#also my first time drawing water! hope it turned out well

[marcmorrigan]

@fenglianweek day 6: memories/growing up

the best thing thats ever been mine

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕄𝕪 ℍ𝕒𝕥 𝕆𝕟

𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚋𝚘𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: cowboy!rafe, mutual pining, kissing, teasing, swearing, older!rafe, drinking, unprotected p in v, car sex, semi-public sex, soft!rafe, grumpy!rafe x sunshine!reader, gets in a fight with jj, teasing, mentions of blood, wet and messy, rafe is huge

📖 This is based on an ask by littlelamy for Cowboy!Rafe. Thank you for your ask, bb! After a messy breakup with a bartender at a rival bar, Cowboy!Rafe needs to find a new place to grab a beer. Turns out you were the sunshine he needed all along. This is also loosely based on my favorite TikTok edit LINK ♥️

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

Copperhead Road looks beautiful tonight… Well, it's as beautiful as any dive bar can look. It has its charm—dressed up for the holidays with string light and shimmery garland. The scratch of classic country Christmas songs plays over the speakers, marrying with the regulars as they sip on their Coors Banquets and whiskey neats.

It wasn’t much, but it was yours. Most days, you didn’t mind working doubles, especially around the holidays when money was tight. It paid the bills, and the regulars were sweet enough.

“Sweet pea,” Bonnie calls, stepping behind the bar with a smile. She’s an old-time bartender, a “lifer” at Copperhead— ‘too old for this shit’ or so she would say through a cigarette-rasped laugh. “Thank you for stayin’ late for me tonight.”

You give her a nod and a smile, tipping your head on her shoulder as she pulls you in for a hug. “Of course. How was the concert?” You ask.

She smiles brightly, digging her flip phone out of her pocket to proudly show pictures of her granddaughter singing at the Christmas service.

You look around the bar; just a few people hanging out. A younger crowd’s gathered in the corner, nursing some mixed drinks, waiting for the party to start.

“You stayin’ tonight?” She asks as she ties an apron around her waist

”Of course, Mrs. Bonnie… It’s Tuesday night,” you say through a smile as you take off your jean jacket, showing off your rest sparkly tank top. The older women ohs and aws, and you smile and giggle, already knowing that that’s the reaction you were gonna get. Your friend Max holds the door open to the person behind him, and a man grabs it, bringing the cold December wind with him.

He walks in slowly, eyes locked on the rack of liquor lining the wall— his energy letting you know the last thing he was here to do was dance. He tosses his gaze to the ground, walking the rest of the way up to a bar stool, his Carhartt Jacket zipper up and his hat blocking his eyes.

He pulls off his hat as he approaches a chair, revealing his caramel-colored hair, brushed back slightly, just a little fringe hanging down on his forehead. He’s handsome in that rugged cowboy way—in that way that would make any woman in the place swoon.

“He’s cute,” Bonnie coos as she steps behind you, whispering over your shoulder with a grin.

“He looks grumpy,” you chuckle as you loft the rag into the sani bucket, flicking the water off your hands.

“Maybe he just needs a beer and the company of a beautiful young lady,” she teases as she shakes her shoulders and smiles, making your cheeks warm up at the challenge.

“I don’t know… He looks like he doesn’t even want to be here,” you mumble as you grab a bar napkin and a pen.

“He just needs a little holiday cheer, Sweet Pea.”

You draw a deep sigh as you make your way down the line to him, feeling your excitement rise as you get closer. “Evenin’. Can I get you a beer?”

“… Obviously,” he mumbles as he fiddles with his rough hands.

You chuckle and tilt your head slightly, hoping he’ll come to the conclusion that he was an asshole on his own, but he might need a little help. “Well, aren’t you charming?”

His eyes lift at the sound of your voice, like he’s hearing it for the first time. That got his attention. His baby blue eyes lock on yours, sharp features softening fast.

His brows furrow as he looks back at you like he’s trying to figure something out. “Jesus, m’sorry,” he mutters, rubbing his big hand against the back of his neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. That wasn't polite…”

“No harm done,” you assure.

He hangs his hat on the hook and unzips his jacket. Your lashes flutter as he pulls it off his shoulders, showing off his white t-shirt underneath. You can see how fit he is under his shirt: his big biceps straining the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.

”You okay?” He chuckles. Your eyes tear away from his body, flickering to his as heat pools in your cheeks.

“Uh-Umm… Yeah. Of course. Bud Light?” You ask nervously, guessing his drink of choice.

“Bud heavy,” he sighs, it’s been a long day. And a shot of BV if you have it.” You pop open a bottle of beer resting it in front of him before draining a double-shot of Black Velvet whiskey in a glass.

He reaches into his pocket, grabbing his wallet, but you wave him off. “On the house,” you smile as you set the bottle back. “Are you okay?” You turn the question back to him as you pull out a different spirit for yourself.

He lets out a dry, tired laugh, hanging his head again just like he did when he came in. “Uhh… No. Not really,” he grabs the shot glass, tossing it back. “I broke up with my girlfriend a few days ago.”

“Oh,” you say gently as you search for his eyes. “That’s always rough. M’sorry to hear that…”

“Rafe,” he fills in the blank as you hold out the word, waiting for his name. He extends his hand, and you wipe yours on your skirt, resting yours in his. “Rafe Cameron.”

You introduce yourself as well. The contact between you lasts a little longer than normal, making your heart flutter. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, sweetheart.”

His pretty blue eyes follow you as you step around the bar, walking toward him. The corners of his lips curl into a smile as you get closer, pulling up a seat next to him. He turns toward you, making the gesture a little more intimate. “Sorry about before,” he mumbles again as he goes for his beer.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” you smile. “I’m used to crabby cowboys,” you tease.

“Well, I prefer brooding, but I deserve that,” he laughs against the lip of his bottle before taking a sip. “She’s a bartender too, down at Little Angie’s. Been going there for years. And honestly, it was my bar first, but I guess I can’t go there now,” he huffs, taking a long sip of beer before wiping his hand across his lips. “She cheated on me.”

“On you?” You ask as you cock an eyebrow, lifting your voice in disbelief, genuinely surprised but stroking his ego nonetheless; the man obviously needs it.

“What do you mean ‘on me’?” He drawls, half-hiding his smile with his hands before taking another swig, fishing for the compliment he knew you were feeding him.

“You’re very handsome, Rafe Cameron,” you smile. “Gotta fix that personality of yours, though,” you taunt as you poke him in his muscular chest, making him scowl jokingly.

“I’m a ray of fuckin’ sunshine, princess. The hell do you mean?” He asks, his voice sweet and raspy.

“She sounds like an idiot. I’m sorry,” you say earnestly, resting your hand on his blue jeans, giving him a sweet squeeze before pulling away. You watch a blush creep across his cheeks in the light of the neon moon.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he hums as he looks back at you. You bite back a dizzy smile as you glance at him.

“Well, lucky for you, Copperhead has better beer and better people,” you smile sweetly as you lean in a little closer.

“Mmm… Mhmm?” He chuckles, trying to fight back his wide smile. “Suppose you are one of those people, huh?” He asks.

“She is,” Bonnie adds as she sets down two more drinks, clearly delighted for you over this turn of events. “N’dosen’t she look stunning tonight?” She raises a question as she grabs two new bottles off the rail.

“Gorgeous,” Rafe croons. “Thank you.” He gestures toward the bottle before shifting in his seat, moving even closer than before. “Hear that? Said ‘thank you’ and everything.”

“Like gentleman,” you coo.

“That’s right,” he grins.

The music around you starts to turn up, you look over your shoulder, so lost in your conversation with Rafe that you didn’t notice the large crowd that had filled the space. You glance back toward the booths—your friends waving wildly as they catch your attention, eyes widening in approval of Rafe as well, making heat bloom in your cheeks

“Umm… I’m not sure if you’re free tomorrow, but if you are, I’m doin’ a breakfast with my friends at my place. You’re welcome to stop by.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he quirks an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“‘Course. Holidays suck alone.”

He bites his lip, contemplating your offer, the corners of his eyes creasing with the smile he’s holding back. “Might take you up on that, sweetheart.”

“Perfect,” you whisper. “What are you doing right now, cowboy?”

He throws his gaze away, laughing lightly at the title before returning his eyes to yours. “Nothin’. What do you have in mind?”

“Line dancin’ starts at eight…”

His face twists slightly, body turning away from you, toward the bar as to say ‘no.’ “Dancin’ is not really my thing,” he chuckles, nodding at Bonnie to come back down the line for another drink.

“Suit yourself,” you sing as you step off the barstool, leaning in slightly. “Enjoy your beer, handsome.”

The music shifts to something upbeat as you make your way toward your friends. The familiar rhythm takes over, and you go from one high with Rafe to the next. You shift your hips, moving your body to the beat.

One of the regulars steps in, Pope, a handsome rancher from down the way. He pulls you into his arms, whirling you around as he usually does.

You feel the heat of Rafe’s gaze from the bar. You glance over your shoulder for a moment—his eyes on yours, watching you with an unreadable expression. Before you can think about it much more, Pope twirls you under his finger, stealing your attention.

You feel a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you away, and you follow, slipping into Rafe's strong arms. He pulls you in close, arms wrapping around your body, lips curving into a grin.

“You dance?” You smile sweetly.

”Absolutely not,” he mumbles, his hold on you letting you know there was no way he would let you dance with anyone else tonight.

The music slows to something smoother. Rafe pulls you in close, the warmth of his big body sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his scent—enveloped in his rich cologne, warm vanilla, and a hint of tobacco.

He matches your movements, shifting effortlessly with you as his rough hands roam your curves. “You’re pretty good at this,” you smile as you rest your hands on his chest, feeling his heart bang underneath.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he mutters through a smile.

The space between you gets closer and closer; the heat of Rafe’s breath on your hot skin makes your heart race. And just like before, the two of you were lost in your own world, yanked out by a large hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

“You fuckin’ kidding me?”

You look around Rafe’s as JJ’s wild blue eyes dart between the two of you, narrowing on his fast.

“The fuck is this?” JJ asks as he pulls Rafe off you, shoving him back.

“Back off, JJ,” you hiss as you step between the two of them.

“Is he botherin’ you?” JJ asks, looking around your shoulder, focusing more on the new man trying to take you away and less on the fact that you wanted him to go.

“No, JJ. You are. Just fuckin’ leave.”

JJ dismisses you again, stepping around you to get in Rafe’s face. “You think you can just walk in here and take what’s mine?” JJ spits and swings his fist, nailing Rafe in the cheek. Rafe returns a blow, landing square on JJ’s jaw fast, sending him stumbling back with his face clutched in his hands.

You grab Rafe as the bouncer grabs JJ, pulling the two men apart as they shout over the music. “That’s enough, JJ,” you shout, JJ’s darkened eyes never leaving him—Rafe, glaring right back at JJ with a smirk on his face. “Not fuckin’ leavin’, cupcake.”

“You're done,” the bouncer warns as he tightens his grip on your ex, dragging him back.

“Let go of me, Shoupe,” JJ grunts as he fights against him.

“Come on, baby,” you whisper, the name pulling Rafe’s focus back to you in a second. He smiles down at you, his cheek gashed and bloodied as he wraps his big arm around your shoulders, following you to the office.

Rafe crashes down on the chair, kicking out his boots, shaking his hand, eyeing his swollen knuckles with a groan. “Let me see,” you whisper as you move closer, setting the first-aid kit on the desk before sitting on his lap.

You hook your finger under his chin to get a better look as Rafe wets his lip and smiles, his twinkling eyes finding yours. ”It’s nothin’,” he hums, but you clean it anyway, the tough guy only letting a hiss slip past his lips as the alcohol soaks his skin.

“You’re not the only one with an asshole ex,” you whisper as you lean in a little closer, Rafe’s arms finding their way around your waist again.

“Guess we got that in common, princess,” he breathes as his eyes fall down your body in his arms.

You cup his cheek in your soft hand, and he shuts his eyes, melting into your touch. Before you know it, his lips are on yours, deep and deliberate, slow and sensual, sending sparks straight through you as his tongue rolls with yours.

He groans into your mouth, and you moan into him, savoring the taste of his sweet lips. His big hand inches up your body, but you grab his wrist, guiding his hand to your tit. “Fuck, baby,” he moans as he squeezes. Your hand rests against his chest as your tongues reel, your nails scratching down. “Lower,” he rasps and smiles against your lips, your slight hand pushing against his stiff dick in his Levi’s, making your pussy ache.

“Wanna get out of here?” You whisper as you draw a breath, lips quickly finding him again. Rafe smiles against your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his as he sucks off slowly.

“Your place or mine?” He asks through a smile.

The two of you not so much as get to his truck before he’s on you again, kissing you passionately, your fingers finding the handle of the back seat, pulling him inside with a smile. And for the third time tonight, the rest of the world fades away. The dark parking lot is crammed with cars—your ex presumably close, but none of it matters but Rafe.

He pulls you on to straddle his lap, his big hands cupping your face as he strokes your soft skin; Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes stare back into yours as you breathe deeply together.

"Baby,” he stops you as you lean in for more, his rough thumb tracing your plump bottom lip. “Is this alright?” He asks sweetly as his eyes fall to your lips, catching the slight space between you, staring at your lips hungrily, desperate for more, but the well-mannered man in him forces him to ask.

“You really are a gentleman, aren’t you?” You tease as he takes off his hat, resting it on your head. You run your fingers through his soft hair as he tips his head back, melting into your touch.

“You can keep my hat on, princess,” he hums as he pulls you closer, his warm lips pressing against your neck, moving higher. “You hear me, sweetheart?” He asks needily as your hands trace down his broad chest, fingers falling to his belt.

“Think I owe you for takin’ care of my ex.” You bite your lip as you tug the leather belt through the loops.

“I don’t think so, baby doll,” he hums as he rubs his thumb across your shoulder, lowering one strap and the other. “I was just payin’ you back for the beer,” he whispers through a playful smirk. You reach up, pulling your shirt and bra down around your waist, making Rafe release a deep groan.

He leans in, pressing his lips against yours— hungry and possessive. Your tongue tangles with his, separating briefly to tear him out of his thin white shirt as his hands cups your chest, thumbs brushing across your nipples.

You wrap your hands around his neck, grinding into the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. He quickly reaches down, tugging them down his thighs. “Keep going,” you whisper and chuckle lustfully against your lips, pulling his boxers down as well.

Rafe slides down in the seat, slightly guiding your arousal-pooled panties right on top of his dick, taking his lip between his teeth, rocking your body onto him as his mouth devours yours.

His hands wrap around your back, slipping under your skirt to grip and knead your ass, pulling moan after moan from your lips. His stiff cock rubs against your clit, making you toss your head back at the delicious friction between your thighs.

Rafe buries himself in your neck, his warm breath hot against your skin as he breathes you in. “Fuck, I need you,” he mumbles against your neck before sinking his teeth into you growing impatient.

“I’m so wet for you, Rafe,” you sigh as you taunt him further, squealing as he slaps your ass roughly with a laugh.

“I know, baby,” he chides. “Goddamn, I fuckin know. Just give it to me—let me have it. Yeah?” Your hips continue to rut shamelessly against his pulsing cock, making him take what he needs himself.

Rafe reaches under your skirt, ripping one side of your panties and then the next, tossing the soaked lace to the floor with a sigh of relief as he grips his heavy cock with one hand, lifting your body right where he wants you with the other arm making you gasp.

Rafe’s lidded eyes connect with yours, lips falling open with his as he pushes inside you entirely. Your grip his shoulders, hands trembling as a deep groan thunders in his chest, feeling your warm, wet cunt wrap around him tight.

“All that teasin’ for what?” He pants with a smile as he leans into your lips, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss.

“Told you I was wet,” you whisper, and he chuckles as his work-worn fingers find your clit, making you gasp.

“Told you I knew,” he drawls as his soft lips brush against yours. “You gonna let me cum in this pretty pussy, sweetheart. Make you even wetter?” He asks as he grabs your hips again, guiding you to roll your body just like you were before.

“Sh-Shit,” you shutter shakily, never feeling something quite this deep. “Mhmm, daddy… You gonna take me home?” You ask as you feel his big cock fill you to the brim.

“Callin’ me daddy? Shit… You’re gonna get a lot more than that, princess,” he smiles as he lifts your hips, fucking up into your soaked hole. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me.” You throw your head back; his hat tumbles off, skin slapping against the skin as the windows of his truck start to fog up.

Your lips crash against his, kissing him with deeply, feeling yourself about to lose control. “Fuck, Rafe… M’close,” you whimper against his lips.

“Yeah?”

”Yeah,” you pant. Rafe grabs your body, using his hold and his muscle to bounce you on his cock, again and again, pounding your pussy with his thick dick. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, warmth tightening around him. “Cum for me, pretty girl,” he groans. “Make a mess for me.”

Your pussy gushes and flutters around his big cock wetting his lap and his fingers.

“Atta, baby… Shittt,” he mumbles, hot against your skin. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises between rough thrusts, his orgasm coming fast and hard as he adds to the wet mess. The slick sounds of sex fill the cab— Rafe rocking to a stop between gentle kisses. He buries himself in your neck, pulling you into his heaving chest.

Rafe kisses your forehead—then your nose and your lips. “Goddamn,” he mumbles. “Let’s get you home, huh? Get you cleaned up.”

“Yeah, cowboy?” You ask breathily. Rafe kisses you again, lingering while your breathing slows together.

“Told you you’re not gettin’ rid of me, princess?”

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @littlelamy @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged

[moonstruckme]

*dries tears and ignores the stinging of my hand* hi mae! I have a holiday/winter themed emt!marauders prompt if it suits you!! I was wondering if we could see the boys and reader celebrating the holidays in a cozy little cabin that happens to have a wood burning stove? I was just tending to the fire at my mum's old house and burnt the shit out of my knuckles, and I think the boys would be (want them to be) soooo sorry on my behalf and coddle me senseless 🥹

Awwww, our poor Elle <//3 I hope your burn has fully healed by now my love

cw: mention of burn but no description

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 789 words

You gasp through your teeth when it happens, your body reacting before your brain can register either pain or embarrassment. Those come shortly after, one after the other, pain when you see the already reddening skin of your knuckles, embarrassment when Sirius comes to investigate what’s made that sound. 

Your boyfriend looks you over quickly, a well worn habit. His brows pinch when his eyes land on your hand. 

“Awe, baby.” He takes your wrist carefully. “What’d you do?” 

“I burnt it on the stove,” you say, shocked. “On the door.” 

Sirius coos. “Poor girl,” he murmurs, giving you a firm squeeze around the shoulders before starting to pull you towards the kitchen sink. “Come here.” 

You gasp again as he turns the cool tap on your knuckles. Sirius shushes you, drawing circles into the inside of your wrist with his thumb. After a moment the water starts to feel nice, and you relax right as James and Remus wander in to find you. 

James’ eyebrows raise when he sees you and Sirius at the sink. “You said you were making cocoa,” he says, half confounded and half already on the brink of laughter. “What’d you manage to do instead?” 

“She’s burnt herself,” Sirius replies pityingly. 

“Ohh.” James gives you his sad puppy look. Remus is frowning concernedly. “Angel, how?” 

You shrug self-consciously.  “I thought it was sort of cold in here, so I went to stoke the fire—”

James gives a little smile. “Obviously a mistake.” 

“—and I burnt my fingers on the door as it was shutting.” 

“Dove.” Remus’ sigh is a mix of exasperation and caring. He kisses the back of your head, trying to see your knuckles through the water. “How bad?” he asks Sirius. 

“Mild,” Sirius says, though his thumb is still moving over your wrist, his touch heavy with sympathy. “Might still blister, though. Think they have a first aid kit here?”

“I’ll check.” Remus kisses your head again before he goes. 

You appraise your hand, the stinging lessened under the flow of the tap. “I don’t think it’s really terrible,” you say. 

“No” —Sirius wraps an arm around your waist, squeezing— “it isn’t, baby. Probably still hurts, though, yeah?” 

You frown, and he coos, doting. His lips press warmly to your shoulder. 

“Let’s see if we can get it warm in here like you wanted,” says James, bending in front of the large iron stove. He picks up the poker, opening the small door and prodding at the logs. As he does, he glances at the temperature gauge on the side. “Christ, lovie. It’s already at 400, how much hotter do you want it to be?” 

“It is?” You squint, trying to read it from where you are. “Oh, that is a hot fire.” 

“Is it now?” Remus asks as he comes back in with a roll of bandages and a bottle of clear gel. “You wouldn’t be referring to the fire you burnt yourself with, would you?” 

Your face heats at the teasing in his voice. “I didn’t burn myself with the fire.” 

“No, but the heat of the fire does actually affect the heat of the metal around it. Or so I’ve heard.” 

“Be nice to her,” Sirius protests on your behalf. He scrubs his hand up and down your side comfortingly. “She’s hurt. And it could have happened to anyone, that thing is evil.” 

“You only think that because you can’t use it either,” James taunts, referring to every time in the past few days Sirius has also narrowly avoided burning himself on the hot stove that heats your rented cabin. “You two are disasters in solidarity.” 

Sirius’ mouth drops open. “What did he just call us?” he stage whispers near your ear. 

When you chuckle, his lips quirk. 

To their credit, James and Remus both revert to their usual sweetness as they spread aloe over your burn and wrap it with careful touches. Remus even places a kiss on the other side of your fingers, seemingly under the hope its healing powers will seep through. Sirius remains your most devout supporter, tutting and kissing whatever spare inch of you he can find anytime he so much as suspects something might hurt. 

“Do you need to take some painkillers, babylove?” he asks once they’ve finished up. 

You press your lips into a reassuring smile. “That’s okay,” you tell him fondly. “It’s not so bad.” 

Sirius pouts. “Do you want some painkillers, though?” Your silence speaks for you, and he makes for the bathroom. Remus sighs, holding your head still to kiss your hair and mumbling something about one or the other of you being a terrible enabler before going to get you some water to take your painkillers with.

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Sketchbook - Chris Sturniolo

Requested by @pineapplealpaca Pairings - bsf!Chris x bsf!Reader Warnings - Just some fluff 🥰 and strong language! W/c - 2043 Summary - You and Chris meet freshman year of high school. With the talent of drawing, he quickly becomes your muse. After winning an award senior year, he finally finds out what you've been hiding from him this whole time. A/n - Thanks for requesting! 💚 This is my first Chris piece, hope you guys like it!! Should be edited so let me know if you see any typos! All interactions are appreciated ❤️ Dividers and photos are not mine; all credit due to original owners. My requests are always open! Check out my masterlist for my recent pieces! Tags - @lvrsturniolo (sorry I forgot 😭 thank you for already liking!! If anyone else wants to be on my tag list, just let me know ❤️) Current Matt series - City of Love. Part two.

Freshman Year

You sit on the bleachers, letting your pencil scribble across your sketchpad. Spending most of your time here, waiting on your older brother to get done with football practice. You were always an artistic soul, so drawing and painting was something you held close to your heart, along with the boy you had been crushing on since seventh grade - Chris Sturniolo. 

Life was so much easier with him in it. He came around often, being one of your brother's best friends, but you also formed a bond with him since the two of you were the same age. Over time the friendly banter turned into flirty banter, and you found yourself swooning over him at every given chance. Sketching portraits of him in your sketchbook, which might as well be your secret diary. 

You watched as he danced around the football field, doing what he loved most. After practice is finished, he makes his way over to you. Chugging the contents of his water bottle before trying to sneak a peek at your sketchbook, “whatcha’ drawing there, Y/l/n?”

A blush immediately creeps to your face, and your clutch your sketchbook to your chest, “uh- nothing! Just random stuff, why?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, “just wondering, that’s all.”

Chris decided to leave it alone, but he knew he was lying when he said it didn’t spark his curiosity.

Sophomore Year

“C’mon let me see it,” your best friend, Chris, calls from the other side of your bedroom door. When you realized he had been snooping through your room, finding your hidden sketchbook in the process, you flipped shit on him. Snatching your sketchbook, your lifeline, and kicking him out. You run over to your closet, hiding it under a pile of junk you desperately needed to clean up. 

After successfully hiding your secret diary of a sketchbook, you rush over to the door that Chris was still knocking on, slinging it open. He stares at you, pushing you aside, and barging in your room. “It’s never that serious. Let me see that damn book,” he’s a bit agitated you’d keep it from him. There was no secret in your friendship with Chis, so hiding something this big was gut wrenching to him. He felt betrayed. He knew you didn’t want him to see it and that’s what made him want to even more. He had it a mission from that point on.

He needed to see what was in that damn book.

Junior Year

You let out an exaggerated sighed, clenching your sketchbook to your chest. Chris had you pinned on the couch in a battle over your precious sketchbook. Every time he saw it, he dove for it, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything other than Chris - the sketchbook bandit. 

“Chris, please,” practically begging as he stared you down. A smug smirk spread across his lips which were inches from yours. You didn't know what possessed him to go after your sketchbook every time he saw it, but he did. He would catch glimpses over your shoulder, making him more curious than ever. He knew you were drawing a portrait of somebody, but he didn’t know exactly who it was. Especially since you’d slam your book shut and hide it any time your senses told you he was near, his cologne being a dead give away.

“What’s the big deal, Y/n/n?” his tone was laced with playfulness. Knowing Chris too well, you knew he was just waiting for the right moment to rip the sketchbook from your grip. Being around him so much meant you were accustomed to his bullshit. Chris was a big goofball and the two of you got along great, aside from his never ending need to look in your book. He was determined to figure it out, and every time he failed, it ended in an argument. He could get anything he wanted from you, but you would never budge when it came to the sketchbook. 

At first, Chris thought you were afraid to show him your drawings, but when he begged to see one, making you rip a random drawing out and shove it towards him, he quickly realized that wasn’t the case. He just knew there was something, someone, in that book you didn’t want him to see.

Senior Year

The day was finally here - the art show. Your art teacher entered one of your paintings, and if you were honest, you weren’t completely okay with it. Only reason being, the portrait she entered was of your best friend, Chris. He had become your muse over the years. You were around him the most, so his face became easy to draw for you. The way his jawline curved when he turned his head to the side. The shape of his eyes and nose being more symmetrical than anyone you had ever drawn before. You couldn’t help it - when you looked at him, your pencil flew across the paper like magic. 

Chris was one of the most important people in your life. Even though you and Chris were just friends, you couldn’t help but get butterflies every time he looked at you, and that had been a feeling he gave you since the first day you met. You never knew if Chris felt the same way, and you weren’t the type to be straightforward, so you never brought it up. Chris was the complete opposite, being a little too blunt at times. It worried you if he didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t know how to let you down easily. This became one of your biggest fears over the years of knowing him, and one of the main reasons you kept it a secret. You were just grateful he was in your life on a day to day basis, crush or not. 

Luckily, Chris had a football game and couldn’t come to the event you were being awarded for. They had already announced the winners online last week, three of them - two other entries from different schools, and yourself. The only thing you had to do was get through your award winning speech and collect your certificate. Chris being disappointed he couldn’t call off the football game, you being upset you couldn’t attend his game. It was a coincidence in the worst way, but the two of you made plan to make up for it later in the week. In a way you were glad you didn’t have to confess to Chris the secret you had been hiding since freshman year. Knowing Chris, never thinking things through thoroughly before letting his words slip, you figured he’d think your portraits of him were weird. In a way, they were, you had been creepily letting your hand scribble across paper, drawing your best friend. 

Even worse, hiding it from him. For years. Maybe him not being here tonight wasn’t such a bad thing.

You bite your lip, and your gut churns as the host calls your name, “and for the second winner of tonight, Y/n Y/l/n, from Somerville High School!” 

You walk on stage, approaching the podium, and give the audience a big smile. This was one of the biggest achievements of your life, the feeling was euphoric for you. Letting your eyes scan the crowd, landing on your parents and brother. You notice Chris sitting next to your brother, your eyes widen, meeting his gaze, and you spin around to look at your winning portrait - a portrait of him. 

Chris stares at you with an unreadable expression plastered across his face. You couldn’t help wondering how he felt about discovering the secret you had been keeping from him the last four years. Was he mad? Did he even realize it was him? 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take a step forwards and clear your throat, “I’d like to thank everyone who came out tonight, everyone who donated, and everyone who voted for my art piece. It means the world to me, standing in front of all of you today. I want to thank my family for supporting my dreams, and being here tonight,” you ramble on. Your stage fright disappears for a moment when your eyes land on Chris. A smile stretches across his face and he raises his eyebrows, like he’s telling you to continue. “And of course, I’d like to thank my best friend for being my muse,” your tone was laced with nervousness and passion all at the same time. Chris had inspired you without even knowing it. 

After you wrap up your speech, you enter the common room, chatting amongst the other winners. Various strangers of the art community approached you, congratulating you on your big win, and praising your masterpiece. You knew at the end of the night, you’d have to talk to Chris, and the anticipation boiled in your gut because of it. You didn’t know what you were going to say or how you were going to approach the situation, but you knew it had to be done. You just hoped it didn’t ruin your friendship in the process. 

“Pretty big secret, huh?” a voice from behind you snapps you out of your trance. Immediately recognizing that it’s Chris, you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact of his words. “I can see why you didn’t want me to know,” he continues, this time his voice is closer than before. You don’t say anything because, honestly, what the fuck do you say? 

An awkward smile pulls at your lips as you avoid eye contact with him, “I can’t believe you’ve been drawing me like one of your little french girls this whole time,” he playfully scoffs. His joke breaks the awkward tension being held between you two, making you let out a giggle. 

“Shut up,” you groan while running a hand through your hair. 

“Why?” Chris had always been one to tease you. Especially when it comes to your sketchbook so now that he knows what you had been drawing this whole time, he’s loving the hell out of it. 

“It’s not funny, Chris,” you groan, looking away as your face heats up a dark shade of red. He always had that effect on you, but it was even worse now.

“No, I mean why me?” he asks, his eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find the real answer. He already knows you won’t be completely honest with him, not when it comes to your drawings. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble under your breath, eyes fixated on your shoes. 

Chris reaches out to take your hand in his. The sudden contact makes you look at him, “you can tell me, Y/n.” 

Shaking your head, “I just think you have good bone structure,” you come up with the first lie you can think of, pulling your hand away, and walking to your portrait of him. You point to it, “your face is very symmetrical. It’s easy to draw!”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. His face was easy to draw, but that was probably because you had drawn him so many times. It was familiar to you. It inspired you.

You felt bad about telling him a halfass truth, but your intuition told you his reaction wouldn’t be good, so you hid it the best you could. You watch as Chris’s eyes brows knit together, his lips forming a straight line. He stares at you for a second, keeping the hard expression etched on his face.

As soon as you think you’re out of the water, he does the unthinkable - reaching a hand out to your wrist, pulling you to him, and smashing his lips into yours. The unexpected kiss makes you freeze for a split second while his lips move against yours. Chris brings a hand up to your face, almost like he’s telling you to accept it. You do exactly what he wants, moving your lips against his, letting him take the lead because you were, obviously, a nervous wreck. 

The shock is still taking a toll on your mind, and body, as Chris pulls away. He looks at you with that same unreadable look, “you’re a bad fucking liar, Y/n.” 

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi! I hope you're doing well and drinking water! If its alright with you, may I request rottmnt Leo reacting to his s/o wearing thigh highs? It can be suggestive or full nsfw, the choice is yours!

Temptation In Thigh Highs (Fluff?) (Suggestive)

Rise!Leonardo x reader

A/N: I decided not to do a full blown NSFW this time around. Sometimes we need something a little more chill😎 Also, is it bad that I don’t own any thigh highs?😂

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, implied sex afterwards.

When you told Leo that you had a surprise for him, he couldn’t help but get a little excited, if not curious. That little mischievous smile you flashed when he asked what it was, gave him all he needed to know. It was in fact something that he should be excited for.

Leo sat restlessly on your couch, his knee bouncing while his eyes roamed your living room, as if it would give him a clue of what you had in store for him. After having been dating for as long as the two of you had, Leo was used to your apartment. Yet he couldn’t help himself, hoping that something could lead him to whatever surprise had for him. But nothing gave him a clue. And nothing could prepare him for what you were wearing as you left your bedroom, making your way into the living room, the sight made his heart race and his thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

You walked into the room, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. Your attire was but lacy lingerie, leaving Leo’s mind blown as he took in the sight of you, his eyes staying on your legs for a whole minute. Thigh high stockings adorned your legs, accentuating every curve of muscle and fat, and leaving little to the imagination.

"What do you think?", you asked him, your mischievous smile still plastered on your face, yet your voice trying to sound innocent.

Leo’s mouth was dry as he gulped, still somewhat taken aback by the beautiful sight before him. He couldn't tear his gaze away from your legs, the stockings drawing his attention like a magnet. Heat flooded his cheeks causing his face to feel hot, along with a sudden rush to his cloaca.

"(Y/N)... What are you wearing?", Leo managed to say, his voice filled with awe. He had seen you in lingerie before… plenty of times actually, just before he would rip it off of you, but never, never had he seen you in thigh highs. It was as if you just stepped out of those pornos he used to watch before the two of you got together, imagining the girl in the thigh highs were you, pinned beneath him.

You chuckled lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him. "Just something I found in my closet. Do you like it?"

Leo nodded enthusiastically, a warm smile spreading across his face as his usual charm and charisma coming back.

"You look absolutely stunning, (Y/N). So stunning that I think my heart stopped for a moment", he said, placing a hand on his plastron, as if he tried to massage it through his hard keratin.

A blush painted your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your heart, the small thrill you had hopped for running through your body. 

"Thank you, Leo. I'm glad you think so", you said, feeling nervous yet beautiful under his gace. How lucky you were to have a boyfriend, that made you feel so beautiful.

As you shared a tender gaze, a thought crossed Leo's mind. A thought that soon turned into a scenario in his head, building up the pressure behind his cloaca.

"You know, those thigh highs are quite tempting...", he said, resting his elbows on his knees, allowing him to lean towards you, his eyes running over your body once more, his small movements heating up the room, just as if he had started a fire.

You laughed softly, a twinkle in your eye. You knew he would go there. That was why you put these thigh highs on in the first place. Because you loved it when he went there. But you had to act innocent. It was part of the fun. Something that made it even more interesting for the two of you.

"You never miss an opportunity, do you?", you asked, slowly taking a few steps towards him on the couch. It was amazing to watch Leo sometimes. Just a moment ago he sat with a bouncing knee, and now he sat comfortably on the couch, legs spread and just inviting you to come closer.

Leo grinned, reaching out for you as you came to stand between his legs. "What can I say? When it comes to you, I can't help but be inspired". And with those words, he grabbed a firm hold of your hips, before pulling you down, so that you were straddling his lap. Just one of the many positions Leo would be seeing you and thigh highs in that night.

[stvrnioloslvt]

the estes method - Matt Sturniolo

bf!matt × gf!reader

PART ONE HERE

disclaimer: the following content might not be suitable for everyone. please, read the triggers list before reading this story. also, english is not my first language, but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

(pictures taken from pinterest, credits to the owners)

triggers: none, just pure fluff ahead

「 ★ ★ ★ 」

the car ride was silent. colby had offered to drive us home so that matt could cuddle me in the backseat. from time to time he tried to make small talk just to assure himself that i was alright, but i was too drained to actually reply with words.

i felt empty, too damn scared and tired to do or say anything. i looked out the window, alert, in case something decided to pop out at any second.

matt pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around my waist in a protective manner. he knew that i was using the last bit of energy i had to carefully analyze our surroundings instead of falling asleep like i should have.

"baby close your eyes. there's nothing out here"

i shook my head, still not sure of our safety.

matt sighed, "you should rest, baby", leaving buttefly-like kisses all over my face in hopes that they would help me relax.

finally, i gave in. it wasn't really my choice, but my body decided that it had enough and it had to shut down.

i opened my eyes only when i recognised the familiar turn that led to the house. i stretched in matt's arms, still recovering from the short nap, and looked out of the window as soon as we pulled up in the driveway.

"i'll get you inside baby, hold tight"

and just like that i was being carried (for the second time that night) bridal style in the house, up the stairs to the bathroom.

i heard a low chatter downstairs, then the main door closed as colby went back to his car and drove away into the night.

"maaatt" i whined, wanting to go back to sleep in his arms. instead, my boyfriend put me down, locking the door behind us.

"just a quick shower, then we'll cuddle in bed as much as you want. sounds good?"

i mumbled a small okay, ready to do whatever he wanted if it meant that we would cuddle later on.

his big hands reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up with ease. he took a moment to notice that i did, in fact, draw tons of protective sigils on me just like i said: two on my collarbones, one per wrist, and one that was half-hidden by my underwear.

"well, i don't think that was a good idea" i chuckled, wandering where i went wrong.

i looked up to see tears welling up in matt's eyes, clearly still shook from the scene that played in front of him.

and that's when it hit me: how did the boys feel in that moment? what went through their minds? of course, being the protagonist of a traumatic event was hard, but how did they live it as spectators?

"matt" i whispered, taking the boy in my arms. we held each other like that for a few minutes, sobbing, relieved that everything was over, but also scared to death for what could have happened instead.

"i was so scared, my love, so fucking scared. so, so scared" whimpered matt, holding me tighter with each word that left his mouth. he pulled back, looking me in the eyes, holding my head in his hands. the look on his face mirrored mine: bloodshot eyes, tear streaks drying on the cheeks, the expression of someone who was convinced that they had lost everything that they loved the most.

"i love you" i managed to choke out, caressing his cheeks.

"i love you too, baby. so fucking much"

his head turned towards the shower, an implicit sign that we should probably go ahead.

as we stripped each other, we made sure to take all the time needed: kissing, nibbling, hugging whenever we wanted. and as we stepped under the warm water, i made sure to appreciate with gratitude that moment of just us two, cuddling and loving each other gently.

「 ★ ★ ★ 」

"jump in bed, sweetheart, i'll just turn the lights off"

"no, wait!" i pulled matt away from the light switch, gripping his wrist tightly.

"can we sleep with the lights on? just for tonight, please"

the boy smiled at me softly, climbing in bed next to me.

i scooted closer to him, letting his familiar scent invade my senses. matt wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer to him.

there, protected by his presence, his warmth, and his love, i felt truly at home.

"matt i love you so, so much that words can't describe how my heart feels for you" i mumbled, trying to fight the sleepiness.

"like seriously," i continued, "my heart hurts at the idea that you will never know how much i truly love you"

matt chuckled, listening to my pathetic babble in a sleep drunk state.

"go to sleep, sweet girl, i love you too."

「 ★ ★ ★ 」

the end.

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

hope you guys enjoyed it! I truly felt the need to give these two a chance to cry it out and fall asleep in each other's arms, knowing that they are safe.

let me know if you have any suggestions, ideas, or even if you liked it!

love you all,

-bree <3

[grandline-fics]

HEYYYYYY

I really love your writing so much and I am glad the requests are open

Can I request a fem reader and law in which both of them has a crush on each other but no one will admit it ?

Until they get into and argument and law gets so mad and confesses??

Angst angst angst to fluff pls

And thanks for all ur work!!

DESCRIPTION: mutual pining but fear of admitting your feelings leads to an angry confession

WARNINGS: angst to fluff

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,563

A/N: Thank you for this request! I hope I brought enough angst and fluff for you. I struggled a bit with getting the scenario in my head to properly work so hopefully you like it!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

-------

“I am your Captain, this isn’t up for debate!” Law snapped, glaring at you from across the room, the harshness in his tone making all of the others in the crew freeze in their preparations for approaching the surface. It was almost as if the slightest movement would bring their Captain’s fury onto them. You bristled from his words, returning the glare in full force. Why was he being so difficult about this? All you wanted was to get off the Polar Tang and stretch your legs, feel the sun on your face again for the first time in what felt like an eternity. But no, once again you happened to be one of the few chosen to stay behind. “Well maybe it should be!” You shot back.

It was meant to be a random draw so things were kept fair but it seemed you always ended up being left behind. The last time you’d managed to be on the surface was far too brief for your liking, a quick restock trip with no time to enjoy relaxing with your other crew-mates. Those left behind on the Polar Tang had set chores and tasks to see to while also being vigilant of any trouble approaching the ship while it was under water and keeping an eye on the island for any signal the Law and the others needed help. You were tired. “There’s plenty still staying behind here, they won’t miss me!” 

“The choices were made. You’re staying on the ship.” Law repeated far too evenly and you couldn’t help but flinch at the note of finality, if you pushed anymore he really would get angry. You clenched your jaw and threw him one last furious look in the hopes to hide how hurt you were before turning on your heel and storming out of the room. With every furious step you took, you berated yourself. Why were you putting up with this? Why were you backing down? Well because it seemed like you were a glutton fro punishment. You had feelings for your Captain and you’d rather stay on the crew and under the water than risk him throwing you off the crew entirely. You just wished you knew what you’d done to make him regard you so lowly.

When the slamming of a door echoed back into the control room, Law sighed and left in the opposite direction to finish gathering his things for when they reached the surface. It wasn’t until you were both gone that the rest of the crew let out shaky breaths. This wasn’t the first time this argument had risen between the two of you but this time the atmosphere was definitely worse. 

Law couldn’t help but hate how he spoke to you and the look on your face made him feel so much worse but this was something he had to do. He wouldn’t admit out loud that he was having feelings for you but he did. He knew he did. That was why he refused to risk your safety, not after the last time he let you join him on a new island. You two had been exploring old ruins and he had indulged in the moment with you, smiling slightly and even giving the odd flirty, witty comment back at you. Then because of his incompetence, his lack of usually sharp observation he hadn’t noticed the floor crumble until it was almost too late. The image of your startled expression and body falling towards the spikes underneath the ground still flashed in his mind uncomfortably. If it hadn’t been for his ability you would have been gone forever. It was selfish, he knew it was but he had to keep you safe.     

Later that night when he and the others returned, you tried to hide how hearing them laugh and talk about all they had seen filled you with bitter jealousy. You knew you couldn’t handle sitting through the rest of the night hearing their stories that they’d share with the others left behind this time who were eager to know what they missed. Quickly you welcomed Law and the others back on board and excused yourself, ready to just stay in your room until morning. As you were about to leave you were stopped by Law taking your arm. You roughly pulled out of his grip and kept walking. He was the last person you wanted to look at and you hated how much you wanted to continue feeling his hand on you, in spite of all he’d done.

For the next few expeditions to new islands you stopped putting your name forward, knowing there was no point in getting your hopes up briefly just to be crushed again and again. Instead you just got a head start on the tasks that would need doing. However one day you froze when no one put their name forward. “None of you are going?” Law repeated, looking around the room. He was going to kill them. It was a rule that no one could leave unaccompanied, after some past incidents that included him. 

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“I think I my allergies are acting up.”

“I went last time.”

“I think I caught Penguin’s allergies.”

The excuses floated around the room pathetically and Law ground his teeth together. Slowly he looked to see you standing against the doorway, staring him down with arms folded. You weren’t going to ask. If he was so desperate to go on land he had to be the one to speak. Swallowing then lump in his throat, Law forced the repeated image of you almost dying out of his head and let out a low sigh. “Go and get ready.”

Finally on land you let in a long breath of relief and couldn’t help the broad grin stretching across your face while the wind lightly fell across your skin. It felt like part of a weight had been lifted off of you. Some weight still sat squarely on your shoulders and you cast a glance in the direction of its cause only to frown when your Captain quickly looked away from you. Sighing you rolled your eyes and walked across the beach, heading for the trees. Unknown to you Law was fighting his own guilt. Getting to see you smile, really smile for the first time in ages had thrown him. He’d missed seeing that part of you. Quickly he was able to fall into step beside you, staying close in case of any danger but still he kept out of encroaching in your personal space. You were pissed at him and he deserved it. 

“So let me guess, another five minutes and you’ll come up with an excuse to go back?” You asked dryly. Now that you were both out of earshot from the others it felt like now was as good a time as any to air out what his issue was with you. “Can’t have me disgracing the name of the Heart Pirates by being seen on land.”

“When have you ever disgraced the crew?” Law asked, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the rainforest terrain.

“I don’t know, you tell me. I’ve been pretty much demoted to the ship’s maid with no explanation other than ‘Captain’s orders, stay on the ship.’ I just want to know what I did.”

“Nothing. You’re-”

“If you say I’m overreacting or reading too much into things Trafalgar Law I will punch you.” You growled angrily, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I am not stupid. I know you’ve been manipulating the draws to make it that I stay on the ship and you owe me an explanation!”

“Because I care about you!” Law snapped finally his hands gripping your shoulders tightly, forcing you to look at him. “I was barely able to protect you last time. I couldn’t risk it happening again or worse, not being able to prevent something worse from happening. I’d never forgive myself.” You stared up at the man with wide eyes, your lips opened lightly as you tried to register the declaration. You were also slightly confused about what he had meant about ‘last time’ but when you searched your memories you remembered it. The ruins and him saving you from being skewered from a pit full of spikes. 

“We’re pirates, Law.” You told him when you finally found your voice. “I had a bounty and a wanted poster long before I joined your crew. I know the risks that this lifestyle brings and that includes the possibility of getting hurt. But you’ve hurt me a lot this last while, even if you thought it was protecting me.” 

“I know and I’m sorry.” He muttered, watching your hands lift to settle over his that still gripped your shoulders. “I swear I didn’t intend for you to think I thought you were weak, I-”

“I know, you care about me.” You smiled warmly. “I care about you too, why do you think I put up with that nonsense for so long? But you have to make it up to me.”

“Yeah? How do I do that?”

“For starters you can kiss me.” You smirked watching Law freeze in surprise. Taking advantage of his momentary state you secured your grip on his wrists and pulled him forward. “It’s not up for debate, Captain.” 

[hipsdofangirl]

i like this one

phlebotomist! minghao x reader

summary: another blood-drawing session, hopefully your hot amazing doting professional boyfriend doesn’t lash out on his juniors again.

genre: semi (not really) hurt-comfort, established relationship, fluff, non-idol

major warnings: brief mentions about bad outcomes of blood-draws, blood but contained, use of needles, slight innuendos but nothing explicit

minor notes: minghao doesn’t appear till halfway, some medical terminology and some not cause i forgot what each thing is called, everyone does the procedure correctly but i may miss steps, some inappropriate worker-patient interactions, not proofread

wc: 2k

“just to let you know, i have very tricky veins,” you warn.

the phlebotomist who welcomed you chuckles quietly, snatching gloves from the box near your right arm. you observe them as they snap on their gloves.

the phlebotomist comments, “don’t worry, i’ve been doing this for a while so you should be in safe hands. needles don’t make you sick do they?”

you quickly shake your head. “no, well at first yes but i’ve conquered my fears over them recently.”

they smile. “that’s good! now place your arm on here.” they lower down an arm rest on the chair you are sitting at.

you brace yourself. for the past couple times, the phlebotomist always had trouble finding your veins, ending up with you near-fainting or presenting you with a hematoma that covered your arm. you exhale, ready for that possible pain.

the phlebotomist flicks their eyes to you. you only present them with a fleeting smile.

they inform you, “this is going to be uncomfortable for a bit.” they wrap the blue rubber around your arm and tie it, the texture grating against your skin and sitting uncomfortably on your bicep. you only smile in response.

once secured they move on to the crook of your elbow, maneuvering their pointer finger and pressing down on bits of skin where blue lines are visible; they press down 5 times, spots centimeters away from each other.

“i like this one,” they state. you exhale again but quieter, hoping the procedure would go smoothly. the phlebotomist prepares their equipment is about to insert the needle; you turn your head away, freezing your body to be still, and inhale.

the needle goes in smoothly; you glance back at the phlebotomist.

after a couple minutes the phlebotomist gets antsy, the tube was only halfway filled. they slowly move the needle out.

they toss it away. “this one is not as fast as i hoped, but it should do. now for your other tests.” that’s right—you had 2 more tubes to go. you groan to yourself and tilt your head back: luckily no dizzy spells or pain yet. they quickly grab a cotton ball and tape to plaster it.

the phlebotomist looks at your hands and presses down, starting with your right. nothing to note. they press down on your left—also nothing to note. they sigh and gather themselves back. they take off the band you subtly forgot was there.

“how about you go the bathroom and run your hands under warm water,” they request. your eyes narrow, never hearing this task before. “i’ll call you back when you should be good.”

you push up the arm rest and saunter over to the connected bathroom. you turn on the hot water, wincing when you placed both hands under. you lean your body on top of the sink—head drooping in mental exhaustion. of course it wouldn’t go easy. if only they had listened to you.

after 5 minutes of listening to your inner monologue to pass the time, you are called back. hand now beating red, you sit back down. the phlebotomist doesn’t fully smile as the arm rest sits back down.

after going through the steps again, they insert the needle next to a knuckle in your right hand. nothing comes out. they take it out and mutter to themselves as they plaster on another cotton ball.

“do you mind if i try one last time?” they ask. you admire their persistence but dread the question.

“sure.” you know no one can come save you now.

they attempt the pit of your right arm again, taking off the tape, and as expected, nothing.

they roll their eyes, throwing away the sharps before walking to the main area. you slightly slip down in your chair and close your eyes—still no terrible symptoms you suppose. how long has it been though?

the phlebotomist comes back into view and releases you. no way they are going to send you home now, right? your hands are still hot to the touch.

“you are going to be transferred to another chair, if you are okay with getting poked more?” they state.

“anything to just get it done; i can keep going,” you reply.

another figure positions itself in the doorway.

“alright. just follow me, please,” the figure with the senior phlebotomist badge states.

the junior informs him, “personally, i like the one inside of their arm.”

the senior scrutinizes you. “i like this one as well.”

you smile, blush creeping upwards on your face. you meet your boyfriend, minghao’s, eyes. he fidgets, hand trapped under his other palm; you can tell he is struggling not to swallow you up in a hug.

eagerly, you push up the arm rest again and trot towards him. out of the corner of your eye, you notice the earlier phlebotomist slouch with a grumpy look.

minghao notes when you are beside him and slowly begins to walk over to the lab window.

once it is only you two, he remarks, “how come you didn’t ask to see me?” you glance down to his lips to see the lower one slightly more pronounced than the upper.

“i tried to subtly suggest it,” you defend.

he interjects, “you should have just outright stated it.” you sigh, nonchalantly bumping your shoulder with his right arm. he sighs himself, noticing you aren’t looking at him anymore, and he can’t help but not take his eyes off you. “i know you have a hard time speaking up in these professional situations, but it would be better for me—you to get the help comfortably that you need.”

you snort, “the terms ‘hospitals’ and ‘comfortable’ don’t seem to fit in the same sentence to me.”

his eyes crinkle. “maybe not, but still. you should not be in pain when it can be avoided.”

you rub the inside of your elbow, remembering one of a previous phlebotomist’s attempts at fishing. minghao glances around, then places his palm on the center of your back, thumb rubbing circles.

suddenly, he slightly grips your shirt with the tips of his fingers, causing you both to stop. at the little window stands one of the lab techs and friend.

“vernon, what’s the minimum amount needed for their tests?” minghao releases his grip and walks up to the window, placing the rack of vacutainers assigned to you. vernon turns around and picks one up—gloves on.

“ahh, i know it’s 3 mL for the cbc count but i’m not sure about the other,” he peers down at the other tube, placing the one in his hand back on the rack carefully. like he is breaking out of a trance, he stands upright. “oh, hi yn.” he waves.

you smirk at his constant demeanor. “hi vernon,” you respond in a singing-tone.

vernon takes a step towards the computer and not-so-subtlety flicks his eyes between you two. you switch your attention to minghao to see him scanning your face; you provide him a gentle smile and another shoulder bump.

minghao only observes you, his eyes clouded with thoughts regarding you. “we’ll do the lowest amount required for you, and don’t worry, i’ll set you up.”

those bland words made your stomach flip—you don’t know if it’s from the semi-blood loss or needle punctures or your cute yet serious boyfriend showing his minute care. even before you got together, you fell in love with the precise care he gave to everyone regardless, you pondered what he did for those he cherished; now you knew, only now you see one side of him, the professional side that can’t help but let cracks of adoration slip through his eyes.

vernon bobs his head—probably listening to music through one ear to pass the time.

minghao graces your knuckles and slides past you, leaving his hand behind him, gesturing for you to follow. “meet me in my room, vernon.” with a slight pep in your step, you trail behind him, tapping his outstretched fingertips so he pulls them back to his side.

once you both are at his designated station. he pats the back and monitors you as you position yourself in the chair; once you are settled, he steps closer and you feel yourself be slightly lifted.

minghao washes his hands in the nearby sink—with lukewarm water—as vernon knocks on the door frame to announce his presence. he turns off the faucet with his wrist and side steps to let vernon set down the rack.

“have a good day, yn,” vernon announces, reaching out his bare wrist to you, sandwiched between his gloves and coat. startled that he is already leaving, you stretch out your own wrist and bump him. you meet minghao’s peeping gaze and notice a smile hiding from the outside, adorning his face.

minghao snaps on the gloves and finally notices. “how are your hands still red?” he grumbles.

you laugh. “they did keep me in the bathroom for a while.”

his grumbles rumble his chest. “so stupid. why didn’t they call me in.”

you tilt your head at him, mockingly; he notes your expression with narrowed eyes. he focuses back to the tourniquet. “i know, i know,” he surrenders, shoulders loosening.

placing the rack directly beside you, he feebly grasps your left wrist and faces it down, wiping it with a sterile wipe. your hands still red (how long did they leave you in there?), he tenderly pressed down between your knuckles before settling next to the ring finger.

the senior phlebotomist peeks into your eyes and glances down, taking the needle connected with the tube. he also notices your right hand twitching in anticipation.

quietly, he utters, “do you want to help me out again?” you glimpse back at him and nod with a faint sound.

he grins, positioning the needle. “ready?” he whispers. you inhale sharply and look away, yet your eyes flick back to his concentrated face. “3, 2, 1.”

he inserts the needle. with a quick pulse of pain, you turn back at him.

he doesn’t look at you but acknowledges, “you’re doing great for me.” your cheeks faintly blush at the familiar words he probably didn’t mean to come out that way; this moment surprisingly intimate as the only thing grounding this moment are the patterns of breaths colliding from the two of you.

you peer down to see blood zooming through the into the lavender top. it amazes you—the difference between the two and how quickly your blood can race.

he carefully pulls the needle a bit towards him. he peeks at your expression and you notice it. “are you ready?” you hum in response.

he pushes the lavender top tube towards you, and you clasp it in your right hand; with both of your strength, the vacutainer tube is separated from the drawing tube. he positions it into the rack and grabs the next one; he places it into your hand, and when your hand tightens around it, he pumps the drawing tube into the top. soon, blood begins to flow again into the red-topped tube.

you scan minghao’s face and giggle softly when you notice his little nose scrunch. he huffs air, feeling your gaze directed on him and slightly relaxes. soon after, you both remove the tube and he places it back on the rack. he removes the needle and grabs a cotton ball; with no words spoken, you move your free fingers on top of his and he slides out, plucking the tape to place on top as you swipe your fingers back.

a succinct kiss to the side of your lips reminds you where you are—ironically. you blink rapidly and pout at him. minghao giggles and saunters away, throwing the sharps into the bin.

he walks back, just out of reach, and lowers your chair; he rips off his gloves and tosses them away.

you stand up, stretching out your back. minghao gingerly snatches your right arm to survey your previous sites.

he purses his lips. “no doubt these are going to bruise. hopefully not too bad though.” he meets your gaze, his voice turning into a murmur for you, “tonight, let me know if you are in any pain, okay?”

you nod—you now notice you do it a lot; you wonder if minghao knows he is part of the reason you lose your ability to speak.

you grin. “you’ll be able to tell anyways.”

he gives you a look and steps back, a breathy chuckle rasping from him. “that’s true. but if you want a treat you’re going to have to use your words.”

a/n: a lot of warnings this time…does it turn away readers? should i just include the major warnings? also this might be too personal, but idc it’s sweet and everyone needs a comfort during medical procedures.

and yes everything here did basically happen to me 😭 not fun. except minghao obv that’s how i banged this one out fast please dont expect lol

can’t you tell i’m a stem/healthcare major 😛

tags: @jcxbliss

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

  Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

 Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

*

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 2

[scribblesofagoonerr]

howdy, america! | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

my favourite fic to write. it did start out as a sick fic but then it turned into well, this.

pairings: leah williamson x reader!buddy x reader!monkey

summary: preseason has kicked off in america and it's chaos all round!

double the trouble masterlist

thank you @alotofpockets for the help with this one! there's also a special appearance from @lvnleah character Rory as well.

“Nana, it’s too hot!” You whine, not a fan of this hot and sticky weather in the middle of August, “I don’ like it!”

“I know sweetheart,” Amanda sympathises with your fussiness that you’re not entirely used to being in another country as she adjusts the little sun hat on your head, “How about you try and drink some water to see if that helps at all, hm?” She suggests.

“Okay,” You shift restlessly in your seat as you take small sips from the bottle that you’re handed, “I don’ feel good,” You whimper, unhappily.

You are so excited to watch the game, you love it usually. However, today's a bit different with the fact of the unbearable heat in America is that you’re not at all used too, it makes you feel all icky inside.

You don’t like it, not one bit.

You're sitting in the stands with your Nana as you watch the football match unfold as Arsenal take on Washington Spirit in a preseason game at the Audi Field. The sun is blazing down and the stadium is packed with fans all eager to see their favourite players on the pitch.

Donned in your own Arsenal football shirt as you sit perched on your Nana’s lap, with a pale pink sun hat on the top of your head to keep the sun out of your eyes but it didn’t help the fact that you felt uncomfortable with the newfound heat you weren’t all that familiar with.

“I don’ like this heat,” You whine in discomfort, continuing to get fussier as the minutes draw on into the first half of the game, “I feel icky!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Amanda coos, doing her best to comfort you despite the fact you’re just getting more restless by the second as the game goes on, “I know it’s a lot to handle. Shall we see if we can find a spot in the shade?” She wonders.

“I wan’ Mummy,” You whine upset, looking out to where Leah is standing on the pitch with her usual stern expression she always has.

“I know you do, but Mummy is still on the pitch at the minute,” Amanda explains, taking control of the situation to bring you into a more shaded area with hope that you might feel a bit better, “It won’t be long until you can see her, sweetheart.”

“Too hot Nana, I feel icky,” You continue to whine in discomfort, thrashing around in the older women’s arms as you feel a pain in your tummy, “I’m gon’ be sick, Nana!” The tears brim your eyes, wanting nothing more than to be in Leah’s arms again.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Amanda furrows her eyebrows as she prepares for the worst case situation, “Just a little longer sweetheart. You can see Mummy soon, I promise,” She tries to keep you calm for the rest of the first half of the game.

Despite her best efforts to keep you hydrated and in the shade away from the sun too much, the heat only seems to make you feel worse. 

Amanda is more than thankful for the whistle at the end of the first half to be able to signal to Leah, who’s just finishing up with a small interview.

“I wan’ see Mummy now,” You murmur with a pout on your face, not entirely understanding why you can’t have her straight away.

“Hang on sweetheart, let’s see if we get her attention,” Amanda lightly sways with you in her arms, “Leah!” She calls out, trying to catch the blonde before she dips off into the changing rooms for the half time talk with the rest of the team.

Leah looks over straightaway, concern immediately crossing her face when she takes in your flushed cheeks and drooping posture, “Hello my little bubba,” She jogs over to the sidelines and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead, “What’s the matter?” She questions, her worry evident for you.

“I don’ feel good, Mummy!” You immediately reach out for the blonde as your bottom lip quivers.

The blonde doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up into her arms and hold you close to her despite the heat, “Oh it’s okay, my little bubba. I’ve got you.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I feel icky, it’s too hot!” You whimper in her arms, snuggling into her embrace despite the blazing heat that there currently is right now, “I gon’ be sick,”

“I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, bubba,” Leah kisses the top of your head and holds you in her arms, “It’s very hot here, isn’t it? It’s no wonder why you feel sick,” She adds.

“She’s been fussy the whole of the first half. It might be a good idea to take her indoors for a bit out of the heat,” Amanda suggests the idea, “I know you might need to go back on, so I can take her?” She offers.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going back on if my little girl is feeling sick,” Leah declares without a second thought, “I’ll go and take her inside myself for a little bit, I just need to let Jonas know Buddy’s not well,” With a quick word passed over to the coaches about being subbed off for the game, you’re heading inside in Leah’s arms to a more secluded area where there is air conditioning available.

“I don’ like this feeling,” You whimper tearfully, “I wan’ watch Monkey though!” You mention your favourite person, you always like to watch her play football and now you couldn’t while you’re inside.

“I know you don’t,” Leah coos, settling down on a chair as she cradles you in her arms while the air conditioning works wonders to cool you down, “We can go and watch Monkey if you want too as long as you don’t feel too sick still?”

“Wan’ watch her,” You murmur quietly.

“Okay, that’s fine. We can do that,” Leah replies in agreement before she stands up again from her seat and carries you in the direction of the changing rooms, “How about we take a little quick shower first to cool you down and then we’ll go back out, hm?” She suggests.

“There’s my favourite little Buddy!” You hear your favourite person speak up as you turn your head and give her a small smile, “What’s wrong?” She asks, concerned.

“Buddy’s not feeling that great at the minute with the heat,” Leah informs the girl, brushing another strand of your hair away from your sweaty face.

Monkey’s eyes widen in concern as she sees you nestled in Leah’s arms, your small frame seeming even smaller as you clung to her and normally, you would be bouncing with excitement to see her, eager enough to run into her arms but today was a completely different story.

The heat had drained all of your energy, leaving you feeling icky and weak.

“Oh no,” The girl frowns, stepping closer towards you as her playful demeanour is replaced with worry, “You’re not feeling well?” She asks.

“Too hot,” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you still hold on tightly to Leah.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Monkey pouts at your fragile state she’s not used to seeing you like, “I… I can stay with her if you need to go back on and play?” She offers, turning to look at Leah.

Leah shakes her head in disagreement, “It’s okay, I’ve been subbed off and I am going to sit with her,” She pauses, “Besides, little miss wants to watch you play when you get subbed on.”

“If you’re sure?” The younger girl offers, her usual energy subdued as she watches you with careful eyes, “I don’t have to play today. Buddy’s sick!”

“No, you’re going to play,” Leah replies against the idea, “Buddy will be fine, I’m going to be with her the whole time. Now, go head back out there and we’ll see you out there in a bit, okay?” She encourages Monkey to go back and join the rest of the team that are still sitting on the bench.

“Urgh fine,” The girl huffs reluctantly and shuffles out of the changing rooms in a sulk.

“What is she like, eh? Silly Monkey,” Leah laughs lightly and shakes her head about Monkey’s sudden mood change as she walks over to the shower and turns it on to a lukewarm temperature, before carefully placing you down in the shower as she lets the cool water spray over your body, “There we go, bubba. Does that feel better?”

Despite her teasing Monkey about her mood swing, her focus never once wavers from you as she takes care of you.

“Uh huh. Better, Mummy,” You nod as the water washes away the discomfort.

“Good, I’m glad,” Leah says with a warm smile, reaching for a towel to wrap around you as she turns off the shower, “Let’s get you changed into some fresh clothes and then we’ll go sit back down with everyone else.”

“Sit with Auntie Beth?” Your wonder, curiously.

“Yeah, I think Auntie Beth has been subbed off as well,” Leah confirms, her hands working quickly and efficiently to get you dried off and into a fresh set of clothes, “It’s a good job that I packed spare clothes, isn’t it?”

You scrunch your face up when you realise that you won’t be able to wear your own Arsenal shirt now, “I don’ get to wear my Arsenal top no more,” You mumble, a hint of sadness in your voice.

“It’s okay, I know that you’re still my little cheerleader, Bubba,” Leah kneels down to your level as she smiles reassuringly at you, “For now, it’s between one of these ones,” She says, holding up a couple of options for you to choose from.

You take a moment to decide before you finally point to one you like more, “Green one.”

“Green? Oh that’s a good choice, Buddy!” Leah praises, helping you into the t-shirt along with a pair of white shorts, and you were more than happy to go back out to find your aunties, “Ah, ah, not so fast. You still need some more sun cream on, little miss.”

“No, I don’ like it,” You grumble in protest and try to pull away from her, “Don’ like it, Mummy. it’s icky!”

Leah chuckles softly, her hands already applying the suncream despite your reluctance, “Oh I know, but it’s better than looking like a lobster now, isn’t it, hm?”

“Icky,” You mutter, making a face even if you know she’s right about that, but it still doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You definitely do not like sun cream.

“I know,” Leah agrees with a sympathetic smile as she finishes applying the sun cream to your squeamish body, “All done, see that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Gross,” You whine in response, shaking your head in disagreement.

“It’s not that bad,” Leah smiles in amusement, “Shall we go and see which of your aunties we can find now then?”

“Yeah, watch Monkey play!” You declare, your earlier excitement starting to return now that you’re feeling better.

“Yeah, she’ll be playing soon,” The blonde agrees with a fond smile, holding her hand out for you to take as you make your way back to the bench where you spot a familiar face sitting there, “Look who it is, it’s Auntie Beth!” She points out the blonde woman.

“Hi, Buddy!” Beth greets you with a small wave as she has Rory, sitting on her lap looking grumpy.

You’re not sure if it’s the heat or the fact that she’s missing Viv, but she’s definitely not having a good time in America.

You do miss Jordan while you’re out here though but you’ve been able to FaceTime her, Blu and Tater-Tot as well.

You’re excited to be able to see them when you’re home!

“Hey, pipsqueak!” You hear the familiar Australian voice of Monkey’s best friend and partner in crime, Kyra, “Where’s your Arsenal top?” She jokes.

“Couldn’t wear it no more,” You pout in disappointment, your fingers touching the hem of your new t-shirt which isn’t as cool as your own Arsenal one.

“Aw, no. That’s a shame, but don’t worry you still look cool in that one!” Kyra notices your glum expression and gives you a sympathetic smile, “And hey, you’re wearing green now!” She winks, trying to lift your spirits.

“Yeah, you’re reppin’ leprechauns’ colours now!” Monkey jokes as she chips in on the conversation, although you're not entirely sure who she is talking about.

“Oi, I heard that,” Katie chimes in, rolling her eyes playfully.

Monkey just laughs, “Good, you were meant to,” She says before she ruffles your hair knowing it’ll wind you up, “Glad that you’re feeling better, Buddy!”

“Monkey, stop!” You do your best to perfect the glare that is almost identical to Leah’s.

The girl holds her hands up in mock surrender, “Oh, now I know you’re feeling better if you’re scowling at me like Mum does,” She jokes, sticking her tongue out at Leah for good measure.

“Oi, watch it you," Leah fires back with her own stern look, though there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes, “Go on, go start warming up, Menace.”

“God, you’re always so bossy,” Monkey remarks, rolling her eyes dramatically but not without a smirk.

“Go on, go, Menace,” Leah says, pointing toward the sidelines with an exasperated shake of her head.

Monkey huffs dramatically but gets up from her seat, dragging her feet a little for the show, “Fine, alright, I’m goin’ now,” She mutters, throwing one last playful glance over her shoulder as she finally makes her way to the pitch.

“That girl sometimes, eh?” Beth chuckles amusedly after she watched Monkey’s theatrical exit from the seats.

“Tell me about it,” Leah replies, adjusting the sun hat on your head to keep the sun out of your eyes, “She’s a pain in the butt sometimes, but we love her, don’t we, Buddy?”

“Monkey’s my favourite person,” You declare confidently, snuggling closer to Leah.

Beth dramatically gasps in outrage, clutching her chest as if she’s been mortally wounded, “What? I thought I was your favourite person!”

“No, that’s me,” Katie pipes up from the other side of Beth, her tone playful.

“No, you’re both silly!” You giggle at the pair of them, “Monkey’s my favourite!”

“I’m offended,” Beth continues to faux upset as she keeps one arm around Rory, who’s still grumpy because she misses Viv, “I’m your favourite, right, Roo?” She asks her daughter.

“Yeah,” Rory agrees quietly, fiddling with the hem of her own Arsenal football shirt that had Beth’s name and number on the back of it.

“Well at least my daughter agrees,” Beth jokes, trying to lighten the mood, though she sneaks a glance at Rory, who’s clearly not her usual cheerful self.

Leah notices the exchange and leans a bit closer to Rory, “You know, Roo, I know you’re missing your Mamma but she’s going to be so happy to see you when you’re back home. I bet she can’t wait to hear all about your time here.”

Rory looks up to Leah with a small smile at the mention of Viv bringing her a bit of comfort, “Really?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Leah nods, her voice warm and reassuring, “And just think of the big hug she’s going to give you when you see her again. She’s going to want to hear every single detail.”

Rory’s smile grows a little wider, and she finally relaxes a bit against Beth, “I miss her,” She admits softly to the blonde.

“I know, sweetheart,” Beth says gently, rubbing her daughter’s back, “I miss her too, but Auntie Le is right. Mamma is going to be so excited to hear about everything that you’ve been up to.”

Leah gives Rory a warm smile before she looks between the two of you, “I think I might have an idea to cheer you girls up after the game,” She pauses, “I think we should get some ice cream! What do you think?”

“Ice cream!” You squeal in excitement, you sure do love ice cream a whole lot.

Beth laughs at your enthusiasm and peers down to look at Rory, “Oh ice cream does sound good, doesn’t it, Roo?”

Rory’s face brightens a bit at the suggestion, “I like ice cream,” She tells Leah with a small smile.

“I know you do,” Leah says, giving Rory a soft smile, “And you know who else likes ice cream? That big kid over there,” She gestures onto the field where the subs board is being changed for Monkey to go on to the pitch along with Kyra, Steph and Caitlin.

“Monkey likes ice cream a lot!” You reply in agreement.

“Yeah she does, so we’ll have to make sure that Monkey doesn’t eat it all before we get there.” Leah jokes, playfully.

“No, Monkey can’t eat it all!” You whine in protest, knowing that Monkey also likes ice cream as well, “You have to stop her, Mummy!”

“Don’t worry we will,” Leah laughs in amusement, “Look, she’s about to go on the pitch now so you can watch her,” She points with her index finger to where Monkey is racing onto the pitch.

“Go, Monkey! Go!” You shout enthusiastically, waving your little hand in the air in support of your favourite person.

Monkey spins around and looks over in the direction where you are and quickly waves back before she gets her head focused on the game, running all over the pitch with a burst of energy that matches her whole personality.

“Mummy, you and Auntie Beth look silly!” You can’t help but giggle at the current way that Leah and Beth both have the brightly coloured yellow bibs on their sun to protect their heads from the sun.

You don’t have that problem though, since you’ve got your own pink sun hat to keep your head safe.

“It’s the only way to keep us from getting too hot,” Leah tells you as she laughs, “I’m not fortunate to have a sun hat like you do, bubba.” She explains.

“Yeah, where can I get one of those lovely pink hats?” Beth chips in, her tone playful as she nudges you slightly.

“Mine,” You giggle at the blonde’s playful antics.

“I can’t see her,” You whine in protest, losing track of seeing your favourite person running with the ball.

“She’s over there, see?” Leah gestures to where Monkey’s running on the pitch with the ball under her feet, “Do you see her now, bubba?” She questions.

“I do! I do!” You squeal in excitement and clap your hands enthusiastically.

You find it hard to keep up with the rest of the match, the heat was relentless and despite Leah’s best efforts to still keep you cool and comfortable, it’s not long before you feel agitated again with it so your enthusiastic mood dips once again.

“It’s hot,” You whine pitfully, shifting around in discomfort.

“I know it is, bubba. It won’t be long until the match is over now,” Leah tries her best to reassure you, using a programme that she got her hands on to fan you and keep you cool again, “You don’t feel sick again, do you?”

“Nuh uh, just hot,” You grumble in disagreement with the heat. 

You miss home and the terrible weather, it’s not always hot there like it is here.

There’s a quick water break and you notice as Monkey comes bounding off the pitch, her energy still high despite the intensity of the game, though she spots you squirming in Leah’s lap and immediately notices your discomfort.

“What’s wrong, Buddy?” She jogs over, her face flushed but she still has her usual bright smile, taking the towel that she was just handed over to Leah to give to you as she knows you’re more in need of it right now, “This might help a little bit.”

“Thanks, Monkey,” Leah thanks the girl appreciatively, adjusting the damp towel over your shoulders to help you cool down.

“Anything for my favourite little buddy,” Monkey shrugs her shoulders, taking small sips of her own water bottle as she gets her usual mischievous glint in her eye, not thinking twice before she sprays a little cool water over you from the bottle, “Gotcha, now gotta go. Buh-bye!” With that, she drops the bottle and rushes back onto the pitch to carry out the rest of the game.

“M’ wet now,” You pout up at Leah, who chuckles softly and shakes her head.

“Monkey is a menace, isn’t she?” Leah asks, her eyes twinkling with amusement, “Don’t worry, you can get her back when she least expects it.” She adds, playfully.

“Yeah, I’ll get her back!” You smile cheekily, snuggling against Leah as you attempt to watch the rest of the match play out with the opposing team.

You’ve never been more grateful for a match to end as the heat is unbearable and once the final whistle blows, you peer up to look at Leah with hopeful eyes with the idea in mind to seek out Monkey on the pitch, and get your own back with the water bottle, “Can we go see Monkey now?” You ask.

“Come on, bubba,” Leah replies in agreement, taking a hold of your hand as she carefully helps you down the big steps that lead out to the pitch, “Do you see her?” She asks.

“Yes!” You spot her straight away as she has also spotted you and starts to race towards you, “I see her!” Letting go off Leah’s hand, you run towards her.

“Ah, my favourite little Buddy!” Monkey grins and lifts you up into her arms before she proceeds to spin you around, “Did you like the match?”

“Lots of goals scored!” You nod enthusiastically.

“Careful or she’ll be sick,” Leah states wearily as she finishes high fiving with the other team before she makes her way back to you both, “And then you’ll be the one to deal with it.”

“I know, I know. I’ve got her,” Monkey replies, holding you close to her as she walks back to join the post-match huddle with the team, standing on the other side of Leah.

“Proud of you out there, my girl,” Leah tells her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“What about me?” You ask, pouting at her.

Leah smiles and gently prieses you from Monkey’s arms, “I’m proud of you too, my little bubba,” She says, keeping you close as she listens to the post-match talk with Jonas and the rest of the team.

“Get down now please,” You ask politely, wanting to run about and kick the ball on the pitch now the match is over, you’re not so keen to listen to all the grown ups talk about stuff that you’re not sure about and maybe now Rory would play football with you?

“Don’t wander off,” Leah murmurs protectively, kneeling down to place you back on the floor, trying to pay attention to the post-match chat but more concerned about you wandering off somewhere unknown, though there’s a high chance of that happening when there’s a lot of staff here.

“Kick the ball with me, Roo!” You ask your cousin, who agrees with you and the two of you wander off to the stray football on the pitch, “Kick it, Roo!” You exclaim, pointing to the ball.

“I can’t believe you’re playing football without me,” Monkey gasps dramatically, making way to join your football game as you guess the chat must have finished now.

“I wanna join as well!” Kyra chimes in, joining the makeshift game with you, Monkey and Rory.

“Looks like your mini-me’s are putting you both to shame,” Caitlin jokes with Leah, seeing you put the ball in the back of the net before Monkey chucks you up on her shoulders to celebrate the goal.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Leah laughs, shaking her head in amusement before making her way to greet her friend and follow England team mate, Esme Morgan.

You want to continue to kick the ball around, but your attention has been diverted to the white and red Gunner branded cowboy hat that Leah’s been handed, and so has Monkey’s as well.

“Howdyyyyy!” You hear Leah shout loudly from the other side of the pitch.

“Ooo, I want it!” Monkey bolts in the direction to where Leah is standing alongside Lia and Amanda on the other side of the barrier to block off the pitch.

“Wait for me, Monkey. I got little legs!” You whine and run after her, not wanting to be left out.

“Mine, I call dibs!” Monkey shouts aloud, trying and failing to reach for the hat on top of Leah’s head due to her short height, “No fair, gimme. I want it!”

“But it’s mine,” Leah retorts with a laugh, amused to watch Monkey try and get it from her, “Get your own hat, Menace.”

“No fair, I want it though– It would look better on me!” Monkey grumbles, doing her best to still and grab a hold of the hat, jumping and stretching her arms up.

“Fine,” Leah rolls her eyes with your favourite persons persistence and takes it off her own hat to plonk on her own, “There you go, Cowgirl.” She teases, patting her on the head.

“Thanks, Malfoy. You’re the best!” Monkey grins, happy with the hat for a few seconds before she shocks everyone around her and takes it off to gently place it on top of your own head, “Howdy, Cowgirl.”

“Cowboy hat!” You squeal in excitement.

“That was kind of you. I didn’t think you’d be willing to give it up so quickly,” Leah tells the younger girl, momentarily taken aback by Monkey’s sweet gesture to give it to you instead,

“It’ll help protect her from the sun,” Monkey tells her, trying to not make a big deal out of it, “Oh I’ll be back, I hear someone calling my name.” With that, she dips in the direction of a group of fans calling over to her, asking her to sign their shirts.

“Superstar on the pitch and fan favourite,” Lia jokes from where she stands beside Leah, speaking to other fans as well, watching out of the corner of her eye as one of the fans gave Monkey a white plush jellycat bunny.

“More like Menace,” Leah replies in amusement, taking the time to chat to Amanda in the stands as she lifts you into her arms so you can see her as well.

“Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?” Amanda questions in concern, not liking to see you so unsettled in any situation.

“Better now,” You nod in agreement, snuggling up closer to Leah while keeping the red and white cowboy hat on your head.

“It’s just a very hot day isn’t it,” Leah coos, doing her best to protect you from the harsh sun, “We’re going to get ice cream after this to help with the heat, aren’t we?”

“Ice cream!” You reply enthusiastically.

“Whoa, ice cream? That sounds great,” Amanda exclaims with a hint of playfulness in your voice, “You had better make sure that Monkey doesn’t eat it all.” She jokes.

“I heard my name,” Monkey pops up with the newfound white rabbit clutched in her hand, “Here you go, Buddy. This is yours,” She hands the rabbit to you.

“Thank ‘ou!” You take a hold of the fluffy rabbit and snuggle up closely to it.

“Hang on a second,” Leah says, shifting you to one arm while she uses her other hand to rest on the back of Monkey’s forehead, playfully pretending to check her temperature.

“What’re you doin’?” Monkey asks, confused, trying to bat Leah’s hand away from her face.

“Checking if you’re not coming down with something,” Leah responds, laughing slightly as she pulls her hand away, “Since when do you willingly give Jellycats away?”

“I’m just being nice!” Monkey insists, shrugging her shoulders, “It’s not a big deal, Buddy’s not having a great day and I thought it would cheer her up.”

“That’s really sweet of you to do something like that, Monkey,” Amanda states, kindly.

“It was,” Lia chimes in agreement.

Although Leah isn’t all that convinced, “What’re you after? If this is your way of trying to get out of being grounded after that stunt you pulled at home, think again,” She states, reminding the girl of what happened prior to your trip to America.

“It’s not I swear, I just… I thought it would cheer her up,” Monkey admits, looking sheepishly as she doesn’t know if anyone else is aware of what happened with the TV back home but she’s not about to tell anyone about it, regardless.

Leah eyes her for a moment longer before her expression softens, “Alright, I believe you. Now, how about we go and get that ice cream, huh?” She wonders.

Your own eyes light up at the mention of ice cream and you nod enthusiastically, “Ice cream!” You exclaim, clutching a hold of your new bunny, “Auntie Beth and Roo coming as well?”

“Course we are,” Beth pipes up from where she walks over to you all from the other side of the pitch with Rory in tow, “We wouldn’t miss out on the chance to get ice cream now, would we?”

“Ice cream!” Rory repeats enthusiastically, bouncing up and down on her feet, eager for the sweet treat.

Leah laughs at the enthusiasm, “Alright, ice cream it is. Before we go, we need to get changed out of our kits first,” She gestures between herself, Beth and Monkey, “We don’t want to be sitting in these sweaty clothes while we eat.”

Monkey groans playfully, clearly impatient, “Can’t we just go as we are? I want ice cream now!” She whines, dragging out the last word in complaint.

Leah chuckles at the younger girl’s impatience, shaking her head, “Come on Menace, it won’t take that long,” She reassures her, taking her by the arm and leading her back toward the changing rooms, with Beth and Rory following close behind.

You stay outside with Lia and Amanda, who keeps you entertained while you wait and it doesn’t take long before Leah, Beth, Monkey and Rory reemerge, now dressed in cooler, more comfortable outfits.

“Now we get ice cream?” You ask eagerly, practically bouncing on your toes.

“Yes, bubba, now we’ll go and get ice cream,” Leah confirms with a smile, ruffling your hair gently.

With everyone ready, the group heads off to find the nearest ice cream stand. You race ahead with Rory and Monkey, all of your excitement infectious as the adults follow behind, chatting amongst themselves.

“Ooo, I want mint chocolate chip!” Monkey calls out eagerly, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“Strawberry,” Rory chimes in, her eyes already scanning the ice cream options as you approach the stand.

Leah smiles down at you as you look at the bright menu in front of you, “How about you, bubba?” She asks, her voice gentle as she watches you contemplate the choices.

You glance at the colourful display of flavours, each one more tempting than the last, “Ummm… chocolate,” You start, then spot the bubblegum and your eyes light up, “Nuh uh, wait– I wan’ bubblegum, Mummy!”

The blonde laughs at your excitement, “Bubblegum it is then, bubba,” She says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before checking what everyone else wanted in the small group and placing the order.

“Mm, this ice cream is great,” Lia says, savouring the treat.

Amanda nods in agreement with the Swiss woman, “Are you enjoying that, sweetheart?” She chuckles as she watches you dive into your ice cream with enthusiasm and end up getting it all around your face.

“Messy bubba,” Leah teases, wiping away some of the ice cream with a napkin as her tone is filled with affection.

“This has gotta be the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted!” Monkey exclaims, eyes wide with satisfaction.

Beth laughs and nudges her slightly, “I swear you say that every time you have ice cream,” She teases as she peers down at Rory, “How is it, Roo?”

“So good, Mummy!” Rory replies with a big smile, “I like it!”

“That’s cos’ it’s the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted!” Monkey states as a matter of fact, “Can’t prove me wrong on that one!”

“Alright, menace. It is good ice cream,” Leah rolls her eyes and laughs in agreement with your favourite person, taking another bite of her own treat as she enjoys the moment with everyone around her.

It was only the beginning of preseason in America, but she is determined to make it fun for you.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Could you please do 14 with art from the comfort prompts? Maybe handjobs while he has his back to the reader if things get spicy 🤭🤭

Anyways, your fics never fail to amaze me! Always look forward to reading them💗💗

I'm getting the sense y'all would like me to write #14 from the comfort prompts with Art Donaldson 🤔

Also thanks, nonnies!!

Warnings: Fluff, handyj's, subby Art Donaldson, praise kink, smattering of dirty talk, established relationship

"In here!" You called out. You listened as Art's footsteps grew closer, and your brows furrowed as you heard him slow just outside.

"It's okay, you can open the door."

Art seemed a little perplexed by how dim the bathroom was, but as he spotted the candles you'd put around your jacuzzi tub and the glass of wine on the side table, it all seemed to fall into place.

"How was your—What are you doing?" You laughed as Art began to strip off.

"What does it look like?"

Your eyes drifted down over his muscled chest, lip drawing between your teeth as he shoved his pants and underwear down around his ankles before kicking them off. You grinned, scooching back against the tub as Art climbed in in front of you. He groaned as he settled in, cradled against you.

"Comfortable?" You teased, brushing your lips against his temple.

"Very."

You curled your arms around his shoulders, closing your eyes as you savored the peace of his body pressed against yours.

"How was practice?"

The question hung in the air for a few moments. Art shifted a little, raising his hands and trailing gently over your bent knees.

"...Art?" You pressed.

"I don't wanna talk about practice."

It wasn't the answer you were hoping for. It wasn't Art's first career slump, likely wouldn't be the last—but you knew better than to remind him of that.

"I wanna talk about you," He added, tipping his head back to get a look at you. "Feel like I've barely seen you the last few days."

"We've been busy."

He craned his neck, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "Tell me about your day."

"It was fine, boring. The usual."

"What's the usual?"

"Art."

"Please?" He urged again, taking your hands in his and intertwining your fingers. He raised one to his lips before resting it over his heart. "I've missed your voice."

You smiled as he snuggled closer, the water swirling around the two of you.

"Well...I woke up around seven. You'd already left, obviously."

"Mm."

"I had breakfast, got dressed, sat down at my desk and worked all day."

"You stop for lunch at least?"

"I didn't have time."

"Baby."

"I know, I know," You sighed. "Things just kept coming up and before I knew it, it was 6:30."

"Explains the wine."

"Yes it does." You untangled one of your hands to reach up, gently combing through his hair. "Want some?"

"Not right now."

"...You're too wound up, you know."

Art sighed heavily, head flopping back against your shoulder again. You took in his closed eyes, his slightly pinched expression.

"You are," You insisted, lowering your hand from his hair. You trailed your nails over his shoulder, down past your joined hands on his chest. "I know you need something to get you going on the court, but having your gut all tight like this makes you all..." You slid your hand beneath the water, trailing along his inner thigh. "Stiff. And not in the fun way."

Art smiled, huffing a laugh. "Is that so?"

"Mhm. You need to relax."

"Any suggestions on how I might do that?"

"Well, I'm no tennis coach..." You curled your fingers around his shaft, smiling as he pulled a stunned breath in. "So my ideas may be a little...Rudimentary."

You stroked him gently, shushing him softly as he whined, pushing up into your touch. You grasped him a little more firmly, moving in long, even strokes as you felt him hardening in your touch. Art turned his head, mouthing at your jaw and neck, anything that he could reach.

"That's it," You murmured, watching a blush spread across his neck as you swiped your thumb across the head of his cock. "Fuck, you're so beautiful Art." You twisted your wrist as he whimpered, and bit your lip as his teeth grazed your skin. "You've been working so hard...You just need someone to take care of you a little, hmm?"

The water sloshed around your legs as Art's hips rolled up into your hand. You could feel his hot breath pushing against your neck, his tongue flickering out to catch a droplet of sweat sliding down your skin.

You were so hot, so slick as his skin shifted and almost seemed to stick against yours. His legs knocked against yours as he reached down, curling his fingers around your forearm. You watched his hips judder, his back arching as he spilled across his abs. You smiled, smearing it into his skin as he sagged back against you. His heart pounded beneath your joined hands, his thumb skating along yours.

"We should get out of the tub," He mumbled.

"Because we're going to get pruney and we're sitting in jizz water?"

Art laughed, tipping his head back to nip at your jaw.

"And because I'd like to return the favor."

[jobean12-blog]

That's the Way Love Grows

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Beefy!Plant dad!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 1,687

Summary: You and Bucky have your first official date this weekend but he can't wait to see you so he shows up at your apartment on his bike...a dream come true.

Author's Note: Missed him so I wanted to write a little something with plant!dad Bucky again! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰 You can see the shirt he is wearing HERE.

This is part of my plant!dad Bucky AU. It can be read alone but here are the first two stories for him:

Rooted in Love

Love in Bloom

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff and plant talk

‘Hey doll face. What are you doin’ right now?’

The moment you see his name your whole face lights up just like the screen of your phone.

‘Just being lazy.’  You reply and send him silly emoji’s to go along with your text.

‘Well….’

The next message comes through and you wait, staring at the text bubbles for what feels like an eternity.

‘I’m outside your building.’

You drop your phone and run to the window, pushing the curtain aside and looking through the glass.

He’s leaning against his motorcycle, long legs crossed over the ankle and his leather jacket pulled tightly around his biceps.

His fingers twinkle with a wave.

You open the window.

“You wanna go for a ride?” he yells up.

You stare at him for a beat, trying to sear the image into your brain and then answer back with, “yeah I do!”

You don’t even have to think twice about it.  

He whoops and throws a fist in the air.

“Make sure you wear jeans and a jacket doll.”

A few minutes later you appear at the double doors of your apartment building. Bucky rushes over and pulls one open, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees you.

“You look gorgeous.”

Your thank you is lost when he steps into your space and drags you into his chest, kissing you hard and fast.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

“For what,” you whisper, leaning into him.

You toy with the zipper of his leather jacket and then slowly pull it down, spreading the sides open to look at his shirt.

“I had to see if you had another funny plant shirt on,” you giggle.

You smooth your hands over his chest, mostly just so you can feel the hard muscle beneath, but also so you can read the print on the fabric better.

“Things I do in my spare time…” you start. “Water plants,” and you press your finger to the first picture of a potted plant on his shirt. “Repot plants, propagate plants, buy plants, rearrange plants…” Each time you read it’s with a press of your finger and as you get closer to his abs he starts to laugh.

“I’m kinda ticklish,” he admits.

You pay him no mind and take extra care to wiggle your finger over the last picture and it’s text.  

“Talk with plants,” you finish with a smile. “That one is my favorite.”

He smirks and slides his arm across your shoulders, walking you toward his bike.

“Speaking of plants…” he hums. “There’s something I…”

As you get closer to the motorcycle you press a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Wait.”

Your words make him swallow hard.

“Our date isn’t until Saturday,” you say quietly. “Are we still on…or?”

His brows draw together and he crushes you against him. “Doll…”

He kisses you again, slow and sweet this time but it steals your breath just the same.

“I know we have our date this weekend, but the moment I left your apartment the other day, all I wanted was to see you again. I couldn’t wait any more. So I thought we could go for a ride.”

His confession makes you melt further into him.

“Ok,” you breathe out. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

He takes your hand and pulls you the rest of the way to his bike, holding up a finger as he turns to his saddle bag and opens it.

“I have something for you,” he says.

He takes out a small bag and reaches inside it. When his hand reemerges he’s holding a small potted plant.

Your smile grows as he begins to explain what it is.

“It’s from my jasmine plant. I repotted this piece in one of the cat planters I got from Etsy…thought you would like it.”

He starts to look slightly shy, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as his eyes fall to the plant.

“Bucky,” you squeal. “It’s amazing! And so cute! I love him!”

“Phew,” he laughs. “And don’t worry I can help you take care of him.”

“Ok good, because I know jasmine smells beautiful and I’d love to have one in my apartment.”

With one more quick kiss he places the plant back in the secure bag.

“Should I bring him up?” you ask. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I always carry my smaller plants on my bike. As long as you position and secure them right, it’s fine.”

With a lopsided grin he kisses your cheek then grabs his helmet.

Lifting it up he carefully places it on your head and buckles the chin strap.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he answers. “I won’t go too fast.”

With that he grabs the zipper of your jacket and pulls it up to your chin then throws one leg over his bike with an easy swing.

He holds his hand out to help you on the back and you immediately wrap your arms around his chest and press yourself into his back.

“Hang on,” he says, “and if anything is wrong just give me two squeezes.”

You nod into the soft leather of his jacket and hang on tight.

He revs the engine and pulls away from the curb, being mindful about his speed and remembering that you’re putting full trust in him to keep you safe.

He’s in complete control and the ride is smooth as he traverses the curves of the streets until the Brooklyn Bridge lights up the night sky as it comes into view.

The smell of salty air hits your face as you get nearer to the ocean and when he slows down and rolls into a darkened spot under the bridge you can hear the water break against the rocks.

He shuts the engine and plants his feet on either side of the bike and then reaches down to tap your leg, signaling you to get off.

With careful movements you put one foot on the ground and do an awkward hop to get your other leg up and over the seat without hitting him in the back.

You manage not to hit him but your legs are slightly wobbly, still vibrating from the ride and your knee buckles.

“Eeeek,” you screech, the sound echoing under the bridge and causing some hidden pigeons to squawk and flap away to a safer spot.

Your fists grab handfuls of air but Bucky somehow manages to dive and catch you around the waist with his metal arm.

“You okay?” he asks, his grip tight.

He waits, staring at you with concern in his eyes.

“I’m good,” you say on an exhale.

He relaxes slightly and releases you to adjust the handlebars and put down the kickstand. Once the bike is secured he gets off gracefully and helps you out of his helmet.

You look around and smile. “This is an amazing spot.”

“Isn’t it,” he echoes. “Just lemme get a blanket.”

He opens the saddle bag and sifts through it.

“Can you please check if my plant is ok?” you ask, smiling sweetly when he winks at you.

“Just fine doll,” he tells you after he shines his phone light into the bag. “Now come ‘ere.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to a clearing closer to edge of the water.

“Careful here, watch your step.”

He assures your footing with a firm hand at your back and once you’re settled on the blanket he follows and makes himself comfortable.

“Thank you for comin’ with me tonight doll.”

“Thank you for asking me. It’s beautiful here.”

You look out over the water, the city lights shining like diamonds across the vast blackness and dancing along the small waves.

“Yeah it really is,” he murmurs.

You can feel his eyes on you and realize that he’s complimenting you instead of the stellar view.

A small laugh bubbles up in your chest. “Have you used that move before?”

He drops his chin to his chest and chuckles. “Aw man. I haven’t but it’s that bad huh?”

You run your fingers along a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his face before tucking it behind his ear.

“Not bad at all. In fact I think you’re really sweet.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I think you’re perfect.”

His hand reaches out to trace your lips, the pad of his thumb rough against their softness and once he’s relished in their flawlessness he slides his hand along your jaw to cup the back of your neck.

The small space between you disappears and you press your lips to his. Your hands weave into his hair and you gasp out his name, the sound igniting him. His tongue slips past your lips but he takes his time, teasing and nipping even as he tastes you.

He pulls you closer, sliding you into his lap and smoothing his free hand up your back.

The shock of bright lights shines through your closed eyelids and you jump in surprise, breaking the kiss. You lay your hand over your squinting eyes as Bucky looks over his shoulder, hissing at the brightness.

The car stops for a moment, the headlights boring into your small hidden space, and then thankfully it turns back to the street and drives off, returning you once again to the quiet of the night and the sounds of the ocean.

Bucky turns back to you, your eyes meeting.

“Hey,” he whispers as he traces the curve of your jaw.

“Hi,” you answer before peppering his scruffy cheek with kisses.

When your gaze finds his again he asks, “will you watch the sunrise with me?”

You nod and then wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling against his shoulder and breathing him in. A breeze blows over the water, carrying the chill of night and you shiver in his arms. He tucks you closer and grabs the blanket to wrap it around you both.

“I promise I’ll keep you warm,” he whispers as his head dips and he brushes his lips to yours.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989 @lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814

[monimccoythings]

Primal Instincts

I saw that in an alternate universe he, sabertooth and wildchild are feral men called the pack. And I just knew my glorious purpose. For a second I was tempted to name this like one of those supernatural romantic novels from Wattpad like "Hunted by the Alpha" or something like that lol.

tags: as gn!reader as possible (except maybe one little thing that can be ignored), feral!logan, feral!victor creed (brief appearance), feral!Kyle gibney (brief appearence), animal behavior, scent marking, non-con elements, dark!logan, small violence (reader gets grabbed by the neck).

You came for a well deserved holidays to a cottage in the middle of the Canadian woods to relax and draw the wilderness. No signal, no wifi, and the closest town is half an hour by car. Just you and nature for an entire month.

Logan smelled your sweet scent from across the wilderness. And he was immediately entraced by it. He follows the scent towards a small clearing with a wooden cottage in the middle of it. And that's when he sees you.

Oh the primal and animalistic things you make him feel, too complex and strong for his primitive brain to understand and process. You make his mouth water and his cock twitch with raw desire, that's the only thing he needs to know.

Logan starts to scent mark around your house to ward off other predators, and to warn his packmates that you were already claimed; rubbing himself against trees, rocks, and the walls of your house. He got in an ugly fight with Victor because he came too close to his liking.

Kyle tried to approach you too, mostly driven by his own curiosity instead of defiance like Victor, but a single growl was enough to make him backpedal into the wilderness.

Logan also starts to leave at you doorsteps small gifts that range from cute (some flowers he had seen you sniff earlier) to creepy (a bird you had been drawing the day before, obviously dead).

When you leave for groceries he freaks out. Are you gone?? Where?? Why?? He grows frustrated because he cannot match your car's speed. You swore you heard an inhuman howl in the distance when you were driving towards the closest town.

Logan's rage and despair know no limits while you're gone. Not even Victor dares to provoke him in the middle of his frenzy, his destructive behavior could turn the smallest hint of a challenge into a very painful death.

He feels alive again when he sees your car return. Oh? You were just in need of food? He should have noticed, you don't need to worry about it anymore, he will take care of your hunger from now on. And to make sure you never leave him again, he flattens your tires with his claws.

So he starts providing you with carcasses of his hunts, his biggest prizes, only the best for his mate. He won't eat until he makes sure you have taken a bite, which concerns him when you refuse to do so. Isn't that enough? Should he hunt for bigger prey?

Let's just say it freaks you out to open the door and find a dead deer in your porch. It's not the first time it has happened. At first you thought those "presents" as accurate as they had been to your interests, had been left behind by some stray cat, yeah yeah, totally crazy but it was the safest way of thinking. But no cat was strong enough to carry a deer like that towards your house.

Fuck holidays, it was time to leave.

The blood in your veins ran cold when you saw the flattened tires. You couldn't escape by car. Your only options was either run for an hour towards the closest town, or stay there and hope whatever was lurking in the woods, never got bored of hunting just deer.

Either option terrified you, but you couldn't stop to dwell in the pros and cons.

So you ran.

It was getting dark, and cold, and your lungs felt like they were about to explode. Yet, the thought of dying if you stopped to take a breath kept you moving forwards. You didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Until you literally couldn't take a step further.

There, in the middle of the way, something, or better said, someone, was blocking your path.

It was a man, and what a man.

Hairy like a wild beast and built like the strongest bodybuilder. He was flanked by two other equally naked men, hidden in the shadows to not overshadow the one in front of you. They were larger than him, but lower in their hierarchy, you supposed by the way they trailed behind, with their heads lowered. Their behavior reminded you of a pack of wolves.

You took a step back. Their leader, or at least who you supposed was the leader, slightly bared his teeth at you, showing the tiniest hint of two very sharp fangs.

Your mind went blank. Your entire brain short-circuited. Despite the thinly veiled threath in his actions, you unconciously took a step back.

"No." The man rumbled in a very deep voice. It sounded rough, weird even, like that was the first words he pronounced ever. Still, that wasn't enough to make him less intimidating in your eyes.

So that's why when he took a step fowards, you turned around and run.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to you. Of course he would. He moved like a fish in water, this was his territory after all.

The worst part of wanting peace and tranquility in the middle of nowhere was that nobody could hear your screams. Nobody could hear you trashing and kicking against that wall of solid muscle's strong grip.

You fought, you fought with everything you had inside. Not even when his patience ran thin and snarled at you with a sound that was more animal than man did you stop fighting.

He pushed the door of your cottage and walked in with you struggling in his arms like he owned the place. He made a beeline towards the bedroom and dropped your body unceremoniously onto the bed, wasting no time in getting on top of you when he sensed you were about to bolt.

At least the other two hadn't followed him in. Still, you knew they were out there, lurking, watching. You didn't know what was worse.

Even when he had you pinned in the bed you refused to submit. With an inhuman roar, he grabbed your neck with his right hand and pressed you against the pillow, while from the knuckles of his left hand sprouted three metal blades that sank in the pillow mere inches to your right.

He was so close to your face you could see his sharp teeth glistening. His large erection poked insistently at your thigh. In the middle of that raging cloud of emotions that went from fear to dread, arousal was certainly one you were not expecting. It was faint, yet it was there. As if your body subconciously enjoyed being roughed up by that brute. Shame filled your body.

His hand moved to the back of your neck, where he held you firmly in place. His face lowered to your pulse point, where your scent was stronger, it was driving him crazy, he could feel himself getting dizzy with it. His mouth latched at your neck, sucking, biting, licking and nipping; he couldn't get enough. Everything in him was screaming to mark you, claim you, breed you full of his pups.

But he could smell you. You weren't ready. Not yet. He had to be patient. With a last nip at your neck, he left your trembling form on the bed, muttering a single warning before he exited the cottage.

"Stay."

Stay, because he'd be watching. Stay because he'd know if you tried to escape again. Stay because it wouldn't take him much to drag you back there with him, and next time he may not be so gentle.

Before walking back into the wilderness he made sure to leave his scent all over the cottage and its surroundings once again.

Logan hadn't expected you to resist. He would have liked you had welcomed his courtship with open arms. His instincts were screaming at him to just take you and tie you to him forever. Yet, there was a tiny voice inside his mind, thatwarned him that mating with an unwilling partner would risk their hate. And if Logan craved something, was your love and devotion.

He is a predator, he is the alpha of the pack. He is a very patient creature. He had caught the smallest flick of arousal when he had manhandled you earlier. His chest puffed out proudly. That was a good reaction. In due time, he would make you his mate and you would accept, willingly.

In the meantime, he will keep courting you, catering to your needs, proving himself worthy of your affections. He doesn't need to worry about anything else.

Because in the end, you would be his.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORTER WHAT HAPPENED

[delphi-shield]

a little dream of me

Leon Kennedy x Reader x Jill Valentine Fluff wc: ~1.8k

pics from @/thisdastampdoesnotexist. gif from @/onlyasimp4-2dbitches, dividers from @/adornedwithlight

who else is up romanticizing the mundane⁉️ (<- bone crushingly lonely) this has been in my drafts forever and I was finally appropriately sleepy enough to finish it. used this fic to get back into the swing of things so it may be a lil clunky

content: fluff without plot. midday naps. established poly relationship (jill/reader, leon/reader, jill & leon). minor relationship squabbles. reader specified to have a cat and also tits.

summary: everything is a competition with these two - including who gets to keep you company while you nap.

It had seemed like the perfect day to catch up on some work. No plans, no obligations, no desire to fight the traffic. Jill had offered all of the above. She'd woken you up early with insistent kisses at your neck, mumbling her plans for a morning hike. You'd rebuffed that idea quick with an unintelligible murmur, nuzzling deeper into your pillow.

That set the tone for the day. You were still in bed by the time she was back from her hike, had only traded the warmth of your bed for the indulgence of a shower with Jill. Your face pressed between her shoulder blades, warm water cascading down. You trusted your weight against her frame, made her question whether or not you had fallen asleep standing up.

“Leon's coming over around noon,” you'd told her, words pressed into her back.

“Yeah? You two have big plans?”

She felt you shake your head. Your arms squeezed around her waist, drawing her muscled body back into you.

“Just gonna hang out here. I'm gonna get some work done.”

Fat chance, Jill thought. She kept that to herself. If she pointed out that you seemed much more inclined to have a lazy day in, you'd push back and work too hard. She was just going to let you have your illusions of productivity.

Case in point: the sunny morning haze had tempered into an overcast sky, stringy cotton candy clouds rolling into puffy, over-whipped dollops. Leon had showed up with a light lunch in hand, passing you a warm bowl of soup and Jill a cup of coffee. He settled next to you on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

It doesn't take long for your first yawn to breach containment. You snatch the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over your lap. You dropped your laptop on top of your thighs. Still playing at the idea of work while consciousness bled out of you and into the cushions. Jill caught Leon’s eye, smirked, and turned back to her own work.

Leon laughs. He warns, “you’re playing a dangerous game.”

Maybe he was right, but telling him that was a surefire way to never hear the end of it.

“I'm just chilly,” you yawned. You pounded out a few more lazy keystrokes to prove yourself. Hope this email finds you well, you draft. Phew. Hard work.

As if she knew you needed a break after that grueling labor, your cat appeared on the cushion next to you, tail curled up behind her. She gingerly closed the distance, careful paws immediately turning heavy the moment she climbed onto your stomach.

Your laptop nudged halfway down your legs, pushed lower and lower as your cat had stepped forward and demanded more real estate. Frantic keystrokes turned to gentle, loving pets. Your laptop wobbled, balanced precariously on your shins, your cat stretching down the seam of your legs and pushing it even further.

Devious little creature. You had whined and protested while doing nothing to move the little beast from your lap. She pushed any hope of productivity away from you, and you scratched under her chin.

The final death knell for productivity sounded - the first distant rumble of thunder rolled in through your open window. All the work you had hoped to catch up on was slipping through your fingers, washed away by the patter of rain against the rooftop.

Leon rescued your laptop from toppling to the floor, shutting the lid and laying it to the side. He mussed your hair playfully, just to feel you swat weakly at his hand. He knew damn well what the next words out of your mouth were.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap," you declared, right on time. Your hands scooched carefully beneath your cat, scooping her into your arms. A gentler awakening than dumping her on the floor when you pulled your legs back, to be certain. She mewled quietly, little trill pealing from her when she bunts her head against your shoulder.

Now, here arises the issue:

“Be right there.”

“Coming.”

Jill had already risen from her chair. Leon's feet had landed on the floor. They freeze, turning to look to each other. (Oblivious to the issue, you plod down the hall, cooing to your cat.)

Leon groans as he stands, hands slapping his thighs.

“That bed ain't big enough for the two of us,” he says, wiggling his fingers by his hips like he's ready for a stand off. Out of habit, Jill scans him for weapons. Left his every day carry in the car this time, at least.

That bed is probably big enough for the two of them, realistically. The one time they tried, they had technically fit. You had been in heaven, all wrapped up in the middle. Warm and safe, wrapped up with your lovers. Meanwhile, Leon's - and I quote - gangly fucking muppet legs kept bumping into Jill, his ‘talons’ scraping her. Jill had thought she was kissing the backs of your fingers, your soft skin against her chapped lips - only to realize too late that it was Leon's hands.

It had been too close for comfort. They'd decided not to do that again, that they'd take turns and live with it. Jill had gifted Leon toe nail clippers to show that she held no ill will; Leon had lifted her chapstick.

That peace was on pause for the moment. A naptime was on the line, with no clear invitation extended to either of them. Leon is tempted to pull the ‘you live together’ card, try to sneak into your bed on a technicality - but he decides to play fair.

Leon’s fist drops heavy into his palm. “Let’s settle this.”

Jill cracks her knuckles.

“Whoa, hang on– rock, paper, scissors, not beat, maim, bludgeon. Is that how you settle things at the BSAA?”

“I always win.”

“I have no doubt.”

Jill extends her fist, taking mercy on him. No beat down today. Just rock, paper, scissors. He might actually stand a chance now.

He thinks of what motivates him - what he's fighting for, the prize on the line.

Leon could picture blanketing you with his weight, hands slipping up your waist to curve against your ribs. There's no need for a blanket; he runs hot, has a furnace-like warmth he's happy to share with you anytime, anywhere. Conversation is pointless and light, your voices mingling and muddling together in the space between you. Coherence is gone, but he curls his fingers against your ribs to pry a giggle from you. It's hard to find the time to slow down but he relishes the way that time sputters to a stand still on lazy afternoons, your fingers trailing down his spine, slower and slower until they finally stop. Maybe you're not the prettiest sleeper, but it's pretty to him. He slips in and out of sleep, head cushioned on your pillowy tits.

Leon takes the first round. Rock beats scissors - he goes so far as to bop Jill’s fingers with his fist, making a crunching noise. Jill isn't amused.

“Best two out of three,” she insists, eyes hard.

Jill has a different picture in mind. Hands pushing your hips to the mattress, a blanket tangled between your limbs. You giggled when you told her you actually intended to nap, that it wasn't an excuse for a quickie. Jill could change your mind. It would be easy. But your fingers pet through her hair, scratch at the nape of her neck, and she swears she could purr. She noses up the valley of your chest, plants a kiss dead center, and pillows her cheek against your tits. She had never been one for naps, but she grasped every moment of serenity with you tightly, watched half-lidded as your eyes fluttered shut. Her head rises and falls with your breaths. She could stay like this forever, if you let her.

Scissors beats paper. Leon throws his hand up.

“Scissors twice in a row? Who does that?”

“Me.” Jill shakes her fist, drawing his attention back to the game. “Stop stalling. I'm ready for my nap.”

“Yeah, we'll see,” he mutters.

Time slows. Surely she wouldn't throw scissors again. Who would do that?

Jill Valentine would. She would commit to the bit. She's trying to throw him off, trying to make him think she's mixing it up so she can sneak in and win. He's underestimated Jill's ability to stay the course in the past before.

Jill throws scissors. Leon throws rock. He hisses out a contained, appropriately excited ‘yesss’ as he pretends to crush Jill’s scissors again.

She rolls her eyes, tamping down a smile. She waves him off, turning back to the kitchen table.

“Yeah, whatever. Have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” he insists, already backing down the hall to the bedroom. His gloating grows quieter, trying not to disturb your rest - the smug effect diminished by the fact that he's practically whispering. “Gonna sleep for three hours. Get my cologne all over the pillows.”

Leon nudges the bedroom door open gently, and–

“Goddammit,” he mumbles.

You're already asleep. That isn't the problem. The problem is your cat is curled up on your chest. Right in the valley of your breasts, where he wanted to be. He'd been so concerned about Jill that he had forgotten his biggest competition. Taunting him, the cat stretched out, paws pressing against your chest. She curls back in, rolling onto her back, belly presented.

A trap, he thinks. He shuffles over silently to pet the enticing belly fur all the same. Furry little traitor - she places a paw against his wrist, claws flexing. A warning - don't fuck up my nap, I got here first.

Leon risks kissing your forehead. Your cat allows it, her eyes tracking his every movement. He drags himself back into the living room, throwing himself down onto the couch, slumping.

Jill peeks up from her work, brow furrowed. Before she can ask what's wrong, Leon pipes up.

“The cat beat us to it.”

“She weighs 10 pounds. You can't move a 10 pound cat?”

Leon props an arm up on the back of the couch. He levels her with a skeptical look.

“Are you gonna move her?”

Silence. Jill would rather stick her hand in a jar of barbed wire than try to move your beloved menace from your chest.

“Let's just watch a movie.” Jill shuts her laptop and drops onto the other side of the couch.

“That's what I thought.”

When you wake hours later, the house is silent. You hadn't expected to wake up alone. The storm had settled into a gentle flush of rain, the house dark and cool in the midday storm. You stumble from bed and wobble down the hall, searching for at least one of your partners.

You find both of them crashed out on the couch, Leon squished against one arm, Jill against the other - and your cat taking up the majority of space curled up into a ball on the middle cushion, napping away.

[littlejuicebox]

A different kind.

Written for a prompt given to me by @coyote-mint! Thank you!

Also, peep this Dadstarion drawing by @supplementalfigures which I adore and is the inspiration for Astarion wearing baby Gale.

Summary: The Ancunins take their first outing as a family of three. They aren’t quite prepared for the new experience.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, family, parenthood, babies, Astarion being Astarion

*

Astarion protectively wraps his hands beneath the small infant in his arms. Gale is just under two months old and sleeping curled against his father, lulled by the steady thrum of the older man’s heart.

The little one is held snugly against Astarion’s chest with a wrap made of gauzy blue cotton, intricately embroidered one night by the previously-expectant father. Gold-threaded stars and planets dapple the inky night sky of the fabric, keeping the infant sleeping peacefully among the celestial bodies.

The stars certainly shine for Gale. At least in the Ancunin household.

The first outing as a family of three is to the newest shop in town, Rivington Raiments, the first fine clothier in the outer city. Both Astarion and you hoped this newest addition meant journeys into the city for every new garment would be a thing of the past.

Over the years, trips would have been even more frequent had your husband not been a fair clothing alterer himself. In the past nine months, he’d had to let out your favorite dresses more than once as your stomach grew to encompass the life that had been growing within.

But now, you’ve lost majority of the baby bump, and a few new pieces are in order to replace some of the well-worn garments currently in your closet.

The tailor fusses around you, placing pins in a winter-ready dress you’ve decided to try on. Astarion is watching with rapt interest as the middle-aged human woman adjusts the hem. He thinks that, in another life, that might have been him.

“How do I look?” You ask after you turn to face Astarion once the seamstress has finished pinning her proposed alterations.

“I think you’d look gorgeous in anything, darling,” Your husband remarks with a soft smile, his hand sliding from its resting spot under the bundle in his arms to lightly pat the infant’s back. He’s swaying gently as he speaks; the constant soothing movement while holding Gale has quickly become a habit for you both.

It’s a compliment, but he means it’s a no.

You nod your head in understanding and then turn to look at yourself in the mirror, feigning thought, before sighing and saying, “I believe I would like to think about this further before I make a purchase. But thank you for your time. Perhaps you could direct me to the children’s clothing once I change?”

As the seamstress busily works to unpin you, Astarion catches your eye and flashes you the briefest crinkled nose behind the woman’s back.

Ah, so he’d meant the dress was a hell no.

*

“Don’t you think you went a little overboard on your purchases, my love?” Astarion inquires as the two of you enter the local tavern for lunch.

“We go through so many diapers and burp cloths a day, it’s hard for the poor maid to keep up with the wash,” You respond, narrowing your gaze at your husband, “Just because you don’t have to wash them doesn’t mean we have enough.”

“Very well,” Your silver-haired spouse responds, choosing to avoid the argument though he cannot avoid rolling his eyes slightly as the two of you sit down.

Gale begins to stir against his father. The movements are followed by tiny grunts of disapproval coming from layers of cloth. Your husband manages to calm the infant, at least for a moment longer, with a few gentle caresses along the baby’s back.

A quick glance to the wall clock and the older elf warns, “Ah, I’m afraid it will be feeding time soon and my charms will no longer work, dear.”

The two of you place an order with the barmaid. She returns moments later with a pitcher of water and focuses her attention on the flash of silver hair peaking out from swaths of navy.

“I see the new addition is here,” She remarks, her hand moving to touch the all too tempting, downy soft patch of curls upon the baby’s head.

Astarion instantly intercepts the well-meaning gesture with his own hand, his mouth forming a thin line of irritation as he releases the woman’s wrist from his grip.

“I would thank you to not touch me or my children without consent, Beatrice. And certainly not without washing your hands first.” The male elf says, the normal gentility of his tone lost in favor of a much sharper one.

“O-oh, of course. I apologize, Lord Ancunin,” The barmaid responds, splotches of rose appearing across her face as she quickly takes a step back to increase her breadth from the infant.

Your husband gained a reputation for being highly litigious years ago. Though he slayed his enemies with contracts and court appearances rather than daggers nowadays, he was still seen as quite dangerous. No one has yet forgotten the dispute the Ancunins had with their neighbors over property lines shortly after the manor was purchased.

Perhaps Astarion had lied to get his way in that one. But what did your neighbors truly need with a single colonnade of fruit-bearing trees when you two held rights the rest of the orchard?

Beatrice quickly dismisses herself and heads to assist another table of customers. When Astarion turns his attention back to you, he spots your arms folded across your chest in signature displeasure and groans, readying himself for the chastisement.

“She’s going to spit in our food now, Astarion.” You remark with a soft, slightly annoyed sigh.

“She can spit in my food thrice if it means she doesn’t touch my vulnerable child,” Your husband retorts, his pale hand once again finding its habitual resting place along the infant’s back.

You shrug and give a vague wave your hand in a sign of truce. Because really, how can you argue against a protective father?

As if on cue, Gale begins to cry just as the barmaid places your orders on the table. It’s a loud, shrill, hungry wail, earning the two of you several bothered glares from other patrons scattered across the tavern.

“Oh, please, as if none of you have heard a crying baby before,” Astarion snaps, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear as he begins to pull Gale from the carrier. The elf tries in vain to soothe the babe, but as predicted, the little prince is demanding satiation.

You sneak one bite of mashed potato in your mouth and then sigh before gesturing for your husband to pass you the infant. Astarion gives you an apologetic look as he places the little one in your arms.

Unfortunately, daddy just doesn’t have the correct anatomy for this part of parenting.

Gale quickly finds a proper latch and stops crying as he searches for nutrients with happy hums. Astarion eats a few bites of his own meal and soon sets his sights on feeding you.

At first you refuse, already bothered by the prying eyes staring at your partially exposed breast — typical — and not wanting to attract further attention. Your husband throws the wrap over your chest and then stares as you expectantly.

The intensity of his eyes and the set of his jaw say you’re not getting out of this one. He’s going to feed you like a child since he cannot feed his own child in this moment.

It’s both embarrassing and adorable.

You watch the fork approach your face, keeping your lips firmly sealed in a final protest. But then both a narrowed glare and irritated huff from Astarion cause you to instantly open your mouth, where he places a few green beans upon your tongue.

“How do you expect Gale to have proper nourishment if you keep leaving your meals half finished, little love?” Your husband lectures before placing a bit of mashed potatoes in your mouth and planting an affectionate kiss upon the apple of your cheek.

The child in your arms coos in assent.

“See, the little prince even agrees with me,” Astarion remarks with a cheeky wink, taking a moment to steal a bite of food from his own plate.

This was the first time these two silver-haired little loves of yours formed a coup. It wouldn’t be the last.

You roll your eyes at your husband and then peer down at the baby nestled in your arms, suckling without a care in the world.

“Traitor,” You whisper, the word laced with more than enough affection to negate the connotation before placing a loving kiss on the crown of Gale’s head.

*

Your little family is almost all the way home when Astarion stops dead in his tracks with a look of horror plastered upon his face. He peers down at the small bundle of blue and baby with wide-eyed surprise.

“What— what is it?!” You practically shriek, motherly instincts jumping into anxious overdrive as you reach for the child tucked safely against his father.

Astarion quickly grabs your hand, much like he grabbed Beatrice’s earlier, though with a decidedly more gentle clasp. You can tell by his lack of panic that Gale is safe, and your initial reaction begins to wane as the elf lowers your hand away from your son.

“He pooped, dear,” Your husband sighs, a sudden wave of weary exhaustion slapping the still-new father in his face, “And if you stick your hand in the wrap, it’s going to be all over you… because it’s all over Gale… and me.”

The look upon Astarion’s face is hilarious. And you can’t help it, you simply have to laugh at the new father clinging to what little patience he has.

“Not. Funny.” The retired rogue hisses, narrowing his eyes at you before walking briskly in the direction of the house.

There was roughly a half mile left to the front of the property and he seemed intent on crossing that distance at rapid speed, “From now on we are always taking the carriage into town. With extra clothes and supplies for all of us. I don’t care how much you abhor it, Tav. Walking this far with a needy infant and scant supplies is simply impractical and we are not arguing about this further.”

As if to prove a point, Gale begins to shriek like he is suddenly aware he’s covered in his own filth. The sound causes Astarion to practically break into a sprint, both arms coming to hold the infant fast against his chest. You run after the two, trying to keep up, but your husband is moving so quickly you’d think he’s still a vampire if you didn’t know better.

*

The little prince is now clean and perfectly pink as you rock him in the nursery. The early afternoon sun is shining through the window, casting the two of you in an ethereal backlight. Gale has forgotten all about the poop incident; his father, on the other hand, will never be able to let go of this particular memory.

Astarion sits in the nursery with you two, sipping a cup of tea. His wet curls hang around his ears, still occasionally dripping water onto his house clothes. He admires you, and the sunlight dancing in your hair, watching as you hum an Elvish lullaby to the sleepy infant in your arms.

His memories quickly flash at the sight.

The day you told him you loved him.

The day you two won the battle.

The day you accepted his proposal.

The day he saw you walking down the aisle.

The day you told him you were pregnant.

He thought you were the most beautiful in every one of those moments, each one always outdoing the previous.

But this vision of you, right now, happy and calm, rocking the little prince you two created?

This certainly outdid all those prior memories.

After two hundred years of pure shit, Astarion is beyond thankful to now have over a decade of better memories.

Though, he’s beginning to see the next decade will also be full of shit.

Just a different, and somehow better, kind.

[a-smol-storm-gt-nomfs-blog]

Miscommunication (Sea Speaker)

Grian had, emphasis on had, been working on the mer ramp as he’d been calling it. That changed when two of the cleaner mers had splashed him turning into a distraction. Currently, they are playing some version of Pictionary. The avian looked at the picture intensely. Shrimpy said something the other, making the wrasse shout back. Grian still couldn’t tell what was said, but he guessed it was teasing as the shrimp giggled. “It’s not Island.” he thought aloud. Another voice sounded behind him making the avian jump. When he had turned he saw the eel mer, Banana, or so Grian called him. He’d never personally been near it before but he knew that they spent a lot of time around the two Grian was currently with. The golden eel looked at Grian, saying something he guessed was an apology, due to the neck scratching. The wrasse explained what was going on though, pointing at the picture. The eel hummed then wiped a hand over the picture earning what the avian knew was a “HEY!” from Stripe This caused Grian to sit down near the wrasse and stroke his back. The mer swam closer to grian, likely enjoying it. He spoke to the others pointing at him, Grian hoped it was something nice. Though now he could also make out the eel drawing something in the sand. The avian leaned over trying to guess what it was, it looked nest-like almost. “Nest?” He asked. The eel did a close sign with his fingers. Grian mumbled things out loud to himself. What was similar to a nest, a bed? “Bed?” Another close signal, Banana started drawing again, this time it looked like a human home- oh. “House?” The eel looked at the two cleaners. One said something but the other one nodded to Grian. “What about it?” The eel turned back to the two who sighed. “Do you mean like location?” He tried considering the ‘island’ they had attempted before. All 3 heads nodded. “Oof, uh, I mean I don’t know where from here, but, I lived near a river, as well my diet is fish. An Estuary I think they’re called.” He paused to think. “So I got used to having a bit of salt water in my diet, and the occasional odd fish, but some fish could still eat us, it was scary.” The 3 mers were looking at him, still interested. “Oh, uh, well, if you want—” he sat down. I can tell you some stories.” There was a happy splash from Stripe. “Alright uhh, well, first one, someone you know- er I think? But the dolphin, Pearl! I knew her from there, I was learning sea speech from her, but then she and her pod left?” Grian paused for a moment. “Anyways, back to the happier stuff. I first met her when we were being introduced to them. Some of the others shoved me in the water, playfully. But I don’t think she knew that as she barked, er, its what someone called it, at them until they left.” The avian smiled thinking about it. “When it came time to learn, she shoved another dolphin out of the way, she wanted me so bad.” Grian chuckled through the thought. “I hope the other one's eye was okay.” He mumbled out loud. “Uh- but we were both a lot younger back then, Pearl was I want to say maybe only triple my size then? But she was playful and had an odd, but effective way of teaching me. Honestly, I’d love to have her teach me still, but false being able to speak to me uh, well in my language-.” He did a soft cringing expression. “No- offense?” The Mers spoke. Grian couldn’t guess what, but none looked angry, so he continued. “But it worked well for me. She definitely still caught on quicker than I did. I suppose at the time, I didn’t realize how important that would be.” The eel said something but then the wrasse splashed him. Banana spoke again, smiling and showing off his sharp teeth. Grian wasn’t sure if it was a threat or not. The wrasse splashed him again, once the water fell back into the ocean the Eel shot at Stripe. The claws missed but he pushed off the sand, his back was to Grian, but the avian could make out the eel’s jaws sliding over the small mer.

The avian tensed at that. Banana turned back, facing Grian proudly, arms sticking out his lips. The avian’s wings puffed up, he could feel the blood draining from his face, worsened by the body of stripe moving around poking at the cheeks with what he guessed was its tail. It didn’t matter though as the eel slurped its arms in. Grian could see the cleaner shrimp mer was attempting to walk away, but the eel did too. Its tail shot out blocking it from the sea. It swallowed, sucking the squirming Wrasse down before turning to talk to Shrimpy.

Grian turned away this time before the eel’s mouth slid over the shrimp, he heard a swallow and looked back, tail still sticking out the mouth, it likely didn’t attempt to swallow it yet. The avian’s head turned as he could hear the faint angry yells of the wrasse. Another swallow came silencing Him and the eel sucked the shrimp down as well, there was a much more visible lump in its throat from it. Most likely it was forced into a ball or decided to curl up. Some more swallows came, the large mer’s head in the water while doing it, sucking water down, likely to help swallow the cleaners in him. Weren’t you supposed to avoid eating them though? The eel then turned to Grian, a tongue ran over its lips. Grian fell backward from his shaky legs and shook his head side to side saying no, having lost his voice. In his mind he screamed for his dumb body to move, why wasn’t he moving? The eel pressed forward, sliding under the water to wet itself before, digging a hand into the sand and, pulling itself towards Grian.

The avian finally moved his legs and accidentally kicked sand at the eel, frantically trying to push himself away from its mouth.

The eel spat out the sand, and Grian made out a growl before it pulled itself over him. It lowered its chest on the avian trapping him before licking his face playfully.

Grian pushed at the eel's chest with his feet, and his face with his hands. The mer chuckled though and licked across Grian’s face more.

The avian moved his face to the side, and soon after warm breath moved over his cheeks. Grian’s eyes moved to look, and he soon let out a loud screech just before Banana’s mouth slid over his head.

He kicked at the eel’s chest with his feet. The tongue moved around its mouth, licking Grian’s face and neck. Grian himself had shut his eyes to keep them from getting licked, using his head he thrashed it around trying to get the mer to spit him out. It wasn’t working, instead banana had started licking at grian’s neck making the avian peep in distress. Hearing it Banana paused most of his body movements, though after a swallow, one to drain the spit from its mouth, the eel moved more of itself over Grian. Grian now whipped his wings up splashing sand over the two of them. The mer grumbled and gently grabbed the avian's wings, and then the kingfisher's arms. He forced them down, but not hard, not hurting grian at all. The avian chirped loudly in distress, The eel kept on though, sending more and more of the bird hybrid in. It stopped as Grian’s face neared the back of its mouth. The avian could make out the throat moving with the small amount of breathing the mer could muster out of the water. He flung up more sand around them, though he could feel the ground slipping away from under him. He let out more panicked noises as his feet felt air. Banana wasn’t swallowing him what-. Grian felt himself gently dragged out, Banana using his tongue to make sure He couldn’t be cut by his teeth. Once out the avian saw a hand, then he turned to who it was. It was the arm to another mer, a black-tipped reef- SHARK! The avian peeped his wings flapping wildly. It surprised the shark, but it still put Grian down lightly. It then turned its attention to the noodle of a fish, Banana, scolding him it seems. It mentioned something though that surprised the Eel as it turned with an apologetic look to Grian. It warbled something back at the shark who put it down. After some pushing and gagging from the eels half the two cleaners were pushed up and out into the shallows with a small splash. Both were fine, none angry or scared even. Not that Grian could tell at least. Stripe did shout something, but when he saw Grian’s expression it shifted, before turning back to Banana and Bapping his face gently.   The shark slowly turned to face Grian. Unlike the ones he had met before it seemed gentle, a soft frown on its face, teeth not showing. It asked something to him, or started to as it stopped realizing Grian couldn’t understand it. It then used its hands, a finger pointing at Grian before asking “O-K?” The avian nodded slowly before looking nervously at the Eel. The eel had Stripe in its hands, Stripe was reaching his hands into Banana’s mouth but the larger seemed uneasy.  Grian nervously looked back at the shark who did the motion he learned meant safe. He looked between the two of them, before a slow nod, but Grian decided he’d take a break, it was getting hot out anyway.