from the D.S.O. headquarters. Your home is a temporary peace; a light in the dark. Soft cushions and open windows, moonlight filtered through glass. Tranquility is not often felt by Leon, but whenever he is with you, at your home, with the gentle light of the moon brushing over pale skin, it buries itself into his bones. Carves into the marrow, makes a home of his ribcage.

Peace has never felt so free until he met you.

He thinks of that time often: Surrounded by the groans of the undead, brain matter sticking to the soles of his shoes. Yet, in the darkness of Raccoon City, laid a savior in the shape of you. Leon, a rookie cop who had yet to experience the weight of the world, thought you were an angel. He thought your purpose was to guide him out of the shadows, rescue him from the grime and filth that was Raccoon City.

Instead, he rescued you. Adrenaline pricked at his skin, shot through his veins. He remembers the sight of you: All-consuming fear swimming deep within angelic eyes, covering you head-to-toe. His gun did not feel heavy, nor did the bullet sound loud. All he could focus on was you, you, you.

He did not hear himself ask you, “Are you okay?” He simply saw you nod, and without a second glance, reached out to touch you. Fate intertwined your paths, brought you to him and him to you, for this moment. For Leon to gently grasp your wrist, flesh marred with dried crimson and flakes of dirt. For him to guide you to the police station, luminescent lights flickering overhead.

Underneath the fake lighting, he saw beauty personified. Breathless from running or from the sight of you, he did not know, but even if he wasn’t already panting, he would’ve started at the mere glance of you. He’s seen beautiful women, ones who turn heads and capture the lenses of cameras, but he thinks any lens would’ve shattered upon your grace.

Ever since Raccoon City, Leon has had a sworn duty: Protect the country and protect you. Helping has always been second nature for him, ever since he was six-years-old and standing up for the bullied kids housed in the orphanage, but for you, it’s his first. He helps you before he thinks of helping himself. Even with mundane tasks such as unscrewing the lids of jars and reaching something on the top shelf for you come natural to him.

He’s always helping you. So, he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you help him instead.

It’s long after midnight. Moonlight seeps through panes of glass, illuminating your living room. Tonight is cold and lonely. You reside by yourself, the glow of the television the only source of light within the home. A blanket drapes over you, shielding you from the cold, and a hot cup of tea sits on the coffee table. You’re about to go to bed when there’s a knock at your door.

You weren’t expecting anyone tonight. Confusion knits between your brows, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you stand up. Cautiously, you undo the locks and open the door, surprised to see Leon there. His sleeves are rolled up, dirt and grime stuck to the surface of his knuckles and inside of his nails. Turning up at your house with bruises and scratches are common for Leon, but he looks particularly rough tonight.

“Leon!” You gasp, moving to the side to let him in. A crooked smile plays on nude-colored lips as he steps inside, a shiver racking his frame. Dark blue fabric does little to shield him from the cold. The first few buttons are undone, revealing an array of yellow and purples peeking out from beneath it, along with a few cuts along his collarbone. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another two weeks?”

A light chuckle escapes him. He’s grateful to be back in your home, the comfort already making a home within his beating heart. “Got back a little earlier,” Leon responds, raspy timbre not giving away his exhaustion. You don’t miss the hitch in his breath when he steps, or the way he tries to conceal his pain. “Thought I’d swing by, pay you a visit. How’re you holdin’ up?”

You don’t answer his question, too busy eyeing the unusual color against his skin, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re hurt,” You say instead. He offers a small sigh, a tug at the corner of his lips. “S’The job, sweetheart. What can you do?”

Gently, you lead him to your bathroom. It’s small, barely able to fit the two of you, but you make it work. You treat him as if he’s made of glass, even if you know he isn’t. Although you don’t know what happens in his line of work, you see the aftermath of it. The angry splotches against his skin, dark bruising and crimson-dried cuts. “Was this one of the rough ones?” You ask softly, even if you know the answer.

Leon can try to lie. He can attempt to conceal the truth behind vague words and shifty eyes, but he doesn’t. He sighs, watches you get out the first aid kit, and nods. “It’s always rough,” He mutters, eyes cast downwards. Talking about work isn’t something he enjoys. He doesn’t like to bring his work home, even if it infects certain aspects of his day-to-day life subconsciously.

He doesn’t trust anyone. He eyes down any suspicious looking person while getting you both coffee, always takes a sip of yours before he gives it to you, just in case. You don’t know he does these things– He’d rather deal with his paranoia himself. He doesn’t want to make you paranoid. Leon keeps you close to him in crowds, a hand splayed out on the small of your back or an arm wrapped around your waist or your hands intertwined. Touching you in some way is a must. If he can’t physically feel you, he thinks you’re going to disappear.

And Leon understands it’s silly. The things he does, the precautions he takes, he knows it’s coming from a place of anxiety. Humor me, won’t you? is what he asks every time, accompanied with a playful click of his tongue. Yet, he’d rather be safe than sorry. Risking your safety in any way is the greatest sin of all, one he refuses to even chance.

You try your best to cheer him up. His job is dangerous, that much you know, but you try to be a beacon of light for him. He has a mansion of his own, but you always welcome your quaint home up to him. A place of safety. At first, he didn’t take it. Showing up at your home was rare, if he came at all. Truthfully, he was worried about infecting your home. Plaguing the air with his anxiety, worries, and fears; somehow shifting the quiet environment to one of chaos.

His own house may be tainted, but he didn’t want to risk yours.

“Take off your shirt for me,” You instruct him. The first aid kit is laid out on the counter, gauze and bandages and band-aids littered about. He’ll never admit it, but he always looks forward to your band-aids. You always go for a colorful theme of some kind. Last time, your bandages were space themed, littered with stars and galaxies and asteroids. He secretly loves your themed band-aids.

This time, they’re Hello-Kitty themed. One of the characters, who you’ve told him is My Melody, takes up the space of the band-aid. His lips quirk in a smile. “Hello-Kitty this time, huh?” He says as he unbuttons his shirt, letting the fabric fall to the ground. Scars litter the expanse of his chest and abdomen, taut skin stretched across muscles. Chasing down Bio-Organic Weapons for a living gave him the physique he dreamed of having as a young boy (with several scars added, too).

He doesn’t say it out loud, but the themed band-aids remind him of Sherry. The young girl you two had taken care of for a short amount of time, who Leon sacrificed the rest of his adult life for. Getting recruited as a government agent was his part of keeping you, and her, safe. In exchange for his recruitment, you and Sherry got to live a normal life. Although Sherry was much more grown up, now. Seeing her in China had been whiplash for Leon.

She was a young woman now, different yet similar to the little girl you two had rescued long ago. He was different, too. No longer a bright-eyed rookie cop who blindly protected in the name of justice. He thinks back to Ada’s words– “You haven’t changed. You just think you have.”– and ponders on if he really has changed. In a way, he has. Gruesome sights and ungodly terrors have plagued him, shaped him into a man of battle. But in a way, he still helps. He still offers a hand to those in need.

Helping people has always been what he wants to do. It sits at the core of his being, flowing through his blood. He thinks of Ashley, Luis, and Sherry– All the people he could and couldn’t save. He will never be okay with not being able to save everyone. It keeps him up at night, infects his dreams until they morph into night terrors.

But he has saved people. Like you.

You nod your head, cleaning the cut on his collarbone and decorating it with a band-aid. He doesn’t tell you that he saw Sherry– Not yet, anyway. He doesn’t want to disturb the serene silence. It brings forth tranquility, a type he only feels when around you. It’s quiet as you continue patching him up, save for your delicate humming (a quirk about you that he loves– Silence often scares Leon, makes him await when the next B.O.W. will find him or when an enemy will come out of nowhere. Your humming doesn’t interrupt the silence, instead making it more peaceful) and the sound of gauze and bandages ripping.

Sleep tugs at his eyelids. It isn’t often he gets the pleasure of falling asleep, but he hopes he does tonight. Even so, he’ll get to lay with you, and that’s enough to relax him.

When you finish, you smile at him. “All done,” You tell him. You card a gentle hand through his hair, brush through the knots with nimble fingers. Luxuries such as brushing his hair aren’t often thought about during his missions. Typically, he comes back with his hair in knots. He hates the feeling of you brushing through them, but he enjoys sitting on the floor in front of the couch, your legs over his shoulders. Leon will turn his head as you’re combing through his hair simply to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, leaving you to complain about having to start all over.

It’s the domesticity that kills him to be away from you. Thoughts of you persist even when he’s on a mission. Close calls have led to him thinking if leaving you, gentle kisses and exchanged laughter, would be the last time he saw you. A few times he’s picked himself up, even when an ache settles itself into his bones and he’s lost blood by the liters, because the thought of leaving you tears him apart. Never getting to see you making breakfast for him or your tongue sticking out when you focus or the blotches on your lips after anxiety-ridden days would break him.

He never wants to leave you. The image of you sobbing, tissues piled high and comforter up to your chin, makes his heart ache. He’s getting up before he realizes it, tugging you close. He hopes you can feel his heartbeat and understand that it beats for you. Leon’s never been good at expressing his emotions, but he hopes you know how much he loves you. How he would die and kill and tear apart flesh a thousand times over just to come home to your sweet smile.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” He murmurs into your hair. Rough fingertips gently scratch up your back, caressing the soft skin. He pulls away, just to see you look up at him. In this moment, he memorizes your eyes and your smile. He memorizes the feel of your skin, the smell of your perfume, the veins that map out a river beneath your flesh. He memorizes you and your love. “Let’s get to bed.”