#because I don’t know if I’m over reacting

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

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[tojicide]

SNIPER, SNIPER! ☆ LEON KENNEDY

summary. in leon’s line of work as a contract killer, weaknesses weren’t an option. luckily, he’d eliminated his… all except for one.

warnings. fem!reader. au. nsfw, smut, fluff. hitman!leon, ex!leon, jealous!leon, re4!leon intended. discussion of murder, guns, bullets, etc. a loooot of blissful ignorance. porn with some plot. pet names. argument. oral sex (f!receiving), face sitting, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie. wc. 5.3k

note. i tend to fuck up a nice “ex who is a raging munch” fic or two saurrrr this is basically my staple now :3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Leon isn’t sure why he’s here.

He hasn’t ever bid on a target as sought after as the one that he has now acquired. The target was only described as someone who simply ‘knows too much’ about something they shouldn’t. Vague, he thinks, especially because they remained nameless, genderless, and description-less otherwise. It was odd, for sure, but it was the highest contract that he had ever come by.

As a matter of fact, he’s positive that it’s the highest contract that anyone in his position has ever seen, let alone signed. He’s sure that he’s ruffled a bit of feathers by taking on the job, especially considering that he was still considered fresh meat among the other hitmen that he was distantly familiar with.

Leon preferred to stay out of the unusual politics that came with the underground world, and that meant taking on the jobs that no one deemed urgent enough to complete.

(Plenty of drug dealers, a few sketchy nightclub owners, and an awful bunch of politicians who he is 99% sure put the bounty on their own heads to avoid the scandal that was unearthed about each of them no less than two weeks after they were found with bullets in their heads. He preferred those hits. All men, all guilty of something.)

Nevertheless, he finds himself here, perched on the rooftop of an upscale bar with his sniper rifle angled over the ledge. His scope was perfectly aligned with the entrance of the night club across the street, his right eye narrowed while the other was completely shut.

He sighs, tapping onto his earpiece to communicate with his teammate that was a few buildings over. Alexander.

(Alexander was a tech-nut. He was responsible for ensuring that the coast was clear, that there weren’t an abundance of cops in the area, and that security cameras of the establishment were looped continually in order to ensure that no one could suspect anything more than someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.)

“Reread the target description that was left for me,” Leon quietly commands.

“Aaand what’s the magic word?”

He heavily sighs. For a job like this, he figured that working alone would be the best option, but with the more he learned, the more experience he gained, the people he met—he was proven wrong. A team works more efficiently than a single person, even if the other half of his current team was a bit… annoying.

“Don’t piss me off,” he huffs, shaking his head as he closes one eye to look through the scope again.

Leon can practically hear Alexander’s grin on the other end of the line as he speaks. “Alright, man, jeez. Your g-string must be a bit too tight tonight, but that’s alright, I’m in no place to judge you.”

Before the blonde can even react to that unsettling quip, Alexander continues speaking, only this time, he does what Leon asks of him. “Bounty, bounty, bounty… where is the darn thing? Oh yes, here it is. Okay, it says that the target will be wearing a blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks tonight…. and that’s it.”

Leon hums, mulling over the very few words that were left for him by the person who had posted the contract in the first place. He’d never killed someone based on the description of an outfit alone,  but then again, he’s never gotten paid this much for sending a bullet through a random guy’s brain. He’ll take it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, turning off his ear piece to drown out the voice of the male on the other end.

It feels like hours pass by in which all he does is stare at the entrance, watching as each attendee leaves the establishment periodically. Each time he saw the color red, he’d perk up, only to find that they were wearing jeans, or they were wearing a white blazer, which only left him feeling more annoyed as time went on.

And then, the door opens. He can practically feel the air flee his lungs as he taps onto his earpiece out of instinct. A blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks.

“Ooh. Pretty. We guessed wrong, didn’t we?” Alexander speaks through the earpiece, which causes Leon to raise a brow.

“What’re you…” his voice trails. His blood runs cold, his palms begin to sweat, and his eyes blow wide. “Holy… fuck.”

“I know right? Not only is she a woman, but she’s miiiighty fine,” his teammate speaks, his voice oddly humorous for the given situation. A moment of silence passes, and Alexander continues to talk, but he can’t hear a damn word.

Leon freezes like a deer in headlights as he watches you emerge from the dim nightclub with a man’s arm slung around your shoulder, though that hardly taints how angelic you look tonight.

Your hair frames your face so beautifully, so soft and feminine. The tip of your nose was flushed given the crisp night air that you’ve just stepped into, your smile was side and toothy as you walked beside a man that he didn’t recognize.

You’re gorgeous, is all he can think right now. It’s the first time he’s seen you since the moment the two of you broke up six months ago, and you look even prettier than when he pictured you each night to fall asleep. He dreamt of you often, but his lovesick mind was no match for imagining the beauty that you possess.

Suddenly, Alexander’s voice pierced through his haze, bringing him back to the current scene. “Earth to Leon? I get it man, she’s pretty, very much so. I’d hit that too if she wasn’t gonna die in like… two secs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he hisses, his voice sounding just as venomous as he’d intended it to. “You aren’t going to lay a damn finger on her.”

“Woah, buddy. Big talk from the guy with a sniper aimed at her head.”

That is the moment in which everything clicks in the worst way imaginable.

It’s you. His target, the person who knows too much, the one who is supposed to die tonight—it’s you.

And then, he becomes acutely aware of the lines that are obstructing his view of you. His scope. The red dot in the center placed strategically on your temple, the bullet meant just for you waiting for a simple pull of a trigger.

Leon shudders, picking his head up. No. Absolutely not. Completing his task was not even a thought in his mind anymore, not if the target was you. His beautiful, sweet girl.

But he couldn’t leave the scene unscathed. It would raise suspicion, possibly even tie him to you in a way that you didn’t need. If he didn’t fulfill the obligation in some way, someone else would. He’d broken up with you to save you from all of this, and now, he’d unknowingly come here to make you familiar with his lifestyle in the worst way possible.

You were walking away, and it’s then that his trained eyes fall onto the man who has his arm draped over your shoulder in the way he used to all those months ago. His heart aches at the mere sight of you looking so happy in the company of another, but it gives him an idea.

Leon looks through the scope again, and within seconds, a loud gunshot rings through the air in the form of a thundering pop.

His jaw tenses as he hears screaming. They aren’t your screams though, because you’re not hit. They’re coming from the man you were with, because Leon has just lightly grazed his arm with a bullet.

He wasn’t insane. He wasn’t going to be killing anyone tonight, even if he desperately wanted to kick the living shit out of the man who is so close to you.

Well… was close to you. He isn’t anymore. Your date is writing on the ground all because of a flesh wound, and you’re standing above him with the most confused and concerned look on your face.

Leon can’t help but think that the man has no regard for you and your safety. For all this mystery man knows, more shots could be coming, and instead of trying to protect you, he’s rolling around on the concrete like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Such a man baby.

“What’re you waiting for? Holy fuck, uh… you still have the shot. Take the shot—”

Leon pulls the earpiece away, turning it off before she shoves it into his back pocket. He didn’t need to be scolded by anyone, let alone someone as useless as his teammate. He’d beat him bloody for how he had spoken about you if he weren’t already packing up his equipment to head over to your place.

He needs to check on you, first and foremost. He also needs to explain himself which was… going to be no easy feat, he supposes.

You don’t find your way home until about an hour later, keys jumbling about as you push it into the slot, twisting it with a tired hand.

To be shot at was not on your agenda for tonight, but being berated by your date for not reacting quick enough to help him evade a bullet you had no knowledge of was certainly not how you wanted to end your night either.

Annoyed, exhausted, and frustrated, you step into your apartment. When you begin to shrug off your coat, your body tenses. No. Fucking. Way.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, your voice rising in octave.

Leon stands from your couch, approaching you with his hands in the air, attempting to show you that he hadn’t come with malice. You knew he hadn't, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him.

“Baby, it’s just me,” he says without thinking, the pet name slipping out before he could have a say in the matter.

“Yeah, I know it’s just you, that’s the problem!” you continue, hanging your coat up on the rack along with your purse. “Are you out of your damn mind? I—”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “I am out of my mind, and you must be out of yours for still keeping your spare key under your doormat. I told you to move it years ago.”

Your brows knit together. “You little— you know what? I’m not even going to entertain that. How about this? You leave, and we forget this happened, yeah?”

“Can’t do that,” he tells you with a shrug, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I need to talk to you.”

“Don’t do this, Leon, not tonight,” you huff, pinching your nose bridge. “I’m not in the mood, alright? I was—”

“Shot at?” he finishes your sentence. He immediately regrets it, pressing his lips into a line to keep himself from saying anything else.

Your demeanor falters at that. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing as you look at him from where he stands across the room. “How do you know that?”

He takes a moment to answer, his mouth opening without any words coming out. It spikes your frustration, so you speak again. “Damn it, Leon, how do you know that?”

Leon holds his hands up again, pleading his defense before he criminalizes himself entirely. “I was the one behind the gun, but it’s not what you think—”

Your jaw drops. “Not what I think? Not what I think? You tried to kill me!”

He shakes his head, his expression falling. “I didn’t, baby. I swear. Just let me explain, and—”

“You tried to shoot me in the damn neck!” you continue, your hand dramatically clasping into the side of your throat.

Leon closes his eyes for a moment, internally bracing himself for your outburst that he absolutely deserves. He opens them again, simply watching as you spew insults his way. He takes them without any hint of irritation.

“What the hell, Leon? Is that what you do now? You stalk your ex-girlfriend and try to kill her? Not only that, you missed. You missed! That’s almost fucking humorous, because how can you try to do something like that and then miss!”

Leon sighs, waiting for a moment to see if you try to continue, and when you don’t, he speaks instead. “I aimed for his arm, not your neck, or anywhere else that would endanger you—”

“Yeah, and you almost blew his arm off!” You’re more than aware that the statement was dramatic, but you don’t need to have any sense right now.

“It was a flesh wound, he’ll be just fine,” he tells you before he continues with what he was saying before. “And I wasn’t stalking you. Not knowingly, anyway. I would never hurt you. Not ever. Your date was just… collateral. I had no choice.”

He hopes that you don’t ask any more questions about that, because he won’t have any answers for you. It was for the better. All you knew was that his job wasn’t legal. It couldn’t have been, not with the copious amounts of money that rolled in while he hardly worked for half of the month.

The less you knew about what his line of work entailed, the safer you were. The further away you were from him, the safer you were. However, those last words now ring hollow.

“Look…” he whispers, taking a step towards you despite his brain screaming at him to leave. He couldn’t. Not when he was the only one who knew of your compromised position. “I know that much has changed between us. It’s my fault, I know it, but I can’t tell you anything more about my job, I just need you to—”

You need answers that you won’t be getting, and that sentiment alone makes you furious. When he gets too close, your hand moves to the leather harness that he has strapped around his broad chest, pulling a sharp-bladed knife from its sleeve. His eyes widen as you hold the blade up to him, his hands shooting up into the air yet again.

“You remember where I put my spare key, I remember where you keep your spare knife,” you taunt, the two of you standing so close now that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Guess we haven’t changed as much as you think.”

He huffs as the cool blade grazes his clothed chest, the metal so close that it nearly pierces his skin. Even then, you ensure that it doesn’t. It’s almost touching how you press such a sharp object to his heart of all places, he thinks.

Your situation is far more complicated than the both of you can handle right now. You have unresolved issues with each other, and that alone must be addressed before you can even begin to scratch the surface of the threats that now face the two of you.

“I still think you’re sexy when you’re mean to me,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. “That hasn’t changed either.”

Was it the time for his flirtatious performance? Certainly not, but you were putting on a little performance of your own just the same.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

Leon shakes his head, his eyes narrowing just as yours did. “Disgusting? Oh, don’t romance me.”

“I’m not romancing you,” you huff with an eye roll. Your grip on the knife only tightens, but you have no real intention of using it. “I’m threatening you.”

He hardly finds you to be threatening. He’d liken you to an angry cat, but he wouldn’t dare voice that out loud. He’s letting you have your moment, truth be told. “Mm, even better.”

His calloused hand moves to shadow yours, slowly lowering the knife that begged to pierce his pale skin. You let him, which only gives him more incentive to pull it away from your grasp entirely.

He tucks the knife back into his sheath, moving to unbuckle the harness entirely. “Now. Tell me, who was that guy?”

A random guy you met on Tinder. “My future husband.”

You’re just trying to get under his skin now, and judging by the look on his face, it’s working. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, taking note of that smug grin that stretches over your lips.

He really just wants to fuck it right off you, but he doesn’t make that known. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah?” he asks, tilting his head. “You gonna let him put a ring on that pretty finger of yours?”

No, you absolutely were not, but you’re enjoying this game. It’s what he deserves after scaring the shit out of you tonight. “Yeah, I am. Thinking about some baby names too, just for safekeeping.”

Leon doesn’t like the thought that you’ve just put in his head, not one bit. His hand finds your left one, bringing it up to his lips as he presses a kiss on your ring finger. “Huh. That’s what you want?”

You tilt your head, noticing how his lips linger on your hand for a moment too long. “You know what I don’t want? To be shot at.”

He hums, giving you a mocking frown. Of course he feels bad about that, but… you both know he hadn’t truly shot at you. Around you, yes, but not at you. His large hands find your waist, his fingers grasping onto the fabric of your shirt and slowly but surely, you find yourself being backed towards your couch.

“Answer my question,” he whispers, his voice now possessing a rasp that it didn’t have before.

You huff, willingly sitting on your couch, even though you’re doing your best to front as though you’re totally disinterested. “Why should I?”

He shrugs, his lips tugging down as he tilts his head. You watch with blown eyes as he kneels in front of you, his palms gliding over your thighs.

“‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him quite intently as his fingers move to the button of your slacks. You shouldn’t be turned on, but you absolutely are, and the damp fabric of your panties that he’s about to see conveys that pretty well.

“Give me what?” you ask, grinning slightly.

“A ring, a baby… both, neither,” he replies, his fingers hooking beneath your waistband. “Lift your hips for me.”

When you do just that, his eyes raise to find yours. He has a crazed look in his eye, one that you’re all too familiar with. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you,” he whispers, leaning in until his soft lips just barely brush against yours.

Your eyes close, and you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you. But he doesn’t. When you open your eyes, you find him grinning. The same shit-eating grin that you love and hate to no avail.

“You just have to say the words,” he whispers against your lips.

You roll your eyes, your hand reaching out to rest on the back of his neck. He was already impossibly close, so all you truly did was hold him there. “I want to kiss you.”

Leon smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “Mm, like I said. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.”

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his calloused hands smoothing over the soft, exposed skin of your thighs. Your lips move together in a gentle manner at first, as though you were allowing yourselves to get familiar all over again, but you were both quick to realize that gentleness was the last thing you needed.

Your breathing grows ragged as one of his hands cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough so that his tongue could easily slip into your mouth. The kiss was sloppier, messier, much more desperate. It was perfect, in your humble opinion.

His trails kisses down your cheek, jaw, neck… just about anywhere he could as he begins his gradual descent. His hands palm at your breasts through your shirt, and without hesitation, his hands grasp onto the fabric and yank it open. Buttons go flying about your living room, but Leon doesn’t seem to care with the way his face pressed into your cleavage.

One of his hands snaked behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, and the moment he saw a nipple, his mouth was already distracted once again.

“Leon, that was my favorite shirt!” you scold, glancing down at him.

He looks up at you with hazed eyes, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth before he releases it to reply to you. “Was it?” he asks, his reply lacking any care in the slightest.

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him, but your front doesn’t last long when his tongue swirls around your areola. He reaches into his back pocket, tossing his wallet beside you.

“Buy a new one, shit, buy anything you want,” he whispers against your skin, his hands grasping onto your waist. “Tits are so pretty, baby. I missed you.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” you ask, a huff of laughter leaving your lips while his trail down your stomach.

“Absolutely not, no,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your panties. He looks at you as he pulls them down your legs, and he presses his warm lips to your inner calves and thighs as he makes his way towards you again. “Missed everything about you.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s corny—”

“Sh,” he tells you, holding one finger up while he uses his other hand to slip one into your sopping entrance. Your walls clench around him, which only forces a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Let her talk for a bit, yeah?”

He hardly gives you a moment to reply before his head dips, his tongue curling up to stimulate your clit before he sucks on it entirely. He unabashedly moans into your cunt, introducing another finger into your entrance simultaneously.

Your head falls back, your hand delving into his hair to hold him impossibly closer to you, even though he seriously would get closer if he could.

“Sweetest pussy,” he murmurs into your heat, his voice rumbling against your wet cunt that he continued to eat like he would die if he didn’t. “Do somethin’ for me?”

You pick your head up to look down at him, nodding without question. He opens his eyes to look at you in return, pressing a kiss onto your mound before he turns around so that his back is now pressed against the front of your couch, still sitting on the ground.

“Sit on my face,” he suggests, tipping his head back onto the couch cushion.

He reaches for your hand to pull you forward, and you pivot on your knee, your front facing the back of the couch. He lays a light smack on your ass before he pulls you down the rest of the way to make you sit on his face.

Your hand reaches down, clutching onto his hair yet again while you cry out in genuine bliss. His tongue softens as he gives you long, deep licks into your pussy, wanting to taste every inch of you on his tongue.

And when your hips start to rock, he seems to be even happier. Much more incentivized too. He lulls his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it to let you ride his face as you so pleased. You made a mess of his chin, his mouth, his nose—he hardly cares.

(In fact, he doesn’t care. Not one bit. You might even have to pay him to care.)

“Y-You know,” you whine, grasping a bit firmer onto his hair while your hips continue to roll on his tongue, “I’m still mad at you.”

He nods his head, which only stimulates your cunt even more. “Mm, yeah?”

It felt so good. Everything about this was absolutely ecstasy, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears from how stimulated you’re growing.

“Yeah,” you choke out, resting your palms on the back of the couch to brace yourself. “I’m really fucking mad.”

Leon can’t help but grin, his hands brushing along the plush of your thighs. “I’m not too sure, sweetheart. Not with you riding my face like you love me ‘n all.”

“Shut… shut the hell up,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your movements begin to grow even more crazed the closer you get to your release. He was right, but that didn’t mean you had to admit that.

“Okay,” he complies, his eyes fluttering shut while he starts to greedily make out with your pussy, feeling the way you pulsate on his tongue. “Shuttin’ me up real nice with this pretty little pussy. Cum on my face too while you’re at it, pretty girl.”

Not nice enough, but you cry out anyway, your head falling while your legs tremble on either side of his head. “I… Leon, ‘m cumming,” you say through an airy moan.

His movements slow as yours do, his tongue eagerly reaping the benefits of its labor in the form of your sweet release. He lets out a content sigh, pressing a few sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

You slowly rise up from his face, and he turns around to face you again, licking his lips, not caring about the rest of your thin slick that coats his face. You chuckle, running your hand over his face to wipe it away.

“So…” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re still mad at me? Tell me more.”

“Later,” you reply, hooking your finger into the loophole of his pants to pull him closer to you.

With a chuckle, Leon pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly on the floor of your living room. He gently nudges you until you’re laying back on your couch, his hands then moving to undo his belt.

“Ah, I see,” he teases, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion. He kicks them away before he settles in between your parted legs, his hand pumping his cock.

You raise your eyes from his cock to his eyes, and you give him the most weary expression alive. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you say.

It’s been too long, you were certainly not used to his size anymore. Leon knew it just as well as you did, but he didn’t want to make you nervous by saying that.

His brows knit together as he leans down to kiss you, his fingers moving a bit lower to prod your entrance. “You flatter me,” he says against your lips, his head dipping a bit lower to kiss your neck. “No need to worry your pretty little head, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

You nod your head, one of your hands cupping the back of his head while the other rests on his strong shoulder. “Okay… yeah, okay.”

He nods too, moving one of his hands to meet the one that you have resting on his shoulder. He intertwines your fingers, pushing your hand back onto the couch while he uses his other one to slide his tip along your folds.

“I promise,” he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

He always has. Even after the events of tonight, you know that he always will.

“I love you,” you say without thinking. A flush rushes across your face, and you close your eyes in utter embarrassment. (Seriously? A confession of your undying love while he’s actively entering you? Time and place.) “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he whispers, pushing his cock further inside of you until he bottoms out. “Mm… I love you so much,” he replies without a care in the world. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Your eyes soften at that, and a small chuckle leaves your lips. “Well… that’s good, isn’t it…?”

His eyebrows knit together, laughing softly at your awkward reply. “You’re such a dork, baby,” he whispers, dipping his head to plant a kiss on your lips while he rolls his hips into yours. “A pretty one, though.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss on your lips, and they stay shut, even when he opts to just rest his forehead on yours. “Your dork,” you say, a bit breathlessly with a smile on your face.

“Mhm,” he nods in agreement, a toothy smile stretching across his face. “My dork.”

Such a lovely interaction that you nearly forgot that he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, because the moment he falls silent, your eyes widen. “Oh, God…”

He smiles, kissing your cheek while he continues to thrust inside of you, his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy in a way that made him feel like he was finally home.

“See?” he whispers in your ear, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re taking me so well, pretty. So well.”

That makes you chuckle, but your laugh doesn’t last for long when the head of his cock rams into you even harder. Your hand smooths out along the expanse of his back, dragging your nails back up.

“You’re crazy,” you gasp out.

Leon smiles. “Crazy about you, sure.”

You laugh through an airy moan, tilting your head to the side as your eyes flutter shut. “Soooo corny,” you whisper.

He shakes his head with his same toothy grin, using his free hand to tilt your chin towards him again. His thumb brushes along your bottom lip before he kisses you, and it is just about the sweetest kiss that you could have ever asked for.

“You love it,” he murmurs in reply, a bit breathless as an overwhelming heat pools in his lower stomach.

You shake your head. “I love you.”

Leon clicks his tongue at that, giving your hand a squeeze. “And I’m the corny one?”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh. He loves hearing you like this, so happy yet so utterly ruined by the way he feels inside of you. He knows that the feeling is mutual, which only amplifies how much he’s enjoying this. Having you again.

He softly moans in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Pussy was made for me,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

After a few more strokes, he truly begins to lose himself. His cock twitches inside of you, and he dips his head into your shoulder. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” he rasps.

He pulls back, but you only pull him closer. It’s been so long, he hadn’t truly thought that you’d be okay with that. But here you were, his favorite girl. Always surprising him. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, wrapping your free arm around his neck while the other gives his hand another squeeze. “I love you more.”

He grunts when your walls clench around his length, his lips pressing a longing kiss to your shoulder. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon. I need it, honey, please.”

You’re in no position to deny him or yourself. Your body trembles beneath him, a gorgeous moan ripping through the air while he buries himself deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum while you find your own release on his cock.

The two of you lay there for a moment, out of breath and entirely engulfed by one another. He slowly pulls out of you, pressing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, until he eventually kisses your lips.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him. You chase his lips once more, giving him a tender kiss before you lay your head back down.

“Now, as for why I’m still mad at you…”

note. yeahhh i need him bad in a way that’s concerning to feminism. anywhoooo interact if you enjoyed i rly like writing for him :D thank you so much for reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[amirasainz]

So I read a lot of stories similar to my requests. But I just think you are the best author on tumblr, so I wanna ask you😅☺️

Secret marriage with Oscar. They married really young and the drivers reaction. She is always at the races, but just in the shadows. The only one that knows is Charles, because he is Oscars "dad" 😭😍

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Secret marriage

The F1 paddock buzzed with the usual energy and tension. The race weekend was in full swing, and every driver, mechanic, and team member was focused on the task ahead. It was Friday afternoon, and most of the drivers had just finished media sessions and were now lounging around in the driver's hospitality suite, swapping stories and strategies. Oscar was among them, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed expression.

Nearby, Lando noticed a familiar face in the crowd. A woman, sleek and stylish, with a British Vogue ID around her neck, had been lingering around Oscar’s side of the paddock all day, chatting with him occasionally before darting off to interview other drivers. Lando squinted, intrigued.

“Oi, Oscar,” Lando called out, leaning back in his seat. “Who's that Vogue chick? She’s been following you around like a shadow.”

Oscar glanced up from his phone, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Who, Y/N? She’s just here for work. We know each other pretty well.”

George, who overheard the conversation, raised an eyebrow. “Pretty well? Mate, you guys looked like you were practically whispering sweet nothings before she left the garage.”

Oscar shrugged, but his eyes glinted with mischief. “Maybe we were.”

Lando sat up, fully interested now. “Wait… what? Are you and Miss Vogue dating?”

Oscar chuckled, keeping his cool. “Not exactly.”

Pierre, catching onto the conversation, leaned forward. “Come on, spill the beans! There’s definitely something going on.”

Oscar finally sighed, looking up at his friends with an amused smirk. “Well… actually, Y/N and I… we’re married.”

The room fell silent.

George blinked. “You’re what?”

“Married,” Oscar repeated, his tone casual as ever. “Been married since we turned eighteen, actually.”

The explosion was immediate. Lando gasped, practically jumping out of his seat, while Pierre clapped a hand over his mouth in shock.

“No way!” Lando exclaimed. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Oscar nodded, barely reacting to the chaos unfolding around him. “Yep. Just never made a big deal out of it.”

“You’re telling me,” George said, his voice high-pitched with disbelief, “that you’ve been secretly married for… what? Three years now?”

“Three and a half, actually,” Oscar replied calmly, clearly enjoying their reactions. “We wanted to keep it private. Just worked out that way.”

Pierre looked like he was about to faint. “Mate, do you realize we never even knew you had a girlfriend, let alone a wife?”

Oscar gave a little shrug. “Guess I’m good at keeping secrets.”

George put his hands on his head. “I thought I was the reserved one around here! But this? Oscar, this is next level. How did we never catch on?”

Oscar chuckled, glancing over at Y/N, who was currently chatting with a journalist a few feet away. “She’s at most of the races. Just… behind the scenes.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Pierre muttered, shaking his head in amazement.

Just then, Charles strolled into the room, looking curious as he caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s everyone freaking out about?”

Lando grinned, looking ready to explode with excitement. “Charles, you’re not gonna believe this. Oscar’s married! Secretly married, since he was eighteen.”

Charles’s reaction was far more subdued. He simply nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Ah, yes. I know about Y/N.”

The room went silent again as every driver turned to gape at Charles.

“You knew?” George demanded, wide-eyed.

Charles gave them a smug shrug. “Of course. I’ve known for ages. I’m Oscar’s ‘dad,’ remember?” He winked, referencing the Monaco joke that had become a running gag between them. “It’s my job to know these things.”

Oscar snorted, smirking over at Charles. “Guess you can’t keep secrets from your ‘Monaco dad.’”

Lando threw his hands up in the air. “You’re all insane! Charles knows, Oscar’s been married for years, and we’ve all been left out!”

Pierre shook his head, still processing. “Wait, how did you find out, Charles?”

Charles leaned back, crossing his arms with a grin. “Oscar told me after our Monaco podium. Said he needed someone to know in case he ever needed advice. Before we went partying, I met Y/N and let me tell you, she is a lovely girl. And, you know, as his ‘father’ in the paddock, it was only a matter of time.” He gestured grandly, making everyone laugh.

George narrowed his eyes playfully. “So all this time, we could’ve been calling him ‘married man Oscar’ instead of ‘little Oscar’?”

Oscar rolled his eyes, amused. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a talking point. We wanted to keep things between us. Y/N’s work with Vogue keeps her busy and traveling too, so it worked out.”

Oscar turned his head towards Y/N, calling out softly with his arm outstretched. " Love, came here for a second, please."

Y/N approached just then, noticing the group staring at her with a mix of shock and admiration. “Is everything okay?”

Pierre looked at her, still in awe. “So… you two are really married?”

She glanced at Oscar with a smile, nodding. “Surprise?”

Lando leaned in, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “How have you kept this a secret all this time? You must have some insane spy-level skills.”

Y/N laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. We just wanted to enjoy it without all the attention.”

“Respect,” George said, tipping an imaginary hat to her. “You two might be the most low-key power couple I’ve ever seen.”

Charles looked proud, wrapping an arm around Oscar’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, shoving Charles off. “Alright, alright, let’s not make a big thing out of it.”

Lando looked at Oscar, eyes still gleaming. “Mate, this is a big thing! You’ve been living like some kind of undercover superhero. ‘Married Piastri’ is a whole new level of cool.”

Pierre nodded eagerly. “Right? It’s like finding out Clark Kent was Superman all along.”

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying his friends’ reactions. “Well, maybe now that you guys know, I’ll bring her around a bit more.”

Lando lit up. “Please! And maybe you can finally get that double date with George and Carmen going!”

George chuckled. “Right, because that’s exactly what we need. A bunch of drivers swapping marriage advice.”

Pierre smirked, nudging Oscar. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, you know. Now everyone’s gonna ask why we’re not secretly married.”

Oscar smirked back. “Hey, don’t blame me. You all had just as much chance to find out as Charles.”

As the group laughed, Y/N leaned into Oscar’s side, whispering, “Well, I guess the secret’s out.”

Oscar grinned, wrapping an arm around her. “Guess so. But I don’t mind. Not if it means we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Charles rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Now, can we get back to racing, or are you going to give us a honeymoon slideshow too?”

The group burst into laughter, and Oscar looked around, more comfortable than ever. His secret was out, but he couldn’t be happier to finally share it with his friends.

[ilovemitsuya]

sylus x reader (fluffy,angsty?)

summary: “During a mission, I sustained serious injuries and was hospitalized. Though Sylus couldn’t visit me, he sent Mephisto in his place. When I was discharged, I wasn’t expecting him to be outside.”

“I’m not going to lie to you two.” Jenna said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “This mission isn’t like the others we’ve done. That facility is more unstable than we initially thought. The few teams we’ve sent to investigate before found nothing at all.”

Crossing my arms as I studied Captain Jenna’s face.

“So why send just the two of us, then?” I asked.

“Why not a full squad if it’s that dangerous?”

“Because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. A bigger team could draw too much attention.“

“And if we find something… unexpected?” Tara asked.

“You report back immediately.” Jenna said, her tone firm. “Don’t try to take on anything alone if it’s beyond your capabilities. This isn’t about being heroes.”

There was a beat of silence before Jenna pushed off her desk and took a step closer to me and Tara. “But you’re not going in blind. We’ll have a team on standby if things get too hot. You need to trust your instincts and watch each other’s backs.”

Glancing at Tara, she gave me a reassuring nod.

Tara and I turned to leave, but Jenna’s voice stopped us just before we reached the door. “And remember.” she called out, “If things start to go sideways, you get out. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her.

With that, Tara and I exited the office, both of us knowing that we were walking into something dangerous. But we had our orders.

———————————————————————

The facility loomed over us, the metal creaking with the weight of its own decay. Tara and I moved cautiously through the halls, weapons at the ready, our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.

Dust hung in the air like a fog, making each breath feel heavy. We’d been searching for signs of Wanderers for hours, but aside from a few ominous claw marks on the walls, there was nothing.

Tara walked a few paces ahead, her sharp eyes sweeping the darkened corners as she scanned for any signs of movement.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“The readings are coming from this sector.” I confirmed. “It’s like there’s a cluster of energy sources in the storage area up ahead. Something’s definitely drawing them here.”

Tara nodded and pushed forward, keeping a steady pace as we approached the large metal door that led to the storage room. She placed a hand on the door’s surface, glancing back at me. “On three?” she whispered.

I tightened my grip on my gun and gave her a quick nod. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

Tara shoved the door open, and we moved inside in a swift, coordinated motion. The room was just as the rest of the facility, old crates and equipment lay scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in peeling paint.

I took a step forward, my eyes sweeping the room for any signs of movement. But then, there was a flicker of motion in the shadows, too quick to pinpoint at first.

I turned to Tara, but she had already seen it. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her weapon in the direction of the disturbance.

“Stay sharp.” she said, voice tense. “I think we’ve got company.”

I reacted on instinct, surging forward to intercept it with a gunshot.

It swiped at me with one of its jagged claws, forcing me to block the strike with my forearm. Pain shot through my body as its claws tore through my sleeve and left deep gashes across my skin.

Before we could even do anything, the wanderer let out a loud roar and smashed its claws against the support beams around us. A low rumble vibrated through the building, and the ground beneath us trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a series of cracks split the concrete walls, spreading out in every direction.

“Get out of here, now!” Tara shouted, sprinting for the exit.

I turned to follow her, but the ground heaved under my feet, and a section of the ceiling gave way with a deafening crash. I stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll out of the way as a massive metal beam slammed down where I’d been standing. The room shuddered violently, and the walls seemed to cave inward.

“Tara!” I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of collapsing debris. I saw her struggling to keep her footing near the exit, but then another tremor hit, and a cascade of rubble came crashing down, forcing us apart.

I fought to keep moving, dodging falling beams and lunging over shifting pieces of debris. But it was no use. The floor buckled beneath me, and I felt myself falling through the collapsing structure.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and pain exploded through my side as I hit the ground hard. I tried to move, but my legs were pinned beneath a heavy chunk of concrete, and the darkness quickly closed in around me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the shattered remnants of the facility above, crumbling like a house of cards. Then, there was nothing.

———————————————————————

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing I became aware of as I drifted back to consciousness.

The world came back in hazy fragments, a faint antiseptic smell, the dull ache radiating through my entire body, the blinding white light overhead. I blinked slowly, the ceiling tiles came into focus. I was in a hospital room, covered in bandages, and every muscle felt like it had been dragged through hell.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The movement must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a chair scrape back and then footsteps rushing closer.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” It was Tara’s voice, low and familiar, filled with a relief I hadn’t heard from her often. She came into view, her face creased with worry. Her eyes softened when she saw I was awake, and she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

I managed to lift my head just enough to give her a weary look. “Like I got hit by a train.” I rasped, my voice rough from disuse. “What happened to me?”

“You were inside when the building collapsed.” she explained, pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside me. “By the time we got a rescue team in there, you were unconscious and pinned under the debris.” Tara’s voice wavered slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to show how much the whole thing had shaken her.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Her tone was a little lighter now, a hint of humor breaking through. “Can’t believe you’d scare me like that. Do you know how annoying it was waiting around here?”

A faint chuckle escaped me, though it quickly turned into a wince.

“I should let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to check you over.”

I gave a slow nod, already feeling exhaustion pulling at me again, but I didn’t want her to worry. “Go ahead.” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, fighting the familiar feeling of emptiness that came whenever I was alone. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.

I wished Sylus were here. There was no way he could just walk into a hospital like any normal person.

I was about to close my eyes again when I heard a soft tapping on the window. My eyes snapped open, and my heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the narrow ledge just outside the window, was a black crow. Mephisto.

I struggled to sit up, limping a little as I reached out to unlock the window. It slid open with a creak, and Mephisto hopped inside, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his beak. They were ragged and windblown, a little wilted from the journey, but I could tell they’d been picked carefully.

I took the flowers gently from Mephisto’s beak, my hands trembling slightly. There was a small note tied around the stems with a piece of dark string. I untied it and read the familiar handwriting: “Since I can’t be there. Take care of yourself. – S.”

Sylus couldn’t come to see me himself, but he’d sent Mephisto instead. His way of saying he was there, still watching over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered

Mephisto tilted its head and gave a soft caw, as if acknowledging my words. Then, it took off out the window again.

I sank back against the pillows, holding the flowers close. It wasn’t the same as having Sylus here in person, but it was enough to know he was thinking of me.

———————————————————————

As I lay in the hospital bed, I reached for my phone on the side table and unlocked the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed out a message to Sylus.

I hit send and waited, my heart beating a little faster than it should. The minutes dragged on, and I started to wonder if he'd even seen my message. But then, my device buzzed with his reply.

Typical Sylus.

The response came almost instantly, as though he'd been expecting my question.

I glanced back at the window, half expecting to see the crow still there. It made sense. Mephisto had always kept an eye on me, by Sylus’s command.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I read his words.

There was a long pause before his next message arrived.

It was the closest thing to comfort I would get from him, even if he couldn't be here with me.

———————————————————————

The final paperwork was a blur, the nurse’s instructions fading in and out as I focused on keeping steady. I was bandaged up and aching from head to toe, but at least I was getting out of the hospital. They’d wanted to keep me a few days longer, but I’d insisted on leaving.

As soon as they handed me my things, I slipped into my jacket and headed outside.

When I pushed through the front doors, a figure was leaning casually against the side of the building, half hidden in the shadow cast by the streetlamp. Sylus. He looked up when he saw me.

“Sylus…” I said, managing a small smile as I walked over, but his expression was tense as he straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning over my injuries.

“You’re stubborn for a hunter.” he muttered, his tone flat, though I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on my face and my bandaged arm that he was probably worried.

“The hell are you doing out here so soon? You could barely stand a few hours ago.”

“They were going to keep me trapped in there another week,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “I couldn’t just stay there doing nothing.”

He gave me a sharp look, he slipped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me firmly to his car parked a few feet away.

“You’re barely out, and here you are, thinking you’re ready to run around already.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.

"Since when do you drive anything other than that death trap of yours?"

"Since I figured you might not be up for riding around on a motorcycle after getting half crushed under a building."

He helped me into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure I was settled in before closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked around and got in himself, but the silence felt heavy, like he was holding back from saying a thousand things.

We drove through the streets in silence until we reached the edge of the city. I realized where we were going the moment we turned onto a narrow road.

“Your place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

He kept his gaze on the road. “You’re not going home alone in that condition. Not happening.”

I knew better than to argue, so I just nodded.

When we finally arrived, he was already at my side, opening the car door before I could even move. I tried to slide out on my own, but he offered his hand, steady and warm, and before I could argue, he was lifting me out of the seat.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Sylus, I can walk. You don’t need to—”

“Too late, sweetie.” he smirked, his arms sliding under my legs as he pulled me up, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry. “Just sit back and let me do this.”

I sighed, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my face. “I’m tough, you know.”

“I know you are.” He glanced down, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he carried me toward the door. “But you’re hurt, and besides,” he added, leaning closer, his voice softening, “sometimes, you need someone to take care of you.”

Inside, he led me to his room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. “Wait here. And don’t try moving around.”

I managed a small, sarcastic smile. “What, you think I’m going to run off?”

His gaze darkened. “You have a habit of being reckless.”

Before I could respond, he was already disappearing into the other room, returning moments later with a small first aid kit and a glass of water. He knelt beside me, unwrapping some of the bandages on my arm with practiced precision.

“I already saw the doctors for this.” I said, watching him closely. He ignored me, dabbing disinfectant on a fresh cut and glancing up with a glint of warning in his eyes.

“Clearly, they didn’t do a good enough job if you’re in this condition.” he replied, his tone clipped.

I sighed, not bothering to respond. Instead, I watched his hands move, careful but efficient, his expression focused as he replaced the bandages. He was so quiet, so steady, so… unlike his usual self. His eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, only for a second, before going back to my injuries.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment, before he looked up, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t, who will?”

I watched him as he worked, watching how he gently wrapped fresh gauze around my arm, tightening it carefully.

His fingers lingered over the bandage, as if making sure it wasn't too tight.

"Is this too tight?" he murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

"No... it's fine." I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My words were barely a breath, and I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he continued anyway, his focus unbreakable.

"You can tell me if it hurts." he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But the truth was, all I can think about is how his fingers felt against my skin.

“You could have been killed.” he suddenly said, the faintest tremor in his voice. “And you didn’t think to tell me, or anyone, what you were dealing with out there?”

I looked down, feeling that familiar pang of guilt again.

“Tell me next time before you go off on one of these suicide missions.” he snapped, his jaw tight. “Or better yet, stay out of places where buildings collapse on you.”

“I don’t get to pick and choose which missions are dangerous.” I replied.

“And I’m supposed to sit back and just watch you throw yourself into the line of fire?” His voice was low, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath it.

He was silent for a moment, his expression hardening as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“And next time, you’re telling me about this kind of mission. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing.”

My expression softened as I looked up at him

“I’m okay now.” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod.

“Try to rest here. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” he said, guiding her down gently. “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those all night.”

I took the bundle of soft, comfortable clothes he offered.

“Thank you, Sylus.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, running his fingers lightly through my hair, guiding me to lie back against the bed.

“Enough fighting it, sweetie.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to rest.”

I started to protest, but he pressed a finger gently to my lips, shaking his head. “No arguments,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”

He pulled a blanket over me, his hands lingering as he tucked it around my shoulders, and as my breathing slowed, I felt his fingers brush my cheek, tracing gentle patterns along my skin. The last thing I saw was him watching me, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of worry, relief, and maybe… something else, something deeper.

“Sleep.” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

———————————————————————

The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the room. Sylus sat beside her, one leg folded over the other, his arms crossed as he watched her sleep. In the dim light, she looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the worry that had been etched into her face earlier. He’d seen her like this before years ago.

He could still remember that night, when she’d slipped through his fingers.

He reached out almost instinctively, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She didn’t stir, but his touch softened, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against his fingertips.

Unable to bear it, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, careful not to wake her. She was warm, her head resting against his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. He pressed his cheek against her hair, letting himself take in her scent, the steady beat of her heart.

“You don’t get to do this to me again.” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible even to himself. “Not this time. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

if you made it this far thank you sm for reading! I appreciate you feel free to request ♡

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, slight angst if you squint, emetephobia warning

a/n - hi!! it’s odd for me to post two days in a row, so try not to get used to it! i just already had this written and wanted to share it so baddd. hope yall enjoy! also, this is unedited so once again, im begging, lmk if there’s any mistakes. and ofc tell me what you think!!

To be honest, Azzi hadn’t really known what to expect when they put their plan in motion. She and Paige had gone over the logistics, sure, but they’d only really skimmed over how they’d act in public, and whether they’d hold hands, and what kind of flirty things they’d say to each other. Azzi sort of regrets her decision to let Paige lead the way, because that makes her feel like she’s going into this blind, with no idea of how Paige is going to act when they’re together now. No idea of how things are going to change.

It is only the morning after their movie night, and here is what Azzi has learned so far:

For one, Paige doesn’t actually seem to be that big on hand-holding. The only time she held Azzi’s hand last night was when she led her to the doorway once the night was over, waving their joined hands goodbye to their friends.

Paige does, however, seem to be big on basically everything else.

Once the girls were done gushing and celebrating and asking (very invasive) questions, they’d all decided on some horror movie they’d seen the trailer for. Azzi hates horror movies and she guesses this is probably the reason why Paige advocated so hard to watch one. Because as soon as they turned the lights off and the scary intro music started, Paige wrapped her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her flush against her side. They stayed this way for around ten minutes before Paige claimed she had to use the restroom, but before she left, she kissed Azzi’s head and mumbled, “Don’t get too scared while I’m gone, baby,” into her ear. Azzi had swallowed thickly and nodded, and pretended not to notice Jana wiggling her eyebrows at her.

When the first real jumpscare happened, and Azzi screamed along with a few of the other girls, Paige chuckled quietly and leaned down to whisper, “You’re such a baby about this kinda stuff, Az.” Azzi had reacted how she normally would, slapping Paige on the arm and rolling her eyes, defending herself with a, “Shut up, I know you’re scared, too.” But what wasn’t normal was the way Paige fondly shook her head and nuzzled her cheek with her nose before pressing a kiss there, and then leaned back up to pull Azzi into her side once more, this time protectively. Azzi swore she could hear her own heart racing for a solid five minutes afterwards. It didn’t help that KK had looked back at them and said, “Aw, y’all grossing me out with how cute you are,” before turning back to the movie. Paige had snickered. Azzi had taken a deep breath, which did nothing to help with her composure.

Almost an hour into the movie, Paige rested her hand on Azzi’s thigh and squeezed, and she didn’t give Azzi any time to tame the fire in her belly before leaning into her ear once more and whispering, “You’re so stiff. You gotta chill,” and so, tamping down the need to cross her legs, Azzi’d obeyed and leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder.

At some point or another, she must’ve fallen asleep there, because all she remembers after that is a gentle pressure on her shoulder, jostling her softly, and a voice from her dreams saying, “Az, it’s late, we gotta go. Time to wake up, baby,” and Azzi opened her eyes to find Paige sitting beside her, giving her this look that Azzi had only ever caught glimpses of, and it was so soft she had to shut her eyes again.

“Thought we were sleeping over,” Azzi mumbled, stretching and then turning onto her side, realizing vaguely that somebody must’ve thrown a blanket over her.

“Nah, I figured we better sleep in an actual bed tonight.” Paige stroked back a strand of Azzi’s hair with incredible tenderness before taking her by the waist and hefting her into a sitting position. “C’mon. I’ll take you to mine, okay?”

Azzi had nodded sleepily, and had let Paige say all their goodnights while she hung off her arm with lidded eyes. Even in her half-sleep state, she didn’t miss the way the girls elbowed each other and gave knowing glances.

Now, Azzi stares at Paige, who lays sleeping just next to her, hair all splayed out and mouth hanging open. Azzi smiles softly at her. She and Paige have slept in the same bed hundreds—maybe thousands—of times, but this is different, because Azzi is allowing herself to pretend that it is. She imagines reaching out and waking Paige the same way Paige woke her last night, gently and lovingly, and then sharing a lazy morning together as a couple where they joke about morning breath and talk about their plans and hold each other.

But Paige grumbles, then shifts and blinks her eyes open, rubbing them a little before finding Azzi laying next to her. She smiles, but it’s not the same smile from last night—it’s not that tender, adoring smile, but rather the one Azzi is used to—the wide, toothy, beautiful but friendly one. “Oh, hey. Morning.”

“Morning,” Azzi mumbles, her indulgent fantasy broken, and she reminds herself just how careful she’ll have to be while she and Paige are doing this. She cannot allow herself too many delusions, cannot let her imagination run wild with the idea that their act is real. She cannot let herself get burned by this.

“You kept stealing the blankets last night.”

Azzi lies onto her back to avoid eye contact, staring up at the ceiling. “No, Paige, you were taking up the entire bed.”

“Cap,” Paige says, shoving her shoulder. Rough, friendly. Sisterly.

It’s silent for a second and then Paige turns onto her side. “Hey.” Azzi can feel her eyes burning into the side of her head. “We did pretty good last night, yeah? We seemed super in love and shit?”

Azzi doesn’t chance a glance over, staring stubbornly at the ceiling. “Yeah, P,” she agrees. “We did.”

——————————————

Finals come far too fast.

The last month of school is always hectic, and this year has been no different—Azzi’s spent the vast majority of her time studying, drinking her nostalgia away with friends, and then more studying on top of that.

Oh, and pretending to be in a committed relationship with Paige. That too.

Some days are easier than others—it’s not like they’re being forced to undress each other in front of an audience or anything. They haven’t even had to utilize pet names much. But it’s still…different. So different. Paige was touchy-feely with Azzi even before they started ‘dating’, so now, if they ever sit more than an inch apart or walk somewhere without wrapping their arms around each other, they get strange glances from their friends. A couple mornings ago, they were so hungover that they forgot about their whole act, and when they’d stumbled out of Paige’s room and began making breakfast without so much as a word to each other, KK had abrasively asked if their was ‘trouble in paradise’. Paige was all over her the rest of the day. After two weeks, Azzi is starting to get used to it.

At least they haven’t had to kiss. They haven’t even discussed it, and Azzi has been specifically avoiding that topic of conversation. She knows herself well enough to know that she can’t kiss her best friend and act normal about it.

Later, Azzi will curse herself for thinking this without knocking on wood after.

“So, we all know the rules of the game?”

“KK—“

“Girl, just answer the question!”

A pause, and then a bored chorus of yes’es.

“Yay!” With a big, tipsy smile on her face, KK places the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle.

Paige groans and rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder. “KK, this is so fuckin’ lame.”

“For real!” Ice says from a few spots down. “We’re not in middle school.”

KK waves them off. “Girl, boo. Y’all are the lame ones. This‘ll be so much fun, you’ll be thanking me after.”

Everyone starts to groan in response to this, but Caroline, ever the mom, speaks up. “C’mon, guys, just play KK’s game.”

Unable to really say no to Caroline, the group shuts up. KK smiles excitedly. “Now that’s what I like to hear! Thank you, Carol.”

Azzi brings her hand up to rest on Paige’s back, and she’s proud that it almost comes naturally now, like her body knows that’s just what it’s supposed to do.

Nika breaks the peace a moment later with another teasing comment, which prompts KK to yell at her, and then everyone is talking amongst themselves, the room buzzing with late-night, drunk-college-students-before-finals energy.

Paige sighs deeply into Azzi’s shoulder, and she loves that she’s the only one who can hear it, who can feel it against her skin.

Putting her lips to Paige’s hair, Azzi mutters, “Wanna go downstairs?”

Downstairs is where Paige’s dorm is. Azzi’s is the floor they’re on now, and it’d probably make more sense to sleep there for the night. But Paige’s dorm, and more specifically, her bedroom, is where they’ve been gravitating to the past couple weeks. Azzi has always loved it there, the smell of Paige filling the very air, photos of the two of them on her nightstand, purple bedding so very Paige. And now it���s become something of a sanctuary, a way to escape their facade which can become cumbersome.

Usually, they’d be in bed by now, because Azzi likes to sleep early and Paige hasn’t been wanting to stay up without her. But Paige shakes her head at the question.

“No?” Azzi asks. “You’re not tired?”

“Mm, nah.” Paige glances up at her. “You?”

Azzi licks her lips. She swears Paige’s eyes track the movement, and linger for just a moment too long. She clears her throat. “Same.”

“Aight,” Paige says, turning back to her shoulder. “We can leave after this, ma.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” KK says, barely giving Azzi any time to shudder at Paige’s nickname. “Pay attention. You’re going first.”

Everybody’s looking directly at Azzi, and she shakes her head awkwardly. “Oh, no, I don’t think—“

“If you don’t wanna play, you gotta take a shot every round.”

Paige lifts her head up. “KK, that’s dumb. She doesn’t have to play if she don’t want to.”

KK smiles deviously. Paige flips her off, but Azzi pulls her hand down, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever.” She leans over into the middle of the circle, making Paige lean off of her, and spins the beer bottle.

It spins only twice before slowing down and, blessedly, landing on Aubrey.

The girls make a range of noises, mostly giggles, and then Aubrey leans into the circle to meet Azzi in the middle, smiling.

Once she gets close enough, Azzi whispers, “Liyah good with this?”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows. “I’on think it’s my girl we gotta be worried about.”

Confused, Azzi glances over her shoulder, and sees Paige staring intensely at them, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The blank look on her usually lively face scares Azzi a little bit. She turns back to Aubrey, who also looks a little afraid.

“You’re good,” Azzi reassures her, because she is. Aubrey doesn’t know that Paige is just acting, because she’s the possessive type and of course, if she and Azzi were really dating, she’d be jealous even of her own teammates. But Azzi can’t tell Aubrey this, so instead, she leans forward and kisses her.

Aubrey lets out a noise, surprised, and it makes Azzi laugh because she probably should’ve warned her she was going in. The kiss can’t last more than two seconds before there’s a hand fisting Azzi’s shirt, pulling her back, and Paige is saying, “Alright, alright,” quite gruffly.

Azzi’s stomach does flips at Paige’s rough voice, but she’s tipsy (maybe a little bit more than tipsy) so she leans up to nuzzle Paige’s cheek rather than shying away from her. “Somebody’s jealous.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, “no one should be up on you like that.” And they’re obviously acting—but when Azzi pulls away to look at her, there’s something on her face that isn’t quite fake enough.

But then she’s smiling and saying, “Stop tryna steal my girl, Aubrey,” and Azzi’s heart contracts like it always does when Paige says stuff like this nowadays.

Across the circle, Aubrey takes her spin. It lands on Ice, and Ice is considerably more drunk than any of them, so the whole thing is pretty slobbery. The next spin—Nika—is mostly the same.

It goes like that for a while, a few people taking shots instead of kissing, and a few others taking shots for the hell of it. The bottle lands on Azzi once again and she fills her shot glass to the brim before taking it, needing to dull the feeling of Paige’s hand wrapped possessively around her waist.

By the time the bottle lands on Paige, they’re all pretty damn drunk.

Azzi knows it’s just a game, but she’s always hated seeing Paige with other people, and now is no different. Ashlynn laughs, because this whole thing is pretty fucking funny, but Azzi can’t help but sulk, glad to be under the guise of a relationship—glad she doesn’t have to hide her feelings for awhile.

Before leaning into the circle, Paige looks at Azzi and says, all lighthearted and buzzed, “Don’t pout at me, baby.”

There’s that roughness again, that tone in the back of her throat, and Azzi squirms when Paige presses a wet kiss to her cheek.

Paige and Ashlynn kiss, but they both laugh kind of hysterically so their teeth are pretty much just clashing, and when they’re done Paige wraps an arm around Azzi’s shoulders and spins for herself. And it spins, and spins, and spins, so many times Azzi gets dizzy watching it—

It gets to Amari, and it slows.

It passes by Inês, barely moving anymore.

The neck gets back to Paige, and Azzi wonders for one drunk second, What if it lands on Paige and she has to kiss herself? and she doesn’t even have the time to laugh at how ridiculous that is before the bottle stops, pointing almost accusingly at her.

The girls all cheer, oohing and laughing.

Paige laughs too, easy and casual because they’re supposed to be a couple, they’re supposed to have done this a thousand times, it’s supposed to be normal, normal, Azzi, act normal.

They should have known this would be inevitable.

Paige turns to her, still smiling but with a concerned, almost imperceptible furrow between her brow. Azzi obviously can’t refuse this kiss, can’t take a shot rather than kiss her girlfriend in front of all these people who know she’s her girlfriend.

So instead, she wills herself to nod and then she takes Paige by the collar and kisses her.

Strangely enough, the first thing Azzi takes note of isn’t actually the way Paige’s lips feel touching hers for the first time, or the fact that their teammates are watching them, wolf-whistling and giggling amongst each other.

No, instead, it’s the way Paige smells—the fact that the hair tickling Azzi’s cheek is sweet, vanilla, which means she washed her hair today. And it’s the way her hands cup Azzi’s jaw, cradling her like they do this all the time, thumbs rubbing gently against her cheekbones in a gesture soft enough to make Azzi gasp into her mouth.

She only snaps into it and really realizes, oh, Paige is actually kissing me right now, when Paige’s tongue teases against Azzi’s bottom lip. And it’s just for a second, Paige pulling away fast enough that Azzi thinks she must have imagined it, but it leaves her lip wet.

After that, Paige sits back, smiling at her but there’s that furrow between her brow again, imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know her as well as Azzi does, and she’s stroking Azzi’s cheek like a tick now, like she’s trying to figure something out.

The moment ends when the girls all clap like white people on a plane, and Azzi isn’t even paying attention to the teasing and cooing, because she’s too busy staring at Paige, wondering what she’s thinking about right now, wondering what about that kiss made her feel so damn…safe.

Whenever she thought about her first kiss with Paige, she expected butterflies, light-headedness—maybe even nausea. Comfort, the thing you feel when you come home to your small town after a semester away—that was not expected.

Paige blinks, that strange look on her face disappearing, and Azzi realizes that she’s still holding onto the front of her shirt. She pushes her away teasingly, and Paige laughs, wrapping an arm around her as she turns to the girls, waving off their teasing remarks, and as Azzi watches her profile, feels the wetness on her bottom lip cool, she knows that she is falling and thinks nobody will be there to catch her when she reaches the bottom.

——————————————

The next morning, Azzi wakes up and immediately regrets it.

Paige’s window blanket must’ve fallen down last night, because the sun is shining through the room and it is…loud. She rolls onto her side to try and get away from it, and then that problem is fixed but another rises in the form of an abrupt tummyache. And Azzi prides herself on being a strong person, but as soon as she gets a tummyache it’s over for her.

Also, maybe the loud sun problem isn’t as fixed as she thought because her head is beginning to pound. She can feel it beating against her skull in time with the beating of her heart, and somehow that gives her a feeling akin to motion sickness, which makes her tummy hurt worse. She is probably going to throw up very soon, and should get up so she doesn’t do it all over Paige’s bed, but that’s where the third problem arises: she is so comfy. How can she ever be expected to leave this bed when she’s so goddamn comfy?

“Yo, are you gonna puke?”

Azzi groans. “Probably.”

Azzi’s facing away, so she can’t see what Paige’s doing, but she hears sheets rustle and then a pair of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Soon enough, Paige is standing in front of her, holding a hand out. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Azzi looks up, and that makes her stomach turn again, the back of her neck burning. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m gonna kill you if you puke on my bed. Like, actually.”

If Azzi threw up on Paige’s bed, Paige would probably usher her to the bathroom, give her some water, and clean the sheets without complaining about it until a few days later. But Azzi still doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so she sits herself up and is about to accept Paige’s hand when she realizes this is much more urgent than she thought. Almost as soon as her feet hit solid ground, the bile rises in her throat at an alarming rate and she has to run across the hall. She doesn’t make it to the toilet but manages the bathtub, which is arguably better.

Paige is there once she’s done, tying her hair up into a ponytail. “That it?”

Azzi spits. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Lemme grab you some pepto or somethin’. Hang tight.”

Once Paige walks away, Azzi wipes her mouth and all at once, like the tide coming in, remembers how the lips now coated in spit and bile were yesterday on Paige’s.

Of course, she also remembers the pet names, the affection, the flash of jealousy in Paige’s eyes that may or may not have been there. But it’s the kiss, the wonderful, tipsy, warm kiss that wrestles its way to the forefront of her pounding head and stays there, the memory replaying quite a few times before Paige comes back with pepto bismol and water. “Here.”

Azzi looks disdainfully at the bright pink medicine. “I don’t think I can swallow that, P.”

“Whoa, pause.“

“Chill,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes. “Gimme that.” she takes them from Paige’s hand and manages to swallow one before throwing up again, this time with Paige by her side to hold onto her while her shoulders heave.

“Aw,” Paige tuts sympathetically when she’s done. “My lil lightweight.”

Azzi rests her head on the edge of the tub while Paige turns on the tap, washing the bile away.

Azzi lifts her head enough to see Paige sit against the wall across from her. “Feel okay now?”

Her throat burns, and her tummy hurts, and throwing up in front of the love of your life is not a glamorous experience. But with Paige here with her, taking care of her, she doesn’t feel too bad.

If it only weren’t for that really good fucking kiss.

Azzi nods weakly even though she doesn’t know the answer, because saying ‘I hate the fact that we kissed last night, not because I regret it—I’ve been wanting to do it since we were kids in high school—but because now I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my feelings hidden for much longer which is worrisome because we haven’t even left for Montana yet, and also I wonder what this means for us and our fake relationship, because if it means kissing will become a normal thing I don’t know if I can do this’ would probably be weird.

“K, good. Thanks for not puking in my bed.”

Azzi smiles weakly at her, mouth still tasting like bile. How could Paige ever return her feelings when she has seen her like this a hundred other times?

Paige reaches a socked toe out to nudge Azzi’s calf. “Okay, you said you feel better, but you still look kinda…green.”

Azzi looks Paige in the eye, and manages maybe a second of eye contact before she’s thinking about how they looked at each other just like this after they kissed last night, and there it goes, the moment playing in her head once and then again. She can’t help but groan and rest her burning cheek to the cool tub.

And the universe should go to hell for making them best friends because Paige gets it instantly. “Oh, this is about last night.”

Suddenly the cool tub isn’t helping anymore. Azzi weakly shakes her head, but she knows the truth is showing plainly on her face.

“Yeah, whatever.” Paige pushes herself off the wall, wiggling her eyebrows. Azzi senses trouble. “It was a good kiss, huh?”

Azzi balks, then tries to reel it in. “That’s not…Paige…”

“Hold up,” Paige says, looking genuinely a little confused. “You don’t think I’m a good kisser?”

“No, no, but I just…” how can Paige talk about this so casually, like it was meaningless, something to be joked about? Azzi envies her lack of feelings. “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

“Uh, I mean…” Paige scratches the side of her neck, and it occurs to Azzi that the bathroom isn’t an amazing place to talk about this. “Yeah, sure. If you want to.”

Not exactly an encouraging answer. Azzi strives on nonetheless. “It was our first kiss.”

“Yeah. Guess we coulda planned it better.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Azzi trails off. “Don't you think it was sort of…weird?”

Paige frowns again. “Damn! If you didn’t like the kiss just say that.”

Azzi hopes she can blame her flushed cheeks on the hangover. “P, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re my best friend—“

“That’s me.” Paige smiles proudly. It’s too fucking cute.

“And,” Azzi says pointedly, “I feel like, weird, about kissing you.”

She waits for Paige to answer, but Paige just stares, apparently waiting for her, too. Azzi sighs. “I worry we won’t be able to fake it well enough.”

“We did fine last night, didn’t we?”

“We were drunk last night.”

Paige makes a face. “I guess. But I feel like we’d do good even if we were sober, y’know?” She leans her head back against the wall. “And it’s not like kissing’s a big deal, anyway.”

Azzi’s eyes drop down to the tiled floor, cold against the thin material of her sleep pants. “Maybe not to you,” she mumbles.

There’s a shuffling, and then Paige is closer than before, nudging Azzi’s knee with her own. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s my bad.” There’s a silence, both of them thinking, and Azzi wonders if maybe Paige is thinking the same thing she is. About how their kiss last night felt…different. Different than a kiss between two friends, different than the other kisses with other people felt. And the look Paige gave her afterward…

But then Paige says, “Wanna practice, ma?” and Azzi was a fool to ever think they’d be on the same track.

Azzi splutters for a moment. “Practice?”

“Yeah. To prepare, in case we have to do it again,” Paige says casually, like it’s no big deal at all.

“I don’t think that’s…that’s not—“ Azzi cuts herself off on a sigh. Then she looks at Paige, really looks at her, and that’s when she catches the glint in Paige’s eyes, and she realizes—she’s messing with her. She’s taking advantage of Azzi’s obvious shyness about this whole thing.

What a little shithead.

Making a quick decision, Azzi leans forward a little bit, glancing down, then back up, looking at Paige through her lashes before she licks her lip.

Paige clocks it, tracks it with her eyes. Just like last night.

Azzi swallows down the nervousness and wills herself to be normal, reminds herself that this is Paige, and she has no reason to sink into her shell when she has the opportunity to take the upper hand.

“Okay,” Azzi says after a moment.

Paige’s eyes flit up, away from her lips. “Okay?”

Azzi nods, then lifts her hand to place over Paige’s knee, bare in her sleep shorts, before she dances her fingers delicately up her thigh. “You wanna practice kissing me, Paige?”

Paige swallows thickly. And then she nods.

Okay. So. That’s…unexpected.

Paige wants to kiss her.

That would explain the lip-ogling.

Azzi has half a mind to make the biggest mistake of her life and close the gap between them, but then she remembers they are sitting on the bathroom floor, and, ew, she just threw up. Twice.

Azzi manages what she hopes is a cocky smirk and leans away. “Well, too bad. Sick, remember?”

Paige’s eyes widen, like she’s just been snapped out of a trance. “Oh. Yeah.” She backs off then, relief coursing through Azzi, before she’s standing up and dusting off her shorts as she reaches down to help Azzi up. “You good to stand?”

Ok. So they’re not talking about it. Cool.

Azzi nods and takes Paige’s hand, her palm warm against her own as their fingers entangle for the two seconds it takes to go from sitting to standing, feeling a little dizzy from the altitude once she’s up.

Paige frowns at her. “You still look kinda messed up. How ‘bout you lay down. I can go get us some food? Gotta fuel up for all the studying today.”

Azzi groans, palming her face. “No, I forgot about finals.”

“Azzi Fudd? Forgetting about finals?” Paige teases, leading them out of the bathroom. “Last night really fucked you up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Azzi mumbles. “It was definitely the alcohol that did it.”

Paige glances back at her but doesn’t say anything, sitting Azzi down on the edge of the bed once they get there. “Okay, sit here and chill out. Lemme know if you need to puke again.” She smiles down at her, and Azzi smiles weakly back, before the older girl is turning on her heel and walking out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Another door opens somewhere down the hall and then one of the girls’ voices mixes in with Paige’s as the roommates converse too quietly for Azzi to really hear. She sighs and flops down on the bed, hands wringing nervously at her stomach as she stares at the ceiling.

She has really gotten herself into some shit this time.

Her phone starts buzzing from its place on the nightstand, and Azzi straightens up to check it, her mother’s face flashing on the screen. Anxiety coils in Azzi’s belly at the sight of her mother’s contact, which usually brings her so much comfort.

Ever since she and Paige ‘came out’ to their friends, Azzi has been avoiding her mother like the plague. She knows she should just come out and tell Katie, but she’s not sure what she should tell her.

Azzi knows that Katie would disapprove if she found out about their little scheme, the woman avidly against lying. But if Azzi were to tell Katie what they’ve been telling everyone else—that they are a disgustingly happy, perfectly real couple—she’d be lying to her mother. And with Katie being her main confidante throughout her entire life, Azzi’s never really been good at that. She hasn’t gotten enough practice.

Not without guilt, Azzi lets it go to voicemail, holding her phone close to her chest afterwards, lying back down. She feels nauseous again at just the thought of lying to her mom. But if she came clean, would Katie make her feel guilty about it? Urge her to tell the truth, even if it meant not helping Paige like she promised she would?

Just as Azzi’s about to head back to the bathroom, Paige comes to the bedroom, leaning through the doorframe. “Toast’s almost done, Az.”

Azzi nods but doesn’t move. Paige lingers, sensing that Azzi’s going to say something.

Finally, after some internal debate, Azzi says, “What do you think I should tell my mom?”

Paige frowns. “I thought you talked to her already.”

Azzi shrugs. “We haven’t called. I’ve been avoiding her, but I feel bad about it.”

Paige bites her lip like she always does when she’s thinking, and it eases some of the tension out of Azzi’s shoulders, softening her around the edges. She leans against the doorframe, looking right at Azzi. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Azzi shrugs helplessly.

Paige scrunches her nose (very cutely) and says, “Honestly, I don’t think we should tell her. Not yet, at least.”

Azzi heaves out a breath, not liking the sound of that answer. “You think?”

“Yeah. Have you met your mom?” Paige smiles fondly. “Lady can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“You’re right.” Azzi hadn’t thought of that, the fact her mom’s the town gossip. “She’d probably have the truth out before we could even finish telling her.”

Paige nods in agreement. “Exactly. Plus, it’s easier to tell everyone the same story, right?”

“I guess.” Unsteady, Azzi pushes herself up from the bed, walking over to Paige slowly. “You still sure this is a good idea?”

“Even if I wasn’t,” Paige says, “we’re too deep in it now.”

Azzi looks up at her solemnly. “The point of no return.”

“Uh-huh.” Paige sighs out a breath, looking almost regretfully at the girl in front of her. “Sorry again, about asking you to do this. I know it’s kinda a whole thing now.”

Azzi’s shaking her head before Paige can even finish. “I already told you, it’s fine. We go to Montana soon, and before we know it we’ll be done.” Azzi’s stomach sort of sinks at the thought. No more flirting, no more cheek-kissing, no more Paige protectively slinging an arm around her shoulder while they’re in public like she’s telling everyone Azzi’s her’s.

Azzi manages what she hopes is an optimistic smile anyway. “Let’s go eat breakfast. And then I’ll call my mom back and we can tell her together?”

Almost as if reading her mind, Paige easily wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as she leads her down the hallway. “Alright, ma. Sounds good to me.”

@smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[louisaskywalkerani]

Beneath Your Touch

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x f!Reader

synopsis : Basically, its your first time. Thats all.

CW : 18+, smut! minors DNI. vaginal fingering | p in v | unprotected sex

an : So, here’s the thing—this is about two people who can't keep their hands off each other (shocking, I know). It’s messy, a little awkward, and honestly, way too intense, but hey, what else would you expect? Anyway, hope you didn’t fall asleep halfway through. Or maybe you did? Who knows. Let me know what you think, or don’t.

As you hear the door creaking open, you jolt up in bed, blinking at the sound. Your mind races—who could it be this early? Only one person comes to mind. It’s Anakin. You rub your eyes groggily, swing your feet to the cold floor, and shuffle to the door. 

You open it a crack, just enough to peek through. There he stands, his dark Jedi robes sweeping the ground, looking like something out of a dramatic holodrama. His brows are furrowed, lips set in a deep frown, and his whole posture screams exhaustion. It’s kind of unsettling, seeing him like this when he’s usually so confident, practically oozing swagger. 

"Ani..." you whisper, still half-asleep but feeling that familiar rush of affection. "You’re back."

He locks eyes with you, his gaze filled with so much emotion it makes your stomach flip. "Hey, angel," he murmurs, stepping closer. "Sorry for waking you up so early. I just... I couldn’t wait any longer."

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t even try to hide the smile creeping up. "It’s okay, come in." You grab his hand and pull him inside, shutting the door behind him. "How was the mission?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Intense. Lots of fighting, lots of stress." He pauses, his blue eyes finding yours again, this time burning with something deeper. "But I’m here now. And I missed you so fucking much."

Before you can even respond, he’s pulling you into a crushing hug. You melt against him, inhaling his familiar scent, that mix of something warm and earthy that’s just so him. "I missed you too," you mumble into his chest. "So much."

You stay like that, wrapped up in each other, and it feels like time stops for a moment. But then you start noticing how every inch of him feels pressed up against you, and your body reacts almost immediately. That familiar warmth starts pooling between your legs, and you find yourself pressing closer, like you can’t get enough of him.

Anakin seems to catch on quickly—of course, he does. His hands start roaming over your body, squeezing and caressing like he’s memorizing every curve all over again. "Fuck, I want you so bad," he groans, his lips finding your neck and nipping at your skin. You can’t help but shiver because damn, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"I want to make you feel good, baby. Let me worship this beautiful body of yours," he whispers, his voice low and breathy, and you have to bite back a sarcastic Oh, please do, because really, you’re not about to ruin the moment.

He trails soft, teasing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, making you shudder. His large hands slide under your thin nightgown, palming your breasts and brushing his thumbs over your nipples. They harden instantly, and you gasp as he tweaks them gently, sending a shockwave straight to your core.

"Ani..." you whimper, your voice coming out breathy as you arch into his touch. "Please..."

He chuckles against your skin, the sound rumbling through you and making you shiver even more. "Please what, angel? Tell me what you want," he teases, like he doesn’t already know exactly what you’re craving.

You flush a little, suddenly feeling shy despite how desperately you’ve been wanting this. "I... I want you to touch me more. Everywhere," you whisper, meeting his eyes with a half-pleading, half-smoldering look. "I’ve been thinking about your hands on me the whole time you were gone."

Anakin’s grin widens, turning wicked. "Oh, have you now?" he purrs, giving your nipples a firmer pinch that has you gasping. "Don’t worry, I’m going to touch you so good." 

He doesn’t waste any more time, pushing your nightgown up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. You shiver under his heated gaze, feeling exposed but *so* aroused it doesn’t even matter. His eyes rake over your body like he’s savoring every inch.

"Fucking perfect," he growls, his hands gliding down your sides to your hips. He hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down your legs agonizingly slowly, his mouth following the path. It’s the kind of thing that would make you roll your eyes if it weren’t so hot.

He settles between your thighs, parting your folds with his fingers, and you’re already squirming, hips lifting in anticipation. "Ani, please..." you beg, rocking your hips as if that’ll make him move faster. "I need it. I need you."

He just grins like the smug bastard he can be and swipes his tongue over your clit, making you cry out and fist his hair. "Shh, just relax, baby," he coos, circling the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue like he’s got all the time in the world. "Let me take care of you."

And as much as you want to retort with something sarcastic, you’re too busy being completely undone by the way his mouth feels on you, the pleasure building higher with every flick of his tongue.

He works you open with long, slow licks, occasionally dipping his tongue inside your tight entrance. And wow, the taste of you seems to explode on his tongue because he groans like he’s just tasted the best dessert ever. It’s almost embarrassing how good he is at this—like, did he take a course or something? He grips your thighs, spreading you wider as he delves deeper, gently tongue fucking you, and you can’t help but think, Of course, he’s amazing at this too. Typical.

"That's it, angel," he murmurs against your slick folds. "Let me in. Gonna make you feel so good." His voice is all low and raspy, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

You writhe beneath him, hands fisting the sheets because you genuinely can't handle this. Your brain is short-circuiting, and it's like you’re experiencing this for the first time (well, okay, you kind of are, but still). The intense sensations are so overwhelming it almost feels unfair. Anakin's down there like he’s got nowhere else to be, licking and sucking until you're a complete mess, your hips practically bucking against his face on their own. 

"Ani, I... I'm gonna-“ you gasp out, that familiar tingling deep in your core making itself known. And, of course, he just doubles down, sucking on your clit like he’s trying to win some kind of award. 

Two fingers slip inside your tight heat, curling just right to stroke your g-spot, and that’s it—you’re done. You come with a sharp cry, your back arching off the bed as your walls clench around his fingers. It’s intense and overwhelming, like he just flipped a switch inside you. 

He doesn’t even stop—no, he keeps going, licking at you through your orgasm like he’s trying to make you see stars. By the time he’s done, you’re trembling all over, the overstimulation making you so sensitive you could scream. He presses these soft, tender kisses to your inner thighs before crawling up your body with this stupidly proud grin on his face.

"You did so well, baby," he says, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it’s kind of hot but also kind of mortifying. "Now I’m going to make you come on my cock," he adds, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

He positions himself at your entrance, the thick head nudging against your slick folds, and you suddenly freeze up, feeling a wave of nerves. "Wait, Ani-“

He stops immediately, looking down at you with genuine concern. It’s almost sweet, really. "What’s wrong, angel?"

"I just… It’s my first time..." you admit softly, feeling a little vulnerable and pretty much embarrassed.

His eyes widen, and you can see the realization dawn on his face. “Fuck baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize..." He cups your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb. "We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. I would never hurt you." 

And for a moment, it’s almost enough to make you forget he was just eating you out like he was starving a second ago.

"No, I want to," you assure him, reaching down to stroke his length. The nerves are there, sure, but the trust is too. "I trust you, Ani. I want my first time to be with you." And there it is—you said it out loud, hoping it doesn’t sound as awkward as it feels in your head.

He looks relieved, like he was holding his breath. "Okay, we'll go slow. If anything hurts, we stop, alright?" He’s all serious, like this is a contract negotiation, but honestly, it’s kind of sweet.

You nod, heart pounding in your chest, a mix of anticipation and nerves making your skin tingle. Anakin kisses you deeply, like he’s trying to pour every ounce of love and devotion he has into it. It’s a little overwhelming, but in a good way. Then he starts to push inside, slow and careful, and you kind of appreciate that he’s taking his time. 

You tense up as he breaches your entrance, a sharp sting making you gasp. It’s not unbearable, but it definitely doesn’t feel amazing either. Anakin immediately stops, his forehead pressed to yours, whispering, "Breathe, baby. You're doing so good." 

You take a deep breath, trying to relax. It’s almost funny how you’re practically giving yourself a pep talk in your head, like Come on, body, get it together. He resumes his slow advance, inch by inch sliding deeper inside you, and when he finally bottoms out, he stays still. It’s like he’s letting you take your time to adjust, which is nice, but also, who knew this would be so... full?

"How do you feel, angel?" he asks softly, brushing a stray piece of hair off your face. You can tell he’s genuinely concerned, and it’s oddly comforting.

"Full," you whisper, marveling at the sensation. It’s not something you can easily describe, but it’s a lot. "You’re... really big." The words slip out before you can stop them, and you can’t help but cringe a little at how cliché it sounds. 

He chuckles against your neck, clearly amused. "You’re taking me so well. So tight and perfect." His voice is low and husky, and you can’t decide if you want to roll your eyes or melt into him.

He starts to move, pulling out slowly before easing back in, setting a gentle rhythm. It’s almost annoyingly sweet how careful he’s being. Like, I get it—you’re trying to be nice. But as the slow, steady thrusts start to build up, the sparks of pleasure begin to spread through your body, and okay, maybe the slow pace is a good thing after all.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you instinctively rock your hips to meet his. The feelings are overwhelming, so much more intense than you expected. You’re teetering right on the edge, and you can barely think straight. 

"Ani, I think... I think I’m gonna..." you pant, your walls starting to flutter around him. It’s kind of hilarious how fast this is happening, but also, it’s not like you’re going to stop it.

"That’s it, baby. Come for me. I’ve got you," he encourages, and you can hear the strain in his voice, like he’s barely holding on himself.

With a final, deep thrust, you shatter, your vision going white as ecstasy crashes over you. You feel like you’re floating for a second, everything going hazy. Anakin follows right after, spilling himself deep inside you with a guttural moan that’s almost enough to send you over the edge again.

And just like that, it's over. You're both a sweaty, panting mess, tangled up together, and you can’t help but think, Well, that was definitely worth the hype.

[sweetshuga]

The moon is pretty, isn’t it? ✧ CS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bsf!chris! Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve—all the possibilities kept eating at you, until he showed up knocking on your window unannounced. [angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of everything]

wc. 1.1k

note. English is not my first language!

You and Chris had a falling-out.

You had accidentally laid your feelings bare during a harmless game of 'Truth or Dare'. The look on his face alone made you feel that twist in your gut, but what he said after his silence made your stomach feel like it was dropping down 10-stories.

"Are you fucking serious with me right now?" The almost mad sounding tone made your heart beat faster as you tried to backpedal, "no, Chris, that was–" he cut you off, standing up, looking pissed. "I’m going home, can’t fucking believe this shit," he stormed out before you could utter another word.

The front door slammed shut after him and you sat in silence for a while, your brain unable to comprehend what had just happened. When the realization finally dawned over you, you couldn’t help the tears from forming in your eyes nor the painful clump in your throat.

Not only did he reject you and get angry at you, he left as well. Was he that angry? Were your feelings such a bad thing? Questions swirled in your head like a broken record.

You didn’t know what to do, what to think or what to say. All you could do was sit there and cry, completely shocked with the turn of events. Some people may call you oversensitive or dramatic, but they don’t know how much it hurts—how much more painful it was than any physical injuries.

You curled up in bed, thinking about everything that you could’ve done differently, everything that would’ve been if you didn’t tell him about your stupid crush on him and everything that should’ve been – in your selfish fantasies.

𓆩♡𓆪

You had fallen asleep on your bed after crying. Feeling slightly better but your sleep was plagued by memories of his face, the way he reacted to your feelings and the words he spoke.

You were jolted awake by the sound of knocking, looking around in confusion as you sat up on your bed, only to see Chris looking at you through your window.

You nearly had a heart attack, staring back at him with wide eyes and your hand on your chest. After all, your room was on the second floor, how the fuck did he climb up?

You scurried to the window, opening it to let him in, all the previous hurt gone, replaced by pure bewilderment. His expression turned pained when he saw the dried tear streaks and red puffy eyes, "don’t look at me like that." You blinked, finally realising you’ve been staring at him with wide eyes and a gaped mouth, quickly closing your mouth as you schooled your expression.

"What was that?" Chris sighed, "what was what?" He questioned back, "how the fuck did you climb up? Better yet, why the fuck are you climbing in through the window?" He rubbed his temple, looking frustrated, "look, I knocked on your front door but you didn’t open it, just forget about me climbing in and let’s... let’s talk about—"

You cut him off with a stubborn "no" , he blinked, surprised at what he was hearing, "what?" He asked confused, making you repeat yourself, louder this time, "no." He looked at you bewildered, like he couldn’t believe he was hearing what he was hearing.

"Don’t be a brat," Chris inhaled deeply before continuing, "listen, I know I reacted a bit too dramatically and I’m sorry for that, but you have to understand how surprising it was for me," you scoffed at his words, eliciting a heavy sigh from him.

"Please, just..." His voice trailed off into another sigh, "I can’t... I mean, we shouldn’t," his voice was barely above a whisper, the uncertainty and vulnerability in his eyes caused your heart to race. "Why?" A simple question really, but the answer wasn’t so simple.

"Because..." His voice trailed off, knowing he doesn’t have a good excuse as to why they couldn’t, "because we’re friends." That made your expression harden, "right, of course Sherlock, I know." Chris groaned, "you’re not making this easier—" you cut him off, "and you’re being insensitive."

"Don’t be like that, i just..." he trailed off again, biting the side of his bottom lip nervously, he was fighting a losing battle between what he wanted and what was the better choice in his opinion. "Please..." you looked at him, "please what? What do you want me to do Chris? You know what, never mind—"

His eyes widened at your dismissive tone, realising he might lose you if he wasn’t honest, "no, no, I’ll— we’ll—fuck, let’s do it." He stammered, making you pause, "what?" He quickly added, "let’s date." You looked at him for a good minute, "what?" You asked dumbly, "let’s date," he repeated himself.

"Are you serious? You were just saying you won't and can't when i asked you just now," you raised your eyebrows, completely taken aback, to which he let out a quiet chuckle to. "I know, I just realised something, forget about it and come here," he pulled you closer, and you eagerly complied.

He hugged you tightly, "I realised I couldn’t fight it anymore, you’re too important to me, I can’t lose you no matter what," you let yourself melt in his embrace. "You serious?" You whispered into his chest, nuzzling into it, making him laugh softly. "Yeah, dead serious." You sighed, in relief and contentment.

Suddenly, he walked backwards with you still in his embrace and plopped on the bed, taking you down with him. "Hey–" he shut you up with a kiss, a soft chaste one, and you smiled into it, your heart feeling lighter and warmer.

As you deepened the kiss, his hands wandered over your body, inching down to squeeze your ass before smacking it gently. The sudden feeling made you squirm, causing you to grind on him, making him let out a small groan into the kiss.

You could feel the heat and hardness under you, the only barrier being your thin clothes, and the friction was almost too good to stop. Your hips rolled as you chased after that friction, only for Chris to hold your hips in place.

Groaning as you broke the kiss, "why?" you whined breathlessly, "I wanna feel you, can I?" He whispered, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts. Nodding as you helped him take off your sleep shorts, followed by his sweatpants.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your world blurred as he fucked you senseless, you didn’t even remember how or when you got into the doggy style position. Your orgasm crashed over you for the nth time tonight, gasping as you tried to control your loud moans, your wrists were pinned on the small of your back by Chris as he pounded into you. "Fuck—so beautiful, ma."

As you two lay in each other’s embrace, content and relishing in the afterglow, you couldn’t help but make a comment about the full moon glowing brightly in the darkness of the night.

"The moon is pretty, isn’t it?" Chris chuckled softly, pulling you closer, nuzzling his face in your hair, "yeah, as pretty as my girl."

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,183

Isa's notes. I know my fics always end with smut or something suggestive... I try to make it any other genre, i really do, but the voices— lmaoo I'm js fucking around, i just like me some smut 🎀

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya

© sweetshuga

[violenteconomics]

remember this post i made about ace and epel (and eventually the other freshmen) pranking their upperclassmen?

yeah, so, here’s an idea for a significantly less funny prequel:

the first-years actually met their housewardens as kids, where they got very attached to one another, but absolutely none of them remember this. 

i’ve got a drabble written for riddle, ace, and deuce, but for the others, i’m completely lost, lol.

^

(warning: mentions of child abuse)

^

4-year-old ace trappola, a pint-sized brat who loses a ball in dr rosehearts’s backyard. since dr rosehearts has an extremely sour reputation around town for being impossible to be polite with, ace decides it’s not worth the patience it’ll take to knock on her door. so instead, he climbs her fence to retrieve it.

that’s when he notices the boy sitting by the windowsill, with a thousand books stacked all around him, looking very intrigued at the book in his hands. ace has never seen someone so engrossed with a book that doesn’t even have a picture on the cover, and having absolutely no filter, even at that age, he simply walks up to him and asks what he’s doing.

at first, riddle tries to shoo him away, knowing how his mother will react when she finds out there’s a random kid stepping on her perfectly-cut grass. eventually, though, ace’s childish stubbornness wins out, and riddle tells him about the history book he’s reading.

[ace is alice and riddle is alice’s sister in this scenario in case you don’t get the reference, they make me insane, okay—]

everyday, ace comes back to the windowsill at the same time (at riddle’s request, because he only has so much independent study time) just to listen to him. everyday, he says that it’s stupid, boring, and he can’t believe riddle actually reads book without pictures. everyday, he comes back to sit under riddle’s windowsill and listen to him go on about food chemistry.

but then dr rosehearts finds out.

ace doesn’t really know what happens after she showed up to their doorstep, looking down on him like he was a bug underneath her heeled feet, but next thing he knows, his dad’s telling him and brother that they’re moving to a different town. he tells ace that their house just isn’t pretty enough, but ace is young— not stupid.

(in the future, whenever ace scores high on a test, and riddle will smile and tell him he’s proud of him. every single time, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth for reasons ace can’t explain.)

^

5-year-old deuce spade only knows ace as “the kid who moved out”, but through some wicked twist of fate, he’s the next person to lose something in dr roseheart’s backyard.

deuce’s mom actually used to work for dr rosehearts as her secretary, but deuce doesn’t really like her, because she used to make his mom work long hours with little pay in return. his mom lived in dr rosehearts’s medical practice more than she actually lived in the crappy apartment they could barely afford. he was so glad when she quit.

but unfortunately, dr rosehearts’s house is right next to the park, and losing balls in her garden is unfortunately very common for most kids in the neighborhood. and since deuce really doesn’t want to talk to her, he jumps over her fence instead.

this time, riddle’s the one who notices him.

riddle’s missing ace a lot (he never found out why he stopped coming around), so to fill the hole in his heart, he invited deuce over. sheepishly, deuce walks over and lets riddle tell him about the book on agricultural trade he’s been reading. deuce doesn’t quite get it as fast as ace did, but unlike ace, he’s patient and hard-working and oh-so earnest in his attempts to understand.

of course, dr rosehearts isn’t going to help this relationship in the slightest. a few weeks later, she waits for deuce right outside the fence, before dragging him off once he’s out of riddle’s view. she mocks his attempts at trying to learn something that’s clearly above his mental capacity, for trying to be someone above his station, for knowing the rules and being too stupid to stick to them.

(“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules?”)

when she delivers deuce back to his house, his mother says nothing. when she tells him they’re moving to a bigger house on the complete other side of the queendom, deuce doesn’t argue.

(deuce couldn’t tell you why doing so bad in school frustrated him to the point of becoming a delinquent. he really couldn't.)

[bullet-prooflove]

Check In: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Umbrella - Gibbs gets more than he bargained for when he offers you his umbrella.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

Safe - You and Gibbs work through your grief in different wa

After the pager message the night before Gibbs makes the point of seeking you out the next day. He tries to be covert about it, pretending he’s picking up some files for Franks but you see through it the instant he steps into your workspace.

“I’m fine Gibbs.” You state as you continue to write down your notes on the clipboard clasped between your hands. The autopsy you’ve recently completed has been tidied away but the instruments are there, glistening in the light, waiting to be cleaned.

His cursory overview of you indicates that you are fine after last night’s activities. There’s no bruises that he can see, no change to your affect. The tension in your shoulders is now absent, your mood improved. He might be concerned about the method in which you defuse your frustration but he can’t refute it.

“I just wanted to make sure.” He tells you, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. “You’re one of the few people I’d count as a friend-”

“And it wouldn’t do if I’d ended up murdered by one of the men I’d taken home.” You remark, your gaze flickering up to meet his. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

What he’s come to understand during the time the two of you have spent together is that no one has worried about you for a long time, not since your sister died. Your parents are long gone, killed an accident during medical school and your friends had drifted away after Violet’s death because they didn’t understand your grief, the emotions that come with it.

“But I do.” He tells you, maintaining eye contact. “And that doesn’t stop when I go home at night.”

You look away then, hugging the clipboard to your chest as if it were a barrier between the two of you. You don’t let people get close, you don’t let them care for you. It’s a lonely existence, one that he understands acutely.

“I don’t need that from you.” You tell him.

And he reads the message loud and clear. You don’t need that from anyone. It’s a defensive response because things are changing in your life, the Thursday night catch ups, the walking you home, his concern about your safety, you aren’t used to those things. So you react like this, with cynicism because you’ve been taught that everything comes with an ulterior motive.

“I know you don’t need it.” He tells you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “But it’s kind of a prerequisite when you care about somebody, when you spend time with them, tell them your secrets.”

You don’t know how to process that, he can tell from the way your grip tightens on the clipboard. He understands that he’s being too much right now, that this is overwhelming for you so he retreats because the last thing he wants is to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Look I just wanted to check in on you.” He says quietly. “That’s all and now that I can see you’re ok, I’ll just go about my day, completing paperwork and ignoring the printer.”

He turns towards the door, pausing as he hears his name leave your lips like a sigh.

“Jethro…” You say and he tilts his head towards you with an inquiring look. “Maybe we make that a thing, me paging you after I take someone home.”

He knows that you’re thinking about what happened to your sister. The type of crime, the horror of it. She did everything right and she still ended up brutalised. With your risk taking behaviour, the odds of something similar or worse happening to you increase exponentially. He understands that right now, that’s not something you can stop and he would never ask you to but you can put measures in place, fail safes as it were.

“Call, page, carrier pigeon, whatever it is I don’t care.” He says finally. “Just know if you need me I’m there, anytime, day or night.”

Love Gibbs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[azaharinflames]

Today on reasons why I am mad:

“Oh my God just let it go”

And also: “We know this comment isn’t from a real person”

To all the buddies making these type of comments (because we all know it’s them): I hope you lick a rock and your tongue gets stuck.

(I want to say so much worse, but. I’m trying to be nice)

Because: No. We are not letting it go.

But also - who the hell are you to policy how people are feeling? How they react to things? Who the hell are you to decide if something should bother us, or if something is completely fine?

Also - have you let go of Gay Eddie yet? Of Buddie? No, right? So why should we let go of our indignation at the poor way 911 dealt with a queer storyline and the apparent exit of a queer man?

You don’t like Tommy, we get it, we do not give a single fuck about it. The fact is that, despite what you try to deny by claiming comments made by the GA are BTs in disguise, BuckTommy’s been a generally well liked couple for the viewers. And I know they ignore that because God forbid the viewers like BT and don’t see or like the idea of Buddie.

It’s also incredibly easy to se these are GA members, especially when you only need to click on their profiles to see they are normal people who, for once, are going to the official account to show disappointment.

(Also very telling most of the people buddie comments are made with fan accounts, but I digress here)

I do think they don’t want comments like the ones we’ve seen to be liked, or to grow, because they are scared of the consequences of them. They are more scared than us, actually. We know the comments won’t necessarily do a thing, we just want to express our disappointment at anger at how they played their audience and mistreated it, especially their queer audience. We know that bringing Tommy back isn’t gonna be magically done by our comments. But they are scared about them. They thought their voice was the biggest and the loudest and every time they try to speak over us in the comments, they drown.

Anyway. Just needed to get that off my chest.

[hugemilkshake]

I’m a sucker for platonic yanderes, so how would platonic yandere ancients or beasts react to a reader who’s constantly out adventuring and getting hurt?

Enjoy the milkshake! I only will be doing the ancients because sugar and salt have no lore yet 😭

Also I wrote this when I had a killer headache so that’s fun 👍

Yandere ancients with an adventurous reader

-Platonic-

!TW! Under the cut there will be stuff like Excessive worrying, guilt tripping, implied murder, over protectiveness, reality warping and slight imprisonment

Pure Vanilla

This man will be worried for you constantly. Like, are you getting enough food? Are you hurt? Are you lost? He wants to know!!

Tbh he’s helicopter parent coded.

If Pure Vanilla can’t accompany you then he’s sending Black Raisin Cookie or some crows with you

Black Raisin will catch onto this but won’t say anything.

Now if you come back injured, be prepared to be healed by Pure Vanilla, almost to an excessive amount.

You will also be scolded for getting injured, and also Pure Vanilla might try guilt tripping you into not adventuring again.

Hollyberry

She’s honestly the best one here.

Now, she does worry for you but she won’t be too pushy, I mean Princess Cookie loves adventure as well! If you two get along you both could adventure together!

If you prefer to adventure alone then that’s fine! Just make sure to have the proper experience and supplies!

If you want then Hollyberry will come with you to adventure out to the dragons valley! It will be a great bonding experience!

Hollyberry will lightly scold you if you get injured but it’s to a normal extent, unlike Pure Vanilla.

But if someone were to try and hurt you then they might have a shimmering shield as the last thing they see…

Dark Cacao

You shouldn’t Even try with Dark Cacao.

The mention will cause him flashbacks to when Dark Choco was younger and all the cookies who lost their lives to the harsh environment

He would HATE to lose someone else, so adventure would be out of the question

If you were really serious he might but if you come back injured, even if it’s just a scratch, you won’t be allowed to leave the citadel again.

The watchers will know, some might not approve of this but they don’t want to go against Dark Cacao.

Now like always, if Affogato is there then the outcome will be more positive. But don’t get your hopes up.

Golden Cheese

Golden Cheese won’t allow it… UNLESS you are in her digital world! Then you can adventure all you want!

Now will you be observed constantly? Yes.

You can’t learn that this isn’t actual reality!

If you come close to the truth then you will be manipulated that it’s the desert sun making your think things that aren’t real

Golden Cheese does feel guilty for this but it’s for your own good..

White Lily

If you thought Dark Cacao had a heart attack then you will think White Lily died on you.

You want to go adventuring in BEAST YEAST???? That’s funny.

With all the dangers and the beast being out wondering beast yeast you shouldn’t even ask or THINK about adventure

If it was up to White Lily, you wouldn’t be allowed to leave a house but since she has the soul jam of freedom, so she lets you wonder around the faerie kingdom

But don’t think you can leave the kingdom. Sliverbell watches the entrance like a hawk and Mercurial Knight is like a 24/7 body guard.

[huntingrays]

quick valgrace drabble bc jason deserves to be a dramatic bf (as a treat!)

“Leo,” a familiar voice whined from behind Leo.

Leo fought off a smile as he turned his head from his blueprints on his desk to look over at his boyfriend.

Leo often compared his boyfriend – Jason Grace – to a dog. He thought this was a very accurate comparison. However, there wasn’t just one dog breed that could fully capture what Jason was like. Like an onion, Jason had layers.

There were moments when Jason was like a wolf. This made a lot of sense since he was raised by Lupa when he was young. This was a side of him that most people saw.

There were moments when Jason was like a golden retriever. Only Leo and his closest friends got to see this side of him. Leo knew how much of an affectionate dork his boyfriend was, but he was surprised by how much he truly was like a golden retriever once they started dating. He would cling to Leo, follow him around, and would beam whenever he saw Leo enter a room.

Then, there were moments like this that only Leo saw. There were moments when Jason let himself be a silly teenage boy. There were moments when Jason displayed dramaticness that could rival that of a husky.

“What’s up, bro?” Leo asked. He observed Jason’s face with a smile, knowing precisely how he’d react to his boyfriend calling him ‘bro’ as a pet name.

Jason reacted exactly as he always did. He let out a small huff as his nose scrunched up. Leo suppressed a laugh at it. Jason decided to set that aside and let out a long, dramatic sigh. He truly matched the energy that dogs had when they sighed as if they just worked a 9-5.

“Leo, come to bed,” Jason whined, reaching out an arm toward Leo.

Leo shifted so he was sitting sideways in his chair and rested his arms over the back of it. Leo rarely got to see dramatic Jason Grace so he’d take his time to relish in it and tease him. “Can’t it wait? I’m very busy right now.”

Jason scowled, a pout threatening to form on his very kissable lips. “I’m your boyfriend. I’m the most important thing in your life, so I should come first.”

Leo couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat at that. He knew that Jason tended to doubt himself and his importance to his friends and lover, so he was glad he could bring it up in moments like these, even if it was to be dramatic and clingy.

“Well, you’re right about that,” Leo said with a teasing lilt in voice. “But you’re always telling me I need to focus on my work more. Now you’re trying to get me to stop because of what you want? You’re a horrible influence, Grace.”

“That doesn’t apply now,” Jason replied with a small huff. “You’ve been working for so long,” it’s been ten minutes, “and I want to cuddle with my boyfriend. You can stop working for a cuddle break. Besides, this is more important and urgent. If you don’t cuddle with me, I will shrivel up and die. Do you want me to die, Valdez?”

“You’ll die?” Leo asked with a laugh. He reached over to his desk to set his pencil down. “I don’t think that’s scientifically possible.”

“It is,” Jason replied huffily. “It’s been medically proven that if you don’t cuddle with your boyfriend when he’s in desperate need of cuddles, then he will die. You can ask Will, he will say I’m right. You have to give me my medically required cuddles before I die.”

It was crazy how a seventeen-year-old boy who was over six feet tall, muscular, and once beat a titan with his bare hands could look so cute. When he saw Jason like this, he felt a thrill of pride and possessiveness that only he got to see him like this. He was the only one who experienced his playful, dramatic side and got to witness the slight pout on his lips or the way he whined for attention.

With a small chuckle, Leo finally stood up and walked over to the bed. “Of course, 'cause Will would never lie about that. Well, I guess I’ll cuddle with you to heal you. It’d be so inconvenient to have to get a new boyfriend. I’m far too lazy for that.”

Jason seemed too happy at the prospect of cuddles to be annoyed by Leo’s comment. He held up the blanket enough for Leo to climb over the covers with him. Leo did just that. Once he was close, Jason wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

“I love you,” Jason told him, nothing but pure affection and adoration in his voice.

”I know,” Leo replied, laughing and amusement in his voice.

Jason pouted. Leo couldn’t have that so he leaned in, kissing him. They had a lot of kisses over their relationship, but these were Leo’s favorites. It was sweet, slow, and full of all the love they had for each other. Leo made sure he showed through the kiss just how much he loved Jason, how much he meant to him.

When he pulled away, he cupped Jason’s cheeks, looking into those beautiful blue eyes. “I love you too.” Even if he showed Jason how much he loved him, he liked to be an overachiever at times. He wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to both show and tell Jason that he loved him.

Leo was terrible at remembering things. Thanks to his ADHD, he had both a terrible attention span and an awful memory. He could meet someone new and forget their name within five minutes. He could remember something insignificant like what types were strong against others in Pokemon but forget the date of an upcoming important exam. Leo’s memory was shit.

However, he knew he’d remember the smile that Jason gave him for the rest of his life.

[bekolxeram]

I caught some flak a while back for digging too deep into the technical lore of the show’s emergencies and disasters.

90% of the criticism I got was “they writers don’t care, it’s a the shark on freeway beenado show.”

In hindsight, the only thing the writers care about or put any real thorough effort in this season is the beenado (and subsequent aviation disaster).

All the storylines set up last season were dealt with (not resolved, just dealt with) at the speed of Boeing’s downfall. The supposed big villain Ortiz showed up for half an episode then poof, gone, together with Gerrard in the same episode. Zero lasting effect from his brief stint as captain seen on screen. Madney fostering Mara caused zero friction with Henren, other than one single slightly disappointed expression from Hen in 8x01. We saw none of Mara bonding with Jee on screen, and Madney had the baby conversation in the B-plot of 1 episode, and it turns out Maddie is pregnant all along. I don’t know if they’re going to follow up on Bathe a building a new house. If not, if the house is just going to magically appear in the future, then it’s one more storyline dealt with in one episode.

And I absolutely didn’t vibe with Denny’s near death experience. I understand it’s interesting to explore work-life balance of a firefighter, and I think the message of “first responders sacrifice their time with their family so you can safely enjoy yours” is nice, but they went too far. It was too high stake too quickly, I barely even had time to react before it was over.

I asked myself, “can the Wilsons experience one day of peace?” Well, after assassinating Tommy’s character and putting Back back on the hamster wheel for the 8th season, my answer is leaning no. And I simply don’t have the heart to witness what they have in store for Madney in the near future. I’m dropping the show because I grew too attached to the characters. My heart has been completely shattered once by this show and I’m not coming back for more, to protect myself, à la Tommy.

I’m not interested in watching my beloved characters Sisyphus week after week. I’m not Cardassian.

I guess, I initially picked up this show because it’s more similar to House than I’d like to admit. And I loved that show, I watched it 4 times front to back. Every episode follows the same formula, almost all of the characters are stuck in an endless loop of self-destruction but I just couldn’t stop watching.

Except for House, I voluntarily signed up for the pain and despair.

(Tbh I’d pay money to see Buck crash a car into Tommy’s house lol)

[crimsonwolf715]

Isolated

(Part 3 of Adventures of the Batfamily)

(POV Dick) 

“It’s been three weeks, I think it’s fair to give him a shot. He’s kept his promise. He’s given you guys the space you wanted and he hasn’t gone out and done anything illegal,” Tim says. 

“That we know about,” Dick replies. 

“While I don’t agree with trusting people readily, he hasn’t left the house in three weeks, Grayson. He literally can’t have done anything.” 

Dick sighs. “That’s a fair point, but how are you dealing with this so well, Tim? He’s tried to kill you like a dozen times.” 

“Considering how I came into this family and the things I dealt with when first coming here, I don’t know why you’re surprised. Lots of people have tried killing me for stupider reasons,” Tim answers. “He’s really trying, and that has to mean something.” 

Dick slings an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “I’m glad you two came.” 

“Well, how else are we supposed to talk sense into you?” Tim asks. 

“I just wanted to see you. I don’t actually care about this argument, I just want it to be over,” Damian says. 

“Aww, thanks,” Dick says, ruffling Damian’s hair. 

The three have dinner, then head back to Dick’s apartment. They go out on patrol a little later, but they don’t find any crime happening at all. 

“This is so odd. There’s always something,” Dick says. 

“Maybe they knew that the Murder Baby was coming and decided to stay home,” Tim replies. 

Damian kneecaps Tim and he falls. 

“Behave, you two. Batman will hear about it if you don’t.” 

Deathstroke drops down and before Dick has time to react, Deathstroke kicks Dick into the side of a building. Dick gets up and realizes that there have to be at least two dozen goons with him. Dick grabs a knife out of his boot and Deathstroke laughs. 

“Go to sleep, Nightwing.” 

Dick and Deathstroke get into a fight and Deathstroke stabs Dick in the arm with a dart. Dick takes a slash at him as his vision blurs. His vision blacks out and he falls unconscious. 

(Villain's POV) 

“What are we doing here?” Riddler asks. “We shouldn’t be meeting like this.” 

“Batman’s out dealing with Croc’s brilliant idea to eat people in a bank,” Scarecrow says. “While I also want to know, we shouldn’t be stressing about Batman right now.” 

“I hired some help, but I got them,” Two-Face says. 

“Got whom?” Riddler asks. 

Two-Face opens the door he’s standing next to, so the others walk in. Red Robin and Robin are tied to chairs. 

“Would you look at that,” Scarecrow says. “You really did it.” 

“Was there ever any doubt?” Two-Face replies. “It’s not like we’re talking about Batman here. We’re talking about his stupid little Bat-Brats.” 

“Yes, there was doubt,” Scarecrow answers. 

“There’s only two here. The two younger ones. Where’s the older one?” Riddler asks. 

“I’m so glad you asked. The third one is already in the isolation chamber,” Two-Face answers, walking over to the computer in the corner of the room and turning cameras on. “Nightwing is my favorite to put in there because it’s almost like he needs company to function.” 

Deathstroke walks into the room. 

“What took you so long?” Two-Face asks. 

“Nightwing nearly killed me, so I had to get patched up,” Deathstroke answers. 

“Almost killed you?” Riddler asks. “The nice one did?” 

“I don’t think you know Nightwing well enough. And anyway, he probably couldn’t see clearly. He took a wild slash at me and got my neck. If I wasn’t wearing the armor, I would have bled out.” 

“Huh, little guy’s all grown up,” Scarecrow says. 

(POV Dick) 

Dick doesn’t know how long he’s been awake. He lost track a while ago. 

Scarecrow walks in. “Look at you, the mighty son of Batman.” 

Dick glares at Scarecrow even though Scarecrow can’t tell. The rest of his facial expressions must have given it away because Scarecrow walks over and crouches in front of him. 

“What? Pissed with me? Whatcha gonna do about it?” 

Dick doesn’t even think about it before his aggression kicks in and he headbutts Scarecrow as hard as he can. Scarecrow backs up, holding his bleeding nose. 

“Get the hell outta my face, Crane,” Dick growls. 

Scarecrow quickly leaves the room. 

This feeling is suffocating. The white noise constantly playing, the chair constantly shaking, the fact that Two-Face keeps coming in and flipping his damn coin. Damning his siblings to various types of torture. Dick’s anxiety’s been high since coming up, but this last period of time has cranked it up to an eleven. Subconsciously, Dick knows that it’s a symptom of him not sleeping, but he can’t consciously come to that conclusion. Thus, he’s been on constant high alert. 

Two-Face walks in. “Hello, Nightwing.” 

Dick waits for Two-Face to mention that he headbutted Scarecrow, but he doesn’t. 

“Ready for the coin toss?” 

“Please, just torture me instead.” 

“I am torturing you, and you’re much easier to break than the other two. Heads, they face the torture of my choice. Tails, they get a break.” Two-Face flips the coin and it lands on heads. “Alright, the coin has decided.” 

Two-Face walks out as Dick starts yelling at him to stop. 

Dick is forced to watch his siblings being repeatedly electrocuted. Once Two-Face has had his fill of Dick pleading for him to stop and the other two barely responding, he leaves the room and the glass darkens again. He looks away and he sees Jason. A bloody and battered Jason, lying there in a torn Robin costume. 

He can’t be here too. Why would he be put in here with me?  

Dick looks away. He can’t look at his dead brother, not again. When he turns back, Jason’s gone. 

Where did he go?  

(POV Jason) 

Jason has a quiet dinner with Alfred since everyone else is in Blüdhaven or Bruce has been on a mission for the Justice League since the others left. Alfred heads upstairs after dinner, so Jason heads down to the Batcave. It’s the first time Jason’s been down here since coming home a month ago. He glances at the case where Bruce had thrown his Red Hood uniform, then sits down at the computer. The last time he sat here, he was so much smaller. He looks at everything and realizes it doesn’t look larger than life like it used to. He sighs and leans his head back. 

It’s been so long.  

Something starts beeping so Jason looks up. The computer’s flashing with a blue symbol. 

Grayson’s distress signal.  

The computer lights up and Barbara’s picture pops up. “Bruce… You are not Bruce.” 

“Very perceptive of you,” Jason replies sarcastically, then bites his tongue. “Where’s Grayson’s distress signal coming from? I’m gonna get in contact with Bruce.” 

“It’s coming from a warehouse downtown. I think it’s Riddler.” 

“Riddler?” Jason asks as he tries to remember the sequence to contact the Watchtower. “Has he gotten better since I left? I only ran into him one time and he said something that made me very uncomfortable, but not threatened.” 

“What did he say?” 

“Not repeating it.” The signal says no connection. “The damn Watchtower isn’t responding.” 

“I’ll try getting in touch with him.” 

Jason turns towards the display case. “No need. I’m going.” 

“Is that wise?” Barbara asks. 

“Who the hell knows?” Jason answers. “I’m gonna do it anyway.” 

He goes over and grabs his suit and helmet. “Maybe leave this one for now. That will surely scare them if they’ve been drugged.” 

He puts the helmet down and grabs a domino mask. “Barbara, I’m gonna get a comm, so I’m gonna need you to direct me.” 

“I can do that.” 

Jason goes to change. 

(POV Dick) 

Two-Face has done everything in his power to keep Dick awake and thus far has been successful. Dick almost passed out earlier, but Two-Face managed to give him enough adrenaline to keep him awake. 

Two-Face walks back in. “You ready?” 

“Ready for what?” 

“Ready to try your luck again?” Two-Face asks. “You know the rules. Heads, they’re subjected to torture. Tails, they get their first break of the week.” 

He flips the coin and everything within Dick begs for it to land on tails. It lands on tails. Dick sighs, so relieved. 

“Aww, that’s no fun. Well, I’ll be back in two hours to try this again.” 

“What?” Dick asks. 

“In. Two. Hours. We’ll. Try. This. Again.” 

“You sick son of a bitch.” 

Two-Face backhands Dick hard enough for Dick’s teeth to cut the inside of his cheek. “Don’t talk about my mother like that, you Batman wannabe.” 

Dick spits blood on Two-Face’s suit, to which he promptly freaks. He rushes out of the room to change his suit. The sounds start back up and the chair starts shaking again. 

“Damn,” Dick mutters. 

Dick loses track of time again as he starts crashing from the adrenaline. The door bursts open and he sees… 

Red Hood?  

“Hey, you dead yet?” That voice definitely belongs to Jason. 

“No.” 

It takes almost two minutes, but Jason gets the handcuffs off of Dick’s hands. Dick types in the password on the second handcuffs and pulls them off his feet. 

“You need help walking?” Jason asks. 

“No. We need to get the other two.” 

“Do you know where they are?” 

“They’re behind the glass,” Dick answers, pointing. 

Jason smashes the glass and luckily Tim and Damian aren’t close enough to get any glass on them. Jason through and cuts the ropes that are tying both of them to their respective chairs. Dick pulls himself together and forces himself over to his brothers. 

“Can you take Da… Robin?” 

Dick nods, so Jason grabs Tim. Dick gently picks up his baby brother, then the two head out of the warehouse. Jason clicks a button as they’re walking out. 

“What was that?” Dick asks. 

“You’ll see.” 

They make it a safe distance from the warehouse before it bursts into flames. Jason’s smiling and Dick turns so less of the heat will affect Damian. 

(POV Bruce) 

Bruce comes back into the Watchtower and his comm starts beeping immediately. 

He answers. “What’s up, Oracle?” 

“Where have you been?” Barbara shouts. 

Bruce forces his expression to stay neutral because more of the League members are coming through the Zeta Tube. 

“I’ve been on a mission. We didn’t have a proper signal. Is something happening?” 

“Yeah, Nightwing sent a distress signal last night and I lost contact with Jason after he went after them.” 

Bruce feels his blood run cold. He turns and heads back toward the Zeta Tube. 

“Where are you going, Batman?” Superman asks. “We have a meeting and debrief.” 

“Something’s come up and I need to return home. I’ll write a report when I have time.” 

Batman heads back to the Batcave. 

“Where did the signal come from?” 

“One of Riddler’s old warehouses. I sent the coordinates to the Batmobile.” 

“Thanks, Oracle. I’ll keep you updated. Let me know if something changes.” 

“I will. Be safe.” 

Bruce drives to the warehouse, his anxiety keeping his muscles tight the entire way. When he gets there, the warehouse bursts into flames. 

“No!” Bruce jumps out and runs towards the warehouse. 

“Hey, old man! Cut that out!” 

Bruce turns and sees all of his kids, safe. Relief floods through him and he runs over. Dick’s holding Damian like a baby, who’s unconscious but breathing. Jason’s holding Tim bridal style, and Tim seems to be somewhat awake. He keeps occasionally lightly hitting Jason’s face and mumbling something that’s probably demanding to be put down. It doesn’t seem to phase Jason at all. Dick’s clearly tense and he seems to be slightly leaning on Jason. 

“What happened? Are you all alright?” Bruce asks. 

“There was some kind of jammer in the building,” Jason says. “The only reason the distress signal got through was because someone was taking Gray…Nightwing’s gear outside to dump it in the water.” 

“How long have you guys not been in Blüdhaven?” 

Dick shrugs one shoulder. “God only knows. I don’t even know what day it is.” 

Bruce helps his kids into the Batmobile and heads back to the Batcave. 

“Oracle?”

“Yes?” 

“I found them. They’re mostly alright,” Bruce says. 

“Oh thank God,” Barbara replies. “All of them? You’re sure?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Okay, keep me updated.” 

“I will.” 

Bruce calls Leslie and she promises to meet them there as soon as she can. When they get home, Bruce takes Damian and Jason grabs Tim. They set them up, then hear something thud on the ground. 

Jason runs over. “Grayson, are you okay?” 

Bruce walks over as Jason helps Dick to his feet. 

“I’m fine,” Dick says. “I just tripped.” 

“Getting out of a car. You’re not fine,” Jason says. 

Jason helps Dick onto one of the beds and Bruce walks over. 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

“I don’t know, that depends on how long we were there. I haven’t slept since getting there.” 

“Can you remember, even a rough estimate, of how long you were there?” Bruce asks. 

“I lost track after about thirty-eight hours,” Dick answers. “They kept me awake and then… I had to watch him torture them.” 

Dick starts crying, so Bruce hugs him. Dick puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“Hey, Tim. Probably not wise to roll off the bed, buddy,” Jason says. 

Bruce turns his attention to his other children and Tim looks asleep. Jason’s probably not actually talking to Tim. 

“Thanks, Jay,” Dick says. 

“You’re welcome,” Jason replies, awkwardly avoiding looking in Dick and Bruce’s direction. 

Leslie shows up with Alfred and the two care for Tim and Damian, who have minimal serious injuries. Leslie says that Dick’s just suffering from lack of sleep. Jason reads quietly to Dick until he falls asleep, which makes Bruce smile. Leslie gave medication to the other two before she left, so all of his kids besides Jason are sleeping soundly. 

Bruce turns to Jason. “Thank you.” 

Jason looks down at the uniform, then makes eye contact with Bruce. “I want to help. It doesn’t mean that I agree with everything that you’re saying, but I can’t just sit by while things are still so bad. While you guys risk your lives.” 

Bruce thinks about it. “You’ll have a trial period and we’ll go from there.” 

“That’s fine. I’ll make some changes to the uniform, it needs it.” 

Bruce nods. “You should go get some rest.” 

“Yeah, I will. ‘Night, Dad.” 

“Goodnight, Jason,” Bruce says, smiling. 

Jason heads upstairs and Bruce settles down to watch over his kids for the night.

[dixonsgirl93]

The Harry Potter men react to:

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎: “𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔, 𝑰’𝒎 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖.”

𝒀𝒐𝒖: “𝑵𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒏.”

Sirius Black

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “What’s wrong with men your own age?”

You shrug, putting your elbow on the table and resting your head on your hand. “I don’t want them. They don’t interest me.”

“And I interest you?” He smirked, leaning back in his chair.

“We have more in common and talking to you is so easy and I just…love being around you.”

He raises his brows at you. “So it’s not because of my devilishly handsome face, is it?”

You smirk and blush slightly. You shrug nonchalantly. “That too, I guess.”

“You’re so cheeky.” He exhales a laugh and stares at you a moment, lost in thought. “I’m wondering why I’m saying no, to be honest.”

“Me too.” You purr, feeling the heat between you rise.

He leans over the table, mirroring your posture. “All right then. If you still want me, I’ll be yours.”

Remus Lupin

He shakes his head before even letting you finish.

“Being seen in public with me would tarnish your name. I won’t do that to you.”

“That’s my choice!”

“No.”

Your heart dropped. Tears pricked your eyes. “Please, Remus. You’re breaking my heart.”

“You’ll find someone else.” He stood up but despite his words, he couldn’t quite look you in the eye.

You stood from your chair too, heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t want anyone else!”

At this he turned to look directly at you, at the tears threatening to fall. “Why? Why me of anyone else?”

“Because you deserve love as much as anyone else and I…love you.”

His eyes soften and he reaches out to cup your cheek, using his thumb to wipe a tear away. “I’ll never understand it, you know. I’m not anyone special.”

“Yes, you are.” You argued. “To me you’re everything.”

He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “All right.” His voice is soft too.

Relief floods you and you wrap your arms around him. He chuckles in your ear and hugs you close.

Severus Snape

He spins to face you, his cloak swishing after him.

“You can’t mean it.” He frowns and shakes his head, disbelieving.

“I meant every word.” You straighten your back, unafraid of your feelings.

“Why?” His eyes scan over you as if looking for a sign.

You let out a breath, gesturing in the air, looking for the right answer. “Other than everything, you mean?”

“Everything? You don’t know everything.” He murmurs.

You step closer. “I’d love the chance to know more. As much as I can so I can love those parts too.”

“Love?” He stammers.

“Yes. That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” You step closer still, now with only a foot between you.

“I…”

You reach out for his hand, holding it with both of yours. “There’s only you, Severus.”

“I… Well…in that case.” He closes the gap and with his free hand holds your face, letting himself love you too.

Alastor Moody

He scoffs. “You like the idea of an older man. It’s not like how you might picture it.” He starts to turn away.

“And how might I picture it?” You question.

He turns back toward you with a heavy sigh and studies your face. “We don’t have the same energy, for a start… We have very little in common…” he hesitated. “There’s just too many variables, it’d never work.”

“You wouldn’t even be willing to try?” You argue.

He frowns at you, deep in thought. “You don’t want an old man like me.”

“Yes. I do.”

He stares down at you, slightly aghast at your words. “You’d get bored of me.”

“All of this is just speculation. You don’t actually know what would happen. Neither do I. But I want to try. Life is too short.” You could almost hear your own heart breaking. “Is this because you don’t at least find me attractive or because you genuinely don’t want to date a younger woman?”

“You are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. However,” he said at the way your face lit up. “It would be irresponsible to rush into anything based on so little. Speaking from experience.”

“You’ve dated a younger woman before?” You were almost jealous. How silly.

A smile tugged at his lips before he shook his head. “No, I’m talking about in life.”

“Oh.”

A heavy silence permeated the room for a moment. And then, “I need time to consider.” Was his reply. His back half to you. Your heart burned with possibility. You tried to keep it off your face.

“Okay.” Was all you said.

Lucius Malfoy

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “That’s adorable.” He crooned. He lounged back in his black leather chair, resting his slender hands on the armrests.

You shrugged, trying not to cringe beneath his intense gaze. “It’s true.”

Still smiling, Lucius waved a hand dismissively in the air. “No, no, I believe you. I just find you rather cute. Bold, but cute.”

You waited for more but he just watched you. You raised your hands in mild frustration. “Well, what the heck does that mean?”

He leaned forward on his chair, eyes locked on yours. “It means, my dear, you have my attention.” He purred.

You swallowed. “Good.” And with a confidence you didn’t know you had, you turned and sashayed to the door. You had to play a part with Lucius. Play his little game.

[bicheetopuff]

Prompts for puff:

I have a few prompts you might like to write about! Some follow cannon, others are AUs (I don’t know if you have a pref o_O) Feel free to edit these to your own ideas

Pirate AU: Class 1a are pirates, taking on the seven seas. But what happens when the League of Voyagers (a vicious rival pirate group) attack them, leaving them stranded on a mysterious island?

Shojou manga! Izuku finds Katsuki’s collection of shojou manga and reads it. Izuku discovers that Katsuki had been using phrases/tropes in the manga when talking to him. With this info, Izuku resorts to flirting the hell out of Katsuki. (Aka, Izuku finds out that Katsuki is in love with him and proceeds to romance him to the grave)

Villain Deku AU (hear me out), but it’s told from the perspective of Izuku from cannon who fell into the villain AU and helps Nedzu, Tsugauchi & Class 1A find and take down !villain Deku, all while Katsuki (from cannon) is finding ways to get him back. (Bonus points if !Villain Au Baku makes Izuku realise he is in love with him)

Hatsume’s rings of doom: in which hatsume makes thought-sharing rings using quirk technology & makes Izuku + Katsuki test them out. The rings do not come off. Help them.

RealityTV AU: Where the promising young heroes of Class 1A get a segment on the hit show HEROES 4 HIRE: a reality show in which heroes are called to do domestic jobs like babysitting and beach cleaning. Izuku and Katsuki have been paired and will spend the entirety of the show bound together by the hands (at least when the cameras are running).

Streamer AU: (def not original but whatever) Katsuki is a famous streamer, known for shaking up the gaming world with his aggressive play style and notorious attitude, but how will the sweet, funny and precious cinnamon roll that is Deku react when he gets placed into a raging tournament with katsuki? (Extra: Izuku is a badass and creates one of the most influential dynamics with Katsuki, who is ecstatic that someone can match his freak)

My personal fav TIME TRAVEL AU: This prompt can go many ways (AND I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS OMGSVFSNBDJSVS) but I’ll just pick one: Somehow, Izuku (who just got done fighting Muscular for the first time) gets transported to his middle school class, chaos ensues. (Katsuki is beyond concerned for Deku, but needs to get his head out of his ass before trying to reach out) How will Izuku handle being ripped from his time?

Hope these help. And it sucks that you are surrounded by Trump supporters, honestly fuck them. I want to cremate him and put him in a firework that explodes and says “EQUAL RIGHTS”, or smth like that.

(p.s. you are one of my favourite authors EVER and I go insane when I read your stuff. Literally frothing at the mouth rn)

Hi, thank you for the prompts! It makes me really happy that you like my fics <3

I probably won’t use all of these (at least not immediately because I’m kind of a slow writer. But I also do have a preference, I like to write canon compliant stuff so I don’t think I’d have the skill set to write the pirate, villain deku, and streamer AUs, though I do think they’re cool ideas to keep in mind for later!), but the Shoujo Manga, Ring of Doom, and Reality TV AUs sound hilarious, I’m definitely using those.

I really like time travel AUs, but I will say I do already have one planned. It’s like a continuation of another fic but I plan on making it long so I’m not working on it rn. I’m not sure how long exactly, but at least over 50k words so it’s definitely something for the future!

And yeah I think I can speak for every queer person of color who lives in the south, being here right now is kind of spooky if you don’t live in a big city. Luckily, I do live in the city, but my city is big enough to still have its fair share of bigots. I’m worried, but at the same time I have a lot of faith in our community, and I’m sure we’ll all make it out okay. I will say though, I’ve had to unfollow and block so many friends from high school over the past few days… it’s unfortunate but I’d rather that than have someone in my life who doesn’t believe I deserve to exist. But other than that, writing and creating stuff is a good distraction for now :)