#feel free to share your thoughts if your thinking thoughts too

[goldenroutledge]

if tomorrow never comes

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just have a lot on my plate. ❜. based on this request.

summary: in which you and carlos drift apart and the tension boils over on your anniversary.

a/n: i’m having so much fun writing these requests! thank you to everyone requesting :)

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“When do you think you can be here, Carlos?”

His voice is tight on the other end of the line, knowing that you won’t like the answer. “An hour. Ninety minutes tops.”

You want to scream out and repeat his answer back to him so loudly that he can hear from the balcony of your shared apartment. It’ll let all of Monaco know how ridiculous he sounds. The flight attendant’s presence at the other end of the cabin helps you keep your composure. “And you’re sure that’s it? One hour?”

“Yes cariño, I promise.”

“Don’t call me that when I’m annoyed with you.”

��Can’t help it.” Carlos smiles cheekily, you can hear it in his voice. You can’t help but roll your eyes, feeling that he’s not taking you seriously. Postponing time spent together, sometimes venturing into canceling dates altogether, was becoming too frequent for your liking. But patience had to be your strong suit dating Carlos. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You end the call abruptly, leaving him to a last minute business meeting while you’re sitting here, awaiting your boyfriend on the private jet he has abandoned. Then again it would only be considered abandoned had he shown up on time to begin with.

He’d returned home from training yesterday exhausted as ever, yet reassured you with the promise that you two would spend a few days on a quiet getaway for your anniversary. Just the two of you, alone together. A trip you’d been planning for weeks now, with the need to make it an anniversary you’d always remember. If getting away was what it took to get Carlos to relax again, to be with you free of any distractions from work, you’d do that.

Carlos regards his career with a dedicated spirit, diligently organizing his schedule to make sure nothing falls between the cracks. His training, his sponsorships, his future at Williams… As badly as he feels to leave you waiting, duty calls. A last minute Zoom meeting with a new sponsor held him back at the apartment for longer than he anticipated. While most people have already resigned themselves to the fact that they can’t have it all, Carlos Sainz is not most people. He’ll either have everything, or die trying. It’s one of the many traits you love about him. Your heart aches at the thought of it being what tears you apart.

“Champagne?” The flight attendant offers you the drink, one of two that was meant for your celebratory toast with Carlos to kick off your anniversary trip.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day.” The flight attendant gives you a sympathetic smile, watching you down the drink with no effort. If this keeps up, it’ll be a long weekend too.

–

Once Carlos finally joins you on the plane, his ask for forgiveness is difficult to deny. He brought you a bouquet of flowers so large they took up their own seat on the plane, and he hadn’t stopped showering you with love since he arrived. Something about making up for lost time, he’d mumbled into your ear when you questioned his overwhelming affection. The colors of the flowers tied in beautifully with your outfit; Carlos was sure to capture it with a few photographs.

His attention to detail was another thing that you loved about him, it drew you in everytime. When you’re together like this, free of the outside noise, you wish it could last forever. Always on the other end of the phone or outside the airplane window is something ready to whisk him away. Ideally, an anniversary spent with him would consist of a lazy morning making breakfast together, simply basking in each other’s company.

His company was hard to enjoy when you were barely experiencing it, now sitting alone at your anniversary dinner hours later. Your mood turned sour when Carlos excused himself to take a call, walking away from the table before you had a chance to express your distaste. The tension that had been simmering between you two was bound to bubble over once again as Carlos returned to your table with a guilty look, phone to his ear as he ended his call with his cousin/manager.

You didn’t bother to look up, taking your anger out on your meal instead, poking and prodding the food with your silverware. It was a delicious meal that did nothing to deserve a brutal assault by fork and knife, ruining its picturesque presentation.

“Mi amor, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know that the more you say those words, the more they lose their significance each time?”

He sighs, running a stressed hand through his dark hair. “You know the kind of pressure that I’m under right now, cariño. How much this year has worn on me in general. Please, I just need you to be a little more-”

“Understanding? Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” You cut him off harshly, and the look you give him across the table is worth flinching from.

“You have. And I feel terrible, but it won’t last forever.” He attempts to soothe your worries, reaching for your hand. You don’t accept or deny his touch, you’re just still. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“You’re right, Carlos. It won’t last forever. You’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you mean by that? You think we’re going to break up?”

“I’m saying that if you don’t make time to nurture our relationship, there won’t be a relationship left! I’ve been here, Carlos. For you, for us, while juggling my own life and career, so don’t tell me it’s impossible. There was a time when you balanced it all before, when you weren’t working yourself to the bone because you decided you have something more to prove to the world.”

“I’m trying to balance everything, but it’s not always going to be smooth sailing. You know it’s not easy.”

“I know it’s not. I don’t need it to be, but I miss the days when you felt like our relationship was worth making time for. When I wasn’t the last of your priorities.”

“Maybe I miss the days when you understood that I’m not always going to be available for you 24/7.” Carlos rants, feeling defensive at how this time, the gloves are off, you’re finally letting Carlos feel the weight of the burden you’ve been carrying– loving enough for the two of you. Your pounding heart reminds you that it’s impossible to carry on like this. Something has to give. “Do you realize how much time I’m spending away from training to be with you? Is that not making time for our relationship?”

Tears prick your eyes in frustration, the air suddenly feeling warmer than before. Your nervous system begs you to get out of there, to leave the conversation before either of you say something you’ll regret. If it hasn’t been said already. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t even need any of this! I just want you! I remember the days when that wasn’t too much to ask for.”

Your hand has long dropped his, and Carlos’ eyes widen in panic as he watches you move out of your chair. “Amor, stay. Please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Confliction moves through you like a strike of lightning, torn between staying to talk it through or taking a moment of space, after pouring out the feelings you’d spent so much time locking away. The last straw is when your waiter approaches your table, holding a small cake in his hands. On the top of it is a picture of you and Carlos together on your first anniversary, more content and in love than ever. A candle burns on the cake and wax melts down the sides, resembling the tears that wish to fall. Carlos’ eyes plead with guilt, begging you to stay and forget. Smile and pretend that right now, you’re still that happy couple printed on the cake.

Instead, you throw your napkin to your plate. “I need some air.”

–

Carlos watches you go, he doesn’t stop you. A timeout will do you both some good right now. He tries to tell himself that it’s not that bad. Couples fight. But he sits there, sullen, knowing that he’s fucked up this time. His heart burns as he stares at the picture of you two on the cake. It’s unbearable, and that little surprise he orchestrated now feels like a pointed joke at his expense. He blows out the candle and the light goes out. But closing his eyes won’t help his fear of the dark. Even he can’t run from this.

He finds you outside of the restaurant, sitting on a bench, staring down into the renewing waters of the fountain. It’s mesmerizing, the way you can drown in the sight and get lost in the calming sound. He slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just have a lot on my plate. But that’s no excuse to put our relationship on the backburner. I’m so, so sorry.” Carlos presses a chaste kiss to your temple, and feels comforted by how you subtly lean into his space. It’s a step. “I love you, and I’m going to listen to you. I want to make this better because there’s not a life for me without you in it. I need you, cariño. I want to be with you, always.”

“I’ve felt so disconnected from you lately and being here on our anniversary, reminded of all the happier times we’ve shared, I just… that scares me. I’m scared we won’t get back there if there’s any more distance between us.”

“I should’ve seen it sooner. The truth is, I am able to do what I do because you’re always there. You support me when things are up, when they’re down. When I lost my seat, when I got sick with appendicitis, when I won races… you’re there for it all. I took you for granted thinking that I could give everything I have to my career, when it’s you who deserves it.”

“You do give it everything, but I think you’ve lost sight of things a little bit. Usually you give me everything you have too, I mean the little cake with us on it… I love that you did that for me, Carlos. I’m only so upset because I love you too.”

Those words haven’t stopped echoing in his mind. He swears he’ll engrave them into his brain forever, as long as you’re happy. “Maybe I have been overcompensating a little bit, feeling pressure to make things perfect in my career. The year has been difficult, but I couldn’t have gotten through without you.”

You kiss his cheek, warming up to his affectionate words. He’s sincere, he truly means them. “You’re more than enough, Carlos. Just the way you are. Weathering the storm isn’t always easy but there’s nobody else I’d rather be with either.”

“Can we start over?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

“I have an idea. Should I throw my phone into the fountain, cariño? You’ll have my undivided attention for days.”

“Tempting, but no. Keep your phone dry, my love. Would you be opposed to going back to the villa? Enjoying the rest of the night in?”

Carlos wiggles his brows, as he recognizes that familiar glint in your eyes. One that shimmers with hope and longing. “We do have a pretty sweet cake being boxed up as we speak.”

“Maybe we can light the candle again? I promise I won’t leave the room this time.” Your hearts soar at the thought of blowing out your candle together, hands held as you make a new promise to each other. The past years together have been bliss and the rainbows have always shined through the cloudy skies. The next years together, you will wish for the same and even more.

“Anything for you, cariño. Happy Anniversary.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with no choice but to cup his jaw and bring your lips to his. The cool breeze outside is no match for either of you– you’ve got your love to keep you warm.

“Happy Anniversary, Carlos.”

💌: thanks for reading! reblogs & comments are very much appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[navyiera]

TERRAPIN;

pairing: caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader

synopsis: what's a better day than cuddling up to your girlfriend and playing games while she reads?

VERY short. sorry. I have many completed drafts for cait and even ellie so ill be posting them very fast. But PLEASE feel free to share your ideas in my reqs. I'm more than happy to comply. smut might take a while bec I'm not very efficient when it comes to that. Still it's open for reqs!!

The evening settles around you like a soft blanket, the kind Caitlyn always drapes over your shoulders when she thinks you’re too cold. The warm glow of the bedside lamp paints the room in amber hues, contrasting with the cooler, bluish light of your phone screen. Caitlyn’s beside you, sitting up against the headboard, one hand holding a book open while the other absentmindedly strokes your hair.

You’re curled up against her side, legs tangled with hers, head resting against her shoulder as you tap away at your game. The soft rustle of pages turning blends with the faint, rhythmic sounds of your gameplay. It’s a comfortable quiet, the kind you’ve come to cherish with her.

"You're frowning," Caitlyn murmurs, her voice gentle, her lips barely brushing your forehead as she speaks.

You huff, still focused on the screen. "This boss is annoying."

She chuckles, low and affectionate. "Is it one of those fights where you’re being stubborn instead of playing smart?"

You lift your head to give her an exaggerated glare, and she meets it with an amused, knowing smile. "You don’t know that," you grumble.

"I do," she teases, shifting slightly so she can kiss the top of your head. "You get that look when you're too deep in your pride to back down."

You sigh dramatically but don’t argue. She’s right, after all. Instead, you let your phone drop onto your stomach and lean further into her warmth. "What’re you reading?"

Caitlyn tilts the book slightly so you can see. "It’s a reread," she says. "One of my comfort books."

You don’t recognize the title, but it doesn’t matter. You like the way she talks about books, the way she gets this quiet reverence when she loves a story. You press your cheek against her shoulder, letting your eyes drift over the words even if you aren’t really following.

"Read to me?" you ask softly.

She hesitates, just for a second. Then, with a slight smile, she shifts the book, her voice slipping into a low, soothing cadence as she begins. You close your eyes, letting her words wash over you, warm and familiar like waves against the shore.

Minutes pass, or maybe longer—you lose track of time in the steady rhythm of her voice and the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath you. When she pauses to turn the page, you take the opportunity to press a kiss against her collarbone.

She hums in approval, the sound vibrating against your lips. "Distracted already?"

"Mm, not my fault," you murmur, pressing another kiss, this time against her jaw. She tilts her head slightly, giving you more room, and you take full advantage, trailing kisses up to the corner of her mouth.

Caitlyn catches your chin between her fingers, tilting your face up to look at her. Her expression is soft, eyes half-lidded with quiet amusement and something deeper, something warm. "You're beautiful."

You grin. "So are you."

Caitlyn sighs, but it's a fond one, her thumb brushing over your lower lip before she finally leans down to kiss you properly. Her lips are soft, slow, unhurried—like she has all the time in the world to savor this. And maybe she does. Maybe you both do.

When she pulls away, she lets her forehead rest against yours for a moment before nudging you lightly. "I thought you were fighting an annoying boss."

You groan, flopping back against her side dramatically. "Ugh, don’t remind me."

She laughs, and you feel it in the way her chest moves against you, the way her fingers tighten slightly in your hair. "Come on," she says, reaching for your phone and placing it back in your hands. "I’ll hold you while you finish. No rage-quitting, though."

You grumble but settle back in, her arms wrapping around you as you refocus on the game. The warmth of her, the steady thrum of her heartbeat, the occasional soft kiss she presses against your temple—it all makes the fight a little easier, the loss a little less frustrating.

And when you finally win, she praises you like you’ve just conquered something monumental, her voice full of pride, her hands cupping your face as she kisses you again.

"See?" she murmurs against your lips. "Told you you’d get it."

You sigh contentedly, letting your phone slip from your fingers as you curl into her once more. "You’re so smug."

"I’m always right," Caitlyn corrects playfully, pulling the blanket tighter around both of you.

You roll your eyes but don't argue. Instead, you nestle closer, pressing your face against the crook of her neck. "Read to me again?"

Caitlyn smiles against your hair, her voice softer this time, carrying you both into the kind of quiet that lingers, warm and safe and full of love.

[evermoreness]

hi lovely!! i had a random idea for a fic where reader is harry’s kindergarten teacher and he lets it slip to you that single dad james thinks she’s pretty? im just imaging a little 5 year old letting that information slip like it’s the most casual thing in the world and meanwhile james is dying of embarrassment hahahha. i just thought it would be cute :)

— This idea is so cute! Thanks for sharing with me, hope you like it! @iloveremmy

secret crush | james potter

pairing: james potter x muggle!reader

summary: dad!james is definitely ready to love again after some time, he just didn't think it would be harry's kindergarten teacher.

obs: feel free to send any requests!

masterlist

The small classroom was filled with laughter, crayons, and the chaotic energy only a group of five-year-olds could create. The walls were covered in colorful drawings, some resembling actual objects and others looking more like abstract masterpieces only a parent could pretend to understand.

At the front of the room stood y/n, the most beloved teacher in the entire kindergarten. She had a natural warmth about her, making every child feel special. She was also quick-witted and funny, always finding a way to make the most mundane things exciting. Her students adored her.

And at the center of it all, sitting on one of the tiny chairs like he was some kind of prince, was Harry Potter.

Harry was an interesting child—smart, playful, and with a sass level that could rival a teenager. He had a mop of messy black hair that never seemed to stay put, big green eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a personality far too charming for a five-year-old.

He had been extra sassy today, insisting he was "way too advanced" for their ABC exercises and that "Uncle Moony reads him much harder books." You had learned by now to just nod along when Harry said bizarre things like that.

You had taken a particular liking to him. Not that you played favorites (at least, not openly), but something about Harry made you want to protect him even more than the other kids. Maybe it was the fact that he was being raised by a single dad, or maybe it was the way he always looked at you with that cheeky little grin whenever he was about to say something absurd.

Right now, that cheeky grin was in full force.

"Miss y/l/n," Harry said, swinging his legs under the table as he colored.

"Yes, love?" you replied, crouching down to his level.

He leaned in as if he was about to share the most confidential secret of his life. "My dad thinks you're pretty."

You blinked.

Oh.

Oh!

You opened your mouth to respond, but Harry, apparently very pleased with himself, continued. "He says you're too young to have this many kids"

Well, you definitely held back the laughter, but as you didn't have an answer to that, you just changed subjects. You leaned over to glance at Harry’s drawing. It was a messy but clearly heartfelt attempt at a stick figure version of himself and his dad, complete with what looked like… a broomstick?

“That’s a great drawing, Harry!” you praised, ruffling his hair. “Is that you and your dad?”

Harry nodded, proudly holding up his masterpiece. “Yeah! That’s me, and that’s Daddy, and he’s flying really fast on his broom because he’s the best at Quidditch!”

Let's say Harry Potter was a really imaginative kid. He would always say some really funny stories about witches and sometimes, he would full on create new words. Like he was just doing now. You found it cute, but little did you know that it was actually all true.

You grinned. “I bet he is.”

Harry’s little legs swung as he beamed. “Yeah! And he says he used to be the best Seeker at Hogwarts! I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

“That’s a great dream,” you said, genuinely warmed by how much Harry admired his father.

James was tall, lean, and had the same messy hair as his son. He was dressed casually, but there was something effortlessly charming about him. And then there were his eyes—warm, hazel, and currently widening in horror as he realized what his son was in the middle of saying.

"And my dad also said—oh, hey, Dad!" Harry greeted, as if he hadn’t just delivered a verbal nuke seconds before.

James, who had clearly heard enough, looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "Harry," he started, his voice a little strained, "what exactly have you been telling Miss y/l/n?"

Harry, completely unfazed, gestured at his teacher. "I was just telling her how you think she's pretty."

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You found it cute how a grown man was becoming all flustered right now.

“I mean—” James rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have said something along the lines of you being… you know… a good teacher.”

Harry frowned. “No, you didn’t.”

James glared at his son. A warning look. A look that screamed drop it, drop it now, child.

Harry, of course, did not drop it.

James let out an awkward, nervous laugh, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Yeah, um, I don't know where he got that from—"

"You said it last night," Harry reminded him. "When you were talking to Uncle Pads and you said—"

"Okay, that's enough, kiddo!" James cut in quickly, picking up Harry like he was a sack of potatoes. His face was an interesting shade of pink now. "Time to go, say goodbye to your teacher!"

Harry, enjoying this far too much, gave you a knowing look before waving. "Bye, Miss! See you tomorrow! Oh, and it's okay! My dad only likes you a little bit."

James groaned. "Oh, for Merlin's sake—"

You, to your credit, simply gave James a bright, amused smile. "It’s fine. Kids say the funniest things."

James, still trying to compose himself, let out a breath. "Yeah. They do."

You tilted your head, studying him for a second. "Though, I have to say, you do have a very smart kid. And very honest."

James gave you a sheepish smile. "Yeah… unfortunately, he gets that from his mother."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something sad, something that made you instinctively soften your tone. "She must've been wonderful."

James nodded. "Yeah. She really was."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them. Then, because James couldn't handle any more embarrassment today, he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Right. Well. We'll be going now. Before Harry decides to share my entire life story."

You grinned. "That’s probably a good idea. Have a good evening, Harry. James."

James hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "You too."

As he walked out, still carrying a smug-looking Harry, you couldn't help but shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

James Potter, huh?

This was going to be interesting.

As soon as they were outside, James crouched down and gave Harry a look of pure exasperation. “Alright, Prongslet. Why?”

Harry just grinned up at him, utterly unapologetic. “I like Miss y/n. You like Miss y/n. Uncle Padfoot said you should talk to her more. I was helping.”

James dropped his head in his hands. “You and Sirius are banned from talking to each other ever again.”

The aftermath

James Potter was dying.

Not literally—he had survived multiple Quidditch accidents, a war, and Voldemort himself—but right now, standing outside of Harry’s kindergarten classroom, he was convinced that actual death would be less painful than the secondhand embarrassment he had just experienced.

His five-year-old son, his sweet, traitorous, utterly clueless son, had just casually exposed his very real, very secret crush on Miss y/n.

He was never showing his face in that classroom again.

…Okay, that was a lie.

He’d be back tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

Because Harry loved school, and James definitely wasn’t going to pull him out just because he got caught being a pathetic twenty-five-year-old with a schoolboy crush on his kid’s teacher.

But, Merlin’s beard, how was he supposed to look you in the eyes again?

But instead, he found himself standing there like an idiot, because—screw it—he wasn’t actually opposed to talking to you.

At first, James had been mortified, barely able to meet your eyes when he picked up his son. But as the days went by, he found himself lingering a little longer each time. It started small—asking how Harry was doing, if he was behaving (spoiler: he wasn’t), and if he was making friends.

But then your conversations stretched longer.

“So, uh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I actually wanted to talk to you about Harry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

James nodded, trying to look serious. “Yeah. His, uh… behavior.”

You blinked, looking at Harry, who was currently playing with another student and doing absolutely nothing wrong.

“…His behavior?” you echoed.

James cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s, uh, very concerning.”

You folded your arms, clearly humoring him. “What exactly is concerning about it?”

James hesitated. “Well. You know. The talking thing.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “The talking thing?”

James sighed, knowing you weren’t buying it. “Yeah. You know. The way he just… talks. No filter. Says things. About me.”

You did laugh then, shaking your head. “James, you do realize that’s completely normal for his age, right?”

James groaned. “I was hoping you’d say there was a cure.”

You grinned. “Afraid not.”

James huffed, but there was a smile playing at his lips now. “Brilliant. Well, at least tell me—how do I make sure he doesn’t casually ruin my life every time he opens his mouth?”

You shrugged. “Sorry, but I think you’re doomed.”

James sighed dramatically. “That’s what I thought.” He glanced at Harry again, who was still happily playing, then looked back at you. “Well, I guess I should be glad he didn’t say anything too bad.”

You smirked. “Oh, no, just that you think I’m really pretty and smile a lot when you talk about me.”

James groaned. “Merlin’s sake, why would you repeat it?”

You laughed. “Because it’s funny.”

James shot her a look. “For you, maybe.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Oh, come on, James. It’s not that bad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that I’m going to be forced to relocate and change my name now, right?”

You snorted. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” James deadpanned. “I’ll be John Smith from now on. You’ve never met me before in your life.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Well, John Smith, if it makes you feel any better…” you hesitated for a second, then shrugged, your voice softer. “I don’t mind what Harry said.”

James froze.

Your eyes were warm, teasing but also… something else.

And suddenly, James realized—maybe this wasn’t as embarrassing as he thought.

Maybe Harry had just given him the best excuse in the world to talk to the woman he’d been secretly crushing on.

And maybe—just maybe—he was okay with that.

For the first time that day, James grinned.

“Well then,” he said. “In that case, I think I can survive the humiliation.”

You chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

From that day forward, James’s routine of picking Harry up from school became a little different.

At first, he told himself he was just being polite—nothing wrong with staying an extra minute or two to talk to Harry’s teacher, right? Totally normal. Every parent did that.

Except every time, those one or two minutes stretched longer.

And longer.

Until one day, he realized he was actively looking forward to pick-up time—not just to see Harry, but because he’d get to talk to you.

Getting to know each other

James had fully intended to keep his distance after the Incident—as he now called it in his head. He had absolutely not planned to linger when picking up Harry, nor did he intend to talk to you for longer than necessary. But that's not exactly what happened since they had been talking a lot lately.

"Everything good today?" James would ask, standing at the doorway.

"Harry was a little sassy during storytime," you would say, amused. "He insisted he already knew how it ended and started narrating over me."

James sighed, rubbing his temple. "Of course, he did. Did he at least get it right?"

"Surprisingly, yes," you said. "Honestly, he’s way too smart for a five-year-old."

James smirked. "He gets it from me, obviously."

"Oh, obviously," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

And then, the next day…

"Harry told me today that he was going to ‘summon his broom’ to get out of naptime."

James coughed. "Uh. Kids have wild imaginations, don’t they?"

"Mhm," you said, amused. "Though, I have to say, that’s a very specific thing to imagine."

James quickly changed the subject.

And then, the next day after that...

He found himself lingering near your desk, watching Harry shove his tiny arms into his backpack with all the grace of a rampaging hippogriff.

“So,” James started, leaning against the desk, “should I be worried about his academic future, or is struggling with backpack logistics a phase?”

You grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s a phase. I think.”

James sighed dramatically. “Merlin’s sake, that’s a relief. I was beginning to think I’d have to enroll him in some kind of Backpack Etiquette for Beginners course.”

You chuckled. “Well, I do give him stickers when he remembers to pack up neatly.”

James blinked. “That’s brilliant.”

You shrugged, smirking. “Bribery works wonders at this age.”

James laughed. “Noted.”

And just like that, their conversation stretched past the usual parent-teacher exchange.

James found himself not in a rush to leave.

You didn’t seem to mind.

And Harry, for once, didn’t interrupt with any more mortifying revelations.

A win for James.

A week later, James arrived earlier than usual and found you organizing a small shelf of children’s books.

“Expanding their literary horizons?” he asked, stepping closer.

You looked up, smiling. “Trying to. Some of them are still convinced books are just really boring building blocks.”

James smirked. “Ah, yes. The tragic underappreciation of literature.”

You chuckled. “Exactly.” you tilted your head. “Did you like reading when you were a kid?”

James shrugged. “I liked it. But I wasn’t the sit-quietly-and-read type. That was Remus.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Remus?”

“My best mate,” James explained. “Loves books. Absolute nightmare when you try to pull him away from one.”

You grinned. “Sounds like the kind of student I’d love to have.”

“Oh, absolutely,” James said. “Meanwhile, I was the kid causing problems in the back of the class.”

You pretended to gasp. “You? Causing trouble? I would never have guessed.”

James smirked. “Shocking, I know.”

You fell into easy conversation after that, sharing stories about school, books, and the different kinds of students you had over the years.

James barely noticed the time passing.

Neither did you.

"Alright, I have to ask," you said one day, arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway. "What’s up with Harry and the ‘Uncles’?"

James blinked. "What do you mean?"

"He talks about Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony constantly," you said. "Are they even real people?" you said, knowing that those names were definitely not usual. Maybe they were imaginary friends.

James tried not to laugh, he couldn't explain it to you in a detailed way, you were a Muggle after all. "Padfoot and Moony are my best mates. They are very real. It's just their nicknames. Padfoot is Sirius, Moony is Remus."

You smiled, trying to understand why they were even called that. "I swear, sometimes Harry sounds like a tiny old man when he quotes them."

James laughed. "That… yeah, that tracks. They’ve been around his whole life."

You smirked. "So, which one gives the worst advice?"

"Oh, definitely Sirius," James said immediately. "He told Harry once that he could read his mind and my poor kid spent the rest of the week scared to think"

You burst out laughing. "That’s terrible!"

"I know!" James said, grinning. "Remus had to be the voice of reason that day, convincing Harry that his uncle couldn't read his mind"

The small talk everyday was becoming a habit.

James would ask about your day, and you would roll your eyes and dramatically recount whatever chaos had ensued in your classroom—kids throwing crayons, glue disasters, the occasional crying over absolutely nothing. You were expressive, funny, and had this energy that James found… comforting.

You, in turn, asked about James—not just about Harry but about him. His work, his hobbies, things he liked. And James found himself telling you, actually enjoying your chats instead of awkwardly stumbling over his words like he thought he would.

But, of course, Harry noticed.

"Dad," Harry groaned one afternoon as James leaned against the classroom doorway, chatting away with you while other parents picked up their kids. "You’re doing it again."

James blinked down at his son. "Doing what, Prongslet?"

Harry huffed dramatically, grabbing his tiny backpack. "Talking and talking and talking."

You burst into laughter. "Oh no, Potter, you’ve been caught."

James narrowed his eyes at his son. "Maybe I like talking to your teacher, kiddo."

Harry groaned even louder, stomping toward the door. "Ugh, come on! We're always the last ones now!"

You laughed, nudging Harry’s nose playfully. "Oh, come on, am I that bad?"

Harry sighed dramatically. "No, but Daddy talks to you too much."

James cleared his throat. "Well, I just—y’know—parent stuff. Making sure you’re doing okay."

Harry squinted at him. "Uh-huh. Sure, Dad."

You smirked. "Guess I must be very interesting, huh?"

James ran a hand through his hair, looking away. "Uh… yeah. I mean, no—I mean—"

You just chuckled and waved at Harry. "See you tomorrow, little tornado."

Harry grumbled something under his breath about adults being annoying and led the way out.

James followed, but not before sneaking one last glance at you.

Getting some advice (from the professionals)

By the time a couple of weeks had passed, James knew he had to do something.

Because this? This standing-in-the-doorway-every-day-for-way-too-long thing? This was not normal behavior. He wasn’t just talking to you about Harry anymore. He liked talking to you, period.

And that? That was terrifying.

You were the first person he’d felt anything for since Lily. It wasn’t the same—Lily had been his great, big, all-consuming love. But you? You were warmth, laughter, easy conversations, and teasing smiles. And that was something.

Which meant he was going to do the scariest thing he’d done since facing off against Voldemort.

He was going to ask you out.

Sirius and Remus, of course, had opinions.

"You just gotta charm her, Prongs," Sirius said confidently, lounging on James' couch. "Lay it on thick—tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, maybe throw in a ‘your eyes shine brighter than the stars’—"

Remus snorted from his chair. "Yes, James. Do that. That definitely won’t make her think you’re a lunatic."

Sirius furrowed his brows at his boyfriend "Hey! I think it worked wonders when i charmed you to like me"

Remus gave him a look "When did exactly you charmed me, pads?"

Sirius was quick to answer "Second year, of course, and it worked!"

Remus was trying not to laugh "Do you actually know that it didn't work, i just liked you back?"

Before Sirius could even snap back, his face surprised, James groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I don’t need to charm her. I just… need to not make a fool of myself."

Sirius smirked. "Well, that’s impossible. But, hey, shoot your shot."

James was pacing his living room, gripping his hair. "I can’t do it. I can’t do it."

Sirius was looking deeply amused. "You, the James Potter, too scared to ask a woman out? This is history in the making."

Remus, sitting in an armchair, gave a long-suffering sigh. "James, it’s just coffee."

"Just coffee? Moony, I haven’t dated since Lily!" James threw his hands up. "What if she says no? What if she thinks I’m a terrible father for even thinking about dating?"

"Mate," Sirius said, sitting up. "I promise you, the last thing she’s thinking is that you’re a terrible father. She likes you."

James scoffed. "She doesn’t like me."

Sirius smirked. "Oh, yeah? Then why does she always smile at you? And laugh at your terrible dad jokes? And talk to you for an eternity?"

"That’s just—she’s nice!" James insisted.

Remus gave him a knowing look. "James. Just ask her."

James groaned. "Fine. But if I make an idiot of myself, I’m blaming both of you."

He was really going to ask you out.

Taking actions

It was a Friday afternoon. James had spent the entire day hyping himself up. This was it. No more standing around like an idiot. No more pretending he was just talking about Harry.

He was going to ask you out. Casually. Coolly. Like a totally normal, smooth person.

(He was absolutely not smooth.)

"Hey, y/n," James started as he leaned on the doorway of the classroom, trying to look relaxed.

You, who was organizing a chaotic pile of paper, looked up and smiled. "Hey, Potter. You’re right on time for the usual end-of-the-day complaints from your son."

Harry, currently sulking with his backpack, threw up his hands. "They played ring around the rosie today! Do you know how boring that is?!"

You laughed. "What, not exciting enough for you?"

"No!"

James smirked. "That’s tragic, mate."

Harry crossed his arms. "Can we go now or are you gonna talk for twenty years again?"

James cleared his throat. Now or never.

"Actually," he said, looking at you, "I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime."

You blinked. "What?"

James internally panicked. "Casual coffee. Like—like two people, drinking coffee, talking, existing in the same space—"

You raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you asking me out?"

James wanted to die. "I—I mean—yeah? But, like, you don’t have to—"

You grinned. "James."

He swallowed. "Yeah?"

"I’d love to."

James froze. "Wait. What?"

You smirked. "I said yes, Potter. You good?"

James stared at you, processing, before a slow grin spread across his face. "Oh. Well. That’s… good. That’s great. That’s—"

Harry groaned. "Finally!"

James turned to him. "Oh, what now?!"

Harry threw his hands up. "It took you forever to ask her! I thought you were never gonna do it!"

You laughed. "Seriously?"

James groaned. "Can’t anything be a secret in this family?"

You just smirked. "Apparently not."

James, still grinning, nodded. "Alright then. Coffee it is."

And for the first time in a long time, James felt something that wasn’t just surviving. He felt happy.

[rabotimagines]

"Thief" GN BOT Reader x Sunstreaker, Skyfire, Bumblebee, Hound, Ratchet [Yandere/Obsessed] Scenario

Summary: He steals your cleaning cloth and finds himself unable to resist the perverted thought that immediately pops into his helm.

Warnings: Obsessed/Yandere bots. Smut MDNI🔞

G1 characters: Sunstreaker, Skyfire, Bumblebee, Hound, Ratchet

Genre/Theme: Smut 🔞

Notes: AutoBOT reader, The autobots jerking it perverted style, (I wanted to do some of the cons too but this got kinda long...)

Pronouns: You, you, your

You're in one of the lounge areas on the Ark and Sunstreakers watching you get the excess dirt off of yourself(excess to Sunstreaker anyway). Digits making sure to get in between the grooves of your junctures while Sunstreakers telling you how you need to polish after that. And Trailbreaker comes by and pulls you away which Sunstreaker really wants to bite out something for it but you seem like you actually want to go with Trailbreaker, so he instead bites his glossia. But you also leave your cleaning cloth on the table, apparently having forgotten to sub space it before leaving him. Sunstreaker doesn't exactly think he just reaches over and shoves it in his subspace as soon as it touches his servo. Next thing he knows Sunstreakers back at his habsuite, alone thankfully (Sideswipe having been on patrol) sitting on his berth and staring at your cleaning cloth.

Sunstreaker knows he's... captivated with you. But he's also never felt like this with anyone before, so he had to concede you were everything he'd thought of you. That you were worth a bit more than whatever you were in the autobots. That with no doubt for himself to be so- focused on you that you were more than extraordinary to be on the end of Sunstreakers affections in the first place. Problem was Sunstreaker was used to bots failing over themselves for a chance with him and he has no idea how to have you do that too. So instead Sunstreaker has taken to sharing his polish with you. (He wants you as shiny as you can be.) And Sunstreaker has the high quality stuff and he doesn't exactly share with other bots (especially not his polish!) Which if you're not too concerned with your shine then it might lead to Sunstreaker polishing you himself. (Even if you aren't too up to that either which can maybe led to friction but hey, who are you to say no to a free touch up you aren't lifting a digit to do yourself? You should be grateful. Especially when it's him.) Which has worked a touch since you aren't as standoffish as when Sunstreaker starting talking to you. But you still weren't close enough. Especially not close enough to satisfy the near constant burning ache in his frame.

Sunstreaker lifts the cloth up to his faceplate and he slowly inhales. Instead of the strong smell of acetone that he'd expected there's just the slight neutral smell of oil. More importantly Sunstreaker also smells you- And he's suddenly thankful you hadn't listened to him when he said you should have polished yourself earlier. Sunstreakers abruptly burying his faceplate into the cloth and his spike starts throbbing against his modesty panel at his next inhale. Sunstreaker lets his panel pull back and he's fisting his spike as soon as it pressurizes. Every greedy huff of your scent has his helm feeling hotter and hotter- and his spike twitching harder in his own servo. He remembers your frame under his digits barely separated from him by a cleaning cloth. Sunstreaker imagines you under him, frame leaning into his touch as his servos fan over your plating. Sunstreaker opens his mouth and bites down on the fabric in his grip and Sunstreaker tastes you- Sunstreaker overloads with a muffled groan while fragging his own fist in quick strokes. Sunstreaker is huffing in vents from how hard he overloaded and he's taking in the absolute mess he'd just made with his transfluid.

Sunstreaker may have an obvious preference for you with a shining frame but if you let him mess your paint up like this? Sunstreaker didn't know if he'd let you even glance at a cleaning cloth afterwards.

-

Skyfire is asking you your opinion of a human activity. You did know a touch more than Skyfire having been acquainted with human culture longer than Skyfire had been around on earth for. Skyfire does value your input, he really does. (He also really values the time he can spend with you, and your optics focused on him, and your voice-). You're busy at the moment but you still find the time to step on the side to talk with Skyfire (and Skyfire tries to ignore how his wings perk high and how badly his chassis aches for him to reach out to touch you when you make the effort-) You're about to go back out on patrol and you're using a cleaning cloth to get some dirt off of your chassis. Skyfires optics are immediately drawn to the swipe of your servo and he finds himself zeroing in on watching your digits dip into the seams of your armor. And Skyfire feels like a pervert! Thankfully Skyfire is well adjusted enough to know how to hide mild embarrassment. So he shutters his optics closed and smiles to hide the brighter hue his optics have while you continue talking. Then Tracks is telling you to "Get off your aft or he's leaving you here!" before he transforms and starts heading out. You jolt in surprise before tossing your cleaning cloth at Skyfire without thought which you immediately realize you'd done and apologize. Skyfire smiles watching you scramble before you ask Skyfire to take care of it for you. Then you rush to transform and to catch up to Tracks.

Skyfire ends up back at his habsuite on his berth staring at the cloth you'd accidentally given him in the moment. And Skyfires optics brighten when he even considers doing- that of all things. Being stuck vorns under the ice must have done something to Skyfire. Because Skyfire has struggled to keep his thoughts in check as soon as he met you and it didn't seem to be improving any. His spark thrumming hard in need whenever he got close to you but if he got too far away all he could think about was you- You had an ever present place in his processor even when he was doing scientific work. He's crushed before yes, but this was- it was so much more... all-en composing. It was like you had somehow worked your way under every part of his frame from his struts to his very spark. And it frankly scared Skyfire a touch. Especially when you weren't even that close with one another for Skyfire to be feeling this strongly.

But with most things involving you Skyfire finds he can't help indulging into the ache for more even if he's disappointed with himself. Skyfire lets himself bring the cloth up to his olfactory and inhale tentatively. Skyfires optics brighten hard when he smells you so clearly. Skyfire inhales deeper and his array quickly kick starts into action with every continued huff he takes. Skyfires other servo palms down his frame before sliding down his still closed array. Skyfire doesn't let his modesty panel pull back. Instead Skyfire rubs over his rapidly heating panel and bucks into his own teasing servo. Stars- he could imagine this was you instead. Every desperate huff against your cloth has his own servo pressing down harder, as Skyfire rocks his hips against his own touch. Skyfires array aches, his spike was throbbing and his valve was soaking his own panel in pre lubricant. Would you tease him with your words if this was you? Would you praise him? Or would you scold him for being so- so perverted? Skyfires digit pads dig against his own panel and he overloads at the image of you in between his thighs. Skyfire has to bite back his own whine when he huffs another inhale of your scent in. His own array was sticky serving as a clear reminder of how he couldn't control himself.

Skyfire really hoped you wouldn't think any less of him for his own weakness. Even if that weakness was you.

-

Bumblebee is telling you about Cliffjumper tripping after trying to start slag with Mirage in the cafeteria. Delighting in how a small smirk curls at your derma and how your field while close to yourself is barely brushing against his own. Open but friendly, close to be polite but not closer than you'd typically share with acquaintances. You had been near when Wheeljack tried to unveil an invention. Which ended up exploding. Not a big explosion thankfully but the front of your chassis had been covered in smog. You're basically clean now (after having used three or so cloths to wipe the mess off) and you're thankfully just wiping for any stray streaks you may have missed with a new cloth. Wheeljack ends up swinging by, asking if you'll come explain what you saw happen from your angle. And you get up and say bye to him only Bumblebee offers to drop your dirty cleaning cloths off for you since he's heading that way anyway. You thank him and hand him the mildly to very dirty cleaning cloths and disappear with Wheeljack.

Bumblebee had actually dropped the dirty cleaning clothes off before heading to his habsuite. Well- he dumped them all off... except for one. Bumblee kept the last one you had used at the end of your conversation with him. You were basically clean, mostly running the cloth along your frame for certainty, and to maybe even draw Bumblebees optics- Okay no, you hadn't done that for him. Bumblebee knew he was um- he was crushing. And he was crushing badly for you. He's genuinely never fallen so hard for someone before like this and it makes him feel pretty stupid whenever he interacts with you. You didn't seem to think he was too weird for his own occasional bashfulness (Thank Primus for that at least). But still- You weren't even exactly friends. Even with Bumblebee really wanting to ask you out- ( Wanting to kiss you, wanting to touch you, wanting to feel you-) But he knew he should definitely get to be your friend first. But the ache for you was bad- Like distractedly bad in Bumblebees frame. This would just be a- compromise for the ache in his frame. That's all it would be.

Bumblebee takes a long look at your cleaning cloth before sighing and letting himself fall back flat on his own berth. Bumblebee shoves the cloth over his olfactory and inhales slowly. Oh slag yeah- so that's what you smell like. Arousal swims in his frame fast and Bumblebee doesn't try to stop it. Bumblebees processor imagines if you were actually here, on top of him- and its so easy to do with your scent in his senses. Bumblebees modesty panel snaps aside and he shoves the cloth over his own faceplate- It wasn't like he needed his visuals right now especially when he could offline them and use his imagination. Bumblebees servos reach down for his already worked up array. Bumblebees jerking his spike off with one servo with his other teasing his own valve. Bumblebee almost chokes on his next inhale when he gets the filthy imagery of you sitting on his faceplate. (You could be a triple charger even- It does not matter Bumblebee needs you to smother him!). Grinding your array down on his olfactory while your bending over to play with Bumblebees own array. Bumblebees stuck wondering if you'd pay more attention to his spike or his valve- his servos both alternating between his equipment fantasizing about both scenarios. Bumblebee arches hard off his berth when his overload rocks through his frame. Bumblebee waits till he's come down from it competently before he reaches up and slowly drags your cleaning cloth off his faceplate.

Bumblebee really hoped you'd be okay at least being his friend soon. Bumblebee didn't know how many more compromises he could actually make about you.

-

You're on patrol with Hound and it starts raining, it also doesn't stop till patrol ends. Now you're both back at the Ark toweling the water and the little bit of mud off of yourselves. Hounds talking about the family of deer he'd scared off when he drove by. You're nodding along and just listening to him, having grabbed another cleaning cloth and are now working in between your junctures and the dips of your frames kibble. Hound wants to smack himself in the middle of his chassis with his fist when his engine stutters when he watches your servo dip between your inner thighs. You're completely unaware of Hounds sudden stutter and just continue to nod, optics focused on your own task of getting the water out of your thigh junctures. Hound keeps talking even when his optics and most of his processor power are now focusing on your servos dragging the cloth along your frame. Brawn calling out your designation makes Hound jump and you both turn to Brawn who Immediately interrupted Hounds rambling. Your about to go off with Brawn when Hound stops you and he quickly gathers all the cloths you'd both toweled off with. Hound wordlessly holds the pile out and waits for you to drop the last cloth in his servo before waving you goodbye with his free servo.

Hounds back at his Habsuite basically staring a hole in the floor because why did he take it-? Hound unsubspaces the last cleaning cloth you'd had- He dropped the others off but he just picked this one up and subspaced it before he could tell himself "No! Bad Hound! Drop it!" And now Hound was here. Staring down at the cloth you'd been using now in his servos. Hound knew he was practically a wreak about you- he was enamored with you. With your faceplate, your optics, your frame, your field- Hound felt like a starved mech and no matter how much he experienced of you he was never satisfied. You weren't close enough as Hound wanted especially. You were acquaintances- and you'd give him polite expressions and your presence next to him, and your time- But it wasn't nearly enough for how badly Hound wanted. Hound wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to- Hound can feel heat starting to gather in his array and Hound tears his gaze away from your cleaning cloth. This was so wrong- This was so wrong- But you didn't need to know. You didn't need to know- With that Hounds little bit of resolve crumbles and he shoves his olfactory right into your cleaning cloth. Hound inhales deeply and his plating fluffs up and his digits curl tighter around the cloth. Primus, you smell fantastic- Hound's Spike is begging to be released before long.

Hound's inner thighs end up slick when his valve practically gushes pre lubricant as soon as his panels pulled back. Hound bites his bottom derma and has to bury the urge to whine when his spike throbs in the open air on his next inhale. Oh, there was something seriously wrong with him! But Hound doesn't think he can stop now- Especially when he's already started and now knows how good it is! Hound climbs onto his berth and drops down on his hips and gauntlets and starts rutting down against his own berth. Hound feels absolutely light helmed on his next inhale- imaging he was rutting against you instead. Hound slowly drags his hips across his berth imaging if he was dragging his length along your own throbbing spike. Hound rocks harder and harder and imaging you calling out for him and Hound does end up whining this time. Hound shutters his optics closed tight and his next greedy inhale has him groaning deep and overloading. Hound whimpers against the cloth when he jerks his hips slowly in the afterglow of his own overload. Pressing his already spent spike against his berth again. Every huff out of him to try and catch his vents lends him yet another huff of you and Hounds slightly shaking when the full effects of it finally settles down.

Hound can not look you in the optics for a few solar cycles. Especially not when the optic contact makes his array throb under his panels.

-

Ratchets looking you over for serious internal damage because your dumbaft got into a scuffle with Slag of all bots. (You got into a fight with a dinobot! And it had to be Slag?!) Ratchets muttering profanities the entire time his servos are running over your frame to check for anything serious. You cut through his assessment to ask him why he didn't just scan you instead of feeling you up? Ratchet stops immediately and his optics brighten in anger and indignation. Ratchets yanking his servos off of you and snaps- he lays into you for being a dumbaft and wrestling with their most hostle dinobot- Because what were you thinking!? He doesn't stop till he's thoroughly chewed you out before pulling a cleaning cloth out and dropping it in your lap. You were thankfully okay, only scratched and a bit dirty. So Ratchet tells you to wipe up and leave. Ratchet waits till you start scrubbing it on your chassis before he goes to help Ironhide with his knee joint, muttering the whole time as well. After Ironhide leaves Ratchet sighs and starts cleaning the med bay a touch. Only he finds the cleaning cloth you'd used sitting where you had been, haphazardly discarded. Ratchets optic brow twitches in annoyance. Ratchet picks up the cloth and sub spaces it so he can focus on doing what actually needed to be done.

Rachet sits down in his chair with a deep sigh, he had retired for the night, and he finds himself thinking of you again. Ratchet remembers the scratches on your frame, and he scowls, thinking he hadn't ripped into you enough for your little stunt. Then the memory of his servos trailing along your frame hits him, and Rachet freezes. Rachet scrubs his servo over his faceplate because you had been completely right- He should have done a frame scan. Instead, Ratchet had jumped directly into a servos on approach and began- almost accidentally fondling you- Primus. Ratchet might need to step back and assign Hoist to do anything for you that didn't require his expertise. Whatever this was was steadily becoming dangerous. "This" being his sudden and sickeningly smitten infatuation he'd developed for you. Ratchet was too old for this- for how you made him feel. The continued urge to see more of you, always accompanied by the deep ache for even more. More than Ratchet would ever allow himself to think about for more than a nanoklick before smelting the thought into ash. Ratchets optics brightened when he involuntarily recalls almost being in between your thighs, his servos fanning along your frame- Ratchets array trying to begin a charge makes him scrub over his facplate again.

Ratchet pulls out that one cleaning cloth he'd handed you in the infirmary from his subspace. He'd forgotten to discard it because he was so frustrated at the time...

Slag it all, Ratchet needed to get this sick fantasy out of his helm before he snapped and did a bit more than accidentally fondle you. Ratchet brings the cleaning cloth up to his olfactory and inhales leisurely. The groan that sounds out of Ratchet almost surprises himself. But Primus below, just the scent of you should not be making Rachets array this pent up this quickly. Ratchet curses under his vents and lets his modesty panel pull back. His servo wraps around his spike and he's dragging slow and steady pumps down his length. Ratchet huffed in a deeper vent of your scent and he's struck by the imagery of you pressed up against him, in his lap, taking his spike. Ratchets engine revs before his servo starts stroking faster. Ratchet should teach you a lesson for being so stupid and getting into that fight with Slag- Ratchet inhaled deep while imagining bucking up into your valve while you scratched the paint off of Ratchets pauldrons. Ratchet could frag you so hard you could only apologize for it- And Ratchet wouldn't stop till he was sure you'd learned your lesson- Ratchet grits his jaw and overloads so hard his siren turns on for half a nanoklick. Ratchet abruptly silences it, but he's left cursing under his vents over it even happening while his overloads shakes through him.

... Ratchet was going to have to message Hoist about Ratchets new distance regarding you. Ratchet didn't think he'd be able to stop at fondling if he got that close to you again.

[doppel-doodles]

A normal post a about Kevin Barnes from Poppy Playtime.

I genuinely feel so bad for Kevin…

Like that was a kid who clearly had a lot of issues from the start, instead of getting the help he needed all that happened was him being marked off as a „problem child“.

And then he was turned into a toy:/

Read more of my full thoughts and a sorta character analysis/ramblings below cut!

Like honestly no wonder he is seething if he wasn’t troubled before he definitely is now-

Obviously he has no trust in anyone, almost every adult he ever knew screwed him over in some way, hell even the kids he shares a body with would go against what he would do.

(Great example: When Doey chases us in his monster form, it's the arms of Matthew and Jack that are trying to keep his mouth from biting us, Kevin's are trying to grab for us.)

He was hurt over and over again, clearly he wasn’t aggressive just because he wanted to be but because this was his only way of making sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

It was how he had a semblance of control, a sense of protection.

But of course the irony is: That coping mechanism brought him more pain, it was what got him killed.

Sure, maybe he could've just "calmed down", but why would he? He was hurt again, he lost everything AGAIN.

All because he listened to their judgement over his own. Kevin could've killed the player and Poppy on sight, clearly his emotions easily overpowered the other two, but he didn't.

Instead he agreed to trust them as well.

He was still willing to do that, surely if he were just a mindless monster he wouldn't be.

And you know what? I believe he blames himself just as much if not more for what happened than he blames us and Poppy and projects it tenfold.

Because maybe, JUST MAYBE-

If he didn't allow himself to trust again, then everyone would still be alive.

But he did...now see what that got him?

In his mind he's proven right.

So what's an emotionally unstable child to do? After being hurt AGAIN?

That's right.

He lashes out at the first thing he sees that had something to do with his pain:

Us.

Is he in the right? Hell nah- bro we didn't mean for that to happen! But do you seriously think this kid is thinking rationally right now??? NO! He is seeing red right now, he is in fight mode! All emotions and must I reiterate that the only way he knows how to express them is through anger and violence?

There is NO reasoning with wrath try as you might! And that hurts because yeah maybe you could've dealt with that if he was still a gradeschooler but he isn't! He is 900 pounds of living dough with a thirst for blood!

It's either our life or his now. And we already know what the outcome of that is.

Honestly I think it's better that we only hear Matthew and Jack apologise for what happened, I do not think Kevin would even if he did feel bad for what he had done.

Because why would someone who has been scorned so many times be vulnerable all of the sudden? When his main character trait is biting at those who bark at him?Why would all that rage suddenly disappear? If anything the stress of dying only causes him to lash out more.

You don't need an apology from him to feel bad for him.

He is hurting anyone with two eyes can see that and for what it's worth, I do believe deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong but it was too late for him to see any other alternatives and even if he didn't and thought he was right for doing what he did it doesn't take away from the fact that he was fucked over by life.

Kevin is not the worst part of Doey, he is just a part of him.

And that part is not just a violent hunk of playdough.

It’s a scared, confused little boy that cared just as much about every toy in safe haven as his other two components did.

Because if he didn’t why would he get so angry about their death?

Anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk-

Also feel free to agree or disagree with my take, those are just my thoughts so let me hear yours, I like discussions:}

[yapperblog]

Part 2 of cafe worker!Joost x fem!reader

Part 1

Tags: smut, making out, semi-public, handjob, blowjob.

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that; +18

You feel nervous walking down the same path you always take. Why are you nervous? There was usually a feeling of excitement to unwind, to see the sexy Internet Cafe employee – stifling your giggles who will he scold for breathing too loud this time. But now your palms are sweaty the closer you get to that familiar door.

After your first hookup with Joost, you haven't talked much. You got busy with work, and when you were able to visit the Internet Cafe, he seemed to be busier than usual, new customers keep flooding in. You would catch him for a couple of minutes of casual conversation by his desk, like he hasn't rearranged your guts in this same place. He would also come up to you ask about your day, the first time he did it, it made you blush furiously not having expected it from him. Other than that, you were short with each other and the timing wasn't right. Plus it has been almost a week since your last visit, probably the longest you haven't been in that place. So, all those thoughts piled on top of each other, you were feeling extra anxious to see him.

Today however you were determined to have a proper conversation. You are down to keep it casual, if he doesn't want anything serious, but you need clarity – it has been driving you crazy not knowing what he thinks about that night, does he regret it, does he want anything more?

Once again, you open the door, familiar sounds and smell greeting you, as well as a pair of blue eyes lingering in your direction. Joost smiles at you, as you come over to his desk.

"Hi you." he says, still smiling.

"Hi." It throws you off how cheerful he is, the usual scowl nowhere to be found.

"Haven't seen you in a while." his attention is still fully on you, on a normal fay by that time he was already back to typing on the computer. "Thought you went to the competitors. Maybe some other Internet Cafe has opened up." he tries to joke.

You stare at him silently and burst out laughing, the previous tension and anxiety simmering down. Maybe he is in the same mood to figure things out between you finally.

"I wouldn't dare." you lean in closer over the desk.

"That's right." he doesn't look away, matching your eye contact.

You reach for your purse to get the cash for the computer, but he stops you. "It's on the house today. Loyal customer and all that."

You look shocked at him, "You don't have to do that, but thank you." you mumble, a blush creeping up your cheeks again. He seems really happy to see you again. "All I had to do was the bang the employee? Should have done that sooner." you whisper to him making sure it is only for his ears.

"Shut up." he barks a laugh. "First computer on the second row is yours." he points in the direction of it.

"Wait, how does she get to use it for free?" a customer who just walked in behind you asks.

"None of your business." Joost is back to his usual demeanour, his eyes a reflection of being bored of the customer. "How can I help you?" he asks the guy.

You have finished the most important work you needed to do, looking up at the clock, you notice it is past midnight already, most of the customers went home, there is only you, Joost and a couple sharing a computer on the opposite side.

"Sir?" you call out in Joost's direction. "There is something wrong with this computer, can you check?"

His head immediately turns in your direction. "Um, sure." he walks up to you.

You point at the error which popped up. You know how to fix it yourself, and from the look he gives you, you are sure he knows that too. But plays along, catching up to your game. "Yes, let me check." he moves from standing next to you to reaching over behind you for the mouse and keyboard. His hand is covering the mouse over your hand, his skin feels starching hot on yours. His breath close to your ear, your stomach tightens over the simple close proximity to him.

"You are so good at this." you tell him, your voice innocent.

"Am I?"

"Yeah." you turn to face him, but he already fixed it and straightens up, leaving you so lonely.

"Thank you." your voice is quiet.

You finish the rest of your work and notice the couple has left. After waiting a couple more minutes to check if no one else comes in, you stand up and head towards Joost's desk. He is busy typing away, you linger next to him, when he finally looks up.

"Can we talk?" you ask tentatively.

He looks around the room, noticing it's just you left.

"Sure." he gives you his full attention now. "What happened?"

"Well. Nothing really, but that is the problem." you say not looking at him yet, mindlessly moving the things around at the top of his desk. "I know we don't each other yet, maybe the hookup meant nothing to you." you continue, he tries to interrupt, but you motion for him to wait. "But I would like to get to know you, move things forward. I do care about you more than just random sex, but I can't tell if you feel the same about me. You are kind of hard to read." you finally look up at him. He is looking at you intently, listening carefully to your confession.

The silence falls heavily between you, it weighs on you. Did you read this situation completely wrong, does have want nothing to do with you, before you can spiral any further, you hear his voice. "I also want to get to know you. Sorry if I left you in the unknown, I didn't mean that. I also didn't know if you want anything more. I was also so busy here, I am sorry." he says. "When you didn't come on your usual day, your usual hours-"

"You notice when I usually come here?"

"Ofcourse." he meets your eyes.

"I would love to ask you out on a date." he confesses. "Would- Would you go on a date with me?" he is also nervous, like you. It makes your heart melt.

"Yes."

Joost's gaze softened, his eyes roaming over your face with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. You walk around the desk, his eyes following your every move, he starts to stand up, but you push on his shoulder to keep him sitting down. You stand in between his legs and reach out to fix his hair, brushing the fallen out of place strands. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, he works so much. Your hand slips lower, tracing his cheekbone, his skin warm under your palm. He nuzzles closer to you, his eyes darken, not used to such tender touches, but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

"Is this okay?" you ask him. So careful, the time feels like it has slowed down between you two. A contrast between how the first time went. "Yes."

You move to sit on his lap, he lets you, wrapping his hand around your waist, settling you in more comfortable, as he shifts under you.

"I really thought I might never see you again." he confesses, his voice barely audible, but you hear him.

Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you hold his gaze. “Kiss me, Joost,” you whisper, your voice a soft, desperate invitation.

Without another word, he closes the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There is no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveys every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss is soft and careful, full of warmth, he is tentative, but you lead him, showing you want him as much.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you both share a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fuels the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasp the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, the Joost who likes to take control shining again. His hands grab your waist even harder, pulling you closer, his fingers splaying against your back. The gentle intimacy turns heated, your mouths exploring, you open your mouth, letting his tongue tease yours. You can feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, he groans against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You try to pull away, but he chases you leaning in, not ready to separate yet, "Come here" his voice is low, breathless too, as he catches your lips in a kiss again. His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands roam over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sends shivers down your spine, like it's the first time being alone in this room again. However this time you are sure he wants you as much as you want him. You gasp against his mouth, a sound that turns into a soft moan, each sound coming from you pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring, tasting. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Joost shifts under you, and you feel his hardness pressing against you, undeniable. Your lips begin to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You can feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you move lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Paying extra attention to the Lola Bunny tattoo on his neck, you hope to become friends with her and see her more often.

Each kiss seems to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leans into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. You find it intoxicating, the sound you are able to pull from him. You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest. His pulse beats beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallows hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

"You are driving me crazy." he says, as you continue to kiss along his sensitive spot.

"You look so good like this." your words go straight to his dick. "I can't believe I finally get to have you like this."

"Fuck, baby. Don't say shit like this, I might just cum in my pants." he confesses tilting his head back, giving you even more access, closing his eyes, clearly enjoying your actions.

"Maybe I would like that." you let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness.

"What? Me cuming my pants?" his opens his eyes to look at you. You look up at him grinning, your hand finally reaches the waistband of his boxers, and you press your palm against him. "You are evil."

"You don't like that?" you remove your hand from him.

"Nonono." he repeats, putting your hand back right where it was. "I do." his breath hitches, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushes into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

"I am enjoying myself too." you murmur, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Joost. I wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admit, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he looses himself in every touch, every word you murmur against him. "More, please." he pleads, looking in the direction of the door. The cafe is still open to the public. It has been a quieter night than usual, but there is still a possibility someone might stumble in, but he is ready for the gamble, knowing you are too.

"God… that feels so good,” he gasps, as he looks, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roam up and down your back, and you can feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grows heavier. "You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough as he presses a kiss to your temple, his words urge you to move your hand around his cock faster, encouraging every word. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he speaks, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

"Seeing that guy ask you out,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He pauses, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Hearing him say it out loud, the desire intertwined in every syllable, makes your head spin. Feeling he is fully hard under you now, you slowly sink to your knees in front of him, his mouth falling open slightly at the realisation what you are doing for him. You maintain eye contact with him, as you feel the carpet dig into your knees, but you don't care, not when he looks at you like this.

"Fuck... you don't have to." he says, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I want to." you say, and reach for his belt. "Do you want to?"

"Yes." he says it way too quick and it makes you giggle. He helps you undo the belt, lifting his hips to take off his pants.

You palm him through his underwear again, enjoying the delicious moan from him. You motion for him to take them off and he does. "Good boy." you purr and you swear you can see an actual sparkle in his eyes. Who would have thought the mean Internet Cafe employee, who everyone is so scared of, would be melting under your palm at a few words of praise. His cock jumps free from the confines of his boxers, but you don't give it the attention it craves so much. Not yet. Your hands drift up, playing with the hem of his shirt, your nails grazing his stomach lightly, sending a wave of heat coursing through his veins. A sharp exhale escapes him before he can stop it, his muscles tensing under your touch.

After feeling that you've teased him enough, you take his dick in your hands, the tip an angry shade of red, pre-cum spilling from the anticipation. Mixing it with your spit, you start to stroke him. You pay attention to alternating in pressure, swiping your thumb over his tip every time you passed it. Then you nuzzle against it, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the side, your warm breath sending another shudder through him. You are savoring every inch before you begin. Only then your lips part, and you finally take him in. The first flick of your tongue sends a sharp jolt of pleasure up his spine. He has to grip the desk, not to push his hips. Your lips wrap around him, slow and firm, dragging along his length with precision.

"Feels so good." he borderline whines looking down at you. "Keep going please." his hands find the back of your head, not pushing, just wanting to feel you.

Your tongue glides firmly along the underside, tracing every vein, your movements deliberate as you circle the tip before taking him in your mouth again, your lips stretching around his girth. The lewd sound of your lips smacking around you loud in the empty room, making his stomach tighten. You look up at him innocently, as you take more and more of him, your warm and wet mouth mixed with the view makes him almost lose his mind and cum on the spot. He has to lean his head back and concentrate not to end it too soon.

You are however relentless—taking him deeper each time, your spit slicking every inch of him. You bob your head with a slow, steady rhythm, a mix of suction and slippery, messy tongue work that makes his breath stutter.

Suddenly there is a noise of a door opening. His hand on your head gripping your hair, motioning for you to stop. You do, still with his cock in your mouth, you feel him sit up straighter, fixing his hair. There are footsteps coming closer, but luckily they can't see you from your position under the desk.

"Hello, can I print out a few things? Is there a working printer?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

Joost clears his throat. "Hello, yes. It's over there. How many copies?" his voice trying to hide the fact that your soft mouth is still wrapped around his length cockwarming him. The customer goes on a long tangent telling a story how the past few places had trouble with printing and he is walking all around town trying to make a copy of a document. Joost hums in approval listening to his story, one of his hands still wrapped tightly on your hair, making sure you don't get an idea of teasing him.

The customer walks over to the printer. "Call if you need any help." Joost tells him. You hope the customer can do it on his own.

As the footsteps grow quieter and further away, Joost releases his hand from your hair. You move away from him as quietly as possible, leaning your head on his thigh. He looks down at you, pressing a finger to his slips motioning for you to stay quiet and you nod.

You can hear the printer beeping and the customer settling in behind the computer. After awhile you start to get bored, as Joost got back to typing on the keyboard, probably pretending to work not to give away what was happening before. You start to press soft kisses along his thigh. He doesn't stop you, so you continue doing it almost with no sound, the buzz of the printer also helping to hide any noise. You get bolder and bite him, although not hard enough to produce the noise that comes out of him – too loud for how light the bite was. You lick over the spot, he looks down at you with raised eyebrows and you smile apologetically.

"Everything ok?" the customer asks.

"Oh. Yeah, all good." Joost replies. His voice shaky. "Just, um, you know, looking at prices. They seem to bite for real nowadays." the customer laughs at that and agrees. The printing noise continues.

You have to cover your mouth not to laugh at him too. After giving him a few minutes to recover, you continue pressing kisses along his thigh, inching closer to his neglected cock. He stiffens in his seat, but doesn't stop you, so you go further. You ghost your lips over the sensitive skin along his shaft, licking at the tip. His grip tightens over the mouse. You take him in your mouth, building a slow rhythm, not swallowing him too deep to avoid the noise, but enough to tease him. His breathing grows heavier and his big hand finds the back of your head again, his fingers weaving through your hair.

"Fuck. Stop stop." you hear him whisper quietly.

"All done?" you hear Joost say.

"Yep. Thank you so much." the customer replies. "Are you...alright?" he asks tentatively after a pause.

"Yes, I am totally fine. Tired probably. A long shift." he says with no waver in his voice, which makes the guy believe it, not wanting to ask any more questions.

The customer pays and you hear him leave.

"Shit." Joost exhales, his body relaxing. You are also glad he is finally gone. "You little devil." he looks down at you again. He brings you up from under the table and leans down to meet you halfway for a kiss. He groans still tasting himself on your mouth, he tilts your head to deepen the kiss, his cock twitching when you reach out to touch it. You break the kiss, "So sensitive." you whisper against his mouth.

"Get back to work." he leaves one last kiss on your lips and you take your place between his legs. There is a sense of urgency in the air, hoping no one else comes in.

You spit on his tip again, slow and deliberate, watching the saliva trail down before you gather it with your tongue and take him in your mouth once more. You deepen the rhythm, your mouth molding around him, your cheeks hollowing as you suck with more urgency, a wet, obscene symphony filling the space beneath the desk. The slick sounds grow louder, more obscene, as spit pools and dribbles from the corners of your mouth, coating his length in a messy sheen.

You take him to the base, your throat clenching around him, a loud moan leaving his lips, before you pull back, eyes fluttering your breath labored. You let another thick strand of spit fall, your fingers smoothing it down as you stroke him with both hands, your grip greedy, insatiable. Then go back in, your nails digging lightly into his thigh, steadying yourself, like you're getting lost in it. You feel yourself get wet, your clit pulsing steadily, listening to his moans, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure, his heavy hand on the back of your head.

"You like it, huh?" he asks, his chest heaving up and down. You hum around him, the vibrations sending an additional wave of pleasure for him. "So pretty on your knees for me." he brushes away a tear, which falls down your cheek.

He presses you down just a little more. "Can I do this?" he asks and you moan in approval, nodding. Your throat tightens as he pushes you deeper, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He keeps you there for a moment, his eyes closing in pleasure, "Fuck.." he exhales and lets go off you.

You wrap your hand around his slick length. Your strokes are slow, loud, your fingers working him with a deliberate pace. Looking up at him from under the desk, you look utterly wrecked—lips swollen and slick, spit trailing down your chin, eyes glassy and dark with hunger. He thinks you look like a dream, he is already planning the date in the back of his head, he wants to wake up next to you, he even imagines growing old with you, which he never did before. You pant softly, your breath shaky, as both hands work him with slow, messy strokes, your fingers coated in the evidence of your own devotion.

His thighs tremble as you keep stroking, your grip firm, fingers gliding over his slick length with a slow, almost lazy confidence. His breath is uneven, hot, moans slipping past his lips, same as your own, as if you are lost in the act itself, dazed by the sensation of having him in your hands. Your palm twists just right as you drag it up and down. Your eyes stay locked on his, a smirk on your pretty face. You lick over his tip and wrap your lips around him, sucking, bobbing your head up and down.

His body tenses as your throat tightens around him, your free hand rolling his balls in your palm as you move up and down with an unrelenting pace. Your movements are fast, ruthless, each descent pushing him deeper into your throat. His moans turn breathier, more frantic. Your tongue presses against the underside, rubbing against that sensitive spot as your lips stretch around his girth. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, spit dripping from your chin, but you don't stop determined to take him to completion.

His head tips back, mouth falling open in a loud moan as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Pleasure crashes over him like a tidal wave, blinding, unstoppable. His muscles go taut, as he cums deep inside you, and you moan around him, swallowing greedily as if you're desperate for every last drop. The thick warmth shoots down your throat, and you take it all effortlessly, your lips sealed tight, sucking him through every wave.

You take your mouth off of him, your own breathing heavy. You leave a few more kisses on his thigh, helping him come back to his senses.

"That was... incredible. You are incredible." he says, pulling you back onto his lap. He takes a tissue from his desk and wipes gently at your lips.

You lay your head on his shoulder, as he puts his pants back on and wraps his hands around you. "Can I take you home? My shift ends soon." he asks carefully, nervously.

You lift your head looking up at him. "Yes."

He did take you home and fucked you until you couldn't take his touch anymore, his attention fixated on your pleasure alone. And you kept coming back to his place, months later it becoming a part of you, as much as it is for him. Your lives gradually intertwining more and more, learning how to be the best for each other.

You hear your alarm clock go off, reaching out to turn it off. Joost groans beside you, he only recently came back home after his shift, but it is already time for you to start getting ready for work. You feel his arm wrap tighter around you, his chest pressed tight around your back, as if he could be any closer to you.

"I need to get up, Joost." you try to peal yourself off of him.

"Just 5 more minutes, please." he feels like he hasn't gotten enough of you yet. He always feels so cold without you in his bed. He can't even remember how his life was without you in it. Your warmth seems to have fix everything.

He nuzzles closer to you, burying his head into your neck. You turn in his embrace, kissing him slowly, he immediately reacts and returns the kiss.

"How soon do you have to leave at the latest?" he asks.

"We have like.. 10 minutes max." you say. You really can't be late again. It is always the same with him when it is a night shift for him – he comes back late, you have to leave early. He wants to cuddle for 5 more minutes, which turns into something more, but you don't complain, you can't get enough of him too.

"Perfect." you feel him smile against your neck.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"make it last forever ,never let it go,, 1.6k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: xavier could spend eternity in these little nights spent with you contains: fluff! lnds xavier x mc!reader (no prns used) ,night time date ,snack run ,xavier knows a place ,silly conversation ,lots of bantering ,kissing ,cuddling ,u steal from xav ,he lays on you ,mention to his lore if u squint ,i think thats it tldr cute late night date w xavi note: (mostly edited!) finally some calm fluff after the smut fest

-

late night snack runs weren't unusual for you anymore.

after the countless times of being invited out by xavier, the man always knowing when you were awake somehow (or maybe it was just that much of a bad habit at this point?) and you could never pass up the opportunity, no matter how many sites claimed eating late was bad for you.

tonight was a little different, however. in the early evening, xavier invited you to the arcade, wanting to try out a two-player game with you, and you quickly agreed, having nothing else planned for the evening.

after spending more time than you thought you would at the arcade, you were the one who suggested going for a snack run (mostly to extend the time you had with the hunter) and while momentarily taken aback, he quickly nodded, commenting about how he did "happen to be running low on a few of his favorites thanks to a certain someone."

(at the not-so-subtle jab, you only laughed, nudging him with your arm as you claimed it couldn't have been you, and that its thanks to you both having similar tastes).

after raiding the convenience store, you both shared the sentiment of not wishing to simply return home. thats when xavier suggested taking you to a "secret hangout spot" of his that happened to be nearby with a lovely view of watching the stars.

you playfully narrowed your eyes, questioning him about his secret spot of his. he'd only said "wait till we get there," do your curious inquiries, intertwining his free hand with yours as he led you there.

the night was calm, soft breeze flowing past you both moving in sync, the walk shrouded in comfortable silence as your star and the light from the moon guided you both to a clear field, flowers blooming sporadically around the area. he led you to the center before letting you sit first, taking a seat after.

as you sifted through your bags for your snacks, conversation began to flow again.

"i still can't believe you beat me earlier," you pout, pulling out a bag of chips from your bag.

"after you were so confident, i kind of felt bad."

"you're just way too good at video games!"

"but you're good at card games. i almost never win kitty cards against you."

a little grin and giggle.

"what can i say? the kitties just love me~"

"or maybe its because a certain hunter likes to.. mess around with my kitties when im caught off guard," he shoots a pointed, teasing look your way.

you gasp dramatically, hand coming up to cover your heart.

"its called a strategy, my dear xavier. and besides, what else am i supposed to do when you doze off playing cards?"

you quickly boop his nose, retracting your hand to open the chip bag.

"though if you're bored, i could always ask someone else to—"

"no!"

your head snaps up from the bag in your hands to your lover. a sheepish expression quickly takes over his features as he looks down, popping the tab of his soda to open it.

"i mean... ill play with you whenever, even when im tired. so, don't ask anyone else."

even though his gaze is still averted, you smile fondly at him.

"sure, i only have one partner, right?"

he peeks up at you, a small satisfied grin crawling up his lips as he nods at your words.

"right. i'm your one and only partner. you can count on me for anything."

a small silence envelops the space as you pop a few chips into your mouth, feeling the comfortable breeze surrounding you both. there's a rustling from xavier's bag as he pulls out his own snack before speaking up again.

"but what you said before.. its not difficult; to love you, i mean."

his fond gaze is on you as he pops his own piece of his snack into his mouth. you tilt your head at him, smiling.

"i feel the same about you, but it seems the kitties feel differently."

you empty your hands, quickly cleaning your hands with a napkin before suddenly cupping his face in your hands, rubbing his cheeks in circles. caught off guard, his eyes are wide as they stare back into yours.

"but why? isnt this face to die for? and you were a kitty for awhile, too!"

a blush colors his cheeks as he huffs out a breath through his nose. he averts his gaze from yours, his hands wrapping around your wrists to stop your movements, but he lets your touch linger.

your eyes drift to the top of his head.

"i really do miss your kitty ears sometimes," you sigh, hands rubbing through his soft tresses.

a small giggle escapes him as his eyes slowly drift back to your pleased expression as you play with his locks.

"will you take responsibility for messing up my hair?"

"no matter how much i mess with it, it still looks fine. xavier, spill your secrets!"

you squish one cheek between your thumb and index finger while your other hand continues sifting through the soft silver.

"ow.. theres no secret. i just use regular shampoo and conditioner from the local convenience store..."

"then its natural?" you lean closer, both hands holding his face again as you inspect him closely. he nods, gaze locked with yours.

"perfect skin and perfect hair... theres no way someone's this lucky. were you blessed when you were born or something?"

a hearty laugh reverberates through his chest this time, hands coming up to cover yours and nuzzling into your touch.

"even if thats true, if we're talking about 'luck...'"

his eyes peer into yours, swirling with complete and utter fondness.

"the luckiest thing thats happened to me is meeting you," he whispers.

'again,' he wants to add, but stops himself.

even without this one little word, your eyes glimmer with joy, reflecting the stars from the sky back to him, and thats enough for him.

to be with you like this, spending his time with you, being held and being able to hold you in return—

that was enough for him.

"xavier shen, you are the best thing that's happened to me: a shining star that i can call my very own."

his ears tinge a dark red, smile bright as the lights twinkling in the sky and heart full, beat quickening in his chest.

"this star has and always will be yours."

one of his hands cups your cheek as he leans forward, eyes fluttering as he tilts his head to capture your lips in a loving kiss.

you pull back for a moment to look at him once again before peppering his face with the same affections.

he giggles again but lets you do as you please, always satisfied to grant you whatever you desire.

while he's distracted, your eyes drop down to his open snack bag sitting beside him. a mischievous idea crosses your mind and before you can think twice, you decide to go for it.

you lean forward, capturing his lips in a soft kiss again. he quickly melts into it, hands holding your sides. while he's distracted, you sneak a hand into his bag and grab the first thing your hand touches— a lollipop— and pull it back, hiding it in your sleeve before breaking the kiss and pulling back.

you sit back, satisfied at getting away with stealing when xavier pulls you back towards him, causing you to fall over his lap.

"..!?"

he raises an eyebrow, shooting you a knowing look.

"it seems like someone was feeling a little naughty there," he muses, grabbing your wrists again.

you gasp, watching as he slips two fingers into your sleeve, pulling the lollipop from it.

"and whats this?"

"a lollipop?"

he shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips before being replaced by a faux serious one.

"shouldn't a hunter know better than anyone that stealing is wrong?"

"didn't you give an inspection before gathering evidence that i stole? now whos in the wrong?"

"you only need to gather evidence if you need to prove something, but i already knew it was you."

"but how??!"

he points at you using the lollipop.

"i heard the bag rustle beside me."

"you..!"

he giggles, amused at your expression.

"you thought you could get away, but you need to be stealthier."

"teach me, then!"

he hums in thought.

"alright," he nods.

"but not before a punishment is set in place. you did steal, after all."

"what kind of punishment?"

he hums again, feigning an expression of being deep in thought before he adjusts your positions to be half-laying down, slumping his weight against you.

"you get to act as my pillow."

"is this really a punishment?" you muse, hands automatically brushing through his silver tresses once again.

"maybe not, but..."

he nuzzles close to your heart, listening to the steady thump of it against his ear.

"i plan to sleep here tonight."

"what?? no way, i can't carry you back to your apartment like this!"

"hmm, you should have thought about that," he teases.

"so this is what happens when you steal..."

xavier's laugh rings through your ears, up into the open area surrounding just the two of you and up to the stars, watching the resting lovers continue in idle conversation as they gaze towards the sky.

despite everything the star on land had gone through to get here, he would do it all again in a heartbeat, unwilling to have it any other way, for here, with you, was where he belonged.

-

a/n: a late night date staring up at the stars sigh what a dream

-

[onegayastronaut]

Always With Her

Requested by anon: IF U STILL WRITE FOR JENNIFER JAREAU PLS MAY I REQUEST ONE BASED ON THR CLAIRO (i think? SONG WHERE IT GOES she’s so prettyyy when she goes down on me (x reader)

Words: 1059

The first time you realize you might be in over your head with JJ, it’s late—the kind of late that blurs into early morning. You’re both seated on her couch, bare feet tucked under you, a glass of wine balanced precariously in her hand. Her laugh—rich and melodic—spills into the quiet of the room, wrapping itself around you like a favorite sweater.

She’s just told you a story about an ill-fated college road trip, punctuated by wild hand gestures and her inability to stop giggling at her own misfortune. Her cheeks are flushed from the wine, her hair loose around her shoulders, and when she looks at you, it’s like the air is sucked out of the room.

“You’re staring,” she says softly, the laughter in her voice giving way to something more intimate, more dangerous.

You swallow hard. “Am I?”

Her smile tilts at the edges. “A little.”

You’re about to come up with some half-baked excuse when she leans in, her free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. Her fingers linger at your jaw, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly you’re not thinking at all. She kisses you softly, hesitantly, like she’s testing the waters. When you respond—pressing into her, letting the taste of her settle on your tongue—the hesitation melts away. The glass in her hand is abandoned on the coffee table, and her hands find their place at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no room for doubt.

Loving JJ is easy in theory. She’s kind, thoughtful, and endlessly selfless, always putting others before herself. But there’s a quiet intensity to her, a weight she carries that’s both magnetic and devastating.

You see it in the way she pours herself into her work, in the long nights and the phone calls that pull her away at a moment’s notice. You see it in the way she’s with Henry, her gentleness wrapped around her like armor, her love for her son so palpable it nearly brings you to your knees. And you see it in the way she loves you—with a ferocity that’s sometimes overwhelming, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold on tightly enough.

It’s in the stolen mornings when she’s still half-asleep, her body warm and pliant against yours, her hair a mess across her pillow. It’s in the way she presses lazy kisses to your collarbone, her voice gravelly and soft as she murmurs your name. It’s in the way she watches you with quiet reverence, as though she’s memorizing every inch of you.

And it’s in the nights when she’s gone—when the emptiness of your shared bed feels like a physical ache, and you’re left wondering how you ever survived before her.

The first time she tells you she loves you, it’s not planned. She’s standing in the kitchen, her hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing one of your oversized sweatshirts. There’s a smear of flour on her cheek, and she’s laughing at something you’ve just said. The sound is so pure, so genuine, that it fills every corner of the room.

“I love you,” she says, the words tumbling out unbidden. Her laughter fades, replaced by a wide-eyed vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

For a moment, you’re stunned into silence. And then you’re closing the distance between you, cupping her face in your hands and kissing her with everything you have. You taste the salt of her tears and realize she’s crying, and it breaks something inside you.

“I love you, too,” you whisper against her lips. “So much.”

She smiles through her tears, her arms winding around your neck, and you’re both laughing, crying, and kissing all at once. It’s messy and beautiful and entirely perfect.

The thing about JJ is that she’s all-consuming. When she’s with you, it’s like nothing else exists. She’s fully present, fully engaged, her attention fixed solely on you. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

There are nights when she’s on her knees before you, her hands gripping your thighs, her lips leaving a trail of fire across your skin. She looks up at you, her blue eyes dark and hungry, and you’re struck by how utterly beautiful she is. She’s breathtaking in her intensity, her devotion, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs, her voice husky and reverent. “So damn pretty.”

You’re about to respond, to tell her she’s the one who’s beautiful, but then her mouth is on you, and all coherent thought is wiped away. She takes her time, her movements deliberate and precise, unraveling you piece by piece until you’re nothing but a trembling mess beneath her.

Afterward, she’s all soft smiles and gentle touches, her body curled around yours like she’s afraid to let go. She presses a kiss to your temple, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, and you wonder how you ever got so lucky.

But things weren’t always easy. There are times when the weight of her world threatens to crush her, and by extension, you. There are nights when she comes home looking like she’s carrying the weight of the universe on her shoulders, her eyes hollow and distant.

You’ve learned to navigate these moments with care, giving her the space she needs while quietly reminding her that she’s not alone. Sometimes, she’ll let you hold her, her head resting against your chest as you stroke her hair and whisper words of comfort. Other times, she retreats into herself, and all you can do is be there, waiting for her to find her way back to you.

It’s in these moments that you’re reminded of just how human she is. She’s not the invincible, unshakable force she appears to be. She’s vulnerable, flawed, and achingly real, and you love her all the more for it.

Your relationship isn’t perfect, but it’s yours. It’s in the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the whispered promises. It’s in the way she looks at you like you’re her entire world, and in the way you feel when she’s by your side—whole, seen, and completely loved. And as you lay in bed beside her, her fingers intertwined with yours, her breathing steady and calm, you know without a doubt that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[little-diable]

Think I'm in love with you - Dean Winchester (smut)

Requested by lovely @foxyjwls007 for my birthday bash. The lyrics are from Chris Stapleton's song "Think I'm in love with you". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Pwp, the reader confesses her love for Dean in the middle of a fight

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), idiots in love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (800 words)

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t fucking get it!” Her voice filled the motel room, angry eyes set on Dean’s frowning features. He kept quiet, pondering over her words while caught up in a storm of emotions he had tried to run from ever since he had met (y/n) all those months ago. For a second, his eyes flickered towards the door, something she easily picked up on. “Don’t you dare run again, Dean. Not this time.”

“(Y/n),” he mumbled her name like a silent plea, begging her to stop rambling. But the damage was done, there was no way out of the grave she had dug for them, unable to forget the words she had tried to hold back for too long now. “What do you want from me?”

“What I want? Jesus, Dean. Everything, I want it all. And I am so sick and tired of you ignoring it. Don’t you see it? I wanna make your dreams come true, I think I'm in love with you, you fucking idiot.” It took Dean exactly three seconds to move, to cross the short distance between them. His lips were soft against hers, even though the kiss was anything but soft or sweet - no, it was fuelled by the desire both had tried to tame for the past months. 

Without breaking the kiss, Dean pushed her down on the old bed they had been sharing for two nights now. He pressed himself close, weight shifted onto his forearm while his tongue met hers over and over again. She didn’t give him a warning before shuffling around, set on straddling his waist. 

“Say something, please, Dean.” He cupped her warm cheeks, staring up at her with a gaze filled with adoration. Her trembling fingers clung to his shirt, tugging on the fabric but not moving it off his body just yet, desperately wanting to hear his raspy voice. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always have.” It was all she needed, a confession that made her heart skip a beat or two. Dean’s shirt was ripped from his frame, with (y/n)’s following moments later. His big hands felt all too unfamiliar on her skin, but she couldn’t worry about it now, all she could focus on was freeing his cock and getting her mouth on him just like she had dreamt of doing for years. 

Dean raised his hips for her, allowing (y/n) to pull his trousers and underwear down his strong legs before straddling his thighs. Just the sight alone drew heat down to her core, watching Dean lay below her, spread out and naked - all for her. A dream come true, something she had never dared to speak of until this very day.

Her lips kissed their way down his stomach, trying to ignore the numerous freckles she swore to eventually count, all until she reached his hardening cock. Their eyes met as she spat down on him, letting her saliva drip down his length to lube up her movements. For a second, (y/n) thought about teasing him and taking her sweet time, but the impatient jerks of his hips forced her to move faster.

“Christ, sweetheart, if you keep up this pace this will be over very soon.” She could only chuckle at his words, too mesmerized by the feeling of his skin pressed against her, by the short breaths leaving him over and over again, and the unmistaken love swimming in his pupils. (Y/n) brought her mouth down to his cock, licking at his tip to get a taste of him for the first time, before slowly taking more of him. 

The second she gagged around him, Dean let his head fall back against the pillow. The deep groan he let go of could have made her cum right at that moment, instantly spiralling from the way he exposed his every emotion to her, something she interpreted as a clear sign of trust. (Y/n) was fully mesmerized by Dean, staring at him with glassy eyes as she bobbed her head, set on making him cum with her mouth. 

“(Y/n),” he panted her name, eyes rolling back into his head to get swallowed by a blanket of darkness. He jerked against her tongue, about to cum down her throat with another raspy moan, something she found herself aching for. (Y/n) gagged around him again, letting her tears roll down her cheeks all while Dean was overpowered by his orgasm. 

He came down her throat, choking on his moan while she didn’t dare move away. She greedily swallowed every drop, parting with a pout as Dean pulled her away from his cock to kiss her. 

“Fuck, I love you, sweetheart.”

[hukelughes]

your writing of frat luke made me think about frat quinn (which we don't see a lot i feel like)

can you maybe write something about a situationship with him

You nod along to what he’s saying, an easy smile on your face. You like him, he’s easy to talk to, knows exactly what to say at the right time, and wants to know you. He’s exactly the person who you should want.

“So, I just eat shit down this hill as like ten scouts are looking straight at me, I’ve never been so embarrassed.” He laughs, putting his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as he recalls the moment. 

Your smile slowly fades as you give him a fake laugh, something you’ve perfected these last few dates.

“This guy puts his stick in front of my legs, and I fall down, y’know, like eat complete shit down to the ice as everyone’s watching me. My coaches, the scouts, my parents, my brothers. I swear if anyone ever finds that clip, I’m retiring and moving to the Galapagos to become a fucking biologist.”

You burst out laughing, head falling back as he watches you with a soft look in his eye. “Oh my God, do you even have a biology degree?”

“Nope, I quit college in my second year and was a Sports Management major. I would be fired on my first day, I think.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The other one was gently holding your waist, with your bodies facing each other and your faces closer than ever. 

“Aw, well it’s a good thing you’re making it big now, huh?” You mumble, looking down at his lips. You’re not being subtle, giving him hints about what you want for about an hour now. “Quinn, can we go back to your place?”

“Yeah? You wanna go back to mine?”

Nodding, you lean forward enough that your breathing lands directly on his lips. “Yeah.”

He breaks the distance, hands now going to cradle each side of your face. Your lips meet for the first time, immediately tasting the beer he’d been drinking. Putting your fingers in his belt loops, you pull him even closer, if that was even possible. Your tongues brush against each other as you both fight to lead. It’s messy, passionate, euphoric, and you don’t know if any other man could kiss you like Quinn Hughes.

“Are you listening? Hello?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of the memory. 

“Yeah, sorry, your story just reminded me of something someone told me.” You grimaced, looking down to fiddle with your rings. 

“How about we cut this date short and just go right to the good stuff, huh?” 

His words send a cold chill through you, instantly waking you up from whatever trance you were in. “Sorry?”

“What, you don’t want to fuck me, baby?”

“Not really, no. I’m just going to go now, if that’s okay?” Without waiting for his answer, you grab your jacket and your bag. You can hear him calling after you as you walk towards the exit. Once you’re out in the cold Vancouver weather, you finally breathe out a sigh of relief. 

Fumbling with your bag, you take your phone out and open up your contact list. You stop at ‘H’, thumb moving around in circles before you just click on it.

It rings three times before you finally hear his voice.

“Hello?” Quinn asks, his voice voicing his confusion as to why you were calling him during your date. “Y/N?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to gather your thoughts, before you close your eyes and let it out. “Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re still sharing your location with me right?” 

“Yeah, you should see me right away,” you hear him shuffling around, presumably getting up and grabbing his keys. “He really sucked.” 

“Did he?” Quinn hums, something about his tone tells you that he knew it all along. “Baby, I told you that you’re better off with me.” 

“I know, I know.” You absentmindedly kick a rock into the road. “I just thought our… arrangement wasn’t working anymore. Didn’t wanna get too emotionally involved with you.”

He chuckles under his breath, “yeah, well, it’s already too late for that. Here you are calling me to rescue you from your date.”

“Shut up. I was wrong.” You concede, rolling your eyes in the process. “What’s your ETA?”

“Hm, 5 minutes I think. Should be there soon, traffic isn't bad.” He estimates it's quiet for a second before he speaks again. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours, definitely yours.”

You aren’t talking about who’s place you’re staying at tonight. 

[cupidbedsy]

i would love a part two to the quinn neglecting you blurb :)

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked restless rose 🌹 !

warnings: quinn feeling like an ass, wrote on my phone so i don’t know how grammatically correct this is

word count: 740

florist cupid: the long awaited part two ! i’m so glad everyone liked this, i honestly didn’t think it would go crazy the way it did but im thankful it did.

it was about an hour that quinn was out of the apartment, thoughts racing through his head as he walked down the street. he’d shoot a weak smile and give a small wave to those who called out his name, even stopping to sign something once and a while.

but for the most part, he spent his time in his own headspace, thinking about the vents that had happened in the past couple hours. he’d been neglecting you for weeks. how could he not haven seen it?

at some point during his walk he stopped outside a flower stand, eyes trailing over each and every flower, finally settling on a small bouquet of one of your favorite flowers, making small talk with the older lady who was working the stand.

“special date tonight?”

quinn looked at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “no i uh… kind of messed up.”

the lady gave him a knowing smile, finishing wrapping the flowers nicely. it was silent for the next few moments before she handed the bouquet to him. he went to take out his wallet but the woman just shook her head with a fond look on her face, “don’t worry about it.”

quinn fumbled, almost dropping his cash on the ground, “are you sure? i couldn’t just-“

“is she important?”

he nodded instantly, “yeah, most important person in the world. she um-“ he let a smile tug at his lips and tears prick his eyes, “she’s everything to me.”

“then it’s no big deal. you only get one of those girls, don’t lose her now.”

quinn thanked her again, walking away from the stand, but not before slipping money into the small jar.

━。゜✿ ゜。━

when he got back to your shared apartment, he played with the zipper of his jacket for a few moments before sliding the key in and unlocking the door.

you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch the whole time he had been gone, you were too engrossed in your thoughts to move.

the sound of the lock unlocking stirred you from trance, snapping your head to look at the door.

quinn looked even more tired than when he had left, his hair messy as if he had been running his hands through it nonstop on his walk.

your eyes found the flowers in his hands, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you spoke softly, “quinny.”

he gave you a weak smile, slipping his shoes off and walking over to where you now stood. he handed you the flowers, the fingers on his free hand intertwining with yours.

he leaned down, letting your forehead rest against his. he played with your fingers, his and yours breathing being the only sound you could hear.

“they’re beautiful… thank you.”

“i’m sorry.”

you peered up at him through your eyelashes, taking in his guilty expression. you detangled your hand from his, reaching up to cup his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, “quinn-”

“i’m sorry.” he repeated, placing his hand on your hip to draw you closer to him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you aside, i shouldn’t have been so absorbed in the team and i should’ve been taking care of myself. you’re the most important person in my life and i wouldn’t have even been able to get through this past year without you, i shouldn’t have taken you for granted.”

you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him talk, hanging on every word he said. you knew he was sorry, you knew he didn’t mean to do this, but he did and it happened.

it was a rough patch in your relationship, but you would get through it, you knew you would.

he frowned when he saw the tears in your eyes, moving his hand to grasp yours again, “don’t cry, please. you know i hate when you do, especially if it’s because of me.”

he took the flowers from your hand, placing them down on the coffee table to bring you into a hug, cradling your head to his chest.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise even if it’s the last thing i do.”

“don’t need to make it up to my quinn,” your fingers grasped at his sweater, clutching it like a lifeline. “you’re here now, and you apologized, not that you needed to, but that’s what matters. you’re here now.”

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[shaunamilfman]

canine teeth (in the side of my neck)

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!r Summary: Shauna's chasing you through the woods. note: minors DNI. warnings for blood, biting, also kind of dubcon but (spoiler: discussed, consented to before hand and mentioned in the end.). thank @soffsh2 for this one too ngl.

For a brief moment, as your face slams into the ground and everything goes a little hazy around the edges, you think you might’ve just died. Which is a dumb thought, all in all. As if the universe would let you be that lucky by now. The Wilderness, the mystic force that has seemingly guided your life since your plane crashed down into the shithole, wouldn’t let you do something as simple as black out when it could wring out a few more painful hours from you.

You can feel the blood dripping down your face and pooling into the dirt beneath you, like you’re already being prepared to be their next sacrifice. There’s no time to deal with the mess you’ve made of your face in the fall, not when Shauna was so close behind you. You’re scrambling up to your knees when your legs are pulled out from beneath you by a tight grip on your ankle, and suddenly you’ve got another face full of dirt. There’s a loud grunt of complaint from Shauna as your foot lands hard in her stomach in a futile attempt to get away.

She manages to fumble your ankle just long enough for you to get it free, but she’s scrambling over you to plant her knee squarely in the center of your back. You’ve taken more than your fair share of hits, both in soccer and out in the wilderness, but the feeling of her resting the entirety of her weight on that one spot is enough to make your eyes water with pain. You can’t help the pained groan that leaves your lips, even as your hands start searching for some sort of purchase to get out from underneath her. 

God, you would take anything to get away from her right now. Any of the other girls were better. You would even take Misty over Shauna. The fact that you’ve reached a point in your life when that comparison matters would be sickening if you weren’t so fucking terrified you could hardly think.

Her hands wrap around your arm, pulling it out from under you hard enough that you can already feel the bruise forming. She wrenches your arm back far enough that you could feel that strain of it in your joints. Shauna’s treating you like some kind of ragdoll she could just maneuver wherever she wanted. It’s not like she was wrong. The feeling in your shoulder made you sick, like all it would take is one thoughtless tug to do some real damage to you. Something Shauna was more than capable of, shown time and time again.

She had enough leverage on you that the only thing you could do was scream as her teeth sank into your arm like some kind of feral animal.

There was absolutely no warning, not even the mocking taunts you expected there would be. You didn’t even see it coming until suddenly your arm felt like it was on fire. The pain of it was blinding, enough to make the lingering ache of her knee seem like background noise as every nerve in your body was lit up by the feeling of her teeth latching on like she was trying to see how deep she could go before something gives beneath her.

All you could do was writhe and gasp, biting at your lip hard enough that you felt something tear beneath your teeth in some desperate gesture to keep yourself quiet. The only thing screaming would do was bring more of them toward you, which was the last thing you needed. Then again, maybe cooler heads would prevail, and they'd put you out of your fucking misery instead of eating you alive.

You can’t focus, can’t even think.

It’s strangely quiet between the two of you, nothing but the sounds of leaves and twigs crackling as you struggle beneath her and the frantic wheezes that leave your lips when you can manage to rub enough brain cells together to remember you need to breathe. The pressure of her weight on your back doesn’t help, making each and every breath a struggle to overcome as she presses you into the dirt.

Shauna huffs out an annoyed breath that ghosts hot against your arm as you cry out again, pulling away just enough to clearly hiss “Shut up!” before biting back down. It has the opposite of its intended effect as she bites down somewhere new, sending even sharper waves of pain instead of the duller ache you'd grown used to. It tears a sob out of your throat as you feel her jaw flex, grinding her teeth back and forth like some rabid animal. A sawing motion that makes you feel like she’s trying to tear her way through your skin and start ripping pieces off right there.

She doesn't like that at all, a fact she's not shy of making clear. The words she's speaking are so muffled as they vibrate against your arm that you almost can't make them out as she speaks them, and the panic that revelation causes didn't help correct it. It’s like every part of your body capable of conscious thought has fled and left you to flail around helplessly beneath her.

You can feel her hand sliding up your back, her hand pushing with deliberate force that you can’t even begin to fight against. All you can do is suck in another breath before your face is crushed into the damp earth beneath you. It’s cold, still a little wet from the rain the night before, already sticking to your face and smearing across your skin. The scent of dirt fills your nose; the taste clings to your tongue. That’s all you have: dirt and pain.

Finally, mercifully, you’re able to make out what she was saying.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Like if she just says it enough, you’ll be forced to listen. If only it were that simple. Then, so quiet that you think you must have imagined it, "Please."

Still, everything that’s happened so far has nothing on the jolt of pure fear that goes through your body as her grip on your head shifts. Just enough for you to feel the way her fingers are wrapped around the hilt of her knife behind your head. Oh, God. You didn’t think it could get worse.

You stiffen as you notice, and she flexes her fingers purposely around the hilt. She wants you to know, doesn’t she? Wants you to feel the way she holds your life in her hand while you're powerless to stop it. Shauna’s just playing with you now, but that could change just as quickly as she wills it to. It’s a threat and a promise.

“Please!” You cry out, so muffled by the dirt in your mouth it comes out as a strangled whimper. You aren’t even sure she could hear you to answer. But Shauna hesitates just for a moment, her breath stuttering and her mouth going slack for a half a second before she’s biting again.

That’s all you need.

“Shauna, please. Please.”

Shauna doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even justify your begging with a response, but what she does do is answer enough. You can feel her shifting on top of you, and at first you think she might just be getting a firmer position to dig her knee further into your spine, taking the last of your breath from your lungs. 

That’s until the first slow roll of her hips as she’s pressed against your side. It’s a lazy, almost mocking grind. Taking her time with you, knowing there’s not anything that could stop her from it. You shudder, a different feeling altogether from the fear that’s been wreaking havoc on you rising up and settling in your stomach.

She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to.

You beg just the way she wants.

“Please, please,” you garble around mouthfuls of dirt, tongue covered in grit and blood but too desperate to care as you force the words through chapped lips. “Don’t kill me, Shauna. You don’t want to do that–” 

She bites harder in response, and you cry out, your voice cracking.

Shit.

Shauna does want to do that.

Shauna wrenches your head to the side as she rubs your cheek into the dirt, now wet with your drool as you spit out what you can manage even as the taste of it lingers on your tongue. Your head is turned the other way, so you can’t even see her. Maybe it’s better that way.

“Fuck, Shauna. Jesus,” you hiss.

The pressure of her jaw softens just slightly, not because of anything you could say to convince her otherwise, but because in all your thrashing beneath her she manages to find the angle she needs to draw a whimper from her lips as she slowly moves against your side.

But fucking you means she’s not trying to eat you, right?

“Shauna, God. Don’t stop. Please. I’ll do anything.”

Oh, she liked that last one.

It’s one thing to be at her mercy. Another to feel how much she enjoys it. And she is enjoying it. You can tell with each roll of her hips, so wet you can feel the warmth of it through her sweatpants. With each motion, she becomes more coordinated, more set in her rhythm as quiet noises leave her lips and echo against your arm.

She grinds her teeth at your inaction, digging further into the torn skin of your arm.

“Please, Shauna,” you plead, going tense as the blade of Shauna’s knife presses against your face. It’s cold, so fucking cold that the temperature itself is a shock to your system beyond just the threat that it carries. The blade might as well be frozen for how it feels against your sweat-slickened skin. 

Blood drips onto your skin, and for a moment you think she’s killed you before you realize it was hers. A cut on her hand bleeds freely down the side of your face where she must have nicked herself on the blade during the struggle. “Oh, fuck. Shauna, don’t–”

You sputter as it finds its way down your face to your lips, the copper taste causing you to jerk away and only managing to give yourself a shallow cut across your face for your trouble. You hiss in pain, which draws Shauna’s attention for a moment as her jaw slackens. Concern, amusement–maybe both. But she’s too invested in causing you pain and getting off, not necessarily in that order, to pay it any mind.

“Shauna, Shauna! Please, please. Be careful.”

She can’t pull away, can only push closer.

Shauna’s getting closer. You can tell. The sounds that leave her lips make you ache even as she tries to stop them, the heat of her impossible to ignore. Shauna’s lost herself in the sensation, quiet needy noises spilling against your skin as she starts to get desperate.

“Anything you want, Shauna,” you breathe in a low whisper, feeling the way it makes her hips stutter before pressing harder against you. “You don’t want to kill me, right? Then you could only eat me once.”

It should disgust you that those words are what finally make Shauna come with a pitiful whine, hips moving frantically against you as she chases her high. But she just sounded so good. Her jaw clamps down reflexively, tearing another scream from your lips that goes straight through Shauna as she shudders in response.

Shauna groans, finally letting your arm slip out of her teeth to flop uselessly against the ground. She follows it down, drawing pained whimpers from your mouth as she laps at the edges of the wound with her tongue. It’s somehow more painful than the biting was, the slow drag of the tip of her tongue as she maps the bloodied skin. At least you had grown somewhat numb to the biting.

The gentleness was so much worse, each press of her tongue like she’s mapping you. Then she hums, low and unhurried, and you know that she knows. That she wants it this way.

She’s going to be the death of you one of these days.

And what a way to go.

… 

She rolls you over on your back as she stares down at you, the knife still held loosely in her hand where it rests against your collar before she reluctantly hooks it in the back of her pants. You huff a laugh, reaching up to slap at her shoulder. 

“What the hell?” She questions, glaring down at you as she rolls her shoulder. You roll your eyes. That didn't hurt. 

“You fucking bitch,” you accuse. “Thought you were going to break my arm the way you were bending it.” 

Shauna shrugs, like it was a small price to pay until she catches sight of the glare you're sending her. 

“I'm sorry,” she says wryly. “Is that better?”

You scoff, and Shauna just grins down at you with bloody teeth, which is a look. You hate how much you like it about as much as you hate how Shauna immediately takes notice. She raises your bloody arm to her mouth, slowly running her tongue across the torn skin as you hiss in pain. At least, you think it’s pain.

There’s something about the warm press of her tongue as she reopens the skin again that leaves it up for debate. Especially as she grabs your hand, shifting up on her knees to swing one leg over your hip as she brings your fingers where she wants them.

Again.

[juullllssss]

Knightorder 141 x f!reader Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The Moment you got better Johnny was already on your side. He basically attached himself on your hip. His hand now stayed on you longer, sliding to your waist and up your back to your shoulders.

You always felt colder when his hands left you. Only a confusing other warm feeling was left behind. It left you puzzled what brought this change to him. A few days after the doctor declared you safe to go outside again, Johnny had giving you the promised scarf.

You wore the scarf proudly during tea in the garden. He was perfect, as if Johnny knew exactly what colors were your favorite. The wool was made into a elegant pattern, similar to your favorite dress. Thinking about how much time, work and consideration Johnny put into it leaves you with butterfly's in your stomach. You have to admit to yourself, you feel something for Johnny, and if you are even more honest probably for the others as well. All of them giving you something you never believed you deserved of a man. Not only were they all handsome even beautiful, with voices that made you nearly feral. Johnny with his ability to make you smile, cheering you up every time but also listening like he was happily absorbing everything you were willing to give him. Kyle with his presence alone that made you relax and feel safe, no matter how stressed you were. Sometimes bringing you little trinkets, just because he thought about you when he saw them. Simon who made you feel protected and weirdly seen. With his clear gaze seemingly following you everywhere. But he also shares things about himself that make you believe that he wants you to know him, too. And Price, he never outright said it but you just knew that he was their leader. His authoritarian aura giving him away. Every encounter with him leaving you weak in the knees. You were tempted to just let him take the lead, melting into his warm arms and letting yourself be guided.

Before your daydreams could get the best of you, you hear a small cough next to you.

Kyle is looking down at you, his brown eyes soft and with a small smile on his face. "I hope i am not disturbing you, my lady?"

You straighten your posture, a little flustered about your thoughts involving the person in front of you. "Of course not, please feel free."

As Kyle is sitting down, he puts a small tea tin on the table. Softly pushing it towards. "For you my lady, i believe you would like this flavor."

You lean forward you can not believe it, it is the flavor you were searching for all this time. Another lady had mentioned it at on of the many gatherings, boasting about how rare this specific flavor was. When you mention it to Kyle you could swear you saw a little smugness and something...darker pass in his eyes. But is gone to fast. "I am delighted that it makes you that happy, my lady. There will be a market tomorrow at the towns square, would you like to accompany us?" You light up at the prospect for a chance to leave the estate, the last time already being to long ago. "I would love to, but i don't know if my father would let me." Towards your concern Kyle smiles reassuring, "Do not worry, my lady. Price will get permission from your Father. As long you are fine with going with all of us?"

You could not wish for anything better, a chance to be alone with all of them, has god be a witness to your dreams? You readily agree. With a last big smile, Kyle leaves you to yourself again. You can not wait for tomorrow.

----

The Next day you are already up early. Your sister is on a visit to her fiancés estate, leaving you with the full attention of the men. The Sun is warm on your skin and immediately raises your mood even further. You don't remember when the last time was you were so happy. The Market is already full with people, some sellers are shouting to attract attention to their products others are simply walking around, much like your small group. The Men shielding you from the other passerby's. Kyle directs you to one of the many stalls. One with jewelry and other accessories. But even if you are impressed with all the handmade pieces it doesn't escape you how Johnny seems to slip away. Before you can think more about it, Kyle interrupts your thoughts, "How about this one lovely? It would match your eye Colour." It seems as if Kyle is hell bent on getting you something, when you try to refuse he smiles one of his gentle smiles. "Don't worry about it, is it wrong wanting to adorn my lady?" You have to admit the jewelry is beautiful and you were never strong against Kyles charming smile, that made him look even more handsome, if even possibly. In the mean time you try not to think about the way he so naturally grabs your hand, holding it while walking.

After a while you also notice Simon slipping away, this time you want to ask him about, but before you can say anything Price is at your side. Completely covering Simon from your sight. For a moment you pause, did he do this intentionally?

"My Lady, look over there, would you like some of these?" There are beautiful made scented candles, with some of them having an odor you have never smelled before. You try to catch a look into the direction Simon left, but with the broad chest of Price in the way you have no choice but to give up. This whole situation leaves a weird feeling in the back of your stomach.

Price and Kyle continue to show you different stalls around the market and you have to admit you kind of push down your weird feeling. With them both looking at you so softly and insisting to spoil you with everything you want. Completely making you forget the fact that Simon and Johnny keep slipping away during your visit to the town square.

It is already late when you get back to the estate, and for once you dismiss them, being really tired. That is when you hear it, two maid talking to each other. They did not notice you, and curiosity gets the best of you, keeping quit and listening in.

"Isn't weird? they are never with the second lady, always just with her. And he is always coming in and out of this room."

The other maid is nodding, "how did they he even get a office from the lord, they are not high born, didn't even deserve that much."

When you hear that, you are ready to come forward and rip into the maid, but the next sentence lets you stop yourself.

"But you are right they are always around our lady, just last time one of the butlers got intimated by one of them, poor men didn't even know what he did. The lord must be blind to let them behave like that, i don't know how they did it." They both sigh and start to make their way down the hallway, talking along the way. Leaving you wondering what you heard. What was said. And for once you don't give yourself the luxury to shrug their behavior of, thinking about past actions in a new light. Could their be something about their talk? What did they mean, the Men are always around you?

Leaving you here, in the middle of the night, in front of the office the maids mentioned. You sigh to yourself, you and your damn curiosity.

[jooyeonsvape]

— soobin: thinking of you

genre: angst, a lil fluff

w/c: 1.6k

pairings: idol!soobin, female!reader

warnings: no smut, angsty, unrequited love, suggestive language, drinking

a/n; in honor of soobie coming back!! missed him so much <3 im going to be doing more txt ff so stick around for that!

my asks are open, check guidelines pls!! <3

"First love is dangerous only when it’s also the last"

in your case, your first love was choi soobin and the way he looked into your eyes made you feel like he would never leave your side.

you fell for him almost immediately in college when he sat next to you in your shared audio production course.

“hi my name is soobin, we’re going to be classmates for the next 4 years.” his smile was so sweet and wide, it was intoxicating.

your first kiss was months later, when he ran up to you during free period and grabbed your shoulders. “i like you [Y/N].” he kissed your lips before you could say anything, but there was nothing to say, your kiss was everything he needed.

soobin officially asked you to be his girlfriend on your 19th birthday; he made your entire friend group set up a party at your apartment and when you jumped in his arms from excitement, he announced his love. he made a homemade card that read ‘everytime i see you my heart skips a beat, and i hope to never lose that feeling.’

he was your first everything and finally after multiple attempts to find another man that made you feel the way soobin did, you settled with a wealthy businessman your mom set you up with.

you hear the songs soobin’s band performs and you can’t help but wonder who inspired him to write those lyrics. you’re both now 24 and it’s been 3 years since the breakup.

is his inspiration from other women he has been with since you?

you shake the thought out of your head and turn off the tv, which had his face plastered over it. txt was the new group that he debuted in, his ultimate dream was to be a kpop idol and he finally made it.

your fiancé told you to be ready by the time he got home from work because he was invited to a party by his close friend and you wanted to dress somewhat classy considering all of his friends are rich.

when you were finished getting dressed, you look in the mirror and see the big expensive ring he bought you. it is beautiful but, you often wondered if it was the wrong man who gave it to you.

before he got home, you go in your underwear drawer and take out the card soobin wrote for you on your birthday. “honey?” a mans voice was heard behind you and your entire body flenches then you stumble to shove it back in. “hi, i didn’t hear you come in, let’s get going so we’re not home too late.”

by his mannerisms and squinted eyes you could tell something was wrong, “oh no, what?” he chuckles at you and scratches the back of his neck, “they changed the party to our house, is that okay?”

you shrug gently, “yeah that’s fine, i’m glad i cleaned today.” he nods and gives you a kiss on the lips.

it’s never the same as what you once had, even in the bedroom, you try to kiss him harder and harder until you feel the way soobin made you feel.

the party dragged on with higher ups introducing you to their wives and you were basically forced to make small talk, which you were horrible at.

you poured yourself another glass of wine and see bang sihyuk walk in with a group of tall men following him. they all wore suits and your eyebrow raises when the back of the tallest man looked very familiar.

when reality set in, everyone turns to you because of the wine glass that was now by your feet. the only eyes you were focused on was choi soobin who was looking at you just as confused.

“honey, are you okay? what happened?” your concerned fiancé asks but you didn’t answer, walking over the broken glass, and to your bathroom.

the tears that poured from your eyes wasn’t because of the wine glass hitting your foot, or because you embarrassed yourself in front of hitman bang.

you never wanted to see those dimples in person again, flashbacks were hard enough to deal with, but now soobin is in your house.

you hear a silent knock on the door and instead of answering, you just unlock the door, assuming it was your fiancé.

“[Y/N]?…” the voice you longed to hear for years was now halfway in the bathroom and your small body was against the wall, with knees to your chest. “soobin?” you wipe your mascara smudged eyes and get a better look at him.

he steps in more and closes the door, “how have you been?” you sniffle and hide your face in between your knees, “how does it look?”

“i think you’ve done really nice for yourself actually, you have a beautiful home, and a fiancé that loves you.” soobin honestly answers and you shake your head.

“don’t you see? he didn’t even come check on me, only you did. he’s too busy with his guests. our love is transactional. i’ll have a rich husband, and he can have a pretty wife to show off at events.”

soobin sighs and looks down at the ground, noticing your foot bleeding from the wine bottle. “let me take care of that.” he kneels, and looks in the cabinets for a medical kit until he finds it.

“doss it hurt?” he whispers when he puts ointment on the wound and you shake your head, being numb by the love of your life infront of you. “why don’t you leave him if you’re so unhappy[Y/N]?”

you look up and bite your bottom lip softly, “do you want the truth?” he nods his head and finishes by putting a bandaid on your foot.

“because i will never find anyone like you again and i figured i might as well just settle.”

soobin rubs his forehead and sits on the ground in front of you. “you broke up with me… why did you break my heart if you feel this way?”

you shrug your shoulders and start crying again, “i guess i was just too young and blind. you were busy with training at the company and i thought i needed more attention. i wanted what we had in college, but now i realize i just want you.”

soobin stands up and reaches his hand out for you, “come on, let’s go, this party was boring anyway.” you grab his stretched hand and limp up, “where are we going?”

he smiles and shrugs, “as long as we’re together, i don’t really care.”

[blauerhund]

Pauls contribution to the Spy Museum Berlin

See: https://rammwiki.net/wiki/Spy_Museum_Berlin_(soundtrack)

I recently visited Berlin and wanted to check out the spy museum Paul did the music for, ze Deutsches Spionagemuseum, which is located at Potsdamer Platz. It's probably the last Rammstein related spot left that I've been wanting to check out in the city and I finally came about doing so in the one day I was there. The last time they unfortunately had a fire alarm going on, so I couldn't go in, but this time I succeeded!

I really ... I can't get myself to be interested in History Museums and the like, I don't know why. Maybe it's because my dad dragged us kids through every single castle, open air farm museum and medieval market South Germany had to offer at the time, resulting in the adverse effect of me, as an adult, feeling like I need to go sit down after having taken five steps into a Natural History Museum. I guess that means I'm satiated. Sometimes I visit art exhibitions though, but even those drain me so much, I just about run through them and am in a bad mood afterward. Have you heard of Museum Fatigue, because that's a real thing! Anyhow, that's why I made it my mission to walk through the spy museum looking only for the music bits playing. I spent about 10€ at the entrance and then walked in through something resembling a personnel sluice.

At first, I thought they had removed the music as I didn't hear any sounds at all for quite some time after going in, apart from some shooting noise coming from the one corner. However, on the second floor I made out a brawarahh and pushed past info screens, a real-life Trabi and spy standees trying to find out where the sound was coming from. I wanted to try recording some of it as well.

The speakers were put up high above, and I stood there looking like a complete nut holding one arm outstretched above my head pointing my phone at the ceiling. Luckily there weren't too many people there, but what does it matter to me, I was on my mission.

Ever since I had first heard about it, I've been wondering how Paul came about doing this. I guess the most likely explanation is him having a friend involved with the spy museum, asking him if he wanted to put a small part in or something similar. I think Paul is someone who would be happy contributing to a culturally significant occasion or institution, if he sees fit. As can be seen on his Instagram, he does like to look at attractions and things alike, and I imagine him being quite enthusiastic about doing so:

https://www.instagram.com/paullanders_official/p/B1gYv3hoByc/?hl=de&img_index=1

Look at the last picture – he has a good time. I think it's often the bunch consisting of him, Olli and Schneider out and about looking at local attractions and exploring the cities they play in. Jens tagging along from time to time :^)

The Spionagemuseum has quite a few things you can get hands on with, like solving small riddles or trying out a lie detector test. Or even making your way through a laser field! I, well, I just looked at it, but I can see Paul getting in there, rolling around on the floor. It's definitely a well produced exhibition!

They also showed footage of spy movies like Jason Bourne, Mission Impossible, James Bond and so on, with music playing next to it and, you know, I'm quite confident that one wasn't done by Herr Paul Landers, but just the original score. Although there is a song in the laser room where I was sure it was a movies soundtrack as well, but on the RammWiki page there is a song called "Laser Room" so it must be from Paul! Only goes to show his versatility :) Correct me in case I'm wrong and it's a film score after all.

At first, I wanted to include my recordings in this post, then I got a bit scared of violating copyright law, so I'm not gonna share them here (unless we have a German law expert on here telling me it would be fine?), but feel free to DM me. It's mostly eerie sounds, plus that one film score-like bit.

I think I feel rebellious enough for a little snippet though, so if you want to have a taste of Pauls soundtrack composer career, have a listen:

[bwat5-blog]

hey! hope you're doing well.

not too long ago i came across a couple of arcane criticals' takes, stating that it would suit vi's charcater better to become some sort of vigilante instead of an enforcer, to push back against silco and get closer to jinx.

and it got me thinking, well, didn't vi already try going vigilante mode? like in season one, all her shenanigans with caitlyn in the undercity? and when she teamed up with jayce to crack down on silco's shimmer factories? all they ended up with is only one taken down factory and a dead kid.

idk i just wanted to share this with you. i would really like to hear your thoughts on this in your next post.

love your analyses, have a nice day!

Hey!

I really appreciate the kind words and you making the effort to ask. As far as I'm concerned yes she did exactly that. Listen I love Vi. She is my favorite character. But playing the long game is decidedly not her thing haha.

She and Caitlyn are well aware Silco has an entire criminal network, and they go down completely alone to try and take it on outside of the bounds of any structure or rule of law.

Vi then returns to Zaun alone and walks into the Last Drop in hope of taking out Silco completely alone. Which is about as Vigilante as it gets.

She and Jayce's mission applies to me less only because he is a councilman and they had backup and all. But it still was pretty much a "hey lets go fuck some shit up" type of thing rather than a structured and organized plan.

I hope this is a satisfactory answer but if not please feel free to ask anything you want!