#i really meant for this to be SHORT. and here i am an hour later like BUT ITS NOT DONEEEEE

[little-jana]

"Let's Be Alone Together"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, just two cuties

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Reader and Spencer escape reality together and spent Christmas together.

Christmas Eve in Quantico wasn’t exactly where I imagined spending the holiday, but the BAU didn’t really operate on a nine-to-five schedule. A last-minute case had pulled everyone into the office earlier that week, but thankfully, we’d wrapped it up just in time for the holidays.

Now, the bullpen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. Most of the team had already headed home, eager to spend Christmas with their families. I should’ve done the same, but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. The blinking cursor on my laptop screen had hypnotized me, or at least that’s the excuse I told myself.

The truth was, it wasn’t like I had anyone waiting for me at home. My plans consisted of takeout, bad Christmas movies, and falling asleep on the couch. Maybe a part of me had hoped that if I stayed long enough, I wouldn’t have to face that silence.

A familiar voice broke through my thoughts. “Still here?”

I glanced up to see Spencer Reid standing by his desk, looking equally as stranded. His cardigan was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to look almost relaxed.

“You’re still here too,” I countered, offering him a small smile.

He shrugged, shuffling a few papers on his desk. “I thought I’d finish up some reading before heading out. What about you?”

I gestured to my screen. “Pretending to be productive.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his smile growing. “It’s Christmas Eve. You’re allowed to take a break, you know.”

“I could say the same to you, genius,” I teased. “What is it this time? A thesis on the psychological implications of holiday traditions?”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Actually, it’s a collection of Christmas short stories. Charles Dickens, O. Henry...”

“Fiction?,” I said surprised.

“I do enjoy a good academic paper,” he admitted with a grin. “But sometimes… fiction feels like a better escape.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying him. “So, you’re avoiding reality too, huh?”

Spencer hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

There was something vulnerable in the way he said it, something that made my chest ache. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most open person when it came to his feelings, but I’d learned to read between the lines.

“You know,” I said, standing and crossing the room toward him, “we could avoid reality together. I’ve got leftover cookies and a terrible collection of Christmas movies. What do you say?”

He blinked, startled. “You mean… tonight? With you?”

“No, Spencer, I meant with the ghost of Christmas past,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I don’t want to impose—”

“Spence,” I interrupted, my tone gentle but firm. “It’s not imposing if I’m inviting you. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, before finally nodding. “Okay. I’d like that.”

---

An hour later, we were sitting on my couch, surrounded by the warm glow of twinkling Christmas lights. A tin of cookies rested between us, along with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Spencer had insisted on helping me carry everything up from my car earlier, and now he was inspecting one of the sugar cookies with a level of scrutiny that made me laugh.

“It’s just a cookie, Spence,” I said, nudging him playfully.

“Actually, there’s a fascinating history behind sugar cookies,” he began, his face lighting up. “They originated in Pennsylvania in the 1700s—”

I held up a hand, laughing. “Let me stop you right there. No cookie history tonight. We’re watching Rudolph, and that’s final.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. “Fine. But if I’m going to sit through stop-motion reindeer, I expect at least one scientific inaccuracy to discuss.”

We settled into the couch, the opening credits of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer playing softly in the background. Spencer was surprisingly into it, occasionally pointing out character dynamics or chuckling at the outdated animation.

By the time the movie ended, I felt a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate. Spencer had relaxed completely, his usual guarded demeanor replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, “this is the first Christmas Eve I haven’t spent alone in… a long time.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. I turned to him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice.

“You’re not alone now,” I said softly.

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For this. For… everything.”

I smiled, reaching out to place my hand over his. “You don’t have to thank me, Spence. I’m just glad you’re here.”

For a moment, we just sat there, the silence between us filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.

“You know,” he said, his voice hesitant, “I’ve always found it hard to connect with people. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.”

My breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s easy with you too, Spencer,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

He hesitated, then took a small, tentative step closer. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I… I think this might be the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had,” he said, his cheeks flushing slightly.

I felt my heart swell at his words, and before I could overthink it, I leaned in and kissed his cheek, letting my lips linger for just a moment. His skin was warm, and I felt him freeze slightly before relaxing under the soft touch.

When I pulled back, he was staring at me, his eyes wide and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Before I could say anything else, he leaned forward, closing the small distance between us, and pressed his lips gently against mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, a perfect mix of shyness and intent.

When he finally pulled back, his cheeks were bright red, but there was a small, shy smile on his lips.

“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly, his voice full of warmth.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer,” I replied, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

And as we sat there, the glow of the Christmas tree wrapping us in its warmth, I couldn’t help but think that this—being here with him—was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like.

a/n: I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a peaceful holiday season.

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[patheticlittleguy]

ok I have a moment from PB's recovery in my head and it goes like this. (edit: this is more than "a moment" whoops. anyways every time I write PB (aka Sammy according to momma Louise) they get more talkative lmao. maybe I should write some REAL whump, not just recovery fluff, and get that sorted.)

Louise is sitting in the urgent care waiting room with her youngest child. He's sixteen, nearly old enough to drive, but she will not let go of his hand. She knows the Mama Bear act annoys him, but they both know why she does it. They're just waiting to be seen for a bad case of strep. She squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back.

It's a busy night. The sounds of people coughing make Louise want to throw things, but she sits, and waits for their names to be called. For a nurse to poke her head out of the door leading deeper into the building. From the other side of that door, there's a commotion that they can hear even from the waiting room. Shouting. It sounds like a young man. Hoarse, like someone who doesn't raise their voice much.

The idle chatter dies down. The yelling continues. they can't make out the words. They're too fast and panicked. People glance at each other, the floor, the posters on the walls. Only a few stare at the door. Louise is one of them. She grips her son's hand tighter.

There's a long, wordless scream. And then silence. Louise's boy looks to her. He mutters, "what the hell was that?" And Louise doesn't even notice that he swore. She stands as if in a dream.

The woman at the window smiles tightly at her, and says, "I'm sorry about the disturbance. Everything is under control." By Louise's side, her son follows her as she walks up to the window.

Louise shakes her head. "No, it's... This is stupid." She meets the woman's gaze. "I haven't seen my son in eight years, and I swear to God above that was his voice."

The woman at the window pauses, and says, "I will let the doctors know that. Thank you." She pauses, glancing around at the papers in front of her, the computer screen reflecting in her glasses. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No. Sorry." Louise sighs, heavy and tired. Her youngest puts a hand on her arm, the one gripping his hand like a bear trap. They go sit back down.

--

When they're finally called back to see a doctor, Louise goes through all of the motions while trying not to think about her Sammy. It was a skill she had learned in the months after Samuel was taken away by the doctors. He had some mutation, they said. It would make him dangerous, they said. She hadn't believed them, but she found half of anything she saw superhumans doing hard to believe. And then he was just... Gone. And she sent her oldest off to college, and her youngest to high school, and now here she was explaining Cooper's symptoms to the doctor.

The doctor told them it was just strep, and gave them a round of antibiotics. Louise thanked her. Then, the doctor paused. "We also have a patient that you said you suspected was your son?"

Louise nodded. "Yeah. We heard screaming while we were in the waiting room."

"Would you mind giving him a visit while you're here? Just to confirm his identity, of course."

Louise nodded again. She stood, and let the doctor lead her through the building to a completely different ward. She floated through the halls. The only thing keeping her tethered was Cooper's hand in hers.

The room they were led to was different. The door was heavy. The machines were silent. There was a young man hunched over on a gurney, his wrists and ankles secured to bars like he should've been laying down. He stared at the doctor through a curtain of long, dirty blonde hair.

"I'm not a dog," he said, and Louise could have torn a door off its hinges. She could have fought every damn doctor in the county. She could have cried, or laughed, because God above, that was her baby. Older and meaner, but him nonetheless. But she stood still. She didn't say anything. There weren't words.

The doctor said, "now, I know you said you can't remember much-"

Sammy threw himself forward, straining against the restraints. "I'm not a god-fucking-damned dog!"

Louise stepped forward. She put a hand on Sammy's arm, just above the medical restraints. "I know, baby. I know you're not a dog. You're my son."

Sammy went still. He looked up at her with those big eyes she'd missed for eight years. His mouth made the shapes of words, but none of the sounds. Finally, he muttered, "no fair."

Louise was sent back to family game night. Sammy always was a sore loser. Her voice went wet and shaky as she said, "what's no fair, baby?"

Sammy growled, low and deep. Like an animal. He flopped back onto his back, kicking his legs as much as the restraints allowed. "I wanna go for a walk but I'm not allowed to. S'not fair."

"You also have a nasty infection in your foot," the doctor chimed in. "And we can't let you run away until that clears up." Only then did Louise notice the heavy bandages around Sammy's foot.

"What happened to you, man?" Cooper asked.

Sammy shut his eyes tight, frowning as his brow furrowed deeply. "Uh, I ran away. Stepped on something." He opened his eyes. "Made great friends with this brick wall. Got chopped up into little bits and put back together again. And, uh... Got really high. Not in that order."

Cooper laughed, but there was a confused look on his face. "Did you have fun in mutant prison?"

Sammy shrugged. "Oh, you know, I spend every waking second trying desperately not to think about it." There was a flatness to his voice that made Louise want to wrap him up in a blanket.

"Well, we're bringing you home, Sammy. As soon as you're better." Louise looked the doctor dead in the eye, and waited for her to argue.

The doctor smiled thinly. "We are waiting for some lab results, and if they come back negative for any dangerous mutations, then it's up to the patient who he wants to stay with."

Cooper joked, "you say that like there's somebody else wanting to take him in."

"And we come full circle!" Sammy slapped his hands against the metal bars they were strapped to, like a drumroll. Or applause. "I'm not a dog. I'm not up for adoption."

Louise frowned, taken aback. Eight long years of missing her baby, and he didn't want to come back home to her? "I don't understand," she said, tears slipping down her cheek. Her mouth could barely form the words.

Sammy looked at her again. She had one hand on his arm, and the other held Cooper's hand. Sammy wasn't just older and meaner. His eyes had bags under them, and his teeth were long and sharp. He'd said they took him apart and put him back together. He said, "I know you're probably right. You're my momma and I should let you take me to your house and live there. But I can't really remember you. And I've already got a place to stay."

Louise struggled to control her breathing. She nodded as she cried, and once it was out of her, she said, "Did the doctors arrange something for you already?"

"No. I met someone. Her name's Jaime and she treats me well." Sammy pulled himself back up to a more upright position. "She said she'd come back first thing tomorrow."

Cooper joked, "you have a girlfriend?"

"No, what?" Sammy frowned. "She's an adult. A real adult, with a car and a job and a house. I'm not..."

"Not what?" Louise wanted to know what Sammy was going to say. But he clammed up, and so she went on, "Sammy, listen, we'll talk to this Jaime person in the morning and ask her if you can stay with us, okay?"

Sammy nodded slowly, glaring at Louise. It was not the response she was hoping for, but she would accept it. She would talk to the doctors to give them Samuel's birth name, and records, and make sure they knew what would happen if she came back in the morning and was told she couldn't see him. She would meet this Jaime woman. She would figure this out. She would bring her son home. God above, Louise was bringing her son home.

[http-shield]

you offering?- bucky barnes unhinged!avenger reader x bucky

a/n: this was the first draft of smash (in a loving way) which is why some lines are the same.

Moving day swiftly degenerated into chaos as more and more boxes were unloaded from the truck. Theoretically, Steve and Bucky should not have that many possessions, seeing as neither of them had lived very long lives in the new century; however, as box after box is carried in, you realise you couldn't be further off base.

Steve shouts down the hall, alerting you of their arrival (having smacked headfirst into you with a box full of record hours earlier, you had developed the system of very loudly announcing yourselves before walking into narrow spaces). You turn to the hallway, ready to semi-jokingly tell Steve off for all the free labour he had managed to squeeze of you, but your brain short circuits as Bucky walks in. The long-sleeved shirt had turned up in has long since been discarded. Instead, he is sporting a black tank top showcasing a stunning display of his muscled arms and shoulders. Unable to look away, you follow the veins along muscled forearms, sweat glistening in the afternoon sun, vibranium fingers humming as they glide over the tops of the box, his hair pulled back in a bun sitting low at the nape of his neck and those godforsaken strands that hang over his eyes leave you thinking about the way they would feel brushing over your thighs.

"You're drooling." You jump, startled by Steve's amused whisper, as he stands behind you, cast iron pot in his hands.

"Ha.Ha." The retort is weak, mind too preoccupied with thoughts of your friend to conjure a coherent sentence.

"Seriously. You gotta bit'a...." Steve wipes the side of his mouth with his thumb, smirk growing as he continues to tease.

"You need to get outta here before I punch you in the face." you whirl on him, warning through clenched teeth. "I will fight you, old man."

He backs away, raising his hands in defeat. "Kids these days, can't take a joke."

-----

An Ikea flatpack sits on the floor of the living room. The name and instructions unreadable as the three of your stare a the unbuilt couch frame.

"You bought a box?" Bucky turns to Steve, brows raised as he gestures to the floor.

"It's a sofa, Buck. We just need to build it." the former sighs, crouching down to examine the slip of paper it came with. "We just need to learn Swedish."

Bucky follows suit and squats, grumbling something about knowing 30 languages but unable to put together a stupid piece of furniture.

You debate joining them, adding a new brain to the equation, but as if it were your turn to take that single cell passed between the three of you, you reach for your laptop and begin your search.

30 minutes later, the frame is complete. The cushions, however, are nowhere to be found.

"Did you not order them?" you ask, eyes still trained on the screen as the two super soldiers stare at the incomplete project.

"I didn't know I was meant to!" Steve is quick to defend his mistake. "If you buy the couch, it comes with it."

It's not a completely irrational thought. It's common sense really. You buy a couch it must come with cushions, so why didn't this one?

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So we have one bed and couch frame? Where am I meant to sleep, Steve?"

"You can sleep with me." You mumble as you scroll through ikea website, searching for the accompanying pillows.

"Is that you offering?" Bucky asks, and for a second, you are confused by the question, but as you look up from the screen, you find both men staring at you. Ah, the super hearing caused by the super serum. Super.

"Offering what?" you play dumb, biting down on the tip of your thumb, hoping he can't hear your heart slamming in your chest.

"Just thought you were offerin' to have me sleep with you but I guess I heard wrong." Bucky smirks and shrugs. "Guess ill have to take all this " he begins to flex, making an obvious show of his muscles. "and sleep on the floor."

You bite down on your finger in a futile attempt to hide the smile that is forming. "Guess so."

Bucky frowns, sad, wide puppy eyes staring at you. "Come on, doll. Don't make me beg."

Heat flashes through you and your heart picks up speed again. "You can beg for it, Barnes, doesn't mean I'll let ya' " your voice shakes a little, but you can hide it behind a smug chuckle.

Bucky's tongue darts out to wet his lips as he begins to retort but Steve's cough stops you both. The Captain's face is crinkled in disgust as he stares.

"Could you save this till I'm not in the room?"

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Your Declan fic was SO good. That’s how u discovered your account and I can’t wait for the other Rivals fics you have coming up!!!

If you are still taking requests, I would die for protective Declan O’Hara in any situation. Love your stuff!!

man of the hour.

the sexiest thing about a man is his moustache morals.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - cursing. a little violence and a quick injury description.

word count - 2k

authors note - I truly believe that one of the sexiest things about declan is the fact that he stands up for what he believes in… don’t underestimate the aphrodisiac powers of strong morals, ladies and gents. need him to stand up for me sometime🧎‍♀️‍➡️. anyway this ended up much softer than I meant it to be (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing) <3

masterlist. inbox.

“Can I get you another drink?”

You laugh as the man swings an arm around your shoulders, the heavy weight of it almost taking you down.

“You’ve asked me that four times in the last five minutes, Bas. Thank you, though.”

“Just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

He’s yelling into your ear, both of you fighting to raise your voices above the noise of Bar Sinister.

“I’m always having a good time with you,” you tease, leaning into his side. “I’m alright, Bas. Promise.”

“You need to let loose for once in your life.”

“I’ll let loose on a day I’m not working.”

“You’re always working.”

“What can I say? He’s hard fucking work.”

You both look over to your boss, who’s currently animatedly telling Declan a story. Rupert’s gesturing so exaggeratedly that people are ducking out of the way, both men laughing and completely oblivious as beer and whiskey splash all over the floor.

Bas presses a kiss into your hair, squeezing you tightly.

“I don’t know what he’d do without you.”

“Well, he never has to find out. We’re stuck with each other,” you chuckle. “Best job I’ve ever had, surprisingly.”

“I won’t tell him you said that,” Bas winks, laughing.

The sound of multiple glasses smashing has the both of you whipping your heads around, trying to find the source of the commotion.

“Shit. I’ll see you later, darling. Come and find me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Course.”

Bas disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving you standing at the bar. It’s absolutely manic, people packed in to the rafters and bumping into each other left, right and centre.

You’re about to make your way over to Rupert when a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you backwards so hard that you stumble over your own feet. You tug your arm away, finally getting a good look at the person who’s responsible.

“Spencer?”

“Oh, so you do remember me then?”

“… What? We were together for six months, and I don’t have short term memory loss, so… yes.”

“I just meant because you’re hanging around with the elite now. The rumour is that you’re working for Rupert Campbell Black.”

“I am working for Rupert Campbell Black. It’s not a secret, Spencer. I’m his aide and assistant. I’m working for Venturer, too, helping with their public relations. And you are… what? Still pretending to work for your father when you really just spend your days drinking and betting?”

“I do work for my father.”

“Of course you do.”

He steps forward, getting into your personal space.

“What are you doing in here, Spencer? You don’t even live in Rutshire.”

“Thought I’d pop in, see if you were here. Wanted to see if there was any truth to the rumours.”

“Well, you’ve put the rumours to bed now, haven’t you?”

“Not the only thing that’s been put to bed,” he murmurs, just low enough so you only catch half of it.

“Pardon me?”

Your entire body is taut with tension, nerves alert and heart racing. You can only imagine how uncomfortable you must look, praying that someone notices sooner rather than later.

“Which one are you sleeping with, then?”

“Spencer-”

“No, come on. You finished things with me, so there must be another man. Who is it?”

“I’m finished things with you - eight months ago, mind you - because you’re an immature prick who’s so pretentious it makes you deeply unlikeable. There was no other man, I’d just rather be single than be with you.”

His chest puffs out as he starts to go red with rage, anger bubbling up in his veins. You know that you’re not completely unsafe here in this room full of people, but that doesn’t calm your anxiety in the slightest.

“Which one is it, hmm?” his voice is raising, getting louder with every passing minute. “Which one looks like your type?”

He points at Seb first, quirking an eyebrow.

“Him?”

When you don’t respond, he moves on to pointing at Patrick.

“Him?”

You shake your head almost imperceptibly, wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

“Oh my god… it’s him, isn’t it?”

His eyes have landed on Rupert, who’s still stood across the room. Your boss is looking at you, now, quickly assessing the situation you’re in.

“You’re fucking Rupert Campbell Black?!”

The entire crowd of people goes silent as he practically screams it, everyone’s heads turning to look at you.

“She’s… what?” Rupert, Declan and Bas all ask at the exact same time, hilariously in sync.

“Fucked your way up to the top, did you? Classy as always.”

Spencer goes to continue his sentence, but hits the floor suddenly with a heavy thud. You look up to see Declan shaking off his hand, chest heaving with adrenaline. Your ex boyfriend has a busted lip, blood dripping down his chin and onto his awfully unflattering shirt.

“It’s called hard work, you arrogant little prick. Not that you’d know.”

Declan’s Irish accent sounds stronger than usual, coloured with fury and aggression. Bas has dragged Spencer to his feet, both him and Rupert holding him upright.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near here again, I’ll do more than just split your fucking lip. You understand?”

Spencer nods, clearly still dizzy from the impact of the punch. He’s dragged outside before anyone can say anything else, the crowd returning back to their drinks as if nothing ever happened.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Declan links his fingers with yours before you can register what’s happening, pulling you through the bar and out of the back door. You take a seat on the brick wall, legs dangling over the edge as you kick your feet.

“You okay?” he asks as he sits down next to you, just close enough that you can feel his body heat.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You don’t really know how to feel, confused by the whole ordeal.

“He seems like a nice boy.”

You laugh suddenly at the bad joke, shaking your head as Declan laughs with you. It’s not a sound you hear from him all that often.

“Sorry you had to punch him.”

“I didn’t have to. Kinda wanted to, though.”

“Me too.”

He bumps his shoulder into yours, looking at you carefully.

“I didn’t just hit him for a laugh, you know. I was worried he was going to hurt ya.”

“I was too,” you whisper, vulnerability bleeding into your tone.

“I’d never of let that happen. I promise, sweetheart.”

His hand finds yours again, fingers gently sliding in between yours. He rests your intertwined hands on his thigh, thumb rubbing patterns on your skin.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You sit in silence for a long moment, enjoying the way the warmth of his palm seeps slowly into yours.

“I didn’t think anyone had even noticed Spencer was there.”

“I saw as soon as he walked in, because I knew I didn’t recognise him. I tried to give you some space, thought maybe you were friends or something. Didn’t want to intervene and embarrass ya.”

“Ex boyfriend, if you haven’t already guessed. We were only together about six months all in all, about eight months ago. Don’t know what I was thinking, really. He’s fucking awful.”

“You can say that again,” he chuckles, hand squeezing yours. “Not sure what you ever saw in him.”

“Neither am I, anymore. I don’t know, maybe I just liked having someone really like me, as sad as that sounds. Dating is fun and exciting and… well, it’s supposed to be. God knows it isn’t, for me.”

Declan slides his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side to keep the evening chill at bay. You can hear the ruckus from inside, everyone in the bar carrying on as usual.

“I think you just keep choosing the wrong men, darlin’. Don’t swear off dating just because of a few bad apples.”

“I mean, I haven’t dated anyone since Spencer, and that finished eight months ago. I’d rather stay single than date any more of these posh boys who’ve never worked a day in their lives.”

He laughs, and the vibrations of it rumble through the both of you, settling into your bones. All you can think about is how warm he is and how good he smells and how if you leaned in an inch to your left, you could kiss him right on the cheek.

“What if it’s me?” you can’t help but ask quietly. “What if I’m the reason I can’t find someone?”

“What?”

“I mean, I work for Rupert - which I love - but my job is my life now. He’s a handful as it is, and now with all the Venturer stuff… all I do is work. And I know I’m not pretty like Taggie or powerful and bossy like Cameron but-”

“You’re beautiful.”

Declan stops you in your tracks, his interruption derailing your train of thought completely.

“I- what?”

“Sweetheart, the only reason I noticed that prat Spencer earlier was because I was already looking at you.”

“You were?”

“I always am.”

“… Why?”

“I don’t know, exactly. It’s like this… gravitational pull. You light up a room.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” you chuckle nervously.

“I wish it was.”

You don’t know what to say, so you lean further into his side, resting your head on his broad shoulder and breathing him in.

“I would have said something sooner,” he murmurs, “but Rupert would fucking kill me.”

“He’s not my keeper, Declan.”

“No, but he’s your boss. And for all intents and purposes, your big brother.”

He rests his head atop of yours, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“How’s your hand?”

“Perfectly fine,” he laughs, squeezing your thigh. “I’ll make a full recovery.”

“Thank God for that.”

Declan turns his body so he can look at you properly, big hands coming up to cradle your face. Neither of you say anything, waiting with tense anticipation for the other person to move first.

You surprise yourself by leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips, chaste and testing the waters. You begin to overthink everything the minute you pull back, worried that you’ve misread his kindness. As if he can read your mind, he tangles a hand into your hair and tugs you back into him, kissing you with a passion you’ve never experienced before.

His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily as you let him take the lead, happy to surrender the control to him. You’ve dreamt about this, late nights in bed spent wondering if the real thing would live up to your imagination. It definitely does.

Eventually, you both pull away, panting and flushed. You can no longer feel the chill in the air, the warmth of Declan keeping the cold at bay.

“Don’t tell Rupert,” he whispers, dirty smirk written across his face.

You can’t help but laugh, giddy off of the weight of the moment. Before tonight, you’d begun to accept that you might have been slightly delusional when it came to Declan - reading into his fingers brushing yours when you handed him something, him winking at you across the room, his palm pressing into your back as he walked past. Now you know - it wasn’t delusion. They were signals.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Secret’s safe with me.”

He pecks your lips again quickly before standing up, outstretching his hands for you to grab so he can pull you with him.

“You wanna go back inside?”

“No, think I’m done for the night.”

“Will you let me walk you home?”

You look at him smiling down at you all soft and sweet, and realise instantly that you’re in trouble. This isn’t something either of you are going to be able to just brush past. This’ll be haunting both of your memories every single day until it happens again.

“I’d like that.”

“Come on then, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

Declan links his fingers with yours, happy to let you steer him in the right direction. Neither of you say much. You don’t need to.

The way his palm fits perfectly against yours tells you both everything you need to know.

@lostinthefandoms11 @prettycoolgirl @buzzcutlip

don’t make me give the reblogs are invaluable to your writers speech again… i’ve given it one too many times… but you know the deal… reblog if you enjoyed and I shall write more for you <3

[targaryenluvs]

TOO SWEET / SOULLESS!SAM WINCHESTER

PAIRINGS: Soulless Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You were simply just trying to get through your day, he found himself enticed by your kindness and unwilling to let go.

WARNINGS: Innocence kink, teasing, flattery, size diff kink, dacryphillia, hair pulling, non-con/dub-con, rough, angry Sam, p in v, fingering, cream pie, babying, virgin reader, blood, scratches

WORDCOUNT: 3K Words

A/N: I can’t just write a sweet Sam fic and not balance out the scales! This is a bit self indulgent so short!reader. Also I’m not an avid drinker so bare with me at the bar 😭 @lady-ashfade here it is!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

A03 Link

You hadn’t meant to bump into him, no one bumps into people on purpose. But you were scared of running out of time before the shop closed and weren’t really caring about your surroundings.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You immediately apologised whilst grabbing everything that had dropped to the floor. His hands grazed yours and you froze up, making eye contact with the man. “No, it was my fault.” His voice mocked the concern in yours, even if it didn’t reach his eyes.

You laughed, “Are you kidding? I totally bumped into you, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You stood up with all your belongings in hand and with a smile. “I should be on my way. Again, I’m so sorry.” Sam shook his head, “You don’t need to keep apologising.”

Your lips pressed into a tight smile as you nodded, “Okay.” The awkwardness of your interaction was practically unbearable. “I’ll be on my way, have a nice day.” Sam watched as you walked away, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Not out of happiness but intrigue.

He wanted more, and he wasn’t going to stop until he did.

You were sweet, unnaturally so, he wanted a taste.

So with out your knowledge of course, he followed you. For the rest of the day he was right behind you, and you were blissfully unaware. You finished up with your groceries about an hour later and finally crossing off everything to do that day.

As you stood near the exit with your cart you couldn’t help but sigh. Seven bags, loaded, and paper with only two arms. Your car was in the shop so you’d put off a lot of things, which resulted in them piling up.

So you decided for a delivery instead, but you had to wait until the truck came back to allow them to pick your groceries up and eventually drop them off. You wondered if they’d give you a ride in all honesty.

You waited outside the doors whilst reading a magazine you bought, which was surprisingly interesting.

You really should be more aware of your surroundings.

“Do you need some help?” You glanced upwards at the sound of a familiar voice, the man from before. He was so tall and pretty, “Oh! No, I’m just waiting.” You smiled widely as you placed the magazine inside a bag. “I didn’t catch your name back there, I’m Y/n.” Sam smiled, “Nice to meet you Y/n, I’m Sam.” His eyes trailed down, you were wearing a low cut dress, it sure as hell suited you.

“Completing some shopping are we?” He chuckled at the notion, Sam, grocery shopping like a normal person. “I was about to, until I saw your gorgeous self.” His words made you giggle, you could feel your face grow hotter. “Oh god, you are— that’s so sweet.” Your hands intertwined with eachother as you looked down to your feet, a strand falling in front of your eyes.

Sam’s hand darted out to tuck it behind your ear, “Oh, thank you.” Your voice was sweet, he wondered if you were this shy in bed. “No problem. I was wondering—,”

“Ma’am?” A worker came outside with a smile, “Trucks here, would you like me to unpack it all for you?” You nodded quickly, “Oh yes, please.” You were always so polite. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be doing it all herself am I right?” Sam’s jaw tightened as he watched your face flush, “I’ll help her unload.”

You both turned to Sam, “No you don’t need to seriously.” The look in Sam’s eyes was unsettling, and you thought the worker noticed it too. “I’ll help.” It wasn’t an ask, he was telling you. And you were the furthest thing from confrontational, so you let him take the cart. The worker passed a clipboard to you to fill out your address, Sam passed it onto the driver.

Sam couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he wanted you so badly, he couldn’t care less usually about some random girl. But there was something about you that drew him to you, you were so, innocent. In need. And he wanted to sink his teeth into you, badly.

Once he was done you offered him a tight lipped smile, unsure of his mood, “Thank you Sam, you didn’t have to at all.” He knew he didn’t have to, “It’s nothing really, you needed the help.” Sam couldn’t help but grin when he noticed you quite literally straining your neck to look up at him. You were so, pocket sized.

As if I can’t load groceries into a trunk? His words made you seem weak, but you brushed it off. “I don’t how to repay—,”

Bad choice of words sweetheart.

“Let me take you out.”

Somehow you’d managed to let him smooth talk you into a hang out. So here you were, sitting with him at the bar. Sam was anything but boring. He had about a million comments locked and loaded for every second. You found yourself enthralled by him, it’d been far too long since you enjoyed yourself on a night out.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not, at all. Believe what you want Sweetheart.” The nickname made you want to kick your feet and smile. Sam was so, amazing. He was tall, handsome, funny and kind. You could’ve maybe added chivalrous to the list. Sam waved over the bartender, he’d finished his third beer whilst you nursed a Cosmo.

Sam raised an eyebrow at your drink, you’d had it for about twenty minutes and before it a coke. “Pacing yourself are we?” The glass turned in your hands as you sighed, “I don’t drink that often honestly.”

“No?” Sam feigned interest, “Yeah, I’m more of the designated driver. I find it better to have fun sober in all honesty rather than waking up with a pounding headache and unaware of my surroundings.” Getting blackout drunk wasn’t on everyone’s to do lists which was respectable he guessed. “Good girl.”

The words made your eyes widen as you took another sip, Sam noticed. He found your shyness cute. Usually by know a girl was pawing at him, hinting towards a get away to her place or at least flirting. But you were just, talking. Like you wanted to get to know him rather than fuck him.

He found it adorable at the start, you barely knew what you were doing. But with your tits on display, and him being more than tall enough to look down your dress, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the place.

It’d been thirty minutes since his third beer. He was on his seventh and you were on another coke. Sam was so close to blowing up. The way you looked up at him, when your lips chased after the liquid in your cup, and your cute little body in that short dress.

You glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped, you had work you needed to submit by 11 and it was already 10. “I completely lost track of time, oh my god!” Sam watched as you smiled at the bartender, swiftly tossing down a thirty as you swung your bag over your shoulder.

Sam placed his beer down, undeniably irritated by your sudden departure, “Thank you so much for such a nice night Sam, it was really nice getting to know you. I hope we can maybe see eachother again?” You barely waited for an answer before placing a peck on his cheek.

“I’ll see you around?”

It was the last thing you said before you bolted out the door. Sam was surprisingly stunned, within a minute you’d upped and left him alone. Not once did you overtly flirt or bat your eye lashes, it was honestly refreshing. A challenge is what he saw you as and a kind man is what saw you in him. How wrong you were, and how badly he wanted you.

Sam downed the rest of his drink before deciding, he was coming after you.

The night air nipped at your bare skin, you’d idiotically forgone a jacket or shawl. All you wanted was to get home and debrief with your friend who was proud of you for finally going out with someone. You really did enjoy yourself with Sam, but at the same time in your opinion there was something off about him.

He’d make a good friend.

As you entered your apartment you immediately sighed, if there was something you loved more than shopping or going out, it was your home. You quickly removed your heels and placed your bag on the counter before moving to your room. Makeup wipes disposed of, clothes picked out and the weekend was tomorrow.

You decided to wear a simple gown since it was a bit too warm in your place. As you were about to turn down the heat—

The lights went out.

Your hands trailed along the walls until you reached your living room curtains, thankfully you lived in the city. As you looked out you realised it was probably only your building. A creaking from behind caused you to turn sharply, “Hello?” No response. You slowly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a flashlight from your drawer.

The living room seemed empty, shadows drawn out by the light. Another creak came, but closer this time, “If there’s someone here, I’m so close to calling the cops.”

You screamed as you heard a chuckle from behind you, “How are you going to call without a phone?” You knew that voice, “Sam?” He stepped out from behind you with a wide grin, his eyes were trained on you, like a predator. The way he stared sent shivers down your spine, “What the hell are you doing here? How did you even—,”

“I saw your address on the delivery sheet. You really shouldn’t just pass around personal details sweetheart.” You swallowed before backing up, he continued walking forwards, “I— I didn’t show it you on purpose.” Sam shook his head disapprovingly as he tutted, “It’s no excuse, it was reckless of you. Imagine what would’ve happened if the wrong person saw?”

The tears were welling quickly, this was not the Sam you’d met, the one that you laughed and drunk with. This Sam was intimidating, “You are the wrong person.”

Your back was up against the wall, “Ouch, I wasn’t the wrong person when you needed help right? I wasn’t the wrong person when you wanted to go out. You’re a bitch, you know that? Wearing that little dress, that black lace and leaving me by myself. What was so important that you had to go? Or do you just get kicks out of leaving guys high and dry?”

You shook your head vehemently, tears dropping down your cheeks. Sam’s thumb caressed your cheek whilst the other traced upwards, “No.” You cried out, “No?” Sam mocked as he raised his eyebrows, “No to what sweetie? No to being a slut or something else?” His fingers ghosted over your panties as you jerked your hips upwards, “Sensitive aren’t you, not so sure if you’re a slut anymore Y/n/n.”

You refrained from puking at the nickname, “Something else.” Sam smirked as he took you in, teary, puffy eyes with a tear stained face. You struggled with getting your words out, his presence was overwhelming. You knew you couldn’t actually put up a fight, this man was a giant. And he’d absolutely crush you, no chance.

“No to this?” His fingers slipped your panties to the side and laughed when you began to sob into his shoulder. His finger presses against your clit as a gasp falls from your lips, “Can’t tell me you don’t want it when you’re acting like this Y/n/n.” You cringed at the lewd squelch that came from you.

Sam groaned as your fingertips dug into his biceps, “Sammy please.” He wanted to hit you the second you called him Sammy, but the wide eyes that stared up at him were too cute. “Tell me, tell Sammy what you need.” It was tedious at this point, his fingers had withdrawn from your clit, his touch was light and never where you needed it to be.

“Please just— just do something!” You wanted to cry even more, the apartment was warm and so were you. Your head was foggy, and all you could focus on was Sam’s large hands and thick fingers. “Please, I need you.” He pressed a finger to your clit and you moaned out, “Sammy!”

“You’re so wet Y/n/n, all for me yeah?” You were too far gone as he entered a finger, in and out. “When I say something,” Not even giving a minute to adjust, Sam added another finger as your fingernails scratched down his arms, “You respond.” His other hand came around your neck, his own fingernails imprint upon the smooth skin.

You whined at the loss of contact as Sam pulled out, feeling discomfort as you could feel your own slick coating your thighs, “Jump.” Sam had his hands on your ass as you jumped up, “Good girl.”

He laid you down on the bed before taking his own clothes off. You expected him to continue with fingering you but Sam had different plans. Because if there was one thing he put on top?

His own pleasure.

When you felt him rubbing his cock on your cunt, you immediately began to crawl away, “What do you think you’re doing Y/n/n?” Sam’s hands circled around your wrists as you squealed, his grip was tight and bruising.

“I’ve never…”

Oh this was too good. As if he wasn’t already having a good night. When you finally stopped fighting him, realising the stupidity of it, you looked at him.

His face was twisted in concern and you felt your heart swell, he was going to let you go. But then, you watched in horror as he began to laugh.

“Baby, you think I care? More fun for me.”

Your bedroom was filled with lewd sounds of skin and groans from Sam, your hands were pinned down above your head courtesy of Sam. He thrusted meanly and with so much force that you had scratched his back bloody.

“Shit Y/n/n, I knew you’d have a tight cunt but, fuck.”You hated him, how gorgeous he looked above you, how the sweat made his abs glisten and how your body reacted to his words.

Sam’s one hand was more than enough to hold both of yours, he traced your tits before pinching your nipple causing you to scream out. “Does it hurt? Poor baby.” He continued plunging into you, his dick twitched inside as he noticed the crimson on his dick.

Sam slowed his movements down as he noticed your eyes fluttering, “You keep your eyes on me Y/n. Close your eyes on me again and see what happens.” You quite literally couldn’t help it, Sam had already came inside you twice and your body had given up on fighting long ago.

“Please, just stop it Sam.” He scoffed at the plea, “What, I’m not Sammy anymore?” Sam teased as his hand came down to your clit, pressing down.

“This is all your fault y’know? Leaving me at the bar like I’m pathetic? Only pathetic thing here is you. Can’t even fight back now?” You barely managed to shake your head as Sam’s strong hands squeezed your hips before lifting and a slap landed on your ass.

“Cute little thing aren’t you?”

Sam pulled out before flipping you onto your stomach, pulling you back by your hips he ground against your ass. He prodded at your ass using your slick to stretch you out, “Cute ass too, maybe next time?” You shook your head at the notion, “Baby, Y/n/n you gotta use your words.”

He slid back into your tight cunt and groaned, “Fuck you’re so good. All— all for me.” You found yourself clutching onto the bed as he drove in and out mercilessly. You felt your legs begin to quiver as your cunt throbbed and clenched and you closed your eyes, trying your hardest to hold back. His hand tangled itself in your hair.

Sam’s hand on your ass kneaded and slapped, leaving it throbbing. “Fuck I can feel you, cum. Cum for me.” As much as you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing you felt as if you were going to explode. Sam was there too, you could feel his hips falter and his grip on your hair tighten.

“You’re mine, fuck, You’re mine. You understand?” His voice whispered against your ears and then you felt it. Sam’s cock throbbed inside of you, you could feel it with how deep he was inside of you, and thick, hot, ropes of cum filling you up as he came.

Sam’s hand pressed down onto your stomach, “Feel that Y/n/n?” Sam’s voice was prominent by your ear, “Yes Sammy!” You exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you.

He grinned before pulling out, you immediately collapsed onto the bed. You closed your eyes hoping it was over now. You jolted as you felt Sam’s fingers stuff his loads of cum back into you, “Keep that in there, or I’ll take you again.” Sam smiled as you nodded.

He surprisingly didn’t leave, instead he laid next to you. Sam had given you a break, two minutes was enough right?

Your peace was taken again as you felt a hand crawl around on your hip, “On second thought,”

“I might just take your ass now.”

[unitato722]

hiii ive just read ur most recent post and holy shit you write good smut😭🙏 if youre taking requests could you do thigh riding donnie? PLSSDSJDKSK

Hey hun, I'm glad you enjoy my posts! I can 100% write my favorite beanpole for you.

Minors DNI

Donnie had been working lately, but then what was new? You knew going into the relationship, and even before that, that there would be times when you wouldn't see him for weeks. You had been waiting to see your lovable dork of a man for two weeks, pushing three, and while you normally wouldn't have minded, you had an issue.

You'd been laying in bed that night fantasizing about all these different scenarios in your head. Before you knew it your shorts were discarded and your favorite toy was shoved inside of you as you worked desperately to get off. But you couldn't.

Tears of frustration were coursing down your face hours later as your arm started to lose feeling from moving the toy inside of you, yet you still weren't able to cum. Was it because you and Donnie had been getting intimate recently? The memory of it causes fresh tears and a new wave of wetness between your thighs.

It seemed as if you were unable to get off by yourself, which only meant one thing...

You walked into the lair a few hours later in a sour mood. You scared Mikey half to death as he came around the corner with a plate of nachos, nearly throwing them in the air. "Holy shit dude! You scared the crap out of me!" He exclaimed as he clutched his chest with one hand and the nacho plate in the other. "What are you doing here at this time? It's like 1 am."

You rolled your eyes as you nudged your way past him. "Just had a bad day. I came to see if Donnie had emerged from his lair yet," you admitted.

As if on cue, a hollow crashing sound came from the lab. You bolted towards the door and yanked it open to reveal Donnie who was sitting in his rolly chair with his head in one of his hands. He looked drained, like he hadn't slept in days, and he probably hadn't. On the floor were two plastic cups in a puddle of what smelled like old coffee.

You approached your boyfriend and put a soft hand to his face. "Are you ok?" You asked as you looked him over.

"Yeah," Donnie breathed out in response. "I think I'm finished, but the final product needs to sit for 48 hours so I figured I'd get a nap in." He stared hopelessly at the cups on the floor again, looking for all the world like he was completely drained of any and all energy.

Luckily you were used to this, and you hurried over to the clean up station to get a wet rag. You could tell that the turtle wanted to protest but he couldn't bring himself to scold you for it either. He watched as you cleaned up the spill and washed your hands before coming to stand in front of him.

"You look exhausted," you nite softly.

"I feel exhausted."

A beat of silence passes as you look into each other's eyes. Finally, Donnie pulls you closer until you're sitting on his lap and gives your forehead a kiss. "Thanks for cleaning up for me sweetheart, you didn't have to do that."

You silence him with a peck on the lips. "Of course I do, you can barely stand," you retort. You take a moment to give him a slow, passionate kiss and you can feel all the tension rush out of his body as he melts into it. Once you break apart you stand, grabbing his hand to lead him to the bed he kept at the back of his lab. Your purple turtle boyfriend collapses onto the mattress with a groan and you giggle.

You shift your legs as you watch him lay against the bed, body all lean muscle and sculpted abs. As Donnie sits himself up against the headboard he groans again, this time low in his chest. "Fuck babe, I can smell you from over here," he eyes you, still at the foot of the bed and gestures for you to come closer. "Do you really like me that much?"

It's said teasingly, but as you crawl up the bed you can't help but nod. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. You're just... So attractive," you admit with a blush.

Donnie's cheeks heat at the compliment, not used to receiving such praises. He chuckles and lets one hand come to caress your face, churning when you lean into the touch lovingly. "If I had any energy left I'd ravish you."

You smile. "There will be time for that later," you insist, but Donnie shakes his head.

"Oh no, I can see that your pent up. Just look at you," he coos. "So needy aren't you? Why don't you show me how much you need it?"

The words hang heavy in the air for less than a moment before you're crawling onto his lap to straddle one of his large legs. You whimper as the large thigh beneath you flexes and Donnie lets out a hiss. "Holy fuck, I can feel you soaking through my pants," he groans out as his hands find your hips.

All you can do is moan in response to the friction. When your boyfriend tugs at your pants you're quick to strip them off, along with your underwear, before returning to your seat.

Donnie groans as you grind against his leg with fervor, heat building in you like it had earlier, although this time you were determined to see it through. So lost in finding that pleasure you were that you didn't see the turtle beneath you staring at the lewd wet patch you were making on his pants. If he wasn't so drained he would have teased you, maybe even edged you before taking you here on this mattress. But right now he was entirely focused on your pleasure.

A bounce of his leg has you gasping and clutching at his shoulders for some semblance of stability. "F-fuck," you pant out, "it f-feels so good~"

The steady up and down of his leg paired with the way his hands were moving your hips down had you seeing stars. Had you been more aware you might have been embarrassed about how easily your man was drawing sounds out of you with just his leg. But here you were, gasping and crying out as that string pulled tighter and tighter.

A hand found your face and moved it so that you were looking right into the eyes of your lover, and it caused you to topple over the edge. Donnie's eyes held a fire even through the exhaustion. The way he looked at you was thirsty and desperate, like he couldn't bear to look away from you. "God I'm so lucky," he whispered before pulling you down into a kiss as your high washed over you.

You moaned into Donnie's mouth as you fell apart on top of him before collapsing into his arms. A low noise caused you to look up at your lover, only to find him staring heatedly at the large wet patch you had left on his leg. Your cheeks heated as you dug your face into his chest in shame. "I'm so sorry Donnie, I-" you're cut off by his lips.

"Don't you dare apologize. That's the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen."

Too tired to change into new sweats he simply pulls you down to lay with him on the bed as he begins to doze off. "Don't get too comfortable now baby. Once I wake up I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight," he growls into your ear before nuzzling into your neck.

God you couldn't wait.

[al-the-remix]

BuckTommy Whump Week Day 4: Prompts: Getting shot // Chronic pain

Another fic for @bucktommywhumpweek! I'm hoping to finish a few more of these before the week is actually over, lol. Rated: E ... I don't know if this really qualifies as whump (like my last whump week fic 💀) but I just can't help making them all sappy atm.

What people didn’t know about bullets was that they rarely went through-and-through in a nice neat manner; not through walls, or car doors, or flesh. They bounced around inside you like a rubber ball, inflicting the most damage possible. 

Buck had seen the aftermath more times than would have liked to. 

The memory of being called to his first GSW was a visceral one, it had been a domestic dispute and once they’d loaded the victim into the bus, Hen had rubbed his back as he’d thrown up into some nearby shrubbery. Buck could still feel the acid burn in the back of his throat when he remembered it. 

He’d seen cadaver photos in his text books, but those never compared to the real thing. The sheer volume of blood that poured out of people was enough to make him nauseous just thinking about it. The cartoonish version of a bullet hole that he’d carried around in his head for most of his life just hadn’t held up. 

Maybe it had been shortsighted of him, but Buck had never taken the time to consider what might come later; not until Tommy had taken Buck’s hand in his own and laid it over the meat of his shoulder and let Buck feel the little knobs of bullet fragments lodged there, like ball bearings trapped beneath his skin. 

“Do they bother you?” Buck asked, in wonder. 

“Not often,” Tommy replied, his hand still blanketing Buck’s as he let him dig his fingers into his shoulder muscle like he would be more than happy to just leave it there forever. “Most of the time I forget they're even there.”

Buck found that hard to believe. He couldn’t imagine having a foreign object stuck in his body and not obsessing over it every moment of every day. 

Tommy was giving him an amused, knowing look. 

“What?” 

“You’re going to be thinking about those for a while aren’t you?”

Buck huffed, rolling his eyes. It was a little unsettling maybe, sometimes, being understood so through and quickly by another person. He liked it; it made him feel all shivery and warm inside, but more importantly it made him feel daring. Bold. 

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

Tommy took Buck’s hand in his own: his palm big, warm and dry, and slid it down to rest on the muscular curve of his outer thigh. “There’s some more over here too,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as Buck gave all the nice warm flesh there a squeeze.

There wasn’t a lot of talking after that, but Tommy had been right, Buck had thought about it for a while, his mind stuck on invisible scars and mementoes carried around inside you that no one else could see. 

///

Buck wasn’t sure if it was the thunder or the soft orange glow spilling into the mezzanine that woke him. Quiet noises came from the kitchen below, the muted purr of the kettle and the shuffle of Tommy’s socked feet against the tile. Tommy had still been in Buck’s bed when he’d fallen asleep hours ago, tucked up against Tommy’s side as Tommy read by the lamp light.

Buck pulled on his sweatpants and made his way down to the main floor, feeling oddly awake for 4 am. He rarely had a bad night’s sleep when Tommy was with him, taking up space in Buck’s bed and stealing his covers. 

Tommy sent him a guilty look when he noticed Buck, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, not pulling honey from Buck’s kitchen cabinet. He was wearing one of Buck’s old hoodies and some sleep shorts. The circles under his eyes were dark and deep. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he whispered like Buck might be standing there in front of him, still asleep.

“I don’t mind,” Buck said and meant it. He wasn't the one with the shift in far too few hours.

Buck leaned back against the edge of the counter crossing his arms as he did, and settled in. He knew whatever was bothering Tommy would work its way out on its own, like a splinter buried beneath skin. He watched quietly as Tommy stirred honey into his tea. Buck was no stranger to sleepless nights and aching bones. Tommy had sat with him through some of the more recent bad nights, endlessly patient. 

Buck watched him closely, quietly analyzing the tilt of his body and the clench of his jaw as Tommy leaned against the counter opposite him. The cool light from the stove hugged the contours of his face, digging out dark wedges beneath those cheekbones that could cut glass. 

“Well, aren't you gonna ask?”

Buck shrugged. “I figured I'd just wait you out.”

Tommy sighed, setting his mug to the side. He was smart enough to know when he was on the losing side of a battle. “It's the scar tissue around the shrapnel I've still got in me. Every so often it begins to pull in uncomfortable ways and makes it impossible to get settled.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Tommy tilted his head like he was really considering Buck and his words. “Honestly I don't know, I normally just take an Ibuprofen and put on a movie or something and try to just ignore it.”

“Well, I think we can do better than that,” Buck said, and Tomy raised a brow, curiosity peaked.

With hands planted firmly on Tommy’s shoulders, Buck guided him back upstairs to bed and got him splayed out on his belly across the center of the mattress on a towel, sweater-less, with his arms tucked comfortably under his head. 

“Finally, just where I want you,” Buck teased as he straddled Tommy’s waist, reaching for the massage oil. He could feel Tommy’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, muffled by the pillow.

Buck admired the span of Tommy’s back as he warmed the oil up between his hands, deciding where to begin. The bullet and shrapnel scars were faint now, Buck knew their locations by memory and feel alone. He started by smoothing his hands up the center of Tommy’s back, following the column of his spine and the thick muscles flanking it, getting Tommy warmed up and used to his touch before applying more pressure. 

Buck always preferred to talk while he worked, and with Tommy the smooth flow of words came easy. If he let himself, he could probably let his mouth run for hours, and Tommy would listen. 

“You know, I wanted to be a masseuse for a while.”

Tommy hummed, his eyes had drifted shut when Buck began to work on the tight knot of tissue just below his shoulder blade, he peeled one open now, offering Buck an amused look over his shoulder. “And which hunky guy did you follow that career into?”

“Ha ha,” Buck said, poking his fingers playfully into Tommy's side, just to watch him squirm. “Actually, it was after working at the ranch, there was this ex bronco rider, who had compressed his spine one too many times, mucking out stalls with me. He told me all about how his girlfriend had taken massage therapy classes to help him with his back because his insurance wouldn’t cover the treatment.” 

“Ah, so it was a hunky girl that time.”

Buck chuckled. He liked how easy it was to talk with Tommy about stuff like this; he wasn’t ashamed of  himself or his past, but he was wary of how people might perceive him because of it. He’d wanted so badly for Tommy to think of him as a serious person, to know that Buck was all in. That dating him didn’t imply some sort of unspoken risk–and with Tommy it never had. 

“You know me–I always liked the idea of helping people, I just didn't know how, yet.” 

“Maybe I’m being selfish, but I think you ended up right where you were supposed to be,” Tommy said, and groaned in pleasure when Buck really started working at the scar tissue webbed deep within his back muscle.

“How’s that feel?” Buck asked, anticipating Tommy's approval.

“Fucking awesome.”

Buck grinned. He knew he was good with his hands, but it was a whole nother thing entirely to be good with his hands for Tommy. Pleased with himself, a heavy satisfaction settled warm in the pit of his stomach. He loved everything about this: having Tommy pliable and relaxed beneath him, working slick skin over with his hands, making Tommy feel good, being able to help in some small way.

Buck shuffled down, straddling Tommy’s leg so he could work his fingers into the outside of Tommy’s thigh where he knew a metal shard the size of his thumbnail lived. That one had been logged in there when an IED had struck the lead vehicle in their convoy, and some of Buck’s satisfaction melted away as he thought about just how many close calls his boyfriend’s body was littered with. He was normally the one getting shit for taking risks, but in truth Tommy was just as guilty as he was. 

Tommy had gone completely boneless underneath him, his skin pink and a little shiny from having Buck’s oiled up hands all over him. He continued to rub gently circles into his skin even after he’d finished with the final shrapnel wound he knew of, running his nails lightly over the thick swirls of hair on the backs of Tommy’s legs. 

Tommy shifted his hips against the mattress, spreading his legs a little wider. Buck knew that move, and that satisfaction in his gut twisted and flared back to life. He slid his hands up the backs of Tommy’s thighs as slowly as he could handle.

“Are you hard?” he asked, worming his fingers under the hem of Tommy’s shorts when he reached them. 

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “That felt really good, but, uh, we don’t have to do anything, you must be tired and–”

He was starting to sound way too with it for Buck’s liking. Buck dug his thumbs into the soft inner flesh of Tommy’s thighs and let his hips roll in a slow, pointed drag along the back of Tommy’s leg so there was no way he could miss the semi Buck was sporting.

Tommy’s muscles jumped under his hands as he groaned. “Okay, Okay, you’ve made your point. Help me out of these–”

Buck was more than happy to peel Tommy’s shorts down his legs as Tommy lifted his hips obligingly. He had half a mind to just dump a generous amount of the oil on Tommy’s big pale ass and go to town, but he had a feeling that would probably ruin the [slowly winding] mood they’d built. 

In a show of what he considered great restraint, Buck slipped a slick hand between Tommy’s thighs, rolling his balls softly in the palm of his hand just to hear the noises he would make. Quiet chuffs and deep groans were muffled by the pillow as Tommy ground his hips in lazy circles against the mattress and back into Buck’s hand, and Buck was starting to think he’d never get over how good it felt to have another man like this: a big body to push and pull and work at until it ultimately unraveled.

Buck stretched up so he could press a kiss to the thick curve of Tommy’s shoulder, not caring one bit about the oil that still clung to his skin. He let his hand drift up and rubbed his slick fingers indulgently over Tommy’s asshole, gratified by the way he moaned and pushed into it. 

“You can if you want to,” Tommy said, breathless, and Buck could tell without even looking at his face how gone he was just from having Buck’s hands on him. 

“I have a better idea,” Buck said, pulling at Tommy’s hip. “Here–roll onto your side for me.”

It didn’t take Tommy long to clue in once Buck pressed himself all up along his back and reached for the bottle of oil again, slicking his dick up in the shallow space between their bodies. 

His body tensed when realization dawned. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Evan– ” 

And it was Tommy’s turn to lose his cool, his voice reedy and feverish, a thin tremor through his body as Buck maneuvered his thigh so he could fit his dick into that hot, tight space between them. He wrapped an arm around the barrel of Tommy’s chest, pinning him tight against his own as Buck took that first long, indulgent roll of his hips. 

Buck had always enjoyed fucking someone’s thighs–what wasn’t there to like–but there was something specific about the way Tommy got so worked up over it, even in the early hours of the morning after a sleepless night, even when Buck had just worked his body to jello with his hands, that rocketed the act up into the stratosphere.

Tommy squeezed his thighs around him, Buck could hear the labored cadence of his breathing and the obscene sounds of him fisting his own cock, as Buck fucked the slick give of his thighs. The way the head of his dick kept nudging up against the soft resistance of Tommy’s balls with every stroke was still just different enough to scratch at Buck’s brain in new and interesting ways.

Tommy’s fingers dug into his hair, pulling Buck’s face down so he could slide their mouth together at an awkward angle. The kiss was sloppy, Tommy kept sucking Buck’s tongue into his mouth and then breaking away to moan again and again as he got closer to coming. Buck could feel it all through his body, wound like a coil ready to spring. He wasn’t far behind, his plan to keep things slow and simmering had fallen through quickly. He should have known better; with Tommy pressed against him like one big throbbing pulse, overwhelming Buck’s senses with the musky scent of his body, and the sounds he made when he touched himself, and how good it felt to rut against him like this, the desperate slide of skin against skin, there was just no chance he was going to last.  

Buck buried his face in the hollow of Tommy’s shoulder, just above where that pale constellation of shrapnel lived, and stilled as he came in thick pulses all along Tommy’s taint, that little space between his thighs instantly going wet and frictionless. 

Tommy made a wounded sound, and Buck held him tight in the cradle of his arms as Tommy hitched his hips into his fist until he came. He was still pressing kisses against Tommy’s damp hairline when Tommy reached up and laced their fingers together, no longer shaking. 

“Well, I’m definitely not thinking about the stupid shrapnel anymore.”

“Good,” Buck said, allowing himself to feel smug about it. “My work here is done.”

“Not so quick hot stuff,” Tommy said, reaching back to pat him on the hip. “I expect your help de-oiling in the shower. I think this mess is a four-handed operation.”

“Yes, sir.” Buck peeled himself from where he’d been clinging to Tommy like a limpet.

He took a moment to admire the long, glistening stretch of Tommy’s body, limp and satisfied. Debauched, even.

"What?" Tommy asked, stretching his arms above his head as he rolled onto his back, offering Buck a good view of where his come was actively drying in his happy trail. Buck would have a fun time scrubbing that out.

"Nothing, I'm just happy you're here, with me."

Tommy face went immediately soft and he pressed up on his knees so he could pull Buck into one more lingering kiss before breaking away.

"There's no where I'd rather be."

[mylifesjustacarousel]

mali’s little pirate crush

pairing: maleficent x gn!reader (requested!)

summary: hook has a new pirate crew, and maleficent thinks it’s pathetic… until she sees you.

type: fluff

CW: none

WC: 500+

requests are open! <3

“Who the hell are they?” Maleficent asked as she walked into Uliana’s lair. There was a group sitting there in the lair, surrounding Hook. You were amongst them, not paying any mind to the horned girl who had just walked in.

“What does it look like, Mali? This is my pirate crew,” Hook smirked, gesturing to the group around him. She rolled her eyes, “A bunch of copies of you? Seems like quite a crew. This is childish, Hook.”

“Don’t even bother, I’ve been trying to get them out all day,” Hades commented as he walked past them.

Her eyes looked around at the group in disgust… until her eyes got to you. You were sat next to Hook, chatting with your fellow crew member. She didn’t know who you were, but she knew that you were absolutely breathtaking. She couldn’t let you think that she was totally heartless… unless you liked that, of course. “You know, I think that was a little harsh of me. I’m Maleficent, if you don’t already know who I am… and you should.”

You giggled, turning to face her, “We should? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you, darling.”

She blushed, her eyes darting away, “Well… I’m leaving. Goodnight, Hook.” Maleficent turned on her heel, walking away quickly. She was beyond intrigued by you, and she was determined to find out more about you.

Maleficent was back the very next day, immediately going over to Hook and his crew. “Heyyy, James. How is everyone today? Is your crew okay?” she sat next to him, putting her head in her hands. Hook looked absolutely confused, “You mean the crew that you called childish?”

She scoffed, her face turning bright red. “Childish? Did I say that? No, I meant… you know what I meant,” her eyes wandered over to you, absolutely entranced. Hook’s eyes followed your gaze, his eyes widening.

“Oh, Mali, that is too funny,” he snorted, slapping his knee. Maleficent scowled, hitting his shoulder as hard as she could, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hook. But, while we’re here, who is that?”

“That? That is y/n, and you don’t stand a chance. They’re as cutthroat as it gets.”

She scoffed, “I don’t stand a chance? You don’t know who you’re talking to, pretty boy.” Standing up, she went over to you. You looked up, giving her a small smile, “Hey. I’m sorry, I still don’t remember your name, darling. Does darling work for you? It works for me.”

Her legs felt like jello as she sat by you, “It might. So… why James? What made you join his, um, crew? If you can even call it that.”

You shrugged, your eyes looking her up and down. She was cute, and you liked cute. “I thought it would be fun, I’ve never really had a crew of my own. But, now I think I have a new reason for being here, darling. I’d like to get to know you better.”

You two were still talking hours later, laughing and chatting. You reached your hand out, running it through her long black hair, “You know, darling. I’m free tomorrow night, if you’re available to hang out.”

Hook and Hades stood there, both of their jaws dropped.

“I can’t believe she actually did it. You owe me five bucks, Hook.” Hades said, nudging his shoulder.

“Shut up right now.”

a/n: thank you for the request! i tried as best as i could, i hope you enjoy! sorry it’s a little short!! <3

[paillettetkdi]

“MISTER HERO, YOU ARE A RABBIT???” Ravio’s shout was so loud that Link was sure all of Hyrule had heard him.

“No, Rav, I’m not. It’s just a form like any other.”

“Mister Hero, I don’t think you understand the implications of what you just told me,” the merchant said in a strangely calm voice. “You have the ability to transform into the most beautiful creature that can exist in this world… and I request you to show me.” Even without looking, Link could feel Ravio’s green eyes staring at him.

“First of all, I don’t have to show you anything if I don’t want to. Second, it’s not like I can. Unless you can bring enough darkness to my soul to make me transform, you’ll have to settle for my Hylian form.” Ravio continued to stare at him, but at least he stopped talking. Link put away the blade he had been preparing and decided to clean the old mirror that started this all mess of a conversation.

“When you come back from your missions, you smell really bad,” Ravio blurted out.

Link stopped rubbing the mirror to turn around and face the other man. Ravio looked at him, and after a short silence, continued his rambling: “I don’t like that you don’t let me sell items that you don’t use anyway, and your bees are ugly and disgusting and scary. We could just buy honey instead of having them at home all the time. You have really weird tastes in decoration, you look bad in the morning, your breath smells like old underwear when you drink coffee. Also, if I had to choose between you and Sherrow, I would choose Sherrow instead of you and—”

“What is happening right now?” Link asked, looking at Ravio with a confused gaze.

“Well… I was trying to bring darkness to your soul, but it’s not working. Maybe I should continue a little more?” Ravio replied, staring at Link’s ears as if he expected them to transform at any moment.

“NO! No, no thank you.” Link took a moment to collect himself. “You… why would you think that? You know what? I don’t want to know how you came to that conclusion. I was talking about dark magic, not making me feel bad about myself, Rav.”

Two giant emerald eyes looked at him before Ravio jumped on him and pulled him into an embrace. “Oh sweet Lolia, I am so, so, so sorry, Mister Hero! That was very petty of me. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I promise! Will you ever forgive me? If you want, I can sell you the ice rod you want for the small price of 600 rupees to show you how sorry I am.”

Link let Ravio calm himself in his arms, pondering his words. “Why did you say that to me? You know me better than anyone. If you thought making me feel bad was the solution, why talk about my tastes in decoration and not my adventures or something like that?”

“That would have been mean, Mister Hero, it’s not polite to talk about something that someone cannot change.” Ravio said, looking at him as if he were the weird one.

Link just laughed before burying his face in the Lorulian’s hair. He smelled like apples today, which meant he had stolen Link’s shampoo again. Link would take care of that later; for now, he was planning on enjoying a well-deserved nap in his lover arms. Maybe he could ask the rancher to give him his stange crystal for an hour at two so he could show Rav his rabbit form. He wouldn’t be against somme rub on the back of his ears.

———————————

Same as always

English is not my first language if i made any mistake tell me i really want to improve

Ravio is my favorite character of all the TLOZ game so putting him here was really great

Also did you know that in French his name is Lavio ? And it makes a lot more sense dans Ravio but honestly Lavio just feels wrong

Anyway have a great day !

[ineffablesuffering]

Sick Days (Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader)

I wrote this as a form of comfort as I am finally getting over this cold that I had.

Warnings: like one swear word, Crowley being soft for the reader

Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley x Platonic!GN! Reader.

Word Count: 1,095

Masterlist

--------------

You lay in bed, the thought of moving was, to simply put it - unbearable. You had awoken with a pounding headache and felt like your sinuses were trying to escape from your face. Everything hurt and your body couldn't decide if it was too hot or too cold. Great. You were sick.

You had meant to have plans with Crowley and Aziraphale feeding the ducks in St James Park and a spot of lunch, but clearly that wasn't happening today. You sat up in bed and instantly the room starting spinning around you. You let out a deep cough and you whine at the feeling in your chest. You put a hand to your forehead to try and ground yourself as you reach for your phone before sliding back down into your bed. You had planned to call Aziraphale and tell him you couldn't make it, but the room kept spinning and forced you to close your eyes to make it stop.

The next thing you remember is your phone ringing a few hours later. "Shit," you mumble. You must have fallen back asleep. You pick up your phone, answer it and put it to your ear. "Hello?" you rasp.

"Y/N, I just wanted to see if we're on your way?" It was Aziraphale. You groan and turn to face your clock. You should have been at the bookshop by now. "My dear? Are you quite alright? You don't sound yourself." He asks.

"I'm sorry Aziraphale, I was meant to call you but I must have fallen back asleep, I'm not feeling too great." You rasp out, your throat feeling like it was on fire. "I'm not going to be able to make it today."

"Is that Y/N?," you hear Crowley shout in the background, "Tell them to hurry up, times a ticking."

You try to let out a laugh, but it ends with you in a coughing fit, wincing at the pain in your chest. "You two go on ahead without me, we'll catch up soon."

"Are you sure? We can always rearrange?"

"Aziraphale, I'll be fine," you say as another cough racks through your body, "I've been ill before."

"Well, make sure you rest and we will see you another time. I hope you feel better soon my dear,"

"Thank you 'Zira, I'll talk to you later," you say as you hang up the phone before placing it on your bedside table. You groan as you drag yourself out of bed, in search of water and hopefully some form of medication.

A short while later, you had decided that you couldn't sit in bed any longer and you were curled up on your sofa, watching your comfort show, eating your comfort food and taking small sips of some hot lemon and honey water when there was a knock at the door. You muted the TV, praying that whoever was knocking would go away. The knocking persisted.

"They're  probably asleep Angel," you heard a muffled Crowley. This got your attention and you made your way from the sofa to the door.

"Maybe, but I'd feel better if I just saw them." replied Aziraphale.

You open the door to find the angel and demon standing before you. They took in your disheveled state, your skin pale except from your blood shot eyes and your nose being red, your hair messy and a headache strip on your forehead, a blanket haphazardly wrapped around your shoulders and your comfy clothes on. A true sight for sore eyes.

"What are you two doing here?" Your voice quiet in an attempt to not irritate your throat even more.

"We came to check on you, and see how you're feeling." Aziraphale said, "We brought you supplies" he gestured to the bag that Crowely was holding.

"You really didn't have to," you say

"We know," said Crowley. You give him a small smile, "and don't think this is me being nice. I'm just following orders."

"I wouldn't dream of it." You say stepping aside inviting them in. Aziraphale smiled at you as he walked in, Crowley sauntered in behind him handing you the bag that he was holding.  You closed the door behind them and peer inside the bag.

"Jesus 'Zira, I have a cold, I'm not opening a bloody chemist." You say to him as he walks towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, taking the dishes you had left on the table with him.

"Well I didn't know what you needed, so I bought everything."

You smile at the gesture, he really was so thoughtful. You make your way back over to the sofa where Crowley had already made himself at home. You roll your eyes, expecting nothing less from him. He gives you a grin.

"Move over," you whine at him as he lounges across the entirety of the sofa.

"Or what," he says playfully.

"I'll cough all over you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Crowley, be nice." You hear Aziraphale call from the kitchen. He moves rather quickly.

"Bitched," you cough.

"Fuck off," he mumbles, throwing his sunglasses onto your coffee table. You take your place on the sofa next to Crowley, and lean your head on his shoulder. "Comfy?" he says with a smile. You nod against his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you.

"I hate being ill," you complain "everything hurts." Crowley just chuckles, giving you a squeeze. Aziraphale returns with two mugs in his hands. A cup of tea for himself, and a cup of green tea with lemon for you. "Thank you." You rasp as you take the mug off of him.

"Don't be silly," he tells you taking a seat beside you. "Just make sure you drink it while it's hot, it's supposed to help with your throat."

"Aye aye captain," you joke before a coughing fit racks through your body again. You feel Crowley run his hand up and down your back in an attempt to help soothe you. The couple shoot you a sympathetic glance when you're finally able to compose yourself again. "I'm fine, I'll be fine." You say picking up the TV remote and unmuting it. "And because you have crashed my pitty party you have to watch whatever movie I want to watch and I want to watch The Sound of Music." Crowley laughs from beside you as Aziraphale let's out the most unangellike groan. You smile at him, before finding the movie and pressing play. Maybe being ill wasn't so bad when you had your favourite celestials to keep you company.

[rallamajoop]

More random details from the depths of RE8

With the excuse of trying some shiny new mods, I've been replaying RE8 lately for the umpteenth time. Given the number of hours I've already poured into this game, you'd really think there'd be nothing left to find by this stage ‒ yet here I am, finding still more details I'd somehow missed the first half-dozen times through.

For one, there's the fact you can actually find Eva's grave in the graveyard outside the church. As the only photo we ever see of her shows her as a baby, I'd assumed she was still a baby when she died, but turns out, she was ten years old.

"Eva, June 1909 ‒ August 1919

May you slumber for only a short while"

As expected, her death of the Spanish flu took place in 1919. There's some semi-legible text on the stone, but it doesn't match the caption ‒ it's just the same generic filler text you'll find on half the gravestone assets in this game.

For another, there's Rose's baby monitor. I'd noticed Ethan turning the thing on when he puts her to bed, and even found the assets for its screen ‒ but since I'd never found the monitor itself, I assumed they must be unused.

Until this playthrough, when suddenly I'm just like, oh, there it is, sitting right on the table. You can even interact with it!

How did I miss this so many times? It is pretty easy to overlook, given you'll trigger the cutscene with Mia if you go much closer to the kitchen, but I'm still surprised I never spotted it before. (And you do have to wonder if there was ever any plan for it to show a glimpse of something more sinister than just a still-image of Rose sleeping.)

In other minor details, there's the bit where Ethan arrives on the outskirts of the village at 8AM. You can hear a clock striking 8 times as you get your first view of area.

Granted, this is not going to excite anyone who hasn't spent as long as I have putting together an hour-by-hour timeline of everything that happens in this game, but I still do love that they give you enough detail that that's even possible ‒ and this new timestamp fits right into that timeline. (And why yes I have just gone back and updated that post, what do you take me for?)

Speaking of assets I thought were unused, you know that hidden room under the castle you can't get into until later, where you have to solve a puzzle that involves setting a moroaica on fire? Have you ever looked closely at the tapestries decorating this place? Because I found them in the game files ages ago, and have been trying to figure out if they're actually in the game ever since.

Because seriously, look at these things!

Yes, that is a indeed a man with a sword and spear, wearing a hoplite helmet and sandals and nothing else. And the women seeing him from the front seem to be having a whole range of reactions to all that, er, weaponry being brandished their way. Isn't fine art wonderful?

Another asset I'd innocently assumed was unused is this wonderful bit of bullshit which was labeled simply 'antibow'. It wasn't until I took a long look at it that I realised what they meant was more like 'anti-B.O.W.', as in Bio-Organic-Weapon.

Yes, that is indeed a knife taped to some kind of grenade. Sure is one high-tech outfit we're working with here!

Only now do I spot that this is actually the bomb Chris chucks at the Megamycete in the cavern. It doesn't even come with the knife already attached, he just kind of sticks the knife onto the bomb and presumably straps some tape around them while the camera cuts away.

I still have so much more to share from my ongoing free-camera adventures, but I think we'll leave this one there for today.

[hyunjins--laugh]

coming up for air - part one

@renjunsbabygirl has me thinking about jaehyun's recent prada shoot for milan fashion week and acting tf UP so here i am slaving away bc she's procrastinating <3

"What the fuck is this, Jung Jaehyun?" you mumble to yourself, screenshotting the most recent photos posted of your boyfriend. He was on a trip for fashion week in Milan, and you were definitely missing him. The photos, though, were absolutely incredible from the event. Absolutely no complaints, whatsoever.

Especially his instagram posts from the day - glowing skin, sharp jawline, tempting peek of abdomen that distracted your attention from the clothes to what lay underneath. Ugh, why did Milan have to be so far away? Guess you'd just have to find a way to make him hurry back.

Opening up your texts with him, you sent him a cropped screenshot of his happy trail showing through the small window of denim in his outfit, along with '😏🤭'. Without waiting to see whether he read it or not, you turned your phone off, rolling over and quickly falling asleep.

¨*.¸.•*¨. ¸.•¨.¸¸.•¨`•.

Jaehyun awoke to the sun shining in through his hotel window as the sounds of traffic and city life leaked into the room. Rolling over, he grabbed his phone and smiled as he read your texts from the night before, quickly responding before stretching out in his hotel bed. He was definitely pleased that you liked the photos, always having a good start to the day after encouragement from his girl.

He'd known that those photos would do well and that the fans would like them, but all he really cared about was your opinion. Even receiving small bits of encouragement like the photo with some emojis meant that you were keeping up with his work and encouraging him along the way.

A knock on the door sounded, then the voice of his manager telling him it was time to start getting ready for the day's schedule. He sighed and got up out of bed, opening the door to answer before starting to get dressed for the day.

¨*.¸.•*¨. ¸.•¨.¸¸.•¨`•.

The next morning, you awoke to multiple texts from Jaehyun, sent about an hour after you'd gone to bed the night before. The time difference was about 6 hours ahead, so by the time he woke up, you were already asleep.

"good morning babygirl <3" followed by "missing me today?"

Grinning to yourself, you responded with "i always miss you", then turned off your phone for the time being. His flight back was later today, so you knew he'd have a busy morning of packing and airport security.

Heaving a sigh, you rolled off of your bed, wandering over to your dresser and opening a drawer. Inside lay various lingerie sets, some more intricately designed than others. Digging through the drawer gave you an idea, an evil and wonderful idea.

You grabbed a set that you knew drove him wild; red with string detailing that emphasized and complimented your chest well but still allowed him plenty of access to everything underneath. This set would be comfortable enough to wear all day, so you put on one of his shirts as well as a pair of comfy shorts. Pulling up the hem of his shirt to reveal the waistband of your panties peeking out from your shorts, you snapped a couple photos before sending the best one to Jaehyun, paired with a cheeky text reading "come home soon😋".

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

Lunchbox E.S x FEM! reader

Overture-Everyday the guys offer you lunch, but you can't quite take them up on the offer.

CWs-Insecurity around eating and food, quasi-ED behaviors, mentions of possession, aliens, monsters. All of the ghostbusters are gossipy bitches, but Egon's still a sweetie and so is Ray.

A/N-Don't know how relatable this will be, but I like it and am moderately proud of it. Every Monday I'm doing a light angst, and if you want to read the other things I did/am doing this month you could do that here:  October Writing Master List

“Do you want anything for lunch? I think we’re ordering chinese–” They offered almost every day, and you always declined. You’d worked in the ghostbusters office for almost a month now, as the receptionist on days Janine was off or preferred to work at night. 

“No thank you, I’m ok.”

“Alright, let us know if you change your mind, we always order too much anyway.” Ray called out to you as they started to move upstairs to relax until their next call. 

“Ok, thanks guys. You should have another hour until the next appointment.” 

You spent another 20 minutes typing on the computer before the food came, and after one last offer to eat with them, the guys disappeared upstairs.

********

You tried not to eavesdrop on their conversations. It wasn’t often that they were upstairs while you were still working, when they aren’t on calls they’re usually in the lab. But when they were upstairs, you could hear them pretty clearly. 

“You know I’ve never seen her eat?”  Peter brought up, and you couldn’t ignore that.

“Yeah me neither.” Ray spoke up, but with a little more concern than Peter had.

“Do you think she’s an alien or something?” Honestly you weren’t sure if you should be offended. Of all things that were slightly odd about you, Winston thinking you were an alien because of your eating habits was a little shocking. 

“Maybe she’s possessed.” Peter laughing at you was not a rare occurrence, but that stung a little, since he was clearly joking. 

“She hasn’t shown any traits of possession since she started here.” Egon’s defense of you was–flattering, even if Peter was joking. Maybe it was just the bottom of the barrel, flattery-wise. But between the fact that the conversation had drifted to you being possessed, and the fact that you’d had a major league crush on Egon since you started, you would take what you could get.  

“I think she’s just not hungry.” Ray always was such a sweetie.

A loud buzzer rang out, which meant it was time to chart Egon’s fungi growth. You had to when they were out, but since Egon was here he was doing it himself. Unfortunately, that did not stop the other guys’ conversation.  

“She’s worked here for 3 weeks, I think we’re past the point of ‘not hungry’. Let’s talk monsters in human form.” Winston said, and you couldn’t say for sure if he was joking, but you were leaning towards no. 

“You could hear that?” You assumed it was a question, but the tone he used almost made it sound like a statement; one he was very concerned by. 

“Yeah. The giant hole in the ceiling does kind of lend itself to good acoustics. But it’s cool, no worries.” You really tried to brush it off, forcing a little bit of laughter out. Getting well into the uncanny valley of the unbothered, and Egon was not at all buying it. 

“No. I'm sorry about that, I’ll go get them to stop.” He stood straighter, grateful for the new next step in making you feel better. But that would only draw more attention, and make it worse. 

“Egon it’s ok, really. Go check on your spores, I heard the buzzer go off a second ago.” He gave one short nod, and then turned to go to his lab, still looking like a kicked puppy. He felt so guilty that not only would the guys say that, but that you could hear the whole thing. Equally matched with his guilt, was a mild concern for you. He came back about 15 minutes later, and thankfully the conversation had drifted away from you. 

“So should we be worried about your eating habits?” It was the first thing he said to you when he came back, marked by concern and said with the sincere tone with which he said anything. 

“I don’t think so. Why?” 

“You work approximately 12 hour shifts, yet none of us have seen you eat.”

“I don’t like to eat where I work, it’s no big deal.” The exterior you were really trying to keep up was slowly cracking under his sincere concern. He just had to be so damn nice.

“We could probably schedule in a short break for you, if you have too much work to stop.” He was coming up with a solid solution to a problem you didn’t have. But it was nevertheless appreciated. 

“No, it’s ok. It’s not that– I just don’t really like to eat in front of or like– around other people.”

“Why?” You should have known an ambiguous answer wouldn’t make this end any faster, if anything now he was intrigued.

“Just makes me nervous, I guess.”

“Do we make you uncomfortable?” He shuffled around a little, burying his hands in his pockets as he tried to maintain eye contact. The idea of that made him clearly upset, and you were quick to correct him. 

“No! It’s nothing like that, I just–I don’t know, it’s weird. But would you mind–not telling the other guys about this?”You really just wanted this conversation to end, fade into the obscurity of your memory, hopefully soon forgotten. 

“Are you sure?” He looked down his glasses at you, putting ever so slight pressure on you to make sure he got an honest answer. 

“Yes. It’ll be our little secret?” 

“Alright. But I would like to talk about this further.” You were saved by the bell as the phone on your desk started ringing. You leaned over to the phone before looking back to him. 

“Go eat your lunch, I have to take this.” 

While he may have agreed to leave the subject alone, not wanting to draw further attention to your discomfort, he had his own way of trying to help. He’d buy extra snacks and put some in your bag, even bringing sodas to put in your desk drawers so you’d get sugar throughout the day. You appreciated his extra care. So many people characterized him as distant, and far too logical, but he really did care for everyone in his life.

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 6)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.3k words, angst at first? idk, it gets fluffy) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {I kept getting ideas while writing this so I stopped like 4 times to write another chapter}

last part - masterlist - next part

Lance made his way onto the paddock, his dad having driven him instead of Nico. After waking up in Fernandos bed after his DNF in San Marino he'd unintentionally avoided the Spaniard for the past week. He didn't remember much past him complaining about Coulthard, all he knew was he woke up in an unfamiliar hotel room with Fernando Alonso asleep peacefully beside him.

He looked gorgeous, obviously, his long hair slightly covering his eyes, chest rising and falling slightly as he breathed, he looked peaceful, Lance could've stayed and stared for hours if reality didn't hit him suddenly.

He was in bed with Fernando. Alcohol was out on a table a few feet away and he could tell he'd had too much to drink the night before, without thinking he collected his things and left as if he was some sex worker the world champion had taken back to his room the night before.

He'd managed to ignore all of the older mans texts, a part of him feeling bad and longing for him while another part was busy worrying about how badly he must've embarrassed himself.

After a week of putting it off there was no way to now, if Fernando didn't speak to him before Quali he most definitely would after.

He walked alone through the paddock, answering short questions here and there before he found a swarm of people who all called his name.

"Lance, Lance Stroll, How do you feel about what Red Bull and David Coulthard have had to say about you this past week?"

Lance thought for a second, wondering if it was a wise choice to answer the question, in the end he decided it couldn't hurt too much "I honestly couldn't care less, I don't care what Red Bull or Coulthard thinks about me, thank you" He nodded slightly before leaving, not having much more to say and not wanting to elaborate on the whole thing

Somehow he'd managed not to run into Fernando even as Quali came to an end, he was set to start the race in 11th, somehow stopping himself from checking where Fernando was starting from.

His luck didn't last long before he was greeted by the same voice as always

"Lancito, will you avoid me forever?" Fernando asked, Lance wasn't sure whether the Spaniard was joking or was truly hurt by what Lance was doing

"Sorry, I've been busy" He lied, not even turning around to look at Fernando

"What is wrong? Did I do something? I am not sure how to fix it if you do not tell me, mi sol" He spoke softly, just like he always did with lance, he entered the Racing Point garage, just trying to get closer to the Canadian, trying to get him to meet his eyes

"It's nothing, I'm just busy" Lance tried to convince Fernando, he wasn't very good at it

"Too busy to talk to me but before I was the only one you'd talk to" Fernando teased, trying anything to figure out what was wrong

Lance tried to hide his embarrassment as he finally looked at Fernando, the only thing he could think about was the morning after the Europen Grand Prix.

"Is this about last week?" Fernando guessed, Lance couldn't help but be slightly annoyed at how the older man was always right "All we did was drink, Lancito, you were upset so I thought you would like drinking alone, no?"

"Yeah, sorry, I- I don't know why I freaked out" He forced out a laugh, trying to make himself feel less awkward talking to Fernando for the first time in a week

"Is okay, Lancito, are you embarrassed because of what you said?"

"What I said?" He echoed, now he was embarrassed, what did he say for Fernando to bring it up so many days later

"About the crash, you were very upset, mi sol" Fernando didn't exactly lie but he knew that wasnt what he meant. If Lance really didn't remember what he had begged of Fernando than maybe he didn't mean it, Fernando was sure his emotions were just hightened.

"Oh" Lance laughed, feeling relieved after Fernando confirmed nothing else was talked about "I'm not embarrassed, I kinda feel like you"

Fernando smiled, patting the Canadians shoulder "Feels good, eh? Getting in a little trouble?"

The two continued talking, both felt as though a weight had been lifted of their shoulders except Fernandos was replaced with another. While he spoke to Lance as if nothing had happened he couldn't help but hear Lances words replaying in his head.

His eyes stayed glued to Lance as he rambled on, the Spaniard wondered if he really did need him, if he truly felt that way, or if it was just drunken words influenced by how he was feeling earlier that day.

The two spoke for a while longer, just catching up as if much had really happened in seven days.

Lance felt better walking into the paddock the next day, arriving with Nico again as if he hadn't spent the last week moping and ignoring everyone (besides his dad, it proved to be harder to ignore your dad-boss than your coworker-friends.)

"Let's hope coulthard keeps his distance today" Nico spoke, breaking the silence between the two

"God, the next time I hear his name I think I'm gonna explode." Lance whined, having been asked about him all week

"Cmon, you know no press is bad press" Nico added, reminding Lance of his dad

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just get ready" The two entered the garage, both almost going straight to their drivers room to get in their fireproofs and race suit

This week was better, David Coulthard qualified last so there was almost no chance in a collision with him, Lance was thankful.

Lance managed to overtake a few times in the race, going from 11th to 9th by the end but he knew it wasn't good enough, neither drivers securing points for the team.

He wasn't upset though, he decided to go to the podium for the first time after the race, excited for Fernando since he just won his home Grand Prix

Fernando looked gorgeous on top, practically beaming as the Spanish anthem played. Fernando was basking in it, the win, his home country, his fans supporting him so loudly with flags and signs, though none of it made him smile as bright as seeing Lance in the crowd below, the Canadians smile shining brighter than anyones.

He stood out, whether it was because Fernando couldn't help but search for him in every crowd or because of his bright pink suit, Fernando didn't care. All that mattered was that he was there, celebrating the Spaniards win as if he hadn't had a disappointing race.

Once he got off the podium he went straight to Lance, not letting him speak before trapping him in a tight hug, he wasn't sure why, he just wanted to.

"Good job, Nando" Lance laughed, hugging the Spaniard back

"Gracias" Fernando spoke into Lances shoulder, feeling as though the pair were on the people in the world. He wasn't sure why he was so happy knowing Lance came down to congratulate him, it just felt good, earlier in the week he was scared it would never be the same between the two because of the past week but he'd managed to save it perfectly, leading to the two in one anothers arms once again which was exactly what the pair wanted.

"You did good, great, amazing, seriously, you led 55 laps and just won your home Grand Prix, you're brilliant" Lance gushed, Fernando raising his head to look at the Canadian

"Is this how you feel when I come to you?" Fernando asked, a smile still plastered on his face, not able to imagine a better end to the race week.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Father Christmas

@wolfstarmicrofic December 2, word count 610

“Getting a bit bored here, Potter. Can’t we go out and do something?” Sirius asked. It was still early and not totally freezing yet, and he wanted to get out of the house. He loved Potter Manor with all his heart, but even he drew the line of being stuck inside it for going on 24 hours. 

“I was going to go practice with Peter in a bit. Wanna come as well?” James said, throwing one of his mum's ornaments into the air before he caught it again. 

“James Fleamont Potter, if you drop that again, so help me. There is only so much magic can do to ceramics after it's been cracked ten times,” Effie walked into the living room carrying a huge tray filled with tea and mince pies. 

“Sorry Mum,” James said sheepishly as he carefully put the little figurine back on its shelf. 

“If you’re looking for something to do, Sirius darling, Father Christmas will be riding around the village in his sleigh,” Sirius jumped up from the floor and ran into the hallway. He stuffed his feet into his boots and began wrapping the long scarf Monty had knitted him two Christmases ago around his neck. He pulled on his coat and plonked his favourite knitted hat on his head and he was ready to go. 

“See you later!” He called as he opened the door. He stopped, coming face to face with a bundled-up Remus Lupin. 

“Excellent timing, Moony, come on,” Sirius beamed as he grabbed Remus’s gloved hand and spun him around, leading him back the way he had just come. 

“Where are we going?” Remus mumbled around a mouthful of wool scarf. 

“Santa’s coming to town!” Sirius grinned mischievously and could hear the eye roll behind him. 

It was wonderful. The old man dressed as Father Christmas rode around the village, booming, “Ho, ho, ho!” With the delicate sounds of jingle bells. All the children were offered rides and a chance to sit on Santa’s lap, and, of course, Sirius refused to miss out on the fun. 

Santa laughed at his hopeful look before patting the seat beside him. 

“Come on lad, you too,” He waved Remus on as well. Remus hesitated but Sirius used his best puppy dog eyes on him and Remus gave in. 

The ride was short but enjoyable and at the end, Sirius hopped onto the guy's lap before he could say anything and whispered in his ear, so Remus couldn’t hear. 

“I want my best friend to have the best Christmas,” He said before pulling back. He could have sworn that Santa’s eyes were a little damp, but the man nodded and gave him a wink. 

“I’ll see what Father Christmas can do,” Santa told him before shooing them off his sleigh, so the next child could jump on.  

“What did you ask for?” Remus asked him as they made their way back to the house. 

“Can’t tell you that Remus or I won’t get what I asked for,” Sirius said, mock horrified. He grabbed Remus’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. 

Remus looked around to see if they were alone and dipped his head to press a kiss on Sirius’s cold, pink cheek. Sirius’s mouth dropped open. “You heard what I said, didn’t you?” Remus shrugged. 

“Werewolf,” They both laughed and continued on to Potter Manor. 

“Well, I meant it, Moony. I do hope you have the best Christmas,”  

“I already am. I’m spending it with you, aren’t I?”

“Sap.”

“You love it,” And he really did. He pulled Remus into his arms just as they made it to the front door and kissed him.