#i welcome you with open arms but be warned

[lananiscorner]

And if you really, absolutely cannot bring yourself to be kind and respectful to straight people who have done nothing to you or other queer people, simply because being kind and respectful to other people is the thing we should all strive for (which should be enough!), then at least consider the following:

You are almost definitely also bashing people in the crossfire who are actually part of the queer community themselves, such as questioning/repressed/not-ready-to-come-out-to-everyone-yet queers, bisexuals in heterosexual relationships who may appear straight at first glance, asexuals and demisexuals who appear straight at first glance, etc.

You are also making things harder for people who are somewhere in between (e.g. straight people in relationships with bisexuals, but if we extend this post to other types of oppression as well, an even easier example would be people of mixed ethnicity).

Where do you think people who did nothing to you, but who you continually make fun off or put down for things they have literally no control over, will go, once you have made them feel entirely unwelcome? I tell you where they'll likely go: to the bigoted people who already hate you, and who will welcome them back with open arms and a "I warned you they were all crazy and two-faced snakes, have a beer, brother, sit down, ain't nobody gonna make jokes about you here". This is literally one of the main ways people are kept in cults and alt right pipelines, y'all realize that, right? If you're alienating potential allies, you are not helping the community. You are helping bigots.

Humans are social animals. We have survived against great odds, and in spite of our, in video game terms, average stats compared to other wildlife on this planet, for two reasons: 1) we figured out how to make and use tools, and 2) we supported each other, we worked together in teams and communities and societies. That is when we can achieve the most--when we work together.

So by all means, do call out bigoted behavior when it's happening, but stop assuming everyone who is straight is a bigot and out to hurt you, just because they are straight.

The goal should be to make the world as a whole a better, more just and welcoming place, not to pass the hate torch from one team to the next like some kind of bigotry olympics.

Hot take but I really do think that some of y’all need to consider how/why/when/how often you’re making fun of straight people for being straight

I do it too, I’m not going to pretend I don’t make jokes about the hets, or the down with cis bus, or whatever

But I recently befriended a cis, straight dude and I have watched him be dismissed, degraded, and unambiguously insulted for the perceived “crime” of being straight — all in queer environments where he is allegedly “completely welcome” and surrounded by “friends”

This guy is not a toxic person! But I have seen him be made to feel so small and like his comfort and safety in those spaces are conditional on his silence and acceptance of being treated like a human dunk zone, and I think that some of y’all have had so much shit from straight/cis people that the second you feel like you’ve got an inch, you want to luxuriate in the perceived catharsis of bullying someone who— actually —doesn’t deserve it

And until he very, very carefully mentioned to me in private that it makes him feel bad, I didn’t even clock that I was involved in doing that, that it had become so instinctive for me to make casual jokes like that, and that— well meaning or otherwise —I had been contributing to an environment that made someone I really really like feel like shit

So, I dunno, I think maybe some of y’all should think about that too

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

MUNCHIES!

Kelvin Harrison Jr X Reader

Summary: Your neighbor, Kelvin, invites you to the fair. After a night of fun you end up in his apartment.

Warnings: Short, Smut, Humor, Neighbors.

Part One.

Why does having a crush put you in a state of mental hell?

It happens too easily and too often because your crush is across the hall from you.

And his name is Kelvin.

A handsome man with a bright, magnetic smile and a sense of humor. You moved in two months prior to meeting Kelvin. He was the first to greet you, reaching out his hand to shake yours while you were on your way into work.

“I’m Kelvin, welcome to the neighborhood. Don’t be a stranger. I promise I don’t bite. If you need anything like…sugar, spaghetti, you name it, I got it for you!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at him.

Funny thing is, you did end up needing sugar. You were currently making a batch of edible chocolate chip cookies for a friend. You confused the sugar bag for flour and there was no way you were going back out to the market after dealing with all that traffic and road rage. Slipping on your Stitch slippers, you head out into the hall and across to Kelvin’s door.

Raising a fist, you suddenly become aware of how naked you feel. Cookie Monster boy shorts on. A barely there tank top. A chill swept across your chest, causing your nipples to harden. Turning, you shuffle back towards your apartment, but the sound of a door knob twisting caught your ear from behind.

“I’ll catch you when you get back from your trip, Kel!”

“Got a lot of work to do within the next month with press and all—”

Silence. You do a slow and dramatic turn, meeting the stunned faces of Kelvin and a friend of his you didn’t recognize. Kelvin had a lot of friends. It was hard to keep up with names and faces. Kelvin stood within his entryway with a velour, emerald green durag over his head, a white tank top, and black ball shorts. The friend, a tall, lanky black boy sporting a grey hoodie and matching joggers didn’t hold back as his eyes swept over your frame.

“Y/N? Girl, where you think you goin’ dressed like that?” Kelvin questioned with a fold of his arms and an arched brow. The corner of his beautiful lips twitched, fighting the urge to laugh.

“So this Y/N? Dayum—”

Kelvin slapped his friend against the shoulder. They both share a look, communicating with their eyes. Y/N twisted her lips before a smile broke out across her pretty face. So…Kelvin talked about you to his friends?

Interesting. Definitely noted.

“My bad, love, I’m Roy. Nice to meet you.”

Roy held out his hand in greeting. You shake his hand before quickly releasing it. Your eyes linger on Kelvin’s face as the awkward silence stretched on. Roy cleared his throat, causing you to blink away from Kelvin’s hypnotic brown orbs.

“Nice to finally meet you. Be safe, bro.”

They bumped fists and Roy turned to leave.

“You didn’t answer my question, punk.”

You’d finally found your voice. You shove a foot towards Kelvin’s direction and he swatted it away.

“I ain’t no punk. And I was coming over to ask for some sugar. I got an edible order to make.” You finally reply.

Kelvin leaned against his doorway with a smirk and low eyes, “And none for me? What type of shit…”

“You got thirty dollars?” You quipped.

“I do. How fast can you make me some fruity pebbles?”

“As fast as that money is in my hand, Kelvin. Now, come on! I need sugar!”

You stomp in place like a spoiled brat. Kelvin’s eyes did a quick sweep of your shapely thighs and the peek of midriff that teased him.

“Take a picture! It’ll last longer!”

Kelvin gave you a skeptical look, “You wanted me to see you like this, huh? You ain’t slick.”

Kelvin took a few steps back, holding his apartment door open for you to enter. You give him a look and he inclined his head for you to come in. You’d never been inside of his apartment. He’d been in yours a few times to help you bring groceries in. As you walk forward, the smell of sativa titillated your nose. With a hint of hazelnut cream.

“Brown or white?”

You focus on his back. The dip in his back in particular. You could see muscle definition in his arms and upper back. You knew he’d been going harder in the gym with his personal trainer lately from his ig stories. Preparing for a role possibly. Whatever the case, you were pleased.

Huh?” You finally reply.

Kelvin looked over his shoulder at you with elevated brows.

“Brown or white sugar?”

“White.”

Kelvin snorted a laugh, “And here I thought I daydream too much.”

Kelvin opened his walk–in pantry. He reappeared two seconds later with a big storage container filled with sugar. He found a zip–lock and filled it generously with enough sugar to last you some time.

“You didn’t need to give me that much, Kel,” you accept the bag, holding it against your chest to conceal your nipples.

“I’m just tryna look out for you, girl. Plus, I want my fruity pebbles and my coochie—I mean cookies!”

Kelvin threw a hand over his mouth and you both burst into a fit of laughter. Kelvin doubled over with a hand against his stomach and you flew your body over his kitchen counter. Tears ran down your cheeks, and Kelvin’s boisterous smile and open mouth laugh didn’t help to contain your cackling.

“I had too much weed! Oh shit! Whew!” Kelvin used his thumb to swipe away tears, “Coochie sound good though I ain’t gon lie to you!”

“You make me sick! I’m leaving!”

You turn to leave but Kelvin grabbed you by the waist. You look back at him and couldn’t help but to laugh again. His touch against your skin sent signals to your nerves and your body did a jolt that you couldn’t control. He smelled amazing and his glassy skin looked delectable. Beyond his lashes you could tell from the whites of his eyes that he’d smoked some good shit.

“Who said you could leave me alone? Remember what I said happened the last time I smoked silver haze?” Kelvin whispered against your ear.

“I don’t remember nor do I give a fuck!”

You screech when Kelvin tried to tickle you. Your squirming became too much so he released you.

“I got a couple blunts left if you wanna chill with me?”

Kelvin tucked his chin and wagged his brows at you. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I have to get this order finished. If you want, come help me out and we can smoke.”

Kelvin tapped his chin in thought. Too long for your patience.

“It’s either a yes or a no, Kelvin!” You shout with a smile.

“Aight, I’ll come over. Let me grab my chips first.”

Kelvin opened his pantry again and you waited for him while walked back towards the door. Your curious eyes scanned his eclectically stylish apartment until your eyes came upon a painting.

“Honey Dripping. That’s the name of it.”

You jump slightly from being startled. Kelvin was amused with your response, eyes twinkling with mischief. You turn your attention back to the painting.

“Why this one in particular?” You question.

“It’s beautiful. It shows appreciation to the female anatomy. And I love coochie…or did you forget the slip of my tongue back in the kitchen?”

The playful edge to his voice sparked a horniness within you. Kelvin took his place next to you while munching on Lay’s chips. He chewed and admired the painting with wondrous enthusiasm.

“Anyway, you ready to head out? Them Cookie Monster shorts had enough fun for one night, ma.”

You shove him jokingly before leading the way out of his apartment. Kelvin grabbed his keys and slipped on some crocs along the way. Still, the painting and his words remained on your mind.

——

You allow Kelvin to add the chocolate chips before mixing the thick batter. The sound of Tyler The Creator playing from your Bluetooth had the two of you grooving. Kelvin cut some parchment to line the cookie sheet while you took a break to puff on a blunt. French inhaling the smoke, you pass it to Kelvin who accepted the blunt between his thumb and pointer finger, toting it before expertly blowing the smoke away from you.

You open the oven and Kelvin slipped the tray inside.

“See what team work can do?” Kelvin brushed his hands.

“Maybe asking you for sugar was the right thing to do after all.”

You wink at him while gathering your dishes to clean. Kelvin perched himself next to you with a towel to dry.

“Got any plans tomorrow?” Kelvin asked after placing a clean mixing bowl in the dish rack.

“No. Why?” You glance at him with bright eyes.

“There’s a fair…heard about it?”

“I did. Was gonna buy two tickets but that didn’t work out.”

Kelvin pouted his bottom lip with curiosity, “What happened?”

“…long story,” you huffed, “Shortened version? This dude I met on Hinge, found out he was seeing my friend.”

“OUCH. That’s fucked up,” Kelvin accepted a whisk, “Happy you dodged that bullet and here I am to save the day!”

You laugh, “Mr. Harrison, are you asking me on a date?”

You jutted your hip out and gave Kelvin a flirty look with a little smile. He licked his lips before chuckling. His eyes danced across your face and that look was doing things to you.

“I guess I am, huh?” Kelvin nibbled on his bottom lip, “Well? Can I take you to the fair, Y/N?”

You played it cool by giving him a nod in acceptance and a coy smile. On the inside, you were doing flips and cheers. After months of the back and forth, he made the first move. As he should. You’d dropped hints plenty of times. This didn’t mean anything yet. It could be a simple friend date. A date with Kelvin of any kind was enough for you.

“Then it’s a date. I’ll pick you up at three?”

“Three is good.”

You both finish up and head to your living room to smoke and watch a little TV. Kelvin made himself comfortable on the floor while you laid on your side on the sofa. Head propped up against your arm, you put on a random Marvel movie. Kelvin brought his knees up and draped his arms over it. You tap his shoulder with your acrylic french tip and he cut his eyes at you before accepting the blunt to keep the rotation flowing.

“You like roller coasters?” Kelvin asked.

“I do.”

“How about drop towers?”

“Nah,” you take the blunt, “Had a bad experience on one before.”

“You got stuck?” Kelvin turned his body fully, giving you a shocked look with his mouth hanging open.

“I did! Happened when I was eleven. Six flags. The ride started up out of nowhere and that drop almost made me see heaven. No more.”

Kelvin threw his head back and laughed. The fabric of his durag stroked your knee and it caused goosebumps to appear on your arms.

“I hate anything that spins. Shit makes me sick.” Kelvin revealed with a look of disgust.

“Let me guess, made you vomit?”

“Yeah! I hate feeling dizzy. That over and over again spinning drives me nuts!”

Bet, remind me to put you on the cyclone for torture when you piss me off.” You replied jokingly.

Kelvin sat up on his knees to face you.

“That’s if you can even force me to do it. Look at all this,” Kelvin flexed, showing off muscles and lifted his shirt to give you a glance at his abs, “Too strong!”

“Kelvin, we’re the same height. And last time I checked, your friend Aaron got you beat in that department—HEY!”

Kelvin had snatched your slippers off and started tickling your feet. You writhed on the sofa, kicking a squealing, trying to fight him off.

“OKAY! okayokayokay! I’m sorry!” You were blinded by tears and your laughter couldn’t be contained, “KELVIN! YOU WIN! OKAY!”

“That’s not what I want to hear, Y/N.”

Kelvin grabbed you by the ankles, your body tumbling to the throw rug. Kelvin climbed over you to hold your wrists above your head. You move your head to get your braids from your eyes and focus on Kelvin’s face. Your chest rose and fell with deep breaths and he blinked down at you with a condescending smile.

“Where’s the blunt?!”

“On the tray. Don’t try to deflect. What was that about Aaron?!”

“I was only kidding!” You replied.

“Mhm. Don’t let me find out you’ve been checking him out, punk.”

You liked this side of Kelvin. The way he had you trapped beneath him and the glint in his eyes with that sexy smirk had you a wet mess. You wanted to see how far he’d go.

“Can I share something with you, Kel?”

He tilted his head, gold chain dangling in your face, “Yeah? What’s that.”

“Well,” you look heavenward, “I always wondered what it’ll be like to…have Aaron do arm curls while using me as weights—STOP!”

“Keep it up! I can do this all night!” Kelvin said between laughter.

The timer beeped on the oven, alerting you that the cookies were ready. Kelvin sucked his teeth before releasing you. He helped you up from the floor, but suddenly he lifted you up and tossed you over his shoulder. You wiggle your feet while he carried you towards the kitchen.

“Put me down before you drop me!”

Kelvin sat you down on the counter and grabbed the oven mitts. He took the cookies out and sat them on top of the stove. The smell of the freshly baked treat wafted your nose and made your mouth water.

“Why must you act up, Y/N? See, I would punish you…but you ain’t ready for that.”

You fold your leg over the other and tilt your head.

“What exactly is a punishment from Mr. Harrison entail?”

“You ain’t ready for that, Y/N.”

Kelvin removed the mitts.

“I’m a head out. I gotta get up early to train and take care of some other shit before I come scoop you for the fair…”

You were too late at hiding your disappointment. Kelvin worried his brows and pouted his lip.

“Awww I’ll miss your annoying ass too.” Kelvin walked up to you and gave you a kiss to the cheek, “Get some sleep. I want you energized for the fair tomorrow. We got a lot of shenanigans to get into, ma!”

Kelvin snatched up his keys and slipped on his crocs. You were still stuck on the kiss that tingled your cheek. His lips were indeed soft like a Tempur-pedic mattress. Probably tasted good to. His mouth had to taste good.

“Come walk me to the door.”

You hop down from the counter and follow Kelvin. He opened the door, pausing with his head against it and giving you a dreamy look that had you giggling.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N. Take your ass to bed.” Kelvin grabbed your hand and kissed it like a gentleman.

“Dream about me like I know you will.”

He licked his lips slowly, hazy eyes falling to your lips.

“I just might.”

——

Stay tuned for part two! 😍

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

[st4rfckerz]

Ski Lodge | Clark Kent x Reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, slowish build up

summary: a holiday trip to a ski lodge takes a turn when an unexpected encounter with an ex reignites old emotions

a/n: happy holidays!!! i conjured this up when i was listening to last christmas while decorating my tree so i hope you all enjoy 😛

The frost-kissed windshield reflected the hazy glow of string lights lining the quiet mountain road. The car’s heater hummed warmly as laughter echoed from the back seat, where your best friends debated which cabin room had the best view. A burst of snowflakes swirled in the air as you passed a wooden sign that read “Welcome to Evergreen Peaks Resort.”

You leaned forward, adjusting your scarf, heart fluttering with excitement. The promise of cozy nights by the fire, thrilling runs down the slopes, and a week of laughter with your favorite people felt almost too perfect. Outside, a landscape straight out of a postcard sprawled before you: towering pines draped in fresh snow, the jagged peaks of the mountains piercing the pale blue sky, and a lodge glowing with golden light at the base of the slopes.

The crisp mountain air hit you as soon as you stepped out of the van, your boots crunching against the snow-packed ground. Your group hustled toward the lodge’s main office, arms full of bags and faces red from the cold. The towering pine trees and faint sound of laughter from distant skiers created the perfect holiday scene.

Inside, the warmth of the check-in lobby wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. A massive stone fireplace crackled to one side, and the scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air. The receptionist confirmed it was as incredible as it sounded: multiple bedrooms, a hot tub, a fire pit, and a view of the mountains. With keys in hand, your group set out, eager to see it for yourselves.

As you trudged up the snowy path toward your cabin, dragging your bags behind you, the warm glow of lights spilling through the windows was the first thing you noticed. Laughter and muffled voices filtered through the frosty air, carrying down the trail and cutting through the silence of the woods.

You knocked twice on the sturdy wooden door, and almost immediately, the noise inside quieted. A moment later, the door swung open to reveal the rest of your friends, their faces lighting up when they saw you.

The group erupted in laughter and greetings as you all spilled in, shaking off the cold and wrapping each other in hugs. The energy was infectious, and for a moment, you felt completely at ease, surrounded by the people you cared about most.

But then, as you pulled back from a hug, your eyes caught on someone standing at the edge of the room. Clark.

You didn’t know he’d be here. He looked just as stunned to see you, though he quickly masked it with a polite, awkward smile. Unsure of what else to do, you mirrored it, your heart racing as you struggled to process his unexpected presence.

Around you, your friends carried on, laughing and catching up as though nothing had shifted. But for you, the air felt different, charged and heavy with the weight of unspoken history. Clark’s gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before someone else pulled his attention, and you turned back to your friends, forcing yourself to join in the chatter.

Afterwards, the cabin was filled with the soft glow of string lights and the comforting crackle of the fireplace.

The scent of pine mingled with the faint sweetness of hot cocoa, and laughter echoed as your friends debated the placement of ornaments and tangled tinsel. You found yourself standing near Clark, more by coincidence than intention, as you reached into the same box of ornaments. The two of you had barely exchanged a few words all evening, careful to stay on opposite sides of the conversation whenever possible.

“Who keeps putting all the ornaments on one side?” someone joked from across the room.

You laughed softly, distracted, and reached for another ornament just as Clark did the same. Your hands brushed—a fleeting touch that sent an unexpected jolt through you.

“Sorry,” you muttered quickly, pulling back, your cheeks warming.

“Sorry,” he echoed, his voice just as quiet. For a brief moment, your eyes met, and the tension was palpable, unspoken words hanging in the air.

But before either of you could say anything more, someone called out for another string of lights, breaking the moment. You turned away, your heart racing, and focused on hanging the ornament in your hand, pretending nothing had happened.

As the night wore on, the lively chatter and laughter that had filled the cabin slowly faded. One by one, your friends began heading off to their rooms, their goodnights accompanied by the muffled sound of footsteps on wooden floors. The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights cast a warm hue over the now-quiet living room, and the fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers.

You lingered in the kitchen, busying yourself with small tasks—wiping down the counter, adjusting a stray mug on the table, and rearranging a bowl of leftover snacks. The cabin felt different now, quieter, almost too quiet, and the stillness wrapped around you like a heavy blanket.

You’d stayed up longer than everyone else, lost in your thoughts, but now the exhaustion was starting to catch up with you. You reached for the door to what you thought was your room and pushed it open, stepping inside.

The soft glow of a bedside lamp lit the space, and your heart stopped when you saw Clark sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood up abruptly, clearly surprised.

Your cheeks burned as you froze in place, the realization hitting you hard. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. This isn’t my room,” you stammered, backing toward the door. “I’ll just leave.”

As you fumbled to back out of Clark’s room, mortified, you reached for the door handle. But just as you were about to close it behind you, his voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone soft but firm enough to freeze you in place.

You hesitated, the door still slightly ajar, peeking back into the room. Clark had stood up from the bed, his expression a mix of something you couldn’t quite place.

He cleared his throat, glancing briefly at the floor before meeting your gaze. “How are you?” he asked, the words coming out awkwardly, as though he wasn’t sure if he should be saying them at all.

For a second, you were too surprised to respond. The question felt heavier than it should have, loaded with all the things left unsaid between you. “I’m fine,” you finally replied, your voice cautious. “How about you?”

He gave a small shrug, his lips twitching into a faint, self-conscious smile. “I’m good. Just… didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, gripping the edge of the door. “Me neither.”

The silence that followed felt both unbearable and strangely comforting, and for a moment, neither of you seemed to know what to do next. Clark stepped further into the room, his hands tucking into his pockets.

“This place is great, isn’t it?” he said, his tone casual but slightly awkward, like he wasn’t sure how to start a conversation.

You nodded, leaning lightly against the doorframe. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. The tree, the fireplace, it’s like something out of a postcard.”

Clark takes a few steps towards you, looking you over for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. “You look good,” he said simply, the words carrying a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “Thanks, you do too.” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

For a moment, the air between you felt charged, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more electric. You swallowed, unsure of what to say, and Clark tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar, maddening smile. His closeness was enough to make your breath hitch, but before you could react, he moved slowly, reaching past you.

The soft click of the door closing behind you broke the quiet, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized he had gently shut it, leaving the two of you alone in his room.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended, your pulse racing.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he leaned down slightly, almost matching your height. The smile on his lips softened, but his tone remained calm, almost teasing. “Just making sure we don’t wake anyone up.”

Without warning, he closed the distance. His hand came up, brushing against your arm before settling firmly on your waist, pulling you closer as his lips met yours in a strong, deliberate kiss.There was nothing tentative about it. The kiss was bold, filled with a fiery urgency that left no room for hesitation.

You kissed back just as fervently, your hands coming up to grip the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him. Your tongue darted out, tracing the seam of his lips, and he groaned into the kiss, opening for you. His tongue slid against yours, hot and slick, and you could taste the sweetness of his mouth. It was dizzying, the way he kissed you, like he was trying to devour you. Like he wanted to consume you whole.

Clark's hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to his bed. He laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his hips nestling between your legs. His lips never left yours, the kiss growing more urgent, more demanding. His hand slid under your shirt, his palm warm and rough against the smooth skin of your back. He stroked up your side, his thumb brushing the side of your breast, making you gasp into his mouth.

Clark's lips trailed down your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. He kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the spot he knew drove you crazy. You could feel the heat of his mouth, the dampness of his tongue, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips, holding you in place as he lowered himself further.

Clark's hands slid down your body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pajama pants. You lifted your hips, helping him, until he could slide them off completely, leaving you bare before him. He settled between your legs, his hands sliding up your calves, your inner thighs, his touch teasing. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your panty clad pussy, making you shiver.

His nose brushed the damp cloth that covered your most private part as he took a long, deep breath. He inhaled in your scent, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the aroma of your arousal. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

“Missed her.” he murmured to himself before leaning and pressing a kiss to your clothed cunt, his lips moving against the damp cotton. He kissed you there, his mouth open and eager, his tongue flicking out to taste you through the barrier of your underwear.

Clark frantically yanked your panties down, tossing them carelessly to the side. Before the fabric even hit the floor, he had thrown your legs over his broad shoulders and dove in face first, burying himself between your thighs. You gasped as his tongue, hot and slick, dragged through your folds in one long, slow lick. He groaned at the taste of you, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he held you in place. His tongue circled your clit, flicking and stroking the sensitive bud, before suckling on it greedily.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the short strands tightly as you pulled him closer, urging him on. The sting of your nails digging into his scalp made him moan against your folds. He responded eagerly to your unspoken demand, his tongue delving deeper, thrusting harder into your fluttering walls.

Clark's hand slid up your body, cupping the soft swell of your breast, his palm warm and rough against your skin. His fingers kneaded the tender flesh, squeezing gently, relishing the weight of it in his hand. He brushed his thumb over your nipple, feeling it pebble and harden at his touch. Your hand covered his, your fingers splaying over his knuckles.

As Clark's tongue continued swirling against your clit, he slid a single finger inside your dripping entrance, feeling your walls clench tight around the intrusion. He pumped it slowly, his finger curling and stroking your inner walls, teasing that sensitive spot deep inside. Your grip on his hair tightened, your nails digging into his scalp as you arched your back, pressing your breast more firmly into his kneading hand.

Soon he added a second finger, stretching you wider, filling you fuller. Clark could feel your walls starting to flutter and clench around his fingers, your body tensing as the pleasure mounted. He looked up at you, his dark eyes wide and blown, taking in the flush of your skin, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath.

“I feel it.” he rumbled. He pumped his fingers faster, thrusting harder, curling them just right to stroke that special spot inside you. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and sucking, before taking it between his teeth and tugging gently.

“Cum on my face pretty, I know you can do it.” The nickname you hadn't heard in what felt like forever rolls off his tongue effortlessly, as though no time has passed at all. It all sent you spiraling over the edge, leaving completely lost in him. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing, your walls clamping down around Clark's fingers like a vice.

Clark groaned as he felt your release, your cum flooding his mouth, coating his fingers. He worked you through it, drawing out your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the bed, boneless and sated.

Before you could catch your breath, Clark was climbing up your body, his now exposed hips nestling between your thighs. He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his lips moving demandingly against yours.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your sensitive skin. With a single, powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely.

You cried out unexpectedly, your voice muffled against Clark's hand as he quickly covered your mouth, silencing your moan.

“I need you to stay quiet or I’ll stop.” he demanded. Clark felt your head nodding eagerly against his hand, your silent agreement to stay quiet. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the need for him to keep going, to not stop.

He began to move again, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your slick cunt. One hand remained over your mouth, muffling your increasingly loud moans, while the other gripped your hip, pulling you harder against him with each powerful thrust. Feeling him again was like stepping back into a memory you thought you’d forgotten, grounding you in a way that felt achingly familiar.

Clark's thrusts grew more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with a desperate, almost frenzied need. You could feel his length throbbing inside you, growing harder, hotter, as his climax approached.

“I'm close,” he grunted, his voice strained and tight, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “Can't hold back much longer.”

His hand tightened on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you harder against him, driving himself impossibly deeper.

“Need to feel you cum with me.” he growled, his hips jerking and stuttering as he chased his release. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you again, your body wound up like a bowstring ready to snap.

Clark buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he came. At the same moment, your walls clamped down around him, fluttering and squeezing as your own orgasm crashed over you. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he spilled himself inside you, his cum hot and thick as it painted your walls.

Eventually, reality tugged at the edges of your quiet bubble. You both cleaned up quietly, exchanging a few soft smiles and glances.

Curling back up beside him, the warmth of his body against yours lulled you into a light, restless sleep. But as the early morning light began to filter through the curtains, you stirred, your chest tightening at the thought of anyone else finding out. Carefully, you slipped from his bed, dressing quickly and slipping out of his room before the rest of your friends woke, the soft click of his door closing behind you a bittersweet reminder of the night you’d shared.

[pathologicalreid]

defrost | s.r.

in which the heat goes out in your apartment and Spencer comes up with a creative idea to keep warm

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: fingering, hand job, good old fashioned dry humping, softdom!spencer, masturbation is referenced, unprotected p in v sex, sex on the floor (!!!), kissing, established relationship word count: 2.8k a/n: smut? havent seen that word since october. well past due if you ask me :-) hope you enjoy

It took entirely too much of your focus not to trip on the comforter that you were hauling from your bedroom, adding it to the heap of linens that you’d collected. The heat had gone out in the entire apartment complex earlier that afternoon, and while it was originally supposed to be fixed by five, the time was pushed back until the gas company finally just told you the issue wouldn’t be resolved until the morning.

Luckily, Spencer had managed to light the fireplace while you gathered every linen from the apartment and arranged a makeshift bed in front of the hearth, but even when you sat in front of the crackling flames, you were still cold. Pulling the cuffs of your sweatshirt over your hands, you tucked them beneath your thighs in an attempt to defrost yourself, you looked up at your boyfriend in desperation, “When did they say the gas would be back on?”

“They said eight, but before that, they said six, so there’s really no accurate measurement that they could provide. I hope we’ll know more in the morning,” he told you, taking a seat next to you and draping a blanket over your shoulders, making sure you were cozy before grabbing one for himself.

You sighed, admiring the way the movement of the fire reflected in his eyes. The two of you had ordered out for dinner, discarded takeout containers were in organized chaos on the coffee table, and two mugs were sitting on coasters filled with warm tea. Your range was out of commission, but thankfully, you had electricity. Admittedly, you were milking the situation, opting for candles over your lamps.

Spencer leaned over and nudged you gently with his blanket-covered elbow, “Are you warm enough?” He asked, looking around for another blanket to hand off to you, but coming up empty.

“If the gas isn’t back on by tomorrow afternoon, we should book a hotel,” you suggested, though, with your luck, Spencer would probably be called on a case tomorrow, leaving you to freeze on your own.

He furrowed his brows in response, “You were the one who didn’t want to stay in a hotel tonight, though?”

Shrugging, you looked at the thermostat on the wall, too far away to read, but you imagined it telling you that the apartment was becoming an industrial-sized icebox. “I don’t like staying in hotels if I can help it, I like having my things and my routine,” you responded as if he didn’t already know this about you.

“But?” He pressed.

“But I’m cold,” you told him, wrapping your blanket tighter around yourself and smiling when he opened his blanket cocoon. Gratefully, you obliged, shuffling yourself over to him and settling into his lap, sighing in contentment when he closed the blanket around you, “Oh, you’re warm.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, and Spencer took the opportunity to press a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose. “Is this better?”

Nodding, you closed your eyes and let your body relax into his, his arms wrapped around you, adding a reinforcement—a border of warmth, if you will. “Yeah, much better,” you murmured, trying to think warm thoughts.

“You know, it would be easier to share body heat if we weren’t wearing clothes,” Spencer told you, shifting one of his arms until his hand was on your waist, giving it a slight squeeze.

A shy smile bloomed on your face, turning your face to bury it in his neck, though the warm glow of your cheeks was a welcome sensation, “Are you trying to get in my pants right now?”

Spencer hummed, shifting beneath you slightly—a telltale sign that he was turned on—and gripping both of your hips, “Technically, I’m trying to get you out of them.”

Now grinning, you leaned forward, pressing your torso against Spencer’s until his back was against the blankets you’d stacked for your makeshift mattress. You took a moment to adjust the fabric that surrounded you, removing the layers of separation between you and Spencer when you finally reached his sweater. Carefully, you slipped your fingers beneath his layers of clothes, pausing abruptly when he inhaled sharply, “Are you okay?”

“Your hands are freezing, honey,” he told you; a lightness was present in his tone as if he was trying not to laugh.

Withdrawing your hands, you instead stuck them beneath his back, hoping to warm them up while you craned your head up to his, placing your lips on his and immediately sighing into him. You settled the rest of your body across his, bringing your knees up to his hips and grinding your core against his hardening length. The layers of clothing between you were proving to be a hindrance, but you weren’t ready to rid yourself of any insulation just yet.

You bunched up the wool of Spencer’s sweater in your hands, finding a rhythm between your rocking hips and moving lips, patiently waiting for the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and hoping your hands were sufficiently warm when you moved your dominant hand back to his torso. Slowly, you lifted your hips from his and tucked your fingers beneath the waistband of both his flannel pajama pants and briefs, making sure he didn’t flinch at the temperature of your fingers when you wrapped them around his cock.

His mouth opened against yours at the contact, a low moan vibrating in his throat as you kept your hand in his pants. This was your opening, leaving you to slip your tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss and speeding up your heart rate.

Moaning against his lips, you needed to sacrifice your kiss for the sake of a hand job, ducking your head so that you could focus on the flick of your wrist, the elastic waistbands working against you.

Spencer craned his head, dropping a kiss on the crown of your head, you could feel his abdomen tensing under your arm as you reached your other hand down to try and push his pants over his hips. “You wanna take my clothes off, don’t you?”

Your ministrations slowed as you peered up at him through your eyelashes and nodded, taking your cheek between your molars.

You hummed as Spencer used his grip on your waist to pull you up until your faces were close enough to meet again, he kissed you again, chastely this time, before whispering, “You first.”

Bracing yourself for the cold apartment air to brush against your skin, you assisted Spencer by pulling your arms through the sleeves of your sweater, gritting your teeth while he tugged it over your head. You were pleasantly surprised when the air surrounding you remained insulated, too distracted by the heat to think about the way Spencer was pushing your pants down.

While you regained your focus, you helped him discard your pants, kicking them off into the abyss of blankets that you were still cocooned in. “Are you still warm enough?” Spencer asked, dragging his knuckles up and down your bare waist as he looked up at you.

“Yeah,” you asked, the way he was so concentrated on keeping you warm and comfortable sent a flurry of butterflies to your stomach, making you all the more needier. “Spence,” you whispered, thinking about all of the layers of fabric that still separated the two of you.

He pulled you close to him, looking to the side before rolling you both over until he was on top of you. You quickly got to work, tugging at the hem of his sweater and relishing in every inch of exposed skin that touched yours. The inherent eroticism of skin-to-skin contact was beginning to drive you crazy, and Spencer noticed. He tossed his sweater off to the side, laughing lightly as you disappeared beneath the covers, finally pulling his flannel pajama pants off until it was up to him to get them off the rest of the way. Once you peeked your head back above the covers, you saw the lovesick grin on his face. “Hi,” he whispered, reaching a hand up to cup your face.

You reflected his smile back at him, “Hi,” you murmured, studying his face while he kept his every attention on you.

“You look so pretty like this,” he said, moving his hand down to grip your thigh, parting your legs around his waist while you kept your eyes on him.

Raising your eyebrows, your face warmed at his claim, “What? Beneath you?” You teased, grinning so broadly that you stuck your tongue beneath your teeth to try and tame the smile.

He didn’t falter. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and nodded, “Well, yes,” he admitted. “It gives me the opportunity to do things like this,” he said, dropping his hand down to your core, his eyes on yours as your mouth parted in anticipation. “It’s much easier to see your face while I touch you when you’re beneath me.”

As he spoke, his index finger slipped between your folds, causing your stomach to twist even as he was just barely grazing your clit with his knuckle. “And here I thought it was a control thing,” you challenged, your voice weaker than you’d originally hoped, practically breaking off into a whimper.

“That certainly doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, using his finger to spread your slick over your pussy, any sounds muffled by the blankets that still surrounded you. “But nothing will ever beat the look on your face when I slip my finger inside of you,” he teased, but his words didn’t reflect his actions, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You hummed, leaning your head back and checking on the fire before looking back up at Spencer, “You have an eidetic memory, don’t you have enough of me in your spank bank at this point?”

Spencer shook his head, watching you with an undying interest as he slipped his index finger into you tantalizingly slowly. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth parted, and a small, choked noise escaped your lips. “There it is, honey,” he cooed. “No memory will ever do that justice.”

Nodding, you forced yourself to open your eyes and meet his, studying the ring of gold surrounding his irises while his hand found a rhythm. Lifting your hips as his thumb applied pressure to your clit, you gasped at the sensation, your cunt clenching around his finger while his ministrations refused to cease. “Spence,” you breathed, “feels good.”

“Yeah?” He asked, taking your reassurance as a hint to add a second finger to his ministrations, “I like it when you let me take care of you, you spend too many nights alone in our bed for my liking.”

You lifted your hands up, just barely peeking over the blankets so you could place them on his shoulders, “I’ve never minded,” you reminded him. He always comes back to you, albeit in various states of disarray sometimes, but he always comes home.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck and leaving gentle kisses on the soft skin, never sucking long enough to leave a mark, but he paused once he reached your collarbone, “I mind,” he muttered against your skin, kissing down your chest until his lips were level with your breasts, taking the opportunity to take your nipple in his mouth.

As he sucked gently on the sensitive bud, you became all too aware of the familiar knot building in your lower belly, “Oh,” you gasped, your hips bucking up when he hummed against your chest in response, the vibrations going straight to your core, tightening the knot.

Spencer switched nipples, latching onto your other breast while he continued the pressure on your clit. A strangled moan made its way through your throat as the rubber band in your stomach snapped, and your orgasm rippled through you, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your entire body while Spencer continued to work you through it. He separated himself from your chest, leaving tender kisses on your jawline while you tried to remember how to breathe.

Your orgasm ebbed into a dull ache between your thighs, and you let your head fall back against the blankets, wincing when Spencer withdrew his fingers from your cunt. You caught your breath while Spencer adjusted himself, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices from them—it made your walls clench around nothing. “Please,” you found yourself saying, looking up at him with wide, lust-blown eyes.

“Patience,” he cajoled, pinching your hip lightly as you squirmed beneath him. “Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and trying to practice the virtuous trait, “I feel really good,” you assured him, your breath hitching when you felt his tip aligned with your entrance. “We should have sex on the floor more often,” you told him.

He smiled dropping a small kiss on your nose and deciding to adjust the blankets around you. Although, funny enough, you were beginning to get too warm. “You look gorgeous,” he told you, gently pressing into you, only part of the way.

Releasing a shuddering breath, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and met his shining eyes, which he accepted as an okay for him to slide further into you. You were sure you did not look gorgeous, in fact, you could feel your hair sticking to the back of his neck while he sheathed himself inside of you, giving you time to adjust and smoothing your hair out of your face in the interim—as if he had read your mind.

Your walls clenched around him, and he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, “You feel so good,” he muttered, lifting his hips from yours before pushing back in.

“Honey,” you whispered up at him before he found a rhythm, “Will you kiss me?”

You only saw his look of incredulity for a moment before his lips were on yours, you hummed contentedly into his mouth, your breathing faltering as he continued to thrust in and out of your cunt, finding a rhythm.

One of your hands dropped to the side of his neck, cupping his jaw while you moved your mouth on his, taking control of the kiss while he focused on fucking you. Separating your lips only to take a breath, your other hand was on his back, nails lightly grazing his otherwise unmarred skin as you searched for any semblance of stability.

 There had to have been something about the atmosphere, the various flames around you, or the heat of the blankets that covered you, that brought your orgasm on so quickly. You could already feel it building, and you gasped into Spencer as you felt it.

Using one hand to keep himself hovering just above you, he took his other hand and hooked it beneath your thigh, hoisting your leg up and opening your cunt even more to him. The change eased the pressure in your core, giving him more time to build up his own, but you had to separate your lips, “God, Spence,” you said, somewhere between overstimulated and overheated as your cunt clenched around his length.

He sighed, hot breath against your neck as he assured you, “I’ve got you.”

Just like that, you were a goner, head thrown back in complete bliss as your walls pulsed around Spencer’s cock, the sensation bringing on his own orgasm. You were trying to catch your breath while his cum spurted out inside of you. “Oh,” you sighed as he dropped your leg, letting your muscles stretch as Spencer’s hand massaged the inside of your thigh.

“Are you alright?” He murmured, dropping a soft kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look up at him, “Yeah,” you answered breathlessly, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, more at the feeling of the fluid sliding out of you than anything else.

Spencer hummed, “Are you sure?” He brought a hand up, skimming his knuckles over your cheekbone, “It seems like something’s wrong.”

Shaking your head, you brought your hand up to hold his, leaving a soft kiss on his palm, “Promise,” you assured him. “I’m just warm, and I know I have to get up to go pee,” you told him, adjusting yourself on top of the rumpled blankets.

He gave you a lopsided smile in response, “What do you say you get up to pee, and I’ll get us some water while you’re gone?” He offered, bringing a smile to your face. “When we get back, we can watch a movie, your pick.”

Grinning up at him, you run a hand through his hair before ruffling it, “I say you’ve got yourself a deal.”

[pitchsidestories]

under the mistletoe II Ellie Roebuck x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 2032

summary: With a little help of Ellie's and Reader's Barcelona teammates a near kiss on Ellie's return to the pitch turns into a real kiss at the team's Christmas party.

author's note: Dear readers, we hope you had a wonderful Christmas, whether you celebrated it or not. Enjoy reading ! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

19 months had passed since Ellie had suffered a stroke, there were days the English goalkeeper believed she wasn’t able to make her return in goal, but her will was stronger and tonight marked her emotional return.

Ever since the blonde joined Barcelona in the summer, you witnessed her achievements as well as her struggle first hand. Both of you were in recovery together for different reasons, yet it made you bond over the similar situation.

As the season changed from summer to autumn, you went from being regular teammates to friends. Now that winter had arrived in Spain, you wondered whether the two of you could be more for each other.

The football game against Real Betis turned out to be a solid win for Barca with Esme, Caroline and Ona scoring.

Much to your own dissatisfaction, Pere substituted you at the end of the game. He told you he didn’t want to risk anything after your recent comeback but was happy with your performance. 

The words of your coach calmed you down a bit while you sat down to watch the rest of the game including the only goal from a Sevillian player. The team celebrated it like their own little win, immediately your eyes went to look for Ellie’s reaction who was clearly frustrated by it.

Nonetheless, it was a win that meant so much more because the goalkeeper had returned to the beautiful game she loved so much.

After the game officially ended you immediately ran on the pitch to jump into Ellie’s open arms. “Congratulations, babe. We're all so proud of you,’ you whispered in her ear, ignoring the fact that your lips were almost touching her in a perfect kiss.

The English woman beamed at you: “Thanks.”  Her face literally lit up and competed with the beauty which were the glowing and colourful windows inside the Sagrada Família. For a moment both of you forgot you were still surrounded by people until Kika reminded you.

“Move over, we want to hug Ellie too!”, the Portuguese forward chuckled amused.

Slightly embarrassed, you release yourself from her embrace, feeling your cheeks turn fiery red at her comment.

Many team-mates followed the striker and hugged the goalkeeper, who responded with a warm smile and said thank you, girls.

” You’re welcome, we've been waiting for this moment, and it hasn't disappointed us”’ replied Kika in a friendly tone

Curious, Keira asked her friend, whom she had known for so long at this point: “How does it feel to be back?”

“Unbelievable. I'm glad I can share this with you in the team too”, Ellie replied gratefully, hugging her sideways, knowing that the older midfielder wasn't so keen on physical affection.

Nevertheless, Keira was incredibly touched by the significance of the moment they were able to experience together: “You deserve to be here on the pitch again after all you’ve been through.”

“Stop it, Keira, or I'll cry”, the younger English woman warned the older one, tears of joy already forming in her blue eyes.

“Oh, sorry, don’t cry, please.”, the midfielder begged.

To save this situation, you suggested: “What about a group hug and no more tears for tonight?”

“Promise.”, Ellie said as the team hugged each other tightly to celebrate her return once more.

“Good.”, you nodded satisfied.

The wholesome moment was only interrupted by Mapis voice: “Girls? Don’t forget about the Christmas team dinner!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”, you promised as you all finally started to let go of Ellie again.

The blonde goalkeeper smiled: “Yes, I will convince Keira to join us.”

Her lionesses teammate cringed at that: “I hate Christmas parties.”

“But you love me, so…”, Ellie blinked at her innocently.

Keira knew she couldn’t disagree so she just groaned: “Ugh.”

“Count us all in.”, you laughed before you all started heading towards the dressing room to change. One by one, they all started to leave the stadium until only Mapi and Ingrid were left.

“Ingrid, you noticed that earlier too, right?”, Mapi asked impatiently, once the door fell shut behind Irene.

The Norwegian nodded: “Of course, amor.”

A smile spread on the Spanish defenders face: “I have a plan.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes.”

“Tell me.”

Mapi just shook her head with a conspiratorial smile: “You will see. Let’s go buy some mistletoes for the Christmas dinner.”

“Mistletoes? I think I know what you have planned now.”

“It’s the season of love after all.”, Mapi winked.

“And we saw that they almost kissed on the pitch.”, Ingrid added.

“Exactly. Now let’s go, we have to prepare everything.”

When you arrived at Mapis and Ingrids apartment, the Christmas party had already started. Most of your teammates were already there, standing in the middle of the room with drinks in hand. It looked like Mapi and Ingrid had to move some of their furniture to accommodate the number of football players they hosted.

You immediately spotted Ellie standing to the side, talking to Kika.

“Hi.”, you greeted your teammates.

The goalkeeper quickly pulled you into a hug: “Hey. You look pretty.”

“Thank you. I love your outfit.”, you replied politely but truthfully.

“Thank you.”, Ellie smiled back. “Who hung up all those mistletoes?”

You followed Ellie's gaze to the ceiling, where sprigs of mistletoe hung at regular intervals.

“Mapi? Ingrid?”, you suggested with a shrug but you also couldn’t hide how impressed you were with their decorations. They really went all out for the Christmas dinner.

As if she had been waiting for it, Mapi appeared on your side with a smirk: “Oh, don’t you two know what tradition wants from you?”

“We do but we’re not standing under one.“, Ellie replied laughing.

You nodded in agreement: “Exactly.“

Mapi raised one eyebrow at both of you: “At least you know, in case you find yourselves under one.“

Keira stood with her back to the wall, studying the parasitic plants above her with wide eyes: “I’ll make sure I won’t move for the entire evening to avoid standing underneath them then!”

“And how are you going to get your food?”, Ellie asked, her warm laughter filling the air.

The English midfielder replied with an embarrassed smile: “Well.”

“I can bring you some.”, the goalkeeper offered then gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Thank you,’ Keira muttered, incredibly grateful for their friendship, which has lasted since their time together at Manchester City. 

Still smiling the blonde answered: “You’re welcome.”

“When’s the dinner ready? I’m getting hungry?”, Kika changed the topic swiftly.

“It should be done by now.”, Mapi and her girlfriend quickly left their seats and went into the kitchen to fetch the festive meal that everyone was waiting for. Inside there was a buffet there every guest could get what the heart desired.

Just outside the door, the Spaniard stopped and looked up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression on her face. With a mischievous grin on her lips the defender added: “Oh, look, Ingrid. A mistletoe right above us.”

Ingrid’s green eyes lit up with amusement: “You’re such a dork, Maria.”, the Norwegian mumbled into the older woman’s ear before kissing her despite the teasing comment.

 “You love it.”, Mapi observed confidently.

Her younger girlfriend admitted: “Maybe a little bit.”

“Want to get some food too?”, Ellie turned her face towards you beaming.

You nervously push a loose strand of hair behind your ear before answering: “I do, but the mistletoe.”

“We can avoid them.”, the blonde offered conspiratorially with a wink.

“How boring!”, Mapi threw in.

 Ignoring her teammate's words, Ellie stood up and took your hand as you followed her: “Come on.”

“You can go first and then I’ll follow you. Oh, uhm sorry.”, you apologized with heated cheeks while you stumbled into the goalkeeper who caught you without a problem, but now the mistletoe was hanging right above you, waiting for the next act to unfold.

You both didn't see that Keira was the one who was inconspicuously pushing you. Later in the evening the midfielder would explain her reasoning behind it to bring you figural speaking closer together.

In the present moment Keira waved it off nonchalantly: “Don’t worry about it.”

“‘Well, you know the tradition, I guess we...”, began Ellie, her cheeks colouring slightly pink as she felt all her teammates’ eyes on the two of you.

A gentle reminder came from your lips: “I mean no one’s forcing us to.”

“I’m aware of that, but what if I want to do it.” Much to your own surprise, she made this quiet confession, which rekindled the sparks between them.

“Maybe, I want it too.”, you agreed flustered.

A shy smile spread on Ellies face: “Close your eyes.”

Without hesitation you did as you were told, waiting patiently for what would happen next. You almost flinched when Ellies lips lowered down on yours with the softest touch. You didn’t dare open your eyes, in case she might stop.

Only when Ellie finally pulled back after what felt like minutes, you finally blinked and found yourself too close to her face. She studied you in anticipation but you had no words except for: “Oh wow.”

“That was…”, Ellie started, clearly unsure how to put her own feelings into words.

“Absolutely delicious. Can I have another taste?”, you asked with an innocent smile.

The goalkeeper nodded happily: “Yes, maybe in the kitchen without all those eyes staring at us?”

You couldn't help but notice the slight blush on her cheeks.

“Okay.”, you agreed and followed her into the kitchen, ignoring all the other mistletoes on your way.

“Ellie, don’t forget my plate!”, Keira called after the two of you.

The goalkeeper shrugged and continued her way: “Sorry, I have to go.”

Keira pouted from the other side of the room: “Rude.”

“Young love, what are you going to do about it, right?”, Mapi grinned as she joined the midfielder leaning against the wall.

Ingrid appeared on Keiras other side, handing her a drink: “Thanks for your help, Keira. They really needed that push in the right direction.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kika held a plate out to her: “Here, Keira.You can have a bit of my food so you don’t have to starve because of those two lovebirds.”

“Thanks, Kika.”, Keira smiled, gratefully accepting the offered food.

“No worries.“

While your teammates stood outside gossiping, you and Ellie were alone in the kitchen. Every surface was covered with food or bottles but you didn’t mind. It was just you and her and no one else.

“So when did you first-…”, you started but stopped immediately when you realized that Ellie said the same thing at the same time.

“No, you go first.”, she insisted.

You cleared your throat before replying: “I’m not sure when it was. But I like your vibe and how positive you are even with everything going on.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“I just have so much… love and respect for you.”

“And I loved that you didn’t pity me. You just welcomed me with open arms. And I like that you don’t hate it when I take photos of everything and that you’re able to just enjoy the moment as it is.”, Ellie answered, surprisingly passionately.

“You’re so sweet, Ellie.”

You watched her face suddenly light up with a smug smile: “And you know what they say about me. I’m a keeper.”

The joke came so unexpected that you started to giggle: “Then I’d like to keep you in my life.”

It was Mapi who softly knocked against the kitchen doorframe to receive both of your attention. “Hey, just letting you two amantes know that we’ll start playing games soon.”, she informed you with a wide grin on her lips.

Ellie quickly promised: “We’ll be there soon.”

“Perfect.”, the Spaniard nodded in satisfaction.

Innocently, you placed a finger under the taller woman’s chin so that she had to look into your eyes when you said: “You know, Ellie, I think there’s another mistletoe right above us.”

“Looks like I’ve to kiss you again.”, the goalkeeper replied happily.

Her lips felt incredibly soft against yours as they met in a tender kiss.  Warming both of your hearts on a cold December evening.  

Christmas/Winter Oneshots

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi hii!

New follower here!

Love your writings, I love how you write for each of the TF141 my men 😌.

Just wanted to hop in and ask how would you think each of the men would react if they found out their SO has a MAGNIFICENT singing voice. 😊

Oki that’s it haha. 😅

Hi! Hello! At the time of you sending this in, you were a new follower, but it has been a MINUTE! (And by minute I mean several months; y'all I am very backlogged on imagines requests). So, welcome! Hello! Happy you're here!

I adore this ask. It's so CUTE. Love the idea of reader not revealing that they can sing and just surprising them in either very odd or normal ways. Like, reader doesn't think it's a big deal but the guys do!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, swearing, brief suggestive themes, undercover, tf141!reader (Soap's), nondescript nudity, fluff, karaoke, alcohol

Word Count: 1.2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

John settles against the booth, his gaze roaming over the crowd. Cigar smoke lingers in the air, and the only light comes from tiny candles at each of the tables. His target is here, sitting at a table at the front of the room next to the stage.

You are somewhere behind the scenes—somewhere backstage. It annoys John that you volunteered to do this, to put yourself on display, and it irritates him further that he cares at all. Whatever interest he feels needs to be set aside. You are his coworker—a teammate. It can’t be more than that when the two of you are in the field. It doesn’t matter that it’s his name you moan in the dark.

But you’re the bait—the pretty thing that will catch the target’s interest and reel him in, and that makes John’s blood fucking boil.

The announcer appears on stage, dropping your fake name. The crowd politely claps and John steels himself.

As the curtain opens, John expects you to be clad in something revealing, to parade around and undress further. This club is known for that, but instead, you twinkle like starlight. The dress itself might appear to be nothing but air with the appearance of sheerness, but there is nothing revealed to the naked eye.

No. You’re covered. And you take nothing off.

A live band starts to play. You open your mouth, and beauty emerges, enveloping John like a snug hug.

Every note is magnificent. Gorgeous. You are angelic and seductive in equal measure. A siren on stage luring all in attendance to their end.

How did he not know you could sing like this?

John’s mouth falls open, the whiskey in front of him forgotten.

“Are you hearing this, captain?” Soap’s voice crackles through the earpiece.

“Yeah,” he coughs. “I hear it.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

It’s all quiet on base. Most are down for the night; the only ones awake are on guard at the gates or on routine patrol.

Johnny is freshly showered and ready to go home. All he needs is to check in on you.

With towel hanging loosely on his hips, Johnny discreetly enters the women’s communal showers. He’d never do this, but he knows you’re alone. What he doesn’t expect is to hear your voice. You’re not speaking to yourself—or anyone. The place is completely empty.

You’re…singing.

Actually, singing. And not that weird off-key shit one might do in the shower. This is true singing. Your voice is goddamn gorgeous—angelic.

Johnny stands in silence for a moment, simply listening, allowing the steam from your shower to curl around him just like your voice. His feet begin to move across the floor and then he’s right there in front of the curtain. He yanks it open.

You turn, eyes widening, the song you’re singing becoming a surprised squawk. “Johnny!”

Without looking away, Johnny removes the towel and hangs it up. Stepping inside, he shuts the curtain, trapping you between him and the tile wall.

“You never told me you could sing.”

“You never asked?” you reply, arms covering your breasts.

It’s cute that you’d hide from him like this. He’s seen it all anyway.

Smirking, Johnny places one hand against the wall. Leaning in, he lowers his voice into a gentle coo. “What else are you hiding from me?”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“He’s cute, Johnny.”

Soap beams. Simon has never seen him so happy. “Takes after his mum.”

“Thank fuck for that,” chuckles Simon. “You’re an ugly bloke.” He lightly nudges Johnny’s arm with his elbow. Somehow, the man’s smile widens.

On the sofa, you sit next to Johnny’s wife. She’s transferring their son into your arms. He fusses a bit, tiny fits waving around, face pinched in annoyance.

“Hello,” you coo, your smile so sweet and soft it twists something deep in Simon’s stomach. The infant stretches and makes an irritated gurgle, his face growing red as a tantrum bubbles up. “Oh. None of that now,” you murmur.

There is no panic on your face. Instead of handing him back to his mother, you hold him close, and start to sing. It’s a light melody, a gentle song that even soothes Simon as he listens. The infant hiccups, eyes widening slightly in surprise, and then promptly calms. Those gorgeously blue eyes are focused on your face, completely enthralled.

Simon knows so much about you, but how did he not know this? Johnny’s smile even faulters, his own surprise apparent.

He leans in, whispering in Simon’s direction. “Did you know she could sing like that?”

“No,” replies Simon, his attention locked in on your serenade.

As you continue, the child’s eyelids grow heavy, eventually closing altogether. When your song comes to a close, you glance up at Simon, smiling.

Johnny chuckles, and Simon shoots him a look. “What?”

“Think you’re next.”

Simon frowns. “Next what, Johnny?” That shit-eating grin is back on Soap’s face. “Next what?!”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (can be read gn!reader)

Price reclines against the vinyl, eyes closed, arms crossed, and legs spread. Simon sits off to his left, awake and alert but clearly not wanting to be there. Kyle observes it all from his spot on the L-shaped couch.

You and Soap stand next to the karaoke machine, the two of you whispering and giggling as you sift through all the options. The two of you picked this place—a karaoke lounge full of private rooms for groups of all sizes. Payment is by the hour.

The massive flatscreen television on the wall rolls through different local advertisements as well as what’s on the menu. The prices for a single beverage are fucking outrageous.

“Pick something yet?” grumbles Simon.

Price doesn’t even budge. He might be out cold.

Kyle grins, basking in your joy. This is the first time the team is meeting you in person and not hearing about you secondhand. Soap flips Simon off and you press a hand over your mouth, glancing at Kyle for reassurance.

Soap holds out a microphone to you and you take it, the two of you standing on either side of the couch, and turned toward the television. The screen shifts, and then the opening notes of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” start playing. The original music video appears, and over it is the opening words.

“You’re fucking joking, mate,” groans Simon, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees.

Soap is off-key. It’s honestly some of the worst singing Kyle has ever heard. But you? You’re fucking killing it. Hitting every note, making up for Soap’s terrible tune, and still smiling through it all. Kyle has been with you for several months now, and he had no idea you could sing like this.

You and Johnny start moving around the room, dancing and pointing and having the time of your lives. Kyle can’t help but smile, to enjoy the experience of simply watching you having fun with the people he not only considers his teammates but his friends.

As the song wraps up, Simon pushes off from the couch and snags the microphone right out of Soap’s hands.

“You’re done, Johnny.”

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@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[cercandodiscrivere]

Stat vindicta potens | emperor geta x reader.

word count | 2.4k

warnings | 18+, NSFW, concubines, demeaning terms, dark themes (dubious consent, violence, blood, mentions of war), porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | When the twin Emperors had entered the room—filled with musicians and dancers and food you had dared not touch—you had stood as rigid as stone. It had been the same visceral feeling as when you had first seen the Romans approach your home: a deep, clawing desire not to be seen.

Except now, you had to be seen. You were part of the spectacle.

gifs found online.

Stat vindicta potens, et adhuc crudelibus ausis respondet poena.

[Vengeance stands powerful, and still punishment answers to cruel deeds]

There had been no pain.

No.

There had been pain—so much that it constricted your lungs and scratched your throat—but not enough time to feel it.

Once, your father had praised the gods for his wealth, a fortune earned through the trade of fine goods; he had adorned you with corals and pearls, a living testament to his success.

Still adorned with the rich jewels he bought, you had walked into Rome wearing a stola stained with his blood.

You had thought an Emperor would choose his gifts himself—or rather, you had never thought about it at all, not until it was you who had been chosen.

It was a strange way to begin a new life: not through the predictable choices of your father, but through the whims of strangers in a far-off land. Your brothers, dead in battle, had been of no use to you as their wealth crumbled and the last of their possessions were taken. General Acacius had claimed what little was left—and he had gifted you to the Emperors. 

A token of friendship. 

A spoil of war.

Tuis nec parcitur umbris.

[Your shadows are not spared.]

Another servant had dressed you in a woolen tunic and had styled your hair.

You would have to learn how to do it yourself in time, she had warned, but first they had  to gauge your worth — after all, there would be no point in teaching anything to a gift that had no use.

"What should I do?" you had asked her. 

"Serve wine”. 

Dread had filled your loins as soon as you had set your eyes upon the imperial palatium. Shining in the sun, the marble stairs had welcomed you—not like the arms of a mother, but like the open doors of an adorned crypt.

It was then that you had come to understand another truth: General Acacius had been nothing more than a weapon wielded by others. When a sword cuts through your flesh, it’s not the blade you fear, but the pair of hands that guide it.

"How?" you had asked again, but she refused to answer.

Non impune feres: seris venit aspera pœnis retributio. 

[You will not bear it unpunished: a harsh retribution for your crimes will come in time.]

When the twin Emperors had entered the room—filled with musicians and dancers and food you had dared not touch—you had stood as rigid as stone. It had been the same visceral feeling as when you had first seen the Romans approach your home: a deep, clawing desire not to be seen.

Except now, you had to be seen. You were part of the spectacle.

You had served wine before—to your father, your brothers and their guests. You had poured before the same kind of deep red wine: but the hands that had to do it now had changed, and the weight of the eyes on you had pressed harder. 

You had approached your captors carefully, your gaze lowered in deference—but unseen, as they had sat on their adorned thrones, draped in robes of golds and reds, without sparing you a glance.

At the time, you had not known how to tell them apart; both could have been either Geta or Caracalla, as their names had meant nothing to the terror they equally inspired.

The first you poured wine to had ignored the cup, his attention fixed on the man seated to his left. Once, you might have sneered at the lack of a compliment - now, the gift of being nothing to him had washed over you like fresh air (but still stung like a silent mockery). To the man, it had been as though the wine had fallen into his goblet by the gods’ will alone.

Then, you had moved on to his brother — and instead his gaze had lingered, sharp and unwavering. 

"Is there a trick to it?" he had mused, his voice low, almost to himself. You had frozen in place, as still as the statues scattered around the room. For a moment, you had almost believed the Emperor had just asked you how to pour wine — and your gaze had flicked upward, an instinctive mistake. 

His face had surprised you: it was not an imposing man who owned you, not a fierce general or a quiet sage — but a rabid dog, sick and weak in his silks. His eyes, red-rimmed and glazed with white, remained unseeing.

"How does one keep something" he had murmured, "when it feels as if it may slip away at any moment?".

But yet again, it had not been you he had been asking. Was it treason to leave an emperor’s question unanswered, when he posed it to the air?

And then, through the suffocating fear, a streak of something darker had twisted in your chest—rage, hot and sudden. You had had men and women alike ingratiating themselves to you, hoping for nought but a smile: and now an ill animal, with his teeth stained in gold and spit and blood, could bite your neck and move on without a thought.

You had measured your words, then. "As the poet says, fortune is like the winds: fickle, but a friend to those who know how to steer."

And if he had truly understood the meaning of your words—that you did not think him a steerer, not a good one—you could have signed your death with feigned servitude. 

But the Emperor (Caracalla, as you would learn later) had just blinked and chuckled. Shrill and sharp, it had not been a laugh born of humor, but something else: as if he had found mirth in you speaking at all, not a thought spared to the words you had used.

He had then drunk from his goblet as if nothing had happened—and yet, seated next to him, his brother had heard and not laughed. 

Emperor Geta’s gaze had lingered on you: no amusement in his eyes, no warmth.

Fatis pendebis, ficta modestia. 

[You will hang by fate, with feigned modesty.]

You once thought an Emperor would choose his gifts himself—and that’s what Geta did with you.

No hope for burning passions, no overwhelming closeness: this time someone thought it fit to have you learn about your role, because a concubine must please more than a servant.

“You’re less talkative than before”.

Emperor Geta lounges on his lectus, cushions surrounding him. In the soft light filtering through the curtains, his ginger curls seem molten gold—a physical extension of his crown, a birthright to power.

Your started your private encounter like you had started the first: not draped in a rough wooden tunic, but still pouring wine into his cup.

You spent more than one night wondering what had caught his attention, and how he must have heard your exchange with his brother: and whether it was the words he understood, or the venom laced in them, the result still has you in his bedchambers.

“I don’t want to spill a drop” you lie.

He observes you pouring his wine as if it were a religious rite. You try not to care: you pour and pour —and by the time the cup is full, you have emptied your head of all the thoughts and the dread that filled you.

“You won’t” he says. It’s endearing, almost like a compliment, but not quite. “Drink with me.”

He’s not asking.

Drinking in front of him (taking a quick gulp that barely registers the taste) feels as much a part of the ritual as the wine he offers: a play to show you what he can give you, should you continue to play his game.

"How does it taste?”. Geta's voice is as soft as a caress: it’s unsettling, how sweet he is choosing to be. 

You stare down at the large goblet you just filled with thick, red liquid: wine, herbs, and honey—the kind you would have enjoyed in another life. "It's great."

"Only the best for us" he says—and you know, by instinct alone, that us means him and his brother. The remark almost makes you raise your goblet in a toast, but you fear it might come across as mocking. All the rage that Caracalla ignited in you, Geta suppresses with dread.

He watches you as you pass the goblet back, because he is always watching.

Your eyes, your chest, your hands. You know you barely look like your old self now—before purple silks and face paints and ornati crines. A shiver escapes you: if you had thought of his brother as a rabid dog, you don’t know how to describe the quiet madness behind Geta’s gaze.

A predatory smile twists his lips, the kind that reveals his teeth and narrows his eyes with a hint of delight. You try not to let any old rage show on your face, knowing he would easily pick it up—but every pass of his eyes screams satisfaction.

His head cocks to the side as he regards you. “Your lips are stained" he observes instead.

When he rises from the lectus, his movements are deliberate. Even in the privacy of his own rooms, servants dismissed and gone, he still carries himself as if an audience is present—so much so, you wonder what kind of untold he feels the need to hide in the presence of a concubine.

Emperor Geta pauses before you, and you let him taste the flavor of the wine off your lips. His kiss is almost too sweet—and his command comes next.

“Undress me”. 

Someone must have started the task, for he wears only a linen tunic; a servant must have helped him with that, while others lit the incense that now thickens the air in the room. It's an oily smell, suffocating—mixing poorly with whatever herbs had been added to the rich wine.

“As you wish, domine”. The term makes his eyes roll toward the drapes above your heads.

You know some concubines call Caracalla Carus as an endearing term. A bold young man had boasted to you how he called him regina once —going into detail about how much the Emperor liked it, though few had believed him.

You dare not try the same with his twin.

After the tunic falls to the ground with a soft thud, you let Geta guide you to sit on his bed. You let him undo the braids in your hair and take your own tunic off your shoulders; the multitude of bracelets and anklets he had his servants put on you stay on.

He does not turn you to face him when lays you down on the bed, as your own nails dig into your palms and his head bows low into your hair. 

You don't say no. You could not say no if you wanted to.

So when your knees are firm on the mattress, and you feel his weight behind you, you take the small liberty of parting your own legs. If he appreciates the gesture, he does not say: with a palm he pushes on your back until your bare chest is touching the linens, his hand sliding slowly back to your hips.

It is not the first time you’ve lain with a man — a stain on your pudicitia that your father would have abhorred, and one that Geta does not even question.

Your sigh is one of relief when you feel him push into you, because this is what you have been waiting for since you had been brought to his bedchambers: not the his little scene with the wine, not his feigned sweetness, not his long stares.

“I suppose that’s all what you wanted” he grunts, his lips caressing your collarbone. His hips trusts into you so hard that the anklets on your legs clash against each other, creating a soft  and clinking sound. 

Tink-tink-tink. You don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. 

The soft kisses he peppers behind your neck are nothing like the way he thrusts into you. As he moves you grip the pillows, the linens, your own arms—whatever you can find to steady yourself.

"This is what you wanted" he continues, his deep breaths coming out fast. “When he gifted you to us”.

Faster, he's going faster. The meaning of his words is not lost on you: that he may have taken your hatred for lust, your insult for a praise. That if Caracalla had shown the same interest he would have left you to him —because you were equally one’s and the other’s. 

But Caracalla hadn’t cared for a servant and her poets; and his twin was not one to let a good gift go to waste.

Your thighs squeeze around him —and even if you command yourself not to say a word, it’s like the small yes escapes on its own. Let him believe whatever he wants; let him give you thought and purpose, as long as he keeps moving. 

He growls his approval — and then he throws himself to the pillows that had been your anchor up until that moment, and pulls you on top of him. 

At this angle and lighting, he looks divine.

Everything about him turns to gold under the sunlight: it serves to remind you of what he is, and what his people allow him to do. You loathe how much you admire the view as you sink down onto him, cataloging all the ways the muscles in his face shift when he is lost in pleasure.

“You were such a good gift to us”. 

Your skin crawls at the praise and you push up on his chest, bringing your hips down quicker and quicker ad quicker. 

The lingering presence of Caracalla in the rooms — even if only through the us Geta keeps referring to—ignites you, and you are furious once again. The heat of it washes over your naked skin, waking you up from your subservient slumber. 

You feel Geta twitch within you as you slam into his hips one final time, his fingers sinking deep into your hips. You cherish that feeling: it’s sobering, for it means tomorrow you will still be alive—not as a servant but something more, the future the three Fates have woven for you clearer and clearer. 

As he comes and grunts, your thoughts wander. 

Geta on his knees, his throat slit. Blood gushing from him, as dark as the wine he had you taste.

Geta scared: you over him, not as an object of pleasure, but as the extension of Nemesis herself.

Geta powerless.

Geta defeated.

Geta enslaved—and it’s with that last thought, with that image, that you come.

Quis dabit exitio tantos, scelerate, triumphos?

[Who will give such triumphs for your destruction, wicked one?]

[ladysharmaa]

Swim

bridgerton family x sis!reader

summary: when the youngest Bridgerton is playing in the garden with her siblings, she falls into the lake, not knowing how to swim. Realizing the accident, her older brother runs to save her

requested: yes

warnings: drowning

It was a hot day in the countryside, the heat almost unbearable and most of the animals seeking shelter in the shadows. The Bridgerton family was at Aubrey Hall, however the younger ones were dissatisfied with how the day was going. Daphne was away with her husband, Benedict had locked himself in the art room, consumed by a burst of inspiration, and Colin was still traveling through Europe. Eloise was visiting Penelope, and Lady Bridgerton was engaged in a lively chat with the other ladies of the parish.

"Anthony!" Y/n called out for the only brother left. However, she was also unlucky when she saw him hunched over paperwork in his study, his brow furrowed in frustration.

The youngest Bridgerton sighed in annoyence, everyone was busy except her three older siblings. However, their mother had forbidden them to go out and play in the garden without the surveillance of any family member, keeping them dry all day reading until they got tired of lying on the sofa, vanning themselves.

"Y/n! How many times do I have to say that you can't walk into my office like that?! It’s not proper." Anthony scolded her, he was also frustrated with the work that was piling up, the heat and his youngest siblings who couldn't seem to stop bothering him.

“The door was open…” Y/n muttered, only to earn a sharp glare. “I’m sorry, brother. But Hyacinth, Gregory, Francesca, and I are so bored. It’s unbearable indoors, and we want to play outside.”

The older man ran his hand over his forehead, taking a deep breath to control his impatience and not take it out on his little sister. The truth was that the heat wasn't helping for his patience.

“You know what?” he said, exhaling sharply, “Go. Go play outside. Just don’t disturb me again.”

"But mother said—”

"You'll be fine." Anthony waved a hand in the air, dismissing what the girl was going to say, his attention already focused on the documents. "Just don't get too close to the lake and if you need anything, fetch for a maid."

"Are you sure?" Y/n questioned hesitantly, knowing these weren't the rules Violet imposed.

"Off you go." the Viscount muttered, motioning for her to leave and close the door.

“Of course, brother.” she left in silence, closing the door.

She returned to her younger siblings with a bright smile, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered. "We can go!" she announced, and their faces lit up. The four of them dashed to the garden, their laughter ringing out as they burst into the open air.

The garden was Y/n’s favorite place, a haven of color and life. The vibrant flowers—roses, tulips, and daisies—lined the pathways, their sweet fragrance mingling with the warm summer breeze. A fountain bubbled gently at the center, its soothing trickle blending with the cheerful quacks of ducks paddling in the nearby lake. Towering trees offered patches of welcome shade, their leaves rustling softly as if whispering secrets to the wind.

Gregory raced to the fountain and splashed water at his sisters, eliciting squeals of surprise. The girls retaliated, sparking a playful water fight. The cool droplets against their skin brought much-needed relief from the sweltering heat, and their laughter echoed across the garden.

Hyacinth soon grabbed a small ball, and the group shifted to a lively game of catch. When Gregory threw the ball to Y/n, she was momentarily distracted by a pair of butterflies flitting gracefully nearby. The ball slipped through her fingers and rolled into the lake.

“Oh, no!” Y/n exclaimed, spinning around to face her siblings. “Anthony said the lake was off limits!”

“That was your fault, Y/n!” Gregory shot back, folding his arms. “You were distracted! Just go get the ball. Nothing will happen, and we can keep playing.”

Hyacinth frowned, tugging at Y/n’s arm nervously. “Be careful,” she whispered, glancing anxiously at the shimmering water. Francesca stood silently, her face a mix of worry and curiosity.

Y/n hesitated, looking between her siblings and the ball floating just a little too far from the edge of the lake. “Alright,” she finally said, though her voice trembled slightly. “I’ll get it, but don’t tell Anthony or Mama.”

She carefully made her way to the edge of the lake, the grass beneath her feet slippery and damp. The ball bobbed lazily on the water’s surface, taunting her. Stretching out her arm, she leaned forward as much as she could without stepping into the water.

“Just a little more…” Y/n muttered to herself, her fingertips brushing the edge of the ball. But the ground beneath her shifted suddenly, and with a startled yelp, she lost her balance. Her arms flailed as she tumbled forward, plunging into the cold water with a loud splash.

“Y/n!” Hyacinth screamed, her hands flying to her mouth as she watched her sister vanish beneath the surface.

“Y/n! Get up! Stop playing around!” Gregory shouted, his voice wavering as panic set in.

But Y/n wasn’t playing. The moment she hit the water, she remembered she didn’t know how to swim. Her brothers were always making the promise they would teach her how to swim, but they were always busy.

The weight of her wet dress dragged her down, and she struggled desperately to keep her head above the surface. Her hair was in front of her eyes, which was only adding to her panic. Her siblings were screaming behind her, but she couldn't do anything. She gasped, swallowing water instead of air, her arms thrashing uselessly.

“I-I can’t—help!” Y/n choked, her voice barely audible over the splashing.

Francesca started crying, while Hyacinth grabbed Gregory’s arm. “Do something, Gregory!” she pleaded, her voice high-pitched and trembling. "Help her!"

“I—I don’t know what to do!” Gregory stammered, his face pale as he watched his sister struggle. “We need Anthony!”

The three of them began screaming at the top of their lungs. “Anthony! Anthony! Help!”

Inside the house, Anthony sat at his desk, brow furrowed as he tried to focus on his work. But the distant sound of frantic shouting made him freeze. His siblings’ voices pierced through the thick walls of Aubrey Hall, each cry laced with panic.

“Anthony! Help! Y/n, swim, please!”

He was on his feet in an instant, the paperwork long forgotten. His hands were trembling and he was having trouble taking a breath in. Memories of his father dying were playing in his brain. He couldn't lose his younger sister, he wouldn't survive. He believed no one in the family would. Y/n was a ray of sunshine, she had the power of making him smile even in his darkest days.

Racing out of his study, he bolted through the house and into the garden. The sight that met him stopped his heart for a moment—Y/n floundering in the lake, her siblings screaming helplessly at the edge.

“Y/n!” Anthony roared, sprinting toward the water.

Without hesitation, he dove in, the cool shock of the water biting against his skin. His powerful strokes cut through the lake as he reached her, wrapping one arm securely around her chest to keep her head above water. “I’ve got you, Y/n! You’re safe!” he gasped, pulling her toward the shore.

Y/n coughed and sputtered, clinging tightly to Anthony’s arm as he hauled her out of the water and onto the grass. She collapsed onto her side, shivering and coughing up all the water trapped in her lungs.

“Y/n!” Hyacinth sobbed, rushing forward to kneel beside her. Gregory and Francesca hovered close, their faces streaked with tears.

Anthony knelt next to his youngest sister, his hands gently brushing the wet hair from her face. “What were you thinking?” he demanded, though his voice cracked with a mix of anger and fear. “I told you to stay away from the lake!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I was just trying to get the ball…”

“Forget the ball!” Anthony snapped, though the harshness of his words softened as he saw the guilt in her eyes. He sighed heavily, pulling her into a protective embrace despite her soaked clothes. “You scared me half to death, Y/n. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” she murmured, burying her face in his shoulder. “I promise.”

Anthony held her tightly for a moment longer before pulling back and looking at the other three. “And you lot,” he said, fixing them with a stern glare, “should have come to me the second something went wrong. You don’t handle things like this on your own, understood?”

“Yes, Anthony,” Gregory muttered, his head bowed.

“I’m sorry, Anthony,” Hyacinth sniffled.

“Let’s get you all inside,” Anthony said, scooping Y/n into his arms. “Y/n needs to change out of these wet clothes, and all of you need to stay out of trouble. And don’t think this means I’m letting any of you off the hook when I tell Mother about this.”

The siblings exchanged nervous glances but said nothing. For now, they were just relieved Y/n was safe.

"And go get Benedict for me, please," Anthony sighed, tightening his protective hold on Y/n, who rested her head against his chest. Just like she used to when she was a baby, seeking comfort and safety in her older brother’s arms.

The Bridgerton siblings immediately sprang into action, not wanting to further anger their eldest brother. Gregory and Hyacinth bolted toward Benedict’s art room, their small footsteps echoing through the halls. Meanwhile, Anthony called for the maids, handing Y/n over gently and instructing them to draw her a warm bath and help her change into fresh clothes. Once she was seen to, he retreated to his room to rid himself of his soaked garments.

Later, Y/n was tucked into her bed, warm and safe, her cheeks flushed pink from the warmth of the bath. She had drifted off to sleep, her breathing soft and steady. Anthony sat in a chair beside her bed, his elbow resting on his knee as he leaned forward, his eyes locked on her small, peaceful frame. Every slight rise and fall of her chest reassured him she was still there, still breathing.

Beside him, Benedict sat in quiet solidarity, his hand supporting his chin as he watched his older brother wrestle with his thoughts.

“I thought we were going to lose her,” Anthony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “She was screaming, Benedict. She was drowning, and I didn’t know if I’d reach her in time.” His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “All because none of us had the bloody sense to teach her how to swim.”

“It’s not your fault, Anthony,” Benedict said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s okay now. You saved her.”

Anthony shook his head, his eyes never leaving Y/n. “She asked me to let them go outside. I said yes because I was frustrated she was interrupting me. I didn’t think, Benedict. I didn’t think about the lake or the rules or how dangerous it was. I let her go because it was easier for me, and I put her in danger. That’s on me. I was irresponsible.”

Benedict’s hand squeezed his shoulder, grounding him. “You made a mistake, Anthony. But don’t forget, when it mattered most, you were there. You pulled her out of the water and you’re here now, making sure she’s safe. That’s what being the eldest means. You can’t be perfect all the time.”

Anthony let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t have the luxury of mistakes. Not when it comes to them. Not when it comes to Y/n. I should’ve been better.”

Benedict paused for a moment before leaning forward, his tone shifting to something lighter, more familiar. “You know, Anthony, this might be the first time I’ve ever seen you admit to not being perfect. I’m almost proud of you.”

Despite himself, Anthony let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Not the time for jokes, Benedict.”

“Come on,” Benedict smirked, “you’ve been brooding for hours. She’s going to wake up and see that same grumpy expression, and then we’ll have a whole new mess to deal with.”

Anthony gave him a sidelong glance, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Benedict leaned back, feigning a look of triumph. “I’ve been told.”

A small, sleepy voice interrupted their exchange. “Anthony? Benedict?”

Both men snapped their attention to Y/n, who was stirring in her bed. Anthony leaned forward immediately, brushing a hand over her forehead. “I’m here, Y/n. How are you feeling?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a mix of guilt and relief. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Anthony’s heart clenched. “You don’t need to apologize, sweetheart. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

“You saved me,” she said softly, her small hand reaching out to grab his. “Thank you.”

Anthony squeezed her hand gently, his voice thick with emotion. “Always, Y/n. Always.”

Benedict leaned in, his tone playful. “And just so you know, next time you want to cause this much chaos, at least let me finish my painting first.”

Y/n let out a small, tired giggle, and Anthony finally allowed himself to relax. His little sister was safe, and he would make sure it always stayed that way.

[minswriting]

WINTER WONDERLAND - AARON HOTCHNER X READER

About: After a case in Upstate New York that ended on Christmas Eve, everyone was ready to head back home for the holiday. Except the flight was canceled due to bad weather, leaving you and Aaron to share your hotel for another night.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact (MDNI), fluffy, soft sex, oral (f), winter vibes, established relationship, porn without plot, Aaron loves using pet names, you just love being loved

Word Count: 1,657 words

Being in Upstate New York during the holiday season usually would be quite magical. The snow, the holiday cheer of those around you, and the beautiful Christmas lights that decorated houses. But, unfortunately, the team had just finished a case that was quite gruesome and foul. Even in its gruesome state, the case had ended well and smoothly, saving a victim from being murdered. And now, it was time to go back to Quantico, Virginia. Except perhaps the snow outside may put a damper on plans.

You were looking outside the window of your hotel room after a long case when Aaron’s phone went off. “Oh,” Came Aaron’s voice from across the room. “Our flight’s been canceled due to the weather,” He exclaimed, glancing at his phone.

“That makes sense,” You replied, looking out the window. “It’s snowing like crazy outside. It’s gotta be at least three inches by now.”

Aaron hummed in response, wrapping his arms around you. “I sent a text to the rest of the team letting them know,” He murmured, resting his head on your shoulder.

You sighed in contentment, leaning into Aaron. “It must be sad you can’t spend Christmas with Jack,” you frowned, realizing it was Christmas Eve.

Aaron hummed in response, nodding his head. “Certainly,” He replied, letting out a small sigh. “But he’s staying at Jessica’s and she’ll ensure he has a wonderful holiday. I’ll video-call him tomorrow morning while he’s opening gifts and celebrate with him the next day.” Aaron then moved his hands to your hips, pulling away slightly so he could turn you towards him. “In the meantime, I think we have a day to ourselves, my dear.”

You let out a small chuckle as you looked up at Aaron, nodding your head. “I think we do.” You whispered.

Aaron gave you a soft smile, leaning in to press his lips against yours. “And I think I know something we can do to pass the time,” He exclaimed, still holding your hips.

“Yeah?” You asked, tilting your head with a knowing smile on your lips. “Like what?”

Rather than responding, Aaron simply met his lips with yours once more. This time, rather than a small kiss, it was soft but intimate, showing Aaron's need. You kissed him back softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands moved from your hips to underneath your sweater, touching the skin with his cold hands. You let out a small shiver while also welcoming the touch nonetheless.

Aaron broke the kiss to take your sweater off, revealing the fact that you were not wearing a bra underneath. He let out a hum of approval, his hands moving to cup your breasts before kissing you once more. He massaged the flesh, using his thumbs to rub your nipples. You let out a low moan into the kiss, feeling yourself getting wetter at the feeling of Aaron’s hands on your chest. You were glad that Aaron decided to keep it casual today and wear a sweater as well rather than his usual suit. He looked amazing in a suit but undoing the buttons was quite the hassle. You took his sweater off, revealing his beautiful abs and torso.

“You’re so handsome,” You said softly, running your hands down his chest.

Aaron gave you a gentle smile with a look of adoration in his eyes. “Thank you, my dear,” He murmured, his hands moving to your hips once more. “You’re the most beautiful person in the world,” He complimented you. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Your cheeks reddened from Aaron’s compliment, feeling yourself getting hot and bothered by his voice alone. “I think you need to fuck me now,” You said, smiling at your boyfriend.

“It would be my pleasure to do so, sweetheart,” Aaron replied, unzipping your jeans and sliding them down along with your underwear. You kicked off both of them, tossing them to the side. Aaron gently pushed you to the mattress, making you sit at the edge. “I’m going to taste you first though,” he exclaimed, going down onto his knees.

You opened your legs for him, your cunt glistening, as you laid back onto the mattress. Aaron didn’t hesitate to dive in, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. You let out a small whine of pleasure, a hand moving down to Aaron’s hair and entangling your fingers into it. “You always taste so heavenly,” Aaron murmured against your pussy before swirling his tongue around your clit. He wrapped his lips around the nub, sucking gently.

“Fuck,” you moaned, eyes closing as you threw your head back in pleasure.

Whenever Aaron ate you out, it was always amazing. The way he knew exactly how to please you never failed to bring you to the finish line quickly. He was either delicate with it, just like he is right now. Or he was messy, burying his nose in your pussy and practically inhaling it like it was his last meal. And god, that man was absolutely made for eating pussy. It didn’t take long until you were gripping the sheets with your thighs clenching around his face, your juices spilling onto his face.

And when you finished, Aaron stood back up, unzipping his slacks as he pulled them down along with his boxers, revealing his cock. He gave it a lazy tug before gripping your legs and pulling you closer to the edge of the mattress. Aaron took a moment to just look at you, taking in your beauty. You both looked at one another, appreciating each other silently. That was until you decided to break said silence. “Please,” you pleaded, looking at Aaron with lustful eyes.

“Please what, baby?” He asked, tilting his head. He knew exactly what you wanted, what you craved. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me, Aaron,” you practically begged. “Need your cock inside me.”

And honestly, who was he to deny your request? You were always so good to him. And you look absolutely ravishing. Plus, it’s Christmas.

Aaron didn’t respond as he just simply guided his cock to your cunt, gathering your juices before lining himself at your entrance. “Anything for you, darling,” he said before slowly easing himself into you, letting out a hiss of pleasure as he did so.

You gasped at the feeling, gripping the sheets below you. His cock, regardless of how prepared you may be, always stretched you out. He was thick and proud. When Aaron bottomed out, he stayed still, allowing you time to get used to his cock. He leaned down, one hand on your waist while the other rested on the mattress, holding him up. The two of you just looked at one another, his brown eyes looking into yours. Nothing else in the world mattered except this moment with him.

“You can move,” you said, voice soft as you reached up to caress Aaron’s cheek.

Aaron moved his head, pressing a kiss onto the palm of your hand before gently and slowly moving his hips. The two of you let out soft moans. “I love you,” Aaron breathed out, thrusting his cock in and out of you.

You moaned, a hand moving to his back. “And I love you,” you replied gently, looking up at him.

Sex with Aaron was always wonderful. You adored every time you guys did it because no matter the mood he was in, he would always prioritize your pleasure. Due to the stress of your jobs, more often than not, sex was always desperate, needy, filled with tension that had been built throughout the day. But secretly, you absolutely loved moments when it was soft. The way Aaron looked at you with all love and adoration mixed with lust, the way he’d take his time with you, ensuring that you know that you are appreciated. You loved the eye contact, soft kisses, the way that it didn’t matter if you guys finished because all that mattered was the closeness. You adored it all.

Aaron’s movements sped up a bit, getting into a nice rhythm as his cock brushed against your g-spot. You let out a whine of pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut as you threw your head back. However, Aaron didn’t seem to like that as the hand that was on your hip moved to your chin, making you look at him. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he breathed out. “Don’t look away.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered out, wrapping your legs around Aaron. “Feels so good.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered back, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

Your only response was a moan, trying your best to maintain eye contact with Aaron but it was hard when his cock was hitting that one spot inside of you repeatedly. The heat was building in your abdomen, begging to be released. “I’m close,” you said, letting out a breathy whimper.

Aaron leaned his forehead on yours, his breath hot on your face. “Me too, baby, me too,” he replied, maintaining his thrusts.

It didn’t take long for either of you to cum. The way you arched your back, body shaking as you came around Aaron’s cock. And the way he let out a loud moan as he released his seed inside of you, thrusting his hips until he was completely finished.

And when you both were done, he pulled out but stayed on top of you, intertwining your fingers next to your head. “Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmured, gently kissing your lips.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back.

And for the rest of the day, that was exactly what you guys spent it doing. Having gentle sex and whispering sweet things to one another. Because if you’re unable to go home, you might as well make the most out of being stuck in a hotel room during a winter storm.

[dobadoo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ wanderer ..

wanna find out what your loved one likes within the framework of.. not exactly childish topics ?

✧ warnings — MDNI !! pure smut , some kinks , asexual wanderer, fem ! reader ofc, mentions of breeding kink; ✧ a/n —This work is somewhat of an experiment, I welcome your participation in its development. Write to my inbox and write what character you want next. Сharacter name + "for nsfw-alphabet", and then your application will be considered when writing. ✧ minors do not interact. !!

༊*·˚ A: aftercare(after sex)

About sex, the wanderer is certainly enlightened, after all he is 500+ years old. For the wanderer, sex is an alien and strange, as he thought, activity for him. Despite his long life, the Wanderer never thought that he could allow himself something like sex - the prerogative of people. However, you opened the door to this mysterious world for him, leading him by the arm through all the corners of pleasure. And for him this is certainly valuable.

After all, he got attached. Again.

But when he, despite the fact that he is a puppet, hiding a slight shaking in his body from the sight of your pleasure, continues to bring you through overstimulation with his own fingers.

After he brought you beyond the edge of pleasure, he will silently lie with you, without touching, but no, he is not squeamish! in no case! the wanderer always lost himself in his thoughts, leaving reality for himself, but hearing how you slightly squeal and try to catch your breath, he will carefully cover your fragile, human body with a sheet wet with sweat, having kissed you on the forehead beforehand.

༊*·˚ B: bodypart (favorite body part)

Hands. He loves to hold on to them, to feel your warmth. If he is in high spirits, he will definitely kiss your wrists and knuckles, asking you to run your hand over his chest or torso. His hands themselves are cold, with puppet joints, with each touch you are literally shaking.

Another time, you wanted to grab onto something in horror, when the wanderer sharply increased the pace of caresses that he gave. His hand tenderly entwined yours, his fingers held your palm, and then your hands intertwined in a lock. You are struck by the contrast of body movements: with one hand they give you quick advances, with the other they hold you, with the pads of their fingers lightly stroking the back of your palm.

༊*·˚ C: cum(orgasm)

Your inner sense of justice can rarely be calmed down: of the two of you, you are the one who gets the release most often. Although you understand that he certainly doesn't need an orgasm.

Undoubtedly, the Wanderer loves your personal attention and loves to see your efforts (he will never say this), but he can often refuse the receiving position in favor of you and the time spent, and sometimes he simply stops you during the process, gently taking you away from his body, and says: "I've had enough for today," although you know perfectly well that you haven't reached the end.

When it comes to you, he always knows how and what to do with your body in order to hear your beloved voice again, trembling amidst slight insanity. The Wanderer was able to quickly find what he wanted and often tries to distract you from unnecessary work or study at the academy.

༊*·˚ D: dirty secret (secret sexual desire)

Surprisingly, he is not used to hiding anything, although it would seem that he is a man with many secrets. However, only his past is covered in a dark haze, when, in his own words, he lived in Inazuma. But in matters of sex, he rarely hides anything, more often he himself is curious about various embarrassing issues.

But he imagined what would have happened to you if you had appeared in his life with his "past" version of himself.. What would he do with you. This thought throws him into a slight fear. Believe it or not, he really feels fear, fear for you. He is afraid that someday, he will lose control.

But.. let's be honest, he sometimes imagined how his own hands would close around your fragile neck, slightly pressing and blocking access to the oxygen you desire.. But these are just his dark, secret fantasies (or are they?)

༊*·˚ E: experience (how much more experienced is he)

The wanderer is not experienced in sex, but in other things… He can give you advice or suddenly during your conversation he will say such a wise thing that you inadvertently think about it for a long time..

Of course, the wanderer is 500 years old and in his life he has seen and experienced different things. - "What was in the past will remain there" - you got this in a conversation about his former partners. He did not ask you, but you, purely out of politeness and mirroring his actions, did not ask him, although this topic is wildly interesting for you.

But he definitely knows how to touch your body to bring you to the peak of pleasure. And it seems to you that you are kind of "the first" but he had some mongrels before you..

༊*·˚ F: Favorite (favorite memory)

He always values ​​memories with you, because he knows that one day he will lose you. But his favorite memory to this day is a joint trip to the bookstore.

In addition to the actual publications in bindings and booklets, such places sell various kinds of stationery and all the writing items that can be imagined in your world. The Wanderer, of course, went there only because you went there. But he often needs paper, even more often - braided strings for letters, for the academy.

"Maybe while you.. look around here?" - he looks at you mysteriously, leaning his elbows on the counter, and turning over a sheet of some paper in his hands so that you do not see the contents. Some paper that the merchant gave him..

You nodded, obeying, and headed towards some shelves where there were books with "inverted" covers - inazuma novels that are read from right to left. Returning a little later to the wanderer with a couple of books in your hands, you, slowing down, stopped next to your lover, who was already waiting for you with an envelope in his hands.

"Hmm..," - the Wanderer hands you a blue letter with one hand. - This is for you. There is very beautiful sealing wax here and… I chose the best one. You let out an "oh!" and accepted the blue letter with a smile, tilting your head questioningly.

The merchant, who had gradually faded into the background, reappeared just when you took the letter in your hands. He explained with a smile:

"I forgot to tell you about the colors, and your lover has already paid for everything! Deep blue is used for love letters!"

You, embarrassed, opened the envelope and looked at the bluish particles of the frozen substance on the core of the letter. The Wanderer frowned, chuckling, covering his smile with his hat.

༊*·˚ G: Goofy: how serious is he at this point

He's more like… curious. He's happy (no) to agree to something new, he looks at your body and his body with a searching gaze, he doesn't always even treat sex as sex and not as a scientific examination. You sometimes joke about it with him in a light-hearted way, but he seems to be able to masterfully feign involvement, so you never figured out whether he's really enjoying it or just pretending.

His goal is to please you so that you'll leave him alone with this question for at least a couple of days. So at first glance, it may seem like the Wanderer has light-hearted intentions.

But I'd be lying if I said he doesn't like to use slightly rude remarks about your condition - flushed cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and a trembling body.. Ohhh! In such moments the wanderer looks so hot, I'm not afraid to say so..

༊*·˚ H: hair

He loves. He takes care of your hair, fingering the strands between his fingers when you both, barely covered, lie in the darkness of the bedroom. He never allowed himself rudeness in the form of pulling them or other experiments.

He constantly frowns and growls amusingly when you pull his indigo hair away from you or squeeze in fits of "love" during intercourse.

༊*·˚ I: intimacy

Oh, he's clearly not a romantic. But he'll gladly follow you when you suggest that he sit by the river or walk in the Avidya forest after your work at the academy. The Wanderer is very careful about his time and is ready to give it only to the chosen ones; therefore, if you ever ask yourself whether you are needed or close, remember how much activity boils in him when your figure appears on the horizon.

Oh, Wanderer.. What a man you are!

When you do not see, he will pick you a bouquet of flowers or bring you food when you are at the academy.. His woman cannot starve like this and be without attention..! Well, isn't caring a form of romance..?

.. But somehow we have moved away from the topic of sex, right? The Wanderer himself says that he is not a fan of romance, but at this very moment he behaves like the last suitor in the world. You know how he loves to kiss and passionately bite your neck, not caring at all how excited you are below, how he passionately kisses you in a fit of "love" and presses you to himself, being inside you.

He loves to kiss you, loves your lips - He really likes to cling to them as close as possible, bite, lick.. Long and deep, soaked in a hilarious and passionate feeling kisses, he leaves for the evening..

༊*·˚ J - Jerk off (Masturbation).

.. No, just no. That's all.

༊*·˚ K: kink(kink)

Although the wanderer very rarely hinted at lustful games, but in conversation, already seeing the embarrassed face next to him, the former harbinger will barely lower his voice, stroking your cheek with his finger, and will continue to say things of a slightly intimate nature, as if it does not embarrass him at all..

Roughly speaking, this is called a kink for embarrassment.

When the Wanderer, seemingly not going to kiss or lie down on you, hangs near your face, lowering his gaze to your collarbones. You listen to his usual slightly hoarse voice - his voice becomes like this when you speak quietly - You can't go anywhere and … The request to look him in the eyes is not fulfilled the first time. He shamed you, and he himself is trying to show his confidence, even when the meaning of what was said is very, very vulgar. He raised his bluish-indigo eyes to you and asked in an ingratiating voice.

"Why are you so blushing, my sweet girl, hm?" - after his addresses you blush even more, you want to hide. Everything inside you turns over several times, and in the lower part of your stomach it becomes heavy. You roll your eyes, trying not to look and not to show your reactions, but this only makes the wanderer laugh, giving new ideas for your closeness.

You never get embarrassed, you say?

༊*·˚ L: location(place)

He loves those places where you can "a lot and for a long time", therefore, of course, he considers your home - the bedroom - to be a winning option. But, considering how he hates human vanity and places with a lot of people (because you live in the city of Sumeru) still seem to be the best option for enjoying… you, this is the Avidya Forest, a beautiful and aesthetic place.

M: motivation(what excites)

Call her by name more often. Only you can. Drop these little words-challenges, so that the former harbinger turns to you. You know the translation of his wonderful name, right?

Perhaps, when you call him, using not always standard intonations, he feels some interest in his person. A special need that he has long tried to find in people.

Kabukimono. Ka-bu-ki-mo-no..

After all the betrayals he experienced, he never got close to anyone, for everyone he was always a stranger and a monster who knew no mercy. He never felt love for people, just as they did not feel it for him. Until you appeared in his life. He loves to hear you whisper his name, say that he is the best, responsive, wonderful..

He also gets a little embarrassed when you kiss that very electro sign on his neck and hug him around the waist.. For him, this is a slightly intimate place, no, I'm serious.

༊*·˚ N: no(what he won't do)

You have a dub-con purely on the base, because the wanderer seems to take you under his wing and plays with you like an animal. But still, he will never do what you don't want. o he will stop when you directly ask him to. Even if he starts something, he will also always be ready to stop. Still, sex is not necessary for him, and he tries exclusively for you.

A simple "no" is always enough.

༊*·˚ O: oral(oral sex)

He knows perfectly well how sensitive and tired your body can be, the wanderer can go down, grab you by the hips with his hands and, slightly lifting them to bend your legs, will begin to leave kisses on your tender skin. He considers you very tender, just a tender person, but with such practice he melts from the permissiveness that you give, and without stopping he whispers: "mhh.my beloved girl..so fragile..so tender.."

(give me this man. now. I demand!!)

༊*·˚ P: pose(favorite pose)

Pose, any of those that allow you to maintain eye contact. This is a rather significant condition for him, because if intimacy - then you need to enjoy everything at once. Your beautiful eyes too; he loves to look at them even in a non-intimate setting, just putting you in front of him and lying on top.

After the incident when you heard his cold, commanding tone in the middle of the process..

"Look at me Y/N , or else I'll stop. " - You completely forgot all questions about why this is so. You look at him. He looks at you. You watch the wanderer squinting his eyes until the smallest movements, visually gazing into your slight fright from his rarely emerging, so openly dominant attitude towards you.. Oh oh, it seems the Wet effect has happened!

༊*·˚ Q: quickie (quickie)

yes and no.

If you remember that he doesn't need sex, and he does all this only for you, you can understand why he wants to finish with all this as soon as possible. But damn him! How he loves all this foreplay, even though he said "I don't need all these ceremonies".

So.. He prefers long foreplay - quick orgasm.

༊*·˚R: risk (experiments)

no. I mentioned it above. The Wanderer is not one to risk his reputation just because he gave in to the embrace of debauchery. But he is always willing to use vision with you during the process, just a little bit! And after that, when you almost burned down your house… You stopped using vision often.

༊*·˚ S: stamina (how resilient is he)

He is a puppet created by the Archon to serve and wear gnosis. He does not need food, water, sleep or rest. He can continue to fuck your body for hours without shedding a drop of sweat. But why does he need that? He leaves you immediately after the first round. Perhaps, if you ask him nicely, he will give you another orgasm.

༊*·˚ T: Toys(How does he feel about toys?)

He does not understand at all why they are needed when there are… (okay, okay, I'm kidding). And I'm not sure that there is such a thing in Teyvat.. He does not like and does not want to add more debauchery to this process, as he previously considered it, because he looks at your naked body not so much with lust in his gaze, but with tenderness and admiration.

༊*·˚ U: unfair(teasing)

Yes! but this happens rarely, usually he is gloomy, serious and attentive to your body.

But still.. He likes to tease you sexually, already directly in the process. This is either prematurely touching particularly sensitive places, provoking a violent reaction, or delaying the moment so that first your malicious comments come into play, and then your sweet pleas caressing his ears and more.

༊*·˚ V: voice&volume(voice and volume)

You know, at first he will mockingly jerk off your groans, looking at you while he fucks you with his own fingers, but he himself will not notice how carried away he is and will moan with you in the rhythm of his thrusts, bringing you both to the edge of pleasure.

You've often heard how he sometimes sighs to his thoughts and makes a frak when he likes something..But how does he sound when he's pressed tightly against you? It's like music! You won't believe it, but it's true.

But you can't call him loud, he's just playing around. He likes to hear your melodic, beautiful responses, like gratitude for his work. He can't help but smirk every time he hears these frank, beautiful moans from you, and often overdoes it with his caresses to hear these beautiful sounds even more..

༊*·˚ X: x-ray (under clothes)

Under clothes, a magnificent body.

That's exactly what you told him the first time you saw him completely naked. A thin puppet body.. with various interesting inserts and doll joints.

Despite his quite good self-esteem, he still has a slight lack of self-confidence.. Here it manifests itself in his chuckle when you compliment him; he will be a little embarrassed, will not show it and will begin to divert the topic. A moment of weakness that he can allow himself only with you.

༊*·˚ Y: yearning (libido)

4/10. Lower than yours, so there is no doubt. He clearly may have a need for your affection and care, but hardly for sex. He perceives sex as a way to express tenderness that tve can't express in words. And he puts pleasure in second place. Every time he inhales irritably and scoffs when you ask him to "give you time" he says how all these human aspects and desire are slightly incomprehensible to him (were), but every time he still gets lost in the throes of passion with you.

༊*·˚Z: zzz(sleep)

well..um..He doesn't need sleep. So, he just waits, waits for you to fall asleep before getting himself in order.

the list of characters will be updated

(he serving cunt bro 💀😭🙏)

@anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @shyentsfoundherink @lavandulawrites @ashyashylee @bl0odyd0kuro @himasgod @shyentsmissingink @crimsoncandy04 @ariiadnes

[lovesickhughes]

COLD DECEMBER NIGHT – jack hughes x reader

a/n: happy holidays! i am so sorry for the late upload, i had been with family for christmas, so i wasn’t that active, but i still had so much fun writing this and wanted to share it with you! so, i hope you enjoy! i know it’s past christmas itself, but i’m still gonna upload a few holiday-related fics to complete the series! happy reading & i hope you all have had an amazing holiday season so far!

tags: jack hughes x reader

warnings: none! just lots of kissing and cuteness! (not proofread, apologies!)

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Y/n, I promise you they’re going to love you– I mean, this isn’t the first time you’re meeting them! You’ve been to plenty of games they’ve been to.” Jack assured you as he quickly jogged over to the passenger side of his car to help you carry your overnight bags and gifts for the Hughes family.

Jack and you had just arrived at his family home to spend the holiday break with his parents and two brothers for the first time. Needless to say, your nerves had skyrocketed upon your arrival. Jack was right however, this wasn’t the first time you had met the brunette’s parents– in fact, you had spent plenty of time getting to know Jim and Ellen at the times they attended the Devils’ games. However, this time, it was being spent in the house all three Hughes brothers grew up in and called home, and you would be welcoming yourself into what shaped her beloved boyfriend. 

“I know, I know,” You sighed, “You just don’t get it. I feel like I’m meeting them for the first time all over again. Hell, I’ll be sleeping in their house, eating their food, living with them while we’re here– so it’s kind of a big deal.” You expressed as you continued to place present box after present box on top of one another in Jack’s arms before flinging your duffel bag over your shoulder in the process. 

“Baby,” Jack pressed, his head popping out from the side of the tall stack of red, green and white wrapping paper-covered boxes, in an attempt to stop you from becoming overwhelmed. “There is nothing more that they want, other than to have you here with me and all of my family for Christmas.” He said as he looked into your eyes, a look in his own washing over to speak further without needing the use of words. “I wouldn’t bring you here if I wasn’t serious about us.”

You sigh in relief, but it’s halted when you hear the last part of Jack’s sentence and you let out a sarcastic laugh, “well, that’s reassuring.” 

“C’mon, let’s go, they’re probably just about getting ready for dinner.” Jack said with a nod of his head to direct you up the sidewalk from the driveway and to the entrance to the suburban home. As your footsteps echo as you walk up the steps of the front porch to the front door, the sound of the doorknob already clicking to open catches your attention, and before you know it– you’re greeted with the excited gasp from Ellen at the reveal of her middle son and girlfriend arriving. 

“Ah! My babies!” Ellen exclaimed with open arms and stepped towards you to bring you into a hug. It was what you loved most about the mother of your boyfriend; that since the day you met her, she was so inviting and warm that she really made you feel like you were accepted into the family. “How was the drive? Were the roads bad? I just pulled the lasagna out to quickly cool– you came right in time for dinner!” She rushed out as she pulled away from you and turned to exchange a hug with Jack to the best of his ability with the presents creating a barrier for him. 

You let out a breath, Ellen’s warm welcome immediately calming your nerves that you had pent up on the drive up. Jack quickly slipped into the living room where a warmly lit Christmas tree stood and placed the presents you had bought around the green fir. Coming back to give his mom a proper hug, you slid your own shoes off in the meantime. 

“The drive wasn’t bad, the usual– I am starving though,” Jack responded to his mom’s bombardment of questions. “Where are the boys at? I’m gonna go quickly say hi.” He asked and Ellen directed him to the basement where the two other brothers occupied themselves with the college football game that was on. 

Ellen waved you to follow her and you quickly proceeded into the cozy home, placing your duffel bag by the side of the stairs to bring up later. 

“So, Y/n, how have things been since I last saw you? When was it– two, three weeks ago?” She asked as she pulled out a prepared salad from the fridge, followed by a closed bottle of white wine.

You flash her a smile as you slid onto one of the barstools that was hidden under the countertop of the island, “oh, things have been good, y’know– work has been busy these last few weeks and Jack’s been in and out of the place with hockey, so we haven’t had too much time to spend together, but I’m glad we have the break to relax fully and spend together.” You smiled, all while Ellen silently opened the bottle of wine and prompted you by tilting the bottle in your direction as an offer, and you nodded while filling her in about your past few weeks. She poured you a glass of crisp, white wine and slid it in your direction to which you slid in a quick ‘thank you’ while telling her a story about something interesting that had happened at work. 

“No way! Well, it seems like you are keeping yourself busy which is great. Dinner’s all ready, so we can start heading to the dining room. I’ll call the boys up.” 

You nodded as you pushed yourself off of the barstool, “is there anything you need me to help with, Ellen? Any napkins or utensils that need to be placed?” You offered, feeling helpless as you saw by the presentation and smell of dinner, that she had put in hours of effort to make it look and taste delicious. But, all you received was a shake of her head and her hand placed on your shoulder as she guided you into the dining room. 

Not long after, the voices of the three Hughes brothers and their father grew louder as they approached the dining room, turning the corner to reveal their three figures. You smiled to the eldest and youngest brothers respectively, saying hello and briefly asking them how they were before greeting Jim and leaning in for the hug he pulled you into. You then pulled away, finding your seat next to Jack who had already begun pulling out your chair for you. 

You smile in his direction, placing a kiss on his cheek in return for his kind gesture, before you all begin conversing about the latest things that had happened in all of your lives. Everyone had devoured their meals within mere minutes of it being served, and you all stayed seated at the table, your glasses of wine and water slowly being emptied as you all conversed with one another. 

Jack’s warm hand was placed on the middle of your thigh as you listened to Quinn talk about his hockey season, the brothers and their dad every so often quipping in a quick comment here and there. You attempted to stay focused as the brothers and their parents talked with one another, but the feeling of Jack’s large hand rubbing up and down your clothed leg drowned out the words being exchanged, but it wasn’t long before the sound of the dining room chair sliding against the hardwood floored pulled you out of your trance. 

You followed suit, standing up out of your seat before grabbing Jack’s and your plates as well as Luke’s who was on the other side of you at the table, both boys bidding you a ‘thank you’ in appreciation for your gesture.

You smiled in return and walked towards the kitchen where Jim and Ellen stood side by side by the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. You felt Jack’s presence following closely behind your frame, and his hand reached to guide your figure by the small of your back, his touch causing heat to flush through your body. 

You had placed the plates next to the piling stack before Jack’s voice could be heard throughout the entire room. 

“Mom, dad, let us do the dishes tonight– you guys have done more than enough.” He exclaimed as you stood next to him, nodding in agreement as you looked at them with a hint of sympathy in your eyes. 

“Okay, okay, but you know this doesn’t mean just because you did it today, you’re off the hook for the rest of your visit.” Jim chuckled both playfully and sternly as he pointed his finger at his middle child with squinted eyes, only earning Jack’s sheepish grin in response. 

“Of course not, dad. C’mon, it’s the least we can do for you hosting us all for Christmas.” Jack reassured before taking his mom’s place as the drier, leaving you to finish washing the dinner plates and utensils. The parents quickly scurried off to the living room, the two other brothers already being planted on the couches, flicking through the channels on the TV to pick a movie for you all to watch. 

Jack and you quietly stood in the kitchen next to each other as you finished scrubbing and drying each object. You looked over at Jack with a grin on your face as you handed him the second last plate to dry, your soapy hand quickly brushing over his own, earning in a dramatic drop of Jack’s jaw as he stepped away from you. You threw your head back in laughter at his comical response, before finishing up cleaning before unplugging the sink drain and wiping down the wet counter with a new cloth. 

Jack put away the last few forks and knives in the drawer next to the stove before turning to you and reaching to pull you into his embrace. He leaned down, swiftly pulling you into a kiss as you melted into him and when you pulled away, you stared into his loving eyes, so many words being spoken through your eyes. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jack smiled, speaking just soft enough for only you to hear. 

You chuckle to yourself, “well, I’d hope so.” Earning a playful scoff and roll of the eyes from the brunette who stood opposite to you, such a warm, content and loving energy radiating off of him. You had a warm ache erupt in your heart at the feeling of such a domestic act; in the kitchen with the man you loved while spending time with his family and feeling so welcomed by his parents and siblings. 

“I’m serious, Y/n.” He paused, tilting his head down lower to look further into your eyes, a grin you couldn’t stop from erupting on your face before you lifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, reaching Jack’s face to kiss him again. 

You hummed into the feeling of Jack’s soft lips against yours as his large hands gripped your torso, leaving you feeling a sense of security and warmth before you were interrupted with a slow groan from a distance, stopping you from the display of affection. 

“Ugh, save it for the bedroom you two, I’m for real– I don’t want to see you both all lovey dovey.” You heard Luke call as he passed through the kitchen, entering the pantry before quickly exiting back to the living room with a snack in hand. 

All you could do was smile and let out a quick laugh as you finished tidying the kitchen for the next morning. 

Later that night, both Ellen and Jim had found themselves to bed, leaving the three Hughes brothers and you all dispersed amongst the couches in the living room, watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas, while the electric fireplace emitted heat, creating a cozy, Christmas-y atmosphere, only furthering your feeling of adoration for the man you were with and the experience you were having. 

You were tucked into Jack’s side, like a lock and key, fitting into place so effortlessly, as if you were made for his embrace. Jack, who now had changed into the matching set of pajamas you had gifted him and you, sat with his arm around your side, hand resting on your side just above your hip, and his legs stretched out in front of him on the L-shaped sofa. 

While the Grinch yearned to ruin Christmas in Whoville, you couldn’t help but feel your eyes grow heavy as the warmth of Jack’s body and the fireplace spread to your own body, lulling you into a peaceful, relaxed state. Jack’s hand slowly ran up and down your side, sending little jolts of electricity through your body, but the feeling of your head rested against his chest with the background noise of the movie and quiet room, you felt your eyes grow heavier and heavier before falling into a tranquil state of slumber. 

It didn’t feel like long before you felt Jack shift underneath you, indicating the movie had ended and everyone would be making their way to bed for the night, but he stilled his movements, and you could feel his gaze on you, despite your eyes still being closed– pretending to still be asleep. 

“You gonna wake her up, man? She looks so peaceful.” You heard Luke say as the sound of him getting up out of his seat and walking across the room echoed throughout the space. 

Jack chuckled softly, “Probably, even though it might not end well– waking her up out of her sleep.” 

“You got lucky, bro– mom seriously adores her, and she really fits in with all of us. She’s a keeper.” You heard Quinn call from where he laid on the side of the couch. You had to maintain your steady breaths, in an attempt to disguise the fact that you were awake and eavesdropping on the conversation. But, you couldn’t help but feel your heart lovingly ache at the comment from Jack’s older brother.

“I know,” Jack said softly, his hand reaching to the side of your face, brushing a stray hair out of your face, “I got so incredibly lucky. I really think this is it– like, she’s the one.” And you had to carefully bite the inside of your lip to stop yourself from letting out a wail in disbelief that you had gotten so lucky. You couldn’t hold your disguise any longer, so as best as you could, you slowly shifted in your spot, legs rubbing each other and arms stretching as you tried to sell your performance. 

“Well, look who’s awake.” Jack chuckled as you looked up to meet his tired, blue eyes. You only smiled, before sitting up straight next to Jack while his hand fell to your hip as he gripped it softly. 

“Alright, well, I’m gonna head to bed– night guys,” Luke said, giving a salute to the rest of you in the living room before exiting to the stairs for the night, and it wasn’t long before Quinn followed. 

Jack then pushed off of his knees to stand, turning off the fireplace and TV, and began to walk towards the stairs to his room, but your voice stopped his movements. 

“Wait, babe,” You called out, and Jack turned to you, eyebrows raised and lips pursed as he waited for you to continue. You stood slowly, walking over to the brunette before quickly slipping your hand into his, “I heard your little conversation just now…” You teased, earning a blush warming Jack’s face as he realized your confession. 

“You did?” He questioned, pulling you closer to his frame, his hands interlocking behind the small of your back. 

You hummed, “mhm… you really mean what you said?” You asked softly, barely audible. 

Jack didn’t respond, only reaching down to place a slow, soft kiss on your lips. 

When he pulled away, his forehead resting on yours, he continued, “of course I did, my love, and I’m serious– you’re it for me.”

[clarkeyshill]

safe haven

george clarke x fem reader

summary: after an argument with your family, you end up staying with george’s family for christmas

warnings: allusions to violence

navigation | masterlist | main masterlist

It was a just under a week before christmas and you were sat on a train travelling from your hometown to bristol with tear soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes. You had been arguing with your family non stop from the moment you had arrived home, but last night was the final straw. Your father had gotten drunk again coming home from the pub in a fury screaming and shouting, smashing and throwing anything in his path the moment he laid eyes on you. You didn’t even bother fighting back, you let it happen before finding your way to bed and booking the first train out of there whilst hysterically crying to your boyfriend down the phone.

“You okay, lovey?” The older woman next to you asked softly offering a tissue from her packet, “Would you like a sweet?”

A small smile danced over your lips sniffling softly as you took the tissue as well sweet she offered, “Thank you.” You said quietly, popping the sweet into your mouth.

The older lady smiled gently rubbing your hand, “You going home for the holidays?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, “I’m going to my boyfriends.”

The woman smiled brightly, “That’s lovely, what’s his name?”

“George.” You smiled, lifting your phone to show the lock screen of you and George in New York.

“Well he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

“Very.” You let out a little laugh making the woman laugh with you.

You stepped off the train with your suitcase and bag in hand looking around the platform for a familiar face and a sense of relief washed over you as you spotted George walking towards you with his charming smile. You wheeled your suitcase behind you as you made your way to him throwing your arms around his neck, “I got you.” He mumbled into the top of your head as you fought back the tears fighting their way out of your eyes, “Let’s go home, yeah?” He suggested, pressing his lips to your hairline before grabbing your suitcase and interlocking your fingers.

As you walked out of the station, you were greeted by Emily and her fiancé, Josh - who were waiting in the car - “Hiya.” She smiled pulling you into a hug which you accepted gratefully.

“Hi Em,” You pressed a smile into your lips, “You okay?”

She nodded looking around you at George, who was loading the boot with your bag and suitcase, “I’m excited to not be the only girl at Christmas this year.” She giggled and you laughed too.

George opened the car door for you leaning on it slightly as you climbed in and he gave you a small kiss before closing the door and climbing in the other side.

“Hello darling!” George’s mum, Nicki, greeted as you walked to the front door. Her arms were wide open to engulf you but her eyes held an ounce of concern as they flickered over your frame, “Would you like a cup of tea?” She asked with a adoring smile and you nodded with a small smile as she ushered you in the house.

“Geo, take y/n things to your room.” She instructed and he did so with no arguments as Nicki guided you to the kitchen, “How’ve you been, sweetie? George mentioned that you and your dad argued.”

you chewed on your cheek and nodded, “Yeah, but I’m okay. Thank you for letting me stay, I didn’t want to intrude or anything.”

Nicki turned around quickly, “Don’t be silly, you’re always welcome here.”

Your heart swelled at her words and you felt a lump form in your throat, “Thank you.” You smiled as she pushed your mug of tea towards you.

George wandered into the kitchen looking at you with a small flicker of concern in his eyes as you smiled weakly at him. Nicki glanced between you and her son and quietly excused herself into the livingroom as George sat next to you on the table, “What happened?” he asked, running his thumb over the small but deep cut that sat on your collarbone.

You sighed looking down at your lap, “Dad got drunk again.” You muttered, “He got mad, I think he thought I was mum. It’s not the first time he’s got mad, but this was bad George, he wouldn’t stop,”

A small sob escaped your lips as you covered your face with your hands and George stood up letting you bury your head into his abdomen, “I didn’t even do anything.” You cried, tears streaming down your face soaking both yours and George’s shirt.

George didn’t know what to say, he didn’t think you’d want him to say anything, so he just held you letting you cry. His hands running through your hair so you knew he was there, so you knew that you were safe.

You woke up the next morning in an empty bed in George’s childhood bedroom making you panic slightly as you shot up from your laying position looking over at the bedside table for your phone but seeing a note on top of it which read:

don’t panic, i’m downstairs come down when you wake up love you x

You let out a breath of air you’d been holding and you slipped one of George’s hoodies over your frame and you made your way downstairs hearing the chattering of George and his parents. You made your way into the living room, “Good morning.” You announced lightly.

George’s face lit up as he turned to you, his hand instantly guiding you to the space on the settee next to him. George’s parents smiled at the couple in utter joy watching how soft George became whenever you were around him, how you both seemed to go to your own little world whenever you were in a conversation.

“You two got any plans today then?” Sean, George’s dad, asked the pair of you and you looked up at George to see if he had anything planned for you both.

George nodded, “Yeah, we’re gonna go to christmas markets later I think.”

You smiled softly nodding a long with the plans as you sank into George’s side subconciously and his arm found its way around your shoulders, “That sounds lovely.” Nicki smiled her eyes flicking between you both, her heart warming at the sight.

yourusername

likes 2.6k | comments 354

yourusername safe haven 🩵

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_emilyclarke ly sweet girl 💕💕

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arthurnfhill i miss him 😔

┃ yourusername more than happy to share with you mr hill

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┃ yourusername my girl 😘

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┃ yourusername missing you sabs 🫂

userthree the way shes looking at him im gonna sob

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┃ yourusername you are now our child

┃ georgeclarkeey absolutely not.

[vickytaa]

𝕯𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘?

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔶: A new video in collaboration with Sam and Colby, where the group enters an abandoned church full of mysteries. What starts as an exciting adventure quickly turns into a nightmare. Y/n will have terrifying nightmares and must fight her fears after entering the darkness.

"Welcome back, everyone! It's Sam and Colby. Today we brought some special guests to help us on this great adventure of the abandoned church." Colby explained.

It was the first time I was going to participate in an adventure that was related to the paranormal world. My grandmother used to work in dealing with those from beyond; she used to warn me that it was something very dangerous, but not to be afraid, but to respect them, 'you don't know what can happen if you dishonor them' she used to tell me.

So that's what I did, all my life I tried to keep a certain distance, but with a great curiosity, which I believed more and more inside me. And that's why today I decided to come here, accompanied by my boyfriend and my best friends, ready to face the unknown.

Sam introduced us to the camera and quickly began to explain what we would do today. "Well, for those who don't know, this is the St. Bernadette Church. Built in 1740, in terrible conditions; thousands of workers died on the site, but few know why. There were many moments where paranormal activity exceeded normal levels. The first few years were simple movements of objects, almost imperceptible, but quickly turned into sudden knocks, people levitating and there was even an attempted arson." Sam explained. A shiver ran down my spine.

I gently squeezed Matt's hand, who was next to me, a little nervous but just as curious as me, to let him know that I was a little scared of what was going to happen.

He moved his hand, wrapping his arm around my waist and giving me a small kiss on the head, trying to calm my nerves.

Sam finished explaining what we were going to do and we headed inside the church. We were all amazed by the sheer size of the place, the stained-glass windows on the walls, through which the moonlight shone. The place was huge, full of endless doors.

Near the altar was the man who was going to share his story of the place and help us explore the church. His face was pale, a long black robe wrapped around his body, and despite the distance, you could see that his hands looked...burned.

How strange...

Matt seemed to read my mind, our eyes meeting as his grip on my waist tightened, trying to keep me as close as possible.

My heart raced as a cold breeze swept through the room, making me shiver momentarily. My hands were colder than before, my eyes darting around, trying to memorize as much of the place as I could, in case I got lost, so I would know where the exit was.

Before we started any communication method, we all decided to explore, but since the place was too big to explore all together, we agreed to split up. Everyone went their own way with a different camera.

"Are you sure?" Matt asked me, noticing my panicked expression. I was terrified of the idea of being alone in a church where there were supposedly ghosts, but I decided to be brave and nodded to Matt. "See you in an hour," Chris said. We all separated, each choosing their own path.

With one hand, I held the camera, pointing it at the door, while with the other I opened it. My heart was pounding in my chest, and the air I breathed was so cold it hurt to inhale.

I gripped the doorknob and slowly turned it to open it. Darkness enveloped the room, I could barely see anything, and what I could see was thanks to the camera's flashlight.

"Here we go..." I said softly, trying to sound calm, but my trembling voice betrayed me.

With each step, the old floorboards creaked under my feet, amplifying the deathly silence. Fear coursed through my veins, and the desperation of not being able to see anything began to set in.

After walking a few steps, I could no longer see the door due to the lack of light. As I approached a wall, I began to see portraits of people and some drawings of angels. A shiver ran down my spine, not from the cold, but from an inexplicable feeling of being watched. The camera light traveled across the walls and the faces of people, their eyes seemed to reflect a weariness and a void that I couldn't describe in words.

The dampness and musty smell enveloped me, intensifying the atmosphere of mystery. The crunch of broken glass under my foot made me jump, "Ah!" I screamed at the unexpected noise, which shattered the tense silence.

Slowly, I looked away from the paintings and down at my foot, where the noise had originated. I slowly brought the camera closer to see more clearly. The air caught in my throat as I realized what it was. A portrait, just like the others, only this one wasn't of a person... it was of the devil. For a moment, I thought I heard a faint laugh, like a whisper lost in the shadows.

The church felt alive, or rather, inhabited by something else. Something that wasn't of this world. With every corner I explored, my fear grew more and more.

Shivers ran down my spine, 'I must be imagining things,' I thought. I continued to stare at the portrait on the floor, as if hypnotized by its detail, despite how terrifying the image was. Suddenly, I saw something else besides my reflection in the glass that protected the portrait. It looked like a nun kneeling, as if she were praying or crying...

I slowly turned my head,

nothing.

The room seemed to shrink, even though I couldn't see well. The darkness was growing, my heart pounding a mile a minute, almost as if it were going to burst out of my chest. My breathing also quickened, the urgent thought of wanting to leave grew impatiently. I had to get out of there.

"Fuck this," I said, venturing back into the darkness to find the exit. I couldn't see anything but the old wooden floorboards beneath my feet. My hands began to tremble, it felt like I was walking in circles, finding no way out.

It started to get very cold, strangely, because it was the middle of summer. My breath began to tremble, now more from the cold I was feeling. And suddenly, a chilling, deep voice echoed from afar, "You dared to enter the darkness?" I froze. Small tears of fear rolled down my cheeks. What was going to happen to me? What was I going to do?

My face full of panic, I started running forward, not knowing what I might encounter. My mind was filled with millions of scenarios of what could happen at that moment.

My whole body was trembling, trying to escape this supernatural force. Running, I found the door I had opened, finally, I grabbed the handle and turned it to open it and...

it was closed.

"Help! Matt!" I screamed as I pounded on the door, crying out of desperation to get out. "Help, please!" My accelerated heartbeat sounded louder than my screams. I kept asking for help, pounding the door harder, screaming louder, doing everything I could to stay alive. I turned my head to look back into the room, where I still couldn't see, not a single window, not a bit of light. The darkness was my greatest fear, and now I was fighting against it.

"Help," I cried non-stop, my strength waning. Suddenly I felt the door open quickly, a sense of relief washed over me as I saw Matt and his brothers approaching me. "Y/n! What happened to you?" they asked worriedly. My ears were ringing, my mind was clouded, my breathing was returning to normal.

"Matt..." I managed to choke out, my sobs the only thing coming out. He hugged me tightly, trying to calm me down. "It's okay, love, I'm here, we're all here with you, okay? Calm down," Matt said in such a calm voice that made me forget everything that had happened.

After a few minutes, I felt strong enough to share what had happened to me. We were all in a circle, trying to be close to share a feeling of safety and tranquility.

"There was someone there," I said without warning. Everyone turned to look at me, even though I couldn't see them because my head was resting against Matt's chest. "Who?" Colby asked. Fear was still running through my veins, the image in my head of what had happened made me feel my chest tightens.

"A nun... I- I couldn't see her face but it looked like she was..." "Crying," Sam finished my sentence. With a surprised face, I slowly nodded. Sam and Colby looked at each other, they seemed scared, as if what had happened shouldn't have happened.

"How do you know she was going to say that?" Chris asked with a face full of fear. They both looked at each other again, seeking approval on whether or not to tell us.

"Searching..." Sam sighed lightly before continuing, as if he was frustrated. "Investigating the place, we realized there was a known story of a girl who had gone through the same thing, many years ago," Sam explained. We all remained with the same curiosity, wondering what happened to the girl, what it had to do with what had happened, thousands and thousands of unanswered questions.

"And what happened to her?" Nick asked, worried about something happening to me where he couldn't help. "She..." Sam hesitated to continue, knowing that if I knew what had happened to the girl, I wouldn't be able to sleep. "She....

𝐕 -

[kathlare]

under the festive lights

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando celebrate Christmas Eve in Mérida, blending their families in a vibrant, heartwarming holiday gathering.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: just fluff

December 24th, 2024 - Mérida, Mexico

The streets of Mérida buzzed with the warmth of the holidays. Lanterns and fairy lights illuminated the colonial buildings downtown, their golden glow reflecting the festive energy in the city. Amelie stood on the porch of her family’s home, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she watched Lando’s car pull into the driveway.

Her heart gave a little leap, as it always did when she saw him, even now, more than a year into their relationship. The December air was cooler than usual for Yucatán, but Lando had assured her his family would love the warmth—both of the weather and of her family.

Lando stepped out of the car first, a grin breaking across his face as he caught sight of Amelie waiting for him. He was dressed in a light linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark trousers that made him look effortlessly put-together. His curls were slightly messy, but it was the look Amelie adored most. His family began to file out behind him: his mum, who looked around curiously at the colorful neighborhood; his dad, who immediately offered Amelie a warm smile; his sisters, Cisc and Flo, who were chatting excitedly, and his older brother Oliver, who carried baby Athena, while his wife Sav trailed behind with their other daughter, Mila.

Amelie smiled brightly as Lando walked up the path, his steps quickening when he got closer. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground in a warm hug.

—Hola, mi amor,— he murmured into her ear, his voice soft and teasing. —Miss me?—

—Not really,— she quipped, her laugh betraying her words as she clung to him. —You were only gone for an hour.—

—Longest hour of my life,— Lando teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before setting her down.

—You’re so dramatic,— she teased back, smoothing his shirt where she’d wrinkled it in their embrace.

—You love it,— he shot back with a wink.

Amelie rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. She stepped back to greet the rest of Lando’s family, embracing Cisca and Flo first, their easy warmth already making them feel like part of her own family. Oliver and Sav offered polite hugs, and Mila ran to Amelie with open arms, giggling as Amelie scooped her up effortlessly.

—Hola, preciosa,— Amelie cooed, peppering the toddler’s cheeks with kisses. Mila squealed in delight, clinging to Amelie like they’d known each other forever.

—She’s obsessed with you,— Sav said with a laugh, brushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. —Athena too, honestly. I think they’re more excited to see you than anyone else.—

—That makes two of us,— Lando quipped, earning a playful smack on the arm from Amelie as she set Mila back down.

—Come on, everyone,— Amelie said, gesturing toward the house. —My family’s inside, and I hope you brought your appetite because dinner is going to be huge.—

Lando intertwined his fingers with hers as they led his family inside. The sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses drifted from the dining room, where Amelie’s family had already gathered. Her mother, Victoria, greeted the Norris family with open arms, her natural warmth immediately putting everyone at ease. Elías, Amelie’s father, offered Adam a firm handshake before pulling him into a quick embrace, the kind that felt more familial than formal.

—Welcome to our home,— Elías said, his voice rich with sincerity.

—It’s beautiful,— Cisca replied, her eyes darting around to take in the vibrant colors and cozy decor.

Amelie’s siblings quickly made their way over, with Callum introducing himself to Oliver, the two older brothers immediately finding common ground in their easy confidence. Jack, ever the charmer, entertained Flo and Cisca with jokes, while Chequito hovered shyly around Lando, clearly starstruck.

—You must be Sergio,— Lando said, crouching slightly to be at eye level with Amelie’s youngest nephew. —I’ve heard so much about you.—

Chequito’s face lit up, and he glanced at Amelie for reassurance before offering Lando a small smile. —I watch your races. You’re really fast.—

Lando grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair. —And you’re really cool. We’ll have to race sometime.—

Amelie watched the interaction with a fond smile, leaning into Stella, who stood nearby holding Emilio. —He’s good with kids,— Amelie murmured.

—You two are disgustingly cute,— Stella teased back, nudging her gently. —Go save the turkey before Lando eats it all.—

Dinner was a lively, chaotic affair, filled with the kind of warmth that only comes from mixing two families who already adore each other. The table was laden with a feast: turkey, pasta, sandwichón, ham shank, and a variety of fresh salads. Lando’s family tried everything, with Cisca and Flo particularly fascinated by the sandwichón, while Oliver couldn’t get enough of the turkey.

—This is amazing,— Adam said, raising his glass of wine in a toast to Victoria and Elías. —Thank you for having us and for such a wonderful meal.—

—It’s our pleasure,— Victoria replied with a smile, glancing at Amelie and Lando. —We’re just happy to finally meet all of you.—

Throughout the meal, Lando and Amelie couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Their touches were subtle, Lando resting his hand on her thigh under the table, Amelie brushing her fingers along his wrist as she passed him the breadbasket, but enough to make both their families exchange knowing looks.

—So, Lando,— Manu said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward. —When are you moving to Mérida? You seem pretty settled here already.—

—Don’t tempt me,— Lando shot back, winking at Amelie. —I could get used to this.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing pink. —He’d melt in the summer.—

—Only if you weren’t around to keep me cool,— Lando said smoothly, earning a chorus of groans from the table.

Amelie playfully shoved Lando’s shoulder, shaking her head at his shameless flirting, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

Dinner stretched late into the night, filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional stories from both families. Victoria recounted embarrassing tales from Amelie’s childhood, much to her daughter’s mortification and everyone else’s amusement. Not to be outdone, Adam and Cisca shared anecdotes about Lando’s early racing days, including a particularly memorable incident involving a too-small kart and a tantrum at age six.

By the time the plates were cleared and the clock struck 11:50 p.m., the group began migrating to the living room for the traditional Mexican Christmas prayer. Amelie had explained it to Lando earlier, her excitement palpable as she described the significance of celebrating Jesus’ birth with family.

The living room was cozy and festive, with twinkling lights wrapped around the tree and a small Nativity scene set up near the window. Everyone gathered around, some standing, others sitting, with the children perched on laps.

Victoria led the prayer, her voice soft but steady as she spoke of gratitude, love, and family. Lando stood next to Amelie, his arm wrapped around her waist as they bowed their heads. It was a quiet, reflective moment, a sharp contrast to the boisterous energy of dinner, but it felt deeply personal and intimate.

When the prayer ended, the room erupted in cheerful voices wishing each other a merry Christmas. Champagne glasses were distributed, and as the clock struck midnight, everyone clinked their glasses together, exchanging hugs and well-wishes.

Amelie turned to Lando, her eyes shining with warmth. —Merry Christmas, Lan,— she said softly, leaning into him.

—Merry Christmas, Ames,— he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

—Ugh, get a room,— Jack groaned from across the room, making them break apart with matching grins.

—Don’t tempt us,— Lando shot back, earning a collective laugh from the group.

The next part of the evening was the highlight: the Secret Santa exchange. A large sack of gifts was brought out, and one by one, names were called.

Amelie went first, pulling out a beautifully wrapped package and handing it to Flo with a cheeky grin. —You’re welcome in advance,— she teased, earning a laugh from the younger girl.

Flo unwrapped the gift to reveal a handcrafted leather journal with her initials embossed on the cover. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately ran to hug Amelie. —This is amazing! Thank you so much!—

Lando, in true dramatic fashion, waited until nearly the end to reveal his Secret Santa recipient: Jack. He handed over a sleek, gift-wrapped box, smirking as Jack tore it open to reveal a state-of-the-art gaming headset.

—No way!— Jack exclaimed, turning the headset over in his hands. —You’re the best, mate. Seriously.—

—I know,— Lando quipped, earning a round of laughter.

When it was Amelie’s turn to receive her gift, her name was called, and she looked surprised when Oliver stepped forward with a mischievous grin.

—Mila helped me pick this out,— he admitted, handing her a carefully wrapped gift.

Amelie opened it to find a delicate gold necklace with a small star pendant. Her breath hitched slightly as she looked up at Oliver and then at Mila, who was beaming.

—It’s beautiful,— she said sincerely, bending down to hug the little girl. —Thank you, Mila. And you too, Oliver.—

By the time the last gift was unwrapped, the adults were nursing their champagne and the children were starting to nod off. Lando’s family began to gather their things to head back to their hotel downtown, much to Amelie’s quiet disappointment.

She pulled Lando aside as his family prepared to leave, her hand tugging gently at his. —Are you really going to leave me here all alone?—

—You’re hardly alone, Ames. Your entire family is here,— he replied, though his teasing grin faltered when he saw the pout on her lips.

—But it’s Christmas, Lan. Don’t make me sleep without you tonight. It’s cruel.—

Lando chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. —You’re ridiculously persuasive, you know that?—

—Only because I know what I want,— she shot back, her voice dropping to a whisper. —And right now, I want you to stay.—

He sighed dramatically, as though the decision was agony, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. —Fine. Let me drop my family off at the hotel, and I’ll come right back. Happy?—

—Ecstatic,— Amelie replied, grinning as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her smile lingering against him. —Drive safely.—

—Always do,— he murmured, stealing one last kiss before heading off to see his family out.

True to his word, Lando returned not even thirty minutes later, dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, looking entirely too comfortable as he slipped back into the house. Amelie was waiting for him in the living room, curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies.

—You look cozy,— he teased, dropping down beside her and pulling her into his arms.

—And you look like you’re ready for bed,— she shot back, snuggling closer to him.

—Funny, that’s exactly where I was planning to go.— He smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. —Merry Christmas, Ames.—

She looked up at him, her expression soft and full of affection. —Merry Christmas, Lan.—

The rest of the house was quiet now, the children fast asleep and the adults having retired to their rooms. In the warm glow of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, Lando and Amelie stayed curled up together, their whispers and laughter filling the quiet night as they soaked in the joy of the holiday—and the undeniable comfort of being home, in every sense of the word.

[letaliabane]

A Promise - Valet!SimonRiley and Maid!Reader trigger warning: a bit of bodily wounds, a tiny bit of gore

On his day off, Simon went into Ripon, leaving Downton long before the rest of the staff were awake to cause a ruckus.

Ever since his fall in front of the family, he found that a persistent limp occurred, especially on the leg that had been shot during the war.

Simon had thought it was just acting up as usual, but he found the pain to grow slowly every day. And instead of going to a doctor, he had seen something in particular through a catalogue that had been said to work better.

He found himself in front of a store, 'Cambell & Co,' recognising it from the catalogue. Letting himself inside, he found himself in a small space displaying crutches, pictures of human anatomy and prosthetics of all kinds, welcomed by the sound of grinding metal.

As the bell rang above the door a short, pudgy, older man came out from the back, sweaty and unfriendly sour-faced. Even scoffed at the sight of Simon. Not something you'd expect from a businessman who wants to sell.

'Yes?' The old man asked, 'What do you need?'

'This advertisement for a limp corrector, does it work?'

The man's frown deepened. 'It corrects limps and I advertise that they work, is it likely I would say no?'

Simon stared him down, the man even taking a step away from him until he finally grumbled in reply, 'Let's see it.'

Quickly the man bolted out of sight before returning with a large box. From within he pulled the contents of a large metal contraption clearly used around a leg.

'We adjust this to your height then you tighten these,' the man pointed to the straps connected to the contracting metal, 'and over time, the leg will straighten and the foot lowers to the floor. It won't be easy, no let up and a must every day!'

Simon silently took in the contraption once again, hovering over the straps, hooks and gadgets.

'Very well, how much?'

A week later

You sighed heavily as you flung the bedroom door open, pulling in a bucket and equipment to the side.

'And I couldn't find Lady Mary's britches at all, so I asked Mr Riley to check among his Lordship riding clothes that had been washed, and there it was!' You said to the new maid, Maia, who followed you into the room. 'Anyway, we should start preparing their things and the room. I'll—'

You heard sniffling behind you, turning to see Maia with a hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes and red in her cheeks.

'Oh, Maia! What's all this then?' You rushed to her side, rubbing her arms gently. 'Come sit down here.'

Sitting down on the bed, you wrapped your arm in comfort around her, letting her have a moment.

'What's the matter?'

You looked to the doorway to see Mr Riley, a coat over his arm, looking into the room curiously.

Maia gasped, 'Oh it's nothing I'm just being silly, I'll be alright in a moment be on your way.'

He looked down the corridors before entering the room and closing the door behind him. 'His lordship won't be up til another half hour. So tell us what's the matter?'

Maia's bottom lip wobbled, tears plummeting down her face. 'Some of the staff overhead me talking about wa-wanting to leave service. And su-suppose I don't achieve it? I doubt I'll leave service till I'm sixty!'

'What's brought this on? You were so keen the last few weeks,' You said remembering all the conversations you'd had with her, 'You shouldn't let them affect your dream—'

'You didn't see their faces!' She exclaimed, 'I'm nothing but the daughter of a farmer, and I'm a maid! I'm lucky to even be that—'

'Enough of that,' Simon stated firmly, eyes hardening, Maia immediately calming down at his shift in tone. 'You can change your life if you wish to. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices and they can be brutal but for the better. Trust me I know—'

A low, pained hiss caught your attention, turning to catch Mr Riley flinch in sudden pain. You frowned in concern.

'Are you well Mr Riley?'

He was quick to straighten up, ignoring your question. 'Take her downstairs. Let her dry her tears.'

With a smile towards Maia, he was quick to open the door and disappear down the corridor.

'God I'm absolutely whacked. Haven't been out riding for months,' John muttered as he fixed his dinner shirt for the night, 'But did you see some of the gentlemen who are staying? Quite a treat for the ladies.'

Simon chuckled as he brushed over his jacket. 'Indeed my lord. The maids were in a huddle of gossip over luncheon. Should be entertaining for them while they stay here.'

'Well that's good they deserve it once in a while. Graves will be looking after most of them though, hope he doesn't mind.'

'You know Graves, he has to have a grumble about everything—' Simon gasped sharply as pain shot through his leg, John turning immediately to him.

'Are you alright Riley?'

'Of course m'lord,' Simon was quick to recover, moving quickly to John's side to assist him putting on his new dinner jacket.

Johnny whistled a tune as he made his way down the stairs, placing an empty tray in the kitchens. Mrs Patmore gave him a glare but smiled, 'Be careful Johnny boy! If Mr Garrick hears you, he'll have you polishing silver again.'

He cringed at the very idea, remembering the last time he had to sit in the servant's hall alone facing a long line of silver items that needed polishing.

'I'd rather not think 'bout that. Ya ken where I can find Mr Riley? Lordship sent me to find him.'

'Oh, he might be in the boot room? I saw him in there just after luncheon!'

Johnny gave the woman a wink, smiling as she just shook her head at him before making his way through the halls, this time humming a tune.

Opening the door to the boot room, he stopped in his tracks. In the corner of the room was Simon, sweat glistening on his forehead, face scrunched up in discomfort, clutching his leg in what looked like agony.

'What the bloody hell-Simon?'

The man immediately straightened up, wiping his forehead. 'Nothing just a bit stiff is all.' But as he tried to get to his feet, he failed, unable to hold his weight up before sitting back down.

'Keep an eye on Simon, won't you?' John said as Johnny placed the tea down in the sitting room.

'Ye lordship?' He said, quickly turning to him as he sat at his desk writing.

'He's acting a bit off. I asked him about it but you know how Simon is.'

Johnny chuckled. 'We all know how Simon is my lord. Stubborn as an ox if there ever was one.'

John stood to his feet with a small smile, clapping him on the shoulder. 'See to it will you?'

Thinking back on his Captain's words, Johnny shook his head, quickly shutting the door behind him. He rushed to Simon's side, looking down at him with a firm expression.

'Dinna ken ye Simon, yer hiding somethin'. And ye and I won't be leavin' till ye tell me what's going on.'

You once again found yourself in the servant's hall with some of the other staff, this time reading through one of the many books you still hadn't finished yet.

Just as you were getting the good parts, the rush of incoming footsteps caught your attention, turning to see an out of breath Johnny leaning in the doorway.

'Lass! ye gotta come now. And we'll probably need the medical box.'

You chuckled. 'Having another problem with his lordship's tail coats Johnny? You know I can't help with that.'

As you went to turn away, Johnny leant into you, whispering fast into your ear. 'It's Simon.'

Looking at him again, and by the worry written across his face, you knew it was urgent. Immediately you ran upstairs, grabbing the box before meeting Johnny at the base of the stairs. He took your hand and tugged you along the corridor into the boot room where he shut the door.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Mr Riley in the corner sitting on a box, sweating profusely, leaning against the wall tiredly.

'My God, what happened to him, Johnny?' You asked, kneeling at his side, placing a hand on his knee. His eyes opened, glancing towards you before gripping your hand tightly. Almost too painfully.

'Ye've got to help 'im lass please,' Johnny said, standing behind you. 'He's not in a good way and was like this when I found 'im!'

You turned back towards Mr Riley in concern. 'Does this have something to do with this morning? When you were in pain?'

He was silent, looking anywhere but at you.

'Stop being so bloody proud and show her!' Johnny muttered abruptly, now starting to get worked up. You pressed a hand to Johnny's arm to calm him briefly.

'Please Mr Riley, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happened.'

He finally looked down at you again, heaving a heavy sigh. 'I hope you have a strong stomach Miss.'

Leaning down, he began to roll up the leg of his trousers, revealing a tightened metal contraption encompassing his leg, from his foot to below his knee. Dried blood encircled the metal rigs that dug into his skin, skin scabbing and yellowing from the wounds.

You couldn't help but gasp, tears filling your eyes as you covered your mouth. 'Oh ... my God.'

Mr Riley looked away, shamefully, his own eyes misty. Calming yourself, you gently gripped his wrist, thumb caressing the back of his hand comfortingly before getting to work.

Johnny assisted in getting the metal contraption off his leg, and you quickly started patching him up. Gently you cleaned up the bloodied wounds carefully, apologizing when he flinched or hissed in pain. You wrapped the bandages around his leg, securing it with a pin.

You helped Mr Riley to his feet, noticing how he leant his weight onto his stronger leg. Glancing at the contraption, you realised it had to have been the fall Graves caused. You could count how many times that terrible man sabotaged so many people's lives just for his own ego. It made you furious.

'We need to get rid of this. Now.'

'Watch your step,' You said as you stepped over fallen tree branches and stones, Mr Riley following close behind you.

Johnny had stayed behind at the house to cover for you both while you set off towards the back of the estate.

You had remembered when you had chaperoned Lady Mary and her sisters around the gardens when you first arrived. That included the lakeside, not many visited the area due to it being closer to marshland than a garden, and the possibility of falling in. But you found peace there and hoped that maybe Mr Riley would.

So here you were, now leading him off the path towards the river, the metal contraption wrapped in cloth under your arm. Mr Riley had tried to take it from you but you refused. The least you could do was carry some of his pain.

A squeak left you as you slipped in the mud, a strong hand gripping your arm and pulling you close. You looked up at Mr Riley whose eyes were wide in shock, your chest pressed to his.

'You alrigh' love?'

'Yes, thank you,' You nodded, straightening yourself up, 'We should get on.'

The grip and warmth of his hand didn't leave until you found the planks leading out towards the riverside. Skin still tingling from his touch even beneath all the layers of your clothes.

Finally you reached the edge of the small pier, pulling the cloth free from the contraption. Handing it over to Mr Riley, you noticed him ready to toss it immediately but you pressed a hand to his shoulder.

'You don't think you should say something?' You asked with a small smile.

He turned to you, his chuckle muffled behind the metal mask, questioning, 'What? Like good riddance?'

You giggled, rolling your eyes. 'Yes but ... also perhaps a promise?'

Mr Riley sighed, the lines around his eyes creased, as if he was smiling. 'Very well. I promise to never try to cure myself again, and continue to be the butt of every joke and will never mind them!'

You glare at him, taking a step closer to him. 'We all carry scars, Mr Riley. Never forget we all do in some shape or form. No matter how we earn them, you should be proud and wear them without shame.'

For a moment he was silent, eyes trailing down your body, as if searching for said scars. He gave you a nod. 'I'll try to. That at least I promise.'

He gripped the end of the limp corrector, and tossed it straight into the water, hearing you yell as it splashed into the water. 'Good riddance!'

Mr RIley chuckled as you gave a small round of applause, before falling silent as you watched it disappear into the murky depths below.

'Well, we should be heading back,' He said before turning back but quickly noticed you remained firmly rooted to where you stood.

'Why did you get that thing Mr Riley?' You said as you turned back to him, observing him as he came to your side once more, 'You are a better man than Graves or anyone else who dares to get on your bad side. You should never let their words poison you.'

Simon felt his heart leap at your words. No one had ever made him feel this way. It was quite foreign, and yet the warmth that filled his chest had him addicted.

He stepped closer to you. 'I was worried ... about what others would think, especially you.'

'Wha-Me?' You said in shock.

'Yes. I don't care for the thoughts of others, let alone Graves. He's nothing but a cockroach beneath my boot.'

You couldn't help but cover your mouth as you snorted, laughing. You quickly fell silent though when he was just a mere step away from you, craning your neck back to look up at him. 'But you, Miss? You matter.'

For a moment you were shocked in silence. You'd never been spoken such gentle words, let alone by any man. But this wasn't just any man. You smiled up at him. 'Oh Mr Riley, you never have to worry about what I think. I don't care if you have a limp or the perfect walk. You have a kind heart, much more than you care to admit. And that's all that matters to me.'

His eyes were glued to yours, so much you barely noticed as his hand gripped yours gently, bringing it up towards his mask. The carved-out lips were cold against your skin, and yet it was the most loving touch you'd felt in years.

Call of Duty Masterlist A/N: Sorry for the delay been head down stressed during this week! Also Merry Christmas all! I was thinking of doing a Christmas special part but I don't wanna skip ahead in the story so just trying to balance this with angst and fluff. Taglist @lostintransist @teapartydreams

[mochegato]

Mistletoe Mayhem

“Explain it to me again,” Jon prompted as he trailed behind Damian.

Damian’s lips pursed like he was trying to hold back from exploding.  “We are here to assis…”

“Yeah, yeah.  I heard that.  But why are we here?” he asked.  “This seems like something one of the big guys would want to be involved in.”

Damian scoffed and shoved his hands further into his pockets.  The Parisian winter, which had just started brushing the ground with a light dusting of flurries, nipping at his bare fingers.  “We are more than sufficient to assist in ending their rogue.  We do not need others interfering.”

“They are facing an emotion based rogue.  Can you imagine Green Arrow or my father coming here.  It would be like handing the rogue a nuclear weapon.  The local team has been doing an admirable job thus far, but such an opponent would be disastrous.”

“Right,” Jon drawled.  “But you wouldn’t have that issue.”

“Naturally,” he scoffed.

“Naturally,” Jon repeated in a mocking tone.  “But neither would Dick.  So tell me again, why us?”

Damian growled and yanked out his phone, checking it for a moment before glancing around them suspiciously then turning into an alley.  “Because I have a relationship with the local hero team leader.”

Jon’s eyebrows shot up.  “Relationship?”

“I have consulted with the leader several times.  Built up a… trust,” he finished with what would have sounded like certainty if Jon didn’t know Damian so well.

He eyed Damian suspiciously.  “Define several times.”

“More than a few,” he growled back.  He looked around again before glowering at Jon.  “Now, let’s get to the roof.”

Damian climbed up to the roof with little effort, followed quickly by Jon who was barely using any powers to keep up.  As soon as they settled, Jon smiled at the festively decorated little patio.  There were lights hung around the sides and wrapped around the railing, ornaments hanging all around, and even a small tree, lit up and decorated brightly enough that people on the street would be able to see it.

“Damian!”

Jon looked on in muted horror as an unfamiliar woman launched herself through a door in the roof and at Damian.  He moved to intercede diplomatically without using any powers.  It was a fairly familiar movement, she was hardly the first person to think they could get close to Damian with false bravado and cheer, clearly broadcasting how utterly unfamiliar they were with Damian.  Damian did not cozy… unless it was with a pet.

But Damian’s compliant expression and prepared stance froze Jon in his movement.  Damian wasn’t bracing against an attack; he was bracing for a familiar weight.  If Jon didn’t know better, he’d even think there was even a bit of excitement in his eyes, which was just about unheard of.

Moments later, Jon was convinced that’s exactly what it was when more shockingly still, she threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace that he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her waist.  Her waist!  Damian was touching her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Damian had warned him there was magic in Paris, and it must be true because that was the only excuse he could think of to explain the sight in front of him.

The woman pulled back with a bright smile and shining eyes locked on Damian while his arms lingered at her waist for a few moments before snapping back to his side.  “It's good to see you again!  Welcome to Paris.”

“I’ve been before,” Damian corrected instantly.  Jon winced at his blunt statement and opened his mouth to soften the blow, but Damian continued before he could.  “But it is good to be back… and with you again,” he finished with what could almost be described as a small smile.

The woman beamed back, completely unaffected by the brusque tone.  “Welcome back then.”  She kept eye contact for a few moments, her cheeks growing steadily redder, before turning to Jon expectantly.

Damian’s body language instantly stiffened as if just remembering Jon was there as well.  “And this is my… associate, Jonathan Kent.  Jon, this is Marinette Dupain Cheng.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marinette,” Jon chirped, eagerly offering his hand.

“It’s nice to meet a friend of Damian’s,” she giggled.

Jon cocked his head to the side, his eyes sliding between Damian and Marinette suspiciously.  “How did you know I was his friend?”

Damian harumhed and crossed his arms in annoyance but Marinette smirked, a teasing twinkle in her eyes.  “He said associate without disgust.  You must be a really good friend.”

“His best,” Jon confirmed.

“You are most assuredly not,” Damian scoffed.

“Well, it’s nice to meet his best friend,” she nodded in mock solemnity.

“I am talking.  And at a volume you definitely can both hear, especially you,” he hissed with a not too gentle shove at Jon’s shoulder as he stepped between him and Marinette.

“We’re aware,” Jon grinned.

Marinette’s smirk eased into a warm, amused smile, her focus back on Damian.  “Thank you again for agreeing to help.  We could really use the assistance.”

“You have been doing an admirable job so far,” he stated, causing Jon to whip his head toward him at his words.  That!  That was the strangest, most conclusive evidence of magic he’d seen so far.  Compliments were typically hard fought from Damian, most of his team had never received more than a ‘not terrible’, and she had just stepped into a positive observation with ease.

“Thank you,” she blushed.  “But I can admit we are surviving not succeeding.”  She gook a deep breath and glanced over to Jon with a small smile and nod.  “Have you gotten the rundown?”

His expression instantly transformed, all mirth evaporating and getting replaced by a serious set to his lips.  “Magic villain.  Infects others to do his dirty work based on negative emotions.  The team of local, also magic, heroes have containment covered but are having issues tracking him.  That’s where I come in.  Listen for any suspicious conversations and search for hidden lairs.  If I discover either, track them down and see if anyone with a mask is hanging around.”

She nodded along with the excessively pared down analysis.  “Any maniacal laughter or monologuing, get on it,” she ordered lightly, but her voice hardened as she continued.  “I don’t know how the lair thing is going to work though.  This is Paris.  There are more deep, dark, hidden crypts and bunkers than even the people living above them know about.  Maybe focus on listening for any fluttering instead.  There shouldn’t be any butterflies or too many bugs this time of year except for the akuma.  I don’t know if they actually make noise you can detect though.  Magic and all…”

She looked down, her brow furrowed in consideration for a moment before she seemed to remember they were there.  She shot Jon a strained smile.  “Sorry.  It would be the best Christmas present ever though.  I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough.”  She turned to Damian with a warmer smile and squeezed one of his hands.  “Or you, for arranging all of this for us.”

“We will help end this.”  She smiled even wider when he squeezed her hand back.  It almost looked like he was going to take a step closer to solidify his declaration, but the motion was stopped by a sudden ringing and an indignant screech from the street below.

They leaned over the railing in time to see a woman trying to run and dodge away from a sprig of mistletoe with ringing bells that got progressively louder the further she ran, and a man who looked utterly lost, getting dragged behind her as if he was being pulled by an invisible rope.  If anything, his legs were trying to peddle backward, but it had no effect on his trajectory, instead, they were slipping and sliding on the slick ground.

Down the street, a gigantic figure that appeared to be some combination of Cupid and Santa who had gotten mauled by Swamp Thing leapt with ease onto a distant building’s roof.  “I am Mistletoe Mayhem,” he declared.  His voice thundered throughout Paris.  “I will make it so nobody can be rejected and laughed at.  Everybody will be with whoever they want to be with.”

 “Well, that’s incredibly problematic,” Marinette muttered.  She sighed and massaged her forehead.  “It appears you’re going to get your chance sooner than expected.  Come on, let’s go into my room and I can transform.  I’ll head out and you guys can change after I leave.”

A flash of light and two stunned foreign heroes later, she was on a distant roof assessing Mistletoe Mayhem.  “Well, at least it seems pretty straight forward,” Chat commented landing next to her.  “It’s like a Christmas present to us.  Santa remembered us,” he swooned dramatically.

Ladybug snorted but nodded in agreement then nodded to Rena Rouge and Carapace as they also joined them.  “And doesn’t appear to be too violent, though forcing people to kiss someone else against their will like this kind of is assault.”

“Not kind of,” Carapace scoffed.

“Ah, yeah, not cute and quirky at all,” Chat nodded.  “I can see that.”

“And Pegasus had a theory on the object,” Rena interjected.

“Pegasus is here too?” Chat asked, head whipping around, but freezing at seeing two figures emerge from the shadows.  “Is that Superboy?  Superboy is here?”  He froze.  “Wait… is having a superpowered hero here good or bad?”

“Yes,” Carapace nodded sagely but eyed the two foreign heroes warily.

“Oh my God,” Rena squealed.  “I have to…”

“Hopefully good,” Ladybug interrupted before she could get carried away with the interview she knew Rena was dying to do.  “Superboy, this is Chat Noir, Carapace, and Rena Rouge.  Robin, you’ve met Chat, of course, and this is Carapace and Rena.  They’re here to help track down Hawk Moth while we’re fighting the akuma.”

“Awesome, dudette,” Carapace nodded.  “Welcome, dudes.  Let me know if you need help doing your thing.”

“Thanks,” Superboy smiled.  “We’ll let you know.”

“We will complete our task.  You need to focus on your task,” Robin commanded.  “Splitting your attention can cause harm to your teammates.”

Carapace raised an eyebrow and met Chat’s gaze.  “Right,” Chat drawled.  He turned his attention fully to Robin.  “So…”

“Look out!” Ladybug yelled and dove for Chat.  She managed to get to him just in time, knocking him to the ground moments before the beam could hit him, as everyone scattered to safety.  They rolled together a few meters and froze, bracing themselves for any indication of the bells that were plaguing so many other Parisians.

When there was no indication of ringing, Ladybug let out a breath and finally opened her eyes to see a hand extended in front of her.  She lifted her eyes as she took the proffered hand finally meeting Robin’s gaze… and groaned as bells instantly started ringing above her.  “I thought we got away with it,” she grumbled.

“This is why you don’t split your attention,” Robin growled at Chat.  “If the akuma was more dangerous she could have been hurt or killed.”

“But he’s not and she wasn’t, and if he had been, I wouldn’t have been,” Chat chuckled.  “And at least we know how to make them stop.  You just have to…”

“No,” Robin interrupted.

Ladybug quirked her lips to the side in thought.  Surely it didn’t have to be on the lips… did it?  It’s still a kiss when her Maman would kiss her cheek or her Papa would kiss her forehead.  They could… do that, right?  Even if she wanted to do more, it wasn’t fair to force him.  “We could try…”

“Absolutely not,” he stated definitively.  “That is not an acceptable option.”

Marinette blinked at him.  She didn’t exactly want to be forced to kiss in front of everyone either, but he spit it out like the very idea of kissing her disgusted him.  She’d thought they were building toward something, that there was a fondness, sometimes she even thought it was more like affection, a restrained flirting.  But she had clearly misinterpreted his actions.  It wasn’t that he kept his emotions close to his chest, opening up to her occasionally.  He just wasn’t interested.

“Right,” she nodded curtly and took a step away from him.  The bells rang louder, but she would rather deal with the clatter than make Damian uncomfortable.  “Well then, we will have to plan to stick close together.”  She glowered at the bells loudly ringing.  “Maybe that will either blend in with the rest or we can use it to our advantage later, assuming Chat doesn’t get hit.”

“As I was saying before,” Rena popped in with Carapace on her heels, “Pegasus had an idea what the object might be, which is why we came out.”

“Without knowing who it is?” Chat asked.

“Without knowing who it is,” she confirmed.  “If you look at his costume, it’s covered in Mistletoe, right?”  The group, except for Robin and Carapace nodded like it was a given.  “But that’s not mistletoe.  The berries on all those are red.”

“Well, yeah, Mistletoe berries are red, aren’t they?” Superboy asked, uncertain for the first time about something he’d been confident in for his entire life.  “I see them everywhere.”

“Apparently not.  Red just sells better on decorations.  The berries are actually white,” Rena grinned.  “And if you look carefully, the sprig of mistletoe at the center of his chest is the only one with white berries.”

Ladybug rose up to look over the edge of the roof they were hiding behind, her eyes narrowed as she studied the akuma.  Robin joined her, positioning himself so he was brushing against her despite having plenty of room around them, a fact Chat proved by popping up next to them a few moments later with a good distance between him and Robin.  “See it?”

“Yes,” Ladybug and Robin answered at the same time.

“Perfect,” Chat cheered.  “What’s the plan?”

Ladybug turned away as she planned while Robin kept his eyes toward the akuma.  It only took a few seconds before her scrunched expression smoothed out into a bright smile.  “Superboy, you start searching.  We need you focused entirely on that.”  He looked between her and Robin, a smirk growing on his lips.  Robin always thought he knew best and wanted to lead, even when he was teamed with older heroes, so to see him accept Ladybug’s lead with no pushback was, yet more proof magic existed, and she was the embodiment of it.  He saluted Ladybug and flew off.

“Chat, you’ll use your clowning to our advantage.  You can distract like nobody else.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded and spun his staff.  “Always happy to be the center of attention.”

Carapace scoffed, but immediately snapped to attention when Ladybug turned her focus to him.  “Carapace, can you create a barrier around the device he’s using to shoot out the mistletoe so he can’t get anyone else?”

Carapace looked down at his shell analytically for a few seconds before slowly nodding.  “I think I can.”

“You think…” Robin hissed, finally breaking his focus on the horizon to glare at Carapace.

“I do,” Carapace nodded and met Robin’s glare with a smirk.  “You’re not the first to ask.  Several teachers have asked the same thing.  Also, don’t split your attention.”  He nodded toward the akuma with a smirk.  “Dangerous to do that.”

Robin growled and took a step toward him but Ladybug’s hand brushing against his chest stopped him instantly.  “Robin and I will grab the item.”  She shot Robin a look to gauge his agreement.  She needed him completely in agreement on this.  They were going to have to work in sync despite never having worked together before.  He didn’t meet her eyes, having returned his gaze to their surroundings, but he gave a curt head bob.  “Okay, Chat, Rena, you know what to do.  Robin, you ready?”

It took only a few minutes for everyone to be in position and Rena��s flute to whistle, or at least Ladybug assumed it whistled, she couldn’t quite hear much above the bells.  With a breath and a nod to Robin, Ladybug made her approach.  She jumped toward the akuma.  “To the left,” she announced loudly.

Robin reacted a step behind her jumping to the opposite side to balance her, still within the distance they’d been allowed by the akuma’s curse, but midjump he was suddenly yanked to the left and into the akuma’s shoulder.  He moved quickly to avoid the akuma’s blind swing.  At the same moment, Ladybug was yanked back toward him just enough to put her within the akuma’s reach.  His wild movement caught her hard enough to send her flying several streets away.  Robin prepared himself for the pull just in time as he arced through the air after her and landed incredibly elegantly considering the circumstances.

He rushed over to Ladybug, who had crashed into a wall significantly less elegantly, leaving a very distinct and deep impression in the bricks.  “Are you okay?” he asked, though it came out closer to a scream in order to be heard over the bells.  His eyes scanned her body, giving her head special attention.

“Yeah,” Ladybug grumbled.  “Magic suit and all.”  She took a breath and brushed the rubble off her body.  She tried to ignore the shock of electricity that shot through her when Robin joined her, brushing his nimble fingers against her shoulders and hair.  “What happened?”

He huffed before answering.  His hands clenched as he pulled them from his work helping her.  “When I work with a partner, usually, we go in opposite directions so we don’t give our opponent an easy target.”

“But we can’t get too far apart,” she answered back louder and perhaps harsher than she meant to, but it was frustrating not only to be in the situation but to be heard over the bells.

“I didn’t anticipate the curse shrinking the allowed distance.  I will anticipate next time,” he groused, barely loud enough to be heard, but the hard set of his expression was impossible to miss.

“I need you to stay with me.  We need to move as one,” she yelled.

“That is unrealistic,” he yelled back.  “It takes years to be able to anticipate each other’s movements like that.”

Ladybug sighed and looked down, eyes squeezed shut in thought.  He wasn’t exactly wrong.  The kind of anticipation they would need to move as one, considering the erratically shrinking distance, took experience.  She and Chat had learned to move in sync pretty quickly, but they were literally chosen because they were perfect compliments, and regardless it still took them a few battles to move together.

But if she and Robin couldn’t work in tandem, there was no way they could succeed.  They would have to switch their task with someone else.  The problem was everyone was already where they worked best, except them.  So, the team was going to have to take less optimal roles to fill in the gaps.  And at this point, the bells were ringing so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts, let alone what anyone was saying to her, so maybe it was best if they sat it out.

“If you… we,” she corrected quickly, “want to avoid the kiss…” she turned away from him pretending not to notice the way his head snapped toward her at her statement, “then we…”

“We should do it,” he barked.

She blinked at him.  “The kiss?” she asked uncertainly.

He nodded, his eyes still searing into her like he was searching for something.  “We don’t have to if you want to avoid it, but we cannot contribute ideally like this.”

She nodded.  He was right.  She just wished it wasn’t so thoroughly against his will.  “Okay,” she said quietly, definitely not loudly enough to be heard, but he clearly understood.

He stepped up to her carefully keeping his body from actually touching her.  He searched her face for a moment before closing his eyes and slowly dipping down to brush his lips gently against hers.  It was barely enough to feel, but it caused a flush that spread throughout her entire body.

It took a beat before she opened her eyes and instantly frowned realizing the bells were still ringing.  Robin was already glaring at them when she lifted her eyes to analyze them, like there might be some instructions written on them somewhere.  “Maybe we need to…” she started, but Robin was ahead of her.

He wound one hand in her hair and the other around her waist, pulling her against him.  She rose up at the same time to crash her lips against his, this time more heated.  His hand in her hair tightened and pulled just enough to angle her head differently allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper that seemed to break something in him.  He released her hair and instead wrapped it around her lower back to pull her closer as he turned them so he could press her against the brick wall.  She wound her arms around his shoulders and arced into him to get as close as possible, seeking some kind of relief from the tingling rush throughout her body, or maybe seeking more.

After an entirely too short amount of time, Robin pulled away just enough to breathe, eyes still closed and breath still coming out in heavy pants.  It took Ladybug a few seconds before she found the resolve to lift her eyes to his face and a few more for him to open his eyes.  “We should…” she started, voice nothing more than a whisper.

He hummed in agreement but didn’t move, not to release her or look away, until a peel of maniacal laughter sounded throughout the city.  A heavy, regretful sigh passed his lips and finally let his hands drop.

“I can stand guard while you get the mistletoe,” he said breathlessly.  “Backup for you.”

Ladybug nodded mindlessly for a few seconds before her brain caught up with what he had said.  “Yeah.  That’s…”  She cleared her throat and took a small step back, allowing the distance to help clear her head.  “That sounds good.  I’ll um…” she pulled out her yoyo and lifted it up for him to see, “I’ll let the team know.”

With their new freedom, the team was able to take down the akuma in a matter of seconds and after talking to the victim, returned to the roof to recoup, minus a still missing Superboy.  “Great job, guys.  Sorry for our mess up.”  Ladybug smiled sheepishly at them.

“Nah, dudette,” Carapace shrugged.  “That was a crazy challenge you had.  Fun for us to watch, though.”

“I want the full story later,” Rena whispered into Ladybug’s ear with a devilish grin.  Ladybug flushed as red as her suit but nodded before shoving her away.  Rena winked at Robin then grabbed Carapace’s hand and bounced away.

“Right, well I need to finish getting ready for the party tonight.  Going to go take down the mistletoe though.  It doesn’t sound so appealing anymore,” Chat grumbled.  “You’re welcome to come too,” he offered to Robin.  “And Superboy too, if he wants.”  He saluted to them and jumped in the opposite direction leaving Ladybug alone with Robin.

Ladybug watched him leave for a few seconds before allowing her eyes to dart toward Robin.  “Why don’t we go back to my place, and we can change?”

He nodded and followed after her, silent for the entire trip, even dropping through the door in her ceiling without a word.  She transformed back to Marinette, which seemed to take some of her bravado with it.  She rocked on her heels waiting for him to break the silence.  When he didn’t after a few seconds, she couldn’t take the silence any longer, which she acknowledged was pretty ironic considering how desperately she’d been hoping for silence just an hour earlier.  “So… the kiss,” she prompted.

He huffed but didn’t respond verbally other than that, preferring to scowl at the ground and cross his arms over his chest like a shield.  Ladybug let out a sad sigh.  Her heart fractured at his sound.  It was definitively the best kiss she’d ever had, but clearly, it hadn’t had the same effect on him.  “I’m sorry,” she offered sincerely.  “I know…”

“No, you don’t,” Robin stopped her.  He took a breath and removed his mask so he could meet her eyes with nothing between them.  “I didn’t want the… first,” the word came out a combination of tortured and hopeful.  His eyes darted away but she recognized the tension in his frame.  It was the same tension she often held, though he wore it a bit more elegantly than she did.  It was an anxious tension rather than a disgusted tension.  “…time we kissed to not be our choice.”

“First?” she uttered, eyes blown wide in shock.

 “You said it was assault,” he continued.  “I don’t want to make you feel like that.  I didn’t want you to kiss me because you had to.  I wanted it to be because you wanted to, but…”

“I did,” she burst out.  His eyes whipped to hers, hope swimming in them.  “I just wasn’t sure if you… wanted… to,” she finished anxiously.

His lips curled up into a soft smile.  He crossed the room in two quick strides, hands already reaching to cup her face before he even took his first step.  “And you still do?” he asked, voice searching.

She smiled brightly back up at him.  “I do.  Very much so.  For a while now.”

He grinned back and kissed her again, just because they wanted to.  His lips met hers, gentle but firm, confident in the presence of more in the future.

Marinette slid her hands up his arms and squeezed his.  She broke the kiss unintentionally with her brimming smile.  “Do you want to go with me to Chat’s party tonight?”

His eyes hardened just a little, just enough to signal a shift in mood.  “Are you okay with me knowing his identity?  And from the sounds of it, the rest of your team hang out together so they will likely be there as well.”

Marinette shrugged.  “They seem okay with it, and I’ve already trusted you with mine.  And I want you to meet my friends.  But if you don’t…”

“I do,” he assured her. “I just want to make sure you are sure.”  He settled a tender kiss on her lips to confirm his statement.  He pulled away with a playful look.  “Do you think we can convince Chat to leave some mistletoe out?  Just for us?  All night?”

She hummed in approval and nestled into his arms.  “Probably.  And if not, we can buy some for ourselves.”