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whatsupsonnyboy · 3 days ago

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the first time || Joseph Quinn

PAIRING: Joseph Quinn x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: The first time you and Joe meet, something clicks—quiet but unmistakable. Like the start of something that doesn’t need to be explained. And really, who were you trying to fool?

wc: 7.3K

warning: smut (mdni!!), p in v sex, protected and unprotected sex, fluff, midly slow burn (but not really lol), there's just lots of sweet boy joe and amazing sex

a/n: hey, so as i've already post about, i've been writing a bunch of one shots of how it might feel (in my mind ofc) to be in a relationship with this golden boy... so here it is, the first one. I'll post more eventually, it’s not really a story with parts but more like a collection of scenes that pop into my head. They’re not directly connected, but they all belong in the same universe. Hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏾

Feedback is welcomed <3

request are open | masterlist

You hadn’t planned to stay long.

Just a drink or two. Say hi to Wes. Smile politely, maybe sneak out before midnight with the excuse of a fake early morning.

But then he was there.

You didn’t even notice him at first—just another face in the mix, half-shadowed by the glow of string lights and the low thrum of music. But then he laughed. God, that laugh. Low and rough and golden around the edges. And when you turned to look, really look, he was already looking at you.

That was the first hit. The first crackle of something electric and new.

Wes introduced you. Casual. Effortless. And suddenly you were standing closer than necessary, drinks in hand, eyes locked, trading names like they meant something more.

He was funny. Way funnier than he had any right to be. And warm. Charming in a way that wasn’t performative, but lived-in. Like he didn’t need to impress anyone but couldn’t help doing it anyway.

You asked about his work—half curious, half testing. He didn’t dodge, didn’t show off. Just smiled, scratched the back of his neck, and said, “I love it. Even when it’s a mess. Maybe especially then.”

You nodded, because you got it. Because you were already thinking the same thing about him.

Time blurred after that. Drinks refilled. Conversations spiraled—music, books, worst dates ever, the best breakfast food after 2 a.m. You laughed so hard at one of his stories you had to cover your mouth with your hand, and he just grinned at you like you were his new favorite thing.

When people started leaving, neither of you moved. You were leaned into each other now, shoulders brushing. His fingers drummed absently on his glass. Yours curled around the edge of the sofa like they wanted to close the space.

So when he offered to walk you home, it didn’t feel like a decision.

It felt like the natural next breath.

You walked through the quiet streets, city humming softly around you, your conversation dipping into silences that weren’t awkward, just charged. Your arms bumped once. Then again. And neither of you apologized.

By the time you reached your building, the air felt thicker somehow. Like it knew.

You paused outside the door, keys in hand, heartbeat tapping like a warning or a dare.

“Do you wanna come up?” you asked.

And he—of course he did.

The elevator was quiet, slow, and small enough that your shoulder brushed his again. This time, he didn’t pretend it was an accident.

He looked at you—really looked at you—and that was it.

You kissed him.

There was no hesitation. No awkward pause. Just the sharp inhale before your mouths collided, hot and eager, like you’d both been waiting for permission all night.

His hand cupped the back of your neck. Yours slid into his hair. You kissed like the elevator could betray you at any moment, like you only had seconds, and every one of them mattered.

When the doors slid open on your floor, your lips were still touching, your breath caught between kisses.

And you have no idea what you were doing, but it felt so right that questioning yourself about it wasn’t even an option.

The door clicked shut behind him, but he barely registered the sound. Your hand was still in his, and your smile—soft, a little crooked—was the only thing anchoring him.

You tugged him gently into the apartment, fingers laced with his like it had been that way for years.

No small talk. No tour. No hesitation.

Just the unspoken hum that had been building all night, finally breaking the surface.

When you turned to face him, your lips already parted, he didn’t wait. He kissed you like he needed to. Like the moment he’d felt your mouth in the elevator hadn’t been nearly enough.

You tasted like wine and something sweeter he couldn’t name. Your arms circled his neck, pulling him closer, and he groaned into your mouth when your hips pressed into his.

It hit him all at once—how good this felt. How easy. The way your bodies seemed to move in sync, like instinct, like muscle memory from a dream he hadn’t realized he’d been having.

You gasped into his mouth, and that sound—sharp and breathless—lit him up like a live wire.

His hands found your waist, then your back, then slid lower, gripping your ass as he pulled you closer. He was hard already, pressed up against you through his jeans, and when you shifted just right, grinding into him with a little roll of your hips, he swore under his breath.

“Fuck, okay,” he muttered, eyes half-lidded, mouth dragging down to your neck. “You—god, you feel insane.”

You laughed, but it caught in your throat when he bit gently just beneath your ear.

Then everything sped up.

Your jacket hit the floor. Then his. His fingers were under your shirt, warm and demanding, tracing up your spine as if memorizing you. You didn’t hesitate—you lifted your arms, let him peel the fabric off you like a second skin.

He stared.

Because shit.

You stood there in a bra that barely held you in, chest rising fast, eyes blown wide. You looked wrecked already—and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.

“You’re...” He exhaled hard. “Jesus, you’re unreal.”

And when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t sweet. It was starving.

He backed you into the couch, hands everywhere—pushing, pulling, gripping, needing. You tugged at his shirt until it was gone too, and your hands ran across his chest like you couldn’t decide where to touch first. He loved that. The urgency. The want in you.

When your mouth landed on his jaw, then slid lower, biting down on the edge of his collarbone, he groaned—loud, filthy.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he panted, rutting against your thigh without even meaning to.

Your hand dropped to his waistband, teasing. “Yeah?” you whispered, voice wrecked and dangerous.

He nodded, helpless.

“Then let me.”

The way you said it—it wasn’t a question.

You palmed him through his jeans, slow and confident, watching the way his breath hitched, the way his eyelids fluttered. He wasn’t used to being this undone this fast. But you had him—already.

His hands slid behind your back, unclasped your bra with practiced fingers, and when the straps slipped off your shoulders, he barely gave you time to react before his mouth was on you. Tongue and teeth and lips, worshipping, making you moan—fuck, that sound, he’d chase it forever.

The way you arched under him, like every touch was too much and not enough.

The way you gasped his name like it was the only word you remembered.

It was pure heat. Messy and fast and real.

And when you whispered, breathless, “Come to bed,” your lips swollen, pupils blown wide, he didn’t even hesitate.

He didn’t care about tomorrow. Or what this was. Or where it might lead.

All he knew was that he needed to feel your body under his. Needed to hear you fall apart.

And if he was lucky, he’d get to wake up beside you.

You led him by the hand, your steps quick, your breath even quicker. The apartment wasn’t big, but every second it took to reach the bedroom felt like an eternity stretched tight with want.

The moment you were through the door, you turned to face him, pulling him in again like you couldn’t stand the distance. Your back hit the edge of the bed and you kissed him like you meant to steal the air from his lungs.

He smiled against your lips when you fumbled with the button of his jeans, your fingers slightly clumsy in your rush. You cursed softly, laughed under your breath.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t be.” His voice was low, rough. “It’s perfect.”

And it was.

Every little misstep, every shaky inhale, every wide-eyed second of wonder—it was perfect.

His jeans hit the floor. Then yours. You tugged at each other’s underwear with a mix of eagerness and surprise, and when he finally kicked his off and you stood in front of him completely bare, his breath caught in his throat.

You were stunning. Not just beautiful—though, fuck, you were—but alive. Lit up from within. Chest rising fast, lips parted, looking at him like he was something you couldn’t wait to taste.

And god, he wanted to be tasted.

You lay back on the bed, pulling him with you, and he followed without hesitation, settling between your legs, both of you skin-to-skin for the first time. It was overwhelming. It was right.

Your hands roamed his back, his shoulders, your mouth brushing along his jaw, and he felt everything. Every inch of contact. Every trembling breath.

And when he dipped his head to kiss your chest again, slower this time, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips lifted into his without thinking.

“I don’t have—” he began, breath hitching.

“In the drawer,” you whispered.

He reached blindly, found the condom, tore the wrapper with shaking fingers. You helped him roll it on, your touch so tender it nearly broke him.

He looked at you once more, one hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“You good?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. “Yeah. I want this.”

Fuck. So did he. More than he could admit out loud.

The second he pushed into you, slow and deep, your mouth fell open with a gasp that echoed straight through his chest.

“Fuck—” he groaned, breath catching, head dropping against your neck. You were tight, so wet around him it was almost unbearable. His fingers dug into your hips, like anchoring himself was the only way not to lose it too fast.

And you—you arched into him, legs curling higher around his waist, nails dragging down his back.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, voice already wrecked. “So fucking good.”

Joe swore under his breath. He could barely think. Could barely hold back. The heat between you was blinding, raw, something feral clawing at his insides.

He pulled back, thrust in again, and your body met his with such perfect rhythm that his control slipped a little—hips snapping harder, breath rough in your ear.

Your hands roamed down his back, fingers brushing the dip of his spine, then slipping between your bodies until they were there—on your clit, teasing yourself as he fucked into you.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you moaned, back arching, head thrown back. “Right there, just like that—”

Joe looked down at you, eyes dark and hungry, and the sight of your hand moving against yourself while he was buried deep inside you… it undid him.

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me,” he growled, grabbing your wrist, replacing your fingers with his own. “Let me.”

You whimpered, hips jerking as he rubbed slow circles, watching you unravel for him. Your face. Your breath. The way you bit your lip to muffle the sounds that wanted to break free.

“Let them hear you,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “Don’t hold it in. I want every fucking sound.”

You obeyed.

You moaned like the world was ending. Like no one had ever touched you right until now. His name on your tongue, over and over, like a spell that made you shake.

He was losing it.

You clenched around him, again and again, dragging him deeper, and he couldn’t stop the filth that poured out of him.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he muttered, voice shaking. “So perfect. Taking me like you were made for it.”

You whimpered beneath him, hips rolling in rhythm with his, and then your hand was on him, cupping the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you like it was the only way to stay grounded.

You kissed him open-mouthed, messy, tongues sliding together, both of you panting, slick with sweat, chasing something neither of you could name.

When you broke away, your voice was hoarse, breathless.

“Harder, Joe. Please—fuck, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

He grabbed your thigh, lifted your leg higher over his hip and started thrusting harder, deeper, until the sound of skin against skin filled the room.

You cried out, high-pitched and desperate, and your walls tightened so suddenly around him he swore.

“Oh my god—” you gasped, and then you were falling apart, shaking, clenching around him so tight it pulled a raw, broken moan from his chest.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave, and he felt it—watched it—his fingers still working your clit through it all, not letting up.

“Fuck, you’re so—so fucking perfect—” he stuttered, barely holding on. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come—”

Your mouth brushed his ear, breath hot. “Come inside me, baby. Come for me.”

And that was it.

He came with a groan, hips stuttering, pulse racing, holding you so close he thought he might crush you. You took every second of it—his shaking, his panting, the broken way he whispered your name like it was salvation.

Then silence.

Then breath. Tangled limbs. Sweat. Skin against skin.

And the most beautiful fucking quiet.

He stayed inside you, forehead resting against yours, both of you trembling.

You exhaled a shaky laugh. “Holy shit.”

He smiled, dizzy and wrecked. “Yeah. Holy fucking shit.”

Your breathing was still uneven when he collapsed beside you, chest rising and falling in erratic waves. His skin was warm and damp, and yours probably wasn’t any better. But when his arm instinctively reached for your waist and pulled you closer, it didn’t matter. Nothing did.

There were no words. Just the soft rustle of sheets and your fingertips drawing lazy, invisible patterns over the curve of his bicep. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head—gentle, almost reverent—and you let out a quiet sigh, one of those that come not from tiredness, but from fullness. Overwhelmed in the best possible way.

And you stayed like that. Breathing together. Letting your bodies cool down but your connection settle in deeper. There was nothing awkward. No pressure. Just warmth. Familiarity. His thumb brushing your side. Your knee nudging his softly under the sheets.

You didn't mean to fall asleep. But you did.

And somehow, when your eyes blinked open hours later, he was still there.

The light was pale and golden, sneaking in through your curtains. Your bedroom looked dreamlike, still hazy with sleep and the remnants of the night before. You turned slightly and found him already looking at you, face resting on the pillow, eyes still heavy-lidded, hair a mess of curls flattened on one side.

And it didn’t feel weird. Not at all.

“Hi,” you whispered, voice still raw from sleep.

He smiled, lazy and crooked, and it made your stomach do something ridiculous.

“Hi,” he echoed, voice low and warm and sleepy. “You drool a little, you know.”

You gasped, pushing at his chest with the back of your hand, laughing despite yourself. “You liar.”

“Swear on my life.” He grinned. “Just a little. Cute though.”

You groaned and buried your face in the pillow, but he only laughed, that soft, raspy morning laugh that already felt too intimate. Too familiar.

Like you’d heard it a hundred times before.

When you peeked out again, he was still watching you, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize something.

“I usually hate sleeping next to someone,” he murmured.

Your heart skipped.

“But with you…” He shrugged slightly. “Didn’t even notice. Slept like a baby.”

You smiled then—slow, genuine, a little unsure. Because what were you supposed to say to that?

He shifted closer, his forehead gently bumping yours, and you felt his hand stroke slowly up and down your arm. His thumb brushed over a spot on your shoulder, then traced lazy circles on your skin.

Neither of you said anything else. There was no need.

Eventually, you turned, slow and careful, until your back was pressed to his chest and his arm slipped around you without hesitation. His hand settled on your stomach, warm and still.

You let out a soft sigh and nestled into him, your legs tangling under the covers. For a moment, everything was quiet—breath and body, shared warmth, the steady thud of his heart against your spine. Then his fingers shifted, just slightly. Slid lower.

The first thing you felt was heat—his chest pressed against your back, the slow roll of his hips, still half-asleep but already there, already hard. Your breath caught as his hand skimmed your stomach, fingers brushing lower, exploring like he hadn’t had his fill last night. Like he’d only just begun.

“Fuck,” he murmured, voice thick, scratchy with sleep. “You’re already—”

“Yeah,” you whispered, shifting your hips back against him, shameless.

He groaned, the sound low and desperate, and you could feel it vibrate through your spine. His lips found the spot behind your ear, open-mouthed, warm, lazy like everything about that morning, but hungry in a way that made your pulse spike.

“You sure?” he murmured, fingers sliding between your thighs now, stroking through the wetness he found there, drawing a sound out of you that was all need.

You turned your head just enough to meet his eyes, and he looked wrecked already—his curls a mess, his gaze still soft with sleep but blown wide with want.

“Yeah,” you breathed, not hesitating. “Just finish outside.”

He stilled for a moment. Just a beat. Long enough for the gravity of it to flicker in his eyes. But then you reached back, guided him to you, and that flicker turned to fire.

“Fuck—okay. Okay.”

The first push inside was slow, careful, but deep—achingly so. You both gasped, your body stretching to take him, his hand gripping your hip like it was the only thing anchoring him to the planet.

“Jesus… you feel amazing” he whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, forehead dropping to the pillow as he began to move, drawing back, then pressing in again with that maddening control. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

And he didn’t. He couldn’t have even if he tried.

It wasn’t frantic—this wasn’t a race. But it wasn’t slow either. It was deep. Focused. Like he was trying to memorize every inch of you from the inside. His hand slid under you, fingers finding your clit, stroking in tight circles as he thrust, eyes fixed on the spot where your bodies met like it might disappear if he blinked.

“You take me so fucking well,” he muttered, voice shaking. “So good like this. So—shit—warm. Wet. Fuck.”

Your mouth dropped open, hands gripping the sheets as the pressure built, deep and consuming. Every snap of his hips sent sparks up your spine, every stroke of his fingers wound you tighter.

“Joe—”

“Say it again.”

“Joe—oh my God—”

He bent over you, his chest flush to your back, lips brushing your shoulder, your neck, your ear.

“Feel how deep I am?” he murmured, cock pulsing inside you. “I can feel you gripping me, baby, fuck—don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”

You came with a strangled cry, your body locking around his, muscles fluttering, your whole self unraveling in waves. He thrust once, twice more, desperate now, but then pulled out with a groan—messy, hot, and helpless as he came on your lower back, one hand braced on the mattress, the other gripping your hip like it might keep him from flying apart.

His breath was ragged, your name half-formed on his tongue, and for a second, all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears and the high-pitched whine of satisfaction in your bones.

You lay there, both of you trembling, panting, your bodies still joined, sweat cooling between your skins.

There were no words. Just the beat of your hearts, too fast and completely in sync.

He kissed your shoulder, once, twice. You reached back to touch his thigh, his hip—anything to anchor him to you. To keep him right there.

And for a moment, neither of you moved. No guilt. No fear.

Just skin. Breath. Fire. Somehow, trust.

You lay there, breathing together, warm and safe beneath the quiet weight of morning. Your legs tangled again. His hand resting on your hip. His thumb started drawing circles along your arm as he could memorize you by touch.

And when you finally started drifting off again, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, he pressed one last kiss to your temple.

Soft. Unthinking. Like second nature.

You smiled against his chest.

Neither of you meant to fall asleep again. But you did.

And somehow, that felt like the most intimate part of all.

The second time you woke up, it was to the scent of coffee and the quiet sound of someone humming off-key in your kitchen.

For a moment, you thought you’d dreamt the whole thing—until you stretched, and the ache between your thighs reminded you vividly that you hadn’t.

You reached for a hoodie, padded barefoot into the living room, and there he was—standing by the stove in nothing but his boxers and one of your oversized mugs in hand. His curls were still a mess. His back was turned, but when he heard your footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

“Morning, again,” he said, handing you the mug without missing a beat.

You took it, fingers brushing his for a second too long. “You made coffee?”

He shrugged, modest and smug all at once. “Well, I didn’t burn anything, so technically I made magic.”

You laughed, shaking your head, and sat on the edge of the couch as he poured his own cup.

It was easy. Too easy.

The kind of morning where you both felt like you’d skipped a few steps. Like you were already past the awkward stage. You talked about nothing in particular—your mutual distaste for early mornings, how Wes never mentioned either of you to the other (the bastard), the fact that you both hated people who didn’t rinse their dishes before putting them in the sink.

He made you laugh. A lot.

And at some point, still barefoot, hair wild and shirtless, he leaned against the counter and said, “Last night was… not what I expected.”

You looked up from your coffee, raising an eyebrow. “Disappointed?”

“God, no,” he said immediately, then softened. “It was just—better. More. You know?”

You nodded. Because you did know.

There was something about it. About him. About this. And you could both feel it pulsing under the skin, but neither of you tried to name it.

Eventually, the time came. He went to grab his things—shoes, phone, jacket—and you trailed after him, not quite ready to say goodbye, but not wanting to be that person either.

He stood by the door, pulling his jacket on, one arm still half out of the sleeve, when he turned to you with a smirk.

“So… am I allowed to ask for your number, or is this one of those magical one-night-stand rules where I disappear like a gentleman and we pretend we don’t exist?”

You blinked, then laughed, genuinely caught off guard. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Flattering,” he replied. “But I’ll take it as a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone. “Give me yours. I’ll text you.”

He rattled off the digits, and you sent a simple “Hi” before he even finished spelling out his last name.

He looked at his screen, smiled, then looked back at you like he was about to say something else—but didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in and kissed your cheek. Soft. Warm. Familiar, again. Like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“See you around,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over the edge of your jaw.

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut, and the silence he left behind was anything but empty.

It was full.

Full of something unnamed but very, very real.

You never had the talk.

No labels, no declarations, no drawn-out conversations about what this was or where it was going. It just was.

He texted you that same afternoon. Something dumb and funny. A meme you still had saved in your camera roll. You answered. And he answered back. And suddenly, you were talking every day. Not constantly, but consistently. Steadily. Like the kind of tide that always comes back to shore.

The first time you met up again, it was spontaneous. He was nearby. You had an hour to kill. You grabbed coffee and sat in the park. He stole your cookie. You punched his arm. He kissed you mid-laughter, with your cup still in hand, and just like that—there it was again.

That thing.

And then came the nights. The way his hand would slide against the small of your back as you opened the door. The way he’d kiss you like he’d been waiting for days, even if it’d only been hours.

You’d fuck on the couch. In your kitchen. Sometimes barely making it to the bedroom.

It was intense. Messy. Addictive.

But never rushed.

He made you laugh mid-moan. You pulled his curls just to hear the sound he made when you did. He always made sure you came first—sometimes second—and then held you like he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving. Sometimes he stayed. Sometimes you did.

You shared breakfast. Showers. Bad TV. Inside jokes. His hoodie. Your leftovers.

Somehow, he learned how you liked your tea. You learned what cologne he wore. He kept a spare toothbrush in your bathroom. You found one of your scrunchies on his nightstand once.

And none of it felt like a big deal.

It was just natural.

You’d text him something random at 1AM. He’d reply with a voice note that made you laugh out loud in bed. You'd call him when your day sucked. He'd show up at your door with snacks and that face that made everything easier.

You never talked about exclusivity. You never needed to.

Because even if no one had said it aloud, you both already knew.

It wasn’t casual. Not really.

And still, neither of you used the word "relationship."

But it didn’t matter.

Because every time he kissed your forehead before leaving, every time he whispered “sleep tight” like a secret, every time you caught him staring like he was still surprised you were real—something in your chest softened.

Something in you knew.

And maybe you weren’t officially together.

But your hearts hadn’t gotten the memo.

He didn’t really notice when it started to change. Maybe that was the point.

There was no sudden shift, no dramatic realisation. Just a quiet accumulation of small things that began to matter more than he expected.

Like the way his phone would light up and he already knew it was you. The way your name on the screen felt like a hit of dopamine—something in his chest unclenching without him even realizing it. The way the days stretched a little too long when he didn’t hear from you.

He started keeping snacks you liked in his apartment without thinking. He started recognizing your routines—how you stole his hoodie when it got cold, how you took your coffee with oat milk and exactly one sugar, how you always asked if he’d eaten after a long shoot. He noticed the way you hummed softly when brushing your hair, and how your laughter lingered in his apartment long after you'd gone.

He hadn’t planned to stop seeing other people. It just happened. Not out of obligation. Out of instinct.

You stopped replying to those flirty messages. He stopped swiping right out of boredom.

It wasn’t something you ever discussed. There was no awkward conversation, no labels. Just a quiet understanding—like turning down the volume on a song that didn’t hit the same anymore.

One night, Wes texted him asking if he was going out to their usual bar, and Joe found himself replying, “With her tonight.” He didn’t even think twice.

“You seeing her now?” Wes asked.

He stared at the screen for a while. Not officially. Not technically. But yeah. Yeah, he was.

And maybe the most surprising part was that none of it scared him. Not like it used to.

There was this night—you were curled up on his couch in his shirt, eating cereal at midnight, laughing at something stupid he’d said. And he watched you, spoon halfway to his mouth, thinking, Fuck. I really like her.

He didn’t say it. Of course not. But it was there. In the way he touched your back without thinking, or the way he waited for your laugh to fade before kissing you.

He got used to you without realizing.To the way your shoes sat by the door when you stayed over. To the way you wrapped yourself around him in your sleep, like his body was where yours belonged. To the way the silence between you didn’t press down—it settled around you both, warm and easy, like a shared blanket.

He hadn’t realised how much space you'd taken up in his life until he was scrolling through his photos one night and found more of you than anything else. Pictures you didn’t even know he’d taken—your head thrown back in laughter, curled up with a book, sleeping against his chest.

He remembered waking up before you one morning, the light slipping through the blinds, your arm thrown across his stomach, your hair a mess, your face half-buried in the pillow. He just laid there, watching. Not because he was having some big epiphany. Just because it felt nice.

Then came that Tuesday. You were in the bathroom, hair up in a messy knot, brushing your teeth with one hand and scrolling on your phone with the other, wrapped in his old t-shirt like it belonged more to you than him. Joe sat on the edge of the bed and watched.

Not in a creepy way. In a shit, this feels good kind of way. In a please don’t let this go anywhere kind of way.

You caught him staring—of course you did. You always did. Mouth full of toothpaste, you raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He just grinned. “Nothing.”

But he meant everything.

Because it wasn’t just the way you looked in the morning, or how you always denied stealing the blanket.It was the way you’d become his soft place to land. It was the cardigan draped over his chair. The mugs in the sink with your lipstick on the rim. The playlist on his Spotify titled hers.

The lines between you and him had blurred so gently, it didn’t even feel like change.

It just felt right.

And no, he hadn’t said it out loud yet. But when you fell asleep with your head on his chest and his arm pulled you closer like instinct, he didn’t need to.

You probably already knew.

He’d been pacing around the apartment for most of the afternoon, fingers stained with ink from scribbled notes, corners of scripts folded and dog-eared, empty mugs lining the coffee table like some modern art installation of a man losing his grip. The flat smelled faintly of coffee, highlighters, and the Thai food box he had grabbed in that small local in front of his gym and barely touched.

His phone buzzed earlier—your name lighting up the screen like a small calm in the storm.

“hey, out for a bit but I’ll swing by around eight?”

He’d smiled when he read it. A quiet kind of smile, the kind that tugged at the corners of his mouth even as his eyes were half-glued to a page of dialogue he couldn’t get right.

“Perfect. I’ll order pizza.”

And then he forgot about it. Not you, exactly. Just the time. The waiting. The worrying about whether you’d show or not. You’d said you’d come, and that was enough. You’d always done what you said so far. He trusted that. Trusted you. It was himself he didn’t quite trust lately.

The new script was a minefield. The director intimidating. The pressure building behind his temples like a storm he couldn’t quite outrun. Somewhere between scene fourteen and seventeen, he pulled his hair back into a tie and rubbed his face with both hands, muttering something half-human under his breath.

He hadn’t even realized the sun was already setting when Wes’s name lit up on his screen.

“you bailing on us tonight?”

He blinked, thumb hovering over the keyboard. “Had plans. Next time i swear”

A beat. Then another buzz. Wes had sent a photo.

Dim pub lighting. Clinking glasses. And you—laughing. Head tilted toward someone familiar. Keith. A friend of a friend. All easy charm and textbook good looks. The kind of guy who always had too much confidence and not enough shame. His arm wasn’t touching you, not exactly. But it was close.

“well… maybe you should reconsider”

And that—that—was when it hit.

A flash of something ugly and electric shot straight through his gut. Not quite anger. Not quite panic. Just that instinctive, animal sting of I don’t want anyone else that close to her.

He tossed the phone onto the couch, harder than necessary.

Fuck. He didn’t want to care. Hadn’t planned on caring. You weren’t his girlfriend. You hadn’t talked about exclusivity, or commitment, or any of that. You were just… seeing each other. Spending time together. Sleeping together.

But still.

He ran a hand over his mouth and stared at the photo again.

Just a few hours ago, he hadn’t had a single thought like this about you. You were the one thing not stressing him out.

Now, you were burning a hole in his brain.

He flipped his phone face down. Then face up. Then picked it up again. He’d stared at the photo so long it had burned itself into his vision. The way you were laughing, the exact curve of your shoulder leaning toward Keith. The lighting didn’t help. It could’ve been a casual moment, an ordinary conversation. But in his head, it had already become something else. A whole story.

Keith. That charming asshole with an ego bigger than his biceps. The kind of guy who calls waitresses “princess” and still manages to get dates. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, not exactly. It was a sharp, nagging sting of insecurity. Of fear. Fear that you were out there realizing you could be with someone easier. Less complicated. Someone who didn’t have their brain split between you and a script that read like ancient code.

He stared at a fixed point on the floor, leaning back on the couch, arms crossed, legs tense. The script beside him felt more like a threat than an opportunity. The notes he’d taken—now scattered across the table—looked like pieces of a mind that didn’t know where to begin.

He went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, stared at himself in the mirror. Didn’t like what he saw. Came back to the living room. Sat down. Stood up. Turned on the TV. Turned it off. Checked the time: 8:04 p.m.

Not late. Not really. Four minutes was nothing. But to Joe, it felt like a century.

He walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge without knowing what he was looking for, then closed it again. The pizza he’d ordered—maybe a little too early—was already getting cold. Like him. Like everything.

He forced himself to sit back on the couch. Put on an old record—one of those he used when he needed to focus. But the needle barely hit the first chords before he got up again, restless. He went to the window. Pulled back the curtain. You weren’t there. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it once more.

8:11.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his hands down his face. He didn’t want to be that guy. The one spinning drama in his own head. The one building stories before the movie even started.

But there he was.

And the knot in his chest was pulling tighter by the minute.

Everything about the new film was overwhelming him. He wanted to scream at the ceiling. Throw the script against the wall. Nothing made sense. And the only thing that did—was you. It was you, goddammit. The one thing that didn’t need decoding. That felt simple, and somehow, impossibly huge at the same time.

That’s why it hurt. Because exactly for that reason, the idea of losing you—or worse, realizing you weren’t as in it as he was—felt unbearable.

And then, at 8:16, the doorbell rang.

His heart did this stupid little jump. He got up too fast. Felt that ridiculous urge to pull himself together, to act normal, to pretend he hadn’t been falling apart on the inside.

He wanted the sound of your arrival to reset everything.

But it wasn’t enough to quiet the noise. Not when the doubt was already echoing in his throat.

And when he opened the door… he didn’t know if he wanted to pull you into his arms or put you on the spot. If he wanted to kiss you or yell.

And that—exactly that—was what pissed him off the most.

You knew something was wrong the moment you saw his face.

It wasn't the kind of wrong you could smooth over with a kiss or a joke about the pizza going cold. It was the kind of wrong that sat heavy in the air, thick in your throat.

"Hey," you said, stepping inside. Smiling, out of instinct, even when your gut already knew better. "Sorry I’m late. I stopped by the pub for a bit, lost track—"

"Yeah," Joe said. Short. Sharp. Already turning away.

You shut the door behind you, heart picking up speed. The living room was a mess hunched over, papers scattered around him like a small, personal storm.

He laughed, low and humorless. "I didn’t know if you were still coming."

You blinked. "I told you I was."

"Right," he muttered. "But maybe you were grabbing pizza with Keith instead"

You stared at him. "What?"

He grabbed his phone from the couch, tossed it onto the table. The screen still lit up with the photo: you, standing close to Keith, laughing over something stupid, a drink in your hand. Frozen mid-smile.

"Are you checking up on me now?" you said, a little sharper than you meant.

"Wes sent it." He raked a hand through his hair. "He was concerned."

Your stomach twisted. "No. You were concerned."

He laughed, but it was hollow. Bitter. "Yeah, well maybe I was, especially when I saw you smiling at him like that."

You stared at him, anger flickering up, hot and defensive. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to throw that at me when we never—"

"I know!" he cut you off, standing up suddenly, voice breaking. "I know we never said anything, okay? I know we were both just... assuming things and pretending it was all casual and cool and whatever the fuck, but it's not. Not for me."

The words hung there, raw and electric.

You stepped back, heart hammering, because it was true for you too. You just hadn’t said it. Hadn't dared.

"I’m not seeing anyone else," you said, almost without thinking. "I haven’t even thought about it since you."

He stared at you like you’d just said something unbelievable. Like maybe he didn’t deserve to hear it.

You swallowed hard. "And yeah, I was talking to Keith. Didn’t realize that’d be a fucking crime”.

Joe closed his eyes for a second, like the weight of it physically hit him. When he opened them, he looked wrecked. And beautiful.

"I’m sorry," he said, hoarse. "I’m fucking scared, alright? I’ve got this project that’s swallowing me whole and half the time I think I’m gonna fail, and you’re the only thing that makes me feel like maybe I won't. Like maybe I’m not a complete fuck-up."

You felt your chest tighten, emotions crashing all over you.

"Then don't push me away," you said, stepping closer. "Don’t look for reasons to doubt this when I’m standing right in front of you."

He shook his head, almost helpless. "I don't want anyone else," he said, voice rough. "I don't even see anyone else anymore. It's just you."

You could feel your throat tightening, that sting behind your eyes, but you forced yourself to stay steady.

"It's you for me too," you whispered.

The silence felt thick and heavy and full of everything you hadn't said before tonight.

Then Joe moved — fast, almost clumsy — closing the space between you, pulling you into him like he couldn't bear the distance for a second longer. His mouth found yours in a kiss that wasn’t soft or careful — it was desperate, claiming, full of everything that had been burning between you for weeks.

And you let him. You let yourself fall into it, finally, completely. Because you knew. He knew. It was real.

You didn’t make it to the bedroom. You barely made it past the couch.

Joe kissed you like he meant it now. Like every inch of his mouth on yours came with a promise. No more holding back, no more ifs. Just you and him, here and now, and whatever the hell this was that had already swallowed you whole.

He pressed you against the wall, hands threading into your hair, breath hot and ragged against your cheek. "Fuck, I missed you," he groaned, like the hours apart had been unbearable.

"You had me yesterday," you gasped, tugging at the hem of his shirt, needing him bare, needing him now.

"Not like this." He pulled it over his head and dropped it to the floor, eyes hungry and tender all at once. "Not after hearing you say it."

You stilled for a second, chest rising too fast. "Say what?"

He leaned in, mouth brushing your jaw, your cheek, your ear. "That you wanted me. That you weren’t going anywhere."

You cupped his face in your hands, staring into those stupidly beautiful, frantic eyes. “I didn’t say it tonight, Joe.”

He blinked.

“I’ve been saying it every time I’ve come back.”

And then he lost it.

He picked you up, hands under your thighs, your legs wrapped tight around him, and carried you blindly through the apartment until you crashed into the edge of the bed. He didn’t even bother pulling the covers down.

Clothes disappeared like they were on fire.

His mouth was on your neck, then your chest, then lower—devouring, tasting, worshipping. You were already shaking by the time he slid inside you, both of you gasping like it hurt, like it healed.

“Jesus—fuck—you feel like home,” he choked out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, thrusting deep, slow, relentless.

You grabbed at his back, his hair, anything to ground yourself. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop.”

He didn’t.

He moved like you were the only thing keeping him together. Like if he stopped touching you, he’d fall apart entirely. The rhythm grew rougher, faster, but still so full. Not desperate. Claiming.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You gasped, eyes wide and wild. “I’m yours, Joe—fuck—I’ve been yours.”

He groaned into your mouth and slammed into you harder, and it wasn’t careful. It wasn’t sweet. It was real. It was raw and feral and exactly what both of you needed.

Your orgasm hit like a wave you didn’t see coming—hot and electric and blinding. And he followed almost instantly, moaning your name like it was a sacred word, collapsing on top of you, chest heaving, heart pounding against yours.

Silence.

Just the sound of breath and skin and the world finally slowing down.

You felt him shift, just enough to look at you. His eyes—open, vulnerable, like he’d just been cracked wide.

And then, softly, so softly—

“I love you.”

You blinked, breath still uneven.

And smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I love you too.”

And just like that, there were no more questions.

Only answers written on skin, on sighs, on mouths still swollen from too much kissing.

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just-a-sweet-girl · 2 days ago

Note

Hii omg THANK U for opening requests for DMC just finished the Netflix show and I am now a fan lmao anyways ! Can I get Dantexreader who are in a beginning of a relationship but dante has yet to show his demon form to reader? Reader could be catching glimpses of his red eyes. Could eventually ask to see etc but ya! Just an idea that scratched my brain. Thanks in advance!! <3

Thank you for the request <3

Demons existing wasn't exactly a secret to you. As a kid, you're elementary school had been attacked and to this day, you had no idea if it had been planned or random. To be fair, you didn't want to know, surviving it had been more than enough.

So, it wasn't all that hard to believe your boyfriend of 3 months explained that he was half-human, half-demon. He's never harmed you, or even tried to, Dante was a great boyfriend. So you stayed.

Lately, however, you've begun to notice some new things happening. Like last night during a heated make out session. Things had been going as usual until you caught a glimpse of red in his eyes. The sight made a small, surprised sound escape you while pulling back.

"Dante, your e-" His large hand covers your own eyes. Brows furrowing, you reach out for him, hands gripping his shirt. "...Dante?"

"It's nothing, just..." He heaves a sigh. Still not removing his hand until he knew his eyes were back to normal. "I'm tired, that job earlier took a lot outta me!"

You didn't really believe him, yet you still nod. Hands cupping his face gently to gaze at his eyes. His now, very blue eyes. You smile. "Let's go to bed then... I'll even cook breakfast in the morning."

Dante grins, feeling better now that the subject has changed. Placing a noisy kiss on her forehead. "You're the best, babe!"

It happens a few more times after that. And each time, Dante came up with some excuse to run away or cover your eyes. He even went as far as throwing his coat over your head one time during a demon attack. Even though you had already see his eyes red, his form beginning to change. It was starting to bother you how secretive he was being about this.

Did he not trust you?

"Hey, hey, pretty. What's wrong?" His voice called out, cupping her face in his large hands.

you blink a few times and his face comes into focus. You didn't realize that Dante came home already. His expression filled with worry as he tried to look you over. You didn't think the thought of him not trusting you would have made you cry, but it did.

"You're eyes go red." you sniffle, getting straight to the point. "I accepted you being half-demon, so, i understand you would have some characteristics."

He called your name.

"Why do you hide it from me?" you whisper, hands holding his. "It doesn't matter to me if you have blue or red eyes. Or any other appearance besides the one i see now. You will always be Dante."

You finally see that vulnerability in him. "I don't want to scare you away." His forehead rests upon your own. eyes closing for a moment as he debates within himself.

"You won't." Then, you say, "Show me."

Dante close his eyes. Brows scrunched together as he hesitates. Even though you're asking to see, he was scared. What if you screamed and ran away from him? It hurt to think, but that might be the better outcome for you...

But you don't do any of that.

Smiling softly at the sight you only caught glimpses of. Nose brushing against his. "You're still my handsome Dante." The words are enough to have his smile return. "Red does suit you, after all."

#dante sparda #dante sparda x reader #dante x reader #devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dmc #dmc dante #dmc x reader #x reader #devil may cry netflix #devil may cry imagine #dmc imagine #dmc netflix #devil may cry anime

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seitmai · 2 days ago

Text

Many thoughts

A smile touched your face when the hand on your hip gripped you tighter. Carefully turning to face the man beside you who still had his eyes closed, you took the opportunity to run your fingers through his long dark hair. Your smile widened when he leaned into your touch. Asleep or awake, he always sought it out. And this was a person who didn't let most people touch him. But I can because he’s my man.

Period 😌

“Morning, my treasure.” The affectionate pet name was one you'd never grow tired of. It did make you giggle the first time he called you that. He had lots of money, more than you could ever fathom, and could buy all the treasures he could ever desire, yet he thought you were treasure. His most precious thing.

Urgh what a great backstory for the nickname 🥰

“Slept very well. I had very good dreams.” His nose brushed your forehead before his lips touched it. You were happy to hear that. “In fact, I can show you exactly what I dreamt about if you’d like.”

Oop 👀

Bucky didn't ask for much. One of the only things he requested when you began your journey together was that you’d sit and have meals with him. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was a time for the two of you to talk about anything and everything, though he preferred to focus on the present and the future instead of the past. You understood. You didn't like dwelling on the past either since your life was much happier now.

I think that's a fair request and also nice thing to built a routine together

He arched an eyebrow, looking cool as ever. “What if I want you for breakfast?” He brought his lips to yours, not giving you a chance to argue that you hadn't brushed your teeth. He didn't care about things like that. “You wouldn't let me starve, would you?”

I think we all know the answer to that 😌

“How could I not want you? Even if I resisted, your skills of seduction are dangerous.” You gasped when a massive thigh pushed between your legs. “Moya Sladkaya, you think I’m seductive?” he purred, making you shiver as the sound vibrated through your body. “Yes and you know you are.” You bit your lip as his thigh shifted, gliding along your heat. It was tempting to ride it. “Your voice, your eyes, your mouth, your body. Partially why you became my sugar daddy.”

Fair 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭

He growled as he suddenly rolled on top of you. “I'm your boyfriend,” he corrected you, holding your gaze. He looked hungry. “Who happened to wipe out your debt the way a sugar daddy would.”

Nice coincidence 🤭

The gentle scrape of his teeth over your neck set your blood on fire. “If I’m insatiable, it’s your fault. One look at you and I was a goner,” he whispered, a hand moving possessively between your bodies. His thumb brushed your nipple into a taut peak, your back arching to seek out more of him. “You brought beauty and joy back to my world. You saved me, you know that?” Unexpected tears burned behind your lids. He lived in a world of gray for so long. The least you could do after everything was bring him some light. “You saved me, too,” you breathed. He got to be your hero. You got to be his treasure. A fair trade in his eyes.

🥰🥰🥰

You gasped when he nipped at your racing pulse. “Don’t do that. Don't compliment me. This isn’t about me.” Both of you had a tendency to deflect praise at times, but it was something you were working on. And while he didn’t view himself as a hero, he did save you in his own way.

That's cute that they both do it 🥺🥰

“Don’t get cocky,” you groaned, feeling the evidence of his arousal press against you. Thick. Hard. You shuddered with the need for him to just take you. “Actually, you have every right to be cocky. You’ve ruined me.” He brought his face up to yours, close enough that he breathed against your lips. “I haven't ruined you yet.” His promise had you trembling, wishing he’d tear you apart without a second thought.

Heavy on the yet 🤭

He watched your blissful expression with dark eyes and a devilish smirk. “That’s what I dreamt about.” His rumbling words had your thighs trembling. “You underneath me, taking every inch of my cock, begging to come.”

Yeah I dream the same thing, weird 🤭😅

Butterflies filled your stomach. It wasn’t a proposal, but it still felt like he was asking in a way. “Do you mean in this bed? As long as we can have our meals here and do movie nights. Oh, and a way to clean the sheets because they’ll be filthy.” His eyes crinkled again as he chuckled. How did a laugh sound both wholesome and seductive? That was the power of Bucky Barnes. “And sex to keep us in shape,” he said, pulling the sheet more over you. “Sounds perfect, even if I don’t deserve it.”

A perfect life 🥰

Your heart swelled. He was so gone for you. “I’m not asking you to let me go,” you said, turning his head back to you until his eyes opened. “I’m your treasure, remember? Yours to keep.” The hard edges to his face softened once again. “C’mere,” he breathed.

🥰🥰🥰

You met him halfway when he leaned in, his lips only on yours for a second when the doorbell rang. You were about to ask if he was expecting company, but he didn’t have to with the way his body tensed. He turned away from you, his phone in hand to check the camera at the front door. Security was important to him. “What the hell?”

Beside a rude interruption I have a bad feeling about this 👀

Diamonds and Steel - Intro

Pairing: Retired Hitman!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky treats you to a getaway, but peace won't last for long.

Word Count: Over 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected v. sex (wrap it before you tap it), possessive behavior, established relationship, dirty talk, talk of violence and nightmares, world building, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: So, I wrote this intro months ago. I feel like this Bucky would get along with our alpha. Thanks @targaryenvampireslayer for letting me (s)cream about this. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in from the balcony door woke you slowly. You weren't sure what time it was as you squinted against the brightness with a small stretch, the spacious bedroom becoming brighter with each passing second. You had only been in the villa for a day, but it was your new favorite place. Thanks in large part to the person who brought you here.

But I can because he’s my man.

Bucky Barnes, a man who was intimidating even laying down. Tall with wide shoulders, built like a warrior with a few scars to prove it. You moved a finger through his nearly trimmed beard and almost wished he'd open his steely eyes so you could gaze into them. He unnerved many with his stare, but he always looked at you as if you were the reason he saw the light of day. Burying your face in his neck with a sigh, it gave you a sense of peace when he pulled you closer to him on instinct.

“Morning,” you whispered, shifting so your body could melt into his more.

He moaned appreciatively as your hips moved closer. “How did you sleep?” He tipped your chin up so he could look at you, the sleep fading quickly from his eyes. It didn't matter that he just woke up, he looked as handsome as ever and knocked the wind right out of you. It was highly doubtful you looked beautiful having just woken up, but he’d say looked perfect if you asked.

“I slept well,” you answered. You had good dreams, including one of the two of you sitting on soft white sand and watching the waves crash in the glittering ocean. You could go anywhere in the world you wanted now thanks to him. “Did you?”

Bucky warned you when you entered your relationship with him that he sometimes had trouble sleeping. Bouts of insomnia and occasional nightmares. You witnessed one first-hand near the beginning when he woke up in a cold sweat, his hand clenched like he was holding a weapon and empty eyes like he couldn't see what was right in front of him. He didn't like to talk about his past and could only tell you later on that all he saw were bullets and blood.

His haunted gaze broke your heart.

Need slammed into you at the implication, your palms itching to feel his hardened body as he held you closer. You wanted to trace the scars, the tattoos. Every inch of him. “Sure you don't want breakfast first?”

The low heat from his voice seared through your core, wrapping around you like the satin sheet that covered you both. It was the only thing covering you in fact, your clothes strewn across the floor the night before. He had you keep the diamond pendant on, a gift he had given you when you arrived at the villa. It was beautiful.

The diamond to his steel.

“As if you’d ever starve. Your appetite for me is borderline gluttonous,” you teased. Guilt flickered in his eyes before you put a hand to his cheek, his expression shifting back to normal. “Hey, I didn't mean that in a bad way. I love that you want me.”

Oh, did Bucky want you. His face buried between your thighs, his cock spearing you open. If he didn't have you in bed, he had you against a wall or bent over the nearest surface. Not a day went by that he didn't give you at least one orgasm, like he was making up for lost time apart before you even knew each other. It didn't make sense to you some days that a man as gorgeous and worldly as him could have anyone he wanted, but chose you.

“And I love you wanting me,” he said. You didn't just want him. You ached for him, inside and out. How could one man hold such power over you? To be fair, the balance of power was equal in some ways since you affected him the same way.

“How could I not want you? Even if I resisted, your skills of seduction are dangerous.”

You gasped when a massive thigh pushed between your legs. “Moya Sladkaya, you think I’m seductive?” he purred, making you shiver as the sound vibrated through your body.

“Yes and you know you are.” You bit your lip as his thigh shifted, gliding along your heat. It was tempting to ride it. “Your voice, your eyes, your mouth, your body. Partially why you became my sugar daddy.”

He growled as he suddenly rolled on top of you. “I'm your boyfriend,” he corrected you, holding your gaze. He looked hungry. “Who happened to wipe out your debt the way a sugar daddy would.”

“That’s still crazy to me,” you remarked.

“That I wiped out your debt or that I’m your boyfriend?”

You twirled a bit of his hair around your finger. “Both,” you whispered. Living a debt free life was something you hadn't thought possible until he showed up. Now you had a life without the stress of bills and work, and also one where you felt loved and cared for. He gave you that and more. “But it’s crazy in the best possible way.”

“So it’s a good thing I'm crazy about you,” he smirked.

“Crazy about me?” You put a hand to his forehead. “Hmm. I think you should have your head examined.”

Bucky took your hand and brought it to his mouth, his expression blank. “No one needs to look inside my head,” he said, his eyes warm again as he kissed your palm. It seemed to push out whatever memory undoubtedly crept into his mind. “Because if someone could, they’d see all the dirty things I've done to you and no one else needs to see that.”

You giggled as he nudged your legs apart. “Yes, you’ve done a lot of dirty things to me,” you teased, your eyes slipping shut as he peppered kisses along your jaw and neck. Just two days ago he had you naked in his lap with your arms tied behind your back while he fed you dessert. And then he had you for dessert. “You’re insatiable.”

Unexpected tears burned behind your lids. He lived in a world of gray for so long. The least you could do after everything was bring him some light. “You saved me, too,” you breathed. He got to be your hero. You got to be his treasure. A fair trade in his eyes.

“You’re a good man,” you said softly, fiercely. He didn't think he was because of some of the things he had done, because of the blood on his hands, but he wasn’t a bad person. “I mean it, Bucky.”

He sighed, scraping his beard against your skin affectionately. “I know you do.” He took his time sliding his hand down your torso, your breath leaving your lungs at the same slow speed. “But I want to compliment you, so take what I give you.”

You'd be sure to compliment him again later. “Not the only thing you’ll tell me to take, is it?” You giggled when he growled again. Getting under his skin was a lot of fun. “We both know I take you so well. Just like I take every drop you spill into me, no matter which hole you choose.”

He made a sound between a moan and a growl. You didn't think your dirty talk was the best by any means, but he loved it. “And you call me insatiable,” he said, his fingers exquisitely gentle as they found your wetness. “Always wet and ready for me, eager for me to fill all of your holes.”

He brought his face up to yours, close enough that he breathed against your lips. “I haven't ruined you yet.” His promise had you trembling, wishing he’d tear you apart without a second thought.

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, heat curling in your stomach as he slipped a calloused finger inside you. Your hands moved to his arms, his muscles rippling as he pumped it deep. Your sensitive walls clenched as he added another, a delicious tease of what was to come. How did your need for him continue to grow with each day that passed?

Bucky broke the kiss, your breathing heavy as he continued to toy with you. “After breakfast, I want your cunt pulsing on my tongue,” he whispered as he broke the kiss, a thrill shooting from your head to your toes. You’d be content to spend the rest of your life sitting on his face if you could get away with it.

“Bucky, please,” you begged, pleasure mounting as his fingers curled. You tried to hold back the familiar cresting waves, wanting his cock inside you when you let it wash over you. “Make love to me. Fuck me. Just get your cock in me.”

Slowly removing his fingers, your hole clenching around nothing, he smirked as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean. The stark hunger in his gaze at the taste of you nearly made you orgasm. “Well, since you’re so desperate for me,” he teased, gripping the base of his cock and lining the head against your hole.

“I’m desperate?” Your voice cracked when he slid into you in one deep thrust. Your fingers dug into his biceps, adjusting to the size of him as he looked into your eyes. He was searching for any discomfort or pain. There was none there. Your body would always welcome him home.

“Yes. Desperate.” You couldn't deny that when Bucky moved his hips. Deep, long strokes, the drag of his cock making you feel almost mindless. No one before him made you desperate. No one else ever would. “Wet. Tight. Beautiful. Perfect.”

You gasped, rolling your hips up to meet his. “I’m not-” He cut you off with a kiss, silencing your protest that you weren't perfect. You were anything but. Like everyone, you had flaws. Imperfections. It was like he didn't see them or they didn't exist in his eyes.

“Yes, you fucking are,” he growled, making you cry out when he thrust hard. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he crushed your chests together, your heart matching the rhythm of his. You held onto him like you never wanted to let him go. “My perfect treasure.”

Heat engulfed you as he reached between you and slid his fingers along your clit. Your hips bucked, your arousal climbing and taking you higher. The handsome man above you canting his hips and groaning as you keened had your body begging for release.

“Bucky, please. I need to come,” you whined. You didn't need his permission, but you still begged for it.

A hand worked its way to his hair and gripped it, trying to ground yourself from the sensations rushing through you. The edges of your vision blurred as your body wound tighter, ready to give yourself over to the pleasure only he could provide. “Please, Bucky,” you said. At least you thought you said it. The waves were ready to sweep you away.

“Come for me.” His husky voice wasn't one to be denied. “Make my dream come true.”

Your head fell back, your walls fluttering around his cock as you went over the precipice. Blood roared in your ears, but you could still hear him moan your name as you spiraled out of control. His body followed your lead, pumping his hips a few more times before he came with a deep moan. Feeling him flood your insides and seeing ecstasy fill his gorgeous eyes made you grip him like a vice all over again.

Bucky pulled you close when he gently collapsed on the bed, staying inside you as long as he could. Your body fit against his like you were designed just for him and you couldn't help but smile as you caught your breath. He smiled, too. A gorgeous, carefree smile.

“Dream come true?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat when his smile widened and eyes crinkled.

“Even better,” he whispered, cupping your cheek and skimming his lips against yours in a soft kiss. “Can we just stay like this?

You rubbed your cheek against his hand as the hazy cloud lifted. “If that’s what you want.”

“I meant forever,” he half teased, his hand reaching for yours to trace your bare finger.

His eyes crinkled again as he chuckled. How did a laugh sound both wholesome and seductive? That was the power of Bucky Barnes. “And sex to keep us in shape,” he said, pulling the sheet more over you. “Sounds perfect, even if I don’t deserve it.”

You tilted your head, gazing at the man who turned your world upside down as the happiness slowly slipped from his face. Like how your body ached for his, your heart ached for him, too. “You do deserve this. You're not a bad man, Bucky.” He needed to hear it again. You'd tell him as many times as it took until it sank in.

His jaw twitched, his eyes holding a hint of regret. “I’ve killed people,” he reminded you in an even tone.

“I know,” you whispered. You accepted that it was part of his past and who he was. You accepted him. “That doesn’t make you unworthy of me.”

His eyes closed, his hold on you firmer. “It would almost be easier if you condemned me, but I’m a selfish man who wouldn’t be able to let you go.”

Your heart swelled. He was so gone for you. “I’m not asking you to let me go,” you said, turning his head back to you until his eyes opened. “I’m your treasure, remember? Yours to keep.”

The hard edges to his face softened once again. “C’mere,” he breathed. You met him halfway when he leaned in, his lips only on yours for a second when the doorbell rang. You were about to ask if he was expecting company, but he didn’t have to with the way his body tensed. He turned away from you, his phone in hand to check the camera at the front door. Security was important to him. “What the hell?”

“Who is it?” You sat up, not bothering to cover yourself as he got up and threw something on. You couldn’t even appreciate the view since his entire demeanor changed. “And should I go with you?”

His jaw twitched again. “Delivery guy dropped something off and left. Hang back a little,” he answered before he grabbed you a robe. He’d preferred you close as opposed to being in the bedroom alone. “I don’t want anyone seeing you if they’re still nearby.”

“Lots of people see me,” you tried to joke. You stopped smiling when he swung his head your way. He took your safety very seriously. “I’ll hang back.”

Taking your hand, he headed to the front of the villa. Your legs shook a bit, but you blamed that on the orgasm he gave you and not fear. He stopped you before you could reach the door, giving you a quick, hard kiss. It left you breathless when he pulled away. “Stay right here,” he whispered, your heart pounding as he grabbed one of his many hidden guns.

Weapons everywhere, a habit he’d never break.

You couldn’t see his expression when he went out to retrieve whatever was dropped off, but you understood his paranoia since he lived a dangerous life before. Not a lot of people knew where you were going on this vacation and he clearly wasn't expecting a delivery. “What is it?” you asked once he put the gun away and went back to you. A smile touched your lips when you saw the arrangement of various red flowers. “Those are beautiful.”

“They’re addressed to you.” He plucked the card from the holder to show you, his mouth set in a grim line. “But I didn’t order these.”

Dread filled you as you took the card from him and turned it over. Your name was the only thing written on it, minus a small stamp in the corner you hadn’t seen before: a heart and dagger. “Well, if you didn’t get me these, who did?”

“Someone from my past,” he said so quietly he almost missed it.

Your eyes widened. “Why would someone from your past send me flowers?” As far as you knew he didn't keep in touch with most of his old associates. “And how do they know we’re here?”

You stopped breathing when you saw his eyes. Cold. Deadly. “That’s what I'm going to find out.”

So much for staying in bed today.

OOH. What do we think so far? I wonder who from Bucky's past is going to pop up and why. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 days ago

Note

hii, can I request a ninth member fic where the reader is on live and gets comment saying that she should kill herself or leave the group? maybe she’s like oh yeah haha maybe I should and acts fine but likes it’s obvious she’s not. and like the boys are watching the live and are like frick no. (can she be aged between Felix and seungmin js so that it’s like she’s younger than most)

Sorry for such the late response!!!

You started the live like any other night - too tired to think straight, too loyal to Stay to skip it.

The camera lit up in your bedroom, the soft fairy lights casting a golden blur behind your head.

You were still in your dance hoodie, bangs a little damp with sweat, sleeves pulled over your fingers. You offered the lens a soft smile and waved.

“Hi, loves,” you whispered, voice hoarse from practice. “I missed you all.”

Comments rushed in instantly - fast, excited, familiar. You leaned closer to read them, smile softening as usernames you recognized flew past.

“she’s glowing even in low light 😭” “queen of killing me with one look” “what did you eat today 🥺 tell usss” "how does she look so majestic even when shes tired" "ONE CHANCE PLEASE ONE CHANCE" "she makes me question my sexuality" "did you eat anything yummy today?"

You laughed a little. “Does electrolyte water count? I forgot to eat until, like, fifteen minutes ago, but my water was lemon flavored.”

You leaned closer to the camera as you placed both your hands around your warm mug, answering comments softly.

"A lot of you are talking about exam season. I hope you guys are studying well."

Heart emojis exploded in response. You settled back against your pillows, sipping tea, doing your best to focus on the warmth in the chat - not the emptiness in your chest.

It had been going on for a few weeks now. After a Princes and Princess themed photoshoot, where you took swoon worthy romantic pictures with not just one, but all the boys, hate had started to become very obvious.

It wasn't like there was anything of the sort going on. The people at the magazine just wanted something to stir up publicity.

But it also stirred up an already wavering fanbase.

Your last-minute addition to Stray Kids debut lineup a long while ago had taken some getting used to for a lot of Stay who had followed them pre-debut. Years later and some people still viewed your position in the group as odd. And one silly photoshoot seemed to backtrack any progress you had made with the fans.

You had been used to seeing hate when you had stalked the web with your fake account.

But it had never been as bad as it had been now.

You tried to shake that feeling, take another sip of tea-

Then it hit.

A comment so sharp, so immediate, it felt like your stomach dropped through the floor.

“you should just kill yourself and stop embarrassing the rest of skz. no one wants you here anyway.”

You froze mid-sip. The mug clinked too hard when you set it down.

You stared at the screen - not even blinking - until your face started to go numb, you could tell your cheeks were painted pink.

“Oh,” you said, too softly. “Wow.” You swallowed. "Chat is getting a little spicy, no?"

You laughed. A little. Just once. But couldn't help see the other comments that agreed with it.

Then you tilted your head and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Well…maybe they’ve got a point,” you said lightly. “Maybe I should leave. It's not like I haven't thought about it before. Just a matter of whether or not its permanent.” You gave another laugh, not even sure why you felt the need to add that on.

The comments hadn't been affecting you that harshly...had they?

As you zoned out and ran through what you said once more you realized that-

Yeah. Maybe they had been. For too long too. Like some sort of erosion. Slowly chipping away at me, but unnoticeably until a strong gust of wind showed me just how deep these things had dug down to...

The chat stalled for a second - long enough for some fans to panic, for others to laugh, for a few to flood the screen with

NO NO NO STOP what did she just say?? wait what happened?? someone translate is she okay?

But you waved it off.

“I’m kidding,” you said, voice too high, too smooth, too practiced. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

You kept going - talked about music, a new movie you wanted to see, made a joke about Lee Know being the your food police- but something in you had already curled up and gone quiet.

You ended the live with a heart and a too-bright smile.

“Love you,” you said. “Be safe, okay?”

And the moment the screen went black, your smile cracked clean in half.

Somewhere away from you they were already watching.

The boys had gathered all together in Chan's dorm to watch your live. They saw you as family, and like the 8 supportive brothers they were, they had to see what you talked about. Joking and placing bets on who you'd throw under the bus this week, what embarrassing little secret you'd laugh about, what had been your favorite memory you had created since last speaking with Stay.

The second you said those words - soft and sarcastic and deadly - Chan’s heart had dropped.

“Go back, can you go back?” he said, standing up.

"It's a live Hyung, of course we can't." Jisung murmured, itching his hand in nervousness.

Seungmin was already reaching for his phone on the other side of the room, planning to call you. Hyunjin sat up slowly, blinking at the TV screen like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“She didn’t mean that,” Jeongin said, quiet. “Right?”

“She's not the type to say it to be funny,” Felix whispered. “She meant it.”

“She’s still alone at the company, right?” Changbin was already on his feet, grabbing a hoodie. “I’m calling the manager.”

“No,” Chan said. “No calls. We’re going. Now.”

The studio was quiet.

You hadn’t moved since the live ended. The laptop sat closed on your desk. A mahogany one Hyunjin said fit the aesthetic of your mini studio. Paired with a futon you sometimes crashed on. Also, courtesy if Hyunjin. Your mug of tea was still half-full, forgotten. You sat on your swivel chair, your knees to your chest, hoodie sleeves bunched around your fists, staring at the dark screen like it might answer the question you couldn’t voice:

Why does it hurt this much?

You didn’t cry. You didn’t even breathe too hard. You just sat there, hollowed out by the weight of something you couldn’t name.

You didn’t hear the frantic knocking. Or the bang of Changbin and Chris' shoulders into the door, more or less breaking the lock.

You didn’t hear the footsteps, the whispered voices, the way someone dropped keys on the floor in their rush to get to you.

You only looked up when someone wrapped their arms around you, the familiar smell of vanilla extract and laundry detergent jumpstarting you.

You peeked out from over Felix's embrace, Chan the first one you noticed, face pale, shoulders tense, still in the doorway. Behind him were the rest of your members. Your family.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Can we come in?”

You opened your mouth to say yes, but nothing came out.

So he stepped in anyway.

And they followed.

They moved you over to the futon, Hyunjin sitting at the edge, Seungmin dropped onto the floor, Han and Jeongin hovering near your desk, the first one's chin quivering, the latter's eyes watery. Minho and Changbin joining Seungmin on the ground and Chan embracing you along with Felix.

Felix sat next to you, his hand brushing yours.

“Why didn’t you call one of us?” he asked, voice so gentle it nearly broke you.

You looked away. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“Y/N,” Chan said, soft but firm. “You said you should leave. On live. With thousands of people watching.”

“I was kidding.”

“No, you weren’t,” Seungmin said. “We know your voice better than that.”

Silence.

"I'm fine-"

"Noona, you won't hurt yourself will you." The heaviness that followed Jeongin's watery voice told you all you needed to know about how to answer that heavy question. You looked up and saw his fox like guys looking at you expectantly, a heartbroken pout on his lips.

And then it cracked.

“I’m just so tired,” you cried. “Of pretending. Of acting like all the hate doesn’t get to me.” You shook in Felix and Chan's embrace, Felix crying along with you.

Which then propelled Han into water works as well.

“You could have told us,” Han said through his sobs launching himself haphazardly at you somehow managing to knee Minho in the chin. "You're our baby." He said petting your head. "We're horrible fathers." He cried. "Horrible."

You knew you were hurting when you couldn't even manage a laugh at Seungmin's response to Han's dramatics.

“I don’t want to be the reason we get hate. I don’t want fans to leave because I’m in the group. I already get told every day that I’m just here to ruin it and it seems like it's just getting worse-”

“Then they’re not fans,” Hyunjin snapped, placing his hand on your knee, or doing his best to as Jisung was still laid over you. “They don’t get to call themselves Stay if they treat you like that.”

You blinked, startled at his sharp tone.

“He's right.” Seungmin said, softer than you'd ever heard him speak. “You’re not some extra. You’re my noona. You taught me how to harmonize. And held my hand during our first concert even if I told you not too. You- you...you were the first person who made me realize my smile was beautiful because even if people hated it, it was born from countless memories with you."

Jeongin spoke next. "You're my noona too. You were the first person to call me talented when I thought I wasn’t. The first one who told the world I was more then just a cute face or a spoiled maknae. You made me realize what it truly meant to believe in myself.”

You opened your mouth - and then closed it, because what do you say to that? You tried blinking away your tears and then Minho spoke.

"You’ve always been the one holding all of us together," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "You cheer for us when no one else does. You see the things we don’t even notice about ourselves. It’s about time someone saw you, too."

Changbin’s hand reached for yours.

“You make this group better,” he said. “More complete. I don’t even want to imagine Stray Kids without you. And I won’t.. None of us will.”

Felix sighed. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to quit? How many times I thought I was dragging everyone down?”

You looked at him. He nodded.

“I may seem happy. We all may seem happy but we struggle to. And then you come around. And you smile. And we stay.”

You choked on a breath.

“We’re a team,” Chan said with finality. “We rise together. We fall together. And if you ever - ever - feel like disappearing again…”

He paused. Voice thick.

“Take me with you.”

You stared.

“All of us,” Minho added. “If you go, we go. That’s how this works.”

Something cracked inside your chest.

And then, finally- finally - you broke completely and utterly.

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and fast, and your face crumpled as you tried to bite it back. But all the guys were already jumping into the embrace, 8 strong arms keeping you steady, 8 sets of tears being added to your own.

They didn’t say anything else.

They didn’t need to.

They just held you - as if their touch alone could glue the pieces of you that you hadn't even noticed were breaking back together.

And maybe it could.

The night was long. None of them left your studio.

When you finally slept - curled under three blankets Seungmin had finessed from a storage room and two members - your last thought was that maybe, just maybe, you’d be okay.

But the next morning, when you woke to bright fluorescents and shuffling of productive activities, you realized the dull ache behind your eyes still lingered, the pit in your stomach remained.

Until Chan quietly placed a warm mug in your hand and sat beside you.

“We’re going live,” he said, brushing your hair back with a gentle hand. “As a group. We’re going to talk about it. All of it."

You didn’t ask what "it" was. You knew.

You hesitated. “Should I be there?”

He smiled - not the leader-smile, the brotherly one. The one that showed up when you were hurting.

“No,” he said gently, still messing with your hair. “Not if it’ll hurt more. We’ve got this. You just rest okay? We'll get you something to eat and change into.”

You nodded, blinking too fast.

But deep down, you already knew you’d watch it live.

Later that afternoon, after you somehow found your way back to the dorms, you got the notification.

📢 [Stray Kids (9)] LIVE: A Message to Stay 💬

The chat exploded before the stream even began.

You watched from your bed, phone glowing in your palm, heart pounding.

When the screen lit up, the boys were seated tightly on the couch - all eight of them.

You found yourself chuckling.

Typical of them to not know what personal space is.

Although their usual chaos was gone.

This was serious.

And the chat seemed to pick up on it quickly.

Well, the majority of it at least.

A few familiar users seemed to be completley oblivious to the tone of the meeting.

Chan looked straight into the camera.

“Hi, Stay. We’re going to be really honest with you. You all know we joke a lot. We play around. But this isn’t that kind of live.”

He took a breath. "As most of you know, something happened during Y/N’s solo live yesterday. You probably saw it - or at least heard about it., as things tend to escalate rather quickly.”

"For those who don't know there was a comment. A really bad one. And it hurt her. Deeply. Ther have been multiple comments, and much hate going around.”

“And we’re here to make sure you understand that that is never okay.”

"Stray Kids debuted planned to debut as eight. Then became nine. That wasn’t a marketing move. That was a decision - one we made together.”

"We. Are. Nine."

The sharpness in his voice seemed to cease the majority of the comments in the chat. Some people scolding others, others saying they felt as if they were in trouble even if they didn't post any hate.

Felix spoke next.

“She didn’t audition to be loved by everyone. Not one of us did. But we are a family. And she is part of us. She makes us stronger. She works harder than anyone I know. And the idea that someone would tell her to-”

His voice cracked. He looked away for a second.

Chan took over once more. “There are thousands of comments. Most are positive. But sometimes it only takes one to destroy someone’s day. Or their outlook on things. Or..."

He swallowed. "Or worse."

He waited a moment before speaking again.

“If you're a Stay, you protect, not harm because that’s what fandom is supposed to be. A place to love each other and uplift."

“To everyone who reached out with kindness, to those who reported that comment, who showed love - thank you. You continue to remind us why we do this, and we love you for that."

"But more need to be done to make sure this never happens again. Not just to her. To anyone. If you don’t like one of us, that’s your opinion. But if you wish harm on someone, you’re not Stay. And that goes for any fandom you belong to. You are not a fan if you can't love and appreciate what everyone contributes. If you can't set aside you opinions for that. This isn’t about canceling anyone. This is about protecting each other.”

All the boys nodded.

"She's our family. A sister. And we do everything to protect family." Changbin said.

"She is special to each and every one of us, and if you can't respect that you can leave." Minho said sharply.

"Because of yesterday's incidents, we've come to the agreement to cancel our upcoming schedules." Chan said suddenly.

The chat became frantic, and your eyes were wide as you leaned in closer to your phone.

"If you want one of us to leave then we all leave. Simple." Chan said firmly. "Until that lesson can be learned this is what is right to do. Any more hate spread will have legal action followed. We stand firm in these decisions."

The chat was still frantic, but the boys didn't care.

"Y/N-ah. We know you're watching." Chan said.

"You’re our little sister." Jisung, Hyunjin, Changbin, Chan, Minho and Felix said.

"Our Noona." Jeongin and Seungmin parroted.

"Our teammate."

"Our light."

"We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“We love you. Not just when you’re strong. Not just when you smile. All the time.”

“You’re enough. Always were.”

“Stay needs to hear us say it, and maybe… you do too.”

“You’re stuck with us forever.”

“Stray Kids is nine.” All the boys said.

“And that will never change.” Chan said, getting up to end the live. "Thank you, Stay. Let’s be better - together.”

[Live Ended]

You shut off your phone with trembling fingers.

You didn’t cry this time.

You smiled. Not a fake one. A small one, real and quiet.

You didn't realize how long you sat there until you heard a soft knock.

"Noona! Can we come in?”

Jeongin's voice. Happy and bright.

You wiped your face, not realizing you had in fact shed tears.

Of relief. Appreciation,

“Of course.”

Because you weren’t scared anymore. You knew where you stood. Who you were to both yourself and the boys you had grown with.

You were no longer scared.

Not today.

Not with them.

Not with Stay.

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

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

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alotofpockets · 3 days ago

Text

Between kicks | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Pregnant!Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Did the baby just kick?”

Warnings: pregnancy, preterm labour, emergency c-section

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.2k

-----

Pregnancy was a new experience for both you and Kyra. A whole new world opened for the both of you, learning so much from your family and friends who have kids themselves. You were grateful for having so many people around you that helped the two of you on your journey to parenthood, you wouldn’t know what you would be doing without all of their helpful tips and insights.

A few weeks ago you and Kyra had sat down in the room that you were going to convert into the nursery. Discussing what you would like the theme for the room to be. Scrolling through pinterest, showing each other things you liked and disliked.

“Any colour scheme you’d like to go with?” You had asked Kyra, as you had seen so many ideas that you no longer knew what to look for anymore. Kyra looked around the room, deep in thought about your question.

“What about green and yellow?” She asked with a hopeful undertone. “Matildas colours?” You asked, and you watched her smile grow. “Yeah, you know since we live here in the UK, maybe it would be nice to have a little bit of my home in the room.” You didn’t need any convincing, but loved the thought she had put behind the choice. “I love it. Green and yellow it is.”

Once your friends had finished painting the room for you, the two of you had taken over again. Kyra was assembling the baby furniture while you were washing and folding all the baby clothes you had bought so far. Neither one of you could stop yourselves when you saw something cute at the store, so you definitely had more than enough clothes already, including a couple baby jersey’s of course.

After another little shirt was folded, you felt something move in your belly. You move your hand to your belly and wait to feel it again. There it was again, a soft kick to your hand. Your eyes welled up, this was the first time you had felt your baby move. “Ky, come here quick!” You said excitedly.

Kyra rushed to your side. “Is everything okay?” You smiled through the tear that was rolling down your cheek, “Yeah, just wait.” With your free hand, you lift up Kyra’s and lay it down on your belly where you had just felt the baby.

It took a moment, but then you felt it again. “Did the baby just kick?” Kyra asked. Her eyes widen when you nod. “Yeah, I think he likes the room already.” With a content smile your wife looks over the room, “Great taste, little man.”

The pregnancy was going great, all the appointments went smoothly. Every scan showed a happy and healthy baby, so when the conversation about Kyra’s upcoming national camp came up, you were quick to convince her to go. “Darling, we are perfectly healthy and we still have three months to go before the expected delivery date. Let them know you’re available to go, please.” Kyra had said she shouldn’t go, that she shouldn’t leave you while you were pregnant, but you tried convincing her to go. There was still plenty of time in the pregnancy, and you had enough people around you to help out.

It took a lot of convincing, but eventually she gave in and let the coach know that she would be available for selection. Not soon after her call-up had come. She wanted to leave you completely taken care of, so she prepared everything that she could and made sure there were friends and family there to check up on you.

“I’m going to miss you both so much.” She said as she hugged you goodbye and then knelt down to kiss your belly. “Take care of your mama, little one.” She whispered. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

A week of texts, and quick video calls went by while Kyra was training with the team in Australia. She was constantly checking up on you, to the point where you had jokingly asked Steph who was in the background to confiscate Kyra’s phone so she could focus on her job. It was all out of love though, so you couldn’t really be annoyed at her for caring so much.

You had your mom over for lunch, and she’d stay to watch Kyra’s game with you. She had never cared much for football herself, but grew to love it with every game of Kyra’s you had dragged her to watch with you over the years.

While you were cleaning up after yourselves in the kitchen, all of a sudden you stopped talking mid sentence. Your mom turned around, “What’s that, darling?” She asks, thinking she misheard. But when she turns around she sees the panicked look on your face.

Your right hand is on your lower belly, while with your left you hold onto the counter like your life depends on it. Your knuckles white from how tightly you are gripping it. A sharp pain shoots through your belly, and your mom notices you turning pale. “I’m here, baby.” She steps forwards and helps to hold you up right.

“Mom, something is wrong.” You say before even noticing that you’re bleeding. It started slowly but then there was a lot of blood. Your mom was quick to help you to the ground and called 911.

Everything moved so fast. The last thing you faintly remember hearing is “Thirty weeks pregnant, heavy vaginal bleeding, vitals unstable. ETA ten minutes.” Before your eyes drift close.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, the Matildas had just kicked off. It was the first match of international break, and Kyra was excited to get her first touches back with the Matildas. For the first time since she left, she wasn’t worried about you and the baby, her full focus was on football.

Not even ten minutes into the match, Clare Wheeler started warming up. It got some weird looks from the fans in the stadium, and a couple of confused faces on the pitch, but everyone went with it. The coaches knew what they were doing.

The next time that the ball went out of bounds, Clare got up to make the substitution. Kyra heard her name being yelled, and right away she knew something was wrong. She ran to the side and knew her instincts were right when she saw the look in Clare’s eyes as she quickly high fived her.

“Are they okay?” Kyra asked the coach instantly as she stepped off. The coach put an arm around her and guided her into the tunnel instantly. Just getting Kyra away from the crowd. “We just got a call from your mother in law. Y/n is being rushed to the hospital. Right now we don’t know a lot, just that both your wife and the baby need immediate medical attention.”

Kyra’s heart was beating like crazy, this couldn’t be happening while she was on the other side of the world. Why did she let you talk her into going, she should be by your side. “We’ve got you a ticket for the first flight out. If you leave now, they should be able to hold the plane on the ground for you.”

The coach urged her to move towards the locker room to quickly grab her stuff. While one of the other staff members was getting her car to drive her to the airport. They told her not to worry about the rest of her stuff, that they would send it along with Steph and Caitlin, they just wanted Kyra to be with her family as soon as possible. Especially since the flight was so long. They made sure she got wifi so she could stay updated, and she was taking full advantage of that, constantly checking in with her mother in law.

It wasn’t until a few hours into the flight that Kyra got the update that you were out of surgery. She read over the message a hundred times. “They’re both okay. She’s out of surgery, and resting now. They had to perform an emergency c-section because the baby was in distress, but your little boy is strong. He is in the NICU being monitored.”

She cursed herself for missing the birth of her baby, but ultimately was grateful that the both of you were doing okay. She wiped away a tear, not wanting to cry in a full plane. Now that she had gotten this update, she knew she had to get some sleep in to make this flight go by faster. She texted your mom to let her know if anything changes, and that she would leave her phone on for any news.

After seemingly the longest flight of her life, Kyra finally arrived back in the Uk and quickly took an Uber to the hospital.

Kyra basically sprinted through the hospital to find your room. When she entered you were sitting up in the bed slightly, still connected to a bunch of monitors and an IV. Tears sprung in her eyes again. Without saying a word she stepped all the way to the side of your bed and hugged you tight. Your mom stepped out of the room to give the two of you a moment.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Kyra whispered. You smiled at her weakly, “Yeah, me too.” Kyra sat down on the edge of the bed and put her hands on yours. “I should have been here, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t.” You’re quick to shake your head, “Don’t be. Neither one of us knew this was going to happen. The doctor’s said that sometimes it just happens, and there is no underlying reason why. I’m okay and our little man is too, I’m just glad you’re here with us now.” You squeezed her hand lightly.

“I’m sorry you had to miss your match, I know you were looking forward to it.” Kyra chuckled, “I think I will get over that a lot quicker than missing my baby's birth.” To lighten the mood, you added, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I missed it too. I mean I was there but not consciously.”

“Have you seen him yet?” Your wife asks. “Only through pictures and videos mom showed me. I haven’t been strong enough to head to the NICU until my last check up thirty minutes ago, and since I knew you were close, I wanted to wait and meet our little man together.”

So, that’s what you did. Kyra pushed your wheelchair to the NICU, with your mom in tow, filming every moment. As you rounded the corner, there was a nurse waiting to guide you to your baby. “He’s been waiting to meet his mamas.” She said as you arrived.

You look into the incubator to see him for the first time. He looked impossibly small, but his chest was rising and falling steadily. He has a few sensors tucked away between the blankets to monitor him, as well as a tiny nasal cannula to help his breathing. But those weren’t the things you were focussing on, your focus was on his perfect little face, his tiny hands gripping the blanket, and his tongue moving around his lips. “He’s perfect.” Kyra whispered in awe.

“Would you like to hold him?” The nurse asked. You didn’t even need a second to think about it, of course you wanted to hold him.

The nurse carefully took him out of the incubator and adjusted his wires as she laid him into your arms. Everything you had been worried about faded away a little as you got to hold him. You cradled him to your chest, Kyra laying her hand on his back as her forehead was touching yours.

The already perfect moment became even more perfect when he left out a content sigh. Hearing him like that warmed your heart and made you fall in love with him even more.

As much as you wanted to keep holding him, the position you had to sit in to do so wasn’t entirely comfortable after your surgery, so it was quickly Kyra’s turn to hold him. She sat down on a chair next to you, and the nurse helped to move him to his other mom.

You reached out your hand to move your finger over his tiny cheek, and then down to his shoulder, arms and his hand. On instinct he wrapped his hand around your finger, bringing out a smile to your face.

“Did you pick out a name yet?” Your mom asks, with her phone still recording the three of you. You and Kyra shared a look, there had been a few on your list that you liked, but the moment that you had seen him, you had known exactly which one you thought best fit him. Kyra nods, and you both turn to your mom again. “Oliver.” You said at the same time, your smile growing that you had the exact same feeling.

-----

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anakinstwinklebunny · 3 days ago

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PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

The bedroom you were snugly in was dressed in quiet, its walls wrapped up in that heavy kind of silence that only came after a long, exhausting day of twins' parents. As to in their matter, they were finally asleep, snuggled in their sheets after ANAKIN SKYWALKER's bedtime story about a princess and a knight - you quickly had to come up with something else, knowing Leia’s full dislike for such stories. She was the epitome of the definition of not needing a knight to survive. She could have had it all done by herself, at least that's what she's saying.

You laid on the bed, tucked under the covers, chin propped on your hand, watching him move around the room.

Anakin was pulling an old, loose t-shirt over his head—the one that always smelled like him, the one that clung to his shoulders and chest before falling soft over his abs, the lines of his body still sharp and distractingly perfect even after a full day of wrangling toddlers and working.

You stared a little too long. Stared until your stomach knotted itself up in a sad, ugly kind of way.

Because there he was, looking like he could be carved out of stone —

and then there was you.

You tugged the blanket a little higher up your body without even thinking, voice barely a whisper when you finally spoke without much thought; it was already eating you alive.

"…Annie?"

He turned immediately, sensing the shift in your mood like he always did. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You hesitated, biting your lip.

You hated how small you sounded.

How insecure. But with his eyes gazing straight at yours as he slipped into the black shirt he used to bed, you truly understood what you just caught yourself in. It wasn't like you wanted to weight him down with your problems, he already had a lot on his plate. Yet at the same time, if you'd just brush it off, he'd know something is off, and won't let go of the subject till you'd eventually tell him

You braced yourself at the possible worst thing that could ever leave your mouth; you took a deep breath in, let it sink for a moment

"Are you still… attracted to me?" The words left your mouth too fast, too rushed, as if saying them quicker would somehow make them hurt less than they already did.

Anakin froze, a soft, almost pained crease forming between his brows. "What?"

You dropped your gaze to the blanket, fidgeting with a loose thread.

"I just—" you sighed, voice starting to crack.."I know you love me. But I want you to, you know… want me too. Not just because I'm the mother of your kids or your wife or whatever. But because… because you actually want me." You trailed off, cheeks burning, shame curling in your chest. You didn't dare to look up at him; there was no courage for that anymore "I just feel so… gross lately. Tired. Soft. Fat. Not like the girls you work with or--or just see on TV..And sometimes I look at you—" You swallowed hard. "—and I wonder if maybe you're just staying nice things because you're a good man..and not..because..you mean them.."

The room was so still you could hear the distant hum of the air conditioning.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You thought he might get mad at you; for doubting his love for you when he shows it everyday. He didn't say anything, and you really braced yourself to just brush off the subject but before you could even open your mouth to say anything, you saw him cross the room in three long strides—

and then his hands moved to you, pulling the blanket down, not to expose, but to pull you closer to himself. Anakin knelt at the side of the bed, face right there, one hand cupping your jaw so gently it made your throat tighten.

His thumb brushed across your cheek. Blue eyes burned into your watery ones, being so intense, so present; holding so much love.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice rough and low. "I’m gonna say this once. And you're gonna listen to me, alright?"

You nodded, tears already threatening to spill.

"I don’t just love you," Anakin murmured, his forehead dropping to yours. "I am in love with you. Every fucking day. Every hour."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"And your body—" his large hands slid down to your hips, squeezing firmly, grounding. "—your body is the most beautiful thing i could ever imagine looking at. It gave me our babies. It holds my heart. It’s the first thing I reach for in the morning and the last thing I hold at night. It’s perfect, you are perfect for me" with that he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, then your trembling mouth.

"I don't want anyone else," he whispered against your lips. "I only want you. Always have. Always will."

You broke then, a little sob escaping with hiccuped apologies, and Anakin shushed you gently, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. With one hand holding your back, the other twisted to the side to turn the lights off, causing the darkness to touch the room. Then he cuddled closer to you, keeping a rhytmhmical tune slip from his mouth as he pulled a duvet over both of you, tucking you into the bed. "You don’t have to apologize," he said softly, rocking you slightly.

"You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t you dare talk about my girl like she’s anything less than a fucking masterpiece."

You clung to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your ear. And for the first time in days, the knot in your chest started to unravel. Anakin shifted slightly, hands stroking your back.

"You wanna know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You nodded wordlessly.

"I see my home," he whispered. "My safe place. The love of my life."

You sniffled, laughing a little wetly. "You’re sappy."

His lips curled in a little tired smile, a light sound of silent chuckle briefly following "I don't remember you complaining before, Rapunzel" he teased, kissing your hair once again "Thought you loved your Flynn Rider"

And god, you did.

You loved him.

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paucubarsisimp · 18 hours ago

Note

reader x oscar where oscar reconnects with a old female friend and kind of neglects reader a little bit, at the beginning y/n gets hurt but ends up deciding to get a male friend to “make things even” so oscar gets really jealous, realizes what he’s been doing and tries to make things right? happy ending pls and maybe don’t make reader forgive him that easily?

second place

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: in which you feel mia is more important than you…

warnings: none

you didn’t expect things to change so quickly.

one minute, you and oscar were solid — late-night facetimes, good luck kisses before qualifying, sleepy grins under hotel duvets. being with him felt like quiet gravity. not loud or dramatic, just right. steady.

and then came mia.

the girl from karting days. the one who could talk race setups and tire strategies in the same breath she joked about oscar’s twelve-year-old mullet.

you weren’t threatened at first. oscar had always been honest. you weren’t insecure.

but it’s hard to stay secure when you go three days without more than a “hey, sorry, busy today” text… and then check instagram to see him tagged in a selfie with her, laughing over sushi.

you didn’t confront him right away. you weren’t that person. you trusted him — or at least, you wanted to.

but when you showed up at the paddock that friday, his reaction said everything.

he didn’t light up the way he used to.

he smiled — polite, distracted. his arm slung around mia’s shoulders like second nature.

you didn’t know whether to feel angry or embarrassed.

maybe both.

you brought it up that night, quietly, after dinner.

“she’s really been around a lot lately.”

oscar shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. “yeah, she’s doing a piece for f1tv. like, a feature thing. it’s temporary.”

you nodded. “just… feels like you’ve kind of forgotten i exist.”

he froze for a second. “y/n, come on. don’t start this.”

that was what hurt the most — not the time he was spending with her. the fact that he brushed off your pain. as if it wasn’t real.

you went to bed with your back to him. he didn’t reach for you.

you didn’t plan to make him jealous.

you didn’t even think of marcus that way — not at first.

he was the boy who used to walk you home from school, steal fries from your lunch tray, accidentally-on-purpose hold your hand during horror movies.

you hadn’t seen him in years. but when you bumped into him at a café near the paddock, it felt like a reset. like someone was seeing you again.

like you weren’t invisible.

oscar didn’t notice you were smiling more that weekend.

but he did notice marcus.

especially when you invited him to the post-race celebration. especially when marcus leaned close to tell you a joke, and you laughed with your whole body — the way you used to laugh with oscar.

he caught your wrist later that night, voice tense. “is this supposed to be a message?”

you stared at him. “no. but i guess it’s working.”

the fight came two days later.

oscar had been cold. distant. until he snapped.

“so what, you just bring some guy around to get my attention? that’s mature.”

your blood ran hot. “don’t pretend you have the high ground when you’ve been mia’s shadow for three weeks!”

“she’s a friend, y/n!”

“so is marcus! or is it only okay when you’re the one doing the ignoring?”

oscar looked at you like he didn’t recognize you. and you realized — he didn’t. because he hadn’t really seen you in weeks.

“i don’t care about mia,” he said, voice strained.

“but you cared more about making her laugh than asking if i was okay.”

that shut him up.

it took time after that.

oscar started showing up again — really showing up.

small things. bringing you coffee before interviews. watching your face instead of his phone. apologizing, not with flowers, but by listening.

you let him back in slowly. not because he begged — but because he changed.

and one night, while you sat on his balcony overlooking monaco’s coast, his fingers laced with yours, he said:

“i got used to you always being there. like i couldn’t lose you. like you’d always wait.”

you didn’t answer right away.

then: “don’t give me a reason to leave, and i won’t.”

his hand tightened in yours. “you’re not second place. not to anyone. not ever again.”

you believed him. not because he said it — but because this time, he meant it.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

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holyblonded · 2 days ago

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baby basquiat | blue stars

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: valerie’s artwork doesn’t make it into the art show, so you and estrella make a change

notes: this is future fic! so estrella and azulita are like 19ish so val around 3 or 4!!

Alexia knew it was going to be a problem the second you and Estrella said you wanted to come with her to pick Valerie up from nursery. She knew.

She had naïvely believed that things would be different now that you two had moved out with your girlfriends. Surely, surely you two would finally chill.

Then both your apartments ended up in the same building and less than two minutes away from home. Alexia still sometimes thinks about that day and feels the urge to cry.

Still, she had hope when she parked the car and leaned against the hood, waiting for the bell to ring. Maybe, just maybe, today would be normal.

But when Valerie came trudging out of the building, her little custom-made pink and purple Barcelona backpack swinging from her shoulder, a huge piece of crayon-colored paper crumpled in her arms, and her mouth twisted into the saddest pout imaginable, Alexia’s heart sank.

Before she could even move, you and Estrella were already sprinting towards her like hounds smelling blood.

You reached her first, scooping her into your arms with a soft but worried, “What’s wrong, my jefita?” You squeezed her tight, cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the universe. (Little boss)

Valerie sniffled against your shoulder. “My art didn’t make it into the art show,” she whimpered, voice shaking. “And I worked so hard on it.”

Estrella crouched in front of her immediately, her hands flying everywhere, checking her, fixing her backpack strap, tucking her hair behind her ear. “WHAT? What do you mean? Let’s go back inside right now and have a chat, Val. Who do I need to talk to?”

You turned a scandalized face to Alexia, while Estrella was already scoping out the doorway like she was about to storm inside and file a formal complaint or possibly throw hands with a preschool teacher.

Alexia let out the world’s longest sigh and muttered under her breath, “I already regret bringing you two.”

When you both started toward the door, practically vibrating with righteous anger, Alexia caught your collars without even looking and yanked you back.

“Try it,” she warned, voice low and deadly. “Try it and you’re both running laps until you puke. And I’m telling Olga that you caused another disruption at Valerie’s school.”

You and Estrella froze immediately, looking at each other and then back at Alexia, calculating. Was revenge worth it? Was being grounded and humiliated in front of Olga worth it?

You two sulked back toward the car, defeated but not for long.

Once everyone was loaded up, Alexia didn’t even bother trying to wrestle Valerie into her car seat. She was curled up in your lap in the back, sniffling softly as you rubbed her back and fed her little pieces of her afternoon snack.

Estrella was in the passenger seat, aggressively squeezing one of Alexia’s old stress balls as per direct orders to “calm her crazy ass down.”

“I made a lot of pictures,” Valerie mumbled sadly. “I worked really, really hard. I even drew the whole team, and a dinosaur wearing a crown, and a big rainbow… but the teacher said none of them were good enough.”

You felt your hands clench involuntarily.

Estrella looked like she was two seconds away from launching herself out of the moving vehicle.

“When I asked her why,” Valerie continued, “she just said not everyone can make it. That my art wasn’t… special enough.”

You and Estrella stared at each other in the rearview mirror with twin expressions of pure rage. Alexia met your eyes briefly and shook her head no.

You barely stopped yourself from jumping out at the next red light to beat up a preschool teacher. Only because Valerie needed you more right now.

Eventually, with her belly full and tucked safely against you, Valerie drifted off into a nap.

As soon as you were sure she was out, you snapped your head toward Alexia, whispering fiercely, “I hope you know that the big sisters,” you pointed between yourself and Estrella, “officially do not approve of this preschool anymore. We are looking for others immediately.”

Alexia sighed so hard she almost deflated in her seat. “I know,” she muttered, like a woman bracing for the storm.

By the time you got home, the sun was dipping low and Valerie was still out cold. You carried her inside carefully, setting her down in her bed and tucking her in, kissing her forehead gently.

Meanwhile, Olga had just stepped out of her office, still in business-casual mode, stretching her arms overhead when you and Estrella cornered her like hounds spotting fresh prey.

“OLGA!” you blurted. “You will not believe what happened—”

“Valerie’s art was rejected, ” Estrella added dramatically, “and the teacher was rude—”

“and we’re planning revenge—”

“—but smart revenge—”

Olga raised her hands like a traffic cop. “Girls. Azulita. Estrella. Calm down before you end up committing a felony.”

“For Valerie?” you and Estrella said at the exact same time. “Worth it.”

Alexia wandered into the hallway looking exhausted, rubbing her temples.

“There’s a better way to handle this,” she muttered.

Olga nodded sagely. “We’ll look for a new nursery. Clearly this one’s not it. And no revenge plots. Understood?”

You and Estrella looked at each other. An idea was already forming. A big, sparkly, neon sign idea. Neither of you said a word out loud. But the sparkle in your eyes gave you away immediately. Olga and Alexia both groaned simultaneously.

“Don’t,” Olga said warningly.

“Just… don’t end up in jail,” Alexia pleaded.

You and Estrella shared matching grins. Too late. The chaos was already in motion. And this time, it was for the best reason in the world.

The apartment was dead silent when you and Estrella slammed a giant whiteboard down in front of everyone. Soleil, Vicky, Ona, Jana, Bruna, Lamine, and Sydney were all spread out on the couch, staring at you two like you had lost your minds. Which, honestly, wasn’t far from the truth.

The whiteboard was covered. Arrows, stars, labeled plans, circled plans, bolded plans. You and Estrella stood proudly on either side of it, both wearing sunglasses indoors and holding markers like weapons.

Soleil leaned toward Sydney and whispered, “We don’t even own a whiteboard. I have no idea where she got that from.”

Sydney leaned back and muttered, “We don’t own one either.”

You immediately snapped your fingers at them. “Listen up! No time for chatter. This is serious business.”

Sydney and Soleil both sat up straighter, biting back laughs.

Estrella cleared her throat and started pacing like a military general. “Operation Baby Basquiat is officially in motion. We have a crisis. Valerie’s art was snubbed by her fake hater of a teacher. So we, the responsible adults we are, will be hosting her own art show. A real one. Where she’s the star.”

You nodded seriously, clicking your marker like you were about to sign a peace treaty. “We are avenging her honor.”

The team nodded solemnly.

“Assignments!” Estrella barked, stabbing the whiteboard with her marker.

She pointed at Soleil and Sydney. “You two. Decorations and snacks. You will make this look like the grand opening of the Louvre.”

Soleil immediately pulled out a notepad, determined. Sydney, on the other hand, just gave a shaky thumbs up.

“Vicky!” you shouted dramatically. “You’re on ticket distribution. You will personally hand every guest their VIP badge — and you are also Hype Manager in Chief. If you don’t gas her up like she’s Picasso reborn, you’re fired.”

Vicky saluted. “Consider it done.”

“Bruna, Ona, Jana,” Estrella continued. “You three are in charge of the price tags and the gallery descriptions. Every single piece needs a fancy label. Titles, ‘estimated worth,’ deep artistic meanings. Make stuff up if you have to. Valerie deserves the best.”

Bruna grinned and pulled out a handful of glitter pens. “Say less.”

“And…” you turned to Lamine, narrowing your eyes. “…DJ duty.”

Lamine beamed, already scrolling through his phone.

“NO BAD BUNNY,” Estrella warned.

“Or old SpongeBob songs,” you added.

Lamine looked offended. “You’re killing my creative freedom.”

“You’ll survive,” Estrella deadpanned.

Meanwhile, Soleil was already sketching decoration ideas, Sydney was googling “easy kid party snacks,” and Vicky was making fake VIP badges on Canva.

You tapped the whiteboard again. “Now. Security detail.”

You and Estrella dramatically whipped off jackets to reveal you were both dressed in full “Secret Service” fits— black suits, sunglasses, and earpieces.

Ona almost fell off the couch laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly serious,” you said.

“Deadlier than deadly,” Estrella added.

“Security detail is simple, while you guys set up here at Alexia and Olga’s house, we are going to take Ale, Olga, and Baby Val to her favorite restaurant to distract her.”

“Nobu,” you and Estrella said in unison, both grimacing.

“For a little kid, she has expensive taste,” you muttered.

“But it’s fine,” Estrella said, throwing an arm around you. “Anything for our little artist.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, even Lamine, who was still grumbling about music censorship.

You both clicked your markers one last time, slapping them down onto the whiteboard tray like gunslingers.

“Alright team,” you said. “You have your orders. Make Baby Basquiat proud.”

Everyone jumped into action immediately. Soleil and Sydney began measuring the living room for streamers and balloons, Vicky started cutting out badges, and Bruna, Ona, and Jana were sprawled out on the floor designing little price tags with the most ridiculously fake deep art meanings ever. (“Crayon Chaos: a commentary on the fragility of human emotion.”)

As you and Estrella started practicing your “bodyguard walk” around the apartment, sunglasses on, earpieces crackling, Estrella leaned in and said, “We are either the greatest sisters in the world or absolutely insane.”

You nodded seriously. “Both.”

Across the room, Lamine’s chaotic playlist kicked in and Bad Bunny’s bass rattled the floor.

Estrella sighed dramatically and whipped out her walkie-talkie. “Security to DJ, you’re violating code pink. Stand down.”

Sydney, from her spot taping up streamers, called out, laughing, “This is going to be a disaster.”

You just grinned. “Exactly.”

Dinner at Nobu was supposed to be elegant.

Alexia, Olga, Alba, and Eli were all dressed to the nines, perfectly tailored outfits, polished shoes, jewelry sparkling under the soft restaurant lighting. Valerie was wearing a tiny pink designer dress with little white sneakers, sitting between Alexia and Olga, happily swinging her legs.

Everything should have looked normal. Until you and Estrella walked in, still fully dressed in your ridiculous “security” uniforms.

Black blazers, black pants, sunglasses indoors, earpieces tucked into your ears like you were guarding a world leader. You even had those little wires running down your backs, which were, in fact, not connected to anything. The entire table went silent the second you two approached.

You both scanned the restaurant dramatically, walking in step like the FBI had been personally summoned to Nobu. Estrella had her hands clasped in front of her like a proper bodyguard. You were whispering into your fake wrist mic.

Alexia stared at you. Blankly. Like she was mentally rewriting her entire life to figure out what decisions had led her to this moment.

Valerie broke the silence by squealing in laughter, clapping her hands. “My bodyguards!”

Olga closed her eyes for a second and took a slow, painful breath. Alba covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laugh. Eli just shook her head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Those girls need holy water.”

You and Estrella stood stiffly next to Valerie’s chair. Every few seconds you’d both scan the restaurant like someone was about to jump out and kidnap her.

Alexia picked up her glass of wine with the slow, practiced patience of someone who had already given up trying to parent two grown feral teenagers.

The entire dinner passed like that awkward small talk, occasional bursts of giggles from Valerie every time you two leaned in and whispered “Agent One checking in,” and the adults exchanging the most judgmental side-eyes in history.

Finally, Olga snapped. She set her fork down very gently, turned to you two, and asked in the most exhausted voice, “Why in God’s name are you dressed like that?”

You and Estrella exchanged a look.

Without missing a beat, you both said, completely deadpan, “Protocol.”

Olga blinked at you. “What protocol?”

Estrella pushed her sunglasses up higher on her nose. “Classified.”

Alexia put her face in her hands. Alba turned fully away from the table so they wouldn’t see her laughing. Eli just muttered, “Lord.”

Valerie, meanwhile, was beside herself, giggling so hard she accidentally dropped her spoon into her plate.

You leaned down dramatically and whispered into your earpiece, “We’ve got a situation at Table 4. Repeat: Situation at Table 4.”

Valerie almost fell out of her chair laughing.

Olga just shook her head. “You two are insane.”

“We’re professionals,” Estrella corrected seriously.

Alexia finally looked up, eyes full of pure regret. “You’re nineteen years old. Not secret agents.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” you muttered under your breath.

Somehow— somehow, dinner actually went on. The adults tried to pretend everything was normal. Valerie could barely focus on eating because she kept giggling at every ridiculous thing you and Estrella did, standing guard by the bathroom door when she went, inspecting the sushi before letting it near her plate, making vague hand signals to each other across the table.

At one point, Alexia reached over and very casually snatched the fake earpiece out of Estrella’s ear and dropped it in her wine glass without a word. Estrella just put a hand over her heart like she’d been personally wounded.

“Agent down,” you whispered.

Valerie nearly passed out from laughing.

When the check came, Olga practically threw her credit card at the waiter just to get you all out of there faster.

As you all left the restaurant, walking to the car, you and Estrella dramatically flanked Valerie, doing fake tactical sweeps of the parking lot. Valerie played right into it, ducking and weaving between cars like a little spy on the run.

Alexia muttered under her breath to Olga, “When they were born, God said, ‘Let’s make it harder for you specifically.’”

Olga just patted her arm and said, “You chose this life.”

As everyone piled into the car, Valerie tucked into her car seat finally, still giggling.

“Best. Dinner. Ever,” she said through a yawn.

You and Estrella fist bumped in the backseat.

“Mission accomplished,” Estrella said proudly.

Alexia sighed so deeply it shook the entire car.

The setup was nothing short of chaos. After hours of working, Soleil, Vicky, Sydney, Ona, Bruna, Jana, and even Lamine somehow managed to turn Alexia and Olga’s house into a legitimate art gallery.

Lamine finally finished the chaotic playlist he had been crafting after Soleil, Vicky, and Sydney vetoed a good half of his selections. No, they would not be playing the old SpongeBob theme song at Valerie’s art show. Nor would Bad Bunny’s most explicit songs make the final cut, no matter how much Lamine whined about “vibe.”

Once his playlist was approve, barely, he was immediately dragged into the kitchen to help with the snacks.

It was mayhem in there. Soleil and Sydney were running it like a Michelin star kitchen, barking orders, throwing sprinkles, and demanding perfection. Lamine, who was tasked with arranging cupcakes into a perfect tower, wiped sweat from his brow dramatically and muttered, “This is hell.”

Meanwhile, Vicky stood vigilantly at the front door, handing out lanyards to every guest arriving. Each lanyard was homemade, bright colors, glitter, and a printed “Valerie’s Baby Basquiat Art Show” badge.

Anyone who showed up empty-handed?

Vicky sent them right back out the door. “No gift, no entry!” she declared, physically pushing Ferran Torres back outside until he returned sheepishly ten minutes later with a stuffed unicorn under his arm.

Inside, Valerie’s artwork was displayed beautifully along the walls. Framed drawings, bright paintings, colorful collages, each one had a tiny handmade “price tag” under it.

At the very center, mounted proudly above the fireplace, was a painting Valerie had done of her family: Alexia, Olga, Alba, Eli, Estrella, and you. It was messy, colorful, full of heart. the best thing any of them had ever seen.

Fairy lights twinkled overhead. A massive BABY BASQUIAT banner hung across the room. There was even a juice box tower— an honest-to-God tower of stacked juice boxes, built like a champagne pyramid. Tables were covered in snacks, cupcakes, cookies, little sandwiches shaped like paint palettes.

Everyone was dressed nicely, cocktail dresses, slacks, the works. It truly looked like a high-end art show… if you ignored the juice boxes.

The door suddenly swung open. You and Estrella literally rolled in, you on a skateboard, Estrella on a scooter, both still in your ridiculous black suits and sunglasses from earlier. You skidded to a stop in the middle of the room and immediately started surveying the area like you were running security at the Met Gala.

You both nodded at each other seriously, like you were the commanders of a highly secret mission.

Then together, you yelled, “BRING HER IN!”

The doors burst open again and there was Valerie, holding hands with Alexia and Olga. Her little dress bounced as she skipped inside.

She gasped the second she saw everything. Her name in huge letters on the banner. All her artwork, displayed like a real gallery.

The crowd of people clapping and cheering just for her.

Sydney and Soleil rushed forward first, each holding a giant bouquet of colorful flowers. Valerie’s eyes went wide with awe. She kissed them both on the cheek before squealing and running into yours and Estrella’s arms.

“THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!” she cried, hugging you both so tightly you nearly lost your balance.

You hugged her right back, lifting her easily off the ground.

“You’re the star tonight, Baby Val,” you whispered.

Valerie beamed up at you with so much happiness it made your chest ache.

After a few minutes, Valerie wriggled out of your arms and started making her way around the room, talking to everyone, pointing proudly at her drawings, explaining what each one meant, and accepting gifts and hugs like a true queen.

Alexia and Olga sidled up to you and Estrella, both giving you pointed looks.

“So this was what all the secrecy was about,” Alexia said, crossing her arms.

“You two are out of control,” Olga added but she was smiling.

“You’re welcome,” Estrella said smugly.

They shook their heads, but then pulled you both into quick hugs. “Thank you,” Olga said softly. “This means the world to her.”

The night only got better from there. At some point, Estrella took the mic and started the “auction.”

It was supposed to be a pretend auction— just for fun. But no one told Salma and Vicky that.

When a painting of a unicorn in a Barcelona jersey came up, Salma immediately bid twenty euros. Vicky, not to be outdone, shouted, “Fifty!” Then Salma countered with seventy. Vicky screamed, “A HUNDRED!”

It escalated fast.

Soon, the two were in a full-blown bidding war, shouting over each other while poor Sydney tried to mediate. Alexia had to physically separate them before things got bloody.

Meanwhile, you had one more surprise for Valerie. You pulled a tiny velvet box out of your pocket, called her over, and opened it to reveal a custom gold chain. It sparkled with little pink and purple stones, and the pendant read BABY VAL in huge, blinged-out letters.

Valerie gasped so loudly half the room turned to look.

“You’re the boss now,” you said, fastening it carefully around her neck.

Vicky and Lamine immediately started recording as Valerie, tiny, radiant, chain swinging around her neck, started dancing hard to the unapproved Bad Bunny blasting from the speakers.

Meanwhile, Alexia and Olga cornered you, arms crossed, giving you synchronized death stares.

“You spent HOW much on that chain?” Olga hissed.

“It’s an investment,” you said innocently.

“She’s FOUR,” Alexia added.

“Bosses start young,” Estrella shrugged.

Alexia looked like she aged five years on the spot.

Finally, at the end of the night, after Valerie had danced herself into exhaustion, she grabbed your hand tightly.

“Can you help me up there?” she asked, pointing to the little stage area where the auction had been. You immediately lifted her up, handing her the microphone.

Valerie took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed pink from excitement.

“Thank you everybody for coming to my show,” she said, voice small but clear. “Thank you for buying my art and giving me flowers and juice boxes and hugs. I love you all. Thank you for making me feel really special today.”

The entire room melted into awws and cheers.

You helped her down carefully but when you tried to set her down, she refused to let go.

She wrapped her arms around your neck and whispered, “Thank you for making me feel like a real artist.”

You hugged her tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“You’re already a real artist, Baby Val,” you whispered back.

And for once, even Estrella didn’t have a snarky comeback, she just wrapped both of you in a huge, warm hug.

#woso x platonic!reader #woso fic #woso x teen!reader #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso #barca femeni x teen!reader #barca femeni x reader #barca x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #olga rios x teen!reader #⋆˚ ༘ blue stars

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ink-stainedkiss · 2 days ago

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Hang Tight Honey!

𖤝 Synopsis: Your boredom is cured instantly when a handsome cowboy bounds through the doors.

𖤝Notes: SMUT, piv sex, backshots, western Au, cowboy!gojo, outlaws, alcohol,bartender!reader, no beta (we die like everyone in jjk)⋮ WC:1.9k

A tired sigh fell from your lips as you poured another whiskey into a chilled glass. The day had dragged out for way too long, your heels aching from standing up for too long, and the saloon wasn’t even busy. Only older men and your boss were scattered around the wooden interior. Everything just continued to piss you off. This corset was too tight, your hands were growing sticky from making sugar rims and just excess alcohol, and worst of all, there was no pretty cowboy in sight to distract yourself with.

You wiped your hands along your dress, uncaring about how presentable you looked right now. Which wasn’t much. Suddenly, like the gods above had heard your pitiful pleas, there was a tension in the air. The clacks of a horses’ hooves and when they stopped abruptly, the swinging doors cracked open bringing a breeze of dust through the wind. Everyone stood still, eyes trying to adjust to the person who barged in. They strolled past their stares, headed right for you, and when you finally got a good look at them, you knew this night was going to be interesting.

The man who made a grand entrance sat himself on the stool right in front of you, chin resting on his palm, and even with the black bandana covering his eyes, you knew he was taking in every inch of your body. His stare made you shiver, electricity buzzing down your skin. He showed off a bright smile, his sharp canines peeking out from his pink lips. The most notable thing about him was his white hair, like a blanket of snow covering earth in the midst of December. Everything about him was enough to make your knees weak. Like how his black button up was just a bit too tight, but it was just enough to paint a picture of his toned figure.

“Well hello there, gorgeous,” He purred, tilting his head to the side,” Won’tcha be so kind and pour me a drink?” His accent was a lot lighter than most you knew, clearly he wasn’t from around here. You eyed him curiously, but nodded,”What would you like?” He gave a shrug, clearly not interested in just having a drink,”Whatever you can whip up and you’d think I’ll like.” Raising a brow, you didn’t think he was being serious, but he just sat there, waiting patiently for you to fulfill his request.

Completely confused, you grab a bottle of rye whiskey, bitters, and a jar of hand-made apple cider. As you concocted his drink, you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. Not even the stench of the bitters could pull away the feeling of his gaze. You weren’t sure if he was just picky about his cocktails or just persistent on making you squirm. Finally, you passed him the brown glass, arms folded, you pray that you did a decent job in guessing his taste. He was still a customer with the ability to tip you however he saw fit. (little did you know, he was going to do just that.)

In the blink of an eye, the drink was off the counter and pouring into his mouth. Without even flinching, the booze had been drained and the empty container was set back down. Though, your eyes only found the small remains of whiskey dribbling down the corner of his mouth and sliding down his sharp jawline. His arm that swiped across his mouth forced you out of your lusty daydream. The man let out a content sigh,”You did a mighty fine job ma’am, can I ask for your name?”

When you told him your name, you swore his jaw tightened, as if he was holding something back. You weren’t able to think about it too much before he opened his mouth again,”You can call me Satoru,” he reached out hand, and you hesitantly placed yours in his. A short gasp pushed past your mouth as he pulled you in, his lips placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. When he let go, you were blushing like crazy, barely containing the girly smile on your lips.

“May I ask what brings you around here? I think I would’ve remembered a face like yours.” You question, leaning down onto the counter. He slid the glass away and hooked a finger over his bandana. When the fabric dropped, you held back a gasp. His eyes were a shade of such a bright blue, it felt like they were crafted from the rarest sapphire in the world. Getting closer to your face, you were inches apart and could smell the burning apple cider on his breath,”Needed a change of scenery.”

There’s no telling what happened next, because to you it was like a black void, only bringing you vague hints to what went down. You grabbed his wrist, dragging him out of the side door and shouting to your boss you were taking your break. Giggling silently as you shove open the large doors to the saloon’s storage barn in the back. Pushing him against a wooden wall. Satoru’s lips finding yours in a hot and needy kiss. His large hands roaming under your dress and lighting your skin on fire.

Now here you were, bent over two empty crates that would have held booze, but right now they were keeping you up right as Satoru’s cock drove into you from the back. You gasped each time his mushroom tip slammed into the gummy spot that had you seeing stars. Your dress was pushed above your hips, revealing your dripping pussy to the man behind you. His bandana had fallen to his neck, showing off the little tears forming in his eyes from how good you felt.

“F-fuck, you’re just tryin’ to make me look like a fool,” He uttered, holding back every instinct to not fill you up there and then. He couldn’t be seen as a two pump chump. The shed was filled with the sound of skin slapping together, moans, and hushed grunts. His grip on your waist was enough to bruise, but the hold you had on the wooden containers under you was tighter.

“ah! shut up.” You hissed behind gritted teeth. The one thing you didn’t expect from Satoru, was for him to be blabbering away back there. He couldn’t seem to keep quiet, not even as you sucked his thick cock back into your tight walls. Maybe you should have put his mouth to better use. A low chuckle was the only thing that erupted from behind you and Satoru leaned down, his chest pressed into your arched back.

“ m’sorry, did you say somethin’?” You opened your mouth to spit out another word, but he snapped his hips into your ruthlessly before you could. A chocked moan was the only thing to fall from your open lips,” hmm? can’t hear ya sweetheart.” You didn’t even try to speak, since Satoru continued to ram his length into your needy hole. His hand glided under your body, his rough finger finding your pulsing clit and rubbing it gently. The knot in your stomach tightened roughly and you could only sob out. It’s like your breath was being torn out of your lungs with each thrust. Tears fell down your cheeks as pathetic cries ripped from your throat.

“Shit, you're so-nhg, pretty like this,” He praised, placing soft kisses on your exposed shoulder,” mh-fuck, maybe I should just take you with me back home, how’s that sound hun?” You nodded your head a bit too eagerly, fucked out of your mind and only thinking about how good his cock felt. Satoru groaned out when you squeezed around him, feeling his resolve weaken bit by bit. You were so fucking perfect, everything about you.

Satoru grew closer, his lips barely caressing the shell of your ear,“I sure wouldn’t mind having a beautiful thing like you by my side.” Those simple words sent you over the edge. You slammed a fist onto the wood and let out a strangled scream of his name. Your vision blacked for a split second and you came all over Satoru’s cock. Your body buzzed with pleasure as you fell from your high, realizing Satoru hadn’t stopped fucking you even through your intense orgasm. Your body jerked with each overstimulating touch.

Quickly, his thrusts became more intense and sloppy. His breathing was labored and after shoving his entire length in your sore pussy, he unloaded his seed into you. His voice raised in pitch, feeling light headed from how hard he came,”Fuck.” He breathed out, massaging your plump ass. You whined as he pulled out from the loss of contact and how empty you felt. Though, Satoru apologized by grabbing your hair gently and turning you to kiss him.

He slowly let you up,your dress falling back to its original position and when he stepped back for air, you smirked at him,”Do all of your bartenders get this kind of treatment?” A look of fondness fell onto his face and he kissed you once more, this time pulling away with a sly,”Only the pretty ones.” Your head was in the clouds as you walked out of the barn with wobbly knees.

Just as you were about to open the side door and hopefully tell your boss you were done for the day (in hopes to get to know this Satoru better) Satoru forced you to turn to him. Embarrassingly, you whined against his lips as he planted another longing kiss on you. You couldn't even reach out before he was pulling away, waving goodbye,and jogging to his horse in the front. With a sharp grin, he called out,”It’s been great, we should do it another time darlin’!” An amused chuckle escaped you and you could only wave back. It was a bit odd that he would just dart off, especially when he was so clingy before.

As you stepped into the saloon, reminiscing on what happened in that shed, a collection of angered shouts and gunfire rang out into the air. Everyone stood and raced to the door, watching as a handful of officers raced toward a person on their horse in the distance. The sheriff halted his horse to a stop in front of the crowd, sending a frantic yet rage film stare toward you all,” Have any of you seen him?” Completely at a loss, you spoke up,” Seen who?”

He grumbled a few choice words and barked out,” The Honored One, we got word he was trudging ‘round these parts.” Everyone seemed aghast and some of them bolted to their homes. No one had a clue that this outlaw had stepped foot into their grounds and the Sheriff rode off. The crowd dispersed and you were left standing. Just as you turned to go back to work, unbothered by this criminal (who you had to clue about) a waving poster caught your attention. You placed a hand on the curled end, heart dropping once you caught sight of the face plastered on it.

‘WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.’ That face, so unrecognizable if he hadn’t pulled his bandana down, was the same one who had kissed you carefully and fucked you a few minutes ago. However, fear couldn’t be found in your senses since you were starting to blush at the thoughts of what you had done with him. You faced the lowering sun, watching as the kicked up debris fell back onto the ground, and when you turned back, you subtly tore off the poster. The crumpled paper was tossed into a trash barrel. Honestly, you thought you were the ‘honored one’ for taking such a wanted man.

divider creds: @anitalenia & @deltamel

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canarias-stuff · 3 days ago

Text

Reaching You

Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader

Summary:

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

...

Or a story where you dreams of a world not so different from yours, but you know that you are missing something...no, someone.

(Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader)

Author's note:

My second story for the fandom.

I started it a while ago, but I didn't know how to end it.^^''

And after struggling a little bit, this is the result.

I hope that you enjoy it!

You were 13 when the dreams started.

At first, they were short – so short you could barely remember the contents, but as the time passed, you felt like you had lived the dream for days instead of just a night. You dreamed of a world that's not so different from the real one, where people you know – family, friends and even some that you don’t know personally – are there.

Maybe you’d been watching too many American shows or playing too many video games, because each time you dreamed about this strange world, it became more vivid, more detailed.

Your dreamworld has a touch of magic and fantasy, and even if you couldn’t always remember the specifics, you were sure that at some point you were fighting against monsters inside what they called ‘gates’. There was also a rank system for those gates and for the people who fought inside them, there were guilds and something called Hunter’s Association, and even if you can’t remember everything, you are sure that you aren’t part of any organization.

One thing that you can remember though, is that something…no, someone is missing from your memories. Well, not actually missing, however there’s someone beside you in your dreams, someone that smiles at you, holds your hands, kisses you and makes you really happy, yet, no matter how hard you try, you can’t recall their face or the sound of their voice when they call your name.

And every time they appeared in your dreams, you’d wake up crying.

Was it stupid to miss someone you could only see in dreams? Someone your own brain had invented?

Yes , that’s what you told yourself. This person was just a figment of your imagination – born from all those novels you read. So why did it hurt so much every time? Why did your chest ache for someone whose face you couldn’t remember?

Once, you told your best friend about your dreams. Your friend laughed and patted you on the back.

“Woah! Did you fall for this mysterious person from your dreams?”

“Of course not!”

You felt embarrassed at the accusation, but if you were embarrassed about your dreams or about the part where you fell in love with someone that doesn't exist, you weren’t sure.

You also commented about your dreams to your family one morning and while your mother and older brother made fun of you, your father frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, you must have loved this person a lot.” Your mother said, while preparing the breakfast.

“Your brain is probably melting after reading so much garbage!” Your irritating older brother laughed.

“If you have free time to read novels (y/n), use it for your studies.”

And really, while your father’s comment was more of a “If you start to get red marks, I will burn all your novels.” warning, you decided that you should do as he said and study more – occupy your brain with numbers, formulas and historical events – because that way, your brain may decide to make you dream about possible questions for a test instead of making you miss someone that you only imagined.

…

“You are going there.”

“...I am…”

“It doesn’t matter what I say, right?”

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You sighed, but in the end you looked up to stare at his determined eyes, and smiled.

“You better come back soon.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I will. It’s a promise.”

And then, he turned around to leave, while all you could do was extend your hand and try – and fail – to hold him for just a little longer.

…

You woke up with an arm extended, grabbing the air. Again.

Since the start of your last year of middle school, the dreams haven't come as frequently as before. But still, at least once a week, you would wake up with your hand outstretched – like you were trying to hold onto something. Or someone. Just like now.

You never told a soul about this, not when you were sure that people – your best friend and family – would make fun of you.

But now that you’ve started high school, you wonder if this is progress. On one hand, you don’t wake up crying as often as before. On the other, you’ve started reaching out for this person. Still trying to grasp that person who never stayed – who probably never came back.

You stared at your arm for a moment before lowering it, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips.

And yet, for some reason, you felt warm. Like someone was still there, holding you.

…

“Have you heard about the rumor?” You heard one of the girls from your class say, from the desk right beside you.

“Oh! About the transfer student from class A?” The girl’s friend said.

“Yep! Someone said that he wears the glove only on his left hand because he has a tattoo there.”

You rolled your eyes at their conversation and kept reading the novel that you just found online. People had been gossiping about a student for almost two weeks now, and even though you hadn’t seen him yet, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. After all, who would want to be the talk of the school just because of their fashion sense?

“Actually, I heard from someone in class A that he is trying to hide a burn mark.”

A burn mark? You frowned, because that was new information.

“A burn mark? So he isn’t a delinquent?”

“I’m not sure, because someone heard a teacher say that he left home when he was still in junior high and came back after two years, but someone could have misheard it.”

“Well, let’s just stay away from him then.”

The other girl sighed, disappointed.

“What a shame, he does have a nice face though.”

And you rolled your eyes, trying to focus again on your novel as the girls shifted to another topic. People sure could be so petty.

…

Sometimes – actually it started just a few days after classes started –, you feel like someone’s watching you. But whenever you look around, there’s no one there, so you brush it off as nothing.

But today is different.

An ant was staring at you.

A bipedal, human-like, black and blue ant was staring at you.

You tried to ignore it, continuing to eat your sandwich and chat with your best friend, as if the entity – it had to be some kind of ghost, right? – wasn’t there. It walked around you, moving with a strange, purposeful air, as though it was studying you.

And suddenly it fell to its knees and started crying.

“The appearance is slightly different, but this mana flow, this mana flow! There’s no doubt! Our queen is here! Our queen is here!”

You flinched.

The ant is talking! The humanoid ant is fucking talking!

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” Your friend asked, when she saw you flinch.

“Hum? What?”

Your friend arched an eyebrow.

“You looked…distracted…”

Well, in your defense, it was difficult to keep focus when the ant kept crying…and talking nonsense beside you.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I was just wondering if I should go buy the novel that you recommended the other day.”

“I can just lend it to you!”

“Really? Thanks!” You exclaimed, trying to ignore the ant, that at some point got up and flew somewhere else, yelling something about telling the news to his king.

Ignore it, ignore it.

The weird creature was just a fragment of your imagination.

Yeah, just a fragment of my imagination…

But was it weird that for some reason you felt like you knew it?

…

“Queen.”

“Can you please stop calling me that, Beru?” You grunted, cheeks getting red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“But you are my king’s queen.”

Okay, that was way more embarrassing.

“Call me by my name!” You pleaded.

“How can a mere general call a queen by their name?”

“I’m not a queen so just call me (y/n)!”

“No, I can’t, my queen. I apologize.”

You turned to the man sitting at the sofa, who looked between you and the humanoid ant with an amused expression.

“Do something about it!” You cried, pointing at the giant ant.

“I tried, but he still calls me his king.” The man answered with a small laugh.

“Because you are my king.” The ant interrupted.

“Ugh…You really need to stop watching historical dramas, Beru.” You finally sighed and collapsed at the sofa, next to the amused man who just let out a small laugh and kissed you.

…

The ant was in your dreams this time.

For some reason, the ant called the stranger in your dream his king and you, his queen.

Really, it was embarrassing to be called that – and being kissed so gently –, but at least you got some new information.

The ant’s name was Beru.

“Beru..” You said. “What a weird name.”

…

After your encounter with the humanoid ant – Beru – just a few days ago, you started to notice other black and blue figures around.

Some were near the school gates, soldiers-like figures hidden in the shadows of trees, and others you could see around the neighbourhood, as if they were guarding and protecting the place.

Even if Beru’s figure had scared you a little, for some reason after your last dream, the feeling had gone away, and instead of getting uncomfortable with the shadow-like creatures, you felt strangely…safe.

…

Hah…yeah, safe…

Maybe you were so engrossed in the sense of safety the shadows provided that you completely forgot about reality.

You stared at the hand that was currently grabbing your wrist with a frown on your face. Once, your brother told you that high school was a jungle, where all kinds of species could be seen – football players, cheerleaders, basketball players, etc etc, and considering what was happening now, you agreed with your brother’s words.

These ones were probably the troublemakers/bully types.

“Aren’t you a first year?”

You looked up, (e/c) eyes glaring at the guy who grabbed your wrist and his two followers.

“Oh, you don’t have to look at us like that.” He – the leader (maybe?) – said with a smirk.

Really? How did you end up in this situation? You just went behind school to throw the trash after classes and ended up meeting with these three guys who were already there, up to no good. You didn’t say a word or look at any of them, but they still thought that it was an opportunity to try to pick up a girl.

“Like what?” You said without a hint of fear. “Like I'm seeing trash?”

Okay, maybe your choice of words were really poor considering the situation, but you were angry at the idiots who were trying to force themselves on you, and annoyed that you refused your friend's offer to help you with the trash.

“Hah?!” The leader roared, tightening his grip on your wrist. What did you just say, bitch?!”

“Oh? So you are deaf too?” You said, feigning a surprise expression.

You should have expected some violence.

The leader released your wrist just to push you at the wall by the collar of your shirt, and his followers surrounded you, eyes shining with malice, as if they just cornered a prey.

“I dare you to repeat that!” The leader roared.

You grabbed his wrist with both hands, (e/c) eyes never wavering at the sound of the clear threat

“Are. You. Deaf?”

The moment the guy clenched his other hand into a fist was the moment you twisted his wrist, slipping under his arm. The motion caused the first two buttons of your blouse to pop off – but it was worth it. He had no choice but to let go of your clothes, and in that instant, you threw him over your shoulder.

For a moment, everyone – even you – just stood there, trying to process what had just happened. You never learned how to fight, you didn’t even know that you had the strength to throw a guy twice your weight, but here you were, facing a bully and his followers, who somehow looked even more stunned than you.

However the surprise didn’t last long, and in a blink of an eye, the group had surrounded you again.

“That’s not fair.” You commented, eyeing the three guys walking around you.

“Life is not fair, girly.” One of his minions said with a smirk.

“You say it as if you have lived a long life.”

“This girl really doesn't know when to shut up, no?” Minion number one said.

“My friend said that I can talk for hours as long as I’m talking about my novels.” You continue. You need to buy some time, at least enough time to figure out how to get away from this situation, or until your friend realizes that you were taking too long to just throw the trash.

“Looks like your novels didn’t teach you to not pick up fights that you can’t win.” Number two minion laughed.

“Well, yeah, my novels usually focus more on romance, politics and family issues instead of people trying to pick fights with a girl who’s half their weight. These types of characters aren’t popular anyway.”

A vein popped at the leader’s forehead, and he tried to grab you again.

You don’t know how you did it. One moment, your feet were on the ground, and the next, you were in the air – upside down, hands planted on the top of the leader’s head, your body felt almost weightless. As you came down, you used his back as a stepping stone, pushing off and sending him crashing into his friends – while you landed gracefully on the ground.

You blinked, once more surprised with your fluid movements, as if you had done it all your life.

What the hell?!

“Now you asked for that, bitch!” The leader yelled and charged at you, at the same time as his minions.

Stunned by your own previous movements, you didn’t have time to dodge the sudden attack, all you could do was shut your eyes and brace for the impact. An impact that never came.

Instead, you heard people gasp in surprise and then, the “thud” of something hitting the ground.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, only to be met with the sight of someone’s back.

Your eyes went wide – for a second, the image of the person from your dreams overlapping with the stranger standing in front of you – but you quickly shook your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. Right now, there were more important things to focus on, like the punks that were…attacking…you…?

You frowned, the three guys were laying on the ground, unconscious…

What just hap–?

“Are you okay?”

Gentle and calm, his voice interrupted your thoughts, but for some reason you felt your chest grow warm.

A gloved hand appeared in your line of sight – The student from the rumors, you couldn’t stop the thought – and you stared at it for a second, before accepting it.

“Thanks for the…”

But the words died in your throat the moment your (e/c) eyes met his. Yeah, you had heard the rumors – that he was handsome – but you hadn't known the details: the dark hair, the beautiful grey eyes and the small smile on his lips.

However…it wasn’t his features that made you lose the capacity to speak, but the sensation of familiarity, as if your brain was trying to remember something…someone…

The student was still holding your hand, so gently…as if you were something precious.

“(Y/n).”

The voice of the mysterious man from your dreams echoed in your mind and a face that you couldn’t remember was starting to take shape.

Your chest tightened and your eyes stung with tears that were ready to fall.

“Hey!” The stranger – Was he really a stranger? – cried, startled, as you collapsed to your knees, free hand clutching the front of your unbuttoned blouse.

Gates. Guilds. Monsters. Dungeons. A war.

“Hey! Are you hurt anywhere?!” He called again, panicking at your lack (or excess?) of reaction.

Dark hair. Grey eyes. A small smile.

His face wasn’t a blur anymore. You could see him clearly now.

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

Oh…he sounds younger, but it is still him.

“Y-you are la-late…” You muttered between sobs. “...Jin-Woo!”

You saw him flinch at the same time you felt his hand tighten around yours, but did you care? Not at all. The feelings that had been locked somewhere in your being – lost but not forgotten–, were running wild, and since the boy in front of you was the cause, he should take responsibility for that.

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

You glared at him.

“I’m serious here!” You yelled frustrated, but soon the overwhelming sensation died as you stared at the man – now teenager – that you had always been waiting without knowing. “I really am, Jin-Woo…”

With your free hand, you cupped his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and savoring the warmth of your hand.

Jin-Woo...he looked so peaceful, as if the weight he once carried had finally lifted from his shoulders. And now that your memories have returned, you understand why.

In this world, there were no gates, no monsters.

Even if he still had his powers – and you were sure that he did, considering you had seen Beru and his other shadow soldiers around – he was free from the obligations and responsibilities he had once forced upon himself.

Sure, you were kind of angry at him, Jin-Woo had a lot to explain, but at the same time you felt relieved. Relieved that he was back.

“I missed you.” You finally said, a tearful – but still genuine – smile on your lips. “I missed you, Jin-Woo!”

You weren’t really surprised when he let go of your hands and pulled you into an embrace, after all, if he hadn’t, you would have.

“I missed you too, (y/n).” He whispered in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry for being late.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, returning the hug.

“It’s okay.” You said. “It’s okay.”

…

A few minutes later, your best friend found you – with red and puffy eyes – hugging Jin-Woo behind the building with three unconscious bodies scattered around you.

Did she freak out? Yes, she did. But just as you had told Jin-Woo.

It was okay.

It really was.

Because you had finally reached him.

Ao3 link

Ending notes:

But anyway! I hope that you enjoyed it!^^

I am not sure if the end felt rushed, but the point of the story was the reader to finally remember and reach Jin-Woo instead of him explaning everything. I just wanted to them to meet again in a better world.^^

But, of course I had to make Reader fight a little bit. First, because I wanted to show that with her memories coming back reader could do things that she could do in the past. And second because I wanted Jin-Woo to appear out of nowhere like the "Exchange" scene! hahaha

See you!

P.S: English is not my native language, so sorry for possible grammar mistakes.

#ao3 #fanfic #fluffy #romance #angst #drama #humor #light angst #female reader #sung jin woo #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling

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silens-oro · 2 days ago

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Slowly We Unfurl (Well Enough Alone Companion Piece)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: A quiet night reflecting. Word Count: 927 Content Warning: no warnings. all fluff. A/N: This companion piece is brought to you by Lotus Flower by Radiohead. Here's some fluff to buffer the absolute nightmare to come :) please comment & reblog :)

Hawk let out a sigh when she reaches over to Pope’s side of the bed and feels nothing but rumpled sheets. Her eyes cracked open and saw that the room was still dark, stars twinkling in the sky outside of her sliding door, and she laid there for a moment contemplating whether or not she wanted to get up out of the comfort of her mattress. She could hear an indistinguishable sound coming from the living room, the television, she surmised, and decided to hoist herself up.

Hawk threw a t-shirt and pajama shorts in, barely opening her eyes as she padded down the hall until she reached the back entrance to the sunken living room. A small table lamp illuminated the room in a soft, warm glow that didn’t quite reach the ceiling. The back of Pope’s head was facing Hawk, and Pope was sitting up on the sofa as the tv’s glow fell over his bare torso. She gently rested a hand on the junction of his neck, just at the edge of his curls, and she felt him twitch beneath her.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Hawk breathed out as she kissed the top of Pope’s head before rounding the sofa and dropping down next to him. He was only wearing his boxer-briefs and his legs were spread just far enough to leave nothing to Hawk’s imagination.

Pope’s arm instantly wrapped itself around Hawk’s shoulders to pull her flush against him, while his other hand pulled her legs over his thighs. His fingers trailed up and down her calf, down to knead under her foot for a moment, then made its way back up. He repeated those motions over and over, switching from leg to leg as they watched the tv.

“What are we watching?” Hawk asked, eyes opening and closing as she fought the pull of sleep from Pope’s ministrations. Her arm was wrapped around his waist, palm flush against his chest as she also tenderly rubbed the bruised skin.

“How the Earth Was Made” He replied with a shrug. The History Channel was already on the tv when he hit the power button in the remote, and he was oddly fascinated with the show the second he sat down.

“Huh.” Hawk raised her own brows in response as she looked up at him. “Is it any good?”

“Stimulating.” Hawk chuckled at Pope’s dry response. Pope had been living with her for nearly a month and it had only been a week since they finally decided to take the proverbial plunge. The time they spent together felt natural, like they had been together for twenty years -and in a way Hawk guessed they kind of were. Kind of.

They were comfortable with each other because they knew one another. Knew their quirks, their likes and dislikes. Knew how the other operated.

Hawk and Pope lounged comfortably in the ambiance of the History Channel for a while before Hawk quietly broke the silence.

“Something keeping you up?” Pope shrugged again, eyes staying locked on the tv. He was watching it, sure, but there was something going on inside of his mind that kept him occupied enough to not stay in bed as he had the previous nights.

“Nothing in particular. Just couldn’t sleep. Old habits.” That wasn’t entirely the truth. A lot of things haunted him when he closed his eyes at night, things he couldn’t ever tell Hawk, so he did the only thing he was proficient at -he suffered in silence. Hawk shifted her legs off of him and scooted over to the other end of the sofa.

“Come here,” Hawk beckoned Pope, patting her lap. Pope twisted to lay on his side, his face pressed into her thigh with a heavy sigh as he brought his legs up to stretch out. He rubbed his cheek against her, finding comfort in the warmth she radiated as he wrapped his arms around her waist. The feeling of his muscles against her body was her own kind of comfort that he provided, whether he knew it or not. Pope was strong, protective, and nurturing in his own way that Hawk was discovering through his own love language.

Acts of service were big for Pope when it came to Hawk. He’d do things for her, not because she asked or expected it, but because he knew she appreciated it when he did them. He’d bring her coffee in the morning before she got out of bed because he got up before she did. One day she found him weeding the garden because he noticed some pesky intruders popping up in her bed of clarkias while they were hanging out by the pool the night before. Pope carried in groceries without being asked even though she told him she’d get them. The list went on and on in Hawk’s mind of little things here and there, and as she looked down at Pope, it scared her to think what life was going to hold with him.

It scared her even more to think of a life without him.

Hawk flipped the switch off to the lamp next to her and darkness draped where the tv’s beams didn’t touch. She ran her fingers through Pope’s curls, occasionally letting the pads of her fingers run over his brows and his eyelids when he finally closed them. Hawk pulled the throw blanket that was hanging over the back of the sofa to cover them as she shifted just enough to get comfortable. It didn’t take long for both of them to pass out, finally getting some well needed rest.

please comment & reblog :)

#pope cody #pope cody x reader #pope cody imagine #animal kingdom #animal kingdom fanfic #animal kingdom tnt #animal kingdom imagine #shawn hatosy #fluff #well enough alone universe

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7ndipity · 16 hours ago

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Their Crush Likes Them Back

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: What would happen if the members were so deep in their belief that their crush is one-sided that they're oblivious to the fact that the feeling is very much mutual

Warnings: lil angst, suggestive, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! This honestly was so fun to write, and really helped me beat back my writer's block. I hope y’all like it! Based on this post

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin:

He’s been so focused on trying to hide his feelings and just being a good friend to you, that he doesn’t realize that you’ve not only caught onto his feelings, but that you’re also very into him and are actively flirting with him😫

You keep trying to subtly tip him off, giving him extra compliments and calling him petnames that make his ears turn bright red, but he just keeps brushing it off as you’re just being a really sweet friend.

You even tried triggering his jealous streak in an attempt to get him to speak up, like “If they’re not good enough, then who is, hmmm!?” but it always just ends with him mumbling something you can’t understand and him driving you home in frustrated silence.

It’s after one of these such nights that you end up blurting out your own feelings, since he won’t do it!

When you finally tell him how you feel, he just sits there for a solid minute completely dumbfounded before managing to speak. “...are you sure? Like you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” “ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!”

Honestly not that much changes after you’ve talked everything out and made things official, at least at first. He’s very gradual in his shift into ‘boyfriend mode’, starting with smaller but sweet gestures like bringing you flowers.

The one thing that changes immediately tho is he now holds your hand/arm/waist everywhere you go. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he has to be holding onto you. You’re the most valuable thing in the world to him, and now that he has you, there’s no way he’s letting you go.

Yoongi:

As good as Yoongi is at hiding his feelings, you're the complete opposite, showering him with compliments and praise at every opportunity, turning him into the shyest lil meow meow, but you can’t help it, he deserves to know how amazing he is

You know you’re one of the only people that he feels fully comfortable being vulnerable and open with, which is why it hurts so much when he pulls away or gives the silent treatment after fights or gets too into his own head.

This leads to more than a few arguments between you where you all but spell out how you feel about him, but he somehow still manages to twist it around in his head to be platonic.

It becomes abundantly clear that anything short of straight up kissing him on the mouth is just gonna be met with ‘oh, they didn’t mean it like that.’ Like mf I said you were ideal husband material! Get your head out of your ass!

When you finally do get him to understand that you like him, he gets soo quiet(you know that lil confused look he does where his eyes just go everywhere? that) like Yoongi.exe has stopped working, please reboot.

Once he’s had time to process and y’all talk everything out, he becomes the softest and most dedicated boy. Liike, now that he can actually show his feelings, he’s a fucking SIMP, constantly surprising you with little gifts and gestures, and just always staring at you with the softest heart eyes.

Hobi:

Very much like Jin in that he’s soo focused on being a good friend and not making you uncomfortable that he somehow misses how you’re very much simping over the man. Like it’s not even subtle, you’re always looking at him with literal stars in your eyes.

He tends to mirror your energy/behavior to match your vibe tho, which becomes a bit problematic bc you end up acting a lot more ‘couple-y’ than either of you initially realize. Like, it’s totally normal for him to snuggle and kiss you on the cheek, pay no mind to the fact that he doesn’t do it with anyone else but you.

(Jungkook thinks it’s hilarious tbh and keeps finding ways to put you two in forced proximity situations in the hopes that y’all will finally get a fucking hint and confess already!)

He kinda realizes he’s pushing the boundaries of what’s ‘okay’ for just friends, but he can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you, wanting to be as close to you as possible, even if he thinks it will never go anywhere, not realizing that you’re doing the exact same thing.

When you finally talk to him one night about how you actually feel, he doesn’t even think and just tackles you, kissing you until you both forget how to breathe

Instantly the most devoted boyfriend in the world. Texts you constantly, brings you flowers for every date or snacks when you hangout at each other's places. He kisses you constantly, always mumbling about “making up for lost time” when you tease him about it.

Namjoon:

I totally see this happening to him tbh. Like as in tune as he can be sometimes, he’s kinda oblivious when it comes to your relationship, even if it’s obvious to everyone else in your friend group..

He never really questions why you always happen to be free when he wants to hangout, or the fact that you always answer his texts regardless of the time of day/night.

What he does see however is how much it hurts you when he tries to pull away when he starts to get too into his own head about everything, making his will crumble almost immediately and coming back to you soo apologetic.

He doesn’t understand why you’re always so forgiving and willing to stick beside him through everything, no matter how many times you tell him it’s because you love him

I see telling him how you actually feel going one or two ways: you sitting him down and talking everything out super calm and maturely. or-

You blurting it out in the heat of the moment during a fight, resulting in a brief stunned silence and then you getting pinned to the nearest surface and kissing each other till you can’t breathe and then dragging each other to the bedroom…

You don’t really address it anymore after that night, you’re just dating now and thats it. (Tho, you may have forgotten to notify the rest of your friend group and so they don’t realize you’re together until you kiss him goodbye in front of them and Hobi drops glass in shock, lol)

Jimin:

It would be almost funny how oblivious he is, if it weren’t soo fucking frustating.

Like usually he’s the one flirting up a storm, flustering and confusing people left and right, but with you he’s turned into a complete mess, trying(and failing) to hide how shy and blushy you make him with just the smallest gestures.

Which you would think would help the two of you to realize that you’re both into each other, but nope, you’re just dancing around the obvious and driving everyone else in your friend group insane(Tae and Yoongi have a bet on who will actually make the first move)

Like he notices some of the little cues that you’ve been dropping that you might be into him too, but he honestly just feels like he’s imagining things because that’s what he wants to happen

(tbh he thinks you’re trying to kill him with how close and touchy you get sometimes because he wants to kiss you soo fucking bad)

When you finally get the courage to tell him, it’s quiet and intimate, at one of your apartments in the middle of the night while you’re laying on the couch or bed together talking about whatever, and he goes so still and quiet for minute you think he fell asleep or something before he suddenly rolls on top of you, grinning like an idiot and wrapping you up in the tightest hug ever and kissing you breathless.

You two dating isn’t that much different than when you were just friends except you’re somehow EVEN MORE CLINGY with each other(who knew that was even possible?! lol) constantly touching or holding onto each other or stealing kisses when you think no one’s looking

Taehyung:

Honestly? He’s lowkey aware of your flirty behavior, but he keeps trying to brush it off as “they’re just being cute” because he doesn’t want to accidentally misread things and fuck things up between you by trying to make a move that’s not wanted.

Nevermind the fact that you are very openly making your interests known. Like there’s nothing to misread here my dude, everyone and their grandma can see that I am absolutely smitten with you.

Notices your more jealous/clingy moments, but doesn’t quite recognize them for what they are or the reason for them. All he knows is that you’re hanging onto his arm and giving him attention, which he soaks up like the happiest lil sponge. Who cares if you’re a little overprotective of him? He thinks it’s cute.

Similar to Hobi in that he worries sometimes that he’s overstepping what’s okay for just friends for his own benefit, even though multiple friends have pointed out that you were actively initiating those moments with him too, it’s not just a one-sided thing

He fully refuses to believe it tho until one night as he’s walking you home and you admit to him that you wished that he was your boyfriend. He turns into the smiliest bean ever at your confession, latching onto you like a giant koala bear and refusing to let go for the rest of the night as you talk and share how you’ve both really been feeling.

Instantly shifts into teddybear boyfriend mode, super cuddly and calling you every petname he can think of. He jokes that he’s just catching up on all the stuff that you missed out on before, but he’s lowkey always been like this with you, he’s just free to finally give into those impulses and kiss you anytime he wants😊

Jungkook:

God bless this boy, he’s soo fucking blind it’s absolutely infuriating

Like neither of you are exactly subtle about your feelings towards each other, but he somehow always manages to miss your hints or flirtations. Like you could be walking around wearing a neon sign that says “I’m in love with you” and he would just be like “oh cool necklace Y/n!”😑

He notices how you tend to stick close to him whenever the two of you hangout together, which he loves, but somehow he misses the gooey-eyed looks you keep giving him.

He also doesn’t realize that one of the only reasons you put up with his possessiveness is because you keep hoping that he’ll fess up and admit his feelings, but he never does, always backing off at the last moment because he’s terrified of fucking things up with you.

Meanwhile you’re practically beating your head against the wall because he’s driving you insane.

Man literally doesn’t catch on fully until you grab him by the face and kiss him one night after an argument, freezing in shock for half a minute before reciprocating very enthusiastically.(everyone immediately knows what happened the next day tho because you’re both fucking covered in hickeys like 👀)

Refuses to leave your side from that point on, he’s now your personal bodyguard/house husband/assistant/ etc. Anything you need, he’s on it immediately. Always finding little excuses to touch you until you point out that he doesn’t actually need a reason anymore, and then he’s just touching/kissing you every time you’re in arms reach

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

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