#i did this to one once and their eyes got as big as dinner plates

[salt-baby]

POTS Medication Vocabulary

after about the third time a doctor prescribed a medication that made my POTS drastically worse, and about three doctors visits past giving up on being an easy patient, i started asking my doctors the following questions whenever they prescribed a new long term medication:

is this medication a hypotensive? (will this medication lower my blood pressure?)

does this medication have a risk of tachycardia? (can this medication raise my heart rate?)

is this medication a diuretic? (will this medication dehydrate me?)

can this medication cause hyponatremia? (will this medication cause my body to lose salt?)

your doctor likely doesn’t know all of this off the top of their head for every medication, but they should know the most common adverse reactions. some may simply tell you they have no clue. i still think it’s worth asking to force them to consider these mechanisms.

for additional consideration:

your pharmacist likely knows the answers to these questions better than your doctor does. 

an additional list of types of drugs which should be avoided is available here, in the table on the fourth page. (note that propranolol, a beta blocker, is often prescribed for POTS but is discouraged by this paper. as someone whose taken it, it’s worth trying to see if it will improve symptoms, but didn’t for me. Additionally, these are just guidelines, and in those with, for example, both hEDS and POTS, the benefits of opiates for pain relief may be worth the risk of worsening POTS.)

regardless of what the doctor says, I always look up the FDA info sheet before taking a medication. these can be found pretty easily on google (your med + “fda pdf”), and list most of the adverse effects. I’m happy to make a post about reading these info sheets.

there’s a reason prescribing medication is left to those with years of medical training - it’s a complicated and difficult process. but oftentimes those who do this work are so overworked and burnt out, they don’t have the ability to read someone’s entire medical file, or be aware of an adverse event that only affects those with an uncommon condition. I find asking these questions forces my doctors to think about my chronic conditions, and after so many adverse events, I always check a medication for myself before taking it. 

remember that you can and should refuse to take a medication that is making your life worse or harming you. even pediatric patients have the right to refuse a medication, and often times, I’ve found nothing other than a very firm “no, I refuse” will get a doctor to consider other options. and even though its against the norm, remember that you have the right to ask your doctor why they’ve chosen that medication for you.

as always, feel free to ask questions, they make my day!

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[pucksandpower]

Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. ��Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

[archangeldyke-all]

jinx teasing sev and saying that she wouldn’t be able to survive a week without kissing r bc she’s “whipped”

sev takes that to heart and in fact does try to prove jinx wrong, but the second she sees r’s sweet and confused face at her dodging the kiss she breaks and apologizes and promises to make it up to her bc lets be honest sev wouldn’t be able to go even a day without kissing her precious gf

GOD i'm gonna make this roach verse.

i'll give a vague explanation below the cut so people who aren't familiar with that fic and still want to read this blurb can have context

men and minors dni

ok all u need to know is that sevika and reader had a whole enemies to lovers thing when reader got hired as jinx's (age 11ish in this blurb) nanny. they're madly in love now, and sevika has learned to tolerate (love) jinx too.

what sevika doesn't know is that you've been in on it from the start.

jinx was teasing you, about the kisses you're always pressing on sevika's cheeks and the way you're always tucking her loose hairs behind her ears, and you got flustered and blurted "at least i'm not as bad as sevika!"

jinx, of course, cackled and agreed with you, then she asked, "you think you can get her to buy us jericho's tonight?"

you giggled and ruffled her hair. "probably. you wanna have some fun with it though?" you asked.

which is how you're here.

jinx made a bet with sevika that she couldn't last more than a day without kissing you. sevika, of course, took the bait-- desperate to prove jinx wrong without thinking through the consequences.

consequences being, of course, your pout when she dodges your kiss at lunch. (jinx is hiding her giggles behind her hand. sevika is hiding her own pout behind hers.)

you try again when she helps you and lock clear the plates after the gang eats. (jinx tags along, carrying a singular fork as her version of 'helping'-- just to see if sevika fails on her bet) sevika ignores your attempted forehead kiss, making a u-turn and practically running back out into the bar.

and then, you bring out the puppy eyes.

standing just outside of jinx's room while she 'reads her books' you confront sevika. she cringes the moment she sees you, and you just sigh. "sev..."

"baby, c'mere." she sighs, wrapping her arms around you, folding immediately. if you focus, you think you can hear jinx hyperventilating from holding her laughs in her room. "i made this dumbass bet with jinx that i could go the whole day without kissing you, and i didn't get the chance to let you in on it without the brat around." she pouts. you blink up at her, trying to make your eyes as big as possible.

before you can speak, sevika darts down to kiss you. you can't help but giggle against her lips. when she pulls away, you finally sigh.

"i guess that's alright."

"it's not." she kisses you again. "i felt like i was stubbing my toe each time i dodged you." she pecks you once more. you start to giggle. "what can i do to make it up to you?" she asks.

in her room, you hear jinx's muffled "fuck yes!"

you just bat your eyes at sevika. "wanna take me to jericho's for dinner tonight?"

sevika nods. "do we have to bring the brat?"

you chuckle. "duh. it's her favorite, she'd kill us if we went without her."

"fine." sevika sighs, kissing you one last time before turning around and marching away-- off to do whatever job silco's got her on today.

jinx's door flies open, and the girl comes flying out, cackling manically. "we did it!"

"i told you we could." you say, ruffling her bangs. you pull her to your side and start walking the pair of you toward the stairs. "c'mon. dinner's not 'til late and i'm hungry. wanna share some flamers?" you ask. jinx nods, giving you a quick hug before darting off and scrambling down the stairs toward the kitchen.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[astaroth1357]

I have long wanted to write a headcanon where high demons have lesser forms, so take a walk with me on this:

Imagine that the brothers are fighting with each other and one of them takes a serious hit, like, somebody's left hook got them right in the jaw and it was brutal. They fall to the ground, stone cold, and... just. Poof into a tiny little critter. Like a verison of their familiar. And they can't retake human form until they've rested and healed their wounds.

I'm doing that.

Lucifer becomes this fat-ass, little peacock. He's like one of those rotund Chocobo from the Final Fantasy universe, you just want to pick him up and squeeze him but he's slightly too heavy for that. His feathers are black, save for the tail which have black, red, blue, and green markings. If something makes him "Poof!" then he'll hide away in the Castle because he refuses to let his brothers ever see him in that state. MC can visit him, though, and he'll coo and get all fluffy whenever they pet his tummy.

Mammon turns into a three-eyed raven, but not fat like Luci. He basically becomes a bigger verison of one of his familiars, he's about the size of an eagle. For being the second strongest he gets "Poof!-ed" rather often because he gets caught up in so many fights. Most of the time, he's just a bystander then some stray shot hits him and suddenly he's squawking everybody's ear off! Hilariously, he's arguably smarter in this form so when he's stuck as a bird, his grades actually improve (if anyone can read his actual chicken scratch penmanship).

Levi becomes a snake. Duh. He has similar markings along his back to the colorful scales on his neck in his demon form. He isn't even the length of your average scarf, so MC can drape him behind their neck easily and he doesn't get in the way. He's absolutely MISERABLE like this, though, because he has no hands to play games with. He can get extra clingy to people if he's feeling cold, but MC has to invite him to share their body heat because he's too shy to signal what he wants.

As much as Satan would love to be a cat, he becomes a little unicorn (Sorry, I didn't make the lore). He's about the size of one of those miniature horses, but don't be fooled. He will snap your kneecaps and he's at perfect height to rear-kick his brothers right in the crotch. His coat is black but his tail, mane, and the underside of his horn are all his signature green. If he every gets "Poof!-ed!" he's big mad, so he'll spend the entire time trying to kick and spear his brothers so they have to suffer along with him. He's the cause of a lot of chain "Poof!-ings."

Asmo becomes the smallest, cutest scorpion you ever did see. Well, as cute as scorpions can be. His whole body becomes hot pink and he has the biggest widdle eyes (think those jumping spiders who wear raindrops on their heads type energy). He's also venomous as all hell, so his brothers HAVE to make sure that they continously call him "small, cute, and adorable" lest they suffer a week's worth of paralytic toxin. He can fit the palm of a hand and makes MC tie a little bow around his tail so he doesn't feel too bad about being under-dressed.

Beel, unfortunately, becomes a fly. A big fly (by fly standards), but a fly nonetheless. You wouldn't even know that it's him if he weren't traffic cone orange. Literally everyone panics when he gets "Poof!-ed" because it would only take some bozo with a swatter to put an end to the sweetest brother... Belphie never lets Beel out of his sight and even has a tiny leash so he can keep track of him if they have to go out. He's a lot easier to feed like this, but everyone has to resist that automatic urge to smack him away from their dinner plates.

Belphie ironically has the largest lesser form out of his brothers. He's a cow, more specifically a bull, but there's nothing special about him aside from the navy fur. He is a full grown bull and he loves to lord it over the others if they all get "Poof-ed!" at once. Also, good luck getting him to do ANYTHING in this form. He is a bull. If he does not want to move, he will not be moving. Not even Beel can carry him like this. He's the only brother who doesn't mind getting "Poof-ed!" all that much because of it.

[r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e]

idk i’ve been thinking for the last day about modern day corroded coffin, semi-successful in the local music scene, did a self-funded tour through six states last fall where they all lived in the van together and didn’t shower for four weeks, has a standing gig at the dive bar next to the highway and the strip club, they’re established, they have a small but dedicated local following, they —

“can’t play a WEDDING, are you fucking with me?” eddie says, when gareth shows him the text from his cousin who’s getting married in two weeks and who, as of last night, has no wedding band because they accidentally double booked themselves and gareth’s cousin had sent the deposit in late.

“i’ve explained to him so many times,” gareth says, furiously texting his cousin back, “we’re not that kind of band—”

except gareth’s cousin, instead of responding directly to gareth’s text outlining the musical thesis of corroded coffin or watching the youtube link gareth sends to the show last month where eddie got a black eye in the pit from someone in an inflatable garfield costume, just sends back —

“holy shit,” eddie croaks, looking at the string of zeros on the end of the number gareth’s cousin offers me to pay them in exchange for saving his ass and his wedding and his marriage, since his fiancé was demanding a live band. “that’s—”

“three months of rent for each of us,” gareth says, awed. “that’s buy actual fresh vegetables money. that’s go to the dentist money—”

“yeah, okay, give him my number,” eddie says.

so they spend the next two weeks practicing every white people wedding song they can think of. there’s no way they’ll be able to do, like, get low, tragically, but they can pull off the classics, especially after they bring chrissy onboard for vocals and keyboard. there are places where eddie draws the line — no fucking journey or especially insipid top 40 — but they can do some whitney. abba. fucking — mr. brightside. a lot of it is pretty simple, when you get down to it, “and people will be wasted anyway,” jeff reminds them. there’s an open bar at the six figure venue gareth’s cousin booked. hopefully everyone will be too hyped just hearing the opening baseline to i want you back to notice if they fumble anything hard.

rehearsal montage, chrissy takes the boys to the mall to buy suits montage (except for gareth who, like most transmasc dudes, already has a custom fitted and tailored suit ready to go in his closet; instead he makes catty remarks about brian’s tie choices.) chrissy makes eddie put his hair up and eddie makes jeff shave the experimental mustache he’s been growing and eventually the day of the wedding arrives and they load up the van and drive 45 minutes to the six figure waterfront reception venue.

they riff for about ten minutes while the whole wedding party makes their grand entrance into the massive tent set up on the lawn, ending with gareth’s cousin and his new wife dancing in, the whole crowd screaming and clapping. it’s cute, eddie thinks, vamping as long as he can while gareth’s cousin’s best man takes the mic and introduces the new couple and directs everyone to their seats for dinner.

and meanwhile: best man is frankly one of the hottest dudes eddie’s ever seen. he’s got longish brown hair that he keeps pushing out of his eyes, full lips, an insane shoulder to waist ratio, big hands. eddie sneak looks at him while they play a bunch of low key jazzy standards for people to eat their expensive dinner to. he’s sitting with his arm around the shoulders of a girl with shaggy auburn hair, and they keep leaning in to whisper to each other and giggle, so. oh well. but it doesn’t hurt to look, eddie thinks, watching the guy take his suit jacket off and roll up his sleeves and make a toast to gareth’s cousin and his new wife’s long and joyful marriage.

once most people have had their plates cleared away jeff turns to eddie and the rest of the band and nods, once, and while chrissy plays the opening synth chords to i wanna dance with somebody, jeff turns his front man showmanship deal all the way up.

it’s good. people are fucking hyped, so they throw themselves into it, feeding off the crowd’s energy, and almost no one is more hyped than mr. best man. he’s jumping up and down, his arms around gareth’s cousin and his wife. he knows every word to dancing in the dark (hot). when they transition into robyn’s dancing on my own he turns to the girl with auburn hair and points at her and screams. cute, eddie thinks, watching best man pick her up and spin her around while she downs her wine and shouts along. okay, really fucking hot, eddie thinks, when he finally pulls his loosened tie all the way off and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and eddie can see a hint of chest hair peeking out.

they slow it down for the first dance. it’s the leon bridges one everyone always does, but it’s perfect in jeff’s range, and there is not a single dry motherfucking eye in the audience. they do a couple more slow ones, throughout the night. best man dances with his girlfriend and then gareth’s grandmother and then with every child under the age of 10, letting them stand on his shoes while he twirls them around. how is this guy fucking real, eddie thinks, which of course is when best man notices eddie looking right at him and their eyes meet. best man looks a little flustered, at first, and then grins at eddie, right at him, before spinning the flower girl around in dizzying circles.

jesus christ, eddie thinks.

they’re closing out the night on the only other request gareth's cousin gave them: the one from the end of dirty dancing. jeff thanks the crowd, offers his congratulations to gareth’s cousin, and then goes right into it. except as jeff sings the first line everyone absolutely loses their shit, turning to best man and jumping around him and one of the bridesmaids. what the fucking hell, eddie thinks, keeping one ear on jeff and chrissy’s duet and one ear on the crowd piling around best man “—you guys HAVE to, dude, you’ve GOT to—“ but whatever it is he has to do is not immediately apparent to eddie. best man dances in a circle with the rest of the wedding party and auburn hair and the bride and groom, shout-singing along, and then during the build up to the second prechorus gareth’s cousin’s wife and her bridesmaids start pushing everyone to the sides of the dance floor, so there’s a long space in the middle, so the bridesmaid with curly dark hair is at one end and best man is at the other end and oh my god is he actually going to —

the bridesmaid runs and then launches herself at best man, who lifts her perfectly, right on cue at the peak of the second chorus, his hands steady on her hips while she floats her arms out in front of her just like jennifer grey. they hold it for a few moments while everyone loses their fucking minds and takes a thousand pictures. eddie actually takes his hand off his guitar for a minute. he thinks his mouth is open. he can see the muscles in best man’s arms flexing under his white button up shirt as he carefully lowers the bridesmaid back to the ground, laughing, his eyes scrunched up in joy.

eddie is maybe a little bit in love.

they close it out. the whole crowd whistles and stomps and applauds for them, which feels pretty good, eddie’s not gonna lie. as they start packing it up and high fiving each other and a couple people come over to ask if they have a card, if they’re still booking for next year or the year after (what?) gareth’s cousin comes over and hugs every single one of them, almost in tears, and then adds another 2k to the check he writes for them. eddie pulls out his cigarettes right then and there.

“steve, come meet the band,” he yells, when steve and auburn hair walk past. “gareth saved my whole ass, oh my god —“

“you guys were fucking incredible,” steve says, grinning, shaking gareth’s hand. “best wedding band i’ve heard in years —“

“they’re not even a wedding band!” gareth’s cousin shouts. “they’re like metal — moshing — thrash, i don’t know, LOUD—“

“whoa,” steve says. he pushes his hair out of his eyes and then turns that blinding smile right on eddie. eddie feels struck by it, wants to stagger back like he’s taken an actual blow. “cool, so you guys — play locally, or —?”

“oh my god,” his girlfriend says, rolling her eyes; steve elbows her in the side.

“i like your guitar,” steve says, gesturing at the warlock eddie’s still holding in his non-cigarettes hand.

“oh, uh, thanks,” eddie says.

“it’s a cool shape,” steve says, stepping closer, flicking his eyes down and then back up to meet eddie’s. there’s sweat gathered along his hairline, dampening the ends of his hair. behind him, his girlfriend coughs something loudly that sounds vaguely like slut.

eddie feels his eyebrows go way up.

“uh, thanks, shapes are. you know. shapes are great,” eddie says, nonsensical. he sees gareth shoot him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.

“can i bum one?” steve says, looking down to the cigarettes in eddie’s hand.

“totally,” eddie says. “let me just—“ he holds the warlock aloft and gestures to the open guitar case.

“sure,” steve says. he waits around while eddie hustles through getting his shit sorted out and then turns away politely while eddie has a silent desperate telepathic conversation with the rest of the boys, who roll their eyes and make their way over to the still open, still free bar.

where auburn hair is standing and talking to chrissy, putting a hand on chrissy’s arm while she laughs at something chrissy says.

hm, eddie thinks.

“so,” eddie says, walking out from under the tent with steve, down towards the water, awash in the moonlight. he holds out his cigarettes. “you like springsteen?”

[xxknockoutxx]

Izuku

(this is just something to put out for fun but I take heavy inspiration from Glitched they're freaking amazing! I hope they are doing well ❤️‍🩹🥦)

It was another day of sitting at home without a care in the world. Waiting for your husband to come home, this was the one day where you weren't working or out doing chores. The giant house that you and your pro hero husband inhabited was so intimidatingly big, that seeing the house so quiet and empty kinda scared you but in a good way. Like a really secured way.

It wasn't all that lonely I suppose with your husband texting you every once and in a while with memes or compliments or how much he misses you. He's gotten the hang of One for All and is the number 1 hero. All this sounds pretty good for you guys but it's not...

The stronger your hunk of a husband gets, the longer he'll be working and that means less time for you too. This was probably the 3rd day he'd been vacant from the house this week so you were tired of it. I mean who wouldn't be?

I'm just gonna have to make him forget work when he comes back. you thought. Sure it was a lot easier said than done but you are Y/-fuckin-N! Ain't nobody or nothing gonna stop you from getting what you want✨

*Bzzz* Your phone buzzes and you find out it's your husband.

🥦My hero🥦: Hey baby I got some good news! 😁

I'll be home either tonight or next morning! I can't wait to see my precious little Bunny💚

Your heart swelled as you read the text you eagerly texted him back showing your excitement before going back to brainstorming. Shit.... Now you're on a time limit. With little time you began thinking about a dinner; one with a huge table full of different foods and of course dessert but will that be enough for your busy husband to stay home?

Annoyed and stressed, you just focus on that one thing, preparing food. You walked into the kitchen and searched the full fridge for things to cook. thankfully you had the ingredients to try some viral recipe you saw on Pinterest.

After cooking and laying everything out on the table you decided to change into something more anticipating you changed into some tiny pajamas and black lingerie under it. Surely it would do something to him to see those thin, black and green panties.

"Bun! I'm home!" Your heart froze up before running to the front door and hugging and kissing the breath out of Izuku.

"baby! Hiii" "Hey bun... You look so....- He takes in the way that the shirt you were wearing hugs your curves. The way that it just barely shows the outline of your hardening nipples. —Good..."

"I made you a little sumthin-" You help him put his stuff down and drag him towards the kitchen. This food is gonna be so fucking good that he's gonna eat this and then eat me- wait.

As Izuku takes a seat and looks in awe at all the food on the table. After working 22 hour shifts for 3 days straight you get kinda hungry. He waited for you to be seated as you walked to the table with his plate of healthy servings.

"thank you so much, Bunny. I love you."

You smile and join him at the table, in your rightful chair or throne rather; Izuku's lap.

He begins to chow down on all of his food rather quickly, while spouting his compliments about you and the food. "Wow this is so good, Bun" and "You look so pretty today" and "Did you get all dolled up for me?"

At the end of the meal you carefully bring him upstairs and take off his hero gear. Making sure to be slow and to add a sway to your movements. At this point Izuku's eyes were lidded and he still had that same smile of adoration but it seemed almost suspecting.

You pushed him back on the bed and slowly took off the pajamas. (Deku merch obviously) Under it you had your dark green and black lingerie.

"wow.. you were ready for me, weren't you bun?"

He cups your cheek and pulls you onto his lap. You feel his warm, calloused hand touch your face as a familiar sensation of Izuku's bulge rubbing against your sweet spot.

You lean in for a kiss and start playing with the zipper on his hero suit pants. As you do he slips a hand on your waist and deepens the kiss while helping you loosen his pants and takes off his suit.

"lemme help you with that bun..."

✩.･*:｡≻─────────── ⋆♡⋆ ───────────.•*:｡✩

"F-fuck! Wait! Izu...." Of course after working for so long and so hard your husband is gonna be a little pent up. Not being able to come home to see his pretty, loyal wife. The only way to solve that? A fucking mating press. Nothing can compare to the satisfaction of a good fucking. Especially passionate, rough and deep sex.

I mean if you aren't screaming his name at the end is it even considered a good fucking? Clearly he isn't putting in enough effort if you give him a reaction that's anything less than a moan of his name, unintelligible mumbles, or praises. So he'll go for a couple hours. Maybe he'll be satisfied after a few positions, some breeding, and marking. Just to make sure you know you're his.

And right after he would take a shower with you cuddle with you and make sure you were at 100 percent and then only then would he go to sleep with you in his arms. An unbreakable grasp.

Then he'll do the same thing next week.

⏤͟͟͞͞☆𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐱.

[babysukiii]

the rooms are all on fire (every time that you walk in)

// melissa has a thing for her new neighbor, but she refuses to let it go too far because of the age difference. though, the redhead might realize how deep her feelings go once it’s too late. //

warnings: insecure!melissa, reader is so painfully in love with melissa it’s hilarious, melissa is an idiot who can’t handle emotions, pining, mutual pining, jealous!reader, jealous!melissa, brief gary x melissa (they go on one date), reader is in her twenties.

melissa knows right away that she doesn’t like you. you’re too young, too loud, too perky, too nice. you had moved in across the hall from her a couple months ago, and had knocked on her door the same day you moved in. you had this big smile on your face, along with this large tupperware of brownies. though, in your defense it had not been a good day for melissa. her ex husband had just revealed he had an affair while they were still married, and even though she no longer loved joe, it still hurt.

“who the hell are you?” she asks, as soon as she swings the door open. your smile doesn’t even falter, and it’s the most annoying thing melissa has ever seen. “i’m y/n! i just moved into the apartment across the hall. i just wanted to introduce myself and give you these.” your western accent indicated you were far from home, and the positive energy radiating off of you only seemed to put melissa in a worse mood than she already was. you hand her the tupperware of brownies, and she scowls.

“we don’t really introduce ourselves to neighbors ‘round here. your lucky you didn’t knock on 402’s door. he’s a creep.” she mutters as she takes the tub of sweets. “oh. thanks for the warning.” you joke, and you tilt your head to side, “i never got your name.” you add and she snorts. “cause i never gave it, kid.” she responds curtly before shutting the door right in your face.

that was your first impression of melissa. it was enough to make any sane person steer clear of her… but you weren’t necessarily a sane woman. you were usually up before eleven every morning to go on a run or do a small workout. one morning you wake up extra early, and catch the redhead in the elevator. you don’t appear to notice the way her eyes roam up your tight leggings, and small zipped up sweater that clung to your body. “good morning, neighbor.” you greet her, and she keeps this stone cold expression etched onto her features.

“morning.” she flatly responds, clearly uninterested. “did you like the brownies?” you inquire curiously, as the elevator door closes behind you. “i’m not a fan of chocolate. i prefer pumpkin or apple.” she bluntly replies, and you don’t let her attitude discourage you. in fact, you visibly pep up at the newly found information. “i love pumpkin cinnamon rolls. next time i make some, i’ll bring some over for you.” you say, as the elevator door opens. “i’ll see ya around, neighbor! have a good day.” you call out as you rush towards the exit of the building. melissa rolls her eyes as the elevator doors close, and she continues her way to the parking garage.

your perkiness in the mornings was something melissa couldn’t adjust to. she didn’t want to. as soon as you realized the redhead was in the elevator every morning at 7:20, you were there as well. it was borderline obsessive in the redheads opinion, and she couldn’t stand that dopey grin on your face whenever you’d see her. it was like clockwork. she’d get in the elevator, click on the floor for the parking garage, and you’d squeeze in before the doors closed. she was beginning to consider taking the stairs.

she wasn’t sure how you knew when she was home, but on friday evening, she was in the middle of making dinner when a knock on the door caused her to knock over an open bottle of water. “shit! fuck— i’m comin’!” she yells out frustratedly as she makes her way to the front door. when she opens it, there you are with that stupid smile on your face. this time you’re holding a plate with a large slice of sweet bread on it, with icing slathered on top. it was saran wrapped cutely on the white plate.

“pumpkin cinnamon bread, with cream cheese icing.” your voice is light, and you’re gazing up at her with these big innocent eyes; just begging for her approval. there’s hopefulness laced into your orbs, and not even melissa has the heart to turn this away. “pumpkin in april… thanks kid.” she mutters, and if she thought your smile was big before… it seems to illuminate with her backhanded compliment. maybe it was the fact that one of her favorite students made her a painting in art class, and she was feeling particularly mushy today.

“you like pasta?” she asks you blandly, still sounding indifferent about your sudden intrusion on her dinner making. you nod eagerly, “yup! i haven’t had it in ages though… i don’t know any good italian spots around here, and i can’t cook to save my life.” you confess sheepishly, and she nods as she turns around and disappears into the apartment. she leaves her door wide open, and you stand there, clearly confused. “well, what ‘re you waiting for? come in, dinners almost ready.” she commands, causing your eyes to widen in shock.

“unless you got somewhere else to be tonight?” she asks, looking over her shoulder to see how shocked you look. you shake your head quickly, “nope! it was just gonna be me and the takeout guy tonight.” you half joke, as you walk in, shutting the door behind you. you go quiet as you stand behind the counter, and melissa wipes up the water she had spilled earlier. she turns her head to see you glancing around the room, clearly nervous. it’s the quietest she’s ever heard you. “what? place not what you expected?” she asks, and your eyes lock with hers.

“i just… i didn’t think i’d get to see the inside of your place before i got to know your name.” you admit, and melissa can feel an uncontrollable smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “my names melissa.” she confesses, and your eyes go all soft at the revelation. “melissa… huh. that’s a pretty name. it suits you.” you blurt aloud, and she turns away to check on the pasta, hiding the blush that coats her cheeks.

melissa learns quite a bit about you after that. you’re twenty-four, you had lived in the west coast all your life, and you spent your teenage years stuck taking care of your grandma and siblings. the more melissa discovers about you, the harder it is for her to hate you. your kindness isn’t fake or falsified like most of the people around here; you speak every word with genuineness and sincerity. a routine seems to progress between the two of you; every friday evening you knock on her door with some new platter of sweets, and melissa proceeds to invite you in for dinner.

every friday turns into every other day, and before she knows it, you two are having dinner together every night. the redhead went from hating you, to enjoying your presence more than anyone else’s. at first, melissa assumed she simply enjoyed your company because she was lonely. but after a few months of you, she quickly realized what the little flutter in her belly meant whenever she’d see you. melissa’s head would grow fuzzy whenever you complimented her, and she turned into a blushing mess. not to mention how she couldn’t necessarily hide how happy she was to see you now.

she’d pick out a bottle of wine, and makes different recipes she thinks you’d like. she finds herself humming along to old italian songs as she cooks, waiting for the gentle knocks on her door.

tonight you brought her new york cheesecake with raspberry filling on top. you greet her as you push past her, placing the cake onto her counter. “i know, cheesecake is so bad for our health, but i had a terrible day.” you tell her, and you begin to ramble about how awful your boss is. though, all melissa can do is take in how absolutely beautiful you are. the way your hair falls, and moves as you talk with the emotions you wear on your face. when you don’t get a response from melissa for awhile, you look over and see her leaning against the door, staring at you with a peculiar expression.

“what? what’s wrong?” you question, she offers you a gentle shake of her head. “you’re really beautiful, you know that?” she blurts out, her entire demeanor changing as soon as she realizes what she just said. her eyes go wide as she stands up straight, instead of looking appalled or surprised, the blood rises to your face. a shy grin plasters itself onto your face, as you push your hair behind your ears before gazing at her like some shy schoolgirl. “you’re calling me beautiful? have you seen yourself?” you ask her, and that’s the moment that seems to solidify it for melissa.

the way her heartbeat picks up as the words leave your lips, and something in the pit of her stomach bursts, as if a million cocoons hatched into butterflies inside of her. she began to feel something she hasn’t felt since before she married joe. she couldn’t believe some western twenty something year old kid was making her feel this way.

you appear to be able to read melissa like an open book. she doesn’t have to tell you how she’s feeling for you to know. you’re the only person who’s ever been able to figure her out, and it’s scary. melissa also wasn’t an idiot. she could tell judging by the gleam of adoration in your eyes, you were growing quite the crush on her. sometimes she wonders why. you’re in your twenties, you’re hot, and you know how to bake a mean banana cream pie… melissa also sees how the doorman and a variety of other men ogle you in the mornings. you could have anyone you want, yet you spend your evenings eating melissa’s various italian recipes.

however, the redhead is very closed off. especially romantically. after joe, she’s dated around but nobody’s ever gotten a second date. she hasn’t been so intimate with someone in so long, even before her divorce, the marriage was falling apart. dinner every night was not an option for her and joe; he always came home late, and by the time he arrived his plate of leftovers were in the microwave. even when he’d be home while she was cooking, he’d eat in the living room in front of the tv. you were so enthralled by melissa, sometimes you could hardly focus on the food with how much attention you paid her.

she tries to hide the way she revels in your attention, and how the glimmer in your eyes directed towards her causes those stupid butterflies inside of her to repopulate. “you do not actually have random baseball bats around your apartment…” you trail off one evening, as you’re both sitting on melissa’s comfortable couch. there’s a glass of wine in each of your hands; you’re both on your second glass, and you’re sure it’s the expensive wine melissa keeps locked away. it makes you feel special when she puts so much thought into the dinners you two share. they mean something to you, and you’re positive they mean something to her as well.

“i do. they’re hidden around.” she explains, taking a sip of her wine. you let out a genuine giggle; your wide eyed gaze is pouring right into her, nobody’s ever looked at her with such reverence. something then flickers in her eyes as she remembers something; “speaking of… i’ve been meaning to give you one. ya look like you can’t swing for shit, but it’s better than ya having nothing to defend yourself with.” melissa rambles as she stands up, disappearing into her bedroom. your brows knit together in slight confusion as you wait for her to return.

when she does, she has a medium sized wooden bat. it was dark wood and looked brand new. “wait, you were serious?” you ask, letting out a breathless little chuckle. “you live on a questionable part of town, by yourself, y/n. you barely even forget to lock your door when you come over.” she scolds, sounding undoubtedly upset by the fact. your baffled features quickly morph into a soft expression, “you worried about me, lissa?” you tauntingly ask, and she lets out this vexed huff, waving the wooden bat closer to you.

“just take the damn thing and keep it by your bed.” she commands, while you gladly accept the strange but thoughtful gift. “it’ll make you feel safer.” she adds, her neck burning as you stare at her with a vulnerable look on your face. “okay. but i’ll have you know i’ve never felt safer than knowing my tough, kick ass neighbor is right across the hall.” you assure her, and something inside of melissa is slipping; whether it’s her resolve or the walls she so desperately tries to keep up. “thanks for worrying about me though. i worry about you too.” you clarify, and melissa would normally scoff at a comment like that.

she’d shake her head and demand for you to know she can take care of herself… but she can’t. as you stare into her eyes with the sole intent of wanting her to understand how much she means to you, melissa finds herself taking a seat beside you again, deciding to let the comment slide. maybe she enjoyed knowing someone as sweet as you cared about her. it’s been so long since anyone’s cared for her in this way; it was sort of foreign to her by now. yet it was also comforting.

though melissa often found herself thinking about what things would be like when you finally met somebody. if you’d opt to spending your evenings with your new girlfriend or boyfriend… if you’d look at them with the same gaze you’d look at her with. some evenings she’d catch herself staring at you, and she’d think of being in the shoes of some younger woman… someone who can give you the start at life that you need. you’re in your early twenties, and there’s no way you’d ever want someone old and used up like melissa.

so naturally, the night you invite melissa to your place for dinner instead of just heading to hers… she feels an odd bundle of nerves knotting up in her stomach. she changes after work; which is something she never does. she puts on that sundress she likes to wear when she’s feeling good about herself. as soon as you open the door, your eyes nearly bug out of your head. you have a grease stain on your cheek, she assumes it’s some kind of cooking oil. the apron you’re wearing is hiding the tight top and jeans you’re wearing underneath, but melissa thinks you’ve never looked more cute.

“you’re early! i— i’m still making dinner, please sit down.” you urge her, and melissa offers you that soft smile that seems to only be reserved for you these days. she looks around your place; taking in the pictures on the walls, and the flatscreen that’s too big in melissa’s opinion. she barely watches tv, and when she does it’s in bed on her phone. “yeah, i left a little early because ava hired some of the teachers some new assistants.” she tells you, and you cock a brow, flashing her an amused grin. “an assistant? how do you like that?” you question curiously, knowing how difficult it was for the redhead to warm up to new people.

she snorts, “the kids fine. she’s a little younger than you. can’t understand a word she says but the kids like her.” she murmurs, shrugging, before she looks over at you. you’re stirring whatever’s in the pot, and she quirks a brow. “you actually might like her.” melissa’s comment rolls off your back easily, you don’t seem to notice the difference in her tone. you laugh lightly, “i doubt that. i’ve never gotten along with girls that well. guys either.” you confess, and melissa snorts. “oh yeah, sure, the girl who makes conversation with the mailman doesn’t have any friends. who do you think you’re lying to here, kid?” she questions, and you frown, rolling your eyes. “i’m not a kid. and just because i know how to make conversation with people, doesn’t mean i have a lot of friends.” your voice is light, and lacks any sort of defense or malice.

melissa sort of envies how easy it is for you to talk about things. “i mean, even in high school i had like three friends. they all still live back home, and we talk from time to time but it’s not like we can just hang out every weekend, you know?” you begin to ramble as you stir the searing food in the pan. “you’re the only person who i hang out with, and i’m lucky you even wanna hang out with me.” you add half jokingly, and you turn to see an inscrutable expression etched onto the older woman’s face.

“anyone would wanna hang out with you… i mean one day you’re gonna find someone who can’t stay away from you.” melissa says in an abnormally gentle way, there’s a hint of sadness in her voice and you cock a brow at the redhead. “does it count if i’ve already found someone i can’t stay away from? i’m literally making beef stroganoff for her, and i almost burned down the kitchen twice just to impress her.” you admit, and on cue whatever is in the pan begins smoking.

melissa’s eyes widen as a blush coats her beautiful face. she rushes over to your side, “jesus, y/n! why didn’t you tell me you wanted beef stroganoff? i could make this in my sleep!” she begins to shoo you away, and you frown, shaking your head stubbornly. “because you always make dinner; i wanted to cook for you.” your fervent voice causes melissa’s heart to lurch in her chest. “i don’t just cook for just anybody, yanno’? i cook for you because i like ya, and don’t know how else to show it. i’m not all sweet like you.” she clarifies, and your heartbeat quickens as her words sink in.

she’s trying her hardest to avoid your eyes, and you can’t help the uncontrollable blush on your cheeks. “you like me?” you ask her, and she rolls her eyes. “like it wasn’t obvious when i cooked mac n cheese as a main dish. seriously, kid, your taste buds are strange.” she mutters, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the grin on your face. “yeah, well, as strange as my palette is, you like me.” you taunt her, and notice the way her focused stirring falters ever so slightly. she scoffs, forcing an exasperated expression on her face.

“don’t make me take it back.” she murmurs, and you can’t seem to stop grinning at her like an idiot.

the seasons change and so do things between you and melissa. it isn’t a significant enough change for you to mention it, but it is enough for you to feel the difference. melissa is so soft, and carefree around you now. before she was so tough and prickly; she’s still a bit prickly but you don’t mind getting poked in order to see her true self every now and then. you two appear to be doing this slow dance around the obvious feelings you have for one another.

melissa is way more reluctant than you are. she hates the way her mind works, but it’s not like she can control it. usually how cute and thoughtful you are washes away any doubts she has about herself, except for one day she runs out parsley, and has to run to the store. of course you offer to come along with her, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater and excitedly trotting by her side.

“you sure you don’t need anything else from here? you’re running out of juice.” you remind her and she mentally scolds herself. “you’re right! thanks hun.” she sweetly thanks you, making your face hot as she reaches for the orange juice. you both make your way to the checkout line, and you aimlessly look around at the chocolates. “y/n! hey!” a familiar voice causes you and melissa to turn around. you eyebrows rises slightly as you run into a woman who you went on a few dates with when you first moved here.

“tracy! hey!” you greet her, and she hugs you before you can even think. melissa is watching the interaction like a hawk, and as soon as the raven haired girl hugs you, there’s a burning sensation of pure rage deep rooted in her belly. her eyes narrow as “tracy” pulls away from you, and looks at you as if she wants to ravish you in the supermarket. “you never called me again! i had a lot of fun mini-golfing with you.” she says, and you sheepishly rub the back of your neck, clearly racking your brain for a flimsy excuse.

that’s when realization hits melissa; you dated this woman! the thought alone nearly makes her scoff. this was your type? mid-twenties, soft skin, hippie wannabe? “i just got really busy adjusting to living here and all that… but how are you?” you try to steer the subject away from the awkward final date you hated. it wasn’t fun for you; you had to force yourself to be some cool girl you clearly weren’t. “i’m good! how are you? what are you up to tonight?” she asks hopefully, and you smile.

“i’m good as well. this is melissa, we’re here picking up some parsley for dinner tonight.” you introduce the redhead, and tracy’s demeanor immediately shifts as she assumes the older woman is your girlfriend. “oh. hi, i’m tracy.” she introduces herself to the grade school teacher, holding out her hand for the second grade teacher to shake. melissa only nods curtly in in tracy’s direction, “hey.” she flatly responds. and you notice the tension in the air right away. “well, it was nice seeing you again, tracy.” you say suggestively, and tracy nods.

“yeah, you too. you should call me sometime.” she squeezes your arm before she leaves, and melissa looks as though she wants to murder you with her eyes. “next.” the checkout clerk calls out, snapping the redhead out of her thoughts. she places the orange juice and parsley down much harder than she intended; it even causes the middle-aged man to jump slightly. “rough day?” he questions with a goofy grin, trying to lighten the mood. melissa shoots daggers at him with her eyes, causing his smile to fall as he clears his throat.

he scans the items quickly, “that’ll be $8.97.” he states; not a single slick remark left in him. melissa inserts her card, finishing the transaction without another word. she storms out of the supermarket with you in tow, trying to catch up to her as you follow her to her car. when you’re both strapped in, the car starts and the ride is quiet for the first minute and a half. you hate awkward silences, especially with her. “i honestly forgot i even tried dating when i first moved here.” you pipe up.

“well maybe now you can give her a call, since you’re no longer busy and adjusting.” she mocks your lame excuse from a few minutes ago, and you frown. “i didn’t— the reason i didn’t call her back wasn’t because i was adjusting—“ you try to explain yourself, but melissa cuts you off. “you don’t have to explain yourself to me. we’re friends, i don’t care who you go on lousy dates with.” her voice is harsh, and it’s a tone you recognize all too well. it’s the same one she uses when she used to have her walls up high, refusing to let you get even a glimpse into her mind.

she doesn’t allow you to tell her it was solely because you didn’t want to call tracy again. the dates were terrible; the entire time you were just pretending to be someone you’re not. you only forced yourself to go because you had been living here for a month, and hadn’t made a single friend. melissa stubbornly cooks dinner, and the conversation through the night is short. you aren’t used to it, and it hurts. but you convince yourself tomorrow she’ll be ready to talk about it.

but the next morning, melissa must’ve left for work earlier than usual because you don’t see her in the elevator. you text her to have a good day, but never get a response. throughout the day you can’t help but think about her, and you wonder why she became so closed off after finding out about your meaningless dates with tracy. you understood she might’ve been a little jealous; sometimes you got jealous whenever she spoke about joe. but she seemed so genuinely upset, all you wanted to do was figure out what was going through her head.

you decide to make her some pumpkin carrot cake before heading to her apartment for dinner. it’s nearly six when you’re finished, and you place it in a tupperware nicely for her. you’re practicing in your head what you want to say to her tonight, and how you should assess the situation. by the time you knock on her door you have a simple smile on your face, and the door swings open, the sight nearly causing your eyes to bug out of their sockets.

melissa was wearing a tight black dress that hugged her body perfectly, and enhanced every single curve. the exposed cleavage caused you to force your eyes on hers in order not to sneak a longer peak. your hopeful smile falls a bit when you notice the hard expression on her face. before she can even ask you anything, you begin blabbering like you usually do. “look, i know you said we’re just friends, but there’s more to us than just that… we both know it. we may not have ever talked about it or what it means, but i haven’t dated anyone since this started…” you ramble, and melissa’s eyes soften for a split second, her hard facade slipping as a wave of panic washes over her.

“y/n—“ she tries, but the voice behind her is interrupting, causing your heart to fall right into your stomach. “everything okay, red?” a deep, unfamiliar voice asks, causing you to freeze. melissa suddenly has this unrecognizable expression of regret on her face. “y-yeah everything’s fine, gar.” she says back, “gary? as in the vending machine guy who’s been flirting with you all year, gary?” you ask in disbelief, and a slight bit of anger is mixed into your voice. she had been so upset about you going on a few dates with tracy before you two were even friends, and now she was here having a romantic dinner with gary. you could even smell the type of food she made him.

“he’s been asking me all year, and i decided since it’s been awhile since i’ve been on a date, i should get back out there.” melissa says the words she’s practiced saying to you in her head. she knew you’d come over today, you always do. she knew you’d see her with gary, and maybe she wanted that. she wanted you to feel how she felt when she saw you and tracy. though as you stare up at her with this kicked puppy-dog expression, she knows you aren’t feeling what she was feeling yesterday. you’re just straight up hurt and it’s written all over your face.

you glance down at the stupid dessert you spent all afternoon perfecting. “well, this is for you, because i wanted to apologize for upsetting you. i can see now you weren’t upset at all.” you have to force yourself to speak, and you surprisingly hold it together as you shove the tupperware in melissa’s hands. you turn to walk back into your apartment, and a wave of regret flashes over the redhead. melissa reaches out for you, “y/n, wait—“ a firm but soft hand wraps around your wrist, but you pull it away from her as you spin around and flash her a dejected look. the sight breaks her heart in two.

“it’s fine. you were right; we’re friends. you don’t have to explain yourself to me. i don’t care who you go on dates with.” you throw the words back in her face, and there’s a flicker of emotions on her face but you turn away and disappear into your apartment. melissa stands there staring at your door; she looks down at the cake in her hands and she hates how tight her chest gets. it’s like her heart might pop in her chest. she doesn’t feel the way she thought she would, and suddenly she mentally curses herself for thinking it’d feel good to hurt you.

melissa is off her game at work the next day. she texts you, and for the first time since you two became friends, you’re the one who doesn’t reply. the redhead realizes she made a mistake. instead of talking about her insecurities or how hurt she was when she saw you and tracy, she ended up jumping the gun and going out with the safest option. gary.

in truth she did like gary; maybe not enough to want to date him, but she found him moderately attractive. she also thought he was pretty funny, and he appears to like her a lot. though none of that was anything compared to what she felt for you. melissa could not stop thinking about you and that hurt face of yours all day. she even decides to cook your favorite food for dinner.

but when six-thirty rolls around, and you still haven’t knocked on her door, there’s a sinking sensation in her stomach. melissa huffs as she looks at the dinner she prepared, and thought of it going to waste angered her. or maybe it was the thought of you just standing her up, even though it’s not like she personally invited you tonight. maybe you think she’s with gary again.

usually melissa is very stubborn, and she would never consider going across the hall and begging you… but she can’t get you out of her damn head. so she takes her ass straight to your door, not even bothering to close hers. she knocks on your door vigorously, not stopping once until the door swings open to reveal you. your hair is damp, and you’re in an old oversized tee shirt; the printing was faded but the hem reached just below your thighs. melissa had to refrain herself from gazing down at your smooth legs.

“i cooked dinner and you’re ready for bed, what gives?” she questions, hating how she sounds like a petulant child. you look a bit surprised to see her, “don’t you have a date with gary and his mustache?” you ask a bit bitterly, and melissa scowls. “it was just dinner, y/n.” the redhead says, and you gaze up into her eyes. “dinner like we have?” you ask, and she huffs in response. “that’s different and you know it! you said it yourself yesterday, there’s more to us than just that.” she reminds you.

“i was clearly wrong.” you sound abnormally stubborn, and melissa sighs in frustration. “i’m not going to see gary again, kid. so just come on over and sit down for dinner.” she commands, and you shake your head defiantly.

“no.” you retort, and she raises a brow, obviously shocked by the disobedience. “no?” she asks you in the warning tone she uses whenever one of her students is testing her. “that’s right, i’m saying no. ever since this started, i’ve always done what you say. i go at your pace, i wake up earlier just to see you, i don’t bake anything with chocolate because you hate chocolate. did you know it’s my favorite? i do whatever you ask to satisfy you. i put my feelings to the side, just to make sure yours are valid. all for my efforts to be outweighed by a guy who restocks the gushers in the vending machine.” you stress, sounding reasonably upset.

“why did you even get so upset about tracy the other day if you were planning on going out with gary? i don’t understand you.” you add, and the dam melissa built to keep her emotions in abruptly bursts. “exactly! you don’t understand me! you’re this young kid who has her whole life to look forward to. this is just a passing moment in your life; this apartment, this city, our dinners, me.” her voice lowers, “you got your whole life ahead of ya, you shouldn’t waste it tryin’ ta’ understand me. you should be dating girls like tracy who are equipped with all sorts of emotions, and able to give you what you need.” she adds, and you frown as she pours her heart out to you. she appears to be full of regret, and vulnerability.

“and what exactly do i need, lissa?” you can’t help but ask, and she runs her fingers through her soft red locks. “you need someone who’ll take care of ya, and show ya how much they care about you. you need someone who isn’t old and afraid of what everyone else thinks. maybe someone who wouldn’t completely embarrass the shit out of ya whenever you decide to take them back to your hometown…” she trails off, now she’s avoiding your eyes and the abnormal, unconfident demeanor causes you to frown. you practically worship the ground melissa walks on; even if she didn’t know it, you were completely enamored by her. it frustrates you to know she doesn’t put herself on a similar pedestal.

“you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid eyes on. when i met you, i felt this instant pull that i had never felt before. god, i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone as pretty as you, and it makes me so mad that you don’t think of yourself that way. i love you, you know? everything about you; the crinkles by your eyes whenever you smile, the way you curse when you’re angry, your southern philly accent… that irritated frown on your face whenever you’re upset.” you begin to get lost in your words, the space between you both getting smaller and unnoticed. her heart palpitates as you rave on and on about her with this genuine expression of stringent affection.

“you have all these amazing qualities, and you sell yourself short. you’re the best freakin’ cook in the world; the best and sexiest teacher in the world; you’re tough as nails; you have this energy that follows you, it’s fierce and warm. just like you. and as for your age, it’s hard for me too…” the last comment makes her eyes harden, and you’re quick to add, “… but it’s not because i think you’re old, mel. it’s because sometimes i feel like you don’t think of me as your equal. you just think of me as this young kid who’s a burden. but i know who i am, and what i want. i keep a memory of everything you do in the back of my head, and the space in my mind you take up is only getting bigger and bigger. you’re it for me, i’m positive, because how can i see anyone else when you’re engraved in my mind and heart?” you ask her, pouring your whole heart out to her.

your eyes widen when you see the tears threatening to fall from her delicate green eyes. “that’s— that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me… you— that was more romantic than the vows at my wedding…” melissa’s voice cracks and she tries to put on that stony facade, but it doesn’t work. your words seemed to have broken one of the steel walls she puts up; it’s crumbled into millions of pieces and left her exposed in front of you. her eyes are unguarded and her expression is fragile. she feels so small.

“you can’t just say things like that!” she snaps, her voice higher than usual. you shake your head, “why not? you deserve to hear more good things about yourself, and i can go on all night.” you sheepishly admit, and melissa’s eyes soften when they meet yours. “you really feel that way about me? even though i’m probably older than your mom?” she half jokes, but the self-doubt is leaking through her tone. “you are definitely way hotter than my mother.” you mutter, and melissa gasps but can’t manage to fight to the grin that’s tugging at her lips.

“gee kid, you feel all of that for me and have never even tried ta’ kiss me? what gives?” you can hear the genuine curiosity behind the playful question, and your cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of pink. “i didn’t… i didn’t think you wanted me. i mean, yesterday when i saw you with hulk hogan—“ she cuts in, “gary.” she corrects and you scowl cutely, “whatever. when i saw you with him it kind of reminded me you’re a woman who needs someone to take care of you and i… i’m just a kid.” you look down at your sock covered feet, and before you can even think about anything else, melissa is cupping your face and making you face her.

her lips are on yours in an instant, and the butterflies in your belly begin to repopulate one by one. she pulls away before you can think twice, “you’re not just a kid to me. you’re a good person, y/n. i’m sorry i was so immature about everything.” she sounds ashamed, but the sincerity in her voice makes your heart speed up. your cheeks burn and maybe the kiss sweetened you up a bit. “it’s okay, lissa. i understand… next time just talk to me.” you assure her and she smirks. “or i can just kiss ya again and see where that gets me.” she half jokes, making you grin.

“or that too.”

[erenthology]

a/n: nothing wrong with acne, this is self indulgent. The Eren brain rot has been taking over ever since watching the finale. Not proof read obs

Academic rival Eren who’s always made your life a living hell. while secretly obsessed with you.

Rival!Eren who flirts idly and is the most contusing person. you can never tell if he’s being serious or not.

Rival!Eren who stops you on your way out of school. “move, asshole.” of course, the life sized giant doesn’t. “did you not hear me? I called you an asshole.”

“Have dinner with me” he grins. what is wrong with him? you think. not liking the way your heart is beating 10 times faster

Rival!Eren who smiles watching you run away from him, knowing the tension isn’t one sided, and you do too

Rival!Eren who first laid eyes on you in pre school, crying because some kid had stolen your strawberry shortcake. you were both kids. Eren angrily pushed his cake on your plate, blushing when your tear streaked face thanked him

Rival!Eren who then made sure to make that guy’s life hell for the rest of the school year. You really loved your strawberry shortcake, the memory makes him laugh

Rival!Eren who slowly noticed you’re the only one keeping up with him in class. He still remembers the day you told him you’ll surpass him

Rival!Eren who then became your rival, who told the kids you had germs just so they wouldn’t take you from him and

Rival!Eren who loved you through all of your phases, and found you just as beautiful that summer you came back from break with your face covered in acne, and hair cut in a bob

Rival!Eren who couldn’t keep up with you in 8th grade because your boobs had grown so big over the summer, it was all he could focus on

Rival!Eren who nearly had a stroke when you got your first boyfriend. He even accidentally smashed the guy’s face in when he heard him talking about you in inappropriate ways

Rival!Eren who was right there to take the blame. He was fine with you hating him for the breakup, as long as you still talked to him, even if it was just to cuss him out.

Rival!Eren who was your first kiss. “If you score more than me on this, Eren, I’ll do whatever you want” you once so confidently said. he pretended to suggest the kiss as a punishment, but still reminisces over the way you both blushed and ran separate ways after the innocent pec

Rival!Eren who got accused of having a crush on you by the boys, and got so mad at the way you denied it, he started taking girls out on the dates just to get back at you

Rival!Eren who watched you slip away from him but nevertheless kept his eyes on you over the years. made sure no one was bothering you beside him

Rival!Eren knows, you know. whether you like to admit or not, you’re his. you have been since that day. he’s always been behind you, and you’ll always expect him to be

Rival!Eren who, even in collage, loves to compete with you. thrives over the fact that he has been opponent since you were both kids, and no one else

Rival!Eren who thinks you look so freaking sexy every time you score higher than him and gloat. your ego is through the roof and he loves it

Rival!Eren who also loves it when you crumble before his eyes as he exceeds you in certain subjects

Rival!Eren who goes out of his way to catch your attention. Pulling your hair in class, kicking your feet under the desk, anything, really.

Rival!Eren who touches girls, kisses them in the hallway right when you walk by just to look you in the eye and grin

“You disgust me” you mouth to him.

You’ve definitely heard rumors from girls gossiping in the school bathroom. Especially by ashley, who loves going on about the night they spent together. “Eren fucks like a god, he knows his way around a woman’s body.” bla bla bla

Rival!Eren who catches your eye in the school cafeteria. He always looks at you, but this time you really looked at him. He’s fresh out of the shower. must’ve had practice, you think. you really do love when he wraps his hair in a bun like that

Rival!Eren who stares just as intensely back at you, resisting the urge to come over and do the things he wants to. instead, he takes the opportunity to wink at you, chuckling over the way you get up and throw away your remaining food

Rival!Eren who runs after you to catch up, but is reminded of your stubbornness when you ignore his shouts, instead he wraps his hand around you and pulls your entire body towards him

Rival!Eren who leans forward and whispers, only for you to hear, “if you ever look at me like that again, I’ll come over and fuck the shit out of you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

Rival!Eren who pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and soaks in the way you’re looking it him, trying his best to force his mind of your silken lips before you visibly snap back to reality and push him away

Rival!Eren who’s eyes gleam mischief when he’s paired up with you for a project. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun” he grins, adoring the face you’re giving him

Rival!Eren who gets mad when you cut yourself on paper. “What the hell are you doing?” he says, carefully inspecting your hand

“Just tell me what to do.” he snaps, taking over

That night you both stayed until late in the library, feeling overwhelmed by all the work. there was nothing weird about Eren’s hand finding yours, and yours finding his, as you both rested your heads on the table

Rival!Eren who blames the gentleman in him when you ask why he insists on driving you back home. “you think that lowly of me?”

Rival!Eren who’s ears spike when a guy in the locker room mentions asking you out. He won’t allow it. suddenly feeling eyes on him, he notices he just smashed his first into the locker

“Uh,” needing to be smart about this, he quickly comes up with an excuse, “nah, she’s too easy, i’d get behind Ashley if I were you, trust me,” he winks. Lies. no one is better than you, but you’re his

Rival!Eren who starts insisting on coming over to your place to get the project done. Wanting to see how you live, what color your sheets are, what you wear at home

Rival!Eren who’s eyes almost fall out of its pockets when he sees your bra lying on top of your gym bag. By no means is he unfamiliar with bra’s or the female anatomy. It’s the fact that it’s yours that send his mind into an orbit

Rival!Eren who thinks you’re getting closer, so why the fuck is he seeing you with another man in a coffee shop on a saturday night?

Rival!Eren who carefully waits until Monday where he tells you he needs to talk to you. even seeing your face is making him crazy, he hates it

Rival!Eren who asks if you have a boyfriend and why you haven’t told him. you’re confused by this for two reasons, 1, you don’t have a boyfriend. 2. Why would you tell Eren?

“Tell me the truth” he demands.

How can he say that after running through half the women in your college? “The truth? I hate you, so much. wish you would just leave me alone.” you say despite the lump in your throat

Taken aback, he speaks in an unsure voice, “you hate me?” It looked like it physically hurt him to hear you say it. “Got it.”

Sighing, you realize you might’ve overreacted. despite all your bickering, you’ve never snapped at him like that before, “Eren, wait-“ but he’s already gone

Rival!Eren who starts ignoring you. He still looks, but he doesn’t mess around with you in the joking manner that he used to

Rival!Eren who’s been on your mind a lot since the fight. so much so, that you’re falling behind on school. you decide to keep this distance he created once and for all, no more back and forth

Rival!Eren who stops listening to his friends the instant he notices your saddened look. to the avarage person, you probably look fine, but he knows you.

Rival!Eren who spams your phone with texts, tries his best getting your attention during class but to no avail. Did someone hurt you? Sitting through this lecture is killing him

Rival!Eren who follows you after class, forcibly taking hold of your hand. “Eren, no.” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his grip. Annoyed, he ignores your request and takes ahold of your hand again, “what’s wrong?”

“Why is it so hard for you to leave me alone?” you yell, surprised by the force in your own voice. both you and Eren’s eyes widen at your second outburst at him

“Alright,” he nods his head, “message received” he says and finally leaves you. Despite having asked for it, panic arises in you as you turn to watch him walk away, only to see him leaning against the locker, still there

A smirk finds his face, “thought I’d leave?”

he’s hit with a surprise when you put your head on his chest and starts sobbing. And you’re left equally as shocked by the relief that fills your chest

Rival!Eren who puts his arms around you and starts stroking your back. he wants to burn the world when he sees it’s hurt you

Rival!Eren who takes you back to his dorm with no room for discussion, but makes a quick pit stop, telling you he’ll be right back and to stay in the car

“Strawberry shortcake?” The look you give him makes him want to back inside and buy you all the cake they have

Rival!Eren who acts composed but feels his heart pounding in his chest all while he drives back to his place, while he’s leaning against the door frame as you’re explore his room, and as eat your cake in silence, with him staring at you

Rival!Eren who’s sure he’s mistaken when you flat out ask to give him to have sex with you, but is quickly corrected when you direct his hand onto the soft flesh of your boob

Rival!Eren who’s fingers act on their own, moulding and squeezing as he regains composure, “hold on, you’ve never done this before, right?”

“No.” you shake your head.

Rival!Eren who grabs ahold of your chin as a smile creeps up on his face , “good.” he’s going to teach you everything. but not today

Rival!Eren who’s thumb plays with the button of your jeans as he asks if you’re going to stop running away from him. loving the way you shy from his question

the way you hesitate makes him want to devour you whole. “I’ll kiss you if you don’t say yes” he leans forward to tease

“C’mon, hurry.”

“Yes.” you barely breathe out before he leans in and kisses the hell out of you. then proceeds to unzip your clothes

Rival!Eren who has the longest make out session of his life, making sure to prepare you by playing with every part of your body

Rival!Eren who’s soaking in the way your face twists into pleasure when he twists and turns his fingers inside of you, telling you to calm down and trust him

Rival!Eren who he talks you through your orgasm, flicks his tongue on your pulse point and whispers, “no one has ever touched you here before, right?”

Rival!Eren who holds you face in his hands after making you come, kissing you once, kissing you again, again, and again. he can’t stop stealing kisses from you, it feels like he’s been robbed of this his whole life.

Rival!Eren who declines your request for him to fuck you. only for you to get mad and get up looking for your clothes

“Yeah, but you’ll fuck every other girl passing by.”

Rival!Eren who laughs and drags your ass back down on his lap, he’s not letting you get away again. not a chance in hell

“You’re gonna belive rumors, baby? thought you were my smart girl.”

“Look, I may not be a virgin, but I might as well be. you’re the only girl Ive ever wanted. it’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. And I’ll keep showing it to you until one day you’ll believe it.”

Rival!Eren who promises to take your virginity one day, but not today.

[wileys-russo]

Alessia Russo

“You can’t leave me like this!”

alessia russo

"you're not seeing less tonight?" your room mate asked in surprise as you appeared in your living room in your pyjamas. "no she has a big game tomorrow, part of our agreement is that she gets a good nights sleep beforehand. otherwise we stay up talking for hours and i get the blame if she plays bad!" you chuckled collapsing onto the sofa.

the two of you bickered about what to get for dinner for awhile until you eventually settled on chinese, your roommate stepping out to call and order as you browsed through your shared netflix to watch list.

"rom com?" you called out, the girl giving you a thumbs up as she continued to order, ending the call and joining you again on the sofa. the two of you agreeing on a movie you patiently awaited your food to arrive, commentating through the film to one another as usual.

but no sooner had you paid and thanked the delivery driver did your phone ring, your girlfriends contact popping up as you shoved a spring roll into your mouth and clicked accept.

"hi baby!" you greeted once you'd swallowed your mouthful, nodding as your roommate dished you up a plate adding in a little bit of everything. "lessi whats wrong?" you asked, her lack of returned greeting causing you some concern.

"can you come over please?" the girl requested as your eyebrows furrowed. "why whats happened?" you stepped out of the room as your roommate gave you a questioning look and you dismissed it with a wave.

"theres an intruder." "what!" "yeah, can you just come over please?" "of course love i'll call the police on my way. are you safe??"

"police? i don't need the police." alessia spoke as you paused, frown deepnding even further. "lessi im a little confused here." you entered your room and shrugged on a puffer over the top of your hoodie.

"a spider babe, theres a huge fucking black spider and i need you to come kill it please." alessia clarified as you sighed in relief that there was no real danger. "just hit it with a shoe less you've got about a hundred pairs." you chuckled, pausing with one arm in and one arm out of your puffers.

"no! please baby its massive like im talking enormous and its in the bedroom so i won't be able to sleep!" alessia whined much to your amusement, the taller girl often boasting how much stronger and faster she was than you and making fun of your notable height difference.

"thought you were just so big and strong and athletic babe? euro winner can't kill a little itty bitty spider?" you cooed mockingly, shoving your other arm in your jacket. "shut up! just get here and help me please." with that the call beeped that she'd ended it.

"just put mine in the fridge, i'll be back in an hour tops." you sighed to your roommate quickly catching her up on the call as she let out a laugh, wrapping up your plate for you as you called out goodbye and grabbed your car keys.

ignoring the three calls from your girlfriend you drove over to her flat which was about twenty minutes from your own, pulling up in the driveway to find her stood on the front steps with her arms wrapped around herself.

"alessia its freezing are you stupid?" you huffed at her lack of clothing as she rolled her eyes. "all my jackets and hoodies are in the bedroom." the blonde frowned as she let the two of you into her place, taking your puffer for you.

"right. where is it then?" you sighed tiredly, stomach rumbling as your girlfriend handed you a shoe and a can of bug spray, pushing you toward her bedroom. "thanks babe." you grumbled flicking her a glare over your shoulder.

carefully pushing open her door you stuck your head in and looked around, stepping properly inside with a frown as you looked around but came up empty handed.

"it's gone." you shrugged returning to where your girlfriend sat waiting on the sofa. "you killed it?" the striker perked up with a grin, balling your hoodie in her fists and tugging you down on top of her. "i love you i love you i love you i love-" she started to kiss all over your face making you blush.

"no baby, it's gone as in i can't see it anywhere." you clarified as she stopped, pushing you to sit up with legs straddling her hips. "what! well go look for it then." the blonde ordered pointing back to her room with a huff.

"no! alessia its probably gone back outside again, i am not turning your entire room upside down to look for a spider. i love you very much but i've got dinner waiting for me and i'm starving." you leaned down to kiss her sweetly before standing up off of her.

"you can't leave me like this!" your girlfriend hurried after you, snatching your keys off the hook and holding them out of your reach. "less!" you groaned, smacking her chest and stretching for them but it was a fruitless task given she easily stood head and shoulders taller.

"you can't leave me alone what if its just waiting for you to leave before it appears again?" alessia challenged with a raised eyebrow. "its a spider alessia i don't think its got a personal vendetta against you." you chuckled, keys still held out of your reach.

"what if it comes back though? i'm not sleeping in there with it in hiding!" alessia decided firmly as you sighed and dropped your arm. "then sleep on the sofa baby, please gimme my keys im hungry!" you groaned, poking her stomach with a hufff.

"good. you can stay here tonight and i'll cook you something now while you go look for that little eight legged intruder." alessia dropped your keys on top of her book shelf well out of your reach. "what? no!" you protested, trying to reach for the keys.

"yes. or you leave the spider to its business and we sleep on the lounge together." you let out a yell as your girlfriend suddenly grabbed you, hauling you over her shoulder and wandering to the kitchen.

"you know this display of athleticism really doesn't do anything to erase the fact you're scared of a tiny weeny spider and forced me to come over and kill it." you smacked her behind before she sat you down on the counter.

"well you didn't even do that, some girlfriend you are." alessia sighed with a shake of her head as she moved to look through her refrigerator to cook you something as you scoffed at her comment.

"where you going? you can't leave love." alessia chuckled with a smug smile as you narrowed your eyes.

"i'm gonna go and catch that spider and then i'm gonna throw it on you while you sleep."

[jjksblackgf]

cherry flavored | jjk (m)

pairing — jeon jungkook x reader summary — You bet with your boyfriend that he can't handle more than five minutes of your tongue, but Jungkook never turns away from a challenge. You'll make sure to keep him in his place. genre — smut, pwp, established relationship rate — 18+ word count — 1.6k warnings — explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating.

The empty bottles of wine filled the center of the dining table, and the cheese platter was almost gone. Jungkook, with an arm around your shoulder, sat by your side at the dinner table, and your friend group filled the rest of the seats.

The laughter surrounded the apartment, and your friends filled you with joy.

“Can I help you clean up?” One friend asked you, and through her eyes, you could see she needed to talk.

“Sure thing,” you agreed. She asked your friend Alicia to join you in the kitchen before she started to talk.

“Guy, I need your help,” she said, nervous.

“Shoot,” you prompted.

“I’m dating this guy, and he’s got the biggest stamina ever!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know what to do. I need to get some sleep,” she finished whispering. You had to giggle at that.

“What is your dating life?” Alicia asked her, finishing the last of her wine. “The last guy didn’t know how to make you cum, and now this?”

“Everything in excess is bad for you, you know.”

“You need to control the situation,” you said. “Get him as hard as he can and only let him finish once you’re satisfied. That’s how I do it with Jungkook. Less than five minutes of blowjob and he’s done for. I usually do that when I want to speed things up.”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook appeared in the kitchen with some more plates for the dishwasher. 

“Did you figure out what they are talking about?” Jeremy, your coworker, butted in the conversation, walking into the kitchen too. 

“This one right here,” Jungkook said pointing to you, “just said that sometimes things need speeding up,” he said, frantic. 

“What things?” Jeremy asked.

“In the boudoir,” Alicia clarified.

“Oh, my man!” Jeremy shouted, hugging Jungkook sideways. “Be my personal trainer, man. I need that stamina,” Jeremy slurred his words and the girls giggled. 

“That’s rich coming from you, since you can’t take your hands off me,” Jungkook said. His face was full of emotion. Betrayal and cockiness were the most prominent.

“I can too,” you countered. Your friends just stood there, turning their heads from you to Jungkook and back.

“Alright, prove it. We’ll clock it. Whoever lasts longer wins.”

“You’re being such a virgo now,” Alicia commented.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed. And with that, you shook hands. 

Even though your friends were fully entertained, they had to leave eventually. Jeremy wished Jungkook good luck, and he rolled his eyes. The dishes were clean, the wine stained tablecloth was in the washer, and you were done.

“High five for the cleaning crew,” Jungkook said, already offering both of his hands. You complied, and he used the opportunity to pull you to his chest and kiss your lips. “Shout out to us.”

“Shout out to us,” you agreed, pecking his lips.

“Want to go to the boudoir?” He asked, mocking Alicia’s tone. “I want to set a record from the jump.” You had to roll your eyes at that. “I promise I won’t gloat.”

“Let’s see how you perform,” you challenged.

You woke up after a blissful night, still riding the high of an orgasm before a good night’s sleep. 6 minutes and 12 seconds. You were ashamed. If you were to guess, you’d say at least 10 minutes. But he’s good. Really good. With a tongue of the gods.

Jungkook shifted in his bed, stretching loudly and with a sinful smile. He woke up feeling himself. He didn’t gloat with his words, but his expression alone had you fuming. You had to beat him. You’d have to pull out the big guns. To the drug store you went.

The day passed quickly, and in the late afternoon you came back from work ready to rock his world. You entered the bedroom and heard Jungkook turning off the shower. That was good, less clothes to take off. He stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips and one drying his hair. His hair… His wet hair… It had you drooling. But you had a job to do.

“Wow, look at those pecs,” You said, sitting in the bed. You had the most fantastic view of his body. The light of the sunshine hit the droplets of water that were traveling through his torso just right. Mouthwatering. 

“Like what you see?” Jungkook said, wiggling his eyebrows and flexing his abs slightly. He walked closer to peck your lips. You used this moment to run your hand through his hair and hum in appreciation. Jungkook was really feeling himself now, smirking through the kiss.

Perfect time to enact your three step plan.

Step one, flatter his ego.

Step two, engage his competitiveness.

Step three, win

“You have somewhere to go?” you asked, holding his arm before he could go get dressed.

“Not tonight. Why? Feeling inspired?” he asked, jokingly stroking his abs, drying a few water droplets with the tip of his fingers.

“Actually, yes. I’m feeling pretty lucky to have left my end of the bet for tonight. You look so hot with water dripping on you like this,” you said, ogling his body and biting your lower lip. He gave you a breathy laugh.

“Say more words like that.”

“I’m ready to admit defeat. I just want to cherish you all night long,” you whispered. Wait for it…

“Wrong turn. I have the stop watch ready to go.” Bingo. “I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

“I guess that’s fine by me, too.”

“Where do you want to do the honors?” he asked, and you patted the bed, pulling him closer. He sat down, and you pushed his shoulders back, he fell down on the mattress and you straddled his lap with confidence.

“Bossy. I like it.”

“I can tell” you said, feeling his cock getting harder against your jeans. He was so easy. But getting him hard wasn’t difficult, getting him off on the other hand… But you had a good plan.

“Ready?” he asked and you pulled out flavored condoms out of your pocket.

“Yes, sir!”

“Condoms? I’m clean,” he joked, and you rolled your eyes.

“They’re part of the experience.”

“Condoms!?” he asked louder. “The things known to delay sensation of all mankind?”

“Not when I suck the flavors off them, they don’t.”

“Flavors?” he asked, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Get the watch going,” you smirked. He took a deep breath and pulled out the stopwatch.

“You’re on,” he said, pressing the top button.

You kissed his neck first, taking advantage of his position, and he closed his eyes. Maybe concentrating on not cumming, maybe enjoying the experience, maybe both. You grinded your crotch against his, and you noticed his breath get faster. 

You trailed kisses down his torso, savoring the many water droplets. You got off the bed and removed the towel easily. You opened the first condom, putting it perfectly. You saw Jungkook’s eyes shot open, and you knew he was curious about your methods.

“Which one is that?” he asked, trying not to sound so interested.

“Mint.”

“Refreshing,” he commented. He physically prepared himself, balling his hands into fists and taking a deep breath.

You had this, though. You used all of the pressure of your cheeks, wrapping your lips around him completely and bobbed your head slowly. You caressed his inner thigh in the process. Not much composed, Jungkook groaned and hissed, and you could see he was doing his best not to cum.

The flavor was gone in about two minutes, and Jungkook sighed in relief when it was time to change it. He ran his palm through his face, taking another deep breath, but you still hadn’t pulled out all of the tricks up your sleeve.

“Time for cherry,” you sang. Your secret weapon. Jungkook loved all things cherry flavored. The fruit, pies, jam, chapstick… So when his head shot up, and his eyes were about to jump out of their sockets, you knew you made the right choice.

You didn’t give him time to fully process it, your mouth engulfed him again, as deep as it could go. You made sure to use your gag reflex to your advantage, closing your throat around his tip, and retrieving it with a loud pop. The saliva trail left behind left you moaning his name.

“Jungkook, I want to taste you, baby,” you said seductively, and he whimpered, closing his eyes shut.

And you continued with your technique, ruthless.

One more.

Two.

Three.

When your lips wrapped around him for a fourth time, he pressured against the back of your head to keep you there. Your throat closed around him once more, and with a final grunt, he released you.

He panted hard, and you quickly grabbed the stopwatch, pressing the top button to mark your time. 5 minutes, 53 seconds.

He did last five minutes after all, just not longer than you.

“You played dirty,” Jungkook accused, seeing your inappropriate smile.

“Dirty is my middle name.”

Your friends were once more gathered around your dinner table. Jungkook was refreshing people’s drinks while you served the desserts. Cherry pie.

“How’s things with what’s-his-name?” you asked your friend, not bothering to remember his name.

“I took your advice to edge him, and it worked like a charm. But it’s not going to work, he’s too needy now,” she answered.

“Go figure,” Alicia commented.

“Hey, how was the bet by the way?” Jeremy inquired.

“Mind your business, Jeremy” Jungkook said, and the table erupted in laughter.

“How long?” Jeremy pressed.

“I lasted 20 seconds longer,” you gloated.

“Score!” Jeremy high fived you, and Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“I thought you promised not to share.”

“I promised no such thing.”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Hai^^ I love your stories so much and I was wondering if you could make one about 80s slash x reader? And how the reader’s parents and slash’s mom were friends and forced them to meet each other?

When the reader sees slash - she kinda into him and the more she stares at him the more attractive gets and slash is a bit older than her and finds her funny and weird as he notices that she’s been staring at him the whole time during dinner.

It isn’t until they’re left alone that they start talking to each other and slash makes playful gestures and teases towards her? With smut and fluff of course :P

I hope that’s not a lot^^ anyways whenever you get the time^^

A/n: I wrote this in class and barely finished so the end is kind of shit

Warnings: smut, arranged marriage trope(ish), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

I think I’ve used this before but no I didn’t bc I said so

Ever since you were young, around twelve, there was always this pressure to be with someone, relatives coming by and asking where your boyfriend was. It was annoying and you couldn’t get away from it.

Your parents only got worse as you got older, inviting friends over with suitors. Annoying old men shoving money and power in your face, none of it was ever for you they just wanted to show you what they had. They didn’t care about you.

This dinner was just like any other, you had to get all dressed up to meet some guy your parents knew. He’d be old, creepy and wasting away, just wanting someone to bed whenever he wanted, someone to beat, who he could show around town as he pleased.

You were in your room, getting ready as per usual. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, pristine and proper, white floral dress and golden makeup. Just once you wanted to do something bigger, something harsher.

The doorbell rang and you were called down to meet the guests. You say yourself at the table, ready to meet the next suitor to leave.

A woman walked through, she was gorgeous and had a beautiful smile, behind her came a man with bigger hair than his mother. He shared those big, dark eyes, full lips, but he didn’t smile. He wasn’t dressed up all fancy, he wore jeans and a leather jacket over a Ramones shirt that was torn up and well loved, to say the least.

You weren’t allowed to listen to the Ramones, devils music you were told. This man was the devil incarnate and you were certain he’d be the one to take you away.

Your mother sat down next to you and placed a hand on your knee, leaning into you. “Don’t you dare go looking at this one all puppy eyed, I gave you good men you will not be falling for this monstrosity.” She said through gritted teeth, but her warning was moot, you’d already made up your mind.

The dinner went as every other did, your mother would ask questions and listen closely to the answers, except she didn’t. She didn’t care what this man, Saul was his name, had to say.

You sat idly by and ate, gaze flickering over to him all too frequently, he was sure to notice but he didn’t bring it up or look back at you.

His voice didn’t match his appearance. He was soft spoken and only spoke when told to, he rarely looked up from his plate and when he did he didn’t make eye contact.

Saul Hudson to be wed, you could see it in the papers now.

“I play guitar in a band.” He said, it broke through your day dreaming haze.

“You-you play..?” Your mother sputtered out, unable to even finish her sentence.

Saul nodded, a wide grin on his face and he looked up at you, still not making eye contact. His gaze flicked from your lips down to your shoulders, you didn’t dare guess where else he was looking. “Big band, Guns N’ Roses.” He clarified. “Playing stadiums now.” His mother smiled proudly over at him.

You wiped your mouth on a napkin and stood, quietly excusing yourself from the table. The food was gone and what was left needed to be packed away now anyway, you were just leaving it for other people.

You went to your room and sat down at your desk once more, staring at yourself in the mirror. Something new filled you, you wanted his attention, all of it. You wanted to run with him, to venture with him. He’d take you all over with his band and he’d love you. He was gentle and he wouldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t flaunt his money, only buy you jewelry for your birthday and flowers when he loved you, just because.

You dug through your drawers and tried to find something… big, a statement piece for your face. Your attention snapped to the door as it opened and Saul walked in.

He was hesitant at first, staring at you bent over a desk drawer and digging through it like a mad man. He came over and stood just beside you, placing a hand on your lower back as he looked through the drawers for you.

Saul pulled out a deep red lipstick. He brought a finger under your chin and tilted your head for him to see you properly.

You were struck, in your core a pulse came with a heat, a desire, but you snapped out of it quick enough to wipe the gloss you already had off your lips so he’d have a bare canvas to work with.

He smiled down at you and got to work, using the tip yo outline your lips before filling them in.

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, Saul now stood behind you with his hands on your hips. He didn’t look in the mirror, he stared at you in front of him, the side of your face and how pleased you seemed with his work.

You turned back to him. “Do more.” You asked, drawing a chuckle from him and he shook his head, by god you made him laugh and you wanted to hear it again and again for as long as you lived.

“I don’t know anymore.” He said, bringing his hands to your shoulders and turning you around again. He leaned down to you, his lips caressing the shell of your ear. “You do it, you can’t mess up when it’s just gonna be running down your face in a minute anyway.”

You paused a moment and looked back to him. “Why? Will you make me cry?” He nodded confidently, you looked back to the mirror. “Why would you do that? Will you leave?” You asked curiously.

“More than one way to make someone cry.” He said, rubbing your shoulders. He inhaled deeply, taking in your saddened expression, you clearly didn’t get what he was referring to. He’d just have to show you once you looked the part, well enough the part anyway, you didn’t have the clothes.

“Heavier on the eyes.” He said as you tapped on a bright red, something to connect the lipstick while still being different. You picked up your pencil liner but he took it from you and had you turn towards him. “Gimme a second.” He said with a smile, being careful to not poke you in the eye as he worked.

He was giggling when he turned you back to the mirror. You had a leopard print on your eyelids and whiskers on your cheeks. The print on your eyes was pretty, neat and well done, the whiskers were an afterthought he was enjoying much too much.

You stood up and turned to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s perfect!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, he couldn’t say no to that.

He wasn’t a gentleman, not by a long shot, he was just sweet. The first chance he got his hands were on your ass, pulling your dress up over your head and not caring if he smudged it, not one bit.

Your arms went around his neck and he lifted you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you to your bed and laid you down.

He was laying over you, an arm holding him up by your head, his other hand moved down between your legs, rubbing through your folds and catching your clit, feeling how wet you already were for him.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” He asked, already starting to trail kisses up your jaw towards your ear. You hesitated before slowly shook your head, hoping it wouldn’t make him stop. Luckily he didn’t and just sucked his teeth. “Well, I don’t feel like slowing down for you.” He said sitting back up and undo his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his dick to spring free, of course he didn’t wear boxers. “Just tell me if it hurts.” He said as he pushed into you, groaning as he did.

Despite his words he did give you a minute to adjust to him, running his hands up and down yours sides until he felt you were ready and he started moving, slow at first but he couldn’t keep that pace for long.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, tugging you closer to him as his hips slammed into yours, each thrust bringing you closer to an edge you’d never seen before.

He was perfect above you, full lips, bruised just like yours, parted ever so slightly in soft, low grunts and groans. Sweat clung to his curls just around his face, the rest of his mane framing his sharp jaw. His teeth were crooked and he didn’t look right at you, focusing on feeling good, making you feel good.

You didn’t have anything to compare it to, but this was definitely the best you’d ever felt. Free, and it felt so good. You reached down and found your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Saul chuckled over you and nodded in approval. “Just keep doing that, keep doing that.” He said. You could feel him inside you, veins dragging against your gummy walls, cunt pulling him in for more, every time he pulled away you sucked him back in.

You melted into the mattress, vision going white and when you came doing from it you felt something warm spilling out inside you, Saul’s face tucked into you and he kissed over your chest, latching onto your nipple and swirling his tongue around it.

Finally he pulled away and pulled away and sat up, fixing his pants before heading out to your balcony. You saw he was smoking, he just looked so… you couldn’t even describe it.

You got your dress back on and went out to stand with him.

He smiled at you when you came out, he held the cigarette out for you but took it away before you got the chance to get it. “No way in hell am I letting you do that.” He said with a laugh.

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you as he took a drag from his cigarette. “It’s pretty tonight.” You said.

He nodded, looking out on the cities lights below. Your house was up on a mountain, giving you a good view all around. “I bet it’s a pretty night for you every night.”

You smirked up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you live here, you see it every night.” That’s not what you were expecting.

You looked back out to the city. “I want to see more… with you, Saul.”

He let out a heavy sigh, he wanted you with him too. You were intriguing to him, you needed a chance to rebel and he knew you would never stay with him, not after growing up like this, but he could be the one with you to see the world and that was enough. “Slash.” He said. “If you’re coming with me you call me Slash.”

“Slash.” You repeated. “Slash Hudson.” He might regret this, but he didn’t care. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything.

[jsluvtzu]

housewife

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

summary: she shows her appreciation in better ways

cw: SMUT! evil, vile, degrading smut, sana treats you like a 1950s husband would, cursing, slapping, just filthy, men dni

wc: 2.1k

a/n: sana in a suit sana in a suit sana in a suit

the aroma of the food you had been slaving on for hours dispersed through the whole house, filling the empty rooms and seeping into the thin walls.

since 7 am, you’ve been cleaning, tidying, mopping, wiping, and cleaning some more around every single corner of your shared home with sana.

you were what they called a “housewife”, but in sana’s eyes you were nothing more than a disappointment. a nuisance. a body that just does whatever is asked of her.

wiping your hands clean of any leftover sauce on your apron, you grabbed your phone from the counter to check the time.

- “5:48”

she should be home by now. sana worked a 9-5 at a corporate insurance company and usually came home around 5:30. you started preparing the dishes nonetheless and set the table with the proper silverware, one set of knives and a fork for her and one for you.

just when you finished plating the meal for her, you heard sana’s car pull into the driveway and her keys jingle against the lock of the door.

sana opened the door hastily and slammed it behind her, throwing her suitcase down and kicking her shoes off on the floor without a care where it landed.

you knew what this attitude meant. it happened at least once a week when her boss would overwhelm her with something and she would come home with a storm going on inside her head.

you hesitated to greet your wife and ultimately decided against it when she didn’t even look your way and just went straight to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a loud thud and letting out a heavy sigh.

sana took her suit jacket off and loosened her tie, turning on the tv and flipping through random channels to try and distract herself from whatever she had to deal with at work.

you brought over her plate to the couch, handing it to her. “hey honey, long day at work?”, your voice was gentle, but laced with a hint of worry.

sana paid you no mind, grabbing the plate from your hands and gluing her eyes back to the tv screen.

“get me something to drink.”, was the first thing sana said to you since she walked through the door.

you just smiled and went back to the kitchen to grab her a soda.

sana never ate dinner without taking a big sip of something first, so you knew better than to keep her waiting.

opening the can and handing it to her, you slightly blocked sana’s view of the tv and heard her tsks of annoyance. you quickly moved out of her way and went to go sit at the dinner table, the both of you eating alone, together.

that’s when you jumped at the sound of a plate slamming onto the hardwood floor. your eyes drawn to the scene of the crime, finding pasta and sauce splattered everywhere with pieces of ceramic mixed in.

“i’m not eating this shit. it’s disgusting.” sana said it in a monotone voice with no regards to how you might feel about it.

you slowly got up and walked over to sana, scanning the mess you had to clean up and avoiding stepping in shards of the now broken plate.

your face was contorted with both shock and anger, but you held in the last part with a clenched fist.

breathing out shakily, you mustered up enough strength to question sana’s childish behavior.

“why did you do that..” your eyes avoided hers and the grip on your apron grew tighter. sana was glaring at you through your peripheral.

“i come home from a long day at work and you expect me to eat that? i work hard just to be fed dog food?”, sana scoffed and leaned back into the couch, stretching her arms over the top of the couch and manspreading, shaking her head in disbelief.

“i spent at least three hours on that ‘dog food’, sana. it wouldn’t hurt to show a little respect.” your eyes had tears welling up at the edges, just restless to come out.

hearing that, sana’s eyes turned dark and her gaze was narrow. you fucked up. she tapped her finger rhythmically on the soft surface and nodded to herself, planning.

“you think i give a fuck? seriously, do you? i don’t owe you a single ounce of respect, whore. if i don’t like something, i’m not fucking eating it. now clean up your mess.” sana was fuming at this point. not only did she have a ruined dinner, she also had to deal with you talking back to her.

you grabbed the broom and dustpan from the closet and swept up what was left of her tantrum. you were so exhausted from cleaning all day, your body was spent. so tired to the point where you didn’t even notice you were wiping your own tears along with the sauce off the floor.

sana heard your sniffles and whimpers, peering over the arm of the couch and seeing your drained figure. she practically jumped off the couch with aggression and stopped in front of you, grabbing your face violently between her fingers and forcing you to look up at her.

your cries were cut short and you gasped at the sudden action.

“the fuck you crying for? can’t even do the one thing you’re made to do huh? all i ask is that you keep my house clean and have something fucking edible for me to eat when i get home. can’t even fucking do that?” at the end of her question, you felt the cold absence of her touch from your skin, only to feel a stinging heat when her hand lands on your face again, slapping you. the wedding ring she had on was sure to leave a bump. your eyes widened and the hand that you once had at your side went to caress your burning cheek.

“you’re so fucking pathetic.” another slap. this time you unknowingly let out a small moan at her strike, catching yourself and keeping your head down.

sana paused in shock, processing your response to her abuse.

“did you just fucking moan?” sana grabbed your chin between her pointer finger and thumb, lifting your face up to hers again.

“i slapped you.. and you fucking moaned? sana was genuinely curious, never hearing you react like that. her eyebrow was quirked with her lips slightly parted.

your eyes were glassy and bloodshot, your left cheek was marked red with her handprint and stained with your salty tears. to sana, you’d never looked better.

the darkness in sana’s eyes turned into lust in less than a millisecond. seeing you at her mercy and so helpless turned her thoughts into unspeakable ones.

sana looked you up and down once more before she grabbed your throat and lifted you off the ground, dragging you towards the counter by the stove with your back turned.

she stopped at the edge of the marble countertop and you winced at the bruising pain on your lower back.

sana trapped you between her arms at both sides, her hands flat against the cold marble surface. she shifted her leg between yours, pressing up against your core.

you were still recovering from the slaps you just received, mind blurry between wanting to be fucked and wanting to be comforted. but of course sana wouldn’t comfort you, the only way she expressed her “love” was by absolutely breaking you.

sana’s white undershirt was slightly unbuttoned and her collarbone was visible. her loose black tie and messy hair on top of that made every rational thought you had disappear. you didn’t even care about the disrespect she showed you earlier. if anything, you liked it.

“maybe i just needa fuck you until you learn how to cook properly hm?” sana snaked her hands around your back to untie your apron, sliding it over your head and onto the floor. her leg was still slotted between yours and you grinded on her ever so slightly, searching for relief.

“fuckin’ whore can’t think right unless she cums.” you whimpered at her words as sana crashed her lips onto yours, sucking and biting at them. the sounds that filled the room were sloppy and unsynchronized.

sana untied her tie completely with one hand and slid it off her neck without breaking the kiss. she wrapped it around the front of your throat and overlapped both ends at the back, tightening it and bringing it back towards her to hold you there. you moaned at the loss of circulation to your brain, the pressure in your head building up just enough to make your vision fuzzy.

you were wearing nothing except one of sana’s white oversized t-shirts and black lace panties underneath that apron. sana’s free hand slid under your shirt and up to grope your bare breast. the sensation of her cold touch against your warm body made you whine.

“mm- fuck, sana.” she rolled your erect nipple between her fingers and pinched it hard, eliciting pained moans from you.

sana observed you and saw your face losing color, immediately letting her grip on her tie go and pulling it off your throat with one smooth motion.

her hand trailed down to your hip, expecting to pull off a pair of shorts, but feeling the intricate pattern on your lace panties instead.

she ran her fingers over the material, humming in satisfaction. “you wearing these just for me?”

you nodded and pouted at her, whining. “all for you, sana, please..”

“please what? use your words, slut.”

“ ‘need you to fuck me so bad, please.” sana smirked at your desperation, hooking her finger onto your side and pulling your panties down, letting them slide down your legs.

your pussy was sticky from your arousal and throbbing from her teasing finger running through your slit.

sana teased your hole and went back up to your swollen clit, rubbing lazy circles around it and spreading your slick all over. you grinded yourself on her hand, silently urging her to give you more.

you glanced up at sana and saw her eyes fixated on your exposed core, watching the way her hand slid between your folds with ease and how the dim overhead light reflected perfectly off of your pussy, making you shine and glisten.

sana furrowed her eyebrows and held her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly sinking two fingers into you. she bottomed out at your cervix, pulling back out only to pick up her pace and slide inside you again. the erotic squelching sound from just how wet you were was disgustingly hot.

her groans were right in your ear, hearing her curse to herself about how tight you were. your eyes were stuck on sana’s flushed chest, her tendons popping out everytime she breathed. her breathing was heavy and uneven, and you could tell sana was losing herself in the trance that you put her in.

suddenly, sana stopped her movements and grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you up and onto the counter. you hissed at the cold feeling against your bare skin.

sana pulled your shirt up, revealing your whole upper body to her.

she grabbed the front end of your shirt and held it up to your mouth, motioning for you to open and bite down on the cloth.

“keep it there, you understand?” you nodded, holding the shirt between your teeth and arching your back for sana to see exactly just how much you understood. she responded by tapping your thigh for you to open your legs wider, scooping her arms under your legs and sliding you forward to give her easier access.

sana’s eyes didn’t peel away from your chest for one second when she started fucking you again. her pace was inhumanly fast and yet she still managed to hit your sweet spot every time.

“oh my god, sana- fuck, don’t stop please, fuck” your moans were sporadic and words were mumbled, completely rid of any thought other than cumming right then and there.

“yeah? i’m fucking you so good right baby? don’t i deserve a good meal when i’m fucking you like this?” sana grabbed your face and squeezed your cheeks together, slapping you lightly a couple times.

you agreed with squeaked moans and squeezed your eyes shut, drawing out long yeses in between.

“yes, fuck- oh my god yes,” at that point you weren’t sure if you were answering her question or just begging for her to keep fucking you like that.

“ ‘fuck kinda whore doesn’t know how to cook for her wife? dumb fucking bitch. so useless.”

sana pushed her thumb against your clit and you felt the tightness in your core building up. moaning her name repeatedly, you threw your arms over her shoulders and pressed her face down against your bare chest, holding her there and cumming on her fingers with a loud groan.

you attempted to calm down your breathing and stabled yourself with your hands grabbing sana’s arms. she pulled her fingers out and shoved them between your lips, gagging you and swirling her fingers around your tongue.

“that’s what a good meal should taste like.”

[roseyodditea]

Dance Practice - Diluc x gn! Reader

Summary -> 800 ish words (probably). Diluc attempts to teach you how to waltz.

Warnings -> None

A/N -> You know the drill: Not proof read and self indulgent. Also feel free to send in requests. I'm trying to think of ideas that aren't just for Wriothesley and Boothill. Can't show my favoritism too hard

Your fork fell against the nice plate, the loud sound echoing through the halls of Dawn Winery. “What?” Diluc looks up from his own dinner, a confused look in those big, red eyes. “It’s rather customary. It’s just a small celebration for the top investors. My father set the standard that they be ballroom style with some hors d’oeuvres, some nice wine, nothing too extravagant.”

“And I will be expected to go?” “Why yes, you’re my partner. There have been plenty of rumors about you and the investors would love to meet you. Quite frankly, I’d love the opportunity to show you off. It makes the idea of hosting one of these parties worth it..” He said with nothing but pure adoration in his voice. But it did nothing to soothe the way your heart dropped in your chest, nerves turning your blood ice cold.

“Big party huh? Tuxes, dresses, all those prying eyes?” “Hardly prying. They’re so self absorbed they’ll barely remember what else they talk about during the party.” He shrugs and takes another bite of his food. 

“‘Luc… Darling.” You try to hide the way your voice quivers. “You really want me there?” “Of course I do, why would I not?” He places his hand on top of yours, rubbing a thumb gently across the back of your hand. 

“I want you to think really hard about the differences of our upbringings.” You always try to gently remind him that your childhood was nothing like his, and he always seemed so slow to remember. 

“I don’t… oh.” A flash of guilt crosses his face. “I suppose I should have told you about it more than a weekend in advance.”

“Yeah. Probably.” You could do nothing else but offer a soft chuckle. “I don’t know the first thing about any fancy parties. I don’t want to embarrass you.” “Nonsense. I’ll have Adeline take your measurements tomorrow and you and her can pick out your outfit of choice tomorrow. I’ve got a good tailor who’ll rush the alters.” He responds casually and continues to eat his dinner, yours now going cold. It was hard to have an appetite with the sudden rush of nervousness. 

“That’s not all I’m worried about. It’s the whole… behaving properly, the dancing, the not knowing which fork goes where-” “It’s not a dinner party, love, there won’t be any forks.” “That’s not my point and you know it.” You sigh, defeated.

Diluc places his fork down and moves to sit next to you, rubbing his hand across your back. “You’re right. I need to be taking this more seriously. I can’t say I understand how nervous you are right now, but the least I can do is help you through it. May I ask what’s stressing you out the most?” His voice held emotion he dare not show in front of other people. 

“I think… The dancing. They’re going to expect me to dance with you at least once, I assume?” “Yeah. They will. But it’ll be okay.” Diluc hums softly. “Just follow my lead, relax, and only pay attention to me, and you’ll do great..” He places his lips against your temple. 

“I’ve never ballroom danced before. They always make it look so… complicated.” You pok at your food some more.

“Not at all. Come here.” He took your hand and pulls you out of your seat. He moves to put on some classical music. 

“Diluc we don’t have to do this right now-” You try to protest but he steppes in front of you, tying up his hair… Your greatest weakness. 

“Relax.” He said softly. “Just a simple waltz.” He takes your right hand in his. “Just place your other hand right beneath my shoulder blade.” You stood chest to chest with him, his hand resting on your back. 

“Seems rather close.” You chuckle and ignore the way he always made your heart race. 

“It’s supposed to be close. Just relax and follow my lead.” He steps slowly, letting you mirror his every move. 

You were starting to get the hang of it, eventually allowing the two of you to step in time to the music drifting softly in the background. “This is it?”

“It would be it if you stopped looking at your feet, darling.” You look up into his eyes only to realize how gently he was looking down at you. His movements are fluid and practiced, allowing him to focus all of his attention on you. Even with your clumsy movement, he looks at you like you are the most graceful thing in all of Teyvat. “You know… I’ve always wanted to dance with you like this.” 

“Diluc…” Your voice was soft, mirroring his loving tone. You move to rest your head on his chest, your hand sliding down from his shoulder blade down to his lower back, pulling him even closer as you continue to follow his steps. 

“I love you.” He whispers against the top of your head. “I love you too…” You nuzzle further into him. “I’m not too good at this, am I?” “Absolutely abysmal. We’ll work on it.” 

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

🤍 SAFETY 🤍

Congrats, you made it. I created the safety fic. Wrote this in one day so be kind xx

“Okay, we’ll just go up, change, i’ll pop some advil and we’re good to go. Actually, do you want to order a snack from room service? When I saw the portion size at dinner, I already knew in my head that we might have to try the wings from the menu after all…” 

The elevator doors close behind her and Travis just grins at the woman standing right in front of him. He feels a little buzzed, but far from being drunk. It’s that stage of feeling the alcohol that is nothing but feeling full of energy, letting loose, just… being happy. Happy because the blonde woman in his arms is as bubbly as he loves her to be. She’s light as a feather, as comfortable as she could possibly be right now. Which is something he hasn’t always been able to witness ever since she came into his life and turned everything upside down. He soaks up these moments, witnesses them in their full glory. There’s nothing quite as peaceful as seeing her happy. And it’s slowly becoming the one thing he wants to see for the rest of his life.

“We’ll do whatever you’re up to.” he ensures her once more. His hand wandering to her left cheek, gently stroking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiles for a moment, her eyes sparkling a little bit as she moves closer to him, signaling him that she needs a kiss right now. Despite Ray standing right next to them, Travis leans down to her height, kissing her lips softly. 

The massive elevator doors open with a ringing sound. Ray enters the upper level first, followed by Travis with Taylor holding his hand. It’s quiet in this part of the luxury Las Vegas hotel, nothing but the noise of Taylor’s high heels audible on the carpet. And Travis knows why. They’re the only ones staying on this floor, renting out a gorgeous suite with a view over the Las Vegas strip for the night. As much as he loves the crowds and the fun of Las Vegas - he’s learned to appreciate the silence, the privacy, the quietness he’s never been able to fully enjoy before. But now, there’s nothing as calming as being alone with her. Just him and her, and the whole world can wait. He’s found a form of peace and safety in the idea of being able to enjoy downtime not just alone, but with another human being. Before her, he could never sit with someone in silence. Before her… a time he can’t quite recall without the ache in his chest of wondering how he ever made it through the ups and downs of life without her by his side, holding his hand through all of it. 

“I will be right outside.” Ray politely lets the both of them know once they get to their room. He opens the suite with a magnetic key card and the door open for the couple. 

“Thanks, buddy.” Travis pats his shoulder, letting Taylor enter their hotel suite first. He closes the door behind them, watches Taylor make her way to the little night stand in the bedroom. In her gorgeous, dark green evening gown she sits down on her side of the bed, starts to rummage through her cosmetic bag. Travis just drops the jacket of his suit over the chair in front of him. Finally. He knows that him feeling warm and sweaty all night is nothing new. But wearing a suit tonight did not make it any more comfortable for him to be a real life yeti. Before attempting to change his outfit for the fun part of the night, he picks up the phone next to the tv remote, just presses a button. The blonde woman looks up at him confused, still trying to find the left over pack of advil that she threw into her little bag after getting back from Big Sur last weekend. 

“Hi, I’m calling from room 1002. I would like to order some room service.” 

The big man with the phone on his ear turns to her, and she smiles thankfully at him. Of course he would make sure she’s got everything she could possibly need in this moment. 

“Yeah, I would like to get some wings. How many are on one plate? 5?” 

“Get two.” she whispers from across the room. 

“Alright, then two plates please. Also can we get another bottle of water and..”

“Diet coke, babe.” she whispers again. 

“And two diet cokes.” he adds. “with ice.” 

“Also, can we add some sauces to that? Do you… yes, great. We’ll go with that then. And a portion of mayonnaise, please.” he says, and she giggles at him, sending him a little butterfly kiss from across the room. She knows how much he hates mayonnaise, but she also knows that he is well aware of how much she loves it. One of the millions of kind gestures she was forced to get used to in the past months of being with this man. 

“Thank you!” he says, then hangs up the phone again. 

“You are just the best.” she says, dramatically, making him laugh. She’s gotten up from her spot on the bed by now, reaching for the half empty bottle of water standing next to him. Her hand lands on his shoulder and he can’t help but put his over hers for a moment.

“Of course I am.” he jokes, confusedly watches her pour herself some water into a glass. She then swallows two of the pills in her hand, emptying the glass of water in just a few seconds. He’s stood up by now, standing right in front of her with his white shirt still tucked into his trousers. His big hands on her shoulders, his eyes a little more longing than they were before. 

“You good?” he asks, and she places the glass next to her again, a little out of breath from drinking the whole thing at once. 

“Yeah, just.. headache. Will be better soon.” 

“How’s your sunburn?” 

“I’ll be fine, Trav.” she says, almost in a giggle because he’s been concerned all night. He gently moves the spaghetti straps of her dress over her shoulders. The fabric has clearly left a mark on the already redenned shoulders of hers. He lets out a compassionate sigh, then moves down to press a few butterfly kisses on her skin. 

She giggles slightly. Partly because his beard tickles her, and partly because this is the third time tonight that he can’t help but love up on her sunburn. 

“Your poor shoulders.” he mumbles in between the kisses. 

“They’ll get through it.” she replies amusedly, as he lifts his head again, just looks apologetically into her face. She can read instantly what is going through his head. He feels responsible for her not feeling at her best tonight, because she stood right in the hot Arizona sun all day for him - watching him golf with Patrick, supporting him as recklessly as she always does. 

“How ‘bout we just skip the party, undress and throw our own little party?” he mumbles, loves feeling her hands on his beard. She gently strokes his skin, a grin on her lips while gently shaking her head. 

“My love, we’re here for work. For a good cause. I’m fine. I would tell you if I wasn’t.” 

He nods, admires her once more for her strength, her commitment in supporting him and the things that matter to him. A feeling he hasn’t had with anybody else before. He doesn’t speak, enjoys feeling her hands in his neck. He leans closer to her, his nose touching hers. 

“I love you so much, baby.” he just whispers, and she giggles, lifting her face to kiss the tip of his nose once. 

“I love you, Trav.” 

“Kiss?” he requests, and she leans in to press her lips against his. He sighs slightly, tasting the cherry flavour of her lipstick once more. 

“Alright, let’s get ready.” 

“What are you gonna wear?” she asks him, starts to go through her suitcase at the end of the room. She slowly kneels down, starts to rummage through the big case. He can’t help but laugh at her. In her ridiculously expensive dress, she just sits on the floor, going through the piles of clothes she was too lazy to move away this morning. All whilst his clothes are neatly folded and hung up in the built-in hotel closet. This clearly is one of their major differences. He likes having control over his possessions. Likes taking care of his things, having a system. Clarity. Neatness. And just like a little beautiful hurricane of joy, Taylor likes to let her things pile up, doesn’t really care about the materialistic things she owns. So chairs become hangers for pants and jackets. TV screens become a storage unit for long gucci gowns. All her shoes are just kicked aside right next to where she sits on the floor. She truly likes to live in a creative chaos. A beautiful, creative chaos.

“Just something comfortable. That’s for sure.” 

“Mhm, this one?” she asks, holds up a little off-shoulder black dress. “or this one?”

“The black one.” he says, slowly unbuttoning his shirt to change. “Gives your sunburned shoulders some room to breathe.” 

~

A big hand in her back, the moving lights on his face, the loud bass of music vibing so loudly, he can feel it in his bones. He can immediately tell that all eyes are on him and the woman in his arm. A normal reaction to being basically anywhere with her. He looks at Ray behind him, giving him a hand to signal clearly that he’s got her. He will not go anywhere without her consent. The next thing he notices is Patrick waving at him from across the room, signaling his friend to join him where they’re hanging out. 

Together with Taylor, he tries to make his way through the crowd, phone cameras in the darkness right in her face the moment she is noticed. He looks down at her, his hand still more than protectively in her back. She’s forcing a smile, suppressing a yawn. He doesn’t care what she’s telling him. He knows she’s not feeling at her best tonight. 

“Say a word and we’ll leave.” he says in her ear, hoping she could understand him through the noise. She looks up at him, a gentle smile on her lips and the little twinkle in her eyes that he loves so much. Her small hand moves to his chest, and she nods, her lips just forming a low “okay”. 

A few moments later they have finally reached Britanny and Patrick, who were just chatting with a few other people through the noise. Taylor immediately goes to hug Britanny and Amber and Travis turns around to look for Ray. Travis then reaches for Taylor’s hands once more, makes her turn around to signal her that he will leave for a moment to get a drink. She just nods, doesn’t really react much and just keeps on chatting to the women in front of her. Travis once more turns around, signaling Ray now that he’s leaving for a moment. The security guard immediately steps up closer to Taylor, keeping his eyes on her surroundings. Only a few moments later, the big football player steps closer to his group of friends again, nodding at Ray who immediately steps aside and loosens up again. Travis doesn’t interrupt Taylor who is laughing with Britanny about something. He just hands her a drink, and she smiles at him thankfully for a moment. Vodka Cranberry. Her favorite. 

Travis now turns to Patrick and Ross, as well as David Brooker who stands right next to them. He’s honored when the man approaches him, gushing to him about how impressed he’s been with his performance this past season. How excited he is for what’s ahead for Travis. He can’t believe David Brooker even knows who he is. Just one of these moments, in which he can’t believe that this is his life. 

~

Time flies, drinks flow, and people approach him for some small talk. Every now and then, he makes sure to go and check up on Taylor, who has been her chatty self all evening. It’s always been one of his dreams. Having a partner support him at these events. Someone who’s as personable as he is. Someone who can have a good chat with anyone he works with. And he loves her for it. He loves to feel this unimaginable support for the first time in his life. 

With free hands, he steps up behind her. The faces of the women in front of Taylor already wandering to the tall man appearing behind her. His big hands make their way between her arms landing right on her stomach. She immediately melts into his arms, a big smile on her face as she feels his gentle kiss on her cheek. 

“You good, baby girl?” he mumbles right into her ear, making sure no one else hears his words, no one else except her. She just looks up at him, both her hands firmly on his, and she nods. 

“Yeah, you?” she asks to check on him, turns around in his arms, and seems glad to see him nod with a smile on his face. He loves to feel her hands move into the familiar spot on his cheek, a sign that she wants to be close to him. He leans down, kissing her. This time, he can feel her giggle into the kiss, and even through the loud music in the background he can feel her sigh. She pulls back, a giggle on her lips, and fire in her eyes. 

“Not here.” he just mumbles and she starts laughing in shock, unable to process that he thinks this kiss implied that she would ever do something as risky as hooking up with him in a public place. 

“I did not insinuate that, oh my god.” she defends herself immediately, laughing as he presses her closer to him. He kisses her hair a few times, moving closer to mumble into her ear while hugging her closely. 

“As I said, I’m happy to leave anytime. Like, literally anytime.” 

She laughs once more, slowly pulls back from him, pretends to hit him once. But it just makes him laugh more. She just shakes her head, but her eyes are saying something very different. She can’t wait to get closer to him, either. 

“Tay, do you want another drink?” Britanny suddenly interrupts the two, Taylor nods, says something to the smaller blonde woman, which is incomprehendable to him. She then turns around again, facing Travis. He laughs at her, a bit surprised about the fact that she decided to let loose tonight after all. But he’s glad. He’s so glad she’s enjoying herself in his circles. 

~

His phone screen lights up through the dark, and for a moment he’s surprised. 3.12am. He can’t believe how late it already is. And he can feel the buzz slowly turning into something more. He finishes his almost empty glass, making a mental note to himself to not drink anymore tonight. He’s not drunk, but he knows that he will be hung over if he keeps on drinking now. 

Travis places the empty glass next to Patrick’s, checks the text on his phone that he just received a moment ago, then locks his phone again before letting it slide into his pocket. He looks over to where Miranda and Britanny are standing. For a moment, he searches the tall blonde sticking out next to them. But she’s nowhere in sight. Travis moves his head, looking to the other side of the packed night club. She’s not standing next to Amber either. Her security is also nowhere in sight. He feels a wave of worry rise in his chest, slowly stands up. He shouldn’t have that last drink. Trav slowly makes his way over to Britanny. She looks at him, buzzed as well, struggling to understand him as he speaks into her ear. She finally understands then after a few moments, nodding, letting him know that Taylor had made her way to the ladies a few minutes ago. For a moment, he feels the anxiety in his chest dissolve again. He didn’t know this side about himself. He didn’t know this overprotective side, which Taylor clearly has brought out in him. With firm steps, he makes his way through the crowd, people high-fiving him, patting his shoulders. But he’s got a destination this time, and won’t get distracted by the small talk surrounding him. He finally can see the lid up restroom sign next to the bar. That’s when he spots Ray, both eyes on the crowds in front of the door leading to the ladies bathrooms. He’s thankful for him. Thankful to know that she’s always got someone looking out for her.

“Tay’s in the bathroom?” he asks, and Ray nods. Trav just waits next to the security guard, taking out his phone once more. 3.17am. She must be as tired as him, probably ready to head off. After a few seconds of waiting, he then witnesses a swarm of women exit the bathroom. He just stands there, smiling apologetically. After all, he knows how creepy it must come across to stand right in front of the women’s bathrooms just staring. A few moments later, a certain blonde finally makes her way outside. Her hair wavy, her short black dress showcasing her incredible legs, an empty glass in her hand, walking a bit more unsteady than she usually does. He has to let out a giggling breath, his smile turning even bigger when she sees him. 

“Hi baby.” she says loudly, her hands immediately reaching for him. He just laughs at her, placing both his hands on her hips. 

“Are you a little tipsy?” he laughs, gives her a happy kiss and Taylor laughs as well, nodding heavily. He just embraces her in a gentle hug, feels the cameras of people’s phone facing them, yet he doesn’t even care. Presses a few kisses on her cheek before letting go.

“I am and.. I don’t even know why. I just had two drinks, but I can really feel it. How did you notice?” 

He pulls back and nods, taking the empty glass from her. 

“You went to the bathroom with an empty glass, babe. And took it back out with you. That’s how I can tell.” 

She suddenly looks at the glass Travis just took from her, then looks back at him in disbelief and starts to laugh again. This time, she’s covering her mouth in embarrassment. 

“Oh my god, I.. I officially am losing it.” 

“You’re so funny.” he mumbles after leaving the glass on the counter of the bar. “Want to take off?” 

She just shakes her head immediately.

“Noooo, not yet.” she reacts a bit too intense for his taste.

“There’s this guy, who’s hilarous.” she mouths in his ear, and for a moment he feels his churn in confusion. “He claims to be one of your best friends. And I was like..” she pulls back, folding her arms together in a dramatic manner, “okay, sure, babe. You’re Trav’s best friend but you haven’t hung out in a year? Mhm, sure thing.” 

He smiles at her, can’t recall a time he’s witnessed her this loose and funny.

“Also, I was like… sorry, but I’m Trav’s best friend, okay? I am.” she mumbles, almost aggressively, and it makes his heart beat faster for a moment. With his hands on her hips, he pulls her closer. She suddenly looks up at him a bit worried. “I am your best friend, right?” 

He smiles again, nods slowly. 

“You are. You’re my best friend.” he mumbles into her ear in the hug, feeling her head rest on his shoulder. She really is very much drunk tonight, and he’s living for this hilarious version of his girlfriend. 

“You’re my best friend, too, Trav.” she says then, again, a tad too loud than she usually would, but he doesn’t mind. 

“Sure you don’t want to leave?” 

She slowly pulls back, nods with a smile. 

“Just thirty more minutes, okay?” she says, and he nods. He’s glad she got to let loose tonight, even if that’s not something he thought would happen today. He can see very well that she’s drunk, but he wants her to have this moment. Especially her. The person who is always so well put together. He gets to let go like this more often than she does. And he’s happy he gets to be here in the rare occasion that she does let go.

“Alright, let me get you a regular coke, Tay. You need it.” he says with a smile on his face, but a certain seriousness in his tone that she appreciates. 

“Yeah, thank you, baby.”  

~

“And I said to my wife, Travis Kelce. This guy. This guy will make it.” 

Trav just listens to the man in his fifties in front of him gush about him to his colleagues. He blushes a little, pretends to slide a few dollars to the man for his compliments, which makes Patrick, Ross and Harry laugh even more. He turns around for a second, just when he notices Brit approaching Patrick, clearly signaling him that she’s done for the night and ready to hit the hay. He turns around for a moment, finds Taylor still standing next to Amber and Chris. But there’s also another man he hadn’t noticed before. The guy is keeping his distance, clearly, but keeps on talking into Taylor’s ear through the noise. He doesn’t mind to see her chatting to people, men included. But what he doesn’t like is the fact that she seems to constantly loose her own balance in her heels, waddles from the left to the right. He also doesn’t appreciate the man’s hand touching Taylor’s naked arm. A boundary she would never let a stranger man cross. But she’s not moving. Something doesn’t feel right to him. 

Travis slowly leaves the group of people he was just talking to, and makes his way up to his girlfriend. He places his hand on her back but she doesn’t react. The man next to her has stopped talking to her, just nods at Travis with a weird smile. Travis however, looks at Taylor confusedly now, his hand on her back caressing her gently. Nothing. She still hasn’t clocked that he’s got his hand on her bare back. He starts to worry slightly. All she does is hold her empty glass in both her hands, looking into a void. 

“Baby?” 

She suddenly notices him.

“Oh hey.” 

Taylor faces him, and he immediately knows she’s not okay. Her eyes are glassy, her pupils are dilated. She’s very much pale, trying to balance herself on her heels.

“You okay?” he whispers into her ear, ready to take her to her hotel room. It’s been a fun night but her current state is something he hadn’t experienced before since knowing her. The fun is over for him. And it clearly is for her.

“What?” she looks up at him again, struggling to understand any of his words right now. 

“You feeling okay?” he asks again, and she seems to slowly understand through the noise. 

“Yeah, just talking to Amber and Chris.” she responds to him, and he doesn’t believe her for a second. Amber is fully focused on chatting to Miranda who stands right next to her. No Chris is even in sight. Travis looks back at his girlfriend, very well aware that she’s trying to act normal, which worries him even more. He can see she’s not feeling well, and he wishes she would admit it to him. 

“You sure?” 

She nods, both hands still clinging onto the empty glass. 

“Want to leave?” 

She shakes her head again. Something is up. She seems different than the tipsy, drunk Taylor he kissed by the bathroom twenty minutes ago. She’s not just drunk. There’s a kind of apathy filling her eyes that wrenches his gut. He hates seeing her this unstable, unsure. His hand on her back drawing gentle circles. He leans his head down to her again, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. Her skin is still hot from the sunburn she got today. But her confused look after he kissed her makes him feel more unsettled than before.

“I really think we should head out, sweetie.” he tries again, but she doesn’t react. Still stares into nothing, pretending to look at the people in front of her who are clearly drawn to their own conversations. 

“Can you.. can you get me some water?” she says then. Travis leans closer to hear her properly, immediately nods as soon as he understands what she needs. He presses a kiss onto her cheek, clearly worried, reaching for the empty glass in her hands. He has no idea what she’s been drinking, but he surely knows that this is not the same glass from before, when she was nibbling on the full sugar coke he got her. But Taylor won’t let go of the empty glass. It’s only just then that he realizes how tightly she’s clenching it. A bit confused but more worried than before, Travises hand lands on her back for the fifth time tonight. 

“Babe, if you give me the empty glass, I can..” 

“Oh, sorry.” she mumbles, lets go of the glass suddenly. Travis looks around for a bit, trying to scan the room for Brittany. He can’t seem to find her anywhere though. 

“Hey, how about you sit down for a moment while I get you some water?” 

She suddenly doesn’t fight him anymore, almost stumbles over her own feet while walking with him. She then sits down on one of the lounges by the side. He quickly waves towards Ray, signals him to come closer. The security guard immediately looks concerned, but Travis just whispers in his ear to stay here with her while he’s getting her a glass of water. The man nods, remains close to Taylor while being fully focused on her surroundings again. While making his way to the bar, Travis feels worry rise in him. Like a tidal wave, slowly, but with a force he hadn’t experienced before. He realizes in this moment that this is the first time he really cares about someone. More than himself. He wouldn’t mind if anything happened to him if it would mean that the clumsy, tall blonde sitting on this lounge is okay and happy. 

While walking to the bar, he keeps on looking back to where she sits to make sure she’s okay. This is not the first time he’s witnessed her being drunk. But it is the first time he’s witnessed her this out of it. Just sits there like an empty shell, staring into nothing, not talking to anyone, not being chatty or giggly anymore. 

As he makes his way back to her, just a few moments later, is when his intrusive thoughts of worry finally win. This time, she’s not sitting there as apathetic and motionless as she was before. This time, she’s sitting there, looking from left to right like a terrified deer on a dark road. It’s not hard to see how anxious she is. Not hard notice her leg moving uncontrollably. She’s looking around with a lost look on her face. He can’t believe it, but she looks.. scared? Scared of her surroundings, looking down at her hands every few seconds to make sure they’re still there. Her little prada handbag fell to the floor and she didn’t even notice. As soon as Travis sits down next to her again, right after having picked up her bag is when Taylor reaches for his arm, and he notices just now how heavy she’s breathing. 

“Something is wrong.” she mumbles through the loud music of the night club.

“Tay…”

“I don’t feel good. I.. don’t feel good at all. I can’t see properly, and my hands...” she says with panic in her voice , leaning forward to cradle her head in her hands. Almost as if her hands could help her see clearly again. But it’s not working. She panics even more when she realizes that it’s not working, looks back down at her hands again.

“I can’t see and I can’t feel my hands and… I feel really sick.” she whimpers then, is on the verge of crying. 

“I’m really scared, baby. I…” Her hands keep reaching for his, and he manages to place his arm protectively around her. The water glass in his other hand. He takes a deep breath. They need to get out of here. Right now. 

“Have some water, here.” 

He can see her trying to reach for the glass in his hand, but she misses it. Everything she sees, she sees double. Trav looks at her in deep worry. It seems like she lost full control over her hands and once she notices herself, he can see the purest form of panic in her drowsy eyes. She’s close to tears, trying to reach for the glass with shaking hands.

“I...” she starts to take quick and short breaths. For a moment, Travis reaches for her sweaty and cold hand. By no means is he calm in this moment, but he wants to prevent her from collapsing or hyperventilating. 

“Hey, everything’s alright. I got you. You’re safe.” 

He carefully helps her press the glass onto her mouth. With shaking hands, she gulps down the water glass, both hands holding desperately onto his with closed eyes. When she’s done, she opens her eyes again, almost disappointed that the weird feeling hasn’t passed. She still sees everything double, feels like fainting any second. Trav has his arm around her, and she’s holding his hand with both of her hands. But he feels so far away. She’s scared. Scared to loose control. Scared of what is happening to her. Scared.

Travis places the now empty water glass next to him, can see in Ray’s face that the securty guard is starting to get worried, too. There’s cameras pointing at her, and the last thing he wants is for people to notice her struggling. She’s more vulnerable in this moment than she’s ever been in public, he knows. And he will do anything in his power to not cause a scene in here with her. 

“She’s.. she’s not feeling well.” he explains to the security guard. “We’ll leave now but I don’t want people to… can you.. can you just walk first and we..?” 

Travis clearly struggles to find the right words to make sense in this moment but the man in front of him nods, and immediately understands. 

Trav gets up, helps Taylor stand up as well. He pulls her into a hug as her knees are about to give in. 

“I want to go home, please. I want to..”

“I’ll get you home. We’re going home now. Don’t worry, okay. I got you. Just take a moment to breathe, and then we will walk right to our hotel room.” he whispers, knowing that his instructions right now just fall on deaf ears. She quietly cries into his shoulder, her breathing patterns being as fast as before. All she does is whimmer into his ear, begging him for help. He feels sick. Not sure whether she needs an ambulance, an IV or just a whole lot of rest. The only thing that clocks right in this moment for him is the fact that she was drugged. That someone, probably the strange guy from before, has slipped something into her drink to knock her out and make her as weak as she is now. It’s not his first time in Las Vegas, and it’s not the first time he’s witnessed a young woman collapse in some night club because a disgusting guy had something else in mind. He’s well aware about so-called ‘rape drugs’ but never in a million years did he think that it would shatter him this deeply to witness someone as pure and beautiful and strong as Taylor fall victim to this crime. 

It might not be the first time he’s witnessing someone being drugged, but in this moment, while hearing her cries in his ear, is when he realizes that it is his first time witnessing someone he loves soo deeply being abused right in front of his eyes. Someone he swore he would protect at all costs. Someone who came here, to this place, just for him, relying on him to be safe. 

She thought she was safe here with him. 

“Trav..” she cries into his ear again, her arm moving up and down his, almost as if she’s looking for him. But he’s right here. Right here holding her in his arms.

“I’m here, I’m always here. Just close your eyes, and hold on, okay? You can do it.” He whispers into her ear over and over again. Cameras are pointing at them, even more so when the DJ decides to play one of Taylor’s songs as part of his set. The people in this club start singing it to her, yet Taylor is nowhere near being able to react. He doesn’t want her to have to witness this moment in her current state, just lovingly presses her face into his neck, turning his head to kiss her. His left hand is holding her upright while making his way through the crowd with her. His right hand is gently on her head, pressing it against his chest and shielding her from the crowds. It takes two minutes to get to the exit of the club. Two horrifying minutes until they have finally left the busy club and step into the big lobby connecting the club to their hotel. A few drunk people make their way over to them, phones directed at the both of them, asking Taylor for a picture. Travis is glad to find Ray pushing people out of the way whilst he’s busy just getting her to the elevator at the end of the room. He feels her exhausted moans with every step she has to take. Oh, what he would give to be able to carry her in this moment. What he would give to not have any people standing in this lobby, filming their every step. 

With his hand still pressing her head against his chest is when they finally make it to the elevator. Ray presses the button and they step inside. It takes another two seconds and the doors close. Finally. In this moment, he can finally breathe. With one swift motion, he’s lifted Taylor up, now carries her bridal style while standing in the elevator. Ray looks at Travis concerned, who’s just fully focused on Taylor. She mumbles a few anxious, crying, incomprehensible things into his chest. But all he does is kiss her, assure her that he’s here, that she’s not alone, that he’s taking care of her now.

“Does she need a doctor?” Ray says, doesn’t want to overstep Travis but is well aware that it’s his duty to make sure she’s safe. He’s getting paid to keep this woman safe and right now, she’s passed out in her boyfriend’s arms.

Travis looks into Ray’s eyes, and he shamefully nods. He feels so embarrassed to look into the security guard’s face. To know that this man also relied on Travis being there, while he kept his distance. 

“I think someone put something in her drink when I.. when I wasn’t there. I just don’t want to.. to find any tweets about this tomorrow. I’ll call Tree first and get someone to look at her.” 

Ray nods, asking Travis if he needs help. He shakes his head, is way too focused on Taylor in his arms. Her eyes are fully closed now, but she’s not sleeping. Suffering cries are still escaping her mouth every few seconds. Her hand is clawing into his shirt. Almost as if she’s desperate to hold onto him. Travis leans down again, kissing her face once more. He’s sweating, full of panic. All he can do is assure her that he’s here. That she’s safe. That she’s finally safe. For the first time really tonight.

A few moments later the elevator doors opens again and Travis manages to carry Taylor into the suite. Ray opens the door to their bedroom and helps Travis step inside with Taylor on his arm. He slowly walks up to her side of the bed, almost stumbling over one of her shoes she just dropped next to her bed before when getting ready for this night out. Breathing heavily, he slowly lays her down on top of the bed sheets. He just swallows seeing her so weak. Just the thought of this guy from before having exactly this view in mind makes him feel sick. Travis sits down on the bed right next to her, starts to unbutton the clasps of her heels. 

“Do you need help?”

“No, I’m.. I’m just gonna undress her so that she’s more comfortable and then call Tree. Can you… step outside please?” he says. Travis looks into Ray’s eyes and clearly sees him hesitate for a moment. He understands that his job is to make sure Taylor is safe. But in this moment, the only thing Travis cares about is that Taylor feels safe. And he will never in a million years strip her naked in her most vulnerable state, in front of a man who is working for her. 

“Buddy, I’m taking care of her. Please give us some privacy.” he says, adding a slightly annoyed “Please.”

The brown-haired man nods slowly, then closes the hotel door behind him. As soon as the door falls into the lock, Travis stops for a moment, just to breathe. He keeps on fiddling to unbutton the clasp of her high heels, realizing quickly that it’s difficult to open these with his big ass fingers. After a moment he then finally succeeds, carefully sliding the shoes from her feet. He looks back into her face, glad to have finally found her in a somewhat comfortable position. She doesn’t move, has both her eyes closed and doesn’t seem to notice him undressing her. The make up on her face is smudged from crying. Trav feels tears building up in his own eyes, just seeing her like this. He hates to do this to her, but has to reach for both of her shoulders to help her sit up for a moment. She opens her eyes, still seems to be asleep as he pulls her forward to let her fall into a hug with him. She turns her head, nuzzling into his neck as he starts to unzip the back of her black dress. She will thank him tomorrow for not making her sleep in this tight party dress.

“Almost done, baby. You’ll be so much more comfortable when this is off.” he mumbles. She lets out a cooing sound, and Travis carefully lets her fall back onto the pillow. She mumbles something incomprehensible again as he starts to pull down her dress. She’s not wearing a bra, and within a few seconds she’s lying there, on top of her bedsheet, fully exposed, in nothing but her thong. She doesn’t move as he just carefully hangs her dress over the chair behind him. The chair full of her stuff, that he so amusedly made fun about earlier today. Earlier, when she was just her bubbly, happy self. Not another drugged girl getting undressed while being unconscious. 

Travis feels tears building up in his eyes, again, and for a moment he realizes how sweaty he really is. Not because he just carried her to the room, but because the panic and fear on the inside are getting the very best of him right now. 

He reaches for his big red KC shirt that she always sleeps in, manages to pull the shirt over her head, and walk her dead arms into each sleeve, one by one. She just lets out a loud sigh. 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

A few seconds later, after having properly dressed her, he fiddles the blanket under her and manages to tuck her in. Finally. And then, for a moment, it’s finally silent. He just sits there, watching her sleep. His hand moves to her head, stroking gently over her head as he feels a tear run down his cheek. All he wanted was for her to have a fun weekend with him in Vegas. All she did was fly out for him, and ended up getting violated like this, under his own eyes. Trav moves closer to her and kisses her hot forehead a few times.

“You’re safe now. You’re safe. I’m right here, baby. I’m so sorry. So sorry.” he whispers, not sure if his words are meant to calm the blonde sleeping woman or himself. He double checks once more if her feet are properly tucked into the blanket, knowing very well that she gets cold feet quickly. Travis then stands up, reaching for the phone in his pocket and leaves the bedroom to call Tree. 

~ 

With shaking hands, Travis just sits there, leaning against the bed rest, listening to the man in front of him talk while not letting go of Taylor’s head on the pillow. He tries to take mental notes, feels the imminent pressure to make sure to remember everything exactly as the doctor is saying it. It’s okay for her to move in her sleep with the IV still attached. When she wakes up, he can help her remove the tube from her arm. If she wakes up before the IV liquid is fully absorbed, he needs to give her another aspirin tablet. If she starts to feel sick, it’s important to make sure she’s in a stable position. She should regain consciousness in a bit, but it’s advised for her to get another IV drip tomorrow morning. She will be okay. And if she’s not, he’s recommended to call 911 immediately. 

Travis just nods, taking mental notes. Ray is standing there at the other side of the room, still talking to Tree on the phone. Travis just slowly lets go of Taylor, gets up to thank the doctor for everything. He’s still shaking, still trying to make sense of what happened tonight. He’s just glad that a medical professional has looked at her. That her body is now being flushed with lots of nutrients and fluids to help get rid of whatever drug she was given. Ray hangs up the phone, as Travis signals him to come closer. It’s still pitch dark outside, the lights of the Las Vegas strip not looking half as magical as they did this morning. This morning when Taylor was her normal self, standing by these floor to ceiling windows. Her happy self being in awe, excited for a day at the golf field. And him holding her in his arms, appreciating each giggle escaping her lips with a gentle kiss on her cheek. The same morning, in which a certain person was probably already plotting to secretly mix something into her system. Knowing that she would be going out tonight. Knowing that he would give her space to chat with her friends, network, talk to strangers. 

Space to get drugged and taken advantage of. 

“I need to run downstairs and grab some sugary drinks for when she wakes up. Can you please stay here with her for a few minutes in case she wakes up?” Travis asks the security guard and Ray nods, a little confused about Travises sudden change of mind. A few minutes ago he wouldn’t dare to leave Taylor out of sight, but now he seems eager to run downstairs? 

Travis thanks him, leaves everything he owns, including his phone, in this room with her. With determined steps, he leaves the hotel room before the doctor even can, approaching the elevator doors as quickly as humanly possible. 

Driven by adrenaline and aggression, more than he’s ever felt before, Travis enters the night club again, just seconds later. He can immediately spot Ross and Harry, who are both approaching him with worried looks on their faces. 

“Bro, are you okay? Brit said that she saw you and…” 

But Travis doesn’t hear any of it. All he can see is the man from before still standing there, talking to a group of women. His brain is fully shut, and his instincts are taking over. As soon as he approaches the group, the man’s eyes look up to Travis. Within a split second, Travis’ fist lands in the man’s face. A solid punch. There’s blood running down his nose and people looking at him in shock. The women next to them are jolting to the side. The guy is holding his nose with a look on his face that shows Travis clearly that he knew exactly what this was for. 

“You little piece of shit, don’t you ever try that again.”

Both Harry and Ross have witnessed the situation, just gently holding Travis back as a security guard from the night club gets closer to them.

“Man, calm down. I bought her a drink. Nothing more.”

“He fucking drugged Tay.” Travis says to his friends in a rage, who both are trying to calm him. “This asshole is out here drugging women and you guys don’t do anything?!” he says loudly to the security guards who are signaling Travis to leave the club now before things will get ugly. He feels a new form of anger rise in his chest as he is asked to leave, but Ross and Harry manage to not just hold him back, but convince him to leave the club and make his way out to get some fresh air. 

~ 

Travis is used to feeling exhausted. He’s used to feeling drained, tired and knowing he’s spent all the energy in the world available to him. As an athlete, he’s learned to deal with these moments of lacking energy, learned to push through and know when and how to reload his energy storages. But in this moment, while sitting down next to Taylor on this hotel bed, finally alone with her, he can safely say that he’s never. Never in a million years felt a level of exhaustion as severe as this. 

For a third time tonight, he wipes away the sweat standing on his forehead. His gaze falls onto the Las Vegas Strip in front of him. The sun is slowly rising, more and more cars are driving down the streets. The next day is starting, almost as if nothing had happened. It’s all just an endless cycle. The days come, the nights end. No one really cares for you out there. No one really cares about things that happen to you while the world moves slowly on. 

He looks down to Taylor again. His world doesn’t. Her left arm is still on top of the bed sheets, connected to the liquid IV standing next to her bedside. There’s still mascara stuck on her cheek and her long, blonde, wavy hair is all over the place. There’s lipstick stains on her chin, but she looks peaceful. She finally does. Travis swallows, gets up and closes the curtains. Sleep. Sleep is what both of them need after this night. He pulls his shirt over his head, takes off his pants and just drops them on the floor. He likes to be in control of things, like to keep his things neat. But none of the things he possesses matter when it comes to her. Just the thought of losing her, of not being able to protect her, not being her safe haven tonight has made everything else feel so irrelevant to him. From the very first moment he fell for this woman, was when he promised himself and her to always keep her safe. He let her down tonight. He let her security team down too, but mostly, her. 

There’s a deep and heavy pressure on his chest. He’s guilty. He’s failed her.

Travis slips under the blanket too, finally placing his head on his pillow. It’s dark in the room now, but not as dark as he’d like it to be. The daylight is still fighting its way through the curtains. He places his arm protectively over her body, checking that the IV is still properly attached to her arm. He gets closer to her, kissing her cheek again. He sighs, allows himself to close his eyes for a moment then. 

“What happened?”

His eyes shut open in shock and to his surprise, he finds her looking at him. Her eyes are tiny and red, but her face is fully turned to him. He feels a wave of relief washing over him, followed by the need to just cry like a baby. He knew she would be okay, but being able to look into her eyes is giving him endless comfort right now. 

“Someone put something in your drink. How are you feeling?” he whispers. He can witness her eyelids still fighting to stay open. His big hand already on her cheek. 

“Horrible.” she mumbles. He quickly gets up again and walks over to her side of the bed. In nothing but his boxers, Travis sits down next to her. 

“Can you sit up for a moment? You should take this aspirin before going back to sleep. You’ll thank me tomorrow morning.” 

She nods, tries to find her strength to sit up, but struggles clearly. Travis helps her immediately, pulls her upright with both of his hands on her arms. 

“There you go.” he mumbles, already reaching for the water glass next to her. She looks disoriented, confused. Her eyes wandering to the liquid IV in her arm. 

“What..”

“We had a doctor come look at you. This will help you feel better soon, baby.”

She doesn’t react, just nods and opens her mouth for him to place the aspirin pill on her tongue. A second later he then holds the glass of water closer to her mouth and she gulps it down as quickly as she can. 

“Good job.” Trav mumbles, placing the glass on her bedside table again. There’s a drop of water running down her chin and his thumb is quick enough to wipe it away for her. 

“Did.. did anyone see me like this?” she mumbles then in deep worry, while clearly struggling to stay awake. He snuggles himself under the blanket with her again, helping her lay down properly. This time she’s facing him, makes it clear to him that she wants to be close. His hand lands on her cheek and in her neck, his lips finding their way onto her forehead. 

“I don’t think so. I managed to get you up here quickly. Spoke to Tree and the guy who got you the IV signed an NDA. No one will have to find out about this, sweetie. Don’t worry.” 

She nods slightly, her eyes closed. Travis takes a deep breath. She needs her sleep. Badly. He kisses her forehead one last time, then lets go of her. As soon as his hand leaves her neck is when she opens her eyes and her dry mouth once more. 

“Stay here, please.” 

He nods, moves closer and helps her bury herself completely in his arms. Her cold feet are now pressed between his warm legs, and her torso is wrapped fully into his arms. He kisses her head again and again, hoping to get her to fall asleep. 

Suddenly she moves again, sitting up for a moment. Trav looks at her, ready to grab the trash can a few inches away from him in case she's getting sick. 

“You good…”

She turns around and reaches for his hand. She looks at his bruised hand in shock, then back at him. 

“I punched the guy who did this to you. Broke his nose. Also, I’m banned from entering this shitty club ever again. Fucking shit hole.” 

She looks at him, drops her head on his chest in disbelief and closes her eyes. He giggles slightly at her reaction, more than glad that she seems to have regained enough consciousness to worry about his bruised hand. His healthy hand now lands on top of her head protectively. 

“What the fuck.” she whispers and he can’t argue with her. This whole night is a whole lot of what the fuck. 

“I’m just..” he looks at the ceiling, Taylor on his chest, being fully aware of the fact that she’s probably already asleep again. 

“I’m just so sorry for not.. not being there when this happened. I never wanted you to feel unsafe with me. I just..” 

“You’re literally the safest place I’ve ever known, idiot.” She croaks then, and he looks down and swallows. He didn’t expect her to answer him, didn’t expect her to actually hear him and certainly did not expect her to say something as fundamental as this. 

“I think..” she’s tired, struggling to find words and Travis moves immediately, his finger on her lips, signaling her that she doesn’t have to say anything to him right now. She needs to rest. That’s all she needs to do. Taylor understands, her eyes closed again. Travis kisses her forehead one last time before attempting to get some sleep as well. 

“I think I’m so lucky that something like this happened to me when you were there. And even when I couldn’t walk or speak or see or move my hands, I just.. knew you would take care of me. That’s how safe I feel with you.” she says with a broken voice, both eyes closed. Trav moves his mouth closer to her temple, his lips finding her skin. He kisses her on this spot for the longest time, tears streaming out of his eyes and onto the soft fabric of his pillow. 

[gilverrwrites]

Somethin' Sweeter

2022!Penguin/Reader, 1K words Request: LOVE the ozzie fics! Can you write something fluffy & smutty where it's their anniversary and reader prepared his favorite meal for dinner, wearing a cute sexy dress, and after dinner a special dessert 😏 Rating: 18+ I certainly can, honestly cannot get enough of this man, I don't think i'll ever turn down an Ozzie request.

CWs: Sugar baby dynamic vibes, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), petnames: doll, princess, darlin'. F!Reader.

In case nobody has told you recently: I am proud of you.

He’s been grinning at you like the early bird who got the worm all evening, but as he bit into his entrée his demeanour shifted. You perched on the edge of your seat, watching every micro-movement of his face as you await the verdict.  

Preparing for tonight had been gruelling. Tracking down all the right ingredients, multiple practice attempts, conveying to Oz’s people that he was not to be disturbed, not to mention the priming that went into looking good for him. You know he would have loved whatever you’d made, would have fawned over you however you looked, but you wanted tonight to be perfect, and it was all worth it for the blissed-out look on his face right now. 

He takes a second bite, and you can’t stand the anticipation. “Well, what do you think?”

“It's great, Doll.” He smacks his lips as he speaks. “It tastes just like my-“

“Just like you’re Nonna’s. I know!” You feel bad for interrupting, excitement getting the better of you. “It’s her recipe.” 

“How did you manage that?” He asks, dabbing his mouth with his handkerchief.

“I made a few calls, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you like it.” 

“Of course I like it, I’d like anything you serve me, but this, this is exceptional. You treat me well, don’tcha?” In earnest, you do your best, but Oz really is the caretaker in your relationship. You might cook on special occasions, make sure he doesn't work too hard, but he keeps you well-kept. No bills to worry about, a luxury roof over your head, a wardrobe full of so many clothes and shoes that you’ll never manage to wear all of them, and a soft bed where he reminds you why, of all the men in Gotham, you always come back to him. 

“I do my best.” Plates scraped clean; you begin to clear the table. “I hope you’ve saved room for dessert. We’re having dark chocolate and coffee panna cotta.”

“Oh.” The plates in your hand nearly slip back onto the table, distracted by the disappointment in his tone, but when you turn to him, he’s looking at you with a sly glint in his deep brown eyes. He rests his palm on the back of your exposed thigh, ever so gently caressing your skin as he ghosted upwards, lifting the skirt of your dress in the process. “It’s not that princess, I just had somethin’ sweeter in mind. If you catch what I’m laying down here?”

“Sweeter?” A giggle escapes your lips as you tilt your head at him. Dishes abandoned you stride over to him, placing yourself on his good leg, holding onto his lapels as you pull yourself closer. The way his gold teeth gleam under the dim lights as he smiles at you sends a chill down your spine. “Like what?”

Oz places both his hands on your waist, strong fingers tactfully rolling up your dress once more until he’s able to admire your panties, soft purple satin with lace trim. There's a small wet patch already forming. With anybody else you might be embarrassed by it, but you know Oz loves the effect he has on you, even when he’s not eyeing you up like a prize. 

“This is nice, but how about you hop up on the table and keep your legs spread open for me?” He punctuates his question, by tapping one hand on the dinner table behind you. You don’t need to be asked twice, as you situate yourself, Oz takes two big gulps of his water. “Cleansing the palate.” 

His hand is steady as he hooks your underwear, far steadier than you feel as you watch the casual way in which he exposes your folds.

“Looks deliciosa.” He sniffs as he leans in closer to your wetness, angling his elbows to spread your thighs further, keeping them in place. 

There’s no test taste, no teasing, his mouth covers you in seconds, engulfing you like a man starved. His tongue immediately begins work, tracing circles around your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly, in endless circles. The tip of his nose digs against your clit, every brush sending a wave of heat through your body. 

It shocks you, making you cry out when he suddenly penetrates you with a thick finger and refocuses his tongue on your swelling clit. Your fingers unwittingly spread out into his dark thinning hair, as you fight the urge to ride his face. Oz likes to eat you out his own way, and you know you’ll be rewarded for sitting still. 

“Ooh-, Oz!” 

He hums between your lips, the resulting vibrations make your toes curl. He slips a second finger inside, continuing to suck at your sweet spot, all the combined sensations have you whining and shaking, orgasm fast approaching with every wave of pleasure. You chance a look down, and the sight of him hazy-eyed and buried in your core has you cumming, fists in the tablecloth, legs in the air as hit your climax. 

The room falls silent, excluding your shared rapid breathing; you coming back down from your high, Oz catching his breath. Oz’s presence always had that calming effect on you, regardless of the situation. It doesn’t, however, stop the whine that escapes your lips when you feel his fingers brush against your sensitive slit. He thumbs your panties, situating them back in place. 

“These are nice, did I buy these for you?” He knows he did. 

“You bought the whole outfit.” You sit up straight, smoothing your dress out before gesturing to yourself up and down. “You have excellent taste.” 

He gives you a once over, for what feels like the hundredth time that night, and despite him having had his face immersed between your legs only moments ago; your face warms with a bashful heat. 

“You’re not wrong, Darlin’. But I can’t help thinking this whole get-up would look better on the floor.” It’s a cheesy line that would make you cringe if it came from the mouth of anyone else. Instead, you’re filled with enthusiasm, excited for the night ahead of you. “Now how’s about you head on to bed an’ get ready for seconds while I clean up?”