#eta i have been ordered

[blkkizzat]

I’m the first one listed in production staff

*blinks cutely*

- 🪞

🪞 nonny!!! ur my first emoji anon 🥹🥹 ofc ur lead production staff boo 😩🩷

[stiltonbasket]

golden terrace au for the ask game? 🥺

I don't know anything about Golden Stage except that a wounded war hero was assigned a marriage he didn't want after returning from battle...which is, coincidentally, the basic premise of the Wen!Wei Wuxian AU. 👀

[terresdebrume]

... I don't know if it's because my period is ending but man the mood swings today and yesterday were Not Fun

[crehador]

WDYM PREORDERS CLOSED WHEN DID THE LISTING EVEN GO UP

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[radiant-reid]

Reunion

Summary: JJ never knew you were dating one of her teammates and that you broke up because of her, but seeing him at JJ's wedding years later changes things.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst then smutttt)

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of a breeding kink)

Word Count: 2.1k

"So, how's mystery boy?"

After skipping your usual Tuesday night plans twice, thanks to JJ being away on cases, you're finally back in your best friend's living room having a glass of wine and a cheese platter.

It's been an abnormal amount of time to go without seeing each other since you both ended up in DC after moving out of East Allegheny to different colleges. Even with men in the mix now, you both make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. However, her busy schedule and frequent flights to New Orleans have meant you've spent some time apart.

Unknown to her, she knows the so-called mystery boy. Very well, in fact. "He's well." You say slyly, unable not to grin widely.

JJ throws her head back dramatically. "Come on, Y/n! Some detail would be nice."

"It's good." You try again. "He's the sweetest. I'm very happy."

She smirks, letting you know an interesting question is coming your way. "How's the sex?"

It never takes more than a glass of wine for her to be that loose. You don't miss a beat in your answer. "Fabulous."

"Okay, so can I meet him soon?" She pushes like she has been for quite some time.

You wonder what she would think. What would her expression do if you were to say his name out loud right here? Maybe it's not that deep but getting with JJ's closest colleague is dangerous. It was a concern at the start, a reason not to start, but you fell in love with Spencer Reid quicker than you could ever imagine.

"Sure, JJ." You agree, trying to look positively about it. You can only assume she's thinking about the worst possible scenario about your mystery man. He's a criminal or he's far too old for you or he's an ex you promised not to get back with. There are too many options.

She looks triumphant. "Yes!"

You just smile, sending the conversation in a different direction by asking about her boyfriend. He sounds like a great guy and you can tell she's happier than ever before.

Three months ago you met Spencer Reid. It was JJ's birthday and your duty as her best friend to throw her a fun surprise party. That took some coordination with a friend from work. Firstly, that was Penelope, but in order to lure JJ, you needed Spencer Reid. He was a little slow with replying to your texts, but lovely. And after you met him, you were hooked.

Spencer was perfect. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent. His incredible shyness had you confused when he asked you out for dinner the next morning.

Too many espresso martinis provide an explanation for why JJ has no recollection of you flirting with him all night.

You see Spencer as much as you can, but similar to JJ's, his schedule often doesn't allow for consistent visits. So whatever time you do have, you make the most of it. He's still the most amazing boyfriend you've had. Kind, caring, witty, fun, and playful.

He gets whisked away on a case to Miami not long after being home. You didn't know things would be so different the next time you saw him.

He goes quiet on you. You know their cases are intense but you haven't heard from him in an entire week and that's not right.

Can I come over? He finally texts you and you're guessing he's back in DC.

It sounds a little ominous and the message sends a chill down your spine. Sure. I can't wait to see you. There isn't a reply and you sit in limbo in your apartment for almost an hour before he knocks at the door.

You smile when you open it, although you're slightly annoyed there was zero communication or ETA from him. "Hey, Spence, how was it?"

"You knew." He says in a cold, accusatory tone. It's nothing you've ever heard from him.

"Sorry?" You repeat, moving to the side so he can come into your apartment.

He steps in, barely looking at you. "About JJ and Will." He explains.

A little frown takes over your expression. Surely he's not angry that he only just found out. An awkward laugh leaves your lips. "Sorry, Spence. She didn't want anyone knowing."

"I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

"I didn't." You join the offensive, crossing your arms. You're not enthused about what he's accusing you of. It wasn't even your secret to tell him.

He looks disappointed, face dropping. "Come on." He sighs. "How am I meant to be with you if you don't trust me enough to tell me who our friend is dating?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell." You try to talk some reason into him, pushing down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you that he's breaking up with you.

Spencer shakes his head, his decision- as much as it's killing him- completely made. "I can't do this."

His words make your world come crashing down and you almost can't believe it. You slump to the couch while he makes his way to the door with sad, slow footsteps.

He's looking at you, waiting for you to ask him to say. "Can we not tell JJ?" You ask softly.

"Fine." That's the last thing he tells you before walking out the door, shutting it firmly.

That's it.

The last thing Spencer tells you.

Then he's gone from your life. You talk about him less to JJ and she picks up on what happened and stops asking about him.

You expect to see him when Henry's born, or even at a point in his life. Somehow, you don't. Your schedules never line up and then JJ switches jobs. There's a myriad of reasons but it doesn't happen. You both go on with separate lives.

And then JJ and Will are getting married. You get a frantic call from your best friend's soon-to-be-husband who whispers secret plans to you over the phone. It's perfect, you know JJ will adore the simplicity and elegance of a backyard wedding.

You're there as soon as you can be, helping set up Rossi's backyard so it's gorgeous for the most gorgeous person you know.

You're the maid of honor, of sorts. And you don't get a chance to ask who the best man is before JJ arrives and the ceremony begins.

You strike out as soon as you spot a tall brunette. A tall brunette who made you the happiest you've ever been with a man. And he's still just as handsome.

His eyes bulge when he sees you but he keeps a straight face and clenches his teeth while the ceremony continues. You're mostly focused on how beautiful JJ looks and how sweet their wedding is, but you can't help your mind drifting to Spencer.

You hadn't seen him dressed up like this when you were dating and the tuxedo is a perfect look on him.

"Y/n." He comes up to you when you're getting yourself a glass of champagne.

"Spencer." You reply. His tone doesn't let much about how he's feeling on. All you get is a glimmer of shock.

He stands against the table. "Maid of honor?"

You shrug, a little confused at his question. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you all these years." You admit, letting some honesty slip.

"It was slightly intentional." He offers.

You don't let it offend you. "Best man?"

"I think that means we're supposed to sleep together."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine. There's no way the shy Spencer Reid you once knew just said that.

"We've done that." You reply, trying to keep a straight face after the out-of-pocket comment.

Spencer tilts his head to the side. "You're right."

You really don't know how it happens. Maybe it's a few too many drinks. There's definitely not enough alcohol in your bloodstream to solely blame that. Spencer Reid is as hot as they get. And it's been... longer than you're willing to admit since you've had sex. Even longer since it was good sex.

So there isn't anything telling you to stop when Spencer pushes you up against the door of a room in Rossi's house, lips firmly against yours.

Your dress is hiked up around your waist while his fingers trace up and down your thigh before he even thinks about locking the door. Both of you are far too wrapped up in the moment to think securely.

His hands are quick to the zip of your dress, sliding it down effortlessly and letting it pool at your feet. He takes a moment to look at you and you have to admit, you're a little worried about his reaction. You don't doubt Spencer Reid can pull beautiful women.

"God, you're gorgeous." He says softly, juxtaposing the way he's practically clawing your clothes off you.

"Are you going to compliment me or fuck me like you promised you would?" You ask him, waltzing over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Spencer smirks at your smart mouth. "You asked for it."

He's kneeling on the floor in front of the bed in seconds, with no regard for his suit pants being wrinkled, just on his knees. There's a sense of urgency that doesn't allow for the time for him to take your panties off so he opts for shifting them to the side.

There's also no time to waste as his tongue melds with your folds, tracing patterns. No one has ever come close to giving head like Spencer does. It's truly mindblowing, the pressure of his tongue and the suction method he uses. You're instantly in bliss, head thrown back against the covers as you moan.

You've lost it when his fingers enter you, pushing past with little resistance. "Holy shit, Spencer. You're incredible."

"Sing my praises." He says against your pussy.

You do. Not even possessing the ability to be embarrassed about it.

And you don't stop. You're withering and moaning on the bed, tugging his curls while he continues pleasing you. Eventually, it's too much. His fingers pumping in and out of you combined with his tongue wrapped around your clit have you finishing in no time.

"Still as good as I remember." As if he couldn't get any hotter, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Spencer rises from his knees, now much taller than you. You tug your underwear off before unclipping your bra. "Fuck me, Spencer." You reach out for his belt buckle, toying with it. "Please."

Spencer has lost the shy, timid nature he had the first few times you had sex and he quickly takes off his belt and pants. Once his suit jacket is tossed across the room, Spencer pulls your legs to the end of the bed, making sure you wrap your ankles around his waist. His hands rest on either side of your head and you're precisely where you want to be.

"You're so hot." You tell him with a smirk.

He grins, spreading your legs and inching inside you. The look on his face is an instant confidence boost. Clearly, he's a man in bliss, head thrown back and tongue parting his lips.

"Fuck." He pants.

You agree, barely able to speak from how hard he's pounding you and how good it feels. Although it's annoying to admit, you've never had as good sex as with Spencer.

Your hands wrap around his forearms, noticeably bigger than last time. "Spencer." You moan. "Please. So good."

He caresses your chest, paying attention to your boobs like he hadn't before. "Y/n." He groans, not slowing his pace up. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. "Can I?" He asks.

It's unlike you to have even let him start without protection but you're not thinking straight enough. All you know is you need Spencer. "Please."

He finishes as deep inside you as he can get, leaning down to kiss you softly. You're breathless like he is when he flops down next to you.

One of Spencer's palms touches your cheek, forcing you to look at him rather than the ceiling. "Hey, pretty girl." He says softly and it makes your heart flip in a way it shouldn't. "Can I take you on a date, Y/n?"

The smile creeping onto your face can't be helped. "Yes. Please."

[jarofstyles]

Pierced Through The Heart

Hello my ducklings! Welcome to Pierced Through The Heart (I’m writing a second part it’s okay 🫶) friends to lovers, piercing artist h, artist Y/N, fluffy and smutty and all the fun stuff!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 8.7k

Warnings- smut, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, h has tongue and lip piercings

“Finally! Hey.” An easy smile lit up his face as he watched her walk into his flat. It was always welcome to see her enter like she owned the place- she very well could, if she wanted to.. Looking her over with what he hoped were at least slightly concealed heart eyes, he lifted his hand for her to sit next to him on the well loved sofa. “Where have you been, gorgeous? Off hiding away?”

It had been a bit since they’d gotten together so when she had texted him asking if he was busy tonight, he had scrambled to make sure his place was clean and he could appear as nonchalant as possible when he texted her when he texted her to come over- even if his heart had been in his ass when she gave her ETA. 

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned, stretching her legs out as she took a seat right next to him as he so graciously offered. “I got a huge fucking commission and it’s taken me ages. M’happy about it, don’t get me wrong, but I feel a bit over my head a bit. I needed to get a head start on it so I didn’t fall behind.” Sometimes she did get in her head about work so it made sense, though it didn’t make him miss her any less. 

Harry nodded, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “I get it, babe. S’important and you've got to take care of your work. I just missed having you around.” He pouted playfully, putting his arm around her “But hey, you're here now.”

“Exactly.” She smiled tiredly, leaning her head on his shoulder. His cologne was a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed- as well as the simple concept of human touch. Being locked up in her studio as she chipped away at the commissions often had her forgetting how much both her body and mind actually craved a cuddle or two. “Where's the roommate tonight?”

Harry shrugged, his hand tracing lazy circles on her shoulder.  “He's out. Some party or another. You know how it is with Kev. Always living life on the edge.” He chuckled, but there was a hint of worry in his voice. It wouldn’t be long before he went off the deep end- but that wasn’t a discussion for tonight.

“Yeah...” It was hard. His roommate was a bit much, so it was better they were alone, but she felt bad for feeling that way. “Did you order the food yet? Or were you waiting for me?”

Harry smiled, his fingers tightening slightly on her shoulder in a little squeeze. It felt so good to have her close to him again. Thankfully she was just as happy to be cuddly with him and didn’t seem to be weirded out by her friend’s overt clinginess- or didn’t show it- because he felt slightly pathetic with how much he’d missed her presence. “I ordered already, love. Should be arriving any minute now.” He took a glance down at her, his eyes soft with… something. She couldn’t tell quite what it was, but she’d seen it a few times. “I've got everything set up just the way you like it.” 

“Ugh. You’re a godsend.” Wrapping her arms around him she hugged him tight, feeling a little bit of pressure roll off of her shoulders. He was always so good at things like that. taking care of her, making her feel relaxed, always being one step ahead. “You are the absolute best. I hope you know that.”

Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in return and relishing in the feeling of her initiating the embrace before pulling back. It wasn’t that he wanted to, nor did he fully, but he needed to attempt some semblance of normalcy. “I do my best, babe. Just want to make sure you're taken care of, that's all.” The man smiled down at her, his fingers trailing through her hair. Just couldn’t fucking help it, could he? “And honestly, I love doing things for you.”

Harry had never considered himself much for taking care of people prior, tending to be more of a lone wolf in most aspect of his life, but when he met Y/N it had all… just come out. He loved being the one making sure she was smiling.  Making sure she was well fed, warm, feeling comfortable in his presence. It gave him a sense of purpose, he thinks. The smiles were reward enough, but making her feel comfortable in his company was the ultimate goal. It's why he made sure his roommate wasn’t going to be here tonight. Y/N was too polite to say he made her a little uneasy, but he was attentive to her and receptive to her feelings. Her body language never seemed at ease when he was around-‘so he eliminated that sort of issue

“And that’s why you’re above everyone else.” Y/N mumbled, keeping her eyes closed as he ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “That feels incredible, by the way.”

Harry blushed to himself, grateful she couldn’t see it right now. It was weird, feeling such a sense of pride wash over him over something so simple. He loved being the one she turned to, the one she felt most comfortable with. Hearing her praise him made him feel like he was genuinely doing something right. “Ah, yeah?”

“Mhm.” The girl nodded. “Tell me about work, though. Any interesting piercings? Anyone pass out? Had that one weird guy come in again? I want to know it all.” She kept her cheek pressed to his shoulder as he continued the motions.

Harry let out a soft laugh, settling into the comfortable rhythm of running his fingers through the silky locks as he tried to think of something interesting enough to tell her. “Well, actually, there was this one guy who came in for his first ear piercing and he freaked the fuck out when he saw the needle. He started shaking and sweating and just about passed out cold on the chair.”

“For an ear piercing?” Y/N let out a choked laugh. “I try not to judge people but… that’s kind of an overreaction, isn’t it?”

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. It was like her to be sweet about it and not judge, but he did sometimes. She was the only one who knew he really rolled his eyes at shit like that. He leaned down, pressing a small kiss to the crown of her head before pulling back to continue his story. “Yeah, I thought so too. But you should've seen the look on his face when I finally got the needle through.”

“Oi.” She winced. “Yeah, M’sure that was a joy to deal with.” Sarcasm laced her tone. “You have loads more patience than me. It’s why I work with as few people as possible.” Retail and service has never bode well with her, and when she had fallen into her own artwork she had counted her blessings that it meant she didn’t have to work with people day to day. 

Harry smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he listened to her voice. He loved her sarcasm, her wit, her everything, but he tried to keep that sort of fondness off of his face the best he could. “That's part of why I like bein’ close with you, actually. You're low-maintenance and always so easy to be around. A little grumpy, but s’cute.”

“Grumpy?” Her nose wrinkled, but she couldn’t deny it. The girl did her absolute best to be as sweet as she could but one of the things that made her tick was stupidity, and that was something people had to deal with in abundance when they worked in those industries. She was a little bit grumpy when it came to people. “I…wish I could deny those allegations, but I can’t. But in my defense, people shouldn’t be asking so many stupid questions. I worry more and more that people lose common sense as the days go by.”

Harry laughed, pulling her a little tighter against his side. "Grumpy and worried about the loss of common sense, huh? That's my girl." He paused, his fingers still gently fiddling with the ends of her hair. "But even with all that, you're still the most comfortable person for me to be around."

“Really?” She looked at him in surprise. Her guess would have been maybe Mitch, or Connor. Not her. “How come? I mean, not that I’m not extremely flattered and have to calm my ego at this moment because I can literally feel it growing out of my ears.” 

Harry smiled, feeling his tummy twist slightly as he looked down at her, "Because you're just... you, ya know? You're honest, and a bit grumpy-which we already established as cute-, and you don't put up with any of my shit." It was refreshing to have someone who cared about you enough to call you out on shit, and that’s what he needed. It was an interesting juxtaposition to see her soft doe-like eyes looking up at him with her head tilted, telling him that he’s absolutely ‘full of shit’. Harry had been known to be a bit arrogant at times and she had taken that level way down, in a good way. "And you're the only person who can make me laugh without even trying."

“H… you’re gonna make me blush.” She playfully batted at his chest, but felt the swirl of warmth in her tummy. It was a true compliment all things considered. Harry seemed open, but he kept people at an arm's length usually. She had noticed that he didn’t do it with her which she had always special, but hearing it out loud made her feel even more so.

Harry's eyes softened slightly as he looked at her. "You're the only one who can see past all the layers and shit and just get me, you know?" He leaned in just a bit, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "And I fucking love it." 

It was that moment, she would come to reflect, where the tension started. The kiss to the cheek, the compliments. It had started the loaded tension, the sexual undertone for the rest of the night. 

Later on, after the food had been eaten and settled in their bellies and the second episode had ended and the third had begun, she realized how close she had gotten to him through the night. Her legs over his thighs, his thumb tracing over her knee. His eyes were on the screen giving her a chance to observe his beautiful fucking face for a moment without feeling the normal intimidation she would from him staring right back at her. The lip ring, the sharp curve of his jaw, his pretty mouth, the slope of his nose- a modern Apollo. It had been no secret that he was good looking but it was harder to ignore tonight. It was always hard to ignore just how beautiful the man was, but feeling it now, seeing it up close and personal felt like a privilege. Her body flushed when she noticed his eyes on her- he caught her staring, his eyebrow raised at her, but didn’t say a word.

Harry moved his hand from her knee, tracing his fingers up her thigh slowly before resting it there again. He leaned in closer, his lips curling as he whispered to her. "You like what you see, love? Wanna take a picture? I’ll pose for you, even. Let the pretty artist do her thing. Think I’d be a good muse?" The hint of tease was in there but he was waiting for her reaction. Feeling his own want for her bubbling over, simmering under his fingertips.

“You’re really handsome, H. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that, but you are.” Ever the blunt person, Y/N didn’t shy away from telling him that he was beautiful. That was the god’s honest truth. Harry was factually gorgeous and she had always thought so, as did most human beings whenever they went out. He commanded a room without even trying, attracting eyes like magnets- only his being the opposite pole. 

Harry's smirk grew wider at her words, his hand still resting on her thigh. "Handsome, huh?" He repeated, his voice huskier than she had heard it before. It sent a bit of a zing to her tummy because- that was hot. There was a quick glance at the TV before looking back at her, his eyes locking onto hers. "You're pretty fucking stunning yourself, you know that?"

The air between them was static, the tension thick and palpable. Harry's hand on her thigh was a constant reminder of his presence, of his touch. Her legs were draped over his, their bodies close, touching in a way they had before a million times but it felt… different. The charge was there. He could feel it and he was sure she could too. What exactly changed, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps the heart had grown fonder over their bit of time apart, or perhaps the dam was finally overflowing and breaking against the weight of trying to hold back desires hidden behind the walls- either way, he was going to find out. The sound of the TV in the background was barely audible over the pounding of their hearts, but he could feel it in his throat.

Harry had been pining for her for what felt like an eternity. He'd watch her from afar, his heart aching with every smile she shared with someone else. The only true explanation he could come to was that he loved her, he realized. He had loved her for a long time now. He ached for her, his heart hurting every time she mentioned dating apps or hookups in the past because fuck, he wanted to be the one she was talking about, the one she was laughing with. He wanted to be her world, her everything. No one would expect the man to be a romantic, but he was. Maybe she’d brought it out of him, but he felt completely at her mercy and she had no idea just how tightly wound he was around her tiniest finger.

“You think so?” She felt a little shy with that compliment. It wasn’t often that she got like that, but Harry had a way of pulling it out of her. “Stunning is a big word, but thank you.” Licking over her lip, she looked down to his tattooed wrist, running her finger over the ink. “I’m glad you invited me to hang out tonight.”’

Harry's heart flipped at her shy reaction. Damn, she was so fucking cute. He wanted to lean in, brush his lips over hers and take a taste of her. The way she was looking at his tattoos, running her finger over them was driving him crazy. The sensation was something he’d dreamt about, post coitial bliss with her hands all over him in the best way. He wanted to feel all of it, all of her, everywhere

"You're more than fucking stunning, you know that?" Harry's voice was raspy as he spoke, volume low as if trying to keep it private for them even if they were already alone. He shifted in his seat, his hand on her thigh flexing a little as he leaned in closer to her.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she looked at him, throat tight. She had an idea what was happening but she hadn’t anticipated it actually being any reality, let alone one that would be happening tonight. Part of her wanted to shy away but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t let her. Eyes curious and round, her head tilted in question as he looked right back at her.

Harry noticed the way she was looking at him, head falling back slightly as he let it a light groan. "Fuck, don't look at me like that, please." He begged. He couldn't take it, seeing her so nervous and shy. 

“Like what?” Her eyes widened slightly but she made no move to shift away from him. What was she doing? What was happening? And why did she want him to keep going, keep touching her, why did she feel like she was lightheaded from the attention he was paying to her? Had he always looked at her like this?

Harry's eyes were locked onto hers, his gaze intense. "Like you're confused. Like you don’t know how fuckin’ gorgeous I find you." He admitted, his hand on her thigh trembling slightly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, you're fucking killing me."

Warm fingertips trailed over his wrist and down his hand, brushing over his wrists and back up as she waited for him to react. The anticipation was killing her, sitting perfectly still as she decided to wait. to let him take the lead. “Why am I killing you?” She was playing dumb. The sexual tension had risen up, her skin hot from it, but she wanted to hear it from him.

Harry sucked in a breath as she trailed her fingertips over his wrist, his heart racing in his chest. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to tell- had to show her. To let out everything that was building up inside of him. "Because I want you so goddamn bad." His voice was hoarse, laced with fervor, his eyes pleading with her to understand. He couldn't help the way he felt, the way he had always felt about her. "I've wanted you for so long, been pining for you.. it's driving me insane."

“You have?” Her head tilted, hair falling over her shoulder as he dropped that bomb on her. Y/N hadn’t had any real idea that he had wanted her, had always sort of thought maybe he just liked that she was easy to hang out with and that they’d meshed together really well, but the knowledge that he was pining over her sent the hoard of butterflies into her stomach. “How.. for how long?”

Harry's jaw clenched, knowing it was time to confess. There was no use in hiding it anymore, even if she was going to reject him. It was about to burst from his seams, leak from his lips regardless. "Since we’ve met," He admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I’ve been fucking useless over you. Used t’watch you, wonder what it would be like to have you, to hold you, to kiss you." He looked at her with desperate eyes.

"I'd see you talking to that asshole ex of yours, and I'd just want to fucking rip him apart and keep you all to myself. Knew I could treat you better, make you feel better, give you all the shit he couldn’t. Heard you cry too many times over people that aren’t worth it and I can give you all the shit you need. I know I can." He admitted, his face flushing with anger and jealousy. "I've tried to ignore it, to move on, but I can't."

"You have no idea how many times I've imagined telling you, but I didn’t want to fuck things up between things up between us. You’ve felt safe with me. I didn’t want you to feel like I’ve been friends with you as some fucking attempt to get into your pants because that isn’t it. I’ll be your friend regardless, but I just need a shot. Please. Just give me one chance t’see." Harry felt a little pathetic for his approach but he didn’t have much control over it. It was all in her hands now.

Her breathing hitched as she listened, her cunt getting slightly wet at the way he looked at her, at how he spoke. losing that bit of a veil he had over him, showing her how he had felt. Finally, It felt like that part she couldn’t figure out was coming to the light. “Harry…” she breathed, feeling his hand reach for her jaw. It was welcomed, his warm fingertips tilting her head up.

She didn’t know he had that in him, but she really fucking liked it. 

Gripping her chin firmly, his thumb brushing over her pouted lower lip as he looked into her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me." He commanded, leaving no room for argument. Harry didn't wait for her to respond. Leaning in, his free hand came up to wrap around her waist, pulling her close to him as he crushed their lips together. It was rough, passionate and intense, a hunger she hadn't sensed from him before- and she strangely loved it.

Harry’s lips were demanding, claiming hers as if she belonged to him. His tongue pushed past her lips, tangling with hers in a heated kiss that left her gasping. He kissed her like he was starving for her, like he hadn't eaten in days and she was the only thing that could satisfy him. His lips were bruising, hungry, insistent, molding against hers with a fierce intensity that took her breath away. The tip of his tongue delved into her mouth, probing, tasting, owning, his moan vibrating against her lips as he deepened the kiss.

She melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck as she returned it with equal fervor. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him close as she surrendered to the overwhelming hunger he stirred within her. She whimpered into the kiss, her body trembling with need, her heart racing in her chest.

Y/N could feel just how much he meant it, how much he had yearned for her. She could taste it on his tongue as he held her to his body, resting her on his thighs. He was greedy with her, taking and taking and taking- but she didn’t mind at all. If anything she flowed into it, melting into the feeling.

The way she fed into the kiss, so willingly and completely, made his heart race and his head spin. He could taste her surrender, her desire, her longing for him and he drank it in eagerly, as if he could never get enough of her. Her body melted into his embrace as her lips parted further, inviting him in deeper. He could feel her heart racing against his chest, her hands gripping his hair almost painfully, but he hardly cared.

Her body was pliant, her breathing uneven, as he continued to delve into her mouth. He could feel the way she shifted on his lap, her legs bracketing his hips as she slowly began to move herself against him.

A low groan rumbled in his chest, the sound almost primal as he felt her shifting on his lap. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard and it only served to drive him further into madness. He wanted more of her, all of her, every single part of her. “Baby…” The nickname fell out of her mouth as a breathless sigh. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

He pulled back from the kiss slightly, his breath coming in ragged pants as he stared down at her. Her eyes were glazed over with desire, her lips swollen and so prettily puffy from the intensity of their kissing- he wanted this to be the state of them every fucking day. Why was this only the first time he’d gotten the privilege of getting to see this? "I can't... I can't think straight when you're like this,"

Uneven breaths filtered the room, the TV show long forgotten behind them. She, too, was unable to think straight as she looked into his eyes. It was gorgeous, he was fucking gorgeous, looking fucked out just from a kiss alone. “Huh?” Y/N was hazy herself. This wasn’t what she had expected from coming over tonight but she had no complaints. Her mouth felt like it was buzzing and her clit was throbbing as she sat against him, his large hands keeping her still otherwise she’d continue her ministrations on top of him.

Harry reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a gentle touch. "Just looking at you, baby, makes me lose my damn mind. I need you to focus on me for a second, okay?" He swallowed hard as he tried to calm himself down. "You're fuckin’ stunning. Driving me crazy, really fucking crazy. The way you move against me... I need more of it." The man sighed out, his fingers trailing down her throat gently, petting her.

Harry's mind was swimming with need, a deep and intense desire to have her, to make her his and his alone. He wanted to feel her body pressed against his, the heat rolling off of her in waves. He wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to taste her. “But I don’t want t’just fuck you. I want you. Want you to be my girl.”

Holding her eyes with his own, he thumbed over her swollen bottom lip and watched as it snapped back to place as he released it. “I want t’do the whole thing. The dates, the flowers, everything you want. I don’t want to ruin this friendship but fuck, darling… I just want you to be mine.” He swallowed thickly, watching her reaction. “I’m willing to work for that title… but I can’t hold back anymore. Can’t keep pretending that I’m not dying t’hold you and kiss this perfect fucking mouth.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. Her cheeks were hot under the skin, chest rising and falling with every deep breath she took. It felt like he’d stolen her breath and her thoughts as he confessed to her, making her blink at him a few times. She looked completely lost in his words and the way he looked at her as he spoke them. The air around was thick with tension and desire.

There wasn’t a thought that needed to be had to confirm that she wanted him back, though. She always adored him, but he’d never seemed like the relationship type. Never showed his interest in the way she had anticipated. It had taken her by surprise, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t happy about it.

Without thinking, she reached up and cupped his face, her thumb brushing over his berry hued lips and running over the piercing as she searched his eyes. She could see the raw emotion in them, the way he was barely holding on to his control. And it broke her heart, in a way, because she was so completely aware of how painful it could be to hold back emotions for someone. “I wish you hadn’t hidden it for so long.” Softly, she used her other hand to push back his hair. “I can’t lie and say this isn’t a surprise… but I am more than willing to give it a shot.” Indulging in him, she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Especially when you kiss me like you just did.”

She deepened the kiss, parting her lips for him and wrapping her arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to get closer to him. Harry groaned against her mouth, pulling her flush against him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

That was the answer he needed. He had imagined her rejection a million times, her acceptance a few times more, but nothing could compare to the actual feeling of it. Having her in his lap and the overwhelming giddy feeling working its way through his limbs as he tried to show it through his actions.

The kiss was needy, full of the  longing and passion that had been building up over the months. He was rough and gentle at the same time, leaving her dizzy as he trailed kisses from her lips to her jaw. “Good. So it’s settled… no more silly dates with useless boys. You’re gonna give me a shot to show you just how much I can appreciate you.”

“Mhm.” Y/N nearly purred, rolling her head to the side as he kissed over her skin and down to her throat. It had always been sensitive for her, but feeling the cool brush of his lip ring, and then the metallic ball of his tongue piercing brush her hot skin had her shiver in his arms.

Harry smirked, knowing he was getting to her head. His hands roamed her body, pulling her in even closer as he sucked on a soft spot right under her ear. God, she was fucking soft wherever he touched her, he couldn’t get enough of her. He sucked hard on the spot, his nose brushing against her skin as he inhaled her scent deeply. His other hand came up to wrap around her throat, applying just a bit of pressure as he tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck.

“Fuck.” Y/N felt her second heartbeat between her thighs, the strong hand and thick fingers holding her still. Positioning her where he wanted her. His rings added a similar sensation to his piercings, the mix of hot and cold working her up.

He hummed at her response, his hand tightening around her throat just slightly as he moved down to bite at her collarbone. A low growl rumbled in his chest, feeling the way her body trembled under him as he pressed a kiss over the racing pulse on her neck. Harry pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own dark and intense as he spoke in a low, rough tone. "M’gonna mark you up, m’love. Every inch of your skin is gonna have my fingerprints, my bites, my kisses. You're gonna be my girl, and everyone's gonna fuckin’ know it."

“Yeah.” She hummed, grinning as his hand loosened slightly on her throat. As toxic as it may be, she ate up the possessive words, wanting to let him do that very thing.

Harry let out a low, pleased noise at her words, his hips rocking forward as he pressed against her heat. He kissed her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth as he gripped her hip with one hand and reached down to undo his pants with the other. His poor cock needed to breath, aching with need as he finally got her exactly where he wanted her.

"How do you like to be touched, baby?" He whispered into her ear, before sucking on the lobe gently and nipping it, smirking to himself as he felt her shudder in his arms. He pulled back to look at her, his eyes shining. “Hm? I want t’know. Want t’make you the happiest fuckin’ girl. Can do anything y’want.”

“I…” She had trouble finding her words. This was not at all the sort of thing she’d anticipated coming over tonight, but she was loving every second of it. Harry… wanting her? It seemed like it was one of those dreams, one of those things that sounded nice in theory but would never happen- and yet here he was. Asking how she liked being touched because he wanted to be the one doing it. “I like when you held my throat… and when you bit me. And when you held my jaw.”

Harry's lips quirked into a half grin and he nodded. He pulled back to look at her, his thumb tracing over her jaw where he had just held it so gently. He leaned down and bit the skin there lightly, feeling her shiver under him. Her reaction was immediate and visceral. The moment his teeth sank into her jaw, she let out a soft, needy whine, her eyes fluttering closed as her body relaxed into his grip. Her leg tightened around his waist, her free hand reaching up to gently touch the spot where he'd bitten her.

Her whole body seemed to melt against him, her back arching as she pressed herself closer, seeking more of that delicious pain. A soft, high-pitched noise escaped her lips, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, as she tilted her head to the side, offering him better access to her neck as she felt his nose drag down the side of it.

She was completely lost in the sensation, her mind going blank as all her focus shifted to the feeling of his teeth on her skin. Her fingers curled into his shirt, her nails digging in slightly as she held on for dear life, her other hand still resting on the spot he'd bitten, gently massaging it. “That feels so good.” She exhaled, the feelings washing over her. “I love how you touch me, H.”

Harry smiled against her skin, his teeth grazing over her jaw as he spoke. "I love touching you too, sweetheart. You're so fuckin’ responsive, for me.” He kissed the spot he'd bitten, soothing it with his lips before pulling back to look at her again.

His bulge rocked between her thighs, his hand moving to cup her face. She could feel his want for her, his affection. Harry hadn’t been joking in the slightest that he wanted to be hers, and that was something she hadn’t experienced before.

"You still haven't let me make you mine, properly," Harry said, a hint of a pout on his lips. "I want all of you, Y/N." He moved himself against her again, the cock in his pants rubbing against her aching cunt. "Are y’gonna let me have you?"

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, shy smile on her face. There was nothing she wanted more in the moment, actually. 

 “Don’t want you to regret it, though.” Harry murmured, face sobering. As much as he wanted her, he wanted to make sure this was what she truly wanted above anything else. “We don’t have to go too far if you don’t want to.” 

“I wanna.” Y/N hadn’t been fucked in a while, no, but she trusted him. Hell, he’d waxed near poetry about how he wanted to be hers and vice versa. There was no one night stand needed to get off. Harry could do it- and if the things she had heard were true, he could do it very well.  “Want you to fuck me.”

Harry's eyes widened at her confession, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment before he let go. "Well," he said, swallowing thickly. "I can certainly do that."

He was practically vibrating with excitement, his heart racing in his chest as he held her close. The thought of finally being able to claim her as his own, to be the one to make her feel good and cry out his name, was almost too much for him to handle. "I've wanted to be with you for so fuckin’ long." Harry murmured against her skin, his breath warm against her. "I've thought about you every night as I've fallen asleep, imagining what it would be like to finally have you, Y/N. You’ve got no idea"

“Then have me.” Y/N could hardly believe it, but she needed it just as badly now. Her body was hot and achy and her cunt was wet and felt so empty- Harry would fix it. He was the only one that could. “Touch wherever you want. I trust you.”

The declaration of trust meant more to him than she would probably ever realize. It gave him the confidence to go for it. Harry's hand immediately moved between her legs, rubbing her through the fabric of her pants. The man groaned as he felt how wet she was, his fingers tracing over her cunt as he breathed against her lips. "Oh, fuck, baby." he whispered in awe.

“Take them off.” her plea was a little whiny but it seemed to make him happy with how he smiled against her lips. “Please… I want to feel you touch me with nothing stopping it. Need it.”

Harry's smile was wicked as he reached for the waistband of her pants, quickly adjusting her so he could tug them down her legs along with her underwear. There was very little time to waste when it came to getting to have her. This had been his wet dream, his fantasy, and he wasn’t going to waste it. He sat back up and looked at her, his eyes roaming over her bare pussy before he knelt down in front of her with a husky groan.

“What?” She felt shy with him staring at her, the most vulnerable she had ever felt in front of him. The hunger in his eyes was visible and she knew he liked what he saw, but his quiet observation was unnerving. She watching the silver glint of his piercing glint as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, strong, ringed hands gently pressing her thighs open and black polished fingers digging into her skin.

“M’sorry, baby.” he crooned. “Don’t mean to stare, but…. I’ve been waiting so long. M’not even sure this is real.” Any bit of control was completely gone. He leaned forward, pressing his face against the plush of her lower tummy, inhaling her scent before he looked up at her with those starving eyes again. "Fuck, you smell so good. You’ve no idea." he murmured before placing a kiss to her mound. “Wanna eat you up.”

Where she found the nerve, she had no clue- but the moment she had it, she let it go. “Do it.”

Her words were the last thing he needed before he gave into her- happily. Harry's hands gripped her thighs greedily as he buried his mouth between her legs, indulging in what he’d been wanting to taste for ages. He lightly kissed over her clit and nuzzled her as her felt her jolt at the feeling, letting her settle into it for a moment before getting into it. The cool metal ball of his tongue piercing tapping over her clit had her shivering, a shaky gasp leaving her swollen lips as her eyes fell closed. 

It was overwhelming, to say the least. Harry's tongue felt hot and slick as it lathed over her pussy- the contrast in temperatures between him and her sensitive flesh making her squirm. He explored her, leaving nowhere untouched as she gripped the cushion next to her, taking full advantage of his permission to taste before he settled into a slow, gentle rhythm of lapping at her cunt. The man was good- almost too good.

She could feel herself sinking into the cushion beneath her as he ate her out, his tongue dipping into her pussy and licking at her entrance before swirling around her clit. His hands were gentle on her thighs, rings cool to the touch and fingertips digging into her skin as he pushed them open wider for him. He groaned against her, eyes peering up at her.The vibrations against her pussy sent tremors through her body.  “Look at me, baby. Let me see your pretty eyes.”

The view was something else completely. Looking down at him, she felt herself nearly lose it altogether. It didn’t seem fair to have someone look that good doing such a filthy act, but it only seemed to make perfect sense for him. Harry exuded sex, and his sensual nature had always made her a bit curious in the past- but this was other worldly. His nose rubbed against her clit, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh, hair a mess, as hazy, dark green peered up at her from where they were so comfortably buried between her legs. Like they were made to be there.

Her hands fell to his hair, back arching as his tongue brushed her entrance again, breathing hitched as he nuzzled into her cunt, not caring about any mess as he pressed his tongue into her, nose brushing her clit with every movement. “Oh, fuck.” Her voice was a choked mess as she looked down at him in shock, not at all expecting this out of him. She should have, she should have known he was a filthy fuck, but she’d apparently unleashed something in him.

His hair was a wild mess as she gripped it, pulling him closer as he devoured her. He made happy noises against her, moving up to momentarily suck on her clit before plunging his tongue back inside her. She could feel his scruff scratching against her inner thighs, a rough sensation that made her clench around his tongue. It was animalistic, desperate in a way she had never felt before.

Harry hadn’t felt this deprived in his life. He hadn’t liked a woman this much before either, hadn’t wanted her this badly. He needed some relief, especially with her rocking her damn cunt against his face. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he pulled his sweats down, tugging his embarrassingly hard cock out and started to stroke. His hips rocked in time with the rhythm of his tongue, hand moving faster as she arched her back, pulling him closer. He could feel her getting closer, body trembling beneath him.

“H…” she panted, gently tugging him away from her cunt. “Inside me. I want to cum with you inside me.”

Harry groaned, a whine slipping from his lips as he pulled himself away from her pussy, a string of saliva connecting his tongue to her entrance before breaking away.

“M’not done with that. You taste so fucking good.” He mumbled, leaning himself up. His hands were gentle as he adjusted her to make them both comfortable. “Gonna make it good for you, baby. I promise.”  Another time he would take his time, make love to her properly. Spend hours with her in a bed when they both had patience- but right now? He knew the both of them needed relief, and they needed it now. Taking a shaky breath, he positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance, the head pressing against her soaked lips. He looked up at her, eyes wild as he pushed forward, the tip popping inside her. He let out a satisfied groan as he sunk himself in to the hilt, her tight pussy squeezing him the way he knew she would. 

She gasped, the way her walls closed in tighter on him as he sunk to the base was a small slice of heaven for him. He closed his eyes, riding out the pleasure of it for a moment. He could feel her body reacting in kind, legs trembling. “It’s okay, yeah? You’re okay?” He looked down at her, making sure she didn’t have any discomfort on her face. 

“I’m okay.” She sighed, gripping onto his forearm. “I’m so okay. I want it all. You can give it to me.” Lightly dragging her nails down his skin, she knew she could handle it. It’s how she liked it- how she wanted him to give it to her. Y/N wanted Harry exactly how he wanted to give it because she had full confidence he was going to give it to her good. 

“Alright, sweetheart. Jus’ hold on t’me then.” He pulled out barely, just the head remaining before thrusting himself back in, making her jolt under him. Deep- he was so deep, making her gasp as the pleasured fullness was felt to its extent. This was exactly what they needed. His hands grabbed her hips and he started moving in earnest, every thrust baring his need for her to cum around him. “Don’t have to hold back with me, sweet girl. Gonna make sure you feel good all night.”

She was a vision of beauty, legs spread wide as he fucked into her, the sound of their skin thudding together echoing through the room. Tears of pleasure slowly pooled in her waterline as he fucked her deep, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrust. Slow, deep, passion. It was palpable. 

Not overly rough, no. Not at all. It was hot and heavy in the best possible way, making her eyes roll back. He wasn’t using her as a toy, but showing her how much he wanted her with his body. There was no mistaking it. Harry meant what he said. He wanted her, and he was speaking through his body. She heard him loud and fucking clear. Hopefully, he was listening back. 

The room was filled with the sounds of their sex, the slap of skin, the wet squelch of his cock sinking into her over and over. She was shaking, her nails digging into his biceps as he pounded into her, the force of his thrusts making the aged sofa squeak. If it was any other scenario, he’d be cautious- but he was finally getting the woman he had been dreaming of around his cock.

Her whole body was a trembling mess, her breasts bouncing with each thorough thrust. Her back arched off the couch as he hit that sweet spot inside her, her walls clamping down on him like a vice. She let out a mewl, a saccharine call of his name as the intense pleasure washed over her. “Harry- Harry if you keep going M’gonna cum.” It was a frantic warning. Her mind couldn’t figure out if it was too much or not, but she didn’t want it to stop.

He couldn't help himself, his thrusts became even more urgent as he felt her walls fluttering around him, signaling her impending orgasm. He grabbed her face, his thumb pressing against her lips, shushing her as he fucked into with a blissed out smile. "Shh, m’dream girl, let it happen. Cum on my cock. Been dreaming of you for ages.

Let me have it." 

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled moan of his name as her orgasm hit her. White hot pleasure hitting her blood as the tears left her waterline when her eyes squeezed shut, she dug her nails into him with a garbled whimper. Her body shook, her pussy fluttering around his cock as he continued to fuck her through it, prolonging her pleasure.

Harry leaned down, resting his forehead against hers as he felt his own climax building within him- especially with the feel of her nails digging into him and her own orgasm. "Fuck.. You're so fuckin’ perfect, so good, I'm gonna cum.." He whispered his final warning, groaning against her skin.

“Please.” Y/N whispered, dragging her nails up his arms and over his shoulders. “Give it to me. M’on the pill.” Her lips brushed his ear. “I want to feel it. You’ve been so nice to me tonight and I love it. Cum for me how you want. Anywhere you w-want.” 

Harry was a mass of frayed nerve endings as he neared his release. His entire body felt like it was buzzing, his heart beating fast against his chest. The build up of pleasure in his balls and the slick feeling of her pussy made him feel as if he was on cloud nine.

His muscles tensed, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. He was so close. He could feel his orgasm building, coiling in the base of his spine, ready to explode- but her sensual coos into his ear and fingers down arms had been the breaking point. "I'm gonna cum so fucking hard," he gritted out, his voice strained with effort. “M’cumming for you, baby. G-Gonna give it all t’you and make you m-mine.” His words stuttered as he felt it start. His vision started to blur and his breath hitched in his throat as he thrust into her one final time, holding himself deep inside her as his orgasm ripped through him. His vision went white, his mind going blank as he emptied himself into her, his cock pulsing with each spurt of cum.

Catching his breath, he let himself sag into her as he felt her hand dragging up and down his back. Mutual comfort as she held him, helping him through his own orgasm as she wrapped a leg around him, making sure he felt steady as he checked in on her. His ears were sorta ringing in a good way, but he was chuffed. “Okay?” He cupped her cheek, stroking her heated skin. At her nod, he grinned widely. “Yeah? Okay- okay, good. Jus’, need to make sure you’re good. Hold on. Need t’make us more comfortable. I’ll clean up in a second.” 

Ever so carefully, Harry pulled out of her, his softening cock slipping from her sensitive pussy. He cooed at the slight hiss she let out, apologizing as he grabbed a few tissues clumsily from the coffee table and wiped her the best he could as gathered her close on his lap, cradling her in his arms as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, anywhere he could reach without breaking the tender moment. “That’s my girl. Fuck… you’re everything I want.”

Y/N had pushed away her crush on him when they’d first met, especially when they started to become closer friends- but this had been beyond her expectations. Harry had given her the fuck of her life all while claiming his devotion to her- something no one else had done before. She was borderline giddy as his hands stroke her, the rushed sex leaving their tops on and a true nod to the frantic passion they’d felt once the kissing had started.

A giggle left her throat as she peeled her eyes open to look at his flushed face and swollen lips, his eyes burning with an emotion she couldn’t place as she ran her hands over his shoulders. “We probably look so silly.” Harry’s pants around his ankles and hers off completely, both with just a shirt on.

Harry chuckled softly, his breath ghosting along her cheek as he spoke, his voice low and raspy from the intensity of their just-past fucking. The way she was looking at him was almost better than her moans had been.

“Silly, hmm?” Harry’s eyes took on a mischievous edge as his fingers traced the curve of her waist. He sat up on the couch, dragging her with him so she was straddling his lap. His roommate be damned, he wasn’t too concerned about the mess on the couch right now.

“Mhm.” Her smile faded into a soft grin. “We were a little eager, huh?”

Eager was an understatement, but Harry loved how cute she looked in this moment. The way she was sitting on top of him, all breathless and relaxed—it made him want to do it all over again, if only to see that look on her face.

Harry’s hand wandered to the back of her neck, his thumb gently tracing circles against her skin as he spoke. “I am eager.” He sobered slightly. “I meant what I said. I want you. I promise I’d be the best person you’ve ever dated. I’ll worship you every day and make sure you know how much you mean to me.”

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips, his eyes still locked on hers. “I’ll make you laugh every day, be there for you through everything. And when it comes to the bedroom,” Harry paused, grinning slyly.

“Hush.” Y/N giggled, placing their lips back together for a longer kiss, slow and smooth as she pulled back. their lips made a soft clicking sound as she rubbed her nose against his. “So if you want to be my boyfriend…. does that mean you’ll give me free piercings?”

Harry let out a chuckle, his arms wrapping around her waist as he hugged her close. “Free piercings, exclusive attention, really bad jokes, and a love that’ll make your heart skip a beat. That’s the deal, love. But you have to promise me one thing in return.”

“Hm… what’s that?”

Harry would give her the world if she asked for it, probably, but he did have one stipulation. “No more waiting between commissions t’see you. You can set up here, or I can come see you after work. M’a little clingy, if you couldn’t tell. Deal?” “Deal.”

[queers-gambit]

Neon Sticky Notes

prompt: ( requested ) reminding your boyfriend you love him one sticky note at a time.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader -> pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.4k+

note: baby gets what baby wants! God, do i hope this is what you want, my baby...

warnings: probably cursing, Carmy needs a nap, men being simps, this is short and sweet! it's FINALLY edited!!!

You knew he was struggling. Worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, run ragged, amuck, and into the ground.

It was evident in the way he carried himself; the prominent bags under his eyes, the way he tossed and turned in bed before being found on the living room couch in the morning. His hair seemed greasier then usual, his skin turning gaunt and grey, and you knew he wasn't making time to eat.

By comparison, you had a simple job, something corporate and in an office. Something that made decent money; something you were good at, something you could find pride in doing.

However, Carmy's job as a chef was different; being more than stressful, and while coupled together for years now, it was still a work-in-progress each time Carmen started on a new venture. Owning, running, and converting The Beef into something "better" should've been no different, only it was - it was totally different. Carmy was frazzled, looking deranged some evenings, as if operating on adrenaline, and you were at a loss on how to help.

So, you resorted to a natural instinct - communicating.

Carmy needed reassurance, he needed support, he needed to be loved for who he is, exactly how he was, in order to keep his head on straight. You never did mind the challenge that was Carmen Berzatto, finding him akin to a puzzle. So, on your way home from work one evening, you stopped at a CVS to grab a pack of neon, multi-colored sticky notes and a brand new Sharpie marker.

You had an idea.

When you got back to your shared apartment, you unloaded the groceries you needed onto the counters before calling Carmy. "Hey, Peaches," he answered on the third ring, usual kitchen clatter in the background, "everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good."

"Sure? Sound outta breath."

"The elevator's broken, I got groceries," you groaned, "and have been skipping the gym for a couple weeks."

He chuckled, "Never skip leg day, baby, you know it's our house motto."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - hush. I'm just wondering if you had an ETA for tonight? I have an early morning meeting, so I want to go to sleep early."

"Uh," he trailed, a muffled ruffling sounding over the line before a small clatter that made him sigh, "yeah, um, you know what? I really don't know, baby, I'm sorry. You do your thing and I'll be quiet when I get in, just leave my stuff on the couch."

"No, come to bed," you whined slightly, "I miss you."

"Awh, yeah, miss you, too, Peach. I'll be there," he promised.

You finished putting all groceries away; the dishes following, then you got started on prepping dinner. Look, you were no cook - that was all Carmy. But you weren't totally useless in a kitchen, so, you didn't mind taking over most meals now that Carmy was waist-deep in The Beef's bullshit. You played music as you cooked, poured a glass of wine, danced around, and tried to think of a list of encouraging things to remind Carmy. You ate dinner alone, and when done with clean-up, faced off with your sticky notes and Sharpie.

The first note was scribbled and stuck on the covered plate in the fridge: Bone Apple Teeth, Chef!

Then you wrote a note to leave at the door where Carm was sure to drop his keys: make sure you eat the plate I left you!

Humming, you pondered a moment before smirking and writing a third note to be left on the TV remote: I know you too well. come to bed.

Lastly, you wrote a fourth and final note to be left in the bathroom: great job today, Chef! you're killing it!

You were fast asleep when he got home. He found the note in the key bowl, smirking at your kindness and thoughtfulness. Carmy saw the messily-drawn heart and pocketed the note, toeing off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He reheated the plate you left, pocketed the second note after a silent grin of amusement, and when ready, took his hot food to the couch.

Carmy laughed when he found your third note. He left it on the table as he ate, half-watching the news segment he flipped on. When he was full and his plate clear, Carmy turned the TB off, pocketed your note, set everything in the dishwasher, started it, and then went into the bathroom. Another soft chuckle emitted as he pulled the final note in his hand - and you already know he saved it.

When he got in your shared room, he made sure to leave the notes in a random shoe box, stashing it in his closet, changed for the night, and crawled into bed with you.

This was a regular occurrence now: Carmy came home late to a barrage of sticky notes, saved them all, then crashed in bed with you. You missed each other, but understood scheduling just didn't line up right now. It wasn't like you two never saw one another, you still did - but it wasn't like it was. Time together now felt fleeting, as if you had to savor everything, so you made the most of your situation.

Was it overcompensation? Possibly. But Carmy adored your notes.

Sometimes, you'll be sat in the living room, reading a book, working on your laptop, or scrolling Instagram on your phone, while he cooks and he finds a note left on the milk carton that reads: I am UDDERLY in love with you!

Get it? 'Cause cows have udders? You were pretty proud of that pun.

Other times, he'll be up at an unGodly hour, getting a steamy hot shower, and you'll come in to pee. He doesn't think anything of anything until he gets out of the stall only to see a neon orange sticky note on the counter, saying: i love your butt! lemme pinch it!

Carmy feels himself looking forward to your little surprises. Some were funny and a little vulgar, like the note found on the eggs: fertilize MY eggs!

Some notes were more innocent, like the one he found in his shoe one morning, reading: I'm so proud of you. have a great day today!

Some just said: be home for dinner @ 8! making your fav!

Others were found, saying: you're so fucking handsome. I'm one lucky ducky! You even tried to draw a little duck.

Some notes were motivational: you're doing a GREAT job, baby!

Some notes reminded: you have a dentist appt @ 10!

Some notes were sweet: call me during your break, cutie, i miss your voice!

And others found on the bathroom mirror were playful: you look too good today, go change! A second note added: don't need anyone looking at your fine ass! A third: i'm the only one allowed to look #respectfully

Each and every note had a drawn heart, being saved to a hidden shoebox. He found notes in his usual coffee mug, reminding him you loved him. He found notes on his toothpaste tube, telling him he was doing a great job. Cereal boxes now promised Carmy they were proud of him, pastas told him to have a great day, and the light switches assured reminded him how special he was.

The microwave told him you felt blessed to be his and in his jacket pocket, he was told how lucky you are to love him. Some notes swore to him he was one of a kind, others explicitly detailed what parts of him you wanted in parts of you, and a few reminded him of important dates, appointments, deadlines, anniversaries, birthdays, etc..

Sometimes, he found little treats with these sticky notes. Like when you had to make brownies for your little sister's bake sale, you left him a Tupperware full with a hot pink note, labeled: for the love of my life!

And then... One morning, when you got up for work, Carmy was already gone for his day. You went through your normal routine, entering the kitchen with the intention of making a to-go cup of coffee, only to pause and grin when a neon green sticky note greeted you from the stovetop. Written in messy, fresh, black Sharpie was: got you on my mind. love you, be home @ 6 tonight!

Carmy drew own heart and you beamed at the reciprocation. You didn't mind the distance for now, knowing he was busy and it wouldn't last forever; but the fact that he could reassure you as much as you could him warmed your heart. You felt like the Grinch when his heart grew in size, just without the painful grunting. If anything, you felt euphoric from his little note - thinking it was reassuring to still communicate even when your schedules differed.

The day passed sluggishly - only because you were actually excited to go home. Ironically, your last client of the day didn't leave until a little later than scheduled, so, when you FINALLY got off work and made it home, Carmy had beaten you. When you got through the door, you were met with a heavenly aroma; using Gandalf's advice and following your nose to enter the kitchen.

You sighed dreamily when you came to a halt in the doorway, bottom lip trapped between your teeth to attempt and restrain your ecstatic grin. Carmy was shirtless at the stove, stirring a pasta dish to coat it in the sauce of his choice. "Hi, pretty peach," he beamed at you.

"Oh, I've missed this sight," you squealed, rushing to his side to throw your arms around his neck. "Hi, baby, hi, baby, hi, baby," you chanted between chaste kisses to his cheek.

"Someone missed me," he laughed, cheeks blooming a bright red - but not from the kitchen heat.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, and you know I don't do well alone, I need attention," you teased with a pout, his arm slithering around your waist - but a crinkle noise caught your attention. "Woah, hey. Did you get a new tattoo?" You pondered, looking down at his arm that was protectively bandaged.

He smirked and held his arm out, "Wanna take the plastic off for me?"

"What'd you get?"

"Find out," he whispered, staring at you with his intense baby blue eyes; waiting as you calculated your next move. Slowly, you reached out and unwrapped the protective cling wrap, getting to the gauze, then slowly peeling that from his skin.

"Ohhh, my fucking God," you whispered.

"Like it?"

"Are these... My hearts?"

He nodded, "I got 6 of them from your notes tattooed. 'Cause we've been together six years. Figured, each year, I could add one - but you gotta draw it."

"You're ridiculous," you laughed, in minor disbelief. "What made you do this?"

He eased, "You. I've never felt so confident in my life before, and I know you're a huge part of that. It feels right, being with you feels right and I wanted to show you that I see and appreciate all you do." His tone softened, "I wouldn't be me without you, Peach."

"You'd still be Carmy."

"A totally different Carmy, though," he chuckled. "I actually like who I am with you, baby. But look here, I know it's been real hectic lately, sweet girl, with the restaurant, but it's not gonna be like this forever. We're makin' progress, we're gonna get this settled."

"I know," you assured, "'cause if anyone's gonna get this done, it's you. Just don't forget to breathe every now and then - you're drowning in this stress and I need you to stay afloat, Carm."

"I'm good, Peaches, got you on my team so I can't lose," he eased, tucking you into his chest for an embrace. After a minute and a tight squeeze, he sighed, pecked the crown of your head, then mumbled, "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner's almost ready."

You agreed, stealing one last (prolonged) kiss before scampering off to the bedroom. When you got there, you almost tripped when you came to a halt; laughing loudly as the entire bed was covered in an array of neon colored sticky notes. Until you got closer and realized each note detailed a different reason Carmy loved you; from the way you search for him in your sleep to how you resembled a Gremlin if not fed within certain hours. From how you weren't afraid to dress up for the Renaissance Festival to how you throw blankets in the dryer for 15 minutes before movie nights. In fact, "movie night" was on a single note, being a fond yet routine date. You read each note carefully, tears wanting to build but you refused to let them, yet it was difficult when this was the sweetest gesture you've ever known.

Even things you were insecure about, like dimples or weight or hair color, was highlighted as a reason Carmy loved you. He listed your authenticity, generosity, thoughtfulness, charisma, incredible brain but even bigger heart. He praised your wit, your humor; adored your sneezes, and looked forward to coming home every night because he knew he was coming home to you.

You've never felt so loved before, wondering if this was what Carmy felt each time he found one of your notes.

Movement caught your peripheral, and when you looked up, Carmy was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom; arms crossed and lips pulled in a small smirk. He didn't speak, he just stared at you. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth twice; holding most of the sticky notes in your hands, but then, you settled on telling him simply, "I love you so fucking much, Carmy."

Dinner might've allegedly burned that night, but so did your love and passion for one another. Even the smallest of gestures can go farther than we anticipate, and showing someone you care could be as simple as leaving them notes around the apartment you cohabitate in, on neon colored Post It's.

Wanna know the cool thing about adult relationships? You get to love your partner out loud; being unapologetic in how you emote, and in return, you're loved by them. Each person deserves to be loved in the way they want to be loved - but you know how fucking great it is when two lovers respond to the same language? What I mean is, it could be considered rare that you, who liked to leave notes, would meet and fall in love with someone who liked to collect and read those notes. Your love language was the same as Carmy's, part of the reason you both worked so well together - but also why one day, he'd add plenty more hand drawn hearts to the collection on his forearm.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?” 

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.” 

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do. 

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order. 

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.” 

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best. 

“Stay sharp.” 

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it. 

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests. 

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military. 

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.” 

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.” 

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm. 

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?” 

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.” 

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…” 

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume. 

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.” 

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--” 

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup? 

“He needs help!” 

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?” 

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage. 

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!” 

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle. 

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--” 

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.” 

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos. 

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.” 

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago. 

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself. 

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?” 

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?” 

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.” 

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?” 

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily. 

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.” 

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge. 

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece. 

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear. 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?” 

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.” 

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?” 

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots. 

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him. 

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers. 

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised. 

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot. 

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--” 

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.” 

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.” 

“How?” 

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?” 

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him. 

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.” 

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had. 

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.” 

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer. 

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily. 

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating. 

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority. 

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit. 

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt. 

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.” 

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum. 

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.” 

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off. 

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts. 

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.” 

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?” 

“No, but--” 

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.” 

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close. 

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes. 

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him. 

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes. 

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.” 

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise. 

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway. 

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior. 

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries. 

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years. 

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you. 

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly. 

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point. 

You sigh. “I know.” 

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.” 

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—” 

This again. “But Frankie--” 

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.” 

“But I didn’t die.” 

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.” 

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that. 

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.” 

“I promise.” 

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.” 

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.” 

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.” 

[wileys-russo]

Mary Earps, "will you marry me"..."we're already married", nightclub/party/some sort of night out

marry me II m.earps

you weren't able to go to the game because of work but you'd heard how well mary played, score checking as often as you could when your boss wasn't looking though you knew he really wouldn't mind all that much being a united supporter himself.

finally on your afternoon break you'd had a chance to call her, getting the full recap on everything including what sounded like a rocket of a goal from both maya and ella, united going up 4-0 in one of their best games of the season.

it killed you to have to cut your wife off mid story but with only a couple minutes left mary was more than understanding as you promised to meet her with the team once you finished, not thinking you'd make it in time for dinner but they had plans to go out afterwards to a karaoke bar.

"-and i promise not to sing a single abba song until you arrive beautiful!" mary promised and you could hear the grin in her voice as you softened, the two of you having met when a rather tipsy mary had mistaken you for a friend and tried to sweep you off your feet to have a dance to voulez vouz years ago.

now it was your unspoken song, always making sure to get it requested whenever you went out with friends, the two of you in your own little bubble as you'd giggle and swing one another around like the lovesick idiots you really were.

telling her you loved her and again how proud you were of yet another clean sheet under her belt you ended the call and hurried back to your desk where a large number of emails awaited you.

you were somewhat grateful for how busy your afternoon was given that it made the rest of your shift fly past, your timer going to clock out jolting you from your chair almost as you saved the doc you were working on and shut down your monitor.

collecting your things you said your goodbyes to your coworkers and headed out, wishing you'd bought a second jacket as you speed walked from the office to the tube, settling a little once you were inside and headed home.

it was the same story as you power walked from the station to the bus, and then from the bus stop to your flat you shared with your girlfriend. your new years resolution this year had been to use public transport to get to work at least twice a week.

given the business you worked for operated seven days a week and you only worked five including like today the occasional weekend it was going quite well so far, even if also like today it was that little bit harder with the weather.

by the time you let yourself inside it was nearing half past seven, and still needing a shower and some food you sent your wife a message indicating as much with a promise to keep her updated on your eta.

you melted at her reply text, following her instructions and going to the fridge where indeed she'd already cooked you dinner earlier this morning, the food just needing to be heated up.

not wanting to chance spilling food on anything you ate before you showered, putting on the highlights of the match and watching on proudly with a smile, cheering as though you didn't already know the outcome.

finishing up you rinsed and stacked your bowl and the tupperware in the dishwasher which was nearly full, tossing a tablet in and clicking it on as you thanked your wife for the meal and ducked into the shower.

by the time you showered and changed, finally looking presentable, it was nearing nine and mary had already informed around twenty minutes ago they were headed to the bar from the restaurant and she'd see you there.

ordering an uber you slipped on your shoes and grabbed a jacket, greeting the driver but otherwise remaining quiet, grateful that he picked up on that and just turned the radio on as you messaged mary you'd arrived.

thanking the uber you stepped out and joined the small line to enter the bar, grateful for the jacket around your shoulders as a sharp breeze whipped through the night air.

you frowned a little when mary hadn't texted back, but assuming she just hadn't heard her phone you'd barely stepped foot into the bar before a couple of bodies tumbled into you.

"ya made it!" you laughed as millie lifted you into the air in a tight hug and ella hugged your other side, the two having spotted you enter from the bar as they hustled you back over with them to grab a drink.

you greeted a few more of the girls and their partners as you waited, looking around for your wife but unable to spot her. "you might want to prepare yourself babe." maya warned patting your shoulder and handing you your drink as you gave her a curious look.

"dumb and dumber here have been feeding mary shots so she's...a little bit tipsy." maya smiled apologetically as you chuckled, knowing from her tone that was clearly an understatement as you followed her back to the booths where most of the team was hanging around.

"hello beautiful!" you heard her before you saw her, the taller girl crashing into you as maya hurried to grab your drink from your hand or else you'd have wound up wearing it as your wife practically tackled you down onto the lounge.

"mary! watch out ya idiot." katie laughed with a shake of her head. "hi baby, having fun?" you smiled, taking your drink back off maya and settling it down on the table as mary sat up and nodded, arm draped securely over your shoulders.

"so much fun!" she giggled and you grinned at the bright red flush across her cheeks you knew only appeared when she'd had far too much to drink. "mm i can see that, whats this i hear about shots?" you teased sipping at your own drink.

"mary!" you groaned as you barely had a mouthful before the goalkeeper had taken it from your hand and downed it, her only response being to grab your face and smash her lips to yours causing your neck to warm and wolf whistles to ring out around you.

"okay okay! down girl." you laughed pushing at her chest as she again chased your lips with a grin. "no i missed ya, c'mere." she tugged at your dress as you shook your head. "you owe me a drink earps." you warned booping her nose with a grin.

"mary watch out!" you laughed again as she practically leapt over you and made a beeline for the bar, dragging millie along with her. "no more shots for her turner i mean it!" you yelled after them as millie only winked and you sighed.

turns out, there was more shots.

a couple of hours had passed since you'd arrived and having sung three times now both with your wife or friends you were ready to call it a night, mary barely able to hold her head up.

"i'm gonna get us an uber. can you help me get her up?" you chuckled to leah and millie, millie who had sobered up scarily fast considering you'd watched her do shot after shot with your wife who was near passed out on your shoulder.

"maz, baby. come on up we get, we're gonna head home!" you shook her lightly as her eyes fluttered open and she mumbled something incomprehensible and slumped back down. nodding to millie and leah once the uber was booked the girls helped mary up who thankfully could mostly walk herself once she was.

"for earps? thank you." you checked with the uber, leah shoving mary in the back as you sat down beside her and buckled her in, thanking both girls and waving them off as they made their way back inside.

"are we on the tube?" mary lifted her head squinting her eyes with a slur making you chuckle. "no you muppet, we're in an uber." you rubbed her knee as she hummed and collapsed into you with a grunt.

thankfully the bar wasn't too far from your flat as the uber pulled up outside and you gently pushed mary to sit up, exiting the car and quickly making your way to her door.

opening it you grunted as the girl near fell out, the sudden drop at least waking her up enough to allow you to pull her out of the car, closing the door and stumbling your way up the driveway.

"come on babe, work with me here!" you groaned as she leaned her much taller body into you with a moan and a mumble of something that wasn't english, your fingers freezing and struggling with the key in the door as you finally popped it open.

"down we go!" you dropped your wife onto the sofa as she giggled and blinked a few times, sighing as you hurried to the bedroom to change.

grabbing clothes for mary you joined her again in the living room rolling your eyes as she was now properly passed out, mouth hanging open and all.

"maz, maz baby." you crouched down beside her and poked at her as she groaned and swatted you away. "come on, we need to get you changed you idiot!" you laughed, shaking her a bit harder now as she awoke and you helped her groggily sit up.

"oh hello darling." mary slurred, grabbing your hands and tugging you down to sit on her lap. "when did you get here? i missed ya." she mumbled making you laugh and shake your head, well prepared to tease her relentlessly for this tomorrow.

you helped her get dressed, ignoring the comments about buying her dinner first and her little teenage giggles as with absolutely no assistance from your wife you managed to get her changed.

"you're so so beautiful." mary smiled lazily pulling you down onto her lap again making you sigh but crack a smile. "will you marry me? i think you should marry me." the goalkeeper grinned with hooded eyes making you laugh.

"we're already married my love." you grabbed her hand and held up your own, the taller girl squinting at the rings which sat on them. "oh lovely! tick that off the list then." she ticked mid air as you rolled your eyes.

"come on you big dope, time to go to bed with your wife."

[blkkizzat]

THAT'S NOT MY JJK MAN! animation teaser is here!

y'all i was gonna wait until next week to give y'all it but imma do it now cause it was going to be a gif but now i added sound so the full 28 sec animation upload will be as a video! and im too excited not to share!

for anyone who hasn't played "That's Not My Neighbor" you can play it for free here, without downloading anything. Not required to read the fic as ill give a lil premise to set the stage:

case files: Doppelgänger curses have been running rampant and causing chaos around Tokyo impersonating everyday civilians including sorcerers. Jujutsu society has set up veils and your JJK boyfriend has given you strict orders not to lower them to let anyone in the house but him—but can you identify the real one? (canon-verse).

ETA: short 500-1k drabbles LOL I LIED ITS MORE LIKE 3-4 FICS FJDHKFDJKH of Gojo, Toji, Nanami, Suguru, Choso, Sukuna and Geto who will you guess correctly? who will you fail? 😭

teaser/preview: don't let him in y'all. 😭

Releasing Oct 1st! when i get my shit together...

kizzatober m.list if you want to be tagged comment there please (finishing fics i didn't for last year, will revamp m.list aesthetics tho).

[hades--baby]

To Die Like This

Summary: Stuck in the Tundra with a bullet in your side, blood in your eye, and the agonizing feeling that your captain was going to throw an absolute fit when your bleeding body walked through the threshold of the safe house.

Note: There's just something about Price being so tender with the girl he loves that makes me go absolutely crazy. Anyway, it's been a long time since I've written anything and an even longer time since I've actually put something out. Hope y'all enjoy :)

(This work was also cross-posted on my ao3 account under hades_baby)

Word Count: 7109

You had always loved the serenity of a snowy forest. 

They were typically peaceful and quiet, a drastic contrast to your usual life of gunfire and warfare. 

The only things that ever really made a sound was the light crunch of snow beneath the thick soles of boots, the little animals scurrying from shrubs to burrows that led to their dens, and the winter birds chirping their little songs as they hopped from branch to branch. 

The air was always so crisp with a light scent of fresh pine and bark. It lacked the smell of gunpowder and the musk that filled the tight barracks. 

Honestly, if you could have it your way, you’d die in a forest like this. 

Have your trauma-ridden life end in a place so ethereal. 

The whole military life never really gave you what you wanted though. 

You typically had to take what you could get.  

The orders you were given weren’t to your liking? 

Too bad, you’d have to follow them anyway. 

The mission you were assigned to was in the middle of the fucking Tundra where you knew your fingers would freeze and you’d never be able to keep warm? 

You’re getting on the damn plane and going anyway because you were told to. 

A lead slugger was shot into your side and you were currently bleeding through your gear and you wanted to do nothing more than lay down in the snow and let the cold take you while the little blood you had left in your system melted the snow beneath your limp body? 

Well, too fucking bad. Get the fuck up because your Captain doesn’t take too kindly to any of his soldiers dying on the job. 

Yeah. 

You didn’t really get your way when it came to being a soldier, but today might have been your lucky day. 

That little snowy death wish that had been playing out in the back of your head for the past thirty minutes was starting to look like it might come true. 

There was a small burning bullet set in your side, a nice little slash on your arm from a bowie knife that had once been stuck in another man’s chest, and there was a cheeky little gash somewhere on your head that was pouring enough blood into your left eye to make you shut it and trek around half blind. 

It felt like you were getting too old for this kind of work. 

Then again, if Price could still keep up with this shit and be chipper doing it, then so could you. 

“What’s your ETA, Frost?”

His voice over your comms had startled you. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you snapped in a breathy tone as you slammed against the side of a pine tree to brace yourself before you could fall flat on your face. The fresh powder beneath you was starting to look really enticing. 

You closed your good eye—the one that hadn’t been flooded with blood—and let out a defeated sigh, dipping your head as you tried to catch your breath and not focus on the stinging sensation of all the wounds that riddled your body. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, apologizing to your Captain for your tone. You glanced at the watch on your wrist to check your current coordinates. “I’m a klick out from the safehouse. I should be there in a bit.”

“Copy.”

Price left it at that. 

He sounded tired. 

It was the same tone he spoke in when he was stuck in his office, getting dragged down into the depths with paperwork and mission reports he didn’t even want to think about. The tone that would come out when someone tried to talk to him too soon after a mission when all he wanted to do was relax and work the knots out of his shoulders. The tone that you heard oh so often when you’d pop into his office to keep him company while he dotted his i’s and crossed his t’s and when you’d work your fingers into the knots and sore spots on his back until he nearly fell asleep in his office chair. 

Fuck. 

You needed to get a move on.

After taking a deep breath, you trekked on, using every other tree to keep yourself upright as you staggered on your tired feet. 

Blood was seeping through all of your gear, some of it dripping into the pristine white powder beneath your feet. It was tragic how the deep crimson liquid stained the gorgeous snow. In your line of work, you had seen blood stain an array of surfaces, but snow seemed to be the worst of them. It was something that was meant to be clean and pure, yet here you were, ruining it. 

A grimace fell over your face at the sight. 

After a few minutes passed by, your legs met the threshold of movement and you slammed into another tree trunk. Your temple met the bark, wood scratching against the skin of your face. You closed your eyes as you tried to catch your breath and focus on not passing out while your limbs buzzed in pain. 

You could make it. 

Probably.

All you could really think about was the fact that you were definitely going to be telling Price that you didn’t want to do any more jobs in the Tundra. You enjoyed the cold climate when you weren’t working, which was almost never, but you still had a few days of leave a year where you got to fully relax (if your brain allowed). 

You liked the cold when you could cuddle up next to someone to stay warm, drink some hot cider, and watch stupid Christmas movies that had too many questionable moments that made you really sit and stare, trying to figure out whether or not you should laugh. 

You enjoyed the cold even more when you could hide away in the barracks, keeping warm with Price wrapped around you, hands tracing over your skin, heating you up quicker than a blanket ever could. 

“Frost.”

“Captain.”

He didn’t respond right away, making you wonder if he just wanted to say your callsign for the hell of it. 

“ETA?”

“Couple of minutes,” you answered. 

The eye with blood in it was starting to sting, the foreign liquid now slipping all the way to your jaw and dripping from your chin. 

“Cut it down to a minute.”

Price was starting to catch on that something was wrong. You were taking far too long to get to the safe house from where you had been coming from and your words were becoming too short and strained every time he asked you a question. Something was wrong and it was taking everything in him to not run out of the safehouse in search of you. You’d always been the type to be vocal when something went awry out in the field, so he silently prayed that your absence of issue meant that everything was fine and that you truly were just taking your sweet ass time to get to him. 

“You’re starting to sound like Gaz with all the worrying you’re doing, Pricey,” you teased, adding on the little nickname that you knew peeved him. 

“Shut it and get a damn move on.”

“Yessir.”

You started moving again just as he ordered you to do, finding some sense of motivation after hearing his gruff voice. It was the voice that had welcomed you to the 141 after Laswell had shipped you off to join the task force. The voice that had let you know that you were okay and safe when the boys had finally found you after you had been taken hostage on a mission in your earlier days. The voice that had talked you through every touch that made your body burn as he sunk his fingers into you. 

It was the kind of voice that you’d betray death for. 

A little while later, the safehouse finally came into view. 

You glanced at your watch, checking how much time had passed. 

A minute and twenty-seven seconds.

Price wasn’t going to let you hear the end of it. 

You winced in pain, feeling the skin of your arm pull apart. The soldier that had cut you had grabbed the knife he used from the middle of another man’s chest and you were starting to feel queasy from the thought of your blood mixing with his. You needed to get your gash disinfected soon or you were going to have a problem. Well, technically you already had multiple problems, but you were trying to take on one issue at a time. 

Alright, maybe it was about time you mentioned something to your captain. 

“Hey, Cap’?” you probed as you quietly trudged toward the short porch steps of the cute little cottage. “Is this a bad time to mention that I got hit earlier?”

You failed to mention how badly you were hit.

“What the hell—what do you mean you got hit?”

You stopped a good ten feet from the steps, furrowing your brows. 

There was no sign of Price having entered through the front door. The powder in front of the stairs had been untouched and there weren’t any wet footprints  on the old wood of the porch. The windows were dark and nothing could be seen from the outside. The only thing that gave any sign of someone being inside was the dark smoke slowly wisping from the brick chimney peeking out of the top of the cabin.

“I mean, I got a nice little slugger in my side and some blood pouring out of me in other places,” you said, keeping your voice low and quiet. You wondered if you were in the right place. You looked down at your watch, checking your coordinates. According to the device, you were. “Are you inside?” 

He ignored your question. 

“Where the hell’s your kit?”

“Somewhere in the forest four klicks back.”

You looked around again, hoping to find some sign of this being the right place. 

“Christ, Frost,” Price muttered. You didn’t need to see him to know that he was shaking his head at you. “How far out are you?”

“Right out front,” you answered. 

You gave in. 

The wood creaked under the thick soles of your boots as you trekked up the stairs. You shoved the door open, stumbled inside, and slammed the door shut as you slumped against the wall. You slowly slid down to the floor. The cold began to set into your bones as the distinctive heat from the fireplace on your left radiated around you. 

Price rushed into the room. 

“Well, aren’t you a right-all mess,” he said as he moved toward you.

“Shut up,” you muttered, shaking your head before tilting it back to rest against the wall. You opened your good eye as he knelt down in front of you.

“Where are you broken, love?” he asked as his eyes scanned over you, clocking every little rip and tear in your gear before you could even say anything. 

He hated seeing you like this. 

It had become one of the toughest parts of his job ever since Laswell had sent you his way to recruit to the taskforce. There was just something about you that made his heart ache whenever he saw you in pain in any way.  

He knew that it was all a part of the job. 

That there were always going to be times where he saw you like this; busted and broken.

And he always fucking hated it.

He knew he’d hate it ever since the first time he had seen you like this. It was way back when you had first joined the team. You’d only been with them for a good six months, but you had already gone on about four missions with them. It had been a busy year for the task force, but you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you were eager to keep getting back out on the field every time you got back to base. 

On their fifth mission all together, when they believed that they had the upper hand, you and Soap had been ambushed. The Scot had been knocked unconscious while you were taken captive, too many soldiers for the two of you to take out on your own without any supporting fire. 

Learning that you had been taken was worrisome on its own, but Price’s heart ached when they finally found you. 

He had sunken to his knees in front of you, using his knife to work away the zip ties that had you bound to an uncomfortable looking metal chair. Your face was bruised and bloody. Gashes from knife wounds worked their way down your arms and legs. Burn marks from what looked like cigarettes were ingrained into your plush skin. 

You looked beyond rough. 

Price had felt furious that he had let any of this happen to you, but the fury was quickly overcome with worry when you had perched your eyes open and groaned in pain. He let out a sigh of relief, finally knowing that you were, at the very least, well enough to be conscious. He had tried to soothe you as best he could and when you were finally free of your bounds, you practically fell into his embrace, your entire body slumping against his.

It was that very moment—when he wrapped his arms around you and held the entirety of you—that was when he knew that seeing you like this would always pull deadly wear on his heart. His old heart wouldn’t be able to take seeing you like this and hoped that it would be a rarity for his tiring eyes. 

Much to his surprise, it had been a rare sight. 

But that didn’t mean it was a non-existent sight. 

“Got shot in my right side, bullet’s still somewhere in there from what I can tell. Slash on my right arm from a gross ass knife that was already stuck in someone else before it got to me. And I got hit in the head and I can’t see out of my fucking right eye because of all the goddamn blood,” you explained, lifting one of your hands to try and wipe the blood away from your eye, but to no avail, the metallic liquid kept flowing. There was no use in trying to see right now anyway.

“Let’s get you fixed up then,” he said, a sense of urgency finally filling his voice. 

He had been attempting to keep his cool this entire time; to not panic so you wouldn’t panic either. But he knew that you were much too tired to even start panicking, so perhaps he was just trying to stay calm for his own sake. He found it funny that out of everyone on the task force, he had been the one to deal with more field injuries, yet here he was with his damned nerves buzzing out of his skull. 

Something like this shouldn’t have worried him as much as it did. 

But it was you. 

He couldn’t help himself when it came to you. 

Whatever was going on between the two of you had always left him in the realm of something being completely unspoken. The relationship that had sprouted was in some sort of limbo, but neither of you seemed to mind since it was easier that way. 

It was easier than having to tell the boys that something was going on between you two. It was easier than telling Laswell that there may be some sort of infringement on the team—not that she’d care unless it really started to affect how the two of you went about your work lives. And it was easier than admitting to each other that there might be something more than a quick casual stress-relief fuck. 

The two of you had shared too many moments together for that to be true. 

There were too many night’s of your bodies being pressed together and entwined, skin to skin to keep each other warm. Too many words of comfort as you soothe the nightmares of war away, finding comfort in each other’s arms. Too many gentle kisses for it to not be real. 

Your eyes were closed. 

He didn’t care much for that. 

“Frost,” he said, bumping your arm without a slash in it to jostle you awake. You opened your good eye and looked up at him, sending him a quick look of aggravation. It would’ve been amusing if you weren’t bleeding out before his very eyes. “Need your good eye open so I know you aren’t dying on me, sweetheart.”

You grunted in response, looking away from him but still keeping your eye open. 

The feeling of disquietude was starting to set in. 

It wasn’t normal for you to get hit during missions—it was actually quite rare. Soap was usually the one to take the podium for taking quite a bit of damage out in the field. Regardless of all that, you still knew what to do in such situations. You wouldn’t have been at this level of infantry if you didn’t know what to do. 

The hard part was the fact that you were in the presence of your captain. 

Moments ago, when you were trekking to the safehouse, you knew that you wouldn’t have to do any of this alone because your captain was waiting less than a klick away from you. 

The thought alone made everything feel easier. 

It was always harder doing it all alone. 

You thought back to the first and only time you had applied a tourniquet on yourself. Damn near gave up and bled out from how painful it was to cinch the band as tight as you could to keep yourself from bleeding out. You had spent years in the service of infantry. Years of wear and tear on the body, but that kind of pain was something you never wanted to feel again in your lifetime or in any lifetime. So when you felt your arm begin to fall numb from the lack of blood circulating through your veins, you knew that you had to get to Price before you would be forced to deal with it on your own. 

When he was around, you knew that you’d never have to face anything alone. 

You had learned to find such comfort in that. 

Price felt sick to his stomach as he started to get some of your heavier gear off. Your weapons were first to go, then your holsters, and then your vest. He was almost afraid to remove your thermal to see the damage the thick white jacket was hiding poorly. 

He couldn’t keep his damn head straight. 

Simon had griped with him about it a while back, saying that he needed to do better about keeping a clear head around you, but Price still managed to get work done on missions, so the younger man could never really get on him about it all that much. Simon didn’t know exactly what was going on between you two behind closed doors, but he had enough of an idea seeing how much Price doted on you even when you told him to fuck off and focus on something else for a while. 

It was the playfulness of your jabs that usually gave it away. 

That and the lingering looks you two sent each other as if you were some love sick teenagers. 

Price knew that you were more than capable of handling yourself in the field, but there was always something whispering in the back of his head that had him wearing a deep sense of worry on his sleeve every time he had to send you out on a mission. He had read your file when Laswell had recruited you. You were beyond skilled in almost everything you did and you rarely ever came back to base having to see a medic, so hearing that you had actually been hit—

“I can’t feel my arm.”

“Shite,” Price cursed, snapping out of his thoughts as he snatched his medkit and opened it up to finally help you. 

The cold had finally set in and all the blood that had seeped from your arm was causing your skin to turn pale. The gash on your arm was still wide open, but blood had stopped spilling from it, which meant he could disinfect it and get it closed without anything (hopefully) going wrong. Your side wasn’t doing all that bad, still bleeding, but not bad. He’d probably have to cauterize the wound just to feel like he could leave it be, but that could wait for after he got the bullet out of you. 

“Arm first, then your side,” he decided, nodding his head before he turned back to his kit. He turned back with a bottle in hand and you grimaced at the sight. “Gonna have to feel more broken before you feel fixed.”

“No shit,” you muttered, eyeing the small bottle of alcohol in his hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be snappy.”

Price set the bottle down, reached for his belt, and took it off. Something deep in you fluttered, but it stopped when he presented it to your face in a folded mess. 

“Bite down,” he said. You eyed him a little more, making him huff. “Bite down on it, Frost.”

You huffed back at him and bit down on the folded belt. You held it between clenched teeth, watching as he picked the bottle of alcohol back up. He sighed and nodded, almost as if he was telling himself that he was ready to do this. He tipped the bottle and poured the liquid over the wound. You squirmed and held back a writhing scream. He quickly clamped your legs between his knees, keeping you from squirming away. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” he said, trying to sooth you as he set the bottle down and wiped around the edge of the wound. He grabbed a needle and thread from his kit.

You groaned through the thickness of the belt as he stabbed the needle into your skin, creating even sutures along the wound. Your eyes closed as you tried to not focus on anything specific, but the feeling of Price keeping you in place while he dug a needle kept you from thinking of anything else. 

Price hated this. 

He hated every fucking part of this. 

Digging a needle and thread into your arm while you bit onto a belt. 

He thought back to the last time he had touched you. 

It was the night before the mission that you two were currently on. Price hadn’t expected to see you until the two of you were meant to take off on the tarmac, but he found himself aimlessly wandering the halls of the barracks until he wound up at the door of your private quarters. 

He almost hadn’t knocked. 

It was late, you two had to be up early, and he still didn’t know where the two of you stood when it came to something like this. 

He knew that there was some sort of love there, but he wasn’t too sure about the type. He knew that if he was stressed about all the ridiculous mission reports and papers he had to sign off on late into the night when he should be sleeping instead, you’d be sitting there with him to keep him company. He knew that if he mentioned that something was hurting, you’d use your nimble and calloused fingers to work away the knots and sore spots that came with all the training and missions. He knew that in a moment of weakness, he could count on you to hold the broken pieces of his soul together. 

Everything in his mind told him to leave you alone and let you be for the night, but the Captain was feeling selfish and he rarely ever got to indulge in such things.

His entire life and career, he was meant to be selfless. 

To put everyone else’s needs before his own. 

And ultimately, he had been okay with that… until he met you. 

He found himself tempted to be selfish when it came to you. 

He had knocked and you had answered. 

It was all he needed for the night. 

Maybe for life. 

“Done,” he said, tying off the last stitch and cutting the thread. 

“Thank fuck,” you breathed out, letting the belt drop from your mouth. 

“Still have a few more things to do,” he said, jerking his chin in the direction of your side before glancing at your head. “I’m gonna have to lay you down flat to get the bullet out, alright?”

“M’kay,” you muttered, still feeling hazy. Your nerves were buzzing in all the wrong ways and you just wanted it to stop. 

Price carried you over to the fireplace and laid you out on the floor next to the fire in hopes of warming you up. The flame felt nice against your freezing skin. He worked quickly to strip you of your thermal undershirt. The wound on your side looked small, but the skin around it was stained red with thick blood. 

“Want the belt again?” he asked. You sighed and nodded. He grabbed his belt and folded it up again before placing it back in your mouth. Your teeth dug into the material as you anticipated whatever pain was about to come. “Ready?”

You grunted in response. 

He used a set of dull tweezers to dig into your side, fishing for the little bullet deep in your flesh. You reeled in pain, damn near shooting up on your own, but Price used his free hand to push your chest back down to keep you steady.

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” he tried to soothe, continuing to search for the hunk of lead. You writhed in pain, pressing yourself against the floor as hard as you could as if that would help you escape the pain that was stabbing into it. The ends of the tweezers grazed something hard and he knew that he almost had it. “Almost got it. Almost done.”

After a few moments, he pulled the metal fragment from your body and pulled the tweezers from your aching flesh. You gasped, shaking as you laid limp. Your shoulders slumped against the wood floor as your chest heaved. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you tried to catch your breath. 

“You’re alright,” he said, squeezing your good arm as if that would make everything better. He massaged your bicep for a moment, using it as an excuse to keep his hands on you. He was also trying to calm you down a bit more before he had to move onto the actual hard part. He grimaced and glanced over to the fireplace. “Do you trust me?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, lazily nodding your head as you felt consciousness slipping through your fingers. 

“I need you to close your eyes, sweetheart.”

“Mm-mm,” you said, shaking your head this time around. 

“I need you to trust me on this one, Frost.”

You stared at him for a long while before finally giving in and closing your eyes. You slammed the back of your head against the wood flooring as hard as you could, wishing that the impact had knocked you out because you knew that whatever he was about to do was going to hurt like hell. 

Price had always been the type to make sure that his own were safe and taken care of, but he was also the type to tell his own to buck up and take it. Whenever the boys got injured out in the field, he would always make sure that they were okay, and if they were, he’d tell the lot of them to get back to work then. 

Even with you. 

Every time you had been bruised and battered, if you told him that you were okay, he’d believe you and expect you to be okay and not broken. 

So the fact that he was telling you to close your eyes and to trust him meant that it had to be bad and that scared you.

Price waited for a few moments, making sure that you kept your eyes closed before he proceeded with what he was about to do. He grabbed the hot poker from the fireplace, the one that he had been stoking the fire with before you had made it to the confines of the safehouse and trudged in with all of your broken parts. He took a deep breath, knowing that there was a good chance that he was going to hate this just as much as you. 

“Bite down hard and keep your eyes closed, you hear?” he ordered, heaving one last warning before he pressed the burning poker to your skin. 

You did exactly as he ordered even though you were itching to scream and open your eyes to see what the fuck he was doing, but the smell of your burning flesh was enough to urge you to just squeeze your eyes shut even tighter. 

You were going to pass out. 

Or vomit. 

Or maybe scream at Price for cauterizing your wound without a proper fucking warning. 

Maybe all three. 

You eventually fell limp, no longer having the energy to resist the fiery pain that flooded over your skin. The only part of you that could move was your heaving chest as your lungs begged for some semblance of air. 

Price pulled the poker away, tossing the burning end back into the fire.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” he said, disinfecting the area around the cauterized wound to ensure that everything was thoroughly taken care of. He placed a bandage over it and then gently grasped your shoulders, his thumb massaging circles into your skin. “Gonna get you up now, nice and easy.” 

He slowly pulled you into an upright position, but you haphazardly slumped forward into his arms, forehead hitting his chest. He let your full weight fall against him. You still hadn’t said anything, nor had you opened your eyes. All you could really manage were hard, labored breaths that made your entire body quake. 

His heart hurt. 

Probably not as much as you were hurting, but still, it hurt. 

He couldn’t stand to see you like this. 

Body shaking in his arms, lungs gasping for air, kind eyes hidden behind low lids. 

He wanted to take you from this world. 

To take you from the world of hurt.

The world where you were constantly shot at and put at risk every time a new mission was assigned to the taskforce. 

But he knew that he’d never be able to take you from this world of chaos and pain. You’d surely raise hell the day you truly had to leave the force. You had always said that you’d probably die in the military. He really prayed that you wouldn’t. 

He pulled you into his lap, settling you down comfortably as he grabbed a clean wrap. He propped you up a little more so your head was resting against his shoulder, face tucked you into the crook of his neck. He wrapped your midsection, making sure to keep the bandages snug and clean. 

“Almost done,” he promised in a sweet coo. 

You opened your mouth, finally letting the belt drop to the floor. You hadn’t realized that it was still in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out as he tied the bandages off, running his fingers over the material to make sure it all laid flat and clean. 

“Gonna lay you back down,” he said. 

You shook your head, pressing your forehead against his shoulder in hopes that he’d understand that you wanted to stay like that in his arms, face tucked away so he couldn’t see you cry. You just needed a moment to collect yourself. Tears pooled in your eyes, the pain setting in even more as the adrenaline started to wear off. He placed one of his hands on your back, gently rubbing circles over your shoulder blades in an attempt to calm you down.

“I’ve got you, Frost,” he muttered, pulling you in closer. Hot tears rushed faster from your eyes, slipping down, and staining his shirt as they dropped from your face. The diluted mix of salt water and blood didn’t bother him much. “Gotta check that head of yours. Clearly you’ve got a screw loose since you thought hiding all of this from me was okay.” 

“Didn’t want to bother,” you muttered hazily in broken fits.

“Helping you ain’t a bother, love,” he said, shaking his head. He slowly pulled you away from him and cupped your face in his rough hands. “How’s the head feeling?” 

“Amazing. Thanks for asking,” you said, letting the weight of your head sink into the salvation of his hands. He kept you up, calloused fingers running over your cheekbones to wipe away the stray tears still slipping from your eyes. The salty water had started to clear the blood from one of your eyes, but it wasn’t enough to fully see. You squeezed your eyes shut even more, leaning into him, and slumping in his hold. 

“Need you awake, soldier,” he said, jostling you around a bit. You opened your good eye, staring into his focused ones. 

There was so much comfort in his gaze. 

Solace. 

Made you feel warm. 

Too warm. 

Your eyes closed as you fell fully limp in his embrace. 

He scrambled to keep you in an upright position. 

“None of that now. Come on, Frost—”

God, you could die listening to that voice. 

You woke with the scent of musk and cigar smoke lingering around you. 

It was a scent that you had grown accustomed to waking up to.

There was a sense of easement that fell over you whenever the scent lingered on your sheets whenever he found an excuse to stay the night in your private quarters back in the barracks. A scent that you found comfort in whenever you woke from a long flight after a rough mission. And a scent you had learned to completely love when you invited him to stay with you for Christmas when the entire task force inevitably left for their week long holiday leave. 

You attempted to take a deep breath to take the comforting scent in, but it was cut short when you felt your skin pull against the stitches in your side.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

You jolted from the sudden presence of the familiar gruff voice, but Price’s arms cinched around you tighter to keep you from falling from his lap and onto the floor. You were comfortably curled up in his lap, his arms around your body. His brows were furrowed, eyes riddled with stress and worry as he stared at you. 

It was the same look that he always gave when he felt like he failed someone. 

Disappointed them. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

He stared at you for a little longer before pulling you in to hug you tight. You winced slightly, but were happy nonetheless to be close to the worried captain. You sighed and closed your eyes, letting your face rest in the nape of his neck. The smell of musk and thick cigars filled your system again. 

“You can’t scare me like that again, Frost. I don’t think my old heart could take another fright like that,” he said, shaking his head to nuzzle his face into yours. He took a deep breath, taking in the smell of your hair. Even with everything you’d been through, the light scent of your usual shampoo still lingered. “Plus the boys would kill me if I ever came back with you in pieces.”

“They’d live,” you muttered, even though you knew he was right. 

The boys of the 141 would probably wreak havoc if you ever came back from a mission on the brink of death. Though, they’d never blame Price. You knew that much for sure. They’d know that your captain would do anything and everything in his power to get you back in the best shape he could manage. 

You slowly pulled away from him, staying in his lap as you tried to reorientate yourself. You had been stripped down to your base layers, your other gear laid out near the fire to dry the blood and snow that had soaked into the material. He was also down to his base layers, his gear and his silly little hat in a pile on the other side of the room. 

The two of you were comfortably resting on the rundown couch closest to the fireplace, but the sight of the fire brought a memory back to you. 

“I can’t believe you fucking cauterized my wound you bastard—”

“Had to get it shut, sweetheart—”

“And a fire poker was your first and only thought?” 

He grimaced and sat back so he was pressed against the couch cushion. His hands stayed on you, one on your hip and the other on your thigh, fingers tracing gentle circles into your skin. 

“Stitches weren’t gonna cut it,” he said, shaking his head. 

You sighed, knowing he was right. 

“I want a cigarette,” you said, going to slide off his lap in hopes of finding a pack stashed somewhere in the pockets of your gear. He tightened his grip on you, pulling you back into him. 

“Wouldn’t do you any good to have one right now,” he said.

“I want one anyway.”

He sighed and shook his head before grabbing a cigar from the ashtray on the coffee table beside the couch. It wasn’t a cigarette, but it would do. You found it humorous that a safehouse had an ashtray, but knowing the people you worked with, it almost made sense. 

The end of the cigar was already burnt, meaning he had been smoking while you were out in his arms. He placed it in his mouth and grabbed the lighter, burning the end until he was able to take a decent drag. The breath of smoke was held deep in his chest before he slowly blew it out. He made sure to blow the smoke away from your face before holding the cigar out to you. You went to grab it, but he moved his hand just out of your reach. Furrowing your brows, your eyes flicked between him and the cigar. He slowly brought it back to you, but held it right up to your lips. It wasn’t until you wrapped your lips around it did he let it go and the weight of the cigar rested against your lip. 

You took a deep drag, holding it until you felt light headed. You leaned back, only stopping when his hand braced against your lower back to keep you from tipping over. You slowly blew out, letting the smoke wisp above your head. You passed the cigar back to him and he placed it back in his mouth, the tips of his teeth chewing the end a bit. 

It was a nervous habit of his. 

Typically had to swat his thigh to get him to quit. 

He took another drag. 

He tilted his head to the side to blow the smoke away from your face, but before he could, you gently grabbed his face and turned it back to face you. He furrowed his brows in a confused manner, but you slowly leaned forward and he got the idea.

God. 

He could die like this. 

You sitting in his lap, a cigar in hand, and you begging for something that he could only think to do with someone he loved. 

All he was missing was a glass of whiskey to top it all off. 

He cupped your face and urged you closer, but stopped before your lips could touch. You were tempted to lean forward and close the distance, but you stopped yourself. Your mouth was slightly ajar, wondering if he’d actually go through with it.

He did. 

He kissed you hard and blew the smoke right into your mouth. Heat filled your system as you slowly leaned back and exhaled, letting smoke wisp away between the two of you. 

“Fuckin’ minx,” he muttered before taking another drag with a smirk on his face. “Even on the brink of fucking death.”

“You love it,” you teased. He huffed out a gruff laugh. “I’m sorry for almost dying.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” he said. “Boys would kill me in a jealous rage if they found out you died in my lap like this.”

“As if,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“You don’t see the way those boys look at you, love,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Yeah? And how about the way you look at me?” you wondered. 

His gaze met yours and you didn’t dare pull away. 

“Just like this,” he said, his lids low as his eyes flicked down to your lips and then back to your eyes. 

The fingers that had once been drawing circles into your skin had stopped, the pads of them pressing into your plush thighs instead. He had a good grip on you. You weren’t going anywhere. Not that you wanted to go anywhere. 

You could stay like this forever. 

“You gonna keep looking at me like that or are you gonna do something about it?” you asked, wondering how far he’d actually go while the two of you were on a mission. 

Then again, you two were technically done with the mission and you were just waiting for evac so… no harm, no foul. 

He let out a light laugh before bringing a hand up to your face and pulling you in until his lips pressed against yours. You leaned into him, your front pressed against his own. You moved your legs until you straddled him, wincing once from the pain in your side. He pulled back, pressing a hand down to where your wound was, looking over the bandaged area. 

“I’m alright,” you assured him. You cupped his face in your hands and slowly tilted it back up until he was looking at you again. “I’m alright, John.”

He kissed you again, resting his hands on your hips with a light squeeze.

“Evac won’t be here for another six hours,” you said, having caught a glance at the watch on his wrist. “Care to kill some time?” 

“Oh, I’d love to.”

[xanderthelostboy]

Yautja X Male!Scientist!Reader

[I’m using Wolf as the Yautja and this doesn’t follow the story in any way. If any facts are wrong, ignore it because I last watched the predator films at least three years ago. Can be read as GN!Reader.]

Summary: When the group of Yautja boarded your crews ship amongst the many stars of Galactica Primara, it was intended as a visit of a coming assistance. Gathered in the mess hall, partially converted for your human captain to present to the Yautja, he speaks of testing new subjects. They’re interested, so you get a visit, though you aren’t too worried. That is, until you realise just how attracted to one in particular you are…

You sigh, eyes closing for a moment as bitter disappointment sighs on you. The movements on the slide to the microscopes had slowly stopped and you find yourself reaching for the tape recorder once more. The rubber gloves squeaking against its plastic, you speak close to the microphone, an edge to your voice that follows a wasted sample.

“Test subject B57: Failed. Presumable death over the temperature and humidity. Resuming tests at 0800 hours on Friday 13, April, 2029. This is (y/n) signing out.”

You place the recorder down and, grabbing each edge of the gloves, you strip them from your skin and place them in the nearly overflowing bin beside you. Taking a few minutes to discard of the sample and disinfect everything, you look at your work station, slightly less annoyed now that it’s clean and tidy.

A loud beep sounds out, making you jump for a moment before you realise that it’s your personal communication cell that’s alerting you to an incoming message. Soon enough, the face of your second in command appears, as stern as ever. A grin tugs at your face, always tempted to rile up the easily angered man. It’s just too funny. Yet, today, he seems in brighter spirits so you wait to hear what he has to tell you.

“Ah Dr. (L/n)… finally. The message to the Yautja tribe was successful and their ship is inbound, ETA 3 minutes.”

You can’t help the genuine smile that pulls at your lips, knowing that it was a long-awaited meeting that had every higher up in floods of excitement.

“Congrats. If you need anything, you know I’ll be here. I’d rather stay out of the way and let you all deal with this,”

You gesture vaguely.

“and I’ll start a few other tests. B57 was a failure so I’ll be moving to C14 and going back to B tomorrow.”

All he does is nod before someone seems to shout him, his head snapping in the other direction before giving you a quick nod. Before you know it, the comms have been severed and you are left alone once more. Shrugging, it’s soon realised that the alien tribe must have arrived and you understand that they’re much more important than a time-wasting conversation.

Removing another pair of gloves from the packet, you put them on and ready up a new sample of an unknown organism, readying your scalpels and tweezers in order to soon pick apart the cell matter and individually study it. Placing the microphone of your recorder up to your mouth, you press at the button on the side. “Subject C14 test begins. Friday 12, April 2029. Time is currently 5:46pm.”

You don’t know how long has passed, only that the number of unseen messages from your commander on your comms has grown over the time. Only once the new source of matter has failed, as you had expected, you find yourself looking through the ignored remarks.

‘They want to look through your lab, is that alright?’ 5:59pm

‘Hello?’ 6:12pm

‘Y/n, they’re curious about the tests you do. Please?’ 6:17pm

Wincing while you read them, you deftly remove your gloves and shoot a response back hoping that, over the course of 39 minutes, you hadn’t majorly screwed up.

‘Should’ve called, was busy with tests. You can come by now if you’d like?’

Deciding to wait for the response, you don’t receive one, even after you’ve seen that he had read it. Once this is noticed, your heart rate increases, realising that speaking to your superior in such a way may not be the smartest idea. That is, until, there’s a knock at your door.

(A steel door that was only provided after you threw a fit about having dangerous subjects in an easily contaminated space. The crew didn’t care about the tests or the safety, they just wanted you to leave them alone so you finally got what you wanted.)

After checking yourself over, smoothing down your lab coat and making sure your hair wasn’t askew, your hand finds the automated doorway and it opens.

For all of your mind, the wish that you could’ve hid your reaction is high. Seeing a Yautja in a dark grey mask shouldn’t affect you in such a way, and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking what you are… The way your eyes widen slightly, not from fear but from curiosity and the way your breath catches in your throat, something they could definitely hear… it makes you flush slightly. Taking a breath, you look at your commander, nodding slightly before turning to the Yautja. Dark grey mask watches you with a tilted head and once it notices your gaze on it, his head snaps to look in the other direction.

Never had you believed an alien race to show such a predominantly human trait as embarrassment. It’s almost… cute? Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the thoughts and focus on the three in front of you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I assume you have translators?”

The largest one nods, it’s mask a light, titanium coloured grey and you smile slightly, hovering in the doorway. There’s one beside him, looking away and down, his posture slanted as if not wanting to be notice, this one’s mask is a darker grey. The others mask is black. These men… these creatures, surely they know basic rules of a lab. You sigh, shaking your head and addressing each one in turn.

“Please, don’t touch anything. And if your curious, ask. I’m Y/n, by the way.”

Flashing a smile at the unknown aliens seems out of place but you do so anyway, stepping back and allowing them into your space. One of them stops at the doorway, a darker grey mask on, watching you with great interest. A few clicks and trills catch your attention but, as the others don’t react, you don’t either. You watch back, curious as to who will break the eye contact first. He - would it be right to call it a he? - tilts his head slightly before stepping into the lab, following the others. It takes you a moment to notice your commander left but, oddly enough, you felt safe with the Yautja group. A few sharp clicks grab your attention and you turn to the light grey masked one, wondering about it’s attention grabbing sounds.

“This?”

A raspy and distorted voice comes from the mask, the creature pointing at one of your experiments. You can’t help the appreciation that paints your face as you step over, closer than most humans would feel comfortable, and begin explaining the intricacies. Throughout your speech, you feel eyes on you and, as you are seeing two of them looking at your experiments, there’s only one left to be doing so. Without breaking sentence, you turn to look at him and grin as you see him whip his head away in a tense, feigned interest in a sheet of paper… a blank sheet of paper. A slight laugh escapes you, only for him to look back, shoulders visibly dropping into relaxation. A quick smile is flashed his way and, believing you could trust the Yautja, you turn your back to continue your explanation.

You’d barely finished explaining what each component did, the two Yautja painfully invested in your words, when a quiet screech echoes through the metal room. The three of you turn to the last of their group, a hand in front of their greyed mask and a light green blood like substance sliding from their finger. Your frown, walking over quickly and finding he had touched one of the alien blades you had been studying earlier. “Are you alright?”

You can’t disguise the concern in your voice as you walk over, hesitating to touch him. Though, when he doesn’t pull away, you gently take his hand and inspect the wound. Hearing a few clicks and trills no longer bothers you, understanding it’s the same as humans humming or making basic noise. You look up at him, noticing that he hadn’t followed your one rule and has touched something. Shaking your head, the Yautja stills, watching you with interest.

“Silly Yautja.”

Though the words are said with amusement, there’s an underlying tone of worry and care. It makes the yautjas stare and stand as if petrified by Medusa herself. You continue to mutter to yourself, finding a bandage and wrapping up the bleeding cut. He tilts his head as you do so and when your ministration have been completed, he flexes his hand, only to look at you with a deep interest.

“Wolf.”

The deep growl comes from the one in front of you and you can easily tell what he had said. Though in the context it confused you.

“Sorry?”

It gestures to itself, repeating the word. After a moment you nod, smiling softly.

“Wolf? That’s your name?”

He nods, hesitating for a mere moment before tapping his bandage then on your chest, where your heart should be. It was easy enough to guess what he had meant, knowing that the courtesy of thanks had been passed throughout the galaxy. Smiling at him, you nod, tapping your own chest then his in turn. This seems to make him rumble quietly, an appreciative sound that vibrates through your bones as you touch his skin gently.

A quiet hum comes from behind and you jump, realising that you had enacted such an intimate (to their species, at least) moment in front of his clan mates. A light flush takes over your face as you pull away but Wolf lightly places his hands over yours, keeping you skin to skin with him. You bow your head slightly, aware that in may alien species, it was a sign of respect. It seems to be accurate as he gives another quiet rumble.

You find yourself wanting to hear that more and you stop yourself in your tracks. How could you fall for an alien race? It just wasn’t normal and shouldn’t happen… but he is cute. And you just know that behind the mask, he’ll still be better than the humans on this ship.

“Y/n.”

At the direct address, your head snaps up and you pull away from Wolf, much to the Yautjas displeasure. Your captain stands in the doorway, a slightly confused expression present yet he seems to shrug it off quickly.

“Whatever. The others say it’s time to leave and they are gathering in the common. So say goodbye to your… acquaintances.”

He watches you for a moment more and walks off, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. Turning away, you look back to the three Yautja and smile.

“I’ll walk you back?”

All eyes are on Wolf as he nods and clicks quietly, head tilted. The other two lead ahead and you walk with him, watching as he barely makes a sound, the hunter genes shining through. It interests you and, as your gaze becomes more focused, his body becomes more tense.

“You’re beautiful.”

You speak as if reading off facts from a list, stating it in such an obvious way that his mind stutterers for a second, causing his head to snap to your gaze in such a way that you don’t need to see him to wonder what he’s thinking.

“I mean, I love your mask and I can’t help but wonder what’s behind it. I bet you look cool. And your skin is gorgeous, like a snake, not to mention these claws!”

Your hand is in his, bringing them both up so you can trace a gentle finger across each of his sharp talons. He doesn’t pull away, relishing in the contact of such soft, warm skin and in such an innocently romantic way. Your eyes meet the ones of his mask and they shine, a bright smile filling your face.

“I hope we can communicate soon. Perhaps you all wish to come back and look around some more?”

The two of you are stood in the lobby, the other Yautja waiting by the ships entrance for him with a few warning growls and clicks following. Wolf nods, tapping his heart with his free hand and then tapping over yours. Though you don’t speak in such a language, you understand the meaning well enough, given the context. As you,let go of him, a sad smile paints your face.

“I hope you all return safely. We will welcome you back soon. Goodbye.”

The doors shut and you hold onto the fact he looked at you till the very last moment, you hold it with all your heart.

When you get back to your lab, you begin to tidy away the papers and left over rubbish that you had forgotten to put away only for something to catch your eye. Something that hadn’t been there before. Something as a… gift?

A pristine, off-white skull of a seemingly alien creature had been positioned carefully on the side of your desk and you find yourself smiling as you realise that was where Wolf had been stood. Though you had never been in contact with the race before, the message of such a gift was clear enough and you find yourself awaiting the next visit.

As for the skull, you place it on your emptied ledge over your desk. After all, there had to be plenty of space for the rest of the courting gifts, right?

[ellabsweet]

FAVORITE WORKS!

[ just a lil compilation constantly updated of my favorite works by writers on here to give them a little love and help my own navigation in no particular order whatsoever ok? ok i love these ]

(.1) 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 by @cherriesxinthespring

pairing: abby anderson x reader

summary: the alcohol just wasn't enough to numb out your nervous feeling of starting your residency at seattle grace hospital. but a new, blonde, muscular distraction approached you at the bar, turning out to not only be the greatest fuck of your life... but something else.

(.2) 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄 by @s-4pphics

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: they dont have a summary but ellie is your sister’s best friend and you’re in love with her and it’s beautiful and you will cry both out of your eyes and puss-

(.3) 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 by @totheblood

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: you've never been on a date, hell, you've never even kissed anyone. ellie decides to be a good best friend and teach you how! wow.. so kind of her..

(.4) 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 by @hazelnutsforellie

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: you and ellie are best friends, first year college roommates that never separated. when a friend asks for your help in making her ex jealous, you succeed... and seem to smash not one, but two hearts with one singular kiss.

(.5) 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 by @cinnnamongrl

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie williams has never been the 'sorority type'. but when she meets you, she realises maybe spending college as a part of eta alpha rho isn't so bad.

(.6) 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 by @cowgirlcherrie

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: california; while known for its heat, legal marijuana, and hardcore skate culture, is the center of all disasters, especially for a local town skater who falls in love with her ex’s sweetheart roommate. the two teaming up to keep the past in the past and let the skater get the girl of her dreams.

(.7) 𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 by @spaceshipellie

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: modern au, ellie and reader are in their mid twenties. ellie and reader have been friends for years. their friendship has always been a little bit flirty but nothing has ever happened between them, not like that. well, not yet anyway…

(.8) 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 by @hope-drunk

pairing: abby anderson x reader

summary: a year ago, abby left you suddenly after a month long love affair. now she's back to convince you she's changed.

(.9) 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆’𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 by @spaceshipellie

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

(.10) 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 by @abbysvictim

pairing: abby anderson x reader

summary: you decide to travel back to your hometown to rekindle an old relationship and meet a mysterious stranger on your journey.

(.11) 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄 by @elliessknife

pairing: ellabs x reader

summary: where abby is reader’s ex and ellie tries to get with her

(.12) 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 by @elliesbelle

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: you’re in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

(.13) 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 by @solaceocean

pairing: ellabs x reader

summary: ellie was just some random girl that walked into your work. you didn’t expect to be in a two month long relationship with her even when she hasn’t met your five year old son or didn’t even know you had a kid.

(.14) 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 by @elliespeach

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place.

(.15) 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 by @phantombriide

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: after a messy and brutal breakup with your long term girlfriend, ellie williams, you were quickly chased off of the internet and away from your life as a social media influencer. with your friends and the majority of your fan base wanting nothing to do with you, your attempt to put yourself back out there seems more difficult than you originally expected, especially with the continuing backlash and an unknown person who is determined to make your life hell.

(.16) 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 by @seattlesellie

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: it’s ellie’s birthday, and you have three gifts for her. a moonflower bouquet, the latest savage starlight, and a pin from joel. maybe, you even have a fourth one.

(.17) 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 by @bxtchycaprisun

pairing: abby anderson x reader

summary: you’re a new medic in the WLF base. you’re young, hardworking, and the thing that abby anderson hated the most, stubborn.

(.18) 𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐒.𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 by @abbysvictim

pairing: abby anderson x reader

summary: you’re failing, and you’re fucked if you’re failing so you enlist the help of your favorite teacher to raise those grades — and your heart rate.

[amethystarachnid]

This "Stark Protocol" Tony NEEDS a baby 😍 (or two, a boy and a girl 👀). Is there any possibility of a part 2 of this fanfic?

STARK PROTOCOL - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Word count: 7k

ᯓ★ Summary: just when you thought tony's protectiveness couldn't get higher you discover you're pregnant. with twins. Stark twins means chaos.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing, just one of the babies has a funny poop accident at the end lol

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The discovery hits you on an ordinary Tuesday morning. You’re sitting on the edge of the bathroom tub, staring at the small plastic stick in your hand. The two faint lines staring back at you feel surreal, as if the moment hasn’t quite caught up with reality. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of excitement, shock, and nervous energy coursing through you all at once.

You glance at the test again, as though repeated checks might somehow change the outcome. Positive. You’re pregnant.

A quiet laugh escapes you, tinged with disbelief. You’re going to have a baby. Memories of that night with Tony—the jokes about his overprotectiveness, his not-so-secret admission that he wouldn’t mind having a child with you—rush back, making you grin despite your nerves.

Your first instinct is to tell him immediately, but then you hesitate. This isn’t just any news; this is life-changing, monumental news. Tony deserves to hear it in a way that matches the moment. Something fun. Something unexpected. Something… Stark-level spectacular.

The gears in your mind begin to turn.

You spend the next couple of days meticulously planning, waiting for the right moment to put your plan into action. Tony, blissfully unaware, goes about his usual business, alternating between tinkering in the lab and pampering you like he always does. He doesn’t notice the sly glances you throw his way or the way you seem to be hiding something behind that radiant smile.

When the weekend arrives, you finally set your plan in motion.

The first step is simple: get him out of the penthouse for a few hours. “Why don’t you head to the lab today?” you suggest casually over breakfast, nudging his plate toward him. “I know you’ve been working on that new design.”

Tony narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not,” you reply smoothly, though you can feel the corners of your mouth twitching with amusement. “I just thought you’d enjoy some uninterrupted tinkering time.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but ultimately relents. “Alright, but if I find out you’ve thrown some kind of surprise party in my absence…”

You laugh, waving him off. “Go. Have fun.”

As soon as he’s out the door, you spring into action. The decorations you secretly ordered arrive right on time, and you work quickly to transform the living room. Balloons, banners, and a smattering of baby-themed decorations fill the space, all in neutral colors because, of course, you don’t know the gender yet.

The pièce de résistance is a large box you’ve prepared, carefully decorated and filled with items that will clue Tony in on the big surprise. Inside are baby-sized Iron Man onesies, a pair of tiny booties, a framed sonogram picture you printed at the clinic, and a note that reads: “Stark Protocol: Initiated. ETA: Nine Months.”

You set the box on the coffee table and step back to admire your work. It’s perfect.

When Tony finally returns that afternoon, the moment is ripe for chaos. He walks through the door, his usual smirk in place, but it falters the second he spots the decorations.

“What… is this?” he asks, his eyes darting around the room as he sets his bag down.

You step forward, barely able to contain your excitement. “I thought it was time for a little celebration,” you say, keeping your tone light.

His gaze falls on the box, and curiosity overtakes his initial confusion. “Alright, what’s in the mystery box? This better not be a puppy. You remember what happened last time.”

You laugh, motioning for him to open it. “Just open it, Stark.”

He crosses the room and kneels in front of the box, shooting you a playful glance before lifting the lid. The sight of the onesies stops him in his tracks. He picks one up, holding it between his fingers as though it might evaporate if he isn’t careful. His brows furrow in confusion as he pulls out the tiny booties next, followed by the sonogram picture.

It’s the note, however, that seals the deal.

“Stark Protocol… ETA nine months…” he reads aloud, his voice trailing off. He freezes, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s pieced it together. Then, slowly, he looks up at you, his eyes wide.

“Wait. Are you…?”

You nod, your grin widening. “Surprise!”

Tony stares at you for a beat, and then his expression transforms into something you’ve only seen a handful of times. Pure, unfiltered joy spreads across his face as he drops everything back into the box and crosses the room in two strides. He scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around as laughter bubbles out of him.

“Holy— You’re pregnant? We’re having a baby?”

“Yes, Tony,” you say through your laughter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’re having a baby.”

When he finally sets you down, his hands remain on your waist, his eyes scanning your face as though trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “This is—wow. Just wow.”

You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re okay with this, right? I mean, we didn’t exactly plan—”

“Okay with it?” he interrupts, his hands tightening their hold on you. “Sweetheart, I’m more than okay with it. I’m…” He pauses, seemingly at a loss for words, which is a rarity in itself. “I’m thrilled. Over the moon. I’m going to be a dad!”

His enthusiasm is contagious, and you can’t help but laugh again as he pulls you into another hug. “I’m glad you’re happy,” you whisper against his shoulder.

“Happy doesn’t even cover it,” he replies, pulling back to look at you. “You’re carrying the future Stark genius. I mean, this kid is going to be unstoppable.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells at his excitement. “Let’s just focus on getting through the next nine months first, okay?”

“Right, right,” he says, nodding eagerly. Then his expression turns serious, and you recognize the telltale signs of Stark Protocol kicking into high gear. “Okay, we need a plan. Prenatal vitamins—are you taking them? Of course you are. I’ll research the best ones. And doctors. We need to find the best OB-GYN in the city. Or the country. Hell, the world. And—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. “Breathe. We’ve got plenty of time to figure all of that out.”

He exhales sharply, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You’re right. I just—this is big, you know? I want to get it right.”

“You will,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. “We both will.”

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of emotions. Tony oscillates between giddy excitement and meticulous planning, his mind already racing with ideas for how to prepare. You catch him Googling everything from baby-proofing techniques to the latest advancements in stroller technology, and you can’t help but smile at his dedication.

As the evening winds down, the two of you sit on the couch, the box of baby items still sitting on the coffee table as a tangible reminder of what’s to come. Tony’s arm is draped around your shoulders, his other hand resting lightly on your stomach.

“So,” he says, his voice soft, “any idea when this little Stark will be making their grand entrance?”

“Late summer, I think,” you reply, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Perfect timing,” he says with a grin. “Just enough time for me to build a crib. Or a crib-slash-mini-lab. You know, gotta start them early.”

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Let’s stick with a regular crib for now.”

“Fine,” he concedes, though you can tell he’s already plotting ways to make it the most high-tech crib on the planet.

As you sit there together, the reality of your new future begins to settle in. There’s still so much to plan, so much to figure out, but for now, you’re content to bask in the moment. With Tony by your side, you know you’re ready for whatever comes next.

And judging by the way he keeps sneaking glances at the sonogram picture, his excitement practically radiating off him, you’re pretty sure he’s ready too.

The transformation in Tony after your pregnancy announcement is nothing short of dramatic. If you thought his overprotectiveness during your period was over the top, it’s clear that was just a warm-up. Now that you’re pregnant, everything you do seems to fall under the Stark Protection Protocol.

From the moment you wake up to the time you go to bed, Tony is there, watching, questioning, and sometimes downright interfering. He’s taken to carrying a notebook around the penthouse to jot down random thoughts about your health, parenting ideas, or anything else he deems critical.

“You shouldn’t lift that,” he says one morning as you reach for a bag of groceries on the counter.

“Tony, it’s a loaf of bread,” you reply, deadpan.

“Still. Bread can be heavier than it looks.”

You roll your eyes but let him take it from you anyway. It’s not worth arguing, and besides, you can’t help but find his doting behavior endearing—if not slightly ridiculous.

His intensity only increases when it comes to what you eat. He’s banned caffeine from the house, stocked the fridge with every conceivable prenatal-friendly food, and personally oversees your meals.

“Sweetheart,” he says one night over dinner, his gaze narrowing as he eyes the slice of pizza on your plate. “You’re eating the crust? The carbs aren’t exactly—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, leveling him with a look. “It’s pizza. I’m pregnant, not on a diet.”

“Right,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “Crust is great. Carbs are fantastic. You want more cheese? Extra cheese?”

Despite his over-the-top nature, it’s clear how much he cares. Every step of the way, he’s there, doing everything in his power to ensure you and the baby are safe and happy.

By the time you reach the third month, you’ve settled into a rhythm. Your energy is starting to return, the morning sickness has eased, and you’re finally beginning to feel like yourself again. Tony, however, remains as vigilant as ever.

When the day of your next doctor’s appointment arrives, Tony is practically vibrating with excitement. He insists on driving you himself, ignoring your protests that the clinic is only ten minutes away.

“You think I’m letting anyone else chauffeur you and Baby Stark?” he scoffs as he opens the car door for you.

“Technically, it’s Baby Stark Junior,” you tease as you slide into the seat.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Even better.”

At the clinic, Tony sticks to your side like glue, his hand hovering protectively at your lower back as you check in. Once you’re settled in the examination room, he’s quick to start peppering the doctor with questions.

“How’s she doing? Everything looking good? Are there any new tests she needs? Oh, and what’s the best way to—”

“Tony,” you say, cutting him off with a laugh. “Let the doctor do her job.”

The doctor chuckles, clearly used to nervous dads. “Everything looks great so far,” she says reassuringly. “But let’s take a closer look, shall we?”

She gestures for you to lie back on the examination table. As the ultrasound machine hums to life, you reach for Tony’s hand, squeezing it gently. His eyes are glued to the screen, his expression a mix of awe and curiosity.

At first, everything seems routine. The doctor points out the embryo, noting its size and heartbeat. But then she frowns slightly, leaning closer to the monitor.

“Hmm,” she murmurs, adjusting the angle of the wand.

“What’s ‘hmm’?” Tony asks immediately, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” the doctor says quickly, her tone reassuring. “It’s just… give me a moment.”

The room falls silent as she continues to examine the screen. You glance at Tony, whose brow is furrowed in concern. Then the doctor’s face breaks into a smile.

“Well, this is a surprise,” she says, turning the screen toward you.

“What is it?” you ask, your heart thudding in your chest.

“There’s another embryo,” she says, pointing to a second, smaller shape on the screen. “It looks like you’re having twins.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. You stare at the monitor, trying to process the words. Twins.

Tony’s reaction is the first to break the silence. He lets out a stunned laugh, his free hand running through his hair. “Twins? Are you serious?”

“Very serious,” the doctor says, still smiling. “It’s not uncommon for one embryo to be harder to detect early on. They’re both healthy, though, and everything looks great so far.”

You turn to look at Tony, who seems completely flabbergasted. “We’re having two babies,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze snaps to yours, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. “Two babies,” he repeats, as though saying it out loud will help him believe it. “Holy—wow. Okay. That’s… that’s amazing.”

His joy is contagious, and despite your own shock, you can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

The doctor spends a few more minutes explaining what to expect with a twin pregnancy before wrapping up the appointment. As you leave the clinic, Tony’s hand finds yours, his grip warm and steady.

“So,” he says as you walk to the car, “twins, huh?”

“Twins,” you confirm, still feeling a bit dazed.

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. “Do you know what this means?”

“What?” you ask, bracing yourself for whatever over-the-top conclusion he’s about to draw.

“I need to double everything,” he says, his expression deadly serious. “Double the baby-proofing, double the cribs, double the toys—hell, we need to double the size of the penthouse.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tony, we don’t need to double the size of the penthouse.”

“Sweetheart, we’re having two Stark geniuses. They’ll need space to build their first prototypes.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. “Let’s just get through the pregnancy first, okay?”

“Deal,” he says, pulling you into a hug.

The ride home is filled with excited chatter as Tony starts brainstorming baby names, nursery themes, and potential inventions to make parenting twins easier. His enthusiasm is palpable, and by the time you pull into the garage, you’re already feeling more at ease about the road ahead.

That night, as the two of you lie in bed, Tony’s hand rests protectively on your stomach, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your shirt.

“Twins,” he murmurs again, his voice filled with wonder.

“Still wrapping your head around it?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“Completely,” he admits, turning to look at you. “But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “Me neither.”

As you drift off to sleep, the reality of your growing family feels a little less daunting, and a whole lot more exciting. With Tony by your side, you know you’re ready for whatever challenges—and joys—lie ahead.

The next few days are a whirlwind of excitement and planning. The news of twins has sent Tony into overdrive, and he spends every waking moment researching, organizing, and brainstorming ways to prepare for their arrival. It’s both endearing and exhausting to witness.

“Alright,” Tony announces one evening, dropping onto the couch beside you with a sleek tablet in hand. “We need to talk names. Stark-level names. None of this basic nonsense.”

You laugh, curling your legs under you as you turn to face him. “Tony, we don’t even know the genders yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We plan for all possibilities. Boy-boy, girl-girl, boy-girl—it’s a Stark family think tank tonight.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Fine. What do you have so far?”

He taps on the tablet and turns the screen toward you. It’s a list of names, complete with notations about their origins, meanings, and even their potential compatibility with the Stark legacy.

“Okay, hear me out,” he begins, pointing to the first name on the list. “For a boy: Leonardo. Strong, classic, nod to genius inventors—da Vinci, obviously.”

You tilt your head, considering it. “Not bad. But does that mean we have to stick with an artist theme for the other one?”

Tony grins, clearly delighted by your engagement. “Exactly what I was thinking. How about Raphael? It’s strong, recognizable, and—”

“—also a ninja turtle,” you finish, raising an eyebrow.

He groans dramatically, tossing the tablet onto the coffee table. “You’re impossible to impress.”

You laugh, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I like Leonardo. We’ll keep it on the list. What about girls?”

His eyes light up as he picks up the tablet again. “Oh, I’ve got some great ones for girls. Athena—powerful, goddess of wisdom. Or Nova—short, sharp, and celestial. Perfect for a Stark.”

You smile softly, feeling a surge of affection for him. Despite his larger-than-life personality, it’s clear how much thought he’s put into this, how much he already loves these babies.

“I like Nova,” you admit, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s different, but not too out there.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, his fingers brushing over your arm. “Nova it is,” he murmurs. “And don’t worry, we’ll come up with a few backups. We’ve got time.”

The two of you spend the next hour tossing ideas back and forth, laughing over some of Tony’s more outrageous suggestions (he’s still convinced that Starkette would be a great name) and adding your favorites to the growing list.

As the night winds down, you find yourself stretched out on the couch, Tony’s hand resting lightly on your belly. It’s become a habit of his lately—always finding an excuse to touch the bump, as though he’s already trying to forge a connection with the twins.

“You know they can’t hear you yet, right?” you tease as he leans closer, his lips hovering over your stomach.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice low and affectionate. “It’s never too early for a little bonding time.”

You smile, watching as he begins to speak softly, his words meant for the tiny lives growing inside you.

“Hey, little ones,” he says, his hand gently rubbing your belly. “It’s your dad. I know it’s early, but I just wanted to say hi. I’ve got some pretty big plans for you two, you know. Not too much pressure—just, you know, world domination and all that.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tony.”

“What?” he says, looking up at you with a playful grin. “They’ve got the Stark genes. It’s inevitable.”

He turns back to your belly, his expression softening. “But seriously, you’re going to have the best mom ever. She’s already taking such good care of you, and she’s going to love you more than you can imagine. I’ll do my part too, don’t worry. Whatever you need, whenever you need it—I’ve got you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you listen to him. Despite his usual bravado, there’s a vulnerability in his voice that takes your breath away.

“Tony,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He looks up at you, his gaze warm and steady. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” you say simply, unable to find any other words to convey what you’re feeling.

He smiles, leaning up to press a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. And I love them already, more than I ever thought possible.”

The moment stretches between you, filled with a quiet intimacy that needs no words.

Over the next few weeks, Tony’s overprotectiveness reaches new heights. He installs a state-of-the-art air filtration system in the penthouse (“just to be safe”), bans you from lifting anything heavier than a pillow, and insists on driving you everywhere, even if it’s just down the street.

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not made of glass,” you protest one afternoon as he insists on carrying your bag up the stairs.

“Exactly,” he says, not missing a beat. “You’re pregnant. Which means you’re carrying my kids. And that means I’m not taking any chances.”

You sigh, but there’s no arguing with him. And truth be told, you don’t mind the extra attention—especially when it comes with moments of unexpected sweetness.

Like the nights when you’re too tired to cook, and Tony orders your favorite takeout, complete with extra sides “for the cravings.” Or the mornings when he wakes you up with a gentle kiss on your forehead and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice because he read somewhere that vitamin C is good for pregnancy.

One evening, as you’re lying in bed, Tony rests his hand on your belly and begins his nightly ritual of talking to the twins.

“Alright, you two,” he says, his tone mock-stern. “Listen up. No giving your mom a hard time, okay? She’s working overtime keeping you both healthy and happy, and I won’t stand for any nonsense. Got it?”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m sure they’ll be perfect angels, just like their dad.”

“Exactly,” he says, grinning up at you. “They’ll take after me in all the best ways.”

As you drift off to sleep, the sound of Tony’s voice lulls you into a sense of peace. Despite the challenges ahead, you know that with him by your side, you’re ready for whatever the future holds.

It’s a lazy Sunday morning, and the two of you are tangled up in bed. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Tony’s head is resting lightly on your stomach, his arms draped around your waist as he chats away to the twins.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” he says, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. “You’re both going to be brilliant, obviously, but maybe one of you can take after your mom in the patience department. Can’t have two of me running around. That’d be chaos.”

You chuckle, your fingers idly brushing through his hair. “Pretty sure one of you is already plenty.”

Tony grins up at you before turning his attention back to your belly. “And listen, kiddo number two—don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. You’re equally as awesome. We’re just trying to figure out who’s going to be the wild one and who’s going to keep things balanced. Flip a coin? Rock-paper-scissors?”

As he continues to talk, a sudden, unexpected sensation flutters through your abdomen. You freeze, your hand stilling in his hair.

“Tony,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder.

He looks up at you, his brow furrowed. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Shh,” you say, placing a hand over his head. “Just… stay still.”

His eyes widen as he realizes what you mean. He presses his cheek more firmly against your belly, holding his breath.

Then it happens again—a tiny, unmistakable kick.

Tony jerks upright, his face lit with pure excitement. “Was that—did they just—”

You nod, laughing softly. “One of them kicked. First time.”

His grin stretches from ear to ear, and he places his hands on your stomach, as if willing it to happen again. “Hey, little one,” he says, his voice filled with awe. “That was you, wasn’t it? Do it again for your old man. Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

As if on cue, another gentle kick presses against your belly. Tony lets out a laugh, his eyes sparkling. “Did you feel that? That’s my kid in there!”

You laugh, your heart swelling at his joy. “I think they like the sound of your voice.”

“Of course they do,” he says, leaning down to kiss your belly. “They’ve got great taste already.”

From that day on, Tony becomes even more attached to the twins. He talks to them constantly, encouraging them to kick and wiggle for him.

When you reach the fifth month, the day of the gender reveal appointment arrives. Tony is practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation as you drive to the clinic.

“This is it,” he says, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “The moment of truth. Pink or blue. Or both. Or—wait, what if it’s green? Is green a thing?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s definitely not green, Tony. Just breathe, okay?”

At the clinic, the technician leads you into the ultrasound room and begins the scan. Tony’s hand finds yours, his grip warm and reassuring as the screen comes to life.

“Alright,” the technician says with a smile. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The room falls silent as she moves the wand over your belly, pointing out the shapes of the two tiny babies nestled inside.

“Baby A is a girl,” she announces, her voice cheerful.

Tony’s jaw drops. “A girl?” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder. “I’m gonna have a daughter?”

You squeeze his hand, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah, you are.”

“And Baby B,” the technician continues, “is a boy.”

Tony’s face splits into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. “A boy and a girl. One of each. That’s…” He trails off, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s perfect.”

You laugh softly, wiping at your eyes. “It really is.”

The technician prints out a few pictures for you, and as you leave the clinic, Tony is practically vibrating with excitement.

“So, a girl and a boy,” he says as you slide into the car. “That means we’ve got to step up our name game. No more messing around.”

The next few days are filled with brainstorming sessions. Tony insists on creating a detailed spreadsheet, complete with columns for meanings, origins, and “coolness factor.”

“What about Aurora?” he suggests one evening, his legs stretched out on the couch as he scrolls through baby name websites. “Strong, beautiful, and it means dawn. Fresh start. Kind of poetic, right?”

“I like it,” you admit, adding it to the shortlist. “And for the boy?”

He pauses, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “How about Finn? Short, sharp, and full of character. Plus, it’s got that adventurous vibe.”

“Finn’s good,” you say, smiling. “It’s definitely in the running.”

As the days go by, the names start to take shape. Aurora for your daughter and Finn for your son become the front-runners, but Tony insists on keeping a few backups, “just in case they don’t look like an Aurora or a Finn.”

At night, Tony continues his tradition of talking to your belly, now addressing the twins by name.

“Alright, Aurora and Finn,” he says one evening as you lie in bed. “Here’s the deal. You’ve got the coolest parents ever, so you’d better be ready to live up to the hype. No pressure, though.”

You laugh, your heart swelling with love for him. “No pressure, huh?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admits with a grin. “But only because I know they’re going to be amazing.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly. “And for the record, your mom’s the real MVP here. She’s doing all the hard work, so you’d better behave when you come out, got it?”

You reach out to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his stubble. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, you know.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a lot to live up to. These two are going to need a dad who’s as awesome as their mom.”

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss. Despite his over-the-top antics and constant hovering, you wouldn’t trade this time with him for anything. Together, you’re building something incredible—something worth every moment of chaos and excitement.

And as Tony resumes his playful chatter with the twins, you can’t help but feel that the best is yet to come.

The day starts out like any other. You wake up to Tony gently rubbing your belly, as he’s done every morning for the past few weeks. “Morning, Aurora and Finn,” he says, his voice soft and affectionate. “Big day ahead. Don’t give your mom too much trouble, okay?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You say that every morning, and yet they seem to take it as a challenge.”

Tony chuckles, leaning down to kiss your belly before moving to your lips. “Well, they’re Starks. Trouble is in the DNA.”

The day goes on uneventfully, with Tony hovering like a protective shadow as usual. But by the evening, something feels… different. A sharp, cramping sensation ripples through your abdomen, and you freeze mid-step in the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Tony’s voice cuts through your focus, alarmed. He’s at your side in an instant. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the twins? Are you dying?!”

You groan, clutching the counter. “Tony, I’m not dying. I think… I think this might be it. The contractions—”

Before you can finish, Tony is already in full-blown panic mode. “FRIDAY! Get the hospital on the line. Start the car. Assemble the go-bag. No, wait—I’ve got the go-bag. Do we need snacks? Oh God, did we pack enough socks? What if the babies don’t like socks?”

You clutch his arm, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Tony, breathe. We’ve been through this in the birthing class. This is normal. We have time.”

But calming Tony Stark is like trying to stop a hurricane with a paper fan. Within minutes, he has you bundled into the car, shouting instructions at FRIDAY and speeding toward the hospital like a man on a mission.

At the hospital, the chaos only intensifies. Tony insists on staying by your side through everything, but his version of “helping” is less than helpful.

“Okay, Y/N, deep breaths,” he says, pacing beside the bed as the contractions grow stronger. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You’re doing great. Amazing. A total rock star. Do you need water? Ice chips? A helicopter to get us out of here?”

You glare at him, clutching the edge of the bed. “Tony, sit down. You’re making me more anxious than the contractions!”

“But I’m helping!” he protests, his hands flailing.

“You’re not! If you really want to help, stop pacing and let me focus!”

Tony freezes, looking like a scolded puppy. “Okay, okay. I’ll just… sit here. Quietly. Not pacing. Totally calm.”

He sits for approximately two seconds before jumping up again. “Is it too hot in here? Too cold? Should I ask the nurse to adjust the thermostat? Where’s the nurse? Why aren’t they here yet?!”

You groan, throwing your head back. “Tony, I swear to God, if you don’t sit down, I’m going to strangle you with the IV tube!”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Right, got it. Sitting. Silent. Definitely not annoying my laboring wife.”

But, of course, Tony Stark being silent is an impossibility. As the hours stretch on and the contractions grow more intense, he tries every trick in the book to distract you from the pain.

“Knock-knock,” he says at one point, grinning nervously.

You glare at him, sweat dripping down your forehead. “Tony, if you tell a joke right now, I will kill you.”

He pales, holding his hands up. “Noted. No jokes. Moving on.”

When the time finally comes to push, Tony’s anxiety reaches a new peak. He hovers by your side, alternately shouting encouragement and panicking over every little thing.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” he says, clutching your hand so tightly it feels like your bones might snap. “You’re amazing. A warrior. A goddess. Wait, is that supposed to happen? Should it look like that? Nurse, is that normal?!”

“Tony!” you shout, your voice a mix of anger and desperation. “Shut up and let me concentrate!”

“Right, shutting up,” he says, his face pale. “Totally shutting up.”

But, of course, he doesn’t. As you bear down, sweat pouring from your body, Tony’s commentary continues unabated.

“Is that a head? I think I see a head. Oh my God, that’s a head! Y/N, you’re doing it! You’re—”

“TONY, I SWEAR TO EVERYTHING HOLY, IF YOU DON’T STOP TALKING, YOU’LL BE THE ONE NEEDING MEDICAL ATTENTION!”

He clamps his mouth shut, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the first baby lets out a piercing cry. The room erupts into a flurry of activity as the nurses clean and wrap the baby, placing her gently in your arms.

“It’s Aurora,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Tony, it’s her.”

Tony stares, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “She’s… she’s perfect.”

But before he can fully process the moment, the doctor speaks up. “Alright, we’re not done yet. Baby number two is on the way.”

Tony’s face goes from awe to panic in record time. “Wait, what? Already? Can’t we have a break? A halftime show or something?”

“Tony!” you snap, grabbing his arm. “Focus!”

The second delivery is just as chaotic, with Tony oscillating between over-the-top cheerleading and outright panic.

“Come on, Finn!” he shouts, as though the baby can hear him. “You’ve got this, buddy! Just a little further!”

You groan, squeezing his hand hard enough to make him yelp. “Stop coaching him like he’s running a marathon!”

Finally, Finn makes his grand entrance, and the room fills with another cry. Tony’s knees buckle, and for a moment, you think he might actually faint.

“Tony,” you say, your voice weary but amused. “Don’t you dare pass out now.”

He straightens, shaking his head. “I’m good. Totally fine. Just… give me a second.”

When both babies are finally placed in your arms, Tony sits beside you, his eyes glued to their tiny faces.

“They’re… incredible,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re incredible.”

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. “We did it.”

“Yeah,” he says, his arm wrapping around you. “We did.”

Despite the chaos, the pain, and Tony’s near meltdown, it’s a moment you’ll treasure forever. Together, you’ve brought two perfect little lives into the world, and as you sit there, holding your new family, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

The delivery room is quiet now, save for the soft coos of the twins and the murmurs of the nurses as they clean up. You’re exhausted but overwhelmed with joy as you cradle Aurora and Finn against your chest. Their tiny hands clutch instinctively at the air, and their soft cries tug at your heart. Tony sits beside you, his gaze locked on the babies, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief.

“Do you… do you want to hold one?” you ask softly, nudging him with your elbow.

He blinks, his eyes snapping up to yours. “Me? Are you sure?”

You laugh gently, though it comes out as more of a croak after hours of labor. “Tony, they’re your kids. Of course, I’m sure.”

Tony’s hands twitch at his sides as though he’s unsure what to do with them. A nurse notices and steps forward, offering to guide him. “Here, Mr. Stark. Just support their head like this.”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, carefully taking Aurora from you. She’s so tiny in his arms, her pink cheeks puffing out as she lets out a little yawn. Tony looks down at her, his face softening in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Hey there, Aurora,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I’m… I’m your dad. That’s me. Daddy.”

The word hangs in the air, and you see his eyes glisten with unshed tears. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he stares at her. “You’re so small. And perfect. How… how did we do this?”

You reach out, resting your hand on his arm. “I think you had a little help from me.”

He laughs, though it’s thick with emotion, and glances at you. “You’re not wrong.”

Finn lets out a small wail from your chest, and Tony’s attention snaps to him. “Is he okay? What’s wrong? Is he hungry? Cold? Should we call someone?”

“He’s fine,” you assure him, laughing softly. “He’s just letting us know he’s here.”

Tony looks torn, glancing back at Aurora as though he can’t bear to let her go, but eventually, he hands her back to you so he can hold Finn. The moment Finn is in his arms, Tony’s face crumbles again.

“Hey, buddy,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the baby’s tiny hand. “I’m your dad. And I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I promise I’m going to figure it out. You and your sister—you’re my whole world now.”

Tears spill down his cheeks, and he doesn’t even try to wipe them away. You reach out to touch his hand, your heart swelling at the sight of him holding your son.

“You’re doing great, Tony,” you whisper. “They’re already lucky to have you.”

A few days later, the hospital staff finally gives you the green light to go home. Tony spends the entire morning triple-checking every detail. He inspects the car seats at least a dozen times, adjusts the blankets to make sure they’re just right, and insists on personally carrying both the babies out of the hospital, one in each arm.

“Tony,” you say as you follow him out, balancing yourself carefully. “You do realize the nurses already checked all of this, right?”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t check it Stark-style,” he replies, his tone serious. “These two deserve the best. Nothing but perfection.”

You roll your eyes fondly but let him fuss. After all, his protectiveness is part of what makes him Tony.

The drive home is equally over-the-top. Tony drives at a snail’s pace, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Every bump in the road earns a muttered curse, and he checks the rearview mirror every five seconds to make sure the babies are okay.

“Tony, relax,” you say, trying not to laugh. “They’re fine.”

“Fine?!” he exclaims, glancing at you with wide eyes. “We’re transporting the most precious cargo in the universe! Fine isn’t good enough!”

When you finally make it home, Tony insists on carrying the babies inside himself, refusing to let anyone else touch them. He sets them down gently in their bassinet, adjusting their blankets and staring at them like they might disappear if he looks away.

“They’re really here,” he says softly, more to himself than to you. “We’re parents.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder. “We are. And you’re already amazing at it.”

The first few days at home are a whirlwind. Tony hovers constantly, watching the babies like a hawk and rushing to their side at the slightest sound. He insists on being involved in everything—feeding, diaper changes, even lullabies.

One night, you find him in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair with Finn cradled in his arms. He’s humming softly, and Finn’s tiny fingers are wrapped around his pinky.

“Tony,” you whisper, leaning against the doorframe. “You should be sleeping.”

He glances up, his expression soft but determined. “I will. Just… not yet. He’s so small, Y/N. What if I miss something?”

“You’re not going to miss anything,” you assure him, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing an incredible job.”

He smiles, though his eyes are tired. “Thanks, but I think he’s the one doing all the hard work. Growing this cute can’t be easy.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Come on, Daddy. Time for bed.”

The nickname makes him pause, his eyes glistening again. “Daddy,” he repeats softly. “I’m still getting used to that.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you whisper, kissing his cheek.

As the days turn into weeks, Tony’s overprotectiveness doesn’t wane. He insists on baby-proofing every inch of the house, even though the twins aren’t even crawling yet. He researches every parenting book he can find, orders the latest baby gadgets, and constantly checks the temperature in the nursery.

But amidst all the chaos, there are quiet, tender moments that make your heart swell. One afternoon, you walk into the living room to find Tony lying on the floor with Aurora on his chest and Finn nestled in the crook of his arm. He’s talking to them softly, telling them about the Avengers, about his workshop, about the stars.

“And one day,” he says, his voice warm and full of love, “you’re going to do amazing things. But for now, just know that I’ve got you. Always.”

You stand in the doorway, watching him with tears in your eyes. Despite all his quirks and eccentricities, Tony Stark is a man who loves deeply and fiercely, and your little family is proof of that.

As you join him on the floor, lying down beside him and resting your head on his shoulder, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. Because this—this messy, beautiful, chaotic life—is everything you’ve ever wanted. And more.

It starts out like any other quiet afternoon in the Stark household. The twins are happily napping in their bassinet, and for once, the house isn’t filled with Tony’s constant tinkering or FRIDAY’s updates about his latest gadget. You and Tony are stretched out on the couch, enjoying the rare moment of calm.

“I think we’re finally getting the hang of this parenting thing,” Tony says smugly, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Two babies, zero disasters today. We might actually be superheroes after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tony, you just jinxed it. Never say something like that out loud.”

“Pfft, jinxes aren’t real,” he says, waving you off. “Besides, look at us. We’re unstoppable. Nothing’s going to—”

Before he can finish his sentence, a piercing cry erupts from the nursery.

“Welp,” you say, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Guess the streak is over.”

Tony follows you down the hall, muttering under his breath about how the universe is conspiring against him. When you reach the nursery, you’re met with the unmistakable smell of disaster.

“Oh no,” Tony says, stopping dead in his tracks. “That’s… that’s not just a cry. That’s a code brown cry.”

You peer into the bassinet, where Finn is wriggling unhappily, his tiny fists flailing. His onesie is stained in a way that makes you immediately regret having eyes.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, covering your nose. “How did this even happen? It’s everywhere!”

Tony takes a cautious step back. “Okay, new plan. You handle Finn, and I’ll supervise from a safe distance.”

You shoot him a glare. “You’re the one who said we’re unstoppable. Get over here and help me.”

Tony groans but reluctantly steps forward, pulling his shirt over his nose like a makeshift mask. “This is why I built suits, you know. To avoid situations like this.”

Together, you carefully lift Finn out of the bassinet, trying not to make the mess worse. But it’s no use. The more you move him, the more it seems to spread.

“Okay,” Tony says, his voice muffled by his shirt. “We need a plan. You grab the wipes, I’ll get the clean onesie. And maybe a hazmat suit?”

“Tony, just grab the diaper bag,” you say, exasperated.

He scrambles to comply, but in his rush, he knocks over a bottle of baby powder, which explodes into a cloud of white dust.

“Perfect,” you mutter, coughing as the powder settles over everything. “Now it smells like a powdery poop disaster.”

Tony hands you the wipes, looking sheepish. “At least it’s better than just poop?”

You manage to get Finn onto the changing table, but the moment you open his diaper, he decides to up the ante.

“Tony, grab a—!”

Too late. A tiny fountain arcs into the air, catching both of you completely off guard. You shriek, trying to shield yourself, while Tony flails wildly, yelling, “Abort mission! Abort mission!”

By the time the chaos subsides, you’re both covered in a mixture of baby powder and… other substances you’d rather not think about. Finn, meanwhile, seems perfectly content, cooing happily as though nothing happened.

“This,” Tony says, pointing at the baby, “is why they don’t make movies about superhero dads. No one would believe it.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the mess. “Welcome to parenthood, Mr. Stark.”

Once Finn is cleaned up and dressed in a fresh onesie, you collapse onto the couch, exhausted. Tony joins you a moment later, his hair still dusted with baby powder.

“Well,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders. “That was a new low for me. And I’ve done a lot of embarrassing things.”

“At least we survived,” you say, leaning into him. “Barely.”

He grins, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know, I think this whole parenting thing might actually be tougher than saving the world.”

“Definitely messier,” you agree.

As if on cue, Aurora’s cry echoes from the nursery, signaling the start of the next adventure. Tony groans, burying his face in his hands.

“I’ll get her,” you say, patting his knee.

But Tony grabs your hand, pulling you back. “No, no, I’ve got this one. Stark to the rescue.”

You watch as he marches down the hall, determination written all over his face. Moments later, you hear him exclaim, “Oh come on! How is this even possible?!”

You burst out laughing, knowing that life with Tony and the twins will never, ever be boring.

[sl-walker]

Emergency Commissions

So, I have been unemployed since July and then Thursday night, a buck in rut decided to leap in front of my poor little Cobalt. She absolutely saved my son and I by taking the brunt of the impact, but obviously, she's not going anywhere anytime soon. I might be able to save her and do intend to try -- I've had her for almost ten years and almost 100K miles, and have been utterly faithful in my maintenance; I love this car dearly and she clearly loved us right back the other night by absorbing the impact of a gigantic whitetail -- but that's not going to be something that happens quickly.

In the meantime, I need a car. Despite being unemployed, the scrimping and saving and the help of family has netted me about 3500 I can put towards one. Unfortunately, even beaters these days tend to go for more than that. I have a job prospect I'm waiting to hear back from, but no guarantees.

So, in order to raise funds, I'm offering emergency portrait commissions.

The caveat is that they'll be pencil only, bust only portraits, because those are the ones I can do quickest and easiest. As for price: Pay what you think is fair. It takes me between an hour and two hours, usually, to do a pencil portrait depending on how elaborate you want it. I also typically don't take payment before the work is complete, so you could shaft me pretty severely, but I'd like to believe better of people than that. (I will be pretty hurt if someone sends me $5 or $10 for a portrait that takes me two hours, though, ngl.)

I can draw humans and humanoids, though the more elaborate, the longer it'll probably take. Love doing OCs for people. I'm less sure if I can do animals or furries, but I'd probably be willing to give it a shot if I have good references. Some examples of my pencil stuff:

Anyway, DM me here or find me on D*scord at sl_walker if you're interested! And please do feel free to signal boost.

(ETA: I'll also be posting new nails by my wife soon, too!)