#but… if… say… a little bit of help means a little bit of time with… idk… a certain someone… just

[wileys-russo]

Not sure if you’re taking requests but I’m a sad and anxious American who could use a bit of happiness rn. Thank you in advance but also no worries if this doesn’t spark anything.

Just a little fluffy something with Leah or Alessia at home, “there’s no way these are vegan” after surprising them with homemade brownies

special brownies II l.williamson, a.russo

"less you can't eat brownies, we have a match tomorrow." leah reminded sternly as you carded your fingers through the moody strikers hair, her head resting in your lap as she groaned loudly at your other girlfriends words.

"yeah leah a match i have to play on my period! at least let me eat some sort of warm chocolate if i can't curl into a ball and die." alessia mumbled miserably, rolling over and pushing her face into your hoodie covered stomach.

"don't!" you mouthed at the older girl who scoffed and was clearly ready to say something that absolutely would not help the situation. "i'll make you brownies for after the game tomorrow baby, i promise." you assured alessia, rubbing her back gently as she huffed, clearly not happy but somewhat accepting of the offer.

"with ice cream?" "with ice cream." "that vanilla bean ice cream in the blue container?" "yes lessi, i will make sure to buy that exact ice cream just for you."

"you're going to bake brownies from scratch?" leah snickered, lifting your shared girlfriends legs and settling herself onto the sofa, alessia digging her heels into leahs thigh mumbling about a foot massage, making the defender roll her eyes but oblige none the less.

"yes i am. are you going to try and tell me i can't? little miss 'childrens menu'." you narrowed your eyes skeptically, feeling alessia chuckle lightly before leah squeezed her foot too hard and her head popped up to shoot her a glare.

"well babe i think we all remember the last time you tried to bake. i, at least, can admit that i am not a good cook. which is why i'm dating one and a half of them!" leah grinned, quickly assuring the grumpy striker that she was the one and you were the half.

"half!" you protested, a little pinch to your thigh meaning you resumed scratching alessia's back where you'd paused momentarily, glaring daggers at the other girl a few cushions down.

"you do your best baby, and your best is good. but maybe you could just buy some brownies? that little cafe leah loves does them with the chocolate chips, we can grab a coffee and then heat them up later after the game." alessia mumbled into your chest, patting your thigh in an attempt to show support.

"do you both really think i'm that incapable of making brownies?" you asked in disbelief, the silence in response practically deafening. "wow! well the truth comes out." you scoffed in offense, both blondes heads snapping toward you as you attempted to wiggle out from alessias grip.

"no come on love don't be like that! baking just isn't for everyone. same as football isn't for everyone or maths isn't for everyone, its fine!" alessia held on tightly, tugging you back down and shuffling her body to lay on you more as you crossed your arms.

"everyone has their own special skill set baby girl, yours just doesn't include baking. more like...burning? hey i bet if we were ever stranded on a desert island you'd be able to get a fire going!" leah was clearly trying to be on the same supportive track as your other girlfriend but failing miserably as even alessia cringed at the attempt.

"no baby she didn't mean that don't-" but this time you managed to pull yourself free and roll out from beneath alessia, shooting up to your feet and taking turns glaring at the two blondes still laid up on the sofa.

"tomorrow i will not be coming to your game. i am going to spend the afternoon here baking and you will both come home to the best fucking brownies you've ever tasted-no actually the best vegan brownies you've ever tasted because i am that confident that i can do it. even without dairy!" you announced, stomping off to go sulk by yourself and look up some recipes.

"wait but babe you're still going to get regular ice cream right? not vegan ice cream? right? babe!"

~

you'd been so confident, you really had, which had made the fall from grace and back into reality a difficult one.

the reality that your girlfriends doubts weren't so far fetched and you might not actually be capable of baking, all the more prickly an acceptance to swallow.

which is what had lead to this disgustingly sneaky switch, the evidence of your previous three attempts scattered strategically around the kitchen for your lovers to see, and the evidence of the store bought brownies you'd rushed out to buy instead well hidden at the very bottom of the trash bins.

you'd just taken them out of the microwave to warm them up, very carefully stacking them up on a plate when you heard alessia's car in the driveway, leah playing passenger princess today.

they'd done their best this morning to grovel and sweet talk and try their very hardest to change your mind about coming to the game but you were stubborn by nature and once it was made up there wasn't much to be done to change it.

so they'd trudged off to the match like kicked puppies and you'd spent your afternoon burning chocolate and yelling at the oven trying to shift the blame before inevitably accepting your fate.

however you'd made such a fuss and a point both last night and this morning about your abilities that you may have accepted your fate, but you had no intent on letting your girlfriends do the same, the art of deception hopefully saving you the further embarrassment of eating your words with an audience.

"you did it!" alessias eyes lit up as she entered the kitchen first, hair damp and scraped up into a bun. "congratulations on the hat trick baby." you smiled, pecking her lips a few times before her loving gaze dropped down to the sweet treats on the counter.

"i think she plays better on her period." leah mused as she wandered in, the younger blonde shooting her a dirty look in response as leah kissed her cheek apologetically and wrapped you in a hug.

"you're so much prettier when you don't talk." you teased, squeezing her face in your hand with a wink as leah pulled a face and blew a raspberry on your cheek.

"less!" you laughed, turning around a few seconds later and already finding the striker with a mouthful of brownie, crumbs down the front of her hoodie and a blissed out look on her face.

"what? i was promised these!" she defended still with a mouthful of food making you wince and push her lightly. "yes you were babe and you more than earned them." you chuckled, leah reaching around you to take one for herself.

"babe there's no way these are vegan!" the milton keynes local scoffed after a mere sniff causing your eyes to roll as she took a cautious bite. "are too." you gestured your arms around to the plethora of substitutes piled around the kitchen as leah hummed skeptically.

"just tell her she did a good job, shut up, and stuff your face with chocolate leah." alessia defended, hugging you from behind as you smiled gratefully and kissed her jaw, pushing away from her as she shoved the other half of the baked good into her mouth and sent crumbs showering down on you.

"well i need a quick shower but ice creams in the freezer-" you kissed alessia's cheek since her lips were preoccupied making out with a brownie.

"-whipped creams in the fridge." you pecked leahs lips knowingly. "oi!" the defender grabbed at you as your hand collected with her ass with a wink, escaping to the bathroom for a shower and leaving them to their brownies.

which may have been a mistake.

when you returned it was to a welcomingly quiet living room, both of your blondes laid on the lounge watching a film, which judging by the bored look on leahs face and the concentrated one on alessia's, the film had been the strikers choice.

offering them both a cup of tea which was met with a resoundingly quick yes from each you disapeared to the kitchen, not hearing leah get up to follow you much to alessia's grumpy protests at being left alone.

"you know babe i noticed something very interesting about your brownies." leah hummed causing you to jump a little not having thought anyone was with you, flicking the kettle on to boil and raising an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"well you know i love a good jigsaw, yeah?" leah questioned, grabbing the plate of brownies which was remarkably untouched given alessia's desire to inhale the lot of them just moments before you ducked off for a shower.

"but with a jigsaw, all the pieces...have to match up." leah nodded down as your eyes dropped, leah having lined up the brownies which sure enough weren't even close to matching up together the way they would if you'd baked them in the tray you'd claimed to.

"well thats because-" "oh no no my girl, i wasn't asking." leah interrupted with a shake of her head and a finger pressed to your lips. "i know you didn't bake those, and they sure as shit aren't vegan." leah smirked knowingly, pulling your body closer into hers as she leaned down, lips ghosting your own as right as you tried to kiss her she pulled away, smirk growing wider as her hands slipped up your hoodie.

"the only question i want the answer to is, how are you going to make it up to us for lying baby?"

[my-castles-crumbling]

First time meeting the family - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 300

They’d decided, long before Sirius set foot in the small cottage on the outskirts of the little Muggle town, that they would be keeping their new relationship a secret. Lyall was strict and judgmental as it was, and Remus was, admittedly, terrified for his father to meet one of his friends. He didn’t want to add the pressure of something more to the mix.

So when Lyall, Hope, Remus, and Sirius sat down to dinner on the first night of Sirius’s visit during the summer between sixth and seventh year, every movement both boys made was tentative. Calculated. Remus couldn’t help but sweat a bit as he asked Sirius to pass the salt and Hope to pass the rolls. 

And then, Lyall asked gruffly, “So, boys. Any girlfriends this year at school?”

It was Sirius who broke the awkward silence that followed. 

“Not this year, Sir. Too busy with…other things, I think.”

A cool hand grabbed Remus’s under the table and squeezed. 

Lyall, however, gave Sirius a shocked look. “Really? I mean, I’m not shocked about Remus, here. He’ll never marry, who would want to deal with his condition? But you seem like you’d have girls lining up!”

Remus felt himself blushing in embarrassment, wanting to sink into his chair. But before he could think of something remotely normal to say, Sirius replied again, hand gripping Remus’s, his voice cold as ice. “I can think of at least one person who would want to marry him, actually.”

And Remus’s heart, which had all-but disappeared from his chest, suddenly soared.

Later, as he helped his mother clear the plates, Hope gave him a gentle look. “I know you’re not ready to tell your father. But just so you know…I think you and Sirius are perfect together.”

And Remus couldn’t agree more.

[lunebulous]

Playing with your body in non-sexual ways

A.N: This is my first time writing fanfiction. Any feedback is very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy! I have no idea what tags to put here so, just trust me bro. cw: thigh worshipping (zayne), plus-size reader (rafayel).

Xavier

There wouldn’t be a lot of occasions where his caresses would be in a non sexual way - that's why he's known to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. But don't get me wrong, being sexual does not equal condescending or rough. Not for him. - well, sometimes. - It's just that if he focuses too long on your face when you’re sleeping soundly, or when you're admiring the lantern lights at another festival, he gets this sensation that he should own you once more, just to be sure you're his. 

So when he kisses, it's only to leave you wanting more of him.  So when he caresses your body, it's only to let himself know he's the one making your skin get goosebumps.  So when he embraces all of you in a tight hug, it’s only to feel like you’re finally real this time.  And when all of these inevitably turn into that feeling of ownership again, he frowns internally. Initially, he wishes that he was different and that he wouldn’t feel like this everytime he stops to think about you; But it's just so much love that it overflows from his heart, dripping right into the lowest part of his torso. When he realizes, he’s slowly kissing you against the wall again. He can’t help it, he's naturally drawn to you like a magnet. And that feeling gives place to a necessity, a craving that hurts so deliciously he gives up on being different. So when you gasp for air and tug at his hair to breathe a little, he just can’t understand why. Or how can you do this to him. He wants more. And more. And more. He needs it so bad he can’t help but pin your hands to the wall so he can kiss you longer, raveling in the way you squirm under him. After all, just because he can't help it, doesn't mean he's not enjoying every second of the fruits of his own possessiveness.

So he caresses you all the time - the problem is that it often turns into a primal need to own and to explore each cute face - each little sound - you make for him. He feels like a victim to his own desires. Poooor Xavier… (irony included).

Rafayel

Rafayel is completely enamoured by your hands, making sure to always kiss them whenever he gets the chance. When he doesn’t, he’s more than expected to caress them while you wait for food in a nice restaurant, or when you’re walking on the shore with him. He is the king of intertwining your hands all the time - never letting go even if for brief moments. He says his bodyguard should be aware of where he is at all times, and when you replied that having one of your hands busy would actually get in the way if danger arrives, he puffed his chest, saying something along the lines of “i’m lucky I have the best bodyguard that can fight 10 men with only one hand then!”. You sighed, giggling because of him. “You’re not actually expecting me to fight with 10 men without letting go of your hand, right?” “Well, I'm pretty sure that was on your job description when I hired you.”  “No it wasn’t.” “Now it is.”  --- He also kisses and grabs your stomach and love handles all the time, especially when lying down, like now. There were some times when it made you feel a little bit insecure, but he always buried his face on it with a big smile, hugging your waist. When you voiced your insecurity to him for the first time, he simply said: “Well, I never saw a painting of any muse that didn’t have enough body for me to drown in it. - he stares up at you intently, before looking at your stomach again. - In fact, it is the only scenario where drowning would be possible for me. - Now he’s getting a hold of your love handles. - And actually, i'd love it. Thank you, my muse!” Right before nuzzling his face on your belly again, giggling. You blush furiously, caressing his purple locks, but he’s too busy to see it.

Zayne

Zayne would always need a bit of a push to touch you like he wants to - and you know that. He’s slowly coming out of his shell and being more confident when it comes to being intimate with you, getting over his irrational fear of hurting you again. The ‘push’ he got today was seeing you come home after brunch with your friends, wearing a dark and muted red lipstick, blended on your lips so perfectly it reminded him of a vintage doll. He made a note to himself to compliment you later when you had your attention on him - because you were busy taking off your shoes, your coat and yapping about some BIG gossip you just found out. He listens attentively, putting two and two together with you as you happily stride towards him. 

You sit beside him on the couch and hug his arm, leaning on his shoulder. He places his hand between your thighs, trying not to pay too much attention to it - a task quite hard for him, as you were wearing light brown stockings that made your oh-so-loved thighs look even more bite-deserving; But he tries to shake the thought away. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re well-invested in the documentary he is watching, but the position is getting quite uncomfortable now, so you crawl between his legs and rest your back against his chest, both of you laying down on the chaise part of the couch. First he stares at you, finding adorable how you don’t hesitate before making yourself comfortable with him. He lays a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, making you snuggle against him even more, getting it just right like two puzzle pieces. And he swears to himself he’s a good man. He is not going to turn this into something more just because your ass grinded against him innocently, no, no. Breathe, you touch-starved man! 

But the same man now is fighting for his life to NOT look at your thighs, the stockings making them look so shiny for him, he couldn't help himself but imagine the shadows his fingers pressing onto your skin would look like. He imagined you in not-so-innocent lightings more than he’d ever admit, and as his thoughts stray away, he doesn’t notice how he’s been caressing your chest and collarbones for some time now, lightly using his fingertips to circle around your skin, as if memorizing each part of it. Then he's slowly directing his way to your neck, with four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other, going up and down with featherly touches as his eyes are glued to your legs, completely blank, admiring each curve going from the arch of your feet to your calves, and then to your thighs, stopping at the start of your tight skirt. Now he’s gripping your neck - just lightly pressing on it, your airflow is completely free. (for now). You can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside his mind, lying to yourself that feeling his firm hand around your neck is not making you want to rub your legs together, but you're already doing it a bit, discreetly, not knowing you’re being very thoroughly watched. As he’s breathing deeper to try to not get excited, you feel his hand slowly letting go of your neck and you whine inwardly at it. But then his hands hesitantly go higher, his slender fingers sliding across your chin to play with your lips as he remembered to compliment you. He opens his mouth to do it, but being so lost in thought he just stops. Staring at your legs with an empty gaze, completely out of it. God, they’d look so good around his cock. Fuck.  You look up, a bit surprised with his actions, slowly tilting your head to the side, looking at him. - the movement makes him get out of his trance, suddenly confused as to how his fingers got to your lips - but as if reading his mind, you part them, waiting. And then he gets it. The key to making himself touch you like he wants to is just to - not think. It makes sense, it's a part of him he never let himself explore. He then lets himself do what he wants, sliding his middle and index finger on your tongue, experimenting. As you close your lips around them, looking at him so puppy-eyed, he can't help but smirk as realizing he could get used to this very quickly. You start feeling him growing against your ass now.

He presses down on your tongue, smiling. “You look so beautiful wearing this color, love.”

So, Zayne doesn’t play with any part of your body - because as soon as he does it, he gets a problem under his trousers. And now that he knows how to let go of control, - you got one too.

Sylus

Sylus wouldn’t be the type of man to touch you without being full-on intentional with it. The same amount of hate he has towards ‘quickies’, he has for the idea of touching your most sensitive parts without being completely devoted to them. So when playing with you, it is usually filled with admiration and love, silently appreciating your presence by his side. That’s why you often find him mindlessly braiding your hair as you lay your head on his lap to watch a movie, or how he gently runs his fingernails - once claws - on your calf under the table when he’s discussing his next moves with the twins. Yeah, sometimes his hands wander a little bit higher, a little bit firmer, but always looking at you to watch your reaction; as if to just - test the waters, tease you to see your ears turn red.. or warm you up for what’s coming next.

[moechies]

nanami who has you impaled deep on his cock, hands restraining your tiny, quivery wrists.

you’ve been a bad girl.

fussing over the smallest inconsistencies throughout your day spent with your dearest fiance — having taken a day off to spend with his darling girl. but you’re a brat — there’s no doubt about it. nonetheless, it’s kento’s responsibility to put you back in your place, turn you back into the pliant, nice, and smart woman he knows you to be.

so when you begin to act indifferent than your usual self, slamming cabinets with a mean force and glaring off at your fiancé at his feeble attempts to comfort and confront you, he knows you’re feeling off.

and he knows it’s not your fault — you’re big on emotions but hefty weak when it comes to communication. so, he’ll just have to force it out of you.

so that’s how he forced you here — mindlessly bouncing atop his cock with your arms confined and pressed roughly against the concave of your back. your consistency is mindless, allowing your little pussy and those weak thighs of yours to think for you as your mushed little head spits out scenarios in order to calm your fiancé.

“do it correctly. i know you can.” the man grumbles, sitting himself up against the soft pillows with a rough readjusting to your sore wrists. they ache — having being pressed against eachother for nearly an hour, and your fiancé having no intention to release them any time soon.

you writhe in his grip, crying out his name with a soft whine as a peace offer for mercy, any mercy.

“correct your posture and straighten your thighs. like i taught you many times before. don’t tell me you forgot, darling.” he eyes you condescendingly, sighing with a disappointed demeanor that has you whimpering.

“y—yhes.. yes sir!” and you do just as he says, straightening your back and stretching out your legs. it takes you a weak couple of grinds before you manage to find a suiting pace — although slow but kento deems it acceptable.

“well done. now,” kento grunts, “tell me what’s gotten you so fussy today. will you?”

you huff, shaking your head softly with an adorable pout, increasing the speed of your pace in hopes to lose the man in his thoughts with your hips.

“now now,” kento warns, his free hand, the right one coming up to squeeze at your cheeks, his calloused thumb jabbing into your right dimple, the rest of his hand laying tight against your left. “we’re not about to play the guessing game.”

you squeak in pain, eyes closing shut which forces the previously bubbling tears to spill over your lash line.

“speak up, darling, or you won’t be cumming anytime soon. i can promise you that.” he growls — which is his last and final warning, an assertion of dominance you’ve only seen once long before.

“i—i—“

nanami removes his grip from your face, a contradicting thumb that comes to wipe at your tears so sweetly you might just cry again.

“wa—wan’ you to put a baby in m—me already,” you hiccup, “wan’a have your kids, k—ken.” finally, you crack.

nanami cums.

you squeak inevitably, not expecting the sudden fill in your womb, thick ropes of spent painting your walls white and filling your tummy. “o—oh shhh—shit.” nanami whines, cursing himself when he feels it leak against his tummy. your hips slow, meaning to stop, “no.. don’t stop. keeping going, l—love. until you can’t, for me.”

you nod shakily, hiccuping softly when you hear the man chuckle, leaning back against the headboard with a weary stare. “that’s it, doll? you’ve been so fussy, so mean all day just because you wanted me to breed this little w—womb? aw.” nanami coos, and you can’t help but feel the slightest bit embarrassed. you’re quick to pout again at his teasing, but your ploy is quickly shocked to failure when he presses harshly against the chub of your tummy — directly atop your womb.

“darling, you must communicate. how would i have known you’d ask of s—something so simple?”nanami stutters when you drop onto his lap, situating yourself tiredly onto him. “i just— ‘s-s embarrassing.” you whimper in response, lifting your head to receive a gentle kiss from the man.

kento’s quick to flip you over, quick enough that you don’t even notice your hot body against the cool sheets with your fiancés cock still impaled deep into you. “no worries now, it’s all done.” nanami grins, “now all i’ve got left to do is make my woman feel good, isn’t that right?”

[navybrat817]

Ficlet Friday?

A slightly buzzed Bucky just being the cutest or in love or both. Definitely a fluff-ficlet. Your choice on which Bucky 😉

I tried to make it fluffy, nonnie, but it does have a touch of angst. Sorry!

Pretty Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 700

Warnings: Tipsy Bucky, encouraging friends, slight angst

You were reading a book in the lounge when laughter rang out through the hall, a smile touching your lips. The guys decided to do a “boys' night out” and it sounded like they had a good time. Between being heroes and the trials and tribulations they all went through, they deserved it.

“Hey! Pretty girl!”

You didn't turn toward the sound of Bucky’s voice immediately as much as you wanted to. Glancing around, you were the only one in the lounge, so who was he talking to? It would mean everything for him to call you pretty, but you were just… you.

“Steeeeve. I don’t think she heard me,” Bucky loudly whispered.

“Then say it again with feeling,” Steve loudly whispered back.

“Got it.” Bucky sucked in breath which gave you enough time to cover your ears. “HEY! PRETTY GIRL!”

“Jesus Christ, I can hear you guys,” you confirmed, shutting your book. There went your quiet evening. “I guess stealth isn’t your strong suit tonight.”

You shrieked when Bucky suddenly sat beside you, casually throwing an arm over your shoulders. Okay, he was still stealthy, and he looked amazing in his jeans and henley. “There’s my pretty girl. I missed you,” he smiled.

“Um…” You looked around to find Steve, Thor, Sam, Joaquin, and Clint hovering by with expectant looks on their faces. You tried to come up with something witty, but all you said was, “What?”

Bucky chuckled, his cheeks a bit more pink than usual. “My pretty girl is adorable, isn’t she?” he said over his shoulder before looking at you with hearts in his eyes.

You leaned in to get a closer look at him, catching a small whiff of liquor mixed with his cologne. “You’re tipsy,” you said. How was that possible?

“No, I’m Bucky. And you’re pretty,” he smiled, the dreamy look still in his eyes. “Pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty voice. Even your name’s pretty.”

As happy as you were to hear those things, even as your heart pounded, you looked to the guys for help because Bucky couldn’t be serious. “How?”

“My apologies,” Thor spoke even louder than usual. “I shared some of my Asgardian liquor with Barnes and Rogers and… Well-”

“Bucky hasn’t shut up about you,” Sam cut in, rolling his eyes. “‘My girl is the prettiest girl there is.’”

“‘Isn’t my girl brilliant? And so kind!’” Clint mocked.

“‘Her smile just lights up the room’,” Joaquin added.

“Guys, c’mon. It’s sweet,” Steve smiled before he said, “‘I’ll bet her kisses even taste pretty.’”

Heat filled your cheeks. Bucky didn’t deny a thing, so they were telling the truth, weren’t they? “But I’m not-”

The former Winter Soldier placed a hand on your cheek, drawing your attention back to him. “Don’t look at them, pretty girl. Look at me.”

You did, and it made you want to cry. Because you weren’t his girl. He was only saying these things because he was tipsy. “Okay. You had your fun, so why don’t you get some sleep?”

His smile fell away. “No,” he muttered, pulling you into his lap in the blink of an eye and putting his face in your neck. “I’m fine right here.”

His lips against your skin had you shivering, and it wasn’t possible to break from his hold. Being this close felt like a dream, but he was tipsy and you had to be the responsible one. “Um… a little help?” you asked.

“Of course.” Thor stepped forward. “Allow me.”

You smiled at the God of Thunder. “Thanks, I…” You stopped when he draped a blanket over you and Bucky. Where did that even come from? “That wasn’t what I-”

“And some water,” he smiled as Bucky nuzzled your neck with a happy moan. You tried not to let that moan turn you on. You had to be good. “Men, let us take our leave.”

“Behave, jerk,” Steve said as Thor shuffled everyone from the room.

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky snarled, nuzzling you again. The lights dimmed, too. It was almost romantic. “Not you, pretty girl. You can say whatever you want.”

You had to laugh. Laughter was better than worrying about what would happen in the morning. “So, I’m your pretty girl?”

“Yep,” he said with a smile. “All mine.”

“Okay, Sarge,” you smiled sadly. “I’m your pretty girl.”

Relaxing in his hold, you could pretend until he was sober that you were.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️ And this one may be fun to continue.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Jealous triple s, and how they deal with it, would they be insecure? Would they be unbothered?

take your time!

Jealous Sonic, Shadow, and Silver x Reader

Sonic:

Sonic’s confidence is one of his most defining traits, but when he gets jealous, that cool, carefree demeanor takes a serious hit. He’s usually so sure of himself, it’s part of his charm. But when someone else starts vying for your attention? That’s when cracks begin to show.

It starts small. You’re chatting with someone else, and Sonic catches sight of your laugh, the way your eyes light up. He doesn’t like how that person leans in a little too close or how their hand lingers just a moment too long. Sonic doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s... uncomfortable.

"Hey, Y/N!" Sonic’s voice cuts through the conversation, loud and bright. He zips up to your side, arm slinging around your shoulder in an overly casual gesture. "Whatcha talkin’ about? Anything cool, or is it just boring stuff?"

He flashes his signature grin, it sidnt reach his eyes tho as he just stared at them. The other person gets the hint, offering a polite excuse to leave, and Sonic is immediately all over you.

"Phew! Thought I’d have to rescue you from that snoozefest." He laughs, but his eyes linger on your face, searching. "You’re not, like, too close with them, are you?"

If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll deny it, waving it off with a sheepish chuckle. "Jealous? Me? Nah, I’m way too cool for that." Before speeding away to not have to deal with his problems.

Despite his bravado, Sonic can’t help but feel a little insecure. What if he’s not enough? He’s fast, adventurous, and fun, but is that all you see him as? These thoughts are fleeting, though, because Sonic doesn’t like to dwell on negativity. He’s quick to bounce back, reminding himself that no one can match his charm.

When his jealousy peaks, he doubles down on his efforts to impress you. He’ll drag you on adventures, race you to the nearest horizon, and show off every trick in his arsenal. Sonic wants to be the one who keeps you smiling, even if it means pushing himself a little harder to outshine everyone else.

Shadow:

Shadow’s jealousy is a bit more on the intense side. He’s not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, far from it, but he lets himself relax more around you, he valies you for that.

He notices everything, the way someone’s eyes linger on you, the subtle changes in their tone, and how easily they make you laugh. Shadow doesn’t say anything at first, but his silence speaks volumes. His eyes narrow, his body language stiffens, and the air around him grows thick with tension.

"Do you enjoy their company?" he asks you one evening, his tone calm but icy. It’s not an accusation, but the question seemed like a trap.

If you assure him that you’re just being polite or that it’s nothing serious, Shadow nods, but the thought lingers in his mind. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him so much, why the thought of others spending more time with you makes him ache.

Shadow isn’t one to act out of insecurity, but jealousy brings out a possessive streak he can’t quite control. He’s not above making his presence known, standing just a little too close to you when someone else is around or fixing them with a withering glare that sends them running.

"0You don’t need them," he tells you firmly, his voice low. "You have me."

Shadow’s jealousy stems from his fear of losing the one person who makes him feel "human",(mobian? Idfk anymore man :(.) grounded. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he worries that someone else might give you something he can’t. After all, he’s not the most expressive or affectionate person, and sometimes he wonders if that’s enough for you.

If you reassure him, Shadow relaxes, his usually stone cold exterior softening. "I don’t want to lose you," he admits quietly, almost ashamed of his own weakness.

While Shadow tries to keep his jealousy in check, it occasionally slips out in subtle ways.

Silver:

Silver is naturally anxious, and jealousy only amplifies that side of him. He’s not used to navigating these kinds of emotions, so when he sees someone else getting a little too friendly with you, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

At first, Silver tries to ignore it, convincing himself that he’s overreacting. "They’re just being nice," he tells himself, but the knot in his stomach says otherwise. He starts overthinking everything, what if they’re better for you? What if you realize he’s not enough?

You notice how quiet he gets, his usual bright demeanor overshadowed by uncertainty. When you ask him what’s wrong, he hesitates before blurting out, "Do you like them more than me?"

Silver immediately regrets his words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to-! I just... I don’t want to lose you."

His honesty is endearing, even if his jealousy is a little misplaced. Silver doesn’t want to control you or keep you from talking to others, but he can’t help feeling like he has to prove himself.

If his jealousy gets the better of him, Silver might become a bit clingy, always wanting to be by your side. "Can I stay with you for a bit?" he asks, his voice soft and hopeful.

Silver’s jealousy isn’t rooted in possessiveness but in his fear of not being good enough. He looks up to you, admires you, and sometimes he wonders what you see in him. But your reassurance means the world to him.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," Silver says one day. "I just want to make sure I’m the best for you, too."

[mostly-imagines]

You knew Damian would take his time getting adjusting to your presence. Of course he would. He’s even slower to warm up than Jason, you knew it before you’d even met him. So you’d had no idea you were even within a five year shot of him even liking you, let alone trusting you.

In spite of it nearing one in the morning, you laid atop your bed covers, watching your shows with passing interest. You’re waiting up for Jason like you usually do, you have a hard time sleeping not knowing if he’s okay or not. He hates it when you do, he says just because he has to be up all night doesn’t mean you do. Unfortunately for him, you’re nothing if not stubborn.

A clatter from the living room has you perking up—Jason’s back. It’s a little early for him to be home already though, and he’s not usually so loud upon re entry unless he’s hurt.

You stand quickly, tossing the book aside, and mentally prepare yourself to tend to injuries.

You open the door to the dark room, the only light available coming from the dim lamp in the kitchen and the moonlight through the open window.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, scanning the room only to find a figure much, much smaller than expected.

“Damian?”

He looks at you through the darkness, silent. You approach him slowly.

“Hey. Are you hurt?” You ask, getting a bit concerned. Of all Jason’s brothers, Damian is the least likely to drop in, especially unharmed.

“No.” Damian’s always standoff-ish, but he’s exhibiting a particularly strange energy right now. You wonder if he needs something Jason could help with.

“Jason’s not here,” you tell him, watching him closely for any sign of what’s going on.

“I know.” His words are short, measured.

If he knows, that means he was with him tonight. Then why would he come here?

“Is everything okay?”

He says nothing. His gaze is lasered onto a panel of wood among the floorboards, jaw clenched.

You tilt your head. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

He hesitates to answer but it seems like he does want to stay. You don’t know Damian anywhere near as well as Jason does, but you can’t imagine he’s ever seen or shown much vulnerability before.

He seems to decide on biting the bullet and nodding, yes. You make your way around the couch and sit down, looking to him.

Slowly, he does the same, in absolute silence. He sits stiff. His shoulders are hunched up and his body is tightly pressed into the smallest space possible. The way his posture curls in on him makes him look even tinier.

You’ve never seen him anywhere close to upset before, not like this. Most of the time you see him he’s an angry upset, but this…it’s a sad upset. Almost scared.

You fold your legs onto the couch, pulling a blanket off from the ledge behind you. You drape it over Damians shoulders, enveloping him in warmth to contrast the icy bite of the night. He remains still.

You slowly move your hand up to his hair, treading carefully. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, though he makes no moves to stop you. You take that as the closest to a blessing you’re going to get from him, so you continue on.

You brush his hair back lightly, fingers threading through his hair with a loving gentleness.

“Damian,” You whisper.

He doesn’t look at you. Even in the dark, you can see his breathing labored and his eyes starting to well over.

You turn to face him and shift a little closer, taking his hand in yours. His chin lowers and his stare hardens, trying desperately not to cry.

You bring your free hand to the far side of his head, gently nudging him your way. He folds immediately, turning to you and throwing himself into your chest, tears flowing violently.

He struggles to breathe right, choking on his sobs as he hugs you tight. You hold his head against you, stroking his hair as he weeps.

You hold him like that for almost half an hour, allowing him as much time to cry as he needs.

He ends up curled up on your lap at an awkward angle, head resting on your thigh. The shaking of his body slows over time, his eyes fluttering shut from the ache of the tears. Not long after, his breathing levels out and his body completely relaxes into sleep.

You continue petting his head, mind wandering around to what could’ve happened. Jason had told you once that the only thing Damian seems to hold in high regard is Bruce, and his mood can easily sway Damian’s.

It’s almost three am when Jason slides in through the window, landing gracefully into a kneel. He tugs off his helmet before looking up and noticing you on the couch.

A split second of a smile before he glances down and sees Damian asleep on your lap, his arms still wrapped around your waist. His mouth drops and his brows furrows as he stands, examining his brother.

“What the hell?” He says quietly, looking back up to you.

You shake your head and shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. Did something happen on patrol?”

Jason’s eyes drift down to Damian again. “I mean Bruce kind of yelled at him, so.”

“That’ll do it.”

He nods, coming to sit on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to wake him. He observes his brother's vice grip around your middle and your much more gentle hold around his.

“He let you hug him?”

“He hugged me.”

“He what?”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Still You Want Me

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pregnancy, a little angst if you squint, pre-established relationship.

Summary/Warnings: Dean's fought the worst evil in the world, but only one thing has really managed to scare him. His pregnant wife.

Author's Note: Request from an anon!! I got emotional with it, and I'm very sorry about that but I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.9k

“We got three hours left.” Dean returned to the parked Impala, sorting through the bags in his hands. “But we can make it back in two if I-“

Sam shook his head, taking his bag of bird feed—trail mix, but the pointless kind without any M&Ms—from Dean with a frown. “Two’s a bit stretch, don’t you think? I mean even for you, Dean, and it’s not like we’re in a rush-“

“You’re not in a rush, Sammy.” Dean muttered, dumping the rest of the snacks in the backseat. “I got a pregnant wife who’s left me three voicemails about how she’s either gonna castrate me or give me head, and-“

“Gross, dude.” Sam walked around the car, making a scrunched bitch-face of disgusting. “All you needed to say was that’s she’s got mood swings-“

“Don’t call them mood swings.” Dean dropped behind Baby’s wheel, saying Her name with a sigh. “She hates that. And you can’t charm your way out of like I can.”

“I think I could.” Sam shrugged. “She likes me more.”

“She’s my freakin’ wife-“

“She loves you.” Sam grabbed his phone as they pulled out of the lot. “She likes me. I’ve never been threatened with castration-“

“Yet.” Dean muttered. “Cas thought he was safe until he got a shade of yellow that was too red for the nursery. I mean, yellow is yellow, Sammy, but she threatened to cut off his wings-“

Sam frowned. “I don’t think she could do that-“

“Trust me, man.” Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “She’d find a way.”

Sam just nodded, because they both knew Dean was right. He was pretty goddamn sure that, if She wanted—or if Dean pissed Her off enough—She’d figure out how to send him somewhere worse than the Empty, bring him back, then start sobbing and apologizing on Her knees all within a ten-minute span. Then She’d probably give him a blowjob, he’d saying the exact wrong dirty talk, and she’d bite off Little Dean. Shit, he’d only been gone four days for the hunt, but half that time had been spent on the phone, reassuring Her he was being safe, the hunt wasn’t a part of any world-ending scheme from a new big bad, and he’d be home soon. The time that Dean wasn’t on the phone, Sam was, promising he wouldn’t let anything happen, that Dean was sleeping well and looking at the baby names list She’d sent, and that he’d called Eileen so she wouldn’t worry either.

Annoyingly, Sam had been keeping his promises to Her. Dean read the baby names list because Sam wouldn’t let him leave the table until he did, Eileen had gotten two calls, and Dean was being safer than he’d ever been in his freaking life. At this point, he was pretty sure the pregnancy was just one long scam to make him take care of himself. He was drinking and hunting less after Her breakdown that she’d lose him, driving a little slower—just a little, he wasn’t a blind old lady—after the ice incident got him the silent treatment for three days, and he’d even tried some of Sam’s rabbit food. He’d spat it out, but he’d tried it. For Her, for the baby, and because he was terrified for his life.

Dean loved Her more than every pie in the freaking universe, but She was freaking terrifying right now. She might be the only thing he’d ever really been afraid of. Planes he could avoid. Ghosts and monster he could kill. Hell, even Lucifer had been better. At least the son of a bitch hadn’t begged to give Dean a hand job, then started sobbing because Dean tried to move it to sex and they didn’t feel pretty enough for sex. And if Lucifer had done that, Dean wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t give a shit about Lucifer. 

But he gave a shit about Her. Every time She cried it felt like someone was stabbing him, but he had less and less of a damn clue for how to help her the more pregnant She got. She’d said she felt ugly, he’d told Her she was beautiful, and that her tits looked better than ever, and She’d started accusing him of not loving her tits before. He’d missed one phone call and She’d sent Cas to teleport him home. He’d gotten the wrong candy bar and She’d had a breakdown about him not loving her enough to get the right one.

That last one was why the gas station had taken so long. Dean had triple checked every single snack he’d bought, and added a few extras just in case she changed Her mind. He’d even had Cas text him a second list after She’d told him all her requests over the phone, out of fear that he’d missed even a single one. Even now, on the road, he was running through everything one last time, because he’d gotten five different Gatorade colors, but maybe She’d want a sixth, or two of the same color, or only one color and he’d get yelled at because She didn’t even like orange-

“Hey!” Sam pulled Dean out of his thoughts with a shout. “Phone!”

“Wha-“

Sam said Her name, holding Dean’s phone in front of his face. “She’s calling you-“

“I got that.” Dean snatched the phone, shooting Sam a glare. “And that’s not safe, Sammy. Gonna get us fuckin’ killed-“

“Yeah, sure, Dean.” Sam just shrugged—even though Dean was right, that was dangerous—and nodded to the phone. “I’d pick up if I were you-“

“Shut up.” Dean muttered, ignoring Sam’s laugh as he answered the call. “Hey, baby, we’re-“

“Dean!” Her voice was a half-shriek through the phone, and Dean winced. “Holy shit, you’re alive, that’s good-“

“Course I’m alive, I promised I would be-“

“But it’s not up to you!” She was pacing. Her voice had grown frantic and high, so She was pacing. “Monsters don’t ask before they kill you, and they’d defiantly want to kill you, and Sam told me he’d take that bullet but I don’t want him to die either, and you’re both amazing hunters but if you die now, you can’t come back, and I’d miss you, I miss you now, why aren’t you home, you dick, I fucking hate you-“

Dean swallowed, saying Her name slowly as Sam snickered at his side. Asshole. “Take a breath-“

“Don’t tell me how to breathe, Winchester, I’ve been breathing my whole fucking life-“

“I know, sweetheart, I have too-“

“You’ve never had to breathe while pregnant-“

“And I’m not planning to, ever, but- just listen-“

“We should get you pregnant, it’s only fair-“

Sam started to cackle, Her voice loud enough he could obviously hear every word. It wasn’t really helpful. 

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a death glare that just made him laugh more. “Sweetheart, we’ll be there soon. I promise.“

“Okay, but don’t go too fast, if you’re far, because you promised me you’d drive carefully, and you need to be safer. I don’t want to lose you.” She started to sniffle. Shit. “I can’t lose you, De, I need you, the baby needs you, and Sam and Cas are cool but they’re not you and I want you and the baby wants you. It wants you more, it hates when your gone, it just keeps kicking me and if you die I’ll be a terrible mother with a baby who hates me-“

Dean snapped Her name, pressing the Impala’s pedal to the floor. He needed to be home soon. “Listen to me. I’m not gonna do anything stupid like die, and you’re never gonna lose me. Plus, our baby won’t hate you. It’s half me. It can’t.”

There was a slightly static hum from the other side, and Dean sighed.

“I know you miss me, baby, and we can get you whatever you’re craving, but-“

“I do miss you, De.” Her voice was soft and pleading through the phone. 

But it wasn’t Her crying voice. That was her-

“I miss your cock, too. I miss touching you, and why is your bed so stupid and big-“

Dean chuckled, shaking off the whiplash. “Because I’m stupid and big-“

He could hear Her pout through the phone. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid, and our baby’s gonna be a genius-“

“Because they’ll get their brains from you, pretty girl.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean leaned slightly forward, checking a highway sign. “Hour and a half, okay? Then I’ll be home.”

“Fine.” She mumbled. “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you too, baby. And I’m always safe.” Dean waited for Her sigh, letting her hang up first. He’d learned to do that the hard way. “Not a word, Sammy, or I’ll shoot you.”

Sam raised his hands, palms up. “I didn’t even open my- got it.”

Dean turned his scowl back to the road, and he could be safe and get home in an hour. Both could be possible, and She’d never have to know that he’d been going 15 over the speed limit. And if She started to catch on, Dean could distract Her with his hands and dick and mouth, because—as hot as she was when she was pissed—Sam said stress wasn’t good for the baby.

They made it forty-five minutes of mostly safe driving—Dean’s hands gripping the wheel and listening to the music at a deafening volume, Sam texting Eileen and pretending he wasn’t bothered by the deafening music—before another incident.

Cas appeared in the back seat, said Her name instead of hello, Dean—already a bad sign—and looked almost genuinely scared. Dean had never seen his face do that before—red and sheepish like a child being scolded by a dinosaur—and it was a little off-putting.

He was used to Cas doing this enough to not swerve off the road, but he was still pissed. “Fucking hell, Cas, a warning would be nice-“

Cas frowned, then leaned forward, turning down the music. “Did you not hear what I said.”

“No, the music was on, I know you said-“

Cas said Her name again with Dean. “It was her message. I would, ah, prefer not to repeat it.”

Sam blinked, turning in his seat. “Why, is she-“

“She is well.” Cas’ eyes stayed on Dean in the rearview mirror. “She is feeling some very… confusing emotions. Towards Dean.”

Sam frowned. “Confusing? How-“

“She told me to relay to Dean that she hates him, and she hates hunting, and if he’s not home in forty-five minutes she’ll leave him, but she can’t leave him because she loves him more than life and she cannot live without him. Specifically his smile, voice, hands, stupid flirting that did this in the first place, and,” Cas swallowed, his voice dropping slightly as his face grew red. “Big cock.”

Dean smirked slightly—she was a menace, but damn it if he didn’t love his girl—as Sam paled next to him.

“By this,” Cas mumbled. “I assume she was referring to the baby. Which is in good health. I checked this morning.”

“Good. Thanks, Cas, but,” Dean sighed. “This could’ve been a phone call-“

“I was instructed to deliver it in person. To make sure you were safe, and driving carefully.” Cas leaned forward with a frown. “The speed limit on this highway is meant to be-“

“I know what the speed limit is.” Dean grumbled, refusing to ease his foot off the gas. “I’m tryin’ to get home, Cas.”

“I believe she would prefer you get home slower, rather than sacrificing your safety.” Cas let out a long sigh. “Although, I will admit I’d prefer you return quickly. I am not equipped to handle a pregnant woman alone, despite reading all of the books on the subject I could find. And, uh,” Cas said Her name with a red face. “Is frightening in this state.” 

Dean sighed. “Thirty minutes, dude, can you hold down the fort-“

“He could take you now?” Sam cut in with a small frown. “Cas could zap you back to the bunker, and I could drive Baby home.”

“Sammy-“

Cas nodded. “I agree with Sam’s plan. If you could pull over, Dean-“

“I’m not gonna pull over!” Dean snapped. “I can get back just fine myself!”

“But I could-“

“You won’t always be there, Cas.” Dean grunted through his teeth. “I gotta be able to take care of my family by myself. Shit, I’m doing all the safety bullcrap for it, and I’m hunting less.” He said Her name, his grip on the wheel painful. “She’s gotta know I can take care of her, and the baby. I said I’d drive home, so-“

Sam cut Dean off a sigh. “Dude, she’s gonna care way more that you’re home with her.”

“Sam is correct.” Cas said, and Dean could feel his gaze through the mirror. “I attempted to make her breakfast this morning, and she started crying. When asked, she told me that you make it better.” Cas frowned. “It was cereal.”

“C’mon, man. Let Cas take you home.”

Dean glanced over to find Sam giving him puppy eyes—the bitch—and groaned. “Fine. But if I see one scratch on Baby-“

“You’ll kill me, yeah, I know.” Sam unbuckled as Dean pulled over, not sounding nearly threatened enough. “Let’s move.”

It took a minute for Dean to get all the snacks, but the moment the last bag was in his arms Cas grabbed him by the shoulder, the world because a spinning rush, and he was home.”

“Dean!” 

He was barely on steady legs when She slammed into him, sending him stumbling slightly back as his arms wrapped around her, careful not to push too far into the baby bump.

“Hey, Sweetheart. I heard you missed me-“

“Of course I missed you, you asshole!” She pushed off of him, shoving his chest slightly. “Do you have any idea how many pies are just rotting in the fridge for you! You said the hunt would be fast, Dean, but I was stuck alone for four fucking days-“

Dean frowned. “Wasn’t Cas-“

“Cas doesn’t count!” She screamed, and over her shoulder, Cas didn’t look that offended. He’d probably gotten this outburst—and the following, tearful apology—at least twice already. “Cas isn’t you! He didn’t knock me up and then leave me-“

Dean thought about pointing out that he had not left Her, but thought better of it and let her keep shouting. She usually calmed herself down. 

Usually.

“And Cas is an angel, and he’s been okay, and I feel so bad because I was such a bitch to him, but he deserved it! He wasn’t you! And I missed you and I hate you, Dean, I fucking hate you, why weren’t you home-“

Dean caught Her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to Her knuckles. “I’m home now, baby-“

“I know.” She whispered, crumbling in half a second into Dean, clinging to him like a koala. “And I missed you so much, De. I can’t do the laundry with this stupid bump, I can’t do anything, I’m useless and I’m a bitch and I think made Cas cry-“

“I’d pay to see you make Cas cry,” Dean muttered Her name, running a slow hand through her hair. “And you’re not useless. You’re growing a person, that freaking awesome and insane-“

She tilted her head back, pretty eyes glossy and wide on Dean’s. “But what if I mess it up? What if I fuck the baby up and you leave me-“

“I’m never gonna leave you.”

“But I’ve been mean-“

“You’re always mean, baby.” Dean grinned at her, letting his affection show in his voice. “And it’s always pretty freakin’ hot. And you aren’t gonna fuck up the baby, and I’m not gonna leave you, but,” he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “If you wanna make Sammy cry a little more, I think he’ll deserve it.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I’m not making Sam cry-“

“He said you had mood swings.”

She gasped, hitting Dean’s chest.  “You’re a snitch-“

“Gotta spread the love somehow.” Dean shrugged, squeezing his hands on Her as he dropped his voice down. “But I can think of a few other ways, just you and me, to spread some better love.”

She flushed—already putty in Dean’s arms—and almost dragged him back to their room. 

And this made it worth it. All the screaming and flying objects and threats, all the living in cautious fear in his own damn home, was more than worth it for this. Not just the awesome sex—sex was always awesome, sex with Her was better than almost anything, and sex with pregnant Her was what Dean imagined crack was like—but the way that, in the end, She smiled at him no matter what. She smiled and giggled and moaned, proving to Dean in a million ways both between the sheets and after that she didn’t really hate him, and he got to rest his head on her stomach and feel a small kick near his brow. Her fingers combed through his hair peacefully, all her noises made of content, and everything was more than worth it.

Worth pushing through the worst of the screaming and moods—just like She’d pushed through all of his world-saving bullshit—to see Her peaceful face as she slept by his side. Worth letting Sam drive the Impala just once, so Dean could get home faster.

Worth the family he was finally getting to have, and being here with them. 

End Note: Sam Winchester once again being a true trooper in my stories.

Title from Next to Me by Imagine Dragons

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[ipushhimback]

we were drunk, it happens - pt. 2

part 1: here

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: smut (marked with 3 red stars), oral (f receiving), p in v, no protection word count: 3k summary: Y/N attends a GP, saying if Lando wins he will be rewarded

Only a couple days later, Y/N got a message from Max.

The Monaco GP is next week. I know you are not really into F1, but I’d love for you to come, and I am sure Kelly and P would also be happy to have someone to spend their time with. What do you think? – Max

Y/N really hated Formula 1, but not because of the sport itself. She loved the fast cars, the races, how everyone wants to be the best. But her dad had ruined it all for her when they were kids.

She had always loved karting. Sometimes she was even allowed to drive Max’ kart, but when she told her dad that she also wanted to kart competitively, just like her brother, he had said she couldn’t. How could she even think of that as a girl. She would never have a chance in the sport.

Sometimes she thinks that her dad was right. She probably wouldn’t have come far as a woman, but she still would have loved to race.

Maybe it was for the better. Jos wasn’t known for being the best dad to Max. He had always pressured him. Punished him when he wasn’t good enough. And Y/N knew how it affected Max now. She didn’t know if she could have handled that as a kid.

So, from there on she had avoided Formula 1 as much as possible as it simply reminded her too much of her father.

But how could she say no to her brother. Moreover, it could be a great opportunity to spend some time with Lando. Even though they had agreed to no feelings. But honestly, Y/N didn’t know how long that would work. Or if it even could work. She had doubts.

I’m not sure. Is dad going to be there? - Y/N

No, I don’t think so. At least he didn’t say anything to me. But that doesn’t mean anything. - Max

Ok, then I guess I will come. Would you or Kelly pick me up? I don’t want to have to search for a parking lot. - Y/N

Of course. See you then. – Max

Somehow, Y/N was even looking forward to attending the Grand Prix. She didn’t know when the last time was that had happened. But now she just had to hope and pray that her dad wasn’t going to be there as well. Then she would for sure go home. She would just take a walk as it was only half an hour from her home.

She picked up her phone again and opened her chat with Lando. They exchanged their numbers before he left, so they could chat about when they could meet up again – but no feelings involved, of course.

Gonna be at the GP next week. You better win, Norris. - Y/N

She waited a bit, but Lando didn’t go online. He probably was at training, Y/N thought. But just as she wanted to out her phone on the coffee table in front of her, her phoned signaled an incoming message.

Really? How come I have never seen you at one before? But if I win, I wanna be rewarded… - Lando

Long story. But ofc you will. Why else would I tell you to win? – Y/N

K. Have to get back to training, bye. – Lando

Yeah, bye. - Y/N

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. Lando had interrupted her training. For her. To answer an unimportant message. She leaned back on the couch pillows, sighed and smiled to herself.

She sat back up. No feelings. He is probably an arrogant, rich person. She would just end up hurt if she fell for him.

She took a deep breath and got up from where she was sitting. The world champion’s sister made her way to the kitchen where she took a cup from the cupboard and made a huge coffee. The pill she took earlier did little for her headache, so she hoped that the caffeine was going to help.

Then she took her laptop and decided to watch some silly show to take her mind off Lando.

***

A week later, Y/N was ready to go to the GP. She was wearing a bright blue summer dress, her favorite. It had a lot of little white flowers printed on the fabric and it had a quite low neckline, which she hoped Lando would notice.

She actually thought about wearing something orange, in fact it had been one of her favorite colors to wear for quite a long time, but she couldn’t wear papaya-similar colors when she was there to support her brother – or when she was at least pretending to support her brother. Because even though she did not have feelings for Lando – no, really, none – she had been so horny the last couple of day, she just needed Lando to win this Grand Prix.

So now, Y/N sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water while scrolling through instagram and waiting for her brother and Kelly.

She watched her Labradoodle puppy trying to catch his own tail which made her laugh, so she got up to pet him.

Eventually she heard the doorbell ring. She quickly went to open the door, but instead of her brother or Kelly, it was P standing on the doorstep.

“P! Hey! What are you doing here? Are you going to drive me to the Grand Prix?”, Y/N was joking which made the five-year-old giggle.

“No, silly. I can’t drive. But Maxie said I could ring, and I have to tell you to hurry because we are late.”

“Ok, I just need to get my jacket from upstairs”, Y/N said.

“No!”, Penelope exclaimed. “You can’t. Maxie said we are late. Now come on.” P grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her outside and towards the Audi that was parked in front of her house.

The young woman new better than to argue with the little girl so she decided to just follow her. Who needed a jacket anyway. In the worst case she would just ask Max or Kelly for something warmer to wear.

An hour later Y/N was hanging around with Kelly and P around Max’ garage and she regretted that she didn’t come later. They have been standing around for what felt like hours and the race wasn’t even close to get started. The only thing that prevented her from going home again to sleep and coming back later, was P who was full of energy and Kelly who just couldn’t keep up with it anymore, being 9 months pregnant.

“Y/N, can we go to Lando? I wanna see him and tell him good luck. Can we go? Now?” P looked at Y/N with that cute little pout. “Please?”, she added after seeing the critical look on Y/N’s face.

“P… Lando is probably really busy, just like Max. Does it really have to be now?” If the Dutch woman was being honest with herself, she just really didn’t want to see Lando right now.

No. That was not correct. She wanted to see him. And that was the problem. She shouldn’t do that. No feelings. Just fun. That can’t be that hard, right?

Wrong. It can be hard. Not falling for a handsome guy with the curliest curls in the world, the cutest, widest smile existing on planed earth, the prettiest blue eyes that seemed to be green in different lightning and – stop.

“It really has to be now! If I don’t wish him luck, he won’t be good and he has to win!” P looked at her with these pleading look Y/N just can’t resist so there she was, walking with P to the McLaren garage.

“You know that Max would kill us if he saw us here?”, Y/N said jokingly. “By the way, don’t you want Max to win? Why Lando?”

“Maxie won too often. Now it is Lando’s turn. It is boring with Maxie. I like drama. And we don’t get drama when Maxie always wins. And Lando is great! He always plays with me and lets me do his hair. He has nice hair. It is curly.” P grinned happily while she explained to Y/N why Lando was so great.

A bit later they were standing in front of Lando’s garage and Y/N went to the first mechanic she spotted.

“Sorry, where is Lando? P wants to tell him good luck for the race. Is that possible?” Y/N just hoped that the mechanic would recognize P or her so she could go to Lando.

“I know her. Who are you? I am sure you understand that I can’t just let anyone to him.”

Y/N nodded. “I am Y/N Verstappen. You know, Max’ sister? Kelly didn’t come with us because, well she is pregnant and probably sleeping somewhere.”

The mechanic looked satisfied with the answer. “Ok. You just have to go straight there and then the third door on the left side. There should be his name on the door. Just knock. He will open if he isn’t preparing for the race at the moment.”

“Ok thank you. Have a nice day, bye!” Y/N looked at the five-year-old next to her who had a content look on her face.

Just a minute later they were standing in front of a wooden door, they could hear loud music from inside, so Y/N knocked again, even louder this time.

“God, how isn’t he deaf already”, she murmured more to herself than anyone else, but P commented it anyway.”

“Because he is Lando. He is not becoming deaf ever. He is great.” The older woman could barely hold the laugh that was threatening to spill over.

“Yes, he really is”, Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head at P’s enthusiasm.

Finally, the door was opening, and Y/N was standing in front of this handsome guy Lando.

“P!”, he explained.

“Hi Lando! I want to wish you good luck. Y/N said you were busy, but I had to because you have to win, ok?”, the girl asked in just one breath while falling forward and demanding a hug from the driver.

Y/N could only laugh. Too adorable was the childhood crush Penelope obviously had on the older guy.

“That’s great! Thank you, P! So, you are going to cheer for me? Isn’t Max going to be sad?”, Lando asked.

“No, he will understand. You will win. I know because I wished you good luck.”

Lando just laughed, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire how cute he was with Penelope. And that laugh… she could listen to it for hours and- stop.

***

Lando did in fact win. And Y/N couldn’t be happier about it. During the Podium celebration – Lando came in first place, Max in second and Oscar in third – she just stood in front of it, being impatient.

But then finally, Lando came to her, already changed into a hoodie and simple jeans, his hair damp from the shower he probably had.

“So… what about my reward? Should we drive to your place again or mine?”, Lando asked with that damn smirk on his face.

“Mine. I need to feed my dog.” Lando shot you a surprised look.

“You have a dog? Why didn’t I see him already?” Y/N noticed how disappointed Lando looked.

“I just got him like a week ago. He is super cute, but right now he is at my neighbor’s, and I don’t want her to spend even more of her time taking care of my dog.”

Lando just hummed and led the younger woman to his car. She let out a whistle when she saw how nice it was.

“I assume you won’t let me drive that beauty?”, she asked the brunette.

“You want to?” Y/N nodded enthusiastically.

“Go for it”, Lando eventually said, throwing his key in her direction and she caught it easily.

She let out a high-pitched squeal when she sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Carefully, she pressed the accelerator, and the car shot forward.

“This is so crazy, oh my god… I will steal that beauty from you.”

It only was a short drive to Y/N’s home, so she had actually thought about driving differently so she could enjoy the feeling of the car even longer but honestly, she didn’t want to. She knew exactly what would happen when they arrived, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for it.

But it turned out she did not know what happened next. Lando kneeled down and cuddled with her dog who seemingly enjoyed that as he fell asleep right in Lando’s arms.

“Can you leave Milo alone? He’s not the reward I meant…”, Y/N said a bit disappointed because she knew her puppy was cute, but she didn’t imagine Lando just playing with her dog for the next hour.

***

Eventually Lando set down the sleepy puppy who immediately curled up on the couch and they went upstairs, not wanting Milo to watch them do whatever they were planning to do.

“So… now I will finally get my reward?”, Lando asked, this stupid smirk back on his face.

“Oh, shut up! You were the one who needed to cuddle with Milo”, Y/N said before stepping forward and pulling Lando to her by grabbing the strings of his hoodie.

She tilted her head up and just a moment later, Lando’s lips were on her’s. Y/N hummed and opened her lips slightly.

Lando moved towards her bed, not breaking the kiss, until Y/N flopped on the mattress. He pulled back just enough to have access to her dress so he could pull it over her head, leaving her in just her underwear. Y/N then tugged at Lando’s hoodie, and he ended up helping her by slipping it off, as well as his pants. Y/N stared at his chest.

She knew she had seen it all before, when they hooked up after the dinner, but the memory of the night wasn’t too present anymore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t know how she could ever look at Lando and not think how hot this guy looks.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lando kisser her again, rougher this time. More demanding than anything else did he press his lips on her’s. Her back arched off the bed which Lando saw as his chance to get his hands behind her back to open her bra.

“So gorgeous”, he whispered on her lips and pulled back just for Y/N to feel his mouth closing around her nipples, making her gasp.

His lips trailed lower until he stopped above the waistband of her panties. His index fingers hooked into it, and he pulled them down until he could throw them to where he thought the rest of the clothes already is.

His went even lower until his lips hovered just above her. Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked down at Lando who was spreading her legs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and his pupils dilated.

The first touch of his tongue felt… electric and it made her back arch. He teased her with fast licks and gentle pressure which made Y/N move into his direction.

“Patience. Trust me”, Lando said, and Y/N would throw a pillow at him if it hadn’t felt this good.

But it wasn’t long until Lando grew more and more impatient, and he didn’t want to continue teasing Y/N.

His tongue worked not only faster but also firmer and soon she was teetering right on the edge. Her hands came down to grab his hair, pushing him closer to her and she couldn’t stop the loud moan from slipping through her lips.

Lando hummed against her and the vibrations just pushed her even closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue as he curled them in her, pressing into that sweet spot.

When Lando realized that Y/N was about to come he worked even more precise, rougher. And just like that she tripped over the edge, and she felt the release wash over her. Lando didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of her until she rode out her orgasm.

Y/N felt her legs tremble and she slowly opened her eyes again just to see Lando over her. His lips were glistening from her juices as he moved to press a kiss on her lips. She tasted herself on his lips, the taste blending with the champagne he drank earlier on the podium and just the taste of him.

She pulled back just enough to mumble, “Need you, Lando. Please.”

Lando didn’t say anything just moved to get rid of the boxers he still wore. Y/N couldn’t help but stare at him, her lips parting slightly.

“Like what you see?”, he teased her though it was apparent that he wanted it just as much as she did. His cock was hard and leaking and huge. Y/N really didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that.

“How did that fit the last time?”, she blurted out and wanted to take it back immediately when Lando chuckled.

“Wanna find out?”, he said and even though he was just teasing, Y/N knew that if she just said no, Lando would stop immediately, no questions asked.

But she nodded, wanting to finally feel him in her. Lando positioned himself between her thighs, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock.

Y/N breath hitched as he pushed into her with one hard thrust. Her hands flew to his shoulder, and she was sure that her nails would leave marks on his skin, as she adjusted to the stretch. Lando stilled just for a moment before pulling out nearly fully before slamming back into her.

Y/N moaned his name which just seemed to fuel the Brit, and he started thrusting into her even harder.

“God, you feel so god”, he moaned, his hands gripping her hips and Y/N was sure she would have bruises by tomorrow.

Only after a few thrusts Y/N was already close again, still sensitive from her previous orgasm.

“Lando, I-“, her voice broke but Lando hummed, knowing exactly what she wanted to say.

“I know. Come for me.”

Her orgasm hit her even harder this time, her body still high from before and Lando came just a moment later, with himself buried deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved but then, Lando slowly pulled away, collapsing onto the bed just next to Y/N.

She stared at the ceiling, her chest still heaving as she was catching her breath.

“Happy with your reward?”, she asked Lando.

“Very. This was amazing.”

Y/N rolled to the side to face Lando, a grin tugging at her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Norris,” she said with a sly grin.

A/N: Should I write a pt. 3? I kinda want to but idk if anyone wants to read it

[aliyahwritings]

RAFE CAMERON and his DESI!GIRLFRIEND

masterlist.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who complains when you first show him Bollywood movies about how long they are, but ends up more interested than you (he cried during K3G because of his daddy issues).

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who gets laughed at when he first met your family because his eyes were getting teary when eating your mum's food. With time though, he became used to it and can handle it better... until he tastes your grandma's food and it's over for him.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who didn't get to see you with your hair oiled up in the beginning of your relationship because you were scared the scent would be too much for him, but it has now become a routine. He literally drives you to your mom's for your usual head/hair oil massage, and watches intently how your mama does it, so he can do it for you later (that's so husband coded of him omggg).

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who watches you with unwavering attention every time you get ready, mesmerized by the way your bangles slide down your wrists and the soft clinking sound they make. His gaze lingers as you adjust your dupatta, taking his time to memorize every delicate movement.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who's obsessed with the feel of your bangles against his skin—when your hands trail over his chest or cup his face, the cold metal pressing into his warm skin. Sometimes, he holds your wrist just to play with them absentmindedly, rolling each bangle between his fingers like it’s his favorite toy.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who secretly practices pronouncing your full name in the mirror until he gets it right, savoring the way it rolls off his tongue. He knows how much it means to you, and when he says it perfectly in front of your family, the proud smile you give him makes every attempt worth it.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who always makes an effort to wear traditional fits when it matters, showing up in kurtas that hug his frame perfectly. He stands out, but in the best way—earning approving nods from the uncles and heart-eyed stares from the aunties who pull you aside just to say how lucky you are.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who thrives during family gatherings, blending in like he was meant to be there all along. The aunties dote on him endlessly, praising him for helping with the decorations or carrying heavy boxes during wedding prep. The uncles offer him drinks, impressed by how quickly he’s learned to fit into the chaos. He doesn’t even blink when the music starts and you’re pulled into the center of the room to dance. Instead, he watches, leaning against the wall with a soft smile, arms crossed over his chest as he admires the way you glow in your element.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who never complains when you drag him to fabric shops or markets, even if you spend hours picking out the right color or embroidery. He stands patiently by your side, occasionally giving his opinion but mostly just watching how excited you get. He'll sneak up behind you, whispering how stunning you’d look in everything. More than once, he’s slipped away to quietly pay for the set you were eyeing, only for you to find it in a little box on your bed later that night.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who's become so used to you calling him pagal (crazy/idiot) that he's started using it with his friends.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who learned how to drape your sari. Did it take him a while? Yes, but that doesn't count. He knows where to make the folds and where to tuck in the fabric, and that's enough for you. He even starts buying you new ones because of how beautiful you look in them.

MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE MARRIAGE

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who's very committed to his bit (dance) and practices for days and days. He would act as if he's just doing it for your family and that's it's nothing, but you know he loves it.

BOYFRIEND!RAFE ... who turns into Nick Jonas for real!!! He's not complaining once about the amount of ceremonies there is. He's in awe of your culture and that's all.

HUSBAND!RAFE ... who, after the wedding, is constantly making sure you’re okay. He holds your hand tightly in the car, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, always asking if you’re comfortable, if you need anything. Even on your honeymoon, when it’s just the two of you, he still can’t stop marveling at how lucky he is to have you.

HUSBAND!RAFE ... who spoils you relentlessly. He doesn’t care if you insist he doesn’t have to—flowers arrive at your doorstep every week, jewelry boxes sit on your dresser, and he’s constantly booking spontaneous weekend getaways just because. When you scold him for spending too much, he kisses your forehead and brushes it off.

HUSBAND!RAFE ... who keeps your wedding photo framed on his desk. He’ll sit and stare at it during late nights at work, running his thumb over the glass while thinking about how much he misses you. He counts down the minutes until he can come home, and when he finally does, he’s pulling you into his lap the second you greet him.

HUSBAND!RAFE ... who brings home little things that remind him of you. If he spots bangles, dupattas, or anything embroidered with colors you love, he’s buying it without hesitation. Sometimes he gets the sizes wrong, but the effort makes you melt every time.

HUSBAND!RAFE ... who’s absolutely soft when it’s just the two of you. His tough, cocky exterior melts the second you’re alone. He’ll wrap himself around you, burying his face in your neck as you stroke his hair. He’s happiest when he’s in bed with you, legs tangled together under the covers, whispering about how he’s never letting you go.

HUSBAND!RAFE ... who always keeps his promises. No matter how chaotic life gets, he’s there—by your side, unwavering in his love and loyalty.

INFO ABOUT UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @aliyahwritings-notifs and turn on notifications!!!

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[yassbishimvintage]

Ain't Got Shit On Me

MDNI!!!

A/N: @avoidthings be clocking me on all of my shit :). Thanks you bookie.

Warnings: Little fluff if you squint, but smutty smut

It was a quiet night. Terry is busy organizing their room. Something to help with the noise in his head. Terry looked up from the dresser, his brows raised slightly in curiosity. "What’s on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning back against the counter, giving her his full attention. Imani hesitated for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt before she took a breath. "Do you ever think about what life would’ve been like if we hadn’t met? If... things didn’t happen the way they did?"

Terry’s expression softened as he set the monitor down and crossed the space between them. He gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against her cheeks. "I don’t like to think about that, Imani," he admitted. "Because if we hadn’t met, I wouldn’t have the life I have now. No you. No us. None of this."

His voice dropped, filled with quiet intensity. "You changed everything for me. You gave me purpose, love, and a family. So, no, I don’t let myself imagine a life without you because it’s not a life I’d want to live."

Imani’s eyes shimmered with emotion as she leaned into his touch, her heart swelling at his words. "You always know what to say to make me feel like the luckiest woman in the world," she said softly.

Terry smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "That’s because you are," he teased lightly, before adding with sincerity, "and so am I."

He smiles. “Now. My real question is. I still don’t know all of you're sex kinks.” She says.

Terry raised an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he crossed his arms. "Oh, is that so?" he said, his voice low and teasing. "You mean to tell me you still haven’t figured me out after all this time?"

Imani shrugged, feigning innocence, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her playful intent. "Well, you’re full of surprises, Mr. Richmond. I’m just making sure I’m not missing anything... important," she said, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

Terry stepped closer, his hands finding her waist, pulling her gently against him. "Alright, Mrs. Richmond," he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing her ear. "How about this? I tell you one of my kinks... but you have to tell me one of yours right after. Deal?"

Imani bit her lip, her cheeks warming under his gaze, but she nodded. "Deal," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Terry grinned, leaning back just enough to meet her eyes. "Okay, here’s one: I love it when you’re completely in charge," he confessed, his tone both honest and flirtatious. "Something about seeing you take control drives me crazy."

Imani blinked in surprise before a slow, mischievous smile spread across her face. "Really?" she asked, her confidence growing as she processed his words. "Good to know... because I happen to like it when you let me take the lead."

Terry chuckled, his hands slipping down to her hips. "Looks like we’re on the same page then," he said, his voice deep with amusement. "Your turn, though. What’s something I don’t know about you?"

Imani hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering to the side before she met his gaze again. "Alright," she said, a hint of shyness in her tone. "I love it when you whisper in my ear during... well, you know."

Terry’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips grazing her ear once more. "You mean like this?" he whispered, his voice a seductive rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Imani laughed softly, her hands pressing against his chest. "You’re impossible," she said, shaking her head, though her smile never faded.

"And you love it," Terry replied confidently, pulling her closer for a lingering kiss. "Guess we’ll just have to keep discovering more about each other, huh?"

"Guess so," Imani murmured against his lips, her heart fluttering at the thought.

“And I know you’re a panty sniffer.” She says as she walks away from him with a smile. Terry froze mid-step, blinking in surprise at Imani's bold statement. A slow, mischievous grin crept across his face as he watched her saunter away, her hips swaying just enough to taunt him.

"Excuse me?" he called out, his tone a mix of amusement and mock indignation.

Imani glanced over her shoulder, her smile playful and teasing. "You heard me, Mr. Richmond," she said, her voice lilting with humor. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed."

Terry shook his head, chuckling as he crossed his arms. "Alright, Ms. Carter, you got jokes today," he said, his gaze fixed on her with a smirk. "But you’re not exactly innocent yourself, are you?"

Imani turned fully to face him, her arms crossed and her expression feigning innocence. "Oh? And what exactly are you accusing me of?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Terry took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in. "Let’s not forget the time I caught you ‘borrowing’ one of my shirts because it smelled like me," he teased. "Or the fact that you still wear it to bed sometimes."

Imani rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed slightly. "That’s completely different," she argued, waving him off.

"Different? How?" Terry pressed, clearly enjoying the exchange.

"Because it’s cute when I do it," Imani quipped, her grin widening as she turned to walk away again.

Terry laughed, shaking his head as he followed her. "Alright, you win this round," he conceded. "But don’t think I’m letting you get away with calling me out like that."

"Oh, I’m counting on it," Imani called back, her voice full of playful confidence as she disappeared into the next room.

“So what’s the reason for it?” She asks.

Terry followed her into the next room, his smirk still in place as he leaned casually against the doorframe. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her.

"The reason for what?" he asked, though the knowing glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Imani turned to face him fully, arms crossed and a playful smile tugging at her lips. "You know what I mean," she said. "What’s the reason for the whole…panty-sniffing thing?"

Terry laughed, the sound low and rich as he pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. "You really want to know?" he asked, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart skip.

She nodded, her curiosity genuine despite the teasing nature of the conversation. "Yes, I want to know."

He stopped in front of her, his hands settling on her hips as he looked down into her eyes. "It’s simple," he said softly. "It’s you."

"Me?" she repeated, her voice quieter now.

"Yeah," he replied, his gaze steady. "It’s the way everything about you—your scent, your touch, your presence—drives me crazy. It’s like…a reminder of how close we are, how much I love every part of you."

Imani felt her cheeks flush, her teasing demeanor giving way to a softer expression. "Oh," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Terry leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead before pulling back to meet her eyes again. "So, there’s your answer," he said with a small smile. "It’s not just a kink. It’s…you."

Imani smiled back, her arms winding around his neck as she leaned into him. "You’re lucky I love you," she teased, though her voice was warm.

"I’m the luckiest man in the world," Terry replied, his tone sincere as he held her close.

She smirks as she steps out of her shorts. She slides down her lace panties. 

Terry’s gaze followed her every movement, his breath hitching slightly as she let the lace fabric fall to the floor. She stood there, her smirk unwavering, her confidence radiating through the room.

"Now, Mr. Richmond," she teased, stepping closer to him, "since you’re so fascinated, why don’t you show me just how much you love me?"

Terry swallowed hard, his smirk turning into a full grin. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Mrs. Richmond," he said, his voice low and gravelly as his hands reached out to grip her hips.

"Am I?" she challenged, tilting her head as her fingers lightly trailed along his jawline.

Without another word, Terry scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her over to the bed. He set her down gently, his body hovering over hers as he locked eyes with her. "You have no idea what you just started," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers.

Imani's laughter filled the room, light and teasing. "Oh, I think I do," she whispered, pulling him down to meet her in a kiss that left no doubt about where the rest of their evening was heading

He picks up the lace panties. Terry leaned down and picked up the delicate lace panties from the floor, twirling them around his finger as he shot Imani a playful, yet devilish, grin.

"You know," he began, his voice smooth and teasing, "these might just be my favorite pair yet. Not because of how they look—but because of what they just witnessed."

Imani raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she lounged on the bed, clearly amused. "You’re ridiculous, Terry," she said with a smirk, through her eyes sparkled with affection.

He stepped closer, dangling the lace in front of her. "Oh, come on now, Mrs. Richmond. Admit it—you left them on purpose. You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist."

She laughed softly, pulling him down by his shirt. "Maybe I did. Or maybe I just know my boyfriend too well."

Terry leaned in, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, "Either way, you know what this does to me."

Before she could respond, he kissed her neck, trailing his hands over her waist as he tossed the lace aside. His voice dropped to a husky tone. "Now, let me show you exactly how much I appreciate your little game."

He slowly laid her down on the bed and lowered his head. “Tell me to stop.” his voice dangerously low. She smiles and tosses her head back. “Just shut up and eat me out already.” she responds.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @notpradagurl7 @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmyextragum

[ylangelegy]

worship in the bedroom 🍏 joshua x reader.

joshua believes there's no sweeter innocence than some gentle sin. that's why he got his tattoo, isn't it?

★ word count: 800+ ★ genre/warnings: suggestive (no real smut), cussing/swearing. joshua has a tattoo, established relationship -ish, references to the bible's creation myth, inspired by hozier's from eden and take me to church. yes, a & i just wanted an excuse to think of christian boy hong jisoo. ★ footnotes: @chugging-antiseptic-dye & i are late to the joshua rib tattoo discourse, but better late than never. this one is for her— the giggle at my funeral, et cetera, et cetera. <3

You hadn’t believed it when you first heard about it. 

Joshua Hong, of all people— a tattoo? 

Unlikely. Impossible.

But now he’s pulling off his shirt, and you can’t even bring yourself to admire his toned abdomen. You’re far too distracted by the very thing you last expected to see on him. Holy shit, you think dazedly. They weren’t crazy. 

Joshua— who had gently shoved you back on to his bed, who had kissed you stupid before starting to undress— notices your dumbstruck expression. 

“Ah,” he says, the word coming out more like a laugh. His tone is edged with mirth as he sinks down onto the mattress, right by your feet. “Oops?” 

Despite your shock, you manage to shoot him a half-hearted glare. It only makes Joshua giggle.

“Forgot to mention it,” he chirps. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, still a bit breathless from his earlier kisses. “No kidding.” 

You know it’s stupid to be so stunned. People get tattoos all the time.

Joshua’s fingers wrap around your ankle. He gives you a gentle shake to snap you out of your thoughts, that infuriating smile still on his face. “Is it really so out of character for me?” 

You could lie. What’s the point, though? He would just clock you, maybe even punish you a little for trying to give him anything but the truth. 

“Just didn’t expect it,” you manage, which is technically true. 

He lets out a thoughtful hum before making his way up his bed. He hovers on top of you, his arms bracing himself on either side of you. By the time he’s done shifting upward, you can see the details of the inked artwork despite the dim light of his bedroom. 

“Better view,” he teases. 

You would probably threaten him with bodily harm if you weren’t so damn distracted. Tentatively, you raise your hand. 

Your fingers brush against the punctured skin. It’s not by any means a new tattoo. The dark ink is already a little faded, and Joshua doesn’t flinch like one might if it were fresh. 

But he does hold his breath. 

Joshua tenses above you, his eyes flicking to your hand. You pause. He shakes his head. 

“S’okay.” All humor is gone from his voice now. In its place— something low, something reverent. “Go ahead.”

With his permission, you begin to trace. 

Your touch ghosts over the delicate tattoo smack dab underneath his heart. It’s a rendition of a known piece of art. Outstretched hands with fingers barely touching. 

“The Creation of Adam,” you finally say. This time, it’s your turn to sound amused. 

Joshua at least looks pleased that you understood the reference. He gives you an affirming ‘mhm’ as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your jaw.

“Now that,” he says against your skin, his tone matching yours, “is something you’d expect, hm?” 

The quip draws a laugh from you. Your free hand instinctively goes to entangle in his hair and you can feel him preen above you. Still, nothing seems to affect him as much as your absentminded plotting of his inked skin. 

You should let this topic drop, let Joshua take you like he’s probably dying to, but you can’t help the nagging queries. 

“Why here?” you ask, pressing the pads of your fingers a little more firmly against his skin, as if emphasizing his choice of placement. 

His breath stutters. His answer is quiet, muffled by his lips charting more kisses down the column of your neck. “Easy to hide,” he murmurs. “No one has to know.” 

“No one has to know,” you echo. 

You can feel the upward curve of his mouth as he moves over your collarbone. “Except you,” he says, saccharine sweet in his easy flirtation. 

Your eyes flutter close. Give in, your body screams. 

You can’t resist one last jab. 

“Shua.” 

“Mm?” 

You give his hair a gentle tug. He whines a bit, but he gets the message. He tilts his head up so he can meet your gaze. 

“What,” he asks flatly. His supposed annoyance is belied by the warmth in his honeyed eyes. The look of a man who will always indulge you.

“If I asked,” you say softly. “Would you give me your rib?” 

Oh. Oh. That gets him. You can see the way Joshua’s pupils dilate, the way his face flushes. 

And so the story goes— Eve, created from the rib of the first man. 

You, underneath a man who’s a pagan of the good times.

Joshua doesn’t answer at first. Not with words, anyway. 

Instead, he leans down to capture your lips. It’s the type of kiss that robs you of all rationale, and the press of his chest against yours does very little to help your case. You’re reduced to fleeting thoughts, to single words that can barely scratch the surface of what it feels like to be with Joshua. 

Absolution. Heaven. Creation. 

Joshua’s teeth nip at your lower lip as he pulls away to breathe. His next words are spoken right against your mouth, like he can’t bear to part from you for too long. Like a part of him is already a part of you. 

“You are my apple of Eden,” he breathes. “And now I will live with the guilt.” 

So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man... Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame. — Genesis 2:21-25

[rambling-at-midnight]

Whatever You Need

Request: Jason helping reader through their period

Pairing: Jason Todd x afab!Reader

Summary: Your period takes you by surprise. Luckily, Jason's there to take care of you.

Word count: 1.6k

Sorry this took so long... I started four different Jason fics, which means none were finished. But they should be finished and posted sometime soon.

Sprawled on the couch in your pajamas, watching an episode of The Great British Bake-Off that you’ve seen at least twice before, you feel the first twinge of pain in your abdomen. You don’t think much of it at first, which is a mistake. There are still two days before your period is supposed to start, and you ate ice cream after dinner even though you’re lactose intolerant and ran out of Lact-Aid a couple days ago. You figure you’ll head to the bathroom to deal with the consequences of your actions if the need arises, but you’re too comfortable to move when the weighted blanket on top of you has a name and that name is Jason Todd.

You’ve been on bedrest (or couchrest) for the past week and a half after a bad fall in the rain during patrol twisted your ankle. It swelled to twice its normal size. The upside was that it happened during winter break so you didn’t have to make the choice between limping to class or skipping. The downside was that you wanted your superhero persona to have more of a presence with Gotham’s goons. As a part-time hero, unlike Jason and most of his family, you get much less respect when suited up than, say, the Red Hood.

As a contestant’s dough fails to rise and they begin to have a breakdown on the screen, your stomach cramps again.

Sometimes, if you ignore it, the pain will go away. You’re too comfortable to get up now.

To distract yourself, you run your fingers through Jason’s messy curls. He doesn’t have a wash routine, so they’re always frizzier than Dick’s, but you’ve never minded. He’s devastatingly handsome either way. At least like this he looks a little bit less like something come to life straight out of your fantasies. He’s just a little more real.

Jason hums sleepily and pushes his head into your hands, a bit like a cat nuzzling at you. It’s been a lazy day for you both. You’ve been in the same position on the couch for hours—you on your back, half-watching the show, half-dozing, and him on his stomach in the cradle of your legs, head pillowed on your stomach, not even pretending to watch the show, judging by his closed eyes.

Your stomach cramps again, and this time you feel it—the ache even lower, and a wet heat blooming between your thighs. “Oh, fuck me.”

Jason takes a minute to respond, still interested in your fingers that make his entire body tingle when you massage in just the right way. Then he cranes his neck up, brow furrowed and bottom lip jutting out with his confused frown. “Okay?” He starts to sit up, hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, but you draw your legs up and out from under him and roll off the couch.

“No, not literally,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fuck—did I stain the cushion?” It was no big loss—you’d found the couch on the side of the road and Jason helped you bring it up to your apartment and sanitize it—but a bloodstain would stand out on the light brown color.

“Oh,” he says with realization as you run to the bathroom and slam the door behind you. “The couch is good!” he calls.

Your pants aren’t. It looks like someone died between your legs. You’ve always had heavy periods, especially the first couple days, accompanied by strong cramps. If you get ahead of them and take pain meds, they’re not too bad. Sometimes you can even patrol. But playing catch-up with ibuprofen is a recipe for disaster.

The rest of the day is going to suck.

Because you always feel gross when you’re on your period, and because no amount of wipes would fully clean up the mess between your legs, you hop into the shower and turn up the heat until your skin is bright pink. Jason pops in for a second to drop off a change of underpants and sweats, then ducks out just as quickly.

Turning off the water starts the race against time. As quickly as you can, you apply your preferred hygiene product before any more blood can leak down your leg. Then you towel off and shrug on the new clothes. You still feel icky, but the new clothes and shower helped slightly.

Something sizzles in the kitchen when you open the bathroom door.

“Hey, honey,” says Jason without turning around, standing in front of the stove. He points at the table. “Meds and water are right there. How are you feeling?”

“Ugh,” is your response. You down the pills and almost set the glass back on the table, but at his insistent look, finish it off. Hydration helps with cramps as well.

“You’re two days early.”

“Well, I haven’t been patrolling. Exercise changes can throw my cycle out of whack.” You sniff. “What are you making? It smells good.”

“Chicken stir fry.” You peek into the pan and see broccoli, bell peppers, and a couple other vegetables frying with the chicken. The covered pan behind it, you know without looking, contains rice. “I also have ginger tea brewing.”

All of it, every part of the meal, is meant to help reduce your symptoms and pain.

You can’t help it. How is he always so thoughtful? You throw your arms around Jason’s middle and squeeze. So he can keep stirring the food, he shifts until you’re tucked beneath one arm. His hair is in complete disarray from your fingers like he just walked through a tornado. When he notices your gaze, red colors his cheeks and he flattens his hair down self-consciously.

You press a kiss to his shoulder, the highest place you can reach without stretching.

“Go sit down,” he pretends to scold.

In response, you lean into him, heavier and heavier, until he’s practically carrying you. Jason doesn’t even blink at the added weight.

“I plugged in your heating pad,” he says. “It’s right by the couch.” Another thing right next to the couch is a coffee table he stole from the manor when he was pissed at Bruce. On top of it is a bar of dark chocolate and a freshly-washed bowl of your favorite berries.

You kiss his shoulder again. Jason kisses the top of your head, then nudges you away with his chin. “Go. Sit down. Rest your ankle and your uterus.”

“That is not how it works,” you say, mirth in your voice.

“It’s how I think it works,” he mumbles.

When the food is done, he brings two bowls over. You lift your legs and he slips underneath them. He uses your shins on his thighs as a makeshift table, balancing the bowl between them, and absentmindedly rubs your weaker ankle with the hand not holding his spoon.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence as The Great British Bake-Off plays. You finish first, and as soon as he sets his bowl down, you sit up slightly and make grabby hands at him. “C’mere.”

Jason pretends to roll his eyes, but judging by the line of kisses he trails from your wrist to the inside of your elbow as he lies down, he doesn’t mind your bossiness too much.

You shiver at every brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of your forearm. It’s almost enough to distract you from the cramping that’s beginning in your abdomen again—a cramping that eases slightly when he’s atop you again, resting the gentle pressure of his weight on your stomach. Warm, fed, and with his weight on you, is it any wonder you fall asleep?

You’re only woken by Jason’s gentle hand shaking you, telling you that it’s been eight hours since you last applied your feminine hygiene product and you need to change it. You’re tired and sore and cranky, but as soon as you blink your eyes open he has pain medication and water for you to take.

You do so in the bathroom in a daze and tumble into your shared bed, tugging Jason in with you. He goes down easily, using his huge, warm form to surround you with his easy, comforting scent. You left the heating pad on the couch, but the thick arm Jason winds around your stomach does the job well enough, and you drift back to sleep quickly, never fully awake in the first place.

The next morning, you wake to an aching back and stained sheets.

You stare up at the ceiling and swear, which unfortunately wakes Jason, who lifts his head and stares at you, one eye still crusted with sleep. His curls are in wild disarray, one side flattened from the pillow and the other on end as if he’s been spending his spare time sticking forks in electrical sockets.

If the cramps have gotten to your spine already, then the next few days are going to be hell. And this was a nice pair of sheets! The blood had better wash out.

Jason grunts and lowers his head. “Everything we own is bloodstained, honey. Though usually it’s mine.”

You leave him in bed. Your hair feels way too greasy, and your skin feels tacky, and even after a half-hour shower, you still don’t feel great.

As soon as you step out of the bathroom, Jason is there with chocolate-chip pancakes he made himself, accompanied by a fresh bowl of fruit and more meds.

Emotion rises in your throat. You want to tell him so much, like that you love him even though you haven’t said it, or that you can’t fathom going through your period on your own anymore, but all that comes out is, “You’re perfect. You know that? You really don’t have to do all this—or stay home from patrol for me.”

Jason tousles his messy curls and shrugs. “Well, I’m gonna anyway. You need me, and I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts @cliosunshine @fictionalwhor3 @bellathecatastrophe @lonely-star2044 @flanhog @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t

Let me know if there's anything you want to see from me!

[bookyeom]

whatever you say, boyfriend - chs

pairing: vernon x reader word count: 1.6k warnings: none really. lots of kissing author’s note: um… happy 2025? 🥲 i haven’t posted in forever, but here she is: part three! i would recommend reading both part one and part two for it to make sense :)

The knock on your door sounds. You’d been expecting it, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.

You pad over to the door, opening it just enough to peek through, and when your eyes meet, Vernon absolutely lights up. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, the way his smile widens just at the sight of you. He’s thrown on a hoodie, his hair is tousled from the wind, and he looks so cute that you suddenly panic. He’s in front of you, he came. You suddenly can’t seem to open the door any further.

He stares at you, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly as you watch each other. “Are you going to let me in?” He finally asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe.”

Vernon huffs out a laugh, which makes you smile a bit, too.

“Y/N,” he says slowly, “I need you to let me in.” He’s grinning now as he adds, “How can we be romantic if you don’t let me in?”

Your heart stutters against your chest. You open the door wider, enough for him to slip through. You avoid his eyes as you shut the door, before you’re pressing yourself against it. He laughs again as he slips out of his shoes — ever polite — and the sound makes you look up.

“Y/N,” he says your name again when your eyes meet. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, and he takes a step towards you. He’s beaming at you in the softest, most confident, most Vernon-esque of ways. You could only ever dream of being so confident.

“Hi,” he breathes, and you can’t help but smile at that, letting out a soft huff of laughter. At the sound, his fingers find yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hi.” Your voice is shy, timid even, as you return the greeting, but you don’t avert your eyes. You’re nervous, but this is Vernon. He wants this, too, you remind yourself. He’s all soft brown eyes and dark, long lashes, and you suddenly remember the last time you were this close to him. Your eyes fall to his lips at the memory, and he seems to be thinking the exact same thing, because it only takes him half a second to close the gap.

The kiss is chaste but it’s long and slow, his lips pressed to yours in a way that makes your toes curl. And when he pulls away and whispers, “Hi, baby,” you can’t help the way your knees buckle, just a little, before you recover and surge forward to kiss him again.

It’s you who tries to pull away first this time, but Vernon’s hand lifts to slide into the hair at the nape of your neck to keep you there just a little bit longer, earning him a soft gasp from you. You’re lost for breath when he breaks away. Neither of you speak for a minute, and you watch as his eyes trace lazily across your face. You know your face is flushed red, but somehow you can’t find it in you to care when he’s looking at you like this.

“Did you put on makeup?” He finally speaks, breaking the silence, and it takes you a second to register what he’s said.

You blink at him, your eyebrows furrowed as you say, “Huh?”

He repeats himself, smile growing. “Did you put on makeup since we called a half hour ago?”

Oh.

If you weren't embarrassed before, you are now. The smirk on his face lets you know that he already knows the answer to his question — and that it pleases him a great deal. You let out a whine, falling forward to rest your head against the front of his sweater in embarrassment.

“Cute,” he says against your hair. You whine again, pulling away from him and pouting. He laughs, squeezing your arms before heading into your living room as if he hadn’t just kissed you senseless in your front hall. You stare at him as he calls back over his shoulder, “You’re cute. With or without makeup.”

You follow him, embarrassed that he’d called you out but now reeling at him calling you cute. First, he’d called you baby with ease, and now he’s paying you flirty compliments without a second thought. You are not going to survive this.

You don’t know what you expected, but Vernon doesn’t kiss you again for what feels like forever. In fact, everything is relatively normal for a hangout with the two of you, except that he’s got you pulled into his side while you try to pick a movie. Or, rather — while he tries to pick a movie. All you can do is think about how close he is to you, about how much you want to be kissing him again. About how calm he seems about all of this.

Vernon seems to realize you’re not fully with him when he repeats his question for the third time. “Y/N?” He tries, a hand moving to squeeze your knee, and you jump a little. “You good?” When your eyes meet his, you know it’s over for you. He furrows his brows again, removes his hand from your leg and shifts away from you as he opens his mouth to say, “If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to —“

“Can you kiss me again?”

You’ve caught him off guard, you can tell, because his mouth hangs open for a moment, blinking down at you. Your cheeks are flaming red, you’re certain of it.

“Sorry! If you don’t want to we can just—“

“Baby,” he breathes out, voice low and breathless, before his hand is on your face and his mouth is on yours again. It surprises you, the fierceness of it, and your hand flies to grasp his wrist as he kisses you. He kisses you, slow and deep, pulling away after what both feels like forever and absolutely not long enough just to say, “You don’t even have to ask.”

It’s you that pulls him back in this time.

You don’t know how long you spend making out with Vernon on your couch — you don’t care to check. You think it’s hours, maybe, and you only stop when it’s physically impossible for either of you to breathe. When he pulls away, hair a mess from where you’d gotten bold enough to run your fingers through it, he simply looks you over, dazed smile wide on his lips as he does.

“Pretty,” he says easily, pressing another kiss against your mouth before settling back to take a breather. Somehow, that’s what gets you.

You settle back against him, much more at ease this time, but when you feel Vernon’s eyes on you, you know he can tell something is still up with you.

“Hey.” You look up at him, and he pokes you gently in the middle of your forehead. “What’s going on in there?”

You flush. You hate that he knows you so well. “I’m just…”

“Yeah?”

You’re silent for a moment or two. Your eyes fly to his when you feel his thumb gently pull your lip free from where you’ve been chewing at it.

“We just made out on your couch for a substantial amount of time,” he says nonchalantly. “I’d hope you can tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“See,” you protest, “that. How is it so… easy for you?”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

You gesture between the two of you. “This.”

“Well,” he says after a moment, “you're easy to be with.”

“Vernon,” you whine. “That’s not what I meant.”

He shrugs. “I mean it. Being with you like this,” he emphasizes, “is easy.”

“Okay, but how?”

You watch as he thinks before he answers, eyebrows knit together in that Vernon way of his. It’s one thing you love about him — he’s always been a bit of an enigma, but so, so patient with you when you need help figuring him out. “I don’t really know how to explain it any other way,” he starts after a moment. “I just… want to kiss you, so I do. I want to tell you that you’re pretty, so I do. I’ve been thinking about these things for so long that it just feels normal, I guess.”

You ponder his words, your tummy fluttering at his simple explanation. “How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you felt this way?”

Vernon hums, fingers lifting to run through his hair. “I’m not sure exactly when it started, honestly, but… it’s been a while.’

”I had no idea,” you admit quietly, and Vernon’s mouth quirks up.

”Clearly.”

“Hey,” you protest with a pout, and he laughs, but reaches out to grasp your fingers. “I guess I’m just unsure,” you say softly. “About what this all means.”

Vernon nods. “It means that I’ve liked you for a very long time,” he says, straight and to the point. Your cheeks flush, and he says his next words quietly. “It means that you need to tell me now if you don’t want to be more than friends.”

“I do,” you say quickly, and Vernon’s mouth quirks up at the side. “I just… want to keep you as my friend, too.”

“A friend you kiss and hold hands with and go out on dates with sounds pretty great to me.”

You smile at that. “Yeah, it does.”

He watches you for a moment, his face growing a bit more serious. “I’m still your friend,” he reassures you quietly, and you nod.

“A special kind of friend.” You’re smiling even more now, and his expression shifts to mirror yours again as you wiggle your eyebrows.

Vernon leans back against the couch. “If only there was a word for that.”

“If only.”

You beam at him from across the couch, and his eyebrows raise in a teasing challenge. You don’t mind letting him win this one as you break, as you close the distance and cuddle back into his side, the smile on your face so wide it hurts as you say your next words.

“Great. Now pick a movie, boyfriend.”

A/N: it’s been so long, so sorry if you don’t want to be tagged! just shoot me a message if you wanna be removed :)

@tae-bebe @wheeboo @waldau-archived @iluvseokmin @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol @minisugakoobies @wqnwoos @gyuminusone @christinewithluv @darkypooo @lvlystars @bewoyewo

Don’t be afraid to let me know what you think!

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 9

Summary: Secrets are revealed on New Years Eve.

CW: Alcohol consumption, sexual references, mention of cigarettes, swearing, lots of drama.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

--

"YOU SLEPT WITH SIRIUS?!"

"Shh! Mary keep your voice down," you uttered, looking around to see how many of your coworker's heads had swivelled towards you in response to Mary's loud exclamation.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "I'm just.. I'm in shock."

You sighed and leaned back where you were perched on the corner of her desk. "I think I am a bit as well."

There was a pause.

"Well, was it good?"

"Mary! Oh my god!" you groaned and threw a hand over your face to hide your mortification.

"What? I'm just asking. I can't say that I haven't imagined it once or twice myself-"

You slapped her gently across the shoulder with the back of your hand. "You're distrubed. You know that?"

She smirked. "You know you love me."

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your friend. "Anyway, we'd been drinking and it was Christmas and we were having such a wonderful time. I think we just got swept up in it all and now I don't know what to do. Things have been kind of... weird between us."

"Well have you guys talked about it?" Mary inquired.

"That's the thing. Afterwards he just kind of moved on like it never happened. I don't know if he thinks it was a mistake or something but it's stressing me out."

"Hmm," a thoughtful look crossed Mary's face as she took everything in. "Well how are you feeling about it? Do you think it was a mistake?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No? I-I don't think so. I dont know."

A look of realisation washed over Mary's face. "Do you like him??"

"I mean, of course I like him. I'm just not sure I like like him."

Your friend sighed exasperatedly. "Oh my god! We're not in Primary School, just answer the damn question!"

"Fine! I guess the answer is... yes?" you sighed. "But whatever! Does it even make a difference? He's made it exceptionally clear that he doesn't feel the same way."

"Look," Mary huffed, her expression growing sincere. "Sirius is great. He's fun and friendly and a total flirt but he's also been known to be a little emotionally constipated. Just be honest with him. Talk to him about it. He's not going to be able to pick up on any signals you're trying to send him."

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a breath throught your nose. "Ugh fine."

"Good girl," Mary smiled. "Now go away. I actually have some work to get done today."

"Oh fine. I suppose I know when I'm not wanted," you teased, getting up and walking back towards your desk.

"Love you!" Mary called lightheartedly as you walked away.

"Yeah, yeah," you joked in response.

As you arrived back at your desk and slumped down in your chair, prepared to get back to work, a head peaked down at you over the cubical.

"Oh, you're back, I see."

You jumped slightly at the unexpected voice and looked up to see its perpertrator.

"Yes, Glenn. Hi. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Glenn was a new employee in your office and he sat in the cubical opposite yours. He was only a few years older than you and he was tall and fit with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. In the few weeks you'd known him for, he'd been particularly friendly towards you and recently you'd been getting the idea that he had taken a liking to you.

You weren't interested of course. He was an attractive guy but not really your type. And with everything going on with Sirius over the last week, you'd been making a effort to put some distance between you. You definitely weren't looking for anything of that nature right now and you didn't want to give him the wrong impression. However, Glenn was nothing if not persistant.

"Actually, I was just wondering if you had any plans for new years tonight? A few of my mates are throwing a party and you're welcome to join us if you're interested."

You sent him you're most empathetic smile. "That sounds lovely but unfortunately I already have some plans with my friends."

He sighed, flashing you a grin that looked suspiciously rehearsed. "Oh well. No problem. It was worth a shot. You have fun tonight."

"You too, Glenn."

As the man dissapeared back over the divider, you let out a heafty sigh. Tonight was surely going to be interesting.

--

The view was impeccable from the bar where your friends had gathered to spend New Years. In fact, seated beside a huge floor to ceiling window, you suspected you'd have a clear view of the New Years fireworks.

It was a classy joint, one that Dorcas had managed to get you access to through one of her fancy lawyer contacts.

Everyone was assembled on stools around a table, looking out over the London skyline. It was about four hours until midnight and the group was chatting excitedly in the lead up.

"I've got shots!" Mary called out and everyone cheered as she returned to the table with a tray.

She passed the drinks around and then took her seat beside you.

"Well, I suggest a toast!" James called out, grabbing the attention of the group. "To a wonderful year ahead, and many more memories with old, and new, friends!"

He emphasised the last line with a pointed look in your direction and you felt your cheeks growing hot.

"Cheers!" Marlene shouted enthusiastically and the others echoed her sentiments, clinking glasses and swallowing their drinks.

The burning of the liquor was welcomed as the drink ran down your throat. You'd been thinking a lot about what Mary had said to you in regards to your situation with Sirius. And as he sat beside you, laughing animatedly at one of Peter's stories, it only confirmed your worst fears. Maybe you were starting to develop feelings for your roommate. You grimaced at the thought. Things were bound to get messy in situations like this.

"So guys," Sybil piped up from across the table. "Let's all go around and say our New Years resolutions."

"Oh, I'll go first!" James volunteered. "I hope my team continues to play a great season annnddd... I want to work out more."

There was a collective groan.

"Come on, James. That's not a real one!" Mary complained.

Sirius chuckled, taking a pointed sip of his drink. "Yeah! You already work out like 7 times a day!"

"Ugh, okay fine!" James responded with groan. He thought for a moment. "How about this one. I'd like to fall in love this year."

You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered across the table towards Lily and you felt your heart sink. Lily seemed to take notice a well as she averted her eyes, taking a heafty gulp of the drink in her hand.

"Aww, James. Always the romantic, aren't you?" Marlene chuckled.

"Shut up." James rolled his eyes playfully. "Your turn then, Marls."

"Okay," She took a deep breath. "My goal this year is to become super rich and famous and sucessful."

"I second that!" Mary called across the table and you giggled as they clinked their glasses.

"Y/n. Your turn," Dorcas announced.

"Oh okay, um..." you thought for a moment, your gaze flashing to James and Remus across the table, then over to Sirius, who was watching you expectanly, a playlful glimmer in his stormy eyes.

You then looked back towards the rest of the group. "This year, I'd like to spend some more time with you lovely people."

A round of cooing echoed across the table and Mary threw her arms around you.

"Well aren't you just the sweetest!"

"Oh, and I'd like to work more on my novel," you added.

"Alright, alright. Sirius, you're up!" Marlene chimed.

The boy beside you pursed his lips, looking off into the distance as if deep in thought. Then, after a long moment, he turned back to all of you with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"This year, I want to have lots of amazing sex!"

"Ew. Sirius, you're so foul," Lily exclaimed, followed by a symphany of similar sentiments from the other members of the group.

While everyone else was distracted, grumbling and groaning about Sirius' bluntness, the man leaned down towards you.

"You look great tonight, by the way." He whispered into your hair.

You gulped thickly, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You opted for downing the remainder of your Vodka, Lime and Soda.

--

As the evening drew on, you found yourself growing more anxious in Sirius' presence. You weren't quite sure what his game was, whether it was the alcohol or he was just feeling extra bold tonight, but he'd been suspiciously flirtatious.

You didn't know how to respond. Part of you wanted to let him. To let him woo you and go crawling back for more of what you'd had together on Christmas Night. However, the other, more logical part of you, told you that was a terrible idea. He was your roommate afterall. The last thing you wanted was to start some complicated friends-with-benefits situation with a guy you lived with, especially one that you had sort of, maybe, possibly had caught feelings for.

You downed another drink, feeling the alcohol grip you and hoped it would help to ease the nerves ever so slightly. You realised then, that you were staring.

Sirius had gone to the bar to order another round of drinks and you'd been watching with bated breath as he sent his signature smile to a girl wearing an explicitly tight black dress. You noticed the way she leaned forward, pressing her cleavage up against the bar as she spoke to him. God, could she be anymore obvious?

"Calm the hell down, y/n!" You thought to yourself. "It's not like you guys are together. He can flirt with whoever he wants."

"Hey, are you okay?" you raked your eyes away from the scene as a voice came from beside you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," You muttered absently, too distracted to notice that it was Remus who asked the question.

"Okay, never have I ever... made out with more than one person on the same night!" Mary's voice rang out and you forced your attention back to the group.

You weren't sure when this game had begun but you suspected it was suggested by one of the girls (likely Mary or Marlene) as a way to pass the final hour until midnight. You hadn't participated in this game since probably highschool, but you were all a few drinks in at this point so you figured, what the hell?

You watched as Marlene, James and Dorcas all took a sip. Then Lily sent Mary a pointed look.

"Come on, Mary. That's not how the game works. You have to say something you haven't done."

"I haven't!" Mary responded. Then she paused. "Oh wait, yeah I definitely have."

Everyone chuckled as she took a drink.

"Alright! Dorcas! Your turn." Mary nudged the girl in the side.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. "For the record, I just want to say, I think this game is stupid."

"Come on babe. Don't be a party pooper!" Marlene exclaimed, leaning in towards her girlfriend. "How else are we supposed to learn everyone's deepest darkest secrets."

Dorcas sighed and shook her head but there was a hint of a smile on her face. She really could never say no to Marlene.

"Ugh, fine. Never have I ever stolen something."

"Well that's a hard one," Mary muttered. "What do we count as stealing? Because I've stolen stuff from James a ton of times."

"Oi!" James shouted, looking positively affronted. Mary sent him an apologetic smile.

"No, not like that," Dorcas clarified. "It had to have been from an actual shop."

You all sat up straight for a moment, curiously looking around the group to see if anyone had. Hesitantly, Peter lifted his glass to his lips.

"Pete! What the hell!" James exclaimed.

"I don't know, I went through a phase in highschool!"

"What sort of stuff did you take?" Marlene pressed.

Peter shrugged. "Chocolate and ciggarettes, mostly."

There was an eruption of laughter that rippled across the table at Peter's revelation.

"Wow, I didn't know there was a degenerate among us," Lily teased, watching Peter's face flush bright red.

"Okay, okay. My turn!" Marlene said, once the laughter died down. "Never have I ever... gotten really sloshed and fallen down the stairs at my 18th birthday party"

"Hey! That's not fair!" James moaned, taking a sip of his beer. "You can't do targeted ones!"

Marlene just shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't think that was established in the rules."

James smirked. "Fine then! Never have I ever had sex with someone at this table."

Your blood ran cold for a moment as you glanced back towards the bar. You sighed in relief when you saw that Sirius was still over there. In that case, you technically hadn't slept with anyone at the table. You were off the hook for now.

Marlene rolled her eyes at James and took a drink, as well as Dorcas, Peter and Sybil, however, you watched James' eyes widen as Mary also took a long sip.

"Mary!" Lily hissed across the table. Your heart plummeted.

"What?" Mary shrugged, the alcohol clearly having gone to her head. "We have to! It's the rules."

"Wait! Hold on," Marlene murmered, her eyes drifting between the two girls. "Did you guys..."

There was a heavy anticipatory silence that hung over the table as you all awaited Lily's response. The girl grimaced, as she tried to muster some kind of explanation.

It was then that her eyes drifted up to meet James' pleading ones.

"Lily?" the boy asked softly. Your heart broke for him.

"So I guess the cat's out of the bag huh?" the girl sighed. "Mary and I have sort of been seeing each other. Romantically."

"Holy shit!" Marlene shouted, candid and straight to the point as she usually was in these situations.

"How long has this been going on?" Dorcas questioned.

"It's still really new," Lily explained.

"We were just trying to figure out the right time to tell you guys," Mary added.

"So you're the one Mary has been seeing?" James murmered.

"Yes," Lily responded. "I'm sorry James but you had to know it was never going to work out between us."

The boy sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, I know."

Then he started to stand. "I think I just need some air for a minute."

"James, wait-" Remus reached out to grab his arm but James shook him off.

"I just need minute," he repeated, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and hurrying towards the exit. Part of you wanted to go after him but the other part recognised that he probably needed some space to process things.

"Sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to ruin the night," Mary murmered folornly.

"No hun! you didn't ruin anything," you comforted.

"Yeah, we're really happy for you two," Dorcas added.

"Really?"

Everyone nodded.

"Absolutely. You both deserve to be happy," Remus confirmed.

Wide smiles crossed over the girls' faces.

--

It was two minutes until midnight and Sirius was nowhere to be seen. Despite your better judgement, you couldn't help but feel slightly disapointed. You supposed that there was some small aspect of your mind that hoped Sirius would be your New Years kiss.

You knew it was wishful thinking, especially when you hadn't even spoken about what happened between you, but with how he'd been acting towards you throughout the night, you'd allowed yourself to nurture that flicker of hope.

As people crowded around the window and the countdown began, you found your eyes searching the room for the dark haired man, wondering if just maybe, he'd make a last minute appearance.

"Five, four, three, two..."

You scanned the space one last time.

"One!"

You're last flicker of hope died out as your eyes finally landed on his form.

"Happy New Year!"

The shouts and cheers faded into the background as you watched Sirius press his lips to those of the boob-y blonde you'd seen him flirting with before.

The moment seemed to go in slow motion. You watched from afar as he tangled his hand in her hair, just as he'd done in yours only a week prior.

"Of course," you thought. "Typical"

It was Sirius Black you were talking about. You were stupid to think you meant anything more to him than a casual night of fun.

In an instant, you turned on your heel and walked towards the door, the sounds of the party fading into the background. You decided, instead of bumming around waiting for Sirius to notice you, you'd go look for James, just as you should've done much earlier.

The cold hit you like a block of cement as you stepped outside onto the street. It didn't take you long to find him.

He was sitting on the curb, outside of he bar, arms resting on his knees as he looked up towards the sky. Another explosion sounded and a flash of colour filled the air. In the distance, you could hear the cheers of excited people all around as they celebrated.

"Happy New Year, James."

He turned to look at you and in the flash of light, as another firework flickered across the sky, you were able to notice the faint tear tracks that lined his cheeks.

"Oh hey." he sniffled, rubbing a hand beneath his glasses and trying to regain a semblance of composure.

BANG!

You flopped unceremoniously onto the ground beside him as another flash filled the sky. You gave him a sympathetic smile. Funnily enough, in that moment, you knew exactly how he felt.

"Are you okay?" You asked him gently.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. I will be."

BANG!

"Good."

You both turned your gazes back to the display, taking in the beautiful array of colours filling the air. It wasn't quite the view you'd expected for the night, but somehow, that didn't seem to matter.

As you continued to watch the fireworks, you felt the gentle touch of a hand wrapping around your own. You smiled slightly as your fingers intertwined.

BANG!

Slowly, you shuffled closer and leaned into him, gently resting your head on James broad shoulder.

You stayed like that a while, just taking in the show, and each other's company.

--

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