#like yes i saw this the first time and loved it

[lovieku]

HANDS ON ME ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you like what you see, baby put your hands on me.

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

genre: smut

ratings: 18+ / mdni

warnings: lower case intended, jk is inexperienced and sooo whipped, it’s his birthday!!! and he’s getting it hhhh, lowk dom!oc x sub!jk, size kink, tit play, dry humping, brief coochie play, cum eating omfg, blow job, cutest babies ever

word count: 3.9k

a/n: first thing i saw this morning was that ask, so of course i had to write this. like THANK U ANON that was such a good idea yes yes yes. hope u enjoy 🩷🩷

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive @nooooooooonnneeeeeee @vantelover1306

────୨ৎ────

jeongguk didn’t wish for his birthday party to look like this.

the second he casually mentioned that his parents would be out of town on the very same day he would turn 21, his small friend group (consisting of the two nerdiest guys in college, probably even battling him for the top spot) took it on them to turn what he imagined would be a calm, quiet night spent with the comfort of jimin and taehyung in front of video games into a contending rival of a literal frat party. in his own house. when he never approved of it, nor asked for it.

there’s an inestimable amount of faces he has never seen before this moment, but they all seem to know him, congratulating him every time he comes in their vision. then, they go back to drinking, kissing, soft-fucking on his couch, and seemingly pumping up the volume of the music more and more with each blasting and ungraceful song.

that is probably why he’s struggling a bit more than he usually does with breathing. he’s a huge germaphobe, and having all these strangers barge into his space and lean on every possible surface with their greasy, alcohol stained hands has him close to hyperventilating.

he still hasn’t figured out how his two friends did it, but they managed to involve what looked like the whole uni into coming at jeongguk’s 21st birthday party like it was an unmissable event. it truly did seem like one, though, the birthday boy looking around in a confused awe and realizing this is all he’s ever missed from his teenage years. meh. not all that.

what really got him struggling to breathe is you. you, the most popular girl in college, talks about you on the mouths of all guys and girls in the hallways, loved yet envied by every single one of them, are here. and when you greeted him, you did so with a kiss for each of his cheeks. he stood there like he truly was going to let his lungs stop working, and you just smiled up at him through your long lashes and big eyes.

you’re not popular for the cliché reasons a girl in college might be. you’re not mean, you don’t square uncool people from head to toe with a judging look, you’re not known to be scary and unapproachable. the reason why you’re surrounded by a devoted swarm of bees is because you’re the literal definition of an angel.

an angel always ready to help anyone who seems like struggling, flash them with pearly whites, and be impossible to resist with bug, wide eyes conveying all your most honest emotions.

you’re known for genuine reasons. he’s never even heard many rumors about you, and if he did he assumed it was coming from way too envious people. the only thing he allowed himself to believe about your privacy, is that you’re very caring in bed.

he won’t admit it, feels disgusting for it, but he’s touched himself to that thought a couple of times. maybe more.

it doesn’t matter now, because you’re closer to him than you’ve ever been, and you sit in the overwhelming circle that has formed on the floor of his living room, people he has never even talked to proposing games and pushing drinks into his hand since he’s now 21.

unlike most people, that number doesn’t mean a lot to him. he’s not that thrilled about the knowledge that he can now get his hands on anything that was previously denied to him, alcohol and substances of those sorts. he never liked them, and he doesn’t think he will just because of this newfound freedom.

he’s now getting the full experience when someone, sharp-eyed and drunk on audacity, spots the wooden door to his dad’s wine cellar left slightly ajar and suggests seven minutes in heaven with the kind of enthusiasm jeongguk imagines newton felt when that apple hit his head.

on his right, jimin panics for jeongguk, “you’re not going to fuck in mr. jeon’s wine cellar.”

“who said anything about fucking?” dahye, a friend of yours, the complete opposite of you with a mean aura and sliced eyes, intervenes and has everyone laughing.

jimin rolls his eyes and plops down from where he straightened up on his knees, and jeongguk stays silent. he gave up fighting long ago, when the first drink spilled on his carpet.

he just gives a tight-lipped smile when his blonde friend tries an apologetic look, shaking his head and studying the room. jeongguk gulps when his eyes inevitably fall on yours, and he finds you already staring, an intensity he hasn’t seen often. when he’s sure he’s perfectly resembling a deer caught in headlights, you tilt your head amusedly, and he hastily focuses back down on his lap.

“well, since jimin is so afraid we’re gonna break his boyfriend’s stuff,” dahye continues, feeding off the childish chuckles coming from around her, and maybe also off jimin’s annoyed glare, “why don’t we let the birthday boy go first?”

at that, jeongguk’s head snaps up, his fluffy hair bouncing with the sudden movement, and he looks around wide eyed. he’s not sure what the game entails, he just knows something is supposed to happen, but he’s not sure exactly what the people hungrily gawking at him are expecting.

taehyung is about to add something when dahye interrupts once again, resting her hand on your lap beside her, “he can go with ___. i know that would make his day.”

sitting at her left, you’re the only one who doesn’t laugh at the sneaky implication; instead, you glare at your friend, who shrugs in response.

both jimin and taehyung fall in total silence, their eyes alarmingly looking at their friend in the middle. jeongguk seems a hundred times more panicked, but not because of the same reasons.

while his two best friends are simply excited at the prospect of jeongguk’s every dream coming true, eagerly expecting a positive answer from his mouth, jeongguk’s whole focus is on you, and your seemingly impassive face. his mind spins with haunting worries, giving at least twenty different interpretations to the way you’re looking at him, brows subtly twitching up.

he clumsily parts his lips to say something, but with absolutely no senseful thought swarming his brain, nothing comes out.

a beat of anticipated silence goes by before you gracefully stand up, all eyes following you, and even if quiet, your voice goes through the music, “let’s go, gguk.”

jeongguk loudly gulps, and he hopes the sound isn’t heard, but he doubts it since he’s receiving a scary amount of attention that goes over what he’s received his whole life.

if it wasn’t for the two guys at his sides pushing him to stand up, he would have stayed with his ass perched to the floor. instead, he stumbles and almost trips, meeting your eyes with awkward shame as you just softly smile at his gawkiness.

you don’t wait for him, daintily walking to the room victim of the game, pushing the door open and curiously peeking inside. jeongguk hastily jumps over the people sitting on the ground, still quietly observing the scene, and he’s at your side way faster than the time it took for him to even realize what was about to happen.

he exhales loudly at the proximity, standing behind you and basking in the height difference, your head barely reaching his chest, and he thinks he truly sees heaven when you turn around to look up at him, grinning delicately as you tilt your head back, “wanna go in?”

jeongguk is sure he has lost the capability to speak. no matter the sounds he tries to force up his throat, they’re not strong enough to fight their way out. he simply closes the door behind the two of you, and he’s glad when it significantly helps drown out the loud music and drunkish chatter.

he’s less glad for it when it means he’s officially left alone with you in a relatively cramped space, the silence almost more suffocating than the room and its strong smell. but he’s convinced you must be an angel when you don’t complain, not even slightly, your face the expression of composure.

he stands in the middle of the cellar while you explore it in a circle, letting your heels click on the parquet floor and your fingers carefully brush the wine bottles.

the simple action makes him feel hot, naughty mind conjuring up images of you tracing his skin with such care, and he releases a shaky breath before you can stop him, blurting his messy thoughts out, “we— we don’t have— have to do anyt—”

“sit on that stool, gguk.”

the command is anything but harsh, your voice a soft melody of calmness, but it still startles him. no, it shakes something in his chest, traveling all the way down to where he’s starting to feel a strong urge.

you point to a wooden stool in the corner of the room, which doesn’t look too high, but when he obediently goes to sit on it with his knees wobbling, you promptly place yourself in front of him and grin at the way he’s still almost at face level with you, his forehead reaching only a little under your chin.

his huge proportions compared to yours have always managed to make your head spin and thighs squeeze together whenever you managed to sit next to him in the few lectures you shared, lashes fluttering seductively to have him fix nonexistent bugs on your computer just to see his wide hand close to yours on the keyboard.

now, with his puppy eyes staring up at you expectantly, his drawn up brows only emphasizing his yearning, you need to steady yourself with hands on his shoulder to hold back from quite literally grinding on him. you whisper, “good.”

his orbs shake impossibly more, and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers fidgeting in his lap, fighting a delirious need. his legs are spread just enough for you to be standing right in the middle of them, but you push yourself further into him, his chin lifting up even higher to never be forced to look away from your firm gaze, hanging from your lips when you voice an apology, “i didn’t bring a gift, ggukkie.”

jeongguk is almost panting, the endearing nicknames only adding to the warmth of your sweet body, your vanilla scent clouding his senses and gouging the truth out of him, “th—that’s okay, ___. i—i’m very happy you’re here.”

you smile, but it’s one he’s never seen on you. it’s not one of those you flash when you’re grateful, understanding, or even amused. it’s mischievous, almost belittling. “are you saying i’m your gift?”

his eyes widen, and he’s ashamed of the way your accusative tone causes him to throb in his jeans, and in his speech too, “huh— oh my god. i’m so sorry. that must sound so—”

you chuckle, stroking his broad back with your hands sliding across his width, “hey, slow down. it sounds so very cute coming from your lips.”

jeongguk appreciates your efforts at trying to put him at ease, truly. but your soothing touch and words only have him in a state of alert, even more when your fingers travel up his nape and find home in his locks. you’re impossibly close now, and he feels your voice resounding within him, “but i’m still not satisfied. i wanna give you more, make you forgive me.”

your whisper fans over his lips, and he unconsciously parts them for you, his eyes hooded by the second and glassed over with desperate want. you smirk.

stepping back enough for his neck to rest at a comfortable angle, he whimpers deliciously at the loss of your touch, but you shut him up just as quickly when your dress is off you and on the wooden floor in a swift motion.

jeongguk is definitely panting now, breathing manually and focusing too much on having his heart pump oxygen for him rather than the view of your exposed body in front of him.

he gradually realizes he could care less about dying right now if it means the last thing he’s going to be faced with is your nipples hardening with the cool, and hopefully something else, and your lacy white panties barely covering your core.

jeongguk stares like a starved man being met with his first meal after weeks of seeking, his hands trembling on his thighs and squeezing into suppressing fists.

his gasp turns into an awfully high-pitched moan when you hook a finger under the hem of your lingerie, sliding it daintily down your legs and walking out of it, never breaking eye contact with him. only thing you’re left with are your high heeled boots.

the next thing you do has the organs that keep all his vital functions going completely stop working, his heart missing more than ten beats and catching up with an alarmingly fast speed, causing his voice to shake, “___, wh—what are you—”

swinging one of your legs, you sit on him with your ingloriously stained panties pressing right on his crotch, hands placed back on the base of his neck, basking in the way you can feel his rapid beating under your fingers.

you lean into his ear, “if you like what you see, you can put your hands on me, baby.”

jeongguk throws his head back for air, his chest heaving with trembling exhales before he finds your eyes again, and in the fraction of second he needed to look elsewhere if he didn’t want to bust in his tight pants already, you’re a whole different person.

your eyes are sliced, pupils blown and hooded, and your parted lips stretch just enough to paint a wicked smirk over your face, its effects flooding right down his stomach and making you feel his hardness through the material.

his hands dance a panicked rhythm hovering over your sides, not sure what to do, not deeming himself deserving of feeling your skin under his touch. but you take it upon yourself to guide them, pressing his palms against your hips and letting them ride up your exposed breasts.

he whimpers, fingertips unconsciously testing the sense of the soft curve of your boobs with a subtle press, but it’s not enough. you can’t feel him.

with your hands still on his, you arch yourself further into his touch and have his thumbs slice over your sensitive nubs, letting out a moan of your own that goes over his low groan. you lick your lips and struggle to find your breath and words too, but you whisper them through an already too fucked out smile, “see? you can touch me, just like that.”

the go-ahead is all he needs for him to dive his head right into your chest, his tongue catching your nipple in an unpracticed hunger, messily sucking on it and quickly leaving your skin soaked with spit. he works clumsily with his hand on your other tit, movements uncoordinated and unsure.

but the fact that he seems to not care about his inexperience, willing to learn right at this moment all it takes for you to keep whimpering and trembling when he touches, has your usually composed senses lost in a haze of desire, the need to give your all to the nerdy boy that is finally being properly touched just as he turns 21 clouding your senses and pushing you to unconsciously buck your hips against his.

he moans with his mouth full of you, his free hand gripping your thigh, and he tries to stop it but he can’t help the way he meets your grinding, snapping up as if he lost all sort of control over his body. he quite literally wails in desperation, “fuck— don’t— don’t do that. i’m gonna— oh, god.”

“you’re gonna cum?” you sound just as crazed, hips rutting at a faster speed on him, the slickness smearing all over his jeans and leaving a wet patch right where his dick stays confined.

“no! i— i mean, just give me a second, shit. i swear, i—”

“ggukkie, this is about you. i’ll make you cum, hm? how’s that sound?” the sweet sound of your promise has him seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut as he feels himself getting close to a point he doesn’t think he’s ever reached before.

until he’s back to zero.

you lift your hips off his, helping your weight up by placing your hands on his broad shoulders, and you sport a devilish smile when he opens his eyes again, protest ready on his tongue. his brows are furrowed and there’s tears ready to spill out from his eyelids, but you don’t let them.

the huge palm that was still fondling your breast is now being led by you further down, until it disappears between you. you have him cup your wet core, the intensity of the moment only heightened by your gaze never leaving his, “touch me.”

when panic flashes over his expression once again, you instruct him through it just how you did minutes before, and he quickly gets the hang of it. you always appreciated him being a fast learner, but you couldn’t imagine that it would come handy in a scenario like this one.

you hum when his ring and middle finger trace your slit, only to come up to try and find your clit in a surprisingly good attempt, “good, get all of it. make your hand wet.”

the moment squelching sounds reach your ears, you leave your seat from his lap and stand on your heels again. he whines, unknowingly reaching for you, but you halt his hand and redirect it on the zipper of his jeans. you tilt your chin, “take them off.”

he’s quicker than he was at the beginning of his seven minutes in heaven now, freeing himself from the tight pants, boxers going along with it, and his cock springs free deliciously, standing tall and proud against his tummy.

you groan, almost already falling to your knees like you are planning to do soon. it’s an adjective you don’t think you’ve ever used on any of the guys you’ve been with, but jeongguk’s cock is pretty. its pink tip matches his lips, swollen from the harsh biting, and it doesn’t look rough. it has just the perfect length, girth, and when it twitches under your awe, you see it bend subtly to the right.

you smile, meeting his face again, delirious need written all over it, “stroke your cock with the hand you touched me with,” the second the order is out your lips, he’s already working himself. you can see him trying to go at a merciful speed, his grip loose, and it makes you grin amusedly, “mh, aren’t you so obedient. let me have a taste, gguk.”

you clearly have noticed that he’s not as quick on his feet as he usually is, brain clouded, so you once again take it upon yourself to lead his hand, this time introducing two of his fingers in your warm mouth. you hum loudly around the thick digits, eyes rolling back, and you speak around them, “fuck, you wanna try that?”

you don’t wait for him to reply, knowing it would get him minutes that you sadly don’t have to formulate a senseful answer, and you simply feed him his own fingers, carefully watching the way he lets his cheek hollow around them. you chuckle feverishly, “we taste so good together, don’t we?”

he nods eagerly, eyes glassy with more tears, and you think you can see one drop at the side of his face just as you fall to your knees in front of his seated body, your pretty figure even smaller from his view, and he’s graced with your bug eyes staring up at him through long lashes.

you don’t waste any more time, knowing there’s not much left in the heaven you’ve created for your own, and you wrap your ravenous mouth around him, showing none of the previous mercy in your speed.

he lets his mouth hang open, moans uncontrollably loud, and he needs to grab the sides of his stool to get the illusion of some sort of power still left within him. he closes his eyes in bliss, but quickly snaps them open when he realizes what he’s missing.

you’re bobbing your head up and down his length, and you still manage to maintain that dainty elegance that characterizes you, slim fingers gripping around the base and making up for the spots you can’t reach. he pants on the verge of a heart attack, pitch high as he begs, “fuck. look— look up at me, please.”

you do, aligning yourself better to meet his frenzied state, eyes communicating all the words you can’t say, too engaged in having him unravel all over your lips. he groans at the eye contact, thinking back to all the times he’s seen this exact scene flash behind his closed eyelids, and he’s a fool for even believing his mere imagination could compare.

it will never be enough, never again. not after this. not after knowing what you look like as you devote yourself to him, precise movements getting him closer, the way your tongue flickers out to reach down further and how you let his tip meet the back of your throat finally causing him to snap his hips up involuntarily, and before he can say something to warn you, he’s painting your warm mouth with his cum.

ropes of white, hot liquid spill out from you, but you promptly collect all of it, making sure not a single drop is missed, gulping it down with eager want. you wordlessly smile up at him, infatuated with the way his chest heaves and his lips part, trying to regain some composure.

he thinks he will need hours to fully recover. and he’s not even sure he wants this moment to end, blurting his predominant thought out before he knows it, “i wanna make you feel good, too.”

you chuckle as you get up, quickly soothing your knees before collecting your panties from the ground and walking back inside them, “it’s okay, baby. this was my birthday gift for you, hm? besides, we don’t have much time left before the others come in.”

“but…”

jeongguk helplessly watches as you get dressed, cringing at the stickiness of your wet core but nonetheless slipping your flowy dress back on. he just had the best orgasm of his life from the girl he firmly believes to be the love of his life, and he doesn’t get to give it back. oh, he feels like an absolute asshole.

you seem to read it all simply by scanning his face fondly, words soft, “that doesn’t mean you won’t get to do that, you cute boy. you will, and soon.”

when you’re done fixing the creases over your clothes, you walk to him and help him back in his jeans. tucking his softening length in, you lift up the zip of his pants and you’re glad for the way the patch of your wetness seems to have dried.

standing between his spread legs, you brush a hand through his hair, tenderly watching the way his curls fall and tickle his forehead. you smile and whisper quietly, “i got your number from dahye. i’ll text you, okay?”

he gulps, nodding hastily at your rhetorical question and feeling the blush creep up his neck. god, he must look like a total fool, “o—okay…”

humming lowly, you press your lips to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose, “you’re so pretty, you know that? don’t be sad.” next, your mouth rests on his, molding in a kiss that has his eyes shooting wide, and that ends way before he can even realize what’s happening. you chuckle at his expression, and you can’t resist another peck before promising, “happy birthday, gguk.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject II pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: heavy angst. some fluff. miscarriage/stillbirth. vehicular accident. wc: 2k part 2 of touchy subject. part 3 / the final part coming soon. click here for part 1

you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, raw with unshed tears, the vision of your ex-fiancé with another woman blurred by nothing but the tears brimming at the edges of your vision, so different from the ones that ran down your cheeks the day you'd said yes to him.

"of course i'll marry you." you pulled rafe to stand up, your arms around him before you could even think about what you were doing, rafe letting out a sigh of relief. "wait, wait, i gotta ask you something." you rushed out, pulling away from the hug, his hands still staying on your waist.

"what is it?"

"is this just because i'm pregnant?" you ask, rafe's brows furrowing in confusion, yet you left him no time to respond, "it's just- i want to marry you, but i don't want you to feel like you have to ask me just because i'm pregnant, and if you want to wait until the baby's-"

you could feel how tired rafe was getting of your rant by the intensity of his lips on yours, using it to interrupt you, his fingers sliding under your jaw to help hold it up to meet his; and just like always, he didn't need to say one word for you to understand what he was communicating to you.

the moment his eyes found yours, it felt as if all the air was punched out of your lungs, like the entire planet just stopped spinning. it didn't matter that the jewelry store's display was separating you; it felt like the first time he looked into your eyes and told you he loved you.

you wanted to run, to make sure you wouldn't have to face him, to have to hear what his voice sounded when you'd already managed to forget how it was to hear it in person, but it was like your feet had rooted to the ground within the few seconds that he spotted you.

and you begged to whatever entity that once you saw him approach the exit to the jewelry store, the other woman long forgotten, that your fight-or-flight instinct would kick in, but luck was never really on your side, because there he stood, his face the same as the last time you saw him, with a few lines added here and there, and a part of you couldn't help but ache at the thought of having missed the moment they appeared.

you looked up at him, into the same eyes you'd once imagined your daughter would have, the thought making the bout of nausea in your throat even worse. a part of you wanted to congratulate him, to tell you that you were happy for him, but it felt like the words were choking you, like they were burning in your throat. but the choice to even say something was taken from you, when you heard the bell above the door to the jewelry store let out a cheery ring.

"rafe…?" the red-haired woman called out, her brows furrowed in question, and the moment your ex turned around to face her, you took the opportunity to turn the other way, begging that your feet would take you away before you threw up on the spot.

"i saw him yesterday."

"it was the first time you saw him in person since you left, correct?"

"yes. i sometimes checked up on his social media, but seeing him like this... so close to me i could touch him... it was pretty jarring. it felt like no time had passed, but also like i hadn't seen him in decades."

"and how did he look?"

"handsome." you chuckled softly, your hand going to fiddle with the locket around your neck, sliding it up and down the golden chain, avoiding looking at the zoom meeting displayed on the laptop screen. "he looked just like he looked with me. he looked happy."

"happy anniversary, rafe." you smiled softly as you pushed the gift box at him, your fiancé letting out a small tut.

"you know you didn't have to get me anything, right? you're enough for me already. both of you are."

"yeah, yeah, stop being all cheesy and chivalrous and open it already." you urged, watching as he lifted the lid of the gift box, his eyes widening as he looked down at the present, but before he could say anything, you stopped him, "look at the back of it!"

rafe rolled his eyes, picking up the steel watch from the box, and you could see his gaze soften the moment his eyes spotted the engraving on the back of the watch, the edges of his lips almost automatically twisting up at the words 'evelyn cameron'.

"is it bad that it makes me feel bitter?" you asked, chewing at the inside of your cheek, "that it's been four years, and i haven't been able to move on, but he has? that he's managed to be happy, but i haven't? that i don't know if i ever will?"

"the loss of a child..."

you couldn't help but tune out the words of your therapist like they were nothing but background noise, not knowing if it would be worse if she tried justifying your anger or if she tried to get you to understand why rafe had managed to move on, your eyes instead focusing on the heart-shaped locket you'd opened, the faces of the couple staring right at you.

"rafe, where are we?" you laughed softly, your feet hurting from the heels you were starting to regret wearing, the blonde having parked his car in front of a random house.

"you didn't think i wouldn't get you an anniversary present, did you?" when you didn't immediately answer, he pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense, shaking his head, "come on. lemme show you."

the two of you got out of the car, your heels clacking against the stone pathway leading to the house, rafe's muscular arm keeping you close to him, helping you walk.

when you got to the door, he let go of you, and you watched as he took out a set of keys without saying anything, twisting them in the lock and pushing open the door, looking to you enthusiastically, extending his hand to you.

the moment you stepped over the threshold, you were enveloped by warmth, rafe flicking on the light next to the entryway before turning to you as your eyes got used to the light, sliding his hands onto your waist, pulling you as close to him as the growing child allowed.

you looked into his eyes, yours filled with confusion while his were filled with nothing but sincerity, his thumb stroking your waist. "rafe, what's this?"

"it's our home." he said, bringing his hand to your bump, "i know it's not much, but it's got enough room for our family."

"rafe, this is-"

"this is my anniversary present for you. i won't take 'no' for an answer." he brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, tugging it behind your ear, "i want us to build our own home. our own life."

you kicked the radiator in frustration; it seemed like no matter what, the place wouldn't warm up. you'd called a maintenance guy, but they told you that it'd take at least a week for them to get someone there, and in the middle of winter, your only option was to light the fireplace in the middle of the living room while you waited for your mom to arrive with a portable radiator she told you she'd borrow you.

you sat in front of the blazing fire, your fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of the worn-out ultrasound picture you'd looked at a million times, your voice coming out weak from the sobs you were holding in your throat.

"hi, evie." you said softly, looking to the small urn next to you, engraved with the name of your daughter as well as today's date, only five years before. "happy... happy birthday."

"hi, baby." rafe's voice called out from the speakerphone of your car, the windshield wipers wiping away some of the rain falling down on you as you drove through the dark streets lit only by the yellow streetlights above, "are you almost home?"

"i am." you chuckled softly, "seeing my mom was so nice, even though she kept being all cheesy about how big i'd gotten. i swear, she almost cried."

"come on, she's gonna meet her grandkid in a month, of course she's gonna be all cheesy. if my dad had a paternal bone in his body, i'm sure he'd be ecstatic."

"yeah, well, you're not the one whose stomach is constantly getting pawed by people." you let out a snort, looking out into the road, "listen, i'm gonna drop by the store cause little evie's craving chocolate, do we need anything?"

"nah, just need you two home as soon as possible."

"aye aye, captain. see you soon, baby." you laughed, hearing the noise that signaled that the call had been ended, eager to get home and off your feet.

but before you could even realize what was happening, you were faced with a second pair of headlights that was approaching you, another car lit up by your own yellow headlights. and you swerved.

maybe it's a part of the so-called mother's instinct to blame ourselves when something happens to our child. no matter how many people told you that it wasn't your fault, that there was nothing you could've done, every bone, every cell in your body couldn't help but beat yourself up over what happened.

rafe ran down the hospital hallway, the smell of disinfectant mixed with the feeling of his heartbeat in his ears making him feel nauseous, the man sure that it was beating 200/bpm, but finally, when he reached the hospital room the reception had guided him to, a sense of relief took over him.

a nurse walked out of the room, startled by the man, her eyes widening at the obvious sense of urgency he was displaying, "can i help you?" she asked.

"no, no, i'm just here to see my fiancé." rafe said, his hand going for the door, only to be blocked by the nurse.

"i'm sorry, but the patient has told us that she doesn't want any visitors."

"what?" rafe let out a dry, humorless laugh, his brows furrowed, "you have to let me see her, that's my fiancé. that's- that's the mother of my child."

"i'm sorry, but the patient-"

"hey!" rafe pounded the palm of his hand on the door, the hospital bed visible from the rectangle of glass on the door, the man able to see your mother hunched over your bed, holding you. "let me-"

"sir, if you don't calm down, i'm going to have to call the guards and they'll remove you from the premises."

"that's my fiancé!" rafe shouted as the nurse pushed him further from the door, "i have to go see her! you have to let me see her! just tell her that i'm here, she'll want-"

the door to your hospital room swung open, rafe meeting the crestfallen eyes of your mother, her lips pulled into a straight line. "rafe, she doesn't want to see you."

when you heard the doorbell ring, you wiped away the tears that had ran down your cheeks; you didn't want to make it obvious to your mother that you'd spent the last fifteen minutes crying, and even if she could tell by the redness of your eyes, you knew she wouldn't mention it.

you pushed yourself off the ground, placing the small urn and the ultrasound picture on top of the fireplace as you straightened out your sweater, your feet cold against the hardwood floor as you walked to the front door.

but when you pulled it open expecting to see your mother, it felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, like your heartbeat shot through the roof just from the sight of his downcast eyes.

"rafe."

[deathbypixelz]

Screenshotting my original tags because there's some thoughts I want to get out.

I stopped watching the show in season one because I wanted this to happen so badly but I was so afraid I was just gonna get burned again. Or that it wasn't going to be good, though that was a much lesser fear. If anything knowing how well Fortiche could animate this made the first fear worse.

So yes I was watching the tags from the sidelines waiting to see if what I wanted so fucking badly would happen. I'd settle for a kiss, because even that is too much for most shows, and I was hoping for a sex scene on top of that. And then when it did, and then AGAIN, I wasn't ecstatic like I thought I'd be. I was just kind of... sad. And it took me until this morning to figure out why.

This is really, really good. It's short but it's really good. This is what lesbian intimacy and lesbian sex looks like. And I have never. in my life. seen it done so well.

And I have no idea when I will ever see it done so well again.

Animating characters touching AT ALL is EXTREMELY hard to get right, so I've heard. Let alone intimate touch. I mean fucking DRAWING IT is a struggle at times. And seeing just how fucking well Arcane does physicality and touch is, again, what made that first fear of mine worse.

I'm sad because I know now this is all we're getting of them. Even if there's a season three, why would they spend the time on a second sex scene? You know?

I wanted to see people like me loving like me and I got it. And I'm almost certainly going to cry over it later today. This is all I've wanted for years. And to an older lesbian who's seen the lack of real depiction for longer than I have, I can't imagine how this might feel.

When will I ever see it done in so beautiful a show, so honestly, with so much care, and with so much respect ever again? I don't know. And that's what's making this hurt in a weird way. It sounds shallow in a vacuum but I wish we could see them like this again, and again, and again, and again. Or any other pair of lesbians in this show. It really doesn’t matter to me.

I just want to see people like me -- really like me. It's all I've wanted for years. And I saw myself in these gifs. I have never seen myself reflected back like this. I have never felt this way before in my life. And as I'm typing this, I'm crying now.

...

I just wanted to say this and get it out of my brain. I'm going to channel this ache for more into art of my own. I hope the next time isn't too far away.

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LESBIANS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle”

[creamflix]

Hi there! Long time reader, first time asked 👀

I saw your requests were open, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to do a Nanami drabble? Literally ANYTHING, your writing is so good, I trust you 100000%

💖 Even if you don't, thanks for considering anyway 🙏🏻

content: established relationship with nanami, female reader [implied to be shorter than nanami], fluff and crack  thank you for the request anon! hope you like it <3 i wasn't sure if you wanted an nsfw one or not, so i just decided to keep it a lil' silly. — general masterlist ☆

nanami paused mid-action, the knot of his tie still undone, as he watched you drag a footstool across the floor with great determination. his brow arched ever so slightly, curiosity piqued.

you weren’t exactly the tallest person, and that stool seemed to be your weapon of choice for the grand gesture you were planning.

"what exactly are you doing?" he asked, his tone flat, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"don’t worry about it," you replied, climbing onto the stool with the kind of focus one might reserve for scaling mount everest. you wobbled slightly, and nanami instinctively placed a hand on your waist to steady you.

"hand me your tie."

his brows rose higher. "my tie?"

"yes, your tie. give it here."

"you do realize i can tie it myself, right?"

"where’s the romance in that, kento?" you countered, managing to look smug despite balancing precariously on your makeshift podium. "besides, i watched at least fifteen youtube tutorials last night. i’ve got this."

nanami sighed, equal parts amused and intrigued, and handed you the tie. he wasn’t in any particular rush to leave — not with this level of entertainment unfolding in front of him.

you grabbed the tie with all the confidence of a seasoned expert, draping it over his neck and starting to work the knot. "okay, step one: cross over... or was it under?"

nanami’s chest shook with a quiet laugh. "you don’t sound very sure."

"shhhhhh," you replied, glaring up at him. "let me concentrate."

you fiddled with the fabric for a moment longer, but as the knot began to resemble a crumpled ball rather than a tie, your expression shifted from confident to mildly panicked. "wait. no, no, no — this isn’t right."

"are you sure you watched fifteen tutorials?" he teased, tilting his head slightly as he watched you unravel your work.

"don’t mock me, kento. i’m in charge here."

"of course you are," he replied, but the amusement in his tone was unmistakable.

you tried again.

and again.

and again.

by the fourth attempt, your frustration was palpable. "why is this so hard? i swear i practiced on a scarf last night, and it worked perfectly!"

"maybe the scarf was more cooperative," nanami offered, lips twitching as he fought back a grin. "or perhaps it had better supervision."

"you’re not helping," you huffed, tugging the tie free and starting over yet again.

"i’m sorry, darling," he said, though his voice was anything but apologetic. "please, continue. i’m thoroughly enjoying this."

on your fifth — and final — attempt, you managed to produce something that vaguely resembled a proper knot. you stepped back triumphantly, admiring your handiwork, and looked up at nanami with a beaming smile.

"there! perfect!"

he glanced down at the tie, then back at you, his expression soft and indulgent. "it’s a little crooked," he said gently, reaching up to adjust it.

you smacked his hand away. "noooooo, it’s not. it’s charming. and you’re leaving it like that because i worked hard on it."

he chuckled then, the sound deep and warm. "as you wish," he said, smoothing down the tie but leaving your imperfect knot intact.

as he grabbed his briefcase and prepared to leave — five minutes late, but not that he’d ever complain — you trailed after him. "so, how do you feel, mr. nanami? pampered? loved? dashing in your wife-tied tie?"

"all of the above," he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "though next time, perhaps we’ll start a bit earlier."

"next time, i’ll have it perfected," you promised, hands on your hips.

he smiled as he stepped out the door, his heart feeling just a bit lighter. five minutes late was nothing compared to the joy of watching his wife stand on a footstool, determined to make him feel cared for in the cutest way possible.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[reysdriver]

okay, just thinking about some celebrity daring to hit on sirius and he's like "bitch??" and then immediately runs to tattoo reader's name (VERY BIG) on the left side of his chest, right over his heart! and since he takes off his shirt at every show, everyone can enjoy the view (reader is also taken by surprise, she gets very horny if you ask me

Sirius shows the world where his passion lies — rockstar!sirius x reader fluff

warnings: allusions to sex, very suggestive

words: 1k

a/n: I love this request so much omggg that is such a Sirius thing to do (I could see James doing it too actually) but it's just PERFECT. I did change it a bit by making reader know about it beforehand but I hope it's still good! Also horny part 2 maybe... idk yet

You came back to the hotel room with coffee in your hand, a bag of pastries in your purse, and a tabloid magazine under your arm. 

With The Marauders on tour, you’ve been living out of suitcases with your boyfriend and your friends for the last couple weeks. You’ve all been sharing sleep schedules with wolves, staying up until dawn and sleeping later than everyone else in whatever city you were staying in. 

That’s precisely why you left to grab breakfast at eleven in the morning and Sirius was still fast asleep. 

By the time you got back, you walked in to find Sirius wide awake, but still in bed, tangled in the bedsheets. 

“Good morning, love.” Sirius said, shirtless with one hand behind his head. 

“It was a good morning.” You teased, tossing him the magazine. “Then I saw you in the news.”

“Me?” He feigned surprise. It wasn’t at all uncommon for Sirius to be in the news or the tabloids, but it was usually for something he did, not some pop princess who writes songs you get tired of after two listens. 

Sirius sat up and scanned the front page, curious as to what was going on. 

Mary Macdonald makes her move on rock star Sirius Black; New musical romance in the works?

The caption was sitting atop a picture of the popstar in question onstage at a concert, her crop top showing off a fake tattoo on her abdomen with text reading Reserved 4 Sirius Black alongside an arrow pointed down. 

“Oh, come on.” Sirius laughed, throwing the paper to the end of the bed. “This is what got you all bothered?”

You set your purse down and brought the coffee and pastries over to your boyfriend. 

“Yes, so bothered I almost didn’t buy you a coffee. Be happy I did, though.” 

“Of course I’m happy. I love you, doll.”

Sirius lifted the sheets and held out a hand to beckon you into the bed with him. You obey reluctantly, putting on a dramatic pout as you crawled in with your boyfriend and straddled his lap. 

“You know you’re the only one for me, right?” He whispered, hands tracing along your hips. 

You combed your fingers through his perfect hair, a frown on your face. 

“Tell that to the singer-songwriter superstar announcing to the world that you’re the only person she wants between her legs.” 

Sirius smiled in a way that made it painfully obvious he had something stupid to say. “Love, there are millions of people who feel that exact way about me. Including you, I would hope.”

Damn, this man was exhausting. And of course you loved him for it. 

You rolled your eyes and tried to get out of the hotel bed, though your attempt was foiled by Sirius holding you back. 

You let him get his way, but gave him an unimpressed look that did not match his badly-stifled grin. 

“I’ll take care of it, alright?” He said, not elaborating at all. 

You shook your head, hoping he would say more about whatever PR stunt he had in mind. 

“Siri, what are you gonna do?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Sirius said softly. He took your hand in his and slid your palm gently across his bare chest. “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry.”

✦✧✦✧✦

The next concert the band had was a few days after you first saw that magazine. You stood in the wings of the concert stage, just before the show started. 

All the other band members had gone onto the stage and started setting up their instruments and playing the long intro to the opening song; it was just Sirius left, saying goodbye to you before he started performing and you made your way to the VIP section. 

“You’re gonna do great, Siri.” You told him sincerely. 

He winked at you, cocky as ever. 

“I always do.” 

Sirius then softened and masked your tone. He held your upper arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’ll let them all know I’m yours, and only yours.”

“They’re gonna go crazy.” You smiled.

“Damn right, they will. I’ll see you out there.”

Sirius gave your ass a playful smack before jogging out to the stage before he missed his cue, so you went down to your reserved space in the audience to see the band play from the best angle. 

The audience lost their minds when Sirius ran onto the stage, per usual, screaming and shouting when all he’s done so far was enter. 

But once Sirius started singing, the crowd noticed something off about the performance—Sirius was wearing a whole shirt for the first time throughout this tour. None of the band acknowledged it, of course; they were too busy playing music to be worried about what Sirius was wearing tonight. 

Once the song finished, Sirius took a moment to say hello to the audience. After all the routine talking points—you know, your ‘how’s everybody doing?’ and whatnot—Sirius found it was the right time to say what he wanted to say. 

“I saw a magazine cover the other day, with my name on it.” He started. “And not for the usual reasons. Mary Macdonald, I think it was…”

Many audience members went wild at the mention of her name, either because they were fans of her music, or they knew exactly what headlines Sirius was referring to. 

“That was definitely an odd thing to wake up and see. But I’ve thought about it because it’s been everywhere, and I just have one thing to say about that.”

Instead of responding verbally, Sirius pulled off his black tank top with a smooth, swift motion, revealing his newest tattoo. 

Your name was printed loud and clear on his chest, right over his heart. He got it done the day the Mary Macdonald pictures came out, and he was ecstatic to show it off to the world. 

It caused quite a reaction, but you weren’t listening to the audience to know what they were even thinking. All you cared about was Sirius up on that stage, blowing you a kiss as The Marauders started to play the next song.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

I Could Give You A Ride

✰ summary: would you want to give a ride to a bartender you randomly meet at a bar? oh, i think you do. but don't forget, it could end earlier than you expect!

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (bartender!choso x fem!reader, alcohol use, mature language, drunk reader, kissing, neck kissing, tit sucking, reader is riding choso's fingers, quick ending because of choso's excitement lol)

✰ a little note: i originally planned a completely different ending, but i ended it in another way with this silly and funny idea that came to mind. i love my cute emo boy Choso <3

✰ word count: 3.4k

I guess it was about time.

Yes, it was definitely time, because you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself back. Watching like a creep wasn’t an option anymore; you had to take action. That way, you could confirm your certification as an official creep.

But every time you hyped yourself up, telling yourself “I’m doing it now!” your enthusiasm would fizzle out, and you’d return to sipping your drink.

Why had you even come here in the first place?

After a long work week, you definitely deserved a drink. And, as luck would have it, the handsome and sweet bartender came as a bonus with great cocktails.

Sitting in the right corner of the wide bar, nursing your fourth mojito, and sneaking glances at the bartender, you couldn’t help the unnecessary fluttering inside you. It had all started last week when one of your close girlfriends discovered this place. It might’ve been a bit too quiet for a girls’ night out, but as long as you were gossiping, nothing else mattered.

One of your friends had been mid-sip when she suddenly froze, pointing toward the handsome bartender making drinks at the counter. You, along with the rest of your friends, had turned to stare, mouths agape, as he shook the cocktail shaker like a pro.

“Oh my God… I wish he’d shake me like that,” your friend had blurted.

Eyes still glued to the emo bartender behind the bar, you’d replied, “Since when are emos this hot?”

The shock of your words had been enough to grab all your friends’ attention because it had been ages since you’d expressed interest in anyone.

“I knew there was still hope! Finally, someone’s got you wet,” one of them teased.

Rolling your eyes, you’d shot back, “Girls I only said he’s hot, okay? Anyway, he can be as cute and attractive as he wants, but he’s definitely not someone I’d want to sleep with. Can we stop being creeps and get back to our girls’ night?”

Despite their reluctance, they’d agreed, and the evening had continued.

Of course, you wanted to sleep with him. That feeling had been there from the moment you first saw him. Ever since that girls’ night, all you could think about was that bartender going down on you, giving you orgasms over and over again.

As you racked your brain over how to return to this bar, you finally gave in to temptation and dragged yourself here on a Friday as a well-earned reward.

Sure, you wanted to see the hot emo bartender again, but the cocktail you were sipping was a nice bonus.

When you walked in, there had been empty tables around, but you’d chosen a seat at the bar instead. After all, you’d come here for one reason.

When you locked eyes with the bartender, he smiled at you and walked over, politely asking what you’d like. After ordering your mojito, you’d watched him intently as he prepared it.

The way he precisely measured the ingredients and poured them into the shaker, the way his tattooed, muscular arms flexed as he shook it—it had you pressing your thighs together, trying (and failing) to ease the ache between your legs.

Apparently, emos could be insanely attractive.

Lost in your admiration of the hot bartender, you’d snapped out of it when he placed your finished cocktail in front of you. Your eyes darted from the drink to him, noticing the self-assured smirk on his face as if he knew you’d been ogling him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you’d managed a flustered thank you before taking a sip. His smirk had only widened as he walked back to the center of the bar to prepare another drink.

The pattern repeated itself after that. You’d raise your empty glass for another order, he’d collect it with a smile, and you’d shamelessly ogle him as he made an even better mojito than the last.

How long could this go on? You weren’t sure. You wanted to talk to him, to get to know him, but the fear of rejection kept holding you back. It didn’t help that you hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in ages, so your confidence was shot. Besides, he was working. Why would he stop everything to chat with you? It felt ridiculous.

Maybe the timing just wasn’t right. Or maybe you were just lying to yourself.

Lost in thought, you stared at the remnants of your mojito when a small shadow appeared in front of you. Lifting your head, you found yourself staring into a pair of beautifully lined eyes.

His face held a mix of a smile and an inquisitive expression, as if he were trying to figure you out. The woody scent of his cologne surrounded you, and whether it was the alcohol or not, the sight of his tattooed forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves made him look extra tempting.

Had they been this good the first time you saw him? Oh, absolutely.

You wanted to take back everything you’d said last week because you definitely wanted to fuck him now.

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

You stood there speechless, continuing to stare at the bartender you found so attractive. When you finally managed to collect your words and decided to speak, you answered in a soft voice, “Uhmm, I don’t know.”

He laughed sincerely at your response. He’d smiled at you before, but hearing him chuckle like this stirred a completely different feeling inside you.

“Usually, people on their sixth drink are in party mode, but for you, it seems to be causing depression.”

You were never someone whose mood dropped when drinking. On the contrary, you became more cheerful and energetic. And yet, here you were, struggling not to press your lips against this emo bartender’s—

Wait. Did he say sixth drink? Because you were pretty sure you were just about to finish your fourth.

With a puzzled expression, you asked, “Sixth drink?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re on your sixth one now.”

Shit. There was no way you were drunk. Who even gets drunk on cocktails? Sure, six might be a bit much, but you’d definitely had more before.

Covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, you tried to process what had just happened. But that warm, masculine chuckle reached your ears again, and you slowly pulled your hands away to look at him.

“I should’ve stopped you after your fourth. I noticed your eyes starting to droop a little,” he said, his face showing a hint of concern. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Oh, no, thanks. Normally, I’m a pretty resilient drinker.”

“Sure, I can see that,” he teased, his tone playful and a little mocking.

His words stung a little, so you frowned and tried to prove your point. “I’m serious. I could have six glasses of whiskey and still be perfectly fine.”

Determined to show him you were still steady, you attempted to stand up—only to stumble slightly, prompting the sexy bartender to reach out and steady you.

His long, veiny arms reached across the bar to catch you, holding you firmly. And wow, how many tattoos did this man have?

“Jesus, you scared me, sweetheart.”

Plenty of people had called you “sweetheart” before, but you weren’t sure anyone had ever said it as beautifully as he just did.

“Your voice is so… soft.” You weren’t sure why you said that. You probably should’ve just thanked him for catching you, but instead, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

“If you sit back down on the stool, I can talk to you more. What do you say?”

Within a second, your drunk self processed his words and obediently sat back on the stool. All for the sake of hearing that soft, beautiful voice again.

“Okay, you can talk now, emo boy.”

“Huh! So you’ve already given me a nickname,” he said, leaning on the bar as he got closer to you. “Tell me, did you come up with it while secretly staring at me all this time?”

Well, so you weren’t a secret creep. Apparently, you were a very obvious one. At least that made you a little less terrifying. You felt your cheeks heat up. You didn’t know how he’d noticed you watching him, but in your drunken state, you gave the best response you could muster.

“Guess I’m not the only creep who likes staring at people.”

The handsome bartender’s cheeks flushed at your remark, and you let out a small laugh. There was nothing cuter than a flustered guy.

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“What can I say? I love making handsome bartenders blush when I’m drunk.” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, gently caressing them. It felt like you were touching the softest thing in the world. He closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying your touch. But then his sharp voice broke the moment. “If you keep this up, I’ll bend you over this counter and fuck you so hard that make you scream loud enough to scare off all the customers.”

Your eyes widened in shock. That had to be your drunk mind playing tricks on you. There was no way he’d actually said that. You were just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you said, as if to reassure yourself of the truth.

“Okay?” he repeated, confused.

“I accept, emo boy.”

He let out a sweet laugh. “You accept me bending you over the bar and fucking you until you scream?”

“Uh-huh, exactly that.”

“I only said it so you’d sober up and realize what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

A small pang of disappointment hit you. No, scratch that—it was a huge pang of disappointment. For a second, you’d hoped he meant it, that he actually wanted you.

Sure, he could make amazing cocktails, but if he didn’t take the number-one bartender rule—never play with drunk customers—seriously, then he clearly wasn’t taking his job seriously either.

“Uh, I see. I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice low as you averted your gaze to the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

“Shit, I—look, it’s 11:30 right now, and we close in half an hour. I can’t let you go home alone in this state, so please—”

You interrupted him, your tone tinged with irritation. “That’s not necessary. I can handle myself.” You pulled out your wallet, placed some money on the counter, and said, “The drinks were great. Have a good night.”

Fueled by your disappointment, you sobered up just enough to stand without stumbling and made your way to the exit.

But before you could leave, you felt a hand on your arm. Turning around, you locked eyes with the “cute, handsome, and deceitful bartender.” He looked at you with a sorrowful expression, like a wounded deer. He knew full well he’d hurt you.

Closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh and began to apologize for your unnecessary outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and overreacting to everything. There was nothing wrong with what you said. I’m just a regular customer, and honestly, I shouldn’t have touched you like that in the first place. I’m really—”

“Please let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. I can’t let you go like this on your own.”

How could you say no to that? He looked like a sad puppy, waiting for your forgiveness. And as much as you wanted to storm off and leave, deep down, the thought of being out alone at this hour scared you.

“Waiting half an hour wouldn’t hurt,” you said, offering him a small smile.

The bartender seemed to understand that you’d let go of your anger, and he returned your smile. He guided you to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area and promised to finish up quickly so he could join you.

The seats were much softer here. Sure, you’d endured the hard barstool for the handsome bartender, but this felt like heaven. Setting your bag beside you and leaning back, you closed your eyes. You told yourself you’d just rest them for a moment. But you didn’t realize when sleep took over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you woke up, your eyes opened easily. The bar was dimly lit, with only a faint glow above the counter. The customers had left, and the handsome bartender was sitting on one of the stools, engrossed in his phone.

Why hadn’t he woken you up?

As you got up and walked toward him, he looked up from his phone and turned his gaze to you. That beautiful smile, which suited him so well, appeared on his face.

“Hey, you’re awake. I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you could use the rest to sober up. Feeling better?”

He didn’t have to be this sweet. You silently swore to yourself that you’d never come here again, but his kindness only made you like him even more.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let out everything you’d been holding inside. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I saw you last week. I came here today, using the excuse of treating myself, just to come here and see you again. I’m not good at this, and it makes me really nervous. You made it clear you’re not interested, but I still wanted to tell you how I feel, even if I never get to see you again.” By the time you finished speaking, you realized you were out of breath. You had blurted everything out in one go. You might’ve embarrassed yourself further, but at least you felt relieved.

“So, you’re saying you’re a professional creep?” His tone was anything but serious, and when you looked at him, you noticed the barely contained laughter on his face.

You started laughing, a mix of nerves and amusement, and nodded. Pulling your phone from your bag, you checked the time—12:30 AM.

“It’s late; I should—Hmph.” Your words were cut off by his lips pressing against yours. It wasn’t the first time you’d been interrupted tonight by him, but if all interruptions were like this, you’d gladly welcome them.

You dropped your phone and bag to the floor, letting your hands find their way to his long, black hair. The man in front of you kissed you with passion—not rushed, but deliberate, as if he’d been craving your lips all night.

When he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to carry you to the bar counter. His lips tasted of mint and strawberry.

Alright, you definitely needed to ask him about that lip balm later.

When he pulled back to catch his breath, you managed to speak. “I thought you weren’t interested in me?”

His light-colored eyes, framed by black eyeliner, stared at you guiltily. “Since the moment you sat on that stool, all I’ve wanted was to taste your lips.” His fingers brushed over your lips gently. “So fucking full and soft. I know the rest of you is just like this, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in to kiss you again, you stopped him, finally asking the question that had been on your mind since the moment you saw him. “Are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you planning to keep the mystery alive?”

He kissed you softly before pulling back. “Choso.”

“Hmmm, do you know what I’m thinking right now, Choso?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

“You’re going to give me a ride home tonight, but in return, I want to ride you too.”

His eyes widened, and even in the dim light, you could see his cheeks flush. For someone who looked so tough, he was surprisingly shy. Leaning into his ear, you whispered, “Will you let me?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his earlier dominance now replaced with a more submissive tone.

“Then take me to the lounge area, Choso.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Choso carried you to the lounge. As he walked, you placed wet kisses along his neck, occasionally nibbling his skin, which earned soft groans from him.

When he sat down on the couch, he placed you on his lap. His hands found your breasts, kneading them gently, while his lips latched onto your neck. You weren’t sure which of his actions was more pleasurable—the way his lips sucked on the sensitive spots of your neck, or the way his fingers teased your nipples through your clothes.

Why choose when you could have both?

“Shit—Choso, this feels so good. Please… I don’t just want your fingers,” you moaned eagerly.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging at your top.

“Yes, please.”

The moment he got your top off, leaving you bare before him, his hands stilled, and he stared at your breasts. He looked like a child who had finally gotten the toy they’d been dreaming of, his mouth slightly open in awe. Slowly, he lowered his head to your right breast, placing soft kisses around it.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured between kisses. “Absolutely *smooch* perfect *smooch* and *smooch* so soft.”

After kissing all around your breast, he let his tongue flick over your nipple. When your moan filled the room, he glanced up at you and licked it again, this time keeping his gaze locked with yours. Once he broke eye contact, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently.

“Oh, God, Choso—fuck, fuck… they’re so sensitive,” you whimpered. The way he suckled your nipple made you feel like you might lose your mind. When his fingers found your other nipple and began teasing it, you arched your back and tangled your hands in his hair, silently begging for this to never end.

“Choso—I’m—I’m—”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice breathless. “Fuck, sweetheart, I could come just from sucking on your tits.”

“Do you want me to suck your—”

He placed a wet kiss between your breasts and looked into your eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight is about you. I just want to make you feel good.”

His hands slipped under your skirt, tugging your black thong down your hips before his fingers brushed along your slick folds.

“Choso—ugh, please, just put them in,” you begged.

Obliging, he slid one finger inside you, pumping slowly at first.

His long, thick finger found your G-spot almost immediately, pressing against it in just the right way. As your moans grew louder, he added a second finger and increased his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with more urgency.

“Shit—shit, you’re so tight. If I fuck this pussy, I’ll come in two seconds,” he muttered, his voice strained as if he was barely holding himself together.

“Ahhh, Choso, right there—right—UGHH CHOSO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You cried out as his teeth gently bit down on your other nipple. Your hands found his hair again as you whimpered, “More—I want more.”

Noticing the way your hips bucked to meet his movements, Choso chuckled against your skin. “I think—I think I’m falling for you. I’ve never seen a pussy this—fuck—this wet before.”

“It’s all for you, Choso. Just—just keep going, and I’m going to—ughhh.”

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Choso let out a low growl, swearing under his breath as your hips stilled. He gently pumped his fingers inside you a few more times before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, licking up every drop of your release.

As you lay there catching your breath, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his shy, muffled voice.

“Uh, um… can we take a little break?”

Though you didn’t know why, you nodded understandingly. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed. “You—you didn’t notice?”

Laughing at how adorably flustered he looked, you leaned in and kissed him softly. “Notice what, emo boy? If it’s about how good you fingered me, I think we both know how much I enjoyed it.”

“That’s not it…”

Now you were genuinely concerned. “Choso, I don’t understand. What happened?”

Avoiding your gaze, he glanced around the room before finally meeting your eyes with a resigned sigh. “I… I came, too.”

“Oh…”

Alright. You hadn’t noticed that.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, you burst into laughter, making his embarrassment even worse. Determined to make it up to him, you gave him the best blowjob of his life.

And then, as promised, you rode him until you were both drenched in sweat, your moans echoing loud enough for anyone outside to hear.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

choso kamo art by @yappdoll on X.

[lovelytayforce]

I agree with this comment here so hard, I remember getting blasted for calling readers who don't comment "leeches" on R/Fanfiction and I'm glad people are seeing that for what it is even if it's four years late

So, I'm gonna share my own little story here because discord has actively ruined communities for fanfic (and art too I'm not gonna leave y'all out cause my bestie @zoetiger-1106 is an artist who deserves way more praise than she gets!!) The reason why authors and myself see the "I'm shy" shit as an excuse is because the same people will type long ass tirades on Discord without a single thought. YOU CAN EDIT AO3 COMMENTS PEOPLE! If you make a mistake, read it back over and edit it. I've watched it happen in real-time with one of my favorite commenters on my one-shot where they left a short gushing comment and then came back and wrote more, you have no excuse much less reason to go "Man fandom keeps telling me to not critique and I might make a mistake so I will say nothing and consume like the average TV and Streaming consumer who thinks there doing something!" YOU have a lot of power with comments and even those bookmark tags hell just copy-paste what you put into those bookmark tags as a comment I DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT USE THAT LIL BOX TO VOICE SOMETHING!!!! God this is all over the place idc but I read back at those bookmarks, and saw people call my works the best and super cool and I APPRECIATE THAT but tell me! Stop taking the easy route, I been blasted for misunderstandings over comments multiple times cause people take my "tone" terribly cause it sucks being black and emotive online yay and for some reason people think !!!! Is bad? yes, I've been hit with that but I keep on trucking cause fuck whatever some weirdo thinks about exclamation points! Anyways back to discord and why I hate it now, I was in a small fandom, KFP got invited to a discord cause ONE person commented on my works and saw they talked about my fic, and at first, I was happy and people TALKED about my chapters at length in the fanfic channel. I basically was the ONLY ONE posting consistently in that channel and it was great but also I wanted that on my fic to show I improved so guess what I did? I went all in trying to one-up myself to be noticed, to have the acclaim my peers did so it would evolve outside of discord channels but it never happened. And Imma tell y'all now; it never will. Readers prefer convenience over your hard work, they are not gonna take time for you no matter how much you improve. People told me over and over while I looked for solutions for this; "We can't make commenting look like an obligation." "Add more prose, space these paragraphs better" all this just for no one to take the initiative and say something SINCERE towards a work they love on it. I've had to tell my own ex-friends now to go leave comments on works they called Masterpieces while ignoring me. Despite the fact they wanted Gen content in which I WROTE. Or met people who have very weird "I don't review" rules for themselves despite getting motivated by reviews themselves!! We're in a shitty time for creatives much less community cause we don't see each other as humans much less want to treat each others as we desire to be treated. Fanfic readers want to treat authors like showrunners and I hate it. But then your peers will tell you 'not to worry about engagement" and no I am because why is my hit count going up every day but ain't no one saying shit? Make it make sense!! I sat in that community commenting as much as I could, especially on long fics; it wasn't all perfect but I TRIED. I didn't expect shit back but hey it would have been nice but it never happened and again I learned; it never would. That's the real issue, no one wants to give no more; just take and take and take til you're sucked dry of passion worse than any corpo out right now. It's why I thankfully switched fandoms. I got ONE consistent commenter and they are better than that ENTIRE SMALL CLOSED COMMUNITY!! So, to any discord reactor for fanfic you better skip on to that message you made and copy and paste it in this box right here and never utter "I'm shy" ever again cause we see you, our friends tell us about you. You are not as anonymous as you think! 🫵🏽

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[freeabortionslol]

don't marry him (quinn hughes x bsf!reader)

summary: angst, quinn talks reader out of engagement, unrequited love (kinda), reader is a lawyer, lots of flashbacks, italics mean flashbacks, not a single y/n used (yay!)

warnings!! anxiety, panic attacks, cursing, intense argument

a/n: okay so I rly didn't know what to do with this bc it honestly felt wrong to have him confess his feelings in this moment LMAO so I think I'm def gonna do a pt 2. anyways this was the fic from my drafts that the people voted for so here it is!! hope u enjoy :)

wc: 4.1k

“You lost.” Quinn said, staring out at the Lake, not making eye contact with you.

“What?” You asked, twirling your flashy engagement ring around your finger. 

Max had come into your life at a time when everything felt uncertain. You were fresh off a series of career setbacks, questioning your worth and your ability to build the future you had always dreamed of. He was steady, charismatic, and above all, ambitious. Qualities you admired and felt you needed to anchor yourself. He made you feel secure in a world that often felt chaotic.

Quinn sighed, turning to face you slightly. “At life. You lost.” He mumbled out, taking a sip of his beer before turning back to the lake. Your face quickly softened with a hint of sadness.

“I-I didn’t lose. I’m happy and successful.” You said, your tone coming off with a hint of anger. 

You and Max met at a work conference, one of those overly formal events where you spent half the time pretending to be interested in panel discussions and the other half networking. Max had approached you during a coffee break, his easy confidence setting him apart from the crowd. His suit was perfectly tailored, his smile sharp but not unkind.

Quinn took one look at you, shifting in his seat slightly. “Y-You…you don’t want this.” Your heart thumped slightly, cracking your knuckles to drown out the sounds of your own thoughts. “I’m scared for you.” 

Max’s love came with conditions. He valued success above all else, and he expected you to do the same. Work always came first, even if it meant skipping family events or cutting vacations short for a meeting. He didn’t understand why you needed to spend time with Quinn, Luke, and Jack.

“Quinn, I love him. You know that.” Your brows furrowed in an attempt to make him understand. 

The engagement came as a surprise, even to you. It was during a charity gala, one of those glittering events Max thrived in. He had pulled you onto the stage during his speech, getting down on one knee in front of hundreds of people. The ring sparkled under the chandeliers, and the applause was deafening. You had said yes because saying no didn’t feel like an option. Not with Max’s expectant smile, the cameras flashing, and the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“But do you like him?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you continued to fidget with the ring on your finger. The ring that was far too heavy to be wearing constantly, its band made of gold instead of your preferred silver. His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in your chest like a stone tossed in the still waters of the lake. His gaze remained fixed ahead, unwavering.

Max wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t cruel or unkind. But he didn’t see you, not the way Quinn did. He saw your potential, your ambition, but not the person you were when all the noise fell away.

“I-I…I don’t- of course I like him. What are you getting at?” You stuttered, confused about your own feelings on the matter. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye, taking another swig from his bottle before speaking.

“Really?” He asked, his heart shattering at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. “I see the face you make when he talks. It’s blank, unreadable. And when he laughs? Your eyes scrunch up like when we would drag you out of bed to get on the boat.” Quinn lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “You really want to wake up next to his mustache every morning for the rest of your life?” You roll your eyes, posture slumping.

“Don’t make fun of him.” You warned, your voice becoming stern. Quinn bites the inside of his mouth before turning away. “I’m successful, Quinn.”

“Yeah-yeah, that’s great. You have all the fuckin’ money you could’ve wished for.” He huffs out with a sarcastic smile.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me sound materialistic-” You crossed your arms, Quinn cutting you off quickly.

“Well it’s kind of hard when all you do is work and work-” His voice raises significantly.

“This is my dream! If you can’t accept the fact that i’m happy-”

“Yeah! And you’re so damn caught up in it that you don’t have time for us anymore!” He yells, sending you a look of anger. One you’d never seen before. He breathes heavily, trying to calm himself down as he moves to the edge of his seat. His eyes soften when he catches your expression, scared. He sighs reluctantly before he speaks again. “Luke notices the way you brush him off when Max is around. He notices how you never fly out to Jersey to see him and Jack like you used to.” Your breath hitched as Quinn’s words pierced through the air. His voice had calmed, but the raw emotion in his eyes cut deeper than his raised tone ever could. You looked away, not able to face the weight of his gaze, and stared at the rippling water instead. The golden light of the setting sun shimmered on the surface, mimicking the perfection you thought you’d built. 

“Luke said that?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. You didn’t want this, not here, not ever. 

“Yeah.” He replied softly. “Jack see’s it too. They miss you.” Quinn turned his head to face you, your gaze still not meeting his. “I miss you.” You turned to glance at him, tears bubbling as you brushed a strand of hair from your face. You continued playing with your ring, biting your lip to hold the cries. 

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “This is my life. I won.” You croaked out. Quinn sighed, leaning back in his seat as he swirled the beer bottle in his hand.

“When we were kids, my Aunt Julia came over to visit us during christmas. Do you remember that?” He asked quietly, catching you off guard in a moment of vulnerability. You nodded your head, continuing to bite your lip. “She asked all of us- Me, you, Jack, and Luke ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’” Your eyes softened quickly, bringing your knees to your chest. “Do you remember what you said?” He asked, his tone empathetic.

“Yeah, a lawyer-”

“A mother.” He interrupted. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You froze, staring at Quinn as the memories hit like a tidal wave.

“I…I don’t remember that.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn gave you a sad smile, his eyes softening. “You do. You just don’t want to.” He brought the bottle to his mouth, looking out at the lake again. The two of you sat in the thick silence. Quinn, knowing he was winning this conversation and you, overthinking every little moment from the past two years. Tears began to escape your eyes as you stared out at the lake, refusing to look at Quinn. He turned to you, seeing how hard this conversation was for you. He wanted to pull you into him, let you cry into his shoulder until all the pain went away, but that wasn’t his job anymore. It was Max’s. The pain burned deep into Quinn’s chest as he recalled every memory he shared with you at this house. Jumping off the boat together on hot summer days, neighborhood barbecues where you would wear those short little sundresses he liked so much, your first kiss while playing spin the bottle together, and of course every deep conversation you shared on this back deck, in these exact chairs. When he was thirteen, he was sure of the fact that he would marry you. He never expected to be sitting here, watching you fiddle with an engagement ring that he didn’t buy. 

You blinked, wiping the tears from your face as you decided to face your fear of confrontation. “I-If I don’t work hard now, I won’t have anything left when I'm old and burnt out.” Quinn’s jaw clenched as he processed your words, his gaze fixed on the lake but his mind clearly elsewhere. He tilted his head back slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to suppress his frustration. Your lip trembled, more tears falling by the second as you looked away. 

“H-He um-” You paused, taking a long sigh as you looked over at Quinn. “He says there’s no time for children in our career.” Quinn whipped his head over to you, his expression softening as he got lost in your words. 

“He’s a piece of shit.” Quinn mumbled, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to the lake. 

You licked your lips as you rolled your eyes. “He’s not a piece of shit, okay? He’s a good guy, you just don’t know him.” You said, your tone growing in frustration. Quinn looked over to you, mouth open, brows furrowed as if you’d just said the most unbelievable thing. 

He huffed out a small laugh before returning his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “You’re fuckin’ delusional.” He let out quietly, taking another sip. You whipped your head to him, your frustration quickly bubbling over. 

“Excuse me-”

Quinn was quick to interrupt you, his voice raised slightly. “You heard me. You’re fucking delusional if you think that’s love.” He rolled his eyes, looking back at you. 

You scoffed, licking your bottom row of teeth as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Your expression had become serious, your tears stopping in their tracks. “This is love!” Your voice carefully rose in volume. “I fell in love,” You laughed slightly, letting a slight smile escape your lips out of frustration. “You’re just jealous.” 

Quinn’s face turned bright red as he took in your words. He looked down at his lap, then back to you. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before speaking. “Jealous?” He asked, brows furrowed. “My god, you're so full of yourself sometimes.” He didn’t mean that and he knew, but you didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears as your best friend tore you apart. “You seriously think i’m jealous of him?” He asked, his voice just below a yell.

“No, of me!” Quinn froze, his beer bottle mid air as the words echoed between the two of you. “You’re jealous because I found love and-”

Quinn slammed the bottle on the wooden deck, the sharp sound making you flinch. “Don’t.” He snapped, his voice shaking with anger. “Don’t twist this into me being the bad guy for giving a shit about you.” 

“You don’t give a shit!” You shot back, standing up as your emotions boiled over. “You just can't stand the fact that i’m not following you around like a fucking puppy anymore!” Quinn stood too, his frame towering over you, but his expression wasn’t filled with intimidation. It was filled with raw, unfiltered pain. 

June 23rd, 2012

Dear diary, today was pretty good. In the morning, Jack and Luke jumped on my bed to wake me up which sucked, but when are they not annoying? Anyways, they dragged me down to the lake for a boat day. We went with their dad and their brother Quinn (my future husband). Jack and Luke were doing this wakeboard surfing thingy so I decided to stay close to Quinn. He’s just sooo perfect. His hair is amazing and he smells so good. I wanna be his girlfriend like literally so bad but I can’t tell if he likes me or not. He held my hand when we jumped in the water which was literally the best thing that has EVER happened to me. Anyways, that was the most important thing that happened today.

“What are you reading? You don’t read.” Jack’s piercing voice pulled Quinn straight from focus. He quickly turned around, shutting the book immediately.

“Nothing uh- just something for school.” He stammered out. Jack furrowed his brows, crossing his arms. 

“It’s summer.”

“Yeah, summer reading.” Only it wasn’t summer reading. It was your diary, something personal and private. Quinn was only reading it to find out where you hid the hockey puck you stole, but he stumbled upon a catalog of entries about himself. Do you expect a thirteen year old boy to not read it? 

“Okay well, dinner’s in five minutes.” Jack said before spinning on his heel to exit the room. You liked Quinn, like really liked him and now he knows it.

“You need to think about what you just said.” Quinn said, his voice low. “Think about that and then compare it to every time I talked you through your panic attacks, or every time I picked you up at three in the morning when we were sixteen because you were too drunk to drive home, or every time I offered you a place to stay when your parents were fighting. Then, you can tell me if you think I give a shit or not.” He stared you down, his eyes becoming tense as your bottom lip began to tremble. 

“I didn’t-”

Quinn huffed out his breath, interrupting your speech. “Do you know how hard it’s been to watch you? To see you become someone I don’t even recognize anymore?” His voice became stern, raising in volume. “You don’t smile the same way anymore. You don’t laugh like you used to!” Your breath hitched, the weight of his words suffocating. You looked down at the ring on your finger, the glittering diamond that once felt like a prize but now felt more like a shackle. “You think I don’t care?” His voice was quiet, but the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve always cared. A-And seeing you like this, wearing that ring, in this life that’s clearly eating you alive? It kills me.” 

You licked your bottom lip, tears spilling down your face as you looked up at him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you gathered your thoughts.

“Hey, babe. You almost ready?” You heard Max’s voice shout from the living room as you finished putting your earrings on. 

“Yeah, just a second!” You yelled back, fluffing your freshly blown out hair in the mirror. You took a deep breath as you looked yourself up and down in the dark green bodycon dress that Quinn had gotten you for your 21st birthday. You’d never put it on, but you assumed it was fitting for a work Christmas party. Was it too much? You thought to yourself as you ran your hands down the sides, seeing that the length was about an inch above your fingertips. You decided it was fine and made your way out of the bedroom, purse in hand as you walked to the living room. Max sat on the couch in his tailored Prada suit, a bit pretentious to wear to a work party. His legs were spread wide as he had one hand on his phone, and the other on the back of the couch. He looked up from the screen to glance at you in your dress. You gave him a soft smile, your shoulders tensing up as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It’s a bit short, don’t you think?” He asked as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. You looked down at your dress, then back up at him. 

“W-Well, I was thinking that a little. Should I change?” Your voice was shaky, filled with nerves at Max’s disapproval. 

He shook his head, standing from the couch with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the door. “No, no. We're already gonna be late with how long you took to get ready.”

There were little moments like that that clouded your mind as you stood in front of Quinn. Your breathing was shaky, your face now fully engulfed in hot tears as he stared into your eyes. “You don’t get it.” You let out, your voice just barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to find stability. To feel…safe.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. 

“Safe?” Quinn repeated, his eyes locking with yours. “Is that what this is? Because it doesn’t look like it. You’re not safe. You’re trapped.” He gestured to the ring on your finger, his voice lowering at the depressed sight of you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words dug into the thoughts you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Quinn softened, stepping closer. “You deserve more than this.” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I think, deep down you know that.”

You bit your lip, sniffling your nose before wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I’m in too deep. I can’t get out.” You whispered, finally bringing yourself to the point to admit it. You weren’t happy, you knew that, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Well, you thought you couldn’t until Quinn finally pushed you to the point where there wasn’t another option. 

Quinn let out a sigh mixed with exhaustion and a hint of relief. He sent you an empathetic smile as he absentmindedly grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. “You can.” He said, his voice quiet. “You’re not alone. I’m here…if you need help. I’m always gonna be here.” Your breath caught in your throat as Quinn’s hand enveloped yours, his warmth cutting through the icy wall you’d built around yourself. His touch was steady, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. His words echoed in your head, soft and firm. You stared down at his hand, the calluses on his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as his thumb moved in slow, soothing circles. It felt so familiar, so safe, and the contrast to Max’s cold indifference hit you like a wave. You couldn’t help but let all the emotions running like a swarm through your head push you to the point of breakage. You began to sob, your eyes still looking at your hands intertwined as your breath came out in short, stammered increments. Quinn didn’t waste any time before pulling you into his chest, allowing your sobs to escape into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your body. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against everything that had been weighing you down. His chin rested on top of your head as your tears soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages. 

“It’s okay,” He murmured softly into your hair. “I’ve got you.” You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing the only thing tethering you to solid ground. 

The room began to shrink in an instant, reading the text from your mother. “It’s final. Dad and I are separating. You and I are moving to Gran and Pop’s when you get back from the lake house, so I need you to pack up everything.” 

The tears came almost immediately, but that didn’t scare you. It was the feeling you got in your chest, like your heart was radiating pulses all over your body. Pounding over and over again, like the beating was the only thing you could hear. The sound of Quinn shooting pucks only made it worse, like each shot was another banging ache to your head. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt like the most difficult challenge at that moment. Your breaths were short and hitched, gasping for air at any chance you got. Your hands shook as your phone fell out of them. You were terrified, you didn’t know what was happening. You couldn’t die, you were only sixteen. You still had so much to do in life. You tilted your head up, staring at the ceiling light, but that only made it worse. Quinn noticed when you didn’t say anything about the shot he’d just missed, immediately dropping his stick to run over to you.

“Hey, Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He said frantically as he leaned down to where you were sitting on the floor. You tried to tell him, tried to speak, but your head was stuck looking up, and you felt like you couldn’t move it. Quinn placed his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your head down to face him. Your face was covered in tears, completely red as your mouth parted slightly. “Talk to me.” He said gently. “Please?”

You licked your quivering lips, trying your hardest to breathe. “I-I…I c-can’t. I can’t b-breathe.” His heart dropped at your words, the panic in your voice cutting through him like a knife. His hands moved to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as more fell. 

“Okay, okay,” He said softly, his own voice trembling but steadying for your sake. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re not dying, I promise.” You gasped again, your breaths shallow and uneven, your chest tightening with each attempt. “Look at me.” He instructed. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He blew out softly, his eyes locked on yours as he repeated the motion.

You tried to mimic him, but your breath was quickly caught in your throat, sending you a fresh wave of panic. “I c-can’t Quinn, I can’t!” You cried.

“Yes, you can.” He reassured, his hands never leaving your face. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take it slow.” You managed a small, shaky inhale, your body trembling as you followed his lead. “There you go.” He said, his voice laced with a small flicker of relief. “Now, out through your mouth.” Quinn stayed with you, guiding you through each breath as the pounding of the room began to dull. Finally, your breaths came easier, the crushing weight on your chest lifting little by little. You looked at Quinn, your face still wet with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice hoarse.

His thumbs still traced circles on your cheeks as he sent you a soft smile. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

You stayed, sobbing into Quinn’s shirt as his grip around you tightened. He listened to your breathing patterns, looking out for a sign of a panic attack. He’d memorized you at this point. He knew the exact time to jump in, and he knew how to calm you down. 

“Quinn, I’m so scared.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. 

Quinn moved his hand from your back to your head, running his fingers through your hair. “I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back just enough to gently tilt your chin up with his fingers, his blue eyes meeting yours. They were soft, but filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You thought you had to want this.” He said, speaking the words you never had the confidence to say. “Doesn’t mean it’s right. It doesn’t mean it’s what you deserve.” You looked up at him, not seeing Quinn Hughes, captain of the Canucks, but your childhood best friend, Quinny, who talked you through every panic attack, walked you home from every party, and gave you a bed through every fight between your parents. That’s what you deserved. Someone willing to give you that much dedication, not some pretentious lawyer who only loves you for your accomplishments. In a moment of determination, after wiping your tears, you dramatically pulled off your engagement ring, slamming it on the railing of the deck. The sound of the ring hitting the wooden railing echoed in the stillness of the night, sharp and final. Quinn’s eyes darted to it, then back to you, his lips parting in surprise. You stood there trembling, not from fear but from the sheer weight of the decision you’d just made. Your chest heaved as the tears continued to fall. This time they weren’t from sadness, they were from release. Quinn hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, his hand hovering over yours as if to silently ask for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he took your trembling hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“You-” He started, his voice breaking slightly before he cleared his throat. “You did it.”

“I did it.” You whispered, almost in disbelief yourself. You stared at the ring, gleaming under the soft glow of the porch light. It had once symbolized everything you wanted, but now it felt like a chain you’d finally broken free from. 

[deathbxnny]

Hi I would like to request a part 2 of my previous request for the jinx x fem reader with abandonment issues

"I'm sorry you lost your way home." | Jinx x Reader

(Previous part)

I decided to combine these two, so thank you to the anons and their requests!! I hope you'll like this!<33

(I'm sorry in advance-)

Content: Heavy angst, abandonment issues, heavy spoilers for season 2 act 3, hurt/no comfort, established romantic relationships, death, sfw

Reader was asked to be afab in one of the requests. However, no pronouns are mentioned in the post!

((Not proofread))

The first person to visit you after her disappearance was Vi. The sister you had heard so much about, yet never anything good. But it all melted away at her words.

Your ears were ringing, and for a moment, you wondered if you had perhaps heard her wrong. "... Jinx said that she was going to help someone out before she left with Isha. And... And she swore they'd be back. So don't you lie to me-" You took a deep breath when you stumbled back against the doorway, nearly sliding down the rough wood in terror. Oh, how you wished the ground would open up to swallow you whole.

Vi gave you an unreadable look, her hand hesitantly reaching out to grab you, but she refrained at the last second. You meant the world to Jinx. She had asked her to find you just before... "I'm sorry. But what I'm saying is the truth, I-... They are both dead. There is no doubt about it. I saw it with my own eyes both times and... I can't get the images out of my head." Sweat dripped down your forehead as you only barely heard Vi speak to you.

Life was just becoming good for you... so why did this have to happen?

You both had just recently taken in Isha a while ago and were basically treating her as your child. You saw the way she healed Jinx and made her feel more alive. It meant the world to you to see her that way. And for a while, you perhaps even foolishly believed that things would go well now.

You thought about running away together before, in the darkness of your room, as Isha napped in your arms. You remembered turning to her and whispering, "Let's run away. Let's leave on one of the skyship and go somewhere far away... just the three of us." And you saw it in her gentle gaze, the way she considered it... but it meant nothing in the face of a war she had to fight in.

Looking back on it, you should've maybe seen the signs and listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut when the both of them left for a special mission she refused to tell you about. It was for your own safety she'd say and who were you to intervene or deny her orders? She was always so much more intelligent and stronger than you. You just blindly trusted her. You believed she'd return soon just as she's promised... but she never did.

Neither of them did.

It was radio silence for the longest time. And you hadn't moved an inch from the small apartment Jinx considered to be her second hideout with you and your kid. Not when the war broke out, not when there was a call for arms, not when you peeked out for the barricaded windows at the creepy, white machines that slinked right past your hiding space.

And now you wonder, in the haze of uncertainty and panic, if the balloon you had momentarily seen soar through the sky was her after all. Had the denial misled you into a false sense of foolish security? Did you really, fully believe she'd be back for you? That she'd bring Isha home safely and run away at last? Yes. Yes, you did. You believed it... but received a charred part of one of her bombs in return. A confirmation that it was truly over for the family and future you had built together for the shortest amount of time.

"... leave. Please leave. I can't bare looking at you." You gasped out in-between heaving breaths, unable to stand Vi's presence any longer. Everyone was making you feel sick. What's the point of being a savior if you die? What's the point of seeing a hero if you leave behind what you love the most to suffer in agony?

You had waited so long at this wooden door to your once warm home for their return. For her return. Yet all you were greeted with was the one thing that was left of her. A sister she did still love deep down more than life itself. You, however, could only feel rage.

"Wait. She told me to loom out for you. I can't-" "-I said leave! If it wasn't for you, then we could have left and been happy!" You yelled out, suddenly not caring about hurting anyone's feelings anymore. And god did it hurt. It hurt so much. Because Vi still had a piece of her in her. But it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough in her and Isha's absence.

Slamming the door into Vi's face and locking it for good measure, you finally fall to your knees and clutch the last, charred thing you had of her to your chest, sobbing. You drowned out Vi's yells and bangs against the door whilst you did so, deciding that if you were in agony, then she didn't deserve any consolation either.

Your worst nightmare had come to fruition, just as the last skyship of the day flew into the sky and left its past behind.

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

PART 4

"July 1, 2013: 

Cross on hand (Harry) - NYC [Harry's 42th tattoo]

August 9, 2013:

Tic-Tac-Toe board (Louis) - FN [Louis' 25th tattoo]

Band with card suites (Louis) - FN [Louis' 26th tattoo]

Bus 1 (Louis) - FN [Louis' 27th tattoo]

Meta: Louis went to the tattoo parlor very late Friday night/very early Saturday morning (August 9/10). He went with Eleanor, Zayn, Liam, Liam’s mother and several other people. Zayn also has the “Bus 1” tattoo (as does their bus driver).  It is interesting to note that the heart on the band may be turned toward Louis intentionally as the club and spade face outward. The diamond makes it difficult to tell.

September 10, 2013*:

Rose Tattoo (Harry) - Unknown L.A. [Harry's 43rd tattoo]

October 11, 2013:

Pacman Tattoo (Louis) - Unknown Auckland, NZ [Louis' 28th tattoo]

October 26, 2013*:

Spider web (Louis) - Unknown [Louis' 29th tattoo]

January 11, 2014*: 

Anchor (Harry) - Unknown L.A. [Harry's 44th tattoo]

Meta: [Just with the 2 swallows he got on November 8, 2012, which covered up his "LOVE banner", the anchor was Harry's 2nd cover-up. It now covers his "I CAN'T CHANGE..." tattoo (his 5th, first seen on July 27, 2012), which many suspect he got in place of the tattered Leeds Festival 2011 bracelet. (He went to Leeds 2011 festival with Louis and still wore the festival bracelet until long after)]

The anchor is yet another tattoo from this website [link no longer active], which is nothing definitive but something to file away because wow, that’s a lot of tattoos coming from the same website that Harry & Louis both have.

Most anchor tattoos are done with a rope, but Harry’s doesn’t have a rope. Guess who has a rope... In the same mirrored position on the opposite wrist. Yes. This is real life.

To add insult to injury, the first time we saw Louis in England in 2014 was miraculously the same day we first saw Harry with the anchor tattoo (there is cause to believe Louis was in LA the previous week).

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, Louis showed up in England wearing a shirt with a giant anchor on it (much like when he wore the “it is what it is” shirt after he got that tattoo in 2013, but before we could tell what the tattoo said).

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA WHY.

And here is more meta on how the "It is what it is" and the butterfly were 2 designs from the same flash design sheet by Liam Sparkes:

January 16, 2014*: 

Holy Bible/Book (Harry) - Unknown L.A. [Harry's 45th tattoo]

[Meta: This is Harry's 3rd cover up, covering his "Things I can't", which we had first seen on October 12, 2012. It's interesting that the "can't" was still left somewhat visible.]

February 18, 2014:

Anatomical heart (Harry) - LS [Harry's 46th tattoo]

[Meta: It's interesting to note that the heart is mirrored, as if it's not his own heart, but the heart of someone he's embracing/standing opposite him.]

Laurels (Harry) - LS [Harry's 47th tattoo]

Meta: [This is Harry's 4th cover up, covering up his "Might as well..." tattoo which we had seen first on October 18, 2012.]

I put the laurels here on the same day as the anatomical heart, because we know Harry was at Liam’s shop that day and got the heart.  Liam recently posted this image on his instagram of laurels he did..

..and they are very similar to Harry’s design, as well. I think it’s most likely Harry got them this day, as well. 

March 8, 2014: 

Arrow (Louis) - FN [Louis' 30th tattoo]

Meta: So a little over 2 weeks after Harry got the anatomical heart, Louis got an arrow. [Yes, again, this is real life. Now I go cry.]

Much like this concept, except spread over 2 people:

May 8, 2014:

Brasil! (Harry) - Unknown (Brazil) [Harry's 48th tattoo]

August 15, 2014: 

Skull & Crossbones (Louis) - East River Tattoo (NYC) [Louis' 31st tattoo]

September 7, 2014*:

Smiley face on left thigh (Louis) - Unknown [Louis' 32nd tattoo]

November 10, 2014:

Mermaid (Harry) - LS [Harry's 49th tattoo]

"Meta: "In an interview with Hollywood Life, [Harry] revealed the inspiration behind this one: “I am a mermaid,” he said when asked about it. So there’s that." (source) - Never change, Harold, never change lmao]

You Booze, You Lose & Liquor Bottle (Harry) - LS [Harry's 50th tattoo]

November 25, 2014:

Dagger (Louis) - Bondi Ink [Louis 33rd tattoo]

[in case anyone ever doubted that he indeed got a d a g g e r

and once more, with feeling...

--

continued in Part 5

TIMELINE: TATTOOS TO DATE

This is organized by date. All tattoos are linked to photos, unless they are major tattoos I want to talk about, in which case I have inserted the photos into the post. (Special thanks to thelegohouselove and their wonderful tattoo masterposts with pictures)

Dates are dates I believe they actually got the tattoos. If I can’t find a date they got the tattoo, I have indicated it with a “*” which is the first date we saw the tattoo. 

Before we begin, fun facts that might blow your mind:

Harry has 56 tattoos that we know of.

Louis 38 tattoos that we know of. 

Harry got 30 of his 56 tattoos between June and October 2012. That’s, on average, about 8/month.

Louis got 10 of his 37 between October and December 2012. That’s, on average, about 5/month.

The most Harry ever got on one day is 4. He got 13 in a 7 day period in October 2012. The most Louis ever got on one day was 5 on February 25 of 2013.

Artist counts for Harry: Tom Atkins (10); Liam Sparkes (10); Freddy Negrete (8); Kevin Paul (3). 

Artist counts for Louis: Skunx (7); Liam Sparkes (4); Freddy Negrete (4).

Some of this stuff isn’t an exact science. Some of it is me making an educated guess, especially involving some of Harry’s tattoos in October and Louis’ “The Rogue” vs. “It is what it is” and Harry’s 3 Nails. So bear that in mind. 

Over all, this should give you a good idea of just how much the tattoos seem to be an outlet during highly-closeted and stressful times (Harry’s June-October spree that gave way to the birds, ship & compass and butterfly and Louis’ October-December Haylor spree), not only in date alone, but also in the subject of the tattoo.

Thank you to Kerry, Jess & awesomeanonfriend for the cheerleading and fact-checking and Angela for her insight. 

Let’s do this.

Keep reading

[mochi-kitty]

“Shiro made a mistake rejecting yuri” SHE WAS A CHILDDDD

SHE GOT REJECTED BECAUSE SHE WAS A CHILD AND SHIRO WAS AN ADULT

Listen we know they loved each other and AT ONE POINT yuri grew up and became an adult too but not every relationship works in this clandestine way. That was the whole point! She had rinka or satans children and Shiro stepped in to take care of them when yuri died. Shiro was too late when he realized he loved her back and yuri was too early when she confessed. Did they love each other at the same time? Yes. Was it obvious? Yep! Were they both adults? Yep yep! But yuri was waiting for rinka to return when his body would begin giving out and Shiro was still not ready for his own confession. As Rick said “better confess before someone else comes along” and eventually he was right. Satan returned and declared yuri as his and got her pregnant.

Correct me if I’m wrong but I think that was the hidden meaning of yuri and shiros relationship no? Too late meets too early. Too rough meets too kind. What’s clearly there cannot be pursued because of the situation their forced/chose to be in and it ends in tragedy. I mean we have this whole chapter about Shiro deadbeat exhausted and hurt from a monster attack, ready to die and leave the twins to die because yuri was dead now too. He feels he failed, he made all sorts of mistakes and thinks finally he can die for being the worst monster of them all. Then the twins begin crying and he realizes that’s the twins desperately want to live so he should do. He’s gonna make sure these damn babies don’t disappoint their late mother (after of course Mephisto commands him to be their father and makes him the 251st paladin) In a way that’s how he’s making it up to yuri by raising her children without judgement for their origin and teaching them to be strong like her. He knows her good intentions as misguided as they were, he knows the truth despite mephisto covering it up. Did he have regrets? abso-fucking-lutely!

But he had every right to reject her back then, in fact, he very well should have either way! Because at the time, she was a child and he was an adult, period.

[jordanswitches]

just asked the girl i've been talking to for the last three weeks to go to dinner with me and as someone who has rarely been on a first date bc people usually are too eager to fuck me to romance me, i do feel quite strongly that my heart is gonna beat out of my chest. i've literally never had this much build up before meeting someone i'm gonna have a heart attack waiting for her reply lol

[loracarol]

Went and saw Wicked pt 1 today and I just. Loved it so much.

(Somehow I managed to miss all the marketing / if there were any cast shenanigans, so this is SOLELY based on the movie itself and NOTHING else.) My thoughts, in no particular order (and with some spoilers ahead.)

My biggest fear was that the two leads would seem too old for the part, but they didn't.

I don't really listen to Ariana Grande that much? But her Glinda was PERFECT. She brought such lovely orange cat energy to the role; Glinda was so perfectly bitchy and stupid that it worked for me and I couldn't hate her, even when she was being The Worst (TM).

Also, both actresses have the "desperately trying not to cry" face down to perfection; Glinda in the opening song, trying to put on a brave face about "yes!! the witch is dead!!" but she looked like she was on the verge of tears the whole time? 10/10 no notes.

Whoever was in charge of doing the green skin did an excellent job. I don't know if it was CGI, practical, or a combo, but it looked really good IMO. They even gave her green freckles!!

THE DESERT FROM THE BOOKS.

BOQ IS FUCKING SPONGEBOB???

THE CHOREOGRAPHY. Parts of it were weird in a perfectly Ozian way! But others were gorgeous! Two scenes that got me were the ~Mysterious Stranger~ and Elphaba's mom and then Dancing Through Life esp. with the library. IYKYK.

Speaking of the library, I also liked the architecture.

It didn't feel too long to me? I was immersed the whole time, but that could just be me.

Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenowith have a cameo that is just beautiful.

There were several scenes that were shot where, if Elphie and Glinda kissed, I would have thought that was the natural progression of the scene BUT I also thought that Elphie had a spark with Fiyero which is good because 1. I'm an "Elphie has two hands" truther and 2. because if Elphie and Fiyero had no spark, that would be a problem in part 2. 🤣

(Like, they didn't fall in love which I wasn't expecting, but there was a spark. When they first meet, and she's going through her "yes, I know I'm green" checklist, "no, I didn't eat grass as a kid" is one of the things, and he's just like, "...I ate grass as a kid." Perfect. 10/10 no notes.)

I want to hold off my thoughts on Nessarose until part 2 and I see how they handle her, but there were several scenes were I thought, "you know, if she decided to go evil because people keep disrespecting her autonomy, I'd understand. I wish she'd focus on the people who were being disrespectful instead of being a despot, but like... I get it."

STOP GRABBING HER WHEELCHAIR.

I loved how they really put thought into how a goat would teach, with various foot pedals to operate his teaching equipment.

My Mom got actually sad about the lion cub. :(

Fiyero brought some "Chris Pines in Into the Woods" sluttiness. 10/10 no notes.

We need more Chris Pines in Into the Woods sluttiness.

The costuming in general made me Very Happy. I want the Shiz uniform, honestly.

Maybe I'll watch it again later and have Other Thoughts / more objective thoughts, but my first thought coming out of the theater was, "damn, this fucks."

I liked it a lot.

[zepskies]

And I'm SO happy you're back, my lovely Wayne!! Of course, you decide to spoil me with this review the minute you dip back into this hellsite. 😘

(yesss, and don't think I didn't see that chapter you dropped of Polaris! When I get back from my vacay I will be diving into that. I need to know what happens next with our favorite cowboy sheriff 🤠)

I'm very glad and grateful you made the time to start ESC! I had so much fun figuring out Russell Shaw and the Tracker cast -- especially with all them Deanisms. 😏

Diving into the rest of your awesome comments below!! 💕

First of, Professor Goldstein is a piece of work... 😒 I wouldn't blame her for spitting into his coffee every time he calls her sweetheart. But Russell, I see you. She's gonna be so annoyed with him 😂

Oh he's a piece of something, all right. 🙄 She could def pull a Rachel on his ass. And Russell...lmao, you already saw where he's heading with this. 😂

Ooooh, another professor character paired with some rugged Mountain Man 😏 I'm addicted to those couples. She's all business up front, and he's all party in the back (seat of his Chevelle) 🤪

LOLL the way it didn't even occur to me when I was writing this (at first) that I was writing another professor paired with a law enforcement (sort of, in Russell's case), man of action type, like in Take Me Home with Beau Arlen. 😝 I came at it with the thought of, "what if she was Dory's best friend, and they worked together at the university?" I must have a thing for writing nerds who get the rugged, sexy Mountain Man. Not at all fulfilling a personal fantasy.

UGH. The nerve!!!!! Massage therapist????? How about I step on your back with my high heels, bro... And then to go on about his trip and parasailing... Guess it's true. Ignorant people are happier 😂

Fuck YES, I'd be high-stepping up and down his spine fr. 🤣 Ignorance is bliss, I guess? 🤷🏽‍♀️

Or why are campuses so big in general? My university actually had several faculties strewn throughout the city. Sometimes it took an hour and several subway rides to get to your next lecture 😅

Oooh my God, now THAT's crazy! A whole subway ride(s)?? I've worked/gone to school on some big campuses, but that takes the cake. I guess you get your daily workout one way or another lol!

Please tell me Russell's in the room when she said that 😄🤞

Big YEP lmfaoo, and he likes her already because of it. 😂

Ooooh, right! I wonder how much she knows about the Shaws. Not something that comes casually up in the cafetaria I imagine 😅

No it would not, lmfao! But that is something that will be explored (how much she knows) in the chapters to come, for sure!

Love this whole exchange. You're making my dreams come true, babe 😘

Ahaha I had to do the little callback to sriracha fries (and figure out how tf to spell sriracha, first of all. 😂)

I keep thinking he probably has that look now because he was in the army for so long. Young Russell was pretty much young Dean Winchester in a uniform (hello there, soldier 😏)

Ooh that's SUCH a good point (and yumm). It's making me hope that we get a flashback of Russell in his military days someday in Tracker.

Well... It's a toss-up, I'd say 😆

Oh, very much a toss up/personal preference there lmao. I've loved Justin Hartley since his Smallville days as Green Arrow. 😆 But in this case, I felt like Russell would try to claim top billing there loll.

In. His. Car 🚩🚩🚩😂 If any strange man said that to you... 🚩🤣

Honestly, it's amazing how many red flags you ignore when someone's charming and handsome. 🤣🤣🤣

Well, at least, Colter has an Airstream 😅🤷‍♀️

Ha!! True, it's beating out Russell's crusty motel of the week by far, I'd say.

He is a professional flirt. Kind eyes...

Oh don't worry, we're getting to that callback. 😏

Dear God, he does not stop, does he? 😆 (On the show, I loved his persistence with Reenie too, even though it was mainly just to annoy Colter. But you captured him beautifully here with this sort of charm 🥰) PS: schmutz, schlep... I love the sprinkles of Yiddish in this 🤓

In fact, he does not! lmfao That was what I loved about it too -- like maybe half of him is serious, and the other half just wants to needle Colter. 🤣

Aw I'm glad you caught that! lol I'm not Jewish, but for some reason it just felt right for these characters. 💜

STOP IT! And he upgraded too!!! 🤣

He absolutely did!! And this time, it actually worked! 🤣🤣

I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS! Gah, this was fabulous! I'm hooked! 😍👏 Are they gonna stay casual? Something about her brooding and reluctance tells me it's not usually her style? Which means, will he eventually settle? Get out of the dangerous hitman-nomad life?

Ooh my goodness, I'm so glad to hear that, friend! You're right. I don't think I full on state it, but "casual" is typically not her style. Also, Russell is Dory's brother, so she doesn't want there to be any weirdness or awkwardness between them if something happened or fell out between the reader and Russell.

She already knows his relationship with Dory is kind of fragile, in that they're still in that "reconnecting" phase. You'll see more of that dynamic and her thoughts in Part 2, but the rest of your questions will most definitely be explored throughout this little series. 😏

And then there's the stories about their respective families. We already know some about Russell's. How is she gonna react if she learns everything? And there's something odd about her private life as well. Can't wait to dive into that bombshell 😂

There's a lot to unpack there, right? There's a great deal that she already knows through Dory, and some things that are going to be revealed along the way...

Zep, my sweet genius Alex, you've outdone yourself once again. Bravo!!! 👏👏👏

You make me blush!! Thank you so much. 😭🥰 If you like this chapter, then I think you're going to enjoy the rest of the series. I hope it's as fun for you to read as it was for me to write!! 💕💕

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[amphibiahawks321]

🌲FOREST🌲

[Rozzum pacing awkwardly in the forest clearing, her claws nervously clutching onto a wild flower bouquet]

[Finx stood beside her, clearly trying to keep her nervous system in tack while wearing a tech ring on his leg]

Finx : Okay Rozzum, remember, humanoid robots like Y/N love and appreciate subtlety don't just walk up to him and roar out all of your feelings!

[Rozzum stares at finx and tilts her head, confused]

Rozzum : Subtlety? is.... is that some kind of voice upgrade?

[Finx gives Rozzum a light hit on her head]

Finx : it's a social upgrade you rust bucket!

........

[RobotY/N using his eyes to scan and visual analyze a dark oak tree while holding a notepad while humming softly]

RobotM!Reader : Hm.... Interesting!

[RobotY/N starts writing down the facts he got from the tree]

[Rozzum walked over to Y/N, a bouquet in her hand with her presence impossible to ignoreBecause she's taller then him–]

[RobotY/N noticed rozzum's presence but still looking down and writing down]

RobotM!Reader : Hello Rozzum! Do you need some assistance on facts about the forest?

Rozzum : No!–i mean... No, I am here to–Uh, ask you if you would like to establish a temporary emotional outing later on...

[RobotY/N stops writing and looks up at her]

RobotM!Reader : Huh?–

[Rozzum quickly shoved the bouquet on her hand into his hands]

Rozzum : Here... Before I grabbed it I analysed these for safety... They also appear to have a very pleasing colour pattern and have an 80% chance of giving positive emotions...

[Fink noise can be heard from rozzum's head]

......

[Meanwhile in a nearby bush, finx staring at RobotY/N and rozzum from inside the bush while talking to the tech ring on his leg]

Finx : Great! Now tell him how fascinating he is!

Rozzum : And Uh... I can't help but be fascinated by your programming today, your visual analysis amazes me how quick it is!

Finx : Aaaaaand compliment him!

Rozzum : your eyes are more advanced than any algorithm i've encountered, it's the way they process light is simply very... Mesmerising...

Finx : Nailed it!

RobotM!Reader : O-Oh my–Uhh... That was very... Lovely to hear... You also got me flowers?

Rozzum : Yes, and I request your presence on a nice outing–with low hostilities with no explosions of course!

[RobotY/N starts getting a bit overheated]

RobotM!Reader : Are you perhaps.... "Asking me out"?–

Rozzum : Yes! is it not clear enough? Should I have added a banner? Perhaps fireworks? Or maybe–

RobotM!Reader : Chuckles... No, no of course not! It's clear enough, But... excuse me for asking but... Why the sudden interest in me?

Rozzum : I wouldn't say "Sudden" I quite enjoy your company for some time now and uhh–for your question is that you're very... Efficient, helpful, nice and not to mention the creatures love you....

[Finx took out a leaf from the bush and wiped his eyes]

Finx : So beautiful...

......

[Suddenly pinktail took the leaf from his hand and used it to wipe her tears]

Pinktail : Sniffs.. tell me about it...

Finx : I know right–.....

[Finx looks beside him to see pinktail, but then he stares around inside the bush to see the others looking at Rozzum and RobotY/N too]

Finx : What the–!? How long have all of you been in here!?

Pigtail : The entire time basically, you are terrible at looking at your surroundings

Finx : Why would you guys enter a bush that I entered in the first place!?

Thorn : We saw you sneakily enter the bush, not to mention you were wearing a weird ring on your leg

RobotM!Reader : So i–Uhh Coughs... Would love to go on an outing with you! Meet me at the nearby duck pond in... Let's see, 20 minutes?

Rozzum : Agreed! I will prepare a destruction protocol in case there's an emergency!

[RobotY/N starts smiling wider and getting a bit more overheating, RobotY/N walks a bit closer to rozzum and stand on his tippy toes and gives Rozzum a kiss on the cheek]

Rozzum : .....

RobotM!Reader : S-see you later! Can't wait!

[RobotY/N leaves in a haste while mumbling to himself]

RobotM!Reader : Why did I do that, Why did I do that why did I do that, why did I do that, Why did I do that, why did I do that, why did I do that–

[Rozzum holds onto the cheek RobotY/N kissed, making her eyes starts flickering lights repeatedly]

[aka-indulgence]

Soundwave fic? Yes. I love him. I want him to kidnap me. What who said that

Anyway here’s a fic where tfp Soundwave kidnaps you because he likes you and you’re alone on the Nemesis with him for the first time kdsjlfjds

(Soundwave x F!Human Reader)

—————

As soon as he arrives on the ship, Soundwave transforms, shifting you from the cockpit into his hands as he does so. You make a small cry, bracing on his thumb and holding on for dear life as you wildly look around like a frightened animal.

The door behind him closing and the sunlight disappearing from its cracks only furthered your panic- Soundwave could hear the sound of your little frightened breaths, quick and shallow. It was unbearably cute.

He walks with calm, even steps through the hallways. As much as he adored your mannerisms, he didn’t want your (permanent) stay on the Nemesis to be unpleasant. He scrolls through the camera feed on his visor and finds Megatron on the bridge and heads his way.

It was quiet. Even though Soundwave had quite literally stolen you in broad daylight in front of the Autobots that could do nothing but watch him fly away with you, you still found reassurance from him. You looked up at him from time to time; furrowed brows, watery eyes. He can’t stand it. He was the only thing on this ship that was familiar to you, and so he was the only person you would seek comfort from.

A few vehicons saw him on his way to the bridge. All have balked on the sight, but they deserve credit. They were smart enough not to interfere with him, nor to question his new ‘girlfriend’.

“Commander Soundwave,” one nodded as he passed. Only someone like Soundwave could hear the slight shake in his voice.

It must be so hard for someone as small as you. Everyone and everything was so much bigger than you, even the vehicons. Even Laserbeak.

So cute…

He reaches the bridge and the doors slide open. Megatron stands ever vigilant, watching the skies.

“Soundwave. You’ve returned.” His master angles his head before fully turning around, “have you acquired the data I have asked of you?”

Soundwave nods and his screen blinks, displaying pictures of artefacts and text. Megatron’s eyes brighten and a dastardly grin widens.

“Cybertronian artefacts the humans uncovered? Excellent Soundwave. I’m surprised the humans had the forethought to store them in different places, but they won’t stay in their vaults for long…”

Coordinates show on his face of their locations, before he shows one particular artefact.

“A magnetic destabilizer. Did you retrieve it?”

His screen changes to a video of multiple army men shooting at him before the autobots arrived.

“Humans.” He sneered. “For such small creatures, their little guns can feel like scraplets when they are numerous. Even more reason to terminate these pests,”

Soundwave feels a twitch in his hand.

“Which begs the question… why have you brought one back with you?”

His liege sounded curious rather than chastising. His head dips down to where you sat. Poor thing- you were shaking now, your lips parted and gripping his finger tighter than before, unable to speak, wide-eyed staring back at Megatron.

He wraps his fingers around you in the hopes of comforting you, but it only makes you gasp in alarm, swinging your head to look back at him. You’re anxious. He pets your head and prods your cheeks for a moment before turning back to his master. To Megatron, he simply goes over pictures and footage of his encounters with you he managed to capture, then he holds you closer to his chest.

“I see…” Megatron nods. “Very well. I trust you can keep it in check. Although you were unable to retrieve the artefact, the data you brought was most valuable- we will certainly retrieve the rest. You are dismissed, Soundwave.”

Soundwave nods, and both he and Megatron turn to their next objectives; which, for Soundwave, was to have a private moment with you.

*****

Your heart is beating a mile a minute. You’re still having trouble wrapping your head around it. You were going on a human mission to meet with Fowler’s guys one moment, then taken aboard the Decepticon warship the next. And you still don’t understand why Soundwave took you in the first place, when you assume he already took all the information he needed from the unidentified objects database. Now you find out not only did Megatron not ask him to bring back a human, he specifically targeted you. What could he possibly want from you?

A door opens to an empty, barren room with a single shelf-like desk and a huge window that spans from the floor to the ceiling. Oh, and there was a bed on the desk too. Pillows, blankets, white linens and all. It looked rather plush and high quality.

So that’s what happened. You manage to think in the middle of your fear induced paralysis. Everyone had been so confused when Agent Fowler came in with the reports of Decepticon activity at a mattress store, of all places. And after a thorough checking with Ratchet, you’d found nothing else sinister has happened with mattresses. Until now, of course.

You’re placed gently on the table, far gentler than you’d expect a Decepticon to be capable of. Soundwave doesn’t look to be expecting anything from you right now, so you look around. You walk to the bed and feel the sheets; soft, slightly cold, and crisp compared to the beat up bedding you had back home. It reminds you of a hotel bed. You lift your head to look out the window: the perfect view of earth above the stratosphere. It was still day, clear from the bright blue the earth was practically glowing with- but you were so high above ground that there wasn’t enough atmosphere to scatter the light. You could even see the earth’s curvature.

The gravity of the situation, how far away you were from everything, how crazy this situation was that it didn’t feel real- it finally hits you like a ton of bricks and you were broken out of your disconnected paralysis. You were alive again. Your head feels hot, your heart is thumping, and it didn’t feel like you could breathe deeply enough. Fear and uncertainty rises in you like bile.

It’s too much.

Overwhelmed, you hiccup, and the tears start flowing.

You jump at feeling something on your side, and you’re turned around to face the one who captured you. Your hands are shaking, your lips are trembling, sobbing uncontrollably despite your attempts to hide them. You didn’t want him to see you cry, you knew Decepticons were cruel creatures. You wish you knew what he was thinking about, his emotions impossible to read considering that he’s faceless. He simply looks at you, in the silent way Soundwave always did, head tilted slightly down.

Was he judging you? Was he showing disdain? Did he think you were a pathetic, crying thing?

You couldn’t move again, with his hand bracing your back, watching his other hand approach, fingers extended. You sniffle and squeak as it gets closer but- then, very precisely for someone as enormous as he was, he wipes your tears away with his fingers.

“Huh..?”

As he caresses your head, he leans in closer, and you’re suddenly reminded of when children played with their dolls. Coddling them, playing with their hair, that unwavering stare. It makes you nervous, and you squish into his hand more trying to make space from him. You’re confronted with your own reflection in his visor, your eyes reddish and wet.

“Wh-what,” you swallow, mouth dry. “What is it that you want from me,”

Your voice was small and pitiful, shaking with the sobs that still racked your body. He tilts his head, as if he was asking isn’t it obvious?

One slender, extended finger pokes the center of your chest, on your sternum.

Static sounds from his face, and the voice you hear is yours.

“You.”

Me? What do you mean you ‘want me’?? You thought in distress. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing, or if you liked that answer.

“I still don’t… know what you mean by that. Do you want me so y-you can hurt me? Torture me? Put me through some Decepticon experiment? Wh–?!”

The last word turns into a high-pitched squeal as Soundwave lifts you off the ground and brings you close to his face. He isn’t viewing you like he did before, instead steadily bringing you closer and closer. His faceless appearance frightens you, and with alarm you feel like he’s about to squash you against his face- like he was trying to eat you, if he had a mouth. Your panicked breaths turn into a yelp, covering your face and your body seizing up.

You jolt when you feel his visor pressing to the entire side of your body, keenly aware of how much you’re trembling when you’re pressed against this wall that was his face. You kept your eyes shut, feeling him press you further into him, whimpers escaping you.

… But nothing happens. Instead, Soundwave starts moving his face against you, up and down in a rhythmic motion. It’s gentle, careful- he isn’t trying to hurt you. The pressure his hand is putting on you is only just enough to slightly squish you against him, and you feel like a plush toy with your cheek smooshed on his visor. A soft, smooth, deep sound emits from within him, strong enough that it shakes you, but low enough that it isn’t overwhelming. Like an engine revving.

Is he. Nuzzling you?

You open one eye, the other shut from the decepticon’s face rubbing. “Whuh- what’s happening,”

You try to push off his face to make room for yourself, but this only makes Soundwave press you back into his face, this time nuzzling you from left to right.

You sputter, your nose and mouth pressing against him from his motion, before he finally pulls his face away from you, his shoulders bouncing with what might’ve been laughter.

Your puzzled face was clear on his visor.

“I like you.” He says. “I like - Y/n.”

Now that really confused you. You could accept him wanting you for nefarious reasons, even for personal ones but- was Soundwave liking you the reason he took you? You can’t believe it, even as the man in question has his fingers on your cheek again, tickling you and making you close your eyes again from his obsessive petting.

You get a moment to speak when his petting finally stops. You could feel the redness and heat radiating from your cheek from where Soundwave pressed his face on you.

“S-so… you don’t want to hurt me,” you clarify. You had to make sure.

Soundwave shakes his head. “No.”

Phew. That was a relief. You were still on the Decepticon warship of course- but at least your kidnapper wasn’t here to harm you.

There were others on the ship though, who you’re sure aren’t fond of humans.

You simmer in that thought, looking away from Soundwave, who patiently waits for you to say something. You let him thumb you, stroking your hair down placatingly. You have to admit to yourself, it was working more than you thought it would.

You sigh out the heaviness in your chest, and turn back to Soundwave. You open your mouth, hesitating for a second.

“Promise,” you say, “promise you won’t hurt me? Promise you won’t let anyone hurt me,”

You knew there was no way you could really demand something from a Decepticon, your difference in size astronomical, not to mention in strength. But you hoped Soundwave liked you enough that he would honor your request.

Soundwave stares silently, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But you notice his head tilting imperceptibly downwards. You aren’t sure if it was a nod, or just a small movement indicating he was thinking about it.

For now, it was enough.