#and cutting each other off when they finally think of something to say....

[mistymysticalmoon]

Gentle Understanding

･ jude bellingham x reader ･

prompt: (fluff/angsty) an early morning accident leaves you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed, but your boyfriend’s gentle reassurance transforms the moment into one of trust and tenderness.

warnings: talks of blood

wc: 600+

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  The light peeking through the curtain slowly pulled you from your sleep, casting a soft glow across the bedroom. The faint sounds of nature signaled the start of a new day putting a small smile on your face. 

You felt Jude stir beside you, still in a state of sleep yet pulling you closer. Your crazy schedules had lined up for once allowing the pair of you to bask in each others presence for the past few days.

As you shifted to make yourself a bit more comfortable, you felt an uncomfortable wet feeling down under.

Slowing, as not to alert your sleeping boyfriend , you push the duvet down to confirm your suspicion. You look down to see that you had been right and had spotted some blood on Jude’s bedsheets. 

You sit up slowly, embarrassment and shame washing over you at the thought of him having to witness this. 

He shifts at the loss of your warmth mumbling something incoherent as you silently panic.

“Jude..” you whispered, nervous of what he might think.

You had only been dating for a couple of months and he had been the sweetest boyfriend ever but the embarrassment was clouding your judgment, thinking the absolute worst of what his reaction might be.

“Hmm, morning love” he hummed with his eyes still closed, unaware of the internal crisis you were going through.

You moved farther up the bed, your eyes starting to glaze over. “Jude,” you say again “I’m sorry..I’m really sorry.”

Finally opening his eyes, he looks over at you seeing the look of panic and embarrassment on your face. He then looks down to see what it is that's causing you so much distress.

“Oh, baby..” he coos. 

For some reason that makes you even more emotional now sniffling and wiping your cheeks of your tears.

“I didn't know... I’m sorry” you repeat.

Jude looks at you with concern and love in his eyes. “Darling, don't apologize it’s perfectly normal. I know you didn’t mean it.” He sits upright scotting closer to you so that you're in his reach. 

He pulls you closer to his side leaving a lingering kiss on your temple.

“I’ve got it, okay baby? Just go and wash up and I’ll deal with the sheets okay?” he reassures.

You look at him hesitantly repeating your apologies. “I swear it’s just fine” He giggles lightly giving you a kiss on your cheek after wiping your tears. 

You slowly rise from the bed and rush to the bathroom, wishing the ground would just swallow you up. 

You finish washing up, changing into one of Jude’s old jerseys. You then step out into the bedroom to see the sheets removed and hear the washer running.

You walk out into the hallway making your way into the kitchen to see your boyfriend standing over the stove, shirtless, looking handsome as ever. 

He turns when he hears you padding into the space, sending you a gentle smile.

You awkwardly make your way over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head against his chest.

“Hi,” he chuckles lightly at your actions. 

You look up at him with a nervous smile. “Hi,” you whisper back.

“You hungry? I’m making your favorite!” he proclaims excitedly.

You look over to see blueberry pancakes simmering over the fire and fresh fruits cut in your favorite bowl.

 “Aww, Jude you didn't have to, really.” You insist.

“Of course I did, my baby’s not feeling well.” he retorts with a charming smile on his face. You giggle at this reaching up to give him a quick kiss.

“I really am sorry about your sheets Jude, I usually know when it’s coming I-”

“Baby” he cuts you off, “I understand, accidents happen. You never have to be embarrassed with me, okay?” 

“It’s my job to look after you, and I love it so take a seat while I serve you your breakfast.” he coos

Before you can respond he kisses you passionately, running his hands along your arms causing you to giggle a little from the ticklish sensation.

“Okay?” he asks. “Okay,” you happily respond.

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; finally awake, the pack must face the consequences of their unraveling—and the distance growing between them and the one they love the most.

★ warnings; memory loss, slight non-con elements, violence

☆ story masterlist

Ghost jolted awake, his heart pounding and skin damp with sweat, his whole body aching with the telltale pain of staying too long in his wraith form. His mask is gone and he’s drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around him, as if he’d been thrashing in his sleep. As he blinked away the haze, he recognized the dim, familiar space of his own room—the one he reserved for moments when he needed to be alone, away from the pack.

“Easy there.” Gaz’s voice cuts through the silence, weary but grounded. He’s sitting in a chair by his side, leaning forward with a flask in hand, his face lined with exhaustion. He looks a mess, his usual spark dampened by something deeper, something heavy.

"Drink this," he murmurs, pressing the flask toward him. The bitter, herbal scent fills Ghost's nose, and he recoils. It’s not your tonic—the one you tailored just for him—but something improvised. The smell is close enough, familiar in a way that unsettles him further. Still he takes the flask, grimacing as he gulps down the harsh liquid in one go. It burns down his throat, sending a faint warmth through his limbs, dulling the ache, but only slightly.

“This isn’t the real thing,” he mutters, passing the flask back.

“It’s what we’ve got,” Gaz replies, a hint of dry bitterness in his voice. “Better than nothing.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, thick and stagnant. Frustration claws at Ghost, his mind churning with broken memories, fragments of something he can’t fully grasp. He clenches his fists, the memories slipping through his mind like sand.

“Talk to me,” he finally says, voice low and tight. “What’s been happening? Everything’s blurred, like I’ve been… trapped in a dream.” His eyes flash with frustration, sharp and intense.

Gaz looks away, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggles to find the words. He inhales deeply, the silence stretching before he finally speaks, his voice low and tired. “You… we’ve been off, mate. The whole pack has. Lost, distracted, like we’ve been… obsessed.” He laughs bitterly, as if the word doesn’t quite cover it. “You especially.”

“Leah,” Ghost breathes out, the name slipping past his lips as his hands clenched into fists, his mind swimming with half-formed images of her—her face, her touch, her scent. But it’s all fractured and wrong, impossible to hold onto.

“How long?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. “How long have we been… like this?”

Gaz shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not meeting his gaze. “Weeks,” he admits. “Weeks of us barely recognizing ourselves. We neglected the house, each other, our own bloody lives.”

Ghost tries to stand, only for his body to betray him, a sharp pain shooting up his legs. “And you’re only telling me now?” he snaps, anger flaring up. “We’ve been falling apart, and you didn’t think to snap me out of it sooner?”

Gaz flinches but holds his ground, meeting his pack-mates' gaze with determination. “You weren’t exactly listening, Simon. None of us were. Tried everything I could—potions, wards, even talking sense into you, but you wouldn’t hear a word against her. And then, it got to me too....”

Ghost lets out a frustrated growl. And then, as if reganing some of his long-forgotten sense, he thinks of you.

“We need to see her. Talk to her. Find out what’s happening.”

Gaz knows exactly who he’s talking about, his heart and mind in sync with his.

“We haven’t seen her in days.” Gaz laments, hand rubbing his face in desperation. “Her phone’s disconnected, and I’ve been taking care of you while Price went to look for Johnny.”

“Are they okay?” Ghost cuts him off again, but Gaz, despite looking so tired and haggard, doesn’t mind.

“Johnny went feral, stayed in his werewolf form for too long. But he’s alright now; he’s resting in his room. We stacked it up with a few of our clothes and food, or whatever we had remaining. We just haven't been able to leave the house, Price and I. Especially not with Leah still around.”

His last words come out strained, verging on bitter. Ghost can feel the weight of Gaz’s frustration; they’re all trapped in this swirling chaos, and every moment feels like they’re slipping further and further away from you.

Gaz reached into a bag beside him and pulled out a neatly folded set of clothes. They were plain, but clean—washed, pressed, and smelling faintly of lavender, a welcome break from the stale scent that seemed to hang over everything else. A fresh black facemask was also neatly folded into the pile.

“Go and get cleaned up,” Gaz said, holding them out to Ghost.

“Didn’t think anyone would’ve had the mind to do some laundry around here,” he muttered, a hint of dry humour cutting through the weariness as he accepted the clothes.

Gaz watched Ghost with a steady gaze, studying the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. After a pause, he pulled out his phone, typing a quick message to the others.

"I’ll let the boys know you’re up,” he murmured, looking back at Ghost. “But before we reach out for any answers, we need to be together. Properly. You, me, Price, and Johnny. The whole pack.”

There was something grounding about that idea—that, whatever had happened, whatever answers lay ahead, they’d face it unified. The pack had always been his constant, and in the haze of recent weeks, he’d almost forgotten how much that meant.

Gaz finished typing and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his expression shifting to something softer. “Take your time, Simon. Get a shower, clear your head. I’ll wait right here.”

Without another word, Ghost headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The hot water beat down on him, easing the aches in his muscles and slowly peeling away the residue of exhaustion. He scrubbed his face, shaved, and let the water run over him, each drop lifting a little more of the fog that had settled over his mind.

When he finally emerged, clean and dressed, he felt steadier, like he was slipping back into himself. Gaz stood in the room, hands casually in his pockets, watching him with a faint but genuine smile. As Ghost approached, Gaz stepped forward, leaning up to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. Then, he took his larger hand in his, squeezing it firmly. Simon hesitated just a moment before squeezing back, a silent gesture of thanks passing between them. The steady weight of Gaz’s hand in his felt grounding, a reminder that he wasn’t facing this alone.

Ghost nodded, the last of his hesitation falling away. “Let’s go.”

. . .

The silence in the room was heavy, like a smothering blanket that none of them could cast off. The air held an edge of tension, cut only by the occasional creak of the old house settling. The room itself mirrored their state—scattered, untidy, and dimly lit by the fading glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the grime-streaked windows.

Johnny slumped deeper into the couch, the fabric of Ghost’s hoodie swallowing his frame. The scent of his packmate clung to it, earthy and metallic, a faint reminder of stability in a world that felt increasingly foreign. He tugged the hoodie closer around his shoulders, his hands hidden in the oversized sleeves. His overgrown hair and scruff shadowed his face, but his furrowed brows betrayed his unease.

Gaz sat at the table, his leg bouncing in a steady, erratic rhythm. The untouched tea in front of him had gone cold, a thin film forming on its surface. He stared at it like it might hold the answers they couldn’t seem to find. His jaw clenched as he tapped the table with a finger, the sound barely audible over the tick of the wall clock.

Ghost sat beside him, the chair groaning under his weight. The tension in his shoulders was visible even under his heavy sweater, his face-mask firmly in place. He hadn’t said a word since they sat down, but the intensity in his stillness spoke volumes.

John stood by the window, his back to them, puffing on his cigar with short, agitated breaths. Smoke curled around him, dissipating into the stale air of the room. His reflection in the glass was fractured and ghostly, distorted by the grime. He had always been their anchor, their steadying force, but now he seemed just as lost as the rest of them.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Gaz finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, as if it had been days since he’d used it. “We all felt it. That… pull. It wasn’t normal. But now? Now it’s like—” He paused, searching for the words. ���Like my skin crawls just thinking about her.”

Johnny let out a sharp exhale, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Aye. Same. I can’t even picture her face properly. Feels like I’ve got glass under my skin whenever I try.” He glanced at Ghost, who remained still, his eyes fixed on the table. “Mate, you’re the one who’s best at keeping your head. You’ve got nothin’?”

Ghost’s fingers stopped drumming. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under the shift. “It’s not about keeping my head, Johnny,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s about the fact that I should remember. We all should. But there’s… nothing. Just a hole where the memories should be.”

Gaz slammed his palm against the table, making Johnny flinch. “And that’s the other thing, isn’t it? Her. And you.” His sharp gaze cut to Ghost, your name rolling off his lips. “We were ready to ask her to be part of the pack. It was all we thought about for weeks. Then—” He gestured vaguely, frustration radiating off him. “Now she’s gone, and it feels like—like someone yanked a piece out of us and then stitched us back up wrong.”

“Enough!” John barked, his voice rough from too many cigars. He turned from the window, his expression dark and weary. “We can’t sit here blaming each other or wallowing in what we don’t know. The fact is, something happened. Something we can’t explain. And until we figure out what it was, none of this”—he gestured at the room, at them—“is going to make sense.”

Ghost leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table, tension etched into every line of his frame. His voice was low but firm as he rasped out your name, “What about her?”

“She’s alive,” Johnny muttered. His voice was uncertain, his fingers trembling. “I can feel it. Somewhere out there. But she’s… out of reach. Like something’s keeping us from her.”

John’s gaze darkened as he looked at each of them in turn, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “We can’t do anything for her—not yet. First, we need to pull ourselves together. Look at this place.” He swept his arm, indicating the wrecked furniture, the dust and chaos surrounding them. “We’re a mess, and that mess isn’t just around us—it’s in our heads.”

He paced to the trash bin, tying off the bag with sharp, precise movements. “We’re no good to her like this. We clear this house. We clear our minds. Only then can we figure out what’s happened, where she is, and why we’re being kept from her.”

Gaz frowned, the sting of John’s words cutting through his frustration. “And Leah?” he asked bitterly. “What do we do about her?”

John’s jaw tightened, the embers of his cigar flaring briefly as he took a long draw. He let the silence stretch, considering his response. “We leave her alone,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “She’s dangerous, whatever she is. And right now, so are we. Until we understand what’s happened to us, we keep our distance.”

The room fell into an uneasy quiet, the weight of his words hanging heavy over them. Slowly, Ghost nodded, his knuckles white against the edge of the table. Johnny exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion and frustration etched into his features.

“Right then,” Price said, breaking the silence as he picked up the trash bag. “Let’s get to it. House isn’t going to clean itself.”

One by one, they rose to their feet, their steps slow and hesitant, but they moved. The weight of what lay ahead loomed, but for now, they focused on the first step—clearing the wreckage, both inside and out.

. . .

The clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the dull scrape of furniture being moved did little to mask the oppressive tension hanging over the house. Price stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, methodically scrubbing a stubborn plate with the kind of focus reserved for anything but the situation at hand. The faint slosh of water and the rhythmic clink of ceramic broke the silence, but not the heaviness in the air.

Nearby, a trash bag sat tied and waiting. Price gave the plate a final rinse, then stacked it neatly with the others before drying his hands on a worn kitchen towel. He grabbed the trash bag on his way out the back door, letting the screen creak open and slam shut behind him.

Meanwhile, Johnny tied his overgrown hair into a small, haphazard ponytail, the uneven strands barely staying put. His freshly shaved jaw—courtesy of Price earlier that morning—stood out starkly against his otherwise dishevelled appearance, making the lingering exhaustion in his eyes even more pronounced. He heaved another broken chair onto the growing pile near the back door, his movements sluggish but determined.

Ghost, nearby, silently swept debris from the floor, the steady rhythm of the broom punctuating the tense quiet. His broad frame was taut, shoulders coiled as though bracing for a blow that never came. Neither man spoke, their shared silence a testament to the strain hanging heavy in the air.

Upstairs, Gaz moved with a quiet purpose through his small workshop, tucked away in a corner of the house. The room smelled faintly of burnt herbs and candle wax, the aftermath of his earlier work lingering in the air. A faint golden glow pulsed from the fresh wards he had just set in front of Leah's door down the hall, the intricate pattern etched with precision into the wood.

He wiped his hands on a rag, the faint shimmer of magical residue clinging to his fingertips. The wards he had placed were strong, layered to shield her room from any unwelcome interference, but also to keep her presence confined. It wasn’t a solution, just a precaution—one that weighed heavily on him.

Suddenly, the sharp trill of the phone cut through the quiet, making Johnny start and Ghost stop. Price turned his head slightly, before nodding curtly, “I’ll get it.”  

He stalked over to the phone mounted on the hallway wall, snatching the receiver up with a practised brusqueness. “Price.”  

“John,” came Laswell’s voice, rough and harried.  

He frowned, his grip on the receiver tightening. “Kate?”  

“I need to see you,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “All of you.”  

Price’s frown deepened. “This isn’t a good time, Laswell.”  

“No, now’s exactly the time,” she snapped, frustration bleeding through the line. “This isn’t something we can handle over the phone. I’m coming up. Be ready.”  

His jaw clenched. “An explanation would be nice.”  

“You’ll get one when I’m there,” she bit out. Then, after a beat, her voice softened, weariness creeping in. “I’ve got answers, John. But not all of them. Just... be ready. I’ll be there in an hour.”  

The line clicked dead before he could press her further.  

Price lowered the receiver slowly, his eyes narrowing as he replaced it on the cradle with a deliberate motion. He turned back to the others, his expression grim.

Gaz descended the stairs, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stepped into the room. His brows knit together at the tension rolling off Price in palpable waves. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone cautious, catching the shift in the atmosphere like a physical blow.

“That was Laswell,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of his stress.

“What did she want?” Gaz asked, his tone cautious.

“Says she’s on her way here,” Price replied, his voice clipped. “She’s got something to tell us. Something about what’s been happening.”

Johnny tilted his head, suspicion flickering in his tired eyes. “She knows what’s wrong with us?”

“Didn’t say.” Price reached for the cigar resting in the ashtray and took a long drag, exhaling sharply. “Only that it’s too much for the bloody phone.”

Gaz frowned, his brow furrowed. “Think it’s about Leah? Or... us?”

“Could be both,” Price said curtly. He cast a glance toward the stairs, his lips thinning. “Either way, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Ghost’s grip tightened on the broom handle, his voice low. “An hour isn’t much time.”

“No, it’s not,” Price muttered. He turned toward the windows again, his profile cast in sharp focus by the dim light filtering through. “So get your heads on straight. Whatever she’s bringing, it’s not gonna be good.”

Johnny let out a humourless laugh as he tossed the piece of wood onto the pile. 

Gaz muttered something under his breath before returning to his workshop. Ghost, ever silent, resumed sweeping, his movements just as sharp and tense as before.

They had an hour to prepare—for Laswell’s arrival, for her answers, and for the storm they all knew was coming.

. . .

The moment Laswell’s car pulled up the gravel driveway, the tension in the house thickened. Price watched from the window, his third cigar of that morning, forgotten in the ashtray as he studied the vehicle. Two figures stepped out behind her, their familiar silhouettes making his jaw tighten. Alejandro and Rudy.  

“Well, this just got worse,” he muttered under his breath, turning to glance at the others. Gaz frowned, Ghost took a long sip from his tea, and Johnny stiffened, his eyes narrowing.  

The trio approached the house with purpose. Laswell led the way, her usual sharp demeanour dulled by weariness, while Alejandro and Rudy followed, their expressions unreadable but far from happy.  

Price opened the door before they could knock, his broad frame blocking the entrance. “Laswell. Alejandro. Rudy.”  

Alejandro gave him a curt nod. “Price.”  

John stepped aside without a word, letting them file into the house. The pack stood scattered in the living room, their postures defensive.  

“Stinks in here,” Alejandro muttered as he took in the room, nose scrunched up. His sharp eyes swept over the remaining clutter and the signs of disrepair before landing on Ghost. His gaze darkened.  

Ghost stiffened under the scrutiny but didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened as he rose up to meet Alejandro.

“You look better,” Alejandro said coolly, stopping just in front of him.  

Ghost grunted, a curt acknowledgment that sounded more like a growl.  

“Good,” Alejandro said, his voice like steel. “Now grit your teeth.”  

The punch came so fast no one had time to react. Alejandro’s fist connected with Ghost’s jaw with a sickening crack, the force sending him staggering backward. He hit the floor on one knee, his hand clutching his face.  

Gaz moved to help, but Alejandro snapped, “Stay out of it cabrón (bastard)!”  

Johnny let out a furious snarl, his body coiled to lunge, but Price’s bark stopped him cold. “Stand down, Johnny!”  

Johnny stopped, his eyes darting between Price and Ghost, his hands trembling with restrained fury.  

Ghost slowly pushed himself up, his expression stoic despite the bruise blooming on his jaw. His eyes met Alejandro’s, something resigned yet determined in his gaze. “I probably deserved that,” he muttered hoarsely.  

“You’re damn right you did,” Alejandro growled, shaking out his fist.  

“Now,” Ghost rasped, leaning back onto his haunches, “tell us everything. Absolutely everything.”  

banner credit

[solxamber]

Heyya saw you're still open, so I will request my favorite character. I've been seeing a lot of RSA!Silver. So it's about Silver and MC/Yuu still not in relationships. Then some shenanigans happen. Where there's RSA version Silver shows up. I'm not sure if he can be a different character or personality, but the interpretation is up to you.

Imagine how RSA! Silver can be more up front showing affection to Yuu but Silver is not. It ends up confusing Yuu's feelings and makes Silver try his best to show his affection too. It's making RSA!Silver and Silver fighting over Yuu. Hopefully no problem.

Silver x reader x RSA! Silver

loved the idea! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3

It all starts during a spell misfire, and suddenly an RSA student who looks exactly like Silver but acts a little differently is standing in the middle of the headmaster’s office, looking only mildly concerned. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Crowley had crowed, immediately shoving the “guest” into your care.

The RSA Silver is… different. He’s friendlier, more open, and somehow even a little more dazzling with that unguarded smile he flashes your way. He introduces himself as a knight-in-training who’s proud to serve his prince with a wink and, surprisingly, a slight bow directed at you.

“This should be fun!” he says with a laugh, catching your stare.

Silver — your Silver — is already watching from the shadows, his calm gaze hardening when he sees RSA Silver’s warmth towards you. Normally, Silver isn’t easily rattled, but he finds himself lingering close, always observing this other version of himself who seems so openly comfortable with you.

The jealousy is subtle at first: he stands a little closer, making excuses to keep you nearby when RSA Silver is around.

And you? You’re a little bewildered yourself. This easy-going RSA Silver is affectionate in ways you aren’t used to — patting your shoulder when you’re joking, walking close enough to brush your arm, offering to help you with even the most minor tasks.

He’s friendly, sure, but it stirs up a mix of confusing emotions when compared to the quieter, more reserved Silver you know.

One afternoon, RSA Silver and Silver both linger in the garden as you sit with them. You’re laughing at something RSA Silver says, and he leans in, his expression soft. “I know we only just met, but it feels like I’ve known you for ages. When I leave, would you—”

Silver clears his throat, cutting RSA Silver off. “There’s no need to trouble them,” he says, almost flatly, surprising you with the way his usually calm expression is edged with something sharper.

RSA Silver just smirks. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” he teases, crossing his arms. “But it’s cute.”

Silver’s jaw clenches. He moves closer, his presence steady and warm at your side, more open than usual. His gaze softens when he looks at you, a small but genuine smile on his lips. “I don’t think you need anyone else,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

By the time RSA Silver’s two days are nearly up, the confusion you feel is almost overwhelming. Your heart’s been tugged between two versions of the same person, each showing you a different side.

When RSA Silver finally approaches you, his expression is thoughtful, almost reluctant. “I’ll be leaving soon, but… I’d like you to come with me. My world could use someone like you.”

It’s tempting, for a moment. You glance at Silver, the one who’s been by your side all along, steady and loyal, the one whose quiet strength has already won your heart.

You shake your head with a soft smile, looking back at RSA Silver. “I appreciate it, but… I think I’ve already found what I’m looking for here.”

RSA Silver accepts your answer gracefully, with a small, wistful smile. “He’s lucky, then,” he says, clapping Silver on the shoulder in a final parting gesture before disappearing in a swirl of magic.

As soon as he’s gone, Silver’s gaze locks onto yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for yours. “I… I wasn’t sure if you—” His words trail off, and without thinking, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I always liked you, Silver. Just you.”

His face softens, his cheeks just barely pink, and he smiles — the genuine smile you don’t see very often. “I was hoping you'd say that”

Masterlist

[iheartsteve0704]

Agathario Imagine Me & You AU

(Where it’s not just the movie verbatim)

Agatha is a single mom and she has been for 6 years now

There’s no baby daddy (thank god) because she adopted Nicky all on her own and there has never been someone else in the picture

But 3 years ago she met this guy, Ralph, at work and he has to be one of the only men she’s dated that isn’t a shit head

Agatha is bi but has a favoring for women so she surprised herself when she accepted Ralph’s proposal on a windy afternoon in New York City right by the water

She thinks she accepted it because she wasn’t getting any younger and no other prospects were in her sights but also Ralph was a decent, good man which is rare. Especially in Manhattan.

He had a great job, he was kind, he wasn’t a Republican, and he was the type of guy who would never cheat on her.

Agatha didn’t want to call it settling but she could do a lot worse

In terms of Nicky, in the 3 years she’s dated Ralph, her little boy hasn’t fully warmed up to the guy. It’s not a bad concerning thing, if it were Agatha would’ve called it off asap

Sometimes Ralph will try to play with Nicky and the boy allows it but his mom can tell he’s hesitant or letting the guy be around him out of pity. She doesn’t think much of it though because Nicky is like that in general, he’s a tough cookie to crack (just like his mom)

So Agatha and Ralph make preparations for their wedding over the course of serval months and it’s a shitstorm with work, taking care of Nicky, and having some resemblance of a social life

When it comes time to try on dresses, Agatha realizes her circle is pretty small. She cut ties with her mom a long time ago (big homophobe! And just terrible risk overall!) but she did still have her two lifelong best friends: Alice and Jen, both her MOHs. The two women happily took the day off of work to come along and help their best friend find a dress and she also decides to bring Nicky too

They had 3 dress shops to check out (one being Agatha’s dream shop, Klienfield)

Agatha and Nicky are the first to show up to the first shop of the day, which is a small business Jen suggested (something about how she walks past it on her way home everyday and it looked promising)

And it was for sure small, the place wasn’t grand like the other stores Agatha has seen pictures of online but the dresses inside were absolutely stunning and Agatha was enamored by each and every one of them

She was busy admiring the dresses when she notices that Nicky had disappeared, she starts to panic until she hears his small sweet voice rapidly and excitedly asking questions from a little bit farther into the room

She walks into the back where she find Nicky (practically jumping up in down in curiosity) watching over a woman hand sewing what looked like 300 small pearl beads on to a lace vial

Agatha watches them for a second longer, how the woman’s voice was so sweet and patient with her son. It was also odd because her son and this woman had the same colored hair so they almost looked related. And then she clears her throat and the two finally two around the resemblance is almost startling but so is how fucking stunning this woman is

Agatha’s breath hitches and she forgets how to speak when the woman turns around. Shes at least ten years younger than herself and has sharp features and these big beautiful brown eyes. She had to be the most stunningly beautiful woman Agatha has ever seen in her life

The younger woman is observant and clocks Agatha’s reaction so she slap on a cocky smirk and gets up from her chair where she offers her hand and introduces herself as Rio Vidal, the shop owner who hand crafts each of the wedding dresses

Rio asks about her fiance and assumes it’s a woman and when Agatha says it’s a man, rio’s face falls and for some reason Agatha decides to awkwardly and loudly reveal she’s actually bisexual (which earns her a laugh)

From the shock of her beauty to the shock of the woman’s incredible talent, Agatha is acting like a complete fool but is saved by the literal bell of the front door opening and Alice and Jen arriving

What Agatha failed to know about dress fittings, and to realize before gaining the knowledge that the shop owner was this beautiful and attractive young woman, is that an attendant comes into the dressing room with you to help so they pretty much see you naked and then after their hands are all over the place on your body pinning things in place and seeing what needs to be fixed

But Agatha also tried to remind herself that while Rio was captivating, she was also a professional and this was her business so Agatha tried her best to be professional too (she failed when Rio’s knuckles grazed up her bare back when she zipped up her dress)

Agatha tries on 5 dresses and falls in love with one dress instantly (and tries not to let a blush creep onto her cheeks and down her neck when Rio gives her an earth shattering compliment and her brown eyes rake over her body slowly)

And during the entire dress fitting, Agatha couldn’t help but notice her young son talking off Rio’s ear and practically being glued to the woman’s side. It even got to the point where Nicky ended up holding onto Rio’s tub of dress pins while the woman pinned the dress into place

It hit time to head to the next dress shop and Agatha tried not to reel when Rio professional hand shake goodbye as she left (Nicky did give Rio a giant hug and Agatha did melt at the sight of that)

In the taxi on the way to the next shop, Alice and Jenn strike up conversation about how hot Rio was and it makes Agatha’s blood literally boil but then it hits her… why does it matter to her? She’s getting married! To a man! She’s still bi but still she was getting married and this conversation didn’t matter to her. It didn’t matter how good Rio looked in her loose jeans and open button down top because Agatha was getting married in 5 months

The rest of the day Agatha is lost in her mind (lost in Rio) and that follows her all the way home when she’s sitting at the dinner table with Ralph and Nicky. She’s staring into space as Ralph tries to talk to Nicky who either ignores the man or gives him short, vague answers

Later that night, she’s alone and sitting up in bed cyber stalking Rio’s shop Instagram page and finds the younger woman’s personal account. Ralph steps into the room, startling her when asks her if she’s fine because she’s been acting weird all day and that causes Agatha to accidentally double tap on a photo Rio posted 5 years ago. Then she learns she can’t undo it and Agatha gets defensive and snaps at him.

Ralph sleeps on the couch that night, he offers to give her space, and Agatha feels bad until her phone buzzes and it’s a notification that Rio has followed her on Instagram and sent her a message. That night, agatha can’t go to sleep because she’s dying of embarrassment and excitement

The very next day Agatha finds herself showing up to the dress shop alone and tells Rio that she’ll take the dress

Rio teases her about the Instagram like and then forces a pout when she says Agatha didn’t follow her back, Agatha melts at the sight and pulls out her phone so fast

Rio asks about the other stores they visited and Agatha accidentally lets the words “there’s no one like you” slip from her mouth and tries to recover by adding “I mean no one makes dresses as beautiful as you. Yours! Your dresses, I mean”. A cocky smile is infuriating but Agatha can’t help but be pulled to her

Agatha finds herself lingering in the shop much longer than needed and Rio lets her, chatting her up and asking her about Nicky (which makes Agatha’s heart thud inside her chest) and they’re flirting most definitely but neither them can stop

But the shop bell rings and a pretty red headed woman struts in with a brown paper bag filled with food and drops it on the counter, not even blinking an eye at Agatha, and kissing Rio on her cheek. Agatha looks away quickly, spills out some pathetic quick goodbye and leaves before Rio could say anything else

Its three weeks later when Agatha is fuming at Ralph because they had court-side tickets to the Liberty game (thanks to his job) but he forgot he has to go to a dinner with his boss (another woman btw)

They’re fighting (as in Agatha is yelling at Ralph) when the phone rings and Ralph picks up. “It’s Rio? From Vidal Dresses?” he says and Agatha tries to grab for the phone but Ralph continues to speak. He’s humming in agreement until his eyes light up. He asks Rio if she’s busy tonight and then somehow that ends up with Rio and Agatha going to the Liberty game together

They meet up outside Barclays center by the VIP entrance and Rio both cool and adorable wearing her baggy jeans, a loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up and her liberty hat on and all go a sudden Agatha feels silly for the tight blue dress she didn’t bother changing out of from work and even voices that. That silliness melts away though when Rio’s eyes give her a once over and her brown eyes go wide when she realizes she’s been caught.

Keeping Agatha’s slight discomfort in her mind, when they are seated before the game to starts, Rio gets up to go to the “bathroom” and comes back with a matching hat similar to her own and an oversized jersey. Agatha slips on the jersey and Rio sounds breathless when she says how cute she looks. Agatha blushes and thanks her with a hand on her arm and is so busy putting it fixing the hat onto her head that she misses the longing look Rio gives her

It’s not as tense or awkward as they’d both it would be considering they both love basketball and love the liberty. They’re both passionate, yelling, waving around their white towels, and standing up from their seats to yell at the refs

Rio even challenges Agatha to chug her beer and as a prize she’ll buy another on her. Agatha initially declines with a nervous laugh but when Rio makes a teasing joke about not being a chicken, Agatha’s eyes light up. Making a show of tilting her head back and wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Rio has to school her reaction and how turned on it made her feel

During the start of the third quarter, they call a timeout and they start up the kiss cam. Rio and Agatha are shoulder to shoulder, laughing up at the screen at the shocked couples until it pans on them. Both their mouths fall open and it’s Rio who shakes her head, plastering on her signature cocky smile and wagging her finger no.

The camera moves to 2 more couples before going back to them and the crowd erupts in a chant. The two women look at each other and for a minute Agatha thinks Rio will kiss her on the mouth right the and there and Agatha finds she really wants her to. The younger woman does close in but a wave of disappointment hits Agatha when soft lips meet her temple instead

The crowd boos and the announcer starts up another kiss chant. The women look at each other again and it’s Agatha makes the rash decision and leans in, connecting their lips. It’s supposed to be quick but when Rio melts into it, Agatha puts her hands on soft cheeks and deepens the kiss. They pull apart after a while and even though everyone is staring and the arena is roaring just for them. Nothing mattered because it felt like they were the only two people in the word right then

After the game, Rio walks Agatha home and they stand in front of the luxury apartment building awkwardly, the air filled with tension. Rio nods her head and starts to turn around to leave when Agatha pulls at her arm and their bodies collide. They are pretty much sharing the same air, only inches a part when Agatha decides to do something stupid and ask about the red head from the shop.

Rio tells her it was a one night stand who can’t understand the words not interested (and that should set alarms in Agatha’s head. That Rio isn’t looking for serious because she’s young and that should turn Agatha away but it’s doesn’t) and then Rio asks if she’s jealous. Agatha says no.

A moment passes and the Rio looks down at Agatha’s lips for a long moment before connecting with blue eyes and saying “well I’m jealous” running her thumb over Agatha’s lower lip, caressing her cheek gently before turning and walking away and never turning back around because god she’d run away with this woman if she asked her

They don’t see each other again and maybe it’s a good thing because Agatha could just write it off as a one time blip that will never happen again but Agatha does keep seeing Rio everywhere. She sees her being featured in bridal magazines looking absolutely sexy and adorable, posting in Instagram with mystery women Agatha doesn’t know, and sometimes Agatha sees dark hair out in the wild and a pang of disappointment fills her body when it turns out to be someone else. Agatha always brushes off these instances as nothing but she knows deep down it’s something

And she can’t silence the nagging in the back of her mind when one night Alice and Jen are over for a wine night and the two single openly lesbian women pull up their hinge accounts and they all cuddle up on the couch and filter through the different women and Jen lands on Rio. Agatha wordlessly grabs the phone and starts looking through her profile and the pictures that weren’t found on her Instagram and made Agatha’s heart squeeze.

Then jealously overtook her, knowing that other women were looking at her profile. Other women were messaging her, flirting, asking her out, spending no time with her, taking her back to their place to- no! Agatha shoves the phone back into Jen’s hands and downs her wine in one gulp

Jen jokes about wanting to send Rio a like and that was Agatha’s last straw, who pours herself another glass and downs it again

She tries to forget Rio after that but when she closes her eyes at night, all she can see is that signature smirk and those big brown eyes

On the day of her wedding she almost slips her coffee all over her white satin robe when Rio walks into the bridal suite in a black floral mini dress and her bridal dress bagged and draped off her arm

Agatha had forgotten that that a part of Rio’s business is that she hand delivers the dress on the day and stays around until after the ceremony to make sure the dress is good for the whole celebration. The fact that those big brown eyes are going to be watching her all day, walk down the aisle, marry this man, made Agatha want to throw up

Rio greets her with a kiss on her cheek (which shouldn’t be weird it’s a normal greeting) but Agatha can’t help the blush that paints over her face

Agatha can’t focus on anything else but Rio’s presence in the room. Rio playing with Nicky, her cousins fawning over the younger woman, both Jen and Alice trying to endlessly flirt with her which makes the bride to be harshly bite down on her bottom lip and make it literally bleed

When he hair and makeup are down, her and Rio go to a secluded space to get her dress on and Agatha is literally shaking in anticipation

It’s quiet and the tension is killing both of them so Agatha stupidly brings up if Rio has had anymore one night stands or seen that red head again. Rio is dead serious when she tells her no, that she recently discovered she’s looking for more. That she’s looking to settle down. She jokes that it’s because of her business, that it’s influencing her and while that could be true they both know the real reasoning

Rio’s gently takes Agatha’s soft long hair and brings it over her shoulder, her knuckles grazing her skin which makes Agatha shiver. Agatha watches eyes take over her curves and their eyes meet in the mirror and their breathing both labored

A knock on the door startles them both and it’s Ralph, with his hand covered over his eyes but declares he doesn’t believe in that tradition and takes in his wife to be. He sweeps her into a kiss and when Agatha looks over his shoulder, Rio is long gone

She doesn’t see Rio again until she’s being walking down the aisle and catches Rio standing by the exit, an unreadable expression on her face, before she turns and leaves

Agatha convinces herself she can do this, that Rio was no one to her, that her feelings mean nothing and Ralph is right here ready to marry her but then she finds herself speaking up when the priest asks if anyone objects. All she says is sorry to Ralph (who looks at her in understanding) before running out of the church (Alice and Jen high five, smiling from ear to ear because maybe they knew something was going on all along and maybe tried to make Agatha jealous all day)

Rio is back in her shop, luckily no brides to be coming are scheduled to come in today, so keeps the shop sign on closed and she sits in the back, letting herself cry.

She doesn’t even know why she’s this emotional. She doesn’t even know this woman for real but there’s something so clearly there and that fact that she can’t even explore it, explore her, is killing Rio inside because she can just feel that whatever they could’ve had would’ve been once in a life time, magical.

Rio has always thought the term soulmate was idiotic and made up but when she met Agatha, all she wanted to do was please her. To make her smile. To be around her. She feels tethered to someone who just got married to a man and she was spiraling.

The bell of her store dings and through tears she yells that the shop is closed only to look up in see Agatha, hair matted from running, still in her wedding dress and clearly out of breath

Agatha doesn’t need to say anything, they both understand what’s happened. Rio gets up and runs towards her and Agatha meets her halfway. They kiss, melting into each others embrace, knowing this is the start of something incredible and forever

Two years later they are getting married at city hall with Jen and Alice as witnesses and MOHs again and Nicky as Rio’s best man. Agatha wears a chic white satin dress with a matching white neck scarf that Rio spent over a 1000 hours crafting especially for her wife to be and Nicky is wearing a matching suit as Rio (that she also made) and it’s the sweetest thing Agatha has ever seen, she loves how much her little boy adores Rio as much as she does. The wedding photo they blow up in their shared apartment is them on the steps of city hall. Both women lifting up Nicky into the air who holds up both of their bouquets in joy above them as the two women kiss

[stark-ironman]

What happens in Vegas... Part 2

18+ No Minors

A/N: guess who finally wrote a long fic!! Well long for me. This was going to be 3 parts but I got carried away. I still could though 😈 also, the Hugh drama with his Broadway costar came back up during this sooooo i wrote it in. Enjoy 😁

Warnings: Accidental marriage, angst, jealously, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it)

Part 1

The next few weeks have flown by quickly as you and Hugh learn more about each other and this new life you both chose to live. The four of you had to leave Vegas early due to the fact someone leaked some pictures from inside the wedding chapel and your hotel was swarmed by paparazzi.

Ryan and Blake reassured you that everything was okay and they was fine going home early because they was ready to see their kids. Even Hugh tried his best to cheer you up but it didn't last long due to the fact your publicists and both of your families were blowing your phones up with questions on your relationship.

As of right now, everybody thinks that the relationship has been under wraps for a while now and you both decided to just elope so until you're ready to discuss it, only Ryan and Blake know the actual details of what happened. Since leaving Vegas, you and Hugh decided it would be a better and safer decision to stay at your house in Colorado instead of his penthouse in New York.

Your place is secluded on a big plot of land and it's been the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to learn about each other in a more intimate way, minus the kissing and the sex. Don't get it wrong, you want to do those things with him but you both agreed to move slow with this relationship so you're waiting on Hugh to feel comfortable enough to make the first move.

"Y/N, did you hear me?" Hugh asks taping his fork on your plate, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out. What did you say?" You look at him and see a small smile on his face. "I asked what are we going to do when it's time for me to head back to New York since you live here and I live there." He says cutting another piece of steak.

"I've been thinking about that actually and I wanted to talk it over with you. You know how I feel about living in big cities, especially New York.." Hugh nods and you continue, "Would you want to move here and we just keep your place in New York so we could visit? Or we find a house on the outskirts of New York?"

Hugh takes a deep breath and thinks it over for a moment before saying, "You're my home, darling. I will go wherever you go." You feel your heart skip a beat at his words and tears well up in your eyes. "Are you sure? I know how much you love New York." He grabs your hand and nods. "We can visit whenever we want. Since staying here with you, I've become a little spoiled by this secluded farm life you live. I love being here and I love being with you." His voice is sincere and you can't help but feel yourself falling in love with him even more.

"Hugh, I need to tell you something.." You start to say but you're interrupted by his phone going off. Hugh apologizes and answers, standing up and walking away, leaving you with your thoughts.

You almost admitted to this man that you love him and while you're sure he feels the same, you don't know if he's ready to take that step yet. One thing about Hugh Jackman, the man is a flirt with everyone. He's a very smooth talker and he is really easy on the eyes. Would he be willing to give all that up? Would he ever cheat on you when he tires of you?

While you know him as a loyal friend, you don't know him as a partner or a lover. Yes, right now he's saying he's happy with you but what happens once you both go back to work and he has to kiss a girl for a movie? Or do a sex scene with one? You know you're not the best looking woman in Hollywood but you try to at least hold the self confidence of one.

Your eyes search across the room until they land on Hugh and you can't help but admire the way his back muscles look and how his pants fit in just the right places. You need to snap out of this little crush before you wind up hurting yourself and the friendship you two have had for many years.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Hugh walking back in the dining room, sitting back across from you with a sigh. "That was my agent. They want me to come back to New York and do a Broadway show called The Music Man." He says, looking in your eyes as if trying to see your reaction. "When do they want you to leave?" You ask, trying to be a little nonchalant but you know he can tell you're not happy. "They want me to fly out of here tomorrow and be in rehearsals the next day."

"You should go. It's a great opportunity for you." You say. "Are you sure?" Hugh's eyes widen, shocked at you giving him the opportunity to leave. "I'm not going to stand in the way of this. You love singing and I love seeing you happy. Plus, I can come stay with you once I get things settled here."

Hugh breaks out in a smile, kissing your hand softly before standing up. "Let me go pack and we will spend the rest of the night watching movies and cuddling." He runs off to pack, leaving you sitting at the table by yourself with a heavy heart.

You don't want him to go but you're not the type of person to ruin a great opportunity for anybody, especially Hugh. You just hope he doesn't find somebody else while you're both away from each other.

------

It's been about a month since you've seen Hugh. He had his first show and you was there in the front row happily supporting him but shortly after the show ended, rumors circulated that Hugh was already cheating on you with his co-star, especially after she came out saying they spend a lot of time together in her dressing room. You seen the chemistry on stage between them but you was hoping it was nothing.

Hugh has tried to call and text you for the past couple of weeks but either you've short replied him or just said you was too busy to talk.

You were hurt. You knew it, Hugh knew it, everybody knew it. Ryan and Blake have even tried calling to tell you the rumors weren't true but you just couldn't handle hearing it.

A knock on your door sounds throughout the house and you already know who it is. "Darling, please open the door." Hugh's voice is muffled by the door but you ignore it, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again.

"Baby, please. I promise you nothing happened between me and her. She's just doing it for the publicity." He says, hearing something sliding against the door as he continues, "I know things have been less than ideal with us but the past few months have been the happiest of my life and it's all because of you. I only have eyes for you, even before we got together, it was always you. Ryan used to make fun of me for how in love with you I was and that's never changed. Accidentally marrying you was the best thing I ever did and I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I love you, darling and if you don't want me here then at least tell me that you don't."

Hugh goes silent and you can't help but walk towards the window, seeing him sit with his back against the door wiping at his eyes. You open the door slightly, watching as he stands up quickly to look at you.

"I'm sorry," You whisper, looking into his eyes, "I knew this would happen the day you recieved that phone call to go back to New York. I didn't want you to go but I will never stand in the way of your career. I tried to stop myself from being happy with you, from loving you, but no matter what I do I can't help but fall in love with you even more with each passing day. I ignored you because I was scared the rumors were true and I wanted to protect myself. You're a natural flirt, you do it without even knowing majority of the time and I didn't want to make you change anything about yourself. I love you the way you are but Hugh, I don't want you giving other girls the time of day. Call me selfish, call me whatever but I want you to myself. I want to have kids with you and live on a plot of land away from the spotlight. I love you more than I ever loved anybody and it scares the shit out of me."

Your confession causes the tears to flow as Hugh steps in the house, taking your face in his hands as he wipes the tears away. "I want this. I want you." He whispers, looking down at your lips.

His lips meet yours. Your arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, vaguely hearing the door shut as he leads you to the living room, laying you gently on the couch as he slots himself in between your legs.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt, raising it up and over his head as his lips meet yours again, his tongue running across your bottom lip before sliding past and attacking your tongue. A moan escapes your lips,

"Do you want to stop?" He mumbles against your lips. "No." You whisper back and he quickly sits up, removing your clothes before doing the same to his. Your eyes widen, quickly remembering the last time you two had sex was when you both blacked out in Vegas, but Hugh quickly reassures you. "I'll take my time, darling. I'll be easy... today." He smirks, crouching on the ground as he spreads your legs,

Hugh admires your core, as if savoring the whole thing to memory before lowering his head and licking a stripe up your slit, running it over the little nub and teasing it. "Taste so perfect.." He murmmers, wasting no time closing his mouth down and latching onto you as if he's been starved. You gasp as his tongue worked against you with long, calculated strokes, your hand gripping his hair as if your life depended on it as his lips enclose around the sensitive little bud.

You moaned his name loudly, your back arching with each pass of his tongue as the pleasure hits in ways you've never experienced before, your head falling back against the arm of the couch.

His mouth continues it's assault, your legs trembling around him as he pulls you close to your orgasm when you feel two of his fingers slide in, his lips enclosing around your sensitive spot causing you to cry out from the pleasure. He slides a third finger in, pumping his fingers into you as your release rips through you, keeping his mouth on you as he works you through your release.

Your body trembles and you're left breathless, thighs shaking from the intensity of the moment as he sits back to look at you with the most sinister smirk you've ever seen on him. His lips glossy and his hair tousled from what just happened and he leans forward, kissing you deeply to let you taste yourself.

Hugh's hand grabs his base, rubbing the head of his erection against your entrance and you shiver from the sensitivity, moaning softly when he dips his head down towards your breast and takes a nipple in his mouth.

He presses the tip against your wet folds, sliding into you slowly as if to not hurt you. Once he bottoms out, he let's you adjust to his length and when you give him permission to move, he moves slow making each thrust hard and deep. You notice he's holding back though so you decide to remind him not to.

"Hugh," You breathe out, "I won't break.. you can fuck me." Hugh let's out a low growl, placing your legs over his shoulders as he starts pounding into you, the force causing the couch to slightly move and your fingers to dig in his forearms.

His thrusts continue to go deep as you watch his head fall back from the pleasure, his mouth slightly open and low moans fall from within. "Fuck, I knew you were made for me... your pussy was made to be all mine.." He grunts, leaning down to sloppily kiss you, pressing your knees to your chest. "I'm never letting you go after this. You own me now, baby." His voice is full of promise and you kiss him again, holding on tightly to his shoulders while he continues his hard, brutal pace.

"Hugh... I'm close.." You choke out against his lips and he smirks at you. "Come for me baby." He says angling his hips just slightly, memorizing your face as you release all over his cock, moaning softly when he hears his name fall from your lips.

He continues his pace, chasing his own release. You clenching around him pulling him closer and closer, finally releasing deep inside of you and a deep growl erupting from him. Hugh rides out both of your releases, thrusting slowly inside of you for a few minutes before finally pulling out, both of you moaning softly at the feeling.

Hugh grabs you and pulls you on top of him, holding you close as he kisses the top of your head and you play with his chest hair. "I meant it, darling. After today, you own me. I don't want anybody else." He softly says, looking down at you. "I'm all yours too. Especially after that." You say with a chuckle, causing him to chuckle to.

"Will you marry me, again?" Hugh asks and you lift your head up to look at him. "I know it's not the most romantic time but we agreed we would do a ceremony if we chose to be together. I want to marry you and say our vows, this time with us both remembering it."

"I would marry you in every lifetime." You say, kissing him softly.

For the first time since Vegas, you finally feel like everything is falling into place and you are extremely happy for the future with Hugh.

[stanpinesdykewife]

Helloo!! So I love love love all of your work you have do on AO3 so much I'm so happy I found you on tumbler! Your writing is absolutely beautiful. I was wondering if you could maybe do a short fluff piece going off of speed dating and easy? Something where reader has had a hard day and isn't up for spicy time and just wants to be taken care of? Just something soft and sweet please and thank yooouuu! 💓🫶🏻💓

hiii!!! giggling at your super sweet compliments thank you so so much! i love the speed dating universe so even though this was sitting half-baked in my drafts for a while this was really nice to write!!! thanks so much for waiting, i hope you like this! under the cut:

boring stan/reader (gender-neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified fluff, 800 words (bonus: sfw bedtime stan headcanons)

You're in bed, lying on your side, Stan's whole body pressed against yours when you finally squirm away from his lips on your shoulder. He stops, his hand stilling on your waist where he'd bunched up your shirt to touch your bare skin. You're clenching your eyes shut, embarrassed, as a beat of silence passes.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Stan asks from behind you, his voice hesitant. He starts to slide his hand off your waist when you grab it, keeping it there. Stan stops again, but this time sounds confused when he starts, “Uh, did I—”

“No. You didn't do anything, sorry, I'm just…” You struggle to find the words for a second. Another tense pause passes, unusual, even eerie in your normally lively company with Stan. Finally, you sigh. “I'm really tired.”

You hesitate for another moment before tugging Stan's hand over your waist, further underneath your shirt to the bare skin of your stomach. Stan goes along with it, like he always does, just letting you move his arm and press his palm flat to your body. The touch draws another deep sigh from you.

“Tough day, huh?” Stan says, any heat gone from his voice to make room for something softer. He glides his thumb over your stomach and you relax as his breath fans over your shoulder. He's kind of awkward with the emotional stuff, and maybe a little put out by you wriggling away from him a moment ago. You are, too. But Stan's voice is still kind when he offers, “You wanna… I dunno. Talk about it? Vent?”

“I think I just need to lay here,” you mutter, unmoving. Stan hums behind you, idly tracing light arches into your skin.

Then he pulls away, shuffling backwards away from your body towards his (mutually agreed-upon, unspoken) side of the bed. Your brows furrow and you turn to look over your shoulder as Stan gets comfortable on his back. He sighs when his head hits the pillow, then catches your eye. There's a little pink to his cheeks when he opens his arms.

“C'mon, let's get you comfortable,” Stan grumbles, though his eyes are warm. You brighten, just a little, and quickly roll over to lay your chest on his. Stan's big arms come around you as you hug him, pressing your cheek to his collarbone and slinging one leg over his. Once you settle down, the two of you are thoroughly tangled up in each other in a way you can only describe as cozy.

“This is nice,” you sigh, nosing at the base of his neck before letting your head lay comfortably on his shoulder. Stan rubs his hand over your spine, making you melt into him. You yawn.

“Am I boring you?” Stan says, grin in his voice. You laugh through the tail end of your yawn, shaking your head.

“If anything, I'm boring you,” you say, but Stan tuts and cuts you off before you can say anything else.

“None o’ that. I didn't have the energy anyway,” he says, nonchalant. You lean upwards slightly to raise a brow at him, glancing pointedly at the tent in his boxers. Stan grabs the side of your head and shoves you back into his chest, making you laugh. “Ignore that.” 

“I love you,” you say, because it feels like the right thing to say. Stan freezes. You pause, your smile dropping. Was that the first time you've ever said that? “Um… You don't have to—”

“Love you, too, sweetheart—Uh, honey. Honey sweet… sugar. Sugar sweet, syrup baby—bird. Baby bird,” Stan rambles, his voice becoming more strained with every word. You laugh out loud again as he continues, stumbling over the nicknames, “Honey ball, uh, balls—Sugar balls. Candy pie.”

“Sugar balls!” you cackle, trying to shove yourself up again. But Stan tightens his grip on you, one arm pinning you down by your back and the other coming around to keep your head still on his chest as you kick your feet. “Haha, Stan! Let me up, I'm suffocating, I'm dying—”

“I'll see you in the afterlife,” Stan says sagely, then rolls over to pin you under his full weight. You're still laughing, and Stan starts to laugh with you, even as he play-fights his hand over your mouth to get you to stop. You peek up at him, giddiness growing in your chest at the violent flush on his face, the shy fondness in his smile.

You chuckle into his hand and lick his palm, making Stan yelp and rip it away, and you take advantage to wriggle out from under him and shove him onto his side.

You'll get back to cuddling in a few minutes. For now, you're gonna wrestle and laugh and let the person you love make you feel better.

sfw bedtime stan headcanons:

stan loves staying in bed all day when he has someone to do it with, especially since he rarely has off-days between work and the portal and post-canon sailing with ford

he is touch-starveddd and loves laying there doing nothing but cuddling or rolling around or wrestling or... you know... giggles

he doesn't do it often because he does believe in eating food and watching television. but when he does, he's there ALL day

he's gross he has crumbs in his bed you can't look me in the eyes and say he doesn't

i feel like during canon it would be reasonable for him to have developed insomnia... but post-canon i think he'd love sleeping in with VERY specific circumstances. his brother is out solo-exploring for a day, the twins are at a sleepover and don't need breakfast, stan isn't expected to visit the shack? he's sleeping for 20 hours straight

even if he doesn't sleep in i feel like if his partner had the day off or even worked from home and hung out in their room all day stan would absolutely be glued to the mattress

maybe these hcs feel out of character to me just a little bit but consider: you wake up to big beefy arms tugging you closer by your waist and a LOUD ass cozy snore from above your head

giggling about morning breath and trying to push stan off the bed to guzzle some mouthwash

he's embarrassed at first because he has to take his dentures out in front of you and pop em back in in the morning it's a whole thing, but eventually he gets comfortable enough that you're allowed to make the cleaning solution for him at bedtime and offer the glass for him to put the dentures in

sorry if the dentures thing threw anyone off because for a few seconds there it threw me off erm but i'm nothing if not determined to establish my alpha position as old man lover no matter what.

ANYWAY. this list got away from me a little bit

final bed hc stan is not used to sharing a bed with another person he hogs the blankets. as in he'll literally wake you up in the middle of the night because he'll be sleeping and roll over and take all the blankets with him and you will never get to have them again without tugging so hard. he has no idea he does this until you offhandedly mention it months into dating

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep7 Musings - Sam Reid’s Autumn Brown Interview (Pt2) S3 Akasha, the Drop, & Amel

Ok, returning to the whole "Blame Amel For Lestat's Abusive Behavior."

Sam referred to something VERY important that I think people overlooked in his segment on the Ep5 revisit; they heard the Akasha bit and just ran with it. But this is exactly what he said:

[SR] Loustat "had the potential to have something very beautiful, but [Lestat's] too messy and chaotic, and Louis and Lestat are also...the beauty of their violence and hatred together, their dynamic...you know.... [AB] It's the best! They have exactly what each other needs. But also everything that makes both of them the worst parts of themselves and the best parts of themselves. [SR] And I think that's kind of cool, when we revisit that scene from Episode 5 in Season 1. And you see that in the in the Trial. I think there's something really wildly beautiful, between the two of them, in that violence. Because Louis is unhinged and angry at Lestat, and I think Lestat is more obviously--he's way more powerful, and his act of violence is, you know, like unforgivable. [SR] But there's this space that private space that they have in the coffin room...how much they hate each other...that's how much Louis hates him, and that's how much Lestat is...hurt, and then turns into this violent, angry, I hate you!.... They have that much hate. They also have that much love; because they're also vampires, and so they operate on like a level of like-- [AB] Emotion that's dialed up to-- [SR] Pure chaos! They're operating on that level, and then Lestat drops him from the sky, and it is an irredeemable event in their relationship. It cannot come back from that. And it creates this kind of cascade in a set of events, that leads to Lestat being killed. And I think that's part of our adaptation. It's not necessarily the the real events Anne Rice's books, but this is what is in our adaptation. And I think it does feed into that overall sentiment that Lestat acknowledges his evil, hellish self-loathing self...that is there; and we obviously heighten things and make it bigger. [AB] In Season 1 you know that there's something else going on, on the other side of the wall; because you can hear the fight dies down. There's a break, and you think it's over, and suddenly starts back up again. And we have this moment of Lestat taking Louis into the sky. We finally get to see what that moment was. And Louis is chilling--oh my god that little laugh that he does! He's like I'm gonna cut your head off! I'm gonna feed it to the lions and I'm gonna laugh about it! I mean, do you think for Lestat in that moment...? Cuz what leads to Louis saying that is Lestat asking Are you going to leave me? Had Louis just said: Yeah! and walked out the door and left with Claudia, would that have led to the explosion? Was it the act of him leaving, or was it the words that instigated that level of vitriol? [SR] Uhhh....I don't know about that. And I don't know if it's worth speculating what would have happened if that didn't happen.

--MURF INTERJECTION-- Thank GOD Sam shut that ish down, omfg. Again: STOP tryna find ways to victim blame Louis for what went down or say he "instigated" the fight! 🤬 It doesn't frikkin MATTER what Louis said or didn't say. All that matters is what happened TO Louis, and TO Claudia, that was what got Lestat "killed."

[SR] But I think more importantly is that--and this is something that I've felt has been really important about playing Lestat from the beginning, and probably something that people find probably a little bit confronting--but for me, for Queen of the Damned to work, Lestat has to have a level of toxic male rage in him, so that when he is angry, and when he's violent, it has to be a toxic masculine rage for Akasha to follow through with the events that she does. And why she says: You are everything about masculinity that's wrong and terrible. And so that's why you're going to be my right-hand guy, and you're going to help me kill them all. And I think...I always felt like, when he does have those spurts of anger, it does have to come from a very toxic place. [SR] Where we're going, when we're looking at it, obviously there's a scene back in Season 1: he's had a drink of this, like, fountain that nobody knows he's had. Nobody knows. No one in the show. Nobody knows. The only person who knows is Lestat. And most of the people watching the show don't know this, at this point in time. [AB] There's just that one little throwaway line about Those Who Must Be Kept, and then nothing else. [SR] And originally in Season 1, when they're in the sky and they're having that moment, Lestat was originally scripted to tell Louis about The Sacred Fount! In that moment, Lestat actually tells Louis about what he has inside of him; what, who he's drunk from. I'm trying to be really vague for anyone who's watching this, and has no idea, and I'm not going to give anything away! But anyone who does know, will know. But originally it's that he's up in the sky. [SR] And I think that is the parallel line that we're drawing with. That level of rage that Lestat has. That toxic abusive rage is also coming from an extreme monstrous power, coming from this intense monster that he has, and he has no idea how to control; he's trying to repress it all the time. But he knows, if he can, if somebody just ticks him off a bit.... He's a volatile guy already, but he's got this thing in that makes him go: AAH! [AB] It's almost going back to that element of vanity that you're were talking about: being like, you would do this to ME?! You don't even KNOW what I have within me! [SR] Yeah, exactly! So that also means that we can feed that shame and shock into his monstrous self--and acknowledgement OF his monstrous self--into his progressive spiral, into where we're going. (34:10 - 40:59)

So. All of this stuff about Akasha (& Amel) needs to be recontextualized, cuz what Sam said is that "ORIGINALLY" the 1x5 script had Lestat threaten Louis with the warning: I'm trying to restrain the monstrous thing in me that makes me go AAH; you don't even KNOW what I have in me, AAH!

But guess what else happened? OBVIOUSLY, THEY TOTALLY TOSSED THAT ISH OUT OF THE SCRIPT, in S1 AND in the S2 revisit. 😂🤣 The time to have teased/suggested that there was something controlling Lestat that made him "accidentally" hurt Louis came & went in BOTH seasons, so arse-pulling Amel so late into the show after we already got Lestat's admission during the Trial looks goofy AF.

Cuz possession is a lazy abuse apologia COP OUT. Having "It was Amel's fault all along" would've directly contradicted AND undermined their whole point about PERSONAL ACCOUNTABILITY that they clearly wanted to get across MORE than using spirit possession as a crutch to explain/excuse Lestat's abusive behavior.

Possession would imply too many things, distracting from the overall thrust of Rolin's vision for telling a very real & very "aggressive, toxic, beautiful love story" about the ways soulmates find their way back to each other after hurting each other over & over.

Esp. since Hannah Moscovich (Ep5's writer) has already been VERY clear about her take on Lestat's capacity for "evil." She mentions his bad actions in TotBT, when Lestat was HUMAN again--he wasn't even in his own vampiric body (attached to Amel/Akasha's blood), and he was STILL doing effed up things! So his issues have nothing to do with spirit possession.

[SR] "it does feed into that overall sentiment that Lestat acknowledges his evil, hellish self-loathing self...that is there; and we obviously heighten things and make it bigger."

(Funny, when Sam something it's flowers & praise; but when Hannah says the same thing it's boos & hisses from the exact same fans, lol.)

Vampirism EXACERBATES & INTENSIFIES aspects of ALL people's character/nature that was ALREADY there; "all feels amplified." Cuz ALL vampires have Amel's spirit in them, NOT just Lestat. ALL of them are powered by his monstrous spirit, and ALL of them are capable of heinous sadistic bloodlust & inhuman acts of violence--look at Claudia's 56 Floaters & Santiago at the Chateau & Armand chasing Malik (& book!Daniel) for the lolz; and how hard Louis tries to FIGHT succumbing to those same impulses too. (Nebamun/Gregory & Teskhamen drank Akasha/Amel's blood. Marius & Pandora & Bianca drank her blood. Sweet baby Khayman drank her blood. Her son Seth drank her blood. Even Big Bad Rhoshamandes drank her blood, and as twisted as he is, even HE was like naaah this heifer's crazy, I'm outta here. Plenty of vamps drank from the Sacred Fountain, and aren't half as crazy & abusive & evil as the vampires that DIDN'T: Magnus, Santiago, Santino, Bruce/Killer, etc.) So the (weak) argument that Amel/Akasha's blood alone is what drives vamps to go totally effing ballistic on their significant others whenever they get mad is patently false, by the book AND the show's own logic.

So I'm glad they got rid of those lines, and just had Les say EXACTLY why he "fought myself a million times; fought my nature, controlled my temper!" and got mad enough to beat the breaks off Lou:

It's INSECURITY--not that Les can't control the monster in him (though ofc that's a VERY legit fear, his struggles with his temper & anger issues); it's that he can't control his family; his husband & child; and can't even "force Louis to love me;" esp. cuz despite all the Dark Gifts he has, he CAN'T read Louis' mind or manipulate his thoughts the way he could back when Lou was still human.

Cuz what Lestat DOES have from Amel/Akasha is direct access to more raw POWER & more Dark Gifts than the average vampire his age. He got her blood straight from the source, not diluted across vampiric generations. Those Gifts are why his rage so dangerous--his ability to overpower weaker vamps & fly them up in the air to drop them & set Millennial Fledglings on fire just for irritating him, etc. Esp. cuz we know "he's a volatile guy already;" he's got patented anger issues up the wazoo ("I am cursed with my father's temper; I am burdened with my Maker's temper").

ALSO, why would Amel have possessed Les to do something so counter-productive to his Chosen One's survival as almost winding up in the incinerator right next to Antoinette? By that logic, we'd have to say that Louis chokeslammed Claudia cuz HE was possessed by Amel too! That entirely strips away precisely what Sam said: how much Loustat LOVES each other drives them to unhinged levels of violence AGAINST each other, AND ultimately Claudia, as they each fear she'll take them away from each other (to Europe/the incinerator).

Hence why AMC hasn't laid ANY breadcrumbs indicating that Lestat was "possessed" by anything--just plain ole oppressive patriarchal toxic masculinity, just like I've been saying all along:

Cuz that machismo's what draws Magnus to Les in TVL & Akasha to Les in QotD; and that "vanity" is what draws Raglan James to Les in TotBT, and that sin/guilt/shame/self-loathing is what draws Memnoch to Les in MtD. In every book until Merrick, Lestat proves the villain right, before he finally realizes how bad he's messed up AGAIN, and course corrects to try proving them WRONG about him.

But Lestat's character development is a marathon, not a sprint; so it's not until Blackwood Farm that Lestat finally simmers TF down, and it's not till the PL Trilogy that his redemption arc really shines best. In PLatRoA, Louis proposes to Lestat WITH AMEL STILL IN HIM, as the Sacred Core directly communicating with Lestat, with the greatest chance to ACTUALLY take over Les if he wanted to! Louis is arguably the MOST concerned about Amel staying posted up in Lestat & possibly taking over him, so sure, I CAN see AMC leaning into the fear that Lestat's underestimating the chance of being spiritually possessed; esp. when compared with Akasha & Rhoshamandes. But that's also what SEPARATES Lestat from those 2, cuz he IS different; he IS special--to Amel. Cuz Les has a massive capacity to LOVE; he LISTENS, and treats Amel like a FRIEND, a PERSON, not a monster. And Lestat was SAD when Kapetria darn near kidnapped him & forced the surgical operation that finally separated Amel from him--cuz Lestat's ALWAYS carried that fear of abandonment in him.

Cuz it's not about Amel at all: it's about the HUMAN SOUL in each & every vampire; at the core of Gothic lit as a genre.

Cuz vampires ARE monsters, but the whole point of TVC is how they all learn how to be BETTER monsters/people; and NOT act like "barbarians" & wild animals--hence: Lestat's Vampire Court in the Chateau Era at the end of the franchise. Hence: Lestat finally becoming WORTHY of Louis' love.

So if AMC succumbs to pressure from the Lestans and retcons S1 & S2 to blame it all on Amel, Imma call that weak ish out on the spot.

[emma23]

Baby steps:

Jake lockley x reader

————————————————————————

The dim lighting of the small bar near Jake’s apartment cast a warm glow over your table, highlighting the amused glint in Jake’s eyes. He sat across from you, looking as relaxed as you’d ever seen him, his legs stretched out and his fingers absentmindedly tapping the edge of his glass.

“You know, Jake,” you began, leaning in with a smirk, “I don’t know how you manage to always get us into the most ridiculous situations.”

Jake shrugged, his mouth twisting into a playful grin. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Oh, ‘interesting’ is one way to put it. Like that time you ‘accidentally’ got us locked in the museum after hours?”

“Hey, that was Steven’s fault,” he shot back, crossing his arms. “The guy’s got a soft spot for ancient artifacts.”

The two of you laughed, comfortable in each other’s company, sharing stories and memories over a few too many drinks. The conversation drifted, easing into silence as you watched him, feeling the warmth in your chest that you’d started to ignore. The man could drive you absolutely insane, but somehow, he also managed to make you feel safe. Even if “safe” in Jake’s world meant dodging more than a few questionable situations.

Later that night, in his apartment, things escalated in that familiar, magnetic way they always did with Jake. Every touch, every whispered word left you feeling both exhilarated and comforted. He was rough around the edges, but when it came to you, he had a tenderness that could melt even the thickest ice. And tonight, he held you with a kind of intensity that made you forget everything else.

A few weeks later, the nausea hit. You found yourself standing in the bathroom, gripping the sink, staring in disbelief at the little plus sign on the pregnancy test. Your heart raced, the implications sinking in with every beat. You recalled a late-night conversation with Jake, a time when he had let slip that he didn’t see himself as a father, especially with his dangerous lifestyle. He’d said he didn’t want to bring a child into his messy world.

Now, the reality of your situation loomed like a dark cloud. What if he didn’t want this? What if he left, unable to cope with the thought of a family? The idea of raising a child alone made you shiver.

The following evening, Jake noticed something was off. “Hey,” he said, touching your shoulder. “You’ve been real quiet. What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, your gaze fixed on the floor. “Jake… we need to talk.”

He tilted his head, concern creasing his brow. “About what?”

You took a deep breath, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m… pregnant.”

There was a long silence. You held your breath, waiting for his reaction. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “You’re serious?”

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes, afraid of what you might see there.

Then, to your surprise, Jake let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. He looked at you for a long moment before pulling you into a hug. “And you think I’d leave?” he murmured against your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, fighting back tears. “You said you didn’t want—”

“Hey,” he cut you off gently, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, I might’ve said that before, but that was before you. Before… this.” He gestured between you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You think I wouldn’t want a kid with you?”

You blinked, processing his words. “You’re… okay with this?”

Jake chuckled, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw. “More than okay. If it’s with you, I want this. I want us.”

Over the next few days, Jake went into overdrive. The next time you came over to his place, you found it filled with baby supplies: diapers, a crib, soft blankets, and even a ridiculously large stuffed animal.

“Jake!” you exclaimed, taking in the sight. “Did you… did you buy out the entire store?”

He grinned, looking a bit sheepish. “Figured we should be prepared. Don’t wanna be scrambling for stuff last minute.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a surge of warmth at his unexpected enthusiasm. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Anything for you,” he murmured, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And for the little one.”

Over the following months, Jake surprised you at every turn. He went with you to every appointment, asked a million questions, and made sure you had everything you could possibly need. Despite his rough edges and unpredictable nature, he became the most dependable partner you could have asked for.

One night, as he helped you settle into bed, he kissed you softly, his hand resting on your growing belly. “You know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “I never thought I’d have this. A family. A real shot at happiness.”

You reached up, caressing his cheek. “Neither did I,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m glad we were both wrong.”

He chuckled, settling in beside you. “Hey, I’m rarely wrong,” he teased, pulling you close.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

He laughed, kissing you again. “Just don’t tell Marc and Steven. They’d never let me hear the end of it.

[leslieseveride]

truly cannot wait for tim and lucy to slow cook together in that crock-pot they call a shop. they are going to marinate in so much romantic tension, i'm so here for it.

[iiiiiiis-things]

idk just thinking about how you burst into your home damn near slamming the door shut, only for toji to stop it with the large palm of his hand before he smoothly walks in behind you. you're on 10 right now, stomping and shouting around the house (while your husband follows like a lost puppy) until you make your way to the kitchen yelling something about how it was "totally unnecessary to punch him" honestly toji didn't even know what the hell you were going on about, i mean he wasn't even listening. he silently convinced himself that it wasn't his fault- no it was definitely yours that he couldn't focus on the sweetness of your voice. i mean he just couldn't stop himself from trailing his eyes down to your ass, sinfully watching from his stance at the doorway as it jiggled with each hard step you took. "you can't keep doing this shit man-" your words go in one ear and out the other, again wasn't his fault, he can't help but think about is how fucking sexy you look right now. lace tussled into a slight mess, lip gloss smeared across your puffy lips because of how much you opened your fat ass mouth out of anger, and that dress ? oh that dress is what gotten you in the situation in the first place, the way it hugged your frame perfectly, mapping out each of your curves in all the right ways. had you not wore it like he told you to he wouldn't have had to beat his boss ass for staring at you a little to long. lashes that had been ripped off are still in his car, sitting prettily right on his dashboard, he couldn't care less in fact he was glad you took em off ecstatic even, toji loved to see you natural, toji thought you were so god damn fine

"what ?"

...did he say that out loud ?

"nothin'" he muffled out "are you even listening? see this the shit i'm talking about-"

toji wanted nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen island and shut your big ass mouth with each deep stroke he gave you, dick hitting deep in that gummy area that always turned you into mush whenever he found it, but alas he didn't, he knew you were angry, just didn't know why. aren't you glad he protected you from the preying eyes of his boss ? did it cost him his job ? maybe.. but it doesn't matter because it was all for you, his lovely wife. "here asshole" toji finally snapped out of his head when he felt you shove something against his chest before walking off. noodles ... you made him-

"a cup of noodles ?" he questioned following you out the kitchen "you didn't eat at the party." the scar on his pretty lips decided to rise. oh how sweet you were, even after being so pissed at his possessiveness you still cared enough to make sure he ate before the night was over but there was still one problem.. "you didn't either" "i'm not hungry." once you reach the bottom of the stairs he stops dead in his tracks "baby- where you going ?" "to bed." no hug ? no kiss goodnight ? no invite ? oh he fucked up.

smut! under the cut (18+)

"now do you forgive me?" voice comes muffled from beneath you as you ride out your nth climax of the night your husband had been sucking and licking into you for hours drawing out orgasm after orgasm. and shit were you ovulating? because you just can't get enough. "fuck" you roll you head back in pleasure riding the sweet sensation of his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit

*smack!*

"i asked you a question mama" you moan loudly at the combination of the nickname and his tongue thrusting in and out of you hitting that special spot each time. "y-yes baby" you grind down to match the rhythm of his tongue as he begins to play with the fat of your ass tugging and gripping tightly, encouraging you to move your hips faster "'m sorry baby, so so sorry" his lips wrap around your rednend clit while he stuffs two fingers into you. at this point you were so overstimulated but you just couldn't stop riding his face even if the world was ending. bringing a hand to his hair you push it back unveiling those gorgeous green eyes. toji looks up making eye contact with you, you begin feeling the tension that was building up about to finally burst (again) "i didn't mean to upset you" he wraps his fore arms around your things getting you to grind down even harder against his perfectly fat nose "i-it's okay toj- fuck you're so deep" "i just don't like when other boys stare at you" he couldn't even bring himself to call his boss a man. a man would never violate a women's privacy like that, basically eye fucking her while she's out with her man. you felt everything, every touch, and god you were so hot, moans were leaving your mouth left and right as you felt him continue sucking, his fingers thrusting into you so desperately as if they were asking for forgiveness too.

this was gonna be a longggg night .

[starkwlkr]

happy life, happy wife | hugh jackman

an: “you attract what you fear” GUYS IM SO SCARED OF A 55 YEAR OLD AUSTRALIAN 😭 definitely thinking about making marvel actress!reader x hugh an actual series… i have ideas

marvel actress!reader

Deadpool & Wolverine Press tour - Hot Ones

Hugh felt like he was going to die. Each wing was getting hotter and hotter, but immediately when he heard his wife’s name he forgot all about the spice.

“Hugh, your wife is part of the Avengers, how does it feel having your wife be part of such a huge franchise? Have you two talked about a potential team up with the X-men and the Avengers?” Sean asked.

“My wife . . . Oh god, I think I’m crying-”

“I can’t tell if you’re legitimately dying or completely in love with your wife.” Ryan told Hugh.

“Wait . . I am completely in love with my wife and I would legitimately die for her.” Hugh gasped as he rearranged Ryan’s words.

“Is that in the contract she made you sign when you married her? ‘I vow to die for you’. My contract said I had to give all my money to my kids and wife.” Ryan said.

“No, she’s amazing, um, if I start talking about her I think I might go on for hours,” he laughed. “Our kids do want to see their parents fighting the bad guys together. We would love to team up, maybe it could happen.” Hugh smiled.

“The entire movie would be them making out and her beating the shit out of you. I’d pay to see that.” Ryan added.

•••

Comic Con 2024

Like RDJ, your last Marvel movie had been Avengers: Endgame. After being in ten mcu films, it was time to say goodbye to your character.

But that was in 2019.

At this years comic con, you were back. The cast of Deadpool & Wolverine had taken the stage and showed their appreciation for the fans. After their panel, it was time to announce Marvel’s upcoming projects. Kevin Feige announced the Fantastic Four, Thunderbolts, Captain America 4, and finally the new Avengers movies, which everyone was extremely excited about.

After showing the title card for the upcoming Avengers film, Kevin turned to the audience.

“Something people have been asking, as of late, is who the heck is going to direct these two movies?” The audience clapped.

From the side of the stage, you were nervous. What if the fans didn’t like the idea of you directing the next two Avengers films? Your worrying caused Hugh to come to your rescue.

“Hey, they loved you as an Avenger, they will love you even more.” Hugh kissed your forehead. “If anyone says anything about this decision, they have me to deal with.”

You laughed at his words. “I really love you so much.”

“Love you too, bub.” Hugh was about to kiss you when Ryan cut in.

“I really love us too. I convinced half of the people here that we’re a throuple.” He said in the most serious tone ever.

Kevin announced you as the director. Your doubt of the fans not liking the announcement was proven wrong when you walked the stairs to the stage and stood next to Kevin. They cheered when they saw you were back.

As you said a few words, thanking Marvel, Kevin and the fans, you were being recorded by Hugh, who was being recorded by Ryan.

“That’s my wife!” Hugh cheered from backstage, holding his phone in his hand.

“She’s Marvel Jesus now, holy shit!”

•••

WIRED autocomplete interview

“Is Hugh Jackman married?”

“Yes, to me, Y/n, probably to half the population,” Ryan answered. “He’s Australia’s biggest slut.”

“All the times, I proposed.” Hugh laughed. “But yes, I am married and I love my wife very much. She’s stuck with me forever.” He lifted his hand to show off the wedding band.

“Funny, because she texted me right now. Her and Blake are in the courthouse getting married. So Deadpool three was actually made so our wives could divorce us and marry each other.”

[tojigasm]

Thinking about older!Logan and how he'd definitely clock the crush you have on him as soon as you meet him.

It's amusing to him, and unfortunately for you, Logan wasn't born yesterday and he absolutely catches your long stares when you think he's not looking or the way you avert your eyes from his whenever speaking to you.

He thinks it's cute and a little stupid on your behalf – a twenty year old something kid crushing on some fifty year old man old enough to be your father.

But it's when the two of your eyes meet from across the room that he knows he's completely fucked because damn if you're not the prettiest thing he's seen in a good fifteen years or so and damn if he doesn't want to treat you the way he knows boys your age aren't

When he finally gets you alone, it escalates faster than either of you could've imagined.

"Shy little thing arent'cha?" He comments from his seat beside you, "Am I really that mean and scary?"

For a moment, you don't realize he's speaking to you until you look up to scan the room before meeting his eyes.

Logan seems to have followed your eyes, scanning each nook and crevice along with you.

"See any ghosts?"

Your eyes narrow slightly in annoyance.

"M'not shy."

Logan hums from his seat, leaning forward to pick up his cigar from the table. Settling back into his chair, he takes a long drag.

"Sure y'rnot." He replies with a smirk, smoke pooling from his lips as he exhales through his words.

You don't break eye contact with him this time, and he's got you right where he wants you.

"M'not." You repeat.

"Oh, I know you're not." Logans voice suddenly shifts to a lighter tone, laced with tease. The switch throws you off for a moment. "Don't think I haven't seen you, do you?"

And there's no need for him to elaborate. You've been caught in your school girl crush that, in reality, you know you won't get in trouble for but it's the fear of disappointing the older man that strikes a chord of anxiety through you.

You don't say anything to that, and the two of you only stare at one another before Logan's placing his cigar back down into the ashtray and motioning for you to come towards him.

You obey without question, partially in response to your training with him and partially wanting to show him how good you can be, how good you are – you have complete trust in him.

Logan seems to sense the slight of your unease, helping to lead you to straddle his lap as you sit down atop him.

His thighs spread out beneath you, helping to keep you balanced.

"That's better, huh?" He asks.

You nod, eyes drifting downwards to where your hands have begun to trace over the detailed lines of his leather suit.

There's quietness to the moment. One that seems as though it could last forever as Logan keeps a gentle hand on your thigh and the other on the arm of the chair, content on letting you distract yourself for the moment.

"Jesus," Logan comments, making you look up to meet his eyes again.

He cups a hand to your jaw, softly turning your head left and right to look you over.

"Can tell you right now," he cuts himself off with a hesitant inhale, the pads of his gloves running along your hips as he slides his hands up and down the shape of your waist to your thigh, "– When I was younger I would've been all over ya'."

Something about the image that draws your mind makes your core ache and your legs weak – imagining a younger version of the older man in the moment, the whitesh grey streaks in his hair bring you back to earth just as fast.

Logan holds your chin with two of his fingers, pad of his gloved thumb stroking your soft skin, and in the same moment, the two of you are kissing.

His lips are soft against your plush ones. His tongue is rough as he takes his time to run the wet muscle up the insides of your cheeks and around your own tongue.

You run your nails through the short of his hair, tangling your fingers in the thick of his tufts.

Logan groans into the kiss, shuffling down the seat to spread his thighs out further beneath you.

His hand comes up to cup your heat, and you gasp into the kiss before grinding your hips into his large palm.

Logan smiles into the kiss.

It only takes him a moment before the pad of his thumb is deftly pressed against your clit through the layers of your suit and you're pulling away from the kiss to moan.

Your brows furrow, and your hands drop from his hair to rest atop his shoulders, letting out soft moans and hums as his finger circles your bud.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw, pulling back to lean against the chair, watching as you relax into his hold.

"That feels good." You manage through a whimper, humming lightly as he shifts his movements to figure eights over your clit.

Logan gives a half chuckle, "I bet it does." His free hand holds you by your hip, keeping you still as you begin to rock into his hand.

"Right there, huh?" He asks, and you nod weakly, rolling your hips into his hand.

"M'close." You breathe.

Logan nods, "Tell Daddy where you want him."

You're quick to obey, dropping your hand from his shoulder to hold his wrist in place, letting out a choked sob when he runs his fingers over your sensitive folds through your suit.

There's not much warning besides a moan that gets caught half way up your throat as you cum.

Logan only continues to run his fingers over your cunt, stroking your folds before your pushing his hand away, swallowing soft gasps for air as you relax against him.

You can feel him kiss the top of your head, his hand stroking up and down the soft of your back while your fingers are tangled with the other.

"Y'okay?" He asks into your hair.

You nod.

[utilityknif3]

Nsfw!!! tehee

Imagine being Simon Ghost Riley’s ex wife who he can’t forget. You two have a son together and after being on a mission for a few weeks, he wanted to take him out somewhere for some quality time since you had full custody.

Even though he’s been away for only a few weeks, you two haven’t seen each other for months now.

…

Simon knocks on your door hesitantly. He wants to see you, he needs to. But when you open the door, he doesn’t know what to say.

You’re so beautiful, you changed but you’re glowing.

You just greet him with a simple “hi” and let him in. Simon walks in, lowering his head so he doesn’t hit it on the doorframe and you both sit on the couch and wait…

“He’s not here” you say, breaking the silence and trying to make the situation less awkward after a moment of silence.

“Where is he?” He asks with his deep voice and thick British accent that makes your heart melt each time.

“He’s at his friend’s birthday, he’ll be back later…in a few hours” you reply not daring to look at him in the eyes.

“In a few hours…aight” Simon passes a hand through his short blond hair, trying to think of something to say.

…

You two have been trying to hold a decent conversation for an hour now, catching up on your respective lives. He tells you about the struggles of his job and you tell him about whatever’s been bothering you lately…until you felt his gaze lower to your hand, especially the finger where your ring is placed, the ring he placed. The ring you can’t get rid of even though you tried to.

“You still have your wedding band?”

He asks as he stares at the ring he passed on your finger a few years before, as if he was mesmerized. He wished to do it again, and again… see you all dolled up in your pretty dress for him with that beautiful smile on your face. You two were so happy that day, like it was the best day of your lives.

He wished he could fuck you again like the night of your wedding, slowly and steadily. It was so intimate, just the two of you, his hair tickling your jaw as he pounded into you. He remembers the way your arms were wrapped around his neck and the way your hands would move to touch his hair. He remembers the sloppy kisses he gave you while he was listening to the soft symphony your moans were composing.

Simon snaps out of his transe when you answer

“Yes…it’s a pretty ring after all”

He nods.

He feels dumb for thinking that you two still had something; you moved on and it was clear.

He doesn’t want you to know that he kept the ring and a few of your things too. He doesn’t want you to know that you’re the one in his mind when he’s alone jerking himself off and overstimulating his soaked cock trying to recreate what you would do to him. He’s ashamed. The shirt that you forgot to get back from him had already been stained with his cum so many times that it doesn’t even smell like you anymore.

You already moved on but he didn’t, he never forgot your dates where you’d be just the two of you on the couch watching an old crappy movie. He never forgot the long hours he’d spend sleeping on your pregnancy belly while you’d caress gently his freshly cut hair. He never forgot the way your son would grab his big tatted arm in his small hands…He never forgot the feeling of your pussy squeezing him and taking him so well. The way you’d ride him on nights he felt tired, or the way your tongue would swirl around his tip, trying to milk every drop of cum he had left in him.

Simon loves you, he loves everything about you and never stoped loving you…

…

…that’s why you’re on the couch right now with his face buried in between your thighs. Simon’s tongue passes through your folds and teases your clit slowly while you scratch his hair. He’s so good for you, going a bit faster each time he hears you whimper.

The tip of his tongue teases your soaking hole while your toes curl around nothing.

After a moment of this sweet torture, he finally decides that his pants were getting too tight and stops licking you. He lifts his eyes to look at you, his face all red from embarrassment as your hand leaves his hair.

“Please, let me fuck you like you deserve” He asks politely while you’re panting heavily. At this point, his dick is the only thing you’ve been wanting. It’s been a while, too long.

You agree with a nod and he doesn’t hesitate to lift you up and put you gently on the kitchen counter. He used to make love to you for hours on it, it was the perfect height. He could fuck you from the front with your legs over his shoulders or from the back with your boobs pressed against the cold granite countertop.

He takes a moment to appreciate your body and watches you all vulnerable and needy for him. He wants to make you cry, to make you beg for more because he knows you will want more. He’s the only one who knows what’s best for you.

As you adjust your body on the counter, Simon hurries to take his fully hard boner out of his pants and boxers. It’s bigger than you remember, covered of his precum and ready to stuff you full of his semen.

You bite your lip in anticipation the moment he grips your thigh to holds it up. He’s so hot when he’s on top, his eyebrows are furrowed as he lines up his dick with the hole of your soaked cunt.

He puts it in with a low “fuck” escaping his lips. You feel so good around him.

Simon pounds into you, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs, making sure to leave dark bruises on your skin. He’s loosing himself into your folds feeling your burning walls squeeze his cock too much for him to hold his orgasm.

He burries his dick deeply into you, his tip kissing your cervix at each thrust and eventually it begins to feel too stimulating, too good. Simon cums into you but doesn’t stop his hips from moving. The white substance drips down to the counter and his moans are higher and louder. Now, his thrust are messy and uneven because of the overwhelming pleasure he’s feeling trying to bring you to your climax.

You reach it eventually, your own juices melting with his as you two are panting messes. Simon looks at you, at your beautiful face he missed so much. He won’t let you go again.

…

About an hour later, after a good shower, he randomly decides to kiss you and mumbles “I love you”

I know the end is ass idk how to end fics 🤯 and tbh I know that my writing sucks also bc I have great ideas but poor grammar and vocabulary 😓 I promise to get better bear with me 🙌🏾

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have been binging your work!

I don't know if this breaks your trauma rule or not, but (with the guys of your choosing as long as Ratio is there) how would the guys react to losing reader (they haven't confessed feelings yet) during a mission and thinking they died. Then, the reader reappears a week later bandaged up, but alive. Maybe spouts their confession first? ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

I adore your writing. Thank you!

This is way too fucking long, so be warned. It’s like I rammed 4 mini stories in one but got lost at some point cuz I left this ask to collect dust. Also thanks for enjoying my writing it’s much appreciated. :) 🦦🐿️

Sunday:

The moment he got news that you’ve been assumed dead in the aftermath of a dangerous mission, he looses composure really quickly.

Loosing Robin was one thing but loosing you on top of that was the straw that broke the camels back.

He originally doesn’t believe that you were gone, he refuses to as he practically tears his office to shreds in a fit of anger and grief before forcing himself to regain composure and clean up after his outburst. He needed to in order to keep up the illusion that he was the levelheaded leader The Family needed in these moments of chaos and mistrust.

Even if he himself was breaking down internally alongside everyone else, hellbent on finding the culprit for your death and punishing them so severely that they’d beg for death. He’d avenge you in anyway he could, even if it meant sending out the bloodhound family on a wild goose chase that only ends in dead ends, he would get you justice no matter how it may come.

His heart had died alongside you that day.

So when a week passes and he finally has you back in his arms, all the while being carful with your wounds as his eyes searched you over in a way you weren’t use to.

‘You’re alive.’ He breathes out in relief as he then begins to laugh and rest his head against yours, breathing you in deeply as he relishes in this long awaited moment. ‘Of course you’re alive.’ He mutters.

‘Sunday,’ you began but Sunday was quite to cut you off.

‘Do you know how I felt thinking you were dead? Driving myself insane to prove that you were still alive anyway I could as not to bear the idea of walking through this life without the one person I love so dearly.’ Sunday takes a brief pauses in his monologue, feeling out of breath after having put everything out into the open before continuing. ‘I thought my heart had stopped beating that day and now I have you bad in my arms.’ Sunday then chuckles darkly as he gripped you tighter. ‘I’ll ensure that I’d never have to revisit that part of my life ever again.’

‘Sunday-‘

‘Shhh.’ Sunday cuts you off once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly. ‘Just know that what I do after this, I do out of my love for you.’ He says against your forehead before pressing another kiss there for good measure.

Jing yuan:

Loss wasn’t new to Jing Yuan.

He has experienced it in multiple forms throughout his life, but that didn’t made the news of your death any less painful for the General.

While his mind might’ve made peace with the fact that you were gone, his heart however did not as he would find himself in the places that you often vacated to in moments of stress, or to just be left alone for a while with your thoughts. So to no longer see you in any of those hidden spots -waiting for him to find you like you usually did- only worsened the grief he felt in his heart as he sat himself down and allowed the memories to pass over him in waves.

You were both so happy together and felt a sense of fulfilment that could only be achieved when you were within the other’s presence; A feeling that was uniquely yours and yours alone that could never be replicated, ever. For no one could ever come close to replacing you, nor the companionship you and he had for each other that many assumed would blossom into something more; Jing Yuan also shared the same sentiments as they did, but just as he built the courage to push that boundary between the two of you, you were taken from him before he could utter a single word.

So when a week passes and Jing Yuan found your battered and beaten form in one of your secret spots, back resting against a tree with your eyes closed.

‘Y/n?’ He called out and your eyes opened upon hearing his voice and looking at him with a weak smile. ‘Hey General, miss me?’ You said as you struggled to get up to your feet, only to stumble forward and into Jing Yuan’s chest as his strong yet gentle hands hold you in place.

‘More than you could ever hope to know.’ Jing yuan said as he focused on how you felt beneath his hands, warm and alive.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ You muttered against his chest as his warmth made you realised just how tired you were from everything you’ve experienced this last week alone. ‘I never meant to keep you waiting in fear that you’d forget about me if I don’t stay in your life long enough.’ You admit and Jing Yuan instinctively presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you protectively.

‘I could never forget about you my beloved.’ Jing Yuan reassured you as he looked you deep into your eyes. ‘You’ve managed to carve your place within my heart and soul, so much that there isn’t a day where you aren’t all I think about, regardless of whether or not your by my side or far away.’ He finished by pressing a gentle kiss to the gauze on your cheek, chuckling upon seeing your cute attempts of burrowing your face into his chest.

‘How long have you’ve been waiting to say this.’ You asked, thankful that he was the one to admit his feelings first, as you would’ve had a hard time articulating your words as fluidly as he could.

‘For a very long time.’ Jing Yuan replied with a small smile as he then proceeded to lift you into his arms, cuasing you to squeal in surprise, as he made sure to be carful of your wounds and began walking to the nearest medics to make sure your wounds weren’t going to be trouble later on.

Aventurine:

He didn’t know what to think when you were pronounced dead, all Aventurine could feel in that moment was an overwhelming numbness that encased him entirely.

The only light left in his life had been snuffed out, plummeting him into utter and total darkness he had once been well acquainted with until you came along, giving him a reason to keep looking forward despite everything.

You were no longer here to hold onto his left hand before he could even think of hiding it behind his back out of habit, you were no longer here to be his reason, his comfort, his safe place. You were taken away from him unfairly and once again Aventurine found himself asking the same question he has been asking himself for a long time; why everyone was born into this life just to die.

So when a week passes and Aventurine finds himself sat on a bench somewhere, still not dealing well then than he was the week of your assumed passing, lost in his own thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. Aventurine was just about ready to tell them to go away, when he saw just who was sitting next to him; you.

‘I know, I look like shit but you don’t have to look at me like that.’ You spoke upon feeling his eyes gaze upon the gauze on your cheek, then towards the array of bandages that littered the rest of your body.

‘I thought you died.’ He hissed, emotion was heavy in his voice as his eyes became bleary with unshed tears as he felt his breathing become heavy with the reality that you were alive. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t in that moment as his mind raced. And it wasn’t until you reached out to grasp his left hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing, did everything finally became clear to him.

‘I thought I was too at one point but there was something that kept me from journeying over to the afterlife.’ You admit, looking over at him and smiling sweetly, wanting nothing then to calm his thoughts and reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.

‘And what was that?’ He laughs humourlessly as he stares back at you, wanting to hear what excuses you could come up with for faking being dead for a week. ‘Willpower? Determination?’

‘You Kakavasha.’ You replied straightforwardly and his breath hitched in his throat. You rarely used his actual name unless it was absolutely serious. ‘You were all I thought about as I pushed through my injuries.’ You told him as you continued. ‘Kakavasha is waiting for me was just about all I could think about for a week straight.’ You finished as though you didn’t just confess that he was your soul motivator in staying alive.

‘Really?’ Aventurine said softly, finding it impossible that he could possibly be your reason for anything. ‘Why?’

‘Yes really.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder. ‘As for why, it’s because I like you more then did let myself admit, but i just wanted you to know incase anything truly bad were to ever happen to me-‘

‘No.’ Aventurine cut you off suddenly, squeezing your hand as though he were afraid. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not now. not ever. I just got you back.’ He adds resting his head against your own in a desperate attempt of feeling more of your against him. ‘Just stay with me…please.’ He begs you in a whisper as he nuzzled further into you. ‘and don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you again.’

You smiled softly as you just whispered back against the skin of his neck. ‘As long as you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I like my crush to be alive and close by even if he can be a pain in my ass sometimes.’

Aventurine chuckles, his heart becoming whole again as he made you cuddle into his side, kissing your head once more as you took this moment to familiarise yourselves with each other. ‘At least I’m a pleasurable pain in the ass.’ He teased and you pinch his side, causing him to flinch, but his smile remained and this time his smile was genuine.

His light has came home.

Ratio:

Fully believed that he’d see you when the mission ended, knowing just how talented and dedicated to the craft you were, and having faith that this would be a measly walk in a park for you.

Only to receive word that you were one of the many who were assumed dead when you weren’t found amongst the living nor the dead.

Veritas tries to remain as levelheaded and logical as possible during this time and continue life as normal. However found himself retracting from everyone else and going none contact, more so specifically with the people you were once associated with, and instead focused heavily on his studies and academics to an unhealthy extent.

A week passes and Veritas feels as though he’s seen a ghost the moment he saw you in his peripheral vision, bandaged and dressed in ripped clothing but still somehow finding it in you to smile.

‘You idiotic Buffon!’ He exclaims as he walks towards you.

‘Well that’s a nice way to greet someone you care about.’ You replied as you readied yourself for a massive rant about how stupid you were and so on, but instead you were held against his chest as he burrows his head into your neck.

‘I thought you died.’ He says in a whisper as he breathed you in. This went against all logic but in that rare moment Veritas didn’t care, you were alive but he still couldn’t let go of the fact that you didn’t tell anyone you were still alive. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were alive, send a signal, anything.’

You shrugged as you made yourself comfortable in his strong arms. ‘All communications were badly damaged or completely cut off.’ You told him. ‘I was on my own for a long while before finding my way back to you.’

‘Me?’ Veritas asked, pulling away from you. ‘Why not a medial facility for a proper treatment of your wounds? Have you hit your head so hard that common sense had been left on the back burner when making that decision?’

‘I wanted to see you first you dickhead!’ You exclaimed, shutting Veritas up rather quickly with your confession but you didn’t care. ‘is it so wrong of me to let the man I love know that I’m okay? So go ahead and call me an idiot all you like but that won’t change the fact that I felt more fear about not telling you how I truly feel then dying on some stupid mission.’ You finished your rant.

‘You’re insufferable.’ Veritas said after a moment of silence and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at this that you didn’t notice that Veritas has began to close in the distance between the two of you.

You scoffed. ‘Oh sure call me insufferable as if you-‘ Veritas cuts you off by cupping your cheeks and planting a sweet short lived kiss against your lips before pulling away with a smirk.

‘Glad to know that the feelings are reciprocated.’ He says, taking enjoyment of rendering you speechless as he gently guided you to medical, and remaining by your side for the remainder of the day.

[nochepsicodelica]

Suggestive

Lazy, exhausted, almost two in the morning, running on fumes kisses with Toji. You're tangled up in each other, pressing kisses all over each other's faces and necks, avoiding connecting your lips because when you do, you both forget to pause to breathe due to how tired you are.

"Go to sleeep," he drawls into your softly marked neck, biting the delicate skin after.

You let out a hushed giggle. "No, I think you should go to sleep," you push back, running your fingers through the soft hair that meets the nape of his neck.

"You're delirious from how tired you are, doll. How 'bout you go to sleep?"

This can go back and forth for as long as necessary because neither of you has anything to do later in the day, so you can sleep in as long as you want.

"I'm delirious?" You ask, displaying a playful expression of disbelief.

"Mhm, that's right. You're delirious," Toji responds, smugly.

"Not you? The one who just bit me, like you're starting to see me as food, from how tired you are?"

"Mmm... you're a whole meal, mama. I eat you all the time." He chuckles, a free flowing, deep sound against your neck.

"And now you're a delirious perv. Great."

His lips go to your ear. "You make me this way, doll. You make so many nasty thoughts of you run through my head, all the time."

"Shuuuut up. Shut. Up."

Toji grins like a fiend at your flustered, blurted words, but ultimately decides to stop teasing you, so you both can get to sleep.

"Alright, alright, let's both shut up," he says, pulling you into him. He envelops you and smushes your face into his chest, allowing the room to finally still entirely. The silence doesn't last longer than ten seconds, because of you. A loud snicker cuts the quietness and you squirm out of Toji's hold.

"What now?" He asks, eyeing you with a small grin. You're really something.

"Sorry, I-" you pause to laugh. "I don't know. The silence cracked me up."

"See, if anyone's delirious, it's you. Over here laughing over nothing, like a crazy person." You quiet down again, and try your hardest not to laugh at Toji's playful chiding. "There you go, baby. Shh..."

"Shh..." you mimic, a laugh following.

Out of nowhere, you're scooped up in Toji's arms and laid down flat on his body, your abdomen pressed to the upper part of his.

"Do that again. I dare you."

You've never been one to back down from his challenges, so you do exactly as told.

"Shh..." you hush again, your finger going to his lips, this time.

"Uh-uh. Try again." He nips at your finger, earning a bubbly giggle from you when you quickly pull it away before he can bite it.

"Shh...?" You repeat, with a questioning tone, a hand cupped over his mouth, this time.

Toji shakes his head, not missing out on the chance to run his tongue over your palm. You gasp, and pull your hand off his mouth and he tugs on the front of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. You giggle at the close proximity, receiving a smirk from him in return.

"Shh..." he hushes you once more, as he pulls you in for a kiss. He releases the now somewhat loosened collar of your shirt, and slides his hands up the back of your shirt, allowing them to roam your warm skin. He expects to feel the hooks of your bra any second now, but they're never felt, so his hands are able to smoothly continue up towards your shoulder blades and press your body closer to his.

You both clearly haven't learned that you'll be gasping for air when you separate, because there you are, brushing lips continuously like you're racing to see who can start the next kiss first. Like your lips being connected is what keeps you breathing and not the opposite.

The sounds of mutual short, rapid breaths fill your ears, still, neither of you makes any effort to pull away. Your lungs are starting to burn, but it's nothing compared to the heat you feel from Toji's kisses. His fingertips are gentle on your skin, gliding over your upper back and prodding at the length of your spine.

"Fuck, Toji-"

"Mm-mm, come here," he says, against your lips, not wanting to separate from you just to get those measly words out. You can only handle a few more seconds, before you finally have to be the one to break the kiss.

"Okay, o-," you say, pulling back with a final smack of your lips and a breathy laugh. "You win."

"Yeah?" Toji asks, his voice breathy, but not as breathy as yours. "Well, I choose your lips as my prize, so get back here."

You giggle when he pulls his hands out of your shirt and manually brings you close again. Your lips connect and you repeat the long process of kissing each other senseless. You're both so kiss drunk, practically trying to inhale each other with every lengthy lip lock. It's a fire sale of affection, going on until one of you is rendered too tired to kiss the other back. Toji is taking all he can get because he knows your lung capacity isn't as strong as his, so when he hears those shuddered breaths coming from you, he knows he has to be faster and take more, before things wrap up.

You can barely keep up, still fighting to regain your breath from the last round of kisses. Once you realize that it's futile to try and match his pace, you stop and choke out another laugh. Toji's arms are tightly wrapped around you, his kisses now being pressed to the rest of your face, while you giggle at the overload of affection. You put your index and middle fingers up to his lips, snickering as you try to hold it together.

"Sh-Shh..." you hush, the sound cut off multiple times by bursts of your laughter. Toji smirks and kisses your fingertips once.

"You're unbearable," he teases, loving the glimmer that remains in your eyes when you look at him.

You retract your fingers from his lips, your smile lingering from your fit of giggles. "You're barely tolerable," you bite back.

"You're sleep deprived," he adds.

"You're sleep deprived," you respond, using his own words against him.

"You're addicting." His reason for being awake this late with you.

"I love you." Your reason for being awake this late with him.

There's a twinkle in those dark, green eyes of his, similar to the brilliance that appears in them when he comes home to you after being away on a mission for days. "What? You know this, already." Your stomach swarms with butterflies when you become all too aware of how he's looking at you with stars in his eyes, as if you've withheld these words from him for too long.

"Yeah," Toji says, like he's entranced by the sound of your voice. It's soft, as if anyone else could hear you and him outside of the room. "I like the way you say it." Your words disperse warmth throughout his entire body. They give him a feeling similar to that of when you hold him close, lovingly and protectively. "Come on. Say it, again."

You're nervous. This has never been an issue, since you tell Toji you love him all the time. You feel like you're being put on the spot, like you're being asked to perform for him. He's under you, watching you so intently, patiently waiting for you to cave into his need to hear you repeat those words.

"Say it, again. For me?"

Some believe that the significance of the phrase 'I love you' loses its value if repeated too often, and if that truly is the case, the meaning has long faded between you and Toji. They are now just three simple words that you say every day, between morning and nighttime. Three words that you say to each other before leaving for work and after a good or bad day. Three words that you say to each other before concluding a call when either of you is at the grocery store alone or when you make up after an argument. Three words that stir feelings ranging from playful to genuine doubt, if not reciprocated in seconds.

"I love you."

"Hm?" He heard you.

"I love you."

"What?" He heard you that time as well.

"I love you."

"Huh?" He heard you just as clearly as the times before.

"Toji."

"Good. Now, put it all together."

You sigh, with false irritation, and roll your eyes. "I love you, Toji." A smile curls onto your lips. "There. Happy?"

"I could kiss you," he says, with his own devilish, little grin.

"Stop," you groan. "You're insatiable and you know I won't say no," you say, positioning yourself comfortably on him for some much needed sleep.

"You can't blame me for loving your kisses." Toji brings the blanket over your bodies, letting it come up to the middle of your back. His arms rest above the thick cover, on your upper back. "It's hard to stop. You're just so soft and sweet, mama."

"We can kiss for soooo long, later today, but in order to do that we need to sleep now or we'll be sleeping all day, instead."

"Fine, then," Toji grumbles, tightening his arms around you. "Go to sleep, but if I wake up before you, i'm gonna do a wake up attack on you, and you can't be all grumpy about it."

"Wait, wha-"

You lift your head to see if he's joking, only for his hand to guide it back down to chest.

"Shh... Love you. Goodnight."

[pucksandpower]

Crash Course Correction

Lando Norris x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: the Austrian Grand Prix left your boyfriends less than pleased with each other, so you decide to do something about it

The tension in the air is palpable as you stride into the living room, your eyes darting between Max and Lando. They’re seated on opposite ends of the couch, arms crossed, deliberately avoiding each other’s gaze.

The aftermath of their crash at the Austrian Grand Prix still lingers, a cloud of unresolved anger and frustration hanging over them.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “Alright, boys,” you announce, your voice firm but tinged with exasperation. “This ends now.”

Max’s head snaps up, his blue eyes narrowing. “What are you on about?”

Lando, unable to resist, chimes in with a snort. “Probably about how you can’t drive for shit.”

“Me?” Max’s voice rises an octave. “You’re the one who-”

“Enough!” You cut them off, hands on your hips. “I’ve had it with this childish bickering. You two are going to sit here and work this out, or so help me, you’ll both be sleeping on this couch until you do.”

The threat hangs in the air for a moment before Lando breaks the silence. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you reply, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I love you both, but I’m not dealing with this anymore. Sort it out.”

Max leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Y/N, come on. It’s not that simple. He-”

“No excuses,” you interrupt. “Talk to each other, not to me. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out of the room, leaving the two drivers to face each other.

For a long moment, neither speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, Lando breaks. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Max grunts in agreement. “Yeah, well, welcome to life with Y/N. Stubborn as hell.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lando retorts, but there’s less heat in his words now.

Max sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Look, about the race ...”

Lando tenses. “What about it?”

“I ... I might have been a bit aggressive in that turn,” Max admits grudgingly.

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit?”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly backing off either,” Max counters, but his tone is more defensive than accusatory.

Lando opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, considering. “Fair point,” he concedes after a moment. “I guess we were both pushing pretty hard.”

The admission seems to ease some of the tension in the room. Max nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Push to the limit.”

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, a matching smile forming. “Sometimes we just ... overstep that limit.”

There’s another pause, but this one feels less strained. Max breaks it, his voice softer now. “I am sorry, you know. For how it ended up. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

Lando’s expression softens. “I know. Me too. It’s just ... frustrating, you know? We both lost out on a podium.”

Max nods emphatically. “Tell me about it. The team was not happy.”

“Christian give you an earful?” Lando asks, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Max groans. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You?”

“Zak was ... not thrilled,” Lando admits with a grimace. “But I think Andrea was even worse.”

They share a look of mutual understanding, the shared experience of team disappointment bridging the gap between them.

“You know,” Max says slowly, “maybe we should ... I don’t know, talk more? In the paddock, I mean. Try to avoid these situations.”

Lando tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that could help. Better communication, less ... assuming the other will back off.”

“Exactly,” Max agrees, warming to the idea. “We’re both competitive as hell, but maybe we can find a way to race hard without ... well, this.”

Lando nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that. It’s more fun when we’re both actually finishing the race.”

Max chuckles. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, the earlier tension replaced by a tentative camaraderie. They’re both quiet for a moment, processing the change.

“So,” Lando ventures, “think this counts as making up? Because I really don’t fancy sleeping on this couch. It’s not exactly built for comfort.”

Max laughs outright at that. “God, no. My back would never forgive me.” He pauses, then calls out, “Schatje? You can come back now. We’ve sorted it.”

You poke your head around the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Have you really? Or are you just saying that to get out of couch duty?”

Lando holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Cross my heart. We’ve had a proper talk and everything.”

You step fully into the room, your gaze moving between them. “And? What did you decide?”

Max and Lando exchange a glance before Max speaks. “We’re going to work on communicating better about what happens on the track. Try to avoid these ... incidents.”

“And off track?” You prompt, not quite satisfied.

Lando jumps in. “We’re good, love. Really. Water under the bridge and all that.”

You study them for a moment longer before your posture relaxes. “Alright, I believe you. But if I hear one more word about that crash ...”

“You won’t,” Max assures you quickly. “Promise.”

You nod, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Good. Now, who wants dinner? I’m starving.”

As you turn to head back to the kitchen, Lando calls out, “Hey, Y/N?”

You pause, looking back. “Yeah?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just for the record, if we had to sleep on the couch ... would it have been together, or ...”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “In your dreams, Norris.”

Max snorts. “As if I’d share a couch with you anyway. You kick in your sleep.”

“Oi!” Lando protests. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfect sleeping companion.”

“Sure you are,” Max teases. “That’s why Y/N always complains about your snoring.”

You decide to intervene before they can start bickering again, albeit more playfully this time. “Alright, children. Less arguing, more helping with dinner.”

They both groan dramatically but get up to follow you into the kitchen. As you start pulling out ingredients, you can’t help but smile at the easy banter now flowing between them.

“So,” Max says, leaning against the counter, “what’s for dinner?”

You shrug. “I was thinking pasta. Simple and quick.”

Lando perks up. “Ooh, can we have garlic bread too?”

“Only if you make it,” you counter, tossing him a loaf of Italian bread.

He catches it with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”

As Lando busies himself with the garlic bread and you start on the pasta sauce, Max hovers nearby, looking slightly lost.

“Don’t just stand there,” you chide gently. “Make yourself useful. Chop some vegetables or something.”

Max grimaces. “You know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Lando laughs. “Come on, Max. Even you can’t mess up chopping vegetables. Here, I’ll show you.”

To your surprise, Max allows Lando to guide him through the process, their earlier animosity completely forgotten. You watch them with a warm feeling in your chest, grateful that your plan worked out better than you could have hoped.

As the kitchen fills with the aroma of garlic and herbs, the conversation flows easily between the three of you. Racing stories blend with personal anecdotes, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful jab.

“Remember that time in Monaco,” Lando says between giggles, “when Daniel thought it’d be a good idea to-”

“Oh God,” Max groans, but he’s smiling. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look at inflatable flamingos the same way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

They exchange a look before answering in unison, “Probably not.”

The pasta is almost done when Max suddenly says, “You know, I’m glad we sorted this out.”

Lando nods, his expression sincere. “Me too. It’s ... nice, this. Being able to just be together without the pressure.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees softly. “Sometimes I forget we’re not just rivals, you know? We’re ... partners.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighted with meaning. You hold your breath, waiting to see how Lando will respond.

A slow smile spreads across Lando’s face. “Yeah, we are. Even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

Max laughs, the sound full and genuine. “Right back at you, mate.”

You can’t help but join in their laughter, relief and happiness bubbling up inside you. This is what you’d hoped for — not just a truce, but a real reconnection.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation continues to flow. You find yourself content to just listen, watching the way Max and Lando interact. There’s a new ease between them, a understanding that goes beyond their shared profession.

“You know,” you say during a lull in the conversation, “I’m proud of you both. For working this out.”

They both look slightly embarrassed at the praise, but pleased nonetheless.

“Well,” Lando says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “we couldn’t very well let you win, could we? Threatening us with the couch, honestly.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Max chuckles. “She’s got us there.”

As the evening winds down, you find yourself curled up on the couch between them, a movie playing on the TV. It’s some action flick that none of you are really paying attention to, too content in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Max says softly, his arm draped around your shoulders. “Thanks for this. For ... pushing us to talk.”

Lando hums in agreement from your other side. “Yeah, we can be right idiots sometimes. It’s good to have someone to knock some sense into us.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you. “That’s what I’m here for. Someone has to keep you two in line.”

They both laugh at that, the sound harmonizing in a way that makes your heart swell.

As the credits roll on the forgotten movie, you realize that this — this moment of peace and companionship — is exactly what you’d been hoping for.

It’s not always easy loving two Formula 1 drivers. The competition, the pressure, the constant travel ... it can all take its toll.

But moments like this? They make it all worthwhile.

You snuggle deeper into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of the two men you love. “So,” you say, unable to resist one last tease, “I guess you’ve both earned your bed privileges back, huh?”

Max and Lando exchange a look over your head before Max speaks. “Actually ... I was thinking maybe we could all just stay here for a bit longer. This is ... nice.”

Lando nods in agreement. “Yeah, no rush to move. Unless you want to, of course,” he adds quickly.

You smile, touched by their reluctance to end the moment. “Here is perfect,” you assure them.

As you settle in for another movie, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, that crash was a blessing in disguise. It forced a confrontation that needed to happen, cleared the air in a way that casual interaction never could.

And now, curled up between Max and Lando, their earlier rivalry forgotten in favor of shared laughter and warm companionship, you know that whatever challenges come next, you’ll face them together.

As a team.

As a family.