#like man what am I supposed to do they’re everywhere and it would be so hard to move out 😭

[poppyseed799]

Brother why are there so many roaches we have had TWO full exterminations and BOTH TIMES the roaches came back. The first time there were less of them for a week (still some) but the second time there was absolutely zero difference in the number of roaches even immediately after the extermination. Like man. What am I supposed to do about this

[lucyrose191]

BROKEN DECISIONS| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Divorced!Toto Wolff x fem!engineer!Schumacher!reader

Summary; The news of Toto Wolff divorcing from Susie has just hit the media and you, Michael Schumacher’s eldest daughter and George Russel’s race engineer, are beyond shocked, even more so as your relationship with your boss begins to evolve.

Warnings; angst, light smut, heartbreak, pregnancy trope.

F1 Master List , Part 2

The paddock was overwhelmed with media reporters and cameras, way more than usual for a race weekend, the Mercedes garage was surrounded by people as well as the entrance to the track, all waiting for one man, Toto Wolff.

You had been more than taken back by the joint statements released this morning which both effectively said the same thing.

mercedesamgf1: Team Principle Toto Wolff announces divorce from wife Susie Wolff, both will continue to co-parent son Jack Wolff and will continue to work together happily, they wish nothing but the best for each other in the future and wish for the privacy and support they need during this time.

SusieStoddart: Toto and I have mutually decided to part ways and divorce after 12 years of marriage, both of us will continue to co-parent our son, Jack and will continue working together in the future. I wish nothing but the best to him for the future, please respect our privacy during this time and I hope you guys will continue to support us both from this point on, even on our separate paths. Thank you.

It all seemed so sudden to you, nothing has seemed out of place whenever they were in the garage together but you suppose that’s how the saying you never know what’s going on behind closed doors goes.

You squeezed your way through the crowd, ignoring all of the questions fired your way and the cameras and microphones that were shoved in your face, it wasn’t your job to be making comments about a relationship that had nothing to do with you and it was entirely unprofessional.

Huffing out a breath as you finally crossed the threshold of the garage, you straightened out your clothes and bag before making your way over to your desk that you sat at whenever George was out on the track.

Bono was already in his chair and looked up when he heard you pull your hair out, taking note of your flustered state. "I take it you’ve seen the news."

"It’s everywhere! It’d be a miracle if I hadn’t seen it," you huffed. Looking around, you noticed how flustered everyone else seemed to be whilst trying to do their jobs, you didn’t blame them because right now no one knew what mood the boss was going to be in when he arrived, if he arrived.

"Is he even coming today? I certainly wouldn’t." You asked.

Bono shrugged, "you know what he’s like, that man would be here even if his leg was falling off, he’ll be here and god help him when he is."

"Yeah, true. Am I blind though or did anyone else not see this coming because they were both at the factory two weeks ago and everything seemed fine to me."

Bono turned away from his monitor and completely turned to you, huddling closer. "I didn’t suspect anything either but they’re really good as keeping work life and private life separated. Have you seen some of the rumours though?"

You snorted and nodded your head, "I’ve seen the ones about Toto having an affair which is ridiculous, that man does not have the time to be hiding an entire relationship."

Bono laughed at your choice of words but abruptly stopped as he stared behind you causing you to look at him in confusion before turning around, pausing at the sight of your boss walking in with a face of stone.

"Ahh shit," you muttered, hearing a small hum of agreement coming from Bono.

Then you saw him heading into your direction.

"Double shit," You heard Bono mumble causing you to bite your lip, trying to prevent yourself from smiling.

"Y/N. Bono. Good Morning," Toto nodded his head in greeting.

You smiled up at him, "Morning, boss, feeling positive about today?"

Bono sighed from behind you which caused you to internally wince at your own words, now realising that might not have been a good question to ask.

"Yeah," Toto looked between the pair of you suspiciously. "Are you?"

"Very," you tried to sound convincing, "I’m sure George is going to drive like it’s his last race and if not then I’ll boot him up the arse."

Toto looked at you amused, "I believe you."

After he walked away you turned to Bono with a pained look on your face meanwhile he was trying not to fall into laughter. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

He laughed straight in your face as you sighed at yourself. "How an I supposed to talk to him normally when all I want to say to his face is ‘hey, heard about your divorce, that sucks and now everyone thinks you can’t keep a wife’."

"Yeah don’t say that," Bono grimaced at your words.

Everything was real now, it had been real for a while but now the news was out for everyone to gossip about.

Things hadn’t been right for a long time between him and Susie and whilst there hadn’t been any constant arguing or disloyalty between the two of them, there hadn’t been much else either.

You’d have thought working within the same industry would have built an understanding between them about their schedules and commitments and it had in the beginning but as formula one became more popular, their lives had only gotten busier to the point they hardly saw each other and even when they did it was only to ensure Jack was getting enough quality time with both of his parents, it was as though they had been coparenting with each other whilst they weren’t even split.

A year ago they had accepted the inevitable fate of their marriage and had been figuring out the logistics of their divorce but just like they had kept their struggles silenced, they had kept the news of their parting silent too.

But it had been over a year now and quite frankly the fake shows they were putting on were getting exhausting, they were both moving on and pretending to still be a happily married couple wasn’t doing well in helping them in the process.

Toto had found a particular thing that hadn’t allowed him to dwell in the sadness of his private life. Something, or someone, that didn’t even know how much they were helping him.

You.

Everyday you showed up to work with a smile on your face, eternally grateful for everything life had offered you. You had achieved your dreams of working within formula one, it might not have been on the track driving at record breaking speeds like your father but you had one of the most important roles in the team and you enjoyed it.

Even today as he walked through the doors trying to ignore all of the sad, pathetic looks people were giving him and the onslaught of invasive questions people were attacking him with and even if they weren’t verbally shooting words his way, he could see the unasked questions in everyone’s eyes, you greeted him like you did every other day and whilst he knew you were aware of the news, nothing in your face showed the slightest bit of curiosity towards the end of his marriage and he couldn’t express how refreshing that was and how much he needed it.

Slowly, he found himself looking forward to the days ahead where he could bump into you and witness the smile on your face as he tried to ignore the way your energy made his heart feel funny and when Mick signed as the team’s reserve driver he would use the fact that he was ‘mentoring’ your little brother as an excuse to see you, knowing that naturally he would be around you more.

You jumped up from your seat in excitement as you saw both Mercedes cars pass the checkered flag securing second and third place behind Max, obviously.

"George you fucking beautiful human bring!" You shouted through the radio before turning to look for Toto, hoping that these results would have put a smile on his face only to find that he was already looking at you intensely, not even acknowledging the pats he was getting on his back by team members.

He winked at you? And sent you what seemed to be a grateful smile before turning away to celebrate with those around him. You were thankful he did so and didn’t see the pink hue you could feel spreading through your cheeks.

A sudden weight on your back didn’t allow you to dwell on it. Mick had launched himself at you in his exhilaration causing you to quickly latch onto his legs so you both didn’t go tumbling, you laughed and spun the pair of you around before putting him down so you could all go outside and gather in the pits to watch the podium.

You always went out of your way to be a kind person but the moment your team was standing under the podium all manners went out of the way and you barged your way to the front of the barriers to watch, mumbling half-hearted apologies, you knew no one would take your behaviour the wrong way as you’ve known them for so long.

Looking up, you were happy to see the smiles on Lewis and George’s faces, tough seasons can really take a told on the mental health of the drivers and it can be easy to lose motivation, especially when you were part of a team that was so used to winning but they looked as happy as ever now and it made all of the hard work that everyone had put in worth it.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders startling you, followed by the feeling of a firm chest being pressed up against your back. You looked up and saw Toto but he wasn’t looking at you, he kept his gaze up on the podium and the happiness on his face hadn’t subsided so you didn’t question it and turned back to the celebrations.

His behaviour was really confusing you and you wanted to talk to him about it but decided to push it away for another day.

His behaviour hasn’t been limited to that day alone.

The entire season has been filled with soft touches from him, from a small brush of his hand against your back as he walked past or light touches of your hips to guide you to the side when you were in his walk way.

Let’s not forget about the way he started to look at you. Toto’s stare was always intense but now you couldn’t ignore the soft shine his eyes held as he looked at you.

You hoped you weren’t reading too much into things otherwise that would be embarrassing but you couldn’t stop noticing the little things he would do and what was even worse was the way these things were effecting you.

These touches would leave your skin feeling tingly and your head fuzzy to the point your mind just turned blank and now whenever he was so much as in the same room as you, your mind became hyper-fixated on his presence to the point it felt like you were compelled to constantly glance in his direction.

You had worked for him for nearly eight years and not once had you even considered looking at him in any other way other than as your boss and a friend.

You acknowledged that he was handsome and had the charisma to match but you had never been attracted to him up until now, how was this year any different to the last seven?

Hands slamming down into your desk startled you from your thoughts, you looked up wide eyed at the grinning face of your younger brother causing you to grumble in annoyance and throw the pen that was sitting on your desk at him.

"What’s wrong with your face?" Mick easily dodged your attack and asked.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"My big sister always has a smile on her face and for the last twenty minutes you’ve been sat there staring at nothing with a frown on your face."

"Nothing," you muttered, turning back to your laptop screen that had long since shut off.

"Right," Mick replied sarcastically, "Come on, tell me what’s wrong."

You pursed your lips as you debated telling him or not. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

Mick’s face lost its teasing look as he realised you were actually troubled. "Of course." He replied sincerely.

You hesitated for a moment longer before asking "have you noticed that Toto has been acting strange lately?"

Mick looked at you surprised for a moment before smirking and nodded, "you mean the fact that the entire season he’s been staring at you like you’re the finest piece of meat he’s ever seen?" He asked teasingly.

"I wouldn’t have worded it that way but yeah," you responded.

"Then yes, I’m surprised it took you this long to acknowledge it."

You shook your head, "I noticed it at the beginning of the season but I thought I was imagining it and now I can’t stop noticing the fact that he-"

"Fancies the hell out of you?" Mick finished, a shit eating grin on his face.

You groaned and placed your head against your desk. "This is wrong, he’s my boss!"

"Tell me about it, he’s mine too and he fancies my sister!"

"Stop saying he fancies me!" You told him resulting in him just laughing at you. "Seriously Mick, what am I supposed to do?"

Mick sighed and looked at you seriously, "Do you like him?"

"I dont know," you replied honestly, "before this season I wouldn’t have even looked at him as anything but my boss and a friend but now he keeps looking at me and taking any opportunity to touch me and it’s confusing me."

Mick pulled an uncomfortable face at your words but gave you some advice. "Then do nothing until you know for sure."

You nodded and he smiled before walking around your desk and wrapping you in a tight hug which was more like a headlock but it was a hug nonetheless.

"Smile! We’re in Abu Dhabi and we’re partying tonight," he fake cheered as he walked away causing you to laugh at his behaviour.

And that’s exactly what you did. It had been a tough season for Mercedes, the team hadn’t nearly performed as well as they were used to but through a lot of hard work the season had ended on a high note and and no one was going to dwell on this years difficulties tonight.

You were definitely allowing yourself some freedom tonight to drink away and forget about the confusing thoughts that had been swimming around in your head all season.

The club was dark except for the colourful flashing lights that were roaming the entirety of the room that the FIA had rented out for all of the f1 teams celebrating tonight. You were already feeling more relaxed from the three drinks you hadn’t wasted time on consuming and had dragged poor Bono, who had zero rhythm, to the dance floor.

The man looked traumatised as he simply stood there awkwardly with you holding onto his hands, swaying his arms to try and encourage him to dance and have a bit of fun.

You kept him there for an hour before eventually taking pity on him and letting him go, you walked over to the bar to get another drink, not seeing the person approaching you until he was right beside you.

"You look lovely."

You turned to your right in surprise, Toto was mimicking your stance, leaning his side against the bar as he looked into yours eyes. "Thank you," you replied, a little shocked at his words.

"I see you were having fun with Bono," he commented absentmindedly.

You laughed, "Me? Yes. I don’t think he was having as much fun as I was."

"He’s not much of a dancer," Toto smirked.

"Oh, I know. He can’t move to save his life but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try."

The bartender placed your drink in front of you and you took a sip after giving him a thanks. "Have you been having fun?" You asked.

Toto tapped his fingers against the bar top and signed. "As much as I can after the shit season we’ve had."

"We’ll be better next year," you replied confidently.

He simply nodded in response, dragging his gaze down your body and back up again.

The feeling of his eyes trailing you left a burning heat on your skin and an unfamiliar fluttering in your stomach.

"I like this dress," he told you, nodding at the tight fabric that clung to your figure.

"I got it yesterday," you knew he didn’t care but for some reason you felt inclined to share that information with him, fighting the urge to look away and hide a smile.

"You picked wisely," he immediately responded and this time you didn’t fight the smile, his smooth responses settling within you exactly how he wanted.

"I’m glad you like it," your voice was quiet in the midst of the loud music and voices but it didn’t prevent him from hearing you words.

The way he smirked down at you made you feel much smaller than you were, the idea of how his stature and strength would help with the power he held over you made you burn with need and the want to find out for yourself.

You huffed out a breath.

You needed another drink.

You threw your head back into the pillows and gasped as Toto thrusted into you, pulsating pleasure rushing through your body with every movement.

You didn’t know how you got to this point, the night was a haze of drinking, close dancing and longing looks but the one memory that stood out was the warmth of Toto’s hands against your hips, after that everything blurred up until this moment.

Your arm wrapped around the back of his neck, your hand burying itself into his hair as you tried to ground yourself but you were hopeless within the haze of his kisses against your throat and hands holding your thighs spread for him.

"Toto!"

His breath was heavy against your skin. "You feel so good, schatz." The guttural groan he released sent you feral, you tightened your grip on him and pulled him closer so your chests pressed against each other.

Your vision went white as Toto just grazed that sweet spot inside you with one particularly hard thrust before he angled his hips in a way that with each bruising snap of his hips he made, the tip of his cock would brush against you just right.

As you felt yourself approaching your release, your back arched and the air remained trapped in your lungs, your grip tightened on Toto’s hair causing him to groan into your neck while your other hand shot up behind you and grabbed onto the headboard.

Just as you were at the precipice of your release, Toto reached down and circled your clit with his fingers providing the last bit of stimulation needed for you to let go and dive into a river of overwhelming pleasure.

The sight of your face completely blissed out made Toto’s cock harden more inside of you, he continued to thrust and work you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own, chasing his release as he felt his body fill with an indescribable need to continue rutting into you.

The groan of relief he let out followed by a warmth in your core brought you back to reality, Toto allowed his body to collapse onto your own and simply lay there as he caught his breath and recovered from his own orgasm.

Your hand continued to run through his hair, grounding his mind to reality and encouraging him back from his high.

Moments later, Toto removed himself from you and curled up behind you, wrapped an arm across your stomach and pulled you into his chest.

Both still feeling the haze of the alcohol in your systems, no words needed to be spoken between the pair of you as you both succumbed to much needed sleep.

You woke up feeling as though your brain was swelling beyond the capacity of your skull and dehydrated to the point you felt like you could drink about forty litres of water.

Every part of your body ached as you moved beneath the covers, flashes of last night flickered through your mind causing you to groan at the reminder of your drink choices.

You were definitely regretting it now.

A particular memory caused you to pause and look beneath the sheets, grimacing as you realised you were naked.

Then you froze, Toto.

Your head shot to the side and instead of laying your eyes upon your boss’ 6ft5 frame you were greeted by an empty half of the bed with only crumpled white sheets.

Your heart dropped as you looked around the room, there was no indication that anyone else had been here but the ache between your legs made it very clear that last night did in fact happen.

He had left.

After an entire season of fighting with your feelings and the way he made you feel, you had given in to him only for him to leave.

You felt sick and dirty and disgusting and used.

You pulled yourself into the shower and tried to to push down the need to cry but you were filled with an overwhelming sense of betrayal and couldn’t stop the rogue fear that fell down your cheek.

Waiting to board the plane back to England, you looked down at your phone, you had a feeling Toto was already there by now and you had messaged him ages ago but no response.

Had you been crazy believing that he could have feelings for you?

You were so mad at yourself for being as affected as you were by his actions, it felt like someone had your heart in their fist and found amusement in squeezing it, filling you with the need to just let go and allow your emotions to flow freely.

You didn’t need to be back at the factory until after Christmas so you went straight home and unpacked your bag before repacking to go and spend your time off in Switzerland with your family, Toto still hadn’t responded and you were positive he was just ignoring you now and you didn’t try to get a response.

You’d deal with that after Christmas.

Normally you’d wait a week or two after the season ended to go back home but you really had no reason to stay, you’d changed your mind on attending the FIA awards which had confused Mick when you told him but he could tell something was wrong and chose not to pry.

You seriously didn’t think the year could get worse, you were so wrong.

The last three weeks in Switzerland had been hell to put it lightly, Christmas was just around the corner but it was hard to be excited when you had caught the sickness bug, the amount of time you spent in bed throwing up was disgusting at this point and the coddling of your family wasn’t helping.

You knew they loved you but you wish they’d just leave you alone to wallow in misery.

Toto was still a lingering thought in the back of your mind and it was only adding to how rubbish you felt but you hadn’t made any other attempt to get in touch, he hadn’t tried either so you knew where you stood with him and that was enough.

New years had passed and you were now back in England to go back to work, you had never dreaded going to work in all the years you’d worked for Mercedes so the unsettling feeling in your stomach was new.

But that could also just be nausea.

You still hadn’t completely recovered from your sickness over the holidays, you were no longer bed bound but the urge to throw up and the loss of appetite was still there, the loss of weight was visible in the sickly paleness of your face so you had booked a doctors appointment for the upcoming Friday.

Your stomach churned as you walked through the doors of the Mercedes headquarters, as the daughter of Michael Schumacher you got a lot more attention in the building as you would’ve if you were just a race engineer so the nods from almost everyone as you walked in weren’t strange to you but the sympathetic looks were.

You hoped it was just because you looked as if you hadn’t seen sun for the past ten years.

Deciding to stop by hospitality on the way to your office for a bottle of water, you paused in the doorway at the sight of Toto and didn’t hesitate to turn right back around before your mind even processed his presence.

You got a few funny looks by the people in there but you truly didn’t care.

It stayed like that for the rest of the week, whenever you found yourself in the same room as your boss there was no time wasted before you left even if there were still things needed to be done in that room, you didn’t even try to be subtle about it either.

As soon as he entered the room you immediately took your leave, it was rude but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care and you doubted he cared either.

You had taken the day off work today to attend your doctor’s appointment so thankfully you didn’t need to waste your efforts avoiding him.

"Symptoms are nausea, sickness and weight loss," The doctor listed and you nodded in clarification.

She looked at you knowingly, "When did your last cycle finish?" She asked.

You pulled a face and leaned your head back in thought, it was probably before Vegas, but that was….. your face grew even paler than it already was.

"November," you whispered, your body filling with complete and utter horror.

The doctor’s face grew sympathetic at your reaction, "and you’ve had unprotected sexual intercourse since then?" She asked though your face gave her the answer.

You were at a loss for words so you resulted in nodding; the idea of you being pregnant only made you feel more sick.

"Okay," she replied softly, "We’ll have you take a test to confirm."

You didn’t even register the next ten minutes, lost in your own mind as an emptiness settled within you, your chest ached with pain at the idea that your whole life could be changed in just a few short minutes.

"Miss Schumacher, are you okay?" The doctor asked worriedly.

You snapped back to reality and nodded numbly.

"The test came back positive, Y/N, so I’ll refer you to a midwife and during this time you should think about what you want to do, okay?"

How you didn’t crash on the way home was a miracle because you definitely weren’t concentrating, you carried your body straight to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, you looked like hell.

Just the sight caused your eyes to well up and this time you didn’t fight the emotions, you welcomed the tears and allowed the pain to consume you, the pain of realising just how alone you were in this moment.

You slid down against the bathroom door and curled yourself into a ball, buried your face into your knees and sobbed until you no longer could.

The weight in your chest was still present as you walked into work the following Monday but you no longer had any tears to spare, you had made up your mind about what your future would consist of and today would mark the beginning of it.

Knocking on the door to Toto’s office, you waited for confirmation to enter and he clearly hadn’t anticipated you on the other side from the look of surprise on his face but you didn’t mention it and closed the door behind you.

"We need to talk," you wasted no time in pleasantries and sat down in the seat opposite him.

"Is there a problem with the car?" He asked, his formal tone cut through you like a knife but you refused to show the effect it had.

You wouldn’t have thought the pair of you were friends just two months ago.

"There’s nothing wrong with the car," you told him.

"What do we need to talk about then?" He asked.

He was royally pissing you off with the way he was pretending to be ignorant. "We need to talk about what happened between us-"

"This is unprofessional," he interrupted and you scoffed in disbelief.

"Unprofessional?" You laughed in his face. "Do you know what else in unprofessional? Sleeping with your employee."

His face dropped at the bluntness of your words, "look, you shouldn’t be bringing private matters into the workplace."

"How else am I supposed to bring them up? Over text message where I never get a response?" You looked at him incredulously. "This is important-"

"I don’t want to hear it, Y/N," he cut you off harshly. "What happened between us shouldn’t have happened, it was a moment of weakness and it will never happen again."

You looked at him stone faced before nodding, "fine." You got up from your seat and left without another word, not bothering closing his door.

You didn’t go to your office, instead you went to HR.

Walking past the different offices you went straight for the head of HR. "Chloe?" You knocked on the door quietly, opening it once you received a response.

She smiled at you in greeting, "Y/N, can I help you with something?"

You nodded softly and sat down on the sofa she had against the wall. "How many holidays do I have?"

She looked at you suspiciously, "All of them, you didn’t put one in for Friday so that went unpaid."

"Okay," you muttered under your breath, "I want to cash them all in, starting from tomorrow."

"What?" She looked at you shocked. "Are you sure? If there’s something going on we can figure out a better solution for you."

You smiled and shook your head, "Uhm no I’m sure, I want to use them all and then after that I’ll be taking early maternity leave."

Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. "Wow, okay, congratulations."

"Thanks, I want to spend my pregnancy in Switzerland so you won’t see me around."

You could see that she had questions but didn’t ask them and you appreciated it, "I understand, I’m happy for you Y/N, I’ll get it all sorted for you."

"Great," you stood up and headed towards the door.

"Y/N?" You turned around, Chloe looked at you sincerely, "Give me a call if you need someone to talk to, yeah?"

You probably wouldn’t but you nodded and left.

To say Toto was surprised when he found out they were down their usual race engineer for the season was an understatement.

It was completely unexpected and he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy about it, George was not at all in agreement to having a new voice in his ear.

It wasn’t even for a couple races either, it was for the entire season.

No one in the team had any information on what had happened except two people, Mick and Chloe.

No one could ask Mick because he had left to do the world endurance championship and when Toto had went to ask Chloe all he got was a shrug and words that sounded as though they’d been read from the companies handbook.

"It’s against an employee’s confidentiality rights to discuss the matters with you, even if you are the boss, all I can tell you is she’ll be back at work next year."

Meanwhile, in Switzerland you were slowly but surely feeling much better.

You were putting the situation between you and Toto behind you, you were recovering and as you did, your bump grew and the sight made you smile.

The horror and fear you felt when you found out about your pregnancy had dissipated weeks ago, leaving you filled with excitement and love for the journey you had ahead of you.

With your mother and sister around you, the loneliness you felt had evaporated as well.

You were doing good and felt amazing and that’s all that mattered right now.

[cherryredcheol]

matchy-matchy

tldr: match with me? a/n: i am embarrassed to admit how long it took me to come up with each of these

ot13 x reader

seungcheol: bracelets

except its one of those welded-on bracelets that you can only get off with some kind of tool that can cut through chain. he wanted you both to be reminded every day that your love was strong, unbreakable, permanent. the chain was dainty on both your wrists, barely noticeable, but still ever-present. ever the possessive guy, he liked having his mark on you. and he supposed a bracelet would do for now; until he gave you his last name. 

jeonghan: lego figurines

they’re minifigs and he had them custom-made to look like you, favorite outfits and everything. they’re on a little shelf that’s mounted to the wall. below the shelf are two little hooks, one for your keys and one for his. your keys go underneath your figure and his under his own. these minifigs were a gift for you very early on in the relationship. they’ve moved all over with you and now they’re part of your shared home. 

joshua: luggage

he brings you everywhere with him so it makes sense that your bags all match so you don’t draw suspicion. so what if he was pictured with a suitcase that has a my melody plush keychain on it? he’s man enough to admit he likes my melody, but really he likes you more and it’s easier that everything look the same. he doesn’t even have to think about it when grabbing a bag from the closet for each of you before heading on your next adventure together. 

junhui: ramen bowls

yes, you could hypothetically use this bowl for something other than ramen, but that would make it not special anymore and that just won’t do. it tickles both of you to no end to pull those bowls down from the cabinet and rifle through the silverware drawer for the matching chopsticks, all items printed with a delicate cherry blossom pattern. when the bowls were purchased the intention wasn’t even for them to become the bowls you use but its too late to look back now. 

soonyoung: water bottles

he dances and works out a lot, therefore he drinks a lot of water. he was going through plastic bottles of water like nobody’s business so you convinced him to get a reusable one. so he did, and he got you one to match! yours is black, inconspicuous. his is bright orange. the reasoning? they’re tiger colors, but subtle. why do you kind of agree with him?

wonwoo: phone wallpapers

they’re lowkey and you wouldn’t know they’re matching unless you saw them both side by side and noticed that the street light in both photos looks a little similar…the pictures are always from the walks you two go on in the middle of the night when it can be just you and him without the pressures of his career. some of your best moments together have come from those nights and the pictures are reminders of that. 

jihoon: slippers

the universe factory is cold, always. and yes, you keep an extra cozy blanket and hoodie in there but sometimes your feet get cold and your socks just aren’t enough. he must’ve noticed because there were suddenly two pairs of slippers by the door one day. when you asked about them, he just gestured vaguely and mumbled something about your feet. you’ll take it! they’re also not matching so much as they’re exactly the same. he claims this is for efficiency so he can wear either pair. cool, dude!

seokmin: sneakers

he has a lot of shoes. but his favorite pair are the ones that you bought together. they’re your favorite color and you each have a pair. you wear them together often, so smitten with each other it’s sickening. he always brings these sneakers on tour with him, whether you come too or not. its a win-win for him either way. he gets to match you from a close distance or from across the world. at least he knows he’s yours. 

mingyu: sunglasses

multiple pairs. every pair he buys himself, he also buys one for you. they're his favorite accessory and he looks oh so handsome in them so you never complain. your collection is slowly getting smaller though because he tends to break or lose things (sometimes both) and if it's a pair he really loved, he’ll ask with big puppy eyes if he can have the pair he bought for you. sometimes you tell him no just to see him pout.

minghao: manicures

oh, you’re going to get your nails done? he’s coming with, and paying. they don’t even have to be the same design or anything, they just have to go together. you don’t want a super complicated design like him? okay, cool. just get the same color. you went without him? fine, but what color is on your nails? it has to be the exact same as yours or else it doesn’t count. the colors may look similar but they’re not exactly the same polish? you might as well break up. 

seungkwan: phone cases

the design you chose has a little inside joke meaning to the two of you. no one even bothers asking the meaning behind the joke because they ‘wouldn’t get it’. your phone also has a different pc of him in it weekly (he changes it based on his mood) so your coworkers think you’re a super fan with your matching phone case and pc, obsessed with the idol on your phone. little do they know…

hansol: keychains

you have a miffy one, it's fuzzy.  he has a darth vader one, it’s lego. it kind of just appeared on your keychain one day and when you mentioned it to him he casually explained he put it there the other week. he fished through his pocket to show you his matching (?) keychain. the only explanation he gives? ‘it’s totally us,’ and how could you argue with that?

chan: stuffed animals

they’re dinosaurs, not dragons, thank you very much. and yes, they are therapeutically weighted to ease anxiety when placed on the chest. have a problem with that? i didn’t think so. these things go everywhere with you. if a car ride is longer than an hour, your green dinosaur is guaranteed to be there. he’s flying to tokyo? not without his passport and his little pink friend. show some respect! these are your kids!

[princessofmarvel]

Runaway

summary | thomas has made a deal with a man to help his business. thomas’s only condition? to marry the man's daughter. except she doesn’t want to marry him. 

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 1.98k

 genre | fluff with some angst?

requested? | yes! i had so much fun writing this! especially since i have never written anything like this before! thank you so much for requesting! please let me know if you like it!

warnings! | arranged marriage? darkish thomas? (not really, i’m just not great at writing dark characters sometimes, lol) not proof read yet!

author’s note! | hey everyone! this main character was written with poc in mind, i have tried my best, but since i am not a person of color please let me know if there is anything i can change to make it better! i hope you enjoy your request! please know that if you have requested something, i promise that i will get to it soon! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

Thomas knew what was happening today, hell his whole family knew. His future bride was coming to birmingham. He struck up a good deal with her father about helping her fathers business about a week ago, then he saw a photo of the man's daughter. The only condition Thomas made? To marry his daughter. Once they agreed, the man said he needed a week to get his family there. By the time they got there, Thomas had already got everything set up to make damn sure the man would be successful in birmingham. Which included a few fights, but Thomas would do it all over again if it meant he could have her. 

They weren’t to meet until the wedding, something her father insisted on. So Thomas stood in a room of the church getting ready, when his brother John busted in. 

“They can’t find her Tommy” was all John said as he huffed as if he was out of breath.

Thomas’s mind began to race. What did he mean they couldn’t find her? Has something happened? Had one of his enemies found out about today and took her? 

“She was getting ready, and asked for a moment to herself, when her mother came back in to check on her, she was gone.” John added as he leaned on the closest chair. 

Thomas stood and took in his brother's words for a moment before he left the room. His future wife was out in Birmingham in her pretty white dress, with no protection and no one was doing anything about it. Her family may not know this city, but Thomas did. He knew what could happen to her if she stayed out there too long. This won’t be an issue when they’re married, and she has his last name. She could kill someone and get away with it then, but right now no one in Birmingham knows who she is. All they know is that she is a pretty girl in a white wedding dress, and the thought of what could happen to her made him sick.  

Thomas looked everywhere he could think his fiance would be. He couldn’t find her anywhere, the only place he hadn’t checked was the Garrison. 

He walked in to see his bride to be, standing behind the bar making herself what looked like her fourth drink. He walked in slowly, making sure not to scare her. 

“(Y/n)?” He asked as he walked up to the bar. She looked up at him as she continued to make her drink. “I’m Thomas Shelby, your future-”

“I know who you are.” She said, cutting him off. 

“Well, we're supposed to be getting married right now.” He said matter of factly. “So what are you doing here?”

“I’m not marrying you, thought you would have figured that out by now.” She said as she took a sip of her drink. 

Thomas looked at her, making sure to not show how shocked he was that she was speaking to him that way.

“And, why not?” He asked her, now intrigued. 

“I don’t want to, I don't know you.” She said as she finished her drink. 

Thomas moved to be behind the bar where she was. He took her drink from her hand and placed it on the bar. 

“(Y/n)” He said as he towered over her. “Your father has already given me your hand.” 

“I know, I don’t care.” She said as she grabbed her drink back from Thomas.

Thomas just took a moment and stared at the girl as she took her drink back. It was the first time he truly got to look at her. He got to take in the color of her eyes, and the curl of her hair, she truly was beautiful.

“Why exactly are you so against marrying me?” He asked as he stared at her. 

“I want to be my own person, not defined by my father or my husband.” She said not missing a beat. 

“I think I can help with that.” Thomas said, starting to get closer to the girl. “I have a certain reputation, if you’re married to me, you’ll be untouchable.”

“That's still me being defined by my husband.” She said, cutting him off with a small eye roll. 

Thomas took the drink from her and set it back down, but this time, she didn’t turn away from him, she just stared up at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“As I was saying, you would be untouchable, and if you wanted a role in peaky blinder business, you wouldn’t just be “Thomas Shelby's wife”. You would be “(Y/n) Shelby, most feared woman in Birmingham”. You have an opportunity here, the choice is yours.” Thomas said, staring her in the eyes. Normally he would never offer this to someone he just met. But there was something about (Y/n), just the look in her eyes, the way she wasn’t scared of him, how she held herself, how she looked at him with the same amount of intensity he looked a her with, how she didn’t care she was defying the most feared man in birmingham. "Don't let your pride get in the way of a smart decision."

Thomas watches the girl stare at the wall for a moment, him taking in her side profile. Until she finally looked up at him.

"I won't be reduced to just your little wife?" She asked with a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"I'll let you take care of anyone who says you are" He said with a serious look on his face.

The girl gave him a small smile, it was obvious that no one had ever believed in her the way Thomas was right now, that they all thought of her as some weak little girl and nothing more.

"Fine, I'll marry you" She said as she looked up at him with a small smile. 

Thomas wrapped her arm in his and led her out of the Garrison. He held the bottom of her white dress up away from the dirt as he walked them back to the church. 

“You know, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” She said to him with a small laugh. “It’s bad luck.” 

“I won’t let anything ruin this marriage, trust me.” He said as he opened the church door for her and let her walk in first. Thomas watched as her family whisked her away, knowing that this girl was truly something he had never expected her to be, and he loved it.

[chiyuuchu]

Who the hell would buy a Labubu? <3 (3rd November 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! Bakugou overhears his crush whining over wanting a Labubu and goes out of his way for it

The cafeteria was shrouding with the latest trend: Labubu figures. Everywhere you looked, someone seemed to be talking about them, pulling up pictures on their phones, or showing off new additions to their collections. The Bakusquad was no exception.

“Dude, have you seen these things?” Kaminari said, scrolling through his phone and shoving it in Bakugou’s direction. “They’re called Labubu. Apparently, they’re, like, the hottest thing right now.”

Bakugou gave the screen a disgusted look, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature with big, weird eyes and a goofy grin. “What the hell is that? And who’d pay that much for something so ugly?”

Kirishima chuckled, trying to explain. “I dunno, man, it’s kinda cute in a strange way. People are obsessed with them. They’re even blind boxes, so you don’t know which one you’re gonna get until you open it.”

Bakugou scoffed. “So you’re telling me people are throwing cash away on some creepy-looking gremlin they don’t even get to choose? That’s dumb.”

Just as he was shaking his head, he heard a familiar laugh nearby. He glanced over to see Y/N with a few of the other girls, chatting excitedly, and his ears perked up when he caught her mention the word “Labubu.”

“I’ve wanted one for ages,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. “Especially the pink one, Dada. It’s so cute! I’ve tried to find it, but it’s sold out everywhere.”

Mina nodded enthusiastically. “They’re hard to get your hands on right now. But I bet you’ll find one soon, Y/N! They’re so you.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows knitted together as he watched her. He didn’t get the appeal of those weird little figures, but seeing Y/N light up while talking about it stirred something he couldn’t quite ignore.

Turning back to his friends, he scowled even harder. “It’s still ugly,” he muttered, though now his mind was racing with the thought of Y/N smiling with one of those creepy toys in her hands.

He didn’t get the appeal, but… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try finding one for her anyway.

Bakugou pushed through the door of the specialty store, the bell jingling above him. He took a quick glance around, noting the colorful shelves lined with various Labubu figures. Each one looked weirder than the last, and he scowled at the thought of spending money on such ridiculous toys.

“Can I help you?” the cashier asked, her friendly tone grating on his nerves.

“Yeah, I need one of those Labubu things,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Which one?” she replied, eyeing him curiously.

“Uh, the pink one. The Dada,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Oh! That one’s really popular,” she said, her eyes brightening. “But it’s a blind box, so you won’t know if you get it until you open it.”

Bakugou frowned, the frustration boiling in his chest. “What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know if I get the pink one?”

“It’s random,” she explained, shrugging. “You can buy one box, but there’s no guarantee.”

He huffed, feeling the pressure of time ticking away. Y/N had been talking about wanting a Labubu for weeks, and if he was going to do this, he wanted to make sure he got the right one. “Fine, give me six.”

The cashier blinked in surprise. “You want a bulk pack?”

“Just give me the damn boxes!” he snapped, not wanting to waste time debating. The thought of Y/N’s smile pushed him to act, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

After paying for the bulk pack, he exited the store, the weight of the bag heavy in his hands. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and determination as he headed back to the dorm.

Once he got inside, Bakugou tossed the bag onto his bed and unzipped it, revealing the six colorful Labubu boxes inside. He could feel a sense of anticipation building up in him. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, grabbing the first box.

With each box he opened, his heart raced. The first one revealed a bright green Labubu with silly eyes. “Nope,” he said, tossing it aside.

He tore through the second box, revealing a blue one. “Not it either,” he grumbled, throwing it next to the first.

The third box contained a purple Labubu, which only added to his growing annoyance. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, grabbing the fourth box.

As he opened the fourth, a yellow Labubu stared back at him, and he groaned loudly. “Why is this so hard?”

He moved to the fifth box, desperate for a win. But it only brought another bizarre figure. “Are you kidding me?!” he shouted, tossing it aside in frustration.

Finally, he reached the last box, his heart pounding with hope. He ripped it open, pulling the figure out slowly.

As the pink Labubu came into view, his breath hitched. “Yes! Finally!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. It was the Dada Labubu, the one Y/N had wanted the most.

Bakugou quickly shoved the figure back into its box, a grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t wait to see Y/N’s reaction when he surprised her with it.

“Now I just have to figure out how to give this to her without making it weird,” he murmured, already plotting the perfect moment to reveal his secret.

Class 1-A was buzzing with excitement and chatter during lunch, but Bakugou barely noticed. All he could focus on was the small, carefully wrapped box sitting in his bag, and his heart was beating a little faster than he wanted to admit.

He glanced across the classroom at Y/N, who was laughing with Mina, and felt a surge of warmth he tried hard to ignore. For weeks, she’d been talking nonstop about how she couldn’t find a Labubu figure anywhere. She’d checked every store, every website, but they were sold out, leaving her heartbroken and, to his quiet dismay, a bit gloomy.

Bakugou had found himself listening to her without meaning to, her excitement and disappointment lingering in his mind longer than he’d expected. After a while, he couldn’t shake it; he’d gotten up, practically stormed through every store he could think of, and, by some miracle, found the last Labubu in stock. It was ridiculous how much effort he’d gone through—but he’d done it. For her.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up, box in hand. The class quieted as they noticed him crossing the room, eyes widening in surprise when he stopped in front of Y/N’s desk.

“Bakugou?” she asked, looking up at him with a puzzled smile.

He held out the box, clearing his throat as he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Here. Since you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Her eyes widened, realization dawning as she carefully took the box from his hands, hands slightly trembling. “Wait… no way…”

“Yeah, it’s that damn Labubu you kept going on about,” he muttered, his voice softer than usual. “Figured you’d be happier if you had it.”

Her expression shifted from disbelief to awe as she looked at him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart stutter. She opened the box slowly, as if savoring the moment, and when she saw the figure, her eyes filled with happiness and something else—a warmth that made his face feel unexpectedly hot.

“Bakugou… thank you,” she whispered, her voice gentle, like he was seeing a side of her she usually kept hidden. She bit her lip, staring at the Labubu and then back at him. “I can’t believe you actually found it. I’ve wanted this for so long, and you… you really did this for me?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” he grumbled, looking away, his cheeks dusted pink. “It was just… annoying to hear you complain about it every day.”

But she only laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

The class, watching the exchange, started to murmur, sharing knowing glances and grins. Kaminari leaned over to Kirishima, whispering, “Dude, Bakugou’s totally got it bad.”

“Shut up, idiots!” Bakugou barked, his voice snapping the class back into silence, but the embarrassment only made him redder.

Y/N giggled, and without thinking, she stepped closer and hugged him, burying her face against his shoulder. “Thank you, Bakugou. Really. This means so much to me.”

He froze, feeling the warmth of her arms around him, and for a split second, all his defenses melted away. His hand hovered before he slowly placed a palm on her head, just for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, only for her to hear.

When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes sparkled with joy. “Guess I owe you one now, huh?”

“Tch, whatever,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he watched her. “Just… don’t lose it, alright?”

She nodded, clutching the figure to her chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Open it,” he said, crossing his arms, trying to look indifferent. “If you’re lucky, it’ll be the one you wanted, right?”

She grinned, carefully unwrapping the box with everyone watching, the anticipation building in the air. The class waited with bated breath as she peeled back the top, lifting out the mystery figure. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she slowly unwrapped it, revealing…

A flash of pink fur.

She gasped, holding up the tiny pink Labubu figure—Dada. It was the exact one she’d been hoping for, the one she’d mentioned every time the topic came up.

The girls beside her all gasped.

“No way! It’s Dada! The pink one!” she squealed, looking up at him with a mixture of shock and happiness. “Bakugou, this is the one I wanted most!”

He shrugged, fighting a smirk. “Guess you got lucky, then.”

She stared at the figure, clearly overwhelmed, then met his eyes with a soft smile that made his heart skip. “Thank you, Bakugou. Really. This is perfect.”

The class burst into soft laughter and teasing whispers, and Kirishima nudged him with a grin. “Aw, man, you really went all out!”

Bakugou scowled, looking away to hide the warmth creeping up his face. “I just wanted some peace and quiet, alright?”

But Y/N only laughed, cradling her Dada Labubu, and gave him a look that told him she saw right through him. And, just this once, Bakugou didn’t mind.

After the excitement of lunch had settled and the class had dispersed, Bakugou found himself sitting alone in his room, staring at the collection of Labubu boxes he still had. He’d returned home with the six he’d bought, but after seeing Y/N’s joy, he hadn’t had the heart to keep the rest.

He picked up the boxes one by one, contemplating what to do with them. They were all the same—a mix of colors and characters he couldn’t remember the names of, each one just as bizarre as the last. He scowled, trying to shake off the thought that maybe he could just toss them or give them to someone else.

With a sigh, he stood and marched over to Y/N’s room, rapping his knuckles against her door. “Hey! You in there?”

A muffled voice called back, “Yeah, just a second!” The sound of shuffling filled the air before the door swung open to reveal Y/N, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Uh… I was thinking.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know what to do with these,” he said, gesturing to the boxes. “So, here.”

He shoved them into her arms, watching as her eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what? Bakugou, are you serious?” She looked down at the colorful boxes, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, yeah. Just take them. I don’t want them.” He shrugged, trying to play it cool even though he felt a rush of warmth at seeing her so happy.

Y/N laughed in disbelief as she glanced at the boxes, her heart racing with excitement. “But… these are all so expensive! Are you sure you don’t want them?”

“Does it look like I want them?” Bakugou snapped, but he didn’t mean to sound harsh. “I already got you the pink one. Just take them, dammit!”

She was still processing, her mind racing with thoughts. “I can’t believe you’re giving me all of these. Bakugou, this is so generous of you!”

He scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Don’t go making it weird. I just didn’t want to deal with them.”

But as she looked up at him, her smile genuine and bright, he felt something shift in his chest. “Wait, you’re keeping the yellow one, right?”

Bakugou blinked, the question catching him off guard. “What? No, I just—”

“Wait, you like Labubu?” she asked, tilting her head with a teasing grin.

“W-What? No!” He turned red, the rush of embarrassment hitting him like a tidal wave. “I mean, it’s just… it’s growing on me, okay?”

She laughed, clearly enjoying his flustered state. “Yeah, right! Just admit it! You like them.”

“Shut up!” he barked, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward against his will.

“You do! I knew it!” she teased, playfully nudging him.

Bakugou huffed, turning his head away, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, those weird little figures weren’t so bad after all. Not when they made her smile like that.

The next day, the sun shone brightly over U.A. as Bakugou made his way to class, still riding the high of Y/N's delighted reaction to her pink Labubu. But as he entered the classroom, the teasing atmosphere hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Look who’s proud of his new friend!” Kaminari called out, pointing at Bakugou’s backpack, where the yellow Labubu dangled from a clip. “Nice one, Bakugou! Is that your pet now?”

Bakugou glared at him, scowling as he rolled his eyes. “Shut the hell up, you idiot. It’s just a stupid thing.”

“Stupid?!” Kirishima laughed, leaning over to get a better look. “You’re the one who bought six of them! And now you’ve got one clipped to your bag? Sounds like you’re a fan!”

“Just because I bought one doesn’t mean I’m a fan!” Bakugou snapped, the heat rising in his cheeks. “I’m just making sure it doesn’t get lost, dumbass.”

Just then, Y/N walked in, her own bag swinging at her side, the pink Labubu proudly displayed as it dangled from the strap. The moment her classmates spotted her, the teasing escalated.

“Hey, Y/N! Looks like you and Bakugou have matching accessories!” Mina chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Isn’t that adorable?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she smiled, glancing over at Bakugou, who was scowling like he was about to explode. “I guess so! I mean, he found it for me after all,” she said, her tone light and playful.

Bakugou tried to suppress the grin that threatened to break through as Y/N beamed at him, but his friends weren’t having it.

“Aww, Bakugou! You two are, like, Labubu buddies now!” Kaminari teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “Next thing we know, you’ll be collecting them together!”

“Shut up!” Bakugou growled, though the edge of his voice was dulled by a hint of embarrassment. “It’s just a coincidence!”

“Yeah, right,” Kirishima chuckled. “I can see it now: ‘Bakugou and Y/N, the ultimate Labubu collectors!’”

“Ugh! Just drop it already!” Bakugou shouted, crossing his arms defensively. He tried to focus on the board, but he could feel Y/N’s gaze on him, a mix of amusement and something softer that made his heart race.

As the laughter and teasing continued, Y/N stepped closer to Bakugou, a playful glint in her eye. “You know, I think you look cute with your little Labubu,” she said, her voice teasing yet sincere. “And it really suits you.”

Bakugou’s cheeks burned, and he turned away quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Tch! It’s not cute! It’s just… it’s just practical!”

But Y/N’s laughter echoed in his ears, and as he caught her smile, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in his chest. Maybe having the yellow Labubu wasn’t so bad after all.

[sofiagigantegirl]

Only You

Sofia Falcone Gigante x fem reader

Sofia Gigante, the woman who has Gotham in her hands, who controls every corner and calls the shots everywhere, is sitting right in front of me right now, saying something that I’m not really paying attention to. Her piercing eyes seem to see right through you. The place around us is loud, but her firm voice cuts through the noise in the room.

She’s wearing a tight black dress with thin straps that hugs her curves perfectly. The matching black corset accentuates her figure even more. On her feet, a pair of black combat boots. Her beauty is undeniable.

“Hey, pay attention here, y/n,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. The sudden sound of her voice makes me blink, and I quickly sit up straight, focusing on her. She leans back in her chair, putting some distance between us. “This is serious, I can’t let just anyone think they can take what’s mine.” She frowns, like the very thought is deeply offensive to her.

We were tailing some guy, a small-time dealer who had been selling his stuff in Sofia’s territory, territory she had taken over piece by piece after taking down Oz and his crew. Sofia didn’t need to say anything; I knew failure wasn’t an option. The last thing she’d tolerate was any challenge to her control, so she decided to handle it herself, wanting to send a message to anyone who thought they could mess with her.

“Right, what were you saying again?” I ask with an uncertain smile. I wipe my slightly sweaty hands on my pants. I wasn’t the best choice to accompany Sofia in this—I’m just the girl who manages her money. But for some reason, she walked into my office this morning and told me to come along. I didn’t have the guts to ask why, and now here I am.

Sofia rolls her eyes and sighs, “Stay alert, he’s in your line of sight. And I can’t turn around, so when he leaves, we’ll follow him and get him into the car.” I nod and look toward the guy. He was eating, all clumsy like he was starving. Despite his manners, he was well-dressed—modern clothes, neat shoes, nicely trimmed hair and beard. He had a scar on his left arm, visible through the rolled-up sleeve of his sweater. He finishes eating, wipes his mouth with a napkin, pays the bill, and gets up, walking through the doors and out of the place.

I look at Sofia, who’s watching me closely, interested in what I’m seeing. “He’s out.”

“Perfect,” Sofia says with a satisfied smile. I feel a bit sorry for this guy—he messed with the wrong person. She leaves some bills on the table, enough to cover the check and a generous tip for the waiter who served us before we get up and leave. The guy is leaning against the driver’s window of a car, chatting with the driver like they’re good friends, until we see him slip a small package in exchange for cash. He’s screwed. The guy walks away, starting down the street, and Sofia and I get into the car, starting to follow him.

“You know, I don’t think I’m the right person to be here. What am I supposed to do if things go wrong and he grabs you? I can’t fight or use a gun; I’m useless.” I finish speaking and immediately regret saying it—I shouldn’t have gone against her. Sofia takes her eyes off the road and looks at me.

“Sure, I’m no one to tell you what to do, I would never do that, but you should have brought one of your guys for protection,” I say nervously, starting to sweat again.

“I brought you for a reason,” she says, pausing, her gaze shifting between the road and me. “That’s all you need to know for now.” I nod, not trusting my voice to respond.

The car falls silent, and we keep following the guy. He walks a little further and turns into a dead-end street—perfect timing. He’s talking to another man when we pull onto the street; it looks more like an argument. Sofia stops the car near them and gets out, with me following behind. As soon as they notice us, the other guy gets scared and hurries off, leaving the small-time dealer standing there, talking to himself.

Sofia moves closer to the guy, and when she’s close enough, she hits him with the gun she had grabbed from the glove compartment just seconds ago. The man drops to the ground, and we struggle a bit to haul him into the trunk of the car. We get back in, and in complete silence, she drives us back to her place.

She’s been inside with him for over two hours now. I’ve been waiting outside like she told me to, and I didn’t question it—I just stayed there. Eventually, she comes out, her face and clothes splattered with drops of blood, her gun in hand as she wipes it with a small cloth. I’m afraid to see the mess she’s made of that guy. One of her men approaches at Sofia’s signal, and she tells him to dump the guy at the abandoned junkyard, where he’ll be easily found.

______________________________________________________________

I spent the afternoon working as usual, still thinking about everything that happened this morning. It was almost time to leave, and I hadn’t seen Sofia since all the craziness earlier. It was 10:40 PM when I heard a knock on the door. I gave permission to enter, and Sofia appeared. She walked in and shut the door behind her. She was wearing white tailored pants with a long-sleeved shirt tucked in, her hair loose and a bit messy, and she had two wine glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other.

“Time to celebrate our successful mission,” she says with a suggestive smile, sitting down on the sofa near the big window in my office. I tidy up my desk and sit on the couch next to her, keeping a bit of distance—not wanting to be intrusive. She pours the two glasses, and we clink them together before taking a sip.

We start talking about everything and nothing. She asks about whatever interests her about me, and I answer—I wouldn’t dare to ask her anything. In the two years I’ve worked for Sofia, I’ve never seen her so relaxed before. I feel glad to know she feels comfortable with me, considering I know she doesn’t have friends and never leaves the house, except for business.

I feel Sofia getting closer, her hand taking mine that was resting on my lap. I hear her clear her throat before speaking. “To answer your question from this morning, I brought you because you calm me down,” she takes a breath and continues, “You were with me when I built my business. You left the Falcones to help me build the Gigantes when no one else would. You were the only one who visited me in Arkham, and even though I pulled away and got cold after I came back, you still stayed by my side. I didn’t want to do this alone today, but I also didn’t want someone who’d get in my way, and I knew you wouldn’t do that. You were perfect. We might seem strange, even though we weren’t super close, but I still care a lot about you and want to keep you around.” I see a single tear fall from her eye, sliding down her cheek, and I lift my hand to wipe it away.

“Sofia,” I say softly, “I didn’t know you felt that way. You never showed it. When I started working for your uncle, I knew it wouldn’t last long. I didn’t agree with the things he did or how he ran things. When I found out you’d been unfairly locked up, I was furious, and I went after you to find out the truth. After that day, I knew I had to do something about it, so I waited for you to get out so I could help you take back what was yours.” More tears fall from her eyes, and she covers her face with her hands.

I freeze, not knowing how to react to the situation, but I move closer to Sofia and wrap my arms around her. “You can cry as much as you need, I’m here for you.” With that, she starts to sob even harder, and I hold her tighter. We stay like that for a few minutes until Sofia calms down. She lifts her head from my shoulder and wipes her wet cheeks. I gently run my hand over her cheek, caressing her softly, and Sofia leans into my touch.

We stay like this for a few minutes, her tears falling onto my shoulder. Gradually, Sofia’s breathing slows, and her sobs quiet down. She lifts her head from my neck, her eyes still red and her cheeks damp. Carefully, I brush my hand over her cheek, stroking it gently, as if trying to erase every tear she shed.

Sofia leans into my touch, closing her eyes for a moment, as if surrendering to that instant. The closeness between us becomes almost palpable, and I can feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers. My heart races as she slowly moves closer, her eyes now opening and locking onto mine, as if silently seeking permission—feelings I didn't even know I had rise to the surface, and it feels like this was meant to be.

I gaze back at her, my fingers still tracing gentle lines on her skin. Without words, Sofia leans in even closer, our faces just inches apart. Her breath mingles with mine, warm and hesitant, before her lips touch mine—soft and uncertain.

In that first contact, it’s like time stops. The kiss is light, but filled with a sweetness that makes my heart race. I kiss her back, closing my eyes and allowing myself to savor every second of this moment, a moment I wish would never end, feeling the softness of her lips on mine, the warmth spreading through my chest like an explosion.

When we finally pull away, our faces remain close, and our eyes meet again. It’s a moment of silent understanding, as if, without saying a word, we’ve said everything.

______________________________________________________________

Sorry for my English, I used a translator for some parts. Thanks for reading this far <3

My first time writing, let me know what I can improve :}

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part Three

Part One, Part Two

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Your parents work late on Friday nights, which you spend alone. Except you haven't been alone in a long time, not that you know of at least. Rafe has watched for years, he's very good at it. His idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when you catch him in your bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living. After an unexpected visit to Tannyhill, you stalker comes up with a plan to make you his. But, will you be able to execute it just as he planned?

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the plot. Strong & descriptive language, suggestive themes, death threat(?), manipulation, kidnapping (?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 4.5k

Author Note: Part Three has arrived! I still am unsure if I like where the story is going, but we'll see. Also I'm getting so IMPATIENT and horny while writing this and it's literally killing me. Please share your thoughts about this part and ideas for future parts. Thank you all for the support on this story. I am very pleasantly surprised with how everyone has reacted to it. So, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

“Okay, you remember the plan, yeah? You know what you’re supposed to do?” Rafe speaks as you look out of the passenger window of his truck. 

You turn back to face him before speaking. “Y-yeah I know.” You nod, turning back to look out of the window and at your house across the street from the parked truck. “I have to tell them…” You pause, getting choked up. “I have to tell them that I’m moving out.” You turn back to look at him, your eyes watery. “I can’t…they’re gonna know–”

Rafe clenches his fists around the steering wheel and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “No, baby they’re not gonna know. Because you’re not gonna let them know, alright? And you sure as shit aren’t gonna try anything are you?”

You frantically shake your head, “No…no I’m not gonna try anything…’promise.” You pause. “It…it’s just…what if they don’t believe me? I can’t–I can’t tell them I’m moving out with someone I’ve never even mentioned to them.”

“Hey…hey, you’re an adult yeah? They can’t do shit baby. They don’t have a choice, you’re mine.” His words cause an icy shiver to roll down your spine. Though even you know that your parents aren’t going to protest you living with the richest, most successful man in the Outer Banks, besides from his father…which everyone has heard about. The saint turned murderer who died last year. Like father, like son, you think to yourself. The incident was all over the news, you’re surprised you didn’t recognize the Cameron son sooner, his face had to be everywhere when all that went down. 

But why would your parents care, all you do is cost them more money. They’ve been trying to get you out of the house for months. 

“Y-yeah…” You respond, looking back out the dark, tinted window towards your house. “I-I’m ready.” You put your hand on the door handle, waiting for him to unlock it so you can exit his truck.  

“You have an hour. Don’t make me come inside.” Rafe’s hand moves over the driver door and he presses a button, causing your door to unlock with a click. You nod and exit the vehicle, cautiously walking across the street and towards your front door. Upon entering your home, you take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions in check. No matter how much you wish your parents would notice something is very wrong, you know that would only bite you in the ass. The best thing you can do is make sure this all goes according to plan. 

“Mom?” You call out, slowly walking down the entry hallway. “Mom? Dad?” You try again, speaking more confidently this time.

“Yeah, in here!” You hear your mom call out from the living room. As you enter the room, you see your parents watching TV. Your mother with a drink in her hand, laid back on the couch with her legs crossed and your father reclined in the chair, a beer in his hand. You glance down at the floor beside the recliner and spot several empty beer cans. Great, just great.

“Hey…” You say sheepishly. “How’s the bar?”, you ask, more casually. 

Your mom glances over at your father, assuming that since he hasn’t even turned his head away from the TV, she’s going to have to answer you. As she turns her head back to look at you, she sips on her drink. She licks her lips and clears her throat before drawing her attention to you. “It was fine”, she mutters your name before taking another sip of her drink. “Same as always. What’ve you been up to?” She asks, not even trying to pretend like she actually cares about what you have to say next. 

As you open your mouth to speak, your father cuts you off; still not looking away from the TV. “Get a damn job yet? Or were you just out fucking off again, hm? You’re too goddamn old to be living under my roof for free. You don’t do shit. You’re gonna start paying your fucking dues.” He snaps, finishing off his beer before tossing it to the ground aside, clattering into the others. “I need a beer.” He mutters. Without hesitation you walk over to the kitchen. You open the fridge door, staring into it as you get lost in your thoughts for a moment, eyes immediately watering. You shouldn’t even be upset, it’s not like you expected anything more. But you did have the slightest hope that maybe they didn’t drink so much today and they’d actually be able to tell that something is terribly wrong. 

Quickly you snap yourself out of your thoughts, grabbing a beer from the fridge and heading back into the living room, handing it to your dad. You take a few steps back, taking a breath to calm yourself. “I told you I–”, you start before your father interrupts you. 

“You’re gonna ‘go back to school to get a good job’. Bull. Shit. y/n. Bullshit.”

You fight back the tears in your eyes. Even though you’re used to the drunken crap your father is constantly spewing, his words still always manage to get to you; especially now when you actually need your parents. After a moment, you move to face both parents, looking more at your mother; she’s easier to speak to. 

“A-actually…” You start, looking down at your feet and fiddling with your fingers. “I wanted to tell you t-that I-I’m moving out…” You wait a few seconds to steady your breathing and let your words sink in before looking back up. Your father has turned in his chair to face you and your mother looked up at you from her spot on the couch. 

“About damn time.” Your father speaks.

Your mother replies next, “Where?” 

You look back at your feet, watching how they kick at the ground as you speak, “In…into Tannyhill. The Cameron's place.” You mumble, not wanting to look up, fearing that they’ll see right through you. Even though you know you’re just paranoid, there’s no way they’ll pay enough attention to you to notice something is wrong.

“Didn’t they move after what happened to Ward?” Your mother asks.

Your dad adds, “After Ward killed a shit ton of folks and then himself.” 

You ignore your fathers words, looking up at your mother, only taking brief glances over at your father while you speak. “Uhh no, no…not all of them.” Your hand lightly scratches at the back of your head. “Rafe, the son,” you clarify, trying to seem as though you are telling a casual story; like you’re telling the truth. “Yeah, uh…he actually took over Cameron Development and he still lives in the house.”

“What the hell you doin’ with a Cameron?” Your mother questions sternly. Her attention is taken away from you as your father barks her name.

“Fucks’ it matter?” He speaks to her before looking over at you again. “He’s letting you move in? He’ll pay for your lazy ass, yeah?”

You look at your dad and give him a nod, watching as he takes another swig of his beer can as you mutter, “Y-yes.”

 He swallows hard, pursing his lips. “Then go on, get outta here.” He exclaims before looking back to the TV as though nothing happened. 

You answer your moms question from earlier, “Rafe…h-he’s a friend of mine. He said he’s got so much extra space and he can help me find a good job out on figure eight; y’know, hook me up with some people, I guess he put a word in for me or somethin’.” You lie, pleased with yourself as you manage to get out the last word without breaking character. 

“S’long as you’re not costin’ us no more money.” She replies, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen to refill her glass of wine. 

You stand there for a moment, before your dad speaks again, “And when you come crawling back, you ain’t stayin’ for free.” 

You let out a small, broken sigh, “yeah”. You exit the living room, heading to your bedroom. As you pass by the kitchen you momentarily stop and speak to your mother who’s currently trying to open up a new bottle of wine. “I’m gonna pack a bag…I’m leaving tonight.”

You know the time is ticking, that you probably don’t have much of your hour left. You grab your biggest duffel bag from underneath your bed and start frantically filling it. It’s hard to pack though because, what are you supposed to bring to move in with your psycho stalker? You pack some hoodies and sweats, some of your baggiest jeans, oversized t-shirts, large pj pants, really just making sure all the clothes you packed were the least revealing things you could find. After all, you weren’t sure what was in store for you. And you sure as hell weren’t gonna make it that easy for him to get what he wants. You packed some personal hygiene products and toiletries, an extra pair of shoes, and whatever else you think you may need. Before walking out of your bedroom, you glance around and scan for anything you might’ve missed. You end up grabbing your favorite blanket and shoving it into your bag; something that might help give you comfort at your new home, something to keep the monsters out at night. And finally, you tuck your ‘sleeping’ pills into your bag. They’re the only thing that’s been able to help you sleep these past few weeks. And slowly your dosage continues to increase.

Stepping out of your bedroom, you shut your door behind you. You stand in the hallway, taking a deep breath which causes a tear to fall down your cheek. You wipe the tear and head back into your living room. You set down your bag and walk over to the couch, sitting beside your mom. 

Turning to face her, you whisper, “I’m leaving now, mom.”

“Okay sweetie.” She nods, this really isn’t a big deal for her. She thinks you’re just moving out like a typical young adult. But you know the truth. You know, or rather you don’t know what the future has in store for you or when the next time you’ll be able to see your family again is; if he lets you see them again. 

You lean in and give your mom a hug, she immediately hugs back seeing as you two never hug. You pray that this doesn’t raise any suspicion in her. When you stand up from the couch, you walk over to stand by your fathers chair. “Bye Dad, I’m leaving now.” You say, trying to keep your normal emotionless, cold tone with him. 

“Yeah, okay, bye.” He waves you off, wanting you to move out of his view of the television. 

You go and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder again. Before exiting the room and leaving, you turn back to your parents, “Bye, see you later.” You lie. Well, technically it’s not a lie because you aren’t even sure of the answer yourself.

As you walk out of the front door, you hear each of them mutter some form of a goodbye just before the door shuts behind you. You look up and glance across the street, seeing Rafe’s truck still sitting there parked; still running. As you slowly walk towards it, he rolls his darkly tinted window down just enough that you can see his eyes as they watch you intently. You’re hit with shivers that roll from the top of your spine to the tip of your toes as you walk around to the passenger side of his truck and open the back door, tossing your bag on the seats before climbing into the front passenger seat. 

You can feel his searing vision on you as you buckle your seatbelt and proceed to stare silently out in front of yourself. He mutters your name, causing you to hesitantly turn to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He asks.

“Well clearly I’m here so…” You say, unsure of where your sarcastic attitude came from. You hope this isn’t enough to set him off. Judging by his ragged breath, the chances aren’t great. 

Rafe just shakes his head, a small smirk forming on his face as he lets out a huff, “yeah…you’re here baby.” It’s hard to tell whether or not he’s pissed off or not. You curse his quickly transforming moods. He doesn’t say anything else before putting the truck into drive and spinning out of your neighborhood. The drive from the cut back to figure eight is dreadful and silent. 

When you do finally reach Tannyhill and Rafe parks in the driveway, he’s the first to exit the vehicle as he grabs your duffle bag from the backseat, rounding the truck to open your door. You instinctively mumble a small ‘thank you’ to him, immediately feeling embarrassed before realizing that maybe being extra kind will make him go easier on you. All he does is chuckle in response as he walks behind you to his front door. When Rafe gets the door unlocked, he lets you walk inside first as he follows closely behind. He locks the door and leads you upstairs and down the hall. Reaching inside his pocket, Rafe pulls out another key which he uses to unlock a random hallway door. Once he gets it open, he enters the room and sets your bag down on the bed.

 He turns back to look at you as you stand in the doorway. “This uh…” he scratches at the back of his buzzed head, appearing to be almost…nervous? “This is your room for the time being.” Rafe grins as he looks up at you. “Thought you’d be more comfortable in your own room for now.”

‘For now’, what the hell is that supposed to mean? You wonder, taking a step further inside the bedroom. You look around, but you don’t speak; you don’t know what you’d even say. You sit on the foot of the neatly made bed. He only stands in front of you, staring down, just watching you silently. Rafe is always doing that, watching. 

“Rafe…?” You murmur, turning your head slightly in his direction but keeping your eyes rooted on the floor. 

“Hm? What is it, baby?” Rafe’s brows further, his forehead slightly creasing. 

“I…w-what happens now?” You ask as you use your right hand to scratch at your left forearm, trying to keep yourself mentally present. 

Rafe steps closer to the bed, if you were to look up, you’d practically be face-to-face with his clothed cock. So you decide to spare the awkwardness of that and continue to stare at the ground below you.  

“Well,” he speaks. Before continuing, Rafe brings his hand up and uses his thumb and pointer finger to grip into your chin. He slightly tugs upward, forcing you to look up into his eyes. “You’re gonna stay here with me. I know baby, I know it’s hard. But, you’ll have some time to adjust, alright?” You nod and he lets go of your chin, but immediately moves to take the empty space on the bed. He sits next to you and he places his hand on your knee. “Hey,” he speaks softly and you turn to look at him. “This is our future and I know it’s scary, but it’s gonna be okay. Yeah?”

Future, you think. ‘This is our future’, you try to allow his words to break through to you, but your mind won’t let this sink in. This, whatever this is, was not supposed to be your future. Though you’re not totally sure what was meant to be your future, you just know it isn’t him. You’re supposed to meet someone who you know now, is not a psycho stalker and actually have a choice in what happens to you.

God, maybe your parents were right. Which you never thought would happen. But, if you had listened to them and had done more with your life, who knows, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation. But instead you pushed all responsibilities away, saving them for the ‘future’. You’ve spent your entire life waiting for something in your brain to switch and somehow make you capable of carrying responsibilities and do something with your life. And now, this is your punishment, it has to be. If you ever get out of this nightmare of a situation, you aren’t gonna sit around on your ass and wait for a handout anymore, you’re gonna change. But, that is only if you manage to escape from this hell. 

“Okay, baby?” The man next to you speaks, his thumb lightly running over the fabric of your jeans. His voice pulls you out from your endless void of thoughts, bringing you right back into the present. 

You respond, your voice shaky, “What do you want from me?” A salty, warm tear rolls out from the corner of your eye and down your cheek. “Baby, baby shhh, it’s okay. It’s alright. All I want is for us to be together, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” He says in a tone that seems to indicate that he might just actually be sincere. The more you try to figure this man out, the more confused you get. But, if he really does care about you, that’s something you might just be able to work with.

“B-but…you are hurting me.” You say hesitantly, worried to see how this will play out. Immediately, his already light touch on your knee lightens even more to the point he’s barely making contact. 

“What? What do you mean? You’re okay.” 

“No…I just wanna go home, please.” The last word comes out in more of a whisper than anything else. Rafe’s eyes squeeze shut and he shakes his head, standing up. 

He begins to pace the room, you just follow him with his eyes. As Rafe paces, his fists repeatedly clench and unclench at his sides. Suddenly, he comes to a halt, turning to face you again. “You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Please…” You whimper in a pleading tone. Your voice full of emotion. He cocks his head to the side, amused as he watches you. Rafe takes a few steps closer, so he’s standing to the side of the bed once more. 

“Baby, there’s nothing to be so scared of. We’re gonna be so good. Just…just trust me.” He says, getting impatient with having to repeat this to you constantly.

“But…I don’t want this, please just take me back home.” Rafe’s expression goes dark, his shoulders relax like he’s just let something go.

“Go home? To do what? Huh?! You don’t do shit. I’m saving you baby. I’m saving you from your sad, pathetic life. I’m giving you everything you’ll ever need, baby. So no, you cannot go ‘home’. This is your home.” The man’s voice is stronger, meaner than before. At this point you don’t have enough courage left in you to fight this. You just sniffle and nod, wiping your tears. “This is our home.” 

As you sit there silently watching him but being careful not to make eye contact, he starts to unzip your duffel bag. You huff, “what, you gonna take the only things I have left now too?” 

He sighs, looking at you. “No.” Rafe begins to sort through your things, taking it all out of the bag one by one. “Just makin’ sure you didn’t get any stupid ideas.” He mumbles, not looking up from what he’s doing.

After he empties the contents of your bag out onto ‘your’ bed, he starts to go through it more carefully. You watch as he picks up a pair of your underwear, holding it up and looking at you. “What’s all this shit? You on your period or some shit? Thought that was earlier this month.” He huffs, tossing the item back down on the bed. He’s clearly frustrated by the fact that you purposely packed your ugliest and least revealing panties; which happen to be the ones you typically wear on your period. Which makes you think back to what he said, you realize he’s had to see you in your underwear often to know what kind you wear during a specific time of the month. You shiver.

Once he deems everything as safe, he puts it all back into the bag. Just as he picks up one of your hoodies, the bottle of your sleeping pills fall onto the bed. Rafe’s brows furrow and he picks up the bottle, reading the label. Once he identifies the content and the doseage, he makes a  tsk sound. He slips the bottle into his pocket and looks back up at you. “Can’t leave you with those now can I?” Rafe finishes re-packing your bag.

“I-I need those…to sleep.” Your words cause him to chuckle, confusing you. You don’t understand what he could possibly find funny in this situation, but then again you aren’t a sociopathic stalker. 

“Right.” He mumbles. “Nobody takes that much just to sleep.”

“Please, they…they help.” You aren’t lying. Your doctor put you onto some medication which you cannot pronounce, that almost immediately puts out your anxiety and helps you relax. The only thing is, you keep upping the dose, when really they worked just fine the first time. But, you like how they make you feel. And yeah, sometimes you might take them without reason, but only sometimes.

“I’m gonna hold onto them for a while baby. You’ll be fine.” He pauses before speaking again, this time with a slight smirk evident on his face, “I’m here if you need help sleeping.” He says cockily. “Yeah?” You don’t respond. You just stare at the floor. 

After a few moments of silence, his stares were getting uncomfortable. “Can I just be alone, please? I just…I wanna try and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” You sigh. 

“You haven’t eaten today.” He states.

“Yeah…I-I’m not hungry.” Being kidnapped and forced to completely unroot your life to live with an unknown man definitely takes some effect on you, such as erasing your appetite. 

Rafe sighs and steps closer, sitting down next to you once more. “How do I know you aren’t gonna try anything?”  

“I haven’t tried anything yet have I? I haven’t told anyone about you, a-and I’ve done everything you’ve asked.” You plead.

Rafe makes another tsk sound as he shakes his head. “What were you doing at the sheriff's office today, hm? What was that?”

“I…I-” You aren’t sure what to say. If you lie, he’ll know. But you’re too afraid to tell him what you had planned on doing down at the station. 

“Don’t you ever try that again. Don’t even fucking think about trying it.” He pauses for a moment. Chuckling before he speaks again, “god, so stupid. You really thought they’d believe you? Over…over me?” He laughs.

“I…I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” he grabs your thigh firmly, making you gasp. “You know I hate when you lie to me…so why do you keep doing it?” He asks, searching in your eyes for the answer. “You’re only sorry you got caught.” He squeezes tighter.

You groan at his grip on your leg and the ache it’s causing. “R-Rafe…that hurts. Please…y-you’re hurting me.” Your words are followed by a quick gasp and a tear running down your face. 

Once Rafe’s eyes land on your tear, he lets go of your leg. “Shit, baby. I’m—I didn’t mean to.” Rafe moves his hand to rest comfortingly on your shoulder. Well, his idea of what a comforting hand is isn’t exactly comforting. But he doesn’t have much of an example to go off of. 

Before you can speak, he stands up and exits the room. You hear the door lock, and your eyes squeeze shut. You let your head fall into your hands and you just start to let it all out. For hours you sit there, crying until there’s no tears left. You just keep waiting and waiting for him to come back; you figure he wouldn’t leave you completely alone without supervision on your first night here. Except he never does. 

Eventually, you really do start to feel a bit tired. You lay down on the bed, on top of the covers. You use your pillow and your blanket from home. The smell of home still lingering on the items. Pulling the blanket over your head to feel safe, you eventually begin to fall asleep. 

When you wake, you’re still tucked away into your safe place. After recollecting your thoughts that had become jumbled from sleep, you pull the blanket off of your head. You squint from the bright light that shines through the window. Once your eyes have adjusted, you take a moment to scan over your surroundings. The bedroom looks like that of a hotel room. Well, not like any hotel you’ve ever been to. The mansion is slightly more vintage and elegant than those of the typical kooks; it’s not as simple and modern. If you weren’t being held captive in it, you may even admire it. 

As much as you’d love to stay curled up under your blanket. Nature calls and you can’t ignore it. You sit up from the bed and quietly step over to the door. Shit. The doors locked, you forgot.

“Hey!” You call out. “Rafe? Let me out!” Faintly, you can hear commotion from the floor below you. While you wait, you look around the room a bit more. There’s another door, you open it expecting it to be a closet, but it’s a bathroom. Wow, you definitely feel dumb now.

After taking care of things, you exit the bathroom. You jump back when you finally look up from your feet to see Rafe standing in the room. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” He smiles. “How’d you sleep?”

You start walking towards the bed, sitting back down and covering your body with your blanket. All you do in response is shake your head.

“Hungry yet?” He asks, sitting at the foot of the bed and resting his hand on your calf, rubbing over it through your blanket. 

You shake your head again.

Rafe sighs, “y’know I’d really appreciate some words?” He says softly.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” He tucks his lips in and nods a bit. “Suit yourself then. I’ll be back later, I guess. …Unless you don’t want me to go?” He asks hopefully.

“Am I supposed to just stay locked up in here all day?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“Well,” Rafe pauses to lick his lips before continuing. “You’re the one who I can’t trust.” He takes his hand off of your leg and stands up. “Just…just give it time baby, you’ll come around. I know you will.” It’s obvious that he’s not even sure about whether or not he’s trying to convince you or himself with his words. 

Without another word, Rafe exits the room, locking the door. Again, you cover yourself with the blanket and let it engulf you. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re in your own bed at home. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas, I just might include them in future parts. And there's not much I won't write!

[loviingpedri]

feliz navidad - jude bellingham

prompt: jude’s first christmas tree in madrid

warnings: grammar issues, cheesy lines

credits to owners for all images

“jude! look at all these ornaments i got.”

“they’re really pretty. remind me, what is the theme for the tree again?” he picked up the green ornament with the unique carvings of it.

“traditional christmas of course. classic colors like green and red. it’s gonna look beautiful.”

“beautiful like you?” he winked at you while you grinned from his flirty comment.

“anyways! are you ready to start decorating?” he nodded his head as he opened the box of lights. he began to put the lights on as you tried to find hooks for the ornaments.

“do you think we should do fake presents again. i mean, it looked pretty last year.”

“do whatever it takes to make it your dream christmas tree. the least i can do is help you. take this as my appreciation for your sacrifices in moving here with me.” the lights were blinking at you as he finished his sentence.

“you always say that. can’t leave the love of my life in a foreign place alone.”

“aren’t i special then?”

“don’t let your ego get to you jude.” finding the hooks for the ornaments, it was finally time for your favorite tradition. decorating with jude.

grabbing a sparkly green ornament, it was already matching with the lights. soon, dozens of red and green were everywhere.

“jude! did you put these green ornaments together?” he was just happy to help. you appreciated everything he did, but sometimes it didn’t quite match your ideas.

“yeah? what about it?” he grabbed another red ornament as the tree started to become overwhelming.

“they aren’t suppose to be next to each other. it’s a contrasting kind of idea, you know?” he just nodded, but he didn’t understand the point of it. another rule added to the list, don’t put the same kind of ornament together.

the tree came together perfectly. especially with the ribbons and lights. the only challenging part next was the star. you attempted to put it on there yourself, but it was no use.

“having trouble?” as you finally stopped stretching your arm, you couldn’t deny it.

“yeah i am. do you have a ladder or anything?” now, the jude bellingham started laughing in your face. usually, you would be offended but it was definitely more confusion. “what are you laughing at?” giving him a sassy pose, his smile became vivid.

“the only thing i should be smiling at. why get a ladder when you have me?” jude really thinks he’s the smartest man out here.

“what?”

“oh come on. i’m strong enough to hold you.”

“jude, what are you on about?”

“get on my shoulders of course. you’ll be tall enough to put the star on.”

pure shock was seen in your face. “are you serious? i mean you could seriously get hurt.”

“don’t you trust me?” he crept down slowly and told you to just get on. after awkward movement, you felt your stomach drop as he stood up. everything was much clearer in this view.

“this is absolutely crazy.”

“don’t fall, please.” as you got closer to the tree, the star was shining bright on your face. jude walked to the couch to playfully yet gently throw you off. a lot of giggles and cuddles were shared as you admired your new masterpiece.

“it’s so bright.”

“yeah, just like you.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead as you got comfortable under the blanket right next to him.

——————————————

author’s note: happy holidays to those who celebrate! it’s crazy how this has been in my draft since november and it finally came together. wishing you all happiness!

[gloomysoup]

before we get too old

rating: T+ | word count: 3,563 | tags: major character death, angst, hurt no comfort, canon-typical violence, implied steddie (if you squint) | ao3

*title is from Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol*

i am so happy to FINALLY be sharing this fic with y'all. I've been sitting on this one for MONTHS, and surprisingly kept it pretty secret. I wanna give quick thanks to my friends, Ro and Seph, for helping me edit over the last several weeks and convincing me it's actually good enough to post. They are godsends, I swear. And of course a special thank you to my spouse @estrellami-1 for having full confidence in me and always being my cheerleader 💜 I hope y'all enjoy this fic (and don't hate me too much for what I've done here)

It happened so fast. His attention was away from Mike and Will for maybe a handful of seconds at most, turned just long enough to scan the area behind him for movement. All it took was a few seconds though. When he turned back around, a demogorgon had lept toward the two young teens, and Steve Harrington was blocking them.

There wasn’t even enough time for Steve to raise his bat. He didn’t stand a chance. He shoved the two boys behind him so hard that Will tripped and fell. Mike was frozen on the spot. The creature had a hold on Steve before anyone could even blink. Its claws dug into his skin as its face opened up, sinking sharp teeth into tender muscle and tearing. Steve gritted his teeth to keep from screaming too loudly, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. The others regained their senses and shot at the demogorgon, forcing it to release Steve and move back far enough for Jonathan to hit it with flames. Steve crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood, falling limp like a rag doll, tossed aside by a child who found something more interesting to play with.

The creature was dead. The other groups were scattered, following the plan. This hadn’t been part of it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mike and Will stood a few paces away from where Steve laid on the ground, forcing wet, gasping breaths into his lungs through the blood pouring out in droves. Jonathan dropped to his side as soon as he was certain the rest of the area was clear.

“Steve,” he said between quick breaths. He pulled a wad of gauze from his bag, a precaution Nancy had made them all take. Part of him knew, just looking at Steve, that it wasn’t going to be enough. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay, man.”

Steve coughed, blood spilling from his mouth and dripping down the sides of his face. “It- it came outta- outta nowhere, man. I had- had to help- had to keep the kids safe.”

“Yeah, you did. They’re fine, Steve. You protected them.” Jonathan fought the emotions creeping up his throat as he pressed the gauze into the gaping wounds on Steve’s torso. The skin was ripped to shreds. Jonathan could almost convince himself he could see the bones of Steve’s rib cage through all the blood. Steve winced and groaned at the sharp pressure. “I’m sorry. I gotta- I gotta stop the bleeding. It’s a lot of blood.”

“Be better if Nance was here, huh?” Steve tried to laugh, but it just came out weak and strained. It led to another cough, blood spilling everywhere. It was already pooling underneath him, seeping into the ground. “She’d know exactly what to do."

“You’re right, she would. She’s always the one better in a crisis, isn’t she?” Jonathan licked his lips. His hands were coated in blood. It was seeping through the gauze far quicker than he had hoped it would. This was bad. “You’re gonna be okay, Steve. We’re gonna get you outta here, yeah?”

Steve took a few more gasping breaths, his eyes fluttering before drifting behind Jonathan to Mike and Will. His gaze pulled back to Jonathan, dark and dim as he fought for every blood-soaked breath. “You don’t have to lie, man. I- I know it’s bad. I’m not making it out of here, am I?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, you gotta hang on, okay? We’ll find a way. We’ll get you help, and everything will be fine.” The gauze was completely soaked through. Blood seeped through his fingers, coating his hands in thick, sticky red. He could feel it soaking into the knees of his jeans. He looked over his shoulder. “Mike, Will, I need you to help,” he called. “I need something to stop the bleeding.”

Mike stood stock-still, whole body trembling, but Will seemed to instantly jump into action. He rummaged through their small supply, looking for anything they could use. He found a spare t-shirt and a jacket. It would have to do. They didn't have any other option, and the walkies hadn’t been working this whole time. They had no way of calling the others for help. They were on their own. Will tossed the shirt at his brother, standing just to the side as Jonathan switched out the dark red, dripping gauze for the shirt. It had done nothing to staunch any of the bleeding. Steve had gone pale. Paler than any person ever should be. He was losing too much.

“W- Will, okay?” Steve asked, still fighting for air.

“I’m fine, Steve,” Will answered softly. “We both are. You saved us.”

“That’s- that’s good.” His eyes drifted shut, and Jonathan began to panic. His heart pounded in his chest. His lungs constricted. He couldn't breathe. He needed Steve to make it out of this. He had to save him.

“Hey, hey, no, Steve, you have to stay awake,” he said quickly, pressing one hand to his face and tapping his cheek. He tried to swallow back the bile that wanted to rise at the red it left behind. “I need you to stay awake for me, yeah? You’re gonna be okay, but you can’t close your eyes.”

Steve winced again, his breathing coming shallow and raspy. He was losing so much blood. “R-Robin?”

“She’s coming,” Jonathan promised quickly, not knowing if it was true or not, but also knowing that all he could do now was try to comfort Steve. All he could do was try and reassure him, make this easier on the guy that had sacrificed so much for all of them and never expected anything in return. He just needed to believe that everything was okay. That he would see Robin soon. He still didn't fully understand their relationship, but he knew it was important to both of them. “Robin’s coming, Steve. You just gotta stay with me a little longer. She’ll be here soon.”

“Jonathan,” Will whispered, looking at his brother worriedly. He was crouched on the other side of Steve now, his face pale. Like he knew. He just knew. Jonathan hated that he knew. Will was too young. He shouldn't have to know.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Jonathan said firmly, trying to reassure everyone in a situation that he knew wasn’t going to have a happy ending. What else was he supposed to do?

“Hey- hey, man, I- uh- I’m sorry.” Jonathan put his attention on Steve, not quite sure what he was apologizing for. “All the shit- the shit that I did. Wasn’t cool. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, you don’t have to apologize for that stuff. It doesn't matter anymore. I got over it a long time ago. If anything, I should be the one sorry. I’m the one that stole your girlfriend.

Steve tried to laugh again, but it just made him choke up more blood. God, there was so much blood. “Nah, she never really- really loved me. It was always you anyway.” His eyes drifted shut for a moment again, but he was still speaking. “Robin- Robin’s on her way, yeah?”

“She’s coming, Steve. You just gotta keep breathing. She’ll be here soon.”

“You know, she- she’s my best friend. She always- always jokes that we’re soulmates. Platonic with a capital ‘P’.” Steve’s voice was slow and syrupy. Rough. Jonathan hated how slow it sounded.

“Yeah? That’s really cool, man. You deserve someone like that.”

Jonathan just needed to keep him talking. If he was talking, he was alive. The longer he was alive, the more hope they had. Jonathan knew that wasn't actually true, but it's all he could do. Convince himself of lies. Anything to keep from falling apart in front of Mike and Will. They didn't need that. They needed him to be strong.

Steve nodded his head slowly, just barely enough to catch the movement. “I- you’ll tell her I- I love her, right? She’s gotta know. Someone’s gotta tell her.”

“You can tell her yourself.”

He winced, shaking his head. “I think we both know that’s not gonna happen.” Another cough. “Promise me something?”

“No, Steve, you’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

“Jon.” His voice was raspy and distant. Jonathan doubted he had much time left. “Take- take care of them for me. Nance especially. Don’t- don’t let her blame herself. Me, Barb. None of it was- was her fault. And Robs. She’s- she’s gonna need someone. You’ve gotta- gotta look out for her for me. Promise you- you’ll be there for them?”

Jonathan nodded quickly. He didn’t have a choice anymore. Any hope that Steve was getting out of there alive was dwindling rapidly. His skin was growing more and more pale and cold from blood loss. His eyes were heavy and dim. His breathing was too shallow. Jonathan knew if he felt for his pulse, it would barely even be there. Too weak to keep pumping blood he didn't have. “Of course I will. I’ll make sure they’re okay. You don't have to worry. I’ve got them.”

“Thanks, man.” Steve took a few breaths and his head lolled over toward Will as he looked at him. He tried to muster a smile, but it was tight and bloody. So red. “You’re a good kid, Will,” he muttered. “You’ve gotta- gotta make sure all you little- little rugrats are looking after each other.”

Will nodded instantly, tear tracks on his cheeks. Jonathan could tell that Will knew. He knew this was it. He watched his little brother choke back a sob.

“Hey, no, you don’ gotta do that. You’ll be okay.”

Mike dropped to his knees next to Will, sobbing harder than Jonathan had ever seen. “You can’t die on us, Steve!” he begged, grabbing the older boy’s cold, clammy hand.

“Mike,” Steve whispered. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“No! No, you can’t! We- we need you!”

“Nah, you guys are strong. You’ll be okay.”

“No, Steve, don’t! I- I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you. I’m sorry. I never should have been like that. You were always there to save us, and I was awful to you!”

The corner of Steve’s lips tugged up slightly as he tried to squeeze Mike’s hand with the little strength he had left. “I know you didn’t mean it. You’re just a kid.”

“That’s not an excuse!”

“I know. I’m not mad. I love all you- you little twerps, okay?”

“Steve, please, don’t go.”

“‘S okay, Mike. Eddie’s waitin’ for me. ‘M not gonna be alone anymore.”

Jonathan looked up and spotted people in the distance. Nancy, Robin, Lucas, and Erica. He stood up instantly, scrambling to his feet. “Nance! Robin!” he yelled as loudly as he could, his voice breaking as he realized he was crying now too. He waved his arms frantically, tripping over his feet to get closer. “Robin! It’s Steve!” The group stopped dead. Nancy, Lucas, and Erica exchanged looks, but Robin didn’t hesitate. She took off sprinting toward them, the other three following behind a split second later. Jonathan dropped back down, his hand on Steve’s bicep to get his attention. “Steve, hold on, okay? Robin’s coming. She’s right here. Just another moment longer.”

Robin came skidding to a halt, Will and Jonathan taking a few steps back as she collapsed to her knees at his side. She took his face in her hands, and Steve coughed up some more blood before attempting a smile, his teeth stained. Jonathan could still make out his own blood red fingerprint on Steve’s cheek between Robin’s fingers. He was fading fast now. He didn't have much time left. “Steve, no, no, hey, you’re going to be okay.” She started rambling, tears streaking her face. Steve cut her off, weakly raising his arm to cup her cheek. His thumb smeared red across her skin while he tried to comfort her with a bloody hand.

“Robs,” he whispered. “Robs, ’s- ’s okay. Gonna- gonna see Eds again. ‘M okay.”

“Steve, please.” Robin’s voice cracked and broke.

The others had arrived, and Mike had moved back to stand with his sister and his friends. It wasn’t the whole group, but at least Steve wasn’t alone. At least he got to say goodbye to Robin. Nancy was crying, looking between Steve and Jonathan. All Jonathan could do was shake his head. There wasn’t anything more they could do. He had tried everything he could. There was no hope of getting him help. He wouldn’t make it back to the gate. This was it.

“‘S okay, Robbie. ‘M gonna be okay. You’re gonna be- be okay.”

“No, I’m not. Not without you. I need you, dingus.”

“No, you don't. You never did. I needed you.” Steve’s eyes fluttered. “Tell Dustin- Dustin that ‘m sorry, and ‘m with Eddie now, ‘kay? Make sure he’s- he’s okay. He’s gotta- gotta remember that- that I love ‘im, ‘kay? Max and El too. They- they gotta…. Do that for me?”

“Tell them yourself, dingus,” Robin whispered. “Stay alive, and tell them yourself.”

Steve tried to take a breath, but it was rattling and shallow. He got cut off by another rough bout of coughing that sounded so painful, even Jonathan’s chest hurt in sympathy. “I'm not sure I can anymore. I- I'm so- so cold.” He blinked at Robin, trying to smile. “Promise. Please?”

Robin sniffed, her next breath shaky. “Okay. I promise.”

“Thank you.” He sighed softly. “Love you, Robbie. Always,” he whispered on his last remaining breath. His eyes were closed, and he let out one last puff of air before his chest stilled. The air around them was heavy and silent as they all watched his arm go limp, falling from Robin’s cheek and hitting the ground with a gentle thud. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. That was it. Steve was gone.

The next sound that filled the air around them was Robin’s screaming as she collapsed forward onto her best friend. Her soulmate. She was covered in what remained of his blood, not even caring as she pressed her face against his chest and grabbed at his body as she shook with the force of each devastating sob. “I love you,” she stuttered out between gasping breaths and heart-wrenching cries. “I love you, okay? I love you.”

Steve had always done so much. He took care of them. He protected them. He loved them. In the end, there was nothing they could do to protect him.

Twenty years old was too young to die.

Nancy stood by Jonathan’s side, watching Robin as the grief completely overwhelmed her. “What happened?” she finally asked quietly, voice strained with tears.

Jonathan swallowed hard, his arm tight around her shoulders. “Demogorgon. It came out of nowhere, headed straight for Mike and Will. Steve shoved them out of the way, but there wasn’t time to fight it off. He didn’t stand a chance.”

“Dustin and Max are going to be devastated.”

“Robin almost didn’t make it in time,” Jonathan whispered, watching the girl gasp through more sobs that wracked her entire body. “I think he was waiting for her. He just wanted to say goodbye to his best friend.”

“I can’t imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t been here soon enough….” Nancy glanced at Mike and Will, who were standing with Lucas and Erica. All four of them watched in silence, tears rolling down their cheeks. “Are they okay?”

“Physically, they’re fine. Steve was the only one who- who got hurt. I don’t think they’re ever going to be okay about this, though. Mike is really upset. I think he blames himself a little.”

There was movement and noise in the distance. Jonathan looked up, spotting Hopper first. His heart dropped, knowing what he had to do now. He pulled away from Nancy, nodding in their direction when she looked at him.

"I'm gonna meet them halfway," he whispered. "I want to try to prepare them."

Nancy nodded. "I'll stay here with the kids and Robin. Jonathan?" He looked back at her. "Good luck."

He nodded solemnly. "Thanks."

Jonathan jogged to catch the other group before they got too close. They instantly slowed to a stop as he reached them.

Hopper frowned, eyes roving over Jonathan's appearance. "What happened? Are you okay? Where is that blood coming from?"

Jonathan glanced down at himself for the first time since all this started. He was covered, practically head to toe, in blood. Steve's blood. It was everywhere, soaked into his clothes and staining his hands. Distantly, he could still hear Robin's piercing screams echoing through the air.

"It- it's not mine," he answered dumbly, shaking his head.

"Then whose the hell is it?" Hopper demanded.

Silence followed for a moment. Jonathan paused, trying to think of how to say what he needed to say. There was really only one way to answer that question, though. He just had to say it. "Steve's."

"What?" Dustin paled where he stood next to Hopper. His eyes flickered between Jonathan and Hopper rapidly. Jonathan could see the panic rising in him.

He could feel the shock finally settling in. He knew it by the tingling that had started up in his fingers and toes. The way he couldn't quite get a full breath into his lungs. His heart was pounding against his rib cage and his blood was rushing in his ears.

"There- there was a- a demogorgon. He- he put himself in front of the boys.

Max was off before anyone could try to stop her. His mom had El in her arms as the tears started. Dustin was frozen, staring at Jonathan in horror.

"No," he whispered. "No, he- he-"

"I tried everything," Jonathan said softly. "I couldn't- I couldn't stop it. There was so much blood...."

"Jonathan." He looked up at the tone in Hopper's voice. He blinked a few times, trying to straighten out his scrambling brain.

"He- He didn't make it."

"No!" Dustin screamed, fat tears running down his grimy cheeks. "No, he can't! We have to save him! Steve!" Dustin took off. Jonathan could hear the sobs bursting from his chest as he ran.

"Is there any way-"

"No."

Jonathan was sticky with half-dried blood. He didn't know what to do anymore. He swayed on his feet. It was all coming down around him. He couldn't save Steve. He couldn't protect any of them. The blood was so sticky.

“Jonathan.” He looked up, not even realizing he had been staring at his red-stained hands. “Are you okay? Did anyone else get hurt?”

He shook his head again. “Steve, he- he pushed them out of the way. He saved them, and I- I couldn't even save him.”

“It's not your fault.”

Steve’s blood-soaked smile fluttered through his mind. His ears rang with Robin’s screaming sobs, her begging. He could still feel Steve’s blood seeping from his body between his fingers, soaking through everything they had to try and stop it. He couldn't save him. It sure felt like his fault.

He doesn't know what happens after that. Everything passes by him, every moment slipping through the gaps. All he knows is his hands are stained and tacky with dried blood. His clothes stick to him. Steve is dead.

Jonathan doesn't know how to live in a world that doesn't have Steve Harrington in it.

-----

No one ever prepares you for the aftermath of tragedy.

It's been a month, and Jonathan still can't close his eyes without seeing blood and bone and shredded muscle. He can't close his eyes without feeling the wetness seeping between his fingers and into his clothes. He always hears the echo of last words, of screaming, crying. He hears Robin begging Steve to hold on. He hears her stuttering “I love yous” in the wake of death.

Twenty years old is too young to die.

No one has seen or heard from Robin since. Max is more withdrawn than ever before. Mike is too quiet. Dustin’s just a shell. They've all been hit hard by so much loss. Everywhere they turned, someone else was dead. They were all bound to break eventually.

Jonathan knows it isn’t fair to think, but sometimes he wishes it had been him instead. Not that he thinks he deserves it over Steve and Eddie. No one deserves to die like that. It’s just…. Jonathan sees the way everyone needs them. He sees the way losing them has affected everyone else. He just wonders if maybe it would have been different. Maybe they wouldn’t be hurting so much, if Jonathan had died instead.

It's not fair.

Nothing is fair.

Steve Harrington has been dead one month, and Jonathan still doesn’t know how to live his life. He doesn't know how to move on from it. Jonathan is also convinced he has finally lost it. Every time he turns around, there Steve is. A glimpse in the grocery store, standing by the bus stop, lurking between shelves in Family Video.

God, they weren't even friends. They never had been. Truthfully, most of the time, they barely got along. They were civil, obviously. There was no hesitation when it came to the end of the world. But they were so far from friends. And yet.

Jonathan doesn't know how to live in a world that doesn't have Steve Harrington in it.

[atinylittlepain]

Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

..............................

The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze. 

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers. 

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face. 

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?” 

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.” 

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him. 

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.” 

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” 

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips. 

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs. 

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at. 

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.” 

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped. 

“You ever used lube before?” 

“No, never needed to, I guess.” 

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?” 

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation. 

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?” 

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.” 

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock. 

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan. 

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand. 

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself. 

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer. 

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets. 

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.” 

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.” 

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth. 

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw. 

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him. 

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while. 

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy. 

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him. 

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack. 

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both. 

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number. 

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her. 

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care. 

[newtonsheffield]

I can’t get the image out of my head of Blushing all the way Home Kate sat next to her Grandfather at Anthony’s Harlequins games. Kate wearing a Harlequins scarf in support of Anthony and Poppy Sharma with his arms crossed wearing a Leicester Tigers Jersey and Scarf.

“He’s very talented, your Anthony.” Poppy Sharma huffed as Anthony tackled a Bristol Bears player by himself, the impact nearly audible from their seats. “I’ll give him that.”

Kate chuckled, “Wow, that sounded painful for you, Poppy.”

Her grandfather looked affronted. “I like Anthony. You know I like him. He’s a good man, he’s good for you.”

Kate nodded, clapping for Anthony as the play reset. “He could get you a Harlequins Scarf, you know. It would mean a lot to him.”

“It’s the most painful thing in my life, Katie. Your Anthony playing for this team. I’ve been a Leicester supporter for 56 years, I’m not stopping for him.”

She knew there’d be pictures of them everywhere tomorrow. It had become something of a joke online. Poppy steadfastly wearing his Leicester supporter’s gear, standing to cheer for Anthony’s brother in law when he took Down Anthony himself 2 metres before the try line. Anthony himself played into it, Posting photos of the two of them together after the matches

I’ll win him over one of these days.

“You could convince him to transfer to Leicester you know. Basset could make for him in the locker-room I’m sure. I could cheer for him then.”

“Poppy,” Kate rolled her eyes. “This was Anthony’s Dad’s team. His career started here and it’s going to end here as well.”

Poppy gave nod of begrudging respect. “Well, he’s loyal. I respect that I suppose.”

“He’s got you a Ticket to the England Scotland game next month.”

Kate saw the shift in him, his eyes widening, “Has he?!”

“Of course.”

“In the box, or the side line?” Poppy gasped.

“He knows you prefer sideline.”

Poppy gasped excitedly, “I’ll pay him for them.”

“Don’t be silly, they’re a gift. You’re with the rest of the family.”

“Well, I look forward to it.”

Sure enough, Poppy settled next to Kate a month later, his coat bundled tightly around him just as it had been the entire journey there.

“Why do you still have your coat on?” Kate narrowed her eyes at her Grandfather, suddenly suspicious.

“It’s chilly.”

“You never wear your coat, you unbutton it so everyone can see who you’re supporting.”

Poppy shrugged, an innocent look on his face “Ah well.”

“If you are wearing a Scotland Jersey under there just to spite him I am not bringing you anymore.”

She only grew more suspicious when he started to fidget in his seat as the crowd started to thrum with energy as the teams stood in the tunnel. And panic rose in her chest as Anthony started leading The English team onto the pitch and Poppy stood in his seat.

“Anthony!”

“Poppy what are you doing?!”

“Anthony!” Poppy hollered again and it caught his attention this time, Anthony turning in his direction. And finally Poppy took off his coat to reveal an England Jersey, Anthony’s number emblazoned on it, his name stretched across the back.

Anthony’s face lit up, grinning as he pointed, applauding with the crowd laughing around them.

“Well then.” Poppy huffed settling into his seat and taking the red scarf from the pocket of his coat. “I’m looking forward to being able to enjoy your Anthony being an absolute bloody unit tonight.” He cleared his throat, “Get em Anthony!”

Kate rolled her eyes, kissing her grandfather’s cheek. “He’s going to be so excited.”

And sure enough there’s a series of images on Anthony’s instagram the next day. Poppy standing proudly in the stands, a photo of himself grinning as he pointed and one of the two of them on the pitch at the end.

We’ve got Poppy Sharma boys!

[mythicalartisttm]

What’s your opinion on transgenders people? I ask as i have seen you reblog a few things and I am unsure on your stance. I mean this in no judgmental way i would just like to know your thoughts

anon this ask both excites me and fills me with caution, but! I will provide you with what you seek!

what do I think about transgender people? Here’s my answer to that, but be warned, it is lengthy!

1) they’re to be treated as people, not outcasts. Human is human, and we are supposed to treat fellow humans with love, care, and respect, even if we don’t agree with the people in question, or if it’s just plain hard.

2) I say this with gentleness: their perceptions of themselves are skewed*, and there are many reasons for this with the primary one being that we live in a broken world, which leads to everything else. But one of the absolute worst things we can do to trans people/ people who want to be trans, regardless of the reason, is to go along with the idea that they are or can be any other gender than the one they were born with. As you can probably tell, I believe in the God of the Bible, and that while human hands may have written the physical book, He speaks through the people that wrote it. So let’s let His Word do the talking.

You know the creation story, yeah? It’s ok if you don’t, let’s recap anyways:

Every day for 6 days, God made aspects of our universe, and when He declared everything finished – perfect! God’s work ain’t finished ‘till it’s perfect – He rested on the 7th day (Genesis 1 and 2). On the 6th day He made humans, male and female, and they were made in the image of God Himself (Gen. 2:26). They were also the only aspect of creation God formed with His own hands; Genesis 2:7 says God made the first man from the dust of the earth, and verses 21-22 says He took a piece of the man to make the first woman.

That might not seem huge to you, but it speaks volumes of the care God put into humanity specifically. Everything else – the sun, stars, sky, trees, dogs, almost everything you can think of – God simply spoke them into existence. But for humans; for you, anon? He got up, got His hands dirty, and shaped your head, your heart, your spirit, your body. He gave humanity a literal special touch that He gave to nothing else.

This is reinforced again by God speaking through king David’s Psalm 139, verses 13-16:

13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body     and knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!     Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. 15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,     as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. 16 You saw me before I was born.     Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out     before a single day had passed.

God is omnipresent, meaning that He’s everywhere all the time any time, and nothing escapes His knowledge. This includes the creation of a new human being (again: male or female, no secret 3rd option for this one). And because God Himself – who makes no mistakes – oversees and ordains the creation of every new little boy or girl, wouldn’t it make sense that God would make them as He intended to make them: perfectly, without mistake? There is then no ground for the “born in the wrong body” argument to stand on, because God made your body with you in mind; your body was made specifically for you, and there were no errors on His end.

Now, what if you just straight up don’t like your body? I think everyone has disliked their body and/or felt uncomfortable in it at some point, that includes me. If someone’s going through puberty then they are almost guaranteed to be uncomfortable in their body because that kiddo and their body both are growing up. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable in your body simply because it’s changing, but this particular change is a good thing! Going through puberty is a sign that your body is working as it should, even if it feels weird. To try and block this transition from happening, or deliberately alter it, is to actively harm your body’s natural progression.

So yes, I do think that a trans person’s view of their body – that they were made for a different body and so they should change it – is not only wrong, but harmful to themselves in the long run. Why are we affirming this; giving people of all ages the means to scar themselves to feel good in the now?

Last bit before the TL;DR: if there’s anyone out there who thinks God won’t except them for any reason that you can think of, I’m gonna stop you right there. There is grace for you. Yes, even for that; please refer to my pinned post. And also this.

My explanation doesn’t cover all bases I’m sure, but the TL;DR is that the human body is a sacred thing designed by God, with care, made differently and specifically for every individual person, and it is medical malpractice (evil) to alter it within the context of transgenderism. If you have undergone the gender transition at any time – or have done anything else, ever – God still loves you with his whole heart, and He wants you to let Him help you with whatever may have dragged you down this time. Even if it was self-inflicted.

Lastly, some stuff I didn’t know how to cleanly fit into All That

*it is worth noting that basically everyone has a skewed perception of themselves about different things and to different degrees, but in this context I mean “a skewed perception of how a trans person relates to their body”

Creation was deemed “good” before people, but after people, God declared it “very good.” Again, in Genesis 1. I literally cannot stress enough how much God wants people to come to Him for whatever the reason

Chloe Cole's discussion with Dr. Peterson + the comment section and the testimonies in it

this post

[cellarspider]

18/30 Alexa, play Despacito

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⛬

And now, we return to Prometheus, which is trying to redeem the last two fifths of itself through blood sacrifice. Content warning for discussion of eyeball nastiness and death by immolation, Holloway.

Taking things slightly out of chronology this time, because there’s an excellent, quiet scene sandwiched in between lots of screaming: I'm sure they meant to put it in juxtaposition with this to heighten the emotion, but I refuse. We'll save that one for later. As a treat for me. And now, as a treat for me, Holloway is dying! Hurray!

So, turns out we’re spinning the wheel of Inconsistent, Ominous Black Goo effects again, and landed on “hangovers aren’t supposed to make your eyes grow tentacles”.

Holloway, apparently in denial, does not recall this fact until he’s gone out with what could generously be called a rescue party, to try and locate Millburn and Fifield. Janek belatedly and unwisely goes along to help, while David appears to go on a pleasant Sunday drive in his golf cart. He’s heading to a better scene, the lucky scamp.

Millburn is very dead–a rubber snake jumps out of his mouth, so you know he’s toast. Fifield’s body is nowhere to be found, and it will make an underwhelming return later.

Holloway collapses, covered in creeping black veins. Shaw finds this distressing. I would be fascinated to know if anybody in the audience agreed with her. I usually would, if only because certain kinds of screaming can kick me into sensory overload, but apparently there’s a psychological component to that response. And so I placidly watched Vickers meet them at the Prometheus vehicle bay with a flamethrower.

I appreciate her belated interest in quarantine and sanitation, but frankly, it’s a little late for that. I already had my rant on that earlier. At this point, things have gotten so bad that even Holloway realizes that the only solution is to go 40k on his ass.

[Video description: A 40k meme clipped from TheRussianBadger’s review of the game Space Hulk: Deathwing: A player says “BROTHER. GET THE FLAMER. THE HEAVY. FLAMER.” Sudden cut to almost incomprehensibly fiery gameplay, with a dramatic choral soundtrack and in-game voice lines “WE ARE THE ANGELS OF DEATH!” “MY FURY IS MADE MANIFEST!”, and ends right before a player yells “I WOULD LIKE TO REGISTER A COMPLAINT” and spins wildly around, spraying flames everywhere.]

Yes, Holloway burns to a crisp! I don’t know what the movie wants me to feel here, but whatever it is, I did not feel it. Did it want me to feel sad about this, because Shaw doesn’t want this to happen? Does it intend to raise the tension by having things spiral further out of control, demonstrating that a drop of the Ominous Black Goo is enough to kill a man in under a day? Am I supposed to take sick satisfaction in watching him die? All these are possible in bog standard horror movies.

However, this is a movie that wants to speak to something thematically. Holloway is positioned as a character we are not necessarily supposed to find sympathetic. As previously mentioned, the Engineers did not invite humanity to this planet. They were warning humans that if they continued to stray in their behavior, they would be killed by something that would come from here. 

Perhaps we are thus supposed to be asking questions about this: why would the Engineers do this? Why create humanity and then threaten to destroy their creations? What was their justification? David has turned this weapon on Holloway, making the choice that at least one man deserves the fate the Engineers planned for all humanity. Does he deserve that? Does anyone?

I was not thinking any of those things in the theater. Because what I actually felt was a desire to return to the scene interwoven with this one, which we will get to next time. This is the danger of creating an unlikeable, expendable character: the audience may feel no pathos when they die, nor question the death’s necessity. If they’re not along for the ride, then they may simply shrug.

Particularly when the rest of the movie is such a mess. This is only their second day on the planet, does anyone else remember that? I mean, I’ve been here for what feels like eternity, but they behaved so stupid, so fast, that this feels less like the inevitable falling apart of dozens of smaller mistakes, and more like one gigantic katamari of mistakes that will not stop rolling until it has collected every mistake in the world, and is thus deemed worthy of becoming a star all on its own, to forever shine out how badly they fucked it all up.

Next time: one of the two good scenes people tend to remember.

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

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Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://www.swtor.com/ 

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSpFnDQr88xCZ80N-X7t0nQ 

https://youtu.be/vy5fgDvb9-c HYEEh-HAA!

Overflow Ramble, because tumblr lets you put in more alt-text than it will actually display in-browser:

A wide shot of Holloway with his arms outstretched, walking toward the vehicle bay ramp. Is this pose supposed to be a crucifixion allusion? I hope not! That would be baffling. Though as these posts have proven, something being baffling doesn’t rule out Prometheus doing it. Shaw is on the ground behind them, restrained by Janek. 

I’m trying to figure out if this was done on a studio stage, or on location. You’d think the latter wouldn’t be possible, but I’ve seen behind the scenes shots of them filming in the volcanic desert of Iceland, they definitely were in places that looked similar. But the background may still be fake after a certain point–outdoor green screens are a thing. 

The lighting on Janek and Shaw doesn’t quite feel right. Part of it’s the shadows: they’re darker on the people than in the background, which is a common problem for CG elements.The visual fidelity of the gravel behind them kind of has a sudden shift about halfway up Shaw’s head, and I’m not sure if that’s just focus or what.

If it is a composite of real and CG, it makes sense that it looks a bit off, though: these are background elements that are not supposed to be your main focus, on a shot that’s not held for too long. There’s always been trade-offs like that in visual effects, they’ve just shifted over the years. Anyway, back to Charlize Theron with a flamethrower.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

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[meetmyothersouls]

Back To You

Jonah Hauer-King x Reader

Literally writing this because I want to 🥰 this will be a multi-part series on how love always manages to find its way back to where it’s supposed to be. Some trigger warnings: car accident, memory loss, unborn child loss (mentioned), hospital.

Chapter 1

I wake up in to the sounds of repetitive beeping and distant accented voices. I can’t make out who any of them are or what they’re saying other than a few words here and there. I squint my eyes, as if the motion will help me hear what they’re saying. I’m able focus on two voices that sound particularly worried. One is a male. British. The other is familiar. My sister?

As quick as I’m able to pick them up I lose them to the overwhelming pain that hits me well…everywhere. My head, my back, my stomach. It must make my heart rate accelerate because the machine next to me starts beeping rapidly and uncontrollably, the noise mixed with the pain makes me feel nauseous.

A doctor and a few nurses rush in.

“She’s awake!” A nurse calls out to the male voice and my sister (I think) in the hall.

“Oh thank god,” the man says. I see a glimpse of him before the curtain to my room is shut. From what I see I do not know him. And that confuses me even more than the soft accent he speaks with.

“Hello, y/n, it’s so nice to see you awake,” a man that I assume is a doctor says. He’s British also. What’s with that? “We thought you’d sleep another few days, but this is great news. Great progress. Tell me now, what’s hurting you?”

“Everything,” I groan, as a female nurse with a kind smile wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm. Even lifting it hurts.

“Pressures within range,” she says a few moments after with, of course, a British accent.

The doctor, who had stepped out after assessing my pain level, reappears with a syringe. “This is for your pain, but it won’t knock you out. Now that you’re up we’d like to keep you awake, make some assessments.”

The doctor injects me and within minutes I feel my pain ebbing away. “I’m sorry, but what the hell happened?”

The doctor, who’s name is Vincent, which I can now make out by the embroidery on his white coat, gives me a tight smile. “You were in a car accident, y/n, you suffered many injuries including a grade four concussion, among others which I won’t overwhelm you with now.”

Dr. Vincent steps out and this time I can hear his whispers. “She’s stable and alert and that’s what’s important. We worry about memory loss with the type of head injury she sustained, so don’t be alarmed if she doesn’t seem like her self or seems to have lapses in memory. They’ll come back as her head and brain heal.”

The British man says words I can’t hear even when I strain to do so.

“Just be patient with her,” Dr. Vincent replies. “I only want one of you in to see her at a time as to not overwhelm her. Which ever one of you would like to see her first is welcome to.”

There’s a moment of silence followed by more whispering until I finally see a familiar face. My sister pushes open the curtain and runs to my side. She’s on her knees in an instant, taking my hand into hers. I catch a peek of the man in the hall before the curtain flutters closed. This time he’s not peering into my room. He’s pacing and I see him run a hand over his face.

“Y/n, thank god. We thought we were going to lose you too,” Haven says.

Who else did we lose?

“I came as soon as Jonah called. He’s a mess, y/n.”

Who the fuck is Jonah?

“Are you okay? How’s your head? How’s your stomach?” Her hands goes to my belly and then she pulls it away, awkwardly.

“Haven, I have no idea what happened. What’s going on? Where am I? Everyone’s fucking British but us.”

I can see the worry in her eyes. The type that she thinks I can’t see, but I know is there when she’s not trying to panic. She’s not good at hiding it.

“The doctor said not overwhelm you.”

“Well then tell me something!”

“You were in a car accident and got really hurt, y/n. They had to pull you out of the car and revive you on the side of the road.”

Holy shit. I fucking died. But I’m here and I’m in one piece. The severity of the situation sinks in and it must be evident on my face since Haven is nodding in agreement. “You’re lucky to be alive, y/n,” Haven adds her eyes moving down to my stomach again. “And I guess since you asked, everyone’s British because you’re in England.”

The room begins to spin as I digest her words. “Wait. What? When the fuck? Why am I in England!?”

“You don’t-”

The curtain swipes open in a fast motion and the man from the other side storms in. His face is full of emotion, none of which I can place. Now that I see him in his entirety, he’s very attractive, even through the flurry of emotions he’s wearing and the obvious lack of sleep, his eyes are kind. He’s at least six foot tall. He has to duck under the curtain rod closing off my room to keep from hitting his head. His dark hair is messy, which matches the sleepy eyes. If I wasn’t totally numb from the pain medication, I’d definitely try to get his attention.

Except, I don’t have to try at all. He’s focused on me and relief floods his face. His whole body relaxes when he sees me, like a thousand pound weight has just been plucked off of his shoulders and he can finally breath again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his accent as soft and kind as his eyes. “I know he said only one person at a time, but I couldn’t wait.”

Haven moves to the corner of the room. I glance over at her but she won’t make eye contact with me. She knows I don’t know this man. She’s biting her bottom lip like she does when she’s nervous, waiting for something to happen. The man takes her seat and slides his hand into mine. His hands are big, totally engulfing mine in his grasp, and his skin is soft.

“I was so scared, y/n,” he says softly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

I’m about to open my mouth, to say what? I’m not sure but I’m stopped when he brings his face to mine. He’s trying to kiss me and as kissable as he looks this is all just too much. I have no idea what’s going on or who he is or what he’s talking about.

“Jonah,” Haven starts.

My hand goes his chest just as his lips graze mine. I can smell the coffee on his breath that has probably been keeping him awake for the last few hours. I put a gentle pressure on his chest and his breath hitches in a gentle gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Jonah asks, that same mixture of emotions flood his face again. I immediately feel guilty and I don’t know why.

“I…I don’t.”

“Jonah,” my sister steps in. Jonah turns his head, looking at her and I see her shake her head, a seeing a silent question. He turns back to me and I can see the tears in his eyes as he blinks them away.

“You don’t remember me?” Jonah asks. There’s almost a hint of a smile on his face. As if I’m telling a bad joke and he’s waiting to hear the punchline. But I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t even answer his question. I don’t know why but I wish I could lie. I don’t even know this man and I want to please him. I want to tell him that I remember him and kiss him back…but I can’t. Nothing about him is familiar. “I’m your husband, y/n,” Jonah says, his voice shaking as each word comes out. “Please tell me you remember that.”

“I…I’m sorry,” is all I can manage to say.

Jonah let’s go of my hand and runs it down his face. He gets up and walks quickly out of the room. I see and hear his footsteps as he walks down the hall. Moments later he’s walking back with what I assume is Dr. Vincent.

“There has to be something we can do. I already lost our baby in the accident I can’t lose her too,” Jonah whispers.

Haven sits back down where Jonah was.

“Baby?” I ask.

“You were pregnant, y/n. They were able to save you but they weren’t able to save the baby. I’m so sorry.”

The pain in my stomach makes sense to me now. What doesn’t is that I don’t feel an immense amount of loss. I should. But I don’t. And it feels so wrong. The room spins again and my breathing is coming out rapidly. My chest rises and falls so quickly, I’m barely able to get a full breath in before exhaling again. My heart rate monitor beeps uncontrollably again as the Dr. Vincent comes in.

The last thing I see before my eyes close again is Jonah.

This is my first non Timothee chalamet related fic so be nice to me 😂 if you want to be added to my Jonah tag list let me know!

[fluffyllamas-23]

Omg omg omg hi I’ve read your fics omg I can’t believe you’re writing again!!!

If it’s not too much, could I request a sick and sneezy Bucky and any Steve of your choosing??

Thank you so much for the prompt!! It's definitely not too much to ask (and if you ever have any more ideas for Bucky I am happy to take them! I don't give Bucky nearly enough love, which is honestly a travesty) <3 <3 <3

Bookshop/Cafe AU where Bucky works in the bookshop part of the store and (post-serum) Steve works in the cafe part, and they’re cute boyfriends.

Steve was supposed to be off today, but he had all but jumped at the opportunity to cover for a coworker for no reason other than wanting to keep an eye on Bucky. They don’t work immediately together, but Steve works at the coffee shop within the bookstore that Bucky works at, which was how they met in the first place. 

Anyways, he knows how it sounds, picking up a shift solely so he can make sure Bucky is okay, but hear him out. He promises it’s not for anything nefarious. 

Bucky has been coming down with what’s shaping up to be an awful cold for the last day and a half or so. He’s still in that annoying phase of illness, where his body can’t quite figure out what it wants to do and is freaking out. He’s feeling way more rough than he usually does at this point of a cold, but he doesn’t really have many specific symptoms. 

His head is throbbing, and his throat feels really scratchy and raw (and it sounds like it, too), but other than that he’s just dragging. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for a year.

Steve had tried talking him into calling out since he’s not feeling well, but Bucky is nothing if not stubborn. He doesn’t want to take time off for this. It would feel ridiculous calling out for feeling vaguely unwell and not actively sick.  

So, Steve feels like it’s his duty to keep an eye on things. And honestly, picking up a shift to make sure everything is okay is far less weird than browsing the aisles of the bookstore for hours until his shift finishes.

*

Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him. He does his best to ignore it, but can’t stop himself from glancing over in his direction.  They make eye contact and Steve’s eyes widen slightly, and then his head immediately drops down. He goes back to wiping down the counter by the register. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head, laughing lightly.  What a ridiculous man. 

He turns his attention back to stocking the shelves.  His boss had taken pity on him and wasn’t making him work in any customer-facing role (unless absolutely necessary) when she heard how gravelly and rough Bucky’s voice was when he got to work that morning. If they were less busy, his boss probably would have sent him home. She’s not in the business of torturing her employees. However, she’d already had three callouts, and she really does need Bucky there.  

She promises that Bucky can have all the time off he needs soon, though. 

Bucky clears his throat with a grimace. He really does need to track his boss down and see if he can go grab some tea at some point. That might help. 

As if she can sense his question, he spots her walking over to him from across the room.

“How’re you holding up?” She asks with a frown. “I’m sorry you have to be here.”

He waves her off, “it’s fine, promise.” He winces when he hears his own voice. It’s shot to hell, and he knows he’s close to losing it.

“Do you need anything?”

He nods his head towards the coffee shop, “would you mind if I go grab some tea? I’ll be quick.”

“Not at all. Why don’t you go ahead and take your fifteen now.”

He furrows his brows, “but I already took that earlier.”

“Oh, did you? I don’t remember,” she says, shooting him a look. “It’s fine, James. Go take another.”

He looks around the store, there are people everywhere. A line is forming at the front of the store, and he can’t help the pang of guilt in his chest. “Peggy, we’re so busy.”

“I know,” she says, “but I just feel bad I’m keeping you here when you’re not feeling well and you being here at all is helpful. Go get some tea, sit down, come back in fifteen.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” he relents, but it’s more so he doesn’t have to keep talking.  

He puts the last book back on the shelf and heads over to the coffee shop.

“Steve,” he croaks when he reaches the register. 

Steve winces, “God, you sound bad, honey.”

“I sound worse than I feel. Peggy told me to take another fifteen.”

“I would have sent you home,” Steve grumbles, casting an annoyed glance in the bookstore’s general direction. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, “stop. You know she can’t, and you know you’d still be here if it were you.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs, shifting his focus back to fussing over his boyfriend. “How do you feel other than your throat?”

He scratches at his nose, making a face at the prickle in his sinuses. “Eh…not great. Not awful. Hih…hih’tschiew! Snff! Snff! Sorry. Somewhere in the middle. I’m just so fucking tired. Could I get some tea? I don’t care what kind, surprise me.”

“Language,” Steve teases. He hands Bucky a napkin and then grabs a hot cup from the stack next to him. “Bless you. Want something with caffeine, then?”

Bucky turns away to blow his nose, and then he rubs at his chest with a sigh, “dunno…heart’s kind of racing. I’m not sure caffeine would be the best idea.”

Steve frowns. Bucky’s heart always races when he’s not feeling well, and even though he knows this is normal for him, he can’t help but worry. 

“Go sit down, I’ll bring you something.” 

*

Bucky makes it exactly two and a half more days before he has to admit defeat and whatever plague he’s caught decides it’s time to kick his ass. 

Peggy sends him home after his lunch break. She tells him not to worry and to take as much time off as he needs. 

He’s currently curled up in the blanket den on the couch that Steve insisted on building him, sniffling miserably into a tissue. This cold from hell has decided to take up residence in his head, and he’s less than thrilled. 

His head is throbbing with an intensity he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s in his skull, and sinuses, and his head feels like it’s packed with cement. He’s been sneezing pretty much nonstop since he woke up, which is definitely not helping with how hazy he’s feeling. The only bonus of feeling this bad is that he doesn’t feel as disgusting as he probably should. His throat is killing him too, it feels like someone’s shoved a white-hot branding iron down it, and his voice is nearly gone at this point. 

“hhh…hihh’isschh! isshh! Isschhh! Snff! Guh…this is so anndoyi’gg,” he sniffles, scrubbing at his nose with the tissue before blowing his nose into it. He balls it up and adds it to the growing pile next to him. He plucks another from the box, sniffling into it as his sinuses itched and burned again. “How is ihhh….it t-twendty twendty th-three a-and-heh…hhih’schhieww! Snff! Snff! And we h-havend’t combe up wihh…with a cure for the c-commbond cold yet-ihtschiew! Snff! Snff!” 

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Steve frowns, rubbing his back. “Man, this cold is really kicking your ass, huh?”

Bucky groans, sniffling again. His breath catches, and then he’s coughing miserably into the blankets.  A shiver runs down his spine, and he’s hit with a really woozy, disorienting feeling. He looks up at Steve with the biggest, most tragic eyes possible.

“Do I feel warmb? I thi’ggk I have a fever. Hih…hih’ihtschiew! Eh’tschuh! Snff! Snff! Hih-hih…Hih! Hih’ITSHHOO! Snff!” He blows his nose again, giving a couple more stuffy coughs before slumping back into the couch.

“Bless you. That last one sounded like it hurt,” Steve murmurs, pressing his fingers against Bucky’s cheek and stroking it. He grimaces, “ah...yeah, I think you’re right. You’re hot.”

Bucky blinks heavily, and then gives him a strange look, “Stevend, this is a weird timbe for a combplimbendt…you’re…hot…too?”

Steve smothers a laugh, “fever, honey. You have a fever.”

Bucky is quiet for a few moments while he processes what Steve just said. Then, he groans and buries his face in the blankets. “Oh mby god I’mb and idiot.”

“You aren’t an idiot…but…that does make me want to get a reading on your temp.”

“Hih’ihtschiew!”

“Bless-”

“Nng’xxcht!”

“-You. Don’t stifle, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

“I already have a headache,” Bucky grumbles, breath hitching again. “Ih’tschieww! Tsch! Iht’schieww!”

Steve kisses his cheek, leaving Bucky to go find him something for the congestion, as well as the thermometer. 

“I’m going to make you more tea while I’m up,” Steve calls over his shoulder. 

“Okay,” Bucky sniffles, groaning in annoyance when the sneezing just doesn’t let up. “hihh’itsschh! itsshh! Itsschhh! hhih’tschhieww! Ihtschiew! Snff! Snff!” He’s lightheaded at the end of it, head swimming as he tries to re-orient himself. 

“How do you feel about taking NyQuill now?” Steve asks when he returns with everything. “I know it’s a bit early, but you’re miserable.”

“How about you just kill mbe indstead?”

“Mmm,” Steve says, handing him the tea and crouching down in front of him so he can stick the thermometer in his ear. “I think that sounds like a permanent solution to a very temporary problem.”

“Mbaybe this cold will kill mbe.”

“I don’t think it’s going to kill you…but I’m not entirely sure it’s a cold,” Steve frowns, looking down at the thermometer once it beeps. 101.9. He sticks it in Bucky’s other ear, hoping maybe the reading is off. 102. “You don’t usually get fevers…or feel this awful with colds.”

Bucky shrugs. Whatever this is definitely doesn’t feel like your normal, run-of-the-mill cold, but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He lifts the tea to his lips, but practically shoves it back into Steve’s hands as the steam makes the congestion shift, and then he can’t stop sneezing. After what feels like a dozen or so, the itch finally dissipates, and he’s left sniffling and coughing and so exhausted. All he wants to do is curl up and sleep for the rest of the day while Steve rubs his back and plays with his hair.

“Bless you. God, that sounded miserable, poor thing.” Steve fusses. 

“Yeah,” Bucky croaks, eyes closing. 

Steve hands him the meds, and then stands up and flops next to him on the couch, “take the NyQuil. Can’t sneeze if you’re unconscious.”

Bucky chuckles, which just launches him into another coughing fit. Steve grimaces and rubs his back.  “Bei’gg undcondscious sou’dds ambazi’gg.”

“Wanna pick a show to watch while you’re waiting for them to kick in?”

Bucky sniffles, nodding as he slumps against Steve. 

“Sorry for probably sndeezi’gg ond you a mbilliond timbes,” Bucky mumbles, voice muffled by the blankets.

“Hazards of being in a relationship,” Steve smiles, wrapping his arm around Bucky and adjusting so that he’s laying with his head on Steve’s chest. “If I get it, I get it. It’s fine.”

“Sorry.”

“James, look at me,” Steve says gently. Bucky looks up at him, and Steve cups his cheek. “It’s fine. You’re sick, and I care way more about you than I do about avoiding this. Stop worrying.”

“Okay. I love you.” Bucky sniffles, sounding very tired and far away. He can feel himself drifting off to sleep.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Steve says softly, kissing the top of his head. 

And then, Bucky sleeps.

[vodika-vibes]

Vodika, my love, I come bearing a prompt request!

Can I get "kissing hipbones i repeat kissing hipbones" with Tup? But without going smutty? Just some mild spice and fluff.

I absolutely hate my hipbones (because they are legit just bone and zero squish), so to have then lovingly worshipped would be a dream.

Please and thank you!!! (I'll be back)

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Reassuring Kisses

Summary: Tup decides to spend the afternoon reassuring your insecurities.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x Reader

Word Count: 640

Warnings: None (This feels more playful than spicy to me)

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: Sorry for the short length, I wasn't sure how to make this long without going into smut, so I just kept it short.

Divider by Saradika

You purse your lips as you twist one way, and then the other, your gaze sharp as you take in exactly how your swimsuit sits on your hips. The bathing suit looks fine, all things considered, everywhere except around your hips.

You huff and prod your hip, as if poking it would make it a little less boney.

“Cyare,” Tup’s voice is amused from where he’s lounging on the bed, his dark eyes watching you adoringly, “While I agree that you deserve to be stared at like that, you’re not staring at yourself in the right way.”

You glance at him in the mirror, amusement crossing your features, “Is that right? And how am I supposed to be staring at myself?”

“More adoringly, for one.”

You turn and grin at him, “I think I’ll leave the adoring stares to you. You’re so good at them after all.”

“That is true.” Tup preens, “I get a lot of practice.”

“I know, you seem to be unable to keep your hands, and eyes, off of me.” You tease.

“You’re just so pretty, cyare. And I am nothing but a simple man-” He moves to the edge of the bed, and motions for you to come over to him. 

And you have always been weak for Tup and his specific brand of charming, so you cross the room to stand between his knees. 

His hands settle on your sides, and then slide down to your hips. “Now, my perfect girl, what were you staring at so critically?”

“...my hips.” You admit with a sigh.

“These hips?” His hands slide down your body to caress your hips, “I don’t see anything wrong with them.”

“They’re a bit boney.” You reply with a sigh, “Nothing ever fits right-” Your words are cut off when Tup lightly pushes you back, and smoothly drops to his knees, and your face flames, “Tup! What are you doing?”

“Well, If I’m going to see what you’re talking about, I have to be at the right level.” He grins up at you boyishly, and you lightly place your hand on his head.

“You’re such a goofball, Tup.” You reply with a fond smile.

“You love me anyway,” He counters with a smile, “Now, let’s see here…” He slowly tugs the sides of your bathing suit down, and slides his warm hands over the skin of your hips. “Hm…just as I thought.”

“What?”

He grins up at you, “Perfection.”

You shake your head, “And you needed to be eye level with my hips to determine that?”

“No. I needed to be eye level with your hips to do this-,” Tup leans in and presses a slow, lingering, kiss against your hip. “And this.” He trails his lips across your lower stomach to the other hip, and presses another lingering kiss there.

You flush dark red, and you feel him grin against your skin.

“Oh, and this.” He moves a little bit over and he presses messy, open-mouthed kisses against your hip, not pulling away until he’s sure that there’s a mark left behind.

“Tup!” You eye the mark and then shoot him a playful look, “Now I won’t be able to wear this swimsuit because people will see that!”

“Then they’ll know you’re spoken for,” He replies impishly.

“Tup!”

“Actually,” He glances at the mark on your hip thoughtfully, and then he grins, “Why don’t you just take the whole swimsuit off?” He asks with an angelic smile.

You eye him suspiciously. You love Tup, but you know that that look means trouble. “Why?”

“Why? Because I want to paint you with my lips, cyare. Will you let me?” He asks, his voice a low rumble against your hip.

You shiver, and smooth your hand through his hair, “Yes. I will.”

After all, you can never say no to your Tup.