#intending for me to do the thing In The Near Future

[novemquadragintillion]

.

[synthshenanigans]

Okay so the words he mouthed in that one clip is "One day you're going to die" Which is a lyric to Memento Mori [another ww song]

Which first of all, means that Memento Mori is very likely one of the next songs in the power hour

And second, all the bits referenced in Nerd are fully there! Red being one he did in the past [or what he was doing at that moment with the Cage line] & Green being references to the next two power hours after it

But then like, whats the last power hour???? Cos there's no more lyrics that are referenced I don't think?

[Insane theory ramblings in the tags v]

[dreaisgrayte]

Half Blood | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, TW! YN does get assaulted, mentions of blood, drinking blood, gore, how many times do I mention claws? Oral fem!receiving, fingering, kissing, breeding kink, virgin sex, creampie, and overstimulation.

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: guys this started off as a quick break from a Sanemi fic I'm working on (keep in mind I think short fics are no longer than 3k) and here I am... with a way longer fic than I intended and something I actually want to expand on in the future. It was a lot of fun to write this so I hope you enjoy it <3

“You,” His pink irises are illuminated by the moon high in the night sky. The blood within your body cools as you stare back at the man who stored your fate. His inky black hair flows down his shoulder in waves. A deep blue yukata loosely hung on his frame. “I’ve been watching you.” Muzan growls, edging ever closer to where you stood. His pointed canines glinted in the light, his nails sharp and ready to claw at your jugular. The demon king rolls his tongue along the tips of his teeth, studying you carefully. Was he deciding whether or not to feast upon your flesh?

He had never seen such a creature as yourself. Your skin was glowing, soft, and supple. The lavender color yukata covered most of your body, a delicate pattern of white flowers spanning the kosode fabric. Your obi was white with purple vines flowing around it. You wear simple white tabies paired with purple strapped zori. Elegance and grace radiated from you. He could smell the wisteria perfume in your hair. 

It was strange, you were a confrontation to the world he wanted to live in – yet something he could not tear his eyes away from. Here you were, standing in front of him without fear. He rather thought it would be better fun if you were afraid, he did so enjoy the chase. Though, there was – of course – a reason you relented in running away from him. Your eyes were stormy, eclipsed by thousands of emotions. That’s when a different smell, that had not yet hit him, tickled his nose. Blood, and not just any blood. You had the blood of a demon in you. Your stern, furrowed brows, with the revolting smell of wisteria burning his nose. You confused him. “What are you?” He purs out, not sure if what would come out of your mouth would be a lie or truth. He could always figure it out for himself one way or another. 

Your lip ticks, a show of annoyance you’d yet to master. The man in front of you knew, he could smell it, of that you were sure. Yet, he dared ask. What are you? You’d been told many times what you were. An abomination. A curse. A monster. “Are you not the demon king?” You spit back, growing angry. Would the other half of you reject your existence as well? You had hoped at least the demons would have the scarce bit of comradery running through their systems. Muzan’s brows lift, then knit together. Did he need to answer you? After all, he could easily swipe at your neck to kill you for being so insolent. The eager need to hear what you had to say captivated him though. 

When the man does not answer you tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “Here I thought the mighty demon king would be able to tell me apart from the rest.” You shake your head, laughing stiffly into the night. In a flash Muzan has you pinned to the trunk of a tree. Splinters etch toward your face from the very force of his hand. His muscular body cages you in and it takes you a moment to realize how your body aches to be near him. 

“I can smell you,” He mutters, squinting his beautiful eyes like he couldn’t quite distinguish what he was looking at. “You assault my senses, it’s driving me mad. There’s something different about you.” Muzan had first observed you walking in your village one evening, the way people sneered and cowered at your presence intrigued him. He found himself looking for you every night, wondering what your story was. These villagers were shunning you. He wished to know why such a pretty thing as yourself would be outcasted in her own village. “You smell like me, yet you are not. So I ask you again, what are you?” His voice is low, edging on the precipice of anger. 

You do not yield in holding his gaze. “I am you, yet I am not. Born of the sun and moon. A half-blood.” 20 years ago your mother found herself in the entertainment district, serving the pleasures of others. A man came to visit her on multiple occasions. Eventually, the two ran away together. Sharing in love and secrets. Your mother was a demon and your father a local carpenter. How you were able to be conceived was a mystery, even to them. They lived in peace, until one night. The villagers had finally seen through your father’s lies, storming their house. They slaughtered both of them and assuming you were a child taken captive, they whisked you away to a widowed mother. As you grew it was obvious where your origins lay, yet no one in the village dared to lay a hand on you. 

Muzan lets his gaze drop to where your heart pulsed, bouncing the skin of your jugular. “You are human and demon?” Something pulled tight in his chest. Could you walk in the sun? Did you regenerate? Were you the answer to his plight? “You are radiant.” He cannot stop the words from falling past his lips. Your eyes light up with recognition, acceptance, and for a moment your past falls away. He had the ever-growing urge to sweep you away. Your very existence was tantalizing to him in the least. He tilts his head, wrinkling his nose at the obscure way you smelt. 

Your eyes settle on the way he reacts to you, wondering if he’ll take you away someplace. Some place away from these villagers who had slaughtered your parents who just wanted to live in harmony. They did not deserve to die and you did not want to live one more second with their murderers. Muzan wanted to take you, but he couldn’t. Not yet. You were so fragile. If he were to touch you he would fear you would break on the spot. “Are you going to take me away from this place?” You whisper, hopeful tones floating to Muzan. He swallows something deep and thick. 

Muzan backs away from you, eyes tensing. “No.” He replies softly. He could not take you into his den, the other demons were too stupid to realize how precious you were. You would be dead within seconds. The line between your brows hardens again as his words hit you. 

“No? Why not? Am I not good enough for you?” Your voice is rising. You sound like a whining child who hasn’t gotten their way. Muzan winces at the obvious pain seeping into your voice. You were nothing like he’d ever seen before. Something beautiful, a miracle in his eyes. Therefore, he did not answer you. He simply faded back into the shadows. With his disappearance, your hopes and dreams faded as well.

—

The next time you see Muzan is two years later. His hair is shorter than you last saw it, the curls kissing the nape of his neck. This neat look couldn’t contain the loose curls that framed his face. A starched white collar shirt was tucked into an ornate waistcoat. He looked utterly different, yet he was your Muzan. He had the same eyes, the same far-off look, and on top of that, you could practically taste his scent. It was overwhelming, crushing even, but in a way, you enjoyed the rush. 

It was also a fact that you had escaped your village after one of the men tried to see how strong a half-blood was. He told you he was turned on by how revolting you were and he would take you as his wife in duty only. Until then you had never seriously thought about killing a human. The realization was both terrifying and freeing. So you fled to the entertainment district, living off of what you could at the Kyogoku House. There were so many smells here. Food, humans, sex, and demons. 

You worked under a beautiful oiran, and you could tell… she wasn’t human. Part of you wanted to become friends with her, but if she hadn’t reached out for the sake of commonality, you didn’t think there was a chance of any other relationship than servant. 

Muzan’s brows furrowed. He had come to visit Daki and yet your scent prosecuted his brain. Ever since he left you in the forest that day he had been thinking of a way to retrieve you. You were too precious to let out of his sight again. This time he would secure you. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of you living in the Ukiyo. Kyogoku House was well protected, but anywhere without him wasn’t safe for you. Were you being used by men far beneath you? Muzan had never felt such rage toward the thought of men touching a woman. He often indulged in watching, humans were ever so entertaining – but you weren’t human. You were one of his and he swallowed harshly at the fact that you weren’t only his. 

He brushes past some of the lower-ranking courtesans, his eye twitching at their giggles. You watch from afar, the familiarity of his back etching a cold ache into your heart. He would leave again, of that you were sure. You hug the fresh sheets to your chest, making your way to the linen closet down the hall. “Ah, YN, I’ve been looking for you.” The Okaasan Omitsu stands before you. She has a cunning sneer behind the kind smile she wears. 

You bow, storing the sheets away before turning your full attention to her. “Yes Okaasan?” You can smell the evil intent behind this woman, it makes your stomach sink. 

“You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor would you?” She uses the word favor like you’d have a choice. She is the Okaasan after all. It’s like she thinks you’re some stupid girl that will follow whatever she says. Using the word favor is a manipulation tactic and if you were a naive girl, you would be eating out of the palm of her hand. 

You tilt your head to the left, plastering a fake smile of your own onto your lips. You knew anything out of your mouth except ‘yes Okaasan’ would make things harder for yourself. So with all your better judgment pushed aside, you say exactly that. 

Her eyes gleam. “Thank you, my dear. If you will kindly follow me.” She walks back up the hall, toward one of the private Ozashiki rooms. You glance around, nerves settling into your bones. You couldn’t be headed into one of these rooms, you weren’t even a kamuro. You were just an older shinzō. 

She stops in front of the panel, a cruel smile lifting the corners of her mouth. No, please, not this. “You are very blessed my dear, one of our chūsan is interested in you.” She slides the door aside and sitting against a wall smoking a pipe is a middle-aged man. Cushions are scattered around the floor and a twisted smirk plays with his mouth when he sees you. Okaasan bows then slides the door shut behind you. 

The room was stifling, the smoke choking out any of the senses you had. It was dizzying. “Mmm, you’re a lot older than I thought.” The man sneers, setting his pipe down. The fog of opium seemingly wraps around your throat, making it hard to breathe. “But you’ll do.” He laughs, patting the cushion next to him. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” He offers. Your body tenses. You were in danger, of that you were sure. You were not willing to give your virginity up to such a man but if you denied him the right to your own body, there would be outrage. You swallow, tentatively kneeling on the cushion next to him. 

He leans over you, sniffing the area around your shoulder. You stiffen. “You smell so good, better than all those flora bitches.” He growls. “I like your natural…musk.” Oh Gods did this man – who probably has a wife and children – just compliment how you smell when you’ve been working all day? “What do you like about me?” What a loaded question. 

You smile, one that shuts your eyes – if he saw the look in your eyes he’d be sure to know you were lying when you said, “I appreciate your generosity.” You bow your head and the man laughs heartily. 

His tongue darts out to coat his lips. “I can be more generous if you’d like?” He moves himself closer to you. “I was blessed with wealth, good looks, and a tool to make women scream.” Please let the tool be an ice pick so you can lobotomize yourself. “Whad’ya say, darling?” He coos, going in for what appears to be a kiss even though you hadn’t been given the time to answer him. 

You grimace away from his advance, shoving at his chest. The eerie playful tone in the room suddenly seems to vacuum out. The fog is still thick from the burning opium, but you don’t miss the way the man before you lunges for you. He’s panting above you with a charming pointy sneer. “Ah ah ah, not so fast. You haven’t serviced me, whore.” He digs his nails into your shoulder, pinning you to the wooden floor. “Look at you, begging for my cock with your eyes, ooohh you want it that bad you slut?” He hisses, fumbling with the buckle of his Western-style pants. You squirm wildly under his grasp but it’s like he’s infused with superhuman strength. “I’m gonna fuck you and then, as your reward,” His face is next to yours now, eyes glowing an electric yellow, pupils in slits. “I’m going to kill you.” His hand is on your throat, crushing your windpipe. You choke on what little air you were able to breathe earlier. 

A demon, this man was a demon. One of your kind. No… he wasn’t. He was something else. He was driven by the carnal desire to fuck and kill. You were too weak to push him off, your internal forces constantly warring against each other. You had always presented as human, meek, malleable, and obedient. What you would give to have your demon side come forth, bite this fucker’s head off. You want to scream – but on account of his claws sinking into the back of your neck – if you even moved that would surely be the end of your life. 

He tears your yukata to shreds, ripping the soft skin of your stomach open as well. Your mouth opens the pressure of a scream pushing against his hand. Blood mixes with the tattered cloth, the cotton dying red.

Muzan pauses, Daki grumbling about some inferior human drama. His eyes search the room, this time Daki taking notice from her self-indulged rant. Where was that smell coming from? He stands, silencing Daki before she can start whining again. The potent smell of blood was swirling to the top floor, but not just…any blood. “YN,” He hisses, the annoyance, rage, and blood-boiling sensations he felt earlier returning tenfold. Why were you bleeding? This was fresh cut blood, not from the dues women endured every month. He needed to find you, or he feared the worst. “I need to go.” He barely says to the demon next to him. Her face morphs into one of anger, and before she can hurl anything at him, Muzan slips out of her room. Where were you? He follows the pungent scent, clambering down the stairs and rushing down the hall until he’s in front of a private room. He’s sweating, for once fear is humming in his ear. He shoves the door to the side, witnessing a demon hunched over your body. 

Your blood is pooling around you dying the wonderfully blue yukata you wore earlier a sickly brown color. The demon doesn’t have time to look up because Muzan is already crushing its head, slashing its throat to shreds of what it once was. 

The room is covered in blood but the demon is dead. Muzan slides to the floor, cradling you in his lap. “YN, no, no please don’t die.” You were his miracle. You were his hope. If anything could save his damned soul it would be you. His arms are trembling as your stomach bleeds out, the skin marred, and…God the smell of your blood was driving him mad. It was something he shouldn’t be thinking about as you bleed out under him. You needed to regenerate. He wasn’t sure if you could so maybe your demon just needed a little push?

With his free hand, Muzan tears the flesh from his arm, bringing it down to your mouth. His blood trickles onto your lips, sliding into your mouth. After a few silent beats, your eyes shoot open. Muzan has never felt such joy as this very moment. Your arms wrap around his, bringing it into your mouth. Muzan hisses at the way your tongue dances around his wound, lapping up the blood he shed for you. You’re panting, gasping for more. Your eyes glow as you drag your tongue up the muscle of his forearm. His blood flows through you like your own life force, strengthening your nerves, hardening your muscles. He has made you stronger. 

It sends a pinch of desire through Muzan. He hadn’t felt the heat of wanting to sink his cock into the warmth of a cunt in decades. You were mouthing at his arm, wounds healed on both ends, but now that you were moving the once whole yukata falls off your shoulders. Blood trails from your lips down your chest, between your breasts. Muzan was never one to fend off his desire to want. He took whatever he wanted, without a care. He wanted to take you without a care. Fuck you senseless into the floorboards, claw at you, feed on your blood while you fed on his. It was ecstasy just imagining driving his cock into your pretty tight pussy. 

“I should’ve never left you.” He whispers and it sends a rolling wave of want through you. You move to straddle his lap. 

“Then don’t leave me now.” You could both smell it, the heat and arousal in the air. “Take me, my Lord.” He smirks, holding onto your thighs. 

He hums, enjoying the way you’re bare in front of him. You were a sight to behold. “Mmm, such a smart girl.” A portal opens underneath him, the wooden floor sinking into an expanse of rooms, platforms, doors, lights, and endless corridors. The sheer speed whips your hair around your face until – it doesn’t. You’ve stopped in the middle of whatever this place was. “Welcome home,” Muzan’s pink eyes darken to a deep crimson as he sits up straighter, pressing himself into you. You moan in delight as his hands work their way up your hips, sitting you down on the stiff part of his lap. 

You tilt your head, peeking at him. “I’ve never liked pants,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his. He chuckles his smirk growing. 

“And why is that?” He inquires, moving his tongue to lick up the blood that has traveled toward your navel. You choke out a moan as he makes his way between your breasts. You can feel his teeth against your skin and it’s a wretched thought. “Aheh,” He swipes at the crest of your breast. 

“H-hard to get off.” Muzan hums against your skin in agreement, but he’s too preoccupied with the way you tremble with untapped pleasure. 

He wants to tear into your flesh, mark you as his, burn only his name onto your tongue. “Such an eager kitten,” He licks his lips, capturing the back of your neck in his hands. “You want me bare that badly?” All you can manage is a small nod as he gingerly moves you so that you’re laying down. Your hips are still lined up with his as he gazes at you. “I can promise you I have a similar urgency.” He grins, pulling the belt from his breeches with a smooth movement. He tosses it to the side, but doesn’t make any more movements to pull his pants down. Muzan notices your heated gaze pointed toward his hardened groin. 

Did you know nothing about the workings between a man and woman? His eyes trail down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. He wraps his arms around the bend of your knee, smirking when your eyes widen in surprise. He tugs you upwards, to where your legs are over his shoulders. Being this close to your glistening pink cunt made his groin stiffen even more, if that was possible. The smell of you was intoxicating. He couldn’t help himself. “What a fucking view.” He growls. 

Muzan buries his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your swelling clit. You gasp in pleasure, breaths turning into ragged moans as he plunges his tongue deeper into you. “O-oh my God, f’ck, ngh.” With the way his tongue his twisting and sucking inside of you, breathing seemed impossible. His claws dig into your outer thigh, scratching red trails to your knees. He devours every bit of you he can reach, crazed by the tangy sweetness of your arousal. Your walls were squeezing around his tongue, heat running through your body. 

Your own hands find your stiff nipples, rolling them around in your fingers. You couldn’t get enough, it was the same feeling you received from drinking his blood. Heat rolling around in your veins as his eyes take in your puffy cunt and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. He maneuvers one hand from under your knee to the one place that was being ignored on you – your entrance. It was like the gate to a shrine and he wanted to worship there for eternity. “Look at how fucking wet your cunt is.” His pointed nails shape into shorter rounder ones, he dare not damage this holy place. Then, without warning, he presses two fingers into you. A yelp echoes across the void of the infinity castle. “Ahhh, shit,” You huff, tensing from the sensation of your pussy being stretched. 

Muzan knew you were a virgin, he would be lying if the fact didn’t make him grow more feral to have you sit on his cock and take his seed deep within you. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you. That was all he could think about while lapping up your wetness. 

The slick from your cunt was sucking his fingers in, a growl rumbling around your clit. This makes you scream out as a shockwave shoots through you. Your thighs are shaking and every once and a while – as Muzan still selfishly fingers you through your climax, sucking on your clit – your body will twitch. Heavy and heady moans fall from your lips, breaking into whines as you come down from your high. 

“You did such a good job my sweet,” Muzan lowers you gently back to the floor. Your neck is sore from being at an awkward angle for so long, but you would give anything to see the disheveled man before you with your arousal still on his lips. “That’s it. Prefect. You’re so perfect.” He mutters, licking his lips and watching you still play with your nipples. 

Though you feel like you’ve just ascended, you crave more. You want Muzan to breed you like his own personal slut. “M-more,” You gasp. “I feel so empty my Lord.” You huff, the edges of your voice bleeding to a whine. Muzan’s eyes widen. He hadn’t intended to fuck you just yet. Give you some time to grow accustomed to sexual things so it wasn’t rushed, but your eyes are pleading him to continue. He’s… nervous, which isn’t like the demon king. He’s so eager to please you. Make sure you’re comfortable. He wants to give you hell, heaven, and the earth. 

“You’re practically begging me.” He chuckles, unsure if you really knew what you were asking. There was no way that once Muzan slid into your heady cunt that he would not ravish you. There was no way to tell time in the infinity castle, so there was no way for him to know when to stop until he was satisfied. You squirm to get closer to him, spreading your legs wide for him. His gaze drops from yours to your center, whatever shred of humanity that was left in him suddenly flying away. “Such a filthy slut. You’re already hungry for more? You want me to fill you up? Then beg for it.” His eyes narrow into slits, the magma growing in his belly. 

Your body cools with a shiver of excitement, as you reach down in between your thighs. You purse your lips and then spread your labia apart. The cool air tickles the sticky wetness but you can tell it’s doing something for him. “Please, my King, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think. I want you to take my virgin pussy and make it yours.” 

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “As you wish my Queen.” He frees his cock and you have to take a moment to gulp at the sheer size of it. The head is leaking precum and bruised a red color from the lack of release. The shaft is a pale pink, a thick vein running down the underside. The muscles of his hips also catch your attention. They were unlike the drawings some of the courtesans had shown you. His were muscular, ready to thrust into you for hours. 

Muzan lines himself up at your entrance, this time with the head of his cock. The idea was thrilling, finally pushing into your pussy and breaking the barrier of your womanhood. He hisses as your slick coats him, making it easy enough to start entering you. Your face contorts with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Shhh, you can take it.” You want to wiggle away from him, the pain of his member stretching you out is enough to break you. “Ah ah ah, you’re not going anywhere pretty girl. Remember you asked for this.” Muzan leans over you seizing your mouth with his own. You share a leisurely kiss as he swallows your moans. 

He feels the head of his cock hit your hymen and with a wince he thrusts past it. He can feel the rush of silky blood around his cock, but he tries his best to divert your attention with heated kisses. You break free, a long drawn out moan gasping out of you. “Ahhh, oh my, hngh nngh yes!” 

Muzan nuzzles into your neck, the feeling of your walls clenching around him driving him practically insane. “Yeah? Tell me how good I am. Tell me how good I am at fucking you.” He hisses out, desperate for your compliments and approval. 

“Nnnggh, s’good, f’ckin’ me s’good.” You slur, drunk on how he guided a new path into you. You pant and writhe under him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Not yet my love, I want you to watch.” He starts to move his hips and you wince in burning pleasure. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.” He grunts, snapping his hips back into you. The wet slap of skin hitting skin sends shivers down your back. 

You’re straining against the build up in your stomach, a pit of coils wanting to spring forth. “Mmm, harder.” You huff, reach out to grab the back of his neck. He shakes his head, a playful smirk on his swollen lips. 

“Use your manners.” He teases, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Please fuck me harder.” You mewl just as he starts to thrust into you with a quickened rhythm. Your breath is sucked away by the pure bliss aching from the friction. 

Muzan bites down on his lip, brushing a few curls that had come free from behind his ear. “You like it when I do that?” He quizzes, fucking you harder. You can only manage a nod.

Your voice has grown hoarse from moans breaking into screams and whines. You buck your hips along with his as you arch your back, tumbling over your peak. “F’ck, haa haa hnngh,” You squeeze his cock and release his neck, breathless from your second orgasm. 

“Cum all over my cock, fuck,” Muzan growls, the feeling of your slick cum coating his length. He was gliding into you with such ease. He would apologize to you later for this. He pounds into your sensitive cunt, overstimulating you as you cry out. He rams himself into you and stays deep within your pussy. Panting heavily Muzan finally crashes over his own wave of pleasure. Splurting his cum around the walls of your pussy. He doesn’t want to pull out – for one fact he wanted all of his cum to stay within you – and for another fact, you were all the salvation he needed. He could find redemption with you. He rolls you both onto your side, hiking your leg over his hip to make sure he can stay inside of you. 

This was it, you had driven him to the edge and he would make sure to never let anything else touch you. As he gazes upon your soft features drifting off to a satisfied slumber he feels what once was his heart ache. “We should get married.” He blurts out.

[seresinhangmanjake]

His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You used to be a Lady, a daughter of a Great House until Feyd took you. Since then, your sole purpose has been to warm his bed, but when Rabban asks about having you for himself, Feyd makes a choice that changes your future.

Words: 2600

Notes: Possessiveness. Grumpy Feyd. I know it's similar to another one of my fics, but I realized that after the fact, so...

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You didn’t sleep. Not a wink. You laid in his bed all night, waiting for the man who never came, and your heart didn’t cease its ferocious beats for a second. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Is he ok? What happened? The sun rises without answers to those questions. 

You shoot up in bed when the door eases open. Expecting to find him, you’re disappointed to see instead his harpies enter one after the other. They don’t look at you. One goes about riffling through your dresses in the closet, one heads into the bathroom and you suddenly hear a rush of water filling the tub, and the last of them goes to the vanity Feyd brought in for you, lining up makeup and hair pins that she intends to use on you. 

The air about them is poised—an echo of who they used to be before they were turned into pets—as, for the moment, their vile, more carnivorous side lies dormant. 

Feyd only allows them to near you a couple hours after they’ve been fed; the peak time between their hunger sated and their bellies rumbling. At any other time, your uniquely foreign scent wafts to their nostrils and they are incapable of holding themselves back. More than a handful of instances—when they’ve managed to manipulate the guards to open their cages with their seductive smiles—they’ve gone on the hunt for you; one time in particular, sneaking into the bedroom in the middle of the night and yanking you from Feyd’s arms with the intention of sinking their teeth into your flesh. Feyd had been so furious he’d cut a finger from each of their hands. 

Still, they don’t scare you. You see in them women not entirely unlike yourself: owned, and therefore, changed. Soft are the women who have had the luxury of marriage and child-rearing in the comforts of wealth and beautiful homes—and good for them; how lovely to be soft—but it is the women who have not a choice in their existence that develop a steel shell. And you and the harpies have steel shells. In that way, they are your kin, and you try to subtly express that when you can, even though their allegiance to Feyd can make that quite difficult.

“Where is he?” you ask. 

They ignore you, continuing with their tasks, and you huff. Yes, sometimes they refuse to speak with you, and always it seems when you need their words most. In the past, you’ve been tempted to dangle your arm in front of their sharpened fangs in the hope that the offering will encourage their cooperation, but you’ve yet to find the bravery for that. Plus, Feyd would lose his mind. Well, he would lose the rest of it. 

“You’ve spoken to me before,” you continue. “Why not now?”

One of them stops and faces you. She glances at her sister who shakes her head. 

“Tell me,” you plead. 

“We are not permitted to speak with you on the matter,” the other says to your frustration. That is not good enough. Regardless of how he sees you and how you feel, he is the one thing keeping you alive on this lifeless planet and you refuse to go about your days worrying over his safety and what his disappearance means for your fate.

You throw the sheets off your legs and stand. 

“I don’t care,” you spit as your silky nightgown falls at your ankles, but then you reconsider your tone. The harpies do not do well with aggression. Being so animalistic, their instincts are easily drawn out, and they tend to attack when attacked, which is not a fight you would win. 

You take a calming breath, placing a hand over your heart. “We are the same. He owns us, he clothes us, he feeds us,” you remind them. “On this planet, I am as much your sister as you are each other’s. We all care about him in a way and if I knew what happened to him, I would have the decency to tell you.”

The harpy who drew your bath returns to the bedroom. Having overheard your words, she crosses her arms and says, “With respect, my Lady, we are not your sisters,” she says. “We have never had him the way you have, and he does not feel for us the way he does you.” 

Your clenched jaw loosens, lips parting. If you had assumed anything about the relationship between Feyd-Rautha and his harpies, it was that they had once been where you are; that when you came along, they lost their rank and became something alike the handmaids from your home world. You’d assumed that when they warmed his bed, their handmaids were the women who entertained him before them, and so on like a disgusting, perverted pattern. But if that is not the case, then your sense of identity is even more confused. Not to mention, nary a soul has referred to you as ‘Lady’ since you were taken from your family. So why show that respect now when Feyd practically stripped you of the title months ago? 

You look to the only one of the three who seems unsure of the situation. She’s biting her lip, worrying the fabric of your unworn gown between her fingers. 

“What about you?” you ask her and her head lifts to meet your eyes. She’s the smallest of them—pixie-esque, like you read in fairytale stories as a child—and despite the core of their primal nature, the gentlest. “You want to tell me.”

The harpy by your vanity hisses, but the gentle one does not shy away at the warning. “She has been kind to us,” she tells her sister in the most self-assured tone you’ve ever heard leave her mouth. 

The sister snaps back. “He instructed us to do one thing: get her ready for the day and act like nothing is wrong. It was not to tell her what happened.”

You lightly gasp. “So something has happened,” you state, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Your chest begins to rise and fall to match the rapid rate. “Is he ok?”

There are a few seconds of silent pause before Pixie stands a little straighter, setting her shoulders in a strong line. “Our Lord na-Baron was answering for the death of his brother.”

Your head jerks back. “Rabban?” you question, your brow pinching. “Rabban is dead?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And Feyd is the one who killed him?” That doesn’t make any sense. While Feyd has complained enough for you to know Rabban is a bumbling idiot, he eventually found a way for his brother to serve a purpose. Why would he kill a man when he is no longer the nuisance he once was, you wonder, so you ask, “Why?”

“The Lord Rabban…made suggestions,” Pixie tells you. One of the harpies groans as the other shakes her head.

“What suggestions?”

She bites down and swallows hard, then she says, “He suggested that the na-Baron share you for his own pleasure.”

Instantly, you’re hit with a wave of nausea. Share? Share you? The concept of a foreign woman hopping between men of status is not unusual, but at this point, you assumed if Feyd were going to participate in something like that, he would have sent you off already. Not doing so didn’t even surprise you. He’s too possessive. 

“You said he was answering for Rabban’s death,” you say, but answering for that surely wouldn’t have taken so many hours, not when the Baron saw Rabban as a waste of space. “So where is he now?”

—

He doesn’t notice when you step into the training room and you’re thankful for that. You came on a mission to extract more answers out of him, but you don’t mind having a second to admire him sparing against his trainer. 

He’s sweaty. You like him sweaty—sweaty and bare-chested and perfectly, effortlessly mesmerizing as aggressive grunts leave his lips. You silently watch their violent dance, your form mouse-like by the door until his trainer looks up and halts to stare at you. Feyd whips around to follow his line of sight, then he sighs and turns back to the smaller man. He mutters something as he grabs the rag at his belt and runs it down his face. 

The trainer leaves and Feyd places his knife back on the table among many others. “I told them to keep you away today,” he says dully, monotone, not meeting your eyes as he runs his finger over the blade and fiddles with the hilt. “Incompetent brats.” 

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I was busy,” he responds without letting a beat pass. He continues to avoid your stare and mess with the knives as if he’s never wielded them before.

You slowly step down the stairs into the pit of the room. “Busy killing your brother?” you ask. The muscles in his back twitch and flex under pale skin as he grips the hilt harder. 

“That is none of your concern.” The distance between you lessens until you’re a foot from his back, but he doesn’t turn around. 

“Even though you killed him because of me?” you ask. His neck ticks and his head tilts and shifts to adjust to the tension. When he still doesn’t respond, you try another angle. “Why are your harpies referring to me as their ‘Lady’?”

That seems to do it. Feyd faces you, crosses his arms, and leans his lower back against the table. “You think spending one night without me gives you permission to be nosy?”

You don’t give in to his method of shutting you up by aiming to make you feel silly and guilty. Instead, your eyes narrow and you mirror the crossing of arms. “Why am I a Lady again?”   

“You just are.”  

“Are you sending me home?”

His eyes flash. Blue irises darken a shade. “Don’t be stupid.”

“So I’m a Lady on Giedi Prime?” you ask, dropping your chin to emphasize how ridiculous that sounds. 

The edge of Feyd’s jaw sharpens as he clenches his back teeth. “Stop asking questions.”

“Then answer one,” you say. 

It’s a shot taken by an untrained hand, as he doesn’t enjoy demands, especially not from you, but you figure you have nothing to lose in the attempt, so you don’t cower under his menacing glare. You wait. And much to your surprise, he surrenders. 

He blinks, and when his eyes open, they have softened ever so slightly. Then he says, “You’re marrying me,” and everything from your lungs to your limbs freezes in shock. 

“W–What?” you stutter. That makes less sense than Rabban’s sudden death. 

Feyd groans and stands straight, his arms falling at his sides. “See what being nosy gets you?” he snaps. “I wasn’t going to tell you immediately, and you had to go and ruin it.”

He grabs a fresh knife and stomps his way over to a dummy, ready to attack something other than you for the insecurity that he can’t completely contain. You’ve never witnessed him insecure, but you know the feeling when you see it—the defense mechanism, the distancing himself, the grumbly attitude. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” you press as he slashes and stabs at the soulless victim. “I’m marrying you because you killed your brother for wanting to fuck me?”

With a grunt, the dummy’s head severs from its torso and flies off in your direction. It rolls and rolls and stops just before hitting your feet. The dead eyes stare up at you in silent amusement. Now you’ve done it, they mock.

“I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?” Feyd growls.

Your eyes shoot to his. “The marrying you part or The your brother fucking me part?”

He tosses the knife aside. It clatters against the ground as he closes in on you. His hand wraps around your neck. “Don't test me,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I will sew your damn lips shut if I have to.”

An empty threat if you’ve ever heard one. He would never harm you, but even if he were going to try, his fingers would need to be squeezing much tighter.

You roll your eyes. “Well then how am I going to suck your cock?”

Something about the tease stuns him. His tense features immediately settle and his whole body eases with his exhale. Glancing at your lips, he licks his own, and you think he might decide to kiss you—after all, it’s been a good twenty-four hours since the last one—but he doesn’t.

You snort. “Didn’t think that one through, did you.”

Long fingers unwrap from around your neck. “You’re not funny,” he mumbles with an odd sense of shame.

“If you don’t find me entertaining, can you maybe take the time to explain all of this better?”   

Feyd considers keeping his mouth shut. You know him well enough to know that. However, it’s ridiculous to contemplate since he’s already spilled the bigger news. Nothing could be more shocking than you, after the bed-warming position you’ve held for months, becoming his wife. 

“My uncle was going to take you away from me for killing Rabban,” he finally says. “So I told him I've had plans to marry you for the alliance and that's why I refused to share you. Rabban wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he had to die.”

Raising a brow, you say, “The Baron accepted that explanation? My House may be one of the Greats, but we do not offer much for Giedi Prime.”

Feyd shrugs. “My uncle enjoys anything that causes upset. Marrying me means we will always own something very valuable to your family.”

It would likely offend another, but you don���t mind being owned. While the Baron may believe the Harkonnens as a whole will own you, you belong to Feyd and Feyd alone. He’ll never allow anyone to hurt you and now he’ll never have to fight or argue with anyone to stake his claim, which works for you just fine, to say the very least. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

Your head tilts as you smile. “Caring enough to protect me.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” he says. “I didn't do it for you, I did it for my own benefit.”

Your sweet smile morphs into a smirk. “The benefit being that you get to keep me all to yourself…for the rest of your life.”

With a scoff, Feyd rolls his eyes and crosses his arms again. “Whatever.”

“Feyd…” you sigh, leaning into him.

“What?” he returns in his snarky tone as if he doesn’t want you near, but he doesn’t step out of the bubble of your space.

“I'm happy.”

A pink tinge sneaks onto his pale skin, and he quickly looks away. And before he has a chance to come up with some witty remark to smack you with, you grab his face and press your lips to his. 

You hold on to him until he starts to kiss you back, and then he's reaching for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, and you know you won't be going anywhere for a good long while.

[alsofoundinpeas]

Beyond the Window

Summary: With her package plan a success, the only thing standing between Y/N and Spencer now was his job. But as soon as he returned home, nothing would hold them back from finally acting on their feelings—this time, with no windows in the way. (Part One)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Some might consider this dubcon (talk of Spencer watching reader through her window but reader had wanted him to) so please be aware of that! Fingering (f!receiving), oral (both m and f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (birth control mentioned), overstimulation/multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), dry humping (if you squint), creampie (fuck I hate typing that), minor corruption kink, heavy praise, Virgin!Spencer, Sub!Spencer (he is pathetic and LOUD in this FYI), Soft Dom!reader, Perv!Spencer and Perv!Reader (they're back at it again LMFAO). Both fluffy and smutty. They match each other’s freak your honor!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Anddd done! This was, to date, the filthiest thing I've written so I'm nervous but I also loved writing it LMAO. I hope you guys enjoy part two as much as I enjoyed writing it :') I'll be putting out more sub!Spence in the future, but for now I hope you guys like this!! As always, please let me know what you guys think and if you do enjoy it then please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Spencer was certain the universe was playing a cruel, twisted prank on him.

It was the only explanation for being called into work early on a Sunday morning when he was supposed to be off. The night before, he’d gone to bed without replying to Y/N, hoping to come up with the perfect witty, flirty response the next day—when his brain wasn't a pile of mush. As he hurried to pack a go-bag and get dressed, Spencer cursed under his breath for waiting. Now, he’d have to send a hasty, jumbled apology and hope that Y/N would still want him to come over when he got back.

While Spencer drove—a task he loathed but had no choice in, given the lack of time for the metro—Penelope briefed him on the case details. The team was being sent to Wyoming to assist with a rapidly escalating unsub, which explained the need to get there quickly. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as Penelope spoke. Even with the case's urgency, his mind kept returning to Y/N.

“Reid?” Penelope sighed, then tried again. “Hello? Earth to Reid?!”

Spencer snapped back to reality, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got distracted. What was the last part again?”

Penelope's laughter echoed through the phone. “What’s keeping your mind so busy? Besides all your usual genius stuff, that is."

Spencer groaned, knowing that the blonde wouldn’t stop pressing until she got an answer. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly began to explain.

"There’s this girl who lives across from me, and I’ve had a crush on her for a while… We’d run into each other a few times at the library and the coffee shop near my place, but recently, a package of hers ended up at my door. I took it to her yesterday morning, and we ended up hanging out—" He paused, swallowing hard as his mind drifted to what had happened that night, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. "Anyway, she texted me to come over again, but then I got called in for the case. So, yeah, she’s just been on my mind."

Spencer winced as a loud squeal erupted from the phone, quickly followed by the sound of enthusiastic clapping.

“Spencer! That’s adorable! What’s her name?”

“Nope. Not a chance. I know you’ll look her up and start stalking her!” Spencer protested as he pulled into the parking garage. “Look, I just got here, so I’ll see you when we get back. Please keep this between us for now, alright? I don’t need everyone hounding me about it while we have a case to focus on.”

Penelope groaned dramatically but gave in, sighing in playful annoyance. “Ugh, fine, lover boy. You just ruined all my fun,” she grumbled. “Be safe, my sweet angel, and tell Derek to call me when you guys land!”

Spencer finished the call and hung up, swiftly typing out a message to send to Y/N before he had to go in. His thumbs clumsily pressed the buttons as he hurried, letting out an annoyed sigh as he fumbled with his flip-phone. He’d never been a fan of modern technology, but if getting a new phone meant it would be easier to talk to her, he’d consider it.

Good morning! I hope you slept well. Apologies for the late response. I’d love to come over, but unfortunately, I’ve been called in for a case. Would you still like me to come by once I get back?

Spencer gave a nod to himself, hit send, then gathered his things and stepped out of the car.

Y/N paused when she heard her phone ding, toothbrush still in her mouth. She quickly finished brushing, swishing mouthwash as she walked to her room to grab her phone. Returning to the bathroom, she spat out the mouthwash before finally glancing at the waiting text.

A small giggle fell from her lips as she read Spencer’s message, leaning back against the sink as she responded.

Of course, Spencer. Only if you want to :) xoxo

He texted like an old man (which wasn't surprising, considering his wardrobe). She thought it was charming. She placed her phone on the bathroom counter and stepped toward the shower to start the water, a smile still playing on her lips from his message.

A content sigh fell from her lips once she stepped into the hot stream of water, letting the water relax her tight muscles.

As her soapy hands began to wander her body, her mind wandered back to Spencer and just how deliciously pathetic he’d looked stroking himself to the sight of her. Honestly, Y/N had worried she’d scared the poor guy with her message after he’d watched her the night before, so seeing his text was a relief. Now, she just had to wait for him to return from his case—and then he’d finally be all hers.

The week crawled by, each day stretching on painfully, leaving both of them restless and longing for each other's company.

Each night when Y/N came home, she’d glance out of her curtains, hoping to see that Spencer had returned, only to let out a quiet sigh when she found he hadn’t. She couldn’t remember ever being this excited to see someone before. Something about Spencer had her completely hooked—not just his looks, but the man behind them. After spending time with him, she was eager to uncover more about the sweet, brilliant person who lived across from her.

Another four days went by before the text she’d been waiting for finally came through.

Hey pretty girl, we just landed so I’ll be home in about an hour. Are you up for some company?

Y/N arched a brow as she read the message, re-reading it a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. That didn’t sound like Spencer at all… but she was too eager for him to come over to worry about it now. She’d figure out who actually sent it when he arrived.

With a small grin, Y/N typed her reply, then set her phone down to get ready and tidy up her apartment.

“Morgan! Come on! Are you serious?” Spencer griped, swatting at the man in an attempt to grab his phone back. “What did you say to her?”

Penelope had (accidentally) let it slip to Morgan that Spencer was, in her words, "dating but not dating this super cute girl who lives across from him." Naturally, she’d ignored his requests for privacy, tracked down the tenant list for Y/N’s building, and found her online after figuring out she was the one. So, when Morgan glanced over Spencer's shoulder and saw the carefully composed message he’d written, he snatched the phone and sent something entirely different.

“Relax, kid! I’m just helping you out. You’re going to scare her off if you keep talking to her like a geezer,” Morgan chuckled, tossing him back his phone before standing from his seat and stretching. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head in frustration before unlocking his phone to check the message. He cringed at what Morgan had sent, but then his heart skipped a beat as he read Y/N’s reply.

Come over whenever you’re ready, pretty boy. I can’t wait to see you. :)

Spencer’s face flushed as he brushed off the curious looks from the team, eager to get off the jet and head home to drop his stuff off—then straight to Y/N’s. A mix of nervousness and excitement churned inside him, his hands trembling as he started the drive home. It felt surreal to him, knowing not only that she was excited to see him, but that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

A firm knock at the door pulled Y/N’s attention from the couch, a bright smile spreading across her face as she jumped up to answer it. "Coming!" she called, quickly unlocking the door. When she opened it, Spencer stood there, looking a bit nervous and holding a bag of takeout from her favorite diner.

"Oh, Spencer," she murmured, her gaze softening as she noticed the bag. "You’re so sweet! You didn’t have to get dinner—I was planning to order something when you got here." She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him and taking the bag from his hand so he could slip off his coat.

Spencer waved it off with a sheepish grin as he followed her into the kitchen. "I wanted to," he said. "I noticed you ordered from them a lot and thought it would be a nice surprise." His eyes widened in panic. "Not that I’ve been, like, stalking you or anything! And, um, I'm sorry if I didn’t pick the right thing. I can run back and grab something else—"

“Spencer.”

Y/N sat down the plates she'd gotten out for them and silenced his nervous rambling by gently cupping his cheeks. Spencer froze mid-sentence, his mouth slightly open as he looked down at her. She smiled up at him, softly stroking her thumb along his cheekbone.

“You did perfect, sweetheart,” she reassured him, her gaze flicking to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “It was so thoughtful of you to pick up dinner. I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you ordered. Thank you.”

Spencer swallowed, his heart pounding at the feel of her hands on his face. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself before he whispered, “Of course.”

Y/N smiled, brushing her hand over his cheek one last time before turning back to plate the food, which looked and smelled delicious. Once she finished, she headed to the fridge, glancing back at Spencer. "Wine, water, or soda?"

"Water, please. Thank you."

Nodding, Y/N poured herself a glass of wine and then filled one with water for him. They walked into the living room, both of them buzzing with anticipation for what was to come later. They sat side by side, enjoying the warmth that came from being pressed together as they began to eat.

"So," Y/N started, laughing softly before continuing. "Who texted me from your phone earlier today? Unless the grandfather ghost inhabiting your body decided to take a rain check."

Spencer groaned in embarrassment, chuckling awkwardly as he glanced at her. "Sorry about that… that was my co-worker, Derek. And best friend too. He accused me of 'talking to you like a geezer' and decided to try and do better himself."

Y/N laughed even harder, putting her fork down to take a sip of her wine before replying. "I knew it wasn’t you!" she said with a triumphant grin, then paused, a new realization dawning on her. "You talk about me to your team?"

Spencer hesitated, finishing his bite slowly before taking a drink and nodding. "Sort of… I told Penelope about you, and then she mentioned it to Derek. I’m sorry—i-is that okay?" His fingers pushed his glasses up, a nervous habit of his.

It was more than okay. A giddy feeling rushed through her at the idea of him talking about her to his co-workers, recalling how he'd mentioned during their first hangout how much he valued them. She nodded, nudging him with her shoulder gently.

“You apologize too much, Spence. It’s totally fine. If anything, I’m flattered,” she admitted with a grin.

It didn’t take long for them to finish eating. Once the plates were cleared and placed in the sink, Y/N turned to Spencer, a small smirk playing on her lips. Spencer swallowed, leaning back against the counter, his eyes locked on her with a mix of curiosity as she began to speak.

"Do you watch every girl you're interested in through their window? Or am I just special?"

Her tone was playful, not angry or accusatory, but Spencer still tensed, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself.

"I swear I didn’t mean to come off as creepy or anything," Spencer stammered. "It’s just… from the moment I met you in the library, you were so captivating. And when I found out you lived across from me, I couldn’t help myself—"

Y/N's gaze softened as she realized just how nervous he actually was, and she took a step forward, shushing him with a finger to his lips.

"Spence, hey. Look at me, sweetheart,” she murmured, her arms loosely wrapping around his neck. She waited until their eyes met, then continued, her fingers gently twisting the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was just teasing. I wanted you to watch. That’s why I left my curtains open.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at her admission, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he recalled every time she’d left her curtains open. All this time, she had wanted him to watch. The realization sent a strange warmth through him, and he carefully placed his hands on her waist.

“So, was the package at my door part of your plan too?” he breathed, his expression a blend of lust and adoration as he looked down at her.

Y/N's answer came in the form of a nod and a smug grin. Spencer chuckled, his nerves easing the longer he held her in his arms.

"I didn’t think you’d ever make a move, so I decided to take matters into my own hands," she said softly, still grinning as she met his gaze, mirroring the admiration in his eyes.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad you did?” he murmured, his hands gently caressing her lower back through her shirt. “You’re just… perfect. I was afraid you wouldn’t even give me the time of day if I’d tried to.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open in surprise, her brows furrowing as she tilted her head. “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously, letting her hands slide to rest on his shoulders as she leaned back in his embrace. “Spencer, I adore you. You could’ve asked me out in the library, right then, after just thirty seconds of knowing each other, and I would’ve said yes without a second thought. You really don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She tilted her head up, brushing her nose against his, continuing before he could speak. "Let me show you just how incredible I think you are. Please?"

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, his heart racing at her words. It was exactly what he wanted, more than anything. But he hesitated, his mouth working as he fought to find the right words.

"I'm a virgin!" he not-so-eloquently blurted out instead.

Y/N's head jerked back, blinking hard as she processed his words. Had she heard him right?

"Wait... what did you just say?"

Spencer blushed hard, averting his gaze to the ground as he repeated himself.

"I'm a virgin."

It was Y/N’s turn to suck in a sharp breath, the admission arousing her more than she’d care to admit. She rubbed his shoulders gently before using one of her hands to guide his face back to hers, her gaze earnest as she looked at him.

“Honey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything at all—“

Spencer shook his head vigorously at that, a low whine emitting from his throat as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to do everything with you. I want to more than anything, I swear! I-I just… I don’t want it to be bad for you,” he whispered, unnecessary shame lacing his words.

“Spencer… sweetheart, it would never be bad for me as long as I’m with you,” Y/N whispered, her voice warm and steady. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, babe. Honestly, we could just curl up on the couch, watch a movie, or talk. I love talking with you, about anything.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at her words. No one had ever told him they truly enjoyed his company before, nor had anyone ever shown such genuine affection or concern for his emotions. It was a feeling he hadn’t known he was missing.

“I’m more than sure, Y/N. Please?” he mumbled, his grip on her hips tightening slightly. “I-I want to make you feel good.”

She paused, her eyes closing as she carefully considered her next move. After a long breath, Y/N gave a small nod, then pulled away from him completely.

“Follow me, then.”

Spencer hurried after her, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his eagerness to keep up. Once they reached her bedroom, Y/N shut the door and turned to face him, leaving him standing in the middle of her dimly lit room. He glanced around, almost in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was really here—standing in her room and not caught in some dream.

“Bet it feels different being in here rather than just looking in,” Y/N teased, stepping closer to him.

“Very. I’m still waiting for the cameraman to jump out and tell me it’s all a prank.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she shook her head with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not happening. No prank, sweetheart,” she hummed, her eyes catching the way his gaze swept over her, full of unspoken desire.

Y/N smirked as she took another step forward, urging Spencer backward until the backs of his knees hit her mattress. She reached up, pushing down gently on his shoulders until he gingerly sat on the bed, looking up at her with wide eyes as she moved to straddle his lap. Her fingers carded through his hair, tugging gently and eliciting a whimper from him as she cocked her head.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she murmured, scratching her nails gently against his scalp.

A shiver ran down Spencer’s spine, his brows furrowing at her words. He shifted underneath her, resting his shaking hands on her hips. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the sight.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

Y/N’s words lingered in the air, their breaths the only sound breaking the stillness. The tension between them was electric, each waiting for the other to break first. Finally, Spencer did, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

The slight tremble in his voice and the doe-eyed look he sported were all it took for Y/N’s resolve to crumble completely.

With a low groan, her lips crashed onto his. Their mouths melded together, the small whine bubbling in Spencer’s throat encouraging her to kiss him even harder. His hands reached up to cradle her face, matching her intensity as their lips moved together.

It wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

Spencer didn’t kiss her like the shy, hesitant man from earlier. Instead, his kiss was fiery, almost desperate, as though he wanted to drown in her and never resurface. And she found herself wanting exactly the same.

Y/N’s hands wandered from his hair down his chest, letting her fingertips dip beneath the hem of his shirt as their tongues brushed together. Her nails gently dragged along the soft skin there, and she felt his erection twitch from where it was firmly pressed to her core. Spencer whimpered, breaking their kiss with a soft gasp as he looked up at her pleadingly.

“Please,” he panted, his hands reaching for her hips to pull her down into him. Y/N rolled her hips against his, moaning lowly at the friction. She repeated the action once before stopping her movements, climbing off of him despite his protests with one simple command.

"Take off your clothes, Spence."

He complied immediately, scrambling to stand and strip out of his clothes. His fingers fumbled as he worked at his tie, his focus stuck on her as she undressed before him. A frustrated groan left his lips as he finally yanked the tie off, his hands moving too slowly for his own liking.

Y/N arched a brow, chuckling at his irritated noise as she stepped out of her pants. She reached up to stop his hands, beginning to unbutton his shirt herself. "What's got you so worked up, hm? It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before," she purred, sliding her hands under the fabric and slipping it off of him.

The shirt hit the ground with a muted thump, and her eyes roamed over his newly exposed skin hungrily. Spencer whined at her teasing, letting his hands roam up and down her sides as she worked on getting his pants off.

"I could see you like this an infinite amount of times, and it would still take my breath away every time," he murmured, his hands gently squeezing her hips.

A faint pink spread across her cheeks at his words, and she lifted her face to place a soft kiss on his lips, a silent thank you. No one had ever made her feel as treasured as Spencer did. He gazed at her with a devotion that felt almost reverent, as though she were someone to be worshipped—and he longed to be the one to worship her.

Which was highly ironic, considering she was the one sinking to her knees the second his pants pooled around his ankles.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Spencer's voice raised pitch as she steadied herself with her hands on his thighs, looking down at her with wide eyes, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they threatened to slip down from the angle.

"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart?" Y/N murmured, leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to his hip. "I want your pretty cock down my throat. You okay with that?"

The sound Spencer made was almost pained, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. His mouth parted, a stutter escaping him before he finally gave in, nodding instead. His cock twitched in his boxers, aching to feel her touch.

"Words, baby. Use your words."

Y/N's lips skimmed across his navel, peppering kisses along the smattering of hair there as she waited for his response.

"God—yes! I'm okay with that," Spencer whined, his hips bucking forward instinctively from her touch. "Please... please touch me—"

Y/N couldn't deny such sweet begging. It would be downright cruel if she did.

Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly. She kept her eyes locked on his, carefully assessing his every reaction to ensure there was no trace of doubt before proceeding. When she saw none, she swiftly yanked them down the rest of the way, letting them pool around his ankles with his pants.

Spencer gasped as the chill of her bedroom air met his warm skin, goosebumps spreading across his arms as he fought the urge to shy away from her gaze. He never thought that highly of himself in the physical aspect— all lean muscles, lanky limbs, and pale skin spattered with freckles and a few random scars. But his insecurities faded the moment he heard her breath catch, her eyes filled with admiration as they lingered on him.

"You're so beautiful, Spencer," Y/N breathed, bringing a hand up to grip him gently. "So, so beautiful."

Her mouth was on him before he could respond.

A keening sound filled the room as he watched in pure awe as she dragged her tongue up and down the length of him slowly before her lips wrapped around the flushed head of his cock, a spark of pleasure shooting up his spine as his hands flexed by his side. She sucked gently, swirling her tongue around the tip before pulling off of him to speak.

"Don't be afraid to hold onto me, sweetheart. Go ahead."

Spencer's hands immediately came up to cradle the back of her head, finding purchase as she returned to what she was doing. The sight of her on her knees and taking the length of him into her mouth had his knees almost buckling. It was something he'd dreamed about for nights on end, but now that it was actually happening, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"F-fuck—" He whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut to prevent himself from cumming right then and there.

All he'd ever experienced before was his own hand (and occasionally some desperate humping against his mattress), so the feeling of her mouth around him was otherworldly. Just when he thought it was safe to open his eyes again, Y/N smirked around her mouthful and pushed her head down to take him in completely.

"Oh—!" Spencer cried out as he hit the back of her throat, jolting and stumbling backward and falling out of her mouth with a slick 'pop'. His chest heaved as he reached down to grip himself tightly, staving off his orgasm. He didn't want to cum yet. Not this quickly.

"I-I'm sorry, it just felt too... too good—"

Y/N gently stroked his trembling thighs, pressing a kiss beneath his belly button before rising to her feet. She shushed his stammered apologies with a kiss on his forehead, caressing his face as he caught his breath. His face was flushed, both from embarrassment and arousal, and the sight was more endearing than it should have been.

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing," she whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to crawl onto her bed. “Get up here, baby,” she crooned as she laid back against her pillows, patting the spot beside her.

Spencer almost tripped over his pants in his haste to follow after her, kicking the fabric away before he kneeled onto the mattress, smiling meekly at Y/N as she watched in amusement. "I w-want—" Spencer paused as he watched her lean forward so she could unclasp her bra, completely enraptured. "I want to taste you. Please?"

Desire coursed through her at his words, searing through her veins as she met his gaze. She loved how pretty the word please sounded falling from his kiss-swollen lips. She slipped free from her bra, tossing it to the ground before answering his pleading.

"Go ahead, baby. Take whatever you want—I want you to have it all."

Spencer swallowed hard at that, a small grin playing on his lips as he moved forward to settle between her spread legs. He kneeled between them, taking off his glasses and setting them on her nightstand before lowering himself to hover over her. He bumped his nose against hers, his grin widening as he moved to tentatively kiss along the side of her neck.

Y/N moaned at the feeling, tangling her fingers into his tousled strands. He continued, trailing his kisses down the slope of her shoulder before pausing to suck a small mark into her skin, relishing in the soft noises falling from her lips. Once he was satisfied with his mark, he brought his lips down to mouth along her breast, laving his tongue over the taut bud of her nipple.

"Spence—" she whimpered as he closed his lips around the hardened peak, suckling with a low groan that rumbled against her skin. She tugged at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. "Feels so good, sweetheart."

Spencer hummed, pulling off her breast after a moment and switching to the other to give it the same treatment. Y/N whined, arching into his touch as he began to move down her body. What he may have lacked in physical experience, he more than compensated for with knowledge.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a prude. He'd read plenty of erotic novels, as well as countless books all centered around the female anatomy and how to inflict the most pleasure so that he could at least pretend to feel prepared for his first time. It seemed to be paying off, though, if the noises she made were any indication of how he was doing.

Spencer's hands came up to rest on her hips as he settled on his stomach between her thighs, hissing softly when his erection pressed into the mattress. His eyes met hers, and the clouded look in her eyes was all the encouragement he needed.

"God, you're soaked," he whispered in astonishment as his finger traced the damp spot in the front of her panties, causing a breathy chuckle to slip from her lips.

"How could I not be?"

Spencer blushed, leaning down to kiss her inner thigh before pulling the fabric down her legs. His breath hitched at the sight of her glistening pussy, fully on display for him without the barrier of their windows in his way. Any coherent thought that was swirling around in his head vanished, replaced with an urgent need to taste her. He moved without thinking as he latched his mouth onto her eagerly, groaning against her slick skin as he began to lap at her hungrily.

"Fuck! Spencer—" Y/N cried out, her grip on his hair tightening at the unexpected pleasure. Her head tipped back against her pillows as her hips writhed under his ministrations, rolling against his mouth as he devoured her.

There was little to no technique— just pure, unbridled enthusiasm. But it felt so good that she didn't care. He alternated between sucking at her clit and thrusting his tongue into her, needy moans slipping from his lips the entire time he did.

"Fingers, baby—" she gasped, biting her lower lip harshly to stifle a loud moan. "Use your fingers, too."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He pulled away from her, licking the taste of her from his lips as he brought two fingers up to her entrance. He focused his gaze on her face as he pushed them inside of her, his mouth hanging open and soft breaths panting against her skin as he began to thrust them.

"Like this?"

His tone wasn't cocky or arrogant. It was curious, like he was genuinely invested in finding out what felt the best for her. She nodded, a choked moan slipping from her lips as he grazed against that rough patch of nerves inside of her that had her hips thrashing.

Spencer watched in fascination for a moment before bringing his head back down, his eyes fluttering shut as he began to trace her clit with his tongue. His hips rocked instinctively against the bed, grinding against it in a desperate attempt to find some relief for his aching cock as he brought her closer and closer to her climax.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, her hands falling from his hair to grip the sheets as she clenched around his fingers. "I-I'm cumming—"

Spencer groaned against her, doubling his efforts so he could watch her fall apart on his fingers. With a soft cry, Y/N came hard, her eyes squeezing shut as she trembled underneath him. He continued his movements, pumping his fingers into her gently until she was whining and wriggling away from his touch.

Spencer watched her in awe, kneading her thighs and hips to help her come down from her high.

"C'mere," she panted after a few minutes, finally opening her eyes to look up at him as he moved to hover above her.

A proud grin made its way to Spencer's face as he obeyed, resting on his forearms as he looked down at her. The hazy look in her eyes made his heart race, knowing that he was the cause of it doing more for his ego than he cared to admit. She returned his grin, leaning up to kiss him softly and tasting herself on his tongue.

"You did so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy for me," she mumbled against his lips.

She broke the kiss to press on his shoulders, rolling them over so she straddled him once more. A lazy smirk adorned her lips as he looked up at her, his pupils so dilated that the soft brown of his eyes was indiscernible. She began to rock her hips against his aching cock, a sigh slipping from her lips as her folds dragged over him.

Spencer moaned lowly at the friction, bringing his hands up to palm at her ass as she continued her movements. His fingers dug into her flesh as she spoke, but he didn't hear a single word she said as he kept his gaze locked on where her pussy was gliding along his length.

"Hey," Y/N cooed, patting his cheek gently to guide his eyes back to hers. "Eyes on me, sweetheart."

Spencer whined, his hips bucking underneath hers in an attempt to bring back the delicious friction that had been taken away when she lifted her hips. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't listening," Spencer mumbled sheepishly, his face flushed as he held her gaze.

Y/N chuckled, tutting in mock disappointment as she gripped his chin. "I know you weren't," she muttered with an arched brow before continuing. "I was asking if you wanted to use a condom or not. I'm clean and—"

"No condom!"

Y/N jumped, startled. The urgency in his voice sent a wave of warmth through her as she eyed him in amusement, enjoying the bashful look that immediately appeared on his face after his exclamation. Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to regain some of his dignity.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to borderline shout that," Spencer said softly, his voice cracking slightly. "I just— I want to feel you, please. Without a condom in the way, preferably."

The grin that spread across her face could only be described as salacious as she nodded, cradling his face before leaning in for a tender kiss.

"No condom it is, then."

Y/N shifted up onto her knees, reaching between them to align him with her entrance before pausing when he spoke up.

"I— um... C-can I be on top of you instead?" he whispered, looking up at her with nervous eyes.

Her gaze softened at the sight, and she nodded immediately. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want, remember?" She murmured with a fond smile, rolling off of him to lay back against the pillows.

Spencer thanked her quietly, moving to hover above her once more. His body trembled as he propped up on one arm, reaching down to line himself up with her once more. She cradled his face, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone reassuringly. He took a deep breath to steady himself before pushing forward, sinking into her.

The feeling of her tight walls wrapping around him had him keening while she moaned just as loudly in return, dropping his head into the crook of her neck as he sucked in desperate, shaky breaths. He'd never experienced pleasure so overwhelming before. He was honestly convinced he'd died right there in her arms, pressing sloppy kisses to her skin just to prove to himself that he was, in fact, still alive.

"God— feels so good," he began to babble, moaning softly as he pulled his hips back slightly before thrusting forward again. "So tight... so wet— fuck!"

Y/N dug her nails into his shoulders, whimpering as he thrusted into her again, this time a little harder. "That's it, Spence," she panted, encouraging him to begin really moving. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking deep."

Spencer's hips jerked at that, his head dropping back into the crook of her neck as he began to drive into her in short, jagged thrusts. Moans slipped freely from his lips, mingling with hers as their bodies moved in tandem.

It didn't take long before the familiar tightening in his stomach came back, but he was too lost in the pleasure to stop. The feeling of Y/N around him was addictive. He seeked solace in her walls, rutting into her like a man possessed now as he sang her his praises against her skin. His hips stuttered as he lifted his head up, crashing his lips onto hers in a messy kiss as his hips pounded against hers even harder.

"Gonna— cum, fuck, I'm cumming—"

Spencer cried out against her lips, burying himself as deep inside of her as he could before filling her with rope after rope of his release. A pitiful noise fell from his lips as he broke the kiss, his eyes wide as he gawked down at her. His hips stopped moving, but before he could speak, Y/N was looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down.

“Did I say you could stop fucking me, Spencer?” Y/N’s voice was taunting in his ear, her nails digging into his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him in place.

Spencer’s brows pinched together as confusion washed over him, and his arms trembled as he struggled to remain hovering above her. His cock twitched inside of her as she canted her hips up, causing him to hiss softly from the overstimulation. His lower lip wobbled as he stared at her with a half-dazed, half-pleading look.

"W-what?"

“You greedy boy,” Y/N purred as she rolled her hips again. She smirked at the whimper he let out before tilting her head to skim her lips across his. “Don’t you want to feel me cum on your cock? Hm?”

Spencer shuddered at her words, chasing helplessly after her lips. He whined petulantly when she tilted her head, keeping him from succeeding in getting his kiss.

“I do,” Spencer whimpered, nodding fervently. “I wanna feel it so bad,” he groaned, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure coursing through him from head to toe.

“Then keep fucking me, sweetheart.”

A determined look crossed over his face, his brows knitting together as he shifted up onto his knees and pulled her hips up before thrusting forward. The change in angles had her crying out as he brushed against her sweet spot, and he grunted as he began to rock into her slowly, pushing past the sweet sting of overstimulation. He tightened his grip on her hip with one hand while his other moved to where they were connected, rubbing small, sloppy circles against her clit as he began moving with a purpose.

“Mm—“ Y/N groaned out, her eyes threatening to close as she struggled to keep them focused on his face. “Just like that, Spence. Ah—!“

The sound of his hips snapping against hers paired with the slick, crude sound of him fucking his cum back into her had his head lolling back, a guttural moan rumbling in his throat.

His hips were relentless, chasing her pleasure more so than his own now. It was messy and borderline feral—their mixed arousal coated his pelvis and her thighs and one of the corners of the sheets had come up from Y/N yanking at them. But neither of them could find it in themselves to care.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Spencer begged, shifting her legs up onto his shoulders and clinging to her thighs as he drove into her. “Please—wanna feel you cum on my cock… I need it—“

The sound of his pleading hurled her over the edge. Y/N’s nails nearly tore through the sheets as her eyes squeezed shut, cry after cry of his name falling from her open mouth as she came around him. Her body trembled from the force of her orgasm, her walls clenching so tightly around him that it triggered his second climax unexpectedly.

“Oh my God— oh— fuck!” Spencer wailed, devolving into a series of whimpers as he spilled everything he had into her.

After a moment of ragged breathing, he turned to press a kiss to her ankle before easing her limp legs off of his shoulders and to the bed. Y/N stroked his hair with shaky hands as he crumpled over on top of her, their bodies warm and damp with sweat. Their chests were heaving as they struggled to catch their breath, with Y/N whispering into his hair how good he did and how perfect he’d made her feel.

They stayed curled up for a while, but eventually, the stickiness became too much to ignore. They both stumbled into her bathroom—both for a quick shower and for Y/N to pee to avoid a UTI. After changing the sheets, they returned to her bed, and Y/N turned away to switch off the lamp, leaving them wrapped in the peaceful darkness.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Spencer asked, a shy grin on his face as she turned back to him, snuggling into his embrace as he pulled her closer.

Y/N huffed out a soft, sleepy laugh, nodding against him. “If you want me to be, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Of course I want you to,” Spencer replied, his words followed by a small yawn as sleep started to take hold of him too.

“Looks like it’s official then. I’m your girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend. Now, get some rest, my sweet boy.”

It wasn’t until the following evening, after a full day spent with Y/N on their first official date—a trip to the museum and lunch at his favorite restaurant—that he noticed something tucked into his pocket. A giddy grin spread across Spencer’s face as he unfolded the lacy pink panties, a small note tucked inside that read: For you to take on your next case. ;) xoxo - Y/N.

Spencer glanced down at the fabric in his hands, a soft chuckle escaping him as he silently thanked whatever force had made her the one to fill the vacant apartment across from his.

Continued A/N’s and tag list!! <3: Big big thank you to everyone that enjoyed part one and came back to read part two :’) And thank you to everyone that wanted to be tagged!! If you guys would like for me to start doing an official tag list, please let me know :’) <3 @halfbloodwriter , @opheliahotchner , @mothgrrrl666 , @silver138, @elliet1ou

REMINDER: I do not give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please just ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[eroselless]

LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Summary: You and Lando have been friends for years, dancing around your feelings and avoiding the tension between the two of you. What happens when there's only one spot left in the car? [1.7k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 2 - I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, sorta dry humping, light fingering and cursing. If there's any I missed let me know!

Note: as the poets say, i’m a slut for Lando <3 

I was inspired by this tik tok and this fic by uluvjay

Anywaaays, let me know if I should do a part twooo

Lando's eyes can't help but wander over your figure as you sit next to him at dinner. His gaze traces the curves of your body accentuated by the dress you mentioned to him just the week before. The fabric clings to your body in all the right places, exuding an allure that is both captivating and refined. He notices how the colour of the fabric makes your eyes look brighter and emphasizes the features of your body that he always finds himself drawn to. You look completely at ease in your chair, a half-empty glass of wine dangling casually from your fingertips.

He's pulled from his thoughts by a voice across the table. "What's the plan?" Carlos inquires, his hands clasped together in front of him as he gazes out at Lando. He blinks, processing what his ex-teammate just asked him. He hesitates for a second.

"I think I'm ready to head back to the hotel," he replies, meeting your eyes briefly for confirmation. You nod in agreement, your silent support bolstering his decision. A chorus of voices clamours at you, George, Alex, and Pierre opting to go out for a few more drinks and dancing. You shake your head, swirling the glass in your fingers.

"I think I'll head back too," you say, setting the glass down with a decisive clink. Max nods in agreement, Pietra clinging to his arm as they prepare to leave as well. You all begin to file out, congregating in the foyer of the restaurant for some quick goodbyes.

Lily wraps her arms around you in a farewell embrace, a pout evident on her face as she whispers promises of future hangouts before hurrying to rejoin her awaiting boyfriend. Alex gives you a wave from afar, a gentle smile playing at the corner of his lips, and they join the rest of the group as they make their way towards their car.

You walk out, trailing close behind Lando. Your hand is tucked into the pocket of his blazer jacket, a silent yet comforting gesture that keeps you near him. The air is filled with conversations as you make your way to the car that awaits you. Everyone begins to pile into it, Max taking his place behind the wheel with Pietra by his side while Carlos sits in the back with Charles.

"Oh, shit—" you hear Lando mutter suddenly as he scans the remaining space. There's only one spot left in the car, next to Carlos. With a slight grimace, you watch as he waves his hand in the air as if to say, no mind that. Lando takes his place next to his friend, ushering you into the car as well. Your eyebrows furrow together as he gestures for you to climb in his lap.

You hesitantly sit down, pulling the door closed behind you. You had always been rather close to Lando, even going past the confines of friendship, blurring the lines. You'd always be stealing his clothes, his t-shirt, sweatpants, sweaters. He'd always find comfort in your body heat, curling up at your side to sleep or have a cuddle. You were essentially attached at the hip.

You'd grown accustomed to the flashes of cameras and the photos circling online on social media. Often, people would question if you were dating, but the answer would always remain the same—no. Not that either of you didn't want to, but you'd been friends for a few years, and Lando intended to keep you by his side as long as he could. He prioritized your bond over potentially complicating things by introducing romance to the mix.

This feels like entirely new territory, sitting in his lap with his hands hovering above your thighs, the faint scent of your perfume teasing his senses as you settle in. He can't help but feel a flutter of excitement surge through him. If you leaned back, he feared you'd be able to feel the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat underneath the layers of muscle that encase his chest.

As you lean forward to grasp the seat in front of you, Lando can feel his breath catch in his throat as he becomes hyper-fixated on your movements. He can't help but bite his lip as a flush rises to his cheeks, struggling to take his eyes away from where your figure is nestled in his lap. The softness of your touch sears through him.

His eyes dart nervously to Carlos, hoping to find some reprieve from the intense feelings brewing in him. The Spaniard raises an eyebrow at him in silent amusement, a smirk playing on his lips before turning back to Charles and resuming their conversation. With a gentle shake of his head, Lando tears his gaze away, opting to watch the lights go by outside.

He watches as the pavement gradually gives way to rougher terrain beneath the car’s tires, signaling the road to their hotel nestled on the outskirts of the city. Max turns the music up, trying to muffle the crunch of the wheels on the gravel. The transition is palpable, the rumbling of the road sending vibrations through the vehicle. Your position suddenly feels uncomfortable and you begin to shift in your spot, momentarily forgetting that he can feel your every move.

A sudden bump jostles you from your spot and you can feel Lando’s hands tighten slightly over your skin. You try your best to stay still, only shifting again when the car goes over another bump. A whispered plea cuts through the tense air, sending a tingle down your spine.

“Please stop moving.” he murmurs, voice strained. The heat that spreads through you only intensifies as you feel his grip on you tighten, your hands clenching onto Pietra’s seat in response.

“Sorry,” you whisper back, trying to sound as sincere as you can, to sound like you weren’t thinking about how hard he was beginning to feel under you. Lando’s fingers press harder into your thighs. The bumps keep coming and you struggle to keep from moving. The air around you feels as if it's getting hotter as you continue to move against him. Next to you, Carlos and Charles are dozed off, completely unaware of the tension rising just next to them.

You can feel Lando breathing down your back, having placed his forehead at the nape of your neck. It sends a shiver down your spine, right to your core. He’s breathing in your scent, burying his nose in your skin. His breath is coming out in broken fragments as he struggles to keep it under control. His fingers are now fanned out on your thighs, just inches from the hem of your dress. He’s almost tempted to slip his fingers under it. He bites down on his lip, a futile attempt to hide how much he’s enjoying the moment. The bumps in the road continue to make his heart pound, freezing his hands in place.

Desperate for some relief, he tries to lean back into the seat. The ache building in his cock is almost unbearable. He pushes his hips forward, inadvertently bucking them up and now it's your turn to try to keep quiet. You feel yourself hang off of the seat in front of you, back arching slightly.

His gaze is now trained on the curve of your ass in his lap and he can't help the sigh that falls from his lips. He so badly wants to surrender himself to the allure of the moment, so many years of yearning for you building up to this very night. 

You reach a hand down to grab one of his, intertwining your fingers in a silent plea for more. You feel as if you are skating on thin ice as you encourage his hand to move under your dress. A gasp threatens to make its way past your lips as he follows your lead and dips a hand between your legs. Pushing your knees out ever so slightly, his fingers delve deeper, and you find yourself teetering toward the edge of ecstasy.

You both begin to shift in time, the pad of his thumb just barely pressing into the button of your clit and your ass rubbing perfectly against his cock. With each subtle movement, your senses ignite, the friction sending waves of pleasure rippling through the both of you.

“Oh god…” Lando’s voice is a mere whisper, hardly reaching your ears over the hum of the car and pounding of the music. His fingers move in slow circles, you feel as if the pleasure could consume you whole. With every flicker, your teeth dig harder into your lip, and you swear you could draw blood.

You can see the hotel lights from here, light seeping into the car. Panic sets in as you freeze in the seat, hands and hips coming to a complete halt. You can feel Lando shaking underneath you, his cheeks a bright pink. His chest is heaving as he tries to take shallow and quiet breaths. You each try to compose yourselves and you lean back in his lap, pulling his hands out from the fabric of your dress.

The tension in the air is palpable as the car comes to a stop, Max putting it in park and announcing to the sleeping men that you’ve arrived. You bite your lip at the innuendo that goes over everyone’s heads. Not quite, Max.

Lando’s hands take their spot on your thighs again, just as they were at the beginning of the ride. They stick slightly to your exposed skin, a testament to the desire that simmers between the two of you. You can see them twitch as if they’re still itching for more. He smiles weakly at you as you step out of the car, blaming the tight confines of the car for your flushed cheeks.

You don't miss how he gingerly sticks the pads of his fingers in his mouth or how he shoves his hands into his pockets, adjusting his pants as he does so. You blink away the last of the haze in your eyes as you quickly and quietly follow him up to your shared hotel room.

[bapeach]

Senior day - part 2

Thank you guys so much for the support on the last story! It means so much to me :) Constructive criticism is always welcome :D You can find part 1 here. Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader  Word count: 2.2k+ Summary: You're finally about to propose when you get a surprise of your own. ------------

You’ve known you’ve wanted to propose to Paige for a long time. The ring in your pocket has been in your possession for a few months, waiting for the perfect moment to be used, but you’ve planned to marry your girl a lot longer than that. When you think about it, you don’t believe there was ever a time when you didn’t intend to marry her. You’ve imagined Paige dressed in a beautiful white suit, standing below an arch of flowers, slightly teary-eyed at seeing you walking down the aisle for almost your whole relationship.

When you first met the ball of energy you have the pleasure of calling yours, you knew right then and there that she was going to be an important figure in your life. Her bright blue eyes twinkling in the gym lights, the easy smile that’s always resting on her lips, her confident posture that makes it seem like she owns the world… 

You’d fallen in deep before she’d even said her name, and when she did, it’s like she tattooed it right onto your heart. After the introductions, you two got partnered up to run some drills, and you immediately knew you were a goner. Her teasing comments that made your heartbeat quicken, her mischievous grin that made you stumble over your words, the sweet compliments that turned you into a blushing mess…

When you went to bed that night, you dreamed of a white suit, beautiful flowers, and sparkling blue eyes.

But today is the day. You’ve been in the WBA for a year now, and Paige is about to graduate, so now seems like the best time to propose. You’ve always wanted to get married in the spring, near the beginning of summer, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter, as long as you get to be with the woman you love. 

You daydream about married life for a while and don’t notice Paige walking into the room until she’s waving her hand in front of you with a dopey grin on her face. “Hmm? Did you say something?” You ask, shaking your head, trying to keep your blush at bay. She chuckles, her eyes squinting from the big smile on her face. “Are you okay? You seem spacey,” she says as she flops down on the bed next to you.

You give her a soft smile as you look down to where she’s lying next to you. Her left arm is stretched out behind you, so you let yourself fall back next to her, cuddling into her side. “’m more than okay, just excited about the future,” you mumble. Hearing your reply, the blonde tightens her grip on you. “Me too,” she mutters against the crown of your head as she presses a kiss onto your hair.

“Are you ready to leave UConn?” You ask, craning your neck to look up at her. Paige puffs up her cheeks before releasing the air in a quick huff. “Yes? No? I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to leave this place. This place helped me become who I am, it allowed me to become friends with the best people I know. It gave me you… I’m gonna miss the vibes here and the people. I know I’ll stay in contact with KK and Azzi and the rest of the team, but it won’t be the same,” she says as tears well up in her eyes. 

She pauses for a moment to compose herself before continuing, “But I’m also excited, ya know? The WNBA will allow me to keep doing what I love. I’ll be able to play with some amazing people and learn so many new things! And I’ll be able to play against my old teammates, like you and Nika, and Aaliyah, and I know we’ll play our hearts out and still be friends afterward.”

You nod encouragingly, knowing how hard it was for you when you first left UConn but also being happy that you did. “It’s gonna be hard at first, maybe, but it’ll be okay. The bond you have with your team doesn’t just vanish the second someone leaves. Planning hangouts will be harder now, but it won’t be impossible. Besides, KK and Azzi are basically your platonic soulmates, so you don’t need to worry about losing them,” you say while tracing shapes on her skin. 

She smiles down at you, kissing you deeply yet softly, before sitting up again and stretching. You lean your cheek against your hand as you gaze at her. You know she doesn’t like being vulnerable, so you don’t mention the switch in topic as she starts pacing the room. “So, dinner tonight… You excited?” She says as she bounces on her feet. You raise an eyebrow at her as you grin, “Yeah, it’s been a while since we’ve been on a proper date! Are you sure your family doesn’t wanna come with, though? I don’t want to hog you when they’re leaving again so soon.”

“Don’tchu worry about that, ma,” she says as she kisses your forehead. “They want us to have some time to celebrate alone.” You don’t miss the smirk on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows, so you slap her thigh as she jumps away from you. “You’re an idiot, P,” you say as you turn away to hide your smile.

“So, we’ve got about an hour left before we gotta go, whatchu wanna do till then?” Paige says, her eyes hooded and a shade darker than they usually are. “Well,” you say as you slap your hands on your legs before getting up, “I am going over to Nika’s hotel room to get ready for our date.” You start moving around your girlfriend’s dorm, collecting your stuff, as the blonde pouts in the middle of the room. 

“Come onn, already?” She says, jutting her lower lip out some more. You grin as you walk up to her, slightly standing on your tippy-toes as you kiss her pout away. “I wanna look good for dinner, babe,” you say as you start walking away. She pulls you back into her chest, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. “You always look good, baby,” she replies, her warm breath against your skin making you shiver.

You push her away slightly with a soft smile, caressing her cheek as she leans her face into your hand. “Thank you, love… But I’m still leaving,” you smirk, patting her face softly before successfully walking past her. You jump a little when Paige smacks your butt with a smirk and a wink. You give her a fake glare before leaving, yelling your goodbyes as you leave the dorm.

You’re not quite sure what you would do without Nika Mühl. 

Your best friend made sure you looked perfect for tonight. A new outfit that makes you feel beautiful, the hairstyle that you know drives Paige insane, and flawless makeup. While helping you get ready, the Croatian encourages you nonstop, reassures your worries, and doesn’t let a single negative thought cross your mind.

When Nika drops you off at the restaurant (you wanted to meet Paige there and planned to drive back to her dorm with her afterward), she gives you a few final soothing words and a tight hug with a “Good luck, babe” before driving off. You check one last time to make sure you have the ring before making your way into the establishment. After speaking with the hostess, you get led to a secluded table in the back.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the love of your life already at the table. The blonde gets up when she sees you approach, and you can tell you’ve left her just as speechless. You clear your throat softly as you walk in front of her. “Hi, my love, you look gorgeous.” Paige blushes before grabbing your hand and giving it a sweet kiss. “You look… so beautiful,” she replies breathlessly as she scans you from head to toe.

You press a gentle kiss to her lips, making sure not to smudge your lipstick, before you both sit down. You stare at the girl in front of you lovingly as she orders your favorite bottle of wine before sending you a wink. The lighting makes Paige’s hair look even softer than usual, making you want to lean over the table and run your fingers through the blonde locks.

After you both order your food, the conversation flows easily. You talk about basketball, Paige’s future team, traveling to Europe, the shenanigans KK’s been up to, and more. You let the blonde feed you some of her food before doing the same to her. You don’t care that you’re being cliché and grossly sweet.

After the main course, Paige clears her throat, grabbing your hand, she looks into your eyes a little nervously. “Y/N, I need to say something, and I need you to not say anything until the end, okay?” You furrow your brows, but you don’t panic, having full faith in the universe and knowing that it has a plan for you, no matter what. After you nod, the blonde takes a breath to calm herself.

“I love you. I love you in a way I’ve never loved anyone, or even anything, before. Basketball is my whole life, but it doesn’t compare to the way you make me feel. From the moment we met, I knew you were the one for me. You’re my biggest supporter, always making me feel like everything will be okay in the end. You’ve always been there for me, giving me a shoulder to cry on when I was injured and cheering me on during my victories. I can’t imagine my life without you. I know we’re still young, but this just feels right.” Paige gets up as she softly says those last words before getting on one knee next to the table. 

“Y/N L/N. You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

You stare at her with your jaw dropped open from the moment her speech starts. Her sweet words make you tear up a bit, but you can’t stop the giggles from escaping your lips. You hold both hands in front of your mouth as you try to stop laughing, but the immense joy you feel doesn’t let you keep a straight face.

Paige looks up at you with a slight frown in confusion, but your infectious laughter quickly starts making her giggle as well. You can tell she’s still a bit nervous, however, seeing as you haven’t given her a proper reply. Her frown becomes a bit deeper as you lean away from her, shaking your head as you bend down to grab something. When you look back towards her, her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth as she anxiously awaits your answer. 

You grab your own ring box, flipping it open and holding it out to her with a wide grin. The blonde freezes for a moment as she takes in the jewel. Realizing you both had the same plan, she lets out a boisterous laugh that almost knocks her off balance. Her clumsiness makes you snort as you slap a hand in front of your mouth to stop your laughter, but it only makes it worse for you both. 

Tears are streaming down both of your faces, from laughter, but also the realization that this is really happening. Trying to calm down and not get kicked out of the restaurant, you grab Paige by her collar and drag her into a kiss. After a few moments, you back away and whisper against her lips, “Yes. I will marry you.”

Once you’ve both calmed down, you exchange rings, both biting your lips to stifle your giggles as you realize the rings match perfectly. You think back to Nika’s mischievous grin when you both went ring shopping, and how she helped you find the perfect one. You make another mental note to find a way to thank your best friend for everything she’s done for you.

You both share a dessert and finish your wine before paying the bill (Paige insisted on paying and treating her fiancée, you were too giddy to argue). Feeling drunk on the bottle of wine and pure love, you both decide to take an Uber back to Paige’s dorm (the dorm that Jana kindly vacated for the night) and pick up the car tomorrow. 

The whole ride home, you’re cuddled into Paige’s side as you twist the ring on her finger. Your cheeks hurt from the smile that doesn’t seem to want to leave your face, but it’s a nice ache. Before long, you reach campus, walking hand in hand with your girl to her room. Once you’re inside, Paige twirls you around, chuckling when her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. She pulls you against her as she sways to non-existent music. You lock your arms behind her neck, laying your head against her chest as you dance with her.

After a few minutes, she loosens her grip. “Come on, let’s go to bed, my beautiful wife,” she grins. You chuckle as she leads you to her bedroom. “We’re not married yet, babe,” you reply as you blush. Paige simply winks with a “Soon, though.”

When you fall asleep in her arms that night, you dream of a white suit, beautiful flowers, and sparkling blue eyes.

[onlyheluvsme]

Girl if you dont make ellie and reader kiss rn i will riot

Jesse is great but ellies is ellie like CMON

hahahah!!! i am evil and enjoy the pain i cause.... however i will be kind...somewhat. here you go anon!! hope you enjoy!!

˗ˏˋshe's got a boyfriend anyway ii´ˎ˗

in which ellie is in love with her best friend — mdni, lowercase intended, f!reader, angst, mentions of: comphet, b*yfriends, religion, homophobia*ೃ༄ pls leave reqs!!

parts: one | two

your leg bounced in excitement as you waited for ellie — it was the monday after your trip and you were waiting for her to get out of class so you can both go to her house, the daily ritual.

there was so much you wanted to tell her, how stupid jesse was the entire trip, you had to practically do everything. you wished the entire time that it was her you had gone with, not him.

the heavy door of the school's entrance swung open to the left of you and you watched a group of kids leave, one of the last being ellie,

"ellie!" you called out, waving her over.

her head whips over to find you sitting on one of the benches near school, something in your hands. she hadn't seen you all day during classes, since both of your monday schedules never crossed paths. meaning this would make it the first time she spoke to you since the friday you left, well in person at least.

ellie didn't make it an hour after dropping you off to text you, ensuring you got on the road safe, then again when you got to the hotel. she spent the entire weekend on find my friends, watching the circle of your contact move about.

it finally gave her peace to see you, safe and sound and within her range of view [and reach]. yet, she couldn't help but feel a wave of disquietude wash over her as she walked over to you. the image of you becoming more clear as she gets closer, so fucking beautiful.

"hey" you smile to her as she gets close enough,

"there you are," she smiles down at you and ruffles your hair as she sits next to you on the bench. you hit her shoulder with yours and fix yourself, feeling the need to look nice in front of her.

her eyes flick down to the small package in your hands, a gift you'd gotten on your trip,

"oh! i got you something!" you gleam as you turn your body towards hers and shove the gift into her hands.

with slightly reddening cheeks ellie turns on the bench towards you as well, knees touching. her fingers find the tape of the wrapping paper and tear at it,

"you didn't have to get me anything..." she says softly, eyes on the gift.

"you kidding? i needed to get you this! i couldn't stop telling jesse how much you would love it!..." your voice slightly fades as ellie gets a glance at what's hidden beneath the paper.

two ceramic figures in astronaut suits sit on the moon, hands held in an embrace, one of the figures with its head on the shoulder of the other — on one spacesuit read ellie's name and the other your's.

this make look like a sweet gesture between two friends, maybe to your friends and to your boyfriend, but for ellie? this was a physical model of every one of her dreams. her fingers brushed over the painted letters of your name, bottom lip catching between her teeth — she loved seeing it next to hers.

"...jesse wanted one too, but y'know this is our thing" your voice trails back in and ellie whips her head to you,

"you didn't get one with him?" she attempts to rear her excitement but needs your reassurance.

"nah, then he tried to get matching bracelets but i told him it was tacky" you rolled your eyes, oblivious to her gleaming look.

"so you got nothing with him? no gift to remember the trip?" ellie emphasizes the nothing, if theres no physical evidence between you and him to tie you to the trip, she hoped you might associate it with her in the future when you two eventually broke up.

"yeah, an affogato at dinner" you joke and she lets out a laugh,

"well, thank you, i hope i can take you myself one day" ellie says, putting the ceramic display back into its box safely and into her bag.

you stand, ready to go back to hers,

"yeah i wish i went with you" you say as if it was just a normal answer but ellie's stomach fills with butterflies and her chest constricts. you don't even know what you're doing to me? do you?

as the two of you walk to her car, you pause to let her walk next to you instead of behind you and when she gets close enough you grab her arm lightly. it takes everything in ellie to act normal when you do this, hands wrapped lightly around her tattooed arm as you walked together, as if she was yours to touch and hold — little did you know, she was.

ellie wishes she parked farther when the two of you finally reach her pick up and your hands leave her. she opens the door for you, as always, buckling you in as you fumbled around with your sunglasses. once she hears the click of the seatbelt, she pulls back unable to help herself from smelling your sweet perfume.

ellie closes your door and rounds the car as you fiddle with her radio. being in ellie's car was so peaceful for you, got to put your feet up on the dash which was nice since your boyfriend always lectured you not to in his car.

ellie even let you have control of the radio, something you didn't know she was anal about when you weren't in the car. it's just, the girl would let you have anything you wanted so how could she say no when you asked to play your silly music.

it was a warmer day and ellie had all the windows of the truck down as she drove the two of you to her house. your eyes were closed as you soaked in the warm breeze and relaxing feel of the road. it was impossible for her not to glance over at you constantly, you looked so serene and so so beautiful.

on one particularly longer glance, ellie heard the honk of a car and quickly looked back to find herself on the other side of the road, too close to the oncoming car.

with quick movements, she swerves just missing the car but is unable to gain full control of the car as it drives off the road and onto the grass field on your right.

"oh my god!" you call out, one hand hitting the window to stabilize your body as it bounces around as the car drives through the bumpy grass.

"you okay?" is the first thing she asks you, immidately flinging off her seatbelt once the car stops to bend over the console to check you for injuries.

you don't respond in your state of shock, still attempting to gather yourself but ellie is impatient and grabs your cheeks, turning your face towards hers,

your wide eyes find her fearful ones and she scans every inch of your face, not one scratch.

"i-i'm okay" you finally say with a shaky breath and a gulp, adrenaline still bumping through your veins.

ellie's hands still rest on your cheeks as you gain your composure. she doesn't think, shock and fear of almost ending both of your lives still coursing through her, and her lips come down onto yours.

she kisses you like it was her dying wish, like if she had to pull away in this moment, she wouldn't be able to breath. your wide eyes slowly close, shock from the almost accident and now this hitting you like a semi.

her hands come from your cheeks to the back of your head pulling you as close to her as possible. the kiss messy and wet, both of you chasing the feel of the other.

she knew it, knew you would taste so sweet and so perfect. how could she ever forget this taste? how could anything else ever compare? ellie had dreamt of this moment, prayed to any god that would listen to let this moment happen, and here she finally was.

it felt like a bliss she was sure could never be replicated, ellie had been given a glimpse at heaven, how was she supposed to let this go?

butterflies racked your ribcage as you attempted to keep up with her kisses. you had never thought about kissing her before, sure there were times you stared at her lips while she spoke — watching the beauty mark on her upper lip, but you never thought about her sexually...

right?

"wait" you pull back with a gasp, fuck how long had we been doing that?

ellie's wide eyes stare at you, lips plump and slightly glistening with your lip gloss.

"fuck! i-im sorry! i shouldn't have done that, fuck!" ellie starts to ramble,

"el" you attempt to speak,

"you probably feel so violated and hate me so-"

'ellie" you try again

"i am so fucking sorry! i really-"

"ellie!" you call out, evidently shutting her up and leaving her with wide eyes that simply stared at you with unease.

you waited a beat, attempting to gather yourself. so many thoughts went through your head, first being your parents, if they found out a girl kissed you and that you had kissed her back they would surely send you to some church camp and force you to never see ellie again.

you also thought of jesse, sure he was nice but it was true that you were dragging him along at this point. it had been years of the two of you dating and you had never done anything more than light kisses.

jesse was extremely nice but you simply weren't attracted to him, however, it wasn't easy for you to just let him go —he helped you keep up a image you parents fought so hard for you to keep.

finally, you thought of yourself, so many things in your life forced you into a picture perfect image: your parents, school, your boyfriend. you spent all your life feeding into said image, not once letting yourself be.

what ellie didn't know, was that she finally opened that can of worms with that kiss — a can that your environment had shoved in a dark dusty corner. your sexuality was something expected of you, as your parents expected you to marry a man. you never questioned it, that was until ellie.

until her lips pressed into yours and you had never felt more safe — ironic since she had almost killed the two of you seconds before. it was like a thousand butterflies were let out of a cage in your tummy when her lips molded into yours and you wanted to climb into her lap. you wanted to keep kissing her.

you had never felt this with any man in your life.

"i need you to take me home ellie..." you finally whisper out to her.

ellie's eyes close in anger and disappointment, shaking her head as she's unable to speak through the lump in her throat.

"you need to know-" she tries,

"please, not now" you say softly, arms coming to wrap around your knees as you stare out the window.

with a sad sigh, ellie puts the truck back into park and turns the car the opposite way, to your house.

the drive is silent, not even the radio playing as she drove you home, all happiness from before gone. a part of her wanted to regret that kiss but she simply couldn't. it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if the two of you were created for each other.

the truck slows in front of your home, and you don't move when she parks, eyes staring into the curtained windows watching your parents shadow move about.

after a quiet moment; you staring at them, her staring at you, you break the silence,

"see you tomorrow" you rush cowardly, jumping out of the car and slamming the door behind you.

"yeah, tomorrow" ellie says into the empty car, you having run up to the house in your haste. for the second time in a week, ellie drives home with tears in her eyes, only this time less hopeful of the future.

[next]

[ellie masterlist]

[bitegore]

I made a character sheet to plot your OC's development over time! (There's supposed to be a character name in the big white space next to "over time" but it got eaten a little lmao)

You can use this for whatever you want, and you don't have to credit me. Feel free to change or edit anything you feel like. Please don't tag me if you credit me - just link to the original post.

Credits, explanations & a transparent version under the cut :D

Credits:

The actual image was made with the free NBOS character sheet creator, which is a sort of dated but free and solid text-layout sheet maker intended for ttrpg style character sheet creation.

Fonts used were Bisdak (titles) and Rockwell (body). Both are free! You can use them to fill it out if you like.

Inspired by a comment @maybe-solar-powered-calculator made on this other post about filling it out for characters at multiple points along their arcs. Thanks for putting the idea in my head :D

This is explicitly released under a CC0 1.0 deed, ie: you can do fucking whatever you want with it and I don't care and you don't have to tell anyone where you got it from and no one gets to stop you.

-

Last time I made one of these I got a bunch of questions on all manner of things, and I can never keep up, so I'm just appending a set of notes for how to use it and a glossary because I know some of these phrasings will be confusing.

Ignore or change anything you don't feel like works for you here. You can do whatever you want forever.

Suggested / intended use & general notes:

This sheet could work for something story-level, if you want. But it's really only good for individual arcs; if the character goes through multiple arcs in your story, then they're going to fit poorly here. In that case, you're probably better off doing versions for each arc, or just adapting this to a different format more suited to your thing.

Also, if your arc has a nontraditional structure - divorced from the typical "rising action - climax - conclusion" type of structure where there's a clear 'important turning point' - it may not work as well either.

The mindset section is meant to come at it from a 'golden mean' standpoint - that is, everything on either extreme of the slider is 'too much' and therefore bad. It's not bad-to-good! The far right side is a flaw too. They're only grouped the way they are on basis of the specific OCs I personally had in mind when I put it together.

Growth is labeled 'worse'-to-'better' but it means, like, active decrease in that area vs active increase; if nothing changes, it should stay at the center even if it sucks. The category is about contrasting changes, and sometimes changes are for the worse!

The entire sheet is very deliberately subjective. It should really be answered from the character's perspective - how they feel about it, not what's necessarily true. Technically you can do whatever you want and I can't stop you, but it's a better tool if you approach it from the point of view that the character may believe things that aren't true - that will define their behavior way more than the objective facts of the story.

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Definitions:

This part is long as hell - recommend using ctrl+f to find the specific words you're stuck on. I defined everything.

General categories:

Mindset: how your character thinks about themself and how they act. Their understanding of their own approach to life. Attitude, viewpoint, decision-making process, that sort of thing.

Circumstances: the relationship between your character and the world around them. Where they are, what that place is like, and how they feel about it.

Growth: how the character and their impact - their attitude, their behavior, their immediate surroundings - changes over time.

Outset: the start of the character's arc.

Present: the 'center' of the arc. If you're planning something ahead of time and it hasn't 'happened' yet, then this is the near future.

End-game: where they are after the conclusion of the arc.

Mindset terms:

Center of the world: "If I have a problem, it's the only thing that matters to me." Self-centered, self-absorbed. Doesn't necessarily mean anything beyond that - they don't necessarily have to be unpleasant to be entirely focused on their own life.

my life isn't relevant: "Everyone else's problems are so significant, I don't pay any attention to my own". Someone who ignores or neglects their own life in service of some other thing, or doesn't consider their own behavior to have any real importance.

Only see enemies: Paranoid. Everyone's out to get them. Anyone who seems nonthreatening is hiding their potential for danger and everyone who seems threatening is a threat. The character must remain ever-vigilant, lest the cashier at the 7/11 suddenly stab them, or their best friend turn out to secretly be trying to poison them to death.

Only see friends: Naïve. Everyone is a good actor who wishes everyone else well, and if they don't seem like they're acting from a place of kindness or care then you probably don't understand what they're up to. The character is pretty sure the stranger holding that knife is, like, someone to chat up maybe, they're clearly only hanging out in this dark alleyway because it's a nice spot and no other possible reason.

overthink everything: Ten thousand thoughts per every single action taken. Maybe they never get around to acting at all. They have to consider every possible outcome. What if by eating lunch they accidentally trigger the apocalypse?! Who's going to think about these things if not them?!?!?!

impulsive to action: Act first, think never. What do you mean "consequences of actions"?

Unilateral decisions: "I will make every choice and no one else's opinions or thoughts are relevant". Discounts outside suggestions. Firmly convinced that they know best in any situation, and will brook no disagreement with their views when it comes to actually doing things.

Command me, please: "I don't know what to do and I don't know what to even start with, someone please tell me what to think". No confidence in their own views. Will not make any decisions unless forced and even then will beg someone else to please tell them what to do. Has no idea what's best and is pretty sure anyone else will have a better idea.

can't ask for help: No one will ever help the character; they have to do everything themself, even the things other people have repeatedly offered to do for them and have much more experience with. Doesn't necessarily mean that no one will help them or that they are explicitly barred by some real-world circumstance; just that, for whatever reason, they refuse to ask for help. This is an attitude thing - will they ever reach out? No? Then they're here.

too reliant on others: Have they ever solved a problem alone? Do they believe they're even capable of doing so? The character all the way at this end of the scale absolutely never expects to be able to do anything themself, has no trust in their ability to solve a problem, and needs someone else to come save them from it. The kind of person who needs ChatGPT to do their homework. Again - doesn't actually mean anyone will help them, or that the people they're relying on are reliable - just that they think they are helpless without ... well, help.

Weapon maker: This has to do with problem-solving strategies and not actual weapons. The weapon-maker is a character who views every situation as a conflict that cannot be de-escalated or solved by cooperation, and responds appropriately. The most fundamental weapon maker character turns everything into an argument, a fight, a war, etc. There are a bunch of other responses to conflict, though - they might avoid problems that need solving because they avoid conflict generally too. Fundamentally what you want to answer here is: when they see a locked box and they don't have the key, do they respond to it the same way they'd respond to someone telling them "you can't open this box"? And how do they respond to that? Typical weapon-maker approaches: - brute-force the box open or try and then give up if it doesn't work; and also get into an argument that might turn physical with the hypothetical person - shrug and give up immediately, in both situations so on and so forth. Another hallmark is that they kind of suck at problem-solving and give up if brute-forcing a problem doesn't work. This is not someone who is picking locks unless someone else told them to - they have one solution, it's to make everything into a conflict, and then to win that conflict by beating them or to give up because they think they'll lose.

Tool maker: This person approaches every situation like it's a puzzle, not a fight - up to and including actual fights. Tool-maker characters generally assume that a situation can be solved by just finding the right approach and doing it the clever way. There's the same fundamental question as above - if your character sees a locked box and has no key, would they approach it differently than someone telling them they're not allowed to open the box? 'Typical' tool-maker approaches: - I can trick the person into giving me the key by saying the right things, and I can also pick the lock because fundamentally there are 'right answers' to both of these - If i make friends with this person, they might change their mind, because now we're cooperating. I can still pick the lock because there are 'right answers' there. - The person has a reason for wanting me not to open the box, so I can definitely figure out what that is and solve the reason so then they'll let me open it. I can take whatever it is even if they really want to keep it if I just find the right answer. I'm going to break this box into little pieces because that's the easiest way to get into it but I could probably open it some other way if that wouldn't work.

A note - the center of this bar is someone who generally has different responses to different kinds of situations - like, in the box example, they'd approach the box and the person with two different general attitudes and processes - but generally responds to those situations using the same kind of decision-making process for each category every time. Most people are nowhere near either extreme. Characters tend to be classifiable into weapon-maker and tool-maker because they are fictional and it's easier to define one kind of approach than many. Approximately average approaches: - pick the lock if no one's around, but give up if someone is there because someone telling me not to open the box is a conflict i think i'll lose but a locked box is just a puzzle that i can solve - argue with the person, but give up on the box, because they're approaching the box as a puzzle and they don't think they have the skill to get into it, but the person is someone who can be convinced or bullied into handing over the key

I made this particular dichotomy up, which is why I think I get a lot of questions on it whenever I put it into anything, but I also don't know of any other snappy way to describe this sort of thought or approach variance, and it's genuinely useful for character writing in my opinion.

Pessimist spot-finder: Generally a downer but not necessarily. This kind of character just approaches everything with a close eye for problems, issues, reasons to find fault. If they're miserable, it might be why, but like, they can be a cheerful spot-finder if you want, I just wanted to get at "the glass is half empty" and "the glass is half full" more than anything.

Optimist upside fan: The opposite. "The glass is half full". If there are problems, they can find something about them that's not so frustrating or bad to focus on. Pretty damn good at overlooking minor issues if there's no reason to fixate on them. Not necessarily cheerful.

Abysmal company: could not give less of a damn about treating people the way they 'should' be treated. Maybe they take pride in that. Maybe they just think it's irrelevant. Either way, they know they treat people badly and they don't see any reason to stop. Does not necessarily mean that they treat people badly if they think they're doing the right thing and are wrong. Doesn't mean they're actually pleasant or unpleasant to hang out with, either, unless you really want it to mean that.

Decent to others: treats people well as a matter of course, or at least they sure think they do. Makes an effort. Would probably care and/or consider changing their behavior if someone said they were treating someone poorly. As before - they can be completely un-self-aware and just think they're doing right by people while treating them completely horribly.

Morality is irrelevant: 'abysmal company' for broader approaches to life and problems. Maybe they just know they're myopic and don't think other people's problems matter. Maybe they just gave up on trying to differentiate between 'good' and 'bad' and outsourced it to someone else or stopped paying any attention. Maybe they just like to take morally unjust actions and can't be bothered giving a damn when someone points out that they're morally unjust, or maybe they're proud of it. Kind of a villain trait generally, but not necessarily - it doesn't have to mean they act badly, just that they don't care if they do. Also, this is about how they choose their own actions and view their own behavior. They can think morality is relevant for other people as long as they ignore it when they act themself.

Always in the right: feels morally righteous in every decision they make. Standard superhero type of trait. Doesn't necessarily pass judgement on others, doesn't necessarily act well according to everyone's moral code (see: blue and orange morality), but they are extremely principled and will never deviate from the moral code they personally believe in. And they do genuinely believe in it.

Circumstances terms:

Generally terrible to generally excellent: how subjectively decent is your character's situation, overall? If they think everything is horrible, but the situation is charmed to everyone except them, then it's generally terrible.

Need for changes to passive tolerance: will they do something about it? Do they feel like they have to?

No agency in action to decisions are huge: agency being "how much power do I have to make changes here?", this just asks how much they have. No agency means that, no matter what they do, nothing will happen - they might be locked in a cage or somehow otherwise completely unable to use any sort of power at all, even the power of just leaving. The other end of the spectrum is where every decision the character makes makes a huge difference, not just to themself but to everyone around them as well. They can start wars, they can have anyone they want killed, they can do anything whenever they feel like it. If they think they have no agency even though they do actually have agency, they don't have agency here. If they feel like they have all the agency in the world and can do anything, then they do even if it's not true. It's perceptual again.

Stakes are deadly to mistakes solvable: what are the consequences of failure? Will you die, will you lose status you can't afford to lose, will you lose belongings, will you have to apologize, will nothing happen at all? Mistakes solvable is where they think every mistake is solvable forever - the character pushes someone through a woodchipper and they come out and to fix it, maybe an apology has to occur, but not much else. Does not necessarily mean no one gets hurt or killed as long as the character thinks there are no permanent consequences. This is the most important one on this section to keep subjective because it will greatly influence how your character approaches situations. A character who thinks everything is deadly-stakes may go to cartoonishly-extreme lengths to avoid turning a report in a day late. A character who thinks all mistakes are always solvable may push someone through a woodchipper and then just assume they can say they're sorry and it'll all go away. The setting and their approach do not need to be applicable.

Needs go unmet to attended with care: how do the people around them treat them? Do they pay attention when the character needs something, or do they ignore it? Does the character have to do everything themself around here, or are there people who will help out?

Regarded poorly to regarded well: how do they think other people see them? Are they respected, are they liked, or are they disliked? Do people broadly trust them or are they pretty sure everyone regards them with suspicion?

Nothing changes to changes in seconds: functionally the 'stability' meter of your setting - is the situation generally stable, or are things constantly changing? Does your character feel like every five minutes, there's a new problem that needs dealing with, or do they feel like nothing has ever happened ever?

Growth terms:

Changes in place: do they go somewhere else? Does the physical setting otherwise change (eg; earthquake, war, etc) ? Are there any other reasons that the 'vibe' or 'experience' of the place is different from before?

Change in power: does the character's percieved agency (see: no agency in action to decisions are huge) change? Alternately you can use it if they've gained or lost power in some percieved way (deposed, assigned a commanding position, etc).

Change in bonds: do their relationships with people change? Have they made new friends, lost old friends, changed the nature of their relationships with friends or partners, etc?

Change in beliefs: straightforwardly, have their beliefs, morals, etc, changed?

Change in hurts: have they undergone some horrible experience? Do they have past trauma from some pre-arc horrible experience they're healing from and/or discovering they're more powerfully subject to? Did they experience a physical injury that they're recovering from or which materially changed their life? Did something recent dredge up old issues? So on and so forth.

Change in hopes: Do their desires for the future look the way they used to? Do they care about different things now? This is something the character is not actively working for, but may be tied to actual goals.

Change in fears: are they overcoming fears? Growing past them? Gaining new ones? Are they scared of shit different from how they used to be?

Change in goals: Not the same as a hope because it needs to have a specific, achievable outcome the character is actively working toward. Do those material goals look different? Perhaps they no longer want to work against something, maybe they didn't have any goals and now they do. Or maybe they've realized the goal is impossible, or something has happened to make that goal unachieveable. Whatever it is, if there's a change, it's a change.

Change in self-awareness: their beliefs about who they are and what they're like, and what their circumstances are. Have they gotten more self-aware, have they gotten less self-aware, or has nothing changed?

Change in relationships: their relationships' overall health and resilience, as far as the character is concerned - which doesn't mean they're necessarily good, just that the character thinks they're how they're supposed to be. Have they improved? Have they gotten worse? Have they not changed?

Change in knowledge: do they feel like they know more about the world, their place in it, the people around them, etc? Not necessarily how to do things - just general information and awareness.

Change in social standing: how does others' regard for the character change over this part of their arc? Do people like them more or less? Are they respected more or less than before? Has nothing changed? And so on.

Change in skills and abilities: do they feel more skilled than they were before? Do they feel like they know how to do as many things as before? Again - not necessarily rooted in reality - a classic example of a character being wrong about this is a 'big fish in a small pond' character who used to be the high school sports star going to college on a sports scholarship and discovering they're not the best any more, and suddenly feeling like they're the worst - when they're better than they've ever been in an objective light. Use a subjective viewpoint for this.

Change in agency in life: how does the character's percieved agency change? Do their decisions matter less now than ever? Do their actions make way more happen than before? (See: no agency in action vs decisions are huge)

Change in outlook: Here's the upper/downer part. Are they more or less hopeful for the future? Do they think things are more terrible now? Are things improving as far as they're concerned? Or has that not changed?

Change in goal progress: how do they feel like they're progressing on the goals they've set for themself? Are they getting further and further away? Are they getting closer?

If some of this doesn't make sense and you want a clarification, you will have to tag me to get my attention, because I'm turning notifications for this post off the minute it leaves my immediate social circle.

Transparent version: (sorry you had to scroll so far)

[buddierecs]

friends to finaces

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

baby, say you'll always keep me by: hattalove "the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing." word count: 8.2k important tags: didn't know they were doing, getting together, mutual pining, first kiss but, baby, watching you blush by: calvingseason "buck and eddie go to hershey for buck's high school reunion. the only problem? everyone thinks that they're married." word count: 10k important tags: fake dating, mutual pining, misunderstandings, sharing a bed, gay!eddie diaz if you should i do i would too by: giselleslash "eddie starts telling people buck’s his husband to get out of annoying flirting situations on calls. buck starts to like it a little too much." word count: 5.8k important tags: love confessions, idiots in love, fake marriage, soft!buddie baby, you were my picket fence by: spaceprincessem "maddie wants to propose to chimney. she gets buck involved. buck can't tell anyone. he somehow proposes to eddie instead" word count: 6.1k important tags: accidental proposals, getting together, first kiss, fluff, idiots in love everything is wrong, but it's alright by: earthtolovers "buck & eddie get stuck. they have a lot of feelings about it." word count: 9.6k important tags: near death experiences, eddie diaz pov, angst with a happy ending and, daring, this is more than i've felt before by: grussell63 "kameron keeps calling eddie buck's husband and it may be time that eddie puts a ring on it." word count: 3k important tags: jealous!evan buckley, getting together, fluff cinnamon kisses by: tawaifeddiediaz "buck wakes up from a nap, cuddles eddie, proposes, and devours cinnamon rolls, in that very order." word count: 3.5k important tags: cuddles, getting together, soft!buddie feels like flying 'til the bone crush by: thelonggoodbye "eddie doesn't wake up intending to get crushed by debris during an earthquake. he also doesn't intend to propose to his best friend. but sometimes these things just happen." word count: 6.5k important tags: whump, idiots in love, getting together, injury when you know, you know by: asteriasera "after eight months of dating, natalia begins dropping hints for their future together and buck begins to question if this is what he really wants. one day later, a proposal is made in a kitchen over tiramisu." word count: 11k important tags: buck/natalia break up, pining!eddie diaz, idiots in love, season 6 the one i was meant to find by: winterbucky "friends to married speedrun with lots of feelings, sassy but supportive chris, dad buck, and a lot of sudden serious decisions" word count: 5.3k important tags: feelings realisation, love confessions, fluff, idiots in love, gaydisaster!eddie diaz, eddie diaz pov i'm going to marry him anyways by: weewooforever "4 times eddie’s elderly neighbor tells him he’s so lucky to have such a wonderful husband + the 1 time she tells buck. the only problem? they’re not actually married." word count: 10k important tags: idiots in love, getting together, flirting, love confessions

[jaestrz]

𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐚𝐢𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 김민규 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐊𝐢𝐦

A/n: this is not proofread, it’s been a while since I last posted so my writing skills are rusty ㅠㅠ. Enjoy!!!

• Husband!mingyu x wife!reader

Mingyu know for one fact, he would do whatever he could to guide you and his daughter to the path of joy.

He wanted to give you the whole world if he could.

So when he happen to talk to an old friend of his during high school at an event. Most of the questions caught him off guard- yet, put him in a confused position.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve last seen you Mingyu! I never knew I could see you at an event like this in the future!” Hyunwoo chimed, extending a hand for Mingyu to take. To which he did.

“I didn’t know I could see you at a place like this as well. Heard you were settling in France, how’s life there?” Mingyu asked.

Hyunwoo smiled from ear to ear when Mingyu mentioned about his current home. “It’s been wonderful. In fact, I flew to Korea with my girlfriend. She should be here somewhere. I was hoping you two would get to know each other. ” Hyunwoo said, lightly placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Mingyu didn’t really know much about Hyunwoo. Perhaps it’s been years since he last talk to his friends, he didn’t bother to dig much information about Hyunwoo.

Back then Hyunwoo was amongst the richest kid in school. Everyone seemed to know his father as the CEO of a famous company. Other than that, how he and Hyunwoo had become acquaintance seems to be blurry in his mind.

A few minutes have passed with catching up, Mingyu came across a blonde haired girl in red who interrupted the conversation between him and Hyunwoo.

“Oh Jung eun! This is Mingyu, Mingyu this is my girlfriend Jung eun. Babe, can you believe it? The last time we met was back in high school!” Hyunwoo laughed, snaking his arms around his girlfriend’s waist when she got closer.

“Nice to meet you Mingyu, I heard a lot about you just now from my friends. You must’ve been an amazing person to everyone.” Jung eun complimented, Mingyu on the other hand could only force a smile.

It was different from what Mingyu had expected. He remember Hyunwoo dating a girl named Areum but it didn’t last long before they broke up on their 2 months anniversary.

And he couldn’t keep track of who Hyunwoo dated because really… there was just too much.

There was a moment of pause, as if he was running out of ideas to continue the conversation.

Until Jung eun asked.

“So… how about you?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?

He didn’t intend to laugh but he didn’t expect her to ask such things.

Hyunwoo eyes lingered towards the metal ring wrapped around Mingyu’s ring finger. It was a simple white gold band. How come he didn’t know Mingyu was married.

Hyunwoo looked surprised. And he spoke faster before Mingyu could answer.

“You didn’t tell me you got married recently. I thought you would at least have a girlfriend by now? You should’ve invited me, I would’ve love to see who’s the lucky girl.”

Mingyu smiled, shaking his head in denial. “Actually I got married before graduation.” He confessed, making Hyunwoo more confuse.

Hyunwoo thought Mingyu was joking. There was no possible way.

“But you were in a such tough position… How- it’s impossible. You know you can just tell me you got married recently, it’s not something to be ashamed about. Since- you did grew up with nothing.” He nervously laughed, trying to cover the shock impression. But when Mingyu didn’t seem to be kidding, he grew more furious. “You were going through a financial crisis even when you were in school. You were the quiet kid back then.”

“I didn’t know there were girls who were interested in you. Until now?”

To Mingyu, of course there was.

He wouldn’t think he would reach this far if it weren’t for someone’s support.

*

Mingyu didn’t have a lot back then like he has now.

A week before graduation, the both of you got married at a church near your hometown. Wearing a $20 cheap silver band as the rings. Although he had warned you many times that you shouldn’t be expecting too much from him, you were unbothered by his warnings.

You two were just two fresh young adults, living in a rented single room while Mingyu balanced his work and study life. He would work 4 different jobs while attending university. Same goes to you except he didn’t allow you to work like him.

It was the time where you and Mingyu would prepare budgeted meals together. Talking about what you two would want in the future.

A house.

Maybe kids.

Even a vehicle was something you two couldn’t afford to own.

“I have something for you love.” Mingyu said while you two were on your way back home. Both of you shared an umbrella (he was lucky enough to bring one when he went to fetch you) so there was such limited space for you both to not get wet.

A slight confusion planted on your face when he took out a snack from his backpack

It wasn’t much but it was something that could lit you up after a long day.

Pepero.

But back then it was considered expensive so you and Mingyu tried to avoid buying it and bought a cheaper version. Nonetheless, you wouldn’t know the real taste of pepero anyways.

“Gyu but I thought-” your words were cut when he pecked you on the lips, his hand intertwined with yours.

“It’s yours. Take it okay?” He smiled.

“But will you share it with me?” You cautiously ask.

A chuckle left his lips.

“If you want to, then yes love.”

*

“Sorry, am I interrupting?”

The three heads turned their heads towards you, the corner of Mingyu’s lips formed upwards. Taking your free hand and bring it up to plant a kiss on your ring before taking Minji from your hold.

Mingyu shakes his head no. “You’re not, I was just talking to an old acquaintance. From our high school actually, if you remember.”

Judging by Hyunwoo’s expression, he feel like his head could burst from the amount of questions he’s been holding to ask.

You?

The girl who he had been taken an interest since your sophomore year.

Turns out to be a mother and Mingyu’s wife.

But you had gotten more prettier. More mature looking and not just some girl who would open her locker to find dozens of gifts and letters from boys like him.

He was too lost to even speak his mind.

“Hello y/n it’s been a long time since we saw each other.” He extended a hand but you politely bowed as an exchange. “Do you remember me? Hyunwoo?”

And it took you a while to answer because you kept looking at Mingyu.

And he didn’t expect the answer either.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I do…” you replied and the pure disappointment just flushed over his eyes. Silence filled in the gaps. “I know it’s terrible of me but I believe it’s been 8 years ago? Were you someone important?”

“Not at all! Like your husband said, we were just acquaintance,” he said with a forced smile.

And before it started to get awkward, Jung eun quickly changed the topic.

“Well! It was nice to see you two. If you were ever to plan on traveling to France, we should see each other there.”

Hyunwoo coughed. “We also have to go now. Or else we might be late for our flight.” He kept his tone cool, before politely excusing himself and Jung eun.

You give it a few minutes when the couple left before turning over to a furious Mingyu with an eyebrow raised. Minji in his grip was playing with the two rings on his finger. You were holding in your laughters, it was possibly hard to breathe anymore.

“Cut the acting sweetheart, you’re terrible lying in front of me.” Mingyu stiffled a laugh when you let out the biggest exhale.

“There was no such thing as acting.”

“mama lie.” Minji murmured before rubbing her face in Mingyu’s neck.

“Even our daughter said so.” He grinned and you playfully rolled your eyes. “But why didn’t you admit it? Hyunwoo was hoping you would remember him.”

Mingyu was a nice person. You remembered back then when Hyunwoo looked down on Mingyu for being financially broke. He didn’t treat Mingyu like today.

You despise him more than anything.

“Because he used to be mean. Even if it’s not to me, he was mean to someone I love.”

You watched his eyes softens, his expressions turn into somewhat concern. It was something he didn’t want you to remember nor reminisce. It was something that he wanted to keep it away forever.

“Hey, I thought we agreed to move on sunshine?”

“We did.” You replied, watching his free hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But then I saw you talking to him today and I remember all the mean things he said about you. How you were just some kid working a part time job to earn a living and you wouldn’t survive the outside world.”

And everything is true, Mingyu can’t find a single false in your words.

He wasn’t someone popular to begin with. Neither he has any knowledge on business. He was never trained to do those things.

Seeing Hyunwoo today took a big toll on you.

“But I just need you here beside me y/n. If you didn’t then maybe I’m nothing according to him.” Mingyu alleged. “We still have to be nice about it hm? I’m sure my princesses are such sweet girls.”

He got closer, planting a kiss on your cheekbone. Minji on the other hand was trying to adapt what was going on.

“Daddy, mama sad?” Minji asks, looking at you.

Mingyu put on a soft smile, planting a kiss on her temple.

“Mama is just a little tired. But she’s okay.” Mingyu assured.

“Uh oh, mama have to sleep!”

“Not a bad idea, maybe we should all go home and cuddle together in bed. How does that sound?” Mingyu suggested and Minji’s eyes lit up from the idea. “Should we ask mama if she’s okay with leaving early?”

The toddler turns to you, gripping onto your arm to get your attention. The satisfaction in her eyes when you said yes was heartwarming.

Mingyu’s gazed burnt your skin, as your eyes met with his, it was like he was asking if you were okay.

“Don’t worry anymore okay?”

Your lips formed into a thin line. Nodding.

“I love you.”

“I love you much more than you could possibly imagine sunshine.”

[buckysgirl27]

Off To War

Part Nine

40s Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are married in the 40's. Hydra captures Bucky and commands him to eliminate them. Can he do it? What will happen to future Bucky with this new information.

Trigger Warnings: angst, Bucky's HYDRA abuse, reader WANTS Bucky bad

A/N: Thank you for all the love❤️ It's kinda long. Oops. I guess it makes up for not updating in like forever.

Masterlist

Your room came stocked with a variety of new clothes. Apparently women wore pants now. It was odd. You liked it though. You didn't have to worry about revealing anything.

It also helped with your morning “training”. The lady named Natasha helped you out with that. She was your “sparring” partner. You didn’t understand what half the things were that she was talking about but you were starting to get the hang of it. Sort of. She said it would be easier when you weren't pregnant.

You wondered if James would want to be near you again by that time. If the baby would save your relationship. At the same time though you didn't want the baby to be the only thing keeping you together. You both deserved better than that. You didn't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage and you knew he wouldn't either.

"You should talk to him." Natasha said. She was leaning up against the frame of your bedroom door.

You jumped slightly. You hadn't heard her enter.

"He doesn't want to talk to me," you said softly, "you saw how he walked away from me."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"You know him better than all of us and you think he really deep down doesn't want to talk to you?"

You nodded sadly.

"He's changed. A lot. He looked right through me and then said he 'can't do this'. Whatever the hell that means." You were practically on the verge of tears. Steve came barreling back into your life again to give you false hope again that your child wouldn't be fatherless again.

Natasha walked over to where you were at in front of the closet.

"He's in his room."

You nodded. You had to figure this out at some point. The sooner the better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky heard a knock at the door. He swore under his breath. If that was Sam coming to tell him to stop being an idiot again he was going to have to punch him.

He placed his drink down on the kitchen counter and moved towards the door and yelled,

"Sam if that's you, you better be gone by the time I get to the door."

He was close enough to hear breath hitch behind the door. Good. He should be afraid. Bucky twisted the doorknob and semi violently swung the door open. However, it wasn't Sam who greeted him.

"Um, hello. Not Sam." You said quietly. Then you perked up. "What'd he do to deserve your wrath?"

Bucky let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"He existed." He told you stiffly.

You laughed at that. It was the mostly beautiful sound he had heard in a long time. Maybe he could do this again. He shook his head. No. He'd just hurt you again.

"Funny as ever." You teased.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Harsher than he intended. Which earned him an equally harsh response.

"I came to see if you were alright and perhaps talk about the situation if that's perfectly alright with you. Since I'm carrying you child and all."

Bucky looked you up and down. Really studied you this time. He noticed how tired you looked.

"The baby. It's really mine?" He asked you slowly.

You nodded.

"Is that what you were worried about?"

You looked at him softly. It was foreign to him but for some reason it made him trust you. He looked around the hallway and noting no-one was there then stepped aside and motioned you in.

You shuffled passed him and he shut the door. He turned to face you. Finally.

"In part." He looked at the ground. He felt ashamed that he thought you would cheat on him now that you were here. But how could you not? He didn't deserve you. You were gorgeous and he was a killer.

You moved to place your hand on his cheek and he flinched. Steve said he was different. You didn't think there would be a world in which he didn't want your touch. You placed your hand on your belly. not quite sure what to do with it now.

"James. I know almost everything. Steve covered a lot. You didn't deserve it," You slowly reached out with your opposite hand to his flesh hand and slowly took it in yours and placed it on your stomach. "but baby, you do deserve this."

Bucky was trying and failing to fight the tears that were rolling down his face. He wanted to fight you on taking his hand but you placed it on your stomach and it felt so right. So familiar. He smiled. For the first time in decades.

"Wanna know something cool?"

You were thrown off guard. He didn't try to argue it. He just smiled and changed the subject. THAT was different.

"Um, yeah sure."

"After you got here I read some pregnancy books."

You raised an eyebrow. He continued.

"You wanna find out if it's a boy or a girl?"

Your mouth dropped open. They couldn't do that. Could they? I mean they could travel in time maybe they could.

"James don't be ridiculous you can't tell what the baby is until it comes you know that."

Bucky shook his head.

"Nope sugar, we can go right now. The doc downstairs can tell us."

You looked at him confused.

"The doc?"

"Yeah. We - Tony - brought one in when he found out that you were - are, pregnant. We'll always have one around."

Bucky smiled triumphantly. He finally did something right. You huffed out a laugh.

"Alright soldier. Let's see this 'doc'. But if you're wrong and we can't find out what the baby is, then you owe me foot massages every day until the baby gets here! Before that though, you need to shower. I will not go downstairs until you do."

Bucky cocked his head.

"Why?"

You looked at him confused.

"Why what, James?"

"Why do I need to shower?"

You looked at him confused. Steve was right. His sense of hygiene was practically gone. What did they do to him?

"Well, you smell like you haven't showered in weeks and it looks like I could pull the grease from your hair and fry some eggs with it."

He looked away from you ashamed. He failed you. Again.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

You reached for his face, slowly as not to scare him away.

"It's alright. It'll just be something we work on."

With a slight hesitation you pulled his head down to meet yours. You pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. You heard his breath hitch and hope you made the right decision and didn't push him too far.

His lips twitched up for the briefest second before they fell again.

"They wouldn't let me." He told you. "Shower. They sprayed me down with a high pressure hose and said it was enough. Got the blood off anyway."

Steve said it was bad. You didn't know it was this bad. You didn't know how damaged he really was and he wasn't sure if you would be able to handle it. Or if he would. He pulled away from you, ignoring your horrified expression.

"I'm going to go take that shower."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was gone for 45 minutes before you decided to see what was taking so long. A shower that long couldn't be normal for a guy right?

You entered the small bathroom and were welcomed with a billow of steam, and then you saw him. Just standing there under the water. Staring at the wall. Doing nothing.

You walked up to the glass door and knocked quietly. He didn't move. Just kept the blank stare.

You weren't quite sure what to do. You could undress and get in and help him. But what if he wasn't in the headspace and attacked you? But what if he just needed you to help him? If he truly forgot and just needed help, like a child. So you knocked again, a little louder.

He flinched, and turned to you. You waved, and it felt a little silly. He nodded. He was ok. He said anyway. You were going to help him you decided. He went back to staring at the wall and you slowly undressed. First your shirt then your pants. You started taking off your bra and that's when he looked over at you again. Curiously this time.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

You huffed out a breath.

"Well you've just been standing there staring at the wall for nearly an hour. You need help."

His look of curiosity turned to confusion.

"Help?"

You rolled your eyes. Your James would've made a smart remark about shower sex. This one...it was the last thing on his mind.

"Yes James, help."

"I don't need help I"m fine." He said as he picked up the hair conditioner and read the instructions on the bottle meticulously.

"If you need to read the bottle, then you need help." You stated bluntly.

James rolled his eyes. However he pushed open the shower door and let you in with him.

"Happy now?" He asked you.

"Yes actually, very. Now hand me the bottle that says body wash and that thing that looks like a sponge."

Steve had bought him 4 different body washes. All different scents. Just so he could figure out which one he liked. He chose the first one to make this easier on you.

You grabbed the loofah and you soaped it up.

"Alright, this might tickle a little bit." You told him.

He nodded solemnly and you scrubbed him. Hard. Probably too hard but the man needed it.

"Fuck!"

"James. Language. Little one present."

"Sorry." He said apologetically. Too apologetically.

You stopped scrubbing and looked up from that well built thigh. It was so much bigger than before. You were so wet and it wasn't just because you were in the shower. You tried to ignore one thing about him that you missed dearly. His cock. It wasn't easy to ignore. But you did. For him.

"James, love, you are aware no one owns you correct? Just because we are married it doesn't mean I own you."

He nodded.

"I-I know. 'm not used to it."

You stared at him for a moment longer. Contemplating on trying to drag more out of him but decided against it.

"Ok. As long as you know."

You finished up his leg and tossed the loofah to the side.

"Please pass me the shampoo. It'll get the grease out of your hair."

He complied. You lathered up the shampoo in your hands and then motioned for him to bring his head down.

"Come here, I can't reach you all the way up there." You laughed softly.

He bent down a little and groaned when you worked the shampoo into his hair. You rinsed it out with just as much love and did it one more time. Just in case. He passed you the conditioner and you repeated the process.

You booped him on the nose and he looked well and truly shocked. You laughed.

"And that is how you take a shower." You told him.

"Can I take one every day?"

You gave a soft laugh.

"Yes love, you can take one everyday."

He looked like he wanted to add something. He also looked like he didn't know if he should say it or not. You wanted him to be comfortable with anything around you so you pushed.

"Something on your mind?"

He looked at you nervously.

"Will you shower with me all the time?"

You giggled. "Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got to the doctor's office the word futuristic was an understatement. It was definitely not what you were expecting nor was it what you were used to. You knew a little poster on the wall and an examination table. But this, this was something else entirely.

There was an exam table in the middle of the room. On the far left corner there was a table with the doctor's computer and a swivel chair. You liked the swivel chairs. You asked for one for your room. You got one. You liked Tony. In the far right corner there was all the medical instruments and the cabinets. You didn't even want to think about what might be in those cabinets. Needles. Yuck. By the exam table right next to you there was the chair for the patient's plus one. In your case, James. Whose knee was bouncing up and down uncontrollably as you waited for the doctor to arrive.

"Will you stop that?" You all but snapped at him.

James flinched slightly at your raised tone but stopped immediately.

"Sorry." He muttered.

You sighed. You felt bad. You shouldn't have snapped like that. You were about to apologize for it but before you could get the words out the doctor entered the room.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Cho." She nodded towards you and Bucky as she walked to her desk in the corner.

"You're a woman?" You blurted. You slapped your hand quickly over your mouth. That was an inside thought. She laughed.

"You haven't been here long have you?"

You shook your head. You really hadn't.

"We wanted to see if it's a boy or a girl." James interrupted what could have been an interesting history lesson for you. You shot him a small glare and he just shrugged.

"Yes yes. First a couple questions. Clearly, you are pregnant so we don't need to draw blood to check. Did you have a pregnancy plan with your doctor before you came here?"

You looked at her confused.

"Pregnancy plan?"

"Yes. We make a plan for when you deliver the baby and any postpartum care you may need."

"Um, postpartum?" You asked timidly looking at James first before looking back to the doctor. He was just as lost as you were though.

"Yes dear. It means an amount of time after the baby is born."

"Oh, ok. Um, well, I think I'd like to deliver in my room, that's how we did it in the 40's and I never got to. I don't really know after that." James reached over to you and took your hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"I'll help ya doll. You're not alone."

Doctor Cho tried really hard not to roll her eyes at the cheesiness of it all while she typed your wishes into the notes section. She nodded.

"Alright. That's fine. If you change your mind just let me know so I can update the staff who will be helping."

You and James nodded.

"Alright. Let's get a look at the baby." Doctor Cho smiled.

She got up from her place at the desk and want to grab some jelly to rub onto your stomach so the wand for the ultrasound machine could roll over you. That's what she told you.

"It may be a little cold."

You hissed at the cold jelly being smeared across you.

"Alright let's have a look." Doctor Cho said as she rubbed the wand across your stomach. She paused, smirked, and then rubbed a little more.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Is there something wrong?" James demanded.

"Oh no. Everything is absolutely fine." She paused. "You're having twins!"

"TWINS?!" You and James exclaimed.

Right before he passed out. Doctor Cho laughed.

"It's always the fathers. Don't worry, he'll be fine."

You hopped off the examination table and kneeled down next to James' face and smacked his cheeks lightly a couple times.

"Hey honey, come on. Wake up. Come back."

He slowly opened his eyes.

"Twins?"

You laughed as he lifted himself up onto his elbows.

"Yeah honey. Twins."

@goth1c-pinki3-pi3

@svtbpbts

@homiesexual-or-homosexual

@baw1066

@theflowerswillbloom

@lil-riddle-kiddle

@lapii

[1920sladydectective]

Two Steps Forward, One Forest Back 2.8K

This is for @kkatsukiswife who had an awesome idea and let me write it! I hope it fulfils your expectations, it's a little longer than I'd intended.

Head of Medarda Oil Corp, Ambessa is exhausted by the silly environmental scientist who keeps ruining her expansion. There's only one way to fix that.

Cross posted to AO3

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Degradation, Tipsy Sex, Exhibitionism and Dumbification kinda, Choking, Bathroom Sex, mentions of bondage

This is NOT proofread cause fuck that:

It had only been three months and yet every moment spent working for the Medarda corporation seemed to shave years off of your life. 

You had gone in so rosy eyed, certain you would be changing the future for the better, making a huge environmental impact, finally able to regulate and report the bastards rotting the world. Your boss, manipulative asshole that she was, had basically promised as much. Instead you sat in opulent boardrooms, battling the wolves as they attempted to turn the world to ash and profit margins. 

CEO Ambessa Medarda was the worst to deal with, her children at least seemed to possess half a conscience. She, however, stared across the mahogany table and tried to devour your soul. It started as small things, not reading your reports before shareholder meetings, or perhaps misquoting some of your numbers. Easily corrected, if you could stand the dark gaze she’d send your way. 

“Of course,” She’d simper, “Thank you for that, my Dear,” 

Soon it became more outrageous, your body flooding with cortisol at every new email you received. Their drilling sight was in a forest, though if you were to point that out she would remind you it was well within the guidelines of oil drilling near wildlife and flora. Well within was a handful of metres, as close as they could have gotten, and every time your numbers remind you of that you have to do a meditative breathing exercise. This wasn’t enough for Ambessa though, there was more just within the treeline and her recent campaign had made it clear she wanted it regardless of the consequences. 

Meeting Four - 24th August 2024 - Recorded Minutes 

AM - Surely a matter of inches will make no impact, gentlemen, and look at the margin of profit. Nobody else has been able to secure a site like this, it would be sellable at an astounding premium. 

ES - Nobody has secured that sort of site for a reason, Mrs Medarda. The havoc it would cause to the local ecosystem is immense, and it is illegal for that reason. 

AM - Not illegal per new legislation, just heavily regulated. 

ES - Do you have any proposals to help you meet those regulations? I seem to be looking at stocks and traders and very little else. 

AM - All in due time

ES - Due time is now Mrs Medarda

You could still feel the air being sucked from the room. It was as bold as you had gotten so far, and her crimson smirk seemed to ward you off of doing it again. The day after the meeting, none of your alarms had gone off, your expensive eco-friendly coffee machine broke and your company key-card stopped working. It had to be a coincidence, but you had been looking over your shoulder ever since. 

Ambessa lingered like a shark who could smell blood. Her beautiful, towering form monitoring your every move. Sometimes, in the quiet early morning it would be only you and her in the building. Her scent seemed to linger, heady and sharp, her sparkling eyes and sarcastic smiles hyper focused on you. It was heavy, such attention, especially when a deep, villainous part of your soul would remind you that she was just your type. Imposing, commanding, insanely muscular. Had you seen her on the streets your mouth would have watered. She couldn’t know that though. Never, ever. She was flirtatious enough when she thought you had no interest, she’d rip your moral compass to shreds if she got a taste of your inner turmoil. She wanted to eat you and you would not let her. 

Her voice, melodic and low, was suddenly in your ear. For Fuck Sake.

“Another eighty nine page legal document in my inbox, darling,” She was so close, so close you twitched, “You really are ensuring the best for our company,” 

“Wouldn’t want you to rush into any development decisions without knowing all the facts,” You said, raising an eyebrow with a shrug, “Bad for business,”

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She said alluringly, sharp teeth glinting behind her lips, making you gulp slightly. 

She walked away with no other words, her hips swaying impossibly slowly as she took long purposeful strides. You almost groaned, downing cold, bitter coffee beans. This job was going to kill you. 

Days passed in a blur, each one filled with heavy looks and cutting remarks. Each day she moved three steps forward and you pushed her four back. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, you thought she’d throttle you against the wall for all to see. 

One day she did. 

You were gasping, body trembling, as she held you against the boardroom table by your throat, fingers trailing your inner thighs. Her gruff voice was taunting you, teasing your aching core as she squeezed your neck just enough for your vision to blur. She had had enough of your interference, showing you how weak you truly were. 

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She mocked, licking your hard clit. 

There was nothing you could do but submit, babbling and grunting as she finally gave you the touch you craved. Her name fell from your lips in a perverse prayer, wanton and airy. 

You were so close, she could tell, eyes glossy as you thrust into her touch. Your orgasm ripped through you, making you scream. 

Neon numbers glimmered. 3:14AM. 

You’d just had a sex dream about your corrupt oil baron boss, real enough to dampen your sheets. Your body ached and against better judgement you reached into your nightstand, vibrator wiping your mind of all thoughts until you cummed yourself back to sleep. 

As the morning beckoned, so did your crippling, sticky guilt. You couldn’t keep going on like this, you had to get it out of your system and not by having graphic dreams about Ambessa Fucking Medarda. There was only one thing for it, you would have to get drunk at the artsy lesbian bar downtown and fuck a random stranger. Obviously. 

You felt good. Your hair had styled just right, your make up hadn’t made you screech irritatedly at your cat and for once heels didn’t feel awful. This was going well. You were going to get some. Or something. 

The bar was packed, full of swaying hips and swishing hair as you creeped your way to the bar. Cocktails were on offer, dangerous and delicious as you sat swinging your legs on a barstool. Music had you swaying in time, downing drink after drink as you fluttered your eyelashes at every pretty girl who glanced your way. You’d never been too good at the chase, but you were desperate enough to try. 

Dancing was freeing, body moving of its own accord as you twirled in circles and gripped strangers arms, moving fast and close together. Everything felt naturally fuzzy, light and right, exactly as you’d needed. She hadn’t even crossed your mi-

Ambessa stood tall, leaving lazily against the bar as a drunken brunette tried to chat her up. She was sweet enough, giggly and open, relishing in any attention she gave her. She wasn’t quite right though, Ambessa sighed, her parameters were incredibly specific tonight. Almost impossibly so and yet. There you were, tipsy yourself clearly, dancing in the arms of a short blonde woman. Ambessa’s lips curled into a devious grin, waiting patiently for you to catch her eye. 

No. Just no. 

Your gaze was stuck to hers, a magnet pulling you in as your mind swirled. She looked perfect, the confines of the business world had melted away to reveal raw sex appeal. Her muscles seemed larger, clearer as her shirt and trousers clung to her. Her thighs were too delicious, her gold make up adding a shimmer to her dark eyes. You faintly felt the blonde woman’s hands on your hips as you moved, mind full of cotton. Ambessa raised her glass, tilting it towards you mockingly, her grin eating at you. 

Want. Need. All consumin- No. Enough. Goodbye Ambessa. 

Your burning form turned away from her, extracting yourself from the dance and looping the long way back to the other side of the bar, hidden from Ambessa’s position. Downing a tequila shot, you grunted. Your plan was fucked and you needed to leave here as soon as possible, but she was right by the exit. Panicked, you slipped into the bathroom, fingers gripping the art deco sink for life as you huffed. You looked as good as you had when you left home and yet you felt a state, lips puffy and hair seemingly unkempt. 

Click

“Hello there, darling,” Ambessa’s honeyed voice echoed in the tiny bathroom as she locked the main door, “Fancy seeing you here,” 

Your mouth dried, her beauty almost stifling this close, “Mrs Medarda,”

“We’re in a gay bar Dear, you can call me Ambessa,” She snorted, stepping to rest just to your right. She was circling you in her head, your body the sweetest prey she could hope to hunt. 

“Ambessa,” You repeated, unsure, “What do you want?” 

She laughed almost pityingly, it was seductive, frustrating, just like the rest of her as she murmured your name. 

“Me?” Heat burns in your gut, making you cramp with need, the alcohol in your blood no match for the warmth of lust. 

“Of course,” Her hand cupped your chin, forcing you to hold her gaze, “I’ve always wanted you, you must know you drive me to distraction,”

It seemed unlikely, her distracted by anything, but it was such an arousing, tempting thought. Your mouth lulled open in a small gasp, her fingers tickling against your neck. You were done for, mind melting down between your legs the longer she looked at you. It felt like she could sense it, her other hand bending you slightly as your hands scrambled to lie against the ornate mirror so that you could steady yourself, stomach now against the sink. 

“What?” You stammered, as she sank to the floor, strong elbows nudging your legs apart. 

“You’re not naive, pretty girl,” She breathed, her words dancing across your bare thighs, “You’ve got too many brains in your soft head for that,” 

It was odd to be complimented by her, especially for your intelligence. It made you feel proud and happy. Her praise was immediately addictive, spilling forth from blood red lips as she kissed and nipped at your skin. Each word a nail in the coffin of your demise, each kiss a moment longer being drowned by her. You were stuck, and as you caught your own hazy, tipsy expression in the mirror you giggled. Oops. 

Ambessa rewarded your giggle with a lick against your clothed cunt, her tongue flat and slow. Everything went silent for a moment as you bucked against her grip, whining. 

“Good girl,” She hummed, “Soaked for me,” 

“God,” you slurred, she had you desperate and aching. 

“We can make that my name if you like,” She muttered mockingly, pushing aside your lacy underwear and lapping at your drenched hole. Her touch was considerate, fast and calculated as you huffed and sighed. Her strong hands gripped your hips, rocking you against the basin as she fucked you mercilessly with her tongue. She could feel the dwindling hesitance in you, the desire to submit held back by weak moral strings. It was okay, she thought, she’d snap those as you came into her mouth. 

Her goal was simple, make you an empty headed doll for her to ruin, mark and stuff you until you finally understood how to respect her. Then she might actually get somewhere. You were in your own world of pleasure, following her movements as you trembled and burned. It felt so good, better than any dream could have been. 

Your orgasm was close, taunting you and making your vision dance with pretty white stars. Some weak, nearly dead part of you wanted to resist it, to uphold some control. She didn’t own you. Not yet at least. The resistance was too late however, as thick, calloused fingers teased and stretched your cunt out of nowhere, just as she sucked your hard clit into her wet, perfect mouth. Your mind and morals shattered like pretty iridescent glass. 

“Fuck,” You cried against the mirror, eyes rolling into your head, “Shit fuck,” 

“That’s my slut,” Ambessa said, savouring the sloppy liquid dripping down your thighs. 

The nickname surprised and confused you, heavy head looking down at her. 

“What else could you be?” She said commandingly, sucking her fingers dry as your eyes glazed, “You’re so good for me, taking what I give you, like a whore would,” 

You nodded, legs trembling. You did want to take it. Take it all. Whatever she said. It almost made you feel drunker, though the tequila had long since floated through you now. 

“If I had known it would be this easy to make you pliant and soft,” She muttered huskily, words touching your ear as she stood, “I’d have bent you over my desk weeks ago, Little girl,” 

That enough made a small orgasm flutter out, your chest heaving as stared into her eyes in the reflection. Her hand slapped against your wet pussy, making you smile as you blew a little kiss her way. 

Ambessa snorted, smoothing over your slightly sweaty hairline. You were so pretty, even better now you were hers. 

“Watch yourself,” She muttered hypnotically, “In the mirror,” 

You hummed, glancing at yourself. She was pretty to stare at but you didn’t want to make her unhappy. Suddenly, it felt as though you were being lifted above the ground slightly, her strong arm holding you as she stuffed three fingers into you. 

The stretch burned, making you snarl slightly as she made you whole. That was how it felt. Complete and perfect, as the look of your clouded, slutty face made you hornier. You loved how she made you look, how she made you feel, obscene slapping sounds filling the bathroom. 

A light shove against the door, your moan choking in your throat as exhilaration at being quite suffocated you. 

“Oh,” A distant drunken sigh, “This bathroom’s closed for repairs, let’s try the other,” 

Ambessa bit your neck, sucking at your sweet spot, as she felt you clench and gush at the sound of voices, “You like that, Good girl? The thought of them knowing a horny mess is being fucked into oblivious in a random bar?”

You nodded, neck aching with the force as you continued to stare at yourself. Any time your gaze drifted to her she would stop dead, eyes dark. After the second time it nearly killed you and you forced yourself to meet your drooling expression. Ambessa seemed intent on sending you over the edge, thinking she had all of you but your longing voice proved her wrong. 

“My throat,” You moaned, “Need you to c-crush it, like my,” a desperate whine, “like my dreams,” 

Ambessa felt herself black out slightly at your request, your whimpering and begging making her own cunt twitch wantonly. She dropped your feet back onto the navy tile, hand wrapping around your neck with measured pressure. The change was immediate, your body no longer tense and twitching, but limp like the doll she’d dreamed off. You took her relentless thrusts, effortlessly, as she made your blood rush and pulse in her ears. Air wasn’t necessary unless she gave it to you, tongue lolling out of your mouth. You came as suddenly as last time, losing your vision as you squirted down her arm, lungs greedily inhaling air as she crushed your throat and released it. 

You don’t really remember how you’d moved from the bathroom, mind empty as strong arms tidied you up as much as possible and led you through the warm crowds. A long, sleek car sat waiting for her and you were gently placed in it. You’d never been in a limousine before, not that you had any brain capacity to appreciate it. 

“Precious girl,” She cooed, stroking your cheek as she pushed you onto the carpeted floor of the car, “I think it’s your turn, don’t you?” 

She’d slipped her trousers off and her cunt was bare for you to get lost in. You almost squealed in excitement, nuzzling and licking happily all to serve her. It took hours, moving from car, to against her front door and finally in her silky, warm bed. Toys, a violent pounding from behind and some soft ropes had you pleading to serve her, to be used and owned. 

You had been right, there was no coming back from the sweet bliss of her control, consequences be damned. 

Ambessa liked you against her, devoted and spent as she spun commands for you, all sinking into your malleable mind as she fed you sips of water and scratched your scalp. 

Pretty little girl. You were hers now, and so was that fucking forest.

[quitealotofsodapop]

So how does courtnapping work??

"Courtnapping"; a mix of "courting" + "kidnap", is basically the demonic version of a proposal.

When demons were still scattered clans/prides across the mortal realm, it was very difficult for clans to interact without a lot of violence involved. Either because of competition for food, or because someone mistoke a glamoured demon for a mortal animal and starting biting.

What's a prospective lover to do if their beloved's family won't let them near without a fight? Easy; steal their lover away so that they can court them (among other things) in private.

As society grew; "courtnapping" became part of the demonic consciousness as a legitimate dating strategy. It was a loud way of announcing your intentions to the intended's family that you wanted them as a mate, whilst also showing off some muscle/magic.

However, demons are not animals. And if the kidnapped party rejects their captor's affections, it is considered polite to let them go. Only *uncouth* demons dare to lock their beloved away without contact with their family. And only truly vile ones (like Kui Mulang or Sai Tai Sui) keep them as forced spouses.

It's downright expected that a demon whisks away their future spouse - after all, who doesn't want to be swept off their feet?

Among wealthier Underworld clans who've adopted celestial/mortal practices, courtnapping isn't as common. Imperial China-style arranged marriages were the norm for the longest time up until a certain Bull Prince fell in love with an Iron Fan warrior, changing the desire among noble demons towards love matches. Courtnapping is considered a legitimate way of declaring "I object!" to an arranged marriage by giving the bride/groom a second option and a moment to rethink the arrangement.

Some wedding parties even hold a mock courtnappings between the new couple so that they can run off from the festivities and enjoy their honeymoon. Think how Spartan weddings involved the groom "kidnapping" the bride from their own ceremony.

Also because of some hilarious idea sharing with @soniclozdplove, we agree; People were kidnapped by demons so frequently in the Imperial era, not because of demon's eating them - but because of *marriage fraud*.

Think of it like this:

China is under strict Confucian and filial piety ideals. If your parent wants you to marry a specific person, you have pretty much no say in the matter.

Unless.

You just so happen to be kidnapped by a demon who wants to keep you as their legally binding spouse.

Human: "Oh no~ I'm captured by an hunky demon who wants to marry me! Guess I'm going to have to stay here and miss out on my arranged marriage." ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Demon: "And we can no-fault divorce at any time!" Human's Family: "We'll just take them back!" Lawyer: "Actually you can't. It's a legally binding marriage. Unless the captive expresses their rejection or wants to leave; it's legitimate." Human's Family: "Crap. Well, we'll just hire a mercenary or warrior to reverse-kidnap them back!" (*Later...*) Mercenary: "Avast foul demon! I have been sent to reclaim your stolen bride/groom!" Demon, turns to "captive": "Yay or nay, hun?" Human, looks at mercenary: "Ew. Nay. He's older than my dad." Demon, turning on dramatics: "LEAVE THIS PLACE YOU SOLIDER OF FORTUNE! ONLY ONES WITH PURE HEARTS SHALL TAKE THEM BACK!"

Heres a PortSherry comic I feel is very appropriate.

In more serious scenarios, a courtnapping can be faked to safety remove a person in an abusive home. Abusers can't control you if you're behind a giant lumbering demon with a prenup.

DBK got into this in the Tang-era when he and Princess Jade Face were "married". He was just helping her claim her inheritance, since her dad's will would only pay out if she was married (the Underworld Earth-Fox Clan are the "mimicking human/celestial"-trends types). PIF knew of this arrangement, but was still jealous af and nearly blew the whole of Thunder Mountain in her rage (it was how they learned she was pregnant with Red Son).

Zhu Bajie is an odd duck in this case; since he married Gao Cuilan the normal human way, but his instincts told him to steal her away when her family suddenly became hostile towards him. Cuilan didn't really object because she truly loved him, but was upset that contact between her and her family was cut. Even after the couple are legally divorced; Bajie still considers Cuilan his wife - because in a demonic sense, she's still his willing mate. Lots of stories written about the Pilgrims post-Journey have Bajie go back to her so that they can (in human sense) remarry.

Courtnapping still occurs in the modern day; just with a lot of pre-arranged consent involved. Racing, mock-battles, and the spat with between the lovers' parents - demons do love the thrill of the chase after all. But unplanned kidnappings of desired spouses do still happen.

In Red Son and MK's case; they've accidentally been courting each other for a long time. Mostly because they're dorks who don't realise what their rivalry looks like from the outside - especially during the Season 1 era.

Red Son, showing off his plans: "Here is my current brilliant idea for reclaiming our power! Step 1; We engage Noodle Boy and his friends in battle. Step 2: While you two are occupying Dragon Girl and his fathers, I capture Noodle Boy. Step 3: I keep him hidden in my old base in Fire Wind Cave. Step 4: I have full access to the Staff and all of Noodle Boy's magical abilities! It's foolproof!" DBK & PIF: (*share knowing smiles*) PIF: "Dear, I'm glad that you've finally developed an interest in romantic matters - but our current goals do not align with planning a marriage just yet." Red Son, confused: "Huh?" DBK: "And while it would be advantageous if you married Sun Wukong's heir, I feel that tensions between our families are too high to consider even a superficial union." PIF: "It's really sweet that you considered it though." Red Son: (*turns back to planning board, realises that his plan to capture MK resembles a traditional courtnapping*) Red Son, nearly magenta from embarrassment as he tears up the plan: "Err... never mind then."

In season 3 when Red Son saved Mei, Sandy, and MK from the dessert; DBK & PIF weren't mad that they had enemies at the dinner table - but because at a glance it looked like Red Son had stolen himself a spouse without warning them! And he brought some of his spouses family members to hammer out the details!

If the gang hadn't immediately brought up the Samadhi Fire; DBK's next sentence would have been asking them; "What are your intentions with my child? Do we need to provide a dowry? Is there plans for grandchildren?"

Red Son might have died on the spot. XD

[jammatown919]

I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else but like, Yaz and Sammy aren't exes. I don't think either of them would see it that way.

They separated because of circumstances getting in the way of them having a productive conversation, but that doesn't mean they don't ever intend to circle back to it once the circumstances are resolved. I can't honestly believe they have no intentions of ever talking things out. They couldn't at the moment, but I feel like the scene fading to black before we can see them discuss this move at all is telling.

Like, do we really think Sammy told Yaz "I don't want you in my life anymore" or anything of that nature? She would literally never. But not knowing exactly what they said adds to the tension. Makes things feel uncertain. Makes the audience feel more in response to this than we would if they just outright said "yeah we'll talk later".

But even Gia acknowledges an uncertain path rather than a closed door with her "not knowing what, if anything, the future holds for you". Yaz is actively looking for signs that Sammy might be ready to talk. Sammy is actively waiting for Yaz to approach her.

They're taking a break. And it still upsets them; it still hurts to not be able to talk to each other right now. It's still scary to not know exactly what they're going to do about all this.

But I don't think either of them are anywhere near the stage of thinking about each other as an ex when it's only been a couple of days and they're both still clearly hoping for an opportunity to communicate.

And you can't honestly tell me, even if Sammy and Kenji had made it back to the States, that Yaz wouldn't have every intention of finding her and working it out when things are dealt with and they've had some time and space. Or that if it took too long Sammy wouldn't eventually break and say something.

They're still each other's person. That hasn't changed, and it's not going to.

[kinardsevan]

come and find me (in the valley)

felt the need to write something future-ficcy and slightly AU. so have this.

cw: explicit, mentions of high-risk pregnancy and complications (all are safe!)

In six years, Evan Buckley hadn’t laid eyes on Tommy Kinard. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure when the last time he really had seen the other man. He just knew that after Bobby’s death had settled, and everything changed at the 118 and Eddie had moved back home… he needed to get out of Los Angeles and go elsewhere. 

And so he had. With his things already packed up and shoved into storage, he took what he could fit into the back of his truck and left town. Originally, his plan had just been to go for a few months—after all he had plenty of PTO to use up—but when three months had passed and he didn’t feel any better about the death of the man he had considered his father, he didn’t return. As it was, it wasn’t like his phone was ringing off the hook with his friends awaiting his return. 

He’d barely heard from Eddie. Maddie had checked in initially, letting him know how the baby she and Chimney had named for Bobby was growing well, but eventually her calls dropped off. Hen would check in occasionally, but he could tell she was trying not to hover too much, and trying to let him grieve as he needed. He’d appreciated that. 

Athena texted occasionally as well, but she didn’t push it, at least during his vacation. In actuality, she was truthfully the only one who did reach out when he didn’t come home at the end of his time off. 

“You gotta come back home, Buckaroo,” she’d told him insistently. Themothering in her tone had almost been enough to break his resolve and get him back in his vehicle to drive back the near-thousand miles back home. 

And yet, from all that distance, and only a short amount of time, he’d told her no. He’d stated that he wasn’t ready, and that he needed more time. And though he’d told exactly no one, it wasn’t that he needed the space…just the time. But trying to spell that out in words verbally was harder than he ever expected it to be. 

He tried texting it, so many times. 

To Athena. To Maddie. 

To Tommy. 

But instead, night after night, those words got typed, and then deleted, started, and then abandoned. Nights, became days, became weeks, became months….became years. 

Years of seeing his family through a computer screen as he blamed his lack of visiting on the traveling firefighting position he’d taken on, based out of Seattle. It became hidng a part of his life that he hadn’t intended to, but didn’t know how to expose. It became seeing the rarely sent text message from the love of his life, trying to check in, or mention a ‘thought of you today’, or ‘hope you’re doing okay’ and desperately wanting to answer, but knowing that those words would only bring questions that he didn’t have proper answers for. 

It was years of silence and loneliness. And so, so much noise. 

. . .

Evan drops several bags onto the floor next to a row of chairs. He rubs a hand over his face and yawns, glancing out the window. 

He wasn’t supposed to get stuck here, but a freak snowstorm has grounded him, at least for the night, and with every hotel currently full in the surrounding area, the airport gate has become his current landing spot. 

He pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls through notifications, checking to see if he has any new messages. When none appear, he unlocks it and taps out a quick message to Athena before returning it to his pocket. He’s exhausted, but he needs to get in touch with Maddie before he falls asleep, to ensure she’ll be okay. 

She’s supposed to be fine—that’s what he keeps telling himself, at least. Her surgery is routine—she’s just having her gallbladder removed. And to that end, it’s not even a major surgery. Granted, it’s been causing her issues for the last little while—hence the decision to have the surgery—but she’s not in any major danger. The surgery had been scheduled weeks ago, and she’d informed him with plenty of time to get a spate of days cleared so he could at least be there for two or three days while she was in the hospital. And truth be told, it will be nice to spend some time with his family. It’s been ages since he’s seen Jee-Yun, not to mention all of little Bobby’s growth. Then again…well. His life has been filled with other priorities. 

He scrubs a hand over his eyes again and pulls his phone back out, looking at the screen anxiously. He’s not entirely sure what’s driving his anxiety more; not hearing from Athena, or the fact that since his loved ones have known that he’s coming into town, that he hasn’t stopped hearing from Eddie, Hen, and Chimney. He knows they’ll want him to stay, and that they’ll have questions, but he also doesn’t really want to answer them. He’s not prepared for-

“Evan?” 

A wave of heat runs down the center of his spine at the sound of his name in that tone, that voice. He looks up from his phone wearily and off to his left, to a tilted head and a weary smile that makes his chest warm. It’s been six years since he’s laid eyes on Tommy Kinard, and yet it feels like it was just yesterday. 

“H-hey,” he stammers, his voice a little rough with exhaustion. His heart stutters in his chest, pitter-pattering like the last time he thought about telling the pilot that he’s in love with him wasn’t years ago…like the last time he looked in those blue eyes wasn’t in the face of the worst pain he’s ever endured. 

Tommy crosses the space between them, and Evan sets his phone down, stifling a yawn when Tommy settles into the chair beside him. 

“Grounded?” He asks. 

Evan nods. “I’m supposed to be flying into LAX tonight, but it doesn’t look like that’s happening.” 

“Certainly seems that way,” Tommy agrees. Evan looks back over at him after a moment. He’s a little bit grayer and a little more chiseled in the time that’s passed, but he’s still the same man. Tommy gives him the hint of a smile again, and the crinkles are just slightly crinklier…but it’s still Tommy. Evan’s heart swells. 

“What’re you doing flying commercial?” he asks. “Thought you only did rotary wing?” 

Tommy shrugs. “My usual rental took some damage by another pilot a few weeks back and is still out of commission. Plus, I was on my way back from a job interview.” 

Evan raises his eyebrows, curious. “Really? How’d that go?” 

Tommy shrugs. “Good, I think. They’ll probably make an offer, if the way the chief was talking money and plans for the department was anything to go on.” 

“So you’re leaving Harbor,” Evan asks. 

“Left Harbor a while ago,” Tommy answers, shifting back in his chair. The way his gaze shifts over Evan makes him just a little wary—like Tommy could see right through him if he really tried—and he gulps anxiously, tries to ignore the way it feels like the hair on the back of his neck is starting to rise. “Did some private lessons full-time for a while, and then some travel firefighting during wildfire season for a few years.” 

Evan nods. He opens his mouth, half-ready to ask what made Tommy leave, when his phone starts to ring. He whips his head to the other side, looking down at the table where his phone is resting. Athena’s name adorns the screen. He picks it up quickly and answers the call, lifting it to his ear and pushing up out of the chair. He crosses the ten feet between the chairs and the windows looking at the sheets of snow coming down outside. 

“Hey,” he states, trying to sound calm. “How is everything?” 

“The rascals?” Athena asks. She lets out a chuckle. “They’re down for the count. Had enough ice cream to put down a horse today. Are you stuck in the blizzard?” 

Evan glances back over his shoulder towards Tommy. The pilot is staring down at his own phone, scrolling through messages from the looks of it. 

“Yeah. I uh, T-Tommy’s here.” 

“Really?” Evan can’t help rolling his eyes at how curious Athena sounds, let alone how genuinely enthused her voice is. Like she thinks it’s a good thing. 

“You do realize it’s been six years, right,” he asks her. 

“Exactly,” Athena counters. “And in those six years, you haven’t dated a single soul. So tell me why talking to your-..” 

“Don’t,” Evan cuts her off, keeping his voice soft. “Don’t go there. Not right now.” 

“C’mon, Buckaroo. You know if your father was here, he’d have told you to have dealt with this long ago. And if I’m being honest with you, the only thing that’s kept me quiet is the fact that I don’t know where the man lives anymore. So.” 

Evan gulps. He never likes it when Athena brings Bobby into the mix. It hardly ever feels fair. Still, any argument he has in him dies when he hears a cry in the background. His stomach drops, replaced by the surge of the need to be there, be a calming presence. 

“Carter-..” 

“I’ve got it,” Athena states. “We’ll be alright. Let me know when you land and maybe we can facetime. Goodnight, Buckaroo.” 

Athena ends the call before Evan can say anything else, and he lets out a sigh, turning to look back in Tommy’s direction. Whether the pilot senses him staring or not, he can’t really tell, but eventually Tommy looks up in his direction, and it stirs something in Evan’s gut as he quickly looks away. He forces down a deep breath and then walks back over to the chairs and sits down. 

“Everything okay?” Tommy asks. The way he speaks with genuine concern makes Evan’s heart clench. There’s still so much he wants to say, but he doesn’t even know where to start. 

He forces a nod instead, holding his phone in both of his hands. 

“Y-yeah. Just Athena checking in,” he repsonds after a few seconds. 

Tommy nods. “I heard I just missed her,” he comments. “That she was headed into Seattle as I was heading out.” 

His stomach drops. “Your-… I mean, you interviewed in Seattle?” 

Tommy nods, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah. Why?” 

Evan shakes his head. “Oh. N-no. Nothing. I’ve heard good things.” 

Tommy stares at him skeptically for a time, but he doesn’t push or ask further questions, and Evan is silently grateful for it. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and then his phone buzzes in his hand again and he flips it over and sees that Maddie has finally texted him back. 

Doing okay. Talked to Athena. 

You should say something!

Evan huffs and taps out a response before locking his phone again and turning it so that the screen is facing away from Tommy. 

“You sure you’re okay,” Tommy asks him. Once again, he genuinely sounds concerned, and once again, Evan feels like a dick. 

“Yeah, I’m-..” 

His phone buzzes in his hand again, but this time it’s a facetime call from Athena. If it’s possible, his stomach drops more, and he forces down a deep breath before pushing up from his chair and answering the call. When the screen loads properly, Athena is there, but he can hear hiccuping in the background. 

“I’m so sorry, Buckaroo,” she tells him. 

Evan shakes his head. “Put her on.” 

There’s some shifting around, and then a child comes into view, and his heart twists. There are tear tracks on her face, and she’s still sniffling. 

“Hi, monkey. Did you have a bad dream?” 

Carter nods. “Daddy, you come back home?” 

He gulps again. Even with his back to Tommy, he can feel the way the pilot’s eyes are burning holes in his back with unanswered questions that haven’t even been asked yet. 

“In a few days, baby,” he answers. “Remember, Auntie Maddie is sick right now. But you have Nanna Thena there. Maybe she can read you the bedtime story you like so much.” 

“I want you,” she sniffles. “O-or Papa.” 

Evan inhales a deep breath. He’s really not prepared for this conversation right now. 

“‘Thena?” 

The older woman comes back into view on the phone after a few seconds. “Yeah, Buckaroo?” 

“Can you get her the bear from my bed? The one from build-a-bear,” he asks. “It’s the one with Papa’s voice.” 

“On it,” she responds. She passes the phone back to Carter. 

“Now you’ve gotta take the bear and go to bed, okay,” Evan tells her gently. “Remember Nanna was going to make you waffles in the morning. So you have to sleep so she can make them for you.” 

“Okay, daddy,” Carter answers softly. Her sniffles have calmed, and when Athena returns, she takes the bear gratefully and squeezes it. Through the speaker, a tinny but unmistakable voice emits. “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.” 

“Love you, daddy,” Carter states. She blows a kiss to the phone, and all things aside, it warms something inside of Evan as he smiles back at his daughter. She looks at the bear. “Love Papa, too.” 

“Love you, monkey,” Evan tells her. She passes the phone back off to Athena, and they exchange goodbyes once more before he ends the call. Purposely, he takes several moments, staring out the window once more because he knows when he turns around, things will have changed. 

“A kid?” Tommy asks when Evan finally turns to face him. There’s a hurt expression on his face, and—for the same reason Evan has struggled to even begin to figure out how to have this conversation since he left Los Angeles—his heart sinks. “There’s…” He pauses, and the way his expression shifts, he breathes shallowly, and Evan can see Tommy’s processing all over his face. “Papa, Evan?” 

He tries to find the words to start, to explain, but he can’t. After opening and closing his mouth multiple times, he nods. 

“So that’s why you didn’t come back,” Tommy states, his gaze on the floor. “You met someone and-..” 

“No,” Evan states, cutting him off. Tommy looks up at him, confused. At least for a few seconds, before his mind seems to skate through the last few minutes. “There wasn’t anyone else.” 

If the past two minutes haven’t hurt enough, the gutted expression that crosses Tommy’s face makes it that much worse as it dawns on the pilot just what he’s being told. But Evan knows he has the ball rolling, and he can’t stop now. 

“S-she has a twin,” he stammers. 

He sees Tommy’s throat bob, swallowing at the information. Sees the way the pilot’s eyelids get red, and how his eyes shine with unshed tears, and the realization that, not only has Evan been keeping this secret from him for years, but those years are years that he’s missed in his own children’s lives. 

“Why,” he states gruffly when he finds his words. “I would’ve- you should’ve called- I-…” He trips over his words, like he can’t get the questions out fast enough, can’t figure out what to ask first. 

Evan shakes his head as he looks down at the floor, blinking away tears. He’s angry, and ashamed, and scared, and he doesn’t even know how to express all of that. 

“A-after Bobby, I wasn’t okay,” he comments. 

“I knew that,” Tommy counters. “I was there. I-…clearly-… Damn it, Evan.” 

Tommy sniffles, and Evan’s throat clenches tighter. 

“I didn’t know how to get up from it,” he rasps, hardly more than a whisper. “S-so I left, and I travelled, and I tried to get back in the right headspace. A-and then before I was set to come back, I got sick, and I didn’t get better. So I went in, a-and I found out about them,” he stammers. “Mono-mono twins. High-risk. E…” He forces a breath and shakes his head, unable to meet Tommy’s gaze. “Elliot wasn’t even supposed to make it. A-and after Bobby, I didn’t… you said you couldn’t be my last, and I wasn’t about to beg you to stick around just because-..” 

“My kids, Evan,” Tommy growls at him. “I-…Fine. You didn’t call before the birth. But every day after-..”

“I know!” Evan growls back at him, trying to keep his voice soft enough that they don’t draw attention in their direction. “I know, okay? I knew that, then. But every day that I didn’t say something was another day that felt like it had been too long, and I didn’t know how to ask for help or try and change things and…” He shakes his head again, blinking away more tears as he finally looks Tommy in the eyes. Tears are clinging to his waterline, singularly hanging just below his eyelids. 

“But you told Athena,” Tommy gathers. “And I have to assume Maddie knows. Which means Chim and-..” 

“Yes, Maddie and Athena know,” he answers. “A-and Chimney by extension. But not anyone else.” 

Tommy looks up at him disbelievingly. “Eddie-..” 

“I’ve hardly spoken to Eddie since I left,” Evan tells him. “We didn’t exactly end things on the best terms; especially after the whole bit of me making everything about myself.” 

Tommy huffs, but he doesn’t push the situation. He’d been privy to the things Eddie had said during one of their grief-fueled hook-ups. 

They’re both quiet for a few minutes, and Evan looks back toward the snow falling. Tommy sinks back into his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face as he digests the information that’s been shared with him. He’s full of rage, but he’s also aware of how little that matters in the face of the current situation. 

After a few minutes, he looks back up at Evan. 

“Okay.” 

Evan turns toward him. “Okay?” 

Tommy nods. “Yeah. Okay. I forgive you.” 

Evan raises his eyebrows at Tommy. “I- W-what?” 

“I-..It’s been six years, Evan. So that’s five years and change of life I’ve missed out on. So tell me things.” 

Evan stares at him for a few moments longer before walking back over to the chairs and sinking down into the seat next to Tommy. He gulps, turning his phone back over and unlocking it, opening his photos. He scrolls all the way back in the album and finds the sonogram images. 

“L-like I said, they were mono-mono,” he states. “There was some TTTS, but they kept a close eye on everything. They were uh, the came at 33 weeks, so they were a little early. Elliot was-..” 

“Elliot,” Tommy comments. “And? What are their names?” 

Evan finally smiles again, scrolling over to an image from their newborn photoshoot. He zooms in to the clearly smaller twin in the image. 

“This is Elliot Wade,” Evan explains. 

“After Bobby,” Tommy surmises, reaching out for Evan’s phone. The younger man nods and lets him take it. He can’t help but watch as Tommy gazes at the image, emotions flooding across his face in a range as he stares. After a few minutes, he finally moves the image to Carter and looks up at Evan. “Carter?” 

Evan nods. “Carter Grant Madeline,” he states. Tommy looks back at the picture and continues to stare at it for a time before he starts to scroll. The next few images are more from their newborn shoot, and he zooms in and out, taking in their features. 

“Carter and Elliot Buckley,” Tommy murmurs. “Flows well.” 

“No,” Evan comments back. Tommy glances up at him. 

“No?” 

Evan shakes his head. “No. They-…they have-…Papa’s last name.” 

Tommy gulps, surprise crossing his face before his eyes burn red again, and he looks back down at the photo. 

“So- so they know-..” 

“They’ve always known,” Evan states. He scrolls through a few more images on the phone to a live photo of Carter holding the bear she’d been holding in the facetime call. Tommy glances over at him briefly, and then back down at the photo, holding his thumb down. It starts to play, and in the background, Evan’s voice can be heard, telling Carter to squeeze the bear’s hand. The audio plays, and Carter gives a gummy grin. 

“Is that Papa’s voice,” Evan’s voice comes through the video. Carter giggles and pushes the button again. 

Tommy lifts his thumb, and then rests it again, replaying the short video again, and then a third time. On the fourth round, a tear falls down onto his hand, and he shakes his head, lifting his free hand to his face and curling a fist around his mouth. 

“I know it’s not a justification,” Evan says softly. “I know I should’ve called, or texted, or…just pulled my head out of my ass and gotten over myself and my stupid fear that you wouldn’t give a damn-..” 

Tommy’s head snaps back up toward him. His stare is hardened as he looks at Evan, and for thirty seconds, that’s all they do: stare at one another. And then the pilot’s hand is on the back of Evan’s neck, pulling him in to a heated kiss as he sprinkles in a response in between shifts of their mouths. 

“I have never…stopped…being in love… with you,” he states against Evan’s lips. The younger man whimpers into his mouth, fisting Tommy’s collar as he kisses the other man back just as fervently. When they finally part, Evan can’t stop staring at Tommy, emotional and yet unwanting to separate from him. 

“You-..” 

“I’ve been in love with you since before I broke up with you,” Tommy confesses. His shoulders drop as the words come out, as though the confession itself has lifted a weight from him he never fully realized he was carrying. 

“I wish you’d said it then,” Evan murmurs, still staring at Tommy as the pilot’s eyes flit between his mouth and Evan’s gaze. Tommy nods after a moment, a breath. 

“Yeah, you and me both,” he answers quietly. 

. . . 

“When’s your flight back to Seattle?” Tommy asks, tightening his arms around Evan’s waist as he presses a kiss into the younger man’s bare shoulder. 

“Tomorrow,” Evan murmurs, his eyes still closed as he tries to burrow further into the curve Tommy’s body has made around his. “D’you hear back from the fire department yet?” 

“Waiting on some paperwork,” Tommy states, trailing kisses to the inside of Evan’s neck. He rocks his hips lightly against Evan’s, and the younger man sighs. 

“What happened to ‘I can’t go more than one round in a night,’ Tommy,” Evan murmurs, his words half-slurring. 

“Haven’t touched you in years,” Tommy murmurs, his lips still attached to Evan’s neck. “Haven’t been inside you-..” 

Evan moans, meeting Tommy’s grinds, feeling the pressure of his hardening erection between his thighs. Tommy’s hand reaches around the front of Evan’s leg, lifting it as he grinds deeper, the head of his cock pushing closer to inside. Evan moans again. He finally opens his eyes and turns his head. Tommy shifts up, meeting Evan’s gaze when the younger man turns toward him. He leans down and kisses him as he tilts his hips upward, drinking in every single cry while Evan’s fingers dig into his scalp and Tommy fills him. It’s been years, and it’s been five seconds, and it’s like becoming one all over again. 

“I love you,” Evan whispers like a prayer against his lips before Tommy’s are on his once more, searching. Devouring. Loving.