#as you can tell i found a brush i like!! that is similar to my krita brush :))))))) im so happy about it

[gomzdrawfr]

Dissociated and we got a whole canvas of my fav

[witherby]

The Littlest Wayne

Or, the one where Bruce brings home a baby, and your adorable little face wins the heart of your new, big brothers.

Platonic!Reader and Batfam

"Bruce."

"Don't freak out."

"Bruce."

"You're freaking out. I can see it in your eyes, but don't do it."

"This is a problem. This is an actual addiction and you need help."

"You're overreacting. I need everyone to take a deep breath, in and out, and not freak out."

Dick crossed his arms and glared at his father, narrowed eyes shifting up and down in an extremely pointed manner. Tim and Jason were wearing similar expressions, looking either at Bruce himself or the bundle in his arms.

Damian walked across the room and peered down at the bundle, expressionless.

"Father, come on."

Bruce carefully brushed the edge of the blanket away from your face. You scrunched your tiny nose, disturbed, then settled back down without issue. The billionaire had found you abandoned outside the garage doors of the Gotham Fire Station, left there by some overwhelmed mother no doubt. Unfortunately, that particular station was closed on the weekends, because of course this damned city couldn't staff a fire station 24/7, and if he hadn't found you on patrol, you would have frozen to death on the ground.

"They were in danger!" Bruce insisted firmly, but kept his voice soft so as not to frighten you. "Look — they don't have black hair or blue eyes. You can tell I didn't do it on purpose."

"Why not take the baby to the GCPD, then? Or a hospital?" Jason piped up, unamused. "B, cut the bullshit. You can't keep 'em."

"I brought them here first to ensure they didn't need any immediate medical attention."

"Which is something a hospital could do," Tim said.

"An overcrowded and understaffed hospital, that doesn't have the time to spare to give them direct and undivided attention?" Bruce argued. "The med ward in the Cave is just as efficient as an emergency room, if not more so."

"And the fact that you aren't down there with the baby — the baby you are not keeping," Dick chimed in, holding out his arms for you, "means that they're perfectly fine and can be transported safely somewhere else."

"They're sleeping right now," Bruce said, completely deadpan, and made no move to relinquish his hold over you. "We can't put them in a noisy car and upset them. We can drop the baby off in the morning."

"He's getting dangerously attached," Dick hissed to his brothers. "We need the big guns."

"I'll alert Pennyworth," Damian declared, already ducking out of the room. Bruce scowled, aware the battle was quickly turning against his favor. But he could play dirty, too.

He dropped his shoulders and the furrow of his brow turned slightly down, weary and forlorn. He stopped looking at his boys and instead studied all your tiny features, tracing a finger down the bridge of your nose, gently across your lashes, and over your plump little cheeks. You were absolutely adorable. He was already thinking of names for you in his mind.

"You know, I never got to raise any of you from infancy," he stated, not in any pointed manner, just as objective fact. Just quietly enough that they could think Bruce hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Not that I would've wanted to steal that experience from your birth parents. I would never. But...I don't even know what Damian looked like when he was this small."

Dick's eye twitched. The glare was still in place, but his frown was less severe. One down.

"I'm sorry, boys," he sighed, acting as though he were giving in. "The Mission has taken up so much of my time, it's hard not to wonder what I would have been like as a normal father. Just the formative things, like... like changing diapers, and doing Tummy Time, and helping you guys learn to walk."

Tim's eyes grew distant, likely thinking of his own parents and the loneliness he felt growing up in Drake Manor all by himself. He was no doubt recalling how much he wished his mom or dad had been around, to play or to talk to or just to physically be there with him, instead of off traveling the world and leaving him behind to fend for himself.

Two down.

But Jason, despite all that had happened over the years, despite the strain on his relationship with Bruce, had always been the most emotional of his children. He would not be hard to win over.

"This would be a mistake," Bruce stated, looking his second oldest right in the eyes. "They'd be happier somewhere else, somewhere normal. Maybe...maybe one of you could hold them and I can go start the car? I can feel myself starting to get attached, and that's not fair to you, boys. I didn't mean to stress you all out. I wasn't thinking."

Jason huffed, lowering his feet from where they'd been propped up on the coffee table, and stood from the couch to come take you from Bruce. His arms carefully held you to his broad chest, your weight settling against him pleasantly.

He made the mistake of watching you scrunch your face and whine softly, itty bitty hands poking out from your blanket and gripping onto his shirt sleeve with all the strength your small body could muster.

Jason's expression dropped immediately, and he practically melted as he tucked you closer.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Damian and Alfred walked into the living room to find Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Tim all cooing and fawning over you, and the war was lost.

Welcome home, Littlest Wayne.

[thevoidstaredback]

Danny couldn't tell you what he expected, but it most definitely wasn't this.

Time and Space were weird in the Infinite Realms, both bending to the will of their masters and no one all at once. They didn't follow a line or a path. Time and Space did as they wanted. Fitting, considering who their masters are.

The first time Danny was ten years old, his Grandfather killed him. He remembers that, in an effort to save him, his mother submerged his body in the Lazarus Pits he and his brother had been warned about ever going near.

As it was explained to him, the Infinite Realms has a base level of sentience at the very least. She allows herself to peak into the worlds She cradles to keep an eye on them. She found Danny when his mother had lowered him into the water and She claimed him as Her own. She bent Time to Her will, making Danny a toddler again, before bending Space to drop him in the world that would most allow him to grow. She promised that She would come back for him when the time was right.

The first time Danny was fourteen, after the second time he had been ten, he died. The parents he had learned to accept as his own tried to open an unnatural gateway into the Infinite Realms. He was the one to turn it on. The electricity of the mortal world killed him, but the energy from the Infinite Realms revived him.

He remembers the whispers barely heard under his own screams. Whispers and imprints of "I'm sorry" and "I do not mean to hurt you" and "You will only grow stronger" and "Welcome back, my champion".

Danny can count on one hand the number of times he's felt safe between the first time he was six and the first time his was fourteen. He can tell you the names of exactly two places he has never felt the need to hide from.

The day Danny turned fifteen for the first time, he told his parents what happened to him. He knew, instinctually, that they would not understand, that they are researchers before they are parents. But he held onto the hope that had been trained out of him when he was first four years old. He had hoped that they would go against all odds and accept and help him.

He shut down the portal the very next day. He destroyed it and all of his parents' lives work. He would not stand by and let them hurt his people when he could not be there to interfere. He escaped back into the embrace of the Infinite Realms through Vlad's portal, giving him the Order to destroy it. The only way for the citizens of the Realms to enter the mortal worlds was to use natural portals, as unstable and unpredictable as they are. He would not risk them again.

He finds himself wandering listlessly, letting the Realms take him where She wants him to go. Sometimes She takes him to places that are completely empty, places where he can mourn what he lost without anyone finding him. Sometimes She takes him to his mentors and friends. Sometimes She takes him where he needs to be.

Danny finds the boy just as the natural portal closes behind him, the sickly green and black oozing like a festering wound.

The boy looks similar to Danny. His hair is spiked, his clothing dulled shades of a hero's costume under a black cloak, a mask covering his eyes, his body being more filled out to match his age. But Danny, on every level of understanding that he is and ever will be capable of, knows that this is his brother.

"Damian?" he whispers. The Realms push him forward. "Damian!"

Danny cradles the body of his brother, slowly sinking to the ground the Realms produce for him to land on. He carefully peels the mask from his face and lays it beside the katana on the ground.

As expected of anyone who finds their way into the Infinite Realms without proper protections, Damian has no pulse. He is not breathing. He is cold. The wound under his sternum is not bleeding.

Danny brushed his thumbs under Damian's eyes, his hands on his cheeks. "What did they do to you, ahki?"

Despite having no mortal ability to do so, Damian's eyes opened. He started ahead, blinking when his green eyes met Danny's. "Danyal?"

Tears fell from his eyes as he nodded. "Hi, Damian. You're here early."

Tears fell from Damian's eyes as well. He knew where he was. There was only one explanation. He couldn't feel himself breathing, nor could he hear his heart beat or his blood flow. There was no pain from where his mother had run him through.

"She killed me!" Damian cried into his brother's shoulder.

Danny held him tighter. "I'm so sorry," No one should ever have to go like that.

"Father couldn't save me."

"It's okay."

"Dick and Tim and Jason and Cass-!"

"Shh, ahki. You will see them again. I'll make sure of it."

The brothers held each other as they cried. The Realms wrapped Herself around the boys, comforting them as she could. Her champion and his brother, both children She had claimed and would protect.

Part 1 Storyboard

@anarinette

[gay-dorito-dust]

I'm not the same anon who requested hc for Dick and his touch-starved but shy fem!reader but can I request the same for Jason Todd please?

Jason understands as he is cut from the same cloth or at least something similar as he was somewhat touch starved himself.

So it’s a learning experience for you both but Jason will always put you and your comfortably first and foremost over his own, meanwhile you put his own comfort above yours.

He remembers the first time he had instinctively grabbed you by the elbow and pulling you back into him when he saw you were about to bump into a corner, and upon hearing your sharp inhale and rigid body, he immediately recognised that touch wasn’t something you hadn’t had in quite a while and lets go of your elbow within an instant.

‘I didn’t hurt you did I?’ Was the first thing he asks, scanning you with his eyes.

‘No.’ You replied as you reached to touch your elbow, still feeling the sensation of his hand being there and finding it rather comforting, had it really been that long since you had touched someone or had someone touch you? That’s probably why having him touch your elbow was a surprise and a much needed one as well.

‘Are you sure? You’ve been touching your elbow for the past five minutes.’ Jason pointed out and you stiffened up and dropped your hand back to your side.

‘I’m just…it’s been a while since I’ve had someone hug me and when you grabbed my elbow…it felt nice and comforting.’ You trailed off as you looked off at anything other then Jason out of a need to hide your feelings, but when you felt Jason’s hand gently guide you to look into his eyes by the chin, just to see his soft eyes and smile look back at you.

‘Does this feel nice?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch after getting adjusted to it, feeling a sigh of relief leave your lips.

‘It does feel nice.’ You tell him as you closed your eyes, dedicating the time to feeling Jason’s warmth against your skin and how he’d caress your jawline with his thumb so soothingly, so much that you could easily see yourself become addicted to his tender touches and feeling each of his callouses upon his fingertips treat you like your porcelain.

Jason was glad that his touch wasn’t causing you any distress in any way whatsoever, and so through you growing comfortable with his presence and his touches, Jason felt himself wanting to gift you affection however he could whenever he could because it’s what you deserved after being without it for so long.

So now and then Jason would do simple and small acts of affection such as brushing the back of your hand, squeezing your shoulder or even wiping away an eyelash from your cheek should he find one. It’s to help you become acquainted with his touch and affection overall before he did something like hugging you from behind without warning or bringing you close to his side by the waist.

He wanted to go at a steady past for your sake and it isn’t until y oh tell him that he can hug you if he liked because you were just as eager to feel his touch as he was in wanting to give you more of it, the only thing that stopped the both of you was fear and not wanting to overstep boundaries.

But with time you were more then likely attached to Jason’s side, hugging him close and tightly as your burrow your face into him, completely relaxed and happy next to him as his warmth encased you protectively. You’d even start to initiate physical contact yourself by hugging him from behind, which causes him to stiffen but quickly relax when he realises it was just you and smiles before going back to what he was doing.

Nothing like two touch starved individuals who slowly become addicted to showing each other physical affection however they can and wherever they can to the point it’s an addiction. But a cute addiction as you’re often found on more than one occasion snuggled in his arms with him burrows his face in your shoulder.

[inkedinshadows]

Under the Summer Sun

Pairing: Azriel x Summer Court!reader

Summary: Azriel's mate takes him on a little vacation in the Summer Court, where she introduces him to a shocking tradition of her home court.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: I have one thing to say about this one, and it's that I had no idea where I was going when I started writing. I had a general idea, and that was it. Everything else came to me thanks to little sleep, lot of coffee, too many classes, and missing summer. This fic is really silly and I have no idea how it became this long tbh

@azrielappreciationweek

Azriel had been to the Summer Court many times, but never on vacation. He had gone on missions, of course, and to check in with his informants stationed there. Then there was that one time with his family, which had resulted in a wrecked building and Cassian's consequent ban. The last time he'd been here, it was to defend Adriata against Hybern.

And now, he was here with you. Somehow, you had managed to convince him to take a whole week off. Maybe it had something to do with you batting your long lashes at him, knowing he could never say no when you looked so cute. Or perhaps it was because you had already talked to Rhys, who had agreed that his brother needed some time to relax.

Either way, Azriel was glad you had convinced him. You were staying in your family's vacation house in a little town south of Adriata. The first day was spent in bed, cuddling and making love, getting up only to eat—as you had done years ago after accepting the mating bond. On the second day, you showed him the town and the places where you had grown up. But today would be a surprise. You had refused to tell him exactly what you'd be doing, claiming only that it was a common custom in the Summer Court.

“Are you ready, my love?”

Your voice came from behind the bathroom door, and Azriel glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time. His half-naked self stared back. You had given him a simple piece of clothing to put on, and you’d been very clear about wearing only that.

Azriel was confused.

It looked like underwear, but it was too long, reaching his mid-thigh, and it was a bit looser around his legs. The deep blue fabric was unusual—soft yet a bit thicker than his regular underwear, and elastic. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he didn’t understand why you wanted him to wear such a thing. It wasn’t alluring or anything like that. At least, he didn’t think it was.

With a sigh, he opened the door. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure—”

His words died on his tongue as his eyes settled on you. Standing in the center of the bedroom, you were wearing a new set of lingerie he had never seen before. The fabric seemed similar to the one he was wearing, but yours was a shade of cerulean blue that complemented your dark skin. It hugged your curves perfectly, tight enough to cover yet revealing in all the right ways.

“So?” you asked with a smile, spinning around so he could see you even better. “What do you think?”

Azriel closed the distance between you in two long strides, and his hands immediately found your exposed waist.

“You're breathtaking, my love,” he murmured, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. He could never get enough of you—your smooth skin, your soft body, your scent. And whenever you surprised him with something like this, his head felt as if it were spinning.

“I'm glad you like it.” You looked down at your body, brushing your fingertips over the hem of your bra. Azriel wanted to kiss the spot where the fabric met your skin. “It's been years since I last got to wear one of these.”

He had to suppress his rising desire to focus on your words. He frowned at the hint of melancholy that laced your tone. “What do you mean? You can wear it whenever you want.” His fingers pressed slightly into your flesh as he leaned down to whisper directly in your ear. “You look ravishing, sweetheart.”

He felt your body react to his words and touch as it always did—relaxing in his hold, leaning imperceptibly closer. But there was a playful smile on your lips when you asked, “What do you think this is, Az?”

Azriel's frown deepened. “New underwear?”

You hummed, amusement glinting in your eyes. But instead of answering, you slipped out of his grasp. “Let me take a good look at you.”

He grew more confused by the second. You studied him, eyes focused on what looked more like short pants than boxers. Yet there was no hint of desire on your face. Your gaze didn't roam over his body with that intensity that made heat bloom in his lower stomach. You didn't bite your bottom lip, didn't reach out to touch the bare muscles of his chest, and your breath didn't catch as it always did when you wanted him.

“You look so handsome,” you said eventually. Your gaze finally met his, and your amused smile widened at his confusion. “We can go now.”

Azriel blinked, but you were already heading for the door, grabbing a bag from the floor on your way out.

He immediately trailed after you, following you downstairs. His shadows swarmed around him, flying over to tangle in the ends of your hair as if trying to coax an answer out of you. But even they couldn't read minds, and you didn't offer an explanation.

“Go where?” he questioned, watching you put your slippers on. What did you even need shoes for?

“The beach,” you answered, as if it were obvious.

Azriel just stared at you. He was waiting for a punchline or a joke, because surely you couldn't be serious. But when you arched a brow, that smirk still playing on your lips, he realized you weren't joking.

“What do you mean?” he asked then.

“This is not underwear, Az,” you finally explained in an amused tone. “They're swimsuits. Mine's called a bikini, and yours are swim trunks.” You lifted the bag in your hand as if to prove your point. “I have beach towels. We're going to the beach.”

He gaped at you. “You really mean to tell me you want to go outside wearing…” He glanced down at himself, then at you. “Just this?” he finished.

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.” You shrugged, as if the thought of walking around with just a scrap of clothing didn't bother you at all.

“There's no way you're going out dressed like that,” he said firmly. “You're basically naked.”

“I'm not naked!” You sounded outraged, but he could see you were trying not to laugh. “I'm wearing a bikini.”

Azriel crossed his arms. He had never once told you what you could or couldn't wear, and he didn't want to start now. But a revealing dress or a plunging neckline were different from… this. The thought of everyone seeing you with nothing more than two small pieces of fabric made his jaw clench.

“How is it any different from going out wearing underwear?” he pressed.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, falling silent for a moment. “I don't know,” you mumbled. “It's just socially acceptable here to go to the beach like this.”

He thought he was getting through to you, that he just needed to push a bit more and then you'd see how inappropriate it was. Instead, you stood straighter again and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“Come on, Az,” you said, your voice low and inviting. “It'll be fun. I've done this a thousand times already. I promise you, it's totally normal here.”

Azriel knew what you were doing. You thought that if you used that tone, if you batted your lashes and looked at him with your big doe eyes, he would cave. Normally, he would. He could hardly say no to you. But he couldn't stand the thought of someone else seeing his mate clad only in underwear. Bikini. Whatever it was called.

“Y/N, that's not the point. I—”

Before he could finish, your lips curled into a mischievous smirk, and you suddenly turned and bolted out the front door before he could catch you.

Cursing under his breath, Azriel quickly slipped on his shoes and followed you outside, not caring about his own underdressed state.

You hadn't gone far, not with those slippers that made running nearly impossible. He caught up to you just as you turned the corner, his hand grabbing your arm, his shadows swirling around both of you to hide your indecent state.

You stopped in your tracks and pointed to the beach just at the end of the short street. “Look,” you said simply.

Azriel did, and his eyes widened at what was probably one of the most shocking sights he'd ever seen.

There weren't many people, but you were right. Everyone—males and females, High Fae or lesser faeries, even the few children—was wearing the so-called swimsuits. And no one paid anyone else a second glance. Everyone minded their own business, either lying on towels or swimming. Some of the children were playing in the sand.

His shadows dimmed under the sunlight, halting their swirling around your bodies and disappearing completely soon after.

“Is it really that normal here?” he asked, a hint of surprise still in his voice. His gaze slowly returned to you.

“This is the Summer Court, Az,” you replied with a chuckle. “What kind of people would we be if we didn't enjoy our sea in this heat?” You took his hand, giving it a gentle tug to make him follow as you began walking again. “Come on. You're a big Illyrian. Don't tell me you're shy.”

Despite his lingering shock, Azriel couldn't help the smile spreading across his face. “It's not that.”

He had never had a problem with nakedness. He'd seen plenty over the centuries, enough not to be bothered by it. It was the idea of willingly wearing nothing more than underwear—and he wouldn't let you convince him that it was anything other than that—and going out in public. More specifically, it was the idea of his beautiful mate going out in public like that. It was a sight usually reserved just for him, and he didn't want to share it with anyone.

“Fine.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “If someone looks at me the wrong way, you can bash his teeth out. Is that better?”

He knew you were joking, but the fact that you were aware of his concern and the way you dismissed it so lightheartedly actually helped him relax.

“It is, yes,” he confirmed, only half-joking. He wouldn't actually do it unless it was an extreme situation, and he knew you could hold your own without his help, but still. He couldn't suppress the protective—and possessive, if he was being honest—streak that was only emphasized by your bond.

“See, this is why I didn't tell you what we'd be doing today,” you teased. You had reached the beach now, and you led him to an empty spot away from the others before letting go of his hand. “Because you wouldn't have agreed.”

Azriel couldn't deny that you were right. It would have taken a lot of convincing and persuasion to get him to agree to this.

Or maybe just your smile.

You took off your slippers and buried your bare feet in the white sand, wiggling your toes through the grains. You breathed in the scent of sea and salt in the air, your eyes closed. And the soft, fond smile that graced your lips as you reconnected with your homeland court made him fall in love with you all over again. It was a smile he’d do anything to see, and Azriel made a mental note to bring you to the Summer Court more often.

He followed your lead and slipped off his shoes. The sand was warm under his soles, and the morning sun heated his tanned skin. He even spread his wings a little, basking in the sensation.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked after a moment.

Your eyes opened, and you crouched down to open the bag you’d dropped on the ground. “Now we set the towels down,” you answered, pulling one out and handing it to him. “It’s probably too small for you, but I don’t have a beach towel for overgrown bats, so…”

Azriel shook his head, used to your endless teasing. You chuckled softly, and after you both placed your towels on the sand—his was, indeed, too small—you took his hand again, walking backward toward the shore and pulling him along.

“Now we go swimming,” you declared, then paused, a small frown creasing your brow. “You do know how to swim, right?”

It was Azriel’s turn to chuckle. “Of course I can swim, sweetheart. I just don’t remember the last time I had to.”

“Well, then,” you said with a smile, rising on your toes to kiss him, “let’s go make some memories.”

Without waiting for a response, you ran into the ocean with a delighted squeal and dove in, water splashing around you. Azriel didn’t move immediately, and simply watched as you emerged, eyes bright and smile wide.

You were the picture of joy.

The last time he had seen you this happy was probably at your mating ceremony, when you had appeared in that stunning teal and gold dress, looking like a vision. And now, as you stood in the water, Azriel was suddenly grateful you had brought him here. Droplets trickled down your body, your brown skin glistening in the sunlight as you moved your wet hair out of your face.

You beckoned him with a hand, and his feet moved of their own accord, guiding him toward you. He inhaled sharply as the cold water reached his thighs, sloshing around his wings. He didn't know how you could look so at ease when he was shivering, but you were in your element after all, while he was completely out of his.

“Aw,” you cooed as he reached you. “Is my little bat cold?”

Azriel grimaced, his tone playful as he pulled you closer. “First you call me an overgrown bat, and now I’m a little one?”

Your wet body pressed against his still-dry chest, and your hair dripped water onto his tattooed skin as you looked up at him. “Well, yes,” you confirmed, stating it as if it were an obvious fact. “Illyrians are overgrown bats, but you’re my little bat.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know I’m a head taller than you, right? I’m not little.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then you closed it without saying a word. Azriel could see the wheels turning in your head as you stepped away from him, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What is it?” he asked, knowing that expression all too well. “What did you just think?”

“There's this thing my father always did when I was a child,” you explained. “I loved it, and now I want you to do it too.”

After all the crazy ideas you'd hit him with over the years—this beach day being the latest—Azriel wasn't sure he wanted to know what you were talking about now, but he still lifted a brow. “And said thing is…?”

Your smile widened. “Throw me in the water.”

Azriel frowned. He must have heard that wrong. “What?”

But you nodded enthusiastically, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips. “Pick me up and throw me in the water. You're strong enough to do it, c'mon.”

His fingers tightened on your hips, but he still wasn't convinced. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you love me and I asked nicely?” you tried, batting your lashes at him.

Azriel chuckled. “I do love you, but you did not ask nicely.” He pulled you closer, his fingers brushing the hem of your panties. Gods, it still felt like underwear to him, and all he wanted was to take them off. “You ordered me to do it.”

You laughed with him. “Sorry about that.” Pulling him down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Love of my life, my mate, my everything, will you please be so kind as to use your beautiful, strong muscles to pick me up and throw me in the water? It's fun, and I’d really appreciate it.”

He knew you were teasing, but his heartbeat quickened with every word of flattery, even after all these years. “You are unbelievable,” he mumbled, stealing another kiss.

Though he still didn't understand how it could be fun, and wasn’t sure if he even liked the idea, his hands slid up to your waist. He lifted you effortlessly, water cascading off your body as he hoisted you out of the ocean. He hesitated for a moment, but when he saw your excited smile, he threw you back into the water, expecting you to twist midair and gracefully dive in. You had the agility and flexibility for it. He knew you could do it.

But you didn’t.

You let yourself plummet straight into the ocean, your laughter swallowed by the water as you plunged in, splashing it all around. The water was so clear he could see you sink for a moment before you kicked your legs and emerged, grinning from ear to ear.

Azriel stopped questioning whether it was fun or not. It didn't matter if it was childish and silly. After all, he still had snowball fights with his brothers.

All that mattered was the joy written on your face, and as he made his way over to you, he found himself wishing he had a place like this—somewhere he cherished returning to, a place filled with memories of a happy childhood.

“You probably think I'm crazy,” you said as you treaded water. He could still touch the seabed here, but it was now too deep for you.

“A little,” he admitted with a smile. “But as long as it makes you happy, love.”

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer as his hands found their way back to your hips. Pressing your body against his, you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “There’s something else that would make me happy right now,” you murmured, gazing into his eyes.

Azriel’s smile widened as he leaned in for a kiss, but before he knew it, you had pulled him under the surface. He had adjusted to the water’s temperature by now, but the sudden, full submersion still made him shiver. His first instinct was to break the surface and take a deep breath—something he would have done already if only you had told him what you were planning. Before he could, though, you used your magic to create a bubble of oxygen around the two of you, allowing him to breathe.

“So drowning your mate is what makes you happy?” he asked skeptically.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “But the surprise on your face was priceless.”

Azriel lifted a brow, readjusting his wings. It had been so long since the last time he was underwater that it took a moment to remember how to position them properly, preventing himself from floating back up.

You laughed, your hair swirling around you like a shimmering, silver crown inside the bubble.

“No, but it was fun,” you answered. You cupped his face, kicking your feet to swim just a little closer to him. “What would really make me happy is something I’ve always wanted to do, but I need to let the bubble disappear. I promise I’ll summon it again as soon as we’re done.”

Azriel frowned slightly, but he had an idea of what you wanted to do. He could only hope he was right, because he had a feeling you wouldn’t explain it if he asked.

He nodded, and with that, you called back your magic. Water rushed around you again, but this time he inhaled deeply before it was too late. And then you proved his suspicions correct.

You pulled him in for a kiss, and he tasted the salty water on your lips. His hands settled gently on the sides of your neck, keeping you close. As you both kicked your legs to stay submerged, Azriel understood why you wanted to do this. It felt intimate, like you were the only two beings in the entire ocean.

It reminded him of the way kissing you felt when he was flying with you cradled in his arms—the world faded away, shrinking until nothing existed but the two of you.

It lasted only a few seconds, but when you parted, both of you were smiling. As promised, you summoned another bubble as soon as your lips left his.

“That was nice,” he murmured, his voice soft.

“Good, because we’ll definitely do it again.” You stole another quick kiss before pointing toward the endless expanse of the ocean. “I want to go swimming. Do you want to come or would you rather head back to the beach?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, I want to come with you.”

“Perfect.” Your smile widened, and you gestured for him to follow as you turned around. “Then I want to show you the reef.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he tucked his wings in tightly, kicking his legs to keep up with you. Never in his long life had he imagined that he’d one day find himself swimming in the Summer Court, wearing little more than a piece of underwear. But life with you was always full of surprises, and he had no doubt this wouldn’t be the last.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[vauer]

𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟔𝟏𝟎 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: a couple of days ago, you found a strange blondie in his room. it's time to act decisively.

cᴡ: porn, age up, obscene language, cunnilingus, Internal misogyny, fem!reader

(English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes 💌)

───♡─────────────

A couple of paint cans fell to the floor with a thud, drowning out the quiet moans. You insistently pulled Miles closer, wrapping your legs around his hips as his warm hands reverently stroked the curve of your waist.

“Do you like my figure that much?” you giggled as Miles gently squeezed the skin on your side.

"I'm studying the texture for authenticity," his embarrassed murmur touched your lips, parted from lack of air.

You two didn't expect the evening to turn out like this. Actually, Miles did not expect it when he invited you to be a sitter for his graduation work at art school. For you, on the other hand, it was a long-awaited chance. From the first time you met, you knew you had to have him for herself. While their classmates saw him as some silly nerd, there was nothing sexier for you than his craving for quantum physics and drawing.

In fact, you didn't really want to rush things between you, after all, you had only become friends a couple of months ago. But recently you found a girl in Miles's room and decided that it was impossible to delay. You had no idea who that blondie was, but she managed to shake your confidence. You had to hope Miles didn't have a type. You obviously couldn't call herself ugly, on the contrary, your parents' money was doing its job: a couple of years of wearing braces, expensive cosmetologists and hairdressers, and by graduation you could be confused with someone from the Kardashian family. The problem was, you didn't look alike that blondie at all.

You had well-groomed and neatly styled hair when that girl had a hairstyle that was done by either a self-taught punk or an autistic blind man. She dressed in a similar style also. What could Miles possibly see in her?

Anyway, it didn't matter at the moment, because right now his head was between your legs.

The cold and thick paint that you had spilled on the table slowly flowed down your leg. With a quick movement, Miles pulled off your underwear and smeared a purple stain on the back of your thigh. You took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the table. Your whole body was trembling slightly from overexcitation and excess of emotions.

A slight bite on the inside of your thigh sent a shiver down your spine, forcing you to spread your legs wider. You would never have thought that seeing his charming face between your legs could be the most satisfying part of the process.

"You didn't tell me about it."

You arched her back in a sudden burst of pleasure. Trying to calm you accelerated breathing, you swallowed, looking down. With an innocent expression on his face, Miles clamped the curved piercing bar between his teeth. Every little breath he took sent a wave of goosebumps through your body.

"You didn't show much interest in my holes before," you smiled, possessively throwing your legs over his shoulders.

Blushing slightly, Miles looked down again and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you still. His hot tongue slowly slid along your wet folds, gently pushing them apart and deliberately brushing against the cold metal of the jewelry. You threw your head back, breathing heavily. You could have finish just from the look of his deer eyes innocently looking up at you.

"You're gonna kill me," you muttered, trying to grab onto something to keep from falling off the table under the pressure of the sensations delivered by his soft mouth. In the end, you ran your hand through his soft curls, pulling him as close as you could.

Miles moaned softly, lightly squeezing your butt, his tongue teasingly penetrating inside you as he leaned slightly towards your gentle hand in his hair.

"I think you're trying to strangle me right now," Miles chuckled. His cheeks were slightly squeezed by your thighs, making the whole picture even more adorable.

Feeling the sweet warmth in your lower abdomen, you pulled Miles even closer, moving your hips towards his mouth, rubbing yourself against his face.

Suddenly, he pinned you against the table, holding you by the waist. Unable to move, you threw her head back, feeling even more aroused. Finally, Miles's plump lips found your clit, sucking lightly on it.

He pulled back your piercing with his teeth once again, hard enough to make you gasp in surprise, but not hard enough to cause real pain.

It was too much for you. Just a couple of movements made you shudder and arch back from orgasm, throwing even more things off the table.

With a soft moan, Miles pressed his mouth to your pussy, prolonging your pleasure with a couple of movements of his tongue along your swollen and wet with excitement folds.

You involuntarily pinched his head between your thighs so that he had to forcibly spread your legs apart.

“Have you invited many people to “pose" like that?” you murmured with a note of jealousy and gratitude in voice. Your chest was heaving convulsively from the lack of air in lungs.

“No one,” Miles's cheeks turned an embarrassed blush as he tried to catch his breath, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. He sat down on the table and looked at your naked body. Awkwardly reaching out, Miles smeared drops of paint on your collarbone, tracing a red line from your chest to hip while admiring your curves.

“Who was that blondie in your room the other day?” you blurted out, not caring how harsh your question sounded, especially after what he had just done to you.

Miles's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected question.

“Do you really want to talk about her at the moment?” He chuckled slightly. “Don't worry, I didn't do those things to her.”

───♡─────────────

hope I won't get cursed or wished to die for this (´꒳`)♡

[starogeorgina]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Harwin Strong x reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Warnings: Praise kink, threesome, breeding kink, fingering, oral sex, swearing

“Why am I not surprised to find you like this?”

You look over your shoulder to see Harwin grinning at the sight before him; the bulge in his breeches was obvious.

“How long have you been watching?” The room was hidden deep within the castle walls; only you and your two lovers knew about it.

“Too long.”

Hearing a desperate moan, you return your attention to Rhaenyra, who was face down in the bed with her ass sticking upwards. You swipe the flat of your tongue over her dripping cunt, taking great pride in making her so wet.

Harwin comes up behind you and starts to massage your breasts through the fabric of your dress. He kisses your neck, “These are getting so large.”

“You are distracting me,” you giggle.

“Hmm, soon these will be filled with milk for the babe.”

In roughly seven moons, the new addition to your family would be safely in your arms, much to everyone involved delight. Both you and Rhaenyra found yourself in similar situations, both in need of heirs and with husbands who prefer the company of others, and Ser Harwin was the savior the both of you needed, not that he minded being kept a secret. The knight took great joy in seeing the both of you swell with his seed.

You slide two of your fingers into Rhaenyra’s cunt, making sure she was ready for Harwin’s cock. “You’re taking my fingers so well.”

“She always does,” using his free hand. Harwin brushes Rhaenyra’s hair out of her face. “Always such a well-behaved princess, I can’t wait to see the both of you pregnant with my child at the same time.”

“Do you think Ser Harwin would enjoy that Y/N?” Rhaenyra says. Her peak was approaching fast; she began rocking her hips back onto your fingers. “It would be our dirty little secret; nobody but us would know how good a job he has done by helping to create heirs for our houses.”

“I think Harwin would thrive off that,” you kiss the knight while feeling Rhaenyra come apart on your fingers.

“You’ve done such a good job making our princess reach her peak. Go sit in front of Rhaenyra so she can do the same while she takes my cock.”

Doing as Harwin says, you move to sit in front of Rhaenyra on the bed and pull your dress up to your waist, baring your glistening cunt for them both to see. After a few moments of reposting, Harwin sinks his cock deep into Rhaenyra while she pry’s your knees apart, gently spreading your folds and pushing her tongue into you.

“Even after being stretched out, your cunt is still so warm and tight,” Harwin says, praising her.

Rhaenyra got off on being praised more than you did; calling her a good girl was the quickest way to get her wet. You grip onto the sheets tightly. “You’re doing such a good job eating me out.”

Rhaenyra smirks up at you; she knew exactly how to fuck you. “Your taste is addictive.”

You could tell Harwin wasn’t going to last much longer; his cock was always throbbing after he watched you and Rhaenyra be intimate. You throw your head back and moan loudly when Rhaenyra slides her fingers into you and begins to suck on your clit.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together, moans, and panting.

You take a tight hold of Rhaenyra’s long white hair, keeping her in place as you cum on her fingers and mouth. “Oh fuck, fuck! You've done so good, such a good girl.”

She keeps her mouth on you and flicks her tongue over your sensitive clit as Harwin thrusts a few more times then comes inside her.

“Gods, the two of you will be the death of me.”

Harwin's seed was strong, and you had no doubt Rhaenyra would be pregnant soon, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep trying.

[f1boistrash]

nowhere else i'd rather be | l.s

a/n: here is more of logan x verstappen!reader. i've also got another part in the works which i'm excited to start

summary: you comfort logan after the news broke that he wouldn't be racing in the australian grand prix

<- previous part

You were in the Red Bull garage when the news was announced. You had heard the rumors after Alex's crash in free practice one but you didn't think they would actually do it or at least you hoped they wouldn't. Williams had given Alex Logan's car for the rest of the weekend and you were angry.

You quietly left before anyone noticed, making your way to Logan's room for the weekend. No one batted an eye, too focused on getting the car ready for free practice two so you were able to sneak in. You found his room easily, the layout similar to Red Bulls garage, and knocked on the door. You heard some movement inside but no one came to open the door.

"Logan? It's me, Y/N." You tried again. You didn't want to just barge in but you also wanted to see him, to make sure he was okay. Well as okay as anyone can be in this situation.

"The doors open." You heard him mumble and you quickly slipped inside.

The sight before you broke your heart. Logan was sat on his couch, his head in his hands. He looked defeated. You sat down next to him, immediately wrapping your arms around him. It was like a dam broke inside as tears started falling. You held him tightly, your way of letting him know you weren't going anywhere. It took everything for you to not go in James' office and give him a piece of your mind for treating Logan like this.

It was a few minutes before Logan sat up, moving out of your arms. He brushed his hand over his face as if he was trying to hide the fact he was crying. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, too embarrassed to look at you.

"You don't need to apologize, Logan. What they did was shit. You have every right to be upset." You told him, placing your hand over his. "I don't ever wanna hear you apologize for your feelings, okay?"

"Thanks, Y/N." Logan thanked you, sending you what was probably the first genuine smile of the day. "You being here means a lot."

"There's no where else I'd rather be." You admitted, heat rising to your cheeks at your admission. Before you could hide, afraid you made the situation weird, Logan cupped your cheek and leaned forward. Neither of you had a chance to make a move before your phone went off, interrupting the moment. You cursed silently at your brother for choosing now to text you. "I should probably get going or Max will send out a search party."

"Yeah, I should probably show my face in the garage." Logan groaned. He didn't want to but knew he had to keep up appearances for the team.

"I'll text you later." You promised him as he walked you to the door. You hugged Logan goodbye and left but not before you bumped into Alex. "Hey Alex."

"Hey Y/N." He called after you. Alex then turned to Logan giving him a knowing smirk.

"We're just friends." Logan said, trying to convince himself more than anything because there was no way he could have a crush on a fellow drivers sister. Alex grinned at his teammate, not believing him one bit.

-x-

Logan was nervous. More nervous than he was before he got into his car on race days. He had no reason to though because you were just friends. That's what he kept telling himself, afraid of embarrassing himself in front of you. You had texted earlier that you were coming over to his hotel room, bringing food with you, and since then Logan was on edge. It felt like a date but you hadn't said anything to suggest it was.

A knock on the door broke him out of his thoughts. He opened the door and there you were, takeout bags in each hand and a grin on your face. It was enough for the nervousness Logan had to melt away. "I heard about this place from Oscar and he reckons its the best food in Melbourne. So if its bad we can just blame him." You said as you walked into his room. "And I know it may be breaking our diet but we can just do an extra lap of the track tomorrow." You rambled on, taking the boxes out of the bag. When Logan didn't say anything you looked up, seeing him softly smiling at you making you self conscious. "I'm overstepping, aren't I? I am so sorry. You probably want to be by yourself now after today. I'll leave you alone now."

"Please don't." Logan pleaded, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. He gently grabbed your hand to stop you from leaving his room. "I enjoy your company. In fact you're making this whole weekend bearable." Logan pulled you close, his nose brushing yours. "So please don't leave." He mumbled against your lips before kissing you. You melted into his kiss, forgetting any worries you had.

[rubiehart]

LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: an alternative universe to my own bsf!reader, where her parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s relationship and the consequences of that.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

[purinfelix]

can i request hot cocoa + let you break my heart again + franco colapinto

perhaps the both of them are at some kind of gala/event/party for f1 with a mix of yearning maybe some mutual pining 🙈

one day ⊹ ࣪ ˖ - franco colapinto

w/c: 800 a/n: UGH this idea was just sooo scrumptious i loved writing it sm (and maybe got a bit carried away since this was supposed to be a blurb) BUT thanks bff hope u like <3333

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

Stuffy formal events were something you thought you'd escaped by choosing a career in motorsport.

Little did you know, becoming an F1 driver meant signing up for a lifetime of them - a fact you were sourly reminded of when the annual gala rolled around, and despite it being your first, proved awful every step of the way. Somewhere in between the pretentiously tiny portion sizes and long, boring speeches, you found yourself growing more restless, desperate for an escape.

That's how you ended up here - leaving the toilet cubicle that had been your safe haven for the last half an hour, following a less-than-kind text from your pr manager demanding your return. As you washed your hands, your eyes glazed over your reflection in the ornate bathroom mirror. A small smile perked at the side of your mouth, satisfied with the job your stylist had done - even if the outfit she had chosen was suffocatingly tight and only added to your long list of nightly grievances.

Leaving the bathroom, you took in a deep breath, mentally preparing to sit through several more insufferable hours of this event.

"I was wondering where you went," came a voice from the other side of the hall, emerging from the men's bathroom. Looking up you locked onto a pair of green eyes, a coy expression on his face.

"Didn't think you'd notice in between all your flirting, Franco," you spat, though you couldn't stop yourself from offering a sly smile. You feel his eyes run over you, trying to maintain your composure as you feel your cheeks heat up under the weight of his gaze.

"You look good," he lets out, a little softly, almost like a confession. You're tempted to reply back with something snappy, though you stop yourself.

"You too." And you're not lying. In a black suit, cleanly pressed and fitted, he looks almost unrecognisable from the normal race weekend outfit. Though his deep brown curls, which you can tell his stylist has tried their best to tame, still fall carefreely onto his forehead.

He brushes a couple away as he lets out a shy laugh. "Well, it seemed a good time to clean up, hm?"

There's a moment of silence that seems to indicate that the two of you should return back to the event - but you don't. Neither of you move, just standing there looking at each other, almost daring the other to say something else. It's unlike the two of you since usually any space between you is filled with snarky comments and quick insults - the result of being two rookies from opposite teams, fighting to make a name for yourselves.

But sometimes you wish it weren't. Sometimes, in between the snide remarks and menacing stares, you think about how maybe if fate had favoured you just a little more, Franco might've been your teammate. And maybe, just maybe, you might've gotten along.

Though being 'rivals' meant being similar, even if you refused to admit it, and knowing each other deeply - on a level that being friends wouldn't come close to.

He reminds you of this fact when he pipes up again, hands shoved in the pockets of his dress pants. "I really don't want to go back in there," he confesses.

"Me neither," you sigh in agreeance, relieved he feels the same.

"It's just so-"

"Stuffy."

"Yes, exactly!" he replies, a thankful smile on his face, "plus, I feel like this tie is trying to strangle me."

"But I guess we have to go back, my media manager is going to be looking for me."

"Right," he says, looking down, "unless."

You quirk an eyebrow, intrigued at what he's implying. "Surely not."

"What are the chances of us actually being needed tonight, we're two rookies, it's not like they're going to give us any awards."

"You really haven't been listening in those media training lessons of yours, hm?"

"Oh, because you care so much about my image," he laughs, "c'mon let's get out of here, do something else, something that isn't so mind-numbingly boring." As he speaks, he brings a hand to his neck, loosening his tie, and you suck in a sharp breath as you watch him.

"Franco," you say softly, almost begging him not to make you make this decision.

"Fine, if you want to head back in there, be my guest, but I'm going." He turns around, giving you one last look, almost daring you to follow him with one eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips quirked up.

As he does you're struck by the feeling that maybe one day the two of you won't be posed as rivals, that maybe you might truly get along.

That maybe one day he won't have such a strong effect on you, that the way he looks at you won't make your heart flutter and brain stop as much as it does now.

But today isn't that day.

"Franco, wait," you call out, jogging up to him and letting out a defeated sigh, "where should we go?"

"Anywhere you want," he replies, looking at you with a smug yet endeared smile - almost as if he knew you'd join him all along.

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[chaotic-toasters]

Lowkey

Kim Little x Teen!Reader

Arsenal WFC x Teen!Reader

------------------

“Hey, kiddo!” Katie's voice boomed in your ear, making you jolt. “Ready for trainin’?”

You shrunk slightly as her arm wrapped around your shoulders, discreetly shaking it off. “Uh-huh.”

Pushing the door to the changing room open, you slipped inside, sitting down at your cubby with a quiet greeting to the other girls.

You loved your team, and you loved their dynamics, but some of them were simply too rowdy for you to handle. It was one of the reasons why you kept to yourself most of the time, not wanting to get overwhelmed.

You tied your laces, hands shaking slightly as you pondered the schedule for the day. You hadn't looked at it before you left home, so you were unaware of what time you'd have recovery.

After hesitantly asking Lotte for the exact time the team would have recovery, you finished putting on all your gear, shuffling out of the changing room and into the hallway.

“Aw, look, it's the team baby!” Kyra cheered, pulling you into a headlock and ruffling your hair. “Y/N, how ya’ doin’?”

You smiled awkwardly, gently freeing yourself from the Aussie's hold. “Hi, Kyra.”

“Cooney, get off her,” a gentle hand was placed on your shoulder, the soft touch a stark contrast to the stern Scottish voice behind you. “I've got some things to discuss with Y/N, and I need her in one piece.”

Kyra groaned, slinking away. “Fiiine.”

As soon as the Matilda was gone, Kim removed her hand from your shoulder, brushing the hair that had come loose out of your face. “You ‘kay, kiddo? I know she can be a lot sometimes.”

You nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

As the two of you started walking to the training pitch side by side, you couldn't help but think it was weird. The Kim Little was to your right, smiling at you warmly, letting you know that she was available if you ever needed her.

“I'll keep that in mind, thanks,” you said gratefully. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” the midfielder patted you on the shoulder. “I know what it's like to be one of the introverts on the team. Come chat with me if you're ever overwhelmed, I'd love to talk with someone who doesn't shout every time they talk.”

You snickered when the Scotswoman's eyes drifted over to Katie. “Okay, I will. Thanks, Kim.”

—----------------

You didn't even make it through half the day. After some of the girls had gotten too rowdy for you, you'd gone and found Kim to do partner drills with.

“I'm surprised you lasted this long,” she grinned, tapping the ball to you. “Viv has been here for years, and she still can't last more than an hour.”

You couldn't help but grin back. “I'm special that way.”

You felt comfortable with your captain, her personality extremely similar to yours in terms of demeanor and values. It was easy to open up to her, to tell her things that your other teammates didn't know, and you knew that this was a friendship that would be nearly impossible to break.

You could tell by the way the mischievous idea formed in your head when the sprinklers turned on, the sudden urge to tackle Kim into the splash zone impossible to ignore. You would never do such a thing to people that you weren't good friends with, but it was obvious to you that you and Kim were heading in that direction.

“Kim, what are you doin’ on our off-day?” Steph questioned.

Kim pondered for a moment, completely clueless to the you charging at her like a bull. “I'm not sure, I was ju— Y/N!”

She laughed as the two of you wrestled, water from the sprinklers splashing you both in the face and making it hard to see. “Y/N! Get off, you little rat!”

You grinned cheekily as you rolled around in the dirt. “I can't, there's a dinosaur on top of me!”

“Hey!” she complained, tackling you back to the ground as your teammates gaped. “I'm not that old!”

“Yes, you are!” you freed yourself from her grasp, sprinting off. “You're, like, sixty!”

“I'm in my thirties!” she yelled after you.

“Same th- oof!” You grunted as you slipped on the wet grass, falling flat on your back. “Owwwww.”

Kim snorted. “Your fault, not mine.”

“Wally?” You whined, sticking your arms up in the air and making grabby hands. “Help, I've fallen and I can't get up.”

The Swisswoman smiled in amusement, helping you up and wiping the dirt off your cheek. “Never seen you so comfortable, Y/N.”

You shrugged, waving shyly at the camera that you realized had probably caught the whole incident. “There's just something about Kimmy, I guess.”

“Awww,” Kim jogged up to you, pinching your cheeks and grinning. “So cute.”

You reddened, slapping her hands away. “No need to make it weird, Mum.”

“I'm not makin’ it weird, you're makin’ it weird!”

“No, you!”

“No, you!”

Katie crossed her arms indignantly as you and Kim tried to force each other to the ground. “How come I get told off for wrestlin’ Kyra?”

You stuck out your tongue, trying to sweep Kim's legs out from underneath her. “I'm just special!”

“I'm special!” Katie complained.

You waved your hand dismissively, digging your foot into the ground. “Just because your mum said it doesn't mean it's true.”

“HEY!”

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case. 

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory. 

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different. 

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

*** 

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing. 

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse. 

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?” 

Emily and JJ are all too pleased. 

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[eggrollforyou]

You Are My Flame

Ace x F!Reader

CW: Fluffy as could be, angst to comfort, self-worth issues

A/N: This tooth achingly sweet Ace piece goes out to you Z @shy-writer-999! I’m proud of you for all your hard work this semester! As usual, barely proofread because I have no idea what I’m doing. I just wanna write stuff about my favorite 2D fictional boys

Dividers by @cafekitsune

It’s almost dinner time, Thatch has something wonderful cooking for everyone and Ace is nowhere to be found. Really unusual for him considering his relationship with food. It’s almost as bad as his brother’s. You search the ship for all of his usual hiding spots knowing something is up if he’s not being smacked away from the kitchen at this point. Checking his usual places to seek solitude, you forget to check the last one. You precariously climb out onto the Moby Dick’s signature smile, walking along the lip of the ship, you find your Ace. He’s staring pensively on the horizon as the sun begins to set, lighting the sky in streaks of reds, golds, oranges, and purples. The beautiful reflection of it glistening in his eyes. His eyes, they’re all you can see. He’s huddled up, arms perched on his knees that are folded into his chest, head down resting on his arms. Between his hat and his arms, all you see are those wonderful eyes on his freckled face.

“Ace, baby, it’s almost dinner time. Is everything ok?” you whisper to him as you sit quietly next to him, taking up a similar posture, resting your arms on your knees.

“M’fine. Just…tired is all,” he stutters quietly.

“If you’re fine, then I’m the Queen of PIrates, Ace. What’s up? You can tell me anything, let me help you,” you speak quietly, laced with concern, as you reach over and brush your hand between his shoulders. He peeks over at you, his eyes glistening with hurt, tears threatening to spill over, “Why….why do you love me?” he croaks as his voice begins to crack. “I…I’m a monster, born from a monster…I’m not worth it, not good enough. Why do you waste your time with a man like me?” Your heart clenches seeing how unkind he is to himself. How can he not see what happiness he brings? And you stop your thoughts.

“Portgas D. Ace,” you say softly but sternly as you grab his chin to force his eyes on you. His eyes widen slightly, lips parted in surprise, “Every moment with you is a blessing that I will always cherish. I love you because you are kind, because you are adventurous, and loyal, and you fight for what you believe in.” He gulps, taking in your words and his eyes soften slightly out of their previously woeful state. “I love you because you make me happy and safe. You make me laugh every damn day. You can be stubborn as all hell and sometimes it drives me up the wall,” you pause and he lets out an airy chuckle, “But I will never stop loving you. You are the flame that ignites my heart and it will ALWAYS burn for you.”

Ace sniffles trying to fight back the tears that trickle down his face, wiping his nose with his arm in shy embarrassment. Trying to deflect his insecurity he flashes a grin, “Look at you with your love confession, sweetheart. You could have just told me you liked me instead of professing your love.” You glare at him and he laughs, pulling you between his legs, your back against his chest. He takes a deep breath in your hair, finding comfort in you. Giving you a squeeze he whispers in your hair, “Thank you, my little firefly. I love you too,” he closes his eyes as his heart feels full again, your words taking his broken pieces and putting them back together. You hum finding comfort in his embrace as you both sit quietly taking in the smell of the salty sea spray coming off the bow of the ship as you chase the sunset.

Did you like this? I'm flattered! Wanna read more? Here's my Masterlist!

[steddieas-shegoes]

Modern AU where Eddie is a tech repair person at an apple store in Chicago while he tries to make it big with his band and Steve is a spoiled rich kid who is trying to cover up that he's been using his macbook to film for his OnlyFans or something similar and he needs that shit wiped.

Eddie is as professional as he can be, but can't help but be amused at Steve being worried that he's gonna see everything.

S: seriously, just wipe everything. nothing has to be saved. don't even look through each file. just start over. E: okay sure. but you know you could just buy a new laptop. S: my dad checks my credit card statements. E: okay, so tell him you bought it for a friend or something. S: just. can you wipe it? E: yeah i can.

Eddie doesn't let him know that he already has seen everything because of course he subscribes to S.H. and often leaves him bigger tips than he can afford. He doesn't even know why Steve does it since he's apparently rich, or his dad is.

It only takes a few hours to wipe it, and Eddie's grateful he managed to help Steve instead of his coworker who is a certified Creep ™️ who absolutely would have made sure to watch as many of the videos as he could first.

He calls Steve and leaves a message for him that it's done, but doesn't hear back and Steve doesn't come by. He does the same thing again the next day, and the day after that, starting to grow concerned.

He goes so far as to check Steve's OF page, just to see if there's an update, but sees it's been shut down, like it never existed.

He finally caves, does the most unprofessional thing he's ever done, and texts Steve's number from his own phone.

This is Eddie from the apple store. Your laptop's ready. Just want you to know after 30 days we usually get rid of unclaimed items.

There's no response.

But two days later, Steve comes into the store wearing sunglasses and a hat, clearly trying to hide.

When he takes off the sunglasses to sign everything, Eddie sees a healing black eye and swollen nose.

He isn't stupid.

And he suddenly feels extremely protective over him.

E: did your dad find out? S: find out what? E: about your online job? S: how do you know? E: I wasn't gonna say anything, and I swear everything got wiped without anyone including myself seeing, but I do subscribe to you and I recognized you when you came in. S, already having a panic attack: shit no. this is bad. okay you can't say anything about this to anyone. please. E: I wouldn't, I won't. but your dad found out didn't he? he did this to you? S: *nods* E: you safe now? S: *shrugs* E: need a place to stay? S: i've been saving. that's why i did this in the first place. so i can pay rent somewhere. E: I have a second bedroom at my place that just opened up. up to you.

And of course Steve takes it because he's desperate, and doesn't have real world experience with a lot of strangers, but has a good feeling about this.

Eddie finds that Steve is a very typical rich kid; ignorant to a lot of the world's struggles, but not an asshole despite his bitchy attitude sometimes coming out, thinks money can fix everything until Eddie shows him that apologies and a cuddle on the couch can be better.

Steve is so touch starved, he doesn't even realize the way he always folds into Eddie's side when they're just relaxing and watching a movie, or how he always lets his hand brush against his side or hand when Eddie gets home from work. Eddie helps him look for a job, and they find that he loves working at a daycare even though the money isn't that great.

They fall in love so easily, neither of them actually realize it happens until Steve comes home after a very long day before the Christmas holidays, covered in paint stains from crafts with the kids, and Eddie just welcomes him home with a kiss.

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Comfort

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: three instances of Bucky associating someone stroking his hair with comfort.

Warnings: fluff and angst, mentions of illness, period-accurate toxic masculinity, mentions of nightmares, no y/n used, only pronoun used is "you"

A/N: this is based on something I wrote for my self indulgent self-insert OC Juniper, where Bucky tells them the story of the first two memories and then decided I wanted to also do an x Reader with a similar idea.

-------------------------------------------------------

1930

One time, when Bucky was young, he was hit with an awful bout of illness. He felt like there was a hundred pound weight on his chest, and he couldn’t stop coughing. Steve kept trying to sneak in to go see his friend, but would be shooed away before he could actually see his friend. Rebecca, Bucky’s little sister, would slip notes from her and Steve under his door as often as she could, trying to remind him he wasn’t alone. One night, when his sickness got real bad, his mother came in to sit up with him. Since it was the Depression, she would be up pretty much every night working on sewing alterations until her fingers cramped and bled. But tonight, she was staying with her Baby Boy. She rubs Vick’s on his chest in hopes of soothing the cough, and sits by his bedside. When Bucky’s coughing gets so bad that he can’t fall asleep, she sits on the mattress next to him, running their fingers through his hair until he falls asleep. She saw how much it soothed him, and from then on whenever he was sick she would stay with him, running her fingers through her son’s hair to calm him. 

1942

Bucky was an adult now, dressed in a soldier’s uniform and trying to pretend he was proud of that. He’d just gotten home from the Stark Expo, and found that his mother and sister had stayed up to wait for him. Rebecca hugs her brother goodbye before heading to bed, but Bucky and Winnefred stay up late talking. During the conversation everything hits him at once. He’d spent the entire day forcing a smile and pretending to be brave, being strong in front of his date, of Steve, of anyone who saw him and saw a young man ready to take on the world and fight for his country. 

When in reality?

 He’s been terrified ever since he learned he was drafted. 

He broke down in front of his mother, telling her that he’s not ready, that he’s scared, and that he hates that he’s scared. That he’s a coward. But his mother shakes her head, and hugs her son tight. She doesn’t tell him to “man up” or that he needs to “get ahold of himself”, just held him and assured him that it’s okay, that he’s not a coward, that he’s not weak for being afraid. She took him back to his bedroom, getting him settled under the covers and sitting at his bedside, stroking his hair the same way she did when he was young. 

“Rest now, James,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “you don’t have to be strong tonight…” 

Now

Bucky woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. He tried to take deep breaths, to calm himself down, but the nightmares that had forced him awake still ravaged his subconscious. 

“Bucky?” He whipped around to see you, eyes tired but still filled with concern, “are you alright, Baby?” 

“Yeah,” he gasped out, running a hand through his hair, “yeah, yeah, I'm…I-I’m…” 

“Oh,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his back, “oh Sweetheart…” 

You hugged him close, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Can you feel my breath?” You asked, running your fingers along his stomach. Bucky nodded, “good, Buck. Can you follow my breathing?” 

He matched your breaths as best he can, and you held him until he calmed down. Once his breathing evened out, you pressed another kiss to the crook of his neck and smiled softly. 

“What do you need to feel better, Sweet Boy?” You asked, “what do you need to go back to sleep?” 

Bucky chewed his lip for a moment, trying to decide. His mind drifted to his youth, to his mother carding her fingers through his hair and the feeling of serenity it brought him. 

“M-my hair,” he murmured. You looked confused, “will you stroke my hair for a bit?” 

He didn't give you a chance to respond. 

“Sorry,” Bucky's blue eyes wouldn't meet theirs, “that sounds stupid, but my Ma used to do it when I was younger but–” 

“Shhhh,” you slid in front of him, “it's not stupid. Of course I'll stroke your hair.” 

His blue eyes met yours, relief flooding his gaze. 

“Lay back down, Sweetheart,” he settled himself on top of you, laying his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. You cradled his head against your body, running your fingers through his dark hair. His eyes were already starting to feel heavy, and he nuzzled into your neck, a little hum escaping him.

“Get some rest, Bucky,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he started to give in to sleep, “I love you.” 

The same feeling of serenity overtook him, and Bucky drifted off in his partner's arms.

[soapyblubbles]

*.•° 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 °•.*

pairings: poly!marauders x nymph!reader

summary: james introduces you to his two friends

warnings: implied “sharing.” do with that what you will.

a/n: who was gonna tell me that i actually have to check my inbox to know if i have asks 🙊 anyways this is set before pieces of me !! this is dedicated to the anon who asked me about nymph!reader back in august 😭

You tug roughly on James’ arm, mindlessly cooing as you pull him deeper into the cave.

He doesn’t understand anything that you’re saying, but still he nods along enthusiastically, intently focused on each syllable that leaves your mouth. You had been surprised when he showed up earlier than usual, especially when you realized he had brought others along with him.

The two trail behind uncertainly, their rising alarm resting sour on your tongue.

The long-haired one made you especially wary.

He doesn’t show any outward signs of being nervous but you sense emotions better than most. His wild energy puts you on edge. His aura is bitter, like the unripe fruit that dangles from the trees that tower over you when you journey into the forest. There’s also a hint of sweetness reminiscent of the nectar that the bees sometimes bring you.

If the long-haired one is the fruit then the tall one is the branches, balancing out his companions' wild nature with his never ending patience. That’s not to say he doesn’t have any chaos of his own. You can feel it writhing underneath his skin, especially when he shifts around every now and again, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Though you think that it might be because of how he’s forced to hunch over every now and again, the tips of his hair brushing against the jagged ceiling whenever the floor of the cave gets too uneven.

The taste of honey dew makes your mouth water, along with a richness similar to the dark colored treats James brings you every once in a while.

“Are we almost there?” James’ hushes them and a frown forms on both their faces. You peer at them with interest.

“James.” The tall one scolds, his throat raspy with sleep. “Don’t ignore us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’re almost there. Merlin, all you have to do is wait a few more bloody minutes.”

“Well excuse me if I decide to ask a couple questions when you drag me in the middle of the forbidden forest at this hour.” The tall one hisses back, looking far more lively than he had moments before.

You tug on James’ sleeve, straightening up as his attention instantly falls back to you. “Yes, love?”

You gesture to the cave, turning back to stick your tongue out at the two behind you. Although they're infinitely confused, there’s no doubting the fact that you’ve piqued their interest.

“Bloody brat.” The two mutter in unison.

James ignores them, trying his best to listen to your incomprehensible, but excited mutterings.

“Found the poor thing bathing in a creek when I was roaming around as Prongs.” James sighs, clutching his wand tightly as he walks the familiar path.

They stop just as you reach the entrance to what looks like a house, gazing around in awe as the glass bottles and mason jars start to come to life, fireflies moving around in them restlessly. The unnatural glow coming from the small pond by the back alcove couldn’t be from anything but magic. You lead them further into the room, pointing to the small collection of rocks and other random items, sorted in a chaotic manner.

“Wow.” The shorter one whispers breathlessly.

You push James on your makeshift bed, made up of moss and hay. You sidle up to his side with a contented hum. “Brought her some stuff when I could. But for now I figured I’d share her with m’best mates.”

They both pause at that.

“What?”

“Trust me, the poor thing can barely even understand us.” He assures his tall friend.

Seeing how unconvinced they still were, he sighs and turns to you. You perk up at his attention, letting the small stones you were messing with fall to the floor as you give him a bright smile.

“You’re just a dumb little nymph aren’t you?” He coos down at you. You nod along eagerly, eyes shining with adoration as he mocks you.

“Such a dumb girl, who’s my dumb girl, huh?” His voice was not unlike the voice one would use when speaking to a puppy and you just smiled along, practically bouncing in place at his upbeat tone. You latch onto his arm, fiddling with the fabric on his jacket.

James sighs at your actions, pulling you closer into him, your teeth making a soft ‘click’ every time you bite down on the material.

Sirius gives Remus a heavy look, the long haired boy looking doubtful when Remus walks over, hunching over you. His slender finger trails up and down your calf. “Such a pretty girl.”

You must’ve understood what he said because no sooner did those words leave his mouth, did your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him forward harshly.

With a speed that surprised even him, his arms shot out to either side of your head, letting out a loud groan as a few small rocks dug into his palms, just barely managing to stop himself from crushing you.

You let out a series of loud clicking and chirping noises, unaware of how improper your actions were. He lets out a huff, rising to his knees as you continue to babble nonsensically. “You don’t do that. You understand? Tha’s not nice and someone could’a gotten hurt.” His tone is firm and you squirm in place, peering up at him with wide eyes.

James had never spoken that way to you before.

Bashfully, you turn away from him, hiding your face in the crook of James’ neck. “Hey mate, don’t be rude to my best girl. Just cause I’m sharing ‘er doesn’t mean you need to be a prick to the poor thing.” He grumbles, petting your head softly.

Remus just sighs, shaking his head at you two before calling out, “Are y’just gonna stand there all evenin’?”

Sirius, who was still wandering around the cave, shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “Sorry mate, s’just cool in here.” He moves to sit down, but freezes when your head snaps to him. You bare your teeth, hissing with furrowed brows as you eye the way he’s just a little too close to James.

James lets out a booming laugh as Sirius’ features morph into a scowl.

Remus slaps James’ arm. “Be nice.”