#and keep them from throwing their lives away

[alinathinkstoomuch]

A HELLO AND A KISS

pairing: aaron hotchner x lawyer!reader summary: aaron hotchner survives serial killers and endless paperwork—but apparently not you breezing past him without a hello, based on this request. (im so sorry, i got carried away and did not include the part of r meeting the team!!! pls dont hate me) warnings | an: jealous hotch, protective hotch, simp hotch, hotch is just down bad for his girl, one bj joke word count: 2.4k

✧ masterlist

You hadn’t come home last night.

Aaron had simply received a brief text: Don’t wait up. A case fell into my lap last minute. It wasn’t unusual—not in your line of work, and certainly not in his. You’d both sent that message before, more times than either of you could count. It came with the territory.

You and Aaron had always kept your professional lives separate. A clean, white, necessary line in the sand. It helped keep the bloodstained parts from crossing over and kept your dinner conversations from becoming post-mortems or courtroom recaps. After all, it was easier not to talk about the men Aaron arrested when you were the one prosecuting them.

He didn’t put it together right away.

But all five of his senses were attuned to you. Honestly? his sixth sense was you. He didn’t need to see you to know you were there—he could feel you, hear you, even smell you before he ever caught a glimpse.  It didn’t take much. Sometimes, it was just the sound of heels—your heels—that gave you away.

It was that click-clack rhythm that he had grown accustomed to over the months, filtering through early mornings when you forgot your keys, then your case notes, then your coffee. It trailed after you in the hallway, embedded in every corner where you’d left pieces of yourself scattered around his home.

And now, that same sound echoed from behind him, followed by the heavy thud of the courtroom door swinging shut.

“Can’t believe he’s actually trying to weasel out of this,” Prentiss muttered under her breath, just as you swept past their row.

The unsub’s public defender had filed a not-guilty plea days earlier—citing supposed evidence mishandling, mistaken identity, even floating some half-baked theory about a setup. It was desperate. Flimsy. But just credible enough to stall the trial, to buy time he didn’t deserve.

You didn’t look Aaron’s way. Didn’t slow your pace. You gave no reaction at all, just glided by, slipping into the prosecution’s chair like it was your usual seat at the office.

“New face,” Prentiss noted, leaning toward Hotch. “She wasn’t at the prelims was she?”

Hotch finally cleared his throat. “No.”

He meant to say more—something neutral, something about new counsel, something properly professional, something more him—but the words got stuck somewhere behind his ribs. Especially when the most him thing in the world was standing right there, only meters away from a man he’d gladly kill with his bare hands if he so much as looked at you the wrong way.

Though, truthfully, he knew you’d get to him quicker with words, with strategy, with that cool, calculated tone that could cut deeper than any punch Hotch could throw.

You still hadn’t looked at him. Fully locked into that little world of yours, where the second you stepped into a courtroom, you grew fins and dermal denticles, transforming into a shark in couture and four-inch heels.

It stung. Just a little. But he knew why you were doing it. He just couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like to sit in a room and watch you give someone like that—worst of the worst—your full, undivided attention.

He’d only had the pleasure (and slight terror) of watching you in court twice before—neither case connected to the BAU and already, he was starting to sweat. Just a little. Maybe.

Aaron clamped his jaw tight, trying to keep his expression neutral, but the effort must’ve been visible because he caught Rossi huffing a laugh under his breath.

Of course Rossi knew. Rossi was the only one who’d actually met you off-duty. And the last thing Hotch needed was Rossi even hinting at the tiny, minuscule, barely-worth-mentioning fact that you wore Aaron’s old college t-shirt to bed, or that just a few hours ago, he’d been ogling your bare legs as you stumbled out of the shower, mumbling at him to go back to sleep.

Because as soon as Prentiss or Morgan—who already looked half-asleep in his seat—caught wind of it, it wouldn’t be a murder trial they were interested in anymore. No, it would turn into entertainment, something far more exciting than sitting at their desks, pretending to work through paperwork they never submitted on time anyway.

He shifted in his seat. No engagement was the best engagement, he figured.

Instead, he forced his eyes off you and onto the defendant, who was fiddling with his tie like that would suddenly make him more credible. Like anyone in the room would forget what he’d done just because he shaved and tucked in his damn shirt.

But the second you stood, rising slowly from your chair, Aaron’s gaze snapped right back to you, so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. Still, you didn’t look his way. Of course you didn’t. You were here to do a job. And right now, that job was dismantling a man with nothing but your voice.

He swallowed hard.

Yeah. He was definitely sweating now.

By the time the trial hit the halfway mark, he could tell your energy had changed—or was about to—with the unsub being called to the stand.

Hotch sat stiffly, watching you shuffle your notes with little effort. Morgan had finally roused enough to start paying attention, and Prentiss was scribbling away in the margins of her legal pad—none of which, Hotch would bet good money, had anything to do with the actual trial.

You stood once more, brushing that stubborn piece of hair away from your face—the one that always seemed to fall whenever you were reading something from above. He wished he could push it away for you, wished he could pull you out of this courtroom entirely, shield you from every ugly, broken thing the world could throw at you.

But then your voice cut through the room, reminding him that this was your job.

"Alright," you began, voice crisp but bored, like you were already three steps ahead. That’s what anyone else might think. But Aaron knew you were ahead five.

"Let’s go back to March 5th," you said, pausing just for a second. "You said you didn’t know Jessica Harlan."

"I didn’t," Tanner snapped back, so fast it almost made Hotch smile.

That kind of panic was never a good sign—and he knew it was one of your favourite tells. The second someone cracked like that, it was like flipping a switch, like flashing a green light across the battlefield. Go get him.

"Right," you hummed, nodding like you were humouring a stubborn child throwing a tantrum. "Right."

Another pause.

You were good at that—giving the poor soul on the receiving end (victim, really) of your arguing capabilities enough time to think. To second-guess themselves. Hotch had picked up on it early on, and when he’d once asked you about it, you gave him a dry, matter-of-fact answer: it gave people enough time to realise how stupid they sounded.

"And yet, a witness places your car parked across the street from her apartment two nights in a row. Same make, same model, same license plate."

Tanner shifted in the witness chair, but you didn’t rush him. You stood there, cool and composed, giving him just enough rope to hang himself.

“I –”

"Parked there?" you cut in, tilting your head like you were offering him an easy out. The trap was already set.

You reached for the remote, clicking the TV monitor on.

"Okay, that’s completely understandable," you considered with a polite nod toward the jury. "Though I’m not quite sure what your explanation is for getting out of the vehicle on the second night and standing in front of Jessica Harlan’s apartment for—" you glanced down at your watch, "—thirty-seven minutes."

You glanced back up, eyebrows raised just enough to look curious but not confrontational. Just a lawyer looking for answers.

Tanner opened his mouth, closed it, then looked down at his hands like maybe they’d have a better explanation than he did.

Aaron recognised the footage immediately, thanks to Garcia’s handiwork. The screen showed Tanner stepping out of his car, glancing around, and then just…standing there. Across the street from Jessica’s apartment building.

Doing absolutely nothing.

For thirty-seven minutes.

The same number of stab wounds Jessica and every other victim had endured.

You didn’t even glance at the screen. Your focus stayed fixed on Tanner like a blade against his throat.

“Maybe you were just out getting some fresh air. Though I’m not sure stalking is generally recommended for cardio.”

"Objection, Your Honour—" the defence attorney barked, already on his feet.

You raised a hand, before the judge even had time to respond. “Withdrawn.”

"I wasn’t watching her,” Tanner argued, drawing the attention back to himself.

"No?” you echoed, cocking your head to the side. “Then what were you doing, Mr Tanner? Practicing your standing endurance?"

He huffed out a weak laugh with no real humour behind it. It was the kind that people made when they realised they were cornered and didn’t have the tools to dig their way out.

“I just... needed some air,” he repeated, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

"I get it, I do," you agreed in faux sweetness. "We all need fresh air. Though it’s odd, don’t you think?"

“I’m sorry?”

“Jessica Harlan was stabbed thirty-seven times…" You took a step closer to Tanner, and Aaron had to physically stop himself from moving. Remind himself that you knew exactly what you were doing. That this was all part of the strategy. Even if, deep down, he wanted nothing more than to stand between you and every monster you faced.

"Which," you continued, "happens to be the exact number of minutes you spent outside her apartment."

Tanner swallowed, but that didn’t seem to faze you.

"Just like you spent thirty-seven minutes outside Eliza Horne’s place of work," you listed off, each word tightening the noose around Tanner’s neck. "Thirty-seven minutes outside the gym where Marissa Cole trained. Thirty-seven minutes at the café Danielle Ruiz visited every Thursday—”

Aaron felt Prentiss lean in beside him. “She’s good.”

He didn’t look away from you long enough to answer.

Good didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were extraordinary. And somehow—somehow—you were his.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, what twist of fate had put you in his path, but he would be grateful for it for the rest of his life.

Grateful that you had let him in.

Grateful that he got to see you whole.

Whether it was in a courtroom, where you left your smile and affection at the door to tear the truth out of some of the worst people, or in the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed—the way you teased him for how he pronounced pecan—he had seen it all. And he wouldn’t trade a second of it.

A nudge from Rossi pulled Aaron out of what felt like a permanent trance—the one you had managed to put him in with no effort whatsoever.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded, absently rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"Got you reminiscing about your prosecutor days?"

Aaron let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. "I think if I’d stayed," he said, glancing back toward you, "she would’ve put me to shame."

"Would’ve been one hell of a show,” Rossi murmured. “Don’t let her get away.”

Aaron’s mouth tipped into the barest hint of a smile. He wasn’t planning on it. Hell would have to freeze over before he let even the smallest possibility of that happen.

His eyes found you again—right where they belonged—just as you finished with Tanner.

The day wound down eventually, and Aaron doubted the trial would drag on much longer, not after what you’d done to Tanner and his defence team. There wasn’t much left of them by the time you were finished.

He lingered just outside the courtroom, waiting. He’d managed to come up with a half-convincing excuse to stay behind, though neither Morgan nor Prentiss seemed to question it. They were too busy arguing over whether they could convince Penelope to hack into your trial schedule just so they could sit in on another one.

Not that Aaron could blame them.

The courthouse entrance doors swung open again, and you finally stepped through, files tucked under your arm, eyes fixed on your phone as you breezed past.

You didn’t even glance his way.

Again.

Aaron blinked. Really?

"So I don't even get a hello?" he asked, stepping lightly into your path with a raised brow. “Twice in one day. Must be losing my edge.”

You looked up, startled for half a second before your entire face lit up at the sight of him.

"I’m so sorry!" you blurted, already smiling. "You know how much I hate it when things fall into my lap last minute. I've been running around all day just trying to catch up—”

"No, no," he interjected, keeping his face painfully neutral, though the corners of his mouth twitched, just a little. "It’s fine. I’m obviously not that memorable."

"And I thought I was the needy one." You shook your head, still laughing under your breath as you tucked your phone away and shifted your files into one arm.

“Come here,” you cooed, hooking two fingers into the front of Aaron’s jacket, tugging him down.

He went willingly—no surprise there.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek first, soft and easy, before leaning in for a slower one on his lips. The kind that made him forget you were still technically in public.

"Better?" you asked, pulling back just enough to see the answer written all over his face.

"Only a little," he murmured, and before you could so much as blink, he reached out and took the files and your briefcase from your arms like it was second nature, like he’d been carrying your things for years.

“You carrying my stuff now, too?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to earn my next hello.”

You laughed, the sound unwinding every knot in Aaron’s chest, loosening him in ways only you ever could.

“Keep this up and you’ll have my mouth doing a lot more than just saying hello.”

Yeah.

He was completely gone.

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley

[running-with-kn1ves]

Cabin Fever, Baby Fever

A/N: originally named this doc ‘a dawg gone wrawng’ so I hope that gives you some idea as to what hell this is. Thanks to the anon for Conan's name, I wrote this mainly for his haters! deadass not sure if the drama is worth keeping most interested so his next ringer will probably be smut.

Part 1 , Part 2

Synopsis: You and the werewolf that knocked you up (ahem, kidnapper) discuss future pup names. 

CW: Pregnant! Reader described as a future ‘mother’, past mentions of kidnapping, kidnapper/kidnapped dynamic, knives 

You weren’t trusted in the kitchen. The only reason he left the knives out, was because he knew you wouldn’t have the gall to mess with them; if you did, a small steak knife wouldn’t do much to subdue the punishment you would quickly find, whether it was aimed at yourself or him. Anything else though, he didn’t believe you could handle. Not when you ached about the balls of your feet hurting, your lower back tensing up as you sat to read for the evening, or the dark circles laden under your eyes that made him throw a look of misery toward you.

It wasn’t just the roundness of your belly or the shift in your hormones causing you to complain. In fact, if you had been doing this entire pregnancy alone, you would probably be fine going back into work, with a slight pain in your tailbone or at your knees, but nothing you couldn’t handle. His hovering though, that was something out of your scope, doubling down on your constant stress from him always watching you. Like he was waiting for you to try and pick at the new keypad deadbolt he bought (mostly as an intimidation tactic.) Truly, a deadbolt would prove useless as long as he was here to stop you. 

Considering your recent… adventure had left you both exhausted, enraged, and anxious, your body had been deteriorating. You’d have no appetite some days and others you’d spend an evening ransacking the kitchen, alongside sleeping the entire day away only to be up at night sobbing, wishing you were anywhere but here in this shitty one bedroom flat, with a werewolf who didn’t even know how to decorate a damn living room besides for his PlayStation and 50-inch TV. 

He didn’t like to dwell on the past, or really anything that showed how miserable you were. So instead, Conan, the great next-door-whore and soon-to-be father, left you resting at the kitchen island to watch him try to cook, pretending like the fatigue causing your skin to droop and the redness in your eyes could be fixed by a good ol’ home-cooked meal. 

“I was thinking about baby names,” He broke the apartment’s stale silence, the slight sizzle of a pan on the stove accompanying his low voice. Often it felt like he talked to you like a hunter would, trying not to spook a fawn he planned on becoming his next wall decoration. “It’s so hard to choose. I mean, our kid is gonna have that name forever, y’know? Don’t want it to get picked on or nothin’ for its name.”

Our kid. What a strange thing to hear. You had known it as a fact, but hearing it outloud was bizarre.

“Names, huh…”  You let out a thin sardonic hmph at the thought.. “I agree, there’s enough things it’ll get pushed around for already, don’t need to add another one to the list.”

You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but maybe it was the lack of concern for anything anymore that left you indifferent. 

Conan looked over his shoulder at you, his thickly haired arm still holding the pan’s handle. He was still chewing on the toothpick you saw him grab earlier. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You knew this tone, the one that said you were playing with fire. 

“How many mixed parents do you know? It seems like trying for kids in general could be a death sentence…It’s not normal, or even common. This kind of interbreeding…I mean.” The thoughts were building the more you spoke; how hadn’t you thought of some of this until now-- What would your life be after giving birth? Would there be one at all? Humans weren’t meant to carry werewolf pups. Instead of scaring you, the idea almost felt irrelevant; you were already here, caged. Death might even be a blessing.  “Either way, ‘our kid’ won’t fit in with either humans or werewolves. There’s no one for them, no place or middle ground.” 

The worries you conjured were so surface level compared to Conan’s influence. How’ll this child grow up to be a normal being with a father who won’t even let its mother out of the house? A mother who had other plans in life than this?

“We’re not all that different in species,” Conan argued, turning away from the steaming pan to look at you. “And I guess we’ll just have to be the ones who protect it. I’m not against beating up some snot-nosed brats.”

Finding your hands with his calloused fingers, Conan kissed your knuckles with a practiced gentleness. It was uncomfortably soft, not like the werewolf who once demanded you cry out his name beneath his sheets. He gazed at you through his overgrown hair with a sick sense of watching, like his eyes were trained on you. When was he going to trust you enough again to go out of the house for longer than twenty minutes, at the very least to get a haircut? It’d be a relief to have some time to yourself. To get away from his ever-prying stare. 

“The kid will be fine, i’ll teach em’ some fist fighting techniques, show em’ how to properly give a wedgie.Before you know it our kid’ll be the one bullying!” 

“Right.” You sighed, giving a small grin to offset the poorly disguised glumness in your voice. The idea was a small drop of water in the desert of your new anxieties. 

Conan would rather have you screaming and hitting at him than to see you slumped on the bed again, but it had become so routine at this point even he began to feel defeated. Maybe this was a good sign though, some light in your eternal pessimism at his lame jokes. 

He leaned over the counter to press a small kiss to your lips, not waiting for you to return the gesture before moving back to the stove. 

“Well, back to names, I was thinking a little Connie, or something badass... like Maverick.” 

You made a face at the names, shaking your head a bit. 

“I guess I haven’t given much thought to it, but even those don’t sound right.” 

“Then…” He did something to the cooked meat to make a sharp hiss of steam rise. “Why don’t we go with something easy, like Conan?” 

Conan said the name with a strange lilt, waiting for your response. He kept his back to you, biting at the toothpick in his mouth. Was he secretly hoping you’d pick that one?

“You just want a kid named after you,” You cracked a genuine smile. “Connie, Maverick, or Conan junior is the best you can think of?”

Conan gave you a teasing look, taking the mouthwatering steak out of the pan with a pair of tongs.

“Hey, I don’t hear you coming up with anything better.” 

Looking down at your stomach, the bump started to look more familiar. You didn’t know what to think about the creature occasionally kicking at your uterus and forcing you to vomit in the mornings; it seemed like it was more a part of Conan than it was you, especially with the way he tended to it with his ear pressed to your stomach, rubbing your belly like you were some magical human lamp. 

“Technically, I guess the name would be fitting. ‘Little wolf’ isn’t too far from the truth.” 

Conan placed two plates full of meat and salad on a round dining table across from the kitchen. 

“And we’ll do Conanette if it's a girl.” He quipped. 

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to get out of the kitchen island’s chair. “Alright don’t push it.”

As soon as you move to stand, Conan is quick to rush himself in front of you, blocking your escape.

“I’ll carry you to the table.” He places one hand on the counter and stares at you cautiously.

“It’s literally like three feet,” You look behind him at the food, the hole in your stomach desperate for something with flavor and not the mere Saltines you’ve been eating all day. 

“Just let me do it. Please?” He looked almost desperate, most certainly ready to brood if you dared to reject him.

The last time he carried you was… not a pleasant ride. Is that why he wanted to pick you up now, to repair what he’s done? You almost grew irritated at the thought. Did he really think picking you up with your consent this time was going to change anything? You were a prisoner here, not some sweet lover. Just another one of his one-night stands gone wrong. 

Well, at least this explained why the sadism and horniness he usually radiated had been partly snuffed. 

A hard kick in your stomach made you clench your teeth; seemed like the little monster was as hungry as you were. 

“So fucking persistent...” You mumble, hurrying him with your hand to get it over with. If you wanted to eat and not be brutalized by a fetus, there was a clear option to choose. 

Conan was quick to follow, putting an arm at your back and under your knees to pick you up bridal style. Your bump had gotten big enough to be uncomfortable if he didn’t hold you right, but his arms were overly heedful when picking you up. Laying your head to rest on his collarbone, he kept your thighs away enough from your stomach to keep you uncramped. The werewolf had deadlifted barbells twice your size, leaving you to be a solid, comfortable warmness in his arms; this was one of the few times his strength didn’t appear  to make you afraid, the image of your comfort practically egging on the hubristic grin that spread on his lips. 

“See, it’s not all bad being treated like royalty.” He smirked, watching you hold the satisfaction of a ‘thank you’ or a smile from him. 

“Can you please hurry, mini Conanette is beating on her cell bars,” You wince, the smell of the seasoned meat making your mouth salivate and your stomach twist. You weren’t willing to let him know, but the warmth of his arms beneath you, the smell of his skin-- it brought about a gentle comfort, accompanied by a kind of unfamiliar terror that made you want to crawl out of your flesh.

Conan pulled out a wooden chair by the table with his foot, leaning down to set you in it. 

“T’s because little Conan knows his daddy’s here.” Conan gets on his knees to be eye level with your stomach, letting his hand rest on your knee. “Stop beating on your mother, you brat. Once you get out here, you’re gonna have to fight me like a man for all the pain you’ve been causing.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you.”

His little remarks had forced a small laugh from your lips, making the evening like that more of a dream than reality. This was the same man who drug you back to his apartment, who won’t let you outside without a tight grip of his hand in yours?

You pull your chair in, searching for your fork and knife. Instead, a fork and a spoon were placed beside your plate, your steak already cut up in bite size pieces for you. Odd. 

That’s when you noticed it; the table was set up as per usual, but the tablecloth had been dry cleaned, and small candles were lit in the middle, a porcelain plate keeping the wax in a secluded pool. You even had a napkin at your side, something Conan didn’t particularly take note of often in bringing. 

The werewolf turned your face toward him with his large hand, careful not to strike you with his sharp claws. 

“Eat up, you need your protein.”

He almost sounded condescending, but the hard kiss pressed to your temple made you unsure.

This poor attempt at what looked like a date, an effort at putting back together something that never could be fixed, would not fool you. The missing knife was starting to make you nervous as Conan sat down on his side of the table, digging in, untroubled. It looked to be another freedom stripped away indefinitely, your food’s preparation an unfunny joke in how it was akin to being cut for a child.

Your laughter was gone, replaced by something sour bubbling in the back of your throat. You’d have to hope, to pray that today he just wasn’t taking any chances so you wouldn’t ‘ruin the evening,’, that you’d find the missing knife block back on the kitchen counter tomorrow morning. 

[lunarmoves]

you've been watching them for a while now.

automatons aren't new, by any means. you've seen them roaming around in the villages and towns beyond the treeline of the forest for years—decades, even. what they do, you're unsure, but you figure they aren't much different than the humans living their own lives day after day.

they walk like people, they talk like people, and they laugh like people, so you suppose they are people. strange and complex as they are.

this is the first time you've seen them in the forest, though.

nestled high above, between the branches of an oak tree, you peer down at the earth to watch two mechs picking their way past overgrown shrubs and tangled bramble. they're curious things, designed in such a way where their vivid colors stick out amongst all the verdant flora. your gaze lingers on the sharp rays framing the head of one of the mechs, before it trails to the starry nightcap adorning the other.

in a way, they remind you of the sun and moon. your gaze flicks upwards at the sliver of the daytime sky you can see through the tree's canopy. curious indeed.

they are dressed for travel, like all the other humans that have previously ventured forth into the forest. and you suppose they are after the same things as well. you've kept an eye on them throughout their journey deeper into the forest—keeping your distance, yes, but you have been growing bored enough to creep closer and closer with each passing day.

they amuse you, the automatons. with their connective designs to the universe and their gentle bickering you can hear from time to time. they have not stopped to rest for long, nor do they eat or sleep. a difference, you muse, from regular humans. it is so intriguing.

they are looking for the forest's treasures, that much is certain. and like all the others who have searched before them, you have no doubt that they will fail at their task.

but that doesn't mean you can't have your own fun.

the one with the sun rays has been scrutinizing an old map in his metal hands for the last few hours, turning it this way and that as he peers critically up at his surroundings. the leaf-ladened trees are painted in sunlight in a way reminiscent of a liquid gold coating. flowers and blossoms litter the dirt-covered ground like nature's version of a loose carpet. branches extend their scrawny fingers to tug at the mechs' clothes.

he huffs as he stops walking and seems to glare at a particularly thick tree covered in wisteria. "this is the third time we've passed this tree."

the other one chuckles as he comes to a halt next to his companion and peers up at his irritated face. "how can you tell? they all look the same."

"i can tell because i marked this tree!" the yellow mech says shrilly as he points to a spot where he'd peeled off a bit of bark on the trunk earlier. "you watched me do so, moon!"

"that could've been missing beforehand," moon replies in amusement. and when his companion only gives him a dry look, he relents. "alright fine. what do you want me to say, sun? that we're lost?"

sun and moon, you file away in your head in delight while you shift forward on your branch. your smile steadily widens. how concise and so very fitting.

"well no, but some help would be greatly appreciated!" sun says in exasperation as he throws his hands up. he points a finger at moon. "you've been letting me do all the mapping and navigating. i haven't seen you do anything other than look around and mimic the birds!"

and to your absolute pleasure, moon cocks his head at sun and does precisely what he has been doing for the last hour: he releases a sound similar to the call of a pheasant, short and musical. you are unsure how he is able to do so, but it is nothing short of hilarious.

sun gives moon a withering look. all it does is make moon break out into soft laughter.

sun sighs and it is a long, weary thing. "at this rate we won't ever be able to return to the castle. here, you try navigating." he thrusts the old map towards moon, who takes it easily. "if i have to look at that thing for one more second, i'll short circuit myself."

moon snorts and peers down at the map to hum at it. they are both standing just in front of the tree you're camped in. you look down to see if you can catch a glimpse of this map of theirs and have to hold back your own chuckle when you see how inaccurate it is. that certainly isn't helping—your own meddling aside.

moon hums. he turns the map left, then right, then completely flips it upside down. he nods to himself.

"yep, that settles it," he muses to himself.

sun tilts his head, crowding over his companion's shoulder to look down at the map as well. interestingly, one of his rays shrinks down to avoid poking moon's face. "settles what? did you figure something out?"

"yes. we're lost," moon announces, then crumples up the map to stick it into his pocket. you hold back a snort.

sun groans and runs his hands down his flat face. "why did i have to get stuck on this task with you."

when all moon does is cackle in response, you finally decide it is an appropriate time for you to make an appearance.

quietly, you make your way to a branch just in front of them, above their heads, and allow your body to swing backwards to hang upside down before their faces. "hi!"

abruptly, sun shrieks and leaps back. you grin as you watch him take on a defensive pose, his hand lingering at the satchel hanging from his shoulder. you have yet to see him open it. your gaze darts over to moon to see he has not moved an inch. instead, he stares at you with these ruby eyes that you are unable to decipher. but you can feel the way they analyze your form intently.

(earlier, as you followed them via tree, you could've sworn you saw moon glancing up occasionally at the canopies like he could sense your presence through them. maybe even see you.

but that was impossible, you dismissed. no one ever could.

he was just bird watching, you figured out later as you watched him follow the paths of the birds flitting over his head. that had to be it.)

you make a mental note to keep an eye on moon.

"you guys look mighty lost," you say cheerfully, your legs flexing a little where they're hooked around the branch. "want some help?"

you're looking at moon as you ask, but it's sun who responds.

"no, thank you," he says stiffly. he straightens, though he still keeps his hand near his satchel. there is wariness lining his body and the white glow of his eyes, that much is apparent. not that you blame him, really.

"aww, don't be like that." you lift your hands up to cross them behind your head; the picturesque form of nonchalant. "i don't bite, promise! no one knows the forest better than i do!"

"we know better than to trust random humans we encounter. particularly out here," sun replies cooly.

you giggle. "i'm not a human, silly. i'm a spirit of the forest. look!"

and with a small wave of a hand pointed at sun, you will tiny blossoms to start sprouting from his clothes—littering them like he'd just had a basket of flowers thrown at him.

sun jumps slightly as he looks down at himself and seems taken aback at the little buds. his gaze flits back up to you, though he is still just as cautious as before. "a forest spirit is just as untrustworthy as a human. there's a reason why this is called the forest of disappearances, after all."

you cock your head. "is that what they're calling it?" you hum thoughtfully. "i have not heard of this. surely you mean another forest?"

sun scoffs and brushes the flowers off of him. they flutter sadly to the ground. "i am quite certain it is this one."

"then why have you come here?" you ask curiously. flipping yourself off the branch, you land nimbly on your bare feet and straighten up with your hands clasped behind your back. you had not noticed it before, what with you sticking to the trees and all, but these automatons are rather tall. "it would be better to avoid a forest with so-called disappearances, no?"

"that is none of your concern," sun harrumphs and crosses his arms. for all the wariness he's regarding you with, he sure is willing to continue the conversation.

your gaze flicks briefly over to moon. he is still quietly watching you.

you look back at sun. "i am being genuine in my offer to help you, you know. don't you know forest spirits are kindred beings? it goes against our very nature to misguide."

"yes, well—" sun starts, but you do not give him the chance to continue.

"besides," you interrupt as you slowly start to circle the two. this close, you are now able to properly look them over—picking out all the minute details that make them real. "i have not encountered people like you before."

sun looks stunned, momentarily, though the expression quickly disappears. "people? no, you are mistaken. we are robots."

you tilt your head at him. they are both spinning around steadily to keep you in their line of sight. it allows you to take in the way they hold themselves—the rigidity of their limbs. "you act like people. therefore you are."

sun's mouth opens like he is about to refute you. but he stops when moon says his name in a low, warning tone. your eyes flick back and forth between them as you note each and every reaction. curious, curious. you decide to drop the topic.

"well, in any case," you continue lightly, "allow me to help you with your task. i insist."

"persistent, aren't you?" sun snaps out, then makes a motion like he is taking in a deep breath of air. "no. no, we are quite fine, thank you," he says shortly as he turns with finality to start walking off in a different direction. "come on, moon."

as moon slouches after sun, you deliberate stopping them, or making it apparent that you are following them instead of sticking to the trees. but ultimately you decide to let them go. for now.

"be careful!" you call after them, waving a little when the two glance back at you for a moment. "there are far worst things in this forest than a simple spirit such as i."

they do not bother you with a response. your smile is all teeth as you watch their backs retreating into the distance, your hand lowering so you can clasp your fingers firmly together.

oh this will be fun indeed.

[melodyofmbaku]

Her House, Her Rules (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Warning ⚠️: They're a trio.

Preview: Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned.

Word Count: 1.94k

A/N: Ya'll gonna have me writing a fic a day and I kinda love it. Keep the requests coming 🤠💁🏾‍♀️

____

“Now you know she ain’t like you doin’ all that in the house Stack.” Smoke warned his brother as he saw him light up his cigar.

The boys were laid up on different couches opposite each other in just their boxers. It was a sticky southern summer day and they were taking no chances in the hot ass sun. They were both men of the night now. 

Stack had convinced his brother to join him in his world of eternity shortly after he turned. And his brother didn’t decline. Living in a world without his brother was unfathomable. 

When they told Annie, she struggled for a while - she didn’t want that life for herself but still wanted them in her life. Annie chose to love them anyway. She married them anyway. And that’s why she was the love of their life.

Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned. So when she expressed her dislike of them smoking in the house, it wasn’t a question of if the boys would smoke in the house. The boys, wouldn’t smoke in the house. 

Smoke's warning caused his younger brother to roll his eyes as he took a drag. 

“Well, this my house too.” Stack replied back with an impish grin. 

“Ion want no trouble. You not bouta fuck up my chance of getting some tonight cuz you wanna be smart Stack. Put it out.” The older commanded the younger. 

He shook his head.

“It’s just this one time and she ain’t here so she ain’t gon’ know. Unless you tell her.” Stack stared pointedly at his twin.

“You gon tell her?” He asked with a raised brow before sucking on his cigar once more. The flavour filled his dead lungs and swirled about for a bit before he exhaled. That was one thing he liked about being undead. The mechanics of his body worked differently. There’d be no choking over here. 

“We took vows man why, you always wanna rock the boat?” Smoke asked highly annoyed at his brothers antics. 

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t cheatin’. Just smokin’.” he took a hit of his cigar obnoxiously once more.

“I’m here bored as hell man. Can I live? You want some?” he asked his older brother cheekily.

He received a glare in response. Smoke still — smoked — obviously but just out on the porch, adhering to the rules his lady had for the house. The boys may have been undead, but her potted plants were not.

“I married her too Smoke. So if we gotta problem I’ll take it up with her myself.” 

And that was the thing with Stack, he was all bark and no bite because when his lady pulled up to the house earlier than expected he started singing a very different off key tune.

Annie's melodic laugh carried from the front porch into the house as her footsteps sounded on the wood, getting closer and closer to the door. 

“I’ll see ya’ll later! Next time bring a towel!” She yelled back at the girls whose car squealed off down the dirt road. 

“Shit.” Stack exclaimed frantically trying to stow away the evidence of his crime. 

She wasn’t supposed to be back yet. She said she’d be hanging out with the girls at the lake and coming home in the evening to make dinner. Stack's eyes found the clock, it was not time for dinner. 

The speed in which he ashed the cigar would’ve been comical if it hadn’t left a burn mark on the couch. 

“Fuck!” he spat. He flapped his arms about looking for a solution. 

The front screen door creaked open. She was here. 

Smoke glowered at him before rising to greet their wife. “Hey baby, you had fun playin’ in the water?” He’d angled himself strategically to block her view of Stacks soiled couch. He rubbed his hands on her arms, still a little damp from her dip. 

The move gave his twin enough time to throw a blanket over the mark and kick the cigar box full of evidence under the couch. 

“Yeah. Mary forgot her towel, so we had to cut it short.” 

She stretched up and kissed her husband long and deep before orienting herself around him to find her other one. Once her eyes landed on Stack she grinned. 

She tapped her lips expectantly and Stack closed the distance between them and ducked down before giving her a quick kiss.

She frowned at the small display of affection before she began unpacking her bag and recounting the events of her day. She covered everything from the moment she left the house until the second she landed back on the porch.

The boys typically liked hearing about her days, especially because they didn’t really experience them anymore. They barely saw the people they grew up with now, unless it was in the dark of night. A juke, a party, a hang… then they’d show, because that’s the only time they could.

“I missed y’all.” Annie said before collapsing back into Smoke’s lap on the couch. 

“We missed you too princess.” Smoke responded stroking her arm once more. He was always touching.  

“What’d you guys get into while I was gone?” She asked, beaming across the room at Stack. It was their turn to share with her the events of their day. 

Stack spoke up quickly. 

“We was thinking we change up the sitting room. These couches bout old as hell, I bet Mr. Chow got the connect on somethin’ nice and new for us. What you think?”

She looked around her and she scrunched up her nose.  “What’s wrong with what we got right now?”

“Nothin’!” Smoke replied alarmed and eyes wide.  

Annie furrowed her brow. Maybe they could use a bit of a refresh across the house stylistically. She shared her thoughts contemplatively. 

“Ion know bout somethin’ new. But maybe we could ask the girls at the shop for some new fabric, maybe change that. She’ll be good as new. No need to spend all that extra money.” She gestured to their fully functioning, not that old couch. 

“We got more than enough money.” Smoke reassured her as he always did, rubbing her back. He was the bookkeeper of their little family. He handled the money stuff, he made sure they were always good. Budgets, projections, the whole 9. 

Smoke didn’t wanna get involved in this play at all, but he saw the potential and it could work.  They’d replace the couch, Annie would be none the wiser and he'd still get to draw moans out of her that evening. It was a win-win. He chimed in. 

“Nah mama, we wanna make sure it’s nice and new. Chow got some styles from up North. Lemme talk to him.” Smoke bent down and placed a kiss on her temple once more.

“Let us handle it baby.” Stack said from across the room. 

She hesitated before nodding. 

“Ok.. I’ll leave y’all to it.” She said as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in her lovers arms.

Smoke had stepped out that evening. Had to go check in on some business things and he didn’t want to be in the house right now, he was a bad liar and the more he could avoid Annie the better. 

Stack stayed home and kept Annie company but unfortunately the couch incident was steady on his mind. He didn’t like lying to Annie; it didn't sit right in his stomach. That evening she kept smiling at him, feeding him and loving him and it was all too much for him. Why’d she have to be so good? 

She had resigned herself to her room to wind down before bed. Stack couldn’t do it anymore. He had to confess. 

He marched himself over to her room and knocked on her door. The boys made sure the second bedroom was just for Annie. There she could make herself up, or just have a space away from them whenever she needed it. There was only 1 Annie and two of them, they never wanted her to be overwhelmed.

“Come in.” her voice travelled across the room and through the door. 

“Hi baby.” She beckoned him inside. She was laying on her bed, reading a book. He stepped inside the room and shut the door quietly. He stayed at the door though.

One thing Stack couldn’t deal with was anxiety. Annie helped him with that, and alot of his other emotional regulatory issues. He bit his lip. “I can come over there?” 

Annie looked at him funny. “Of course.”

He walked over and kneeled beside the bed. 

“I have something to tell you. Promise me you ain’t gon be mad.”

Her lip quipped up. “That depends on what you bouta tell me Elias.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her hand shot out to stroke his face lovingly. She had the sweetest spot for him. Elijah was daddy, but Elias? Elias was baby. 

“I promise sweet boy.”

Elias hung his head low before blurting out:

“Ismokedinthehouseandfuckedupyourcouchandimsorry.”

Annies face was deadpan. 

“You wanna say that again, in a language I can understand?”

He took a deep breath and tried again. Eyes still squeezed shut. 

“I was smoking in the house and fucked up the couch and I’m sorry.”

The room was silent for a moment before Annie broke it with her response.

“I know.”

“Now I know you mad —“ he stopped. His face scrunched up and his shoulders dropped the stress leaving his body like a waterfall.

“You know?”

She nodded her head. A small smile tugging on her lips. 

“Smoke told you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then how you know?” He asked bewildered.

“I checked it out when I woke up from my nap on the couch. I lifted up the blanket you threw over the burn when y'all thought you were being slick conspiring in the kitchen. You never use a blanket.”

And it was true. Stack ran hot. Sweaty all the damn time. The fluffy fabric being draped all over his couch was uncharacteristic of him.  

“You not mad?”

“I ain’t happy that you lied to me, but it was creative and I wanted to see how long you could keep it up.” she wore an amused smile on her face. 

He huffed before admitting.  “I been feeling bad all night.”

“Who's fault is that?” She asked raising a brow. 

“You right.”

He paused before her spoke up again. “So you not mad?” He asked to clarify once more. 

“No. I’m not mad Elias. Plus, y'all wanted to replace my couch with no fuss. I ain’t complaining… just know I’ll want new carpets too.” She responded, looking pleased with herself. 

“Good luck explaining that one to your brother with his budgets. Time for you to go Elias. Shut the door on your way out.” she said before turning her back to her husband.

He rose from her bedside and smiled before heading towards the door. 

“Night Annie.”

“Elias?” she called out.

He stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob. He was so close. 

“No more smoking in the house. Next time I won’t be as forgiving.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He responded before closing the door quietly and assessing himself. 

He was relieved for a second because he was no longer lying to his wife and she wasn't mad. His chest puffed up. See? Wasn’t nothing to worry about. 

That was before he realized the predicament he was in and he deflated quite shortly after.

He done traded one problem for another. 

New fucking carpets too?

Smoke was gonna whoop his ass. 

---

Taglist

@sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy

[munsonsmixtapes]

Live your Fantasy (2)

Buddie x fem!reader

Buck and Eddie throw you a surprise party but it turns out you have a surprise of your own

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) mention of pregnancy

This is once again in collaboration with @the-witty-pen-name

A day turns into a week, and then a week turns into a few weeks. Before you know it, six weeks have passed and you’re sitting in the doctor’s office getting the cast off of your arm. You look down at all of the signatures you’ve accumulated and you almost want to ask to keep it, but you decide against it. 

Eddie and Buck decide to surprise you with a party to celebrate your full recovery. They wanted to do something for you. While Eddie took you to your appointment to get your cast off, Buck and Maddie were setting up everything in your apartment with Chimney’s help. Athena and Bobby have set up in the kitchen, cooking all of your favorites. 

Hen and Karen helped Christopher while he made you a card that he knows you’ll keep either on the fridge or on your desk at work. Some of your friends from work would also be in attendance and before Buck realized the time, all of the people closest to you were huddled around and ready to surprise you when you walked through the door. 

Eddie did a great job keeping you so preoccupied with talking about anything that you didn’t suspect a thing until you opened the door. Turning on the lights, your eyes widened in surprise to see all of your friends there smiling back at you- yelling surprise. You’re shocked, and you’re completely speechless as you take in the sight before you. Eddie’s hand rubs your back comfortingly as you adjust to the surprise, wrapping your head around it. 

“Happy getting your cast off day!” Christopher cheered, making everyone laugh and Buck patted his shoulder before walking over to you. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Happy getting your cast off day,” he mumbles, whispering in your ear. You can practically hear the smirk on his face. Eddie kisses your temple, passing you off to Buck so he can check in with Christopher. 

Buck wraps an arm around your waist, helping guide you around the room as you say hi to everyone. The last people you approach are Athena and Bobby, both of them up to their elbows in food prep as they pass off platters to Maddie to begin putting on the buffet table. 

“C’mere,” Bobby smiles, pulling you in for a hug. “Congratulations.” He sounds so sincere. You feel almost silly, being congratulated for something you didn’t do. You shake off the feeling, too happy to even bother dwelling on it. Athena cuts in, and you don’t hesitate to pull yourself close to her for a hug. 

“You’re starting to act like your old self again,” she says, and you try not to let on the momentary panic you feel. You bury the anxiety down the best you can and force a smile. 

“I really feel so much better,” you agree, leaning into Buck. He smiles feeling your body flush against his. 

“Enjoy your party, baby,” Athena says, waving you off. “We’ll catch up later. Go, go- you have a lot of people you need to see.” 

You make your rounds with the other guests and once you get to Maddie, her face lights up when she sees you. You’ve always loved Maddie and how strong and resilient she is. She’s definitely one of your favorite characters, especially because you see so much of yourself in her. 

 She pulls you away from everyone into the hallway by your bedroom and you’re confused as to why she’s being so secretive. She looks back and forth multiple times to make sure you’re alone and when she speaks, her voice is low, like she doesn’t want anyone to hear your conversation.

“How are you?” She asks and you can tell by her facial expression that she’s talking about something that’s not your arm. You just can’t seem to figure out what. “I know you were really panicked the last time we spoke.” You still have no idea what she’s talking about, but you try your best to act like you do. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” you tell her. “Great, actually.”

“So you got it figured out.” You feel like she’s speaking in riddles and are close to just asking her to spit it out because this whole thing is giving you a headache. 

“I’m sorry, what are we talking about again?”

“The baby. You called me about a month ago, telling me that your period was late. I wanted to follow up sooner but then you got into the accident and I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” Your eyes widen as you take in her words. You thought you were pregnant? This is obviously news to you. The doctors didn’t say anything so it must not be true. You feel like you can breathe again. 

“My period was just late,” you tell her and she almost looks disappointed. You don’t know why you are too. 

“I’m really sorry, y/n,” she replies, pulling you in for a hug. “I know you were really excited.” She gives you a squeeze before letting you go and the two of you head back into the party. 

You spend the rest of your party in your head, Maddie’s words replaying over and over. In your real life, you’re not really sexually active so you don’t even think about possibly getting pregnant even though you worry about it every time you do have a sexual encounter. 

Apparently in this life, though, you’ve always wanted a baby. And that warms your heart because the real reason why you were so against it was because you were convinced you’d never be able to find someone who would love you enough to create life with you. But now you have two people who love you more than you could ever imagine and that almost makes you want to cry.

After the final guests trickle out of the apartment, it just leaves you with Buck and Eddie. You can’t even express to them both how thankful you are to have had them both these few weeks. They insist on you relaxing while they clean up the party. You opt to take a shower, so excited to be able to finally wash your hair with your dominant hand. 

After you get out of the shower, you wrap a towel around you and then apply lotion all over your skin. From the bedroom, you can hear Buck and Eddie moving around in the living room as they continue to clean up. You walk over to your dresser to put on some pajamas but a piece of lace at the bottom of the pile catches your eye. Pulling it out, you realize it’s a lace teddy and your eyes widen in surprise. 

You never owned anything like this back in your other life- frankly, there was no reason to. Buying something like this for no one to see felt pointless, but here? You have two guys to dress up for. The thought makes your face feel warm as you decide to slip into it, and it hugs your body perfectly. You check yourself out in the mirror and you almost don’t recognize yourself- this side of you. 

Eddie knocks, letting you know they picked out a movie. You call back from the other side of the door that you would be right out. You look at yourself in the full length mirror one more time, psyching yourself up that you can walk out there. You remind yourself those two guys out there love you, practically kiss the ground you walk on daily- you have no reason to be nervous walking out there to them. You take one more breath to steady your nerves and you open the door to walk out. 

“So I know we’ve watched it a million times but, we- fuck. Sweetheart… look at you,” Buck stops dead in his tracks, letting his eyes roam all over your body, taking in the vision of you. He smiles, tossing the remote on the couch- completely forgetting about the movie as he strides over to you. 

Eddie is a little slower to react. You leave him speechless as he stares at you from his spot on the couch. His mouth feels dry, and he can’t even put a sentence together. He gulps as his eyes rake over you. His eyes flicker from you to Buck. He wants to just jump into action the same way he does, but he hesitates, worried it’s too soon. 

“Baby, you look incredible,” Eddie finally remarks, making his way over to you. He reaches out, playing with the strap on your shoulder as Buck kisses your collarbone on the opposite side, pushing the other strap down to expose more skin for him. “But isn’t it a little soon?” He asks, voiced strained from how he’s physically holding back. “You only just got your cast off…” 

“You take such good care of me,” you reply, bringing your hand up to run through Eddie’s hair. “I promise I’m fine,” you reassure him, before pressing your lips to his. “Let me thank you… both of you,” you mumble, lips moving down his neck knowing that he won’t be able to resist. 

“Come on,” Buck says, his eyes flicking over to Eddie. “It’s been weeks,” he pouts. “Our girl needs us.” He smirks, winking at Eddie before he picks you up effortlessly, making you squeal as he throws you over his shoulder- carrying you into the bedroom. As Buck moves with purpose, you reach out and tug on Eddie’s hand, pulling him in behind you. 

Buck drops you gently on your bed with a soft plop. You sit up on your elbows and Eddie is quick to join you. He scoops you up in his arms, pressing his lips to yours as his hands run over your curves. Buck watches the two of you, his eyes darkening as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it somewhere in the corner. 

He crawls on the bed over to the two of you, and you slip out from in between the two of them. Buck pulls Eddie in, slotting his lips to his as you straddle Buck’s thighs, making quick work of undoing his belt and his jeans. You pull down his jeans and his boxers and fuck- he’s so pretty. You don’t even think twice before you wrap your lips around his cock, and it elicits a moan he makes into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie pulls away from Buck quickly, so he can pull off his own shirt and reconnect their kiss as quickly as possible. You begin to suck and Buck lets out a gasp at the feeling, his hands immediately sliding into your hair, his back hitting the mattress as he breaks away from Eddie. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as his fingers dig into your scalp. Eddie moves to your side, pulling your hair back and tying it for you as he encourages you as you work on Buck, your tongue flicking back and forth along the tip before you bring him further into your mouth. 

You’re really going at it, but still taking your time to make him feel good. This is so unlike every other time you’ve sucked him off, but he has to admit that he prefers this. The way it’s sloppy and he likes even more that Eddie is watching, encouraging you. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Eddie encourages. “Look at how he’s already so close. Fuck, you’re so hot.” Buck’s fingers curl into your hair as he fucks your mouth, his cock sliding in and out as you moan around him. 

“Think I’m gonna-” Buck’s words are cut off as you feel rope after rope of his cum hit your tongue, his cock pushing even further into your mouth as you try your best not to gag, feeling so close to choking, but you don’t dare stop, giving him a few final sucks as he orgasms, your name coming out his mouth in a loud, breathy moan. 

You pull him out of your mouth with a loud pop and pull away as you swallow, Eddie wiping the drool from your chin. Buck lies back on the bed, trying to calm himself down, running his hands through his hair. Even if nothing else happens tonight, he’s already more than satisfied.

Eddie turns your face towards him and his lips find your instantly. This kiss is nothing like the others. It’s hungry and desperate as he moans into your mouth as he flicks his tongue inside it. Watching you suck Buck off made him want you even more and now he wants to take whatever he can from you. 

He kisses his way down to your neck he pushes the straps of your teddy off of your shoulders. He hasn’t seen you naked in weeks. Well, not in this way. He’s helped you shower on more than one occasion when you couldn’t use both of your arms, but that was completely different. This, though, this is intimate. 

He lets out a gasp as he catches sight of your naked body, getting even more hard as you unbutton his pants. You then finish taking off your teddy as he takes off his pants and boxers, the two of you now naked. He pulls you close before rolling you onto the mattress as Buck gets onto his knees, ready to watch the action. 

Eddie grabs a condom from the bedside table and rolls it on before pounding into you. He knows he should take it nice and easy, but he just can't because all of those weeks of pent up need is pouring out and he can’t seem to stop it. 

You buck your hips against his as Buck watches, so turned on by the whole thing that he feels the need to take care of himself, spitting into his hand and taking care of himself right there, trying to be patient for his turn. 

You moan as Eddie pounds into you over and over, wishing that he had at least loosened you up beforehand since it’s a tight fit, but as he continues, you get even more loose. He’s fully seated inside you now, watching tears prick your eyes as he sees much you can take. Cleary not much since you’re already close. Eddie spreads your legs wider, continuing to fit all of himself inside and as much as you feel like it’s tearing you apart, you don’t dare ask him to stop. 

You and Buck somehow finish at the same time and as Eddie pulls out, letting you come down from your orgasm, the three of you clean you up, constantly telling you how well you did before the three of you retire to bed, all cuddled up together under the covers. 

-

Ever since you, Buck, and Eddie slept together for the first time since you got your cast off, the three of you have not been able to keep your hands off each other, going at it any chance you get. They make you feel so loved, taking any chance they get to praise you and you can’t believe you’ve gone this long in your life thinking that you didn’t deserve this. 

You stand in the bathroom, pace back and forth, constantly making sure that the door is locked as you watch the numbers on the timer on your phone rapidly count down, trying to see if you can see the results of the test that’s sitting on the counter early. 

Your period is late and considering that you didn’t use a condom with neither Buck nor Eddie the last time you slept together, you just want to see if anything has come of it. It wasn’t purposeful, but after a few drinks at dinner, you all ended up in bed together, the whole thing a blur. 

You’re home alone and want to be sure that you see the results by yourself first. You want to have time to sit with whatever it will be before you tell anyone. You chew on your thumbnail as the timer goes off and you jump at the sound, so caught up in your thoughts that you weren’t paying attention anymore. 

You know that no matter what it is, the boys will support you. But you can’t help but want it to be positive. You can imagine the three of you in the little nursery, each taking a turn to hold the baby before putting her to bed, each pressing a kiss to her forehead before she goes into the crib for the night. 

Not only will she have the three of you, but also an entire family to love her and protect her at all times. You don’t think there will be a child that will be as loved as her. Little Evangeline. You’re not sure where the name has come from or if it’s even going to be a girl, but something about it just feels right. Like it’s meant to be. 

You have no idea what you’ll do if it’s negative. Because you’ve put so much thought in it being the opposite, basically manifesting it, you haven’t prepared for the worst. You just know you’ll break down if you see the minus sign. It’s so much pressure that you almost can’t get yourself to look. 

You turn to look at the test and gasp when you see the pink plus sign, letting out an exciting squeal at the results. You pick up the test and pull it closer to your face to confirm that it’s positive, jumping for joy when the knob to the bathroom door jiggles. 

You’re quick to unlock it and open to see your boyfriends on the other side looking so worried. You’re crying and when they reach for you with concern, you hold up the test and they both rejoice, pulling you into a hug. 

Eddie picks you up and spins you around, the three of you continuing to squeal with delight, surely annoying your neighbors like you always seem to do. But this time, you don’t care. Your perfect life just got more perfect. 

That is, until you begin to feel lightheaded. It’s been happening on and off all day, but now it’s at its peak, making you see stars, little dots blurring your vision. Maybe it’s the excitement or the fact that you haven’t eaten but for whatever reason, your knees go weak as you slowly sink to the floor, your eyes fluttering shut as both Buck and Eddie call your name again and again. 

Your eyes open wide as you sit up in your bed. You look around the room and become confused at the sight of your room in the real world. You blink a couple times, even going as far as pinching yourself to make sure that it’s real and sure enough, it is. Your few months vacation is over and you’re back in your real one, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you mourn the loss of what you once had. 

part one

[littlelovelunette]

I know you do a lot of nsfw, but with Ran added as a character could we possibly get some fluff with Ran?

fluff, domestic!ran

★ Ran can't keep their hands off of you. Whether it's after a long day or simply sex— although most of the times it wasn't sexual. They just loved the way you felt, smelled and the sound of your voice was enough to lull them to a deep slumber. Ran's head was pressed in your lap as they complained about some meathead ruining their day as they were running errands for Silco, they groaned, "I hate this," they said, throwing their arms around your waist and tightening their grip, "But at least I got you..." They grinned against your thighs before moving up to see your reaction. You chuckled, brushing their hair away from their face, something they'd kill others for but never you.

★ You could do whatever and they'd thank you for it. The domesticity of the times you spent with Ran in the little apartment you both shared was truly iconic. They'd cook meals for you as you cleaned around the house. You both had jobs so you both returned home exhausted, but there was still work to get done. The rich aroma of whatever Ran was cooking filled the stale air of the apartment, your nose scrunched and you peeked over their shoulder. "Watcha' makin'?" You giggled and wrapped your arms around their slender waist, Ran chuckled and squirmed out of your grip. "Go clean, silly! It's a surprise!" You pouted but obeyed, dragging the duster after yourself.

★ It was the soft moments when Ran knew they could relax and they weren't fighting a life or death situation. Their breaths were even and heartbeat was calm as they rested on top of your body, their hands still holding you in that protective hold that'd developed within years of living in Zaun and losing the people the closest to them.

[auroraharper]

Whose Garage is it gonna be? - Carlos poly

Prompt for @sailing-with-100-ships

Carlos being the WAG for his four boyfriends. Like he is a cafe owner or a library owner and he just happens to date the four top guys in F1. And they fight over in whose garage is Carlos is going to watch the race in and how the grid is so in love with him as well and look forward to him visiting. And any other shenanigans you wanna write.

Carlos Sainz was not a driver anymore. That was the first thing he made very clear when he retired at 31, opened a quiet little café-bookshop hybrid in Monaco, and vowed to live a peaceful life. No more helmet hair, no more PR obligations, no more dealing with Max Verstappen’s feral driving, Charles Leclerc’s tendency to crash out of pole, Lando Norris’s obsession with memes, or Oscar Piastri’s deceptively quiet brand of chaos.

He was done.

Except… he wasn’t really done. Not when he was dating all four of them. At the same time.

Don’t worry, they all knew. They were very aware — a bit too aware, judging by the way they bickered every single race weekend about who Carlos loved most. Spoiler: it was all of them. Equally. But try telling that to four competitive F1 drivers hopped up on adrenaline and insecurity.

Carlos, meanwhile, was just trying to keep his café running and find enough bookmarks for the new stack of novels he accidentally ordered in French.

…………………………………….

Carlos showed up wearing a pale beige turtleneck smelling faintly of lavender and espresso. He walked into the paddock, immediately drawing attention like a lighthouse in a storm.

Yuki Tsunoda nearly walked into a wall.

Fernando Alonso said, “Mira ese chico… Dios mío,” and had to be steered away from walking straight into a camera crew.

Even Toto Wolff stopped and muttered something about how Carlos would’ve made a great Mercedes ambassador.

But Carlos? Oblivious. As always.

He wandered toward the garages, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, cheeks pink from the early English sun, and all four of his boyfriends immediately descended.

“You promised me this race,” Max said, arms crossed, eyes dark and possessive. He looked like he was about to challenge someone to a duel.

“No, he said he’d think about it,” Charles argued, lips pursed, protective hand already curling around Carlos’s waist.

“I literally booked him a special McLaren pass,” Lando chimed in, throwing his hands up. “It had glitter, mate.”

Oscar didn’t say anything. He simply produced a to-go cup from Carlos’s café, slid it into Carlos’s hands, and whispered, “If you loved me you’d sit in my garage.”

Carlos blinked. “You’re all—insane. I’m going to hospitality.”

All four of them followed him anyway.

…………………………

The Grid Loved Carlos. Too Much.

There were bets on who he would kiss first after a podium.

Rumors about whether he’d start a YouTube channel for café recipes.

Lewis Hamilton posted a story once with Carlos petting Roscoe and captioned it “aesthetic husband,” and the internet imploded. But it was taken down and reposted as just ‘aesthetic’ due to some threats from a comment from @‘DutchLion’

Pierre Gasly declared Carlos “the unofficial paddock prince.”

And whenever Carlos arrived at a race, all the drivers — even the ones in rival teams — tried to bribe him with flowers, coffee beans, imported jam, rare books. Even Albon baked cookies once. (They were terrible. Carlos ate all of them anyway.)

……………………………

Martin Brundle attempted to interview Carlos mid-grid walk.

It did not go as planned.

Martin: “Carlos! What brings you here today?” Carlos: “Well, Max said I never support Red Bull, but Charles had a bad quali, and Oscar said I’m his lucky charm, and then Lando threatened to cry if I didn’t—” Martin: “So… you’re here for all of them?” Carlos: “Sí. And I brought snacks.”

Moments later, four drivers fought over a cup of hot chocolate that Carlos bought for himself like children.

Carlos sighed and muttered, “I date grown children.”

………………………….

Every driver has at some point posted a suspiciously poetic Instagram caption on a Carlos pic.

Charles: “He is the calm in my storm. ☕️❤️”

Lando: “This man? He’s sunshine. And probably a siren.”

Oscar: just a photo of Carlos in glasses with a heart emoji

Max: (never captions them, just posts the pictures and lets the chaos speak for itself)

But it doesn’t stop there.

Pierre has drawn Carlos. Multiple times. One is framed.

Fernando wrote a love poem. In Spanish. In his race notebook.

George keeps sending Carlos reels titled “If I were your boyfriend 😌💍.”

Carlos: “Do you all… realize I’m already dating four of your fellow drivers?”

Valtteri: “Yes. But what if we didn’t care about that?”

Meanwhile his boyfriends try to mark their territory.....

CHARLES pov:

Carlos wore a soft cream sweater today. It hung off one shoulder.

Everyone was looking. Zhou stared for too long. Fernando licked his lips. Even Lewis raised an eyebrow. Carlos blushed.

I died.

I stormed over. Took his coffee. Sipped from it. Held eye contact with Alex Albon while I did it. Marked my territory.

Carlos just smiled and called me ridiculous.

I called him mine in three languages.

He patted my cheek like I was some little boy and said, “Good job, mon amour.”

I would kill for him. I would burn the paddock down for him. I would also cry if he left me on read for too long. He hasn't. He's perfect. I love him.

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

MAX POV:

I don’t like people. I don’t smile. Except for Carlos.

Carlos walked into the Red Bull garage wearing a cardigan and glasses. My engineers went feral. Someone dropped a tire gun. Helmut smiled. I punched a wall.

Carlos asked me if I ate breakfast. I said no. He handed me a granola bar and said “You can’t race fast if you faint, schat.” I nearly cried.

Carlos is mine. I’m his emotional support Dutchman.

He once kissed my forehead before qualifying and I set the fastest lap by six tenths. Coincidence? I think not.

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

LANDO POV:

Carlos called my hoodie “cute” today. I haven’t taken it off in 13 hours. I may never again.

He visited our garage and the sun came out. Literally. The clouds parted like Moses had beef with rain.

Pierre tried to hand him a seat. I tripped Pierre.

“Oops,” I said.

Carlos laughed. HE LAUGHED. That’s worth like five wins.

Later, Carlos posted a pic of my latte art on Instagram. I replied with 14 heart emojis and “I love you.” It’s fine. We’re dating. I can do that. Probably.

I played him a playlist I made called “Songs That Remind Me of Your Smile.” He said it was “adorable.”

George called me disgusting. He’s jealous.

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

OSCAR pov:

I’m not dramatic like Charles. Or obsessive like Max. Or Lando. Or… everyone.

I’m normal.

Anyway, Carlos wore glasses today. Black frames. Looked like a hot professor. I didn’t speak for ten minutes.

He complimented my post-race interview and I blacked out for a moment.

Later, we sat in the hospitality lounge and read. Like, together. Sharing a blanket. Carlos smelled like cinnamon and lavender. He wore fuzzy socks. I have never known peace like this.

Lando tried to FaceTime him from across the room. I unplugged the Wi-Fi.

Carlos gave me a cookie for that. Called me his “quiet little genius.”

I think I blushed.

Don’t tell anyone.

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

Their Shared Notes App — “Carlos Protocols”

Section 1: Rules

Whoever Carlos chooses to sit with, the others must not sulk (Max).

No fighting over who brings him coffee (Charles).

No flirting from other drivers allowed (Everyone’s guilty).

Whoever makes Carlos laugh gets to cuddle him first that night.

Carlos is always right. Even when he’s wrong. Especially then.

Section 2: Carlos-isms

Hums when he bakes.

Wears Lando’s hoodies to sleep sometimes. (Unfair.)

Kisses Max’s temple before races. (Unfairer.)

Leaves Oscar little notes in his book margins. (Unfairer-est.)

Holds Charles’s face when he cries and says, “You feel so much. That’s your magic.” (Everyone cries.)

Section 3: Emergency Kit

Blanket (he gets cold)

Backup glasses (he loses them)

Cinnamon tea

Lavender lotion

A list of compliments for when he’s sad

Photos of dogs

The group’s undying devotion and love

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

Every single race weekend ended with one of the four carrying Carlos like a sack of sugar to their respective motorhome. Arguments became public. Social media speculated. A "Carlos Tracker" account launched on Twitter, detailing his garage attendance, outfit, kisses received per driver, and “flirtation attempts from non-boyfriends” (a high number, embarrassingly).

And then there was Vegas.

Carlos wore a three-piece suit and sunglasses at night. He looked so good every single person from engineers to team principals were caught staring.

Oscar broke a front wing from pure distraction. Lando spun in FP3. Charles kissed Carlos on live feed out of spite. Max said nothing and just scooped Carlos into the Red Bull hospitality area and locked the door.

The FIA had to intervene.

………………………….

He made them all agree to rotate garages.

He baked them cookies with their initials on them.

He kissed each of them before every race.

He had a little couch set up just for him in every motorhome.

He was still the grid favorite. Still the softest WAG. Still blushing every time someone called him “the real paddock power.”

………………………

Driver Group Chat

Lando: bros. who kissed Carlos last?? he smells like vanilla and I’m obsessed.

Charles: Me. Fight me.

Oscar: I made him soup. He loves me the most today.

Max: You’re all wrong. He slept in my hoodie.

Carlos: [photo of all four of them cuddled around him] I love you all. Now shut up, I’m trying to read.

[airimichi]

(Expanding this idea ><)

Icy Yuan-didi with eerie blue eyes (like the System). He is there to bring comfort and be someone (possibly the only one before SQH came along and wormed his away into his heart) that Mobei Jun can trust with his life.

When he's very angry, scared, embarrassed, or other strong emotion A-Yuan's icy powers go out of control and he freezes stuff around him.

The first time A-Yuan told his brother he liked humans he received a frozen dead body .

MBJ: I heard they go well in soup.

SY: Noooo Da-ge I meant live humans!!

MBJ: You're not strong enough to take them yet

SY: I don't want to hurt them!!

MBJ: *blinks confused*

I think Shen Yuan's love for humans and Mobei's hatred of them would make some interesting interactions, and with Mobei trying to keep A-Yuan away from them to protect him while the young ice prince just teleports away hidden anyway (like to see a certain White Lotus, being his mysterious benefactor, he paid for the washerwoman's doctor so Binghe still got his mom, but he still went to Cang Qiong chase after his dream and with the objective of giving his mom a better life).

The little prince is well versed in MBJ's poker face and has a ton of knowledge of demon courtship after reading PIDW, so even his oblivious ass notices MBJ's interest in SQH, but he just scrunches his face and says nothing about it - MBJ doesn't know a lick of human courtship and he pretends to keep it this way, like hell he'll have that rat as a brother in law!! (In the end he can't stand those ridiculous men anymore and throws a bone, especially after SQH proved himself to be very devoted and pathetic about MBJ).

A-Yuan tries to stop his brother from following his plan of attacking the cultivators' conference full of children but MBJ doesn't budge. MBJ spoils his little brother a lot but this he can't give him.

Shang Qinghua still has his System and it's demanding for a bloodbath in the Alliance Conference least he die (SY: Then die! /j). The transmigrators hatch a plan to minimize the deaths pushing for restrictions on who can participate and SY makes strong beasts appear next to the site/Sects to make them raise up their defenses.

Luo Binghe still falls to the Abyss, but A-Yuan dives right after him, claiming to have "accidentally fallen" (as if Luo Binghe never saw glimpses of his mysterious benefactor before). He tested beforehand and knew he couldn't just teleport in and out of the Abyss (it worked differently from the other realms) so he decided to help him instead.

Mobei Jun is livid (and very worried) when he discovers his little brother is in the Abyss, Shang Qinghua comforts him and says they'll be back (His spy was never wrong before so he believes even if it seems impossible).

When bingyuan crawl out of the Abyss they go straight to the Northern Palace and the icy brothers have their reunion. Luo Binghe challenges Mobei Jun in battle for A-Yuan's hand (who is furiously blushing), gaining an ally and a demon noble empress. They unify the demon realm. SY convinces his husband to throw Xin Mo away back to the Endless Abyss and to make peace with the humans that he loves so much. They expose Old Palace Master's crimes and have them executed by the other cultivators, Gongyi Xiao becoming the next Sect Leader.

Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua's marriage marks a new era of peace (as much as possible) between demons and humans.

Me: You can't keep just making Shen Yuan someone's little brother and call it an AU.

My Brain: So you don't want this twenty page outline of Shen Yuan as Mobei Jun's little brother?

Me:... No I'll take it.

[slimesludge-space]

All because of some stupid pants?- Part 5

《Nothin but misunderstandings 》

Note: °~° the litte serotonins

°~~°~~~~~~~°~~°~~~~~°~~°~~~~°~~°

Waking up one morning with a sketchy black bag tied to your door was not what you expected. It was even less expected when you peeked inside to a crumpled note and pajama pants?

Your chest tightened when you found what was inside, the familiar shitty handwriting of the man who left. Wanting nothing more than to throw the bag away until you recognize what was inside, heart fluttering and sinking at the same time. Did Simon really go to Uncle Will's? Pursing your lips skeptically before chuckling at the image of Simon 'Ghost' Riley picking out clothes that he labeled as shitty. You couldn't help tracing the shaky scratch of his name. Your eyes flickered into the bag with a slight quirk of your lip, William chose those out. Just the sight of them was enough to know that Simon wouldn't be caught dead in picking any of them out. You pulled out the skulls and bones, quirking a brow when you found the receipt peeking out of the pocket.

'I'm not a man of violence little lady, that doesn't mean I can't make it hurt for the bastard. If you see one missing, you know where it's at now -Will'

If you weren't confused before, you definitely were now. Flipping the receipt over and recounting how many were in the bag before everything settled in. Sure enough, one was missing and you definitely don't go for the 3XL comfy Jammies. You looked down at the receipt, a spark of comfort fluttering to life. After days of your friends begging you to go out to the bar to prove to your ex he wasn't something special. Not having the heart to tell them about what really happened and if you had listened to them, it would only prove he was right and that you were just as easy to sleep with as he thought.

Instead you kept your mother's words in mind 'it's not the end of the world when a man breaks your heart. It's gonna hurt just as much as you love him but your world shouldn't stop because of one man. Stopping everything means he's hurt you enough to break you and thats not a man worth keeping in mind'

Just like your mother, seems like William was the only one to understand even when you only gave him the bare minimum of what really happened. Putting the notes to the side and making a mental note to stop by his shop tomorrow. If there's one thing Simon taught you. It was that you needed to learn to stand up for yourself and you couldn't help but frown while rubbing your palm as an attempt to self soothe your nerves.

You weren't afraid to admit that this took a big toll on you in the end. Ripping out the scraps of confidence you had barely built for yourself before and during the relationship. In the back of your mind, you had worried that you weren't Simon's type. That there was an ulterior motive to him loving you and those fears had come true.

You were still a mess, regretting giving him back everything and wishing you had just kept ONE shirt for comfort. It took everything you have to keep your self-respect and not unblock him and beg for another chance. The urge to call him while drunk and tell him you'd throw everything away if it meant he would come back and make everything better. That you wouldn't step one foot near that shop if it would make him happy.

When those thoughts truly sank in, it felt like you were just tearing down what made you the person you were today. Throwing out comfort and the nice old man from the shop who was basically a father figure to you. It made you feel sick and downright pathetic. Simon didn't need a girlfriend like that and you didn't want to live a life without the little things that kept you sane and brought just a little bit of dopamine in your life. A bit of happiness that didn't come from another person or a guy you really wanted to impress and love.

Life had little to offer when it came to comfort, Simon didn't know how much clarity his words brought. And how much destruction it had brought to your little safe heaven that you kept close to your heart.

Sometimes you needed something different than anxiety meds. You just wanted something that would force you to stop thinking for a moment. To be able to wake up tired or feeling like shit and heading to the kitchen forgetting what it meant to function as a human. Shuffling for your favorite mug and pouring yourself a coffee, only to look up and realize that you were wearing pastel pink pajama pants with Bender flashing his ass. There's nothing like turning around slightly and remembering that right over the curve of your ass, custom made by Will himself. In bold hot pink. 'Bite my shiny metal ass'. It never fails in making you nearly snort your coffee.

Shaking off the little hope that Will's note gave you and setting everything aside. You decided to stop wallowing in your own self pity and finally had a day for yourself and enjoy the little things you've always done. Your safe space may have fallen and fractured but you knew that with some time, you can rebuild it. Even if your heart wasn't into it at the moment.

°~~°~~~~~~~°~~°~~~~~°~~°~~~~°~~°

[chaoscreaturewrites]

Call of duty, ghost, birthday, cute meet

The perfect gift

Summary:Price's wife gets Ghost the perfect birthday gift, and a date.

WC:1.1k

Ghost's birthday is coming up, he's always so hard to buy gifts for but Price's wife magically gets it right every time so they go out to find him something. 

Price's wife recently went to a pottery night with her friends and saw so many cute things she wanted to buy, so she takes Price there hoping to find something for Ghost and herself.

They walk around enjoying the gallery then head to see the items for sale. So far nothing for Ghost until they see an artist putting out new cups for sale. They both know it's the perfect gift when they see the oversized tea cup, it's deep blue with gold details, it looks like it had just come off some royal British high tea table. 

A complaint Price has heard over and over from Ghost is how his hands are just too big for standard tea cups, the handle too dainty he feels like he'll snap it with one grip. So Price knows this is the perfect cup for him, it's everything a teacup should but just sized up for his lieutenant and the handle looks much sturdier as well. 

He stands back while his wife talks with the artist who is delighted for a sale and the ladies sweet compliments. His wife disappears Into the women's studio chatting away, apparently she'll gift wrap it for them to, perfect.

While they are busy he looks around and finds something for his wife, another cute statue for her display wall. Usually the items on that wall are things he brings from missions around the world but he saw her eyeing this.

He comes back just in time and they head home with the perfect gift for his tea loving  lieutenant. On the ride home his wife raves about the artist and how the work in her studio Is amazing, how the cups are for making a living, how she's so cute and single. He wonders how she learned that last fact, but his wife is a better interrogator than most professionals and she does it all without you even knowing. 

She left out one detail from their conversation, how she quickly talked up Simon. And how her quick pitch worked resulting in the nice lady slipping her business card in the bag with her number on the back. So this year Simon will be getting a beautiful cup and hopefully a date. 

This isn't the first time Price's wife has tried to set up Simon, so over the years she's honed her pitch, hopeful one day he'll find someone to fill his home and give him a warm welcome after a rough misson. She's seen the state of the boys come back, some tires worse than others but Simon there's already darkness in him so when it's also surrounding him he can get stuck in it and he needs a warm light. 

She has acted as that warm light many times, cooking the boys a big feast and having them all over for dinner to lighten their spirits and fill their bellies, but Simon needs someone, he needs a light stuck by his side to clear away his clouds. 

[Ghost's birthday]

He never used to like birthdays until Price's wife started throwing them for all the guys. She knows he doesn't want it to be a big deal so she keeps it simple, a nice home cooked meal, gifts and drinks with the guys after. 

The meal was delicious, they are all stuffed as they sit in the living room for gifts. Soap goes first handing over something he obviously wrapped himself, he opens up the oddly shaped package and finds a 3 pack of pocket sized WD40 and a candle the scent of gasoline. Gaz gifts him a chocolate grenade and another switch blade for his collection.  

Next Price's wife hands over a bag, he wonders what's in it since she's practically been littering the whole time waiting for her turn.

He carefully unwrapping the tissue paper and finds a beautiful tea cup and it fits his hand perfectly. He's never seen anything like this a real tea cup for his gaint size and a handle sturdy enough he could actually use. This will be the shinning star among his cupboard. Just drinking from this will lighten his day. He thanks Price and his wife the best he can. He spends a few solid minutes just staring at the cup, cataloging ever detail. 

As he's re-wrapping it he notes a card in the bottom of the bag. He's thrilled to know where he can get more cups because just having one will make his other cups look sad. He goes to put the card in his wallet when he notes the number handwritten on the back. 

“ what's this?”

“ it's the number of the cute lady who made the cup”

Over the years he's gotten many numbers slipped to him by Price's wife but this is the first time he's actually thought about calling and not just for another cup. No, he wants to meet the person who made this, wants to see their other work, maybe he'll even ask her out, maybe. 

[ 2 years later]

His cupboard is now full of elegant and eclectic tea cups all hand made by the Lil bird who's now sleep in his bed. 

2 years ago he went to her studio and met her, and that was it at first sight he was hooked. The flutter of her voice, the sparkel of her eyes, her round cheeks, hair up in a messy bun, hands covers in clay and a few spots smeared on her face. He walked in while she was working, doing something he now knows is called throwing on the wheel.  Even though he interrupted her, she enthusiastically chatted with him about the cup he got and her work and that day they planned their first date. 

Now they have been together 2 years and each time he comes home he gets that same feeling he did when he walked into her studio for you first time. 

[ablobwhowrites]

yandere dc yap session incoming

I was thinking about the sonic movies and I love the thought of sonic like y/n or mobian y/n who was accident sent to the DC universe and just imagining mobain y/n just wandering in gotham and is just like "is this a timeline where eggman won? It's depressing here!" And then bro meets Harley Quinn and she absolutely loves y/n cause she thinks they are adorable.

Plus they are very similar to movie sonic cause I love that version so much. And I do imagine they are friends with the sonic cast and are kinda like tails and everyone is platonic cause just imagining just sonic being like a overprotective brother or something y/n. Just y/n being the only nice person to killer croc as they never see him as a monster and is like "oh come on. You just need a friend, I know people who would absolutely love you." And killer croc just protects them now as they are the only person to treat him like a actual person. This kinda goes with other villains as well in different ways and all the villains are just like "this is my child now and if anything happens to them I will kill everyone and then myself."

The batfam also loves y/n and basically will protect their newest sibling as they are like a light in this dark streets of Gotham like the signal is. Plus I do imagine Bruce seeing how dirty y/n gloves or shoes gets, he buys y/n new ones and wants to throw away the old shoes because it's a bit faded in its color and seems well worn but y/n is absolutely reluctant to give them up because rouge got them the shoes and Amy got them their gloves so y/n will wear them till they are basically unwearable but that'll be a long while till that happens but Bruce sees that he could get better ones but let's y/n wear them because y/n will actually start crying and freaking out if those irreplaceable gifts are gone.

I also like the thought of egg man acting as if y/n is their child because of how sage and y/n get along so well and even has sage basically calling y/n their sibling. Orbot and cubebot like y/n as it's similar to sage but also because y/n talks to them like they've known orbot and cubebot all their lives. (I love seeing the art of eggman basically having his robots and sage be his family.) But sonic and the others try to keep y/n away from eggman and his robots as y/n is basically a mix of movie sonic and kinda game tails mix together.

*this mobian y/n existing*

Everyone: "this is my child now, and if anything happens to them I will destroy the world and then myself"

(anyways that's all for my yapping session today, I just rewatched the sonic movies and thought of this so yeah, but if you like this and want more please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's you have. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[pinksugarscrub]

Rivalry

Hobie Brown x fem! reader (modern au)

Scenario: Listen, I really want a guitar and I've been seeing a lot of garage bands on tiktok

word count: 1,772

warning(s): cursing

~

“I think I need new strings…” you murmur. Plucking each string expertly before focusing entirely on the G string.

“It does sound kind of dull.” Gwen notes while chewing. Far away from her drum set but still settled on the stool kept together by duct tape and dreams.

You hum before continuing to scrutinize the string. Adjusting the peg forward then back. No amount of tuning seems to bring back the low chord you’re accustomed to hearing. 

“Want me to check your bag?” 

“Yeah, thanks Felicia.” 

“Barf you know I hate it when you use my government name.”

Gwen snorts,“what do you want us to call you?” Biting into her sandwich again and waving the contents around. “That ridiculous stage name?”

“And what? You think Ghost-Spider is any better?”

Gwen’s cheeks heat up as she throws the remaining wrapper of her lunch. “It’s a work in progress.”

“More like a dumpster fire- god, do we really need (y/n) for everything.”

They both shift their attention to you, hunched over your bass and mumbling incoherently. 

“Yeah…” Gwen starts,“she’s not listening. Besides, the Mary Janes is a cool band name and so are the song titles. You can’t complain.”

“I wasn’t.” Felicia rolls her eyes. She’s found crumpled up flyers, math homework, and a gum wrapper in your case. “We just lack creativity. It’s sad really.”

“So you admit Black Cat is a dumb name.”

“I think it’s good,” you insert. “I’m still coming up with mine.”

“Which is hard to believe!” 

Felicia nods in agreement before sifting through another pocket in your bag. “This is filthy. How do you even work with this?”

“I write all of our songs on my phone.”

“That still doesn’t excuse the state this is in.” Felcia cringes as she pulls out a tissue.

“It was to clean my fretboard.” 

“Still,” Gwen winces. “Not even I’m so disorganized.”

“Finally!”  Felicia sighs in relief as she finds a packet hidden in a small pocket. Torn open but definitely not lacking the string you needed. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You answer. The brand logo is faded. You can’t recall buying these and can only assume someone gave them to you. Likely MJ.

“Guys!”

Right on cue

‘Hey’ you all simultaneously answer. Felicia taking a seat beside her piano and drinking from the canned coffee she bought from the drugstore.

“You’ll never believe what’s happened.” 

“You’ve got me stumped- ow!”

“Anyway, we were reposted then mentioned by another band!”

“Oh you mean that one- you know with the-” Gwen struggles while reaching for her phone. “And the-”

You huff, uninterested. “You mean the one they keep comparing us to?” 

MJ’s face drops. “Hey, chin up. It’s not their fault y’know.” She places a hand on your shoulder, in reassurance you guess. And of course you’re easily swayed. 

“Vocalist was cool.” You offer up like a bone. MJ takes it.

“His name’s Ned. They live in Camden, isn’t that crazy? Middle of the greatest punk movement.”

“Camden?” Gwen asks. Feeling her beanie slip she tugs it forward and fixes the pieces of pink hair that frame her face. Giving up on finding the above-mentioned band Gwen’s phone sits dangerously on the edge of the snare.

“It’s a city in England.” MJ nods enthusiastically. Tapping on her phone then turning the screen. 

The three of you lean forward to get a better look. It’s a page already filled with more than a dozen videos. The profile picture is the band’s logo, a spider with the letters ‘F’, ‘N’, ‘S’, and ‘M’ in the center.

“So what was the mention about?” 

Felicia combs through her hair. It’s ridiculous how not subtle she can be as she’s staring straight at a video with the lead singer as the cover. She has a thing for brunettes apparently but you’d like to avoid opening that can of worms by mentioning it.

“Well actually-it was for you.”

It doesn’t register in your brain her phone has been thrusted in your direction.

“(y/n)?” Gwen mumbles. Face pinched together in confusion. “Did you rage bait them or something?”

“What?” You blink.

“She is the type to create a fake account to comment ‘anonymously’.” Felica laughs while making air quotes with her fingers. 

“Huh?”

“Just watch,” MJ sighs. She’s lost all hope in her friends.

Gwen scurries to come closer but Felicia stays seated. Somewhat amused by the turn of events. “He’s cute.”

“Yeah, he’s alright.”

Felicia deadpans. “You have no taste.”

You turn to rebuttal but MJ’s quick to redirect your attention back to the screen. 

He is handsome. The boy who’s introduced himself as the guitarist. Piercings galore and wicks tied back. In all honesty his guitar matches his personality.

He screams confidence and it brings a smile to your face. A small one but one nonetheless.

“He wants to challenge you?” Gwen asks incredulously.

“He already did,” Felicia corrects. Grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I say give him a taste of his own medicine. He’ll regret asking.”

“It’s all in good fun,” MJ scolds. Letting go of your head now that the video has played through.

“I don’t see why he would.” Gwen grumbles and crosses her arms over her chest. “Why just (y/n)? Why not the whole band? He’s singling her out and isn’t that I don’t know- a bad sign?”

“I get where you’re coming from but it isn’t like that. I wouldn’t have even mentioned it if I had gotten a hint that they wanted to slander her name for content.” 

“Who knows,” MJ continues,“this could be the start of a really good thing. Having a challenge will make us a better band.”

“As if,” Felica laughs. Looking totally unfazed. “(y/n)’s going to wipe the floor with him. What do you say girly?”

There’s a stretch of silence before you answer. “I’ll do it.”

“See.” Felicia grins while motioning with her hand. “Poor guy, really won’t know what hit him.”

MJ practically beams and sets down her phone. “Great! Next practice, bring your guitar and we’ll shoot the video.”

You nod with your nose pressed against the body of your bass. You can’t help the excitement you feel in your chest and to calm Gwen’s worries you add in. “If they do try to use it for views, they’ll only look bad themselves.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“No!”

-

“...what’s Hobie doing?”

“Shit if I know,” Yuri mumbles. Too focused on tuning her guitar to really care. 

“We’re just going to ignore…that?” James cringes as he points in Hobie’s direction. “He looks sickly.”

“Sickly how?” Kamala pops in. Twirling a drumstick in between her fingers. “Oh, you mean that. He’s fine.”

James nearly chokes, gesturing more frantically as Kamala walks away and Yuri continues to ignore him. “But-”

Hobie meanwhile, sighs as he stares into his phone. Ned’s joked that his pupils practically turn into hearts and honestly, he can’t find it in himself not to believe him.

‘Never have I ever…played the two most dogged on instruments in my life’ Gwen grins. Sat in the middle of the Mary Janes.

‘What the fuck bro!?’ Throwing your hands up you stomp out of frame before coming back. ‘The viola is fucking cool and you know it!’ 

Hobie laughs under his breath. Your voice syncing to his brain directly through the most marvelous invention, earphones. He scrolls to the next video then the next. He thinks your laugh is the cutest and you’re so…ugh. If he could keyboard smash in real time he would.

“Dude.” 

Hobie jumps as he feels an earbud being pulled out. Ned only grins. “Man you are whipped.”

“What, what did I miss?”

“Uh, practice.” Yuri answers sarcastically. Strumming her guitar for effect. 

“You ok over there Hobs?” Hobie swears Kamala has flowers above her head. Or maybe stars? 

He nods, apologizing with a sheepish grin before sliding off the armrest of Ned’s old couch. “Sorry yeah, all good.” 

Ned snickers and hits his shoulder. “Yeah, he’s had his daily dose of (y/n) for one day.”

“Fuck off,” Hobie laughs. Ignoring the way his face feels hot by grabbing his guitar from its case.

“You mean that girl from that band? What were they called…”

“The Mary Janes!” Kamala informed.

“Yeah them. Thanks.” James ruffled Kamala’s hair. 

“He loves her.” Kamala puckers her lips and kisses the air. “They’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates aren’t real, Mala.” 

“Not with that attitude.”

Yuri sighs and drags a hand down her face. “Whatever.”

“I don’t love her-” Hobie gaped, “I don’t even know her.”

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that buddy.” Ned knew firsthand how delusional his best friend was. Well, romantic if you wanted to put it nicely. 

“I don’t!”

“It’s kind of pathetic Hobart.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Really,” Yuri continued, “you can’t just pine over someone in another country. At least have the-”

A loud bang resounded in the room. “Oops, my bad,” Kamala chuckles. Picking up her fallen drumsticks. 

“-to ask her out. It’s not like you’ll see each other.”

“Yuri might have a point.”

Hobie glared as he not so subtly threw up both hands. 

“As cute as this is Hobs it can’t be healthy. Maybe in the face of rejection you can move on.” Ned muses while patting him on the back. “I mean just last week you totally ignored that girl who was flirting with you.”

“Wait, you think I don’t have a chance with her?”

“That’s what he focuses on,” Yuri sighs again. Shaking her head she swipes her phone from the rickety music stand.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ned defends. Hands raised as he frantically waves a white flag in his mind. “I’m just saying- you’ve never been this interested in someone. I don’t want you getting your feelings hurt mate.”

“Here.” Yuri interrupts before Hobie can come up with something smart to say. 

The charm on her phone dangles beside her pinky. The flash was quite obviously on as it was dark in Ned’s basement. Especially with the stormy weather. 

“You send her a video. Dedication—I don't care. Just get her attention so we can finally practice again.”

Hobie’s heart skips a beat at the prospect. 

Speak with you. What would he even say? ‘I adore you’? That was creepy as fuck even he could admit that. ‘I’ve been watching you’ ? That was even worse.

“You should challenge her to a song. She plays guitar too, not just bass right? It’ll show you pay attention to her craft as a musician.”

The room goes silent.

“Kamala, have I ever told you you’re my favorite?”

“You have told me on occasion.” 

[witchygagirlwrites]

Phoenix-Part 2

Kelly Severide x Reader (nicknamed Phoenix)

Gabby ropes you into the polar plunge where you and Kelly end up front and center of the evening addition of the paper

Warnings: High key flirting

The sound of your phone ringing made you second guess on whether or not the company had truly meant it when they sold you the insurance and said it covered “however many times you needed to replace it”

After a moment you decided against it and reached for the phone instead. You squinted and saw it was Gabby. You swiped the screen “Sup Dawson?” she laughed “So, we had an idea” you groaned “Stop right there before you say anything else. Who is we?” “Me, Brett, Cruz and a few others” you pushed yourself up to be leaning back against your headboard “I feel like you’re saying Brett and Cruz as a cushion to lull me into a false sense of security” 

“Ok so the polar plunge is tomorrow, we need a couple more people on our team” you groaned “And you figured you’d wait until now to ask?” she laughed “I’m sorry! Antonio had to back out last night because his unit is working a case” you were about to say no but she bought out the big guns “Severide is doing it and you know for a fact he is not about to let you live it down if he finds out you were offered and didn’t take me up on it” 

You pulled the phone away from your ear and stared at it open mouthed for a few seconds. How dare she? She knew that would work. “Fuck you Gabby, I’m in” you laughed and she started laughing too “I knew that would get ya”

“You’re horrible, you know that?” “Yeah yeah yeah. Love ya too Nix” she laughed before the two of you said your goodbyes and you hung up. How in the hell did you just agree to a polar plunge with a day’s notice just so you wouldn’t get shown up by Severide?

“Why do you need costumes?” you asked following Gabby, Sylvie, Cruz and Otis through the mall. The four of them turned around to you with broad grins “For the theatrics” Otis answered and you nodded “Oh, of course. I apologize Brian” he winked at you “I’ll forgive you this once” 

“Are you two the only guys dressing out?” you asked and they both shrugged “Matt will wear whatever Gabby throws at him. Boden is dressing in whatever Donna picks out, Herrman will wear something outlandish” you nodded then raised an eyebrow “What about Severide?”

Gabby rolled her eyes “He’ll probably just wear trunks” you laughed “Oh hell no. I’m buying him some trunks in that case. You all know he will not be able to resist if I toss a pair of wild ass trunks at him and accuse him of being afraid to wear them” you saw Otis and Cruz share a grin and Gabby got a wicked looking smirk and even Sylvie laughed lightly “Oh I can’t wait to see this” Cruz laughed as you grabbed his hand and Otis’ and dragged them both behind you nodding to the girls to keep up too.

_______________________

When you walked into work later that day you spotted Severide and his eyes widened when you smiled the moment your eyes met “This can’t be good” you grabbed your chest “I feel offended. Lil ol me? I did nothing wrong” he raised an eyebrow so you nodded “Ok, maybe I did do something” and pulled out the bag from behind your back “I went shopping with Gabby, Sylvie, Otis and Cruz to get me a last minute costume for the polar plunge”

He crossed his arms, a smug smirk slipping onto his face “You’re actually gonna do that” you crossed your arms, mimicking him “You are” he laughed “What did you get?” you shook your head “You’ll see tomorrow. The point is, I got you something to wear. I mean unless you’re afraid to dress up and have fun”

He grinned once he realized the challenge in your voice and held out his hand “Let’s see how bad it is” you held out the bag and he opened it, a loud laugh escaping him “What in the hell Nix?” you grinned “So, are you gonna wear em or what?” he pulled them out, admiring the swimming trunks that were adorned with rainbow sunflowers and little phoenix birds. 

“You marking me now?” he asked and you rolled your eyes “You wish” he stared at you for a minute then shook his head “You’re on, I’ll see you at the plunge sweetheart” you grinned “See you there Severide” “Kelly” he urged but you shook your head “Nope, still Severide” and walked away to head into the common area.

Gabby and Matt came to pick you up for the plunge. Gabby told you to dress in the costume and to bring a change of clothes. You carried your bag down and opened the backseat of Matt’s truck but to your surprise Kelly was there too. “Severide?”

He grinned “Hey sweetheart” you cut your eyes at Gabby and she shrugged “He decided to ride with us too” you shook your head “Whatever” knowing you were wearing a coat over your costume anyways. You put your bag on the floorboard and slid in, eyeing the fact that you could see Kelly’s trunks peeking out of his jacket considering he didn’t have his jacket done all the way in the heat of the truck. “Why did I agree to this? It’s freezing” you muttered as you buckled up.

“It’s for charity, it’s fun…” Matt offered and Gabby looked up in the mirror “You agreed because you didn’t want a certain someone showing you up” you rolled your head to the side to look at Kelly and smirked “Oh yeah” he shook his head, reaching over to pick at your jacket “What are you wearing anyways?” you slapped his hand “Buy me a drink first, damn” and Matt started laughing.

______________________

You stood between Gabby and Sylvie, moving back and forth to try to stay warm. Fifty one was up next. The twenty first had just gone and the goal? Beat them. You grinned when Boden basically reiterated just that. “Sure you can handle this?” Kelly asked, stepping up behind you close enough you could feel the heat radiating off of his body and damn near cursed him for the amount of body heat he had when the rest of you were hovering together or jogging in place to stay warm. You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled as sweetly as you could possibly manage before saying “Severide believe me when I say that I can handle anything and everything you can throw at me”

A slow smirk spread onto his face “I bet you could, couldn’t you?” you grinned as the speaker’s announced for fifty one to take their places at the starting line. You unzipped your jacket and tossed it into the pile. Kelly grinned “A witch? How is that so damn suitable for you?” you winked at him as they blew the horn for all of you to head into the river. 

_______________________

You fell in with everyone else and the moment the ivy water hit your body, a low squeal escaped you. You knew the point was to last as long as possible but to not overdo it at the same time. You weren’t going out as soon as you went in either way. Gabby laughed and hopped on Matt’s back, Otis had picked up Sylvie and before you knew what was happening Kelly had picked you up and dunked both of you under the freezing water.

You gasped when you came back up, squirming in his grasp but he held tight to you. “You’re fine Nix. I had you” he laughed and you glared at him “You asshole” he grinned “You’re like an adorable little wet cat” “I will strangle you” you threatened and he winked at you “Can you even reach my neck without climbing on something” before releasing you.

You gasped in shock “That’s it” and dove onto his back. “Damn spider monkey” he laughed, water splashing around you both. Your teeth were chattering. “Calling it!” Matt’s voice rang out, Boden repeating it. You hadn’t realized that fifty one had already doubled the twenty firsts’ time.

Kelly didn’t even make a move to get you off his back. He just came up out of the water, carrying you. He just stopped to let you slide down once all of you got to the towels that were being handed out. You grinned at him “That was kind of fun” he winked at you “Any time you want to climb me feel free” and continued walking. That asshole.

The plan was for everyone to end up at Molly’s that night to get the grand total of money raised for each charity. You were just glad for an excuse to go home, warm up and crash for a few hours. The polar plunge had actually ended up being a lot more fun than you originally thought it would be.

____________________

You parked your car across from Molly’s and jogged across the street. Antonio was headed in so you whistled and when he turned around you smiled “Sup elder Dawson?” he smiled “Hey Phoenix. How was the plunge?” “Cold, very freaking cold” he laughed “I bet, sorry I had to dip last minute. Would’ve been a conflict of interest anyways if I would’ve been on my sister’s team for fifty one and working out of the twenty first”

You nodded “I get it, I had fun if I must admit” he laughed “I won’t tell anyone. You headed in?” “Yeah” he opened the door and waved his hand “After you” you nodded and stepped inside “Thank you sir” you headed for where you saw Sylvie talking to Otis and Antonio headed for where you saw more of intelligence sitting together. 

“So, how did we do?” you asked, sitting down on the other side of Otis. He turned to face you and grinned “We tripled our goal” your eyes widened “That is freaking awesome” Sylvie laughed “Something about people liking seeing the firefighters flirt” you raised an eyebrow “Did they think Gabs was a firefighter?” she rolled her eyes “You and Kelly. You’re on the evening paper” “What?” you asked and she slid the paper towards you. Sure enough you and Kelly were in the collage. You were on his back, both of you laughing in the photo. “Oh he’s gonna give me absolute hell over this” you groaned. 

“About what?” Kelly’s voice came from behind you and you were wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. “Um nothing” he stepped up next to you and leaned over you “So you’re not talking about the rather large photo of us in the evening addition? Because I think we’re adorable” you rolled your eyes “Do not give me hell about this Severide, not like I grabbed you first” “Oh, so it’s my fault?” he asked and you shrugged “You said it, not me” 

He grinned “Don’t worry Nix, you look good on top of me” you smirked “So are you saying you wanna be under me?” “That’s my cue to leave” Otis laughed and Sylvie added “Mine too” Kelly watched them go then looked back at you. His eyes went from your face, to trail down your body, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips “Careful what you ask for. You might just end up getting it”  

“You couldn’t handle me Severide” you teased and he stepped a little closer “Even if I couldn’t…I’d damn sure be willing to try..” and then he turned to order a beer. You drank a swallow of your beer to choke down the lump in your throat. Fuck, that was hot. 

You shook your head and stood up to go over to where Sylvie had moved to “See ya later Sev” “Are you ever gonna call me Kelly?” he asked and you nodded “One day” before walking away.

@elvenpirate51

@bonnyclydecat

[mmmerimari]

depressed!reader - swimming lesson

The sun was already sinking when Rafe pulled Y/n onto the sand, his hand a vise around her wrist. "Come on, babe," he said, grinning over his shoulder like this was the best idea he ever had. "You gotta get outta that damn cave you been living in."

The beach was chaos, with music blaring, a bonfire roaring, and shrieking as people threw each other into the surf. Y/n stood stiff and pale beside Rafe, twisting the hem of her oversized t-shirt with damp fingers, already shivering even though the night was warm.

She didn’t belong here.

She never had.

Rafe didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. He stood behind her, chest to her back, arms draped lazily around her shoulders like he was keeping a leash hidden under all that fake affection. Every few minutes, he'd shove her head down onto his shoulder quick and smooth, a sharp little nudge like 'stay put'. His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, checking like he thought she might slip away if he wasn’t holding tight enough.

"You’re doin’ good," he muttered in her ear, grinning when she didn’t react. "See? Nothin' to be scared of."

She bit her lip gently and nodded automatically.

Rafe didn’t let her drift. He kept her right there, pulled her between his legs while he sat on a log, his arms heavy and caging around her waist. "Relax," he muttered into her hair, almost scolding. "Ain’t nobody lookin' at you."

Rafe kept her glued to him like she was an accessory he didn't trust to stay in place. His hand stayed locked around her hip or the back of her neck, guiding her movements without asking.

He thought he was being good to her. Being what a man should be.

Taking control. Fixing it. Then the couples started racing into the ocean, squealing and picking each other up, slamming into the waves like it was the best thing in the world.

Rafe pulled her into his lap fully now, lifting her bodily like it was nothing. His knee pressed up between her legs, his chest solid behind her. She stiffened, embarrassed.

He kissed her temple, quickly and possessively. "You’re alright," he said like a command. "You’re gonna thank me for this later."

She opened her mouth to protest but he was already scooping her up, arms locking around her legs and back, making her gasp and throw her arms around his neck, clinging to him with all the strength she had.

He just laughed, carrying her into the surf like she weighed nothing.

"You gotta stop being so soft, Y/n," he shouted over the roar of the water. "A little water won't hurt, right?"

The first shock of cold hit her calves, and she panicked, readjusting her arms around his neck, nails digging into his skin.

Rafe grinned harder.

He thought it was cute.

He thought it was progress.

The water surged up to his thighs, dragging at them. Y/n whimpered against his throat, heart slamming itself bloody against her ribs.

Then, without warning, he shifted his grip.

"Time for you to trust me," he said, smug like he was doing her a favor.

Before she could scream, he dipped her down, lower, her back arching and head dropping dangerously close to the black, heaving water.

She gasped a raw, animal sound. Her hands scrambled, frantic, clawing at him.

"Rafe, no, you know I- I can’t swim- " she sobbed out, voice so choked it barely carried.

He just laughed, swinging her back up against his chest like it was a joke.

"There," he said. "You didn’t drown. Proud of you, baby."

She shook, trembling so hard she could barely hold on, face buried against the hollow of his throat, breath coming in broken little gasps. Her whole body pressed tight to him, desperate.

For a second, the ocean pulled at them, sucking the sand out from under his feet. Y/n felt it, felt the terror slick and alive under her skin.

Rafe set her down roughly, hands still on her waist to steady her. The sand under her feet and the cold sweeping all around them.

"You're fine," he said, voice flat now, serious. "You’re just in your head too much."

She stared down at the black water swallowing the beach and bit her lip until it split wide open.

He didn’t notice the way her fingers wouldn’t stop twitching.

He didn’t notice the saltwater tears that weren’t from the ocean.

He thought he’d won.

"You’re gettin' better already," Rafe said, smug, walking them back toward the shore with her still locked in his arms, like a trophy. "Just needed a little push. Didn't you?"

Y/n didn’t argue.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t do anything but let herself jump back in Rafe's arms, lip split, arms aching from clinging so hard.

She just closed her eyes, feeling the ghost of the water still pulling at her, cold and endless and hungry.

And she held on.

Because there was nowhere else to go.

"You’re stronger than you think, Baby," he said with a smug look on his face when he examined hers.

The salt stung her nose. The spray made her cough. But she stayed there because where else was she gonna go?

if you're interested: readers

[filmspring]

Hey Cami! If you're still taking requests for wilmon day, how about "Who is more jealous"? 💜

Hii Simon, thank you so much for sending in this prompt for Wilmon day. I was so happy to work on this, I had so many fun ideas but I ended up landing on this one. Hopefully this still fits into jealous Simon🤞🏽 I hope it will make you, and everyone else that take the time to read this, smile. Enjoy 💜

Every other week, Simon and Wille find themselves at their local market on a sunny Sunday morning. It’s one of their routines now that they’ve been living together. The simple things like grocery shopping, cleaning the house, cooking are things they enjoy doing because like everything else, they’re planning on spending the rest of their lives together.

The market is nice, they get to take some fresh air, get to engage in futile conversations with the locals and it’s not so far from their apartment. Besides, the good quality of food is enough to motivate them to set foot outside on the weekend even if, at times, it seems to be more expensive than in the store.

But like every Sunday, Simon has to work on his patience as the ladies of the market are always rodding around his husband. It’s not that he doesn’t understand it, his husband is cute and sexy and cute again and, on top of that, it's summer and his freckles are popping out, and he looks pretty elegant in his short-sleeved shirt.

While Simon is looking at the fruits, he only takes his eyes off him for a few seconds, but it's already too late. His husband is taken away from him.

Wille is surrounded by a herd of ladies, touching his tanned arms. For god knows why, these ladies think it's appropriate to stare at him like he was a piece of meat and, yes, Simon has to hold on to dear life as he’s had that conversation before with Wille. You can’t just throw apples at people, Simon Wille had said and all he can think now is how unfortunate that was…

Wille looks back at him, flushed from the sun, sun glasses on top of his head, and his semi short hair never looked so good. He smiles apologetically to Simon and he can't really be mad at him when he looks that sweet.

Once he pays the vendor, he's dreading the conversation and it's only making his blood boil.

Simon slowly joins them at the center of the closed street with his bag full of green apples and red ones, Wille’s favorite. He keeps one in his hand ready to shoot his target.

“Ladies” he says with every bit of bitterness he can find in his body. He wish he could scream at them for being inappropriately close to his husband but at last, the look on Wille's face tells him not to be mean and so he doesn't.

“I see you’ve been keeping my husband busy,” he purposely accentuates my husband pretty bluntly making the group flinch, while beside him, Wille bursts into laughter. Simon nudges his shoulder into his, as if the whole situation wasn't embarrassing enough.

The ladies uff like he had burst their bubbles. Simon thinks good, let me remind you he's mine. They all turn their heads away from the couple as they look appalled by Simon's words and again he feels victorious.

“Well, I guess we better go.” One of them utters in annoyance, despite still holding on to Wille's arm, not even paying much attention to Simon being right there.

“Goodbye honey,” another one exclaimed with a hand in the air.

While a bunch of them just rushed to hug Wille or to pat his head like the animal zoo he was, without forgetting to give Simon a disdain look. After all, how dare he claim his space besides his husband.

“Good riddance,” Simon mutters.

It's still loud enough for one of them to give him the middle finger which makes Simon laugh.

“Goodbye my dear, tell your mom to say hi.” one screamed as if she knew him enough to say such thing.

“Yeah, of course,” Wille lets out, hoping their interaction hasn't brought more attention to him.

“Goodbye handsome,” Another one came in winking and that is too much even for Wille.

Simon decides it’s time to step in.

“Alright, that’s enough, you can leave now.” Simon came in between them like a shield protecting his human.

“This is outrageous” one of them says in a whisper, but Simon is ready to launch himself until Wille grabs him by the hips and just hugs him from behind.

“Simon” Wille says, chin deep into Simon's warm neck.

“What,” the back of his head resting on his husband's shoulder.

“Simon,” he brings his hand to the back of his neck, forcing him to turn around and finally look up in his direction.

“I’m not going to apologize, you're not a boy toy. They can get their own husband instead of stealing mine,” he buries his head in Wille's collarbone.

“That was hot, you coming in to rescue me…” Wille comes closer, hands still holding on to Simon's hips, he makes their lips brush. He's teasing him, Simon hates him but he also can't resist him.

“Stop it, it’s not funny," he laughs despite himself.

“Simon, they’re old ladies that need attention, nothing malicious is going to happen, I promise,” he speaks as their mouths are brushing against one another.

“I just don’t like it.” He pouts and Wille takes his face in his hands and he feels like a child being comforted.

“Next time, you're not leaving my side,” Simon confesses in a sweet way as he comes closer and softly kisses Wille's lips.

“I promise.”

(@youngroyals-events)

[crybaby-bkg]

You don’t see your next door neighbor much. Mainly because he’s usually gone for a majority of the time, uses the place more for storage and mail than actual lived in quarters. it doesn’t matter much to you; you keep to yourself anyway in the neighborhood, might say hello to a passing person here and there. but you’re not close with anyone, and that’s fine with you.

it’s not fine with Oliver, though. he’s moved back into this place for the time being while the season is out, finds the peace and quiet of the neighborhood something he secretly missed while donning the high life of being pro. he likes the parties, the constant push and pull of bodies, of people dropping by, of hookups being only a couple of blocks away. but on his downtime, he prefers this; the quiet, intimacy of a close neighborhood.

you’re the oddball out, however. you nod and wave to him when you catch sight of him on his porch as you drive off somewhere. don’t stop and chat with him when you’re both picking up your mail at the same time. don’t even invite him over when you have small get together’s at your place, your smile wide and unfamiliar to his eyes.

(that last one especially makes his heart ache. how could you? don’t you know how good your food smells when it’s wafting from your open kitchen window to his? you’re cruel, he thinks. cruel and pretty and so damn uninterested in him, it makes him want you more than he thought humanly possible.)

he catches you one evening, the air muggy despite the dwindling hours. it’s hot out for no good reason, and your fence is pretty tall, so why not? why not take your spoiled little pup out back in just a tank and your underwear? it’s not like anyone could see you, would be looking over into your backyard. the neighborhood is close, but not nosy in the way it’s intrusive. at least, it wasn’t until—

“Hot night, isn’t it?” Oliver calls over to you, startles you so bad you damn near drop the poop bag you were holding away from your body. you spin around in surprise, your pup yipping once in alarm before he starts wagging uncontrollably at the sight of someone new. you roll your eyes at his enthusiasm, something that’s entirely one sided.

“Why are you looking into my backyard at this hour?” you ask without pleasantries, short and straight to the point. you don’t try to hide yourself away, despite the fact that you’re dressed damn near indecently. your underwear is a size too small, a pair you haven’t thrown away for days where you forget to do laundry. today just so happened to be one of them. instead, you place a hand on your hip, your other hand still dangling the poop bag as your pup starts jumping up at the fence your neighbor looks over with a grin.

“Just heard some shuffling out back, and wanted to make sure there weren’t any intruders back here,” Oliver lies coolly, resting his forearms on top of the fence. you note the musculature of them, the veins that bulge. how his lips quirk up the tiniest bit when you grow quiet for a beat too long, the scruff of his beard and the brightness of his eyes. pretty boy, you think, and one used to getting a shit load of attention. it’s why you starve him of it, already knowing his type.

“My Prince Charming.” you say flatly, before tossing him the poop bag that he quickly catches with a look of surprise and mild disgust. you can’t help your chuckle as you call your pup back to you. “Take that out for me, will ya, neighbor? Thanks.”

you’re in the house before he can say anything else. he watches the way your hips sway with every step, how the curve of your ass swallows the fabric of your underwear, of the slither of your lower back from where your tank rises and thinks. thinks he might have a thing for his mean neighbor, so much so, that he’s willing to throw dog shit away for the rest of his life if it meant having a piece of you.

Oliver swoons when you slam your back door shut, wonders if this will be the start of something beautiful.