#didn’t think this day would come ���

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[cutielando]

my baby | l.n.

synopsis: in which you bring your son to his daddy’s first ever race

a/n: based on this request!! i changed things up a little and only made it fluffy, hope you like it!!

my masterlist

Ever since your son was born, you and Lando had had multiple talks regarding exposing him to the world and bringing him to the paddock.

He was still so little, being only a few months old, so there was a lot of discussion between the two of you about when would be a good time to finally introduce your son to that part of Lando’s life.

You debated a lot about firstly which race would be the best one for him to attend, finally settling on Silverstone. It was a very special race for the both of you, it was Lando’s favorite race weekend, his whole family would be coming and would be able to eagerly help, should any situations arise during the weekend, you were close to your UK home.

It was honestly the best decision in that aspect.

McLaren had been so kind as to send you some little T-shirts with Lando’s name and number on the back, some headphones so you could protect Noah’s ears. He was all ready to go, all clad in his papaya shirt and little cap.

However, as much as Lando had been looking forward to finally having the both of you in the paddock since Noah’s birth, he was suddenly feeling more anxious as you’re about to leave the house and go to the track.

You noticed the frown he had on his face and how deep in thought he seemed to be, walking over to him with Noah right on your hip, sucking on his pacifier in silence.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it affectionately.

“You agree this is a good idea, right? We’re not rushing him into this, it’s completely okay and safe to bring him with us” he asked, looking at you with worried eyes.

Looking at him so desperate for reassurance, you remember your first days as a new mom, worrying about every single thing that Noah would do, what you should do with him and what you shouldn’t, calling your mother and Lando’s mother every half an hour with another question.

It’s normal for new parents to be anxious, and Lando was now feeling the protectiveness that came with having a baby of your own and bringing him out into the world.

“Baby, we’ve talked about this. We have it all figured out. Your family is going to be there if anything does happen, we have your whole team there who are more than eager to help with anything. We’ll be fine, this little guy will have the time of his life” you said, smiling at the quiet boy in your arms and bouncing him in your arms, chuckling alongside Noah as he started to giggle and wave his arms in the air.

Lando smiled, looking at Noah like he was the center of his universe, like nothing could ever measure up to how much love he had for his son.

He was ready, so there was no reason why Lando shouldn’t be ready. After all, he had you by his side.

He didn’t need anything else if he had you.

“Alright, let’s get going then” he declared, sitting up and taking Noah’s bag from you, determined to carry everything to the car by himself.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you adjusted little Noah on your hip.

“Let’s go and bring daddy some good luck, shall we?” you cooed at Noah, admiring his little smile and clap when he heard the word “daddy” in a sentence.

Such a daddy’s boy.

♡♡♡♡♡

“Do you want me to turn the car around and just take you guys home? I’m sure nobody would mind” Lando said as soon as he parked the car in his designated spot.

You looked at him confused.

“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, keeping an eye on Noah who was currently too busy playing with his feet to pay attention to the two of you.

Lando sighed, resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes.

“I just think we’re rushing into it. He’s still young and I’m worried that something could happen to him while I’m in the car” he confessed, and you let out a knowing sigh.

“I know you’re stressed out and worried, but you have nothing to worry about. I’m going to be with him the entire time and your entire family is going to be with me. He literally can’t be more taken care of” you said, joking a little at the end to help him breathe a little.

Lando smiled, chuckling a little before twisting around to look at you in the backseat.

His eyes naturally gravitated towards Noah, who was happily playing with his McLaren teddy bear the team had gifted Lando when Noah was born.

“Sometimes I wish we could keep him away from all of this for the rest of his life” he said, his eyes focused on his son.

"I know, but right now, you don't have to worry about him. You know I won't let him out of my sight" you said, making Lando smile at the thought of you going all mama bear on your son.

"Alright then, off we go" Lando unbuckled his seatbelt, exiting the car and opening your door for you.

He made quick work to grab the diaper bag and all of his essentials while you lifted Noah up from his car seat and settled him on your hip, cooing at the smiley little boy.

"Ready?" Lando asked as he came to stand next to you, putting his arm on the small of your back and leaning down to press a kiss on Noah's head.

"Are you ready to see dada race?" you cooed at Noah, tickling his tummy lightly, which prompted him to burst into giggles.

“My lucky charms” Lando whispered, looking at the two of you with so much love.

He truly couldn’t have asked for anything better in his life. The trophies, the wins, the losses, they didn’t compare to this. To you, to your son, nothing could ever compete with how much Lando cared for his family.

As you started walking towards the paddock entrance, your passes clutched in Lando’s hand, you kept Noah close to you, trying to shield his face from the cameras as best as you could.

You softly maneuvered his head so his face was buried into the crook of your neck, which Noah immediately complied with because he loved it when you held him close.

“I’ll do my best to hold them off” Lando whispered as he scanned your passes and already noticed the hoard of paparazzis that were waiting for him to arrive.

You nodded, smiling politely at the cameramen as Lando quickly walked with you towards the McLaren hospitality.

Clicks and flashes could be heard all around you, every single one trying to get a glimpse of your baby boy, but Lando was having none of it.

“Lando! Over here!”

“Is that your son?”

“Can we see him? Just a picture”

Every single word fell on deaf ears as Lando continued to lead the three of you away from them, thankful when the shouts ceased and there was nobody around you anymore.

“They sure know how to try and get what they want” you said, letting out a big breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding in.

“It’s an invasion of privacy, they should have some respect, especially when they can see I’m with my family” he grumbled, his jaw muscles clenched.

You slowed down your walk until you came to a halt, resting your hand against his cheek.

“Hey, we’re okay. Calm down, we’re both fine, okay?” you said, waiting for an answer as Noah started squirming in your arms.

“Yeah, I’m good” Lando replied after finally feeling himself calm down a tad, resuming your walk towards the hospitality.

When you arrived and entered the building, the first thing that you saw was Lando’s family eagerly chatting amongst themselves, clearly waiting for the 3 of you to finally arrive.

You didn’t even get to think about anything before Noah was taken from your arms by Lando’s sister, Flo, cooing at him and beaming at the smiley boy.

There was nothing more pure and warming than seeing the bond between Lando’s family and your son. He was also the first grandchild on your side of the family, so that little boy was as spoiled as one could be.

“How are you doing, dear?” Cisca snapped you out of your thoughts as she came to stand next to you, Lando having gone to his driver’s room to unpack his things.

“I’m okay, a little tired from the jet-lag, but doing alright. A little nervous to have Noah here with me, but you all being here puts mine and Lando’s mind more at ease” you said, giving your mother-in-law a side hug.

“Was he terrible when you were talking about coming with Noah?” she asked, smiling knowingly.

You laughed, shaking your head affectionately at how well she knew Lando.

“He freaked out about 4 times before we even got out of the car” you said, making the woman laugh.

Lando emerged into the room again, immediately frowning once he saw that Noah was still not back in your arms.

Both you and Cisca watched as his eyes searched the entire room for him, finally settling on the boy happily babbling to his auntie Flo, Lando immediately going over to them.

And as you all sat there with each other, both you and Lando realized what a great support system you had and what a perfect family you have built together.

His win, of course, only solidifying his saying that you were both “his lucky charms”.

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[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ cowboy!rafe always snuck into farmer's!daughter!reader's room to give her a goodnight kiss.. but what happens when their innocent little kiss turns into something much more?

warnings: sweet fluff, flirty banter, brief flashback, daddy kink lol, sneaking around, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rafe covering your mouth, crying, overstimulation

a/n: i’ll be opening req’s soon! lately here i’ve been wanting to get out some of my own prompts since over half of my works are all req’s.. but i’m excited to see what you girlies send me! find more of farmer’s!daughter!reader and cowboy!rafe here <3

wc: 1.2k

“open up, doll face.” you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as rafe lightly tapped on your window. he made you so giddy, you scrambled up from the warmth of your sheets, unlocking the hatch before helping him climb in. “i thought you weren’t coming..” you whispered, pouting up at him as he snickered. “y’gotta have faith in me, sweetheart. when have i missed a goodnight’s kiss?” rafe cupped your face, both of you smiling against each other’s lips before melting into one another.

you always felt so warm and fuzzy inside when you and rafe got to share your secret little moments together, the simplicity of just being together without having to worry about someone catching you two made both of your hearts swell. rafe knew how to sweep you off your feet with a single kiss, a string of giggles tumbling from your mouth as he not-so-quietly threw you onto your bed. “rafe!” you scolded him, your heart beating in your ears as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“my daddy is next door! what if he hears..” you slapped his chest playfully, the man above you arching a brow. “daddy? i thought i was your daddy.” your cheeks heated in embarrassment when you recalled the quickie you two had in the barn not too long ago. rafe had you bent over a hay bale, his thrusts making you unable to speak until he asked you the golden question.

“hmmph! fuckin’ say it. tell me what i wanna hear, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?”

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe smiled as he shook his head down at you. “you just thought about it, didn’t you?” snapping you out of your flashback daze, you laughed when he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the column of your throat. he smelled like soap, the slight stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. as if your hips had a mind of their own, you grinded your clothed cunt against rafe’s thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the lack of friction.

“hey,” rafe cupped your tits through your flimsy night top, “you thought i wasn’t coming tonight, right? that’s what you said.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion before a gasp slipped from your mouth. “yes..” rafe trailed a hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. “so why don’t you have any panties on?” you froze, eyes flickering down to where rafe ran a finger between your folds. keening, you couldn’t help the moan from leaving your lips.

rafe stared at you for a moment, his eyes growing dark as he clamped a hand over your mouth. “i’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. ‘think you can stay quiet for me?” of course you couldn’t.. and rafe knew that. you stared at him with wide eyes, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took himself out of his pants. “i mean it. we don’t want your old man chasing me down with that shotgun of his, now do we?” you shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

you shrieked, his hips rolling into yours as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt. if it wasn’t for rafe’s hand muffling your scream you’re sure both of you would be in deep trouble right now. rafe rested his head on your pillow, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he started thrusting. feeling his weight on top of you like this had easily become your favorite thing, the closeness of it all made your heart sing. “fuck, i could never get used to this.. ‘feels like the first time all the time.” he grunted.

you held onto his wrist, your thighs hugging his waist as he kissed the side of your face. “taking me so fuckin’ good, you were made for me, yeah?” you whined, your eyes watering as rafe continuously hit that soft spot inside of you. your headboard started hitting the wall, a smirk gracing your boyfriend’s features. “rafe!” you whispered, tearing his hand away from your face. “s-slow down!” you attempted to push him away while simultaneously trying to keep your noises to yourself.

rafe picked up his pace, wrapping a hand around your throat. “can’t..” you shook your head, your chest rising and falling as the knocking of your headboard only got louder. rafe cursed under his breath when you cried out, working fast to get you turned over so he could push your head into the pillows. “what did i tell you?!” he scolded, landing a smack to your ass. you didn’t have any time to react to the stinging sensation on your backside, your orgasm washing over you once rafe started stroking your clit.

you fisted the sheets underneath you, biting down on your lip as white hot pleasure blinded your vision. rafe made no attempt to soothe you, instead he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. “sweetheart?” you gasped when your father’s voice sounded from the other side of your bedroom door. you cleared your throat, frozen in place as your door knob rattled. “answer him.” rafe spoke in your ear, his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“what?!” you stammered, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as rafe continued to rub hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “answer him or i’ll make you scream.” you wanted to shoot a sassy ‘you already did’, but you didn’t dare chance it. your chin wobbled, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “y-yes?!” you called out, glaring at rafe over your shoulder when the sound of his hips slamming into you bounced off of the walls. “you alright in there?” you bit the back of your hand, your head falling weakly.

“is this a girl thing or somethin’, should i call your aunt?” your cheeks heated, a chuckle sounding from the man behind you. “no! i’m o-okay!” rafe pulled your hair again, his lips close to your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. “what would your pops think, huh? catching his perfect little angel getting fucked like this..” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your knees slipping out from under you when rafe pushed you flat on your sheets.

“alright.. goodnight!” you ignored your father’s voice, the only thing your brain allowing you to process was rafe cumming inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips. “shittt,” he hissed, “son of a— fuck!” it was his turn to cover his mouth, his muscles constricting as you practically milked him for all he had. you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up, the thick ropes still connecting you two even after he pulled out.

you sighed, both you and rafe panting in the small space that was your room. “you okay, doll?” rafe kneeled down at your side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. blinking at him, you nodded before pulling him next to you. “it’s really late..” you yawned, glancing at the little clock on your bedside table. “i know.” rafe grumbled. there was nothing he hated more than having to leave you like this. wrapping his arms around your waist, rafe waited until you fell asleep slipping out of your window again.

[milktiicup]

H-h-hey.. senpai… I was wondering if you could make more about Mr Crawling! (I LOVEDDD YOUR PREVIOUS FAN FIC ABT HIM) because he’s such a cutie tbh and I love him sm so I was wondering maybe if you could make something about how he would react to the reader spending more time with someone else (coworker preferably!)

Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do this..!

(Can I be 🦁 anon?)

the jealous type!

His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ omg my first anon >.< ofc u can be 🦁 anon!!!!

warnings. more fluff/comfort hehe, spoilers for end04

It’s late when you return home. If it was any other day, you’d be scheming around the streets with your crowbar- but life is different now. 

You have a commitment at home. Your new roommate… boyfriend? thing. It’s almost as routine as having a pet; coming home, giving him a pat on the head, giving him his completely normal legally obtained soup and ending the day snuggled up on the sofa with him at your feet. 

Sure, he’s the one who came with you all the way from that other world and didn’t have any friends here, but does that mean you can’t? It’s not like you could bring Mr. Crawling with you to work, or after work drinks with your coworkers. Normal people can still see him, after all. He’s just… a little hard for other people to notice- you picked up on that when your parents dropped by on an impromptu visit one evening.

When you kick your shoes off when you come in through the front door, you feel guilty. You can tell he’s a bit down- of course, Mr. Crawling still tackled greeted you with his overzealous, unnecessarily over the top hug. 

“You return!” he says, every time without fail. 

“I return,” you reply, petting his head, but something feels off. He doesn’t let go immediately, and his usual enthusiasm is muted.

Mr. Crawling pauses, his face stuffed into your neck. You quirk a brow, curiously eyeing him as he takes a big sniff of your skin and clothes. His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

Is he the jealous type? Wow, and since when was his sense of smell so good?

“You can smell my friend?” you blink at him, cringing as you feel a knot in your stomach. You try to explain, “Uhm… someone else… uhhhh… my friend.”

“Other friend?” Mr. Crawling frowns, sitting back on his feet, the space between you growing slightly colder.

You pull yourself up from the floor, careful to meet his uncertain gaze. “Other friend,” you confirm.

“Friend… same me?”

You sigh, wishing this language was more descriptive. It’s hard to explain something so complex when neither of you really understands it fully. You tap your fingers nervously against your leg, thinking. “I don’t understand…” you sigh, the weight of the misunderstanding settling on you. “They’re human.”

Mr. Crawling’s frown only grows deeper. He shakes his head, and scoots himself closer to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hair falling over the both of you as if trying to shield you from everything outside of your house. “Friend like this?” 

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a content sigh. “Not like this, Crawling.”

“You one. You me two. Not like three.” His grip tightens around you, pulling you as close as he possibly can, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Me like you. Worry… not like me. Gone long time… Smell someone else.”

You pull back slightly, feeling the pressure of his arms around you. He’s not just possessive, he’s scared. You stretch your arms out. “Like you. Big like. See? This much!” You hold your hands closer together, parallel to each other. “Friend ok. Little like. Understand?”

You chuckle lightly, but the soft pang in your chest makes you pause. “You get it now, Crawling?” you mumble. You reach up and scratch his head absently, a familiar gesture that seems to soothe both of you. “Uhm… when I leave, I go to work. You know work, right?” He nuzzles into your palm, and you just assume he does, for the time being. “Work friend! Not important. You important. You, uh… you understand me?”

“Me understand,” he murmurs into your palm, his cool lips tickling the skin. “Smell bad… Me only like you. You smell good."

"I know you like me, Crawling. I like you, too."

He lets out a satisfied hum, his body relaxing again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s truly getting it—or if he just likes the idea of being yours as much as you like the idea of him being yours. He pulls your head closer to his chest, and that’s when you decide you don’t really need to build rapport with your coworkers that much, not when you have a cute ghost waiting for you back at home.

[kateschi]

same book, different chapters

synopsis: an ordinary evening takes a turn when katsuki expresses what you've always known but never expected to hear.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

being with katsuki is a lesson in unspoken understanding. you knew who he is long before you started dating him—loud, brash, and not the type to share his feelings openly.

but it didn’t take long to realize there’s so much more to him than that. his love is quiet, reserved, and shown in the details:

how he pulls you out of the way of a passing car, or how he remembers the smallest things, like your favorite kind of tea or that you prefer your coffee without sugar.

and that is enough for you. mostly.

you didn’t expect him to be the kind of boyfriend who says "I love you" with ease. katsuki isn’t like that. it isn’t something you hold against him either.

but every now and then, a small part of you wonders what it would be like to hear him say it—to hear those three words slip past his lips in the same way they had from yours.

you say it first, a quiet “I love you” in the middle of a peaceful night when the world outside feels still.

his response comes in the shape of hugging you tighter, securing you in his arms. however, he doesn’t say it back, and you don’t expect him to. you don’t need him to.

still, there are times when you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if one day he’ll actually verbalize it.

it isn’t that you doubt his feelings. katsuki isn’t one to waste time on things or people he doesn’t care about.

you know how much he cares by the way he silently takes care of you, always putting you first in his own way, even when his words are rough around the edges.

it’s just that sometimes, words have a way of making things feel more real.

tonight is one of those easy evenings you cherish—one where you don’t have to think too much about anything. the two of you are in your kitchen, making dinner together, though “together” is generous.

you’re doing most of the work while katsuki stands next to you, arms crossed, casting a critical eye over everything you do.

“you’re putting too much salt,” he says, the frown on his face making you smile.

“pretty sure this is the exact amount the recipe says to use,” you reply, amused at how serious he always gets when it comes to food.

“tch, that recipe’s wrong. I could’ve made this better with my eyes closed.”

“then why don’t you?” you tease, turning your head to glance at him. his gaze is sharp as usual, but the small curve in the corner of his lips betrays him.

“maybe I’ll cook next time,” he grumbles, looking away like the very idea of giving in bothers him.

you laugh softly, enjoying the banter. this is something you love about him—how even in these simple moments, his presence fills the space with a sense of ease.

there’s no pressure to be anything other than yourselves, even when his blunt honesty clashes with your more relaxed approach.

as you stir the pot, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander back to the three words. you know katsuki isn’t the type to say things until he’s ready, and you respect that.

but part of you is curious—would it ever come naturally to him, or would it always be something unspoken between the two of you?

still, as you stand there, the warmth of his steady presence beside you, you realize that maybe you’re okay with it remaining unspoken. katsuki shows his love in ways that don’t need words to validate them.

and then, without warning, you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. you freeze for a moment, caught off-guard.

“katsuki?” you ask, your voice soft, as you lean into him instinctively.

he doesn’t answer right away, just holds you there. his touch isn’t hesitant, but it is different from the usual casual touches you’ve grown used to.

“you’re annoying sometimes,” he mutters, voice low in your ear.

you chuckle, relaxing further into his hold. “I know.”

there’s silence for a beat, and then: “but I love you anyway, idiot.”

you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly. you turn your head slightly, trying to see his face, but he buries it against your neck, hiding his expression. “did you just—?”

“don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mumbles, voice suddenly gruff, though you can hear the embarrassment beneath the words.

a smile breaks across your face, warmth spreading through your chest. you didn’t expect it, but that makes it all the more special. he isn’t saying it because the moment demands it.

he isn’t saying it because you’re waiting. he says it because he wants to, because he feels it.

“I’m not,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your happiness bubbles up in your voice. “but…I love you too.”

you feel his grip tighten around you and a kiss pressed to your shoulder.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[piper-2244]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[drunkinyourbenz]

YOU DON'T REALLY NEED A BREAK

☆ SYNOPSIS: in which billie is stressed, so naturally she needs you more than ever. unbenkownst to her, she takes it too far. ☆ PART ONE ☆ RELATIONSHIP: dom!billie eilish x fem!reader ☆ WARNINGS: SMUT, use of safe word, angst, fluff, comfort, mean billie, reader is a little bratty, situationship/fwb, angry sex, crying, strap-on, edging, degradation, petnames, name calling (slut, whore, brat, etc.), choking, hair pulling, humiliation, dumbification, toxic dynamic (except less so because billie's realising things hehe), unedited. ☆ REQUESTED: yes, by a bunch of anons ☆ NOTE: y'all read my mind with these reqeusts i was already thinking of writing a part two abt exactly this and you all had the same idea!! sorry this took so long lmao exams are kicking my ass :/ this is very unedited sorry for any mistakes i read it through once and then posted it lmao read part one first for it to make more sense ☆ WORD COUNT: 3.5k words

billie hadn’t texted you in a little over a week, and you almost thought that she wasn’t ever going to again. the last time you’d seen her had ended like all of the other nights, she’d cleaned you up and then left you alone in the silent hotel room. usually, she’d text afterwards, just to make sure you were feeling okay, but there was nothing. the last text between the two of you was when you’d asked where she was when she was late that night. 

the two of you normally hooked up at least a few times a week, and you’d never actually gone a week without her since you started this four months ago.

you thought the worst: someone else had replaced you as her favourite. you’d always thought it would happen, but you thought you might have a few more times before it was over. but from the looks of it, you weren’t ever going to see her again. 

which was fine, obviously. you didn’t care—or that’s what you kept telling yourself. you had agreed to a no-commitment thing when you two started whatever this was, and she could do whatever she wanted. it stung a little bit that she wasn’t doing you, but ultimately, there was nothing you could do about it. 

so when you got home from a long day, thoroughly exhausted, your plan for the night was to hide in your bed and watch 2000s tv shows until you passed out. you showered, taking your time to wash your hair and feeling your tense and tired muscles relax under the hot stream of water. once out of the shower, you changed into some comfortable clothes, flopping down on your bed in relief. you were ready to finally just cuddle up under the blankets like you’d been wishing you could do all day.

about eleven minutes into the gilmore girls episode you were up to—rewatching for the hundredth time—your phone pinged, and you almost just ignored it, but you picked it up with a groan. 

your eyes widened when you saw it was from billie, the last number you expected to text. your heart almost skipped a beat.

billie: come over?

you paused for a moment, conflicted. you truly were exhausted, and it had been such a long day, and all you wanted to do was sleep, you honestly weren’t in the mood for what you knew billie would want. but… it was billie. 

so, inevitably, you ended up at her door. you were still in the clothes you’d changed into the moment you got home, just some comfortable sweatpants and a top—billie wouldn’t care about what you wore, she wanted you to be comfortable. plus, you knew full well that you wouldn’t be wearing them for long. 

you knocked on the door, and it opened within mere seconds, almost as if billie had been waiting by the door for you to show up. from the look on her face, you wouldn’t be surprised. she looked stressed, angry, and desperate. you looked her up and down, your eyes settling on her face. she was wearing a pretty similar outfit to you, sweatpants that hung low on her hips, the “HIT ME HARD AND SOFT” waistband of her boxers peeking out, and a white tank top that you could see the slight hint of her nipples peeking through. her arms were bare and your eyes seemed to gravitate towards the toned muscles there, which never failed to make your brain short circuit. paired with the noticeable outline of her strap in her pants, it was almost too much for you to take. 

you noticed the way her eyebrows were slightly furrowed and her eyes were narrowed in a firm gaze, the frustration was clear on her face. “rough day?” 

she groaned, and when she spoke, her voice had a slight rasp to it, “you have no idea.” 

the two of you fell into silence, just staring at each other for a few long moments. it wasn’t a comfortable silence, it was one that hung in the air around you, a claustrophobic silence. there were words left unspoken between the two of you that poked their heads around the corner but never truly revealed itself, it left you wondering when it would snap, but it never did. the two of you stared at each other for what felt like lifetimes, you waiting for billie to do something, and billie simply savouring the feeling of having you in front of her again. 

finally, she spoke, her voice still holding that same raspiness—which alone could get you on your knees for her. “it’s pathetic that you’re here so fast, considering i ghosted you for a week. you’re just a desperate slut for me, aren’t you? not that you’d be good for anything else.”

the bluntness of her words sent a chill down your spine, this was exactly what you’d expected. why else would billie text you after a week of not talking, if not to use her favourite girl? 

billie continued talking before you could even get a word in, it was like she’d read your thoughts. she leaned closer, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke, “you know i could just call over any of my girls and they’d be here in a heartbeat, and they’d be exactly the same. pathetic, desperate, and begging.”

you raised an eyebrow at her words. you knew what she was doing, trying to wind you up, get you to act out. you had honestly intended to just be her good girl tonight because you were so tired, but you knew she adored it when you acted up. so you spoke with the bratty tone you knew she loved.

“sure you could. but none of them are here now, are they? you called me.” 

the brattiness, especially when she was in a mood like this, made her eyes light up. your brattiness was her favourite thing, she loved it when you gave her an excuse to be harsher and meaner than she was on a normal day. so, when you talked back to her, she lets out a dark laugh. “don’t fuckin’ test me, mama.” 

you let a soft scoff fall past your lips, “or what?” 

“you know i’ll put you in your place, i’ve done it before.” and then you realised, this was what set you apart. this was why you were her favourite. you weren’t afraid to act up, so she didn’t have to be afraid of taking it too far. she could push you, because you pushed her. “maybe you should. you want to blow off steam, don’t you?”

at your words, her lips twitched upwards into a slight, barely noticeable smirk. you knew she would be taking them as a challenge, “you’re gonna have to drop the bratty attitude eventually, mamas.”

“maybe you should make me.”

that was exactly what she wanted—she wanted you to keep going, keep winding her up. she wanted you to give her a reason to pin you down and tear you apart; and you gave her that reason with that simple suggestion.

she took your wrist in her hand, her grip almost painful as she tugged you behind her to her bedroom. the air felt different than it normally did when you were here, everything felt so tense. her entire body language screamed irritated, dominant. but it wasn’t the normal kind of dominance she normally exuded. billie always had this kind of casual dominance that just hung around her, her presence was just effortlessly assertive. this is different, she had a look in her eyes you hadn’t seen before—she was always mean, but this was her normal level of mean times ten. 

she was clearly in a whole new headspace, not one you were familiar with. this wasn’t just dominant, wasn’t just mean, no, it was something else. she wasn’t just a little stressed, she didn’t just have a little bit of frustration she needed to take out on you, this was worse. it was an almost animalistic kind of energy, one that’s so raw, so intense, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk by the time she was finished with you.

she took one of the belts from her merch from her dresser, shoving you backwards onto the bed and tying your hands to the headboard. she tugged it slightly, making sure it was firm but not too tight. it sent a rush of excitement through you, and you knew she felt the same. 

“gonna use you, mamas,” you knew from those words that she was going to absolutely ruin you, and you could tell by the look in her eyes.

sure enough, no more than five minutes later, she had her strap deep inside of you and was pounding into you at a bruising pace. the strap was bigger than the one she usually used, and it made you ache with a constant stinging pain. she hadn’t given you any time to adjust, and had started as she meant to go on. you were naked and on her bed, with her on top of you, fucking into you at a brutal pace. your hands were still tied up with her belt and the ache it brought only amplified the pleasure. one of her hands had your hair in a firm grasp, solely to make you feel the sting of pain it brought. she wanted to bring you to tears. her other hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it before letting her hand fall down on your ass in a harsh slap. 

the intense pleasure of her cock inside you and her finger circling your clit was a perfect contrast to the pain her hands brought you, and a trail of moans fell from your lips. “b-billie-” 

a mean, almost cruel laugh left her lips, “god, you’re such a slut.” another slap landed on your ass, “it’s pathetic, really. i mean, i can ghost you for as long as i want,” another slap. “and you’re still at my door in five minutes as soon as i ask.” slap, “pathetic fuckin’ whore.” 

you whined, which simply made her laugh. in her own sadistic way, she was enjoying this. 

this continued for what felt like hours—maybe it was, you had no idea. every time you got slightly close to your orgasm, she’d pull out, tugging you away from the edge. by now, you had tears rolling down your cheeks, and the fine line between pleasure and pain was slowly but surely being crossed. 

“fuckin’ take it,” she breathed. “god, you look so dumb around my cock. all you’re good for, hm? spreading your legs and taking it like the slut you are?”

you whimpered, and she simply slapped your ass again. 

this continued for much longer, and she wasn’t even mad at you for being bratty, not in the slightest. she just needed an outlet for her bad mood, and that was what you were. merely a way for her to release her frustrations. 

you let out a choked sob, your body trembling, “billie, please, i can’t—” 

you knew she wasn’t doing this because she had anything against you, there had been something deeply wrong with her day. she had never been this downright cruel before, and you knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t act like this without reason. but it was too much, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. she hadn’t asked for your colour even once tonight, and that thought alone was putting you on edge. sure, her being rough turned you on, but right now it was scaring you just as much. this was darker than you’d experienced in all four months of your friends with benefits situation with her, and you weren’t sure if you liked it. 

you felt the strap hit your most sensitive spot, and you let out a sound that was a mix of a moan and a sob. “billie–” 

“like being used by me, yeah? taking everything i give you like a slut?”

you weren’t sure when you realised that you actually weren’t enjoying it anymore, but it was obvious all of a sudden. it hurt, and not in a good way. you were exhausted from both your day and the sheer amount of time she’d been edging you for. the way your arms had been tied to the bed for so long was making them ache painfully, and at some point down the line, your tears of pleasure had turned into tears of pain. 

you normally had the safety net of knowing that she was paying attention to your signals, knowing that she didn’t want to hurt you. but it didn’t even feel like she was aware of what she was doing, she was so caught up in herself and drowning out her own frustrations. you hated that lack of awareness, it was like she wouldn’t even notice if she actually hurt you. 

she looked like she was about to speak again, so before she could get out another degrading comment, you gasped out, “red, billie–”

whatever half formed sentence billie had been about to say died on her tongue, your gasped words making her freeze inside of you. her mind suddenly went silent, her frustrated thoughts about her day coming to a halt as she looked down at you with wide, almost scared eyes. you’d never actually used your safeword—obviously it was something that the two of you had communicated, but billie had never expected to actually go too far, to push you to that. she was meant to check in on your colours, and she felt an intense pang of guilt when she realised that she hadn’t done that. 

as she looked at you, noticing the tears and the exhausted expression, as well as the way your wrists were visibly sore from being tied for so long, she felt a sense of dread. she was overcome with shame and she didn’t know what to do about it. her breath caught in her throat as she processed what was going on.

“shit, i’m so sorry.” after a moment, she shook herself out of her paralysed shock, she would’ve pulled out immediately, but she was aware that that would just hurt you even more. so she leaned over, quickly untying the belt around your wrists and letting it fall to the ground beside the bed. she massaged your wrists gently for a moment, trying to soothe you. 

her hands moved over your tense muscles, trying to ease some of the soreness. she brushed some of your hair out of your eyes, her touch soft and cautious. “i-i’m so sorry, baby. i never wanted to push you that far.”

you knew that. you knew that she would never actually intend to hurt you, you knew that she wasn’t herself. you didn’t need her to over explain herself, you just needed her to hold you. the hand that had been pushing your hair out of your eyes moved to stroke your cheek, and you could see the intense guilt in her eyes. 

“i’m gonna pull out now, okay?” her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, eyes fixed on your face. 

you simply nodded, hissing slightly in pain as she gently pulled the strap out of you. billie felt her stomach twist at your obvious pain, knowing that she had done that. “i know, i’m so sorry.”

once she was out of you, she climbed off you and gently shifted you so you were sitting further up the bed, propped up on the pillows slightly. her mind was clearly racing with what she could do to help, “do you need anything? water, food, whatever?”

you shook your head softly. if your brain hadn’t been so exhausted, you probably would have thought more rationally about this. but you didn’t, and you didn’t once consider the limited affection in your dynamic. “can you just hold me?” 

billie didn’t hesitate, she just nodded instantly. “yeah, of course i can.” she joined you further up the bed, pulling you into her arms. she held you against her chest gently, her fingers soothingly running through your hair while her hand rubbed your back softly. 

you could hear her heartbeat, it was fast and a clear reminder of how stressed she was. you spoke softly, “it’s okay, seriously.”

but it wasn’t okay, not to billie. she had hurt you, she had pushed you too far, even when you were already clearly tired. she should’ve known better, and the guilt was weighing down from her and eating her up from the inside. not to mention she was terrified that this might be your last straw, that you might never want to see her again, that she might have broken your trust. wondering why she cared so much about her casual fling’s feelings was something that would have left her perplexed on any other day, but it was not currently at the forefront of her mind. “but–”

“it’s okay.” you said firmly, “i wouldn’t be asking you to hold me if i was uncomfortable around you.” 

those words seemed to ease billie’s nerves slightly, and she tightened her arms around you, holding you close. after a few minutes of this, she gently pulled you to sit in your lap, and you shifted so that your head was buried in the crook of her neck. you could feel her breathing on your skin, and you could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath. it was incredibly grounding, the feeling of just being close to her. ever so slowly, you felt your breathing calm and your heart rate slow down. 

at least an hour passed as you were just laying there in her arms, your breathing syncing with hers as her fingers ran through your hair. it was a foreign thing, for the two of you to be this close without sex, but it felt so right. it was like you were made to be in her arms, despite the situation that had brought you here. you could sense her guilt, and if you’d been a bit more aware of what was going on, you probably would’ve realised that there was something more behind that guilt—something deeper than just feeling bad for pushing you. but you were unaware, it wasn’t really what took place at the front of your mind. 

the room was filled with only the sound of both of you breathing, and your mind was taken over by the calming feeling of her playing with your hair. after a while, she broke the silence. “d’you wanna borrow something to wear?” 

you couldn’t deny that you liked the feeling of this skin to skin contact, but you also knew that it was a good idea. so you nodded quietly, and she delicately lifted you off her lap and set you down on the bed. she walked over and grabbed you an oversized t-shirt to wear, and she walked into the ensuite to grab a damp cloth. she came back over and gently wiped your thighs with the cloth, at this point you didn’t flinch too much because it had been so long. she held out the t-shirt, which you recognised as one she had worn at some point.

“arms up, darling.” that was a new pet name, but you didn’t comment. instead, you just lifted your arms and allowed her to slip the top over your head. it smelt like her, which somehow just added to the comfort. 

soon enough, she was back on the bed and you were back in her arms. she was laying down and you were laying with her, partly on top of her and partly just cuddled up to her side. this hadn’t happened before between the two of you, but you certainly weren’t complaining. her bed was comfortable, and her arms around you felt like a cocoon you never wanted to grow out of. 

gradually, your breathing started to slow as the exhaustion caught up on you, both from the recent events and your already tiring day. your head slumped onto her shoulder as a yawn fell from your lips, to which billie smiled softly. 

“do you want to stay the night?” 

that was not something you’d ever expected billie to say, but you hummed softly against her shoulder. “if that’s okay, yeah.”

you could’ve sworn you heard a sigh of relief from billie, “of course it’s okay, please stay. i want you to stay.” 

and so you did. you stayed that night, wrapped up in billie’s arms. it was so new, but it felt so right. that night had been an irreversible shift in your relationship, for both obvious reasons and more hidden ones. you knew that the two of you would have to talk about some stuff in the morning, and you knew you’d have to set some more boundaries. but you also felt closer to her than you ever had, somehow. 

little did you know, that night was just as  meaningful for billie as it was for you. she had had a revelation, one that she would likely keep to herself for a while, although there was no doubt you would find out eventually. 

but there was no doubt that billie wanted you to stay, longer than she’d ever thought.

[c0ffeejelly1]

No Nut November

Multiple character headcannons

Authors note: this is the only November post y’all r getting so hahahahahhaahah. I rushed this just today so say thank you. Bye bye. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: kinda suggestive but like y’all don’t do anything.

“You know what time of month it is, right baby?”

You asked your boyfriend, all while adjusting your makeup in mirror a cheeky smile on your face taking a quick glance at him sitting down on your bed watching you intensely.

“…it’s not our anniversary, is it?” He asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“What? No, I’m talking about it being November…y’know? No Nut November?”

He visibly shifts in his seat. He knew what you were going to ask him.

“you think you can last the month? Im willing to bet on it.”

The type to not even last a day

“Man that’s light work! I could easily last a month if I wanted to—"

He failed.

“Okay but it’s not my fault. Y-you decided to wear that out, not me!”

“You say it like I purposely did it to make you lose..”

“Because you did!”

He’s not accepting the fact that he lost on the day you challenged him.

Do you know how embarrassing that is?

Imagine how badly he’s gonna get teased by all his mates if they ever find out he couldn’t help but bust one on you!

“You better keep this between just us..”

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who started tearing off your clothes and tossing them aside?

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who pleaded for just a few minutes to enjoy you?

Should he really be saying that when—

“Why’re you looking at me like that!”

You were looking at him like he was an idiot. You really couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Was it really that bad he didn’t last that long?

I mean it’s sort of flattering to you, seeing that your boyfriend could get so turned on from just you wearing a nice outfit.

“Because you just sound stupid why can’t you admit you lost and call it a day?” You huff.

“Because it doesn’t count!”

He pouts, crossing his arms in annoyance, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he turns away from you on the bed where you both lay bare, slick with each other’s essences from your prior…activities.

“And it’s stupid. This whole no nut November nonsense is stupid! I mean who would even come up with that kind of torture? why would someone want to restrict themselves from such a bliss that-"

You spend the rest of that evening listening to the poor guy complaining about how November is a stupid month.

Characters: REIGEN, Tenegn, Eren, Reiner, Hinata, Oikawa, BOKUTO, MAMMON, Leviathan, ASMODEUS, ITTO, kaeya, RAFAYEL (any character you like)

The type to last a week

“You sure you wanna bet on that? Y’know before we started dating I wasn’t the kind of guy who needed Intimacy in their life…"

He totally regrets saying those things because now they’re just gnawing at him.

This is all your fault, you hear him?

You- you did something to him okay?

Never in his life has he felt so…so…

Vulnerable?

Jesus, this was suppose to be a walk in the park so why do you suddenly look so...sexy?

You were just watching TV, but the way you curled up on the couch made your thighs press together in a way that was hard to ignore.

And that shirt of yours?

It was barely hanging on your shoulder, giving him a peek at your bra strap, while your hand rested on your stomach, revealing just enough skin.

Damn, even the way you bit your lips without realizing it was driving him wild—he couldn’t handle a whole month of this!

He was so caught up in you that he didn’t even notice how his body was inching closer.

It wasn’t until you turned to him, your noses almost touching, that he realized it.

Did you eyes always look so beautiful?

And your lips…they never looked this soft before.

“..you’re so gorgeous baby, is this some kind of punishment?..”

He gently cups your cheek, his lips almost brushing against yours when suddenly—

“What are you doing?”

This snaps him out of his trance before a deep blush spread across his face.

“I-I..I dunno? You just- well I thought…”

Yeah he sure as hell was thinking.

Thinking of all the ways he could have you!

He lets out a small whine, his brows knitting together in frustration.

“Can we just…not do this challenge anymore…please?”

I mean if he’s talking to you like that, who are you to say no?

Besides you could always just…edge him a lil right?

Characters: REIGEN (again), SERIZAWA, Rengoku, Armin, Jean, BOKUTO (again), CHOSO, Beelzebub, DIAVOLO, ITTO (again), Thoma, LIAOS (any character you like)

The type to barely last the whole month

“Why would you want to do that? We both know you’re not gonna make it."

“Well the challenge is for you! Not me!”

“...but my point still stands.”

His point sure as hell did stand and it hurt you to admit that he was right!

Already 17 days in and he hadn’t budged an inch.

How was this man still going??

You even tried to sabotage him, sitting on his lap only for him to laugh and gently push you off.

Kissing up his neck with your arms around his waist while he made dinner only for him to ask you to grab some spices.

Even you making crude dirty jokes, only for him to blush slightly and brush you off!

This was just getting ridiculous and now you were looking like the needy one!

“For someone who wanted me to take on this challenge, it seems like you’re the one feeling it the most.”

You shoot him a glare.

You were annoyed he was right.

Annoyed that he could still tease you, fully damn aware of what you wanted!

“You can hold out for another 13 days can’t you, sweetheart? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

What you didn’t realize was that these last few days were weighing on your boyfriend too.

He was doing a great job of hiding it when you were around, but when he was alone—

“Shit…”

He slammed his fist against the bathroom wall at work a growing tightness forming in his pants.

You just loved to tease, didn’t you?

Couldn’t you see this was driving him crazy too?

And to think you could send him such…things while he’s at work!

“Damn this…”

He was going to get his revenge; mark his words. Once this month wraps up, he was going to have his way with you.

And so he did yippee!! 😈

Characters: Giyuu, Kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, kuroo, IWAIZUMI, Akaashi, Ushijima, SUNA, Osamu, Geto, NANAMI, Lucifer, Satan, SOLOMON, Ayato, DILUC, Neuvillette, Writhoesley, ZHONGLI, Sylus, Zayne (any character you like)

The type to say they lasted the whole month (he jerked off)

“Babe come on, we both know I have some self restraint when it comes to you.”

“Do we?”

He shoots you a sharp look.

“Yes. We do. And I find it quite offensive you don’t believe I can last a simple 30 days without sex-"

You had to break it to him he couldn’t touch himself.

“I-I can’t?!”

Sure it was a lil surprising to him to hear that he couldn’t flick his tip and buss one little nut, but hey!

That wasn’t going to stop him!

I mean how would you ever find out he touched himself if you weren’t there, huh?

Simple as that!

“You’re...strangely happy today...something good happen?”

A few days had gone by since the challenge started, and November was finally winding down, which felt like a relief after those tough days.

The main reason for the struggle was your boyfriend’s constant whining about how his “body craved some kind of touch—anything!”

Now all of a sudden he’s happy days and roses.

You were suspicious.

“Who wouldn’t be? 30 days of war are finally over! Told you I could last.”

You give him a weird look.

It was almost too obvious that he had done something. That smirk was unmistakable—the same one he wore when he knew he’d crossed a line!

The same one he flashed when he’s trying to keep his secrets under wraps!

“You failed didn’t you.”

“W-what! Where’d ya get that idea?”

He finally admits to you after a while of back and forth he failed a few days after the night you challenged him.

At least he lasted a week in?

Characters: Dimple, Sanemi, TENGEN, Connie, Nishinoya, Ukai, Tendou, ATSUMU, GOJO, Toji, MAMMON (again), Belphagor, CHILDE, kaeya (again), CHILCHUCK, Rafayel (again) (any character you like)

[julymusings]

will you hold me instead, and tell me that it's over now?

i look forward to a little me and you, so now i hope that you don't tell me that it's over

or; patching jason up after an intense mission [2.1k]

jason todd x fem!reader; angst/fluff; brief mentions of human trafficking and allusion to murder (he's talking about how the mission went); mention of his scars; jason being insecure & thinking he's not good enough😞; description of injuries and the first aid applied to them (please do not take anything as actual medical advice); this is me hard-launching my physical touch x touch starved!jason agenda

You don’t know how early it is when you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, just that it’s too early. It’s not like you could sleep anyway; you spent the night drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, too worried to let yourself relax. You always got like this when Jason went away on missions. Several days, and sometimes even weeks, spent anxiously anticipating the state in which he would return home—you haven’t been able to get a manicure since before you met him.

You’re still a little delirious when a hand ghosts up your arm, stirring you from your half-sleep. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and register the sight in front of you. Your boyfriend is on one knee on the floor in front of you, brushing strands of hair out of your face with endearing eyes.

“There she is,” he says when you lift your head off the pillow and reach out to him. He catches your hand and kisses your fingertips, spreading a warmth up your arm that combats the midnight chill. You push yourself up to a sitting position, and he takes the opportunity to cup his hands around your face and bring you in for a kiss.

“Missed you,” you mumble against him, and his lips curve upwards against yours.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” His mouth travels up from yours towards your temple, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake. Your palms, pressed flat against his chest, slide up to loop around his neck. He tenses, choking back a strained grunt. But you catch it.

You pull back abruptly. “Are you hurt?” Your eyes frantically dart around, scanning his entire body. Now fully alert, you reach over to the bedside table and switch the lamp on.

“’s just a bruise, baby, I’m fine.” A hand comes up to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. But with newly unobstructed vision, you can see more than just a bruise. He has a busted lip, a shallow gash on his temple, and splotches of purple and red peeking out of his shirt collar.

“You’re bleeding, Jason,” you chastise him, getting up off the bed.

He stands alongside you with a huff. “It’s nothing,” he sighs. “Doesn’t even hurt.” But when you take his hand and start pulling him to the bathroom, he follows without argument. You lead Jason to sit down on the edge of the tub and fetch the first aid kit from under the sink, setting it down next to him on the bathtub ledge. You stand between his legs, your positions making you a half-head taller than him. He gazes up at you and for the first time tonight you notice how dark and deep the skin under his eyes is.

“Off,” you order, dragging up the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it off, wincing when it requires him to lift his bruised arm.

“Someone’s eager,” he muses, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner. It earns him a swat on the arm; he grunts loudly and doubles over in pain.

You gasp. “Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I—”

But when he looks up, it’s with a coy smirk and a twinkle in his eye. You swat him again.

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t help the slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Why didn’t you take care of this earlier? Alfred wasn’t at the manor to help you?”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “Don’t know. Came straight here.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” You ask.

He looks at you blankly, as if to say, don’t you know who you’re talking to?

You sigh, exasperated. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jason. What if ended up becoming serious? And you didn’t make it here in time? What if—” 

He interrupts your doom spiral by pressing a finger to your lips. “I know, honey, I’m sorry. But I wanted to see you.”

You sigh. There’s a sadness to it, one that comes from familiarity with the fact that he does not care for himself as much as he should—as much as he deserves. But there are no words to make him believe it that you haven’t tried, so all you do is lean your forehead against his, hoping he can hear what you're not saying. You need him to hear you.

“You’re not sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m not,” he whispers back.

You start with his shoulder, which was decidedly not ‘just a bruise,’ but actually several bruises, all clumped together to form one giant Franken-bruise that covered his entire shoulder. It gets rubbed with ointment and you’re not sure who it pains more, because while you’re spilling out frantic apologies as you try to speed through it, Jason is white-knuckling the edge of the tub with a wad of gauze between his teeth. 

His lip doesn’t require any medical attention, but he insists you kiss it better anyway, and who are you to deny him? 

You tend to his temple last, but he’s antsy now. His leg bounces up and down, one hand is drumming its fingers on the tub, and the other is fiddling with the loose threads that hang from the hem of your shirt; you have to scold him into sitting still.

“Where’s the dermabond?” You ask, sifting through the contents of the first aid kid.

“Used it up last month, remember? After you just had to feed that fuckin’ squirrel.” His voice is gruff at the recollection. “Should be a new pack under the sink.”

You fetch the new box, picking at the plastic wrapping. “Can you blame me? He was so cute.”

“Yeah, was. Until that greedy fucker decided he wanted the whole picnic.” Jason sees you struggling with the plastic covering and takes it from you, breaks it open, then hands it back. “Bastard.”

You giggle. “You know, you could’ve just let him have the cupcake. It wasn’t worth risking rabies for.” You fish out the glass tube of surgical glue, tossing its cardboard box aside.

“‘Course it was. My girl wanted red velvet, she should get her red velvet.” Jason’s hands finally rest on the backs of your bare thighs, squeezing them lightly. He grins when that makes you let out a little squeak.

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth flowing in your veins that courses from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. “My hero,” you muse with a smile.

There’s a pause. Then:

“I’m not a hero,” he responds. His tone is still light, but his eyes feel far away.

You start to clean the blood from the wound, which has since clotted and dried, with a saline-soaked cotton pad. He stares at you while you clean and then close the cut with the glue. And when you finish, supplies set aside and glue cured, he’s still staring. His eyes are traveling all over your face, taking in each feature, committing every ridge, every angle, every pore, every freckle to memory. The light-hearted teasing demeanor from mere moments ago is long gone. You're a deer caught in emerald headlights.

You recognize this shift. You noticed hints of it since he arrived home, but assumed it was just due to the pain. Now it’s obvious that there’s more. It’s the same shift that comes when the news becomes a circus, or when he stares at his scars in the mirror for too long.

His hands slide up your body slowly, reverently. One stops at your waist while the other continues, blazing a trail up your ribcage, over the side of your breast. He pauses at your shoulder for a split second, squeezing the flesh every so gently before continuing up your neck. His thumb drags across your collarbone, brushing against the spot that always lights up your senses and parts your lips in a breathy sigh. He stops when he reaches your face. He cups your cheek. Your hand covers his and you lean into his hold, the stroke of your small, soft fingers juxtaposing the rough callouses of his knuckles. You stay here for a moment before turning to press your lips to his palm once, twice, thrice, four times, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

“What is it, Jason?” Your hands come to cradle his neck before dragging up to his hair, and his move to wrap around your torso and pull you closer into him. You place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I’m not a hero,” he says again, softer.

“Jay,” you whisper. “You know that’s not true.”

He says nothing, only heaving a heavy sigh and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You’re content to stand like this, to simply hold him and graze your nails against his scalp for as long as he needs while he inhales the comforting scent of your skin.

After what could have been one minute or twenty, he pulls back to look up at you. He looks exhausted. “It was a human trafficking case,” he says. “They knew we were closing in on ‘em, so we had to act fast. They were…trying to…” He trails off, unsure how to put it in words delicate enough to spare you. He breaks eye contact. “Destroy the evidence,” he finishes.

You don’t respond. Despite the heavy silence that follows this admission, you know he’s not done. It takes another several minutes of stroking fingers and feather-light hairline kisses to coax it out of him.

“There was a woman. She…we didn’t—“ His voice cracks. “I didn’t get there in time.”

“Oh, honey.” You run your palm over his forehead, pushing back his thick waves. His eyelids slide down over glassy irises as he sinks into your touch. You lean down to press your lips to his forehead. “You know that’s not your fault,” you whisper. He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“But if I’d just—”

“No, Jason.” You grip his face between your palms. He opens his eyes at the sudden sternness. “But nothing. You did everything you possibly could—”

“You don’t know that,” he interrupts.

“I do know that. I know because you are always doing everything you can. For me, and for everyone in this city. And I know that it wasn’t just you on that mission. Do you blame anyone else for what happened?”

He says nothing, but his eyes are welling with tears.

“You saved so many other people, Jason. You are a hero, and you know that. You have to know that.” Some of his tears spill over, but you brush your thumbs across his cheeks and kiss them away.

He pulls you onto his lap so your legs are straddled over his and rests his head against your sternum. His arms squeeze impossibly tight around your waist, but you don’t say anything. When his shoulders tremble and you feel the dampness on the front of your shirt, you still don’t say anything. And when he places a hand on the back of your head to pull you in for a hard, searing kiss that leaves you both breathless, you don’t say anything. You just look at him, at how pretty he is, and hope that he can hear you.

The sounds of buzzing echo in from the next room. To your dismay, he turns away, towards the direction of your phones. “I should get that,” he says. His voice is hollow. “It’s probably the bats wanting to know where I am. They’ll send a search party if I don’t check in.”

He’s about to move you off his lap, but you stop him. “In a minute, Jay.”

Jason’s forehead crinkles. You use your thumb to smooth it out.

“Please?” You breathe out. “Just let me look at you a little longer. I love looking at you.”

He relaxes back into his seat. And you keep looking at him. At his beautifully rosy cheeks and shining eyes, his puffed lips. The scar that runs diagonally down his slightly crooked nose.

It’s dawn now; the tangerine beginnings of sunrise elicit a soft glow that spills through the window. Jason takes it all in. The two of you together in the home you share, arms around each other, your face all honeyed and beautiful in the light.

And you know he can hear you.

love when you guys leave messages/feedback it really brightens up my day<3

divider is from here

[dirty-dirty-muggle]

Okay I’ve been thinking about this because I recently came back to HP fandom after being away for nearly a decade and things aren’t how they used to be. Now, I’ve been in HP fandom spaces since the early 00s (yes, i’m old) and it’s weird to me coming back how much pro/anti stuff there is and how much division there seems to be around different characters and ships. I find it incredibly sad and disheartening.

I don’t remember any of this occurring when I left fandom or before, and it honestly feels completely counter to what I believe fan spaces are supposed to be, which is for sharing love and excitement. What I remember of the majority of HP fandom of old is people liked what they liked, shared what they loved, and ignored what they didn’t. If they were discussing not liking something, it was presented as personal opinion or an essay for open discussion, not a denigrating attack against anyone who thinks or likes differently. If you commented negatively on someone’s fanwork, or harassed someone for their fave character or ship, or went on lengthy anti-tirades, you were considered an asshole or a weirdo.

At the end of the day, we are talking about FANTASY. Why does it matter if someone loves a character or ship you don’t? Fandom is about fiction and that means it’s intended to be somewhere we can explore things we can’t irl, to enjoy things just for the sake of enjoying them. Fandom is supposed to be a safe, communal space.

It’s a sad reflection of the world at large, in my opinion, and hoo-boy do I wish more people would self-reflect why other people enjoying things they don’t makes them feel insecure and why they feel the need to be so hateful and angry—and then go get some therapy. The world isn’t black and white, and one of the best parts about fandom spaces is how diverse they are, because it means you can always find someone else who loves what you love.

So please, go love your favourite characters and ships, and let others do the same. We’re all better off for it.

(And if you would like a much smarter and more in depth explanation of “it’s fantasy and fiction so let people like and write what they want” along with a brilliant discussion on fantasy and sex more generally, I leave you with this video essay by Contrapoints on Twilight.)

Uh- are you aware of the meaning of proship?

Proship has never meant anything except a combination of three ideas:

Ship and let ship (your ships don't harm me and vice-versa) and YKINMK (your kink is not my kink, and that's okay; my kink stories don't harm you and vice-versa)

Harassment over fiction is not acceptable

Censorship of fiction is not acceptable either

Any other definitions are made by antis, not proshippers, and are an attempt at revisionism to justify harassment based on false claims.

[puckinghischier]

so hi.. i keep thinking about how hot (and probably hopefully rough) sex would’ve been after last night’s game. you do with that information what you’d like.. i just thought i’d share my thoughts y’know completely and utterly innocent like.

✶ hope you had the best day alli, baby!! ‹𝟹

oh harls, my beautiful, beautiful quinn lover.

of course quinn would be in the need of some…rage activities once he got home. he’d be seething the entire bus ride back to the hotel, thinking about how cocky those assholes on the kings were all night. i mean, the hit on brock? the multiple intentional penalties? the cheap move from clarke?

it was all he could do to contain himself until his penalty, finally having had enough of the nasty plays. and while he was letting himself seethe and stew in his hatred, all he could think about is the fact you’re going to be waiting in his hotel room for him.

when he walks through the door, you’re laying on the king sized bed, having received his text he sent you from the locker room directly after the game.

naked. on the bed. now. absolutely no touching yourself (trust me, i’ll fucking know). don’t move until i say so.

he made you send him a picture for confirmation, wanting to know you’ll be so worked up in anticipation by the time he walks through that door you’ll be putty in his hands.

and while he’s already worked up and agitated from the game, the sight of your hand snaked between your legs, head thrown back onto his pillow, soft pants falling from your lips, has him seeing red.

he drops his bag loudly, seeing as you were so lost in the feeling of your own fingers you didn’t hear the heavy door open and shut.

the sound finally startles you out of your blissful state, arms flying up to cover yourself in a panic, dropping them to rest on your stomach when you realize it’s just quinn. the look on his face, however, does nothing to calm your racing heart.

“thought i told you specifically not to touch yourself,” he grits out, clenching his jaw so tightly he could barely speak.

you still, having been so ready and needy you completely forgot about the rule. sitting there, bare pussy exposed to the chill of the room, was torturous in the best way. you could feel yourself drip onto the freshly made bed, so the initial contact was simply the swipe of a finger to try and prevent any further mess. but the warm contrast of your finger on the cold slick of your cunt felt too good, spurring you to give your clit just a brief touch. just enough to hold you over.

before you knew it, you heard the thud of quinn’s bag and clearing of his throat, not even remembering how you ended up knuckle deep in your own core.

“i-i’m so sorry. it’s just, it was cold, and i was so wet, so i tried to clean myself up a bit, but my finger was so warm, and then i thought just one touch wouldn’t hurt,” you ramble out one long run-on sentence trying to plead your case.

“oh, i see” he starts walking towards you, quickly stripping himself of his t-shirt. “you were so ready for me, that you couldn’t wait on me, is that it?”

your face heats, realizing how pathetic it all is, really.

“well, when you put it like that…” you can’t even make eye contact with him, looking down at his hands instead.

quinn starts to untie the string on his sweatpants, letting them drop and walking right out of them as he comes to a stop at the end of the large bed.

“yeah…that’s what i thought,” he smacks his teeth at you in disapproval, shaking his head back and forth.

you take in the sight of him before you. toned body, pale skin, and my god, the hair. you’ve always been one to love body hair on a man, but seeing his large, exposed thighs, and the perfect dusting of the thick, dark hairs all over them, has your hand itching to find its way back between your slick folds.

he starts to palm himself over his boxers, earning a whimper from you in return. the noise piques his interest, eyebrow raising as he looks down at you.

“oh…you want this?” he reaches down to free his thick cock, sighing at the relief of the cloth restriction.

you don’t know if you should respond or not, scared of the consequences either way. you decide on an eager nod, mouth nearly watering at the sight.

“yeah, figured you did. always so needy, so ready to be whatever i need you be,” he says dismissively. “and lucky for you, i need this tonight, too. or i’d make you sit here and watch me stroke myself until i couldn’t take anymore, spewing everything i have all over you and this bed before making you go to sleep needy and unsatisfied. your punishment for touching yourself before i could get here.”

he must be able to see the panic in your eyes at the possibility, knowing he’s upset but surely he’s not that upset with you.

“but,” he starts, rubbing his thumb over his pink tip, “i think what i have planned is punishment enough. plus, i need you tonight, my sweet girl. need you to be my vice, my cure for all these…feelings i have pent up.”

you feel the physical jolt your core does, causing your body to flinch.

quinn discards his underwear entirely, placing one knee on the plush bed to start making his way to your body. you’re still sprawled out, skin buzzing at the thought of his touching yours.

once he’s hovering above you on all fours, he brings his head down to place a feather light kiss to your lips. when he pulls away, you chase him, pouting at the barely there contact.

“nope. only kiss you’ll get tonight, i’m afraid,” he sits up on his knees, in-between your open legs.

you whine out, always loving the hot, open-mouth kisses you two share while he’s inside of you.

“ehh, no more whining, either. should’ve thought about that before you broke the rules,” he scolds you, bringing his hands down to move your legs up, bending both of your knees so your feet rest flat on the bed.

once your knees are bent, he takes your hands that were resting on your stomach and splay them out on their respective sides.

“now, since you didn’t do like i asked you to so nicely, even though i’m so, so mad tonight, no touching me,” he looks down into your eyes as he says it, making sure you understand his rules.

“so, no kissing, no touching, no whining? what, i’m basically your sex doll tonight?” you sass him, rolling your eyes.

now, you expected a reaction out of him. it was your intent, actually. you expected a small smack to the leg, or a wagging finger with a stern look.

what you didn’t expect was to feel his hand come up and grasp your face, squishing your cheeks together so hard you’re forced to bite them just to allow any sort of give from the pressure.

he jerks your face to look at him, bringing his own so close you can feel his hot, angry breath on your face.

“that’s exactly right. you’re my doll tonight. mine to use as i see fit. however i want. you know why?” he pauses, heaving breaths in and out as he waits, as if you’d actually be able to answer him. “because i’m mad. i’m mad that the stupid kings thought they could beat up on my team tonight and get away with it. i’m mad that brock was taken out during the first period because of a purposeful hit. i’m mad, because the one thing i asked you to do, you couldn’t fucking do it.”

he’s seething at this point, an animalistic kind of anger radiating through his body.

your heart races in both fear and excitement. you hardly ever get to see this side of quinn, and you don’t know exactly what all was said or done on that ice tonight, but you’re sure you’re going to be able to feel the effects of it all for the next few days to come.

he releases your cheeks roughly, standing tall on his knees.

“since you claim you were so wet earlier you just couldn’t resist starting without me, too drunk on your own fingers to know what you were doing, you shouldn’t need any help then, should you?” he asks, reaching down to feel the arousal pooling in your exposed heat.

you want to whine. you want to whine and protest and complain, but before you can even think about breaking another rule of his, your breath is knocked from your lungs.

without any warning whatsoever, quinn slams into you completely, leaving no inch of your canal untouched. on instinct, you start to reach your arms up to grasp onto him, needing to ground yourself to him.

“i wouldn’t, if i was you,” he growls out, pulling out completely before slamming into you again, gripping one of your hips for stability.

dropping them back down to the mattress, you grasp the sheets so tightly you worry you’ll rip them.

your body jolts with each slam of his rigid cock into your hole, completely removing himself each time before snapping his hips so forcefully you swear you can feel it in your throat.

“god, have no clue how fucking angry i’ve been tonight”, he huffs out, not faltering his pace. “all night, watched those smug goons think they could do whatever they wanted, to whoever they wanted. then the refs wouldn’t even let me return the favor when given the chance. it’s bullshit,” he spits with a particularly harsh thrust.

you’re trying your best to lay there, unmoving, occupying your hands with the soft cotton underneath you. a choked sob of pleasure makes its way out when he hits a spot so deep inside of you, you had no clue it existed until this moment.

“but knew i was gonna get to come home to you,” he continues, distracted momentarily by the bounce of your tits with each thrust. “my sweet, sweet girl who always listens to what i say. who’s always so ready to do what i need her to do for me.”

he reaches up to pinch one of your hard nipples. you flinch, but remember to keep your hands down.

“and imagine my surprise, when i walk in the door to see you already making yourself feel good after i told you to wait on me,” he switches his hand to your other nipple, show it some attention. “made me so fucking angry all over again. was so prepared to come in and take care of you, low and slow all night. a treat for you and for me. but you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

at this point, even if you wanted to speak you couldn’t. you’re quite literally being fucked dumb right now. the effort of keeping your body still isn’t even a challenge anymore, limbs so heavy with pleasure you’re basically his to manipulate and use as he wishes.

you don’t even feel your orgasm approaching. one second you’re listening to his frustrations, the next you’re half deaf and seeing stars.

quinn stutters only slightly, abandoning his touch on your tits to move his hand to your throbbing clit.

“god, this was so fucking easy. this turn you on? me mad at you, not letting you do what you want, just like i didn’t get to do what i wanted?” he talks you through your bliss, watching your body shake and shiver while he continues his deep thrusts.

his fast circles on your clit don’t ease up, even after you’ve come down from your high. you try to wiggle your body away, your sensitivity making you squirm.

quinn’s grip on your hip tightens, halting your movement.

“don’t fucking move,” growls at you, basking at how easy it is for him to glide in and out of you, his dick covered in your release. “you’re gonna give me another one, i don’t care how sensitive you are. know you can do it. my own little slut.”

the name surprises you, quinn never really has been one for using stuff like that in the bedroom. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cause the feelings of another release to start swirling again, though.

his resolve starts to deteriorate, but he’s determined to milk one more from you before he enjoys his own release.

“c’mon. it’s the least you can do f’me, really,” he grunts, somehow rubbing even faster circles on your swollen bundle of nerves. “after no one at the game would let me retaliate, and after i had to sit in the fucking box for two minutes for just returning a little bit of what they dished out all night, giving me all you’ve got isn’t a lot to ask, is it?”

you try to shake your head, but the increased pace of his forceful thrusts causes your head to bob all over the place.

he can feel your walls starting to flutter again already, knowing it won’t take much to send you over the edge.

keeping his hand in between your legs, applying both pressure and friction to your clit now, he bends his body over to attach his mouth to your tit, showing the the area attention once again. he swirls his tongue around your sensitive nub.

the feeling alone is delectable, causing you to writhe in pleasure. but the second you feel his teeth encase the delicate bud, biting down, you explode yet again.

you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your life. you cry out, so loud and so pornographic quinn worries someone will complain, but loving every second of the sound.

you’re convulsing underneath him, tears leaking from your closed eyes at the intensity of the pleasure radiating throughout your body.

“fuck, that’s it. swear your pussy’s trying to trap me in there, doesn’t want me to leave,” quinn groans, feeling like his dick is literally being suctioned into your body.

after a few more sloppy thrusts, his balls tighten and he coats your walls with his release. he moans out, mixing with your perfect whimpers and whines as the shocks of his own orgasm cause you to twitch.

after he’s sure your body has sucked him dry, quinn pulls out of you, pushing your knees down so he can roll over to the side of you, throwing his own tired body in the mattress.

you both lay beside one another, panting and letting your bodies catch back up to you. he reaches over to grab your hand, every ounce of anger having left his body through his orgasm.

he’s back to being his usual, soft self, as he rolls over to place a kiss to your temple.

you’ve come to a little bit, turning your head to look over at his smiling face.

“maybe…maybe i should start a pact with these teams you play each week to make you mad and rile you up during games more often,” you softly speak, voice slightly hoarse from your orgasmic screaming. “if this is what i get in return, think it’d be worth the price,” you smirk at quinn.

he lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, bringing a hand to brush some hair out of your face, finally placing a real kiss to your lips.

when he pulls back you open your eyes to admire him, but are met with a serious, stern expression.

“don’t push it.”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

texting Stan and Ford headcanons

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.

✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.

✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”

✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”

✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”

✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”

✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.

✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"

types of messages Stan texts: 

"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"

“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"

"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."

"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"

"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"

“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”

"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”

"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."

“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines 

✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.

✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."

✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.

✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."

✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.

✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments

✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”

types of messages Ford texts: 

“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."

sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”

“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”

“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."

"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose? 

“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"

"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."

"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”

ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL

lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))

[skalfy]

Misunderstandings pt 2 (aka understandings)

alexia putellas x reader, ~4.9k words, part 2/2

The very long-awaited (by me and maybe no one else) second part to this one!

Ingrid had been shocked, then eventually amused when you finally managed to explain Alexia’s presence in your apartment. You couldn’t help but to share her amusement at the situation, albeit tempered with the frustration at how avoidable the whole situation was. It seemed especially ironic that the crueler Alexia had gotten in defense of her friend, the more it had driven you to rely on Ingrid. Jenni had, of course, found the whole thing hilarious. The dark-haired Spaniard had spared a thought for you in acknowledging that it didn’t make your Barcelona career so far any less hellish, but then immediately dissolved into laughter as she made you recount every detail of the captain’s misguided trip to your apartment. By the time you got off the phone with her, Jenni had brought herself to tears with laughter at least three times, the last as she tried to do her best impression of how awkward Alexia would be as she tried to make up for her behavior.

Jenni had not been wrong. 

Alexia had started by apologizing. It was sincere, and she looked so miserable that you had no doubts that she had been thinking about her behavior. You had wanted to be tough, to make her work for it, but when she came up to you the next morning with bloodshot eyes and an apology that took full responsibility for her actions and acknowledged how hurtful she’d been, with the promise of more to come, you had accepted and told her you just wanted to move on.

For Alexia, “just moving on” apparently meant cautiously hovering at all times. On the field, she had turned from your greatest critic to your (mostly) silent guardian angel. She was the first to check on you at any sign of discomfort, and showered you with an assortment of items. Water bottle? Alexia was already handing it to you. Chance of rain? Alexia saw you didn’t bring your jacket and just grabbed an extra one, it’s here if you need it. It would have been a bit annoying if she hadn’t been so perceptive and thoughtful. As she paid closer and closer attention, she got quite good at predicting your needs.

—

A few weeks after the apology, Alexia’s hovering had died down to a less alarming level. She still seemed to be extra concerned with your wellbeing, but there was a lot less of the awkward lingering that Jenni had anticipated. 

Without Alexia’s poor treatment to contend with, you had also gotten more into the rhythm of the team as well, and you were enjoying time with the team, especially the regular team events. 

At the moment, though, you had been feeling the threat of a cold coming on for the past few days, and that plus a cool, rainy game, had left you feeling even more achy and tired than you expected. It was a bit disappointing to miss out on team bonding, but you hardly hesitated to send a message to Lucy and let her know that you wouldn’t make it to the movie night she and Ona were hosting. You loved the team, but you were certain your head wouldn’t be able to take the laughter and loud chatter, not to mention your shoulders and neck were knotted so tight that anything more active than lounging around on your couch sounded miserable.

A gentle knock on your apartment door roused you from the half-sleep you had fallen into. You were disoriented for a moment, head throbbing angrily as you raised it from the cocoon of blankets you had wrapped yourself in. Pirates of the Caribbean was still playing quietly on the tv, and at first you thought that was what had woken you, then another knock at the door sounded and cut through your confusion.

Dragging one of the blankets along, you crossed over to the door and opened it, revealing Alexia.

Unlike the last time she had appeared at your door, the midfielder didn’t push her way past you. Instead, she stood in place, fingers twisting nervously as she waited for you to acknowledge her. For your part, you just stared as your fuzzy head caught up to the situation.

“Hi,” your voice cracked, so you cleared your throat and tried again with marginally more success, “Hola, Alexia.”

“Hola,” she replied. “You weren’t at the movie.” It didn’t sound like a reprimand, but you felt tears prick at the back of your eyes anyway. You felt so uncomfortable and unwell and the thought that Alexia might be here to tell you off for skipping team bonding was overwhelming.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, tugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders and dropping your gaze to the floor.

“No, not sorry! I mean-- dios mio!” The captain sighed in frustration and your stomach dropped. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for her to continue. Instead, you were startled by a cool, dry hand gently cupping the side of your head. You couldn’t resist leaning into the soft pressure, and after a second it shifted from your cheekbone to your forehead. “Lo siento, I just came to make sure you are okay. I did not mean to upset you.”

You opened your eyes as Alexia slid her hand from your forehead back into the loose strands of hair escaping your bun, guiding them gently away from your face. The light touch felt good on your aching head, and you fought a shiver at the sensation.

“You feel warm. Let me help, vale?” 

You weren’t expecting the offer, but you also weren’t in a state of mind to ponder it further. Plus, while you weren’t sure how you felt about the captain, you did trust that she meant well this time.

“Vale.” You answered, then turned to walk back to your couch. Behind you, the blonde hesitated for a moment before following you in and shutting the door. 

After removing her shoes, she entered the living room and hovered awkwardly above where you had laid back down. You scrunched your feet up to make room for her at the end of the couch, but she made no move to sit.

“Have you had paracetamol?” 

You shook your head no, then winced at the shot of pain the motion sent from your neck to the base of your skull.

“Is it your head or your neck that hurts?” 

“Both, and my shoulders. Just tight from yesterday.” She nodded slowly.

“Where is the paracetamol?”

“Bathroom. Above the sink.” That was apparently her last question and you listened with closed eyes as she walked away.

You half-drifted off for a few minutes as Alexia made her way around your apartment, eventually setting a few things on the coffee table near you. You heard her knees crack as she crouched down, then felt her fingertips trail along your shoulder softly. 

“Can you sit up, cari?” Her tone was kind and you complied with the request, moving gingerly. “Gracias. Have this first.” She passed you a mostly peeled banana. You shot her a look, but obediently took a small bite. The midfielder waited patiently as you ate the whole thing, then traded the peel for two tablets and a glass of water. You took the pills with a sip of water, then reached out to return the glass to the table. Alexia intercepted you and pushed the water back, a smile tugging at her lips as you gave her another look before drinking the rest.

“Buen trabajo.” The praise might have made you blush if you were feeling better, but as it was you just handed the glass back.

Before you could lie back down, Alexia grabbed the pillow you had been using and sat where it had been. Setting the pillow on her lap, she gestured for you to lay there, guiding you until you were comfortable on your stomach with the pillow under your head. Surprisingly, the position felt much better than when you had arranged yourself on one side before.

“Okay if I rub your shoulders? To help with the pain?” She asked, voice a little uncertain.

“Yes, please,” you breathed out, desperate for anything to ease how tightly the muscles were knotted.

“Vale.” Her fingertips sunk gently into the muscles of your upper back, thumbs working carefully against the tops of your shoulders. The pressure was light, but you could feel her warm, steady hands start to soften the tension. 

You had nearly started to drift off again when the Spaniard moved to slide one hand up to grip the back of your neck. Caught off guard, you surprised yourself with a muffled groan as she dug her fingers in. Her hand stilled, but didn’t move from where it rested.

“Hurts?” Alexia asked in a low voice.

You kept your face tucked in the pillow, but responded, “Only a little. Feels good.

“Good.” You could hear the edge of a smile in her voice.

It didn’t take long after she resumed the massage for you to slip back into sleep.

—

This time when you awoke it wasn’t to the sound of someone at your door. You blinked yourself slowly into full consciousness, realizing as you did so that you weren’t alone. There was a hand cupped protectively against the back of your head, fingers threaded into your hair, and the warm glow of morning light throughout your apartment.

You were surprised to feel only a mild twinge of pain as you tilted your head to look up at the midfielder who was still sitting under you on the couch. You were amazed to see she was fast asleep, tucked into the corner of the couch, but still mostly upright. It couldn’t have been a very comfortable position, but she looked remarkably peaceful. 

After another moment of studying the sleeping blonde, you mentally shook your head and began to slowly extricate yourself from her lap. You felt well rested and far better than the night before, but now your body was reminding you that your dinner last night had only been a banana. Just as you carefully started to sit up, Alexia’s hand moved, stroking softly through your hair as she mumbled sleepily.

“Estás bien, dormirse”

Your heart squeezed at the way she instinctively tried to provide comfort. 

“Gracias, Alexia. I’m okay.” You replied quietly, gently completing your move to sit up out of her grasp. “I’m just going to make some breakfast, you can lie down and sleep.”

The blonde didn’t acknowledge your words, but when you stood up and draped your blanket over her form she did lean deeper into the couch and burrow into it rather adorably.

—-

As you moved through the kitchen, starting the coffee maker and heating up a pan for eggs, you thought about your visitor. It had been clear already from Alexia’s actions that she was trying to make up for the way she had treated you at the beginning, but the concern and care she had shown last night was more than you had expected. It hadn’t felt like an act either, the midfielder had simply seen you feeling poorly and stepped in to help. If this was the Alexia the rest of the team had all along, then you understood why everyone else held her in such high regard.

You were pretty certain, deep down, you had already forgiven the captain, but last night had certainly washed away any last temptation to hold a grudge. Alexia may have been in the wrong, but she had shown that her opinion of you had changed, and that she felt guilty about how cruel she had been. And, not that it excused anything, but you did understand her motivation in a sense– if nothing else she was trying to be a good friend, you’d grant her that.

The midfielder had been one of the players you were most excited to play with and learn from, so finally realizing that you both might be able to put the rocky start behind you was a relief. You felt almost like a weight had been physically lifted from your chest, though maybe that was just another ache that such a good night of sleep apparently fixed.

“Bon dia.” You looked up from the stovetop at the sound of Alexia’s voice. She was standing in the entryway looking somewhere between sleep-mussed and frustratingly model-like.

“Bon dia, Capi” you replied. “Thank you. For checking on me and for staying to help, I feel much better now.”

She ducked her head, but you caught a flash of pink across her cheeks as she did so. “No hay de qué, I’m glad you are better. Thank you for letting me sleep on your sofa.”

Now it was your turn to feel your cheeks heat. Did Alexia not realize you’d spent the whole night half on top of her, or was she just trying to give you a chance to pretend otherwise in case you were embarrassed. You chose your next words intentionally. “You are welcome to it anytime you would like, though I don’t think I gave you much of a choice when I fell asleep on you.”

The blonde’s bright smile told you that you chose correctly.

“Do you want any coffee? Eggs?” You asked, finally remembering the breakfast you were in the middle of making.

“I would, but my sister has already texted me four times to demand I meet her. I just wanted to check to see if you need anything before I go.”

“No, you’ve done more than enough for me already, don’t make your sister text you a fifth time.” You said, sliding the pan off the heat and stepping over toward Alexia. She stood completely still as you approached, but when you reached up to pull her into a hug, she softened into it immediately, wrapping her arms around your back to hold you tight. It reminded you instantly of the comfort of Jenni’s hugs, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d missed out all these months of not hugging Alexia.

—

In the weeks since she had spent the night, you felt like you had turned a corner with your relationship with Alexia. You weren’t holding onto the memories of her unkindness, and there was no longer any part of you that feared her attitude might change again. The only problem was that it didn’t seem like she had the same confidence you did. You couldn’t help but feel like the captain was still going out of her way to make it up to you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the special attention she was paying you, but what you really wanted was to move on and put the whole thing behind you. Alexia’s guilt over something you’d already let go wasn’t necessary, and there was a not-so-small part of you that feared if you waited too much longer you were going to end up hurt when she inevitably pulled away on her own. Once the Spaniard realized that everything was fine between the two of you, she would go back to being a professional, a teammate and captain and nothing else, and you understood that. It was just that it made your heart sink a little to think about it. You had gotten used to her attention, nothing more than that– but you know that it would be better to cut things off before you got too used to it.

All these thoughts were not far from the front of your mind when you arrived at the last full practice before your first Champions League game. Alexia met you as you stepped out of your car (or, rather, Alexia materialized a foot away from you when you looked up after closing your car door, which startled you the first few times, but now was a normal part of your morning). The midfielder passed you one of the two coffee cups she held, giving you a quick smile in response to your enthusiastic “¡Gracias!”

The coffee thing was a relatively new part of the captain’s arsenal of apology gestures. She had appeared one morning and nearly forced the cup into your hand before walking away quickly. Once you had recovered your wits, you had taken a sip and discovered that it was a dirty chai– your favorite. It had only taken a little wrangling to get the story from Ingrid; Alexia had FaceTimed Mapi from the coffee shop and demanded to be handed over to her girlfriend so that Ingrid could give your order to a highly amused barista. Since then, the morning coffee had become a regular occurrence, and you had managed to get the midfielder to stick around and walk in with you.

You were intent on practicing your Spanish, so the two of you chatted the whole way, Alexia patiently letting you work your way through what you wanted to say without interrupting. She was one of your favorite people to practice with for that reason– so many of your other teammates were quick to finish your thought for you, or just wanted to practice their English instead.

It was exactly this kind of interaction, though, that was troubling you, and you resolved to fix the situation once and for all by the end of the day.

—

Practice had gone well, and you were feeling both nerves and excitement as you walked off the pitch knowing that there was just recovery and a light training session between now and your UWCL debut. The familiar sounds of Patri and Pina’s banter filled your ears as you followed the pair into the changing room, but when they suddenly went silent, you looked up to see both pairs of eyes looking right at you. 

“Someone has an admirer,” Pina said, giving you a pointed smirk. You were confused for a moment, then saw past the two of them to your locker. There was clearly a vase of flowers inside, along with a ribbon-tied white box. You felt your cheeks flush. Unable to come up with a witty response to knock the curiosity out of your nosy teammates, you just shook your head and slid between the two to reach your locker and the gifts inside. 

The flowers were beautiful, and you moved them carefully off of the box and deeper into your locker. Normally, you might have had the good sense to spirit the gift away from the prying eyes of your teammates, but you were certain you recognized it, and you couldn’t wait a moment longer to confirm. You pulled the red ribbon to release the knot, and as it fell loose, you raised the lid to reveal exactly what you suspected. 

Inside were four mouthwatering breads that you knew immediately were from the little bakery near your apartment in Nuevo Leon. It had become a tradition, almost a superstition, for you to stop there on the morning of an important game when you had played for Tigres, and it was a tradition you sorely missed. You felt a sting behind your eyes as you realized what someone had done for you.

You closed the box up carefully, protecting the perfect breads once again before you made your way to shower. As you crossed the locker room, you caught the gaze of your captain already on you. Her cheeks colored, but she didn’t look away immediately, offering you a bashful smile that confirmed what you already knew about the source of your gifts.

—

By the time you finished your shower, everyone but Alexia had filtered out of the changing room. She was quiet as you toweled your hair dry and dressed, eyes glued to a boot that she was holding and… inspecting carefully? You broke the silence as you .

“Someone left beautiful flowers and a very thoughtful gift for me. Maybe someone who did their research and found out one of my old traditions.” At your words, Alexia finally looked up.

“Hmm. A lo mejor.” Her tone was neutral, but the same bashful smile you saw before crept across her face. “They are right? I had to trust Jenni and she likes to… joke.”

“Yes, they’re perfect. Thank you, Alexia.” You crossed the room to pull her into a tight hug, whispering an extra “gracias, capi” as you pulled back.

“You are welcome,” she whispered back, sounding almost breathless. “I just want you to feel happy here like you did there. And I want you to score goals for us in Champions like you scored for Tigres.”

You laughed at her final comment, but even to your own ears your huff of amusement held a dangerous edge of affection for the woman in front of you. A woman who, you reminded yourself, was just trying to be a good captain to you and make up for the weeks of misguided ire.

“Maybe I’ll even score a golazo for you.” You said, cringing inwardly at how much it sounded like a line one of the men’s team players would try on you back in college. You tacked on “As a thank you, of course.” somewhat awkwardly. Alexia’s smile in response was so bright that you couldn’t tell whether she was laughing at you or genuinely pleased by the prospect. Either way, you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Trato hecho. I will see you tomorrow.” The midfielder gave you one last quick smile as she turned to leave. As you watched her cross the room toward the door, you remembered your resolution from the start of practice. As much as you appreciated Alexia’s kindness, you had to rip off the proverbial band-aid. You called out to the blonde making her way out of the locker room.

“Alexia!” 

She stopped and turned immediately at the sound of your voice, walking back over to where you had both stood a moment ago.

“¿Sí? You are okay?” Her eyes scanned across you quickly as if checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow been injured in the last 30 seconds.

“Yeah, I just needed to tell you, um…” you trailed off, wishing now that you hadn’t called her back quite so impulsively. Her eyes had now settled intently on your face and it caught you off guard when you saw the intense, almost hopeful look in them. “You should know that I already forgave you, Ale. A long time ago. I appreciate how nice and thoughtful you have been, and the gifts and everything you’ve done, but I can’t let you keep doing it out of guilt. You can treat me like everyone else now, I just want to have you as my teammate and captain.”

“You.. que?” She furrowed her brows elegantly, face puzzled for a moment before it smoothed over into neutrality as she seemed to comprehend your words. When she spoke, her voice matched the blankness of her face. “Ah. Vale. Okey. Solo tu capitana.”

Her tone and words surprised you, but before you could react, Alexia mumbled a quiet “adeu,” and made a break for the door.

—

You had puzzled over Alexia’s reaction as you gathered up your belongings, flowers and box of panes included, and headed home. You had expected her to be, maybe not pleased, but at least glad to hear that you had moved past the earlier bad blood. She had clearly cared about fixing things, given the amount of effort she had put in to make it up to you, so why wouldn’t it be good news to her that you wanted to move past it?

The moment her face dropped into impassivity still hung in your mind as you set the beautiful vase of flowers on your kitchen table. As you rotated them slightly to appreciate the bouquet, a folded piece of paper caught your attention. It was nestled unobtrusively between soft petals, tucked away discreetly, probably so that prying eyes like Pina’s wouldn’t notice at a glance. You slipped it out carefully, unfolding and smoothing the creases so you could read the words inside.

Hola Y/N,

I hope you like the flowers. The florist said they mean luck and strength. You are already strong, and I know you don’t need luck, but they are very beautiful and extra luck is always good.

There was a crooked smiley face at the end of the sentence, and the thought of Alexia drawing it made you smile.

I am so happy that you are playing for Barca, and I am excited to watch you play in Champions League for the first time. You will be incredible, like you always are. No matter what happens in the game I am already proud of you, and I want to thank you for letting me earn your trust after how I acted.

If you have forgiven me, would you let me take you out to dinner after the game?

Con cariño,

Ale

The unfiltered kindness made your chest burn warm with affection, and you felt a swell of excitement at the invitation. It sounded almost like the captain was asking you on a date, and the idea filled your stomach with butterflies. Suddenly, your heart dropped. If it was an invitation to go on a date, then your words in the changing room must have sounded like an attempt to let Alexia down easy. You had clearly told her that you only wanted her to be your teammate. Thinking that you were freeing her from the burden of winning your forgiveness, saving your own heart from accidentally being strung along by the well-meaning captain, had you ruined the chance of more? 

Without thinking, you picked up the phone and called Ingrid.

“Hei du! What’s happening?” The norwegian answered after a ring.

“Ingrid. I think I fucked up.”

You explained the situation to her, speaking so quickly she had to ask you to slow down and repeat more than once. You finally finished with a wavery voice. “Do you think there’s a chance she might… have feelings for me?’

“Y/N…” Ingrid drew your name out slowly, then paused. “I think Alexia has been pretty well in love with you since about two days after she found out you weren’t stealing me from Maria. Herregud, you’ve been the only thing she talks or thinks about besides football. Maria’s been complaining for weeks that Alexia is too busy watching you to notice all the pranks she’s pulled on all children.”

You didn’t know what to say, and for a long minute Ingrid didn’t push you. Then, finally, she spoke again.

“Do you have feelings for Alexia?”

Your instinct was to defer, and “I don’t know” was right on the tip of your tongue, but before you said it, it felt wrong in your mouth. You thought about the way being around Alexia felt, the way you felt warm all over when she praised you, and how incredible it felt to be the center of her attention. You also thought about how good she looked on and off the pitch, the way her whole face lit up with a smile, and how she had looked standing in your kitchen, sleep-mussed from a night asleep on your couch. You bit your lip, cheeks rising in a grin.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“I think you better give our capitana a call.” You could just about hear the twinkle in Ingrid’s eye.

“Thank you, Ingrid.” 

You exchanged your goodbyes and ended the call, then after a deep breath, before you could lose your nerve, you called Alexia.

“Y/N?” She answered immediately.

“Alexia, hi. Hola.” You immediately stumbled over your words. “I read your note. I hadn’t read it yet when we talked before.”

“Sí, vale…” She said, imploringly.

“I thought everything you have been doing was to apologize, so that’s why I told you that I had already forgiven you. Because I have, and I like being your friend, and I like when you are sweet to me, and pay attention to me, and ask Jenni and Ingrid what my favorite things are. I was afraid that if you were doing those things because you felt guilty, that one day you would realize you didn’t have to feel guilty anymore, and you would start treating me just like every other teammate. Which would be okay, but it would also break my heart a little. So I wanted to make sure it happened soon, because I thought the later it happened, the more it would hurt.” 

You paused, and the midfielder made no move to interrupt your explanation.

“But after reading your note, it made me think that maybe I misunderstood. And it gave me hope that you might have feelings for me. Like the feelings that I have for you. So when I said I just wanted you to be my teammate and captain, I didn’t know that there could be an option for you to be more. So let me try to give you a better answer to the question you wrote in the note: I have forgiven you, and me gustaría mucho ir a cenar contigo.”

“Really?” Alexia breathed out.

“Really.” You replied. “I like you a lot, Alexia.”

“I like you a lot, too.” The smile in her voice was unmistakable, and you felt the last vestiges of worry drop away. You might have gotten started on the wrong foot, but things were looking pretty good after all.

Not planning for a part 3, but if anyone is really interested, let me know and I could be persuaded :)

tag: @marvelwomen-simp

[amyrosedaily]

Day 67: Delivery! (Silver Week day 2)

Damn late by 3 minutes haha! Anyway this is actually from a Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog AU that I have not shared anywhere other than my brain lmao. It’s basically just: what if there was a Sonic AU where everyone was ACTUALLY their roles in TMOSTH. I’ll add some lore beneath the cut for anyone interested haha

PLEASE! Donate to help save Safaa and her family! | Main post | Gofundme (THEYRE ALMOST HALFWAY!!!)

So basically the au starts with Sonic, Amy, Tails, and Knuckles all celebrating Sonic’s recent promotion to ship captain. It’s a party where they’re both celebrating but also saying goodbye since Sonic will be heading out on his first voyage as captain in a few days.

Amy ofc is a journalist and has been working as one for a little bit while Tails just started working as an assistant detective at a local agency. (Haven’t quite figured out Knuckles yet oops)

Anyway the plot begins when Sonic nearly drowns aboard his first voyage. When his body is first found his friends do cruelly think he had died, but luckily the doctors are able to save him and he wakes up not too long after but is very delierious - however, he remembers being pushed.

Sonic had hid his fear of water and inability to swim from his crew even before he was captain, only his close friends knew. Plus now the media is reporting on the failed ship voyage and how Sonic’s first venture as captain was such a failure.

Amy and Tails now know this wasn’t as accident - it was an attempted murder. So they team up to find the truth of what happened and report on it publicly. Both to keep the media from saying bad about their friend, but also revenge.

I haven’t figured out all the details but I want all the characters to be involved somehow. Right now I’ve only Kind Of figured out Espio and Silver. (Yeah Silvers here I wanted him to be lol)

Espio did NOT kill Sonic, however he was an important accomplice. Espio is just trying to get into university (or some higher education) while helping Vector take care of Charmy. Espio has been trying to write poetry to sell to help Vector, who’s currently the only one making money with his job as a butcher. However one day, Charmy gets very sick and the Chaotix can’t afford to take him to urgent care. The illness isn’t usually deadly but in children it can be worse. Feelings scared and desperate, Espio does something he hasn’t done since before he met Vector - hired assassination.

Essentially Espio gets hired to incapacitate Sonic, which he does with the blow dart. Espio however did not push Sonic or even physically come into contact with him at all. I think Espio DID actually believe he killed Sonic - where he drugged Sonic and then Sonic fell overboard. However since Sonic remembers being pushed and Espio never touched him, Espio didn’t actually kill him.

Silver, in this au, is just a regular mailman…kinda? I want him to work for Blaze (who I haven’t quite figured out how she fits in yet) and as shown in his comic, supplied Espio with both the weapon and the poison in a way that Vector and Charmy wouldn’t find out. This parts self indulgent tbh I just think Espio and Silver would make a great assassin duo if they wanted to hahaha

Anyway that’s all I got so far!! If you read this wow!! Thank you!

[steveseddie]

night watch

for the @steddiemicrofic prompt “guard, 532 words” | rated: t | cw: none | tags: pre-relationship, eddie pov, nightmares, sharing a bed, pet names, soft boys, fluff

***

With shaky hands, Eddie pours himself a glass of water. 

Nightmares rarely leave him so rattled these days but this one was so horrifying he doesn’t think he’ll sleep more tonight.

So he sticks a cigarette between his lips, grabs a lighter, and heads outside, hoping it’ll help calm him down. 

He flicks the porch light on and that’s when he sees it– Steve’s car parked in his driveway. 

“What the hell?” 

Eddie tucks the cigarette behind his ear and walks to the car where he finds Steve sleeping in the driver’s seat.

He taps on the window and Steve jerks awake, head whipping around in confusion until his eyes find Eddie, widening comically. 

Wiping drool from his face, Steve rolls the window down. “Uh hi, Eddie.”

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says, leaning against the car. 

“Why are you out here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing. I came outside for a cigarette, and lo and behold, Steve Harrington, standing guard by my house!” Eddie chuckles amusedly. “Terribly, I might add, considering you were asleep.”

Steve sleepily rubs his eyes. “I usually don’t fall asleep. Guess I’m really tired tonight.” 

Wait–

“Usually?” Eddie blinks. “You’ve done this before?” 

Steve bites his lip nervously. “Every other night but I leave before anyone sees me.”

“Why?” 

“I have these– nightmares about you dying. One night when I couldn’t go back to sleep I went for a drive and ended up here, your light was on and I could see you through the window and that helped. I went back and got some more sleep. Sometimes I stay longer if the nightmare was really bad–”

“Oh, Steve.”

Steve grimaces. “I know it’s creepy–”

“Stevie, I’m not mad,” Eddie says softly, “I just wish you told me.”

“I didn’t want you to laugh!”

“I would never! Tease you a little maybe.”

Steve scoffs, but his mouth ticks up.

“Okay, come on.”

Steve tilts his head. “Where?”

“Inside. It’s fucking cold, you’re tired and my bed is more comfortable than your car.”

“I was just gonna head back–”

“Like hell you are.” 

He leads Steve to his bedroom where they both climb into bed. Eddie doesn’t know if he’ll be able to sleep, but he’ll make sure Steve does. 

“Sorry for not telling you,” Steve whispers.

“Promise me you will next time,” Eddie nudges Steve with his foot. “Sorry for haunting your dreams.”

Steve chuckles. “Not all of them are bad–” 

“No? I get good dreams too? What do we do in those?”

Steve inexplicably blushes. “This– and um, hold hands. Sometimes we kiss.”

Eddie’s breath catches. “Damn, I’m jealous of dream me.”

“You don’t need to be,” Steve whispers, looking at Eddie with molten eyes that flicker to his lips, his fingers brushing Eddie’s hand.

“Christ.” Suddenly, sleep isn’t Eddie’s priority. At least not until Steve yawns. “How about you tell me about those dreams tomorrow?”

Steve must be really tired because he doesn’t protest. “Okay.”

“And next time you have a bad dream, you come here and I’ll turn it into a good one, okay?”

Steve sleepily agrees. 

“Good, now sleep.”

“What about you?”

“It’s my turn to watch over you, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eds.”

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

[since everything under a Read More cut gets deleted in case a blog deletes/gets deleted and the WayBackMachine isn’t good with pictures, for Archive Purposes Only, I will add the most important bits of the/rest of the full post and have also checked/updated/added the source links to the best of my abilities]

"From [North] America, they traveled to Australia and New Zealand, then back to the U.S. again. They didn’t have extended time in the U.K. until the end of April (when they were likely writing/recording Take Me Home, as well as rehearsing for their continuing Up All Night tour).

In the gifs above, OT5 are pictured at a Much Music interview from May 2012, unavailable to view [I have added the video link. Btw, at 16:06 there is another very interesting moment where they start talking about Larry Stylinson and Liam says "It's true!"] —the one with the two red tables, where the interviewer asks about boys kissing, and Niall’s wearing a lavender t-shirt and backwards snapback.

Interviewer: “How do you balance [making an album] with how busy you are, and all these concert dates?” Harry shrugs, “You tell us!” Louis says, “We ask ourselves the same question!” Interviewer: “You already have nearly a hundred shows confirmed and almost sold out—for 2013. How do you plan your lives that far in advance?” Harry and Liam laugh, “We don’t!” Louis says, “We wish we did!” [I added the video link]

In Florida during the Up All Night tour in [July] 2012, Niall comments that he spent "30 days at home [in 2011]. So, that's a big difference from 365..." [link to whole interview video]

–––––

Q: Many of these groups get huge but burn out after three or so years.  What’s your plan to make sure that doesn’t happen?

Simon Cowell: “Be sensible and treat them as human beings, genuinely.  That’s the most important thing.  Traditionally, record companies would put out the most possible product in a short period of time, thinking you only have two or three years.  I don’t think that’s necessarily the case now.  If you’re sensible and you don’t burn them out, you don’t have to put a time limit on this anymore.  And they’re so young, these guys.”  

Rolling Stone Q&A with Simon Cowell  (by Andy Greene, April 2012, emphasis mine)

–––––

“I’ve never known a band to announce a second summer tour before a first summer tour is over.  It’s insane – they’re working them like dogs and printing money right now.”  — Andy Greene, May 2012

During This Is Us promo in August 2013, Harry says, "If we could choose the perfect scenario, I would be 'the well-rested one.' "

–––––

Simon Cowell, 2015:  “This is five years, literally non-stop. I’m amazed they’ve done it for so long… I hope [they’ll get back together], but like I said, it’s not going to be because of any pressure from me… like we said in the beginning, this is an opportunity, you won it, and I’ve always had that attitude with them…. Look, even though they’re young, that is a gruelling schedule and after a while I could see they were exhausted, so when they said, “How do you feel about it?”  I said, “Do whatever you want.”  Having a year off is going to be a healthy thing.’

Also during This is Us promo, during one of their multiple press conferences, [in August 2013] a reporter asks, "Did you have a choice to say no to this documentary?" Harry half-shakes his head, and leans in to speak. Niall almost imperceptibly shakes his head, and tightens his mouth.

––––––

Niall, October 2012: I've a re-occurring knee injury from playing football. I've dislocated my knee ten times in the last two years. Operation time for me.

So are you gonna have to go and get an operation done? When?

Niall: (shrugs) Whenever I have time. ...[come up with] a couple years. (Late Late Show, October 2012)

14 months later, January 2014: after performing 123 shows during the Take Me Home tour (only a portion of his responsibilities during that time), 20-year-old Niall had major knee surgery that was 'much larger than anticipated'. He began a new tour with One Direction about three months later, after One Direction’s first extended break since forming as a group.

––––––

From January 2011 – December 2015, One Direction:

• wrote for and recorded 5 albums (91 songs included on the albums)

• performed 327 full concerts as headliners during four tours (on the road for about 110 weeks total)

• were interviewed more than 800 times by various media

• performed at least 97 times on television

• visited at least 37 countries, often more than once

• walked some 33 red carpets

• filmed 18 music videos (at least 36 days’ work)

• filmed well over 100 additional miscellaneous videos

• had at least 29 photo shoots

• shot a feature-film ‘documentary,’ with cameras trailing them for months

• shot concert films for the Up All Night and Where We Are tours

Just one week of heavy promo for the feature-film This is Us in August 2013 included:

approximately 95 junket interviews appearance at the VMAs appearance at America’s Got Talent performance and interview at Today Show press conference in NY Premieres in London and New York; red carpet interviews hours of transatlantic flights

1D’s pace was much more relentless than the glancing summary I’ve given here.

–––––––

During the Four Hangout, Liam comments that there are "...a lot of meetings, there's a lot of meetings in Boybandville." [I added the video link]

(a very young and starry-eyed Zayn, Niall, Liam, Louis, and Harry are pictured above listening to the judges after their week 2 X-Factor performance, 2010) Below, Liam continues, "One thing we didn't realize when we [got in] this band is how many meetings you have." [I added the video link]

––––––

“…the business empire fronted by these cherubic faces now stretches well into the hundreds of millions of pounds, with licensing deals that include everything from lunchboxes to their own fragrances.  Their ambition, or at least their management’s ambition, is seemingly infinite…

During press for Midnight Memories in France, interviewer Cauet asks, "After your films, books, perfume—what's coming up next?" Harry: Space Liam: Our own range of door handles... lampshades... curtains! Louis: Let's do radiators. Harry: Radiators. Louis: Warmth. Zayn: Next music video's on the moon! [I added the video link]

––––––

Harry Magee, Modest!Management: ‘The scale of this band is unprecedented.  None of us involved in the band, from the management, to the agents, to the licensees, to retailers, have ever worked on anything this big before.  There might be huge acts that have been going longer than 25 years but they are not nearly as broad as One Direction, especially when it comes to selling tickets and selling merchandise. …in terms of per-head numbers for merchandise we have broken all the numbers.  We need more stands at the gigs.  More people serving.’ …  (GQ magazine, August 2013, emphasis mine)

(C'Cauet clip continues) Louis: One Direction central heating, I think. Liam: People. Our own range of people! Niall: Coffee tables! Liam: Opening a pet shop! Zayn: On the moon. (C’Cauet sur NRJ, 14 December 2013)

––––––

April 2012, below: it was rumored Simon had given them each 2 million pounds because they were so successful — Niall and Harry said ‘not true.’ In the first gif, Harry says, "He's a bit tight, Simon is." "That's why he's so successful, he's able to keep his money to himself,” Niall laughs.

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1D partial gross revenue 2011-2014 (3 tours, 3 films): more than $500 million   xx  xx  xx  xx

(Here’s an enlightening post re: 1D finances) [updated the link]

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Niall: You know when the Backstreet Boys and New Kids On The Block came back a few months ago?  And all they did were arena tours.  That’s how I’d like to be remembered.

Liam: Yeah, just pop in and do an arena tour every ten years…

Niall: Sell out Wembley.  Smash it hard. Home in time for tea.

Liam: Fingers crossed, eh? (Aug 2013)

In the gif above, OT5 hug in a tight bundle on the day of their X-Factor Judges' House audition, when Louis had an injured foot.

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One Direction were/are ambitious… but one must consider their ages when they signed their contracts, who truly managed their schedule (’This is what you have to do if you want to succeed’) and the pressure to continue making money. 

Beginning with X-Factor in October 2010, One Direction didn’t get any extended break until 21 Dec 2013 – Feb 2014, about nine weeks.

As students in the UK, they would've received anywhere from 10-22 weeks of vacation a year—not to mention being at home with the love and support of their families and friends.

master list of March 2012 filmed promo [by @youcancallmeathief]

March 2012 timeline [ @bulletprooflarry]

Four Hangout, Nov 2014 

(all gifs by OP, @quietasides)"

One Direction won at the Brit Awards on 21 February 2012.  Harry had just turned 18, Liam and Niall were 18, Zayn was 19, and Louis was 20.

Adding gif captions in italics! Above, the four gifs show some moments from Four Hangout, November 2014. Liam, Louis, and Zayn are pictured sitting on the red couch. Louis says, “I remember that first American promo trip was relentless.” Liam: “Crazy.” Niall: “Nuts.” Louis: “I think it was like three weeks on the trot that we were away [from home].” Liam asks him, “Do you remember when we were doing, like, ten  things at once, as well? Doing interviews and signing and something else…” Louis: “That’s what it was all like. It was all just so, so manic.” Liam: “Crazy.”

Three days after the Brits, they were in Chicago for a radio interview/meet and greet.  They also opened for Big Time Rush that night, and proceeded to play 12 shows over the next two weeks, each in a different city.  During March they also did at least six signings, some smaller performances (such as three songs on the Today Show), and over 60 interviews.

14 March 2012, above: Louis, Harry, and Liam are pictured during one of the nine+ interviews they filmed that day. The interviewer asks, “What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not working?” Liam replies with a rueful laugh, “Have days off!”

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