#i should have gone to bed two hours ago <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lillilybells]

I know you only posted part 3 of family dinner 17 hours ago BUT I NEED MORE like I crave it I’m on my hands and knees begging I need a part 4 MAYBEEE a part 5 btw I love your writing so much it’s helping me get more into DC than I already is

Family dinner IV✧₊⁺

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing|damian wayne x reader (feat. The batfamily)

summary|meeting the family.. again?

word count|1216 warnings|punching, tears, teen romance.

notes|thank you anon!! im definitely gonna do more parts for this series, i hope you like this one<3

Family dinner masterlist

You were just at the manor, minding your own business. Damian had invited you over for what was supposed to be a quiet night—until the emergency alert came through and he had to leave with the rest of his family.

It wasn’t unusual. You were used to nights like these: hanging out with Alfred, playing with Titus and Alfred-the-cat, doing your nightly routine, then crashing in Damian’s massive bed like a cozy cryptid. You were practically part of the wallpaper at this point.

Except tonight, Alfred wasn’t home either. So you were alone in the huge, echoey manor with just Damian’s pets for company.

It was eerie, but manageable—until you wandered into the Batcave.

You’d only gone down to grab your jacket. You weren’t expecting to get punched in the face.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Barbara had picked up on a potential data breach tied to Wayne Enterprises. Coincidentally, she’d been having a girls’ night with Stephanie when she spotted the alert.

They figured they’d swing by the cave—check the systems, poke around, maybe catch a weird anomaly or two.

What they didn’t expect was a random teenage girl in sleep shorts, poking around the Batcave like she owned the place.

"...Did Bruce adopt another one while I wasn’t looking?" Steph whispered.

Barbara squinted. "No way. We’d have heard something. She’s not in the system."

The two of them exchanged a silent nod and did what Batfam members do best when faced with an unknown variable: they blindsided you.

Steph hit you first. You hit the floor next.

“Great,” Steph muttered, brushing hair out of her eyes. “Now what?”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Your head throbbed as you came to. Muffled voices floated in and out—then a sharp voice cut through:

“We should call them-”

Blink.

A tall blonde with a smug expression and a bo staff pushing your head up by your chin.

Blink again.

A red-haired woman in a wheelchair, arms crossed, gaze like steel.

You were tied to a chair. Very securely.

“Okay,” Stephanie started, looming over you, “who the hell are you, and how’d you get in here??”

“I—this is a huge misunderstanding—I'm Damian’s girlfriend—” you started to explain, panic bubbling.

Steph let out a laugh so loud it echoed.

“Damian Wayne? Our Damian? You’re his what?”

“I swear! I’m (Name), we’ve been dating for a while. He invited me over— you can ask him!”

Barbara frowned and moved to the computer console. “I’ll call him. Stay put.”

“Not going anywhere,” you muttered, tugging lightly at the rope.

“Let me get this straight,” Steph leaned in again, “You really expect us to believe that emotionally constipated kid has the capacity to actually date anyone? Someone like you? What would you even see in him?”

“Hey! He has a lot of great qualities,” you huffed. “He’s thoughtful and smart, and... and gentle—sometimes.”

Both women exchanged glances.

“Okay,” Barbara said, coming back. “He’s not answering.”

“Convenient,” Steph mumbled. Then louder, “Tell us who sent you.”

“No one! I already told you, I’m his girlfriend—”

“You’re not even his type,” Steph interrupted, shaking her head. “No offense, but he usually goes for goth murder girls.”

“What.. what do you mean? What type? Since when did Damian have a type?” You questioned, expression going pouty, Steph’s hand around her staff relaxed a little.

“Well, there was Flatline—super deadly, undead-ish, wore skull makeup. You’re... not that.”

You blinked. “He dated someone named Flatline?” The fact that he dated someone besides you was news to you.

Barbara nodded. “She’s tough. Killed him once, actually.”

“She what?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Then there was Emiko,” Steph added. “Total badass archer—”

“They never dated,” Babs cut in.

“Really? But they were like, a thing—”

“Mutual crush. Never happened.”

“And I think he had a thing for Raven once—”

“Oh, gross,” Steph gagged.

“Who’s Raven?” you asked weakly, trying to process it all.

“demon girl goth chick with trauma,” Steph deadpanned. “He has a type. And no offense, you’re... kind of sunshine and slippers. It just doesn’t add up.”

That’s when you started crying.

Not a dramatic sob—just quiet, messy tears that betrayed how much their words stung.

Barbara softened. “Hey—”

“She’s faking,” Steph snapped. “Classic distraction tactic—”

Just then, the Batcave’s entrance hissed open.

Dick stepped in. “Hey—what’re you guys doing down he—”

His eyes landed on you.

“Why is (name) tied to a chair?”

Steph and Barbara froze.

“You know her?” Steph asked, voice high-pitched.

“Of course we do.” Jason strolled in behind him, helmet under his arm. “That’s Damian’s girl.”

Duke followed next. “Wait—why is (name) crying?”

Tim popped in from the shadows. “You guys made (name) cry? Oh, you’re dead.”

The girls shared a look. This was not going as planned.

Then—

“What the hell is going on here?!”

Damian’s voice boomed through the cave, sharper than a throwing knife. He stormed in, cape billowing, eyes wide when he saw you.

He was by your side in a second, slicing the ropes with a batarang.

“Well, it was nice knowing you guys” Jason quipped, the rest watching from beside him from a safe distance.

“Beloved—what did they do to you? Who touched you? Are you okay?” he asked, voice unusually soft now, his hands gently cupping your wrists.

“I’m fine,” you sniffled.

Then came the burst of apologies.

“We’re so sorry Damian-“ 

“We didn’t know-“

“And we didn’t do anything to her- we didn’t even hit her-“ Stephanie tried salvaging the situation.

“They punched me!” you corrected, glaring at the girl.

“Okay—to be fair—” she started.

“You punched her?” Damian growled, turning to them with a look that could’ve made even Bruce nervous.

“Well, we thought she was an intruder—”

“She didn’t seem like your type,” Steph mumbled.

A deadly look was sent her way, contradicting his soft touch soothing your bruised wrists.

Barbara sighed. “Look, we’re sorry, but you should’ve given us a heads up.”

Bruce walked in then, scanning the scene. “...Do I want to know?”

“Steph and Babs met (name),” Tim supplied.

Bruce raised a brow. “And tied her up?”

“We were caught off guard,” Steph defended weakly.

“clearly weren’t the only one.” Dick mumbled.

Bruce turned to you. “You alright?”

You nodded.

“Everyone else—out.”

They scattered out like cockroaches, murmuring apologies and complaints as they fled. Bruce gave Damian a look, then followed them out.

Once it was just the two of you, Damian finally took a breath.

“They’re fools. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that,” he muttered, brushing a tear off your cheek.

“It’s not just that...” you admitted. “They told me about Flatline. And Raven. And... Emiko. You never told me about..”

He tensed.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said after a beat. “They weren’t you.”

You sniffed again. “It’s not like I’m mad, I just... I thought I was the first you let in. With how your family acted, I assumed...”

He tilted your chin up. “You are the first I let in.”

You blinked up at him.

“The rest? Names in the wind. You're the one I trust with everything.”

You smiled softly, eyes a little red, but finally at peace.

“So... I finally met all your family.”

“You haven’t even met half of them yet.”

[hotroadkill]

today 2 years ago i was in america and i had the worst hangover of my life and i was in a waffle house with my friend in awkward silence bc we’d fought in a stranger’s kitchen the night before and the server refilled my water for the 5th time while i fought to swallow half a forkful of hashbrowns and she said “i know that look, y’all had a good time at the superbowl last night” and i was thinking actually we had a mediocre time at a nerd bar where u throw darts and all the drinks r named weird things and anyway my friend gives the fakest laugh ive ever heard followed by “yep we sure did” like are we in a CW show right now what was that line delivery and also what even is the superbowl i was born here and should know but honestly i’ve always just pictured everyone gathering at a comically large bowl of cereal but her nametag says leslie and she’s really nice and she’s refilling my water for the 6th time so yeah sure whatever i’m a red blooded american i’ll be anything for leslie in this moment and she tells us stories about working at bars downtown and my friend tells me bad jokes and i feel a little better even though my heart is kind of withering away because my flight is in 17 hours and theres not enough time never enough time i won’t see him for another year and a half and i won’t ever see leslie again and if i ever run into the italian stranger who fell in love with me over darts then it won’t be the same because we won’t be dancing and i’m sitting in a waffle house while the sun sets and i’m sweating gin and tequila and my flight is in 16 hours and i have so many goodbyes to say in this

city because when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out much less back together but i feel like ive been trying for eight years all the same and my flight is in 15 hours but maybe if my friend brings me home now i can spend three of those looking for more shards even though i’ll cut my hand because time never wore down any of the hurt because time might heal wounds but it cant really do jack shit about a metaphysical glass shard its still gonna make me bleed and my friend brings me home and we curl up beside each other in my childhood bedroom thats too small for us it was really a supply room but it became my bedroom when i was eleven and i painted it blue and put up stickers of fish and never took them down but someone someday will take them down and hopefully the house burns to the ground before anyone can touch them theyre mine i grew up here theyre mine dont touch them dont please dont please please please i grew up here and my flight is in 12 hours now because i fell asleep beside my friend and he let me because he knew i needed it he kept watch even though we dont have time we never do because he has to go now and all i can give him is a hug and my hoodie to keep safe until i can see him again and fight him in a stranger’s kitchen again and the sun is gone now and i go and i sit with my dad and my flight is in 10 hours and im trying

not to cry im trying to stare at the stickers because maybe if i look at all of it hard enough i’ll get to stay but i dont because thats not how it works and now my flight is in 4 hours because i fell asleep in my childhood loft bed and now i have to leave i have to pack up and go for the fifth time and it never never gets easier and i know i only have a few more trips left until someone takes my stickers down and paints over my ocean but for now my best friend’s stepmother comes with me and my dad to the airport because my best friend is in college two states away and my flight is in 3 hours and i cry i cry so much and she cries too because she loves me and i think it is such a beautiful blessed thing that i am so loved but oh it is so painful too because i spend more time in its absence than its presence and my flight is in 2 hours and i have to go and my dad is waving goodbye and i see it because i looked back because im stupid i always look back i never look forward i’m forever walking blind through my life because i’m looking back and i can tell my dad is crying and now i have to go through TSA sobbing and it’s awkward because they ask are you okay kid and im not but i cant tell them sorry its just that when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out i cant tell them that so i nod yes im okay and i go and my flight is in 1 hour and i hope it fucking crashes and my flight is in the air and im so far away from all those shards on the kitchen floor now but they’re hurting me all the same and i think i look kind of insane sobbing in the middle seat but how can i miss so many people and so many rooms at once and not lose my mind a little bit? i was going to tell you a short witty little joke about the time i realized i was 21 and didnt know what the superbowl was but i think i slipped on a shard. i’m sorry. maybe next time i’ll get it right. maybe in another two years. maybe you’ll never see me again. maybe this is all the time we had.

[bejeweledinterludes]

dean winchester dating n nsfw headcanons i dare you

love ur page n writing xx

MINORS NO LOOKIE !!! I MEAN IT !!!

you have one ( 1 ) new message from the author ! ↓

OHHHHHH FUCK YES! CHALLENGE ACCEPTED !!! YEAH I’M LOCKIN’ IN FOR THIS ONE. QUICK EVERYONE SAY ‘THANK YOU ANON’ ‼️‼️‼️

── .✦ ⌈ dating + nsfw edition: dean x reader headcanons that are way too specific. ⌋

『 part 3 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanon series. 』

𖤐 ────────────────────────

dating dean winchester headcanons.

> i am a firm believer that if dean winchester ever were to seriously, hardcore, actually date someone, they would have been his friend first.

maybe you were a fellow hunter, or someone he crossed paths with frequently time and time again— so much so that it almost seemed like fate herself kept bringing the two of you together.

you’d been dean’s friend for years before you finally realized that ‘hey, maybe this guy i’d definitely and gladly die for should be more than just my friend’. little did you know that dean felt the same exact way.

> both you and dean’s feelings all spilled out to each other in the wee hours of the morning on a particularly vulnerable hunt, just you two.

knowing dean long enough to know he didn’t do ‘love’, you’d stated outright that you didn’t have to be too serious about the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing— but he surprised you with the notion that he did want a serious relationship with you.

and after another little while— and a lot more talking, you and dean started dating. you didn’t go on too many actual dates— you all were too busy saving the world all the freakin’ time, but it didn’t bother you one bit. because you were with dean. and that’s what mattered to you.

> dean holds the door for you. this started long before you both had even thought about dating each other— it started on one of the first cases you had ever worked with him.

dean and sam, with their stupid freakishly long legs, had made it to the door of the coroner’s office much quicker than you ever could— and while sam went in, dean stayed and propped the door open for you. it should have been much more awkward than it was, but somehow, it wasn’t. and that summed up a lot of experiences with dean over the years.

> dean sleeps closest to the door when he sleeps with you in the same bed as him. always. doesn’t matter if you’re in a motel room, or even in the bunker, he picks the side of the bed closest to the door. he says he just likes it more— but you know the real reason. it’s so no threats could get to you first if something were to get past the door.

> you both love music. you had a vinyl collection long before you even met dean, but its one of the very first things you bonded over— and still do, to this day. and each christmas starting years ago, you exchanged mixtapes as your gift to each other. you still do now, though— and it has much more meaning than it did before, too.

> dean is always touching you. i believe that man is touch starved beyond belief— and he’s so incredibly insecure about it.

he’d talked about it with you long before you started dating— a whispered confession as you were saying goodbye because you both had to part ways again.

“i think i have a touch problem,” dean’s voice had been barely audible against you as he hugged you tighter than he’d ever had, but you still heard it. and you told him that wanting physical touch wasn’t a bad thing— and that he could seek it out with you, if he’d like. and he appreciated that.

because he actually did seek it out one night after a solo hunt he’d gone on, when you’d started living in the bunker. dean trudged down the steps like the weight of the world was on his shoulders—let’s be honest here, when didn’t he feel like that— and without saying a word, he just dropped his bag on the map table, walked over to you in the library, and just hugged you. and… wouldn’t let go. like at all. not that you minded, though. you just hugged him back.

you didn’t know how long you both stayed like that until you convinced him to come to bed with you— but you held him the entire night in the sheets, reassuring him over and over that you were fine with it.

> speaking of, dean is completely comfortable around you. he’s free to be purely just… himself. because while sam just rolls his eyes at every joke and half-smiles, dean’ll catch you with a real smile on your face— and usually trying to stifle a laugh. or better yet, you’ll make a joke of your own with him sometimes.

same with talking. dean talks a lot with you— and you just listen. he’ll yap your ear off about the movie he’d rewatched in the dean cave, or retell the story of how he killed hitler, but you don’t mind. you never did. you listened and offered the right words back to him.

he’ll talk about his feelings once in a while, too. and you know it’s because dean feels safe enough to do it around you— because you don’t judge him or view him differently. never once have you denied a conversation with him. and you never will.

now for some . . .

dean winchester nsfw headcanons.

(and if you’d like actual dean smut, i have my own right here for ya)

> no matter who initiates sex first, dean always makes you cum before he does. you already knew going in that he was already ultra-considerate— and the same thing goes when it comes to sex.

and believe me, you’ve tried countless times to get him off first for once— but you’re met with a forceful ‘no’ before you’re pushed back against the sheets, and dean takes care of you with his mouth and fingers first.

or if he’s already inside you, dean purposefully makes sure you come apart on him before he even thinks about cumming himself. not only does he like to guide you through your orgasm, but he loves to watch the way your face scrunches up when you’re fluttering on his dick, all because of him.

> after a while of dating, though, dean realized that he also likes cumming with you— at the exact same time. it doesn’t happen as often, and its usually after a few initial rounds. but he loves the feeling of groaning into your mouth and skin as he spills into you while you spill all over him.

> dean also holds your hand a lot when he fucks you, or you fuck him— whether its your fingers interlocked with his when he rails you into the mattress, or you grasping onto his hand when you ride him, holding on for dear life.

and you like it just as much as he does, if not more. it amplifies the intimacy— the bond between both of you.

> one thing about mr. dean winchester… he is not a quiet man in bed. he’ll groan right into your ear while he pounds into you, or choke out praises and swears against your skin as you ride him— he’s not silent at any point (but honestly, neither are you).

> speaking of positions… dean has a lot of favorite positions for you both to be in, but most, if not all of his favorites are the ones where he can see your face. because he loves the way your face and eyebrows scrunch together from pleasure when he’s making you feel good, knowing it’s all because of him.

──────────────────────── 𖤐

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[thinkinonsense]

Sweet Temptations.

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan

a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3

to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.

there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.

in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.

"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.

"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.

"can we talk?"

"sure."

the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.

"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.

you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"

logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.

"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.

"of course."

there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's bord, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.

"c-can you take my virginity?"

the question almost killed logan. he thought he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.

"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"

"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."

never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.

"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."

"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."

even though he knew the answer, he had to ask, "ever fingered yourself?"

"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.

"want to try it?"

"s-sure but i thought we were gonna–"

"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."

a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans in, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.

"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."

without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.

"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."

"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."

suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.

"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.

"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."

as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.

"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"

you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.

"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.

his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.

"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."

logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.

"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."

logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.

"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.

since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.

"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."

in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.

"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."

before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.

"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"

he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.

"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."

[myfictionaldreams]

Could we see Mafia!Stucky x subspace!reader. I was thinking maybe that the reader falls into subspace for literally no reason or it just happens and it takes a long time for her to come out of it. Or maybe mafia!stucky is so stress and she falls into subspace and because mafia!stuck is so stressed they don't see it until she shows up to work (potentially their in a meeting and she interrupts)

⁀➷ The Drop // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: When a dangerous mafia operation threatens everything, you find yourself emotionally unravelling in ways you can’t control. Steve and Bucky—your ruthless protectors and tender lovers—must learn to see the signs before it’s too late.

Requested by: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy <3

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst (!), fluff, subspace, subdrop, anxiety, emotional conflict, aftercare, sir kink, praise kink, rough sex, choking/breath play, oral (m receiving), dom/sub

Words: 5.5k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Your fingers slip between the sheets on either side of your still-waking-up body. Cool material greets your fingers—empty spaces.

Searching for the warmth that should be there, the solid weight of Steve, the early stirrings of Bucky, but they are both gone. Not just out of reach. Gone.

You blink slowly into the morning light pouring through the window, the room still firm and heavy with sleep. Dust floats lazily in the golden rays, and somewhere downstairs, the floor creaks faintly. But no voices or footsteps.

Just the soft shift of the sheets as you sit up.

Dodger lifts his head at the foot of the bed, ears twitching before his heavy tail gives two slow thumps against the mattress. His sleepy eyes track your movement as you push the comforter off your legs and swing your feet over the edge.

“Morning, handsome boy,” you whisper, voice barely more than a breath so early in the morning.

You scratch gently behind his ears, fingers stroking the thick fur at his neck. He sighs, content, and rests his heavy chin back down on his paws. 

You pad down the hall barefoot, skin pricking at the subtle chill in the air. The house was obscenely quiet, too quiet. You’re used to hearing at least one of them. Steve hums under his breath as he trims his beard. Bucky is talking to Dodger in that low, affectionate tone that only comes out before 9 a.m. Jazz from the kitchen speaker. The soft clink of dishes.

But today, it’s just silence. You find Sam, your ever-faithful friend and bodyguard, in the kitchen, leaning against the counter in joggers and a fitted black shirt, cradling a chipped mug in his hand, the one he claimed was his mug and no one else's. The smell of burnt coffee reaches you before you say a word.

His eyes lift the moment you appear, having been tracking your soft steps on the landing above. He gives you a warm smile, but it's not quite right.

“Hey, Boss Lasy,” he says, gently. “You sleep okay?”

You nod, your hand coming up automatically to fidget with your opposite thumb. You pick lightly at the skin there, not enough to break it, just enough to ground yourself.

“Where are they?” you ask, voice small.

“Meeting came up. Steve got a call just after five. East docks. They left about an hour ago.”

You nod again, slowly this time. Something in your chest tightens, a familiar little ache you’ve come to recognise: the not knowing. The not being told. You try not to let it show.

“Did they eat?” you ask, stepping around him towards the fridge.

“I don’t think so,” Sam says, watching you. “Steve was glued to his phone. Bucky looked like he was ready to murder someone. Same old, really.”

You don’t respond to your friend. You’re already pulling out eggs, butter, cream, and bacon. Your hands move automatically, stirring, whisking, and heating the skillet. It feels better to be doing something. Anything but letting yourself spiral.

Dodger lies down near your feet, a heavy and silent support. You always make too much food.

Sam lingers for a while, sipping his coffee, but eventually excuses himself. “I’ll be outside if you need me. We’ve got eyes on the house, don’t worry.” He pauses before leaving. “They’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”

You smile, but it’s small, halfhearted. You know he means well. Still, it feels like a lie.

The rest of the day drags. You wander from room to room, picking things up, putting them back down and folding laundry that was already folded. Checking your phone, though no one’s texted. The silence settles over you like a second skin, itchy and cold and hard to shake.

You try to keep busy. You answered a few messages from Natasha. She says she’s with Steve and Bucky and that everything is “fine”. But she never says when they’ll be home.

You end up sitting on the couch with Dodger’s big head in your lap, your thumb rubbing small circles into his fur as you fidget with the other hand. Sometimes it’s the hem of your sleeve, sometimes the collar of Steve’s old hoodie that you’d thrown on this morning. Your fingers won’t stay still.

By the time the front door finally creeps open, it’s nearly dark. You’re curled in the same spot, legs tucked under yourself, a cold cup of tea forgotten on the coffee table. The second you hear Bucky’s voice, low and tense, your head lifts.

He doesn’t come into the living room. Neither does Steve.

They’re talking in sharp murmurs, too quiet for you to hear. Natasha’s voice joins in, crisp and flat, before fading away. Then the door closes again. Someone must’ve left. You stay on the couch, just simply waiting.

Eventually, Steve appears in the doorway. His hair is a mess, his tie loosened, and his sleeves rolled up. His eyes land on you, and he softens a little.

“Hey, baby,” he says, stepping into the room.

You sit up straighter. “Hi.”

He walks over and kisses the top of your head, gently and briefly. Not the usual kind that lingers. “Sorry, it got late. Did you eat?”

“I made breakfast,” you say.

He blinks, caught off guard. “Shit. I didn’t even check my phone.” His palm rests on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay.” But it’s not. You don’t say anything else. Just sit there while he disappears again. Bucky comes in a little while later. He doesn’t even sit down, just crouches in front of you, brushes your hair back from your face.

“You good, Doll?” he asks, eyes flicking between yours. 

You nod. “Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Just tired,” you respond quietly.

He kisses your temple, then pulls back. “Gotta make some calls. I’ll be back in a bit.” You try not to show the sting when he walks away.

That night, you lie between them in bed, staring at the ceiling. Steve is on his back, already half-asleep. Bucky’s curled toward the edge, his back to you. Neither of them notices how still you are. How your hand keeps twitching at your side, fingers rubbing your thumb raw.

Dodger is in his bed on the floor, softly snoring. You turn onto your side and stare at the back of Steve’s shoulder.

You want to say something, anything, but the words feel too big, too heavy, too much. So instead, you stay silent. And in the dark, your hand keeps moving.

Fidget, fidget, fidget. If you keep touching something, someone might remember to touch you back.

The next day, you wake up earlier than the day before, like your mind couldn’t quiet settle into a long, blissful sleep.

You’re still in the same position you fell asleep in, curled on your side, blanket tucked around your legs, face pressed to the pillow Steve had vacated hours before. The space beside you is empty again, and so is the air.

Dodger lifts his head when you swing your legs out of bed. You give him a soft smile and scratch behind his ear. He yawns and lumbers after you as you shuffle down the hallway, up the stairs and into the kitchen.

You make breakfast again. It keeps your hands busy, gives you something to focus on when your thoughts start to swirl. Eggs, toast, and fruit this time. You don't know what they're in the mood for, or if they’ll even be here to eat it.

They’re not.

By the time the food is done, the kitchen is still empty. You set a plate aside for Sam, who shows up fifteen minutes later, gun on his hip and eyes already scanning the house like he’s looking for exits. His smile when he sees you is genuine this time, but he is distracted.

“They’re at the office,” he says, grabbing toast. “Shit’s heating up.”

You tilt your head. “Heating up how?”

He freezes for a second, caught off guard. “They didn’t tell you?”

You shake your head slowly, ignoring the heaviness settling in your chest. Sam exhales through his nose, tension flaring behind his eyes. “It’s not my place, but there’s a sit-down. Some out-of-town people are coming in. They're real volatile types. Steve thinks one of them’s been talking to the feds.”

Your blood runs cold. “Like, undercover?” you whisper.

“Not just that. It’s bigger. Federal surveillance, threats. If this goes sideways, everyone in that meeting is a target.”

You grip the edge of the counter. “They shouldn’t be going,” you say softly, scared that if you used any real emotion, the panic would truly set in.

Sam shrugs. “They're the ones running it. Can’t back out now.”

You nod once, even though your stomach has turned to stone. Sam doesn’t say anything else. Just squeezes your shoulder, eats his toast, and leaves you alone again in the too-quiet kitchen.

The day drags. Again. You try to distract yourself with a mundane task. Folding towels twice just to steady your hands. You feed Dodger and take him into the garden, sitting with him under the tree whilst he sniffs around the flowerbeds.

You check your phone at least a dozen times. Nothing.

No messages from Steve. No missed calls from Bucky. Not even a group chat update. Natasha hasn’t reached out either. Your hands start fidgeting again, fingers twitching the sleeve of your shirt until the threads unravel. You try not to spiral. You really do.

But the image of them in that meeting won't leave your mind. What if someone pulls a gun? What if the feds sort the place? What if Steve tries to talk to someone down and it backfires? What if Bucky put himself between Steve and a bullet like he always does?

What if they both-

You don’t finish the thought.

You go up to their room instead, curl up on the bed, and tug Steve’s hoodie over your head. It’s too big. It seems like cedar and cologne and him. You bury your face in the sleeve, trying to anchor yourself to it.

The ticking of the clock on the wall feels too loud. Your breath feels too shallow.

You don’t realise how much time passes. Maybe hours. Maybe more.

You zone out completely, drifting and floating. Not quiet here, not quite gone.

Your limbs feel soft. The world sounds far away. You don’t even hear Dodger hop onto the bed next to you, his big body curling around your legs. Everything starts to feel quieter. And in that quiet, a familiar numbness creeps in.

That night, Seve comes home first.

You hear the front door creak open, the subtle thud of his boots on the floor. You’d moved at some point to the couch, curled up in your hoodie, hands tucked into the sleeves, your gaze hazy and unfocused on the blank TV screen.

He walks past the living room without looking in. He doesn’t hear you breathing softly, like he usually would pick up on.

You don't say anything, don't trust your voice to sound normal right now. You're not even sure you could make it loud enough.

Bucky follows behind him, jacket half unzipped, knuckles bruised. His eyes sweep the hallway but never land on you. They're muttering something to Natasha, she's walking beside them, her voice clipped. She mentions something about “too many eyes” and “changing the location for next week.”

You press your hands tighter into your sleeves. They're still planning another meeting. Another risk, more dangerous. You don't even ask them how it went, already knowing the answer. 

That night, they’re with you in bed, but it feels like they're a thousand miles away. You like to be there in Selene, curled up small in the middle of the bed, waiting for them to reach out, to ask how you’re feeling, to notice how glazed your eyes have gone or how quiet your voice has become.

But they’re tired, stressed and focused on tomorrow. Steve's eyes are closed within minutes, his breathing slow and deep. Bucky's phone is still in his hand when he falls asleep, screen glowing softly in the dark.

You don't cry, you don't speak. You just lie still, your hands curled into the sleeves of Steve’s hoodie, your knees drawn tight to your chest.

And quietly, slowly, gently… You slip.

Your thoughts grow fuzzier, your lips go heavier. You left the silence to cover you like a weighted blanket, warm and distant, floating just about on the edge of real life.

You don’t want to be a problem. You don't want to interrupt, so you drift.

And no one notices.

You wake up already floating.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You’re still wearing Steve’s hoodie. You think you brushed your teeth. You think you ate yesterday, or maybe the day before.

Everything is foggy. But it's warm inside the fog. Soft, quiet and safe. Your fingers twitch inside your sleeves. You rub your thumb against your knuckles, the way you always do when you're trying to hold onto something, but there’s nothing to hold onto now. Nothing but the haze, the softness, the weightless way the world feels around you.

You don’t panic. There’s no room for panic here.

You’re too deep for that. 

No one had decided to tell you the meeting is cancelled. The out-of-town guests got caught on surveillance. That Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and the trio top circle spent the morning locked in strategy, rescheduling everything.

No one remembers to tell you.

And so, hours later, you dress quietly, buttoning up the soft, cream-coloured blouse Steve likes. Pull on the tailored pants Bucky picked out for you last month. Slip your shoes on slowly, fingers trembling just a little as you tie the laces. You forgot to eat. You forgot to drink. You barely remember to bring your phone.

Dodger whines softly as you pick up your keys. He noses at your hand, sensing something’s wrong. You press your face to his head, breathing in the smell of warm fur and comfort. “Be good,” you whisper, “I’ll be back soon.”

When you arrive at the warehouse, you’re immediately out of place. Sam’s not outside. There are too many black cars in the lot and too many men and women with guns at the door. Familiar faces. All part of the family. But they look at you funny, not because you’re not welcome, but because you don’t usually show up unannounced without Sam at your side.

You shouldn’t be here. But you don’t realise that. Not fully. You’re already too far under.

You step inside, softly voiced and slow-moving, your head down, your arms tucked close to your body. Your fingers fidget at the hem of your sleeves. Your eyes scan the space, searching, quietly, for the two people who make the world make sense.

And then you see them.

They're deep in conversation at the far end of the room, Natasha by Steve's side, Bucky pacing a slow line behind them, blanked by two other guards. Everyones ared. Everyoes sharp. The energy in the room is tense, poised to erupt at any moment.

You cross the room in silence, weaving between bodies, ignoring the stares, the confusion. Until you're standing right there in front of them. You don't say anything. You just exist in front of them, quiet, small, wide-eyed.

And that's when Steve looks up. He freezes.

Bucky turns, and his expression shutters into something unreadable, then something terrified.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice is sharp with confusion, his body already moving toward you. “What are you–? You should be–”

And then he sees it. He really sees it.

Your slack shoulders. The softness in your face. The barely there blink of your lashes. The way your hands are twitching rhythmically, sleeves pulled over your fingers, your voice caught somewhere in your throat.

Subspace. Your safe space.

Bucky curses under his breath. “Fuck. Oh, baby…”

Natasha steps aside instantly, her eyes narrowing, calculating, protective.

But you barely register any of it.

You sway gently on your feet, gaze fixed somewhere near Steve’s chest. Your body is humming with foggy warmth. You were looking for them. You found them. So everything should be okay now.

Right?

Steve cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up. “Look at me. Baby girl, come here. Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but it's like you're underwater. Slow. Blurry. Safe.

“I-I wore your hoodie yesterday,” you mumble. “I was cold.”

His face crumbles. Bucky is at your side a second later, his hand sliding around your back like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “She’s gone,” he says under his breath. “Fuck, steve-she’s gone.”

“No one told her,” Natasha says quietly, almost to herself. “She thought the meeting was still happening.”

Steve doesn’t answer. His jaw is locked tight, guilt pouring off of him like a tidal wave.

“She didn’t want to be alone,” Bucky says softly, tucking you under his arm. “Didn’t want to interrupt. Just want to be with us, Steve.”

And suddenly it’s all so obvious. The fidgeting. The quiet voice. The distant eyes. The hours you spent alone. The subtle, slo spiral. The dissociation that bloomed in your chest like a safety blanket when no one saw you unravelling.

You didn’t fall into subspace because someone put you there. You feel that it was the only safe space left to go.

Steve lets out a shaky breath and gathers you into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into your temple. “I’ve got you now.”

You sink into him like it’s all you’ve ever known, like the only thing real is the warmth of his chest, the strong arms around you, the familiar smell of safety. You didn’t see the way the room empties.

You dont hear natasha barking orders or bucky snapping at the others to back the fuck off. You don't feel the movement until you’re lifted into someone’s arms – Steve or Bucky, you're not sure – and carried out of the warehouse like you’re something precious and breakable and theirs.

Back at the house, they don’t leave your side.

Steve runs you a bath, Bucky get you water and a protein shake. They keep their voices low, their touches soft. They brush your hair back and rub lotion into your hands. They ask, again and again, if you’re okay, and they don't care that you can’t answer yet.

They don't ask how it happened because now they know. And when you finally, finally drift to sleep between them, warm and safe and wrapped in their arms, Bucky leans down and presses his lips to your temple.

“We weren’t looking, but we’re never letting you fall like that again.”

You wake up with the weight of the world on your chest. Not a heavyweight, just real again.

The soft numbness is gone, replaced with something raw, like your skin doesn’t quite fit right. Like your brain is trying to stitch itself back together, but your heart hasn’t caught up.

You're still in bed, wrapped tightly between their bodies. Steve on your left, Bucky on your right, Dodger curled at your feet like a loyal sentinel. 

Your eyes flutter open. The light in the room is soft. Diffused. Someone must have closed the curtains.

You blink slowly. You remember the warehouse, the way they looked at you, the way they realised too late. You remember Steve's arms. Buckys voice. Natashas silence.

And then everything faded into a haze. A small breath escapes you, shaky and unsure.

Immediately, Steve stirs.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice is rough from sleep, or maybe from everything else. He’s already rising on one elbow, hand coming to brush your cheek. “You here with me?”

You nod. Barely. He kisses your forehead.

“Good girl,” he says thankfully. “You came back.”

Buckys awake too. You feel his hand slide over your stomach, grounding and warm. “Hey, doll, how are you feeling?”

You try to answer. But your throat catches, the word sticks. Steve notices, he strokes your back gently, soothing. “You don’t have to speak, honey. Just stay close.”

And you do. You stay curled between them, blinking back the sting behind your eyes, heart heavy in your chest. Your hands twitch. Your breathing stutters. That hollow, distant space you’d floated in is gone, but what’s left behind is just as terrifying.

You broke a little. And now you have to feel it.

The next twenty-four hours pass in soft murmurs and gentle hands. Steve makes you food. Bucky helps you eat. You don't talk much. They don't push.

They do everything right, guiding you through the emotional fallout of the subspace with a hengtleness that leaves you aching. They ask if you're cold. They remind you to drink. They offer you soft praise when you take a sip or whisper a word. You're not punished for disappearing. You’re cared for, protected, and held.

But even through the care, the guilt lingers behind their eyes. It’s in the way Steve watches you when you’re not looking, in how Bucky strokes your wrist over and over like he's trying to memorise your pulse. 

That night, when you’ve finally drifted into a light sleep in Lucky’s lap, Steve's voice cuts the silence.

“We have to stop.”

Bucky looks up, reaching across and seeking comfort from his boyfriend by squeezing his hand. “Stop what?

“This. All of it. The meetings. The deals. The bullshit.”

Bucky's jaw flexes. “We can’t just walk away, Steve. You know that.”

“I'm not saying forever. But right now? We need to pause.”

His voice shakes slightly. “I didn’t even see her, buck. She was slipping right in front of me, and I didn’t even look.”

Bucky is quiet for a long time. Then he nods. “Okay.” Steve exhales. Bucky looks down at you again, asleep in his lap, your cheek smushed against his thigh, hand curled into the hem of his shirt. “Let's get her out of here.”

The next morning, they tell you the plan. You’re sitting at the kitchen island, wrapping Buckys hoodie, sipping tea that Steve made with honey and lemon. You're still quiet and slow, but your eyes look clearer today.

We’re going away,” Steve says gently. “Just us.”

You blink up at him. Lucky leans forward, leans on the counter, eyes soft. “Somewhere quiet. No meetings. No work. No guns. Just us three.”

You hesitate, a frown pulling at your lips. “But… the family–”

“Is being handled,” Steve says firmly. “Nat and Sam are staying behind. They're more than capable. We need this. You need this.”

You chew your lip, then nod. A small smile curves Steve’s lips. He reaches over and strokes your cheek. “You okay with that, baby girl?”

Your voice is still faint, a little unsure, but it's there. “Yeah, I want to go.”

Bucky's grin is immediate. He kisses your forehead and tugs you into his side. “Then it's settled.”

By nightfall, you’re packed. Steve rented a secluded cabin five hours away, deep in the woods, with a lake and no neighbours for miles. Natasha came by briefly to check in, hugging you and kiss on the cheek before glaring at both men and muttering, “dont fuck this up.”

You leave the city just before sunrise.

Dodger sits in the backseat with his head on your shoulder, and you rest your hand on his neck the whole drive, surrounded by silence, trees, and the promise of healing. You don't know how long it’ll take to feel normal again. But this? This is a start.

DAY ONE:

You don’t wake up to the sound of arguing, tense voices on the phone or the sound of gunfire.

You wake up to birdsong and the quiet sizzle of bacon. The air smells like fresh pine and coffee. The bed is warm, one body behind you, one in front, both wrapped around you like armour. Bucky mumbles something against your shoulder before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. Steve’s already up, cooking. You can hear him humming softly under his breath,

You don’t move. You don't have to.

They don’t let you lift a finger. Later in the day, Bucky builds a fire outside and brings out thick blankets. Steve sets up a tray of fruit and tea and reads aloud from a dusty paperback he found on a shelf.

Dodger lies scrawled across your legs, soaking up the heat. At some point, you start laughing at something, even though you're not even sure what. But it's the first time in days, and Steve drops the book in his lap just to stare at you, eyes glassy. Bucky leans in and compliments, “miss that sound so fucking much, Doll.”

DAY TWO:

You fall asleep on the porch wrapped in Bucky’s plaid jacket. Steve carries you inside without waking you. When you stir a few hours later, the cabin is filled with the scent of candles. 

Bucky is at the table, polishing his knife—Steve’s in the kitchen, baking banana bread from scratch. You blink blearily from the couch and mumble something incoherent.

Two heads snap up immediately. “Doll? You okay?”

You nod, stretching like a cat. “Smells good!”

Bucky’s grin is wide and genuine. Steve crosses the room and picks you up without a word, sitting down with you in his lap as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You melt against him. Neither of you says anything after that.

DAY THREE:

It rains. Hard. Steve helps you into one of his thick wool sweaters and builds the biggest fire yet. You all curl up on the rug, Dodger included, watching the rain streak down the big glass windows. Bucky massages your feet in his lap whilst Steve strokes gently over your shoulders and collarbones.

“You were right, we needed this,” you say, half asleep.

Steve leans in and kisses your temple. “We almost lost you.”

“You’re being dramatic, no, you didn’t.”

Bucky cups your chin, making you look at him. “Don't ever go that deep alone again, okay? We’re supposed to see you.”

You nod, “You see me now”.

That night, you’re in bed early.

Clean skin, flannel sheets. Fire still flickering. They don't touch you in a way that asks for anything.

Steve spoons you from behind, hand laid over your ribs. Bucky sleeps facing you, his forehead resting gently against yours. You lie there, blinking, not quite sure how you got so lucky.

You're not fixed, not entirely. But you’re theirs. And you’re almost back.

DAY FOUR:

The fire crackles softly across the room. You’re stretched out between them on the bed, skin warm beneath the thick duvet, the comfort of the past few days still wrapped around you like a second layer.

But tonight, something in you is shifting.

Your body is aching, not just for touch, but for them. The real them. But by the careful, tiptoeing version you’ve had since slipping, you need their weight. Their dominance. Their hands are on you like you belong to them, because you do.

You turn to Steve first. His hand is already resting lightly on your thigh, thumb tracing slow, reverent circles.

“Steve?” Your voice is timid as you speak.

He hums, gentle and attentive. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want you.” His breath catches, his eyes flicking to you. “I want both of you.”

That gets Bucky’s attention. His hand freezes where it was lazily stroking along your arm. He lifts his head to meet your eyes.

“You sure, doll?” Bucky asks, voice cautious. “You don't have to–”

“I'm sure,” you cut in, eyes fierce now. “I need to feel you. Really feel you.”

Steve watches you for a long moment. Then something shifts behind his eyes, some long-restrained part of him finally being granted permission.

“Okay, baby girl. However, you need to discuss with us how far to go. You say red, we stop, understand?”

You nod eagerly. “I don’t want gentle,” you say, louder now. “I want you. Both of you. The way I like it.”

Bucky lets out a soft, strained laugh. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill us.”

The switch is slow but unmistakable. Steve’s hand curls around your jaw and tips your head up, his blue eyes darkening.

“Then get on your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey instantly, crawling to the centre of the bed between them. Bucky’s already shrugging off his shirt, muscles flexing as he watches you with heat in his gaze. Steve’s behind you in an instant, kneeling close, one massive hand trailing up your back to grip your neck lightly.

“You want to be our good girl again?” he breathes against your ear.

You nod eagerly. “Yes, sir.”

That, sir, makes something snap in both of them.

“Fucking knew you needed this,” bucky growls, coming up in front of yu now, his cock already haavy and leaking from where he’s pulled it free. “You need us to remind you who you belong to?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, eyes wide and eager.

Steve’s fingers tighten slightly on your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. “Good girl.”

Your reward is immediate.

Steve;s hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back against his chest whilst Bucky cups your jaw and feeds the thick head of his cock past your lips.

He’s big, they both are, and your throat stretches around him, drool already leaking down your chin as Steve praises you quietly in your ear.

“That’s it, open up, baby girl. Let him in. Our perfect little thing.”

Bucky doesn’t thrust. Not yet. He lets you sink on him, inch by inch, both of his hands gripping your cheeks like he needs to feel you struggle to take it all when you gag just slightly, Bucky groans.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this. All messy for us.”

Steve tightens his grip on your neck, thumb pressing lightly under your chin. You moan around Bbucky’s cock, and both men twitch with hunger. Steve pulls you back suddenly, popping Bucky from your mouth with a gasp.

“Need her,” he says possessively. 

They flip you effortlessly.

Steve pulls your hips up and spreads you wide whilst Bucky lies in front of you, stroking your jaw, kissing your throat.

Steve pushes in first, a thick, slow and deliberate stretch that steals your breath. 

You try out, nails clawing at the sheets.

“God–Too big–”

“Shh,” Steve soothes, bending over your back to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You can take it. You’re made for us.”

You whimper, squeezing aroun dhim as he starts to move, dragging his cock in andout of your soaked heat with controlled power. Bucky grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“You’re doing so well, Doll,” he praises. “Taking him so fucking well.”

Your eyes flutter, breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Use your words,” Steve growls behind you, slamming in harder. “You want more?”

“Yes, sir, please! I need both of you!”

“You will,” Bbucky growls, reaching down to stroke your clit with two fingers as  Steve poundsi nto you. “Gonna fil you up. Gonna keep you so full you’ll feel us for days.”

Eventually, they trade. Steve pulls out slowly, and Bucky immediately takes his place, sliding in deep and fast with no resistance.

You scream, body arching as bucky grips your hips and begins to fuck you. Hard.

“Oh my god!”

“That is, sweetheart,” Bucky pants, one hand coming around to press gently on your throat, controlling your gasp, making your inner walls clench tighter. “Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

You nod, head spinning, pleasure bordering on pain.

Steve kneels in front of you, rubbing his cock against your lips. “Open.”

You do, and he pushes in, and suddenly you’re full in every sense, overwhelmed and used and adored.

You sob around him, tears slipping down your cheeks. They don't let up; you don't want them to.

Steve grips onto the back of your head as he thrusts slowly into your mouth. Bucky's pace is punishing, relentless. The stretch, the heat, the pressure on your throat, everything burns perfectly.

And through it all, they continue to praise you.

“Such a good girl.”

“Look at you. So perfect like this.”

“Taking us like you were made for it.”

When your orgasm hits, it crashes like a wave, full-body, uncontrollable, your thighs shaking, vision blurring.

They don't stop. They own you.

You barely register when they cum. First, Steve, groaning and spilling down your throat, then Bucky, slamming deep and filling you with a warmth that makes your head spin.

You collapse between them, trembling.

They clean you up with gentle hands and whispered apologies you don’t need. 

Steve carries you to the bath and settles you in the warm water. Bucky wraps you in a towel after rubbing lotion into your sore thighs while murmuring sweet nothings.

In bed, you're tucked between them again, skin still flushed, legs weak.

“You okay?” Steve asks, voice barely audible but with a subtle gruffness.

You smile sleepily, eyes fluttering shut.

“Never better.”

Bucky kisses your forehead, arms tightening around your waist. “Still outs?”

You don't even hesitate.

“Always.”

[wtfaniii]

Thank you for all your support in the first part of this one shot! Here I bring you the second one as you requested, I hope you like it💗

Paparazzi

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warning: Some harassment, angst and violence.

Note: I'm open to special requests and constructive criticism! Sorry for the delay with this second part but I just got back to college and have been a little busy.

—I'm sorry for hitting you like that.

As they walked back to the room, the girl apologized embarrassedly, perhaps she had gone a bit too far and the best way to calm him down would have been to talk.

But it was the tension of the moment.

—Don't worry, I think I needed it —He replied with a soft smile.

They felt the judging glances of the other players for surviving but that didn't bother them, yes, maybe it was a little uncomfortable but the smile and a happy greeting from player 149 made the entrance more pleasant.

After sitting down and talking a little, each one introduced themselves with their respective names. They were a team from now on and they preferred to call each other by their names instead of a simple number that they had on their jackets.

—I’m sorry for that behavior earlier —Young-il apologized to the two girls on the team.

Uncontrolled behavior was common among men, they knew how easily lost their sanity if failed to achieve a goal, especially if it was the life at stake, but having done so in front of two young ladies was frowned upon.

—And Jun-hee, as soon as we get out of here you should go see a doctor, stress is not good for you.

The way he expressed that feeling of concern and empathy for the pregnant young woman was charming to the girl sitting next to him.

She had only known him for a few hours, but the fluid conversation they had managed to make them agree on several things, she was delighted with that player, but the cherry on the cake was the laugh that appeared on him face when he made a joke about Gi-hun's name, no one shared his moment of happiness except for her.

It was impossible for her to remain serious when she noticed that despite the circumstances they were in and the fact that were about to die a few minutes ago, Young-il maintained his humor.

After a few minutes, voting began once again to decide whether to stay or leave, however the majority of participants voted for the blue circle, condemning the rest of the players who refused to continue playing.

The girl continued terrified, this was not her job, Mr. Seong Gi-hun had not hired her for that.

In-ho just watched her, noticing her lips pressed together in a grimace and her brow furrowed, a sign that was frustrated at not being able to get out of there.

While the food was being distributed, In-ho sat next to Gi-hun in complete silence, player 456 was further away from his target and that disappointed him, but his eyes drifted slightly towards 455, the detective was sitting on her bed accompanied by Jun-hee, the disappointment and fear of staying still etched in their expressions.

When Jung-bae came over to apologize for pressing the blue circle he stood up and walked towards the two girls.

—Take it Jun-hee —His voice caught her attention —You need to eat more to maintain your strength —Seeing that she was going to refuse, he insisted with a smile —Besides, I don't drink whole milk.

222 took the little box and thanked her with a slight bow.

—You have to eat too —He said looking at the girl.

She hadn't even gone for food, she was nervous about the next game and more than out of fear, preferred to think about how to get through the next round.

—I'm not that hungry.

—I'll go with you.

In-ho wasn't asking if she was hungry or not, it was a request for her to go get his food and eat it later.

She couldn't refuse and he made that clear when held out his hand for her to take, Jun-hee watched the act with wide eyes and a slight smile, he was quite the gentleman.

—I'll go with the others —222 said, starting to feel like was in the way.

—Come on —In-ho repeated, taking her hand and gently pulling up from where she was sitting.

Her smiled at him and went for she respective portions. As night fell, Gi-hun began to make a kind of fortress where they could stay. They would take turns sleeping or staying awake to stand guard.

—¿Don't you think you're exaggerating? I don't think these people are capable of killing each other —Said 001 with a grimace.

—You haven't seen these games before —Gi-hun argued.

—He's right —the girl said. —We must be alertm

The way she seemed to be able to be afraid and brave at the same time was curious to In-ho.

During the night, everyone was asleep except for Jung-bae and Dae-ho because it was their turn to keep watch, but seeing that the girl was also awake, Dae-ho approached her.

—¿Aren't you going to sleep? ¿What are you doing?

Watching her try to break the zipper of the jacket, he arched an eyebrow.

—¿What are you doing? —Him ask for the second time, this time more curious.

—The bathrooms have ventilation, with something metal I can open the gate.

It wasn't a great plan but it would be useful, or at least that's what she thought.

—¿Are you going to escape? —Dae-ho asked in surprise at her plan.

Those words caught the attention of the man who was barely trying to sleep in his bed, In-ho opened his eyes and listened attentively.

—I hope so —she agreed not very convinced that those ducts lead to a safe exit without guards. —If I manage to do it, I will go for Gi-hun's team and come back for you guys

—¿What if he finds out?

—Well... The worst thing that can happen to me is getting a bullet in the head.

In-ho twisted his lips, it seemed that the detective who was afraid of dying had disappeared, leaving behind a girl who now only wanted to survive but without seeing anyone else die.

That was honorable, he admitted, but still didn't understand how she would risk his life for people she barely knew and for his boss, accept that she escape without looking back but come back for them?

¿For him?

Or at least that's what he thought when he felt her gaze on him.

—None of you deserve to die in here, you are good people, if I am going to die... I will not do it playing, I will do it trying to do something good.

Those words were enough for In-ho to recognize her worth, finally there was the girl he had been following for a whole year who planned her moves well.

It was nice what she wanted to do.

It was also a complete shame that him had to ruin it for her.

Thanks for reading!! 😸😸😸I think the third part will be full of angst and will be somewhat cloying. I love romance sorry

Tag list:

@lucinda-reads @deathsmellzz @autmn4lvs @cvbi @ava-cjkk @ari200027 @claristary

[sailorofmidnightseas]

Wife?!

Pairing: Sylus x MC

Summary: When you receive a call in the middle of the night after an exhausting mission and are met with overwhelmed twins and a drunk Sylus, you were tempted to kick the three to the moon. All you want is getting some sleep!

Luckily, a delicious apology awaits you in the morning.

Author's note: This idea is so random. I don't remember how late it was when I had it, but I would be pissed if I were in MC's situation - and being Sylus wouldn't save you. I need and love my sleep XD

************************************************************************

You had just fallen into your well-deserved sleep after a successful hunter mission when your dream was interrupted by a loud noise. Hoping it was merely a glitch in her brain, you ignored it, but it did not stop. The tune was all too familiar and with a groan, you rolled over to where your bedside table was. Your phone fell silent and upon checking, you noticed the missed call from Sylus. The nerve of that man! To call you at 3:40 AM, when you had gone to bed merely an hour ago! 

“That will have to wait until morning, sweetheart.”, you mumbled and yawned. “Right now, sleep is the priority.”

Just as you rolled over again, the phone began chiming again and that was the last drop. Briefly, you saw it was Sylus again before answering the call.

“Sylus, do you know how fucking late it is?! You have a nerve calling at ass in the morning, when I just got back from a mission! I will not come over now, whatever it is can wait until morning when the sun is high in the sky, because that’s when I will be awake. Or find someone else to go to the auctions with!”

The line was silent for a second and you sighed inwardly. Just as you were about to end the call, an unexpected voice meekly answered.

“Um, I’m sorry for the disturbance, Miss Hunter.”, Kieran said and you almost dropped your phone.

“Kieran? Oh my God, I’m so sorry for shouting at you. What do you need? Why are you calling from Sylus’ phone? How do you even have his password?”, you asked and felt like crying. Before Kieran could explain anything, a loud commotion was heard from the other side of the call.

“Boss man, please calm down. Kieran, save yourself!”, you heard Luke distantly shout.

“What on Earth is going on?”

“Boss man was at an auction, ack, and we’re trying to - I thought you’re holding him back - get him to - boss man, please calm down - calm down. Hold him back!”

“I’m trying to!”, Luke wailed in the distance. 

“Is he hurting you?”, you asked, wide awake and already on your feet. The question tasted wrong in your mouth. Sylus would never harm the teenagers, not even if he was mad with fury. 

“I almost wish he was.”, Kieran grumbled. “It would be better than this. Ahh, the boss man has found me!”

“Kieran!”

“Hello, kitten.”, Sylus slurred through the phone and you froze. 

“Are you…drunk?”, you tonelessly asked. You had never witnessed him drink more than one or two glasses. Sylus didn’t seem like the type of person to get inebriated. 

“Only a little bit.”

“‘Only a little bit’ in a different reality, perhaps.”, you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Do something, Miss Hunter.”, Luke shouted from somewhere in the back. You felt your irritation spike. Now was not the time for tomfoolery. You were exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. 

“Sylus, are the twins still near?”

“Yes, kitten.”

“Where exactly?”

“On the floor and against the wall.”

You exhaled through your nose. You had to play your cards well. 

“Sylus, dear, could you do me a favour?”, you asked sweetly. You cringed mentally at the knowledge that the twins were still present.

“Anything, sweetie. What do you need?”, Sylus eagerly asked and a pair of embarrassed groans were heard. 

“Please free the twins from your evol. It is late and they should be in bed. And you, dearest, please get ready for bed as well.”

“...No.”

“What do you mean ‘No’?”, you sputtered. You were beginning to resign yourself to getting no sleep tonight. 

“No to the latter.”, Sylus clarified. “I’ll come to you.”

“Absolutely not! Do you hear yourself? You cannot walk in a straight line!”

“I can.”, Sylus slurred. 

“He can’t.”, Kieran laughed and you heard a smack followed by a grumbled “Ow” from Kieran. 

“Sylus, be reasonable, okay? We can see each other tomorrow.”

“I’m coming now.”

“If you put your drunk ass on the motorcycle, you’ll get no kisses for a month.”

“Kitten!”, Sylus said, utterly scandalized. “You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

“Watch me.”, you grumbled. Somehow it was not going as well as expected. 

“I’ll call the chauffeur.”, Sylus suddenly said.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving. Your. House. You’re wasted and an easy target for your enemies. Do you want me to worry, Sylus?”, you asked, sounding close to tears and not everything was faked. You would be terribly worried about him, and on top of that, you have always been an easy crier when you were frustrated and you blinked to keep the tears at bay. Any more of this and you'd break down crying and then there was no force in the world which could stop Sylus. Keep it together. 

“I’ve had an exhausting mission.”, you started dangerously calm, “I went to almost two hours ago and had one hour of sleep when the twins called me. If you must, call a chauffeur to get me. You, Sylus, go to your room and prepare for bed. For sleep. When I arrive, I don’t want to see a soul walking around, am I clear?”

“Yes, Miss Hunter.”, Luke and Kieran simultaneously said. 

“Fine.”, Sylus grumbled. 

Done with the world, you fell back onto your bed. Who would have thought drunk Sylus was a chore to deal with? It’s probably because I’m sleep-deprived. I was a bit harsh. I’ll apologize tomorrow.

You packed only some essentials and spare underwear. The journey to the N109 zone was over quickly - probably because you napped in the back of the car. You thanked the chauffeur and bid him a goodnight. 

The inside of Sylus’ home was quiet. Not one soul was in sight and you quickly made your way to Sylus’ bedroom. Carefully, you opened the door and spotted Sylus sitting on the bed. He had managed to rid himself of his shirt and shoes before seemingly falling asleep. You bit your trembling lower lip and inhaled shakily to get a grip before you would burst into tears of exhaustion and frustration. You'd just have to wake him, tell him to get rid of his trousers and use mouthwash for a semblance of dental and oral hygiene. 

However, the universe seemed to hate you that night. Before you could reach out and shake him awake, his fingers closed around your wrist with the precision of sobriety.

“Don’t touch me.”, Sylus slurred, though he sounded a tinge more sober than before. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“What?”

“You…cannot touch me. Only my…wife can, so get…lost.”, Sylus mumbled almost incomprehensibly as sleep threatened to overtake the drunk man. 

Wife? Wife?! For a second, you genuinely thought there was someone else out there, a secret you weren't supposed to know about. Sleep-addled brains were astonishingly susceptible to nonsense, for you knew there was hardly anyone more loyal than Sylus. The twins themselves had admitted that you were his first relationship and that it had seemed as if he had been waiting for someone. 

This meant that there was only one candidate for this ‘wife’: you. Your face burst aflame at the implication and you hastily turned 180° to hide from him. He considered you his…wife? He wasn’t considering proposing already, was he? Your relationship was still relatively fresh and while you did date with the intention of settling down at some point, it was still far too early. Gods, would you have to reject Sylus’ proposal? 

You fled into Sylus’ private bathroom and splashed cold water in your face. Calm down, don’t overthink this. He’s drunk. It’s a slip of the tongue of the drunk man who I am currently in a loving relationship with. Don’t overthink, don’t overthink.

Once you deemed yourself composed enough, you grabbed the mouthwash. Sylus opened a lazy eye. His wariness was the last straw. You burst into tears.

“Go fuck yourself.”, you sobbed. “I really don’t have the nerve to deal with this right now. Just let me go to bed.”

You threw the mouthwash at him, grabbed your bag and slammed the bedroom door shut. There were more than enough guest rooms, and tonight, you would have to use the one you had been unofficially assigned to in the beginning, before you and Sylus started dating. It was strange. The bed seemed too big for one person, but you didn’t think too much about it. Seconds after your head hit the pillow, you were out. 

In the master bedroom, the alarm bells were ringing in Sylus’ head. He groaned as his head was swimming. You were crying. Why were you crying? 

“Kitten. Sweetie.”, he mumbled and wobbly rose to his feet. He stumbled out of his bedroom through the corridor. His feet carried him to the guest room, but he didn’t enter. Clumsily, he slid down to the floor, his back resting against the door. Tucking his knees against his chest, Sylus let his head fall into the crook of his elbow and succumbed to the welcoming unconsciousness. 

When he opened his eyes, he ran a hand over his face. His head was pounding and his body was stiff. With a quiet grunt, Sylus pulled himself to his feet. The fact that he had been in the same position meant his kitten was still asleep. Carefully, he opened the door and peeked inside. 

You were sprawled out on the bed and seemingly still fast asleep. Sylus snuck into the room and knelt down next to the bed, simply admiring you. His crimson eyes were impossibly tender and he ached to kiss you, but he didn’t want to wake you and his mouth tasted filthy. His expression darkened when he spotted the remnants of dried tear tracks on your cheek catching the light. While his memory was fuzzy, he knew he was the culprit, the reason for your tears and Sylus loathed himself for it. 

Sylus left the room and went to his own. His head was still pounding, but he ignored it and cleaned up. Once he was showered and his teeth were brushed, he went to the kitchen. The twins were already there.

“Morning, boss man.”, they simultaneously greeted him.

“Lower your voices, will you?”, Sylus groaned and downed a glass of water. 

“Miss Hunter was quite aggravated yesterday…today.”, Kieran bluntly said and Sylus scowled at him.

“Very helpful, thank you.”, he sneered and grabbed the ingredients for waffles. “Where's the strawberry sauce?”

“We don't have any.”, Luke said and twirled his seat. “I think Miss Hunter finished it a few days ago.”

“Then go and buy a new bottle!”

“On it, boss man.”, Luke saluted and sprinted out of the kitchen. 

Soon, the smell of fresh, warm waffles filled the kitchen and spread through the house. You blinked and your joints popped when you stretched. A glance on your phone showed you the time: 11 AM. You groaned and slumped over. It smelled so good, but you were still a little tired. 

“Damn it.”, you cursed and got up. You brushed your teeth and combed your hair a bit to get rid of most of the bedhead. You stayed in your pjs when you left the room. 

The sight you were met with melted your heart. The table in the dining room was decked with sweet-smelling waffles and every topping imaginable. A pot of coffee stood next to a pack of milk. One of the twins was attempting to fix the flowers in the vase standing at the centre of the table. The other was helping Sylus clean the kitchen. 

“My, is today an important day? Or is this an apology for what my poor, exhausted soul had to go through a few hours ago?”, you snickered and the three men jumped. 

“Miss Hunter.”, Kieran exclaimed and almost knocked over the flowers. “Please accept this as an apology for -” 

“Any day with you is an important day.”, Sylus smoothly interrupted as he entered the dining room. 

“Charmer.” you sighed and shook your head. Walking over to him, you cupped his face and planted a fat kiss on his lips. Stunned, Sylus dropped the clean bowl in his hands. 

Embarrassed, the twins turned away. You really had their boss wrapped around your finger and as much as they liked the Hunter, they didn't want to see their boss this love-struck. They were still teenagers, after all. 

Sylus chased your lips when you pulled back and caught your bottom lip with his teeth. He smirked triumphantly, and you blushed when he pulled you back into another kiss. Fearing he might get carried away, you tapped his cheek and Sylus huffed in annoyance, but complied. The small pout was adorable. 

“Time for breakfast!”, you cheered and clapped your hands in delight. “Why is there only one plate, though? You cannot expect me to eat all of this?”

“These waffles are for you, of course.”, Sylus said, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He arched his brow at the glint in your eyes.

“Well, since they’re mine, I can do as I please, right? And since this is an apology, I can do as I please as well.” You patted the seat next to you. “You three, join me, please? There are more than enough for all of us.”

The twins cheered and before Sylus could say a word, they stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a plate and plopped on their seats. Despite their crow masks, they seemed more like happy dogs. You chuckled at the thought. At your expectant look, Sylus also took a plate from the cupboard, put the bowl back and sat down next to you. 

The N109 Zone was dangerous and shrouded in darkness no matter the hour. People fended for themselves, for human bonds could be exploited. Sylus’ house was not a welcoming abode with its dark walls. Red was the only colour to be found beside black and perhaps grey. It was cold and empty despite the treasures along the walls. 

Yet this morning, none of that cold and emptiness was to be found. The dining room was warm and happy and Sylus dazedly stared at you as you happily munched on your waffles. He still had to redeem himself, but it was a beginning. 

However, duty called and the twins grabbed a few more waffles on their way out, ignoring Sylus’ glare in favour of your amusement. With you present, they knew nothing would happen to them. Sylus was aware as well and mentally grumbled at the growing cheekiness of the twins. They were being spoiled. 

“Bye, boss man. See ya, boss lady.”, they shouted and slammed the door shut behind them. 

“Oh my, another new nickname.”, you chuckled, a rosy hue on your cheeks. “That must be my…sixth, I believe.”

“Six?”

“Mhm. Kitten, Sweetie, My lady, Miss Hunter, boss lady and…wife.”, you coughed and Sylus almost choked on his spit. 

“And where have you heard that last one?”, he asked, sounding relatively composed compared to the internal chaos. Your blush darkened. 

“You called me that yesterday. You were asleep when I arrived and upon waking you, you didn’t recognise me. ‘You cannot touch me. Only my wife can, so get lost.’ Your words.”

Sylus ran a hand over his face and vowed never to get that drunk again. Meanwhile, you grew nervous and began rambling.

“It is reassuring that even in such an inebriated state, you would be faithful. Not that I doubted your loyalty - I would never, please, what a thought! - but I also have to admit you caught me off-guard. I mean, our relationship is still fresh, really fresh, and I do love you but I don't know whether I could marry already as it is a massive step in life -”

“Kitten.”, Sylus interrupted before your voice was the equivalent of a steaming teapot. “Breathe.”

“I am.”

“You weren't. Not properly.” Sylus sighed and sighed. You weren't sure whether you were imagining it, but it seemed as if there was a faint red colouring Sylus' cheeks. Suddenly, he grabbed your chin and forced you to meet his eyes. 

“I do plan on marrying you, kitten. Be it tomorrow, next month or in 5 years. I don't care. However, you will be my wife one day - if it is your will.”

Your brain short-circuited. This man would give you a grey head in a few years. Gently, you took his hand off your chin and laced your fingers together. 

“Well, I'm afraid that nickname will have to wait a bit.”, you softly said and Sylus smirked.

“That isn't a no, kitten. Why deprive me of calling you ’wife’ already?” 

“Because we aren't married.”

“Unnecessary paperwork.” Sylus waved the argument away and leaned closer, your lips almost touching. Both exhaled in relief when the distance was bridged at last. 

Wife, wife, wife…Please allow me to be your mate once more.

[wosospacegirl]

Legally binding - Part 3

Summary: Alexia Putellas didn’t plan to become anyone’s legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas—and she’s already moved in.

Warnings: Alexia and the kid argue again; Alexia wishes she could just drop the kid off at her mom's house, and apparently, twelve-year-old kids are learning about reproduction in science class.

Word count: 6.8k

Legally binding masterlist here

Alexia woke to pressure at her feet. Something heavy and warm, she was still half-asleep when she shifted and kicked it gently, assuming one of her pillows.  

She frowned and opened her eyes, being hit by the morning light coming out of the windows. Then she lifted the duvet.

She saw a head.. A tiny and messy-haired head. 

The girl.

 She was wearing that familiar too tight pyjama top.

Alexia sat up slowly and stared, unsure if she was still dreaming. For a moment, she had even forgotten what happened, had forgotten about the girl, but there she was curled up at the foot of the bed.

Her position looked uncomfortable, she was lying sideways with one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, her head was turned into an awkward angle. 

She looked small. And for a few seconds, Alexia could only sit there, blankly trying to catch up to the sigh in front of her. Alexia just wasn’t expecting it to happen, although she had, and still did, get into her mother's bed when the world was too much to handle.

Although Eli, Alexia’s mom, had chosen to have her, Alexia didn’t appear in her mom's living room, saying she was now her guardian.

Alexia dropped back into the bed with a groan, burying her face in one of the pillows. Maybe she could sleep a bit more, forget this was all happening, pretend she was the only one living in the house.

But she just couldn't, her mind kept circling back to what was happening in her life.

There was a kid in her bed. Her bed.

Was she her kid? Alexia still wasn't sure. All she knew was that it was her real life now, she had to get used to it, just for a little while, at least.

The girl stirred and stretched her arms above her head, then she sat up like it was the most common thing in the world…waking up in the bed of Alexia Putellas.

“Buenos días,” [good morning] she mumbled.

Alexia turned her head slightly. 

“Hi,” Alexia said simply.

The girl rubbed her eyes and blinked at the other side of the room.

“That's your bathroom?” she asked, pointing at the door to the right of the bed.

“Uh... yeah?”

“Great,” the girl said, hopping off the bed and walking to the bathroom.

Alexia just lay there, still in her sheets and staring at the ceiling.  Her brain was trying to decide if she should laugh, scream, or go back to sleep.

She just lost her bathroom privacy to a child. Great.

Alexia should be getting up soon, she had training in two hours. Hell, she had a routine that she was supposed to be starting right now. 

First, she had to do her morning stretching and work out; after that, she had to drink a lot of water while listening to the news, then she had to go over some tactile stuff Romeu had sent her, all that before her morning training at the training ground.

But now she had a twelve-year-old in her en suite bathroom. And she didn’t know what to do with her. It was like her life had gone completely out of her control.

Even when she did her ACL and she had to rely on others for absolutely everything, she still had more control over her own life than right now.

As if the girl sensed Alexia's spiralling thoughts, she reappears from the bathroom, looking much more awake than Alexia, that was for sure.

The kid paused in the doorway, her eyes looking at the bed, at the spot she was sleeping minutes ago, then she looked at Alexia, eyes wide, waiting…like she wasn't sure she was allowed to speak.

“Do you need anything ?” Alexia asked, forcing a smile on her face.

“I... uh... slept in your bed last night,” she said, her voice low and unsure. “Sorry about that,”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Alexia said. “I didn’t see you coming in, or else I would have, hm, given you a pillow, I gue,ss.”

The girl looked at the floor. There was something in her, something that hadn't been there before. Or at least, Alexia hadn’t noticed before. As if the girl had grown nervous overnight..

Alexia watched her closely. Alexia wasn't the best at reading emotions, but it felt like the girl had a hint of embarrassment. on her face, but it was so subtle that it could have been missed.

The kid had never looked embarrassed before…Not when she broke into her apartment. Not when she revealed Alexia had ‘adopted her’

“Well…” the kid started, lifting her eyes to look at Alexia, her cheeks turning pink. “You turned off the lights.”

Alexia blinked, feeling slightly taken aback. “Oh, you don't like that? The dark, I mean.”

The girl shook her head. “It scares me,” she admitted. “I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't see anything. It felt like I was back at the orphanage.”

The words hit Alexia like a slap to the face. She hadn't expected that. She obviously didn't think when she left a kid in a completely dark room. Her mami would always light a night light for her and Alba when they were little, maybe Alexia could do the same next time?

“Oh,” Alexia said softly, “I didn't know. I'm sorry... hm, maybe we can keep them on if you like?”

The girl shrugged.

“It's okay,” she murmured. “I found your room, it wasn't so scary anymore.”

The kid said it like it was the most natural solution, as if going to Alexia’s bed in the middle of the night was the right thing to do when she felt scared

Alexia didn't know what to say. But something about it lingered. Alexia had never been the one people went to when they were scared; she was the one people went to when they needed a word of comfort (football-related) or when they needed to know in what area they needed to get better at to become a great player.

She had never been held to a standard of being someone's safe haven. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; Alexia was happy that she could help the kid somehow, but it still felt like another weight she had to carry.

Was this weight normal? Did all parents feel that? Did her mom feel that when Alexia was born and she was suddenly responsible for a new life?

..

The omelette was in the pan, and the warm scent of butter and eggs was filling the kitchen with a smell Alexia knew very well. It had become one of her favourite scents. It meant a new day was starting, a new start over, a new beginning for Alexia.

Alexia loved mornings ever since she was a kid. She also always made omelette, so it was nice that at least one aspect of her life was still the same.

She hummed quietly under her breath and was focusing on not burning her breakfast...Well, their breakfasts.

But then Alexia heard it: footsteps in the hallway. They were very quick, as if in a hurry.

“Bye!” The word barely registered at first.

Bye?

Alexia she turned off the stove, and stepped out of the kitchen just in time to see the girl by the front door, one hand was already on the knob.

Alexia moved fast, stepping in front of it. Her arms were already crossed, and her jaw tensed. 

“Bye?”Alexia said in disbelief.. “Where exactly do you think you're going?”

“La Masia,” the girl replied, as if it was obvious. “I have training today…I can still only go once a week, but once you sign me up for the academy, I can go every day.”

And then, the kid just smiled and reached for the door again.

Alexia didn't budge. “No. You're not going anywhere.”

The girl blinked up at her. “Huuhh? Why not? I got my shoes and everything?”

“Because you're twelve,” Alexia said, brows raised. “You can't just walk out of the house like that.”

The girl tilted her head, looking confused. “I told you, Ale, you don't need to parent me. I just need a place to stay and someone to register me for La Masia. That's it.”

Ale. She had never called her that before. Just Alexia.

The girl just stood there, smiling like she couldn't possibly understand why Alexia wasn't going along with this plan, her plan.

Alexia rubbed her temples, trying to bring down an urge to scream.  The kid was stubborn. No, persistent. That was the word. Definitely better than stubborn.

When the girl tried the doorknob again, Alexia placed a hand on it, firm.

“No,” she said again. “Absolutely not. First of all, you can't just walk into La Masia with no guardian papers. Second, this city is dangerous. Third…”

She took a breath, trying not to lose her temper.

“....You're twelve. You don't even know where the nearest store is, let alone how to use public transportation by yourself.”

“But I have been on the metro before!” the girl said proudly. “Well, it was only once, but I know my way around, I can read those metro maps to find my way.”

“That’s not the point.”. Alexia raised her voice slightly, The kid couldn’t possibly think that the only survival skill she needed was to know how to read metro maps.

“The point is that you can't just go running off on your own, okay?” Alexia continued and began to walk around in the living room while the kid just stood there, watching her. “

“I'm responsible for you now. That means you don't leave this house without me knowing where you are, end of story.”

The girl immediately dropped herself onto the sofa dramatically, as if she had just been wounded by Alexia. Then she sat back and crossed her arms, a pouting on her face. “You're being overdramatic.”

Alexia froze.

Overdramatic?

Alexia slowly turned to face the girl, eyes narrowing.

“I'm being what?” she asked, voice dangerous, the same one her mom used to use on her when Alexia was the one sneaking out to play football with some neighbours. 

The girl shrugged, looking bored..

Alexia could feel it. Her patience was already wearing thin.

“You're being all 'parenty,'” the girl said as if Alexia wanting to protect her from getting abducted was some sort of overreaction. 

“I'm independent, Alexia, I’ve been on my own for a very long time, I know how to take care of myself.”

Alexia sighed. Right, yeah, of course, a little kid would know how to ‘take care of herself’.

“No, you don’t,” Alexia said sternly “I don’t care if you think you are street-smart enough to move around Barcelona alone. From now on, you aren’t leaving anywhere without an adult.”

“You are not the boss of me!” The girl said, her voice extremely angry, which matched the frown on her face. “You can’t just ruin my plans like that!!”

Alexia looked at the girl. Well, now who was overreacting?

The kids' cheeks were turning red, if she were a few decades older, Alexia would be concerned about her bursting a vein on her forehead.

For a second, Alexia genuinely considered letting her go. 

Just opening the door, waving goodbye, and letting the kid see for herself how much of a mess and unsafe the world could be.

 But no. She pulled herself together, took a deep breath through her nose. 

Guardian, she was a guardian. She was the responsible adult here, not the kid. The girl was too small and her feelings were just too big.

But if this kid thought she was old enough to manage everything, then fine. Alexia would be honest, at least.

“Look,” she said, kneeling in front of her. “I didn't ask for this either. I didn't ask for a kid to show up on my doorstep and make me responsible for her entire existence.”

The girl frowned even more, clearly not enjoying the direction the conversation was going.

“I was just getting home after training…”Alexia said, gesturing vaguely. “And then you showed up, and now I have a small human thinking she can go out and play football without so much as a lunchbox!”

The girl's expression changed.

“Okay, okay, ” the kid said. “We can get a lunch box and then I’ll go to La masia, how does that sound?”

Alexia blinked. Then dragged both hands down her face. It was going to be a long morning.

“Have you listened to anything I just told you?” Alexias asked tiredly.

“I did listen to you,” the girl replied, crossing her arms. “But I feel like you're the one not listening to me.”

Alexia started, exasperated. “How am I not listening to you? We’re having a conversation, I am talking to you.”

“You just don’t listen!” The kid said. “I have told you my plan, but when I try to do something about it, you are just like ‘no, no, no and no’... You don’t let me do anything!”

“I don’t let you do anything on your plan because it is not a plan.” Alexia snapped, sounding harsher than she meant, “Plans are realistic, they have reasonable steps you can take, what you have is a dream, dreams are not plans.”

The girl looked at Alexia, betrayed. 

“You said in that interview that you supported every child’s dream, and that you wished all of us kids would make our dreams come true! And now you’re saying my dreams are just dreams!” 

“I never said that your dreams are just dreams,” Alexia said slowly. “I said that dreams need realistic plans, and that your plan is not realistic.”

“You didn’t say that.” The girl rolled her eyes.

Briefly, Alexia imagined driving to her mother's house and just dropping the girl off. 

No explanation. No warning. Just let her mom think the kid had chosen her instead of Alexia. Maybe she would believe it. Well, Eli would be a way better mom, or guardian, than Alexia, that was for sure.

“Look, if you insist, you can drop me off, okay?” the girl offered. “I don't mind.”

Alexia was seconds from losing it.

“What part of 'you are not going to La Masia today' did you not understand?" she asked, rising to her full height, hands on her hips now. 

The whole gentle parenting attempt had clearly failed. Miserably. Maybe Alexia should try…rough parenting, instead? Was there such a thing? She should buy some parenting books, maybe that would help.

“You can’t just prohibit me from going,” the girl insisted. “I’m good enough, and, as much as you don’t like it, I have things figured out, you know? I just need you to register me full- time and things will work out.”

“Oh yeah,” Alexia muttered, throwing her arms in the air. “So you're telling me that you, a kid, have it all figured out. Meanwhile, I'm just a clueless adult trying to stop you from becoming the next missing child in Barcelona."

“You're not a clueless adult,” the girl replied, her face had a very innocent and cute expression that made Alexia almost forget why she was mad in the first place. “You're just getting in the way–I need to be there at nine.”

“I'm getting in the way??!” Alexia's blood pressure was spiking, and the kid was to blame.

The girl simply nodded and sat up straighter on the sofa.

“I know the contract said you have to care for my well-being and health and stuff, but really, you don't have to, I’m independent.

Alexia rolled her eyes. Not this conversation again. It was like the kid discovered the word independent and was running with it. They had spent the last thirty minutes going over and over the exact same thing.

“Oh, you're independent, huh?" Alexia said, challenging. “Have you brushed your teeth yet? Have you packed something to eat during training? If you get hurt, who will La Masia call? Do you know my phone number?”

The girl opened her mouth to respond, then paused and closed it again. Finally, realisation settling in her face, because right. She didn’t have it all figured out.

Alexia sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “You're not going to La Masia,” Alexia said her voice firm. “Not today. We need to figure things out first.”

The girl's eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yes”, Alexia said. “You don't have any school papers. You don't have a guardian note. You don't have– nothing! Not even a proper ID on you!”

The girl looked down, sadness growing on her face as she slowly realised that becoming a professional footballer wasn’t just about kicking a ball around.

When Alexia thought the girl had finally learned that her lesson, that this whole plan was not so easy, the girl opened her mouth again.

“So…can I go tomorrow, at least? I can take a taxi if you don’t want me taking the metro.” She looked up at Alexia, eyes big.

There was a moment of silence.

“You're going to give me grey hairs,” Alexia muttered finally, shaking her head and giving up on the whole parenting thing.

The girl didn't miss a beat. “You already have one.”

Alexia stared, deadpan. “Go set the table. Now.’

“Ughhh, fine.”

The girl pushed herself off the sofa and walked into the kitchen, grabbing two plates and setting them on the table. Alexia returned to the stove, her hands slightly trembling.

She stared down at the omelette.

Was this what parenting was? She had asked that question at least a thousand times, and it was barely nine am.

But is it? Is that what parenting is about? Explaining the obvious? Repeating yourself? Arguing with someone who thought you were the one being unreasonable?

She reached for the spatula with a sigh.

Apparently yes. Yes, it was.

As they sat down to eat, Alexia knew she had to take control of the situation. The morning had already spiralled far past her comfort zone, and if there was one thing she could do was set some rules.

“First rule,” she began as she served the omelette.

“Wait, wait!” the girl interrupted, hopping up from her chair and walking to her room, well, Alexia’s guest bedroom.

“I need to write it down, or else I’ll forget,” she called back. “Sister Maria always made me write rules like…fifty times.”

Well, Sister Maria didn’t sound very fun.

The girl returned moments later with crayons and a single piece of paper clutched in her hand.

Alexia leaned closer to inspect it and frowned.

“Hey!”  she said, taking the paper gently from the girl’s grip. “Where did you get this? This is a prescription slip...you can’t draw on this!”

The girl froze as Alexia held it up. “Oh,” she said, startled. “I didn’t know it was an important paper.”

Her eyes dropped to the floor. There was something in her posture that once again made Alexia's chest ache. Alexia sighed, then she got up and walked over to the coffee table, and sifted through the mess until she found some other paper.

“Here,” she said, handing it to her. “You can draw or write on this, alright? I need the other one.”

“Okay,” the girl replied.

“Now sit back, please.”

The girl did as she was told. 

She had a full plate of omelette in front of her, crayons on her left, and a glass of orange juice on her right. Alexia wasn’t sure how much vitamin C kids actually needed, but she made sure to fill the glass.

“Alright,” Alexia said, clearing her throat. “Back to the rules.”

She took a breath.

“Rule number one: Absolutely not leaving this house without me. Understand? You’re a kid, and this city is dangerous. I don’t care if you know the way to La Masia or not.”

The girl nodded reluctantly while writing it down in pink crayon.

“Rule two,” Alexia continued. “You can’t tell anyone about the guardianship. Not a single person. Okay? We need to keep this between us.”

“Why?” the girl asked, crayon paused mid-scribble.

Alexia hesitated, and her throat tightened. She couldn’t explain the truth, not yet. 

Couldn’t say that the arrangement was only temporary. That in four months, if all went well, she wouldn’t be the kid’s legal guardian anymore. Pedro had promised it was just for the season.

Alexia opened her mouth, but then closed it. The words felt too heavy.

“Because I said so,” she said finally, forcing a smile. “Just… trust me on this.”

The girl nodded without protest, and that only made Alexia feel worse.

“Rule three,” she added. “You’re not going to La Masia until you’re registered in a school. You can’t play football full-time until that’s sorted.”

The girl sat up straighter. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She put her crayon down with a bit more force than necessary.

“How am I going to play football if I’m going to be in school?” she whined. “I need to focus on football”

Yeah, me too, Alexia thought. I also need to focus on football.

But now? She was going to have to skip training to find a school for this kid. 

Should Alexia choose the school with the best reputation or the one closest to home? What about a private one? Should she care more about the ambience of the school or how academically challenging it was? Her head already hurt.

“Look,” she said aloud. “Just because you want to play football doesn’t mean you can skip everything else. School’s part of everyone's life, and you’ll go, no arguing in that.”

“I’m not a kid!” the girl shot back, arms crossed tightly. “I’m twelve! I should be able to choose whether I want school or not.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. This girl couldn't be serious right now.

“Twelve-year-olds are still kids,” Alexia said. “You get to choose a lot of stuff in life, school isn’t one of them.”

The girl slumped in her chair, grumbling under her breath. “That’s not fair.”

Alexia sighed again, leaning back. Alexia understood, she really did.  This kid had probably been forced to grow up too fast, and she was probably not treated like a kid back at the orphanage.

“You know,” Alexia said gently, “footballers don’t just wake up and become footballers. You don’t skip all the hard stuff, you know? It takes discipline, work, and sacrifices, which means doing stuff you don’t want to do, like going to school.”

She just pouted. “This isn’t going how I thought it would,” she complained. “This is worse! way worse than I thought.”

Alexia blinked. Oh this is not how she wanted?

“Oh, you think this is bad? Did you think I wanted a kid to look after?” Alexia snapped, unable to hold back. “You think I woke up and said, ‘today’s a great day to be a parent? Let me go look for some kids!”

The girl flinched, and her eyes widened, before narrowing again. 

“Well,” the girl said, “okay, no need to be harsh.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, but her chest softened. It wasn’t easy for the kid either, even if she was the one who put both of them in that situation. She did it out of despair, fearing she wouldn’t be able to follow her dream.

The kid--Y/n--as Pedro had told her, might act tough, but Alexia saw through it.

“Alright, alright, sorry” Alexia muttered, nudging the plate a little closer. “Now eat, and if you’re still hungry, take more.”

The girl stared at her, but then smiled in that cute way she did.

She picked up her fork and finally started eating, no more complaining about La Masia or school.

They didn't say anything during breakfast, but the silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable; it was nice, in some weird way. 

They just sat there and enjoyed their breakfast like they hadn’t just yelled at each other.

Like they were... figuring it out.

..

This was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

Y/n sat in the back seat of Alexia’s car with arms crossed tightly in front of her chest, her eyes fixed firmly on the window.

She had plans. Big plans. The kind of plans that ended with a Ballon d’Or by the time she turned fourteen. But getting dragged around to some school by Alexia wasn’t on her plans, absolutely not.

She was frustrated, and she barely knew what ‘frustrated’ meant.  Maybe she could still get away; she could sneak off under the La Masia bleachers and hide and sleep there. At least she would be close to training.

School? School was a complete waste of time. No matter how important Alexia said it was.

“You can be mad all you want,” Alexia said. “But you’ll go to school next Monday, either you go to school, or you just don’t train at all.”

Y/n didn’t respond. She lifted her chin higher.

“That little contract of yours? It says I have to put you in school, or else I’ll get arrested.” Alexia tried again, wanting to get the girl to say something. She had been quiet ever since she and Pedro had taken the kid to get signed up for the Spain Academy for Girls.

Y/n’s fingers curled into fists in her lap.

Arrested? Good.

Maybe if Alexia went to jail, she would stop interfering and trying to ruin everything Y/n had so carefully planned.

“If that means I’ll finally have the freedom I was promised,” Y/n snapped, turning her head just slightly, “then yes. Go ahead, get yourself arrested.”

The sharpness in her voice surprised even her. Y/b didn’t like being rude. Didn’t like being ungrateful. Especially not to someone who had let her eat as many servings of dinner as she wanted. 

But she was furious. No one was listening to her. No one understood that she didn’t want any of this. She just wanted to play football. That was it.

Alexia’s grip tightened around the steering wheel. Her gaze moved to the rearview mirror, locking eyes with Y/n for just a second before she looked away again.

“You weren’t promised any freedom,” Alexia said quietly. “You made that up in your head. Now you, well, we have to deal with the real consequences of this guardianship, Y/n.”

Y/n. There it was again. She hated it when Alexia used her name. Her real name. She preferred kid. But now? Now, Alexia had gone through her file, she knew her real name, and her story, possibly her medical records as well.

Y/n just wanted to get out of the orphanage and become something. That was her goal, her plan and her dream.

And it had been a good plan, too; it was structured. 

She had just picked the wrong adult to drag into it. She should have chosen someone who didn’t care if she was in school, someone who wouldn’t bother about paperwork or rules.

“I still don’t like it,” she muttered, turning her chin up stubbornly. “This whole school thing.”

Alexia didn’t miss a beat.

“It’s okay,” Alexia said, her voice dry. “You don’t have to like it, you just have to go.”

..

“I don’t want it,” Y/n said while shaking her head, her mouth in a pout, Alexia had come to recognise it as her normal response to being told what to do.

Alexia held up the strawberry-print pyjamas again, this time closer to the girl’s face, as if she could see the tiny fruits on it, she would like it. 

“Please? This is the fifth one I have shown you. You need clothes, ones that fit you.”

“No.”

Right after registering her for the school (a private school) Alexia had called Romeu to say she wouldn’t make it to training. He had sounded nervous, because she never missed training. But when Alexia said it was for ‘personal reasons’ he didn’t push.

Now here she was, in the middle of a kids’ clothing store in the mall, trying (and failing) to convince her twelve-year-old to pick out anything.

“Why not?” Alexia asked, exasperated. “This one is soft and cute. The one you have is too small, it barely covers your ankles!”

“Mine fits just fine,” Y/n said. “I can still wear it.”

“Por Dios, why are you so stubborn?” Alexia let out a quiet groan.

Then, a sales assistant appeared. “Hello! Can I help you two with anything today?”

It was kind of funny, actually, how fast Y/n transformed into a shy kid; she was ducking behind Alexia’s side like it was a safe place,

Apparently, she didn’t like strangers. Alexia wasn’t sure how she had managed to trust her so quickly.

“Hi!” Alexia greeted  “I’m just trying to get some clothes for this one,” she added, nodding at Y/n, “but she doesn’t seem to like anything. Do you have more options?”

Y/n pinched her in the side for that comment. Alexia ignored it.

“Of course,” the salesgirl said and gestured toward the other section of the store. “We’ve got some great stuff for preteens over here. That age is difficult, right…”

“Oh, you’re telling me,” Alexia muttered.

The woman led them to more clothing racks and then went away.

Alexia flipped through the rack and pulled out a navy-blue pyjama set with a whale on the front. It looked warm and cozy. Good.

“Look, this one’s cute…and it’s fleece-lined, so you would be warm.”

“I don’t want it,” Y/n snapped, this time sharper than before.

“Okay. What’s going on?” Alexia frowned and lowered the hanger.

Y/n looked down at her shoes and then to the side. “I just... I don’t have any money with me right now,” she whispered.

“What?” Alexia was so confused right now, she barely knew what to say or what to do.

Y/n moved her feet, not meeting Alexia’s eyes. “I said I don’t have money.”

“And?...”

“To pay for it,” Y/n mumbled. “I’m the one who’s gonna wear it.”

“Wait, you thought you had to pay for it?” If this were the case, then her attitude made sense. The kid wasn't just being grumpy.

Y/n shrugged like it was obvious. “Yeah?”

For a second, Alexia just looked at her. “Nena… you’re a kid, you don’t pay for things like this…It’s my job.”

“But I’m the one who needs it,” Y/n said quickly, arms crossing again. “So it should come from me.” 

Alexia crouched a little to meet her eye, holding the pyjamas gently between them.  “Look, I know you’re used to handling things on your own. I get it. But this? This isn’t one of those things, yeah? Taking care of you, it’s not some sort of favour.  It’s just... being responsible for someone, alright?”

Y/n’s eyes moved to hers for a split second before darting away again. 

“You don’t owe me anything for pyjamas, okay? Or food. Or school. That’s on me now.”

Y/n didn’t answer. But she didn’t argue either. She just stood there.

Alexia gave the pyjama a gentle wiggle. “So... do we hate the whales, or can I take this one to the register?”

Y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t move. 

“The strawberries were better,” she said shyly. 

Alexia grinned. “Good, I liked that one better, too.”

After the pyjamas, Alexia led her into another store, this one for everyday clothes. She was hoping that now that the ice had cracked a little, Y/n might actually help pick things out.

She wasn’t saying no to everything anymore, which was progress. But she wasn’t saying yes, either. Just quietly trailing behind, hands in her pockets, eyes darting across racks without landing on anything.

Alexia held up two jackets. One was a deep forest green, while the other was bright pink and puffy.

“Okay,” Alexia said. “So you like this one–” she shook the green one lightly, “-or this one?”

She looked over to find Y/n staring up at her with the biggest, roundest eyes. Then on the jackets. Then back at her.

She said nothing. Not a nod, not a shrug, just silence...again.

Alexia lowered both jackets slightly. “Nena? You can pick, you know. I’m not gonna be mad, it would actually help me a lot if you told me what you like.”

Then she finally spoke.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to want.”

The words hit harder than Alexia expected.

“You’re not supposed to want anything. Just… pick what you like, what you think is pretty.”

Y/n’s mouth pressed into a tight line. She didn’t answer,  but she did point at the pink one.

Alexia smiled. “Yayy!” she said, a little too enthusiastically. “Okay, this one’s warm, good for the weather this season.”

She folded the jacket over her arm and gently took Y/n’s hand, leading her toward the shirt section now. “I’ve never been in one of these,” the girl said suddenly.

Alexia glanced at her. “Where? This mall? Me neither–”

“No. A store,” Y/n clarified. “I’ve never been in a store.”

Alexia paused. “Wait, never?”

The girl shook her head. “It’s confusing. And big. And it has… a lot of stuff. At the orphanage, we just got clothes…we didn’t pick. I don’t know how to pick.”

Seeing her look so small, so unsure, did something strange to Alexia’s chest. She would take grumpy, stubborn Y/n over this quiet, unsure version of her any day.

“That’s okay,” Alexia said gently. “I’ll show you how to pick. Come here.”

Y/n took a step closer, watching her carefully.

“First, you think about what you need,” Alexia explained, flipping through hangers. “You need everything, but right now we’re looking for everyday shirts. It’s autumn, so we want clothes that are warm, but not too warm.”

The girl tilted her head slightly, paying attention, and for the first time since they had started this guardianship, Alexia felt like Y/n was really listening.

“This one’s a good example,” Alexia said, holding up a long-sleeved black shirt. “It’s simple, it goes with everything, and you can wear it when it’s chilly. If it gets colder, you can just put a jacket over.”

“So…” Y/n said slowly, “…think about the weather first?”

Alexia grinned. “Exactly. That’s a good place to start.”

Y/n nodded, then she pointed at another shirt, a navy blue one with, it had stars all over.

Alexia didn’t say anything; she just added it to the bag. They continued shopping, and it was easier now.

The girl was still quiet, but she started pointing at the things she liked. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for Alexia, that was more than enough.

By the time they reached the checkout, they had managed to get seven shirts, two jackets, two pairs of pants, two pairs of shoes and one more pyjama set (thank God! This one had the barça logo in it) and some socks. 

It wasn’t everything the kid needed, not even close, but Alexia didn’t want to overwhelm her. Baby steps, maybe she could bring her back another day.

Afterwards, Alexia decided that they should eat. They sat down to eat at one of Alexia's favourite restaurants, and Alexia ordered her usual salad without even thinking, but then she looked at the girl.

“What do you want?”

Y/n stared up at the menu board confused. Her eyes darted from item to item.

“Hmm…” She looked at Alexia, then back at the menu . “I don’t know. hm… whatever you’re having?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, amused. “Salad? You want salad?”

Y/n hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “Not really.”

“I didn’t think so. What about some pasta?” Alexia smiled. “ And we’ll get a little salad on the side. Sounds good?”

The girl tilted her head like she was considering, but she nodded slowly. Alexia watched her as she turned her attention back to the table, running her finger along the edge. It struck Alexia again, like it had back in the store, just how much this girl had gone without what she needed.

Not just clothes or choices, but small things. Like being asked what she wanted for lunch.

And god, she was just a kid.

A kid who had forged a contract because she wanted to be a footballer so badly that she had  tricked a stranger into becoming her legal guardian.

Alexia still didn’t know what to do with that. Or how she was going to tell her the truth, that she wasn’t going to stay with Alexia much longer. 

The truth was: Alexia wasn’t fit to keep her.

Alexia knew nothing about raising a kid. She didn’t even remember to feed them properly; they were having lunch at 3 pm, because she had lost track of time and the girl hadn’t reminded her. 

Probably didn’t think she was allowed to?

Sure, Alexia had bought the girl clothes, but none of them actually matched, because she had just let the girl point at things, she didn’t have the heart to say no when an item looked…too much.

So now the sneakers didn��t go with the pants, the jackets didn’t match with half the shirts. But Y/n had looked… proud, almost, when she handed them over. And Alexia wasn’t going to ruin that.

And then…

Fuck

The books. The school book, and the uniform. 

Alexia’s stomach sank, and she even put her salad aside. She had forgotten to buy them. How was she supposed to be responsible for a child when she couldn’t even manage a damn shopping list?

She was a disaster. As a parent. As a guardian. Whatever label people wanted to put on it, she wasn’t cut out for it.

..

When they got home, Alexia was carrying what felt like a hundred shopping bags, her arms sore, and her fingers red from the handles digging into her skin. 

Not even the kid got away with it, Y/n was holding the stack of brand new schoolbooks, her body was slightly bent under the weight.

“Put them on the table,” Alexia said, closing the door behind them and dumping the bags on the sofa with a tired sigh.

Alexia stared at the mess for a moment: shirts, pants, jackets, shoes, socks…everywhere. She was going to have to organise it all. Probably fold it and fit it into the girl’s wardrobe somehow. 

It wasn’t even that much, not really, but Alexia had never folded clothes this small before.

Behind her, Y/n dropped the textbooks onto the dining table, groaning as she shook out her arms. “How much reading does this school want me to do?” she asked, staring down at the books.

“A lot, apparently,” Alexia muttered, rubbing her forehead.

Y/n flipped one of the books open, frowned at the text, then looked up at Alexia, her face scrunched.

“How am I supposed to play football with this many pages to do?”

Alexia rolled her eyes and walked past her toward the kitchen. 

“Forget about football for a moment, yeah? We have got other things to focus on.”

There was a pause, just a second. “You have other things to focus on. I don’t.” Y/n said sharply

Alexia stopped.

Turned halfway around.

She didn’t like that tone, not the words exactly. She also didn’t like that they were circling back to football again, for what felt like the seventh time that day.

“Alright,” Alexia said, voice tight. “Don’t use that tone. It’s not nice.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, she just stared at her, her arms were arms crossed in a very defiant way

Alexia took another deep breath. 

She wasn’t good at this, at talking to kids, at parenting, at figuring out when to push and when to let things go. And today? Today, she felt like she was doing everything wrong.

Alexia crossed the room slowly,and  rested a hand on the back of one of the chairs.

“I know football matters to you,” she said, more gently now. “But you’re still a kid. And school isn’t an enemy, it's not something that's in the way of your dream”

“But if I don’t work harder than everyone else at La Masia, I’ll fall behind, and be bad, bad at football! And then what?”

Alexia didn’t have an answer, at least not one the kid would accept. So instead, she pulled out the chair and sat down.

“Then we figure it out,” she said. “Together.”

Y/n looked at her for a moment, and for a second, Alexia thought she might say something. But instead, the girl just nodded once, and looked away.

Alexia let out a small sigh of relief..

“Good,” she said, voice firmer now. “Now you can start your homework.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “Homework??”

“Sí,” Alexia replied, already heading back to the pile of shopping bags. “Science. Page thirty. The school sent me an email, they said you could get a head start on the work you missed while you were at the orphanage.”

Y/n picked up the textbook and flipped to page thirty, putting it down at the table. 

She looked at the words for a moment, eyebrows knitting together, then she cleared her throat and began to read aloud.

“In this section, we are going to study how reproduction works and–”

Alexia’s face went completely red as she ran forward, snatched the book from Y/n’s hands and slammed it shut.

“Actually,” she stammered, trying to put the science book aside, “go study Spanish.”

Y/n frowned. “Spanish?”

“Sí, Spanish. Page twelve. The one with conjugations.”

Y/n hesitated, then shrugged and picked up the Spanish workbook. Alexia sank into her chair across from her, exhaling very hard.

Well, at least that crisis was prevented.

..

A/n: Hope you guys liked it <3

Part 4

[dreamfyr-e]

jacaerys velaryon x fem!knight!reader drabble based on this ask <3 ( w. 735 )

꒰ dame is the historical title for a female knight, though i don't think its ever used in asoiaf ꒱

check out my event ! ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

"your grace-"

"i am your prince, and i command it," jacaerys replies, a cocksure grin tugging at his mouth.

you gaze upon the prince, shifting in your stiff metal armour. these suits are not made to fit ladies — the breastplate presses uncomfortably on your chest, and the sharp steel edge of the bodice digs painfully into your hips where it rests too low. queen rhaenyra had made efforts to have a suit forged to your measurements, but this was the placeholder.

"you... already have guards, your grace — two that wait outside of your room at all times. i mean no offense, but would it not be pointless to have a guard inside as well?" you ask, anxiously rolling the hilt of your sword in your palm.

its late into the evening, sun setting upon the rocky facade of dragonstone and bathing everything in a reddish-golden light. he draws a finger across the table where he sits, looking up at you. jacaerys comports himself with a regal air, all smooth black attire and calculating eyes. those very eyes, dark and deep, assessing you in this moment.

he stops his absentminded little circles, straightening up in his seat. he sighs, clasping his hands in his lap and casting his gaze upon them, "it is only... my mother, the queen, was attacked in her chambers only a fortnight ago. there is unrest in the castle, moreso since. i feel-" he looks up at you, mouth in a soft pout and eyes glassy, "unsafe."

he's intelligent, and strategizing, and very endearing in his little manipulative streak. he knew just how to bend you, he had seen you crumple at the fall of his tears before.

"if-" fuck, "you... you must speak to your mother about this, my prince."

he graces you with this horrible, mock-hopeful expression, "you would not object?"

"not if this is what you wish. i am sworn to house targaryen, and you... are my prince."

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"this suits you."

as a guard, you are limited in your permission to move. you stand, back to the door and one hand on your sword at all times — you do spare the prince a glance when he speaks.

"pardon, your grace?"

his hair is damp from his bath, curls slicked back with water. he's clad in naught but a thin tunic and linen breeches, a scarlet robe draped over his lithe frame. he gestures fluidly at your body when he replies, "the armour. the smith did a wondrous job in tailoring it to fit."

his gaze is far from subtle — eyes starting at the curve of your throat, lingering briefly at your shoulders and arms and waist, before landing where your thick woolen skirt meets your boots.

you swallow thickly, "thank you, my prince."

his eyes dart back up, smile deceptively sweet, "the hour grows late," a few calculated steps forwards, "i fear words for my gratitude escape me-" that sweet, warm smile, "but i am glad that you are here-" his hand, searingly warm, lands upon the part of your bicep exposed by your pauldron.

before you can reply, he squeezes gently. and then he's gone — that spot on your arm warm still, even through the long sleeves of your tunic. he has departed for his bed across the room, no glance spared behind him, single-minded attention focused on his destination.

you stand still at your post, eyes flitting around the room as he prepares to sleep. it is obviously a show, carefully designed for your eyes -

the way he sits on the bed facing you, rolling his shoulders and then neck; how he stands, body unfolding with measured grace; his hand carding through his hair, damp curls spilling around his face once disrupted. he doesn't look at you, as if this drama and allure is part of his nightly routine. his robe comes off slowly, one arm and then the other before it cascades down his back like water.

"i prefer to sleep in fewer clothes," he says, looking back over his shoulder, the cruelest little smile deepening his dimples, "if that does not offend, dame."

you're in no position to say no, to deny him any request. so you shake your head, "it does not offend, your grace."

his shirt comes next, arms and shoulders moving in a way intended to show the lean muscles from a lifetime of sword training.

a long night ahead, no doubt.

[milfsloverblog]

Good Luck, Babe! (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: I know, I know. I’ve got series waiting for an update blah blah blah. But when something sparks your inspiration, you just got to get to work!! This one’s - obviously - inspired by the Chappell Roan song. This is full on ANGST, HURT NOT COMFORT, you’ve been warned! One shot, no second chapter to fix it all. We love the pain. Hope you’ll enjoy my darlings and don’t forget to like and reblog if you do!! <3

Larissa had been startled awake by a sudden loud noise, her heart pounding in her chest as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom she shared with the banshee that slept next to her.

Not a literal one - although that might have been a better choice, Larissa thought as she turned her head towards the man she’d been sharing a bed with for over a decade and nearly two. Ha, there it was again. That loud snoring that kept her awake for nights on end. A banshee, that’s what he sounded like.

She sat up, carefully swinging her legs on the side of the bed and trying her best not to wake him up - somehow the snoring was still more bearable than his incessant yapping when he was awake.

Larissa took a deep breath, rubbing her hands on her face as she contemplated what to do with the rest of her night. She had a little over four hours left of sleep before her alarm would go off, signifying the beginning of her working day. She brushed her fingers through her silver hair, holding back a whine when some of it got stuck in her wedding ring.

Oh bitter irony, she thought as she pulled away to inspect the golden ring on her left hand.

The banshee snored again, pulling Larissa out of her thoughts and nearly making her consider squeezing a pillow on her husband’s face. Instead, she quietly got out of bed, throwing a silky robe on her silkier shoulders and tying it close as a shiver ran down her spine.

Things could have been so different.

As her hand brushed down the wooden handrails of the main stairs, Larissa couldn’t help but reminisce about her younger days. She thought of Nevermore when she was only a student there and not in charge of it. The Poe cup, the Rave’N, the feeling of soft hands on her skin. Larissa stopped dead in her tracks. She could have sworn that she had felt it, right there in the middle of the staircase, the ghost of soft hands on her midriff. She took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs on the tip of her toes, still not wanting to wake up the banshee that rested upstairs.

Turning the light on as she made her way to the kitchen, Larissa walked straight to the sink and knelt to access the cupboard below it. She didn’t even look at the bottles, grabbing the first one that met her hand and pulling it out of the cupboard. It would be a good one anyway, her darling husband always made sure of it. Grand wine, grand house (that she had been against buying), grand life, grand wife. The thought left a bitter taste in Larissa’s mouth and she hurried to open the bottle, eager to replace the bitterness of a wasted life with the bitter taste of an aged Chianti.

As she sipped on her freshly poured wine, Larissa’s mind transported her back to a night twenty years ago.

“They’ll catch us!” Larissa half-whispered as her hand squeezed yours.

“Everyone’s at the Rave’N, they won’t even notice we’re gone. Come on, even if they did, Nevermore’s brightest student and its biggest weirdo? No one would speculate that we’re together. They’ll think that you went to bed early, as a bright student should, and that I’m hiding in some dark corner all alone like a loser.” You joked, pushing the door to your room open.

“I’m not Nevermore’s brightest student, Morticia is,” Larissa said, her crimson-painted lips falling in a soft pout.

“Ha, so nothing about me not being a weirdo or a loser?” You feigned being hurt before letting out a chuckle. “Morticia doesn’t have half of your intelligence nor a quarter of your beauty. She’s got a big pair of tits, that’s all.” You shrugged, closing the door behind you.

Something churned inside Larissa’s stomach, the early stirrings of jealousy making her face grow hot at the mere thought of you finding Morticia somewhat attractive.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

“Wait, I’ve got something-“You didn’t have time to finish your sentence as Larissa's lips crashed against yours, bruising and demanding.

Larissa opened her mouth and you quickly followed, allowing her to thrust her tongue against yours in a dance you two had been rehearsing for months. Her lips moved down your chin and up your jaw, leaving a trail of red marks that you’d have to scrub at in the morning.

“Riss-“ you whined when she nipped at the thin skin of your neck, gently pulling away from her. “Wait, wait-“

Larissa reluctantly let go of you, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb and clearing her throat.

“I want to take my time,” you explained. “We always do this so quickly, most of the time I can’t even get you fully naked. Let’s take our time, everyone will be busy downstairs for another couple of hours.”

Larissa pushed a small smile and nodded. She sat down on your bed and watched as you pulled something from underneath it.

“How on earth did you get that?!” She squealed, nearly ripping the green bottle from your hand.

“Borrowed it from the kitchen,” you shrugged.

“You know that borrowing means you’ll give it back at some point, right?” Larissa mumbled as she read the tag on the bottle.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll buy some cheap bottle from the supermarket downtown and put it back in the kitchen.”

Larissa let out a snorting laugh and shook her head.

“Do you even know how much this is worth?” She said, gesturing with the bottle in her hand.

“Now don’t be rude,” you raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one that comes from a rich family, not me.”

“Shut up and pour us a glass, if you have anything to open the bottle with!” Larissa pouted. You knew she hated being reminded that she came from money, but it simply was the truth.

“Who do you take me for, a rookie?” You huffed as you opened your bedside table only to pull out a bottle opener and wave it victoriously in Larissa’s face, making her laugh.

What happened next was a little blurry in Larissa’s mind. She remembered sharing the wine, drinking straight from the bottle as you laughed about everything and nothing. She remembered spilling wine on the awfully expensive gown her father had bought her for the Rave’N, and then soft hands helping her out of it. Her head between your thighs, yours between hers. She remembered falling asleep in your arms and waking up still in your arms the next morning. And that had been the breaking point for Larissa. Her parents would never agree to this, to her having this sort of feelings for women, for you. She had to nip this in the bud before it went too far. And so she did.

Larissa made sure to avoid you like the plague after that night, going as far as becoming friends with Morticia Frump and her clique even though she knew how much you disliked them. And then came Henry. He wasn’t Larissa’s type, obviously. But he would please her parents and so she let him court her until they officially became a thing. Then everything had gone so fast, her final year at Nevermore, the graduation, Henry proposing.

“Larissa!” You ran after her inside Nevermore after witnessing Henry’s proposal in the yard. What a dick move, proposing right after she had graduated. Nice way to steal her spotlight.

Larissa spun on her heels, fidgeting with the new ring that felt unfamiliar on her left hand.

“What do you want?” She sighed, trying her best to keep her eyes off of you.

“You can’t do that,” you said, shaking your head. “You can’t marry him, you don’t even love him! Larissa, please…”

“Please what?” Larissa snapped. “What did you think? That this fling we had would turn into more than it was? Don’t be ridiculous.”

You swallowed your pain, refusing to let your heart burst at the seam.

“When you wake up next to him in a decade or two,” you said, fighting against the lump in your throat. “And you’ll realise that you’re nothing more than his wife, you’ll think of me. You’ll think of everything we shared all of those years ago.“

It was Larissa’s turn to swallow thickly as she took in your words. Marrying him meant security, a normal life. But it also meant losing her freedom, Larissa knew that.

“Say something,” you pleaded, hoping that it would be enough for your ex-lover to change her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she simply replied, holding her head high as she always did in any situation - good or bad. “You knew this would come to an end.” She added before giving a small nod and walking past you, the sound of her kitten heels echoing down the corridor.

She hadn’t seen you since. You hadn’t replied to the wedding invite she had sent. She had hoped you’d show up, she’d hoped to prove to you that she had made the right choice. That she was happy in the life she had picked for herself. That she had moved on. But she hadn’t really moved on, had she? Drinking herself half-blind almost two decades after she’d last seen you. Maybe you had moved on. Surely you had.

When Larissa was pulled back to reality, to the empty kitchen and the emptier glass of wine in her hand, tears had started running down her cheeks which she hastily wiped away.

She had thought about reaching out more times than she would ever admit. But she never dared. Not when she had found your Facebook and you seemed so happy with that woman on your profile picture. She would never dare reach out to you for she knew that you would tell her what you always did whenever she had to deal with the consequences of her actions.

I told you so, Larissa. You know I hate to say it but I told you so.

And Larissa wished, she wished she had listened to you. She wished she could go back in time and she wished she could forget you.

But Larissa knew - she would have to stop the world to stop the feeling.

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic, @im-a-carnivorous-plant, @dingdongthetail, @azu-zu, @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @agathaandgwenslesbian, @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @gwenilover, @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @vigelvictoria, @fictionalized-lesbian , @weems13 , @lynn1ebug, @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond , @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @spacetoaim22 @1-800-milfdilf @vendocrap8008 @opalthefrog @jkregal l @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @raya0jpg @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissaoftarthweems @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @thesamesweetie @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs @http-sam @franouo @mysteriouslysapphic @gweninred @a-queen-and-her-throne

[bambambibambambi]

♡Anniversary gift♡

Idea: Sol decided to get you a little gift for your anniversary 3 years together, a frenum piercing.

Paring: husband!sol x reader

Warnings: NSFW, bitting, frenum piercing, cunt devouring,no protection(reader takes birth control), short af

Note: sorry this took so long! I had lots of things to do, well this is definitely the first nfsw I've written on here!

Request: @powowplayinghooky

"Perfect!" You cheerfully exclaimed looking down at the dinner you'd spent hours making for your anniversary, usually you two went out so it was a bit different this year, but you didn't mind it much. A thought popped into the back of your mind when you realized Sol was yet to arrive, you're used to him being on you most of the day, kissing you, touching you in places that get you all hot and bothered.

you shake the strange thoughts away quickly, this should be a wholesome moment! You turned around to see your dear husband, something was strange....he was walking a bit weird, you've noticed it a week ago after that one conversation you two had about his piercings. "Are you okay?" Was a question you'd ask a lot, but he always had some excuse or some pretty damn good lie to pull, by now you know very well how he is when he lies. It probably would have worked before you two got married, but too late for that. You knew him like the back of your hand. No escaping this time for him.

Sol raised an eyebrow once you stood before him. "Pumpkin..?" He muttered, tilting his head a bit curious and confused. "Pants off." You stared into his eyes with a smile as warm as the sun.

"What" Sol started at you now too shocked to even speak, it was so random and sudden that he didn't even get a moment to process it. After stuttering an excuse, he ended up giving in after all you were his goddess, the reason he even stands there breathing, you wanted something you'll get it.

Pulling him into the bedroom, you were shocked by the decoration. Last time you checked there wasn't supposed to be Any. Your line of thought was cut off by a hand slithering around your waist and pulling you close, the familiar tingling feeling shot down your spine as he murmured into your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear and neck. "I did it all for you, pumpkin" his voice was quiet and soft yet full of need for you, even a slight touch would please him.

You didn't even get to reply or express your appreciation before his lips crashed onto yours. It was gentle at first, then it got more desperate as his hands glided up your shirt. His kisses moved under your jaw as if he were trying to devour you, every part of you. He was rock hard, and God, it was getting harder to not ruin you on the spot; it was your anniversary, so he believed he must go slower. Sol's hands gently laid you down on the bed, his kisses didn't stop as he finished removing your shirt. Slowly down your chest to your nipples, looking up at you, watching your reaction to every nibble, kiss, and the way you tremble. His mouth went lower, he stopped right where your pants were. Sol's eyes moved towards your face, a plea for consent. As soon as you nodded, your pants were gone.

He takes his time. Traces slow circles on your inner thighs with the tip of his tongue, making you jolt, breath catching, and he moans softly into you. One hand on your stomach, holding you down. The other gripping your thigh, spreading you open so he can get deeper.

He sped up making out with your pussy at this point, he started Feeling your legs clenched around his head tightly and back arched off the bed he knew you were getting close and didn't stop, continuing the speed of his tongue swirling it around using his finger pushing it into your gummy entrance. Once you finally came and were calming down from your high, he sat up on his knees, his face covered in your arousal and release, he licked it off his lips with a smirk. Sol removed his pants and slipped off his boxers. You were looking up at the ceiling and had barely heard the sounds of him moving around. Suddenly, you felt his tip pressing against your gummy entry, slowly pushing in. You simply couldn't get used to how large he was, and it took you a bit to get used to it. After lying there for a few minutes, feeling the stretch get slightly painless, you felt something scratching you inside as he moved, and strangely, even with the pain, it felt so good. Your head tilted back into the pillow once more moaning like a bitch in heat brought a smirk to his lips knowing the piercing was a good idea seeing how you were a lot more responsive than usual. "Fuck...keep making those pretty sounds for me"

Leaning on your chest as he held your thighs up to thrust deeper into you, biting your neck as your eyes welled up in tears. Your hands were gripping the bedsheets so tightly that it made you seem like your life depended on it. "You're taking me so well, pumpkin.."

A/n:...I gave up since the power keeps turning off and I have zero energy but I wanted to post this soon so it had been cut short sorry!

© 𝔅𝔞𝔪𝔦ℑ (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[eddiazx]

homecoming part 3 - eddie diaz x reader

catch up here: part 1, part 2

Then:

The tie is too tight. 

The suit is too itchy. 

Nothing felt right. Eddie should be on the way to the courthouse right now. His parents had already left, presumably with Shan and her mom, but Eddie couldn’t make his feet move. 

He eventually gets behind the wheel, and before he’s able to process his decision, he’s stopped in front of your house. No vehicles are in your driveway which is unusual, but Eddie pays no mind to that. He walks up to the door, ringing the doorbell in quick successions. When that doesn’t yield any results, he starts knocking on the door. In all the commotion he was undoubtedly causing on a Sunday morning, your nosey neighbour Cindy walks out onto her porch and gives Eddie a withering stare.

“They moved out.” She calls out, annoyance heavy in her voice. 

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief - he saw you last week. “What?” 

“They were packing boxes all week. Hired very loud movers too.” She pouts.

“Where?” Eddie chokes out. 

“No clue.” In a clear dismissal, Cindy returns to her home. Eddie takes the time to peer into the window, and sure enough, he finally notices the lack of furniture and the pictures that usually grace your living room wall, as well as the already full mailbox. When he goes to call your number, the call doesn’t go through - like it was out of service. 

Eddie takes a seat on your front stairs, staring out mindlessly. His phone vibrates and he hurriedly takes it out - only for it to be a message from his father with a simple : get to the courthouse, now. 

Eddie hangs his head in defeat. He thinks about getting on a plane to Afghanistan in two days and the crippling fear associated with it. He then thinks about your smile and how just last month his biggest worry had been what to write for his college essay. 

But his hand reaches up to pat his left suit pocket, the pocket that held an ultrasound of his soon-to-be son. Jumbled up with the fear and sadness, he also feels hope. So he gets up, leaving a part of his heart on the porch of your home. 

Now:

The aquarium visit had ended awkwardly, with you making up an excuse to bring Bee back home, to her and Chris' dismay. Eddie had invited Shannon over to his own place, intent on having a conversation with her that while he didn’t know about his daughter until recently, he was going to be present in her life, as much as you allowed him to be. 

“So. What did you want to talk about?” Shannon asks, blue eyes on his. Chris had gone to bed hours ago, so it was just the two of them in his kitchen. 

“I have… a daughter.” Eddie says, eventually. 

“I know.”

“Right, I guess you saw how much she looks like me today…” Eddie starts.

“No, I mean, I knew before today, Eddie.”

Eddie whips his head up, betrayal strong on his face. “What?”

Shannon hesitates. “I’m sorry. I found out 3 years ago when I first came out here. I was at the mall with my mom and I saw them. I recognized her at first, and then I couldn't keep my eyes off the little girl. She doesn't just look like you, Eddie, she acts and speaks like you too."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eddie asks, voice dripping with despair. "I could've been a part of her life earlier!"

"I get that, Eddie... But you were different when you came back from Afghanistan. You were already struggling and I was, too. I didn't think it was the right time for you to find out."

"That wasn't your call to make, Shannon!" Eddie snaps.

"I understand that now. Seeing you all together today - seeing how much of a family you were? I am sorry I kept you from that. Which is why I brought this."

Shannon slides a piece of paper across the dining table. Eddie has difficulty focusing on the title, but he eventually sees Petition — Marriage/Domestic Partnership in bold characters.

"I think we should get a divorce."

[dwaekkicidal]

can I request bratty!reader experiencing a sub drop for the first time with seungmin and how he handles that please?

not blatantly bratty but i hope you still like it <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 2.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: gn!reader, very brief mention of partner sharing, comfort, is this angst lol?, subdrop, domdrop, aftercare, no actual smut but mentions of rough sex & spanking, mentions of hard dom seungmin

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: this is a friendly reminder that aftercare and all the “boring” stuff is sosososososo important irl!!!! no matter how hard/mean i write the boys, consent is always a must & aftercare should be given after sessions where the sub or dom needs it!!

not really proofread<3

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

It had all started at the cuties dorm. You had come over a few hours ago to spend time with Seungmin, only to find that he was in the middle of a game against Jeongin and wasn’t willing to back down just yet. He loved you! And you knew that very well. But you couldn’t lie that his being so focused on trying to beat Jeongin, instead of being focused on the booty shorts and thigh highs that you wore just for him, made you feel some type of way.

After about an hour of sitting behind them and watching them argue back and forth, you became insanely bored and walked out of the room to find another man who would indulge and allow you to entertain yourself. And, to your disappointment, your boyfriend didn't even notice you leaving. At least not right away. He didn’t notice until over an hour later when he walked in on you lying on your stomach in Minho’s bed, lying next to him and giggling with him over something on your phones.

He stood quietly in the doorway as he watched the both of you. Though he was happy to see you get along so well with somebody he was that close to, his patience was thinning with every passing second thanks to the short shorts and the literal hours of losing to Jeongin. It was a surprise he lasted that long without freaking out, but the cherry on top was when he watched Minho sit up straight to stretch.

The older man glanced down at your bare thighs and Seungmin followed his eyes to the area where your shorts were ridden up, doing nothing to cover the bottom of your ass cheeks. And then he had the audacity to ask, “Where’s Seungminnie at?” as he licked his lips.

Seungmin’s teeth clenched as he cleared his throat loudly and walked up to the bed. No words left his mouth as he dragged you to the edge of the bed, forcing you to your feet, and leading you to his empty room. He normally had the decency to wait until the guys were gone to try having sex with you but after what he witnessed, he couldn’t bring himself to care very much.

You see, Minho had taken a fancy to you from the very beginning. From the first day Seungmin introduced you to the boys, he could feel Minho’s interest radiating off of him. And he didn’t exactly mind. In fact, he thrived off of it! To the point where, on occasion, you were shared between the two. There were rules put in place, and thankfully Minho had never broken any, but the occurrences themselves were still rare. So the thought of Minho wanting you so badly and seeing the pure desire in Minho’s eyes as he looked at his girlfriend only made Seungmin’s blood boil.

He was genuinely blinded by his rage and he didn’t think much before he shoved you onto the bed, pulling your shorts and underwear down around your thighs where they worked as if they were bound. Only possessive thoughts filled his mind as he pummeled into you, pulling orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. He was always insatiable over you, but today it was much worse.

You had lost track of how much time had passed. Everything was blurred together thanks to the almost constant overstimulation and harsh spanks that left your ass cheeks raw. He had made it clear to you what exactly had made him upset, but he was so caught up in his feelings that he hadn’t taken a second to double-check anything with you like he normally would. Not the name-calling or the impact play, which was normally fine, but was a bit too much given the circumstances. Which ultimately led to the worst kind of aftermath.

The tears were the first sign, though neither of you paid any attention to them because it was a normal occurrence during your sessions. It wasn’t until your mind had drifted elsewhere that you realized what was happening. Then, something in your brain convinced you to keep quiet and not speak up.

The panic set in after another orgasm was pulled from you and you realized the slaps to your ass cheeks no longer felt good, instead only felt painful and somehow managed to make you feel disgusting. You were so zoned out that you didn’t notice him pulling out and finishing on your back until he leaned forward and placed a kiss on your shoulder, a silent way he liked to use to tell you that he was finished and it was time to come back down to earth.

Which you definitely did! Just not in a good way. And that was proven even further by the way you flinched and sniffled in response to his kiss. He froze in place, fearing the worst and pulling his face away to call out to you, though it went unnoticed. Your name was called a few more times before he pulled away from you completely, leaving you feeling alone and cold while still in pain. A sob left your lips and he rushed to turn you on your side before he joined you on the bed, laying face to face. “Breathe, baby. I’m right here.” 

He saw a single glimpse of your tear-clad face that was contorted in something that was clearly not from pleasure and pulled you against his chest, letting his hand rub up and down your back as you clung to him and cried harder. A few minutes passed before your cries died down and he moved a mere inch or two away from you, only for your nails to dig into his arm and cause him to quickly return to skin-to-skin contact with you. He stayed quiet for a minute or two, calming himself down and trying to remember all the steps he put in place for situations like this.

“Talk to me, honey. What hurts the most right now?” You managed out an almost incoherent list of the areas with physical pains and he immediately took action. He wrapped one of your legs around his waist to take the pressure off of your ass then wiggled his arm up under your neck to rest his hand against your scalp, where he massaged it thoroughly as he checked in with you again.

He went down a mental checklist of things he did during the session and made sure every last one of them was fixed, as much as he could in this position, before he focused on your mental state. “What can I do? What do you need right now?”

He waited patiently as you racked your brain, laying out your feelings one by one in an attempt to figure out exactly what was going on. You managed to verbalize some feelings before he caught on to the other ones, and then he took his time trying to mend what he could, making sure to reassure and praise you for everything and anything he could think of.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I should’ve checked in with you. But it’s okay. I’m here and we’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Shhh shhhh… I got you. I’m not going anywhere, I swear on my life that I won't leave unless you want me to."

"I love you so so much baby. You mean the world to me."

"I'm so proud of you for not falling down the stairs yesterday"

The last one was more of a poke of fun to test how far in you were, and he was more than relieved to hear a muffled laugh leave your lips. "You're so stupid." He laughs lightly and hugs you tighter. The two of you laid there for another 15 or so minutes before he deemed it time to get up, wanting to get you cleaned up and dressed.

You were so out of it that you hadn’t noticed the darkening skies until Seungmin poked your cheek with his nose, snapping you out of your daze. Your eyes cracked open and you cracked your neck to look up at him, a small smile taking over his beautiful features as he locked eyes with you. “There’s my pretty baby. Let’s go shower, okay? Together.”

You groaned and shoved your face back into his neck, clanking your skull against his jaw and making him moan in pain. You both laughed lightly and you went to mumble out an apology only for him to shush you. He pushed himself up and pulled you to stand with him, then led you to the bathroom where he started a hot shower. It was a quick one, just something to get you both clean so he could swap the shower head off and instead fill the tub up.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was hushed and you could tell he was forcing a smile so you nodded, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you into him, still cautious about your raw ass. You pushed your lips against his and ran your hands up and down his arms as he kissed you back. It was sweet and soft, and it would have lasted for much longer had he not remembered that you guys were in a still-filling tub.

He pulled away from you and cursed, reaching to the handle and turning the water off completely. When he turned back around he had an ugly expression that said “Oh fuck, that’s too much water” on his face and you laughed at him, watching him drain some of the water before he guided you down into it. He rested his back against the tub and pulled you until your back was flush against him.

The two of you lay there for what you assumed was an hour. He was refilling the water the second it got too cold and, thanks to the faucet being on the side, it was no struggle to do so. Once your brain had returned to normal, and you no longer felt the world crumbling around you, you vocalized to him that you were ready to get out. He helped you out and wrapped you in a warm towel before wrapping himself and waddling with you back into his bedroom.

You both dressed at the same time, though Seungmin had no plan to stop his aftercare and he stayed as close to you as physically possible. He even wrapped his arms around your waist and steered you towards the bed with him. You could tell he was still shaken up about the whole situation, despite the fact that he hid it so well, and you settled on the bed first before gesturing to him to lay on your chest.

He sat quietly for a second, staring down at you with a frown before crawling onto the bed and laying on top of you. “I love you so much, Seungmin. You're the best thing that ever happened to me.” He stays quiet and shoves his face into your neck, sighing shakily as he processes your words. He starts to say something but you tug at his ear gently, telling him to stop talking.

“You take such good care of me all the time, even after bad sessions like this. We both fucked up during it, so please don’t be so harsh on yourself. If I didn’t trust you to be my dom, I wouldn’t have given you the option to be it in the first place.” He sighs loudly against your neck and makes a noise of agreement, wrapping his arms around your torso and nuzzling further into you.

A few minutes later your voice suddenly reaches his ears again, “No more scenes with Min.” His head snaps up to yours and you almost choke on your spit in laughter. He holds a confused face, one that holds the slightest bit of guilt in it as he furrows his eyebrows. “...Are you sure?” You nod and tilt your head to look at him better.

“At least for a little bit. It’s nice and all but me and him aren’t here for each other, we’re here for you. I only love you, and I think you-” A knock at the door cuts you off and Seungmin stares up at you, silently asking you if it is okay to let somebody in. You smile and nod, causing him to call out to the unknown person. He tenses up the second the door cracks and Minho’s head pokes inside.

“Hungry? Made both of your favorites for dinner.”

Now it's your turn to look at Seungmin expectantly and he smiles wryly before nodding his head sideways, beckoning Minho towards the bed. Minho pushes the door open more and walks in with two plates of food, setting them on the nightstand before smiling at the both of you. He ruffles both of your hair then playfully pinches Seungmin and runs out of the room with no further words.

You laugh as Seungmin yells a few curses at the closed door before settling back against your chest with a pout. “Bitch…” Your nails rake through his hair as you peek at the food, the hunger after a long few hours finally setting in. Seungmin watched quietly, not doing much to hold back a smile at the bickering between him and his hyung. It was stupid and childish in a way, but it helped solidify the statement you made earlier.

The food is scarfed down in no time and more apologies are exchanged before you inevitably fall asleep in his arms, with Seungmin glancing down at you with a smile resting on his face. He stares for a while longer before sleep pulls at his body and he rests his cheek against your temple.

“I love you so much.”

Taglists:

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[hysteria-things]

you should do a story of like chris and the reader play like an adult card game. it just randomly appeared in my head i hope it’s not out of ur comfort zone 😭 also i love ur writing and stories sm!

CARDS

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub/dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: everybody goes off to bed except for you and chris. you find a card game and decide to play, not knowing what it has in store.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, drinking, tied hands, blindfold, teasing, oral (male receiving), degradation, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex (no bueno!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,445

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: THIS IS MY FAVORITE REQUEST SO FAR! nothing is out of my comfort zone anon, don’t worry😘 (and thank you for the compliment!)

shoutout to this game that randomly appeared on my tiktok to give me this idea.

enjoy ;)

“i think i’m going to head off to bed.” nick announces, stumbling his way to his feet.

you, the triplets, nate, and madi decided to rent out an airbnb for a weekend getaway. it’s rare when you guys have free time.

you all have been drinking and talking for the last three hours. nate and madi went off to bed about an hour ago, and nick stepped out of the living room.

“i’m going to go too.” matt says a few seconds later. “we got a busy day tomorrow.”

that leaves you and chris left as you two wave goodbye to his brother. there's no doubt that the group is at least a little tipsy.

“you can go to bed too, if you want. i’m sure i’ll be gone soon.”

chris shakes his head. “i’m good right now.”

you scan your eyes around the room until you land on a shelf that’s next to the TV. there’s a handful of games on them, but one sticks out to you. it’s a red box.

you get off of the couch and walk over, taking the box and studying it. there’s a black cat on it, and underneath it says ‘pussy out.’

smirking, you hold up the box so chris can see. “want to give this a try? it says it’s for 3+ players, but we can make it work.”

he laughs. “sure. bring it over.”

you go back to the couch and set the game on the coffee table, laying it all out and reading about how it works.

the group goes in a circle and picks a card. you can either do what the card says or take however many shots it displays on the bottom of it. easy enough.

“i’ll go first,” you say, picking the card that’s the first on the deck.

let the group see your my eyes only on snapchat.

or…

pussy out.

two shots.

“sorry, no.” you start, shaking your head and grabbing the vodka bottle that you guys have on the coffee table. “i’m not doing that.”

chris looks amused. “why not? you have nudes and shit in there?”

“no.” you lie. you pour two shots and drink both. you gag at the alcohol going down your throat.

chris sighs, taking the next card.

wild card!

all leo’s take a shot.

this is your chance to be the center of attention.

he groans. “this shit is so not fair.”

you laugh now. “you heard it. bottoms up, sturn.”

he glares at you before downing one drink. you stare at the card in your hand, a little taken aback.

passionately kiss the player to your right.

or…

pussy out.

four shots.

chris is technically across from you, but it’s the same difference, right?

you bite your lip and slowly crawl over to chris. he glances at your eyes and lips a few times before you lean in and kiss him.

your mouths move in sync with the sound of your lips smacking together. you invite his tongue into your mouth.

you kiss for a few more seconds before pulling away.

both of your lips are red and you clear your throat. “y-your turn.” you stutter.

chris quickly reaches for his second card.

choose a player to spit a shot into your mouth.

or…

pussy out.

three shots.

he reaches for his shot glass and pours the liquid into it. you smirk at his cowardliness. this card isn’t so bad.

“you going to spit in my mouth, or what?”

your eyes widen, staring at his hand that’s holding the glass in front of you.

“o-oh.” you stammer, taking it from him. “um, yeah. sure.”

you pour the vodka into your mouth and hold it there. you grab chris’s jaw lightly as your noses touch. his mouth is already open for you, and you spit the alcohol down his throat.

you pull away as he swallows. for some reason, none of this feels awkward. it feels like young adults having a good time.

both of you let out giggles when you take a card.

wild card!

do whatever your heart desires to a player. if not, you have to take three shots.

(come on, you know you want to)

chris brings his hands to the back of his head and grins. “you heard it. bottoms up, y/l/n.”

you snarl at him using your words against you. “no. put your hands together.”

he raises his brow but obeys. you grab two black pieces of fabric you found and turn to him.

you bite your lip as you tie his hands.

“so… what are you doing, exactly?”

“you’ll see,” you reply, taking the other piece of fabric and putting it over his eyes.

his chest heaves as you straddle his lap and slowly graze your hands over his chest. “y/n—”

you cut him off when you start to roll your hips. his mouth is agape, groans leaving it each time you move upward on his now growing erection.

“y/n— fuck. don’t tease like that.”

you shush him as you move yourself so you’re straddling his calves. you take off his shorts to see pre-cum already leaking through his underwear.

you rub his dick through the piece of clothing, a moan and hiss leaving his lips.

“you want my mouth, handsome? you want my mouth wrapped around your needy cock?”

he whines and nods vigorously. “god, yes, please.” he pants.

you hum, kissing his twitching dick a few times before finally letting it spring free.

you grab the base; your small hand doesn’t fit around it. you start to kitty lick the tip and move your hand up and down.

he moans, his hips thrusting upward at the sudden contact.

you suck at what’s coming out of his tip before moving your head down, gagging when it reaches the back of your throat.

bobbing your head at a fast pace, chris wiggles and whines from underneath you. the sound of you sucking his dick also filling the room.

“shit, wait.” he exhales. “please. i need to fuck you so bad. need cum inside your pussy. please.”

you grip his thighs when he starts thrusting up into you.

you lift your head before it gets too much and cough. he’s panting as you move your face up to his ear, untying both his hands and the blindfold as you speak. “then do it.”

he flips you over in milliseconds, your back now against the couch. he tears off your panties, the elastic ripping against your skin causing you to yelp. he doesn’t bother to remove your shirt and skirt; he just needs you so badly.

chris gives you no time to adjust when he starts to plow into you so fast that the couch moves with each thrust.

“ch-chris! fuck!” you scream. “you’re f-fucking huge.”

he chuckles and covers your mouth to muffle your moans and screams. “you don’t want them to hear, do you? you don’t want them to hear how much of a whore you are; getting fucked by one of your best friends.”

it’s crazy how fast his demeanor can change. just a few minutes ago he was under your control, even though you hate being the one to take over.

he lifts your legs so they both are over his shoulders, which has him drilling into you deeper. luckily, he holds you in place. if he didn’t, you’d go flying off the couch.

you gasp in his hand and roll your eyes back, arching off the couch so he can hit just the right spot. you grip his hand and move it away from your mouth, not caring if the others can hear.

“o-oh, chris!” you grip his biceps, leaving crescent shapes on them. “i’m gonna— shit, i’m cumming.”

your legs start to shake as you start to spread your cum down his dick.

“look at me,” he demands. your eyes flutter back open and stare into his lust-filled ones. “you want me to fill your pussy? huh? you want me dripping out of you for the whole weekend like a slut?”

“mhm! please— please.”

he starts to rub your clit with his thumb, your eyes crossing at the pleasure washing over your body.

he thrusts a few more times before stopping deep inside you, feeling his orgasm fill you to the brim.

he grunts before pulling out, falling on top of you as you guys breathe in sync.

“can’t wait to spend $50 on plan b tomorrow morning.”

he laughs, kissing your jaw. “my bad.”

it’s no secret that you’ve always liked chris more than a friend, but it’s bizarre that having sex with him happened because of a crazy card game.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

[mandarinmoons]

my humble request. sorry, it turned out longer than i anticipated 😅

It’s late at the BAU. Reader chooses to work after hours meanwhile everyone else has went home aside from Hotch bc he lives there. Reader is tired but doesn’t want to leave bc let’s say working is a distraction for her tonight. Hotch tells her to go home get some rest. She obeys verbally but ultimately stays. Then Spencer comes over and tells her she should really go home and get some rest yada yada yada. They end up falling into the most comfortable conversations, being silly; Sharing an enjoyable time as best friends with unrequited feelings do 😌. It’s all content and peaceful. Then- Reader wakes up at her desk. It was a dream… 

Hotch: “Didn’t I tell you to go home two hours ago?” The office is darker and Spencer isn’t even there. In fact, they had a nasty falling out earlier that day. 

If you don’t want to write this, it’s all good!! <3

You have the best ideas I swear <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gender neutral reader Words: 1165 Warnings: none

The atmosphere of the BAU was quiet, so quiet that you could hear the hum coming from the lightbulb of your desk lamp. It was well past closing hours and yet you were still firmly sat in your chair, scribbling away at paperwork while fighting to keep your eyes open. You reached for your cup of coffee and took a fair swig, it had gone cold hours ago but you were not one to throw out a perfectly good cup of joe. The taste wasn’t as enthralling as it would be if it were fresh, but you couldn’t complain.

At one point, your eyes became so blurry that you closed your eyes for a second to try and clear your vision, but you sat up in your seat the second you felt a hand on your shoulder. The exhaustion was so bad that you had fallen asleep as soon as your eyes shut.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

Even with your vision being blurry, you could see the concern on Hotch’s face. You knew you were in deep when he, the most stubborn one of the team when it came to heading home for the night, was worried about how long you had stayed in.

“Yeah, I’m about to finish my report and call it a night.”

You smiled in your chief’s direction to ease his nerves. The lines on his forehead evened out and he headed back to his office, or should you say cave at his point.

As soon as Hotch was out of sight, your eyes drooped back to the same position they were in and you tried your best to continue your work. You didn’t want to go home in all honesty, it was one of those nights where you had too much on your mind and you knew that if you were to go away to your apartment and be suffocated in the silence until your next shift, you would go insane. It felt like a better idea to distract yourself with work, even if you were dead tired, but maybe at that point you would’ve forgotten all the worries in your head and would actually be able to go home and have a peaceful night’s rest.

“Hotch is right, you know.”

Your senses perked up as you saw Spencer walk over to your desk and lean against it. He smelled of freshly brewed coffee and you could tell by the look on his face that he was also pushing through the exhaustion to get some extra work done.

“Maybe you should also listen to what he’s saying.”

“This is about you, not me.”

“Touché Doctor.”

Spencer chuckled and his eyes landed on your work. He noticed how your penmanship was affected by your tiredness and at this point it seemed as if you needed to redo all of your work in the morning due to your illegible handwriting.

You could feel Spencer bore a hole inside of your head with his staring, his clear attempt to see the cogs run in your head to understand why you were here so late. Usually you were the one bugging him to quit the paperwork and offer to get a coffee on the way home, but now the tables were reversed and he was as determined, if not even more, to get you to put down your pen and get you tucked in your fresh covers in your bed.

“Are you going to keep staring at me?”

“That seems to be the plan, yeah.”

The roll of your eyes made Spencer laugh so loudly that you heard Hotch knock at his window to signal you to keep it down. Turning your eyes back to your work, you found it even harder to concentrate with Spencer staring down at you. Whether or not he was trying to distract you from your tasks, it was working.

Putting down your pen with a sigh, your eyes met his and a smile crept up on both of your faces. The longer you stared at him the more at peace you felt, his presence had always been a comfort to you and it was especially needed this time around.

Without missing a beat, Spencer told a story of the pranks he and Derek had pulled on each other for the past week and how Derek had started chasing him around the bullpen, which led to Spencer running away, with Derek eventually catching up with him and giving him a noogie. Spencer’s hair was up in all different kinds of directions for the rest of the day and everyone on the team pointed it out.

What felt like hours of chatting later, at one point you felt your hearing be muffled as you saw Spencer’s mouth move but you couldn’t make out any of the words he was saying.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

“What?”

“Y/N… Y/N.”

Your head snapped up from your desk as the familiar feeling of a hand shaking your shoulder woke you up. You looked to your side and were surprised to see the chair next to your desk be empty, Spencer was nowhere in sight.

“You said you were finishing up, it’s been two hours.”

Hearing Hotch’s words, you cleared your eyes by blinking a few times and your sight went to the clock on the wall.

10:07 PM

“Where’s Spencer?”

“He went home earlier today. He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

And that’s when it hit you. You and Spencer had a fight which led you to work well after hours to try and distract yourself from the fall out. Usually you let yourself feel all of the feelings and cry it out if needed, but this time around you couldn’t help but blame yourself for what had happened and you were punishing yourself by working yourself to death. 

“You caused yourself all of this, so why cry about it?” Your inner voice was cruel and you wouldn’t let yourself put down the paperwork or take a break, but you didn’t want to end up hitting a wall again, so you had to retreat.

Packing your bag and saying good night to Hotch, you entered the elevator and rode down to the ground floor. At this point, the only thing you felt was the movement of the elevator as you descended downwards, emotionally you felt numb and you hoped to stay that way as you knew that if you were to recount the events that happened between you and Spencer, you would be inconsolable.

You didn’t know if things between you two could be healed. Usually you would hype yourself up to give it a try as things could turn out better than expected, but all you could think about now was that there was a chance of Spencer no longer being a part of your life and it frightened you to your core, because a life without Spencer was a life you did not want to live.

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[jacaerysgf]

sleepless nights

based on two requests; you can’t sleep and it seems neither can your husband. you find comfort within one another.

wrds; 546

a.n: just some fluff/minor angst to distract me from the pain of todays ep, 🫶

the ceiling was nice.

or maybe it was a couple minutes ago. hours ago? you had no clue how long you bad been up staring at it.

you missed luke. So much. your little brother. gone just like that. and you were so sick.

the door to your room opened but you dont even have the strength to look. with war at large you should be alert, especially with the attempt on your mothers life you should care. yet if someone has come to kill you you’ll let them because you cannot find it in yourself to care.

what you do notice however is the bed next to you sinking down and the warm heat, his smell. you turn your head, the first time youve moved in awhile you can feel the strain on your bones. a gentle hand runs on your cheek and you close your eyes at the warm. You can feel his breath on your skin, face to face though you cant bare to look at him, your eyes closed but you are more awake then ever.

“you were not at supper.”

you have barely left your bed today you certainly could not attend dinner.

“i am not hungry.”

“when was the last time you ate?”

you dont know. yesterday? a week ago? nothing mattered to you anymore.

your silence tells him everything he needs to know and he sighs, scooting closer to you and pulling you right against him. your head in his neck where you can feel his pulse. It gives you a sense of semblance a sense of life. He is alive.

“i miss him.” He knows exactly who youre talking about and his pulse races a shuttering breath leaves his lips. “i do too, so much.”

“its my fault.” you two say at the same time, pulling apart to look at each other. he is the first to speak, his guilt racing through his bones.

“how is this your fault? i was the one who had suggested we fly out the blame is on me alone-“

“i had swapped with him. i did not want to fly to see borros and i asked if i could take lady arryn. He agreed,” you find yourself struggling to speak as the tears flood into your eyes and your throat closes around you. “it would have been me. it should have been me.”

He grips your shoulders and looks you dead in the eyes, despite the gloss over them you can feel the fury. “never say such a thing. what would i do without you?” your eyes shut and shaky sobs escape your lips. His lips press against yours and your sobs cease. He pulls away and brushes your tears off your face.

“i suppose it does not matter whos fault it is. Because we have each other. and we will never lose each other. ever. when our mother ascends the throne we will take her place after her. and everyday we will live, for him.”

You nod. Hes right. You should not be wallowing in your grief it is not what he would have wanted. You allow him to lull you to sleep. It is the first time you’ve been able to sleep in days. You are at peace.

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