#i think i might post twice a day every other day :)

[matchalovertrait]

We're jogging back onto your dashboards! The Alegría Legacy is back 🪄

[yatiso]

entering my mostly sober era fr this shit kindve rocks ngl

[fauxnotice]

ive been kinda hyunabrained lately

[readwritealldayallnight]

Saw the post of you asking if we had any tropes or ideas we wanted to see u talk abt and jumped for joy 🙏 … must ask . Do u have any thoughts on ghost finding out reader is pregnant 😋😋

I like to think Ghost starts having suspicions before you do

Wrapped around each other’s bodies, limbs tangled in the sheets as you sleep peacefully with your other half by your side, he’s never not holding at least one of your boobs in his warm calloused palms. You start to wake up with complaints about how sore they are however, his hands in complete agreement with his eyes; your tits have gotten bigger.

And though he hates to see how uncomfortable they have you feeling all of a sudden, and how you whine so cutely about how you need new bras, your cleavage spilling out of your cups, he’s finding it rather difficult not to appreciate the new view.

Next though, he’s noticing how strange it is that foods you usually loved, now have you crinkling your nose up in disgust, turning your face away from the smell, or worse, that one time you ran to the bathroom to spill the contents of your stomach, utterly repulsed by a certain odor.

But he forgets that you haven’t requested Chinese food in nearly a month when instead he’s trying to wrap his mind around how you want peanut butter and jelly on a cheeseburger.

He certainly doesn’t think twice about how you’re just tad bit friskier than usual, pinching his ass and trying to jump his bones more often. There’s never been a lack of intimacy or wanting the other in your relationship, but you seem nearly insatiable recently, using and abusing his fingers, his mouth, his dick, multiple times a day. There are no complaints on his end, your man always being borderline desperate for you.

It’s when he’s been away for work for the last two weeks and he’s walking back into the house and he sees you, that his eyes cannot deny the way you’re simply glowing. Radiating effortless beauty in a way he’s never seen before, which is saying a lot considering you knock the breath out of him every time he’s lucky enough to see even just your shadow.

You look so soft, so sweet, so perfectly his.

He’s searching for a cloth to warm up under the faucet, preparing to clean up the mess he’s just made of you in bed over the last few hours, when his eyes land on the unopened box of tampons under the bathroom sink. His mind starts quickly doing the math, believing that in theory you should have had to open this pack by now, when things begin to click for him.

Laying naked on your back atop the messy sheets, still catching your breath and coming back down to earth after the many times Simon brought you to bliss tonight, you’re admittedly confused when he comes back into the bedroom without the towel he said he was going to get. You’re even more caught off guard when he approaches you and lays two hands on the sides of your stomach, face approaching your abdomen with an expression of concentration on his face.

“Si what are you-”

“Love, I think you’re pregnant.”

He’s lucky you’ve been having the same suspicion for a few days now, waiting for him to take an actual test and find out, otherwise you might be smacking him upside the head right about now.

Once you do take the test however and confirm what he already felt sure of, that he had put a baby in you, he’s asking you why it isn’t appropriate to tape it to the living room wall for everyone to see, elated to share the news with those in your lives, meanwhile you’ve just decided he won’t be helping decorate the nursery, beyond building furniture.

[luveline]

Ok I love your post about sleep talking to Aaron, but can you imagine if reader is pregnant but hasn’t told Aaron yet and completely spills the beans in her sleepy ramblings 💙💙

thanks for requesting! <3 fem, 1.4k

“Can you take my socks off for me?”  

Aaron decides against asking why. Finds he doesn’t really care why you don’t want to do it yourself, happy to do it for you and spend a little time touching you. He sits on the end of the bed, pulling the comforter off of your feet. He slides a finger under the band of a sock and pulls it off, then the other. Pleased to hear your content sigh, he tucks you back under the blankets. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

He hears it then, the tiredness creeping into your voice. 

“Not gonna last long tonight?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

Aaron doesn’t mind. With Jack in bed already and everything that needed to be done put away, there’s nothing to do tonight but sleep. He would’ve liked to have had a few more hours with you, but you’re often tired lately. He keeps meaning to pay closer attention to your diet. Perhaps you’re eating too little or missing a necessary vitamin. 

He strips out of his sweatpants and climbs into bed. 

“Ooh, how forward, Mr. Hotchner,” you tease, your cheek to your pillow, curled and waiting for him to lay down. 

He turns out the light. “Can’t a man take off his pyjamas without such accusations?” he asks back, soft so as not to disturb his sleeping son nor his failing partner. 

Aaron shakes the sheets out over his legs, slipping onto his side in your direction. You hike your leg over his thigh. He pulls you in. 

“Why are you so tired?” he asks. 

You don’t pretend you’re not, eyes closing and forehead drifting forward. He’s content to talk to you like this. He might not be able to sleep for a while, but he won’t mind it. It’s an opportunity to see you as you are without inhibitions or distractions.

“I think it’s something in the air.” You slink your arm behind him where he’s hugged you, hand bent at an awkward angle to press into his hair. “So soft.” 

He leans down for a kiss. “If you need to sleep,” he says, pulling away only to stroke under your eye, “you can sleep, honey.” 

“No… miss you too much…” 

“I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Don’t promise if you can’t.” 

He kisses your frown. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning. Just like we talked about. Regularly scheduled days off, definite weekends, consult only if necessary. I promise, honey.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know. I love you more.” 

You’re delighted to hear it. Even with your eyes closed, he can sense the pleasure you’re feeling. You squeeze closer to his chest and begin pulling your fingers through his hair, a sensation that sends shivers down his spine with each pass. Your face falls on your pillow just under his chin and for a while you struggle, your hand trembling with the effort of stroking his hair. Soon, you’re scratching light circles into the same spot, and not long after that you’ve given in to simply having your hand there, buried without hurting. 

He turns onto his back to relieve a hip ache. He doesn’t bother pretending it isn’t a plus when you end up half atop him. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yeah?” he asks, surprised you're capable of opening your mouth. 

“Are you happy?” 

“Never so much in my life.” 

“You love me?” 

He curls an arm behind the back of your head. “You know that I do, sweetheart.” Aaron is at a crossroads of disposition; he’s always been and always will be a sensitive man, but he’s more of a shower than a teller when he can help it. He’d hope you know every inch of love he has for you, in everything he tries to do, but if you’re asking him about it he should’ve said it more. “I love you. I’m so grateful for you.” 

“I love you and Jack, and… I love our life.” 

“Me too,” he says. “Is this a precursor for something?” 

“No,” you say decidedly. Last bit of inflection, and then your tone’s lost to fatigue. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” he says, pressing his lips to your head, kissing you once, then twice. “Goodnight.” 

You curl up into him. He can feel the moment you fall into sleep, the laxness of unconsciousness and your deepening breath. You don’t usually snore for the first hour or so. He should try to fall asleep with you, but he gets distracted by the line of your upper lip. 

He really does love you. It isn’t an underestimation to say this is the happiest he’s ever been. He’ll always wonder if he deserves it, but he wants to believe now that he can earn it. You love him, so he’ll spend the rest of your lives together making sure you’re happy. He’s had some cruel wake up calls, made agonising mistakes, and maybe there are some things that can’t be forgiven. But you deserve to be loved to the fullest extent. Jack deserves to grow up feeling the same way, in a home where his dad, while staying true to who he is, actually lives there too.

You and Jack both gave him a second chance at a good life. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

Stirring, you mumble nothing. 

He shouldn’t have done that. “Shh,” he says, rubbing your back. “Shh, shh.” 

“Aaron?” 

You turn his name into a shapeless doting. 

“What, my girl?” he asks under his breath. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sleeping.” 

“You were.” He whispers to you in the dark, struggling to resist temptation. “I was just telling you I love you, that’s all.” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“You’re more than tired lately. It’s a little concerning.”

Your sigh kisses his neck. “Well, it’s probably ‘cos of the baby, you know, they’re so… complicated to make…” 

He opens his eyes. Frowns at you, forcing some space between your two bodies. “The baby.” 

“‘Pparently the first twelve weeks are the tiredest.” You whine softly and curl into him. “Don’t move away, please...” 

He feels like he’s been shocked. The conversation about babies as a long term couple went as follows: we’ll use protection, and if the protection fails we’ll do as you like. 

Aaron, you’d said, shaking your head, We can’t just do what I want.

Genuinely and wholeheartedly, Aaron would be happy with just his Jack, and, at the same time, would adore a baby with you. So it really was up to you, knowing protection isn’t ever one hundred percent. He’d hoped he’d be more looped into that conversation when it happened, though, especially with how much has to be done, the preparations to be made, and the extra support you’re going to need. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking about everything carefully. He loves you. He wants you to have a baby if you want one, and it sounds like you do. You’re tired beyond belief trying to carry one, so this conversation can wait until tomorrow. 

“I’ve heard that too,” he says finally, kissing your forehead more forcefully than he means to. “You should rest as much as you can, honey.”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” you tease, tired, somehow missing the entire point. 

“I love you very much, that’s all. You and Jack and… and whatever else that comes.” 

—

In the morning, you wake slowly and then suddenly, your hand against his arm. He’s exhausted from a night too excited to sleep and doesn’t budge.

“Aaron…?” you ask. 

“What, honey?” he asked. 

“I… did I…” 

He deigns to remove his face from his pillow. He finds you looking down at him nervously, so beautiful then that looking at you makes him excited all over again. 

He rubs your arm. Takes your hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss your wrist. “Congratulations, honey.” 

It’s your turn to be shocked, it seems. “Oh, thank you. So I did tell you?” 

“You might’ve mentioned it.” 

“And you’re… okay with it?” 

He puts your hand to his heart, holding it gently. “I couldn’t be more in love,” he confesses. 

That helps your hesitant smile on leaps and bounds. You go smiley like you’ve eaten something sugary and laughed, summoning the sweet, inescapable ache in your jaw. “You’re sure?” you ask. 

He pulls you down by the cheek for a kiss. 

[jasmineoolongtea]

― in between ⋆⭒˚.⋆

― the ways in which they act around you when you're in that in-between stage ༘ ⋆｡˚

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcannons/drabbles, fluff a/n: heavily based on in between by gracie abrams. if she releases it in the secret of us deluxe edition, i might just explode with happiness. btw thank you sm for blowing up my last post, literally insane of you guys and a big kiss to all of you. also genuine question for you guys, do you prefer the layout i have for my headcanons, drabbles or longer fics? i'm trying to see which one you guys prefer

gojo satoru never lets his phone ring for more than a couple seconds when it comes to you. doesn't matter where, when or what it could be about, the second he hears your personalised ringtone or sees your name flash across the top of his screen, he's scrambling to try and answer it as fast he possibly can. he could be in the middle of fighting a curse, deep within the throws of battle with a laser focus on the target in front of him and it all goes out the window the moment you call his phone.

you'll never know about it though. for some reason, satoru keeps this fact to himself like it's the biggest secret in the world. he'll always pick up the phone with a carefree lilt to his voice, sometimes even choosing to tease you for calling him when you could have just texted instead. quietly inside, he thanks the universe for giving him the opportunity to hear your voice again.

"gojo," god, he loves the way you say his name, maybe one day he'll manage to get you to call him satoru. "are you sure you're at home right now?" there's a tinge of concern that permeates your voice and he swears his heart beats twice as fast just thinking about the fact that you might be worried about his well being.

"of course! why'd you ask? don't tell me this is your way of asking to come over right now?" you sigh at his antics and he laughs it off, it's like a routine you two do. he keeps jokingly throwing out these more than friendly offers to your constant dismissal but secretly, he hopes one day that he can stop pretending like they're just that.

there's a loud crash coming from his side of the call which only serves your suspicions as you quip back. "no, gojo. i'm asking because i'm hearing noises like you're beating someone up." he curses faintly under his breath at the curse who's off groaning in pain in the distance after being punted into a wall with a flick of his wrist.

you pause for a second as your voice softens "is this a good time to call because if not i can just-"

"no, no." he cuts you off, "i've got all the time in the world for you."

geto suguru hates it when you cry and hates it even more when you're away. he never thought it would be possible to hear a heart shatter in front of him but that's what he hears every time you shed a tear. you're the definition of angelic as crystalline tears stream down your face and his heart swells with warmth when you allow him to comfort you in his arms.

silently, he pledges to burn down whatever has brought you so much grief and pain as a newfound sense of anger courses through his veins. but before he can do anything, you turn to him with watery eyes and a quivering lip as you ask him to do the unthinkable.

"stay." you plead quietly.

"okay." he responds, a soft, comforting smile gracing his expression. he'll never say it out loud but he knows that it's a request, just like many others, he'll accept a thousand times over if it means he gets to stay close to you, even if it's nothing more than this.

if he thought it was painful to see you cry, then being away from you was possibly a fate worse than death. whenever he has to bear the misfortune of being separated from you, there's a part of him that you've taken away with you and is only reunited when you return to him. absence is said to make the heart grow fonder but he's pretty sure it's humanly impossible for his to do that as you're already the one it beats for. even across the distance of a phone call, it's still not enough for him to hear but not see you as it simply makes him crave your presence next even more.

he's rarely ever let anyone in like this before but the day you see him exhausted, dishevelled and broken and still choose to remain at his side, despite his protests, is the day he's sure that you're the only thing he'll ever want for the rest of his life. you claim it's under the guise of being friendly yet even satoru hasn't seen him like this. you might not know it but he does.

he doesn't say much, instead choosing to bask in this moment of mutual comfort and closeness as even at each other's worst, you both know that you'll still be okay.

nanami kento says that he's new at this when you toe that delicate line between the two of you. you're new to this too. he's scared and you're scared, however, the fear is not enough to stop this. when does the line of being just friends end and the line of calling each other lover start? or is there a secret in-between stage that the two of you are stuck in like right now, where the other waits with bated breath to see if someone takes the risk to make the first move?

you've been friends for as long as you can remember running into each other that one fateful day within the rectangular walls of jujutsu tech. however, there's always been a whisper of something else there as well. it's been something the two of you have danced around with lingering glances and silent, 'accidental' touches in public spaces. the two of you have seen each other through the growing pains of adolescence, nights of broken hearts and awkward first dates and now with an added layer of professionalism as recent coworkers.

when it was nanami who was the one who rescued you from those times when you were left cold and alone in a random restaurant somewhere, you know that you've had enough of waiting on somebody who doesn't care about you. as he places his hand on your shoulder, ushering you into his car with his jacket dropped across your figure with the utmost care, he knows that you deserve so much more than whatever this world can offer and he can only dream of being the one to give this to you.

between you and him, there's an invisible wall of all the labels you have each barricade the other behind in an attempt to hide under a sense of familiarity but now in this moment, you want nothing more than to tear it all down with your bare hands. he reaches out to you, threading his fingers through his and in one swift move, he's done the impossible and has crossed over the holy ground that lies beneath you.

"do you think this is a good idea?" you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"positive." he responds, more resolute in his answer than in anything he has been in his life, and you swear sparks fly when you kiss.

fushiguro megumi loves your eyes and your smile and you love how he talks late at night when there's no one there. it's like a silent agreement between you two, one that you always honour. whenever one of you guys can't sleep, you will go to each other's dorm rooms and knock twice and you guys will stay up and talk until either the sun comes up or you both fall asleep.

it doesn't take a genius to say that megumi is a guarded person, with his walls so high you might even lose sight of him behind them, so it only makes it even more precious when you're able to see him like this in the dim light of the moonlight pouring in through the window. his skin is illuminated by the glow and the way he sounds when he's speaking with his soul bared open in its entirety makes you want to forever immortalise this moment in your memories. you think about all the people who have missed out on experiencing him like this with how his eyes sparkle with passion and how he breaks out into a grin at the slightest joke, leading you to mourn silently for their loss. however, you think of how vulnerable he lets himself become around you, knowing that you'll stay here with him no matter what, and the sweet nothings you hear him whisper to you when he thinks that you've fallen asleep and you realise this a secret you'll want to keep just between these walls.

on the rare occasion that megumi loses his battle to sleep first, he'll silently reach out for your hand and pull you closer to him. you're not sure if he's doing this consciously or unconsciously but you chose not to comment on the growing red glow of his ears as you sink into his touch.

usually, however, what happens is that you fall asleep first as you make your way onto the pillowy fortress that is either of your guys' beds. as you begin to drift off, he's always there watching over you like your very own moody guardian angel. this is the most he'll let himself indulge in your closeness, for now, as he takes comfort in the familiarity of this in-between stage.

itadori yuji tells you that you're beautiful, funny and smart like nothing he's ever seen. he swears on everything he loves in this world, a list that includes you but you don't need to know that yet. you brush off his compliments with practised ease as you try to fight the burning sensation that is spreading across your face. deep down, you can feel your heart fluttering at his compliments but then you think about how you shouldn't be feeling this way about someone who's your friend.

"itadori, you're exaggerating," you say, shoving his shoulder playfully. he pretends to feign hurt, rubbing the impacted area with a slight pout. adorable, you think to yourself before bringing yourself back into the present moment.

"no, it's true really! if you don't believe me, i'll just keep saying it over and over again." he asserts, ever so confident in his stance. it's all true to him, just like how the sky is blue and the grass is green. he'll be the first one to say how pretty, amazing and talented you are in a room full of your biggest supporters and he'll be the first one to say it again when there's no one else.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly at him, trying your best to act nonchalant despite wondering if he might ever feel more for you than your current state of friendship. "you don't say that to your friends. what about nobara, you don't say this to her, do you?"

"yeah, but she isn't you," he responds back. you don't answer him, choosing instead to point out an ice cream stand in the far distance and he lets you tug him along with you. it's okay, he knows that you're scared of whatever lies ahead for you two. he understands that you're worried that he might like you in that way, although he thinks that it's a bit stupid you're still so unsure about it when he wears his heart on his sleeve whenever it comes to you. whatever is it, he'll be happy to go along at your pace, just as long as it means he gets to be by your side like this.

okkotsu yuuta is so good to you and it makes you want it more than everything in between. is it greedy to say that you want more than whatever you two have right now? the longing stares, the lingering touches and the way your faces light up when you spot each other in a crowded room. sure, those were all fine for a bit but how long were you able to survive on just that when he was right there next to you as a constant reminder of the possibility of something more.

you never thought that you would be able to meet someone like him, someone who treats you as if you were the best thing to ever happen with so much care and love radiating from his very being. the way his hand brushes your cheeks when you get even the smallest cuts makes your heart feel like it's about to fall out of your chest with how he takes extra care to scan over your appearance for anything, pausing for a second on your lips. you think to yourself, he must be doing this on purpose, and you want to curse at him for playing with your heart but when he smiles at you with those half-moon eyes, you can feel all of that melting away and more.

the only person you can blame here for your current predicament is yourself really, you were the one who drew the line in the sand when the two of you first met. just friends, you said but in your defence, you had just learned about his history and how cold and empty his has been as well as how much you've been hurt in your own past, so you decided to do what was, at the time, what you thought was best for the both of you. only now, every day you spend with him makes him wish that you would one day wake up and finally take that jump.

yuuta also shares your sentiments, actually ever since he first saw you he knew that you were the one he wanted to live and breathe for, but he doesn't say anything for fear of scaring you off. he knows about your worries, your doubts and your fears and as much as he wants to tell you that you should throw caution into the wind and that he'll take that step for you, he also knows that he can't. so for now he'll do his best to quell your nerves with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a fleeting kiss on your cheek that you'll someday trust in yourself and him to fall headfirst into this new unknown territory, outside of this in between.

[hiddenreamers]

Unlikely pair

SUMMARY: Where Oscar is dating a musician known for strictness and harsh comments on survival shows. To everyone's surprise, the unlikely pair is nothing short of perfect.

yntheone made a new post:

Close your eyes, take my time Let's remember this moment

Photograph (prod. Offonoff) is out on Thursday

Comments:

user1: WHATTT

user2: this is not a drill I repeat this is not a drill

user3: girl you can't just drop this on us and bail 💀

user4: is this real or is this my ambien

user5: i see the saga of blurry pictures continues

↳ user6: it's a vibe, you hater 😤

user7: omg is this the song realoffonoff played on his live the other day??

user8: who is this and why is it not me 😩

user9: she destroyed everyone on Don Mills Daebak remix just to turn around and do cute rnb songs 😭 queen shit 👑👑

oscarpiastri: can't wait ❤️ liked by yntheone

↳ yntheone: ❤️❤️ ↳ user10: the last person I expected to see here ↳ user11: 🤨🤨 well that's suspicious

user12: You need to do an entire album with realoffonoff !! Cigarette was amazing 😍

↳ user13: oh my godddd do you think cigarette was about the same guy? ↳ user14: definitely ?? i mean how can you listen to yntheone sing she wants you to be addicted to her like cigarettes and go "nah I'll pass" ?? brain damage ahh behaviour

yntheone tagged oscarpiastri in a post:

Do you really think you're that good??

(He is.)

Comments:

user15: babe wake up new roman empire just dropped

user16: not the caption 💀💀 quoting herself like the queen she is

↳ user17: giving trainees war flashbacks lmao

user18: he better know how to fight 😤😤 im throwing hands

user19: this can't be the same person who tore apart trainees on live tv 😐 since when is she all lovey dovey

↳ user20: if you had Oscar Piastri smiling at you, you'd be lovey dovey too

user21: out of all the people I suspected to be the guy from a blurry picture, this man wasn't even on the list ??? there's opposites and then there's THIS

↳ user22: ya I'm genuinely surprised someone as calm as him can keep up with her ↳ user23: yall are forgetting he's keeping up with Lando Norris

oscarpiastri: I really am liked by yntheone

landonorris: he's not as good as me but I guess he's still kind of ok

↳ danielricciardo: you might want to rethink that mate ↳ landonorris: blocked

user24: I'll just assume every love song she's done has been about him

↳ user25: Cigarette?? Moon?? Photograph?? Make the Move?? He better know the poetry that she's written about him or he gon catch these hands ↳ oscarpiastri: I do know and I appreciate every word

user25: finally Mclaren found someone who can actually pull off the papaya and not look silly

user26: yntheone is taken?? worst day of my life tbh

user27: imagine all the contestants on survival shows that will come in mclaren merch 💀💀 we're about to unlock a new level of embarrassment that shouldn't be possible

user28: this is the best golden retriever black cat couple, everyone else can go home

user29: for his own sake, I hope he knows what he's gotten himself into 😩😩

↳ user30: no better racing motivation than remembering your girlfriend is famous for roasting people in front of the entire nation

f1fans_official made a new post:

oscarpiastri and yntheone on their little New York trip 🥺🥺

Comments:

user31: yes I watch f1 for the rivalry and driving

↳ user32: these two are the main plot

user33: am I the only one bothered by the fact that she's a rude bitch??

↳ user34: yes sis you're the only one who can't tell between a rude bitch and a professional realistically evaluating wanna-be artists

user35: no thoughts head empty thinking about my favourite paddock couple

user36: i can't even be mad she's taken my man 😞😞 they look cute together

user37: hope they don't break up I can't take going through my parents' divorce twice

user38: if Lando and yntheone become friends we're going to see the most iconic duo of all time

↳ user39: the Lando slander is about to get serious 💀 ↳ user40: Oscar is gonna be bald by the end of the year because of them lmao

oscarpiastri tagged yntheone in a post:

Resting and recharging before the next race weekend

Comments:

user41: it's giving he asked for no pickles

yntheone: no need to thank me, I know I'm the only thing you need 😴 liked by oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri: wouldn't have it any other way ❤️

user42: forget guard dog boyfriend, Oscar's got a guard dog girlfriend and I'm here for it

↳ user44: feminism

landonorris: guys help me she's scary

↳ yntheone: I know where you live 🥰🥰 ↳ oscarpiastri: yntheone I'll hold your bag baby ↳ user43: forget the office this is the sitcom i'd watch ↳ georgerussell63: the bigger the distance from angry yntheone the funnier it is

user45: honestly why would he go for a manly rude bitch?? there are so many better women out there, just sad

↳ user46: have you considered the fact that men are not a monolith and have, in fact, individual preferences? or is your IQ too low to comprehend that?

user47: I will tell my children this is the royal pair

user48: can't wait for her the sample Oscar and add him to a beat 🔥🔥

user49: ok now I get why she wrote absolute bangers about him 😍

user50: if she's in the stands cheering him on, FIA should give Oscar a penalty for unfair advantage 😤😤

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[fancyfeathers]

With the bat family daughter darling, did she already go to the same Gotham rich kid academy or did Bruce have her transfer there?

Referencing this post

Nope, her mom left Gotham before she was born traveled for work so she went with her so essentially she grew up around the world with maybe one or two homes in some place like New York or Singapore where they would stay for longer periods (1-3 months) when not traveling, with a tutor/governess teaching her. Like when her mother was originally engaged to Bruce he was more wealthy than her but she certainly has quite a bit of money to her name, like think Astrid Leong from Crazy Rich Asians, like the the first scene we see her in she buys earrings in Shanghai that cost 1.2 million (at cost), she has money.

Now I think Bruce would want her to attend a private academy, especially with Damian (despite the fact that she is terrified of him, it’s good sibling bonding). Now this could go one of two ways, she wants to go or she does not.

The first of two is if she might not be the best behaved and school would be her only way of socializing with other people her age, she is in a different class than Damian since he’d probably be older than her so he is not there to watch her every move throughout the day despite how much he would try to.

The other way is that she would not want to go to school there, like I mentioned earlier her and her mom had houses in New York and Singapore and while NYC isn’t too far away from Gotham, Singapore is and she has friends in both places and if she went to regular school it would be harder for her to see them when their own families were in town for business or if some good grace allowed it, being able to go back to see them.

Now the second option is very much less unlikely unless there is some serious good behavior from both of the darlings, mother and daughter. Bruce could certainly be convinced, especially after seeing his little girl’s wide smile when she finally gets to see her friends at the wedding of her parents.

Now her brothers certainly would not be happy, namely, and in order of how upset they would be, Damian, Dick, and Tim (Jason would not care enough that it would be a major issue for him).

Damian is very much that scary big brother that scares everyone away, there is no way he can look after her if she is with a bunch of people he’s never met besides maybe once or twice tops.

Dick is clingy, he doesn’t think his baby sister old enough to have friends outside of her family (ignoring the fact that she was raised by her mom and these are the kids she grew up with), he knows she doesn’t like his company much but to see her actually enjoy herself around people he does not know, it gets under his skin.

Then Tim, he has looked into everything about both of their darlings, he knows all about her friends, he knows those friends’ parents are friends of her mother, he knows of those parents and their sketchy business deals that come with most other socialite circles, and Tim certainly does not approve of them because children could turn into into their parents, he just doesn’t like the way it sits with him.

So while Mother!Darling tries to convince Bruce of allowing her to homeschool Daughter!Darling, the little girl is in the other room playing, pretending her old friends are with her.

[lqvesoph]

So american || LN4

📍Los Angeles, USA

liked by: taylorswift, gracieabrams, landonorris and 3,628,290 others

yn: opening night!!! thank you so much los angeles, it was a pleasure and everything I’ve ever dreamt of, to play for you

comments:

user1: the outfits, the setlist, the energy!!!

user2: MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user3: Best tour ever already

gracieabrams: QUEEN

liked by yn

taylorswift: Loved every second of it!!

liked by yn

user4: i love youuuu

user5: This tour is gonna go down in history

user6: Why is Lando Norris in her likes???

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📍London, UK

liked by: gracieabrams, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and 4,262,926 others

yn: London, you’ve been a pleasure🇬🇧

comments:

user1: She’s so cute

user2: She looks so happy omgg

user3: No one gonna talk about that car picture???

user4: LIKE RIGHT???

user4: Y/n casually throwing in a soft launch???

user5: Whoever he is, he better treat her right

user6: First Lando, now Alex in her likes as well??

user2: Chill, she’s like the biggest artist atm, this doesn’t mean anything

user7: Girly is really enjoying the english weather helpppp

yn: Only cause I got great company, Cali Sun all the way

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liked by: maxfewtrell, mclaren, f1 and 3.262.528 others

landonorris: Thank you Zandvoort🧡

comments:

mclaren: WHAT A DRIVE

maxfewtrell: Congrats mate!

oscarpiastri: Well done

oscarpiastri: Your drive was good as well

user4: Oscar????

user1: DID YALL SEE THAT?

user3: UHM YES????

user2: Jumpscare (in a good way) on the last picture…

user3: Is this the beginning of a soft launch??

user4: Who’s the girl???

user5: Was there anyone in the paddock with him??

user6: Not as far as we know

user7: Who even cares?? Lets just focus on his amazing performance instead

user8: Exactly what I’ve been saying…

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📍Amsterdam, Netherlands

liked by: landonorris, gracieabrams, taylorswift and 4.347.239 others

yn: Few pretty amazing days in the Netherlands

alexandrasaintmleux: The prettiest💞

yn: ily

gracieabrams: Missy, pick up ur phone. Now.

yn: 🤭🤭🤭

sabrinacarpenter: Quick vacation to the Netherlands, huh

user1: Wait that picture is so cute??

user4: right????

user2: She looks so incredibly good, wow

user3: Quick question, where you by any chance in Zandvoort as well?👀

user5: What the hell are you talking about?

user4: Shhh, we’re tryna figure something out

user6: I’m straight but-

user7: That guy look SO good

user8: Its just his back…

user7: My point still stands

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📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by: gracieabrams, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 4,926,325 others

yn: We are going to Monte Carlo!!

comments:

user1: Her dress omgg!!

user2: Oh to be a hot famous singer, dating a hot famous athlete

liked by yn

user3: HER LIKING THAT COMMENT???

user4: Okay, say whatever you want but that’s definitely Lando…

user2: I-

user2: You’re right, there’s no denying…

user4: The jolly and golf…

charles_leclerc: I see you’ve seen the right cars🏎️

yn: Red all the way

user5: CHARLES COMMENT???

user6: HER REPLY???

danielricciardo: landonorris, call me asap!!

user8: This is like confirmation, right?

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liked by: mclaren, oscarpiastri, keeganpalmer and 2.427.719 others

landonorris: Between Monaco, England and Belgium

comments:

keeganpalmer: Nice game and even better company

landonorris: Savannah, slow down

user: LANDO PLSSS

user: Him taking a picture of her behind the stage???

user: Like premium bf

user: Pls yall are delusional, we don’t even have a confirmation

user: Swipe twice and you have your confirmation, bc that’s literally Yn in the 3rd picture…

user: Okay so this might be a reach, but didn’t Yn have a show in Belgium??

user: Yeah she played two nights in Bruessel

user: That’s the same gold course that Yn posted, just sayin👀

user: Is she wearing Quadrant merch???

user: Yess! I think it was at their most recent shoot

user: So what I’m hearing is there might be pictures of her in Quad merch??

user: I love how we all just collectively decided that it’s Yn😭

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📍New York City, New York

liked by: yn, carlossainz55, mclaren and 4,726,327 others

landonorris: So american

comments:

yn: 🤭🤭🤭

carlossainz55: You’re unbelievable

landonorris: I’ll take that as a compliment

oscarpiastri: Don’t go full american on me now…

danielricciardo: YEHAWWWW

landonorris: Wrong state mate…

user1: Proper tourist

user3: The i love ny shirt 😭

user2: UHM

user: The way he’s leaning over the barrier, Lando calm down

user3: PICTURE 5???

user4: So, that’s definitely Yn…

user: So do yall think this is confirmation enough orrrr?

user5: There’s no way he actually pulled her right??

user2: Boy, I think he actually might have…

user6: We got a yn like AND comment??

user4: I’m overwhelmed

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📍New York City

liked by: landonorris, taylorswift, alexandrasaintmleux and 5,427,920 others

yn: Welcome to New York🩵

comments:

taylorswift: My favorite girl💞

yn: ilyyy sm

gracieabrams: That dress ohhhh

user1: This is the dream

user2: He looks heavenly in that 4th picture

liked by yn

user: She is drop dead gorgeous

liked by landonorris

user: HELLO?? Did yall see that???

user: I for sure did…

user: THEY HAVE MATCHING I❤️NY SHIRTS!!!

user: OMG YOURE RIGHT

user6: Wait so it actually was her in that Zandvoort photo dump??

user4: I think so

user6: That means she witnessed him win a race as well!!

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tagged: landonorris

liked by: landonorris, gracieabrams, taylorswift and 6.357.952 others

yn: surprise!!! my new single "so american" is out at midnight

comments:

landonorris: YESSS BABY

landonorris: LA LA LA LA LOVE

user1: If he’s not like Lando Norris I don’t want him

user2: Lando being her personal hype man in the comments

user3: As he should tbh, he bagged a queen

user4: Wasn’t that Lando’s caption on his New York post??

user5: omg I think you’re right

user5: “He laughs at all my jokes” yn exposing lando for being down bad

oscarpiastri: Trust me that feeling is mutal…

user2: He says, as if he isn’t doubling over any time Lando opens his mouth

user3: HAHAHAHAHAHA

user6: WAIT WHEN WAS SHE IN THE PADDOCK???

user7: WHAT?

user6: The 4th picture, Lando wearing team kit and the Ferrari garage in the background

user7: OMG

user5: I think she was in Zandvoort… She was in the Netherlands for the same weekend that the Grand Prix was

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tagged: yn

liked by: yn, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 4.753.356 others

landonorris: My girl just released a new song (p.s. its about me)

comments:

yn: Omg, thanks for the shoutout!!

landonorris: Any time, an underground artist needs all the help she can get

user2: HAHAHAHAHAHA

user3: please I love them

user1: HARD LAUNCH

user2: He was with her in London???

user3: He probably took her sightseeing

liked by landonorris

user4: “Its hard to sleep when he’s with me” excuse me sir?

carlossainz55: There are things I didn’t need to know…

landonorris: What can I say man

danielricciardo: “He laughs at all my jokes” its not that hard, you’re nothing special…

yn: Don’t be a party pooper!!

oscarpiastri: He also can’t have a conversation if it’s not about her

user5: Loving how Oscar keeps exposing them

user: So she really was at the shoot!!!

user: The way he is carrying her!!!

user: Get yourself a man like that fr

user: Her ABS😮

user: Lando, I understand 🤚🏻

user: “Oh god, I’m gonna marry him” SHE IS IN LOVE

user: Well she did say “I might just be in love”

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[forgeofthenine]

Omg in the last few posts you were talking about heat as in temperature but my brain registered it as something COMPLETELY different and it got me thinking…

What if tieflings had some kind of a heat cycle and they get extra sensitive and desperate because of it?? I can imagine Zevlor and Rolan being super embarrassed or nervous to bring it up, maybe Dammon’s more chill about it but still extra needy

So, this has absolutely been a passing thought in my mind and as soon as this request came in I knew I just had to push it to the front of my request queue, purely for my own mental health lol

Gotta admit, I'm a fan of omegaverse dynamics and I actually looked a little into irl animal biology and mating behaviour to get a better feel for what I think tieflings would be the most like. So this has both general headcanons and some NSFW headcanons for the individual bachelors

You probably didn't expect quite this much (over a thousand words of tief content) when requesting but this had me in a chokehold, I hope everyone enjoys <3

TW: NSFW under the cut, very heavy breeding kink, overstimulation, alpha/omega adjacent dynamics

Tiefling NSFW heat and rut headcanons

General

So, I feel like once all tiefs reach sexual maturity they'll start to either have heats or ruts, depending on their biology

Anyone with female biology will have a heat, and I feel like they'd have heats similar to cats but with a slightly longer time between heats

So generally they'd have a heat every two to three months or so unless they're pregnant or have other health issues

For the ones with male biology they'd definitely have a rut

They'd follow similar patterns to the women, but it's not unusual for some tieflings to have longer stretches between their ruts if they don't have a partner

A single tiefling that isn't particularly sexually active might only go into rut once or twice a year

I do think a male tiefling could prematurely go into rut if exposed to a females heat, and couples that have been together for a while will sync up

They have pretty typical heat and rut behaviours with nesting, possessiveness, and a pretty undeniable breeding kink

Nesting, possessiveness, and general mood shifts tend to start setting in during pre-heats and pre-ruts

Pre-heats and pre-ruts can last two to five days, and a full heat and rut can last anywhere from two days to a full week depending on the individual

In saying that, having a partner can definitely shorten both heats and ruts, so single tieflings working through things by themselves will have longer heats or ruts

Heats and ruts can also become more painful the longer they go on without the relief of a sexual partner

Tieflings can tell when others are in heat and rut mostly through pheromones, but a female tieflings tail will also involuntarily lift when she's in pre-heat/heat and around a male

I wonder if I should go so far as to headcanon that they have knots, I did already give them all ridged dicks

Dammon

If you and Dammon aren't dating then he'll be much more shy about his ruts

He basically disappears from his forge and the public for a few days and then comes back as if nothing happened

Once you start dating him is when you find out why he pulls the disappearing act

Dammon is actually very open about it now you're both together and have already been intimate

Blushes slightly while trying to explain some of the more physical, primal aspects

Would flush even more if you tell him you find the whole thing incredibly attractive

The next time he has his rut, you're the only person allowed to see him, and he really is a sight

Naked and tangled in his sheets, all flushed and tense, undeniably hard as he palms himself while looking over at you

Even the way he strips you of your clothing is different, he just about rips it off you as he kisses and nips down your neck and chest

While Dammon is usually one to take his time with making you feel good when he's in rut the only thing on his mind is getting to cum

Though even in his hazy mind frame he still makes sure you're comfortable the whole time

Even a near sex crazed and highly hormonal Dammon is still a very caring partner

You know he's going to bend you in half as he fucks you, he just loves how good you look underneath him like that

Breeding kink go brrrr

This man always fucks like he's trying to breed you but it's off the charts when he's in rut

I hope you're ready to be fucked within an inch of your life because his refractory period ceases to exist

Absolutely watches as he pulls out of you and some of him cum leaks out because he's stuffed you so full

Dammon praises you so well too, you can not shut up this man and his dirty talk

"That's it gorgeous, you take my cock so well."

"You gonna make me a daddy, darling? 'm gonna knock you up, full you up with my cum."

Once his rut dies down enough, he'll scoop you up for a bath

There is no way you could stand after the way this man just wrecked you-

Dammon takes very good care of you, and then you do it all again the next day

Zevlor

Whether you're dating Zevlor or not, he's your personal wealth of knowledge on everything tiefling

So what do you do when a book you read mentions 'the times of year and conditions unique to tieflings' and doesn't explain it?

You go and find your favourite paladin

Zevlor is so embarrassed, dating or not, explaining to you how tiefling heats and ruts work

Can't even keep his eyes on you

When you two are dating and you realise you didn't see him at all yesterday, it's time to go hunting for the man

You have an idea of what might be going on but nothing prepares you for what you find

Much like Dammon, you find him tangled in his bed sheets desperately trying to get himself off

He lets out the sexiest groan when he sees you standing there

He's the gentlest of the three while working through his rut

Even then, Zevlor is noticeably rougher with you than usual

Has you in a missionary position, his whole body pressed to yours as he pants in your ear and thrusts into you

Zevlor can't keep his hands off you when he's in rut, they're all over your hips and chest and giving light tugs to your hair

He gives into the primal need to mark you too, it's the only time he'll give you hickeys

Breeding kink: the sequel

Absolutely tells you he's going to breed you, and fucks you like he means it

Doesn't even think as he uses his hands and tail to spread your legs so he can fuck you deeper

Zevlor loves to look at the way you tremble every time he fills you with cum, using his fingers to help you get off at the same time

Even while he's trying to find his own relief, he makes sure to make you cum so many times you end up overstimulated and about to cry from the pleasure

Definitely has you cockwarm him as the two of rest, the thought of you keeping his seed so deep in you until it takes just gets him going again

You'll know he's ready for another round when Zevlor starts grinding himself into you again

When the worst of his rut is over he gives you the best massages

Apologises so profusely too the first few times you help him through his rut, even if you tell him how much you like it

Rolan

There is no way Rolan is ever telling you anything about heats and ruts

Absolutely forbidd his siblings from mentioning it too, he's just way too embarrassed for you to know

Even when you guys are dating he just locks himself away in his tower for a week while he works through it and recovers

This man will not tell you anything

And then he forgets to lock the door

As soon as you open it you're met with the sight of a whiney, teary eyed Rolan trying to get off by grinding against a pillow in desperation

Unlike with the other two, there's no clear 'top' when you're with Rolan during his rut

He loves having you ride him until he sees stars just as much as he wants to bend you over his desk until everyone else in Ramaziths tower can hear you scream

Rolan loves hearing you when he's in rut

Yell his name, tell him that you belong to him, tell him how good he fucks you, say he looks so pretty when you ride him-

He loves all of it so much

He's also the one that bites you the hardest, expect him to draw at least a little bit of blood by accident

Breeding kink: the trilogy

Rolan isn't letting you leave the room unless he's knocked you up

Absolutely puts a fertility spell on you by brushing his hand over your lower belly and murmuring the words

He also refuses to pull out unless it's to change positions, and if any cum leaks out of you he'll push it back in with his fingers

Overstimulation is the name of the game with Rolan, he wants you both overstimulated and crying and completely fucked out

This man believes in equality and we love him for it

The youngest of the tiefling bachelors and definitely the most pent up, it'll take all day before he calms down enough for the two of you to rest

When things do calm down, after he makes sure you're both clean and fed, Rolan wraps you up with him in his bed and will read to you

It's his own personal flavour of aftercare, cuddling and reading your favourite book as he makes sure you're comfortable and happy

And it all starts over when you wake up the next morning with him hard as a rock against your ass

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Innocence

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), fingering, slight hand job, virgin reader, purity ring 😮‍💨, making out, underage smoking, mention of underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any!

summary: remus learns the ring you wear everyday is called a purity ring, and he develops a strange obsession with it… and wanting to take it off you…

word count: 4.6k

a/n: guys.. dw there’s gonna b a part two but like omgggggg this made me feel so many things i’m in love with this. lmk what you think :) also i’m not religious so if any of this is not accurate i’m sorry lol it’s for the plot

part two is posted!!! here

~~~

Ever since he knew you, Remus noticed that one thing you always wore. It was plain, a simple gold band on your left ring finger, the marriage finger. Typically, such nonsense wouldn’t cross his mind twice, but you wore that ring damn ring every day. Since the first time he ever saw you, that ring was on your finger. He never saw you without it. So, his curiosity got the better of him.

Why would such a simple ring be so important that you never took it off? It couldn’t have been because you were married. No. You wore it even at the young age of eleven. Could it have been a family heirloom? That idea was plausible, however to him, it didn’t feel like the correct answer. And Remus Lupin always needed the correct answer.

So, he eventually decided to ask you.

During dinner one night, when you just so happened to be sitting next to him, his eyes caught sight of the ring and he eyed it suspiciously. You noticed this.

“Something wrong Rem?” You asked.

He looked up from the ring on your delicate finger to meet your confused eyes. “Why do you always wear that specific ring? And always on that finger? Is it special?”

“Oh.” You laughed for a few seconds. “Yeah, it’s stupid really, an old muggle tradition.” You composed yourself and looked up at him, a slight red tint to your cheeks. “It’s called a purity ring. Basically, I wear it as a reminder that I pledged to wait till marriage.”

Remus was confused, and he hated being confused. “Why would anyone wait till marriage?”

You shrugged. “Muggle religion is quite weird. They value keeping teenagers pure until they’re married. I think it’s stupid, but I still wear it.”

“So, you’ve done it but continue wearing it as a... symbol?” He questioned.

“Oh no, I haven’t done it. I might find it stupid, but I still plan to keep my promise. It’s sort of a nice accomplishment don’t you think? I’ve gone through two years of everyone shagging around me and I haven’t given in,” you answered.

He stared at you for a few seconds. You were still a virgin, and that ring was the reason. He thought for a moment. How could you be a virgin? He swore he had seen you go off with a bloke from Ravenclaw a few months ago during a party. But then as his eyes trailed over your small figure, he realized the idea wasn’t completely impossible. He’d never seen you with hickeys, he’d never seen you dress improperly, and he surely had never seen you enter the common room after a long night with someone. For some reason, it made a strange feeling bloom deep inside him.

“Surely you’ve at least done other stuff, right?”

You simply shook your head and took a bite from your sandwich. “Furthest I’ve ever gone is having some Ravenclaws tongue down my throat.”

Ah, so he was right about that.

“Besides, I don’t really even know much about any of that stuff. I mean I know biology, but that’s about it. And of course, what Marls and Mary tell me from their extravagant experiences,” you added after swallowing.

So that meant...

“You haven’t done anything?” He was surprised, it was clear in his tone.

“No need to sound so flabbergasted. Besides, why do you even care about what I’ve done? I always thought you were the modest type too,” you replied with an eye roll.

Remus looked away from you, and the urge to smirk took him over. He thought back to those countless nights over the summer breaks he’d spent with muggle girls. The feelings, the sounds, the tastes, all experiences he’d never forget. But by no means was Remus Lupin a player, oh no. He was nothing like his mate. However, he also wasn’t a saint like everyone painted him out to be.

“I may be modest but that doesn’t mean I’m a virgin,” he said after a moment, his eyes finally turned back to you. He liked the way you looked at him. “That went away a few summers ago.”

You smiled, though something about it was off, almost as if it were forced. “Well, cheers to that.”

“Cheers.” He nodded in agreement.

You turned back to the group conversation before he could say anything else.

~~~

Remus had thought after finding out what the ring's importance was, he would let it go and move on. Unfortunately, he had thought wrong. Ever since that conversation with you, he couldn’t get any of it off his mind. When he’d see you, he’d always look at your left hand, almost making sure that ring was still there. It always was. And for some reason it made him feel almost relieved. He needed more answers.

Thankfully, another opportunity came not too long after the first.

The two of you had been paired together in potions. Typically, he would be a bit upset with the fact given you were never the best in the subject. But for the first time, he was pleased with the pairing.

He watched as you cut up some of the ingredients, that stupid ring shining from the lights. Questions filled his head. Where had you gotten it? When did you get it? Who gave it to you? Did your parents know what it meant? What were you supposed to do with it when the time finally came? He needed to get the answers.

“So, when did you get it?” He casually asked his eyes on the cauldron.

“Get what?”

“The ring.”

You chuckled. “You’re still on about that? I suppose you aren’t too accustomed to muggle things. I got it right before I came here actually. My parents wanted to give me a reminder about life at home, and they wanted to make sure I knew where my ‘loyalties’ lay. Though, I was only a little girl. Did they expect anything to happen at that young?”

Three questions were answered. Good.

Remus dropped his chopped ingredients into the cauldron. “Does that mean you give it back to them when you finally do it?”

“Oh no. I give it to my husband of course,” you replied. “Do these look alright?”

He finally turned his head in your direction and looked over your cutting board then he met your eyes. “Perfect. You can put them in.”

“You don’t know how good that makes me feel to hear. Master of potions Remus Lupin says I’m perfect, I could faint,” you said as you scrapped your work into the cauldron, a hint of laughter in your voice.

He rolled his eyes. “I said your cutting was perfect, but if it makes you feel good, I suppose you are too.”

You looked up at him with a glint in your eyes that made an odd feeling form in his chest. You looked so damn innocent. How had he not noticed it before? You had always been one of the shyer members of Gryffindor, but he always brushed it off as nothing important. He never would’ve guessed just how innocent you were.

“How sweet of you.” You giggled.

“ ’Course, anytime love.”

He noticed the shift in your body at his words. How odd. You looked away from him for a few seconds, that familiar rose tint returning to your cheeks. Did you always do that? Did such simple words always make you blush and turn away? Or was it just him? He watched you bite down on your lip and fiddle with your ring.

You were teasing him.

It was then he decided he was going to get that ring from you.

And you were going to love it.

~~~

Getting you to that point was going to take some time, Remus knew that. But it didn’t stop him. He started simply. When the two of you were hanging out in the group, he made sure to at least say a few words to you alone. When eating meals, he made sure to get a spot next to you. Most importantly though, he started making sure to leave subtle hints. Lingering eye contact, small touches that weren’t necessary, comments that made your face turn red. He could tell all of it made you flustered, and he loved it.

During all of it, his obsession with your innocence only grew. He wanted to take it away. He wanted to taint you, to make you not so pure anymore. He didn’t understand the feeling, he never cared much for such stereotypical nonsense. But each time you looked at him with those curious, innocent eyes, it only made his patience strained.

The first breakthrough came during one of Sirius and James’s parties. The common room blared with music, and people laughed and danced. You were among them. Remus leaned against the wall next to the staircase to the boy's dorm, a cigarette between his lips as he watched you dance with Mary and Lily. Your smile was bright, your body moved to the rhythm almost perfectly. You wore a pretty little dress. But he couldn’t focus on any of that because that damn ring caught his attention.

It had become quite a distraction. He found himself staring at it far more than normal. During class and dinner, it consumed most of his thoughts. He needed to get it off your finger before it caused his grades to slip.

From across the room, your eyes suddenly found his. You gave him a questioning look; he only smirked back and released a cloud of smoke into the air. He watched you say something to the girls before you began to walk in his direction. Perfect.

“Why do you always stand on the sidelines?” You asked once you were close enough. “And if you’re going to stare at me all night you might as well just dance with me.”

He chuckled and took another drag from the cigarette. “I’m not the biggest fan of these parties and I definitely don’t dance.” He offered you the cigarette, and you shook your head and pointed to your ring. “Come on, that applies to cigs too?”

“And alcohol, pretty much whatever is considered sinful. Though, I have indulged in a drink or two. Mommy and Daddy don’t need to know about that,” you answered.

Merlin, he needed to do something with you. It was almost unbearable.

“You’re saying alcohol and cigs are sinful but intense snogging isn’t? Seems a bit hypocritical to me,” he eventually said.

You smiled and shrugged. “That’s muggle religion for you. It’s pretty much up to each person's interpretation and what they value. I value being sober more than refraining from a snog occasionally.”

“But a shag...”

“That’s universally seen as a big sin. Most of us would agree not to do it until marriage.”

He released another breath of smoke. “Most of you?”

“Well, not everyone agrees of course. Like I said, it’s technically up to everyone’s values. Murder is also considered a sin, you know. But even some people commit that,” you explained. He watched you blush. “I don’t think I should compare virginity to murder though.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison,” he replied, his lips turned up into a smile.

You turned even more red. “Sorry. But you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Everything is optional is what you’re saying.” He let his eyes trail over your body, making sure you noticed. “So really, you could fuck someone before marriage.”

“I mean yeah, I could, but I don’t think I will,” you said. You began to fiddle with the ring again. “It’s sort of always been with me it would feel weird giving it to someone else.”

“Do you have to give it away for anything? Or just actual sex?” It was another question he’d been dying to know. He watched you think for a moment.

“I think just the full thing. I don’t know. I don’t even really know that much about it like I said when you first asked me. I mean, I know people use their hands and mouths but... sorry. I shouldn't be talking about such things.” You put your face in your hands, Remus couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry.”

He needed to do something. Now.

“Don’t be sorry love, it’s alright. You know you can trust me; I wouldn’t dare tell anyone about your sinful thoughts,” he spoke. He turned and dropped his cigarette into one of the many ashtrays in the common room. When he looked back at you, you were already looking at him. “But you know if you ever wanted to indulge in something like that, you can come to me.”

You were beyond flustered, and it showed. “Oh! That’s very um... generous of you, but I don’t think I’ll do any of that I mean... I don’t plan on it.”

He casually shrugged. “We all get a bit curious at some point in our lives.”

For a moment the two of you only stared at each other. He could tell exactly what you were thinking. You were curious. You wanted to try things. He observed you carefully. He could sense the conflict within you. Value versus desire. It was a tough battle, but you didn’t cave. At least, not yet.

“Perhaps, but I made a promise and I need to stick to it,” you said. You looked over your shoulder at your clearly intoxicated friends. “I should get back to Lily and Mary.”

“Right, it was nice talking,” he replied with a smile.

You nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

“Till then love.”

Even as you walked away and joined your friends once again, he could see the way his words affected you. You could deny the feelings all you wanted, but your body craved the unknown. It was only a matter of time till you caved, and Remus would wait.

He was never one to give up easily.

~~~

You came to him faster than he expected. He understood why though, you were on edge about all of it. In the few days it took for you to go to him, he noticed how different you acted. You were more tense, you fiddled with your ring far more than normal. He imagined the inner conflict you faced was stressful, but he was glad about the turnout of it.

After dinner, as he was walking to the library for a study group, you found him. He was a bit surprised at your approach, but nevertheless, he welcomed it with joy.

“Hey Remus, could I talk to you for a second?” You asked.

You were a bit behind him, but he stopped instantly and turned to face you.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

Your little bit of confidence quickly vanished. You avoided his gaze, focusing suddenly on your shoes. “Um, are you busy? It’s not really that important so if you have something else to do it can wait.”

He fought the urge to smirk. “I was just going to Lily’s little study group, but it can wait. Is something wrong?”

You shook your head and looked up at him, those big innocent eyes staring into his. “No uh... nothing's wrong. It’s just about... well... you know.”

“About what?”

“You know...”

“I don’t think I do love, you’re gonna have to use your words and tell me.”

He felt bad for teasing you, but it was too fun not to. The way your cute little eyes looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was around, the way you fidgeted, it was far too entertaining to stop. A moment passed before you finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.

“It’s about what we talked about at the party last weekend.”

“Oh?” He questioned. “What about it?”

He watched as you slid the ring up and down your finger. “You said um if I ever wanted to you know, indulge, that I could come to you.”

“Yes, I did say that.”

“So... um yeah,” you said. You looked almost uncomfortable. He knew he needed to be nicer.

“Are you asking if that offer is still there?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I mean, um, is it?”

He glanced around to make sure nobody else was around before stepping closer to you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your mouth parted ever so slightly. He touched his fingers to your chin, lifting your head gently.

“How about you come find out?”

You didn’t fight it. He was glad.

Not too long after that, Remus found himself in a position he’d desperately wanted for almost a month. You were laid out on his bed, open like a flower, and he was on top of you. Your robe, shirt, and tie were thrown to the floor. He kissed you hard, the reward of your gasps kept him going. He let one of his hands travel up your soft thigh, you were so warm, so inviting. It took all his self-control to keep him from moving too fast.

Before it began, you told him you had only ever snogged. That meant no boy had ever touched you. Not with a hand, not with his tongue, nothing. No one had ever even felt up your breasts. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t pleased with the information. He wanted you to be his, he wanted to be as many of your firsts as he could be.

“Can I touch you?” He eventually whispered on your skin; his lips were by your ear.

“Yes, please,” you replied, your breath ragged.

He continued to press soft kisses to your neck as his hand moved between your thighs. You were wet, very wet. He could feel it through your panties. It made him even harder than he already was. He slid his hand under your panties and began to rub soft circles on your clit, you gasped and lifted your hips in response.

You were perfect.

With every flick of his fingers, you let out little whimpers and moans, and one of your hands gripped his shoulder hard. He caught a few glances of your face between kisses. Your cheeks were red, your eyes squeezed shut. You were beyond beautiful.

After a few minutes, he moved his fingers down to your entrance. He made sure to collect your wetness and ask if it was alright before he began to slowly push one of his fingers inside you.

“Remus,” you mumbled as he started thrusting his finger in and out of you at a slow pace. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

You lightly shook your head. “It feels so good, do not stop.”

“Do you want another one?”

“Yes.”

He complied instantly and added a second finger. You responded just the way he wanted. In only a few more minutes he was fucking you with his fingers, touching that spot inside that made your thighs clench around him. He kissed you hard, he loved how you struggled to kiss him back. When he also began to press his thumb to your clit, you became a mess.

“Fuck Rem, I-” You paused, your nails dug into his shoulder.

“You’re close.” It was a statement; he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. He knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I am,” you practically whimpered.

“Let go, love, it’s alright.”

Only seconds later you did. You came hard. Your back arched off the mattress, your mouth hung open wide, and your thighs tightened around his hips. Remus had never felt anything as good as the feeling of your walls pulsating around his fingers as you came undone beneath him. He made sure to keep going till you were fully done. At that point, he pulled his hand out of your panties and up to his lips. He knew you were going to taste good.

You sat up, breathless. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I just- you just- we just... I’m going to hell.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine. People do this all the time and nothing bad happens, I promise it’s just a normal thing,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, he thought you looked so beautiful. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about being judged or anything, I’m worried because I don’t feel guilty. I should feel guilty for it but I just... don’t. In fact, I think I...” You looked down at your hand, specifically the ring. “I think I want more.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. “More?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s only right that I return the favor.” He watched your eyes move to his pants; your cheeks turned red. “You’ll have to show me how though.”

“Alright, only if, you’re sure. Don’t feel like you have to because I did something for you,” he replied though he really did want you to touch him. But he could wait if he had to.

“I want to.”

He didn’t question you further. Instead, he guided you through the process of getting him off with your hand. You were a fast learner, though the act itself wasn’t that hard to get the hang of. He found it funny the way you gasped at the size of him. Merlin, you were so innocent. Either way, you made him feel extraordinary. Your hand was much softer than his, and warmer too. You touched him gently, almost teasingly. But that changed fast.

“Can I try something else?” You asked, your hand stopped.

He almost groaned from the lack of motion. “What?”

“Um, can I try using my um...” You pointed to your lips.

“Your mouth?”

“Yeah.”

How could he ever refuse?

It was sloppy, it was rushed, but it was everything he could’ve wanted. As he laid back on the pillows, one of his hands moved through your soft hair. He didn’t dare push you. No. He only stroked your hair gently and whispered praises. He knew you liked it from the way you hummed on his cock each time he told you how good you were doing or how good you made him feel. And when you looked up at him with those eyes, those damn innocent eyes, he could barely contain himself.

He was shocked you even did it to begin with, but he was even more shocked when you let him finish in your mouth. You had him halfway down your throat when he came, and you didn’t pull away for a second. You swallowed it all. Somehow, he became even more attracted to you than he had been before.

“Was it good?” You questioned after you pulled back. You were kneeling beside his legs, a nervous expression on your face.

He smiled. “You were amazing. Are you sure you haven’t done that before?”

“Never even saw one in real life before this,” you replied with a laugh.

“That’s hard to believe,” he said. He sat up and pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “Do you want to try one more thing?”

“Depends on what thing.”

“I’ll do what you just did to me but on you,” he answered, loving the way your eyes widened at his words. Despite everything that happened already, you were still so innocent. He adored it.

“Oh yeah okay,” you spoke after a moment.

He kissed you again. “Lay down.”

You did as he said and soon it began.

He started by kissing your lips while his hands pulled your skirt and panties off, leaving you only in a bra. Once those were off, he kissed down your neck, and your chest, only pausing for a second to unclip your bra and take one of your nipples in his mouth. You moaned, he stayed there for a few extra seconds. He then moved his mouth further down your body, relishing the sounds you made each time his lips made contact with your skin.

When he started to kiss up one of your thighs, you twitched. You were so sensitive, so untouched. He was obsessed with it. Every few kisses he sucked your skin to leave dark purple hickeys. He had made sure not to leave any on your skin that would be visible to the world so that no one would see the evidence of your sinful acts. But the skin that would be covered by clothing, that was his to mark.

A few minutes of this went by, and it was all on purpose. Remus could tell how eager you were for him to get on with it, but you were far too shy to tell him to do so. So, he didn’t dare touch you where you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted to hear you ask. But you said nothing, so he decided you needed a little push. He gave you one single lick then returned to your black and blue thighs.

“Remus,” you whispered. “Please.”

He looked up at you and almost felt bad. Your desperate eyes were already looking at him, he could tell how much you needed it. He didn’t wait any longer and gave you what you needed; you certainly earned it.

In all his experience with sex and everything surrounding it, Remus enjoyed pleasing his partner as anyone did. He didn’t mind going down on women, in fact, he sort of enjoyed it. At least until you. With you, he quickly realized having his head between your thighs and his tongue on your clit was not just alright, it was heavenly. He never enjoyed the taste of a girl like he enjoyed yours. You were sweet and the sounds you made as he played with you were their own type of reward.

So, it was no surprise how quickly you came undone on his tongue. He devoured you like he had been starving his whole life. Truthfully, he felt as if he had. You were spectacular. You were perfection. You were his. He was crazy about you.

After you finished, he wiped his mouth on one of your thighs before moving to lie on the bed next to you. He laid on his side facing you, his eyes examining your face. Your eyes were closed, and your cheeks were pink. Your hair was messy, and your lips were ever so slightly lifted into a smile. He swore he never saw anyone as beautiful in his life.

“I feel stupid,” you mumbled.

“Why?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your smile then undeniable. “I should’ve taken you up on your offer sooner. Now I understand why everyone’s so mad about this stuff, it’s unbelievable.”

“You don’t regret it then?” He asked.

“How could I? You’re just... Remus I...” You turned to your side to face him fully, one of your hands pressed against his chest. “I think we should do this again if you’d want to of course.”

He grinned and let a hand fall to your waist, he pulled you closer, so your bodies touched. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and you buried your face in his neck. For a moment he felt almost victorious, he had gotten you right where he wanted you to be. It would only be a matter of time before you let him take you fully. But then he realized, it wasn’t about taking your virginity so much anymore. He just wanted you.

“I wouldn’t want anything more,” he eventually said, then he pressed a kiss to your forehead, while the cold feeling of your ring on his chest lingered in the back of his mind.

Soon, it would be his. And so would you.

[incognitopolls]

Think of all the hygiene/personal grooming tasks you ever do in the shower/bath/etc. This might include washing your body, washing your hair, conditioning your hair, shaving, skin scrubs, special cleansers, etc.

Do NOT include things you only do for special occasions, like if you usually don't shave your legs but do it once or twice a year for a party/date/etc.

Or substitute "shower" with however you bathe.

"Routine is staggered" meaning maybe you wash your hair in one shower, and condition in the next shower, and never do both on the same day.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Headcanons and Scenarios

Am I back with baby fever? I mean yeah but this is less baby fever and more if Husband!Simon in honor of my first ever post that reached 1k likes in 4 days. Also you guys know Ghostie by now right? @connorsui mentioned that she wonders how Ghost and the reader met, guess who's writing about that?

Edit: SHIT, THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR SO LONG AND I FORGOT TO ADD CREDIT, I'M SO SORRY. The render above is by @ave661

Taglist: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @theredurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb

Also @puff0o0, my most favorite moot has helped me come up with how they met, UGH ILYYY <333

My CoD Masterlist <3

Warnings/Disclaimers: Reader is pregnant, sick!Reader, mentions of vomiting (not detailed), pain of birth and all the other pregnancy warnings out there. (Extreme fluff)

❥ Husband!Simon who had no fucking clue how to react when you first told him you got pregnant, I mean he knew at some point it would happen but not this soon?!

❥ Husband!Simon who in your early stages of pregnancy was the one holding your hair up while you empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet most mornings. He was the one who had a warm hand gently rubbing up and down your back while mumbling light encouragements, careful not to agitate you from the sickening feeling.

❥ Husband!Simon who was gradually getting the hang of things, getting clingier the further into the pregnancy. Once the baby bump comes in, bye bye personal space, Dad!Simon needs to have his hand on the bump no less than 10 times a day.

❥ Husband!Simon who is a sucker for kissing the baby bump, especially your stretch marks. He will be more gentle if you ask him to because your ticklish, but don't expect none of his stuble.

❥ Husband!Simon whose breath hitches when you took his large calloused hand onto your baby bump and felt movement, he had to blink twice up at you and look down again. Only now it was two hands holding the bump, waiting for more kicks.

❥ Husband!Simon who lets you do all the shopping with baby stuff because he has no idea what looks cute, every once in a while showing you something he thinks looks good and asks for your approval.

❥ Husband!Simon who looks back up at you in concern as he hears you whimper, as much as he wants more movement and feel the little one kick, you were in pain and uncomfortable. Some soothing words might help..?

You let out a soft whimper as you felt the baby kick again, god did she have her father's strength..

Simon still had his warm and heavy hand on the bump, feeling the little one's movement.

"Pumpkin.. give your momma a rest, she needs some sleep" Simon sleepily mutters. Just like that the movement stops.

"I swear she only ever listens to your voice, it's obvious that she's already a daddy's girl"

❥ Husband!Simon who is more than obsessed with the baby bump, albeit his ear over the bump to hear the baby, big calloused hands always have to be some place on it. You'll just find your husband clinging onto your bump, his head on your chest while his arms are wrapped around the loves of his life.

❥ Husband!Simon who was far more panicked than you were during the birth, he literally cannot even pay attention to the pain of your hand almost breaking his from the gripping because his heart is pounding in his chest while you push out the baby.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon who was trembling the moment you forced him to open up his arms so he could hold the baby. She's so tiny, her whole body almost fits in just one of his hands. The moment he held her, she stopped wailing, trying so hard to open her little eyes.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon couldn't help but pull you up into his arms too because you couldn't move up from exhaustion. Your hand on the little one's body that was cradled by her dad, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders while he kissed your sweaty forehead, singing praises to you about how thankful he is that you brought life to your little girl together.

A/n: Hi guys, just to start off. I haven't been in a good space for a while now, I don't think I'm in the right headspace either. Not to say I'm taking a break, fuck no, I'd lose all my relevance if I did and I also think that taking a break from this won't be good for me or you guys because I don't want history to repeat itself.

If you guys don't know yet, I've been on the break in 2020 and didn't officially start writing again till 2023, finally entering a different fandom. I feel like taking a break would result into this whole thing again and I can't go through that all over again. I love writing so much and it hurt when I lost all my relevance on Wattpad.

My personal life outside of Tumblr is weird to explain, see things haven't been good regarding my situation with a friend. Neither do I feel good in school, everything in that place just sucks except for two other closer friends. There's still the dreadful 3 weeks left till Christmas vacation. Not only that but I get anxiety over so many things that may be little to most of you.

A mutual of mine so graciously has given me ideas for the next Ghostie posts, I love them, it's accurate and it's great and all however some part of me makes me feel so insignificant. Like why didn't I think of that? Why am I even writing if I'm just relying on other people's ideas? This is no shade to that mutual, thank you so much, hell I loved everything they told me. It's just always my anxiety and insecurities getting the better of me.

Apologies for the length of this. I'm quite busy and my clumsy fingers accidentally published something again 😭Anyway, more Ghostie content is on it's way :))

[alcoholfreenayeon]

yow what abt twice mtls? confess first, fall in love, get jealous, fall out of love. great jeongyeon hc btw

Twice most to least likely: Get jealous

A/N: I feel some of these ended up sounding more yandere than jealous🙂‍↕️ but hopefully that’s just me😭hope you guys like it

Sana

She’s a huge flirt, she likes the way she can get people to be infatuated with her plus she likes to play hard to get.

Because of this she’s not used to people seeing her as a second choice so when she sees her partner having a good time with someone else when she’s available or even when she isn’t, it makes her feel strange.

It’s uncharted territory for her and she feels possessive immediately. After all what does the other person possess that Sana doesn’t. Why isn’t her partner yearning for her every moment instead of having a good time without her…

Nayeon

You’ll find Nayeon staring daggers at you with or without a polite smile. It’s really not a fun sight to witness because you just know you are in so much trouble later.

Nayeon feels very possessive of you. She’s someone who needs a lot of reassurance so you being clingy with anyone other than her doesn’t bode well with her.

Though she ends up feeling a bit silly after some time thinking for being so possessive she can’t help it, she wants you for herself and only herself.

Mina

Mina is a big introvert and she likes to stay indoors alot and keep to herself. But she knows she can’t really force you to do the same.

Nevertheless, she secretly wishes you would be that way. She’d prefer if she could have you all to herself. If it’s only you and her, all day everyday,

She feels sometimes she’s not good enough and that might make you drawn to others and hence gets her guard up immediately when she sees you being close with someone she doesn’t know.

Momo

You were happily chatting with your friend while waiting for Momo. You had known her for a long time, you didn’t take much notice of it when while laughing at a joke, she put her hand on your arm.

Soon enough, her instincts began to scream for danger and upon looking around, she spotted Momo a few meters away, glaring at both of you. “Is that your girlfriend?”…..

The journey back home was quiet. You realized how that might have looked out of context and were fearing Momo saw it differently. She was quiet though. “Everything ok baby?”, you ask her.

“Yes. But you need to sleep early and rest well”, she replies. “Huh? Why do I need extra rest?”, you question. “Well the couch isn’t very comfortable to sleep on is it”, she answers, unbothered, as she looks into the rearview mirror and applies her lipstick.

Chaeyoung

Chaeyoung and you were surprised to run into your ex at the mall. It was a bit awkward for the three of you but luckily there was no violence.

She hated how you and your ex became awkward because for her that meant you both saw each other and intentionally or unintentionally reflected back on the time you both were together.

She hated when while leaving, you both shared an inside joke which she didn’t know. Chaeyoung knew it’s just how these things go but that didn’t make her blood boil any less.

Tzuyu

Tzuyu is observant, she doesn’t always speak out, never mind her speaking her mind.

So when she was looking at your Instagram and spotted old posts of you and your ex, it just made her quite upset.

But she also knew it was the past yet she also thought you could have deleted it. After all wasn’t the ex was no longer part of your life.

Dahyun

Dahyun was watching you talk with the party’s host. It was normal. The two of you seemed to be getting along well.

She was standing a few feet away, getting something to drink when she suddenly heard the host make a suggestive flirty comment towards you. You didn’t realize it and just laughed along,

Dahyun though, gritted her teeth, it’s annoying that you always are so oblivious to these things. She’s gonna scold you for that later, as for the host…well, it’s a good thing her nails felt sharp right now.

Jihyo

Jihyo knows her worth and she knows you know it too. So she’s never really worried about someone else stealing you away.

But after watching some dramas, she got a bit influenced by them and began to worry that she didn’t like you as much as she thought or wanted because why wouldn’t she ever feel jealous. It was normal for couples to feel jealous at some point right?

And when she asked you to try and flirt with a cashier because she wanted to test something, you definitely felt it was a test. It took a lot of convincing from her and a promise that you wouldn’t get in trouble. Reluctantly you did it but when the cashier actually ended up giving you her number. Jihyo took your hand and dragged you out of the store without even buying anything. You were in big trouble.

Jeongyeon

Jeongyeon never has any real reason to doubt you. She knows you both love each other very much.

Of course, it’s inevitable that at some point either of you would get approached by someone else. It won’t be your or her fault if that happens.

But that’s easier to think when it hasn’t happened. When a fellow idol told Jeongyeon that she was lucky to have you and she should be careful you could get stolen. Though Jeongyeon was polite, her glare she ended up shooting at them later would have scared them silly.

[martyrlamb]

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer. 

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently. 

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on. 

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s  like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night. 

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder. 

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot. 

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air. 

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm. 

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather. 

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh. 

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side. 

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot. 

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job. 

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles. 

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you. 

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors. 

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either. 

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency. 

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home. 

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something. 

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it. 

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him. 

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly. 

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that. 

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes. 

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts. 

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him. 

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word. 

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came. 

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals. 

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow. 

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone. 

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed. 

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.” 

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold. 

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?” 

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back. 

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew. 

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort. 

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious?  You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again. 

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag. 

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it. 

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes. 

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re  enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find  yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath. 

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like. 

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over. 

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic. 

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention. 

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on. 

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all. 

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face. 

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.