#and i just hold such admiration and love for him

[classyrbf]

DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, toji x fem!reader, angst angst angst, megs is 17, absent father, family trauma, young love, arguing, talks of pregnancy, talks of killing/assassination, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

based on: like him by tyler the creator

“Alright move closer into the photo—yep! Perfect!” Your mom held the camera up to her eye, slightly bending down. “Alright, three…two…one!” She snapped the photo, smiling as she looked at you and Toji.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, friends and family surrounding to celebrate. Endless gifts and food, music playing over the speakers. Small children ran around the yard, infectious laughter filling the air. The sun shined brightly, not a cloud in the sky. You were happy. Toji held Megumi tight in arm, looking down at the baby with a full head of jet black hair.

You and Toji had met in high school, falling for each other in an instant. You were captivated by his silent and mysterious presence and Toji was capture by your smile and the way your eyes shined in the light. But neither of you expected to end up with a baby boy just two years later after graduation. Not a single moment was regretted. You wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“Happy birthday, little man,” he scoffed, holding Megumi above his head. He babbled, giggling as he chewed on his chubby fingers, smiling at his father with love in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to frame this one. You guys look so cute.” Your mom pouted, walking back into the house to put the camera away.

A soft smile spread across your face, holding onto Toji’s arm. “Did you ever think you’d become a dad?” You suddenly asked, watching as your baby played with the fabric of his shirt.

Toji turned towards you, a confused look on his face. “No, but…I’m happy I did. You know I’d do anything for you two.” Toji pulled you in by your waist. “Did you ever think you’d become a mom?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand out to move hair out Megumi’s face. “It’s just weird. We were so young, you know? We still are. But, it feels right.” You rested your heard on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. A small laugh erupted from your chest, “I carry him for nine months and he came out looking exactly like you.”

“What can I say? I got strong genes, baby.” He nudges you slightly, teasing.

“Oh, hush. I did all the work.” You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m only messing with you.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Go on, give mama a kiss, little man.” He holds Megumi towards you. As if on cue, he leans his head down and places his slobbery mouth on your forehead. “There you go! Good job!” He chuckles, smiling at his son. “I can’t wait until you’re older so I can teach you about all sorts of things.” Megumi grabs ahold of Toji’s finger in his small palm, squeezing it. “Gonna teach you all types of sports, how to fight so you can protect mommy. I bet you’ll be a good baseball player.” Megumi squeals at Toji. “Baseball? Yeah? Alright, baseball it is.” He kisses his cheek.

You stand there, admiring your two favorite boys. It’s like you see the future when you look at them. A happy life, a cozy home. Maybe even a sibling for Megumi. A ring on your finger, happily married. Thinking of the days when Megumi starts going to school and brings back all his little projects so you can put them in a box and keep them for the future. You already had so much planned at such a young age, but you were determined to fight for it. For him. For your son.

Megumi sits on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. The ceiling fan provides a low hum as it spins. He stares at the wilted paper in his hand, a handwritten note to him—one he’s never seen until now. His chest feels tight, tears welling in his eyes as he reads who it’s from over and over again.

—Your Dad

It feels like he can’t breathe, anger swirling through him. He thinks of all those times you dismissed his questions and conversations about his father—whoever his father was. And now, he was holding a note from him that was written fifteen years ago. A note of how sorry he is and nothing else. A man of few words. No explanation, nothing.

Growing up, Megumi learned from a young age that he looked just like ‘him’. His grandmother and grandfather always slipping up, staring at him like a ghost had just walked in the room. It only got worse as he grew older, starting growing into his features. You even began to stare at him, a look of sadness in your eyes. He never would say anything, always keeping his mouth shut like he didn’t notice. Not once, did you ever speak of his father. Hell, he didn’t even know his name or what he looked like, but from what he’s been told, he probably looks like an older version of him.

All those days, watching fathers bond with their sons, his friends dads coming to sports games, school events, he always felt like deep down something was missing. He felt different. Every Father’s Day, being tasked to make something special in school for their fathers, but how is a nine year old supposed to say he doesn’t have one? How is a thirteen year old supposed to participate in the father-son day at school when he doesn’t have one? How is a seventeen year old supposed to feel when he sees everyone posting their dads on social media, a heartfelt message written with each one, yet he doesn’t even have a photograph to remember him by?

Tears fall on the paper and the hurt that he held back is now manifesting. Why was so hard for you to say anything about him? Was he dead? Is that why it was so hard? Yet, there was no excuse. Whatever it was, he needed to know why he left. Why he was so sorry. It wasn’t until he heard the front door open, your calming voice calling out to him.

“Megs, I’m home!” You shut the door, placing your bag on the countertop.

The door to his bedroom swung open, fresh tears still on his cheeks, the wrinkled note gripped in his hand. He stomped towards you. “What is this?” His nostrils flared.

A crease between your brows formed, noticing the distressed look on his face before your eyes landed on what he was holding. You felt your heart drop, your mouth falling open to say something, anything, but nothing came out. “Meg—”

“What is this? Huh?! I found it in the back of your drawer! A note from my dad!” He slammed the paper down. “Who is he?! Why did he leave?!” He was screaming, his anger pouring out through his words. “You never talk about him! No one does!” He throws his hands up. “You kept…you fucking kept this from me! Fifteen years!” Hot tears spill from his eyes.

Your eyes widen, your lip quivering as you hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks. “I’ve been wanting to tell you—”

“When? When, mom?! I don’t even know his fucking name! I don’t know what he looks like! There’s not a single picture in this house of him? Is he even alive?!” The look in his eyes makes you want to break down. You knew this day would come sooner or later, but you never expected it to turn out this way. The note. Of course it was the note. Almost like it was fate.

You inhaled deeply, licking your lips as tears fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I just…”

“Why can’t you tell me?” He speaks softly, voice wavering. “I see it in your face. Everyday when you look at me…you can see him. Who is my dad?” He clenches his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. “Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me?” He questions before fully breaking down into tears, sobbing.

“No,no,” you whisper, taking him in your arms. His tears soak through the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you like his life depends on it. “It’s not your fault, baby? You hear me? It’s not his, not yours. It’s complicated.” As you stand there with him in your arms, flashbacks of that night Toji left flood your brain.

“Then where is he? Is he dead?” Megumi asks, raising his head to look at you. The question makes you freeze up, biting on your bottom lip so hard you’re sure to draw blood. “Is he dead, mom?” He stands up straight, wiping his tears.

“I…I don’t know,” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders. You shake your head as you look at your son, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed. So hurt and disgusted. “He loved you so much, Megumi. I promise you.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left!” He shouted in anger. “Who is he?! Just tell me!” He pleads through his cries.

“His name was Toji. Toji Fushiguro.” You stare at him. “Me and your father met young, back in high school. We had you two years after we graduated. We were so scared. Well, I was scared, but your father was ready. He was so excited,” you chuckle, remembering when you first told him you were pregnant. “He loved you, Megumi. And that’s the exact reason why he left,” you explain.

He shakes his head at you. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your father did everything he could to provide for me and you. You were his everything. His little man. But, he got caught up with the wrong people trying to find ways to make quick money. He was young and desperate, we both were.” Your eyes flutter shut, letting out a sigh. “What your father did for money…you wouldn’t think he was a good man. He made enemies—”

“Mom, what are you saying?! I’m not a kid anymore! Just tell me—”

“He killed people, Megumi! Is that what you wanna hear! He fucking killed people just so he could put food on the table! Fuck!” You hurriedly stand to your feet, looking away from him.

“What…?” He nearly said in a whisper.

“I don’t want you to think he wasn’t a good man, Megs. I don’t want you think he hated you or me. He didn’t. But what he was doing put him and us in danger. He realized that and he left. He couldn’t put us in danger, especially you. That night he left he wrote you this.” You grabbed the note off the counter. “I begged him to stay, baby. I did. I tried. I tried everything.” Megumi sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly ahead of his as he took all this information in. “He never stopped loving you, Megs. He never wanted to leave.”

He slowly turned to look at you, his chest heaving up and down. His eyes were red and glossy from crying. “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, baby. He never told me.” You shook your head. He sobbed softly, holding his head in his hands. You walked over, sitting beside him and pulled him into your arms. “Don’t hate him,” you whispered. “He’d be so proud of the man you became. Such a sweet, strong, and smart boy.”

“When did he leave?” Megumi asked.

“A week after your second birthday,” you spoke, biting at the skin on your lip. “He told me you were the best thing to ever happen to him.” You wipe away his tears as they continue to fall. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just done bad things.”

Now knowing what happened to his father, Megumi felt like his whole world came crashing down. What his father did, who he was. How he came to be. And as much resentment as he holds, he can’t bring himself to hate him. In a way, he understands, but at the same time he doesn’t. He wonders how different things would be if he was here. What life would be Ike. “I’m sorry, mom,” he cried.

“Don’t be, baby. I’m sorry for keeping from you for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think he was a bad man. I was scared.” You continue to hold him in your arms, consoling him.

“What does he look like?” He asks.

You smile, looking down at him. “You guys are damn near twins.”

Megumi chuckles a little, “I figured.”

“Wait there a moment.” He watches as slip into your bedroom, a few second passing by before you walk out with something in your hands. “Here.”

Megumi looks down, seeing the array of photos you hold on your hands and hesitates on taking them from you. You sit beside him as he grabs them and looks at the first one. “Is that him and you?” He asks, never taking his eyes off the photo.

“Back in high school.” It was one of the first few photos you and Toji ever took together. A picture at the homecoming dance, a plain look on his face while you had a wide smile on your face. “Your father barely ever smiled. But when you came around, he couldn’t stop.”

Megumi was struck. He really did look like him. From the hair, to the eyes, to the nose. Everything. He looked at the next photo. You were pregnant, Toji holding your belly while kissing your cheek. “You guys looked really happy,” he says.

“Of course we were. Me and your dad loved each other very much. I still love him.” Megumi looks over at you as you say those last words. You still hold so much hope and love in your heart and that tells him maybe he should let this resentment for his father go. Maybe it was time to move on.

“Was this my birthday?” He questions, looking at the family photo your mother took of you three that day. He could see a faint smile on his father’s face, looking at the way Toji held him so close in his arms.

“Your very first birthday. So many good memories. Despite the fact you threw up on your dad’s shirt,” you laughed.

“Really?!” Megumi smiles. You nod, still giggling. “Yikes, he must’ve been pissed.”

“At first he was mad, but then saw you started crying after and felt horrible. I remember his exact words, ‘Stop crying, little man. You can throw up on this shirt a thousand times if you want to.’ He could never stay mad at you.” You brush his cheek, watching his smile get wider and wider.

He finally gets to the last picture. One you took of Toji asleep with Megumi on his chest. “I took that picture after it took him three hours to get you to sleep. You didn’t want to sleep in your crib, kept crying and crying and finally your father just fell asleep with you on his chest.” You watch as he runs his thumb over the picture, observing it more than he did the other ones. “You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” He glanced at you, a desperate look in his eye.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek. “I have more we can look at later.”

Megumi nods. There’s a moment of silence as he sits and goes through the pictures again, almost like he’s reliving memories he had no recollection of. “So, you really don’t know if he’s alive or not?”

You shake your head. “Like I said, what your father did caused him to get caught up with the wrong people, making enemies out of anyone. He was never scared of them, of course. But he knew if they ever found out about you or me, it wouldn’t end well.,” you explained. “I wish I knew.”

“Is it weird that I miss him?” He turned towards you, confused. “How can I miss someone I don’t even remember?” His eyes became teary.

“Oh, Megs.” You wiped his tears. “It’s not weird at all, sweetheart. I’m sure he misses you too. A whole lot.” You give him a sad smile.

He sniffles, looking down at the pictures. It was like he finally felt this weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. After years of this gut wrenching feeling, he finally knows the truth. His father did love you. Love him. He no longer felt casted aside. And that feeling gave him hope that maybe he’s still out there, still alive.

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?���.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[mrshowlettsgarden]

Prompt number 7 with Logan 🫢

─➭ a/n: ooo, this is a good pick! I also apologize for the week delay; work was kicking my ass. but thank you for the request. I hope you enjoy; this is a long one - kaya <3 (prompt list)

We're Just Friends? - Logan Howlett: the one when you realized it meant more to him that you assumed

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ prompt #7: "Why did you leave me like that back there?" "Because." "Because, what?" "Because your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends."

─➭ content warning: hurt/comfort, miscommunication, friends to lover's trope, suggestive in the end

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It’s Charles' birthday party tonight that Jean and Storm decided to throw for him at the mansion. All the adults were to attend the black-tie shindig along with invited colleagues and so on. 

You were excited to have something to dress up for and eat some fancy food unlike the brute man pouting as he leans against your bathroom door. 

“I put on the suit that should be enough,” Logan sasses to you, “I ain’t putting on the damn bowtie.”

You roll your eyes as you put the cap back on your lipstick with an aggressive sigh, “Don’t be such a diva, Logan. Wear the bowtie.”

You get goosebumps seeing the dirtiest look he’s ever given to you through the mirror. You’re also fighting for your life to not break out into a fit of laughs. “The fuck did you call me?” he snaps. 

You couldn’t hold the laugh any longer and it slips from your lips as the dirty look turns into a pout on his face. Ignoring his question, you walk towards him and grab the bowtie from his hand. Logan has to fight to keep a straight face as your pretty self, inches closer with another step. If he could, he’d pull you in by the waist and take your lipstick off with a kiss. 

“It’s for one night. One night only,” you say with pleading eyes, “And women love a bowtie on a man so who knows who you might pull into your bed tonight,” you joke with a smile and wiggling eyebrows. 

Logan’s jaw clenches at your words. The only woman he wants to pull tonight is you but he doesn’t think you’d like that, so he shakes the thought away even though it hurts to do so.

You on the other hand wanted to slap yourself in the face for saying that because you just hurt your own feelings. You really don’t want to see Logan and a woman - who isn’t you - clinging to his arm at the end of tonight. Maybe you said that as foreshadowing to help prepare you for the moment that will eventually happen. But you ignore the pang in your heart. 

Logan scoffs aggressively as he takes the bowtie back from you and begins tying it himself while looking at the mirror, “Yeah, because that’s the goal I had for myself leading up to tonight,” he says sarcastically while you give him a look of smugness as you watch him finish the tie. 

“You look good though,” you say with a small smile as you adjust the tie a little bit. 

Logan looks back down to you with a tight-lipped smile. “You look good too, darlin,” he says back in a gentle tone.

And good is an understatement when it comes to you because you look so goddamn breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you before today and now he thinks his greatest battle is to not admire you in your dress tonight. 

A black form-fitting dress is criminal to wear in front of him because this is his first time seeing the shape of your body and it makes him want to see more for his eyes only. Your heels give you extra height, but you still can’t reach up to him and he finds it endearing. 

Why do you have to be so beautiful…

You see him in a daze as he looks at you and you almost think it’s longing. But that's just a wish you have. “Logan? Are you still there?’ you say with a wave to bring him back down to earth. 

Logan smiles as he nods, “Where else would I be, huh?” he asks. 

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The party started hours ago and it’s still growing strong. 

Everyone is laughing, mingling, and dancing the night away. You say it's almost peaceful seeing everyone letting loose from the stress that has been filling up their lives. Everyone, including yourself, needed this. Everyone except Logan.

Such a party pooper… 

You walk up to him as he takes a swig of his drink. He looks up at you with a questioning look, expecting you to say whatever it is that’s on your mind. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you get up once other than for a drink,” you say knowingly.

Logan sighs, “At least, I got up instead waving down one of the servers.”

You groan at his words before walking around the table and pulling him up by his arm. “At least be polite and make your rounds to everyone,” you complain, “Then you can sit back down.”

Logan almost laughs at your miserable attempt to get him out of the comfort of his seat. But to save you from the embarrassment of falling on your ass, he sighs and gets up. “Only if you stay with me. We’re both suffering together,” he says almost pridefully as he moves your hand to wrap around his arm. 

Your face turns into a heater feeling his muscles along the expanse of his arms. You could only imagine how safe you’d feel having both arms wrapped around your body securely. At least you can bask in the moment a little longer before it gets taken away.

You stay on Logan’s arm as you both say your hellos and how are you’s. You can’t deny that it feels good to have him this close to you. And he can’t deny how comforting it is to be under your touch. He hasn't felt this relaxed in years. The more time he spends having you hold onto him like this only hurts him a lot more. Because the moment gets taken away every single time, he hears you say “we’re just friends” in nearly every conversation. 

“Oh no! We just came here as friends!”

“You’re too funny! We’re just friends.”

And he swore he heard somebody comment about how he’s like a fucking brother to you??

Now that one really started to boil his blood. 

Yes, you are friends. Best friends if anything but it will never hurt less to hear you say those three words. Those words are like that one annoying tune that is stuck on replay all night. Every person or group of people you both have gone up to have made comments or asked questions if you guys came to the party together. And just like the first time you were asked up till the last time, you were way too quick to shoot them down with “we're just friends”. 

After all the last couple of years since he’s been around you hopelessly thinking you’d catch onto his longing stares, lingering touches, and being by your side during missions, he thought eventually you’ll get the hint. Tonight is showing him that you won’t ever reciprocate his feelings back. He’s been shot, stabbed and you can name the rest, but this emotional pain is burning at him from the inside and out. He’s starting not to be able to take your stinging words any longer. 

Finally, all the rounds were made when you both made your way to Jean and Storm sitting at one of the tables. “I didn’t think you were actually able to get him out of that chair, Y/n,” Jean laughs.

“You made him into a social butterfly,” Storm snickers as Logan pulls out one of the chairs for you.  

You giggle at their comments while Logan scoffed out a “whatever” and looked away from you three as he took a seat. He can feel his hurt turning to anger right now and he’s trying really hard not to show it. He gently removes your arm from his as he waves a server down for a drink. Sensing something is off you’re about to ask him if he’s okay, but Storm beats you from talking. 

“You guys looked good out there though. Like a cute married couple,” she smiles as Jean nodded in agreement.

If only they and Logan knew how much you don’t oppose the idea of being married to him, but you could only laugh it off. That’s what you’ve been doing nearly all night as you and Logan made the rounds. You don’t think you’ve ever sounded like a broken record player having to repeat that you guys are purely platonic. You were just hoping that Logan wouldn’t start causing a scene when you heard him nearly growl every time you started talking. He seemed so tense too, more than usual but you thought it was because you were dragging him around to talk to people he wasn’t interested in. 

Which is why you would turn down the comments about you and Logan dating because you didn’t think that he’d enjoy that type of conversation about you but boy, were you so wrong. 

“Please, don’t make me repeat it again,” you playfully groan out with a laugh, “I don’t know how much I can take having to explain that I won’t ever see Logan that way-”

SLAM!!

You and the girls jump from the startling sound of Logan slamming his drink on the table then watch him storming off his chair and into the mansion. Stunned by his actions you look down at the glass and see that it had cracked from the force then look back at him walking away. You go after Logan without thinking, “I’ll go check on him,” you say as you speed off your chair in worried haste. 

Where did that come from? And why is he walking away so fast? He’s already made it inside the house in less than thirty seconds. Your feet hurt enough already from the heels, but you caught up to him as he was about to make his way upstairs.

“Logan!” you call as you pick up your pace a little more, but he ignores you, “Ugh! Logan!”

“What?” he snapped at you with a venomous tone.

You nearly cower at his nasty attitude towards you. He’s never talked to you like that before and you begin to feel uneasy about being the target of his rage. "What’s wrong? Why did you leave like that?” you ask as you follow him up the stairs. You're only two steps behind him.

“Because.” he continues walking with bigger strides.

“Because??” you repeat. You’re starting to get irritated with his attitude, “Because, what? Logan would you please slow dow-”

“Because I can’t fucking stand that your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends!!” he yells as he turns around to give you his full rage.

You stood there frozen and stunned by his words and also at the fact that he yelled at you louder this time too. You feel yourself start to shrink from his voice. You couldn’t think to get a word in before he interrupted you once more.

“How much longer should I have to deal with the fact that you only see me as your friend and nothing more, Y/n! You’re walkin’ around telling people down there that I’m only your friend and you were just telling Storm and Jean that you won’t ever see me more than that!” he shouts at you with a face full of hurt and anger, “Why haven’t you realized that I love you. That I’ve been in love with you. Y/n!”

Your heart stopped for a second hearing him say that. There are too many whirlwinds of emotions going on right now. It’s hard for you to fully grasp the fact that he just confessed to you. Logan Howlett confessed to you. Looking at him you realize that maybe he’s also realizing that he confessed too with how his eyes widened. 

You both stand there on the staircase in ear piercing silence as Logan pants from his rage. He rips his eyes off of you as he runs a hand down his face in stress. He looks so hurt right now. Your eyes are beginning to tear up from being the reason why he’s so hurt. But he needs to know that you feel the same way. 

After a minute of silence and trying to find your words, you softly but hesitantly speak up. “Logan…,” you shakingly call his name as you step forward. You’re about to reach for his hand but he steps back away from you.

“No,” he interrupted you while shaking his head. He doesn’t want to hear your rejection right now. He’s so angry at himself for letting his feelings for you drag on for this long. And he confessed to you in a way he never imagined he would. “Just forget I said anything. I’m done.”

Done…?

With that he storms off again much faster than before up to his room. Leaving you behind to swallow his words more. He loves you. How could that be? You swore he felt the complete opposite after all this time. He said he was done too. Done with you? 

While his words were finally settling in, you didn’t realize the tears had fallen down your cheeks. He loves you and then tells you he’s done. After all this time you thought he couldn’t see you that way, especially when he first arrived, he had a thing for Jean. But now, after his days of visiting you in the greenhouse, waiting for you in the hallway to get coffee in the mornings, and so much more… You’ve blind to his advancements. Even the way he talks to you is different from how he usually is and you didn’t realize that till he started yelling at you five minutes ago. 

You let out a shaky sigh to stop the sobs from slipping. 

God, you feel so stupid. 

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It’s been a couple weeks since the party and the last time you saw, let alone talked to Logan. 

You’ve never felt so lonely in the greenhouse by yourself and not having him there listening to you rant about whatever plant or lecture you need to get off your chest. You miss feeling his presence around you - the smell of his cigar, his teasing, his oddly comforting words that he held only for you… You miss him so much, but he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

The morning after the party you waited for him in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, but he never came. You tried knocking on his door a couple times after that when you wouldn’t see him but no answer. You knew he was in there counting from the energy you feel from the plant you jokingly gave him as a present, but you didn’t want to push him more. You also never failed to notice the way he would avoid you around the mansion. While the home was huge, you still saw him from a far and he’d walk away after your first glance in his direction. 

So, you gave him what he wanted. Space. 

And here you are sitting on one of the lounge chairs in the greenhouse at two in the morning. You couldn’t sleep or you haven’t been able to sleep without hearing Logan’s loud voice repeating his words in your head. The only thing that’s soothing you is the soft sound of the fountain that you’re sitting in front of. You stare at the lily pads floating in the water as you keep blinking back to that night Logan confessed. Would you call it a confession if he did it angrily? If he only would’ve stayed for thirty seconds longer, he would know that you love him too. 

Logan was sitting in the kitchen nursing on a bottle of soda since the damn house doesn’t have any beer or form of alcohol. God, he could use several of them right now to get what happened out of his head. He let his hurt turn into anger when he yelled out his love for you. He’s never felt so embarrassed doing that especially after seeing the look of shock and hurt on your face too. 

He just couldn’t stop the wave of emotions leaving his mouth in the form of words. He needed to get it off his chest after the number of times he was friend-zoned by you in one night. After he ditched you on the stairs to go into his room, he’ll admit that he felt a little lighter knowing that he finally told you how he feels but the weight came back when he started avoiding you. 

With how hard you were trying to get him to talk to you it just made him feel worse. Yes, he’s choosing to avoid you, but it doesn’t hurt him any less. He’d do anything to talk to you again, but he thinks nothing will be the same anymore, hence the reason for avoiding you. Again, he’s also embarrassed for throwing a tantrum on the stairs as he angrily declared his love for you. 

He still can’t believe he did that…

Logan frustratingly sighs as he chugs the rest of his drink as he gets up from his sitting. Maybe a walk will help. He needs to shake his feelings off and deal with the fact that he can’t come back from his confession. 

He zips his jacket up from the chill of the night as he steps out into the backyard and begins his walk. 

Nothing is heard other than silence as he furthers into the yard. He begins to get lost in thought as you come back into his mind. The way you looked scared from his rising voice to the sudden look of surprise when he said he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you despite the fact he hasn’t seen much of you the last two weeks. He misses you a lot.

“Damnit,” he mutters under his breath as he irritatedly kicks a pinecone out of his way.

 Logan continues to walk with no destination until he suddenly stops in his tracks to see the lights on in the greenhouse. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion because he knows how late it is and he knows you’re in there by yourself. But why are you in there and how long have you been in there? He ponders for a bit as he stares at the warm lights illuminating the glass walls. 

He stands there for a minute or two longer then makes his way to the double doors of the greenhouse. Usually when he or anyone walks up, you’d feel their presence and have the plants open the doors, but nothing happens. He looks around at the plants that surround the door to see if any of them move. But nothing, they’re still. He doesn’t sense any danger, but something is definitely off. 

He opens the doors without thinking and walks inside to find you. 

It’s eerily quiet inside as he walks around. He sniffs the air to smell for you and walks over to one of the fountains to where it leads to you. Your head is peeking out from the other side of the lounge chair, but you still haven't moved. He carefully walks around to find you curled up against the armrest sleeping. You look cozy and at peace if he wouldn’t have noticed the dry tear marks along your cheeks. 

His face turns into a look of regret instantly. Avoiding you was just him hurting both of your feelings with no end goal behind it. He was beginning to feel stupid and childish about this whole ordeal. How he feels about you shouldn’t be the end of the bond that you guys already had with each other. 

Besides tear marks, Logan also noticed the bags under your eyes as he kneeled down to be face to face with you. He sighs softly and brings the back of his hand to gently wipe the tear marks off your face. Your cheeks feel cold to the touch. You should be asleep in the comfort of your bed right now where it's warmer. So, Logan sucks up his feelings to wake you up.

The hand that was on your cheek moves down to your arm and starts to soothingly rub your arm up and down. “Y/n,” he whispers, “Wake up.”

You barely stir and it makes him want to laugh because you're such a heavy sleeper. So, he moves you a bit more and your eyebrows begin to furrow in irritation. For once you were sleeping somewhat well and you’re being woken up. You hear Logan’s voice, but you think it's just a dream until you hear him clearer the more you wake up. 

“Logan?’ you murmured as your eyes began to open.

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me,” he whispers back to you, “Let's get you back to bed.”

You lock eyes with his soft gaze, and you’ve never felt more relieved to see and feel him this close to him. You sit up instantly, “Hi…” you say to him.

He smiles softly a stary strand of hair away from your face, “Hey… You shouldn’t be sleeping here alone, you know.”

You nodded as you rub the sleepiness away from your eyes as you look away from him. “I haven’t been able to sleep,” you said. Logan hums in response and silence settles for a moment between you two. You bite your bottom lip nervously as you start to think of what to say but you cower from the thought thinking that he won’t listen to you like before. You move your eyes to look at him, but you realize that he was still looking at you.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off of you since he found you asleep. It feels like he hasn’t seen you for months to almost a lifetime. If you only knew how much you have molded yourself into his mind since day one. He sees how nervous you are right now from the way you’re looking back at him. He’s about to apologize for his outburst but you beat him to it. 

“I love you, Logan.”

Wait what?

A look of shock was thrown onto his face, but you interrupted him again. “I-If you would have stayed longer, I would’ve had the chance to say it back to you,” you stammer softly, “And I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings during the party. I swear, I-I thought that I was saving you from the conversations that I had dragged you to. I’m so sorry.”

You feel the tears fall again with how fast your eyes are building them up. You missed him too much and he needs to know this time that you've always felt the same way. You’re about to continue apologizing but Logan cups one of your cheeks with his warm hand. You feel his thumb wipe a tear and it makes you hold his hand with yours while you nuzzle your cheek further into his touch. 

"I missed you, Logan...," you shakingly sigh out.

"I missed you too, darlin'"

Relieved tears fell while Logan came closer to rest his forehead against yours. You feel so comforted to have him this close again. You run your hand up his chest to lure him closer. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs under your touch, “I was mad at myself and took it out on you. I didn’t mean to scare you either. I…I love you so much.”

You feel his lips brush so lightly against yours, it makes you pull away slightly to look back at him again. You don't think words can describe how much you need him impossibly close to you right now, it's making you needy for him. Your eyes move down to his lips then back up to his hazel ones.

“Kiss me, Lo-”

You didn’t have to finish the damn sentence because his lips met yours in an instant. Like hell he was going to walk away again now. A warm feeling blossoms in your chest as he pulls you closer to him with both of his arms around you to make you wrap your legs around his waist. Logan nearly groans, feeling you pressed against his body. The smell of the soft eucalyptus scent of your conditioner was making him dizzy but only made him crave for you more. 

You feel him pull you toward him more before getting up from his kneeled position near fluently with you in his arms. You gasped out a laugh at his brute strength and he smirked smugly.

“Show off…,” you say blissfully.

Logan chuckles as goes back in for another kiss, “You’ll learn to love it, sweetheart.”

You smile as you shyly bite your lips hearing him call you that. You couldn’t help yourself and went in for another kiss. Your bodies heatedly pressed together as you cupped both sides of his cheeks making him part his lips just enough for you to slip your tongue inside his mouth. Logan didn’t stop himself from sinking into your embrace despite holding you in his arms. 

You both lose your thoughts, getting lost into the comfort of the kiss. It felt so natural to have each other this close and it makes you wonder why it took so long for you both to get to this moment. And neither of you were planning on stopping it. You want more of him and he wants more of you. The ache you feel in your core is calling for more of his touch. 

You force yourself to pull away and you feel him chase after your lips. “Fuck, baby. Why’da stop?’ you can hear how desperate he is for you right now and it and it makes you smile.

“Take me to bed Lo…,” you whisper against his lips, “I need to feel more of you.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice because he instantly tossed you over his shoulder making you squeal out a laugh.

“Let’s go then, pretty girl.”

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[kinardsevan]

i wrote a whole ass psychology breakdown (for the first time in FOREVER) about the break-up. enjoy (if you so choose):

so I've been reading a lot in relation to Tommy's speech during the break-up (and have actually gotten through the scene several times now, mostly as a creative reference for these fix-it fics. I think one of the first things that I've seen completely tossed aside (that bothers the shit out of me as someone with over a decade of therapy treatment and a psychology degree) is whatever trauma Tommy carries.

We know that there are issues with his dad. We know Lou's lore behind him is that he spent a lot of his childhood alone. We don't know anything in relation to his mom, but she may or may not be the cause of more trauma. We know that his way of dealing with abuse of authority is to shut down and follow the leader, which is likely a mix of his military time and growing up in his father's household (and when I say this, I mean from what we saw of him under Gerrard's command). This is a person who has put years into getting himself into some version of okay after all that he's endured, and we know he still generally does it on his own.

To that end, here, have my breakdown of the break up (roughly right about the time Buck says "I want you to move in with me"). (with pictures!)

Prior to the offer, we watch Tommy process through Evan's explanation about his relationship with Abby, things being transformative for him, etc. We have to bare in mind that this is where we also start to get what I've dubbed "starry-eyed Buck". He's so in the throes of what he's saying that I don't think he's really considering the connotation of his words. At the same time, Tommy doesn't know what lore Evan is about to drop him about this prior relationship. Remember that he now has to contend with the fact that they both have strong opinions on their relations toward Abby, and Tommy can't know if their feelings toward her as a person will be the same. I think Lou played this beautifully, appearing anxious and apprehensive as Tommy listened to Evan explain that Abby was transformative for him. Then he shifts into how Tommy has been transformative for him (which, he has, and we as the audience know this, but we understand it from a bigger POV than what Evan is saying with his words.)

There have been posts about Evan putting Tommy up on a pedestal throughout this speech (and really, possibly even sooner, but this is where we really get it expressed). Tommy tries to rectify this to a degree by countering "I wasn't always that way".

To that end, we then get Evan telling him "I know, and it just makes me admire you more." Tommy gives a bashful smile, clearly heartened by the statement, and even opening his mouth as though he's going to respond to it in some form. It would be interesting to know what was on Lou's mind of what (if anything) he thought would've been said there. Are there lines that were removed in this scene? Was 'I love you' actually going to come up? We can't really know. However, there's this part of me that thinks that Tommy thought that they were having a discussion on the depth of their relationship which would've possibly brought those 7 letters to the equation. Either way, this entire bit of facial acting is SO important, because it speaks volumes about how Tommy feels about how Evan feels about him.

From there we get the "I want you to move in with me, and this, THIS, THIS is such an important point for this ENTIRE scene. It's two seconds, but it holds SO much for the narrative. This man, who seems to be on the verge of ...something, clearly (who knows if I Love You was on his mind, or if it was just the fact that Evan was expressing how much he cares about him.) The reason this is all so important is THIS REACTION:

Now again, we don't know Tommy's trauma, but the joy literally drops out of his expression and shifts to panic. Now, speaking solely from the standpoint that these two haven't even said "I love you" yet, his boyfriend steamrolled over him from a possible declaration of love straight to moving in together without discussing semantics. Further, it's not even "I want to live together", it's "move in with me". We don't know much about Tommy's house (because these shitheads haven't built him a set yet), but we know that he has a HOUSE. With a GARAGE. Buck lives in a LOFT. Regardless of how much of an asshole this makes me sound like, it's crawling with red flags. It comes across as "fit more into my life" instead of "lets do this thing together". Further, if that's not bad enough, mention of getting engaged and married is thrown at Tommy as well, which holds two major bits of information: One, these are on Evan's mind. We've NEVER heard him talk about getting engaged or married to anyone. This speaks to the importance of their relationship to him, but the lack of I Love You also speaks on his own trauma. If we truly are getting the rom-com trope, at some point there's likely to be a conversation about why he lept over it (*cough* Taylor, his parents *cough cough*). Meanwhile, as he's continued in his starry-eyed speech, this is what Tommy is giving:

Now for those who don't know how to spot it, this my friends is a PANIC RESPONSE. The shift forward, the move to get up, the literal deep breath. He's having a panic attack. Now, obviously we don't know what brought this on, but god-willing, we WILL get the answers.

Now, to his own point, Tommy doesn't just straight up pop Evan's pink bubble. He does express that it's a sweet sentiment, but that it's a bad idea. To which point we get:

"Evan, that is so sweet. But I can't move in with you." "And why not?" Because. I know how this ends." "Uh, what-what's that supposed to mean?"

At which point, we clearly get the qualities about Evan that Tommy likes. "Incredible guy. Big-hearted. Hot as hell. Impulsive." I don't feel that the expression here matters as much as his tone of voice, because we can see on his face that he's expressing these qualities from a good place. The next point of reference isn't until Tommy's next line, when he says that Evan's reaction is out of things being "new and exciting".

To that end, the way Evan is talking to him makes this statement valid. He's not talking to Tommy like they've been together for six months and have built a relationship that should be moving in this direction. (For the tenth time I will repeat, he couldn't even dignify whether he was in love with Tommy when Josh asked).

Furthermore, I think when you consider this part of the scene, you also have to consider the strain in Tommy's voice. Something about those concepts (living together, getting engaged, married) is terrifying. It definitely gives the impression that Tommy has been faced with some version of this before and he got burned. Why is this important? Because of this:

"I'm saying no matter how bad I want it to be, I'm not your last." Those 9 words are important on their own, but when you couple them with the expression on Tommy's face and what we've just seen him go through, there's a clear point to the fact that he's been through this before. I also think that there can't be enough importance placed on the way he intonates "how bad". This is not a man saying no because he doesn't want to. He's backpedaling because he's sure that he's going to get burned. We get this point further driven home with this exchange:

"I'm your first." "But hey, they can be the same thing." "But, they usually aren't."

See this doesn't read to me as someone who's scared because he knows Evan has never been with another man. They're both fully grown adults who have had multiple relationships. What this speaks to me (now) as, is someone who has let someone convince him before that he would be their forever, that they were all in, and then broke him. When you include his childhood trauma and whatever abandonment issues it's left him with in correlation with all of this, yes, it's still an extremely biphobic set of lines. But in the context of what he's expressing and why, it's not about telling Evan he needs more experience, it's about telling him that he doesn't believe that he'll want to stay settled down with him six months, a year, etc., down the road. And THAT my friends, is abandonment issues 101. "Everyone else has left, so it doesn't matter that I'm in love with you, because you will leave too, and I need to protect myself from that."

Following that, we get this: "if I were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it, but you'd end up breaking my heart."

This line is SO important, right next to Evan's exchange with Josh about his relationship with Tommy. Why? Because even though neither of them have said it, it spells out that these two are in fact in love with each other, even if they haven't said it.

"I don't think I could deal with that." Tommy is fucking GONE on him. He's expressing that if he gave himself fully over to what Evan's referring to, losing him would break him. Again, we don't have the full picture on his trauma, but we know there's a mountain there. It's also worth noting again, that the intonation he uses in these statements clearly come across as someone trying to reign in their emotions and keep it together. That says to me that we're dangeously close to touching his trauma.

I don't feel like I have to include the final few bits of the scene in gifs because they're all over the site now, but the next line gives over the fact that he hasn't really been open about his trauma to Evan, given that his immediate response to expressing all of this is "I should go". This kind of reaction is generally brought on as not being accepted for having certain feelings. Now, obviously Evan is caught off guard by the entire interaction, the same way Tommy was (but for different reasons), so we have to take all of that into account when we think about the fact that instead of countering Tommy's logic, he asks instead if Tommy is breaking up with him.

Body language is also so important here for Tommy. His shoulders are hunched in, we see him wipe his face (meaning there are likely tears), and when he turns around, he's so caught up in whatever wave has taken him over that it takes Evan asking him for Tommy to state "yeah, I guess I did" about breaking up. Further, there's the fact that he states that he didn't see the break-up coming, which goes back to my point at the top of this post, that he clearly thought the conversation was going one direction, and instead it goes the other. From this point, we have Evan reeling, because he wants to create more of a life with Tommy, while Tommy is shutting down because of whatever is holding him back.

Finally, as I've referenced before, we get this line:

"Should've known that parking spot was too good to be true."

That line makes zero sense out of context, but in consideration of someone trying to lighten the weight they're carrying (which you can literally see by the way he has his hand on his neck, which you generally only see people do as a stress response). You can also double entendre this statement that getting to be with Evan was too good to be true. We get that little inhale with the smile, and I swear to God the only time I've seen that kind of reaction is right before someone cracks.

And then in closing, we get the "I'll see you 'round, Buck," our closing gut punch. Evan is still reeling, clearly. His face is very "what the hell just happened". Tommy is clearly not okay. This entire scene has opened an entire can of worms on them without a whole lot of answers.

Now, I've owned the fact that basically from the end of 806, I felt like this had to be a swerve, and that there has to be more to the story. I've also pretty much owned the fact that if the writers did actually just do this for kicks and don't have a resolution for it, I may not keep watching. However, in the context of the fact that, for the moment, I'm choosing to put hope in some kind of resolution, these lines make so much more sense. It is worth noting though, most people in the fandom, let alone the general audience, aren't going to psychologically break this shit down line-by-line. They're not going to lean into whatever trauma Tommy has that we don't know about yet. Its why the internet has been a mess since Thursday night. But it's also why I talk about how, when this situation gets resolved (because right now I refuse to say if), Buck has to give up the loft and give more of himself. Tommy, by the nature of the show, has fully immersed himself in Evan's life, but we haven't seen or heard mention of Evan doing so at all in Tommy's life. That doesn't mean he hasn't, but we haven't gotten any version of that. So when I say Evan needs to give things up... it's about matching what he's asking Tommy to give up. Because at the end of the day, when this circles back around, he's effectively going to be asking Tommy to trust that he won't break his heart like others have, and when you have a lifetime of abandonment issues and have learned to cope by being hyper-independent and alone, moving in the opposite direction is more terrifying than anything else. ESPECIALLY when you love that person, which we saw Tommy spell out. Evan has the ability to break him (and probably already is via this cut-off-at-the-quick break up.)

So, I'm really gonna need these shit heads to figure out that they'll be more miserable apart than they'd ever be together.

That's all. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[entitled-fangirl]

All the time we wish for.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT just smut dude

Summary: Cregan is eager to show his wife the Northern hot springs.

A/n: Based on an ask from forever ago- I think from @princessvelaryon before we became friends but I can't remember 😭😭 queen if it was you, you're a real one

Masterlist

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"Cregan, where are w-"

"-Just trust me, sweet girl. Trust me."

She eyes him, not able to stay angry at the happiness that radiates from him. "I do…" she trailed off.

"Almost there. Should be right…" his head turned back and forth in search of something. "Ah." He pulled her in the direction his eyes were set on. 

He pulls her into a cave, immediately moving to take off her cloak. She pulls away in concern at first- taking off a cloak in the dead of winter here feels like a death sentence. But his head tilted just slightly and he moved forward to do it again, to which she let him. 

The fur dropped onto the ground of the cave. She looked over her shoulder at it. 

At the sight of her neck exposed, Cregan leaned to her and nipped at the skin. 

She jumped, a breath escaping her. "Cregan, my cloak-"

"The cold won't seep into your bones here," he muttered against her neck. 

"What?"

"You're not cold, are you?" He asked.

She looked down to the goosebumps on her arms, but she knew it wasn't from the cold. 

He lips pulled into a small smile. "My father showed me my first hot spring when I was a boy of six. Warmed us when snow fell a moon before it was supposed to. I've been hunting these spots out for years now. But this one is by far my favorite."

She took in the sight, walking further into the cave. Exactly as he said, the further she moved in, the less the cold could bother her. She looked back to him, to which he waved out, encouraging her to explore it more. 

A light waterfall poured into a small pool of water, steam waving around it. 

He moved behind her, now without his own cloak. His fingers brushed against her arm. "Do you want to try it?"

"You can… get in?"

"You can. If you want."

"I do," she breathed as she stared out at the water.

Cregan's fingers moved to her dress, pulling at the laces. His scarred and calloused fingers became gentle with her, as if handling thin glass. The laces were pulled with a gentleness she didn't even feel, but she knew from the way his arms moved from her peripheral vision and the loosening of her dress. 

Eventually, she had to hold the dress up as he finished. It would have been hard to tell when he was finished if not for the sudden kisses he began to place on her shoulder. The rough pads of his fingers pushed away the material. 

She let go, letting it fall to the ground. Cregan took on the next challenge of her thin layers of underskirt, but he was quick to pull the ribbons apart. Piece by piece, her clothing fell onto the dirt covered floor of the cave, but neither really cared.

She was growing impatient, and by the time Cregan had untied the last bit of her skirt, she was all but tearing at her shift. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, the adrenaline doing nothing to help her coordination. He pushed her up against his chest, reaching his arms around to help her. 

She watched his large fingers unbutton each one at a pace too slow for her. "Cregan-"

"-We have all the time we wish for," He murmured.

She forced herself to take a small breath, though it was shaky. 

Cregan's hand ran down her stomach once he finished, admiring the woman against him. 

She whined lightly and leaned her head back against his shoulder, to which she earned a chuckle from him. His hand moved down her shift, grabbing the fabric and beginning to pull it up at an agonizingly slow pace. 

She felt the air move up her legs as the shift came up until it paused at her upper thigh. "Don't stop now."

"Should I?" He asked as his nose pressed to the side of her head, his voice in her ear. "I do love to watch you beg, my love."

"You either continue the Stark line with me in this hot spring-"

"Or what?" He asked with a smirk, pulling away from her and turning her to face him. Her shift fell back down.

Her confidence faltered for a second, then turned to teasing. "Or the line ends with you."

A low growl sounded from his throat. His eyes raked over her slowly as a new light came to his eyes. "Take it off."

She did so, dropping it quickly as Cregan focused on the strings of his doublet. 

As soon as she was bare, she moved to help Cregan but he held a hand out as his eyes took her in. He spoke, but his voice trailed off a bit as if distracted by the sight. "I've… I've got it."

She tilted her head in amusement and ran a hand down his chest, accepting his decision. She moved down to the spring, sitting at the edge, and dipped her leg in. She let out an instinctive groan at the feeling.

Cregan's lips parted as he watched her. He truly did mean to undress himself, but he was distracted. 

"Cregan," she chided at him lightly. 

He gave a heavy blink and snapped out of his daze, "Sorry, I-"

She gave him a knowing look. 

He made quick work of pulling off his doublet, yanking at the strings of the next layer until he stood in only his trousers and boots. 

He stepped down to her side, standing behind her with a hesitation.

She peered up at him from under her lashes. 

He felt the tent in his pants at the sight, one he was more familiar with than he cared to admit. It reminded him of all the nights he had returned to their chambers in a rage from planning for this war. She had always sat on that sofa with a knowing smile, asking if he was stressed. 

She had a way of taking away his stress before he even remembered how it got there. 

"Changing your mind now?" She asked him softly.

He shook his head, sitting down next to her and beginning to unlace his boots. "I'd like to believe I'm a man that follows through."

She kicked at the water lightly. "Follow through then."

Cregan's breath hitched as he looked to her. "I will."

He pulled his boots off, throwing them aside and pulling at his pants. He quickly got into the small pool, letting out a sinful groan as the warmth enveloped him. 

She watched the man with pure adoration in her eyes. The way his broad shoulders flexed as he lowered himself made her brush her thighs together. 

He turned in the water, now facing her with a broad smile. He pulled himself to her and kissed her leg lightly. He nuzzled at her knee, silently asking her to spread her legs. She hesitated, knowing his smile would only turn cocky if she did so. 

He brought a hand up, the water dripping down his wrist. His fingers brushed up her calf to her knee, pushing that leg to the side. His eyes moved slowly to her core, his eyes lighting up. 

She felt her entire body heat up as her husband admired her. Though she wanted to close her legs, she'd never felt safer. 

He kissed her leg lightly, holding her leg out to give him room. He began to kiss up her leg. 

She reached out quickly behind his head to pull his hair up before it dipped in the water. He grinned up at her and continued his movements. 

She watched in agony as his lips moved closer and closer to the very place she wanted them. When his lips ghosted over her clit, his breath brushing over it became antagonizing. She tugged at his hair in instinct, earning a playful glare of lust from the man. His light eyes had a dark intent behind them, a sin neither of them were ashamed of. 

Cregan laid a soft kiss to her slit, purposefully bumping his nose against her bundle of nerves. A small squeak sounded from her, spurring something deep inside of him. 

He stood in the pool, grabbing her hips firmly and lowering her into the water against him. She held his shoulders, relaxing in the warm water. 

He shifted her lightly, now completely wrapping his arm around her so their bodies were as close as possible, his face tucking into her neck and kissing at the skin. 

Her head fell back, her mouth opening in bliss. As she had done earlier with him, Cregan grabbed her hair, clumping it in one large hand while pulling at the roots as well. It was a mission to him to keep her hair dry, for if it didn't, she'd surely freeze once out of the cave. 

"Cregan, please."

The hand around her waist fell, moving down between her thighs. He rubbed at her slit through the water, slipping a finger in. 

She gasped. 

…

It's an unspoken fact that most Starks were created in the Northern hot springs, and there's no doubt that one was created that cold day. 

Cregan had never been more thankful for the sudden snow.

.........................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[hxney-lemcn]

Cuddling Headcanons — Jade & Floyd Leech x gn! reader

tw: none.

a/n: I know I already wrote affection headcanons for all the NRC students, but I had a dream about hugging Floyd and needed to write about cuddling the eel.

wc: 1k

Master List

Join my Twisted Wonderland Discord here!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Jade Leech

❥Jade is a bit stiff when it comes to physical affection. Your hugs are met with light pats to the back. Just give him some time and start with small things. Jade, unlike his brother, isn’t as well versed in expressing his emotions so openly. He’ll try for you though, but only in private, he’s not comfortable with being vulnerable by himself, let alone in front of others.

❥Expresses his affection more subtly than Floyd, whether that be giving you gifts or helping you with any troubles. If you really want to hold on to him he’s more open to gentlemanly shows of affection like linking elbows or kissing the back of your hand. He’s amused at your want for affection and can’t help but give in even if it’s just slightly (also enjoys showing you off in a way that isn’t overly affectionate).

❥When you’re alone? He’s more open to any hugging you have in mind. Over time the awkward pats on your back will turn into a firm hug. You’re very lucky, he doesn’t even hug his brother like this. Like Floyd, his body temperature depends on his environment, so he won’t be warm per say, but he is tall and his hugs make you feel shielded from the rest of the world. He will tease you about how affectionate you are (even if you aren’t super affectionate), calls you clingy but makes no move to let go. 

❥Cuddling is another thing Jade has to get used to. So, so stiff at first. Over time he gets used to it, understanding how you want him to hold you or if you want to hold him (he finds the second option much more amusing). It’s not something he’ll crave, but he also enjoys the warmth you provide (both physically and emotionally). It’s in these moments that he finds himself willing to be just a bit more vulnerable with you, kissing your temple softly and tracing your features with his eyes. Finds it amusing and heartwarming that you’re willing to be so vulnerable in front of a predator like him.

❥Mornings are so domestic. Jade will typically wake first, go through his morning routine and wake you after. If he’s feeling a bit extra he’ll make you breakfast in bed, revealing just how sappy he actually was deep down. On the rare occasion you wake up before/with Jade, he finds the way you both walk around each other, doing your separate routine’s to be his favorite moment. How well you both know each other, and are comfortable you are with the other. It doesn’t fail to warm his heart. He’ll be hesitant if you ask to do his hair, he has a very specific routine to make himself look professional…but your puppy dog eyes do work on him no matter how much he argues otherwise.

❥Even Jade’s sleepwear is classy, you almost feel hesitant to touch it…almost. Unlike Floyd’s pajamas (which are baggy on him, can’t imagine how baggy they’d be on you), Jade’s are silky and smooth…also very baggy on you. He can’t help the predatory smile that tugs on his lips when he sees you in them, perhaps even he can feel a bit of cute aggression. But he doesn’t squeeze you, instead he admires you when you give him a twirl, flapping the sleeves that engulf your hands. He doesn’t mind sharing with you, not as long as you keep this view between the two of you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Floyd Leech

❥Let me just say this out front, hugging Floyd is so comfy. He may not be super warm (moray eels are ectotherms which means their body temps depend on their environment), but the way he holds you so snuggly more than makes up for that. If you’re touch starved he’ll be your best bud. An excuse to squeeze someone? Sign him up. A willing victim to his shenanigans is welcome in his book (although he finds himself a bit downtrodden that you don’t run away from him anymore, he liked the chase).

❥Loves love loves touching you. Whenever he sees you he just gets the urge to squeeze you, but not like his normal squeezes where he wants the person to pop. No, he wants to squeeze you because of the fluttery feeling he gets in his chest. Cute aggression to the max. He doesn’t just hug you though, he likes to swing your intertwined hands or carries you around (depends how he’s feeling). 

❥Cuddling with him is a one way ticket to being stuck for hours. He loves draping himself over you like a weighted blanket. Maybe not fully laying on top of you, but you lay side by side facing each other and he’s got an arm and leg splayed over you. Floyd basically cocoons you in his hold, basking in the warmth both you and the blankets provided him. Loves love loves feeling you snuggle into him, he gets all happy and squeezes you just a bit tighter.

❥In the morning you never know what mood Floyd will be in. Some days he’s extra sleepy and will try and get you to stay with him (it’s hard to say no with him nuzzling his face into your messy hair), other days he’s bouncing off the wall, wanting you to get up early with him and start the day off with a bang. No matter what he’ll be asking you to help him with his morning routine, specifically fixing his hair. He has such a terrible bedhead that it never fails to amuse you. Floyd just loves to feel your hands in his hair, so who better to style it than you? 

❥Steal his clothes. Do it. Okay maybe I want to steal his sleepwear ‘cus it looks so comfy. His reaction depends on how he’s feeling. If he’s in a happier mood he’ll coo and tease you for stealing his clothes, makes him wanna wrap you up and keep you all to himself. If he's in a pissed mood, he won’t take too kindly. He was already having a bad day and now you’re wearing the exact hoodie he wanted to throw on. It might seem like he’s being a drama queen but if you’ve been looking forward to something (especially when you’re having a bad day) and someone took it you wouldn’t be too happy either. So don’t fight him, let him take the hoodie (and steal a different one).

[seneon]

INTERTWINED GAZES ──── katsuki bakugo

about. in which, everybody's watching her, but she only has eyes for him. romantic fluff. wc of 700+

notes. inspired by "this is what you came for" by calvin & rihanna. okay maybe katsuki is interesting to write too... forrr @seumyo aka katsuki's girl and @angeliicheartt my pooki

you took a trip down to a memory lane ingrained and portrayed with the best moments in your life back in UA. it all started with the very first step you took into hero class 1A, and it all travels to your final year in 3A.

it has been a journey. to grow in your quirk and to grow in your friendship with your classmates. for whatever reason, your love for katsuki seems to grow as it has with the other aspects that bring your whole life up.

now you're standing amongst all the other future heroes who danced and reveled in the pool of their sweet graduation. the bass of the party song finds a funny comfort at the back of your ears as the colourful lights run around in every direction, painting your skin whatever hue the light shines.

the emcee announces for a time where the next song will be the momentary dopamine boost for the students, a dance with a partner. by now, most of the students have their own partner. you can tell, they've grown on each other. they've fallen in love. they've locked their fates together.

not that you aren't a fan of romance, but the eyes of every other student that darts to you right after the implication of a partner dance has your eyes locked onto one boy, and only him.

every soul is watching you, but you're looking at katsuki. dear sweet katsuki who stands at one corner with a fruit punch in one hand, and his other hand stuffed into his pockets. he takes a sip of his drink before his scarlet eyes shoot to your direction and he freezes.

katsuki freezes because the girl he's always admiring from afar is looking at him. she's on the dance floor with so many other boys, but her sights are set on katsuki.

your heart starts to speed up as your hands are gently pushed against your chest to stop the rapid beating. even under the blaring colourful lights and the music that is almost ending, you looked like the ultimate beauty to katsuki. even though your eyes are taken off from him, his gaze is still fixed onto yours.

“dance with her,” midoriya breaks katsuki out of his trance and glances at his friend who shot him a smile. “you’ll never have this chance again, kacchan.”

midoriya’s words seemed to puncture some sort of idea in his mind. katsuki walks towards you, pushing his way through the crowd while setting his drinks aside so he could tap on your shoulders to get your attention.

when you looked at him, he lost all his confidence. it's all because in this moment, he feels so vulnerable under your gaze. your eyes that hold some kind of beauty in them and they see through all the imperfections of katsuki.

and though there are many people special to him, you are the only soul who can touch his cool heart with your warm smile that surfaces.

“i want to dance with you,” the blond blurts out with a murmur, the colour of roses painting his cheeks and you couldn't help but feel your blush own deepening. “i’ll dance with you, katsuki.”

everything was so sweet. the way his hands held yours so gently, a monstrous contrast to how aggressive he usually is. his touch is so warm and it has you falling in love all over again with this boy. you had your first dance with the first boy you liked.

and when you look back at it, you've always wondered why it took three years for you to confess your love to katsuki. you still wonder until now, years after the graduation party where you're now a pro hero, just a few ranks under katsuki.

“are you looking at our graduation picture again?” the voice of your husband asks as you pull your gaze off from the photo album and nod at katsuki who takes off his costume gears.

“it was on this date where you asked me to dance with you, and we ended up confessing to each other,” you said as he walked over to you sitting on the couch and gave your cheek a peck.

“of course. i still remember."

katsuki will never forget about it. because if a genie grants him a wish, it will be for him to ask you to dance with him over and over again.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

Pairing: JJ x Reader, Rafe x Reader

Synopsis: the pogues spend a day on the boat, when the kooks drop by in an unexpected visit

masterlist

A/N: This series takes place before season 1!, Rafe is a year older and Sarah and John B are not together (yet)

----

The sun hung lazily in the sky, its light spilling through the half-open windows of the Chateau. A familiar hum of conversation and laughter filled the room—nothing urgent, just the easy chatter of friends who had been through it all together. The Pogues were scattered about, each doing their own thing, but as usual, everything seemed to orbit around JJ’s chaotic energy. He was perched on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, cracking jokes with Pope, while Kie sprawled across the floor, flicking through an old magazine she’d probably never seen before.

Y/N sat in the armchair by the window, tucked away in the corner of the room, her knees drawn up to her chest. The sunlight slanted across her face, but it didn’t quite warm her. She let the conversation wash over her, her attention flickering between the others, but never quite landing. 

Her fingers drummed lightly against the armrest, a subtle rhythm to match the hum of the house. She’d always felt a little like this—tuned in but separate. A quiet force, content to observe, to hold the space between the noise. She loved them all in ways that went beyond words, but today, there was something off-kilter, something unsaid that sat heavily on her chest. Maybe it was the way JJ kept glancing at Kie—something different in his eyes when he looked at her. 

Kie had only been with the group for a few months, but it already felt like she’d always been here. There was a lightness about her, an ease in the way she moved through the world, something Y/N had always admired. But right now, as Kie laughed with Pope—her voice loud and carefree—Y/N couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she didn’t fit as neatly into the circle anymore. 

JJ’s laugh rang out, deep and full of life, and for a moment, Y/N forgot herself. She smiled, letting the sound sink in. It was that laugh—wild and free—that had been the soundtrack to her childhood. But then Kie said something, teasing him about the way he worked on the boat. Y/N could see the way JJ’s face softened, the way his eyes lingered on Kie a little longer than necessary. He didn’t have to say anything; she could feel it in the air, that subtle shift. 

“JJ, you gonna fix that boat or just stare at Kie all day?” Pope teased, grinning as he shot a glance toward the two of them. 

JJ shot back a playful middle finger, but his smile was softer now, gentler in a way Y/N wasn’t used to seeing. 

It’s nothing, Y/N told herself, staring out at the water, trying to chase the gnawing ache away. They’re just friends. Just like you. But she couldn’t escape the tightness in her throat. 

“Y/N, you coming with us to the boat?” JJ’s voice cut through the space, warm and casual. 

She turned, forcing a smile as their eyes met. There it was again—the same easy grin he always gave her. She should have been used to it by now, but today, it felt like a door she couldn’t quite open. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, the words slipping out before she could think. She wanted to stay here, in the quiet, where she could nurse the ache that wasn’t quite a wound but felt like one all the same. But it wasn’t fair to stay away. Not with everything they’d been through. 

JJ paused for a second, studying her. His brow furrowed just a little, like he noticed something wasn’t right, but then he shrugged it off and stood. “Alright. See you out there.” 

As he turned to walk toward the door, Y/N’s gaze lingered on him—on the way his shoulders shifted under his old T-shirt, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead. He looked like a kid, like the JJ she’d always known. Except he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Kie again, talking animatedly, the space between them comfortable and familiar. It was an ease that made Y/N feel like she was standing just outside of it, watching them from a distance. 

What’s wrong with me?

Y/N let her gaze drop, blinking rapidly as her chest tightened. She knew it wasn’t fair. She couldn’t expect JJ to feel the same way, not when Kie was right there, effortlessly slipping into their world. 

She reached for her water bottle, her hands suddenly unsteady. Maybe it would be easier to just ignore it all. Pretend like nothing had changed. But it was hard to ignore the way JJ’s gaze lingered on Kie, and how it felt like Y/N was the one left in the background, hoping to be noticed, hoping to be more than just a friend. 

---

The boat drifted lazily along the water, the sun casting golden streaks across the horizon. The Pogues were all there—comfortable, at ease, as they always were when they had the ocean to themselves. JJ steered the boat with one hand, the other resting lazily on the edge, while Pope and Kie argued over something trivial in the back. Kie’s laugh rang out, carefree, as Pope pretended to be offended.

Y/N sat at the bow, her legs dangling over the side, watching the water ripple beneath them. The peacefulness of the moment made it easy to forget the tension she’d been carrying lately, but every time she glanced at JJ, her heart would tighten. He looked so at ease—so himself—but she couldn’t help but feel like there was a wall between them, even if he didn’t notice it.

“Should we head to the cove?” John B’s voice broke through her thoughts, his eyes scanning the horizon. He stood at the back, hands on the wheel as he looked between Kie and Pope. 

Kie gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Definitely! I need a swim after all this boat gossip.”

“You’re always gossiping,” Pope teased, shaking his head, but his smile betrayed him.

Y/N smiled softly at the way they bantered. The Pogues were good at making everything feel normal, even when it was anything but. 

Then, just as they were beginning to shift course, a loud roar of an engine cut through the peace of the afternoon. Y/N squinted against the sun, eyes narrowing as a sleek red boat appeared on the horizon, blaring music that made her ears ring even from this far off.

“Of course,” JJ muttered under his breath, his tone already dripping with annoyance.

John B glanced over, brow furrowed. “Kooks.”

Y/N tensed. She recognized that boat instantly—too many of them, too familiar. Rafe was at the helm, leaning back with that smug expression he always wore, flanked by some of the other Kooks she had hoped to avoid today.

Kie laughed, a look of disgust on her face. “Maybe they’re here to join the party.”

The Kooks steered their boat closer, stopping right next to the little pogue dinghy, the music thumping louder now. A few of the guys waved at them, too many of them for Y/N to even count, and there was Rafe, standing at the front, arms folded, his eyes scanning the group. He briefly caught Kie’s eye before his gaze moved to JJ. 

Y/N felt the air shift. The familiar tension between the Kooks and Pogues was back in full force. 

“You guys really cruising around out here, huh?” Rafe called out, his voice loud enough to make Y/N flinch. There was a mocking edge to his tone, as if he’d intentionally come just to throw his presence in their faces.

“Is that what you call it?” JJ shot back, his voice flat, but his body rigid. “Can’t say we’re impressed.”

John B exchanged a glance with JJ, clearly not thrilled by the Kooks’ appearance. Pope crossed his arms and shook his head, clearly irritated but trying to keep cool.

“Maybe you guys just need a little fun,” one of the Kooks from the back shouted. He was a lanky guy with messy blonde hair, grinning like an idiot as he leaned over the edge of the boat. “Lighten up, Pogues. You all look like you could use a drink.”

Y/N could feel the frustration building in her chest, but it wasn’t the Kooks themselves that pissed her off. It was the way they acted—like they were above everyone, as if the water was theirs to pollute and ruin.

Before anyone could say anything else, the guy grabbed a couple of beer cans and tossed them toward their boat, the cans hitting the water with a sharp plunk. JJ’s eyes flashed with anger. 

“Are you kidding me?” he shouted, standing up from the wheel. “Pick that up!”

The Kook laughed. “What’s the matter, you don’t like a little fun?” He tossed another can, but this time it hit a bit too close to Y/N. 

Y/N barely had time to react before someone from the Kook boat reached over between the gap and shoved her—hard.

She stumbled backward, trying to catch herself, but her foot caught on the edge of the boat, sending her crashing into the side with a sickening thud. The wind rushed from her lungs, and for a moment, the world blurred around her.

“Y/N!” JJ’s voice cut through the daze, and she blinked rapidly, trying to push the pain out of her head. She could feel the rough edge of the boat against her back, but JJ was there, pulling her upright, his hands steady but shaking.

“You okay?” JJ’s voice was full of concern, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to assess the damage. 

“I’m fine,” Y/N managed to say, her head still spinning, though the world was beginning to come into focus. “Just a little banged up.”

But JJ wasn’t listening to her. He was already glaring at the Kooks, his jaw tight with anger. 

“You don’t touch her,” he growled, stalking toward the Kook who’d shoved her.

“Whoa, calm down, man,” the Kook said, laughing like this was all a joke. But the humor in his eyes was gone, replaced with nervousness. 

Rafe stepped forward, putting a hand on the Kook’s shoulder to steady him. There was something about Rafe’s demeanor that made Y/N pause. His usual cocky arrogance was replaced by a momentary flicker of something—regret? Maybe guilt? But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual indifference.

“Enough,” Rafe said, his voice calm but commanding. “We’re not here to fight. Just... let it go, alright?”

JJ was still seething, but he backed off, eyes never leaving the Kooks as they started their engine and revved it up. The boat began to pull away, leaving the Pogues in their wake, the sound of the engine roaring into the distance. 

John B looked at JJ and Y/N with a raised brow. “Everything okay?”

Y/N nodded, pushing herself up slowly. “I’m good. Just a little shaken up.”

Pope gave her a worried look but said nothing. Kie, on the other hand, was already clapping her hands together, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, that was fun.”

But it wasn’t fun. None of it had been. Y/N’s head throbbed, the spot where she’d hit the boat feeling like it might bruise. More than the pain, though, it was the feeling of being caught between worlds—the world of the Pogues she belonged to, and the world of the Kooks she could never be part of. The sting of it settled deep in her chest, just like the Kooks' laughter had.

As the boat drifted, the light-hearted banter of the group didn’t quite reach her. She just sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the horizon, feeling the space between herself and everyone else grow wider.

---

By the time the Pogues returned to the Chateau, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky streaked with fiery oranges and purples. The boat was parked, and the group had made their way up the hill toward the house, their laughter and chatter from earlier fading into the quiet of the evening.

The stress from the altercation still hung heavy in the air, but for now, they were back in their element. The familiar smell of wood smoke filled the air as John B and JJ started gathering firewood for a campfire. Kie, Pope, and Y/N sat on the porch, watching the boys work as the last light of day slowly gave way to the cool night air.

“Man, I can’t believe those Kooks,” Pope muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Always gotta start something.”

Kie sighed, clearly trying to push past the tension. “At least it didn’t escalate any further. We should just let it go.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said softly, her voice quieter than usual. She had been a little off since the Kook run-in, her thoughts still a tangled mess. “They’re not just gonna let it go. They never do.”

John B overheard as he carried a pile of firewood over to the fire pit. He shot her a look of understanding. “Yeah, but we don’t have to give them what they want. That’s the trick.”

“You’re right,” Kie agreed, pulling her legs up onto the chair as she hugged her knees. “We don’t have to let them get under our skin.”

Y/N wasn’t sure she agreed. Something in her felt off, unsettled. After everything, the Kooks had left with their laughter and their mockery, and yet the real sting came later, when they were back home, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the Chateau.

A few moments later, the crackling of firewood and the sound of shifting rocks interrupted her thoughts. The fire was going strong now, the orange glow casting long shadows across the group. The Pogues settled in around the campfire, with Kie and JJ sitting together on one side, Pope and John B across from them. Y/N sat on the edge, close enough to feel part of the group but far enough to replay the events of the afternoon in her head.

Y/N wasn’t sure how it had happened, how she’d ended up slipping and hitting her head during the scuffle. One minute she’d been trying to get away from a Kook who’d pushed her too hard, the next, she��d found herself on the deck, the world spinning. Her head throbbed, and her vision blurred before she managed to sit up again, the edge of the boat’s railing digging into her back.

“Y/N!” JJ had shouted, his voice laced with panic as he rushed to her side, his expression clouded with worry. “Hey, are you alright? Shit, you okay?”

She’d tried to wave it off, but the dizziness only made it worse. “I’m fine, JJ,” she had muttered, though she wasn’t sure if she was convincing anyone, herself included.

JJ hadn’t let up. His hand had been on her shoulder, steady and warm, and when he’d helped her to her feet, he hadn’t let go until he was sure she was steady.

“I’ve got you,” he had said, his voice softer than usual, the concern in his eyes unmistakable. “Let me help.”

At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it—JJ had always been the one to jump into action when someone needed it, whether it was Pope with his academic struggles or John B with his reckless plans. But now, as she sat by the fire, her head resting against the back of the chair and the warmth of the flames flickering in front of her, she realized just how much that moment had meant.

JJ was still in the thick of it, bantering with Kie, his usual grin in place. But every now and then, his gaze flickered over to Y/N, like he couldn’t help but make sure she was okay.

Kie’s voice cut through the air, teasing JJ about something ridiculous, and JJ was laughing so hard, his shoulders shaking. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the sound—JJ’s laughter was always contagious, no matter what. But as she watched him, something stirred inside her. There was a reason she had fallen for him, a reason she had always been drawn to him. And it wasn’t just because he was funny or fearless or even loyal—it was moments like this.

The way he’d stayed by her side on the boat, his face scrunched in worry when she had hit her head. The way his eyes had softened, and the way he had cared for her without question, without hesitation. It was something she had never really been able to put into words, but now, sitting there, she could see it. JJ wasn’t just a guy who took risks or made jokes—he was a guy who cared. Deeply.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a weight shift beside her. JJ had sat down next to her, his leg brushing hers in that easy, comfortable way they’d always had.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady, eyes searching hers for any sign that she was still hurting.

Y/N nodded, the lingering headache still present but manageable. “Yeah. It’s just a bump. I’m fine.”

JJ’s hand hovered near her shoulder for a moment, like he wanted to reach out but was unsure. Then, without saying anything more, he simply leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the firepit edge.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he meant it. “Would’ve lost my mind if something happened to you.”

Y/N swallowed, her heart giving an unexpected jolt at his words. She knew he didn’t mean it in the way she wished, but it still made something inside her ache.

"Thanks," she whispered, her voice barely above the crackling of the flames.

A beat passed. Kie and the others were talking about something else now, their attention shifting away from the two of them. It was just JJ and Y/N for a moment, and that’s when she allowed herself to feel it—the pull toward him that had been there for years.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened. The moment she realized she was in love with him wasn’t something that could be pinpointed—it was like watching a sunset, slow and inevitable, until one day it just was.

JJ caught her gaze again, and this time, she didn’t look away. His grin was still there, but it was softer now, like he could read something in her eyes, something unspoken.

“You’re not like the others, Y/N,” he said, voice teasing but warm. “Always gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you’re okay.”

Y/N laughed, a bit of tension easing from her shoulders. “I’m used to you watching out for me,” she teased, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Someone’s gotta.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little wider. “Guess that’s my job, huh?”

It was in these moments, these small gestures, where the depth of their friendship was made clear. The way he was always there, always protective, even when he didn’t need to be. And yet, there was always a distance, a barrier Y/N could never cross.

Kie’s laughter cut through the quiet between them, and JJ’s gaze shifted over to her. The same softness was there when he looked at her, and Y/N couldn’t help the quiet pang that lodged in her chest.

“You okay?” JJ’s voice pulled her back to the present, and she smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, just... tired,” she replied, her voice steady now, though her emotions were far from it.

“Alright, well, if you need anything, you know where I am,” he said, giving her a wink. “I’ll make sure you don’t pass out on me again.”

Y/N smiled, watching him go back to the group. But as she sat there, her hand resting over her chest, she realized that JJ had been there for her in a way no one else had. And even though the ache in her heart was still there, she knew one thing for sure: she would always be there for him, no matter what.

---

next up - rafe apologizing (but trust hes super nonchalant fr)

[passengerprincessblog]

“Close Distance” ~ Lewis Hamilton short

Fluff ⭐️

Summary: In this short, Lewis Hamilton returns home after a long absence to his girlfriend, Y/N, only to realize that material gifts can’t replace his presence.

WC: 700

The city lights of Monaco cast a soft, faint glow through the penthouse window, just enough to illuminate the living room where I sat, surrounded by a mess of textbooks, my laptop, and my half-finished notes. I’d been up for hours, the world beyond my screen blurring, but the weight of the deadline looming over my head kept me from resting. Journalism was my dream, and now that I was pursuing a master’s, I couldn’t afford to slip up, especially not with Lewis paying for my tuition and supporting me in ways I couldn’t repay.

But, lately, he was a world away. Another race, another city, always somewhere that wasn’t here. I’d learned to accept it, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting.

When I finally dozed off, the warmth of familiar hands brushing my hair back and a soft kiss to my forehead pulled me gently awake. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was—Lewis, his face hovering over mine, a soft smile playing at his lips. He looked tired, but happy, like he’d been waiting for this moment all month.

“Lewis?” I whispered, blinking in surprise. “I thought you’d be gone for a few more days…”

He chuckled, and the sound made me melt instantly. “I couldn’t wait that long. I missed you too much.” He reached behind him, revealing a familiar small box, the sleek black and gold hinting at something extravagant even before he opened it.

Inside was a delicate Cartier bracelet and matching earrings, glinting in the dim light. I knew the routine well—this wasn’t his first gift after being away, and I knew how much he loved to spoil me. I managed a smile, letting him slip the bracelet onto my wrist.

“Thank you, Lewis,” I murmured, admiring the jewelry and trying to match his enthusiasm, but I could tell he noticed my hesitation.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—disappointment, maybe. “You don’t like it?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, a trace of uncertainty there.

“No, no, it’s beautiful,” I insisted, meeting his gaze. “I love it. It’s just…”

But before I could finish, he stepped back, his brows knitting together in concern. “Lately, it feels like you don’t,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “Every time I bring you something, you just… don’t seem as happy as you used to be.”

The sincerity in his voice made my heart ache. I could tell he was hurt, confused, maybe even doubting whether he’d done something wrong.

“Lewis,” I began, reaching out to him, “it’s not the gifts. They’re beautiful, really, but… they don’t make up for you not being here.”

His shoulders slumped, and I could see him processing my words, trying to understand. “I just wanted to make you feel special,” he said, his voice quiet. “I thought, maybe if I could give you things, spoil you a bit, it would help… make up for the times I can’t be here.”

I stepped closer to him, gently wrapping my arms around his waist. “Lewis, you do make me feel special. But it’s not the things you buy, it’s… it’s you. It’s when you’re here, just like this, when you hold me and I don’t have to worry about you being halfway across the world. That’s what I miss.”

He let out a slow breath, as if the tension was finally melting away. “I didn’t realize it was like that,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought the gifts would make you happy, that they’d remind you I’m still here, even when I’m away. But maybe… I was just trying to fill the gap in the wrong way.”

I rested my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my cheek. “You don’t have to try so hard. I don’t need more things, Lew. I just need you.”

He tightened his arms around me, his hands running soothingly over my back. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. No more trying to buy your love when all you need is me.”

I laughed softly, and he tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes held that same warmth, but now there was a new resolve in them, a promise. “This winter break, you’re coming with me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Wherever I go, you’re coming too. I don’t care if school says otherwise, we’ll make it work.”

I smiled, the heaviness in my chest lifting as I held onto him, feeling the familiar warmth I’d missed so much. “I’d love that,” I whispered, finally letting go of all the doubt and distance that had settled between us.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, I felt like everything was finally right again. He was here, and that was all I needed.

—————————————-

Lmk if you want more! Liking and following let’s me know you want more writings! 💜

[dorabellingham]

Comeback

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when after a while he scores the first goal of the season

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The tension was in the air. It was a decisive game in La Liga, and all eyes were on Jude. It had been a while since his last goal, and the silence from the fans regarding his name was starting to weigh on you. You knew that this goalless streak had been bothering your boyfriend, even though he had been trying his best in every training session and match. You saw how dedicated he was, but you knew he was anxious to break this streak. And now, there, in the Real Madrid stadium, you were rooting with all your might for that day to come.

You were sitting in the stands, your eyes fixed on him, with that deep feeling that everything was going to work out this time. Your heart was racing, your hands were cold from nervousness, and you were barely breathing with each of his plays. For you, each move was like a leap, a quick climb to the top of a mountain and then a plunge back to reality. Every moment felt like it was your match too, cheering for him with all your soul.

Then, it happened.

In a spectacular move, Jude found a space between the defenders, received the ball and, without hesitation, kicked it with precision. The ball went straight into the corner of the goal, passing the goalkeeper with a quick and precise movement. The stadium exploded in cheers of joy, and the energy of the crowd seemed to almost bring down the stands, they were so excited. You stood up, your hands covering your mouth in pure shock and euphoria. Your face lit up with a smile that you couldn't control -the smile of someone who had just seen the person they love do something extraordinary.

Jude, with the most radiant expression in the world, ran towards the fans, and when he got close to the stands, he raised his arms, opening them in a gesture that had already become his trademark. It was at that moment that his eyes met yours, and you, without thinking, imitated the gesture, opening your arms in the same pose as his, in a connection that seemed to cross the field and the barriers. It was as if, in that moment, the two of you were one.

The crowd noticed and started to scream even louder, the fans around you applauded the scene, as if they were witnessing a unique and intimate moment between the player and the person who supported him so unconditionally. You couldn't hold back your laughter, infected by the happiness that radiated from Bellingham, and he, from the field, couldn't stop looking at you, also laughing, both of you absolutely overcome by the joy of that moment.

Your eyes shone with pride and admiration, and Jude could feel, even from a distance, how happy you were for him. After a difficult period, he had finally broken that silence on the field, and seeing you there, supporting him, encouraging him and celebrating with him, made it all worthwhile. He felt that he wasn't just playing for him, but for the two of you, for that beautiful story you were building together.

When the game ended, with the victory assured, Jude went to the edge of the field to find you, who was already waiting for him with the sweetest and proudest smile in the world. He pulled you into a tight hug, and you whispered in his ear:

—I knew you could do it, I knew your moment would come.

He laughed, his face pressed against yours, still breathing fast and his heart racing.

—That goal was for you, babe. Always for you!

You caressed his face, your eyes filled with emotion.

—I’m so happy for you, Judie. You have no idea how much.

You stood there, still hugging each other, with the applause of the fans in the background and the rest of the players approaching to celebrate. But for Jude and you, that was a moment that belonged only to the two of you, a shared victory, where the goal, the fans and the noise of the stadium seemed to fade away, leaving only the loving and happy look you shared.

[henneseyhoe]

Right Where I Want You.

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Rough sex (Nothing too serious, she just chokes him a lil), Dirty talk, DOM!reader, SUB!Terry, Mommy kink (yeah you heard me, we get real nasty over here..), PWP, Short!, Not completely proof read.

SUMMARY: nah. lol

✮✮✮✮

the sound of clapping could be heard from the next room over even with the door closed. They both made no moves to quiet down either, the squeaky springs of the bed only applauded her on her bouncing, giving her the praises she needed for taking a dick this size. The stretch was delicious, the girth making her feel stuffed, and the length reaching places so deep that she could barely sit down all the way.

But how she rode was already enough for Terry, she didn’t have to sit all the way. He was already so gone. The way Terry was moaning her name with curses following, you’d think that was the only english he knew.

Her heels dug into the bed beneath them, the sensation of the soft silks against his bare skin heightening his pleasure. He had begged her just minutes before to use him, fuck him into his own bed and leave him wondering why you hadn’t come along sooner, why he didn’t come find you instead. He didn’t care if it was pathetic, there was some things he could live with happily without embarrassment. There was just something about you that could make a man kneel at your feet, cry, even.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She asks before moaning, her head lulling back for a second as she felt the tip of him brush over exactly where she wanted him the most. Her voice was so tantalizing, laced with a sweetheart tone and dominance as she knew she could take away what he needed the most in this moment; a tight pussy gripping his dick and a nut that would send him to another dimension. She knew damn well he was doing more than enjoying himself.

His abs tightened under his brown skin and he cried out, opting to hold onto the headboard instead of her hips to avoid her stopping like she did last time he touched her without permission.

“Fuck, baby!”

His hips bucked wildly as the sensitivity of him became almost unbearable. He hadn’t even came yet, multiple orgasms purposely ruined being the reason for the constant tightness in his balls and stomach. She, on the other hand, had already came three times. On his fingers, on his face, on that dick. Her cream stuck to his shaft and balls, making wet, sticky sounds every time her fat ass bounced back down on him, making him release another spurt of precum into her walls.

Her cream was still warm, used as lube to help her ride that thick dick efficiently enough to have him seeing stars.

And stars he did indeed see, the glasses perched on his nose providing no help with vision as he clenched his eyes closed.

“You boutta cum for me, baby? You know better to ask mommy first”

She runs her pierced tongue over her lips and begins rubbing her poor little clit with her dominant hand, ignoring the indescribable pain from sensitivity that also somehow brought her pleasure. She used her other hand to slowly wrap itself around Terry’s throat, squeezing slightly to bring him out his euphoric daze.

Once he had opened his eyes, he got to admire her again, eyes flickering from her pretty face to the urging hand between her thighs.

She went even harder on him, staring into his piercing eyes with a clear desire to break him just in case any other bitch thought she could do what she does to him. No one else could have him, a grown man, begging to be fucked, on his knees with his face in her lap.

“You like when I fuck you like this. You like when I use you” She guides him into a nod, a satisfied smile on her face as he agrees.

“Yes- fuck!”

“Mhmm. You love this pussy don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I love this pussy, mommy”

His words sent her into overdrive. That was the first time he had ever compiled and called her the self given pet name. She knew he was right where she wanted him now. There was nothing he wouldn’t say or do for her.

“Cum inside me, baby. Fill mommy up”

✮✮✮✮

💌- ngl this was just sumn sweet for the fuckin kids till december 🥴 did NOT mean for it to be like dis!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙀: Bath Sex w/ CEO!Bucky Barnes

a/n: hey so this embarrassing, but i was supposed to upload this yesterday and even then i procrastinated it LMAOOOO have mercy me!! here's the fic *i throw it and run the other way*

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

There was a clamor of the front door opening, shutting, some scuffling, followed by the unmistakable sound of Bucky’s shoes being dropped on the floor and finally… the sigh.

“I know that sound.” You speak with a grin from where you’re sitting comfortably on the large, white l-shaped leather couch, wine glass in hand and smothered in a fuzzy, cotton robe.

You watch the deep red swirl enchantingly as you spin the liquid in it gently.

A large hand wrapped itself loosely around your throat, coaxing your head back and your mouth to his. You breathe into the all consuming kiss, your eyes fluttering shut and body melting momentarily at the sheer relief of having him back home.

“Rough day?” You murmur quietly against his lips. His stubble scratches at your face as he hums in agreement and you squirm. “Sounds like you need some help relaxing,” You suggest with a soft smile.

“How about a bath? Would you like that?”

“Only if you join me.” Bucky finally speaks, and his voice is a rasp. You shiver in delight. “Of course.”

He pulls off of you with one last breath stealing kiss and an affectionate squeeze to your throat that leaves you pleasantly light-headed.

You don’t hesitate to set your glass down and follow him into your room, where you peep at him loosening his tie. You find yourself in your ridiculously lavish bathroom, bending over the bathtub to twist at the knobs. The thing could really be considered a jacuzzi, but you love it, so you digress.

There’s a large palm on your hip and you lean into his solid chest when you stand up, nuzzling your face into the side of his sharp jaw. He squeezes at the fat of your covered sides, trailing forward to tug at the belt holding it together.

Your nude body is easily revealed to the ever heating room, and a shiver finds its way down your spine. His fingers tug the material down your shoulders, the robe landing on the chilly, tiled floor quietly.

“So beautiful.” Bucky murmurs against your cheek.

Palms caress you innocently, just admiring and occasionally grabbing at a roll or one of your breasts. “Wait, wait, wait –” You giggle,“The water’s gonna overflow.” Bucky’s placing sweet kisses on the tender skin of your neck, and it’s taking everything in you to not fall into him.

“Forget about the water.” He mutters.

You allow him to place a couple more love bites on your skin before you finally peel away from him, spinning around to push him back gently.

“Get naked.” You demand softly, and he chuckles at your words, but nonetheless follows your instructions, picking at the buttons of his white collared shirt and shucking off his slacks and boxers.

You don’t have enough time to admire the newly exposed skin because he’s already placing his tense body into the warm water with a deep groan.

“Feel good?” You ask with a sweet grin, placing yourself in his lap.

The tub is just wide enough to fit you on top of him, but your knees dig slightly into the porcelain. You don’t mind it though, especially not when Bucky looks like he’s finally found some kind of relief.

“Mhm.” Bucky hums, and places his hands on your hips once more. You welcome the weight, your palms cupping the water to playfully pour it over his head. You smile at his scrunched nose as the water trickles down his face.

You can’t help but cup his cheeks at the sight of his relaxed expression, thumbing over his shadow and leaning down to connect your lips once more. He kisses you back immediately, and as always, all you can feel is him.

Kissing Bucky is like standing beneath a waterfall, everything goes quiet and all you know is what’s in front of you. It’s all consuming, and it’s so, so nice to not have to think sometimes.

You allow yourself to get lost in him, even when his palms start to travel, large fingers gripping your ass to pull you against him. You can feel his hardening cock pressing into your stomach, and you let out a little mewl.

“Let me take care of you.” Bucky mumbles.

The kisses he’s placing onto your neck make you shudder, you bare your neck to him. He all but growls at the show, nipping harder, no doubt leaving behind darkening marks.

“Anything for you.” You gasp out when a finger prods at your hole from behind.

Rise up higher on your knees, and his arm curls around you, successfully being able to sink into you. You whimper, your hands falling to his shoulders in order to squeeze them.

“Buck…” You mewl. Your hips desperately try to grind down on his singular digit. “More, please.”

He just hums, his kisses growing gentler as he winds you up. “Take what I give you, yeah?” You have to force yourself to agree.

Bucky can’t force himself to deprive you of what you want for too long, because a second finger joins along with his other one. It isn’t hard to find your g-spot, especially not with the way a high-pitched whine escapes through your mouth.

He works you up to three fingers before you’re pouting and whimpering in his arms.

“Buck…” You complain. An airy chuckle gets brushed against your bare breasts and you shiver. “Alright, alright.”

He steadies you when his fingers slip out, gripping his cock to nudge it against your puffy entrance. “You want it?” Bucky teases, dragging his nose down the curve of your jaw. “Mhm. So bad.”

Bucky wasn’t a cruel man, so with a bruising kiss to your cheek, he pushes into you, pulling you down to meet his thrust. A long, drawn moan escapes you as he bottoms out, hands scrambling to cup the back of his neck, while the other, threaded themselves through his shaved hair.

It was quiet as you took a moment to adjust, the only sounds of water dropping off of your skin and back into the water.

“Move.” You whispered breathlessly with a swivel of your hips.

With a grunt, you rose before sinking back down, disrupting the water surrounding you. It was a few slow minutes before you picked up the pace. Bucky didn’t hesitate to grab at your waist, helping you in your grinding.

Gasps tumbled out of your mouth, and you could feel yourself being moved until his cock found your g-spot. “Fuck!” You cried out. Your head tipped back and a dark chuckle vibrated up your neck.

“Found it.”

Bucky seemed to have thrown caution to the wind, because he proceeded to drag you down to meet his hard, punching thrusts. You squealed as water sloshed over the side of the tub, holding onto him for dear life as he fucked into you.

Little ‘ah ah ah’s’ poured out of you every time he went deeper; you were surrounded by him, your walls clenching down on him to hold him inside.

You felt the burning in your lower back first, orgasm simmering under your skin, practically begging to get out. Then, it was the tingle in your stomach.

“‘M close.” You arched into his touch as he let out a particularly loud groan. “Yeah? ‘Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

“Mhm.” You whined in ascent.

Your inability to properly respond drove him deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until you were squirming, practically running away from the pleasure of it all.

“Buck!”

You came with one last cry, eyesight and hearing, whiting out in exchange for pure bliss. You trembled through it, legs spasming, desperate to close even as he worked you through your orgasm.

Your walls that fluttered around him drew him to his own end, his bone rattling moan falling on deaf ears, though you could feel him paint your insides.

It’s a touch of quiet and you throw a lazy glance to the left, where you can see the tile is absolutely drowned in water. No wonder you getting cold so quickly.

“Bucky.” You say simply.

“Hm?”

“There’s water on the floor.”

A sigh.

“I’ll clean it up.”

“Thank you.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @violettavirus

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus has a dream about you

cw: obsessed!optimus, angst, fluff (only at the beginning), implied robot-fucking/valveplug, mentioned pregnancy, optimus is depressed

word count: 810

The mission took longer than he expected. Retaking the energon mine from the Decepticons stretched on for what felt like an eternity, as the enemy kept calling in reinforcements. For every fallen Vehicon, two more would appear, alive and ready. The battle dragged on too long, completely draining the Autobots’ energy and morale. But they succeeded. For the first time in many months, they claimed victory, securing a steady supply of energon.

Optimus was the first to cross the ground bridge, praying to Primus that you were still in the base. Once inside, he transformed gracefully, though in haste, and headed toward the platform. The tension left him instantly when he saw you on the couch with a book in hand. He made a mental note to ask you about it later.

Despite his exhaustion, he managed a smile, mirroring your animated expression. Getting close enough to the platform, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest, most tender kiss on your head, pouring all his immense love for you into that single act. You giggled as his warm breath lightly tousled your hair, and Optimus listened to your laughter as if it were the most beautiful melody, composed just for him. Feeling playful, he blew gently once more so you’d grace him with your laughter again.

The other team members paid no mind to the sweet scene, fully accustomed to your little exchanges of affection.

"Hello, my dearest," he murmured, still close to you. He didn’t want to leave your side. Ever.

"Hello, love. Mission accomplished?"

"Yes, we managed to secure the mine. We have supplies for the next few months."

"That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you."

Now it was your turn to shower him with affection. You planted kisses on his warm metal face, making sure not to miss a single spot, so Optimus knew just how much you loved him. Such a simple gesture was enough to make the leader of the Autobots weak in the knees, looking as though he’d ascended to heaven. But thankfully, he didn’t have to ascend anywhere — his heaven was right there, wherever you were. He had never been so happy, so blissfully content. After all those years of brutal war, spilled energon, and lost comrades, he had finally found his piece of heaven.

"Optimus?"

He blinked a few times. He was no longer in the base. Before him stretched a vast panorama of mountains, forests, valleys, and lakes, with no beginning or end. He’d passed similar landscapes many times on patrol, admiring the beauty of this planet. Each time, they left him speechless.

"Optimus?"

He looked down to where the voice was coming from, and a smile appeared automatically when he saw you. You looked concerned, likely because of his momentary distraction; to comfort him, you were gently stroking the metal on his shoulder��� When had he managed to mass-displace? He had no idea, and it didn’t matter as long as you were so close, touching him, focusing all your attention on him.

He wanted to hold you and never let go so much.

"You were gone for a long time. I was worried."

Looking at you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, Optimus gently stroked your cheek, handling you like fine porcelain. You smiled at his gesture, snuggling closer into his metal servo. He was always so tender with you, so gentle, a contrast to his true, raw strength. He took care to never harm you, to always make you feel safe.

Especially during the pregnancy.

His caring optics instinctively shifted to your slightly rounded belly, widening in surprise. He looked startled, and he was. Shocked that your biologies were compatible enough to create an offspring together.

But he had known about it for a few months now…

Slowly, he moved his trembling hand to your belly, caressing the curve. A smile appeared on his slightly parted lips. Could it be that his life had finally come together? No more war, no more being a Prime? Could he finally be free?

"This is a dream, isn’t it?" he whispered, looking into your eyes.

But you were no longer there.

Optimus woke up tense and anxious. Of course, it had only been a dream. His life couldn’t be so perfect, so flawless. He clutched his face as the scenes from the dream played over in his processor, now tormenting him in the real world. You haunted him even in his dreams, offering no respite even in his most private realm. But, unfortunately for him, there was only one antidote for this condition.

With a heavy spark, he got up from his berth and left his quarters. He automatically headed toward the main section of the base, clinging desperately to the faint, naive hope that he’d find you there and maybe, just maybe you would spare him a glance.

[lisenberry]

Sunday Funday

With Retired Husband Price

Mdni/18+/NSFW

CW: cock worshipping, gn reader

Sunday mornings are lazy affairs in the Price house.

Unlike Saturday nights, which were wild and sweaty and ended with you a ruined mess of beard burn and fluids, with him dozing off beside you mumbling about how good his sleep score will be while you slowly come down and drip his load all over the sheets.

He usually wakes refreshed around 5am, his tracking watch showing an admirable sleep score of 92, and lumbers his way to let the dogs outside, careful not to disturb you. He enjoys his coffee and morning cigar before turning on the early news for the day's weather.

Around 8am, he brings a mug up for you and sets it on the bedside table, knowing how you like to let it cool a bit before drinking. He gets back into bed next to you and gently nuzzles your neck to bring you out of sleep.

"S'it that time already?" You smile into your pillow before turning toward him. Burying your face in his chest to hide your morning breath.

His hair tickles your nose as you run your hand down his stomach and below his waist to feel what sort of state he's in. You can sense him smiling as a contented growl rumbles from somewhere deep, and your palm finds him soft and heavy.

He rolls onto his back and you follow him, keeping your head on his belly as you stare down the trail of fur to his length. He's grown against your touch, hard and swollen, and you graze your fingers along it, marveling at the sight.

You don't get to see it much in the dark of your Saturday nights. It's in your face and in your holes, but your eyes are too clouded by tears and lust to fully appreciate it.

Sunday mornings are for gratitude. Pampering. Giving it the same love he's given you over and over and over again. He doesn't want you to use your mouth. Your throat's already bruised and sore from the night before.

He wants your touch. The gentle pads of your thumbs, the smooth silky underside of your forearm, the teasing slide of the backs of your knuckles against the ruddy cleft of his cap.

Tracing the veins and the ridges down his shaft to his sac.

You feel his breath catch in his lungs as he rubs his own calloused hands along your back in thanks, and encouragement. A slow, languid embrace. A beast at peace.

"I think I could come like this, love," he groans roughly, as if he's holding himself back. As if he doesn't want it to end.

No lube, no spit. Just soft, slow, feathery light strokes. Such a sharp contrast to the carnal debauchery he was capable of.

"Go ahead, whenever you're ready. Not in any hurry."

You could worship his cock all day and be content. But you do coax him to come, eventually. Circling his tip with beads of his own precum. Just in time for your coffee to be the perfect temperature.

[hishumanbelle]

Alastor played the piano, his sharp fingers sliding softly over the white pearly keys. A sweet blues melody came out of the piano and I couldn't help but admire that charming man. It was then that he turned to me and invited me to join him. I approached him, leaning my back against the keyboard. Alastor grabbed me by the waist, he undid my robe and kissed my womb softly, starring at me. "I want you to be the mother of my fawns", his hands roamed over my body, caressing it and making it burn with desire at his touch, for him and him alone. My fingers ran through his soft hair, also caressing his ears that he folded back, purring. "I'm serious", he said, kissing my belly and staring at me. His gaze was intense, full of love, his eyes shone red, my loving gaze fixed on his. I kissed his forehead. He moved me slightly from the piano to close the keyboard, then removed the string of my robe, letting it fall to the floor. Sitting on the stool, he slipped a finger inside me. "So warm", he said in a low, soothing voice. His long finger moved back and forth inside me. He inserted another finger, still moving slowly and pushing deeper, hitting the spongy wall. "Alas-", I said covering my mouth. With his other hand he removed it, "don't, I want to hear you", he said, aroused evident in his pants. "Alastor!", I repeated, his name falling from my lips like a prayer, I was making amends for my sins by committing them with him. He was poison and antidote. His presence in my heart was intoxicating, an obsession, but I couldn’t help it. With his face scanning my expressions, he moved closer to my body, biting and kissing my breasts, with the hand that held my hip he teased my right nipple. He moved his face closer to my core, his hot breath ghosting my entrance that was waiting for nothing but him. He began to kiss my clit and suck it lightly as he licked it, his fingers delicately digging inside me at a faster pace. "Alastor, I'm-!", I said shyly, squeezing his hair pushing him and holding him in the position he was in. A knot of heat was growing inside my abdomen, until I came all over his fingers and tongue. He moved his hand to my thigh, tightening his grip and scratching me with his nail. "I want you, forever", he sighed in my ear after standing up and removing his fingers. He unzipped his pants and started rubbing his large cock on my slit to wet it, and gently pushed it inside me. "Ah! You're so damn tight, my doe", he growled from his chest. His hips moved slowly but deeply, hitting all the right spots. His hands resting against the piano case ruining it due to his strength, his lips on my neck leaving signs of his possession. His pace increased more and more, making me reach another orgasm. I held onto his shoulders while panting and came on him again. He brought a hand to my pussy and with a finger he continued to stimulate my clitoris. "How is it, my dear? Are you okay?", he asked seeing that my eyes rolled back, but I did not answer because in a state of unconsciousness and total pleasure; it was then that he bit my neck licking the blood and becoming even harder for me. His cock was pounding harder, but his ways were gentle and sweet, as if we were making love; from his gestures only a sweet passion. His lips moved to mine, kissing me and using his tongue until our souls intertwined. His cock was pulling reaching orgasm too; he took a hand and brought it to my neck, squeezing it, while he devoured me with his mouth, and as my orgasm grew and my legs began to tremble, informing him of the imminence, he also prepared himself. "I'll fill you with my seed", his voice hoarse and in sobs, his breathing a rattle, but his thrusts did not stop even after he had cummed inside me. "I love you", I whispered, bringing my hands behind his neck and kissing him passionately. "I love you, my soon-to-be mother and spouse", he replied leaning down to kiss my womb where he had just been.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—”  he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked. 

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

       Secret Admirer,

       I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

       Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

       I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

       Yours,

       Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

       ||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

       1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

       2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

       3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

       4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

       5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

       6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

       7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

       8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

       9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

       Eddie —

       I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

       I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

       I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6