#got around to writing something for these two at last

[plutoslastwords]

I see lando as a single dad too and I was wondering if you’d ever write daughter!reader when she’s a teenager and is going through, well her first menstrual cycle and he’s so completely lost lol

shark week

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando has no idea how a woman's body works, baby norris doesn't listen in health class. the outcome? chaos.

warnings: your first period?

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: okay so i know that it may be unrealistic that a 12 year old would have never heard of a period but idc. it works in the story. sorry for being so mia!! school is terrible atm 😩😩 love you all!! promise i am working on the requests xx

~~~

Going to high school in Monaco was not fun at the best of times.

Everyone says that surely it must be great! It’s Monaco! But when you don’t speak the language fluently - though you have got quite good after living there for 12 years of your life - and have just transferred to a new secondary school where you know no one, life isn’t great. 

Everyone in Monaco has one or two parents who are rich and famous in some way, meaning you can’t even pull the famous dad card to get yourself some friends. You’re stuck sitting alone at lunch, and being picked last for every team.

Lando hates it. He hates it so so much. He doesn't think he can stand seeing his baby coming home sad every afternoon, and he hates how sometimes he can’t be there to comfort you when life is feeling especially tough. He’s debated many a time just sending you to a boarding school back in England, where at least you could speak the same language as the kids there, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to cope with being apart from you for that much of the year.

Therefore, both you and your dad just have to cope with the unfortunate situations, hoping and wishing that soon enough you’ll find your own feet and make some friends. 

Back to the fact that school in Monaco isn’t great on the best days, school in Monaco is absolute hell on the worst days.

On this particular day, you were sitting in Maths class, your least favourite, how were you meant to be able to understand maths in French when you didn’t even understand it in English. It was whilst the teacher was going on about something to do with algebra that you decided that you’d had enough, you put your hand up and quickly asked to go to the bathroom, you weren’t bothered about this anymore.

You took your normal long route around school to get to the bathrooms, having no intention of going back to your maths class anytime soon. You finally get to the bathrooms and it is there that you learn that you’re going to die.

You know that it is not normal to have blood in your pants. It can’t be normal. You must be dying. You sit there in shock for a moment, before starting to hyperventilate and presume the worst. 

When looking back, Lando knows that it is probably his fault that you got yourself into this situation. You never really listened in your Health classes, as they were all in French, and so it was probably his responsibility to educate you on what was going to happen at a certain point, but he’s still just a young guy, that was not top of his list of what he wanted to talk to his preteen daughter about!

You sit in the bathroom stall sobbing and shaking, surely this is the end, you were practically waiting for the Grim Reaper himself to come and pluck you away. In your disorientated mind the only thing that you can think to do is call Lando.

“Daddy I’m dying!” You bawl into the phone, the words barely coming out through your intense sobs.

Immediately Lando drops everything he was doing, freezing at your distressed tone, his mind going straight to the worst. “Baby?!? What’s going on, are you okay?!?” He practically shouts down the phone.

“No!!” You sob, “I’m dying!!!! Daddy please pick me up I-” You don’t finish your sentence because enough intense sob comes in the way and you fall back into hysterically crying.

Lando doesn’t even think twice before leaping up from his desk and rushing to grab his car keys. “I’m on my way, my angel, you’re gonna be okay, daddy’s gonna look after you.” He tries to soothe, but the worry in his voice is evident. 

When he arrives you’re still a sobbing mess, but you have to drag your tear stained body out of the cubicle and to the front office in order to be dismissed. When you see Lando you immediately jump into his arms, sobs wracking your body.

“Oh darling…”  He says, brokenly, he hates seeing you like this, “What’s happened, my love?” 

You don’t respond, too distressed, he seems to get the message and manoeuvres you to the car, where he drives home as quick as he can, to get you someplace familiar, hoping that that will soothe you slightly.

It works, partially. By the time that you’re home your sobbing has lessened, but you’re still nowhere near stable, still almost shaking with the fear that you’re feeling. Lando sits you down on the sofa with a glass of water, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I’m dying!! I’m bleeding and I’m dying!” You sniffle.

Suddenly everything clicks for Lando and then his mind goes completely blank. Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. He was not ready for this day, not ready whatsoever. 

“I-uhm-oh.” He stutters, not knowing what to say. “Y-you’re not dying, sweetheart, okay?”

“Yes I am!!! I’m dying!!!”

He has no idea what to do. He was hoping he had a year or two left before today came, but apparently luck was not on his side. He sits there, staring blankly at you, as you continue to cry. 

“Baby, I promise you you’re not dying, why don’t you go change your clothes and I’ll come up to your room in a sec and we’ll chat, okay?”

You shuffle to your room, still sobbing but if you’re dad seems so confident that you’re okay, then surely that means something…?

Lando paces around in a panic downstairs, waiting for his sister to answer the damn phone. There is no way that he can be doing this with no help.

After a horrible phone call, with a lot of him being laughed at by his sister for having a 12 year old daughter and still knowing fuck all about the menstrual cycle, he feels more prepared to actually talk to you.

You’re sitting in your bed, covered in blankets and watching a movie when he knocks at your door.

“Darling, can I come in?” 

You hum in response, tired from all of the sobbing and therefore not bothered to actually speak. He enters, with a shopping bag in his hand.

“How're you feeling, my angel?”

You shrug, curling up smaller in your blanket ball.

“Oh, baby, you’re okay, I promise, it’s all natural, okay?”

“Doesn’t feel natural…”

“It’s your period, angel. It’s your body getting ready for pregnancy”

You pull a face of absolute horror at that, “I’m pregnant?!??!”

His eyes widen and he backtracks immediately “No, no, no, no, you’re not pregnant, absolutely not.” He shudders at the thought, “It’s just so that maybe, at some point in the future, if you do get pregnant, your body is gonna be prepared…”

“So I’m gonna bleed until I get pregnant?”

“No, no, just for a couple days every month…”

“For how long?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure about that… like until your 40? I don’t know…”

“40?!??!?! I don’t want to bleed every month until I’m 40!!!!”

“I know, baby, but it’s just something that all women have to go through, it’s just a natural part of life, you’ll learn to cope with it…”

You pause, taking in his words, before eventually nodding in understanding, but that doesn’t mean that you’re done talking, much to Lando’s dismay, who’d quite like to get this conversation over and done with.

“So why do I need to bleed to be ready for pregnancy?” You question.

Lando knows this one, he practised it on the phone with his sister, “It’s the wall of your uterus shedding-”

“Ew.”

“Because your body got itself ready to be pregnant, and then obviously the egg was never fertilised.”

“So if I did get pregnant then I wouldn’t get my period?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Hm.”

“It’s all very normal, sweetheart, this just means that you’re healthy, okay?”

“Mhm…”

“Good..” He smiles, “You all good?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What am I gonna do now..? With, you know, uhm- I don’t wanna ruin all my underwear…”

“Oh! Yes, that..” He reaches into his bag, “So, uh- these will stick on top of your underwear, and like uh- catch the blood, I guess.. And then you throw them away after wearing them for like 5 hours or so… That sound okay?”

You nod, slightly sceptical, but oh well.

Eventually, Lando leaves to go and do his own thing, and you stew in the knowledge of your new life. After getting yourself showered and cleaned up, as well as trying your new items, you shuffle downstairs, just needing a hug.

“Hey, baby…” Your dad smiles, as he sits on the tv, watching some nonsense reality show.

You don’t reply, just nestling yourself next to him, needing his comforting touch. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“My baby… getting so big… daddy loves you, more than anything…”

~~~

a/n: fank you for reading!!11 send in any requests xx

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Young and Beautiful"

Prologue

ya'll, I cannot sleep with my arm in this stupid cast, so i started rereading "the great Gatsby" (my comfort book) and i got this idea. i know, i know, i have 3 unfinished fics buttttttt i'm injured and this is my blog and i have free will so i'm writing this. This is yandere romantic batboys and bruce x reader. BUT set in the roaring 20's. Send in asks, requests, ideas, and just what you think about this! Likes, comments, reblogs and asks are encouraged and keep me going! Love yall <333. This is written in 1st person, reader is recalling events in her journal. This is a rough draft for the prologue! Sorry if it doesnt make sense, i'm high off pain meds writing this bc i'm BORED.

The first time I saw Jason Todd, he was nothing to me Just another boy in my father’s estate, covered in dirt, hands rough from labor, his bruised knuckles proof of a fight he hadn’t won. His blue eyes were sharp, full of something wild, something untamed, something that made you bristle, the kind of fire you knew to stay away from, even at 12 years old.

The first time I spoke to Jason Todd, two years after I saw him, I thought he was filth.

He was a boy covered in dirt, his hands stained with mud and the smell of horses, his knuckles raw from a fight he clearly hadn’t won. His face was sharp, bruised, skinny and too wild for someone who worked under my father’s name. He was nothing, just another street rat lucky enough to be given work in my father’s stables, another nameless stray that old Mr. Wilkes had dragged in from the gutters of Gotham. He smelled like sweat, hay, and something sharp, something angry.

I was fourteen years old and wore pearls around my throat, a silk dress with delicate lace at the sleeves. My father’s estate stretched over rolling green fields, our mansion standing tall like something out of a dream. My mother’s hands were soft, her perfume sweet, and I had never known hunger or want. My world was a world of glittering lights and expensive champagne, of high society and grand parties, of people who smiled with their teeth but whispered behind painted fans.

Jason Todd did not belong in my world.

Yet, somehow, he slipped in like a stain on silk.

We met on the back steps of the estate, where the stable boys cut through to the gardens. I was waiting for my automobile when he nearly ran into me, boots dragging dust over my polished shoes.

Jason Todd? He was filth beneath my shoes.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

Because the first time I met him, he nearly ran into me.

He didn’t bow like other servants did, he didn’t apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness.

He barely even looked at me before muttering, “Watch it,” like I was in his way.

I had never been spoken to like that in my life.

I hated him immediately.

I took a startled step back, wrinkling my nose at the smell of sweat, hay, and horse.

The nerve.

I straightened my back like Daddy told me to when I wanted to look serious and I tilted my chin up as I stared down at him. "Excuse me?"

Jason smirked, slow and lazy, eyes glinting with amusement. "Did I stutter?"

I had never wanted to slap someone so badly.

Instead, I remember turning and walked away, forgetting my plans of going into town, heels clicking sharply against the stone, vowing to never look at him again and to hate him forever, no matter how handsome he was,.

That vow didn’t last long, especially when he took off his shirt.

Jason was everywhere.

I saw him at the stables, his shirtless back slick with sweat, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he worked. I saw him sneaking apples from the kitchen, disappearing into the trees, laughter on his lips. I saw him in the streets, fists flying, always coming back with fresh bruises, always alive in a way no one else was.

And then, you heard about him.

"That stable boy got into another fight," the maids whispered. "Damn near killed the other boy, apparently the other kid got smart about his lady."

At the time, I thought the strange burning feeling in my gut was disgust at even hearing Jason's name. Now I know, what I felt was pure jealousy, not knowing the 'lady' Jason nearly killed a boy over was me.

"He’s trouble," my mother warned when I asked about him at dinner. "Keep away from him, sweetheart."

"He won’t last long here," my mother sighed. "That kind of boy never does, no matter how much of a soft spot your father has for him."

My father pitied Jason, told me I oughta be nicer to him like I am to the other workers (he would regret that statement soon.)

He had no one. No mother, no father, no family, nothing but the clothes on his back and determination. He had what my father called "the look of a man who'd rather die than fail" and my father respected that.

But Jason did last.

I hated him.

Hated the way he smirked at me from across the gardens, like he knew something I didn’t.

I hated the way he never bowed, never apologized, never treated me like the others did.

I hated that when I was alone, when my father’s friends spoke about marrying me off to the sons of their business partners, I thought of Jason Todd instead.

The first conversation I had with Jason Todd was after I had fought with my father.

It was about marriage. About duty. About a boy I didn’t love.

I ran into the garden dramatically ignoring my father's desperate calls, pearls at my throat, tears in my eyes.

And Jason was already there.

Sprawled under an oak tree, cigarette between his lips, watching me like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.

"You rich girls cry over the dumbest shit," he muttered.

I whipped around. "What did you just say to me?" How dare he speak to me like I was any other girl, like this wasn't my home, like he didn't work for my father.

Jason pushed himself up, boots kicking up dirt as he smirked. "You ever go to bed hungry?"

My breath caught. He had a point, you were privileged.

"Ever steal to survive?" His voice was low, teasing, sharp. "Ever wake up in the morning and wonder if you’ll still have a roof over your head by sundown?"

I didn’t answer, for the first time in years I felt something close to shame.

Jason tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with resentment. "Didn’t think so, princess."

I hated him. He made me feel childish. He humbled me. He burst my perfect bubble.

And I loved him for it.

I loved him for making you feel something real.

And that was the beginning of everything.

I loved Jason Todd.

I loved him when he me you out of the house at midnight and made me ride my horse bareback through the fields.

I loved him when he knocked the rich boy who called me a tease's teeth out.

I loved him when he threw pebbles at my window on the third floor and scaled the walls to my balcony.

I loved him when he kissed me for the first time at 14 under the summer stars, hands gripping my waist, mouth desperate against mine.

"You’re my Jason, my Jaybird," I whispered against his lips. Corny, but nothing felt better to say, especially when I saw his face.

Jason smiled like I had given him the whole damn world.

And he? He was my whole world.

When Jason was seventeen and I was fifteen, he walked into my father’s grand house, dressed in his best suit, nervous but determined and proud, his hands clean for once, his boots polished.

He asked my father for my hand in marriage. He asked my father for my hand and I thought he would say yes. Daddy always thought he was a hard worker, called him a real good sport.

He stood before my father and said, “I love her, sir. I’ll make her happy. Give me a chance. I ain't got much now, but one day I will. I'll give her what she's got and more.”

My father just laughed.

“Boy,” he said, shaking his head, “she’s not meant for men like you.”

Jason left that night, whispering a promise against my skin.

"I’ll come back for you, I'll be great. Be a man like how your daddy wants, rich and proper, he'll have to say yes."

I waited, god knows I did.

I wrote letters to the last address he gave me every single day.

For five years. Till I turned twenty. I never looked at another man, I had my Jason.

I waited for him to reply, fought off suitors and pressure from my mother. I waited for a reply, that he was coming soon, that he missed me.

I waited.

And my Jaybird never came back.

My father loved me.

He regretted turning Jason away five years later, when I still refused to marry. He never forced me to marry, not even when the years passed and my suitors grew frustrated with my refusals.

He saw my misery, my longing and admitted, “I should’ve said yes. I should’ve let you have him.”

He thought my Jason was a passing infatuation, he wondered what people would say about his daughter marrying the stable boy.

He wished he saw my love for Jason sooner.

But love wasn’t enough to keep the debt collectors away.

I knew something was wrong when my father began to look stressed, when my parents began to argue, and when I heard my mother cry herself to sleep after selling her favorite pearls.

My father was going to loose everything all at once.

The steel business wasn't what it used to be.

And then suddenly, Bruce Wayne arrived like a knight in shining armor.

He was older than me, 18 years my senior. Refined, powerful, and dangerously charming.

And most importantly, rich. He was exactly what I needed to stop my family's fall from grace.

Bruce courted me like a gentleman.

He sent roses every morning, took me to the finest restaurants, whispered in my ear about a future where I would never want for anything again.

He was patient.

He never forced me to love him.

He only asked for one thing.

"Let me take care of you."

I kept Bruce waiting for three months. All I could do was think of Jason. I knew he was not returning, that he either was dead or found some other pretty girl to make promises to.

I told myself love was not enough to fill an empty stomach and keep my parents happy like they did for me.

I told myself that Jason Todd was not coming back to save me, yet each morning I woke up waiting for a letter or pebbles thrown at my window.

After four months of courting, I decided.

And at twenty, I became Mrs. Bruce Wayne.

Jason Todd never sent me a single letter, but I still dreamed of my Jaybird even as I looked at the massive ring on my finger.

OKKKKK SO WHAT YA'LL THINK??? CONTINUE OR DELETE??? FLOP OR BOP? SEND IN ASKS!!!! I MISS YALL! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ROMANCE W JASON AND BRUCE. I REALLY LIKE THIS AU!!!! WHAT DO YALL THINK IS GONNA HAPPEN? SORRU IF IT SUCKS OR DOESNT MAKE SENSE, I'M SO HIGH BRO.

BE NICE PLEASE, I'M IN PAIN! THIS IS NOT EDITED OR PROOF READ.

[trashmouth-richie]

: *✧･ﾟeddie x female reader | snowed in | 18+ smut [6K]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* sexual tension lingers when you + your bestfriend get snowed in together during the biggest blizzard on record - aka, eddie munson and the blizzard sex in apartment 4D

“So that’s how you would find x,” you say tapping the rubber eraser to your notebook paper, “is this making any sense?” 

When you agreed to come help Eddie study you were glad to do it. Ever since you were kids he had always struggled with school. While he was able to skate through elementary and middle school, high school had been harder for him. And he would be the first to admit that it was you that got him through his final year at Hawkins High. 

Now, many states away, at a college where the only person he knew was you— he was falling behind.

Having a new found freedom of college professors genuinely not caring if you showed up to class or not, he took advantage of that perk and decided to not attend his eight AM class monday, wednesday, and definitely not friday. 

Assignments went undone, tests were skipped and forgotten about. Weekday ragers, mid morning hangovers, and late night shifts as a barback at O’Houllihan’s kept Eddie busy but not enough to excuse his lack of attendance.

The end of the semester was nearing, and Eddie was looking at failing remedial algebra. A class that meant he was already behind everyone else, and if he were to fail— he’d be kicked out left to pack his shit and head back home. 

After an ass chewing over thanksgiving break from a disappointed Wayne, that icy blue stare nearly welling with traitorous tears, Eddie finally decided to pull his head out of his ass and study for his last semester of junior year.

“You’d think after dealin’ for Rick all through high school that math would be a fuckin’ no brainer.” Eddie huffed, sitting back in his desk chair, his long thick fingers folded behind his head, “maybe if they added dime bags and some half ounces, I’d actually understand this shit.”

You snickered, pushing eraser shavings from the page with your fingers, “think Mr. Walter would go for it, he totally ate his fair share of shrooms in the 60’s.” 

“Mother fucker probably invented them.” Eddie agreed, dragging those big hands down his face with a groan, “godddd I hate school.” 

You close the Algebra book and shove it into Eddie’s backpack zipping it up, “oh you poor thing, must be hard to be musically talented and go to college on a full ride scholarship.” Your bottom lip pops out to show your fake sympathy and Eddie returns it with an eye roll and a middle finger. 

“Shit,” he sighs, blowing air through his lips standing and running his fingers over your jacket on the back of his chair, “didn’t even think I’d get in let alone have all of my tuition paid for, besides.. you’re the one who was going to leave me for dead back home Miss This-Will-Look-Perfect-On-My-College-Applic—ow!” 

Your friendship with Eddie was never a casual thing. 

You were friends, sure, but it was somehow more than that. Eddie had dated around in high school and you had too but they never lasted. Summer of senior year you had even been so close as almost sharing a kiss while drunk on Boonesfarm at Byers’ party— something you both denied ever happening. But something you also both stayed up at night thinking about unbeknownst to one another. 

That June night was burned into your brain, and you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. 

“I wasn’t going to leave you for dead!” you teased, giggling as Eddie nursed his ‘injury’ after the pencil you had been holding slammed into his soft hoodie, “I told you we’d find a way for you to come with me.” 

Eddie smiled and bit his lip, he was grateful that you were willing to do whatever it took to get him into college. And he was stunned stupid when his creative writing, and an autobiography that was assigned freshman year had gotten the attention of not one, but two of the bigger colleges you had also applied to. 

He swore he never submitted them, deciding at the last minute that college wasn’t for him and that he didn’t want to leave his uncle behind— so you and Wayne both did it for him. Licking envelopes and sticking stamps, praying on a trailer park dream that Eddie could get in. 

“Always lookin’ out for me aren’t ya?” He mused, his cheeks burning with a blush on his porcelain skin. 

“We look out for each other, Eddie,” you say cheerfully, “Always have.” 

Eddie stares as you read through your notes, eyeing the little piece of hair that falls into your eyes, too short to shove behind your ear. He remembers when you got glasses, how you hated them. Loathed the way they made your face look, and how the wire rims sat on your round cheeks. Now they’re pushed on top of your head, pulling your hair back so the light in his room shone on your silky skin. 

You were beautiful. 

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you stretch with arms over your head, fingers laced together. Eddie snuck a glance at you, noticing that your soft cardigan fit too big on the sleeves and the plain shirt you wore underneath was riding up your stomach, showing a strip of skin that he only got to see during the summer time. 

He wasn’t sure when he started noticing you were more to him than just a friend— that’s a lie, Eddie knew the exact moment, the exact second. 

He skipped out on dates, said no when Rick’s girlfriend offered to “show him the ropes” one night when he was waaay too high and was blabbing away about how he didn’t know why he ended things with every other girl he had been with.  

It was obvious why. Maybe to everyone but him and to you. 

“I’ve had enough studying for tonight,” Eddie says, cracking his back, “wanna go to a movie or somethin? Channel 6 said we are in for some snow… I can drive, we can sneak in some shrooms Pete left, I might have some k laying around here somewhere.” 

You giggle reaching back to the bed and gathering your stuff. “Nothing about being high at the movie theater sounds good to me, Eddie.” 

He rolls his eyes, “yeah because you always freak out, weed is s’posed to be relaxing.” 

For whatever reason, weed was never that for you. It left you paranoid and skittish, but mostly clinging to Eddie with wide horrified eyes, whispering about how you couldn’t feel your legs. 

“Thanks, but not tonight,” you say behind your hand as a yawn escapes, “I gotta work in an hour and Sal said if I’m late one more time he’s gonna fire me.” 

“Ppffft, he’s not gonna fire you, fucker can’t afford to lose anyone at that shithole.” 

You grab your bag and look for your shoes, shrugging.

“Tips are good, all I have to do is bat my eyelashes a few times and they fork the dough over. Plus! Mikey always saves me a burger when he shuts the kitchen down. Win-win.”

He stands with a cross to his brows and when he doesn’t say anything you pull at the sleeve on his hoodie, “come on, walk me out. ” 

Eddie hated your job. Hated that you worked at the sleaziest bar in town. The thought of you flirting with drunk guys to make a little extra money made him sick. 

He’s mumbling under his breath the short walk to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the door open with dramatic flair, he bows with a hand forward to let you exit. You laugh, and before you can say bye, before you’re crossing the threshold Eddie pipes up in a serious voice.

“Tomorrow. Movies. You, me, a bucket of over buttered popcorn… I’ll even buy you a Cherry Coke.” 

Heat warms your cheeks under his stare, and you can’t help but smile back at him. That nagging feeling you couldn’t pinpoint was hung thick between the two of you again, and you looked anywhere but at him. 

Taking time to examine the veins on his hand as it gripped the door handle, the way his eyelashes seem to have their own permanent curl to them…. “add a pack of twizzlers and you got yourself a deal, Munson.” 

He smiles as you step into the soft lit hallway of the fourth floor. “Don’t leave me hanging, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes and laugh, he’s standing in the doorway, the door partly closed behind him, “see you later, better hurry—you’re gonna be late.” 

Eddie watches as you head for the stairs. His heart pumping wildly in his chest, but why? You two were friends. What was he even doing?

Shutting the door he slides the bolt into place pressing his forehead into the wood, a low groan escaping from his lips. What the hell was he doing? He runs the conversation back over in his head mocking himself as he strips off his hoodie and t-shirt, tossing them around his shared apartment. 

“You and me and buttered popcorn’ Christ Munson, get it together.” Flopping on the couch Eddie sighs loudly, saying your name out loud and letting a smile quirk on his lips as he drifts to sleep.

❆ ❆ ❆

Frantic knocks pull him from his catnap and he rolls his eyes as the knocks turn to pounding. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep for but it was now dark, his apartment cast into complete inky blackness. 

Pete probably forgot his keys, again, he thinks. Bounding to the door and flinging it open an annoyed expression on his face. But it’s not Pete at the door, it’s you. 

Snowflakes, and chunks of ice were matted in your wind blown hair, your teeth chattered loudly as you tried to force a small smile, wiping a tear away from your eye.

“Jesus! Are you alright?” 

Eddie pulls you inside rubbing your arms to bring warmth back into them. He listens as you sob about getting stuck in the ditch on the way to work, and how the only landmark you could make out was Eddie’s apartment, so you made the decision to leave your car and trek back the way you had come. 

He huffs in a worried tone, flicking on the lights and watching as they sputter to life. You’re gently trying to pry the gloves from your fingers when he steps in to help and unzips your jacket, assessing you further as he realizes you are covered in snow. 

“You walked here?!” 

Eddie always yelled when he was worried or scared, a bad habit that he unknowingly picked up from Wayne. 

The tears flow down your face now in a frozen river, the ache of numb limbs and nearly frostbitten skin has you crying out in pain.  

“I should have st-stayed in the car, but it was so cold Eddie, and th-the snow is coming down so hard, nothing in town is open! N-no one on the streets, not even a snow plow.”

Eddie leaves you to throw open the crooked blinds. Not a single street lamp was on, the city looked deserted except for the howling wind and sheets of snow blanketing the ground, swallowing up the roads. If he were to look hard enough he’d see the waist deep path you had made to get here. 

Doubling back to your shivering body, his mind was scrambling on what to do. “Christ! You’re lucky you’re not dead!” 

“I know,” you wail, unable to stop the clacking of your teeth, “b-but I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Wayne had taught Eddie many things in his time of caring for his nephew. How to fish, how to hunt, how to be a respected man (that he was still trying to master) But something that always stuck with Eddie was the fear of the elements and how you could die from a heat stroke or the opposite—freeze to death.

“You gotta warm up before you pass out or something, your clothes are soaked, they need to come off.” He shakes his head like a parent finding their teen sneaking out of the house. “Go to my room, undress and I’ll make some coffee.” 

Your clothes were stiff and heavy as you peeled them from your body. Clumps of snow littering the carpet of Eddie’s room as you stripped with shaky fingers and shivering limbs. If you weren’t freezing you would have thought about how strange it was to be naked in your bestfriends room, but at your current state you could barely register what you were doing. 

His bed was warm as you sat under a blanket, the entire thing webbed around your head down to your toes, only leaving your face exposed. 

A low ring sounds from the kitchen and you hear Eddie move around to answer the phone. You couldn’t remember a single time where you felt this cold. Even doing your traditional New Year’s eve plunge into Lover’s Lake with Eddie every year was warmer than this. 

It could have been ten minutes or an hour before Eddie came into his room. He was balancing two cups of coffee and a plate stacked with two grilled cheese sandwiches. 

“Alright Frosty,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, eyeing your heap of clothes. Clearing his throat, his cheeks pink as he starts to ramble, “h-hope you’re hungry, because this is all I know how to make and I can’t go to the grocery store to get anything else.” 

“Smells good,” you manage through shivered lungs and rattling teeth, “thank you.” 

He sets down the mugs on his nightstand, adjusting it so you could both reach as he sat beside you, then deciding to grab one and moving closer, taking a big gulp before he sits back. 

“Probably shouldn’t hold a cup yet, you’ll burn yourself.” 

He waits for your hands to wrap around the porcelain and he gently tips the cup towards your lips. The coffee seems to seep through your bones, warming you up ever so slightly as you convince your throat to cooperate and swallow. It was heaven.

“Always looking out for me, Munson,” you say with a little smile, your eyes meeting his.

He holds your gaze for longer than he ever has, not saying a word just staring endlessly into your eyes. A smile creeps to his lips and he hums softly in agreement. 

A beat passes of Eddie carefully helping you sip at the coffee, and you begin to feel your fingers thaw, yet the chill in your body is still prevalent and you shake beneath the heavy blanket. 

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch again as he contemplates how to help. A hot shower would only make it worse, causing your body to go into shock. But you needed to get warmer. His mind is working a mile a second but it comes down to the same thing, there’s only one thing he knows of for sure that will help. 

Kneeling in front of you Eddie reaches forward and touches your cheek. “Hey, I need you to know that all I’m trying to do is help you okay? Cause right now you are shivering and your lips are changing color… so I need— I … shit, I’m going to hold you, so that my body temperature can help get yours back up.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, glassy eyes barely open. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks almost shamefully, “Because its—”

“Yes, Please.” 

“Okay, okay okay,” Eddie moves the end table and positions himself in front of you again, pulling gently at the blanket wrapped around you until you’re only sitting in your bra and panties, but he doesn’t look. Instead he positions himself behind you and wraps the blanket behind the both of you. 

He winces when your cold skin presses into his chest, “goddamn, you’re freezing.” 

You muster a small giggle in response. His skin feels like fire against yours, almost painful as your body temperature fights to calibrate with his own. 

Any other day you’d have been embarrassed to have Eddie see you like this, mismatched undergarments and looking sickly, and you would definitely feel something more than anything but tired with your bodies huddled together under the blanket. 

His warm calloused hands run up the length of your arms and down your knees to your ankles and up again. You can feel the press of his belt buckle into your lower back, the heat from it almost branding your flesh like cattle on a ranch. 

You welcomed his body warmth with open arms, his hands melted you, and fuck— they felt amazing on your frozen skin. Your teeth chatter as your hands huddle around your mouth, blowing any warmth into them you can, trying to stifle a small escaped mmmf.

Given the circumstances, Eddie is relatively calm. He’s not letting himself register that he is touching you, that his bare chest is against your soft back. That your skin, although ice fucking cold, is smooth like silk, he’s not comprehending that you’re both half naked in his bed. 

No— he’s not doing any of that. Because you are his friend, and you were going to get sick if you didn’t warm up soon, and he was helping you. 

Nevermind that your clothes were cluttered on his floor. 

Nevermind that you were wearing a lacy pink bra, a color that he definitely didn’t know the proper name of. 

It didn’t matter that your breathing seemed to hitch a bit when his hands worked up your knees and skimmed along your waist, his thumbs rubbing over the string of stretchy fabric sitting high past your hips. 

You were Eddie’s friend, he was your friend, and that’s all that matt— jesus christ are y— are you enjoying this? 

No, no. He’s mistaken. His voice was almost gravely when he collected his thoughts. “Is this okay? Are you feeling better?”

Answering with a nod you lay your head back against his shoulder, “feels good, your hands… s’ warm.” 

Eddie takes the opportunity to nuzzle his chin into the space between your neck and shoulder, wrapping himself around you in a hug. “For the record, there won’t ever be a day where I won’t look out for you, sweetheart.” 

If your cheeks could heat up they would burn, but right now the frozen butterflies in your belly warm up and flutter around, causing a sheepish little grin to paint your lips. 

“Really?” you whisper, tracing the top of his hand delicately with your finger tips.  

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs lightheartedly, “can’t imagine not having you.” He goes rigid, stumbling over his words, realizing what he just said, “n—not having you in my life, as a friend.” 

The silence grows loud and Eddie panics, but you haven’t pulled away yet.. in fact you haven’t said anything at all. He was aching to know what was going through your head. 

“Have you… thought of having me another way?” 

“What?”

Your own heart is pumping so fast all the cold has left your extremities. It was either now or never knowing, and missing this opportunity so perfectly laid out like you had in June years ago wasn’t something you are willing to do again. 

“Have you thought about us.. being more than what we are now, more than this.” 

Eddie, ever the brave, takes a deep breath steadying his hands on your knees in a slight grip, “yeah, yeah I have.” 

“Oh,” you choke out.

Oh? A word of multitude meanings. It’s silent again, only the roaring wind outside to accompany the wild beating hearts in Apartment 4D. 

Before either of you could say anything more, the lights flickered once, twice, and finally went out for good. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes behind you, and he tries to move but you hold him where he is: with you, holding you, touching you. 

“Do you remember the summer after Senior Year? When Jonathan threw that party at Hopper’s abandoned cabin?” 

Of course he remembered, the smell of your vanilla perfume still stung his nose from time to time, even though you had switched to a different one, Eddie never forgot how your skin glistened, how your hair smelled of sticky honey and vanilla. He found himself drowning in that memory of you often. 

“Yeah,” he swallows, “I do.” 

It's easier in the dark to ask these kinds of questions, easier to answer them also. Like the dark casted a veil of trust and zero judgment. As if whatever you were admitting would stay here forever, in the inky dark, beneath the heat of Eddie’s warm arms and a hand me down blanket.  

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” your voice was small and meek, but beneath your skin your heart thundered. 

He lets out a shuddering breath past your shoulder, one that raises goosebumps against your bare skin. “I didn’t know you wanted that from me.” 

Before you can object Eddie continues, “you made me nervous back then… I couldn't think, and I don’t— didn’t— want to ruin it.” 

“And now?” You ask, moving Eddie’s hands like a puppet master so they skim up your hips and around your middle, cupping just below your foreign shaded pink bra. “Do I still make you nervous?” 

He swallowed audibly, but he took back control of his hands and rested them below your ribs, circling your skin in lazy patterns, his thumb nail catching on the underwire. 

“Well,” he whispers against your shoulder, his lips hovering idly over your pebbled skin, “I’ve had years to fantasize about it.” 

“Fantasize?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms, lowering his mouth impossibly lower to your skin, “can’t get you outta my head.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and your body is pulsating with want, warming from the inside out, no longer shivering from the freezing temperatures but from him.

You needed your hands on him. Now. 

Lifting your arms to escape the warmth of the blanket,  you reach backward to cradle them behind his neck. Weaving them through his soft curls as you arch your back and pull him toward you. 

A groan escapes his lips and you shudder in response, unable to take one more minute without his lips on you, you turn around and balance on your knees between his legs.  

He’s too pretty like this, nothing but the shadows of the storm on his face and bare chest. A haze in his eyes as they roam over your body. A strangled fuck slips from his lips and he’s all but drooling like a puppy at the sight of you like this in front of him. 

“C’mere,” he nearly whispers, gesturing with his fingers and patting his lap with his other hand. 

You straddle his hips and lay your hands on his chest, flicking your thumb nail across his silver chain he never took off, a shy smile on your lips. 

“Hi.” 

Eddie rests his hands on your lower back, following your spine and finally feeling that the little stretchy fabric he felt earlier on your hips, v’d off into a tiny thong. He was positive he’d have a stroke before this blizzard was over. 

“I wanna kiss you like I should have at Byer’s party. ‘m not gonna stop unless you tell me to, and goddamn baby I really hope you don’t.”  

His lips find yours in the dark and fireworks light behind your eyelids. It’s soft and slow and impossibly sweet. Eddie tasted like coffee and cream and slow Sunday mornings. 

You open your mouth and his tongue greets yours, tangling together into a sleep massage filled with soft moans and rolling hips. Your fingers weave through the hair at the back of his neck and after all this time of knowing Eddie, you can’t believe how soft his hair feels. 

Like silk sheets in a fancy hotel. 

He’s swallowing your little gasps as he grows hard beneath you. Peppering kisses down your neck, across your collarbone and landing back to nip at your earlobe. He’s taking his time, carving his hands along your curves, kissing every surface he can find, growing impossibly stiff beneath your sweeping hips. 

Eddie moans when you call out his name once he has you on your back, his mouth hot against your peaked nipple, your fingers wrapped in his curls. You’re practically writhing beneath him, aching for him to keep going. 

His boxers come off and you can only feel, and judging by the way your hand can’t wrap fully around him— you knew taking him would be every bit of heaven and the best parts of hell. 

He whines with pleasure when he’s pressed into the mattress as you tease him. Kissing the tattoos on his hips, you make sure to take extra care of the warped and mottled patch of skin on his ribs. You knew, despite his protests, that they still itched and weren't as pliable as it had been before the skin was ripped from his body. 

Your hands work his shaft in tandem with your mouth, wrapping as much of him as you could manage, he’s a panting mess when he practically pleads that he can’t take anymore, he needs to be inside of you.

He leaned towards the night stand reaching for a lone condom. But you want him just the way he is. Want to feel everything he has to offer. Want to feel him stretch you open, want him to feel the way you adjust and gasp with each inch of him stuffing into you. 

When he lines up, he looks up just as you intake a sharp breath, watching as your bodies connect, and he practically cums on that sight alone. 

He’s moaning low and practically rumbling out fuck every other word. Your breath is gone, suffocated by being so full you can barely contain yourself. Eddie works you through it, and when he’s fully seated to the hilt, he leans forward and collects your lips whispering how he’s got you, how he’ll take of you, always. And he would forever if you’d let him. 

When he moves it’s slow and steady, his hips moving fluidly like the rhythm to a song. Your hands are clutching onto him, gripping his biceps, leaving moon shaped indents in his skin that only add to his pleasure. 

Eddie picks up speed when your body moves back against him, knowing that you need more, want more and he’s happy to oblige. Pressing a thumb on your clit he rubs slow, then fast. Circular, then up and down. He’s working her like a rotary phone and you come undone, whimpering his name and moaning as tears leak from the corners of your eyes. 

He follows not far behind you, and it’s a shaky, earth shattering high that has him throwing his head back holding onto your hips as if you were keeping him Earth bound. 

You both collapse into a tangled mess of sheets and sweat and discarded clothing. Eddie tries to get up but you pull him back to you, kissing his jaw and reveling in the high of euphoric bliss. 

❆ ❆ ❆

Four days the power flickered on and off as the city worked hard to restore things back to normal. It was the most snowfall the city had ever seen, but you missed it all. Hard to keep track of what day or time it was when you were constantly being fucked into oblivion by a man who absolutely adored you and worshipped your body like a sacred temple. 

You were raw, and stained with presses and laps from his lips and tongue, a deep set of teeth marked the back half of your shoulder that you were extremely privy to. 

Eddie also had his fair share of love bites and claw marks from you. Unlocking a kink you didn’t know even existed a/n: (Does it? Marked men? is that a kink? listen bitch idk but it’s hot)

Neither one of you worrying about anything, barely making time to make a meal before you were back at it again, on the table, the counter, the bathroom floor, Pete’s bed, up against Eddie’s closet— everywhere, not a single surface was left untainted. 

The questions of what comes next, what does this mean for him and for you would be answered another time. 

For now, in the blissful naivety of the shelter from the blizzard in his bedroom of apartment 4D —that would later smell of coffee, and cigarettes and a record set of orgasms: you were tickled pink to be snowed in with him.

likes, comments, reblogs are loved and adored ** if you want to see more dm’s are always open and welcome, thanks for having me back here after being gone from this space for a few months 🖤💋

All time taglist that i’m dogshit at remembering: @dashingdeb16 @bastardstevie @what-the-jams @lexr86 @pretendthisnameisclever

@littlebibibliophile

[isaadore]

OFF THE RECORD JACK HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎pairing jack hughes x pr manager!reader

SUMMARY being jack’s pr manager was supposed to be a stepping stone in your career, not a constant exercise in crisis management. jack was talented, charismatic, and an absolute menace when it came to following media protocol. every press conference felt like a battle, every interview a test of patience. and somehow, amidst the chaos, he had made it his personal mission to get under your skin. but the real problem? you weren’t sure you minded it as much as you should. word count 0.6k

warnings fluff, flirting, workplace romance, failed attempt at enemies to lovers

note requested by my #1 (@cyberhughes) for my 1k celebration, thanks for requesting bbg 🔥🔥 but idk why i put enemies to lovers as a trope, i can't even write it properly, so hope this meets ur expectations 😜

JH86 MASTERLIST EVENT MASTERLIST

JACK WAS A PR nightmare. Not because he was reckless or controversial, no, that would have been easy to handle. The problem was that he simply didn’t care. Media obligations were an inconvenience, interviews were a form of torture, and following a script? Not a chance. He made that abundantly clear the first time you tried prepping him before a post-game conference.

“Jack, just stick to the key points,” you said, pacing in front of him while he leaned back in his locker room stall. “Emphasize the team’s effort, don’t overpromise about injuries, and for the love of God, don’t chirp the reporter again.”

He smirked. “What? You don’t think they deserve it?”

“That’s not the point.” You exhaled, pressing your fingers to your temples. “The point is to keep things smooth and professional. Just, please try, okay?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be good.”

That promise lasted exactly two questions into the presser before he decided to call out a reporter for always betting against the Devils. You barely suppressed a groan as you worked on damage control, sending out an apologetic statement before Jack even finished his last answer. When he walked off, he gave you a smug little glance, and you swore he enjoyed making your life difficult.

“You love the attention, don’t you?” you muttered as you walked side by side back to the locker room.

Jack shrugged. “Nah, I just like seeing you all worked up.”

Your fingers tightened around your phone. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “And you’re fun when you’re mad.”

It had been like this since the day you got hired. Every interaction was a push and pull, him testing your patience, you trying (and failing) to keep him in line. But somewhere between the bickering and the exasperation, there were moments that felt dangerously close to something else. The way his eyes lingered when you weren’t looking. The way your pulse jumped when he leaned in too close under the guise of making a joke. The way your stomach flipped every time his teasing turned just a little too soft.

It all came to a head after an especially heated argument over his latest social media post, a photo with a caption that was ambiguous enough to spark trade rumours. Your phone had been blowing up all morning with calls from reporters, and fans in a frenzy over the idea that he might be leaving New Jersey.

“Jack, what the hell were you thinking?” you snapped, storming into the locker room before the morning skate.

He turned from where he was taping his stick, completely unbothered. “Relax. People overreact to everything.”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to steady your frustration. “That’s exactly why you have to be careful. You’re not just some kid on Instagram anymore. Every word, every post, it matters.”

Jack stood, stepping closer. “What if I just like getting a reaction out of you?”

Your breath caught. It was the way he said it, not with the usual cocky smirk, but with something quieter. More intent. You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. Of the heat rolling off him, the sharpness of his gaze.

“You really love making my job impossible, don’t you?” you said, voice softer than you meant.

Jack’s lips quirked, but there was something different in his expression now. Something serious. “I think you like it.”

You should have walked away. Should have reminded him that you were his PR manager and that this was strictly professional. But when he leaned in, when his voice dropped just enough to make your pulse stutter, you realized something horrible.

He might be right.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ JH86 MASTERLIST ✷ EVENT MASTERLIST

[theonottsbxtch]

WHEN THE WORLD GOES QUIET PT.2 | LN4

an: i'm seeing a lot of love for this and i'm glad! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this - i'm now omw to the library to write some more stories for you guys hehe

wc: 6.1k

part one

FOR DAYS, SHE MOURNED.

She barely left her bed, drifting between fitful sleep and hollow wakefulness, the hours melting into each other like wax from a candle burned too long. The world outside continued - newspapers shouted about the war, footsteps echoed in the stairwell, rain pattered softly against the windowpane - but none of it touched her. It all felt so distant, like she was floating just outside of reality, unable to reach it, unwilling to try.

The soldiers had come back two days later after the first visit. They handed her a small box - Lando’s belongings. He didn’t have much. A pocket watch, the glass cracked but the hands still ticking. A battered deck of playing cards, edges worn soft from use. A few letters he never sent to her, some half-written, some only a few lines long. A book of poetry she gave him with his name scrawled inside the cover, the pages dog-eared and stained with ink. He lied to her, he said he’d never read it. A cigarette case, dented, still holding one last cigarette as though he was going to come back and smoke it with her in the rain while she sang.

She ran her fingers over each item carefully, as if memorising the feel of them, as if holding these things would somehow bring him back. She placed the box on the small table by her bed and left it there, untouched after that, unable to look at it for too long.

A week passed. The grief didn’t lessen, but it settled into something quieter, heavier, pressing down on her ribs with every breath.

And then, on the seventh day, there was a knock at the door.

It was weak. Barely there. Just a soft, uncertain tap tap tap, as if the person on the other side wasn’t sure they had the strength to knock at all.

She ignored it at first - probably some children selling biscuits. She barely had the energy to move, let alone answer the door. But then it came again, a little stronger this time, though still unsteady.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, wrapping her dressing gown around herself as she crossed the small, dimly lit room. Her body felt leaden, her mind sluggish, and for a moment, she thought it must be one of her neighbours - maybe Mrs. Holloway from downstairs, coming to check if she was still breathing.

She unlocked the door with tired fingers and pulled it open-

And nearly collapsed where she stood.

Lando.

He was standing in front of her, barely upright, swaying slightly on his feet like a man who’d been fighting gravity for too long. His face was bruised and still slightly bloodied, one eye swollen, a cut running along his temple. His uniform was tattered, stained with dirt and dried blood, his left arm cradled against his side as if even the weight of it was too much to bear. He looked ruined. Wrecked by something that should have killed him.

But he was here. 

Alive. 

A slow lopsided grin pulled at his split lip, his voice rough and hoarse as he rasped-

“Missed me, sweetheart?”

Her breath hitched, her vision blurred. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare, her hands gripping the doorframe to keep herself upright.

Then, before she could think, before she could stop herself.

She threw herself at him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her body colliding with his so suddenly that he let out a low groan of pain, but she didn’t care for a brief minute. He was solid. Real. Her fingers curled into his torn uniform, her face buried in his shoulder, and the sob that has been trapped in her chest for weeks finally broke free.

He let out a shaky breath, his good arm tightening around her waist as he whispered, “Took a long bloody way home, but I got here, didn’t I?”

Home.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands cradling his face, her thumbs brushing over the bruises there. He winced slightly but didn’t pull away.

“You-” Her voice cracked, raw from days of silence. “You died.”

He gave her a faint, crooked smirk. “Nearly died. Big difference, sweetheart.” His voice softened. “They shot us down over France. I-” He swallowed, something dark flickering through his bruised gaze. “I shouldn’t have made it.”

Her fingers trembled against his jaw, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs “But you did.”

“Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Yeah, I did.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her breath uneven, her thoughts a tangled mess of grief and disbelief and absolute, crushing relief.

Then she grabbed his collar, yanked him forward and kissed him.

He made a low sound in his throat, startled, but he melted into her, his lips warm despite the cold that clung to his skin. It was desperate, messy, edged with too much pain and too many unsaid words, but neither of them cared. 

When they finally pulled apart, he let out a breathless chuckle, his forehead resting against hers. “Blimey. If I’d known I’d get a welcome like that, I’d have come back sooner.”

She huffed out a tearful laugh, skating her head as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well,” he murmured, his fingers brushing weakly over her wrist. “You love me anyway, don’t you?”

She didn’t really know what love was growing up, she was raised knowing that she could only love God and the Church. But here, staring at this messy boy with his messy curls and lopsided grin, she thought of how much she mourned him, the lie she voiced for him and realised that yes, she did love him.

She exhaled, her fingers still cupping his face, and nodded.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, like he was letting it sink in, letting it steady him. Then, with a small, pained sigh, he leaned into her touch and muttered-

“Reckon I might need a lie-down, sweetheart. Nearly dying’s exhausting work.”

She let out a watery laugh, shaking her head as she finally pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

She still didn’t know how this was possible, how he was here, when she had already mourned him. She didn’t know if she would ever stop waking up in cold sweats, thinking it had all been a dream.

But for now, he was here and that was enough for her.

Once inside, she took care of him. Took care of him in the only way she knew how, with love.

The small flat wasn’t much, but it was warm, and it was safe, and for now, that was enough. She helped him out of his tattered uniform with careful hands, breath momentarily taken away as she took in his build. Her fingers ghosted over the bruised ribs, torn skin, the places where war had left its mark on him. He hissed when she pressed a damp cloth to the cut on his temple, but he didn’t complain, only watching her with a look that made her chest tighten.

She tried not to meet his gaze, tried to focus on the task at hand. But then-

“So,” he drawled, his voice still rough, still weak, but carrying the familiar edge of teasing. “Heard you called yourself my fiancée.”

Her hands froze.

Her stomach plummeted.

Her eyes snapped up to his, wide with horror. He looked far too smug for someone who had nearly died, his bruised lips curling into something that might have been a smirk if he wasn’t so exhausted.

She stammered, struggling for words, but before she could say anything, she glanced down at her hand.

And her heart stopped.

The ring.

It was still on her left hand. She had never switched it back.

Heat flooded her face so quickly she thought she might faint. She dropped the cloth to his lap and yanked the ring off, shoving it back onto her right hand, fingers trembling, her whole body ablaze with mortification.

“That was- I had to,” she spluttered. “They wouldn’t have told me anything otherwise, and I needed to know.”

Lando let out a low chuckle, wincing at the movement. “I dunno, sweetheart. Sounds an awful lot like a proposal to me.”

She picked up the cloth and threw it at his chest.

He let out a breathless laugh, catching it before it fell to the floor, but the sound faded quickly, something heavier settling between them. She swallowed, focusing on cleaning his wounds, pretending she wasn’t still burning from the embarrassment.

“You really did that?” he asked for a moment, his voice quieter now, “You went all the way out to Bovingdon?”

She nodded, dabbing gently at his brow. “Didn’t have a choice, did I?”

Something flickered in his gaze- something unreadable, something deep. “That was dangerous darling, what if something happened to your train?”

“I needed to know, Lan.”

He went quiet after that and she continued to work, washing away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of everything he had endured. The worst of it was his ribs, bruised and maybe cracked, but there was nothing she could do except wrap them, murmuring soft apologies when he flinched beneath her touch.

When she was done, she sat back, studying her work.

“You should be in the military,” Lando muttered, voice laced with exhaustion. “Proper little nurse, you are.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I would be in the military, if they let me fight.”

His gaze softened. “I reckon you’d win the whole bloody war if they did.”

She scoffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. For a moment, just a moment. Things almost felt normal.

But then, Lando let out a slow breath, the teasing fading from his face.

“I lost Oscar,” he said.

Her heart clenched.

Lando’s right hand-man. His best mate. She had met him once- just once, outside the bar, both of them too drunk to be serious about anything. He had been tall, full of quick wit and easy laughter, and Lando trusted him with everything.

She didn’t know what to say.

Lando didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed somewhere far away - empty. “We were shot down over France. They got us good. We tried-” He exhaled, his hands twitching, curling into fists. “We tried to jump, but Oscar- his parachute wouldn’t open. I saw him go down. Couldn’t do a damn thing.

She reached for his hand instinctively, gripping it tightly.

“I don’t know how I made it back,” he admitted. “I ran back for Oscar, took him as far as I could and gave him a final prayer. Silly right?” he chuckled. “I took a bullet to the leg after that, nearly starved, but some French boys found me. Got me out before the Jerries could.” His throat bobbed. “But Osc-”

He didn’t finish. 

She squeezed his fingers, her heart aching. “I’m so sorry, Lando.”

He nodded once, slowly. But she knew this wasn’t something he would ever truly move past.

The war took and took and took.

And yet, somehow, against all odds. Lando had come back.

She let the silence settle between them, her fingers still wrapped around his. It wasn’t comfortable, not with the weight of what he had just said, but she knew better than to rush him. Lando seemed like the type of man who carried his grief quietly, let it sink into his bones where no one could reach it.

After a while, she exhaled softly and asked, “So, what happens now?”

Lando tilted his head back against the wall, his bruised face illuminated by the dim glow of the gaslight. He looked tired. Bone tired. But the ghost of a smirk still tugged at his lips.

“Well,” he drawled, “I’m on the injury list until I heal. Not much use to ‘em like this, am I?” He gestured vaguely to himself, to the cuts, the bruises, the way his left arm still hung stiffly at his side. “Can’t fly, can’t fight. Means I’m stuck here for a bit.”

She nodded, trying not to let the relief show too plainly on her face. He was here. He wasn’t being shipped back out - at least not yet.

Lando glanced at her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Father O’Connell said I can stay at the Church until I’m good.”

That made her pause.

“The Church?” She repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed a quiet laugh, as if he had been expecting her reaction. “They’ve got a spare cot, and it’s better than the street, sweetheart.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile. "You? Sleeping under a roof dedicated to the Lord you don’t believe in?"

Lando smirked. "Reckon I’ll be fine, so long as the walls don’t cave in the moment I step inside."

She laughed then, shaking her head. "Blasphemous and injured. You’re on dangerous ground, Lando Norris."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," he murmured, wincing slightly as he shifted.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully. He was exhausted. She could see it in the way his body sagged slightly against the chair, the way his hands trembled faintly from either pain or sheer fatigue. He was trying to keep up the bravado, but she knew better.

"Stay here."

The words left her mouth before she had fully thought them through, but as soon as she said them, she knew she meant them.

Lando blinked at her. "What?"

She crossed her arms, feigning nonchalance. "You heard me."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Offering up your flat to a war hero, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Just an injured man who can barely stand upright."

Lando chuckled, but then he really looked at her—like he was trying to understand if she was serious. "I don’t wanna be a burden."

"You won’t be," she said, softer this time.

He studied her for a long moment, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to argue. Then, finally, he let out a small, resigned sigh.

"Alright, sweetheart," he murmured. "You win."

And for the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.

She looked after him because someone had to.

She changed the bandages on his ribs with careful hands, wiped the dried blood from his temple, made him tea even though he grumbled that he wasn’t some fragile old man. She forced him to eat, nudging a half-stale biscuit toward him when he thought she wasn’t looking. And when his body ached too much to sit upright, she guided him to the small bed in the corner of the flat, ignoring his protests as she threw a blanket over him.

It was quiet work. Steady. Something to keep her hands busy, something to stop her from thinking too much about the fact that just two days ago, she had been mourning him.

She was pouring him another cup of tea when she spoke, her voice quieter than before. "I prayed for you."

Lando, sitting up against the headboard, glanced at her. His injuries had settled into something duller now—still painful, but less sharp, less all-consuming. He wasn’t wincing as much when he moved, but his face still bore the bruises of war.

He studied her, something unreadable in his gaze. "Did you?"

She nodded, fingers tightening around the cup. "At the church. When I thought—when I thought you were gone."

His jaw tensed slightly, as if the thought of her grieving him was harder to bear than his own suffering. Then, after a pause, he exhaled and said, "I prayed."

Her head snapped up.

Lando Hargrove, the man who scoffed at church, who smirked every time she wore her cross, who always had something sharp to say about the God she wrestled with.

She swallowed. "You mentioned, you were serious?"

He nodded, looking down at his hands. His voice was quieter now, rougher around the edges. "When I was out there. Alone. Before the French boys found me, with Oscar." His fingers curled slightly, as if remembering the feel of the earth beneath them, the cold, the hunger, the absolute isolation. "Didn’t know if anyone was listening. Didn’t know if I even believed it." His gaze lifted to hers, raw in a way she wasn’t sure she had ever seen before. "But I thought of you."

Her breath caught.

She didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to unravel the knots twisting in her chest. So she just nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

The night carried on, slow and steady. She cleaned up the small mess from their tea, doused the gas lamp until only the dim glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains. Lando had already sunk lower into the bed, exhaustion pulling at him with an unrelenting grip.

"You should sleep," she murmured.

His lips twitched. "And where are you planning on going, sweetheart?"

She hesitated. The flat was small—there was only the one bed, and the chair in the corner wasn’t much of an option.

Lando let out a quiet chuckle, shifting slightly to the side. "Come on, then. I don’t bite."

She rolled her eyes but, after a moment, relented. Carefully, she climbed in beside him, keeping a respectful distance, but the bed was small, and warmth carried between them in the sliver of space that remained.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then, just as her eyes were beginning to slip shut, Lando’s voice came, barely above a whisper.

"Still wearing that ring?"

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t open her eyes. "Go to sleep, Lando."

He let out a quiet, tired laugh.

And with that, for the first time in what felt like years, they both let themselves rest.

The night was still. The distant hum of the city had quieted, leaving only the occasional echo of footsteps on the cobbled streets below.

She had been deep in sleep, cocooned in warmth, when the bed jolted beneath her.

Then—

"Oscar!"

Her eyes flew open.

Lando was thrashing beside her, tangled in the blankets, his face twisted in something raw, something agonising. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his fingers clenching around the sheets as if he were still there, still on the battlefield, still losing his best friend over and over again.

"No—Oscar—wait—"

His voice cracked, broken apart by a sob.

She moved before she could think, shifting onto her side, reaching for him. "Lando—Lando, wake up—"

But he wasn’t awake, not really. He was trapped in the depths of it, in the nightmare, his chest rising and falling far too fast, his body trembling under the weight of something she couldn’t see.

Her heart ached.

She touched his face gently, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. "Lando, love, it’s alright," she whispered, voice steady despite the tightness in her throat. "You’re here. You’re safe."

His breathing stuttered.

She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to bring him back. "It’s not real. You’re with me."

His eyes snapped open.

Wild. Glassy. He was still lost, still caught somewhere far away. But then his gaze landed on her—really landed on her—and something in him broke.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and then he was clutching her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. His body shook, and before he could turn away, before he could hide it, she felt it—

The tears.

Hot, silent, unstoppable.

Lando Norris was crying.

She didn’t hesitate. She lifted herself up, pressing soft kisses to his damp cheeks, tasting the salt of his grief. She wiped the tears away with her lips, her hands, her whole being, as if she could take the pain from him, as if she could bear it for him instead.

His hands curled into the fabric of her nightdress, his breath shuddering. He didn’t speak, and neither did she.

Instead, she held him.

And then, quietly, she whispered a prayer.

She didn’t know if he believed. Didn’t know if she believed anymore, not fully, not in the way she used to. But she prayed anyway, murmured soft words into the hollow space between them, words for Oscar, for Lando, for the war to end, for something greater than all of this.

Lando’s breathing slowed.

His grip on her loosened, just slightly.

She stroked his hair, pressing her forehead against his temple. "Sleep, love," she whispered. "I’ve got you."

He let out a shaky breath, and for the first time that night, he let himself fall.

And she held him, long after sleep claimed him again.

The rest of the night passed in fits and starts.

Even as Lando drifted back to sleep, his body remained tense, like he was waiting to be dragged back into the nightmare. Every so often, he’d shift against her, his fingers twitching in his sleep, a quiet murmur of Oscar’s name escaping his lips.

She didn’t let go.

She kept him close, her arms a steady anchor, her warmth something solid against the cold weight of his grief. When his breath hitched, she whispered reassurances into his skin. When his body shuddered, she ran soft, soothing strokes through his hair. And when dawn finally crept through the curtains, bathing the room in a muted grey light, she barely realised she hadn’t slept at all.

Lando stirred first.

It was slow—his body unwilling, his mind reluctant—but eventually, his brow furrowed, and he let out a low groan, pressing his face into the pillow.

She smiled softly. "Good morning."

A pause. Then, groggy, voice rough with sleep, he muttered, "Bloody hell."

She huffed a quiet laugh. "That bad, is it?"

He peeled one eye open, squinting at the light before shifting onto his back with a deep exhale. His gaze flickered to her, taking in the way she was propped up beside him, watching him with something gentle and knowing.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, voice lower now, almost hesitant.

She hesitated before answering. "You were already asleep when I came back," she murmured, "but you weren’t resting."

Lando’s jaw tightened. He looked away, exhaling slowly through his nose. "I—" He swallowed, then shook his head, running a hand over his face. "Shit."

"You don’t have to say anything," she said, watching him carefully. "Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want to."

Lando was silent.

And then—quietly, reluctantly—he said, "I dream about it."

She stayed quiet, letting him find his own words.

His fingers curled slightly into the sheets. "Sometimes it’s just flashes. The airfields, the engines, the bloody gunfire. Other times…" He exhaled sharply, his throat bobbing. "Other times, it’s Oscar. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. He’s still there, still trying to hold on, and I can’t—I can’t—" His voice faltered, raw and uneven.

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

Lando blinked hard, then let out a small, humourless chuckle. "God, you must think I’m pathetic."

Her grip tightened. "I think you’re human."

He glanced at her, something vulnerable in his expression. Then, without a word, he squeezed her hand back.

The moment lingered.

Then, as if suddenly aware of their closeness, Lando cleared his throat and made a weak attempt to sit up.

She rolled her eyes. "Slow down, soldier."

"I was never a soldier," he muttered. "Just a bloody pilot who got too good at running from death."

She didn't argue. Not about that.

Instead, she shifted out of bed, stretching her stiff limbs. "Come on, then. You need tea, and I need breakfast."

Lando gave her a lopsided smirk. "That an offer to cook for me, sweetheart?"

She arched a brow. "You think I’d let you in my kitchen with your injuries? You can barely stand."

Lando chuckled, wincing slightly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Reckon I should milk this while I can, then."

She threw a pillow at him.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the morning felt light.

The days passed in something dangerously close to peace.

For the first time in months—years, perhaps—she felt as though time had slowed, folding itself neatly around the four walls of her flat. Outside, London was still at war. Air-raid sirens still screamed through the streets, rations still stretched thinner by the day, and grief still clung to the city like fog. But inside, in the small space she shared with Lando, there was warmth.

Routine.

Something almost like a life.

She looked after him, of course. Changed his bandages when he let her, scolded him when he tried to do too much, forced food into his hands when he muttered that he wasn’t hungry. But he, in his own way, looked after her too.

He made her laugh, sometimes without meaning to. He occupied the space beside her like he belonged there, like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. He helped her with supper, standing over the stove with a cigarette perched between his lips, poking at potatoes with the wrong end of a wooden spoon.

One evening, after she had taken a pan from his hands with a sigh and done it herself, he leant against the counter and smirked.

"You know," he mused, watching her work, "you’d make a bloody good wife."

She nearly dropped the spoon.

The words caught her off guard, lodging themselves in a place she couldn’t quite reach, settling into the corners of her mind like an ink stain.

She glanced at him, half-expecting some cocky grin, but his expression was unreadable. He was watching her in a way that made her chest feel tight, made her hands shake ever so slightly as she turned back to the pan.

"Shame, that," she said, forcing lightness into her voice. "Don’t suppose anyone’s taking applications."

Lando hummed. "Well, I dunno about that," he said. "I did hear you’ve already got a fiancé."

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I knew you wouldn’t let that go."

"Course not." He grinned, stepping closer. "Imagine my surprise, waking up from the dead to find myself engaged. You could’ve at least let me propose first."

She swatted at him half-heartedly, but the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

It stuck with her more than she wanted it to.

After that, the thought wove its way into everything.

When she was brushing flour from her hands after baking the world’s most pitiful loaf of bread, she caught him watching her, and the words you’d make a bloody good wife flickered through her mind before she could stop them. When he reached for something on a high shelf, when he nudged her with his shoulder as he passed by, when he said ta, love with that easy grin—

It settled in her chest like a secret, like a whisper of something neither of them dared say out loud.

The week and a half passed like that. Cooking together, filling the flat with the scent of onions and broth, losing themselves in the simple pleasure of warm meals and soft laughter. The war felt distant, just for a little while.

She knew it wouldn’t last.

But God, she wished it would.

Another week passed, a haze of quiet mornings, warm meals, and the occasional conversation that lingered too long, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile cocoon they’d woven around themselves. There were days when they barely noticed the outside world at all, as though the war had turned into nothing more than a distant rumble, something happening on the other side of a window that had been carefully closed.

The mornings had become routine—her getting up first, brewing tea, him shuffling into the kitchen in a half-awake stupor, ruffling his hair as he grumbled about being woken. The evenings fell into a rhythm too, with them sitting on the small couch, half a room away, each wrapped in the comfort of the other’s company, while the world continued its war somewhere beyond the windows.

One morning, she woke with the warm weight of Lando's arm around her, his breath soft against the back of her neck. She hadn’t realised it at first, but somehow, during the night, he had pulled her close, and now she lay pressed to his chest, his hold tight, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

She shifted, careful not to disturb him, and the soft sound of bells reached her ears—faint at first, a distant chime that grew louder. She frowned, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t the air-raid sirens, and it wasn’t a church bell for a funeral. No, this was different. This was... celebration?

She carefully pulled herself out of his arms, wincing at the small space between them, and padded quietly across the room. Her fingers brushed the curtains aside, and she peered out of the window.

The street below was buzzing with life. People were spilling into the streets, laughing, shouting, and cheering. Flags were being waved. And there—there were the children, dancing in circles, holding hands like they were marking the end of something heavy. The sounds of joyous voices drifted up to her.

Her heart began to pound. No... it can’t be…

"Lando," she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

She turned back toward the bed, her heart thundering as she crossed the room in a few quick strides. She leaned over him, shaking him gently at first, then more urgently. "Lando, darling—wake up!"

He groaned, rolling over and blinking up at her with a dazed expression, his messy hair sticking up in all directions. His face softened when he saw her, but it didn’t last long as the sound of the bells filled the room.

"What—?" He froze, his eyes suddenly clear, his breath catching.

She couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Lando, the war—it’s over. They’re celebrating. Can’t you hear the bells?"

His eyes widened, then narrowed as he slowly pushed himself up, confusion flickering across his face before realisation dawned on him. The sound of the bells reached his ears, clearer now, and he could hear the cheering too. The world outside, the noise, the celebration—it was undeniable.

He sat up, blinking as he rubbed a hand over his face, disorientated for a moment as if he were still in a dream. Then, a half-laugh, half-sob escaped him, and for a moment, he didn’t move. He just looked at her, his gaze flickering over her face.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. "Is this... is this really happening?"

She nodded, her own disbelief mirrored in her wide eyes. "It’s true, Lando. They’re celebrating. The war’s ended. It’s finished."

He sat there, silent for a beat too long, before shaking his head as if to clear it. Then, he suddenly sprang from the bed, moving quickly, as if the news had sparked something deep inside him, something that couldn’t be contained.

In a few long strides, he was at the window beside her, his eyes scanning the crowds below. People were hugging, crying, dancing in the streets. And for the first time in years, there were no sirens, no orders to follow, no planes overhead.

Lando’s hand reached for hers, his fingers squeezing with a kind of urgency she hadn’t felt in days. His voice was soft, still somewhat stunned. "It’s over," he whispered, his lips curving in something fragile—something that might have been a smile, if not for the look of wonder in his eyes.

She nodded, her heart swelling with something she didn’t know how to name. "It’s over, Lando."

He turned to face her, his hand still holding hers, his thumb rubbing along her knuckles in a slow, tender motion. His eyes softened, the hardness that had lingered around the edges of them for so long finally ebbing away. "What now, then?" he asked quietly, as if the question itself was almost too much to ask after everything.

She thought about it for a moment, the uncertainty of the future heavy in the air between them, but the weight of the moment didn’t seem as daunting now. The war had ended. The world was open. And somehow, impossibly, they had made it.

"I don’t know," she replied, her voice soft, "but we’re still here. And that’s enough for me."

Lando smiled then, the warmth returning to his face, and for the first time since she’d met him, it wasn’t just a smirk or a teasing grin—it was something full of hope, something genuine.

Then, without another word, he leaned down and kissed her.

The moment his lips met hers, the world outside—the cheers, the bells, the war that had just ended—ceased to exist.

Lando kissed her like he had waited his whole life to do it, like he had been holding it back for weeks, months, maybe even longer. His hands cupped her face, rough and warm, his fingers sliding into her hair as he pulled her in like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

She gasped against his mouth, barely catching her breath before he kissed her again, deeper this time, more desperate, more real. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fisting the fabric like she needed to hold onto something solid, like if she let go, she might slip away into whatever fever-dream this felt like.

His body was warm against hers, his breath uneven as he pressed her back against the wall, his lips trailing from her mouth to her jaw, then to the hollow of her throat. She shuddered at the feeling, at the way his hands mapped out every inch of her like he wanted to memorise her in case she vanished before his eyes.

She felt alive.

After everything—after loss and grief, after nights spent in silence, after waking up to a world that had been at war for too long—this was the only thing that felt real. This moment, here, with him.

His forehead pressed against hers as he caught his breath, both of them dizzy from the weight of it all. His voice was low, rasping against her lips, breathless and full of something she couldn’t quite name.

"Well, what to do with my life now?" he murmured, his mouth quirking into something like a smirk, "s’pose I’ll just live here then. With my fiancée."

She let out a breathless laugh, her hands still tangled in his shirt. "Oh, will you now?"

"Reckon so." He grinned, but there was something warm and certain behind it. "Would be a bit odd for me to be staying with a woman I’m not engaged to, don’t you think? The people they’ll talk and your reputation. It’ll be ruined."

She raised an eyebrow. "Lando, you do know you never actually asked me, right?"

For a second, he looked taken aback, as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. But then, without hesitation, he stepped back, took her right hand in his, and before she could say another word—

He dropped onto one knee.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering wildly as she watched him, watched the way his fingers gently pried the ring from her right hand and held it between them.

His eyes found hers, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no bravado—just Lando, raw and real, looking at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

"I haven’t got a real ring," he said, voice quiet, steady, "not yet, anyway. But I’ll get one. I swear it." He swallowed, his thumb brushing against the band between his fingers. "I’ll find a job—something stable. I could go to school, or work at Billy’s pharmacy, or whatever pays enough to get us something real, something good. And then..."

He took a breath, his lips quirking up into a lopsided smile.

"Then, if you’ll have me, I’ll marry you proper. But for now, all I can do is ask."

He reached for her left hand, slipping the ring onto her finger where it belonged.

"So what d’you reckon, sweetheart?" His voice was softer now, his eyes never leaving hers. "Marry me?"

She stared at him, her chest tightening, her whole body light and heavy all at once.

And then, with the weight of the war finally lifting, with the streets outside alive with celebration, and with the man she loved on his knee before her—

She nodded.

"Yes," she breathed, tears pricking at her eyes. "Yes, Lando."

And before he could even stand, she threw herself at him, kissing him again like she would never stop.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore @driverlando

[moonlight-alexia]

Starfish and Caitlin comforting Katie after the lose to Slovenia on Facetime.

not really posting/writing atm but i couldn't not do this one <3 so pls enjoy i really hope you do

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

gentle connection ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

‘Mammy!’ You exclaimed when you saw your mammy’s face through the screen of your mummy’s phone. You were on camp with your mummy and you tried to talk to your mammy whenever you got the chance. But mostly you were out like a light from running around with Harper and the other Australia girls all day.

‘Starfish, inside voice remember,’ Your mummy reminded you, you hadn’t had a big day like the last few so you were excited that you were able to talk to your mammy. 

Caitlin had called Katie a bit earlier while Alanna and Kyra were distracting you so your mummy could comfort your mammy a little. They were both lucky, you understood emotions and what other people needed often but sometimes they still need those moments just the two of them. 

‘Hi mammy,’ You whispered, giving a little wave to Katie who was on the other side of the phone. 

‘Hi my little Starfish,’ Katie smiled softly, giving you a little wave back. Seeing you, even if it was through a screen, made Katie’s day a lot better. Your mammy, not that she would really admit it, had been missing you a bit more this camp. A lot for her to adjust to and if it wasn’t for Australia’s kit debut, you would’ve been there with her instead. Something that Caitlin now felt a little guilty about now after seeing how deflated Katie was.

You sat in your mummy’s lap, her arms wrapped around your waist while you happily talked your mammy’s ear off. It wasn’t often Katie was this quiet, but she was more than happy to listen to everything you’d been up to right now. The first time you’d been away from your mammy where you’d barely been able to talk to her, and listening to you talk, the familiarity helped your mammy. 

‘I’m having lots of fun mammy, but I miss you and counting down the days til ‘m home with you,’ Your voice trailed off, you were observant, your mums knew that but they often forgot just how observant and in tune with others you were, that it might become a problem for you later on. 

But now, you gave your mammy a small smile while she told you how much she misses you and can’t wait til you’re all home again, ‘Mummy,’ Your voice cut through the little silence that had floated between the three of you, you turned your head looking at Caitlin. Your mummy hummed a little in acknowledgment, ‘Can I talk to mammy, just me and mammy please,’

Caitlin smiled and placed you down in the middle of the bed, making sure you were all comfy against the pillows. There used to be times Caitlin would feel a tinge of insecurity if you’d want to just talk to your mammy. Perfectly normal, not feeling like she was integrating well into yours and Katie’s dynamic, but she was long over that and enjoyed seeing that bond you had with your mammy, ‘I’ll be right across with Kenzie if you need me,’ 

Your mummy placed a kiss against your forehead before leaving you and your mammy alone. You yawned a little, Katie almost jumping in to suggest you having a little sleep while she stayed on the phone with you, but your voice stopped her before she could say anything, ‘Mummy said you might be a bit sad, you’re more quiet,’ 

Katie gave you a small smile, they tried to be as open with their feelings with you in hopes that when you’d feel safe enough to talk to them about your feelings, ‘It’s been a hard day Starfish. A big loss but seeing you now makes it all better,’ 

Your little eyebrows furrowed while you were thinking, ‘Y’know mammy, mummy lost big too. Yous are the same!’ Katie smiled, a little laugh at the way your eyes lit up when you’d made the connection. Your mummy’s games hadn’t been going all that well either.

‘I guess we are, aren’t we,’ You were happy that you could get a little laugh from your mammy, your efforts to comfort her you believed to have succeeded. You tried to not think too much so you wouldn’t accidentally frown and worry your mammy, but you were starting to realise how hard it was when you were away from either of your mums when they were upset. Wishing they could be happy all the time and never sad.

‘Gonna give you a hug mammy,’ You held the phone against your chest. Katie smiled and, even though you couldn’t see, she held her phone against her chest. To anyone else it might seem strange but to Katie it was really comforting, even though the slight ache in her chest wishing that it was real.

‘I love you Starfish, you give the best hugs,’ Soon enough you’d be home and able to give your mammy a real hug.

[alynnia]

Sylus x Rafayel (x MC) ramblings

The fujo came out of me with this one. After my little karaoke blurb I had an epiphany and had to get it out of my system. I'm no writer but I like to write. The below is litterally brain vomit of ideas and situations spilling out as they come and they're free to the public to play with. These two have quite a bit in common and potentially have chemistry? I dunno, could be my fujo goggles.

MDNI because the last section is lewd. Nothing explicit just options of how I think the sexual part of their relationship might be.

Both bonded to MC

•Sylus, through a shared soul and Raf through an eternal bond. Both of these continue through lifetimes. So imagine Rafayel's shock when courting MC he gets two instead of one. Does he just love half of her soul or all of it? Now we don't know the exact timelines of the myths if they all share the same universe and same Philos, but let's say they did. Sylus' soul sharing with MC came first so when Rafayel bonded with MC, he was unknowingly bonding with Sylus as well. He would be reluctant in this set up, believing that MC was the one he is tied to and only her (this is true of course but we are playing pretend here) but why does he feel a similar pull from Sylus? The fiend is nonchalant about it outwardly but I can see him teasing the fuck out of fish boy. " I guess that makes me your 'beloved' as well but...I don't bow to gods, puppy. I end them. " and then gives him a few smug paps on the cheek. This likely results in a fight MC has to break up and it happens often.

•They would both try and show each other up with showing affection to MC, but Sylus would always include Rafayel in his gifting. If he buys a dress for her, he's buying a suit for him. If she gets a ruby necklace, he gets ruby cufflinks. While MC can have any color jewels she wants, he defaults to red gems. After a while, Rafayel takes notice that the crow boy likes to "mark" them with rubies as a subtle way of telling the world the two of them are both his. It's hard to say if he's doing this as a show of dominance or something more but the way Sylus gives him a satisfied smirk/smile when he sees them both wearing matching onyx and ruby brooches makes his eye twitch and his heart skip. Sensing danger between them, MC would excitedly suggest that Sylus wear one too so all three could match, a subtle way on her part to say they are all equal here.

•When talking to MC about Rafayel, he uses "our".

"I think our husband is throwing a tantrum again~"

" I am NOT your husband. "

" Tch, aaw. Tough luck, you're stuck with us both. "

" Then I want a divorce. There's got to be some way to break out of this, a loophole or a spell to break this curse... "

" You hear that sweetie? Our husband wants to break up with us. Maybe he's not as devoted as he says. "

" N-not her! JUST YOU! You are the curse that defiles our sacred bond and I will not stand for it! "

" And how do you plan to do that? Hm? Rip our very soul asunder? That can't be good for either of us, puppy~ " And he's just smirking the entire time with an arm around MC. " But if you insist, I may know someone who can help you. Very experimental, has not had one survivor yet. But! You seem to be very set on tearing her apart...are you willing to take the risk~? " He just loves challenging gods and seeing Rafayel seething is just too precious.

Both rich as fuck

•As someone else here on tumblr mentioned, Rafayel is spoiled prince rich and Sylus is mafia rich. Raf seeing Sy spend money like it was nothing takes these acts as a challenge on his own wealth. He'll offer to pay for things with a smug smile and Sylus lets him do it without a fuss, merely raising an eyebrow then smirking. Neither let MC pay for anything. This ends up frustrating Rafayel after a while. Why doesn't he say anything? Is he just going to let him pay for it all? Greedy crow. ):< Finally fed up, he confronts Sylus saying that he should pay him back with interest. Raf doesn't need the money but it's the principle of the matter! Sylus is just…

"Alright, if it will shut you up." and points him to a page of restraunts on a tablet he was looking over. Rafayel figures he's being asked where he wants to eat on Sy's tab so he chooses the most expensive establishment. The kind you need to make a reservation for a year in advance. He's already planning to order top shelf, the highest priced items on the menu and exclusive private seating for all of them. Sylus looks over the selected place and scoffs, " Pompous. " A little later when Rafayel is expecting to go out, Sylus just slaps down paperwork in front of him and tells him to sign it. What is it? Essentially the transfer of ownership of that place he chose. Apparently it had already belonged to Sylus and now it's Raf's. " This should cover it, yes? "

Both are mythical creatures

• Raf being a mermaid (God of tides) and Sylus being a dragon (Bringer of Ruin) Gods create, fiends destroy. Sy is for the skies and Raf for the seas. They're both beings of power and forces of nature.

• Being the dragon he is, Sylus would likely keep all of the art he doesn't put away or keep track of. It comes from the need to hoard treasures and because the fish is terrible with leaving his work all over the place. Don't get him started on the paintbrushes he keeps stepping on. Thomas would think him a life saver for keeping things organized and available but Sylus would charge him every time he wanted to retrieve work from him. So Thomas is left with the choice of dealing with Rafayel or paying a stupid amount of money to Sylus to bypass the anguish.

•On the flip side, After Raf has seen Sylus' treasure trove of gemstones, he would also just so happen to pick up jewels from museums to add to his own collection. Ones Sylus possibly have never seen or heard of due to their connections with Lemuria. Sylus would make a comment about Lemurians crying pearls he heard once, baiting Rafayel and of course the mermaid can't help but confirm he's able to do this. (They both know what they are by this point) But isn't that a dangerous thing to admit to a greedy dragon? Perhaps Sylus should lock him up and force him to cry to obtain such beauties. But he figures he doesn't need to. Rafayel himself is enough of a rare treasure to keep after all. He would say this right to his face without flinching, as if it was just common sense. He pins another ruby trinket to his lapel to which Raf would find himself blushing then storming off somewhere. He would like to see those scales though. They sure are shiny and our Sylus likes shiny things.

• Sylus walks in on Rafayel in the bath and sees his mermaid tail for the first time. He's enamored but doesn't show it on his face. The mermaid is squawking, telling him he shouldn't enter when someone is in here without knocking but Sylus just ignores him, grabbing what he needs and is about to head out. The mermaid did catch those eyes looking at him in a particular way, wondering why he doesn't ask about the tail.

" So...you're not going to say anything about this? "

" Should I? "

" You've just bore witness to a rare sight, the scales of real Lemurian in his full glory. You would be a fool not to admire. "

" Oh, in that case do forgive me~ " turning around casually he takes wide steps and looms over the tub, his shadow cast over the Lemurian's form, " Then allow me take a closer look... " That's when Sylus runs his hands over the glistening tail, face unchanging as he studies it's quality. This envokes the wrath of Raf smacking his hand away, " No one said you could touch! " Sylus removes his hand but smirks in response. His gaze lingers on the glittering on the mermaid's face before rising up and heading back to the door, " I've seen better. "

" ......WHAT? Where?! No you haven't! Who else has-! " the door is already shut and he's gone.

• What if Sylus took MC's place in Rafayel's myth? A fiend finally captured, tied up and thrown into the ocean. We have hints that Sylus may not know how to swim so perhaps this is his weakness. Rafayel comes across this strange drowning creature who isn't quite human but curious to know more. He cuts him free and planned to just let whatever happens to him, happen but Sylus is quick, desperate to live and be out of this water. Having heard of the Lemurian tales he grabs hold of his savior and tries to steal his breath with a kiss, biting his lip in the process just like MC did. And you know the rest after that. Would make an interesting AU I think but would divert from the myth a looot from there. Still could be a fun ride. Raf can show him the ocean and Sy could show him the skies.

A weakness and a fear

•I don't think Sylus can swim. There's an Abyssal Chaos situation that hints at this and it's living rent free in my head but he does have a pool so who knows. I'm going with the idea that he can't swim for this. So...Sylus would almost always get the one-up on Rafayel, teasing and bullying him but when it comes to water, the fish finally has the upper hand here. Sylus would never admit this weakness out loud to anyone but MC. If they went to the beach he would just stay out of deep areas and Rafayel would take notice. Being a cheeky one and in his element, he'd somehow get the drop on him and pull Sylus over into the deep side to see what happens. Also for revenge. But Sylus isn't reacting the way he thought? This big tough guy is actually going to drown if he doesn't do something. He could be rid of him finally, let the man drown and have MC all to himself. He watches him sink, feeling a twinge of satisfaction but just as he's about to take off, the mark on his chest lights up. It can't be helped, can it?

After "saving" him, Rafayel tells him it's about time he learned how to swim. It's an essential skill and it's a crime to not beable to appreciate the beauty of the ocean. Sylus, surprisingly to Raf, agrees. " Then you should teach me. It's the least you can do after trying to kill me. " Not that it would work I think. How far does his immortality go anyway? Que montage of the two of them in the water together.

• Rafayel has a fear of cats. Sylus likes cats. After all, their beloved MC is their kitten and he's raised a lion cub before. The Lemurian god is offended that he would call MC such a horrid nickname as it's essentially calling her a demon. Sy quickly picks up on the fear and like the earlier scenario, tries to tease him with it. Though it's to a lesser degree in the form of just bringing strays for MC to take care of in front of him. If she's loving the cats, there's no way Rafayel can say no to her. Sylus knows this and pushes it further holding a kitten to his face, " To think a mighty god could be felled by such a small creature. " This prompts Raf to suck it up and slowly but surely start to confront his fear of cats, Sylus happily "helping". Que montage of the two interacting with cats from kittens to tigers.

Break out?

• Sylus doesn't believe beasts should be in cages and Rafayel hates the way humans treat animals. One night, after getting drunk and arguing which leads to a bet, they set local zoo animals free or something. They will never be caught.

Music

•They would share playlists and talk shit about each other's taste but still give genuine listens. Sylus prefers records and buys one for him just to prove how much better it sounds in this format instead of digital.

•They go to the opera together. Sylus is enjoying himself but Rafayel has some harsh critisms. He can do better. Sylus would ask for a demonstration and he says it would kill him. Crow boy sees that as a challenge because well, he can't die. So perhaps he could be one of the few who could listen to his death song without dying and appreciate it. It'd still probably hurt, but maybe it's worth it? Would be funny to see Sylus wheezing in Rafayel's arms, bleeding from his ears and still tell him his singing was shit just to rile him up. It's a lie, but picking on him is too much fun.

•Singing together. See the Karaoke blurb.

If they were in a relationship (Lewd bits)

•OT3. MC is far too important to them and their own connections would be their shared loved for her. They'd prefer to be seperate with her at first but over time Sylus would be the first to invite him together with MC. Rafayel is going to say no the first couple of times (it's not offered often) but eventually warms up to the idea if only to prove to the other that he can perform better than him. Then it becomes another game of chicken when Sy leans in closer to Raf with MC in the middle. Sylus will give looks, light touches in passing but won't be the one to give in. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he wants Rafayel to be absolutely sure he's into it and he gets a kick at making him buckle. Which he will and of course, Sylus obliges letting Rafayel think he's the one that "won" in this. MC is happy to see them get along.

•The longer this OT3 relationship goes on, the more likely sometimes it would be just the two of them while MC is off on a mission somewhere in the world that takes days to complete. At this point they're used to it and the roughness becomes more gentle and tender. Well, Sylus almost always had been the more gentle one and Rafayel the more agressive and it only took them being alone for Rafayel realize it.

• They would be competative in bed but even when bottoming, Sylus more often than not has control and directing Rafayel. Telling him there's no need to go easy on him. Raf will always fight for control and sometimes "win" but he melts too easily and loses himself in the moment. His most dominant side comes out during a certain season which is a pleasant surprise for Sy. They're both waking up with scars but Sylus more so. He doesn't let them heal quickly just to show off the result to Rafayel when he wakes up.

" Are you not proud of your work? " Oh he is proud. Embarrassed seeing what he's done to him and the memories of the night flashing in the back of his mind, but proud. Another win for the fish, "conquering" such a large man. Snatching Sylus by the chin, he'd give a warning with a hint of slight concern for his bird boy, " It would be wise not to forget what I can do to you. "

" Do what? These little marks? " He brushes them away with his evol, " Oh no. Look, they're all gone. I guess you'll have to try harder. "

And now I wonder if Rafayel could end up leaving a mark on him that not even Sylus can heal through his god mode. 🤔

•Playing with the headcanon of Sylus' draconic habits and urges being active in his current life, I wonder if they would "sync" up. Honestly it sounds dangerous, Sylus may very well eat the guy. Literally. That's for the tragedy enjoyers. For the degenerates…4 swords, eh? Okay on the tamer side of things, I can see them taking it out on each other to spare the worst of it from MC. Locking themselves away just to go all out. But back to degeneracy, she'd probably end up peeking out of curiosity and end up dragged into it. Rest in Peace girlie. 🙏

•So what would a dragon/mermaid kid look lik-

OKAY OKAY I'M DONE. IT'S OUT OF MY SYSTEM. DO NOT PERCEIVE MEEEE!! But really though, this was fun. Is this 1k words? I have no idea.

I think this is how you tag people? @crutoyu @turkeysamwichh

[hittmeandtellmeyouremine]

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 | 𝙣𝙤, 𝙞'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨

pairing: bsf!rafe cameron x bear!reader

summary: with finals week finally over, you’re ready to enjoy summer, with rafe there to keep you company. as the day goes on, though, the feeling that's been looming starts to make its way to the surface.

warnings: swearing and suggestive content.

word count: 3.2k words

song: swim good - frank ocean

chapter one → socials chapter one →

©hittmeandtellmeyouremine | this is my only account across all social media platforms. please do not translate, copy, or repost any of my writing.

you felt the stress that had been looming over you for the past few weeks finally leave your body. it was finals week for college students, you included. this was your last final and your grade rode on this test.

you had been stressing about it all week, buried in your notes. you had gotten an A in every other class while this one was sitting at a B+. you vowed to make this final your bitch, you had to.

you woke up a few hours earlier to get in some extra hours of studying. you made sure to have a decent enough breakfast and some of an energy drink to really wake you up. one last test and then summer was all yours.

rafe drove you onto the mainland to take your test, your personal chauffeur. the whole drive there he reassured you that you were stressing way too much about this test, you had it in the bag. school was never really rafe's thing, he barely skimmed through college. but he knew how much it meant to you, sometimes he worried it meant too much.

it meant so much that he hadn't even seen you this past week because you were studying so much. he only saw you briefly when he brought you over food in an attempt to see you. that lasted all of twenty minutes before you kicked him out to get back to your studying.

this was part of the reason why he offered to drive you to and from your test, though he would've done it regardless.

you and rafe were close, super close. he was your best friend. back in middle school you and sarah had became friends, good friends. that somehow bled into rafe's life. the more you came around, the more time you spent with rafe. sarah started to do her own thing and where she started to fall short, rafe excelled. your relationship with him quickly became stronger than yours with sarah.

you became his favorite person and he became yours.

you pushed past the doors of the building, turning your phone back on and watching the previously silenced notifications load.

you looked up to see rafe leaning against his truck. you hadn't really paid much attention to him before your final, studying even on the way there. rafe kept telling you that you were gonna burn yourself out. you told him to shut up so you could focus. he shut up after that.

rafe cameron. he leaned back against his truck, arms crossed over his chest. he had on a white tee, black cargo pants, and black and white high top converse. that outfit was basically his uniform at this point. graphic or plain tee, cargos, and converse or sambas. oh, and a backwards hat, occasionally. he had one on today. you loved when he wore it backwards, having soft spot for when he did.

he stretched his arms, his shirt lifting up and letting you get a peek at his abs. it didn't help that his biceps looked like they were ready to bust out of the seams of his shirt any minute now. sometimes you thought he did this type of shit on purpose, he had to.

"you're not slick, you know" you said, rolling your eyes as you approached him.

"hello to you too, baby" he smirked, pushing off the truck and closing the distance between you two.

baby.

you don't remember when exactly that started but you know it was over the past year. you also remember your stomach doing a flip when it did. you didn't protest, so it just continued.

"how was it?" he asked.

"i got a 96" you confessed, a smile forming on your face.

"atta baby, i knew you had it in you" he smiled down at you.

"something like that" you mumbled, moving past him.

he chuckled but opened the passenger side door for you.

"what was that?" he smirked, watching you climb into the truck and toss your bag into the backseat.

"you heard me" you answered, he leaned against the door.

"such a smartass"

"you love it"

"mmm something like that" he teased.

"touché" you said, sucking your teeth.

he laughed, closing the door and walking around the drivers side.

you liked to joke around and call rafe your personal chauffeur because he basically was. did you have your license? yes. did he still drive you everywhere? also yes.

rafe liked to joke around and say it was because he didn't trust you on the road. you couldn't necessarily deny that claim, it was a valid reason. you cared more about blasting music and living your music video fantasy than paying attention to the road. that or you were a complete bundle of anxiety behind the wheel. there was no in between.

he let you drive his truck one time. you barely made it out of the cameron's driveway before he called it quits.

he's always driven ever since.

you guys had quite the drive back to the outer banks. in celebration of your accomplishment rafe let you blast whatever girl music you wanted to.

a frown formed on your face when the music paused and you saw topper's name pop up on the screen.

"give me a second" rafe said, pressing the "accept" button on his steering wheel.

"rafe cameron" topper dragged out.

"what's up, top?" rafe answered.

"where you at, you home?"

he was fishing for something.

"nah, i'm driving back to obx right now"

"so you're gonna be back in time for the party tonight?"

there it was. you looked over at rafe in confusion.

"yeah man, i gotchu" rafe confirmed.

"you bringing y/n with you?"

no.

"yeah, she's coming"

the hell you were. your eyes bulged out at rafe.

"no i'm not" you interrupted.

"oh, hi bear"

"hi topper" you focused your attention back at rafe, "you never said anything about a party, rafe"

"i tried to but you were busy studying. we're going, it's basically the summer kick off" he said, glancing over at you briefly before his eyes returned back to the road.

"you're 22, aren't you a little too old for summer kick offs???" you commented.

"okay, first of all, watch your mouth" he scoffed.

"don't tell me what to do" you scoffed right back, "i'm not going to a summer kick off. my summer doesn't start until the girls get here and that's tomorrow"

"okay, well my summer starts today and i want you there with me"

"your summer is all the time, you already graduated" you reminded.

"alright, yep. topper, we'll be there later" he said before reaching over and hanging up.

you honestly forgot topper was even on the phone, hearing all your bickering. your music resumed, not that you cared.

"rafe, i'm serious. i wanted to wait until they got here" you said, your tone approaching one that could be categorized as whiny.

"baby, i know you are but we'll only be there for a little while. plus, once your friends get here i'm gonna have to share you with them" he grimaced at the last part.

you debated it in your head.

your best friends we're finally coming back from college. anora, lina, parker and you together again. it was one of the parts of summer you were most excited for.

your group was literally inseparable in highschool. well, until you guys separated. lina went off to start her modeling career in new york, parker went to a fashion school in chicago, and nora was still close by but a decent drive. you actually both went to the same college but she stayed on campus while you didn't. with her spending the majority of her time on the mainland, you only saw her once a week if you were lucky.

you were dying to have them all at arms length again.

nora was packing up her stuff today and would be back tonight. fortunately parker and lina both flew in tomorrow. rafe knew this by heart because when he did actually hear from you this week, it was all you would talk about.

he was happy you were happy. it was bittersweet for him though because other than the weekly outing when he brought you to see nora, he had you all to himself for the last few months. and everyone knew rafe was not one for sharing.

rafe quickly realized how attached he had gotten, a long time ago. he spent more time with you than he did with anyone else. sometimes he even thought he spent more time with you than he did himself.

you wanted to go shopping? rafe let you drag him along. you wanted something sweet at 1 in the morning? rafe would take you in a heart beat (and pay). you were sat at your desk doing your assignments? rafe would lay in your bed and scroll on his phone until you were done. rafe was going golfing with the guys? he would drag you along to sit in the golf cart. rafe had some business deal where he needed to go somewhere further out? you were in the passenger seat of his range rover.

you two were inseparable.

he would never admit it to you but he was having a hard time processing the fact that that was going to change. he knew he shouldn't have been upset. these were your best friends and he did get along with them, despite the banter. but god did he like having you to himself.

"text nora, see if she's gonna be back in time and we can pick her up on the way there" he said, it was an olive branch to get you to agree.

he looked over at you to solidify his suggestion.

"topper's been asking about her anyway" he mumbled.

nora had a... thing with topper, if you could say that. he took her out on a few dates and decided she was the love of his life. she thought it was sweet, a little much but sweet. plus he had money and bought her things whenever she had the time to respond. not that she needed it, nora was an independent woman who had her shit together. but it was nice that he did anyways.

rafe was just glad topper had finally stopped bitching and moaning about his sister.

"okay, fine" you mumbled, opening up your messages with nora.

"that's my girl" rafe cooed, one of his hands going to your thigh. his thumb rubbed small, approving circles on it.

my girl.

another thing that you can't remember origin of but you knew you liked it. loved it, even.

you pretty much spent the rest of your car ride texting nora. it took the smallest bit of convincing but she was quick to agree. while you were occupied with that rafe took the opportunity to play his own music, rap seeping through the speakers.

when you finally looked back up from your phone you guys were already heading back into the outer banks, passing the 'welcome' sign.

"are we going to mine or yours?" you asked, looking over at him.

it was part of your routine. you always ended up at one of your houses. it was just a matter of who's.

you saw his jaw clench slightly, it was so faint that no one else would be able to tell. but you did.

"yours" he answered, "my dad's home today and i don't really feel like dealing with his shit right now"

his hand squeezed your thigh slightly before his thumb rubbed over the spot in a soothing manner.

"mkay"

"i need to get gas" he mumbled, turning into one of the town's gas stations.

his hand withdrew from your thigh as he turned the car off. he looked over at you for a moment. his blue eyes ran over your face, your eyes glued back to your phone as you typed away. your group chat with the girls was blowing up with speculation and a side of interrogation after the recent instagram posts. his hand reached over and gently grabbed ahold of your face to get you to look over at him.

"you want somethin'?" his thumb gently brushed against your cheek.

your stomach did another little flip.

"i'm thirsty" you nodded.

"yeah, from all that fighting me you did" he smirked, making you roll your eyes.

he got out of the truck, going to close the door behind him.

"i didn't even tell you what i wanted" you called after him.

"you don't need to, i already know" he answered as he walked into the gas station, waving you off.

he was right, he did know what you wanted. he handed you the bottle before he went to pump the gas. even if he hadn't handed you the right one, he bought a bag full of others for you later. he knew you like the back of his hand.

"what time is the party?" you asked when he got back in, driving to your place.

"kelce said it starts at nine, figured we'd get there around like ten?"

you nodded, mentally calculating when you would have to start getting ready.

as if he could read your mind, "start getting ready around eight, baby"

a smile crept onto your face as you looked over at him.

"i know you" he reassured, glancing over at you.

the rest of the ride to your house was filled with you singing along to whatever song rafe let you blast which just so opened to be a frank ocean song. windows down, wind in your hair, and the biggest smile on your face. rafe watched you, something he could quite pin stirred inside him.

you and rafe spent the rest of the afternoon in your bed, watching whatever show you had convinced him to watch. he wasn't really one for watching tv, he'd rather play video games or quite literally anything else. you were the opposite though, you loved a good show. and rafe would do anything to make you happy.

after ordering a pizza for you two to eat, he went home around seven to change.

the minute he left you felt... hollow almost. cold, even. it was a strange feeling you tried your best to ignore.

you filled the next hour with an everything shower and every pop princess you could think of. somewhere in the midst of your break between showering and actually getting ready you had switch over to your chill playlist. you switched over to your crash out playlist again as you started to get ready.

halfway through the process, in the midst of picking out your outfit and starting on your hair, nora texted you. you paused everything you were doing and sunk to the bathroom floor to respond.

your heart dropped when you read the message of her cancelling. she still hadn't finished packing and was gonna get in later than she expected. you understood, plus she was gonna drive you guys to get parker and lina tomorrow so she was gonna need her sleep.

but it changed the plan you fought to agree to earlier and you were too deep into it to cancel now.

you spent so long sitting there trying to mentally recover from the change of plans that you hadn't realized how late it had gotten until rafe texted you to let you know he was on his way.

that woke you right up and you began flying around your room to get ready. you rushed in so many things at once that you were practically on autopilot. you were snapped out of your trance once the doorbell rang.

you bare feet padded down the stairs of your house, rushing to open the door for him.

"hi, sorry. i'm almost ready. i just need to finish my hair and then we can go, i swear" you rambled, stepping to the side to allow him the space he needed to come inside.

it took rafe a second to catch up to what you were saying, his eyes too focused on what he was seeing to properly hear. the little black skirt you had on showed perfect off the thighs he had been struggling to keep his hands off of lately. then your top.

your fucking top.

it was one of those tops that looked like two pieces of fabric that tied in the front. you had been talking about them for the past few weeks, he remembered. calling them a "summer staple".

a flyaway top. yeah, that was it.

it showed off your cleavage perfectly. rafe had seen you in a bikini plenty of times, sure. a sports bra, a crop top, whatever. but this was different. he silently thanked god that you bought so many for the summer.

you were so frantic you didn't realized his gawking before turning and going back up towards your room. his pants felt slightly tighter than they were a minute ago. he swallowed and closed the door behind him before following you up.

you're still rambling when he follows you into your bedroom, leaning against the doorway of your bathroom. he watched as you stood at the sink counter, doing your hair. you hadn't given him enough time earlier to consider the jewelry you were wearing. you just got better and better.

"wait what?" he asked, his ears catching up to his brain.

"nora's not coming. she texted me saying that she was gonna get in late tonight and she wasn't up for it. i mean i get it, we have that drive tomorrow to get parker and lina but you know i hate when people cancel plans last minute" you explained, frowning.

rafe saw the anxiety set in quickly. he forced his eyes to tear away from your exposed skin. especially the tiny, cursive tattoo that was engraved on your side, making a slight appearance . god, wished it spelled out his name instead of what it really said.

"you look pretty" he said, you paused.

"thank you"

"i mean it, you're killing me" he said, eyes catching yours through the reflection of the mirror.

"rafe"

"i'm serious" he said, moving to stand behind you. his hands found their way to your hips. "if i was an insecure asshole, i'd tell you to go change"

your eyes stayed locked on his, finding it impossible to look away. not that you wanted to.

"but i'm not" he finished.

you were saved by the bell when his phone started to ring. he stepped back, taking the device out of his pocket and answering kelce's call. he still was close behind you as you finished up the last few touches.

he didn't do much to conceal his conversation which made it easy for you to make out most, if not all, of kelce's comments. one in particular you wanted to hang up and frame on the walls of your brain.

"you bringing your girl?"

"yeah, why wouldn't i be?"

the lines between your friendship and something more had been getting blurred for a while now, you both knew it, you both felt it. neither of you would come out and say anything about it though.

it didn't mean anything.

he finishes up his call with kelce as you finish getting ready.

you look pretty as ever. he almost regrets even inviting you, knowing guys would be eye fucking you the whole night. the good thing about being in the obx was that that's was all they would do, look. they knew better and if they didn't, they would sure learn better.

-

a/n: the first chapter ahhhh. what did you guys think??? i was fighting demons honestly not to make something happen right then and there. the parasite in me really, really wanted to but the writer in me said to make you guys wait a while longer. go read the social media chapter that ties into this because i think it's the funniest thing i've written!

chapter one → socials chapter one

masterlist

tag list: @princesspeaxhh

either comment or send me an ask to be added to the tag list!

[mikkomacko]

Reader x mob!boss Nico (also sorry if that's wrong, this is my first request for the series) but something angst smut maybe after Nico comes from the gym?

A/n: This has been in my inbox for literally months I am so sorry it took me so long to write this omg 🫶 but for those of you worried I ignored your blurb requests, they’re probably just in my drafts still lmao

I changed this up a bit but I hope you still love it!

Warnings: smut, jealous Nico, angry Nico

____________________________________________

Nico doesn’t have exes. He’s got old hook-ups and one night stands, girls that clearly come to the Rock looking for him. They’ve all heard about how hot the Devils boss is, as well as the Devils themselves.

It never bothered you.

Nico never had anything with them, at least nothing real, so you never thought you’d have to worry about jealousy between you and Nico. At least nothing beyond the light hearted pouting he does when you’re with Johnny or the way you attach yourself to his hip when girls are obviously flirting with him.

Until an old face made an appearance at the Rock.

You blame Jack for it, honestly. It was harmless, Tyson was harmless other than Nico recognizing the name as soon as you stumbled upon your old boyfriend at the bar. It was one of the first personal stories Nico ever heard about you. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first heartbreak. You dated him for a while, fell in love, decided to celebrate your year anniversary together by finally doing it. The universal act of love, the infamous first time from every rom-com.

Except there was nothing romantic or comedic about it at all. It was below average sex, the build up lasted longer than the act itself, and you felt so empty, so disappointed afterwards that you had burst into tears as soon as Tyson was off of you. He panicked, got dressed and basically ran out the door saying he'd check on you later. Later came the next day when he broke up with you, saying you were too much for him and should be with someone who could handle you.

Nico hated Tyson enough as is just for that story. And then he hated him even more when he strolled up to you at the bar and acted like old friends, chatting with you even as you tried to keep conversation quick. You know Nico would've scared Tyson off in a matter of seconds, but you wanted to be civil, so you let him hang with his arm around your shoulders, sipping his beer with a brooding look as Tyson babbled about his life to you.

And you were just about to excuse yourself when Jack ambled up to Nico and asked, "who's the douche?" Which just egged on your boyfriend, his temper already flaring and he shot Tyson a dirty look.

"Her ex."

"Ouch," Jack winced, then patted Nico on the shoulder and leaned into his ear. "She has a type, I'll tell you that."

It was just loud enough for you to hear, turning to Jack with a glare and to hopefully placate Nico but it was all for nothing. He was already angry, already boiling over with a jealousy you've never seen. Denying Jack's statement was only going to make it worse, even though the stupid boy was fucking with Nico. The only thing Nico and Tyson had in common was their dark eyes, and even then Nico's are far darker, hold more depth, are more beautiful.

"Sorry Tyler," Nico spits, not even attempting to be polite or genuine in his 'mishap" on the name. "We've gotta go."

Nico's dragging you away after that, hand on the back of your neck and even though he's jerky and rough as he guides you around the bar and down the hall, his hold isn't mean or hurting. Just demanding.

Swiftly, Nico shoves you through the door into the office, kicking it shut behind him and flicking the lock. You weren't going to say anything, knowing words right now would do nothing for Nico. He accepts and expresses love through physical acts. You two are working on the words thing, but when he's upset like this, it's best to stick what's fool proof.

His hands grab at your face, cupping your jaw and dragging you forward, smashing his lips to yours in a fierce, biting kiss. And you just let him, holding the sides of his neck in your careful hands, easily letting him lead you further into the office until your thighs hit the desk. They’ve barely touched the hardwood before he’s grabbing at your thighs, hefting you onto the desk with effortless strength.

You know Nico is strong, have seen him in the gym, have seen him moving boxes and furniture, have seen him fighting. And you’ve felt it firsthand. Yet every time it takes your breath away, reminds of you that you’re with a man now, not some silly boy like Tyson and all the other average Joes before Nico.

It sends a wave of heat down your spine and straight to your core, arousal pooling in your belly and suddenly it’s like you’re so fucking empty and useless, like you’re life’s mission is to get Nico as deep into your pussy as he could possibly get. How you ever lived without him between your thighs, you don’t know.

“Nico,” you whisper, pleadingly, whimpering when he bites your lip in retaliation. His eyes are dark and demanding when he looks at you, bordering on anger but you know him better.

He just wants your attention. He wants you.

“Don’t talk to me,” he scolds, then almost dismissively he grabs at the bottom of your shirt and starts to haul it up and over your head. “Not after you made me stand there with that fucking hodensniterin and play nice.”

Knowing better, knowing you’ll get him the way you want if you sit there and let him go about his way, you comply as he throws your shirt to the floor, already working his over his head.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until Nico is staring down at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. “Now you want me?” He goads, wrapping a hand around your wrist and stopping you from trailing your fingers any further over his abdomen. “You want to touch me?”

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished speaking, brain already going fuzzy from how needy you feel. It’s like all your brain can think about is him, all you can see is him, all you want is him. His name forms on your tongue again and you have to bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your mouth to stay shut.

Meanly, he laughs, yanking you up to your feet by the wrist. Like a rag doll you go with him, flung and maneuvered around so swiftly it catches you off guard when your elbows hit the desk, cushioned by something. Blinking a few times, you look down and realize Nico has thrown his shirt over the hardwood, bunched up as padding under you.

It’s such a sweet thing for him to do, not unexpected of him even when he’s like this, but it still makes your body flush with heat.

“Too fucking bad,” he continues, “I’m doing the touching. Not you.”

Like it’s instinct, you arch back into Nico when you feel the heat of his body get close to you. He chuckles lowly, barely skimming the palm of his hand over your ass but flinching away when you press back into him.

Tears of frustration sting at your eyes, desperation burning in your skin. If he’d just let you talk, let you tell him how badly you want him, how much you need him inside of you right now it’d be fine. But he’s in a mood and already told you not to talk to him.

His fingers hook into the band of your skirt and underwear, the pads of them rough and warm as they drag across your skin. In one pull he's yanking both over the globes of your ass and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up around your ankles.

The air is cold on your newly exposed skin, raises goosebumps on your skin and you shiver, squeezing your thighs together to preserve some heat in your burning core, and subtly relive some of the throbbing in your clit. Nico reacts before you can even let out a hum of satisfaction, wedging a hand between your thighs and smacking them back open.

"Spread them," he demands, shoving his foot between yours now for insurance. You groan, hiding your face in your arms and biting into the meat of your forearm to silence yourself. Apparently that's the wrong move too though because Nico bumps his knee into the back of yours. "Nuh-uh, hands now."

Begrudgingly, you slip your arms around to your back, pressing your wrists together. Chest and cheek flat on the desk, the new position pulls at the stretched muscles of your legs, the ache just enough to make you throb even more.

His left hand gathers yours in one, long fingers holding them together by the wrist, and he presses down into the small of your back. You whimper, more out of embarrassment and neediness than pain but Nico sills for a moment, his right hand stroking over your ass gently.

"You ok?" He checks, voice a quiet murmur and you take a mental check of your body. It's a little degrading being thrown and bent over his desk like this, ass up for him to do as he pleases, but it stings in the best way possible. You trust Nico, know that even when he's got you exposed and vulnerable like this he would never go too far, even though he could.

It's exhilerating.

"Tell me baby," Nico encourages, settling his hand on the seam of skin where your thigh meets the bottom of your ass.

"I'm ok," you say, closing your eyes and breathing in the cologne on his shirt, the rich scent of him. It's soothing and you quickly amend, "I'm perfect, Schao."

You can picture the pleased smile on his face, the dimple it carves into his cheek.

"Good girl," he purrs, dragging his thumb through your folds. The sudden touch sends a shock wave through you, hips canting and rising to your toes to give him better access to your swollen and desperate clit.

"S'this all you needed to be nice to me again?" Nico skips over where you want him the most, going back to thumbing at your hole teasingly. "To pay attention to me instead of that cock-sucker out there?"

You're not sure if your allowed to talk again, so you bite your tongue, sucking in quivering breathes of air through your nose to stay grounded. I was just being polite, you want to say, to defend yourself. I hate him and I love you Nico.

Torturously slow, Nico dips his thumb between your folds, sinking into just the knuckle and you hold your breathe, scared that any sudden movement will spook him into stopping.

He pumps his thumb in shallow movements, careful and calculated. It's not everything you want from him but it's something, a content breath puffing out of your nose.

"Thinks he knows you," Nico mutters, more to himself than you. He pulls back, his thumb suddenly disappearing and you whine, pussy clenching down on nothing. Thankfully, Nico doesn't care about the bratty noise enough to scold you. He silences you with two thick fingers, shoving them into you up so abruptly you flinch, digging your cheek further into his shirt.

"He doesn't," Nico says, louder this time like he's trying to remind you. It goes in one ear and out the other, your mind to preoccupied with the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He pets at the sensitive sponge part of you, curling his fingers to hit it dead on and your knees shake.

"He doesn't know how to bend you over like this, how to take you apart like I do, does he?"

Your fingers clench into fists, stomach clenching and every push of Nico's finger stretching you pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. His hand on your wrists tightens, holding you in place and then his fucking his fingers into you faster. Your orgasm crashes over you, white stars bursting behind closed eyes.

He's still talking to himself, muttering stuff under his breath and stroking you through your high. Your thighs quiver and shake, the insides of them damp with it and your knees fully give out, leaving you a heap on the desk. The pounding in your ears must have blocked out the sound of Nico's zipper and the drop of his jeans, because your caught of guard when his fingers have only left you for a second before the weeping head of his cock is prodding at your pussy.

In one swift motion he buries himself in you, stretching your walls as his hips sit tightly against your ass. You feel useless, boneless after your orgasm, only able to lay there and take it. It's so nice you could cry, sniffling as Nico pulls back and fucks into you, a raw moan ripping from his throat.

"Fuck so perfect for me," he compliments, setting a fast and brutal pace. Your thighs and hips smack into the desk so harshly they'll definitely be sore tomorrow if not bruised too. His other hand grabs at your side, holding you so tightly you can feel his fingers between your ribs, painfully keeping you still.

"Just for me, fucking made for me."

You gasp, arch further into his strong body as your walls flutter around him. "All for you Nico," you mumble submissively, hoping to god that that's what he wants from you, that he wants to hear you. He groans in approval, the sound wrecked and rough. "Just want you, only ever want you, Nico."

Somehow he picks up the pace, fucking into you even harder and in the back of your mind you wonder where the fuck he got such a sturdy desk. Pressing his chest to your back, Nico sweeps your hair to the side, his lips finding the side of your neck.

"He had you first," he says low, breath hot against your ear "but I get you forever, right?"

Desperately, you nod, another orgasm building in the base of your belly. "Forever," you confirm. "He had me first, you'll be the last to have me Nico."

Sweetly, Nico kisses your temple. "Tell me," he request, now kissing at your jaw. "I want to hear more baby."

The juxtaposition of his cock fucking you into next week and his mouth being so sweet and soft cuts through you, leaves you raw and exposed to him. You knees shake again, thighs quivering as your high gets closer and closer, stronger now that he's already left you used and sensitive.

"He was the first to have me," you choke out, Nico's mouth ghosting over your cheek as he waits with bated breath. "but you were the first to have me raw, boss."

Nico makes a wounded sound, like he'd been punched in the gut and his hips stutter for a moment before picking up the same pace. He captures your mouth in a biting kiss, licking into your mouth with such dominance and control it sends you over the edge.

He fucks you through it, rocking his hips a few more times before he too stills, buried to the hilt as he comes. You pulse around him, greedily accept everything he pumps into you with absolutely no resistance. Nico kisses at your slack mouth, mumbling soft praises as you come down from your second orgasm.

"So good, baby. You did so good for me," he dots kisses under your eye, dragging his fingers across the skin and you blink your eyes open, realize your eyelashes are clumpy with tears and he's drying your cheeks for you.

"Nico," you cry, legs and hips aching, the edge of the desk digging into your skin uncomfortably He shifts, taking his weight off of you and releasing your hands. They prickle with pins and needly, the blood rushing back to them as they fall to your sides, numbly.

"I got you sweet girl," he assures, kissing down your back. Your in a haze as he pulls his jeans and boxers back up, then helps ease your underwear and skirt back into place. You make a noise complaint, needing to at least clean up a little bit but you don't make a move to do anything.

"You're fine," Nico tells you, slipping a hand under your stomach to drag you up from the desk. "Can sit out there with me dripping from you, yeah? Want you to remember who takes such good care of you now."

Like mush, you let Nico turn and sit you on the desk again, swiping his black shirt from the surface. He looks so pretty standing over you, cheeks flush and glowing, eyes still dark with arousal. His hair falls a little flat over his forehead, a crooked and boyish smile on his face.

"Yeah," you agree, still dazed as he uses his shirt to wipe under your eyes and around your lips, cleaning the spit remaining from his mouth.

Nico leans down, kisses between your eyes in a move so soft and fluttering it tickles, makes you blush like a school girl. "You're never too much," he promises, recalling the reason why Tyson had broken up with you. "You are everything. So pretty when you come, when you cry for me like that. I live for it."

Your heart aches in your chest, his kind words drawing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It had been something that followed you, an insecurity always in the back of your mind. You accepted whatever love you could get because you thought that was it. You were too much, they couldn't offer you more and you couldn't ask for more.

Until Nico.

"I love you Schao."

He smiles all handsome and precious, smoothing your hair down with a gentle hand. "Love you more, my baby."

You fall forward into his stomach, cheek pressing into the damp skin on his ribs. You want to hug him but your arms are still regaining their feeling and your legs are tired right now, so you settle for lazily wrapping an arm around his thighs.

“What’s a hodensniterin?”

He snickers, hand on your head, protectively. “Ball fucker.”

[freyito]

hello hello!!! may i order an idia flavored curry rice plz?? blinks cutely) ty!!

✭ pairing(s): idia shroud x gn reader

★ in which: idia is WAY too confident that he can out miku you.

✩ curry rice black forest cake w/ idia shroud!

✦ entry for my 1k follower event, Freyito's Maid Cafe! check out the link to figure out how to send an order!!

✧ a/n: ykw anon. im so glad you changed your mind because this gave me SUCH a banger idea that i couldnt go to sleep cause i was writing it out in my head. teehee :)

🗒 cw: gn reader, ffxiv sneak, just embarrassed idia :3, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.7k

ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠɪʟ | ꜰʀᴇʏɪᴛᴏ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴄᴀꜰᴇ !

It was late at night, and you had been on call with Idia. He was grinding out materials for some new transmog that had dropped in his game, and cursing the drop rates. You, on the other hand, were grinding out Project Diva Mega Mix for no particular reason. You had just made up your mind that you wanted to full combo some extra songs, and now you were hellbent on doing so. Plus, it provided some nice background music for Idia and his grind sesh.

By now, you had two songs finished and full cleared (albeit, with 97% accuracy), and you were working on your third, Sweet Devil. You already had four failed runs, your hands were starting to cramp a bit, and Idia’s smart remarks weren’t helping you. Not to mention, you always found the mvs distracting. Too much happening in the background while you were trying to focus on the notes.

You slump back in your chair with a huff as you watch the small word ‘safe’ pop up and interrupt your combo. You watch for just a moment as the symbols fly past on the screen, a barrage of ‘miss’es following shortly after. You finally exit the mv, balling your hands into a fist and then stretching out your fingers.

“I thought you were, like, a god at rhythm games,” Idia chides. You can hear the smile through his mic.

“Well sometimes it takes a couple tries,” You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure it does,” He chuckles. When you look at his stream, he’s finished up running maps and his character is now toiling away by the marketboard. “I bet I could do it.”

You raise your eyebrow, though he can’t see it. “Hm, what’s the stakes?”

“We need stakes?”

“You’re insulting my integrity as a rhythm game player. I want there to be a deal.”

A silence follows your voice, but you can hear him shift back in his chair. “Okay. What do you want to bet, then?”

Hm. You yourself don’t know exactly what you want if you win. Maybe you could get some gil off of him in game, but that didn’t feel like enough. You look around your room, before spotting something rather intriguing. It was a forgotten purchase, a pastel pink maid dress. It was rather cheap material, but still served its function. You were sure if you looked for them, you’d find the rest of the pieces…

“Loser wears a maid dress,” You declare triumphantly. “I got one in my closet.”

“... I, uh, don’t wanna ask why you have that,” He mumbles, “But I guess I accept. It’d be pretty nice to see you in a maid dress, heh…”

“Don’t act like you’ve already won. You haven’t even opened the game yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, just lemme put this up on the marketboard and I’ll get on the game…”

You lean back, content to wait and give your hands a bit of a break. You can’t help but smirk at not only making Idia eat his words, but seeing him in a maid dress would make you… quite happy, to say the least. The light pink would pair well with his hair and– you have to stop yourself there. You’d rather not distract yourself any further, nor allow yourself to get cocky. You can’t get ahead of yourself, or else you risk losing perhaps the most precious award you could ever have. 

“Okay. I’m on. Which song was it again?” Idia finally speaks up. When you look back at his stream, he’s ended it.

“Sweet Devil– Hey, you should stream your screen,” You point out, tabbing back into your game.

“I’m getting to itttt,” He drags the last letter, like it was too much work, as if he had not streamed his games every time you two called.

You watch as the ‘stream has ended’ switches to his screen, scrolling through the songs before landing on sweet devil. He changes difficulties to extreme, then waits for a moment, like he’s expecting you to say something. You decide to mess with him a little bit, staying silent a little longer.

“I’m waiting,” He groans, and you can almost hear his eyes roll. “I know you’re watching. I heard the little viewer noise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You chuckle, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Idia doesn’t even grace you with a ‘go’, or anything of the sort, simply starting the song, following your words. You scramble to tab back into the game, quickly selecting the song. 

The song and mv start up, and soon after the notes come in. You do your best to focus, to try and block out the MV, the bright pink lights of Miku’s room and Miku herself made it hard to follow the notes, especially with how fast they were. Still, you find your rhythm relatively easily, considering you knew the song and charting by heart. Normally, you’d be super conscious about the progress bar beneath the screen, checking to make sure you were well above the ‘excellent’, marker. However, you were too determined to focus. And unfortunately, that would be too much of a distraction. You don't even focus on if your hits are 'good' or 'excellent'.

The hold notes scare you the most, considering you always end up slipping up on them, somehow. Either that, or you don’t hold them for long enough and panic when you can just press the other buttons on your keyboard. You tell yourself, over and over again, in your mind, that you can just use the other set of keys. You have to. You can’t risk allowing Idia to have any sort of edge on you.

Three minutes feels like five, or even ten. Idia has been far too quiet during this, not even muttering something under his breath. You feel grateful for a moment, if you heard anything on his side, you’d probably mess up. Maybe you could mess him up. Yes. No. Ugh, if you did, you’d probably mess yourself up, too. And if you had messed him up, he’d complain and call for a redo. You would rather never play this song again, to be honest.

Just as your fingers start to tingle– a result of adrenaline, for some reason–, the word ‘success’ comes up. Behind the notes, Miku turns her little devil tail into a spear and throws it as a planet. You do your best not to celebrate too early, still having to go through with the last couple seconds of the song. You were just happy to have nailed the challenge time, more than happy. 

After the last couple of notes, you’re able to lean back and relax. For a moment. When the ‘clear’ screen comes up, you feel your heart jump at the percentage. 101.53%. You look over at Idia’s stream and can’t help but laugh. 99.07%.

“No,” He utters weakly, with an agony in his voice you have never heard before. He doesn’t say anything else.

“Yes,” You feel maniacal, an odd elation spreading through your chest. You don’t even exit the game, hopping out of your chair. “You stay right there.”

You pull the dress from your closet, listening to Idia frantically call for Ortho from your headphones. The rest of what he says is unintelligible, given the distance between you and your headphones as you rummage through drawers to find the rest of the costume. You find the cuffs, stockings, and even a headband with cat ears. It’s a little bent, but you’d fix it on the way.

Hurriedly, you stuffed the costume into a bag, grabbing your phone and turning on the flashlight. Slinging the bag over your shoulder and rushing out of your house. You keep your flashlight pointed at the ground so you don’t trip, running as fast as you can to the Hall of Mirrors. Like it is a high-stakes situation, time is precious. If you can’t make it to Ignihyde’s dorms soon, then you will never see Idia in a maid dress, even if you won the bet.

The minute you reach the Hall of Mirrors, you practically throw yourself through Ignihyde’s mirrors, scrambling through the halls with harsh breaths. Your heavy footsteps echo through the halls as you make your way up the steps and to Idia’s room, clutching the strap of your bag. Ortho is there, in front of Idia’s door, opening it just a crack.

Seeing you, the boy lights up, smiling at you from underneath his mask. “Oh, hey, Idia. They’re here!”

“Nooo!” Idia squeals, and you can what him scrambling from his chair to close the door.

You shove your foot into the crack of the door just as Idia tries to open it. He uses more force than he means to, squeeze your foot slightly. You don’t emote, despite how much it hurts. Which scares Idia. But you don’t care. You won the bet. And he needs to pay up. Ortho stares blankly, trying to figure out what has Idia acting this way, before scolding his brother.

“That’s mean! You shouldn’t try to shut your partner out, especially like that!” 

Idia shrinks back a little. It’s clear that Ortho doesn’t know what has you on such a warpath, and you are quite happy with that. Finally, you smile a little, opening the door with your other hand. 

“Ortho…” Idia murmurs, turning his gaze away from you and his brother. “We’re gonna, uhm, game all night. Just us two. So, uh, you should get some sleep.”

He sounds utterly defeated, and Ortho remains none the wiser as to what you were about to subject poor Idia too.

“Huh? But you called me here?” Ortho tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

“I-I didn’t mean it– er, It was a mistake,” 

“... Okay! I’ll leave you two be. Have fun!”

And with that, Ortho hovers away, happy to leave his brother in your hands. By then, Idia knows he’s lost. You take a step in, handing him the bag with the dress and accessories in it. You don’t even speak to him, feeling a bit too giddy about your win, and prize.

“Uhm… can you at least stay out there, while I get changed?” His voice is shy, understandably so. 

“If you lock yourself in there, I’ll get Ortho to break it down,” You place your hands on your hips, in an attempt to seem confident.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

He’s right, you were well aware that your threat was kind of empty. But there’s no way you were going to let him get away.

“Then I’ll get those Heartslabyul first years to kick the door down.”

He lets out a small ‘eep’ at this, frowning. “Okay, okay, I won’t lock the door. Fine. You win.”

He doesn’t allow you any time to reply, taking the back and closing the door all too quickly. You can hear him shuffling about and the clothes rustling, and you feel your stomach flip-flop with nerves. You fidget with your hands and turn your back to the door, pretending like you actually didn’t care all that much so that Idia could get dressed faster, like that would work. You cross your arms, tapping your fingers against your biceps while you wait.

After a while, you hear the door crack behind you, and you turn around way too excitedly. He barely peeks through, giving you a look akin to a pleading puppy. He didn’t open the door all the way, insistent that you had to slip in through the crack, in case any one else would look out and see him. He’d rather save himself the embarrassment.

Finally squeezing through the door, he shuts it quickly. You, on the other hand, are greeted with a sight. His entire face is red, the tips of his hair flickering a bright pink as he looks away in embarrassment. The dress is a little short for him, so he clutches to the hem of the skirt and pulls it down a little. The pink worked well with his hair and his skin, just like you thought. It’s cliche, one of the dresses that was copy pasted from all those maid animes and what not. But still, you think it fit well.

“This is so cheap,” Idia complains, tilting his head up. “Okay. I dressed up. Can you go now so I can get back in my pajamas?”

You realize he’s missing something. The cat ears.

“No. No, I’m not leaving until you put the cat ears on.” You state simply, looking around for where they are.

He grimaces, deflating even more. “Please no. I think I might die. Actually, I’m going to die. Right now.”

“I won the bet fair and square, it’s not my fault. Where are they, Idia.” You speak with such a stern voice, it almost scares him. He finally, hesitantly, points to his chair, his grimace deepening as he looks back at you. “Put. Them. On.”

He groans, turning around and grabbing the cat ears. He gives you one last look, begging you to just let him go. Maybe you’re being a little too sadistic, but c’mon, Idia in a maid dress. That’s it. You plan to make the most of it. Slowly, he lifts the headband over his head, then lowers it down. Now you have your own Idia cat maid in front of you. You can’t help but smile, absolutely jubilant to see this poor man wearing such a cute dress.

“Okay. Can you go now, please,” He pleads once more, bringing a hand up to his face.

“Can I at least take a picture?” You hold up your phone.

“N-no! Please, no. I’m already at my lowest point, don’t have to kick me while I’m down…”

“Okay, okay,” You decide to finally allow him some mercy, “I won’t. But… I don’t think this image is ever leaving my head any time soon.”

He sighs and shakes his head, avoiding your gaze. But he doesn’t reply. Well, that won’t do. You decide to come up with a quick excuse to stay.

“Well, I ran all the way here, in the dark, it’d suck if you sent me back,” You try to play it cool, tilting your head a little and looking up through your lashes at him. This earns you a deeper blush.

“Stop it,” He huffs, turning his head. Met with his set up, he realizes you two are technically still on call. And he finds his way out. “Your pc is on, you know.”

“Huh.”

“It’s on. You’re still in call.” He points to his monitor.

Your blind blanks for a minute, before you panic a little. You would like to stay and see if you can get him to stay in the maid dress for a little longer, but at the same time, you’d rather not blow out the power supply of your pc. That thing is too damn expensive. And you love it too much.

“Okay. Bye.” You huff briskly, turning on your heels and waiting for the door open before running back down to the mirror that connected the Ignihyde dorms to the Hall of Mirrors.

Idia yelps as the door slides open fully, stepping back and pressing himself against the wall so no one would see. Like anyone else was up at this time. He listens to you rush down the hallway, before letting out a breath. Once the door is shut all the way, he’s quick to wriggle out of the dress, throwing the cat ears, cuffs, and stockings (which ended up ripping a bit) to the corner of his room.

Almost breaking the zipper, he yanks it down on the back of his dress and throws it alongside the scattered recipes, before staring intently at it. Why couldn’t you have just waited for him to undress and take it back? He didn’t want these god forsaken items here. In his room. That reminded him of you. That’s like the cheesiest romantic thing couples do! And in this fashion, perhaps even cringey! He wants to burn it, so bad. Or throw it out. But what if someone somehow finds it in the trash? And then they link it back to him? That’d be the worst scenario. The absolute worst.

He continues to stare at it for a minute, before reaching for his pajamas that were hanging off the back of his chair. Fine. He’ll leave the stupid costume alone for now. Perhaps it’d come in handy one day. Give you a taste of your own medicine… or something.

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[gracie-eilish]

Peachy (pt 3)🧡✨🍑

an: THE LONGGGGGGGGG AWAITED PART THREEEEEEE

apologies for the delay y’all. i’m still maneuvering writing smut and i know y’all really like this series so i didn’t want it to be like super bad🤦‍♀️😵‍💫

warning: smut, fingering/oral r!receiving

Billie stood in the doorway to the living room, pretending to continue watching the movie, practically bouncing with energy. She was chewing on her nail while her ankle bounced in anticipation. You on the other hand, were furiously talking to your sibling in the other on the phone.

“Dude, just tell Mom to bring her phone to the fucking store and have them fix it. I have no idea why you’re calling me over such a small issue!” You huffed out, making Billie stifle a laugh.

Your head was in your hands, sitting at Billie’s kitchen table, trying not to scream into the phone as your friends all calmly continued their movie night in the room next door. Forget about the fact that this phone call was so not important like you had hoped it would be, the throbbing between your thighs only had intensified since you left the couch.

As your sibling rambled, you couldn’t help but let you mind wander to just a few minutes ago…

Billie’s soft hands splayed out on your thighs, her minty breath on your neck and her hot whispers in your ear, and her soft fingers playing with your clit so delicately-

“Hello????? Are you still there?” Shit.

“Yes hi sorry, connections glitchy. You know what I’m a little busy right now so please, just take Mom’s phone to the store and have the professionals figure it out and we’ll take it from there! Okay, Okay. Please don’t call me again tonight, I’m busy. Bye!!!” You set your phone down with a huff and sat your face in your hands.

As you started to gather yourself to rejoin the group, you started to hear the rumblings and padding around of everyone starting to head out for the night. Thank God, you thought.

You made your way back to the living room, hearing Billie say goodbye to the last of your friends before shutting the door. Her footsteps made their way back down the hall to where you stood, now shy, in the doorway.

“Hi Peach,” Billie said, finally letting out a laugh. You joined in giggling with her.

“What the fuck was that all about?” She giggled, signaling for you to sit on the couch.

“Fuckin christ. Some virus or something on my mom’s phone?? And apparently I’m a tech wiz so I was the one they called. I have zero fucking clue why,” You sighed out with a small smile, frustrated but laughing at the situation.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to.. you know,” Billie said with a smirk and you swear you saw a twinge of a blush on her cheeks.

“I still can you know.. I’ve got nowhere to be if that’s okay with you…” You flirted back, your tone now soft and sultry.

“Yeah, Peachy?” She smirked.

“Yeah baby.” Billie blushed at the nickname, you were always the soft, shy one so this was a new side to you she hadn’t seen before.

Before she could say another word you had already leaned in crashing your lips to hers, hands in her hair and her hands on your waist, pulling each other in as close as can be.

Billie grabbed your hand and lead you out of the living room up to her bedroom, the two of you giggling along the way.

As she shut the door behind her, your hands found Billie's waist, pulling her closer. You stood on your toes and pressed your lips against hers, initiating a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Your mouths moved in perfect harmony, tongues dancing and exploring, tasting each other's desire.

“Mmm Bils..” you moaned in between kisses.

“I know Peachy, I know..” she reassured.

As the kiss deepened, Billie's hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve and contour. She slid her hands under your shirt, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of your lower back. You moaned into the kiss, your body arching into Billie's touch.

She backed you up until your knees hit the mattress, softly pushing you back till you fell with a soft thud. You pushed yourself back until your head lay on her pillows, as Billie crawled up to hover over you. Her long dark hair creating a curtain around your faces, as she stared deep into your eyes, her own turning into a deep dark lust filled blue.

“You sure mama?” Billie pulled back to see your full face. Not two hours ago she was fingering you under the blanket on her couch and now she was being sweet. The thought made you giggle before responding a meek ‘yes’, barely able to make words.

With slow, deliberate movements, Billie began to pull off your shirt, revealing your pale orange colored lace bra and the swell of your breasts. Billie chuckled softly at the color choice, briefly looking up at you through her lashes, you just smirked back down at her; you knew what you were doing.

“You’re trouble aren’t ya peach,” she quipped, moving her way back up to your neck. You just giggled before letting out a blissful sigh when her lips came in contact with your neck. She kissed a path down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of fire, and pink and purple marks. Your hands tangled in her hair, guiding her, encouraging her to take what she wanted. Her skilled fingers found their way to your back, unclipping your bra and pulling it off, revealing your perfect tits to her.

“So pretty,” She whispered mainly to herself, but she knew you heard it when your face flushed a deep pink.

Your hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer, urging her to feel the intensity of your desire. Her fingers found the waistband of your shorts, deftly untying them and sliding them and your panties down your slender legs. She followed suit, taking off her own top revealing her dark colored lace bra, her perfect tits practically spilling out of it. Followed by her sweats, revealing her matching thong… and those yummy tattoos. She had you drooling and you didn’t even know it.

“You like what you see mama?” She whispered, making your eyes shoot back up to her own, nodding softly, unable to form words. She smirked taking off her bra and thong, and then knelt before you, gazing up at you with desire-filled eyes.

“I need to taste you peachy, is that okay mama?” You flushed at the nickname, nodding softly before leaning down to kiss her softly.

She pulled away and leaned back on her heels gently spreading your legs, revealing your wetness, a testament to your arousal.

“So pretty f’me Peach. You know that? Prettiest peach, all f’me,” She rambled into your thighs, pressing kisses everywhere except where you needed her.

Finally her fingers delved into your moist folds, stroking and teasing your clit. Your breath quickened as Billie's skilled fingers brought you to the brink of ecstasy. "Oh, fuck Billie," you gasped, your body trembling.

“Ah ah ah, not yet sweet girl. Want this to last,” She whispered, leaning up to press a wet kiss to your tummy.

Billie's mouth replaced her fingers, her tongue flicking and licking, driving you wild with pleasure. She sucked on your sweet bud, her fingers continuing to stroke and tease, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Billie I- fuck. Billie, please!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, you just knew you needed it.

“Please what angel? What do you want, hmm? Tell me.” You gasped out, letting your head fall back as she whispered into your pussy.

“I’m so close, please- I want more!” You cried out. tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you got so close to your release for the second time tonight.

“Peachy wants more, Peachy gets more,” She smirked into your thighs before diving back in.

“I swear to god you even taste like a peach. How the fuck did you do that??” She questioned, chuckling a bit, gaining a breathy giggle out of you too.

You giggle was cut short when she slipped two fingers back into you and finally hit that sweet spot making you see stars.

“Holy fuck Billie!” you cried out, watching her. She never broke eye contact, watching you as her eyes darkened with every thrust. She had been waiting for this for so long… way before that party at your place…

Your body tensed, and with a cry of release, you came, your sweet juices flowing onto Billie's waiting tongue.

She savored the taste of you, your orgasm lingering on her lips. She continued to moan and lap at your sensitive folds, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. Your body trembled, your hands gripping the sheets before grabbing Billie’s hand off your hip and intertwining your fingers as you rode the waves of your climax.

As your breathing slowed, Billie gently kissed your inner thighs, leaving a trail of tender kisses up to your face, making you giggle. She sat up to flop down next to you in bed pulling you into a tight embrace, your naked bodies pressing together.

“You okay sweet girl?” Billie whispered, running a hand over your back softly.

“Yeah I’m okay,” You replied sleepily, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, making Billie’s heart burst.

“Hey Billie?” You mumbled.

“Yeah Peach?”

“I kinda have a crush on you,” Billie cackled at your statement, your own giggles mixing in with hers.

“What?! I do!!” You whined teasingly.

“Yeah Peachy, I know you do,” She replied laughing. “Can I tell you a secret too?”

You nodded biting your lip, holding back another sweet giggle.

“I have a crush on you too,” She replied in her little voice. You gasped dramatically, putting your hand on your chest, clutching your invisible pearls as Billie leaned over to pepper kisses all over your cheeks.

As your giggles subsided, the two of you snuggled up closer to one another. Billie grabbed the edge of the blanket and brought it up over your shoulders making sure you were warm enough.

“You sleepy, baby?” She whispered, only met with a small nod and sleepy whimper from you as you wrapped yourself around her more.

“Wait.. m’not that sleepy. Wanna help you too,” you slurred out, trying to blink enough to wake up your eyes. Billie bit back a giggle before pulling your body back down to hers. You would have your time to pleasure Billie. For now, having you in her arms was enough.

“Goodnight Peach,” She whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your head. You had already drifted off, your body relaxing fully into hers, limp in her arms.

As Billie drifted off and the smell of your peachy perfume filled her senses, she knew that this was heaven.

🧡✨🍑💋

[munsonsmixtapes]

hi! i have a jayvik prompt for your consideration, with jayvik finding it difficult to concentrate in the lab while you are there, and keep making mistakes because of it. can be as spicy or sfw as you like ofc

This is the first fic I've written about Arcane so please be gentle with me!

cw: allusions to smut

You know how difficult it is for Jayce and Viktor to focus when you’re in the lab. You only end up there because you love to hang out with them and maybe you’re trying to get them to admit that they’re interested in you. You’ve been conducting an experiment of your own, to see how long it will take them to finally make their feelings known, but it seems that wearing low-cut tops and short skirts had only just made them drool instead of making a move. 

Viktor at least compliments you while Jayce just gets flustered when you get close. His cheeks turning bright pink as you shamelessly flirt with him as you back him up to the desk. You love making pretty men stutter. He wants you so bad, always staring at your lips when you talk to him. It’s pathetic but he doesn’t care. You actually find it to be adorable.

Viktor is very upfront about his feelings, though, making it very clear that he wants you. He’ll lean on you when he doesn’t feel like using his cane and he loves that you will hold onto him, letting him lean his head on your shoulder. 

And while Jayce does feel a little jealous, seeing you together ultimately just sends him into a bi panic. He loves watching the way your hand slides up and down Viktor’s back as he writes on the chalkboard and the way you’ll help Viktor sit on the desk when he gets tired then stand between his legs as he pulls you into his arms. How can he even be upset when the two of you look so good together? 

Today, though, you’re sitting on Jayce’s desk when he comes into the lab, kicking your legs back and forth as you eat the sandwich he had left there for you this morning. Your face lights up when you see him, finishing your last bite as you motion for him to come closer, holding your arms. 

“Hey, handsome,” you greet as your arms wrap around his shoulders, his wrapping around your waist, his face burying into your neck just like always. This is his favorite moment of every day that he sees you, he thinks, being wrapped up in your touch as you hold him for however long he wants. 

This is going to be a long hug. He’s been struggling with one of his Hextech inventions and just needs your reassurance to be able to fix it. You’re always so encouraging and he feels like he needs that to today. 

Once he reluctantly pulls away, he sits in his chair, having to turn away because he can see up your skirt and he knows that he shouldn’t be looking. He just turns every so slightly, picking up his screwdriver to work on one of the weapons he’s created, trying his hardest to not think about how badly he wants to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you’re crying his name. 

Viktor can’t focus either having dropped his pencil more times than he can count as he’s been trying to work on a sketch of one of the newer projects. You just look so beautiful and he can’t focus, his eyes staying on your lips as you flirt with Jayce, leaning over ever so slightly, giving him the perfect view of your cleavage that he stares at for a few seconds before snapping out of it. 

It’s getting sad, you think, so you’ve finally got to do something about this whole thing, finally make a move on both of them. You love the longing looks, but this is just getting pathetic at this point. So you turn Jayce to face you and hold his face gently in your hands, pressing your lips to his. He gasps into your mouth but quickly melts into you, pliant under your touch, willing to let you do whatever you want to him. He’s putty in your hands. 

Viktor is becoming concerned with how much he’s enjoying watching the two of you kiss, concerned with the fact that he’s getting hard. He’s always been attracted to the two of you separately, but seeing you together is making him want you even more, desperately wishing he could be part of it.

Your hands slide into his hair and he’s moaning into your mouth as his hands slide up your thighs as your place a foot on each side of his chair. He’s trying to pull you into his lap when you pull away, watching his eyes fill with lust. He lets out a whine as you hop off the desk and you just shake your head at him. 

“There’s no need to be greedy, baby,” you tsk. “Viktor needs a turn.”

Viktor turns around fully and his eyes widen as you lean down over him, kissing him more hungrily than you had kissed Jayce and he’s eating it up, whining as your tongue slides into his mouth, roaming around as you put something in between his shirt and vest. You give it a pat then pull away, smiling down at him, seeing his parted lips as he stares up at you, his eyes filling with lust just like Jayce’s. 

You motion for both of them to come closer with your pointer finger and they’re quick to stand, Viktor moving slower as he has to reach his cane. You’re moving to the door and they’re both following you like lost puppies, desperate for more of whatever you just gave them. 

“Viktor has a key to my apartment where I’ll be waiting for the two of you after you’re done here. I think we all could have some fun together considering the chemistry we all have. If you don’t come, I completely understand, but I’d really like for you too.”

“I’ll be there,” they both say in unison, so quickly that you barely understand them, but your face lights up at their agreement. 

“Perfect!” You respond then press kisses to each of their mouths before fleeing the lab, leaving Jayce and Viktor, neither of them wanting to discuss the fact that this is going to turn their friendship into something vastly different and it will never be the same. Neither of them care, though, looking forward to spending the night with you and each other, counting down the hours until they’re done with their work.

[moonydustx]

Hiiii!! I love your writing and was wondering if you’re still accepting requests? If so could I have one where reader is dressed in a similar outfit to Nami’s purple Zou outfit and there’s a big party happening and reader gets self conscious bc no ones talking to her during said party so she leaves to go back to her room that has a balcony and as she’s staring down at the party Law comes in to see why she left so she like tells him she feels ridiculous in her outfit and it turns out that Law was jealous that other people got to see her in such an outfit because he likes her so much that he was staring people down so no one would take her attention and he confesses how he feels under the stars on the balcony? and maybe there’s smut🤭🤭🤭 You can skip this request if you want!! I know i wrote a lot 😅

hello, anyone there?

Sorry for the delay in responding to your request and sort of answering your question, yes, I still accept requests, but I've been working kind of 10 hour days + responsibilities at home, which hasn't given me much time to write.

I made some small adjustments to your suggestion, I honestly hope you don't hate me.

•••

my reach

info: what sensations can a pirate life bring? After a victory, a celebration can mean many things.

warnings: text not proofread, will possibly have some errors as English isn't my first language. a kittle bit angst, F!reader have some insecurities, smut, doing in open skies, a little dirty talk.

For those who haven't reached Zou, this is the reference dress.

You didn't know what was echoing louder at that moment: the drunken voices, the singing or your thoughts. It was a party, you should have been happy or at least a little confident.

After so many fights and disputes, the alliance between the pirates had finally worked out and apparently you would finally have some time of peace. What didn't need many more reasons than this for Luffy, captain of one of the allied crews, to suggest a huge banquet, a party that would probably last for days and no one would question it. The good thing about having other crews together was that the reduced number of women - in the heart pirates it was the large number of two, you and Ikkaku - increased, even if not so radically, just enough to fill the fingers of one hand.

"You really didn't like it?" Nami turned you in front of a mirror, forcing you to look at yourself once more. "It suits you so much."

"I think it looks amazing." Robin added with a simple smile. "And it's a banquet between friends, there's nothing to worry about."

"I agree, but after being so stressed with so many events, I think we deserve a more dressed-up day." Nami added, adjusting one of the straps on your dress. "And also a little alcohol, a little flirting, seriously, being a pirate can't be just that and besides there are so many different people here."

"But don't you think it's a bit much?" Your voice wavered a little and you had to dodge the pillow Ikkaku threw in your direction.

"Don't listen to her. We've been underwater for so long and in our uniforms that I think she's lost her common sense."

"Don't talk nonsense." You shot back, laughing. "Okay, a little alcohol won't hurt." About the flirting part, you don't know how safe you would feel with that.

The main deck of the ship was something almost impossible to cross. Some people walked around each other, singing songs that were almost impossible to decipher, others toasted and competed over how many mugs they could down at once. You just went with the flow, keeping up with the others' hurried steps.

It wasn't long before a drink occupied your hand and you got lost in some almost frivolous conversations. The stress you had recently experienced seemed to prevent everyone from thinking about anything more serious and, to be honest, not even you wanted to get caught up in problems at that moment.

"Ladies." Sanji's voice came across the entire space, in his hand some appetizers and you tried hard to ignore the fact that he was almost drooling. "You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen, I would write poems about you..."

In a somewhat strange juggling act, you saw him try to balance the tray in one hand and, with the other, twist to alternate between your colleague's hands, placing a kiss on each of them. Except for you, to whom he just smiled in your direction and headed in the opposite direction. Even staring at the other women present, that seemed like a common situation so you allowed yourself to ignore it.

With an almost lame excuse, your feet took you to the other side of the ship, where you could see your captain's sullen face while being disturbed by other crewmates.

"A good victory." You raised your glass, toasting first to Shachi, then Penguin and finally Law, who seemed to be immersed in something inside his own mind.

"Look, I don't think we've ever seen you so..." Shachi couldn't finish speaking before getting elbowed by his crewmate.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Law asked as soon as the two left with some excuse that you didn't try to understand what it was about.

"Yes, as much as possible."

You even thought about commenting on how you had become an outcast, even though in the hours before you had been trying hard to achieve the exact opposite result. However, for a flash, you were sure that Law was analyzing you. From top to bottom, inch by inch.

"Is there a problem, Captain?" A smile filled your lips as you saw him startled as he was pulled out of his own mind.

"Dresses. You don't usually wear them." He seemed lost in his own words. "It looks..."

Beautiful? Interesting? God, the milliseconds of waiting before Law finished speaking seemed like a small infinity of possibilities in your mind. A place where he had a certain captive vacancy, but he wouldn't even dream of it.

"It looks different." He pointed out and you could only nod.

Different. Okay, it's not the worst answer but it's far from a good one. The relationship between the captain and the subordinate of the two of you was intrinsically... different. Strangely comfortable, uncomfortably distant. He would always prefer to discuss some decisions with you and to the jealousy filled with tantrums and laughter of some, he would insist that you were the best cook of the crew. On your side, you loved ask him for tips, from books to medicines, and whenever possible, you would insist on having him stitch you up after some battles. You hated scars and he was the only one who could prevent them. It was a different relationship, he occupied a somewhat different place in you, but that didn't need to be exposed.

Apparently, if the efforts to look even minimally pretty that night didn't affect him, it wouldn't make any difference anymore. With an almost invisible smile on your lips, you just nodded and left him there. You started talking to some, laughed with others, but it didn't seem to work. From the idea of ​​alcohol and flirting, apparently only the first part was working. Heavens, Brook hadn't even asked about the color of your panties.

Luckily, keeping the ships close to each other meant that it wasn't difficult for you to reach the empty deck of the Polar Tang. The sound of the party was getting a little more distant. The full moon illuminated the entire night and, in addition to reflecting on the sea, created an almost distorted shadow of your body. Was that what you were then? You let your hand run over your dress, analyzing every stitch. Nothing was out of place, nothing seemed wrong with the outfit. The problem must be you.

"I would invest a good amount of berries for your thoughts." Law's voice startled you, which made him laugh. "Did you need some time to breathe?"

"Yeah, I guess so." You leaned against the edge of the deck, drowning in your own frustrations.

"I still have some berries to invest." He tried to lighten the mood, leaning against your side. "I know my crew too well. What happened?"

"It's just... is that all there is to a pirate's life?" You turned around, frustrated. "Tonight I wanted to feel something different from all the stress we have. Something more interesting than the smell of gunpowder, than the sting of a blade."

"I think there's enough booze there for you to feel much more than that."

"It's not that, Law. Geez, I dressed in a way I've never dressed before. Makeup, heels, perfume and still, I'm an outcast." you said frustrated and saw a smirk escape his lips. "Man, this isn't funny. I mean, not even Brook cared about my panties?"

"About that..." he began, his fingers adjusting his hat that wasn't out of place, just like a nervous tic. "Maybe someone threatened to throw him into the sea before he could even speak."

"What do you mean?"

"And maybe I told Sanji that if he got close to you his balls would sink to the bottom of the sea too. And maybe I said something similar to Killer, but he's more rational so he didn't need that much of a threat. And I definitely punched Kid."

"You punched Kid?"

"He said some really disgusting things." Law spoke with a frighteningly ordinary naturalness.

However, for you none of that was ordinary. You just stood there, still, watching the little confessions that came out of Law's lips. So he had pushed you away from everyone? That wouldn't make any sense. Unless...

"Apparently I was brave enough to do all that, but I've been a coward in hiding what I feel. You don't look any different, you look beautiful and I can guarantee that I wasn't the only one who thought that."

"You just made sure I didn't know that, right?"

"Sorry." he commented still in a frustrated tone, but taking a few steps enough to stop in front of you. "I like you, I really do. It got to a point where I found myself reading more books just to know what to recommend to you, I found myself hating being a doctor because I have to stitch you up every time you get into a fight at the same time I wouldn't let anyone touch you for that." He sighed deeply. The short distance between the two of you made your fingers itch to hug him. "What you said makes sense, we're pirates, we shouldn't only feel war inside us."

"What else can we feel then?"

Your lips touched before his hands even reached your waist. It was hard to know what had given you goosebumps more: the cold wind against your bare skin, the way your body was leaning against the edge of the deck, making you imminent of falling, or the way he had advanced on you. Definitely the third option.

His tongue began to invade your space, tracing delicious routes through your mouth, a fight for space that you had no interest in winning. His hands traced your curves until they rested on your waist. Whoever invented the theory that two bodies occupied the same place would probably be a good spectator for the way the two of you snuggled together.

Law seemed to have no shortage of air since, when he gave you space to breathe, his lips simply slid to the hollow of your neck. Wet kisses mixed with small grunts that would be marked on your skin, drawn like a map just for him, just for Law.

His eyes met yours as his kisses continued towards the neckline of your dress. A loud request - but still silent - to explore you beyond where his lips could reach at that moment.

"We could go somewhere else." You suggested breathlessly and saw him bury his face in your breasts, sighing deeply. "I really don't plan on being naked here."

"Naked? Nah." Without even hesitating, he supported you on the edge of the deck, preventing you from falling towards the sea by slipping into the gap between your legs. "I've been looking at you in that dress for too long to want to see you without it now."

"You've been looking?"

"Tell me, wasn't that exactly why you put it on?" An involuntary sigh escaped your lips when one of his hands slid down the inside of your thigh. "You drive me insane normally, but this... do you want to know what I thought?"

The question was rhetorical since beyond the moonlight, lust illuminated the eyes of the man tied to you. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers trailed over the damp fabric between your legs.

"Shh, we need to be discreet, okay? Can you be a good girl and stay quiet?" His fingers intensified the pressure, small circles under the damp fabric sending your mind into a spiral. "I promise to take you inside, let you make all the noise you want. And then I'll leave you naked, have all my time just for you."

"What if I want to stay here?" The question sounded like a challenge and you could have sworn that behind the fabric of his pants something had pulsed. "You still haven't told me what you thought, about the dress."

"What I thought..." he gently pulled you down from the support and turned you back to him. Your body automatically leaned forward, seeking contact. "The first idea that came to mind was you like this, on my table. All beautiful ready for me."

His hands adjusted the fabric of your dress so that it was to the side. His nimble fingers traced an indecipherable pattern on the skin of your ass, outlining the thin fabric of your panties.

"May I..." He asked, still circling the piece and saw you nod. With a delicacy unfamiliar to you, you felt him pull the fabric aside.

"Fuck." The word came out of his lips involuntarily. The sight made him hungrier than any dish he had seen at the banquet.

"What else did you think?" You asked, hearing the sound of his zipper.

"You're smart, I believe you know very well what I thought."

Silent kisses ran down your exposed back. The cold night breeze made contact with your damp skin, causing shivers. The first touch of his cock against your pussy elicited a shy moan from you as his teeth scraped your skin, whispering a shh once more, even though thrusting inside you had forced him to press his face against the back of your neck. The almost inaudible sounds that escaped your lips were enough for Law to almost explode right there.

He should have stopped being a coward before. It was only the first time and he didn't know how he could consider staying without feeling you.

"I'm sorry." He said, moving slowly. "You deserved better than the deck of a submarine."

"We're under the stars. Do you want something even better?" You said breathlessly, stretching your hand to reach his dark strands of hair. Law practically put his head under your hand, sinking into your neck. "Law!"

"I told you princess, no noise." He thrust harder, watching you press your lips together and hold back another moan. "Such a good girl, my good girl."

"A p-princess, huh?"

"My princess, yes. All dressed up like that I couldn't think of anything better." You barely understood how he could form a coherent thought while he was thrusting torturously and deliciously inside you. "I could call it an angel too. The way this beautiful pussy is squeezing me is definitely divine." His laugh at your moan sounded almost devilish, however.

The thrusts began to intensify and you pulled his hand that was holding your torso to cover your mouth, vainly containing the moans that escaped. You could already be clawing at the stars when you felt him pulling out of you. An almost drastic fall from the sky you were in.

"I want to look at you, beautiful thing." He turned you around to face him, lifting you up again. "I want to see that beautiful face when you cum."

"Then come back here now." You locked your legs around him, feeling his delicious invasion of you.

His lips once again took yours, just as voracious - if not even more so - than the first time. His coming and going grew louder and louder as he felt your voice vibrate against his. Moans being censored by each other.

"Hold on to me." He pulled away just enough to ask and you readily complied.

The abyss was getting closer and closer, the knot in your belly getting tighter and tighter. You stuck your body to his at first for fear of falling, but each time it became even more of a need to merge. Your screams hid in the small gap between the two of you, your skin would surely be sore at the slightest since his teeth dug in there as he filled you with his seed.

"I think..." he supported you back, still holding your waist with one hand. With the other, he lifted the shirt he was wearing. Both your eyes and his were guided to where your bodies joined. "We made a bit of a mess."

"A bit?" Your finger caught some of your mixed cum, bringing it to your own lips. "Delicious mess."

"Keep it up and you won't be coming back to the party." A light laugh escaped him as he heard you grunt as he pulled out of you. "On second thought, we don't need to go back."

"Law, you're the captain of one of the crews that was more than essential to the conquest."

"Well, that's a good idea." He said as he adjusted his own clothes and then repeated the gesture with yours. "Some clueless people will be able to know that you are out of their reach."

"Am I?"

"If your captain says so, I believe you should agree." He pointed out.

Your hands comforted his cheeks, smoothing every inch you could touch. A calm, almost chaste kiss escaped you. Anyone who saw from afar would imagine it was just a simple kiss and would not even be able to consider what you were doing a short time ago.

"I - I mean, I really want to keep you out of their reach. Only within my reach." That was it, in so much time as captain and subordinate, you had never seen Law look so nervous.

"Sounds like a good plan to me, captain. However, I hope it is reciprocal." He nodded, stealing another kiss from you.

Going back to the party seemed different. As soon as Law led you back to the ship, you let go of each other's hands, a small agreement of secrecy silently negotiated between you. However, you could feel him in you, in unconventional - and delicious - ways. Occasionally, you could feel his gaze burning in your direction, with distant care.

"Can I talk to you?" Zoro's voice startled you before you even noticed his hand on your waist. "Would you like to have a drink somewhere more private?"

"I'm drinking..." You pointed to the mug in your hand, but it took you a few seconds to fully understand what he was saying. "Oh, no. I mean, thank you, but no. I'm accompanied."

"Accompanied? So your captain finally stopped being a wimp?" Zoro saw and glanced sideways, not surprised to see that whatever Robin was talking to Law about seemed like a distant subject. "Nami asked me to do this, to see if he would do something."

"Hey, swordsman." You could hear the irritation in Law's voice from afar and it was clear how unhappy he was at that moment. "Is there a problem with her?"

"No, Captain, everything's fine here." You smiled in his direction and waved at Zoro, who just ignored what Law had said and left.

"So..." You started, trying to give your best mischievous smile. Which was much easier after remembering everything. "My drink is gone and I think I'm tired. I'm thinking about going back to Polar Tang."

"Sure, I can accompany you." Law said in false modesty.

You could count on your fingers how many steps you took towards a more empty place before the starry night turned into a room you didn't usually visit. Your body soon found his bed, your dress turned into a pile of fabric on the floor. His kisses finally freed to explore every inch of your nudity.

"I think I need to make it even clearer that you're out of their reach."

[blueblossomcherry]

Sunrise with You

pairing: lee minho x reader

cw: oral (f receiving), dry humping, hair pulling, pet names (love, baby), fingering, after care (i’m not very good at writing it), unprotected sex (🚫)

genre: fluff, smut

wc: 1304

warning: this is my first fic in a long time and my first smut ever (i’m sorry if it’s bad🙏🏻)

mdni, 18+

It's been weeks since Minho has had a day off, but fortunately he's off today. The two of you had plans to stay in bed all day, cuddling and watching movies. You had wanted to sleep for as long as possible, however those plans were ruined when you were awoken by the light coming from your window.

You roll over and see Minho still sound asleep. Once you settle, you feel Minho's arms wrap around your waist. Snuggling into his warmth, you take a moment to admire your sleeping boyfriend. He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, with his soft hair and his cat-like features. You have the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes but the last thing you want to do is wake him up, knowing he needs his sleep. After a few moments, you feel him stirring in his slumber.

“Good morning, love,” He says, in his sexy morning voice.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” You say, smiling and kissing his forehead.

“I always sleep well when you're with me,” He replies, smiling and winking. You laugh in response. He always has a way of putting a smile on your face, no matter the situation. That's your favorite thing about him. 

“I love you so much Minho,” You tell him, stars in your eyes and a blush on your cheeks. You still get shy saying that to him. Even after a whole year, you just can’t believe he’s yours.

“I love you more,” Minho says, a serious look in his eyes, as if he wants to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“Do you remember what today is?” You ask, excitedly. You knew he would remember, he’s remembered everything to do with you since the day you guys met.

“Do you really think I would forget something as important as our anniversary?” He asks, jokingly looking offended. You just smile at him, getting lost in his gorgeous eyes. He sits up, looking you in the eyes.

“Happy anniversary, love,” He whispers, his lips just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. When you don’t feel his lips against yours, you open your eyes. Only to find him looking at you with a teasing smile on his face.

“Minho,” You whine, pouting your lips. His eyes immediately darken, watching your lips. Seeing this, you decide to get back at him for teasing you. You push him back on the bed, straddling his hips. He groans and you can feel him growing hard under you within seconds. You smile at just how easily he’s wrapped around your finger. Rolling your hips against his, you start kissing his neck. His clothed tip hits your clit perfectly, making your eyes roll back. 

“Come on baby, let me see that pretty face,” He tells you, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at him. You moan out loud at the force, placing your hands on his chest for balance. You feel yourself getting close, hips stuttering. Minho, seemingly noticing, grabs your hips, forcefully stopping you from moving.

“No, please let me cum,” You plead, already sensing that you were in for a long morning. 

“Already begging?” He asks, laughing at how pathetic you sounded already. Taking your shirt off, he flipped you both over. His eyes dilated at the sight in front of him. Underneath him was exactly where he wanted you at all times. His rough hands playing with your perfect tits as you moaned softly. Feeling your arousal through your soaked panties on his thigh.

He lowered his mouth down to your nipple, licking and sucking. While he was abusing your nipple with his mouth, he brought his fingers up to the other, his thumb teasingly circling it. You couldn’t hold your moans in, making him smirk. Once he decided they were given enough attention, he moved down, kissing down your stomach until he got to your panties. 

“Look how wet you are for me,” He coos, rubbing your clit through your panties. 

“Can I taste you baby?” He asks, waiting for your consent before he goes any further. You nod, unable to speak from how desperate you were. 

“I need words, love,” Minho tells you, looking you in the eyes.

“Yes, please,” You breathe out, needing to be touched by him. He removes your panties, breath hitching as he sees them sticking to your wet cunt. You spread your legs further, giving him a good look at your glistening folds. He dives right in, flicking your clit with his tongue, as his fingers find your pulsating hole. Immediately, your hands find his hair, yanking and pulling every time he hits a sensitive spot. Eventually, he removes his fingers, earning a whine from you at the loss of contact. He lowers his tongue, teasingly lapping everywhere except where you need him most.

“Minho, stop teasing,” You whine, pulling his hair harder. He groans, his tongue finally entering you. With his tongue thrusting into you and his nose hitting your clit every so often, it was only a matter of time until you reached the edge. 

“Fuck, Minho I’m gonna cum,” You moan out, arching your back.

“Cum around my tongue baby,” He says against your cunt, the vibration pushing you over the edge.You came with a loud moan, Minho helping you ride out your high with his tongue. You felt exhausted but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. 

“Can you get up, love? We don’t have to do anymore if you’re too tired,” He says, clearly concerned. You smile at how much he clearly cares for you. 

“I’m okay,” You tell him, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He offers his hand to help you up and you take it. Once you’re up, Minho starts kissing you. You kiss him back, your hands immediately back in his hair. 

“Do you mind if I record this, baby? I want to be able to reminisce on our 1st anniversary,” He says, smiling. You smile back, remembering him talking about wanting to record you guys one time.

“Please do,” You reply, winking at him. His smile widens and he gets off the bed to set his phone up. When he comes back, he positions himself behind you. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, lining his dick up with your entrance. Instead of answering him, you back yourself up, his cock slipping in. 

“Mmmm, fuck,” He moans out, surprised by your actions, gripping your hips to steady himself.

“Minho, please move,” You plead, clenching around his cock. He starts slamming into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He moves his hands from your hips to your ass, smacking and grabbing. The pain slowly turns into pleasure and before you know it, the only sounds in the room are pants, moans and skin slapping together. Minho grabs a fistful of your hair with one of his hands and pulls it back, forcing your head back. With his other hand, he finds your clit and starts circling it. You moan loudly, about to reach your high for the second time this morning. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” Minho moans out, his eyes rolled back. You moan in agreement, your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure he’s giving you. Once you both reach your high, you collapse from exhaustion. 

Minho shuts off the camera and gets a wet cloth to clean you up. Once he's done cleaning you up, he goes into your closet and gets you some new clothes. He helps you slip into them and helps you back into bed.

“I’m gonna go make us some food, love,” Minho tells you as he tucks you back into bed. Oh, how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like him.

[thatguywrites]

Vienna

Max Verstappen x Male!Reader

When Max is overworking himself to the bone in the preseason, and you need to talk some sense into him before he burns out

A/N I'm back after my one week break! I'm gonna try and write more fics to create a WIP list so that that doesn't happen, but I also encourage people to send in asks cause I'm gonna run out of ideas at some point :)

In the bustle of the preseason chaos, you hadn't had much time to spend with your lovely boyfriend. Between the incredibly boring F175, and testing instantly starting in the week following, Max was too busy running around, working out, taking calls, and providing feedback. It seemed the only times you saw him anymore were in the mornings and late at night, when he would slip into bed with you, muttering thanks for the certainly cold dinner you had left him, before he collapsing into sleep.

Finally, one day you managed to have him to yourself for a whole evening, as soon as his morning workouts were done, you would be able to push him into bed for some snacks, and movies, and boyfriend time. But, when Max arrived home, he was clearly still in work mode. Flurrying around the house, taking notes of things about the car that he hadn't told the engineers the day before, before hopping into the sim to do lap after lap in the model car Redbull had sent him.

Your kinder bars, fruits, and Netflix left untouched, you waited on the couch for him to finish. Maybe he just wanted to figure something out. Everyone gets like that; when something nags at them and they just need to get it right. He would be done by dinner.

By the time dinner came, you'd lost hope that he would come to bed naturally. It began to seem that you would have to do something yourself to get Max to eat with you and to finally relax. Walking over to his rig, you placed a kiss on his cheek, pulling his headphones back, "I'll be on the balcony, ok?"

Without looking away from the screen, he nodded, before shooing you away.

Once on the balcony, sitting down, you finally felt at rest. For a break moment you didn't have to worry about Max, or how he was working himself to the bone and you by extension. It was you, and the cool air of Monaco.

You got lost in your thoughts, but it could have been two or twenty minutes before you heard the door behind you open, and Max sit next to you, placing a blanket around your shoulders.

"You looked cold, in just a T-shirt" He said, softly. You noticed you could see his breath. Maybe it was cold.

"Didn't notice"

"Why out so long?"

Your own puff of breath appeared infront if you as you leaned back against your apartment, looking up at the now visable stars. "Thinking. Why were you on your sim so long? Isn't today supposed to be your day off?"

Max looked down, maybe ashamed. A small part of you felt good about that. That he felt bad about hurting you. But the rest of you just wanted to scoop him into a hug and never let go.

"I mean, last year's car worried me. And Lando's improved, and I'm sure Oscar'll be up there too this year, so I'm doing my best now to make sure we end up with the best car." You could feel his eyes on you, a nervous energy in your previous safe space, his warm hands wrapping around your cold ones, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for worrying you, and ignoring you. I'm sorry that I haven't been prioritizing us at all. I'm sorry that I spent my entire afternoon off working." He pulled you into his arms, resting his head on yours, and pressing kisses atop your hair.

"I didn't want to push you, I know your work is important to you. I don't want to act as if I'm above racing to you, I know it's your life, but I want to be a part of your life too." At your words Max jolted away, eyes wide, with a small pout on his lips.

"No! No, no, no, racing is a huge part of my life, sure, but so are you. I'm sorry I haven't made that clear, I love you. I just worry that I'm not trying hard enough for the world sometimes, that I'll fall behind on track because of it", He trailed off, looking down into the busy streets

"Well, I'm sure the fastest man on Earth, who works harder than anyone else I've ever seen will manage to pose a threat, even if he takes a break for one night, no?"

Breaking out into a smile, Max responded, "Yeah"

Taglist (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl @spoonfulofmilo @lokisen

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🔮 Time After Time 🔮

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

summary: One night on the Witch's Road, the group shares stories about their "battle scars". You're not keen on your turn.

wc: ~ 2.7 k

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mentions self harm & suicide, sfw

A/N: okay so this was actually one of the first fics I wanted to write ever for Lilia x Reader but just never got around to it until a sleepless night yesterday. Even had two requests about Lilia getting a vision of reader attempting and another for sh so this is kinda both. It doesn't go into great detail, but it is explicitly mentioned once or twice, so beware.

TRIGGER WARNING: If you're not in the headspace to consume this kind of content or feel unsafe, please leave this fic and reach out to someone. Reader discretion advised.

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At first glance, night on the Witch's Road seemed no different from an earthly one, but now that you sat with the group around a small, crackling fire, the eerie silence crept into everyone's bones. There was no wind, no insects crawling in the dirt, nothing live dwelling in this place. It was a rotting piece of void that digested every breathing thing within it bite by bite. Nobody said it, but you all felt it; the Road would chew you up if no one stayed up to hold wake.

The group had diverted their fear in idle banter, laughing the night away and sharing stories about the scars marking their bodies. Lilia, seated next to you on the rock you were sharing, pulled her clothes aside to reveal the marks of a vampire bite. "Right before I knocked out his other tooth," she added in that cheeky manner of hers and made you smile.

You could imagine her kicking vampire asses. She may be old, but she was a force to be reckoned with; that much you'd learnt during the short time you'd spent together on the Road. She was the one you stuck with, whose eyes you sought out when danger arose, well, and who you shared a rock with.

There, again!

Lilia did this thing. Checked out mid-sentence or babbled gibberish all of a sudden. Dementia, you'd heard Jen whisper, but she didn't strike you as senile at all. It was more like something ripped the soul out of her body, a displacement. And then she came back, disoriented and rattled.

"Lilia, where do you go?" Jen asked, and Lilia tensed. You gave her hand a subtle squeeze.

Luckily, Agatha's return drew the attention away from Lilia's slip-up and allowed her a moment to collect herself. You didn't notice at first how you hadn't let go of her hand yet and did so with an awkward, apologetic smile. Upon Jen's prompt, Agatha recounted the time a knitting needle had pierced her elbow.

"I've got a scar," Rio took over then, but Agatha was even quicker to say, "No, you don't."

You'd gathered during the last trial that the two somehow knew each other, but the interaction was still odd. Rio told her story anyway, which seemed to upset Agatha, and she left. When Rio followed her, Lilia gripped her wrist and gave her a warning. "Don't think for a second I've forgotten what you said in the sound booth."

Rio hissed at Lilia. You didn't like that she did. It wasn't the first time this happened, and sometimes you wanted to hiss back, but something told you not to mess with her. Before silence could overtake the round, Jen presented a scar around her ankle from a shackle to you and went on to lecture about what potions she used to minimise it and with what tincture she hoped to make it disappear entirely.

"It might work as a wrinkle cream too," she said to Lilia. "I'll let you know when I've perfected the recipe."

"How thoughtful," Lilia muttered under her breath and tossed a twig into the fire. You could've sworn you heard her add the word 'bitch'.

"What about you?" Alice asked, and it took a second before you realised she was talking to you.

"Yeah, show us your trophies," Jen agreed, gesturing in your direction.

You pulled your sleeves almost to your fingertips and turned away, shuddering under all their eyes on you. Jen crossed her arms and made a noise of disapproval. "Hey, this is a group activity. We have to rely on each other to survive out here. Do your part."

Lilia snapped around. "Watch your tongue."

"She's not wrong, though," Alice said, offering a warm smile instead. She'd only just shared one of her most vulnerable experiences with you; it would be unfair to withhold, but it was too risky. You shook your head and curled your fingers around your sleeves.

"Honey, you don't have to. Don't listen to them."

-> continue

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please leave a comment here or on Ao3, thank you <3