#once again i am just imagining these two in the same world together

[ivohex]

hii i have a request

i think it would be super could to see how the guys, specifically sylus or rafayel’s (your choice) coming to terms with the fact that mc has moved on. like imagine them finally finding the one they’ve searched for, then they find out that she has a whole new life and is married/engaged

if you’re not comfortable writing this then that’s ok <3

Prompt: Rafayel finally finds you again after so many years... only to find you've gotten engaged.

Genre: Angst, a tiny bit dark

Word Count: ~600

Relationship: Rafayel/reader

Tags: takes place during Raf's Addictive Pain anecdote so is slightly canon divergent, stalker Rafayel, jealousy, one mention of fantasizing about self-harm (I'M SORRY), sad and angry Raf :(

Author's Notes: nonnie please forgive me for the direction I took this fic but I just know Rafayel would NOT be normal abt this 😰😰

He's always had a knack for finding people.

But not always at the right time.

By the end of the first day, though, he can see it plainly in your eyes. He recognizes that look, because you'd once given it to him.

His world nearly falls apart when he catches a glimpse of something sparkling on your left ring finger.

If he had been quicker–if he had found you first–would it have made a difference? You're both so young, so who's to say it'll even last? But the evidence is undeniable.

You clearly intend on marrying that boy. Whoever the hell he is.

And now Rafayel doesn't know what to do. He knows what he wants to do—but he imagines you'd have a rather distasteful reaction to him storming over and tearing you over to his side, away from the wretch that always has an arm slung over your shoulders as you walk across the courtyard together to your next class.

He watches the pair of you depart in stony silence. Right now, he doesn't even have the energy to pretend to be invested in the smalltalk of his fellow professors.

He has a fleeting thought that he should fling himself into ocean and dissolve into foam right then and there. Too bad it's a bit of a drive to the coast from here. Besides, he's already started following you before he had a moment to really think about it.

A week later he runs into you in the hallway.

Really, it's more like you run into him. One moment he's stepping out of the stairwell, and the next you're colliding face-first into his chest. It takes a great deal of self-restraint on Rafayel's part not to crush you into his arms, but he manages.

"Ow!" you yelp.

"Ouch!" he says at the same, playing up his own hurt.

He takes a little too much enjoyment in how quickly you fluster.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you!"

He waits a beat. A wave of disappointment crashes over him when there's no spark of recognition in your gaze and you don't fling yourself into his arms, but he weathers it well. It's not the first time, after all.

"Your head is, like, super hard," he complains, rubbing the spot over his heart. It doesn't hurt, really. Not in a physical sense, at least.

You fluster again. "You came out of nowhere."

"I came from the stairwell," he corrects. "You were practically sprinting, so..."

You grunt, looking away. "Sorry. Again. I'm late for class."

"You're always late for this class, because you have to book it across the entire campus to get here."

A statement, not a question. He doesn't have to ask, because he's already memorized your school schedule, including the one window during your day where that little parasite isn't glued to your side because your classes don't line up.

At the look on your face, he laughs.

"Just guessing. Well, get going, little miss. Not all professors are as merciful as I am, you know."

He neatly steps to the side. You spare him a final glance, then bound up the steps two at a time.

Rafayel watches you leave in silence. But his mind is anything but quiet.

Two more weeks. He'll guest lecture here for two more weeks. And if in that time he can't ignite even a fragment of your memory, of your shared bond... he'll let you go.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

Even when he knows in that empty space where his heart used to be that he'll chase you to the ends of the earth if he has to.

[howtodrawyourdragon]

This is another difference between Hiccup and Horrendous, I believe.

Here in the book, Horrendous (aged 10 still) believes the warning at the front and that's why he doesn't want the coffin to be opened. He believes in the curse to the point of panicking when his father opens a supposedly cursed coffin.

In the movies and shows, Hiccup is a firm sceptic. He's familiar with their rituals and their deities, but doesn't seem to believe in them. Certainly not as much as, say, Fishlegs who was ready to blame disappearing islands on the wrath of Odinn or Thor. Astrid, too, seems to believe when she recalls the tale of her aunt who had to sail off the edge of the world to satisfy Odinn or something.

The only moment we've seen Hiccup believe in any way is when he and his friends made that tribute for Thorr, hoping it would stop the thunderstorms above Berk, thereby keeping scrutiny off Toothless' back.

Even when bones rain down from the sky, he calls it "weird" and still doesn't believe in this Fog Monster that supposedly took Johann's boat in the Breakneck Bog episode in Riders of Berk. He needs hard proof before he believes in anything supernatural or paranormal. (That or Toothless needs to be at risk)

Even so, I still don't think he would've just opened a coffin. Not because he actually believes in curses, but rather out of respect for the person inside.

Maybe it's the difference in age- one is 10, the other 15- maybe it's because the books do hint at magic and the mystic being real. (Apparently, Httyd and TWOO take place in the same universe?) Either way, an interesting difference between the two, for sure.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ You're Doing Amazing Sweetie | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: George finds out and the only thing Y/n can do is hide and pray that George doesn't take out Max on track.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Y/n paces anxiously near the monitors while Charles and Lando loiter as if they had all the time in the world. Charles had his arms crossed, his race suit tied around his waist, and Lando was demolishing a plate of snacks meant for the Ferrari engineers. Y/n had been hiding out in the Ferrari garage since the paddock opened to avoid crossing paths with George.

“Okay, tell me the truth—how screwed am I?” Y/n asks, whipping around to face them.

“Oh, monumentally,” Lando replies through a mouthful of cookie. “Like Titanic levels. Possibly Pompeii.”

Charles nods along solemnly. “Also George is definitely plotting something. He walked by earlier muttering to himself like a Bond villain.”

“Fuck” Y/n groans pacing faster.

“You do realize hiding here makes you look guiltier, right?” Lando says, biting into another cookie

Y/n glares at him. “What do you want me to do? Parade around the paddock with a sign that says ‘Yes George, I am the mother of Max Verstappen’s future spawn’?!”

Charles snorts so hard that his espresso nearly spills. “Please don’t. George would spontaneously combust.”

“Plus technically speaking this is your fault,” Lando says, jabbing a finger at her.

She raises an eyebrow. “My fault? I’m not the one who told the entire world, ‘If it weren’t for the baby.’”

“That part was clearly Max’s fault,” Lando interjects, not looking up from his plate. “But this whole ‘let’s date secretly’ thing? Yeah, I’m blaming you for that one.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n shoots back.

“Don’t get defensive,” Charles says, holding his hands up. “But we told you this would end in disaster. And now? Look at you. Hiding in my garage like some kind of fugitive because George looks like he’s ready to blow up Redbull’s hospitality. You should have told George the second you two realized your relationship was serious.”

Y/n groans, tugging at her hair. “What’s done is done and I can’t change that now can I? And I’m here because I obviously can’t stay at the Mercedes garage if I want to avoid my brother and staying at Redbull is a deathwish. Imagine what’ll happen if he catches us both in the same place. I just hope George doesn't do anything stupid in public”

“Why do you think we’re here?” Lando says, grinning as he gestures to himself and Charles. “We’re like the UN Peacekeepers of the paddock. We’ll keep them both separate and make sure nothing happens today.”

“Like that's very reassuring,” Y/n mutters.

As the drivers line up for the national anthem, Y/n stays glued to the monitors, trying to keep a low profile. George, however, was impossible to miss.

“Great,” she mutters to herself as the camera pans to him. His jaw was clenched, his expression thunderous. It looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Oscar was hovering near George, subtly blocking him every time he shifted toward Max. Y/n couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Aussie, who looked like he’d accidentally wandered into a battlefield.

From his other side, Lando was casually draping an arm over his shoulder as if trying to calm him down. Instead, it seems to piss off George even more as he tried to shrug him off with a sharp glare, but Lando remained latched on.

“Please let this be over,” Y/n pleads at the screen.

The tension only escalated as the drivers headed to their cars. George made one last attempt to corner Max, and Y/n’s heart leaped into her throat.

“Oh no. Oh no. Don’t do it,” she whispered at the screen.

Oscar, ever the unwilling mediator, once again intercepted George, his hands up in a placating gesture. Y/n let out a relieved breath as George backed off, though he still looked furious.

She slumped back into her seat, her nerves frayed.

“Just one race,” she muttered to herself. “One race without drama. Is that too much to ask for?”

The drivers climbed into their cars, and the screen cut to the grid formation. Y/n felt a brief moment of peace, knowing that for the next couple of hours, George and Max would be too busy driving to tear into each other.

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Tensions are at an all-time high after today’s race! George Russell’s post-race interview took a dramatic turn when a journalist brought up Max’s cryptic baby comment and rumors about George’s sister. 😱 After repeatedly trying to dodge the question, George snapped, delivered a firm warning about personal boundaries, and stormed off.

The paddock drama just keeps escalating. Fans spotted George glaring at Max throughout the national anthem, and it seems like Oscar and Lando had to play paddock security to keep the peace. What’s your take on all this chaos? 🍼👀

Post-Race Interview Transcript:

Journalist: George, P5 today—a decent result to round out the season. Can you walk us through how you’re feeling about the race and the team’s performance?

George: (nodding) Yeah, it was a solid race. Not quite the result we hoped for, but the team worked hard all weekend. We gave it our best shot with the car we had. Of course, as a driver, you always want more, but I think we made the most of the opportunities we had out there.

Journalist: Fair enough. And, of course, today marks the end of an era with Lewis Hamilton’s final race for Mercedes. What’s it like to share this moment with him? Any reflections?

George: (pauses, visibly emotional) It’s bittersweet, really. Lewis has been such a huge part of the team and the sport as a whole. He’s not just a teammate but also a mentor and a legend in Formula 1. Sharing the garage with him has been an honor. I think I speak for everyone at Mercedes when I say we’re incredibly grateful for everything he’s brought to the team and wish him all the best for what comes next.

Journalist: Well said. Now, George, I have to shift gears a bit—there’s been a lot of chatter about some off-track tension. During the national anthem, fans couldn’t help but notice you glaring at Max Verstappen. Care to address that?

George: (stiffens, smile faltering) I wasn’t glaring at anyone. I was focused on the race, like I always am. People are reading into things that just aren’t there.

Journalist: Really? Because from the footage, it looked quite... pointed. And after Max’s comments yesterday about making peace with you ‘because of a baby,’ it’s hard not to wonder—

George: (cuts in, voice tight) I don’t see how that’s relevant to today’s race.

Journalist: (pressing) George, fans are speculating nonstop. Is it true? Is your sister having Max Verstappen’s baby?

George: (visibly bristling, voice rising) I think we’ve strayed far enough from the purpose of this interview. This is about Formula 1, about racing—not gossip or baseless rumors.

Journalist: With all due respect, George, Max’s words weren’t exactly cryptic. He was talking about a baby and making amends with you. Surely, you can understand why people are curious.

George: (snaps, voice sharp) Curious or not, it’s none of anyone’s business. This is supposed to be a post-race interview—not a soap opera recap. The media needs to learn where to draw the line. We’re here to race, not have our personal lives dissected under a microscope.

Journalist: But George, the fans—

George: (interrupts sharply) No. Enough. The media needs to maintain boundaries and stop meddling in our personal lives. I’m done here.

(George rips off his team cap, storms away from the interview pen, and disappears into the paddock, leaving the journalist and cameras stunned.)

Comments:

user: George was NOT here for the nonsense today. That ‘draw the line’ speech? ICONIC

user: Honestly, respect to George for standing up for himself. The journalist was pushing way too hard. Let the man race in peace user: Never seen George this mad before 😳 What is going on in the House of Commons???

user: Why do I feel like this confirms the baby news? Like he didn’t deny it, and his reaction was TOO intense

user: Respect to George for standing up to the journalist, but let’s not lie—he 100% confirmed the drama with that reaction. 🍼

user: Okay, but imagine George finding out about the baby at the same time as us 😭

user: George looked like he was going to deck Max during the national anthem. Thank you, Oscar, for literally being a human shield

user: No but why did George look like he was seconds away from body-slamming Max during the anthem? Lando had to literally hold him back 💀

user: Okay, but the real question is… what BABY? Whose baby? Did George even KNOW about this baby before today?!

user: Theory time! 1. Max and Y/n were dating in secret. 2. George didn’t know about the baby and is spiraling. 3. Netflix is eating GOOD

user: Imagine being George and learning about your sister’s alleged baby from Twitter

user: Lewis’ last race with Merc and THIS is what George has to deal with. Poor guy’s gonna need therapy after this season

user: The way everyone’s ignoring this is also Lewis’ last race with Mercedes 💀. George snapped so hard we forgot to be emotional

user: Lando probably whispered something dumb like ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie’ while George was vibrating with rage

user: F1 isn’t just a sport. It’s a reality TV show with occasional car racing

Max stood under the glare of the cameras, trying to look composed despite the post-race fatigue gnawing at him. P6 wasn’t what he’d wanted, but at least he’d avoided the chaos brewing elsewhere in the paddock—or so he thought.

“So, the strategy was clearly compromised by the penalty,” the journalist asked, her tone probing. “Do you think there was any way to recover from that?”

Max nodded slightly, his words coming out measured. “Yeah, it was tough. We lost track position early, and once you’re in traffic—”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

The voice was eerily calm, almost polite, but it carried a weight that immediately silenced the conversation. Max turned to see George standing there, his posture casual but his jaw clenched tight.

The journalist blinked, clearly taken aback. “Uh, George? We’re in the middle of—”

“I need a moment with Max,” George cut her off, his tone civil but firm. He glanced at Max’s PR manager with an unnervingly calm smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The PR manager hesitated, looking between Max and George. Max let out a quiet sigh, already resigned to whatever was about to unfold. He gave a small nod. “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before anyone could say another word, George’s hand clamped onto Max’s shoulder. It wasn’t rough, but it left no room for argument.

Max allowed himself to be steered away, his body language slumping slightly as though accepting his fate. George didn’t say a word as he guided Max through the paddock, weaving past mechanics and team personnel. A few glanced their way, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to intervene.

“Are you going to say something, or are we just walking in ominous silence?” Max finally muttered, keeping his tone light but knowing full well George wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

George didn’t respond, his grip tightening slightly as they turned into a quieter corridor behind the team hospitality units.

“Okay,” Max said with a dry laugh, “this is starting to feel like a bad cop drama.”

George stopped abruptly, spinning Max around and slamming him against the wall. The thud echoed in the empty space, and Max winced slightly but didn’t resist.

“We need to talk,” George said, his voice low and steely, every word laced with barely contained anger.

Max met his gaze, his usual unflappable demeanor faltering under the intensity of George’s glare. For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @96mcobo @grussellsprout @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz

@henna006 @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @formulaal @sleutherclaw

@anilovessadbooks @mangotaitai @vtryy @finn-dot-com @sarahsobsession

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[parfaitblogs]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more.��

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[jogetsobsessed]

Mrs.Call - Embry Call x Reader

I am still working on this request but to be honest, it's taking me a while because I wrote almost 2k words and then deleted it all because I hated it lol. Anyway, here's something to hopefully tide you over, beware it's kinda small. 

Y/M/N = your maiden name

---------

You stared at the fish darting around the oversized tank, observing as they weaved through the various decorations placed haphazardly amongst the colorful gravel. You were completely mesmerized, as you always had been since you were a kid. 

Simple things could occupy you for hours, it was something that Embry loved about you. He swore he fell in love all over again every time your face lit up when you saw an elaborate fish tank in a waiting room or a field full of grazing cattle when on a long drive. It didn't matter,  you always found something to be excited about and that was something he was trying to imitate in his everyday life. 

His hand rested on your thigh, using his pointer finger to trace small circles against your denim-clad leg. He was observing you, as he always does, listening to you softly humming the tune to the last song the two of you were listening to before you got to the doctor's office.

It was just a routine checkup. You had a small noninvasive surgery on your wrist two weeks prior and even though you weren't even wearing the bandage anymore Embry had insisted that he drove you everywhere. You had tried to argue that you were perfectly fine and insisted that he left for patrol. Five minutes later he came into the bathroom where you were getting ready for the appointment, kissed your cheek, and then you heard the front door close. 

Triumphantly you turned your music up and finished the last of your morning routine before heading out to your car. The music was still coming from your phone as you skipped along to the beat, not paying attention to your surroundings. 

So imagine to your surprise when you looked in your car from the windshield and saw Embry, sporting a shit-eating grin as he tapped his fingers against the top of the steering wheel. At the moment you were flabbergasted, however, the more you thought about it, the more you were not surprised. It was totally in Embry's character to trick you like he had. And while Embry would jump in front of a moving bus if you asked him, he tended to not listen when he thought it would benefit you. 

Now the two of you sat in a pair of conjoined chairs in the waiting room, waiting for your name to be called. Your eyes drifted to his every once in a while because you could feel his gaze. And he would smile the same smile that made you fall for him in the first place and go back to watching you. 

Back when you first got together the combined actions of his hand on your thigh and his eyes not leaving you would have sent you into an embarrassed fit. But now after having been together for over half a decade and having been married officially for a month, you weren't as quick to spook anymore. 

Lost in your own little world you didn't notice the office door swinging open and it didn't register to you what the nurse was calling out. 

“Mrs.Y/M/N” 

“Mrs.Y/M/N” 

“Oh wait, my mistake. Mrs.Call”

Your head snapped up at that. Had she been calling you the whole time? Embry nudged your leg and you met his gaze, this time your cheeks lighting up fiery red as heat warmed your face. You were thoroughly embarrassed now and by the smirk on Embry's face, he knew it. 

“I think it's time for you to go back, …Mrs.Call '', he drew out your new last name offering you his hand as you begrudgingly stood up. Embry was biting the inside of his cheek excessively to hold in the laugh that he so badly wanted to let out. 

The scene before him had been perfect. 

You were so enthralled with the fish that hearing someone call out your maiden name, the same last name you had carried from birth until just a month ago hadn't registered to you in your former state of being occupied as a possibility of being you. 

No, you were only brought back to a state of full consciousness by hearing your last name for only a month, the name that was his last name. 

Embry prided himself on being a modern man, however hearing you being called Y/N Call drove him crazy, and he loved every second of it.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, forgive me”, you exclaimed as you walked towards the smiling nurse all while trying to compose yourself, and not let Embry rile you up. 

And while you gave it your very best effort, sometimes trying is simply not enough. 

Because throughout the entire post-op appointment, Embry couldn't wipe the dumb smirk off his face, especially when the two of you would make fleeting eye contact and your face would burn bright and warm. 

After being given a clean bill of health you hurried to the parking garage, trying to get away from your husband. Because even though you both knew that what had happened was not a big deal, you were making it a big deal because you had gotten momentarily embarrassed.  

Huffing as you pulled the passenger door closed Embry lost it. Releasing all the laughter that he had been holding back. Normally you would revel in the sound, his laughter especially the deep belly laughter which was reserved mostly for you was one of your favorite melodies. But not this time. No, because his laughter was at your expense. 

“Embry it's not funny”, you pouted, staring straight ahead as he began pulling the car out of the garage, the familiar pitter-patter of rain starting as soon as you left the protection of the concrete building. 

“My sweet girl, I feel like I should hold your hand while I tell you this, but that whole situation was hilarious. Your reaction was hilarious”, he was laughing again, turning to steal glances at your reaction. 

Your face twisted up as you tried to figure out a rebuttal, but you couldn't. Because he was right like he always is. 

“She didn't call my name”, you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest in a very childlike manner. 

“And here I thought I knew the woman I married, you finally gonna tell me after seven years together that your last name isn't Y/M/N?”, he questioned, raising an eyebrow all the while the stupid smirk from earlier returned. 

“That's exactly what I’m saying, last time I checked my last name is no longer Y/M/N. It's Call,  so why would I respond to Y/M/N?”, you quirked your eyebrow up at him, waiting to hear his argument back. 

Except he didn't argue. 

Instead, he took your hand in his and brought it up. He placed several kisses against your knuckles and fiddled with the wedding band he had laid on your finger weeks ago. 

“I guess you have a point, Mrs.Call”.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Addison Montgomery x fem! Reader

Could I please have an imagine where the reader is Meredith’s childhood best friend that came to work at Seattle Grace with her. While Meredith is pining for McDreamy her best friend wants McDreamy’s wife. (Imagine all of the hilarious and awkward moments this would result in).

Hi! I couldn't figure out how to turn this into a oneshot, so I just gave you a shit ton few scenarios!!

Sitting at lunch and getting the whole McDreamy situation out of Meredith and Cristina and Izzie spilling more to you than Meredith

Standing at the nurses station with MAGIC and Addison is on the other side of the station filling out a chart

She has her glasses on.

And her white coat.

And she's wearing black heels with a nice professional dress.

Mommy.

And you can't take your eyes off of her and you lean into Meredith and ask, "Who is that?"

She responds, "McDreamy's wife."

"So, is she into the whole adultery thing too?"

Cristina chimes in, "Considering that's why they seperated, I'd say so."

You can't stop thinking about McMommy Addison for weeks

Then, you're assigned to a case with her.

You get incredibly involved with your patients

Addison admires you so much for it.

"The world needs more doctors like you," she says after a crash C-section.

You ask, "And what do I have?"

"Empathy. You don't see very many doctors who want to get to know their patients. Most of them just see them as something they can cut into."

You're on her service almost every day for the next few months.

Asking Dr. Bailey, "Can't I have another assignment?"

Her responding, "Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd asked for you specifically, take it up with her."

But you didn't want to take it up with her.

At lunch, George brings it up and you say, "Meh, I don't really mind it."

But you start blushing.

And Cristina and Meredith start teasing you.

"Oh, she's got a crush on McDreamy's wife."

"George says, You can't have a crush on her, she's married."

"So is Derek and I still slept with him."

Cristina grins, "No wonder she has you on her service every day. You're her little bitch."

You insist that it's not true.

They continue teasing you until your pager goes off.

"Aw, is it Addison?"

"Give her a kiss for us!"

They continue making kissy faces the entire time you leave.

The first time you two kiss it's after you lost an OB patient.

Both of your emotions are running high.

You're trying to calm yourself down in an on-call room

She comes in and tries to comfort you

"It'll be okay."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"Well, eventually, you learn how to cope. You'll never get used to it, but you'll learn how to cope."

You lift your head off her shoulder and look at her in the eyes

Then your eyes flicker to her lips

And hers do the same

You finally give in and press your lips to hers

She returns the kiss and suddenly both of your scrubs are on the floor

Months of longing looks and pining and private moments in the elevator, you want to make your relationship official, but you know you can't

You're both in an on-call room once again making out

You pull away quickly and stop her

"Addison we shouldn't be doing this"

"What do you mean?"

"You...Addison, you're still married. And until you file for divorce, I can't see you."

She's speechless.

You, Addison, Derek, and Meredith all end up in an elevator together.

But weeks later, she presents divorce papers to Derek

And just a week after that, she shows you the signed papers

You don't know what to say.

"You actually did it? You filed for divorce?"

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life...but you...you're not one of them."

This is the first time she says 'I love you'.

She gets a nice hotel room for you two that night.

Meredith asks why you aren't going home with them and then it dawns on her

You see that shit eating grin

Izzie and George and Cristina start cooing at you

"Awww, you're officially Addison's bitch."

"I am not Addison's bitch!"

"You so are!

"You'd do anything for her!"

"...Okay, fine, so I'm her bitch."

And it turned out to be a very lovely night.

[lestappen3]

Crashing Down | Part 2

pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader x Lando Norris

word count: +/- 2500

plot: Where reader had a terrible crash two years ago, Lando broke up with her, Toto is back into his scheming ways and Max is just there.

note: thank you for all the love in part 1. I took me a little time to write part 2 and it was supposed to be longer but I felt that the end of this part was a suitable ending so it'd be split into two (lol)

I am not sure of taglists are still a thing but let me know if you want to be updated <3

part 1

masterlist

Unsurprisingly, Max won the first race of the season again. Unfortunately for you, your father kept bothering you about your little scheme on a daily basis. You had hoped he would forget about it, or more cruelly, you secretly hoped the Red Bull car to blow up or turn into a shit car overnight.

But no. Max had to do his thing and win confidently by over 20 seconds. Seeing how he almost flew across the track past you ignited a spark you forgot existed for a split second. As much as you had settled into your new role, position, or whatever you were doing alongside your father, it didn’t quite ease the itch you were having, your need for speed. Your old life as a driver felt like such a lifetime ago. A fever dream. The crash not only shattered your leg but also crushed the dreams that fueled your motivation ever since you were a little girl. You sat in silence, realising that you would never experience the thrill of being behind the wheel again. At the same time, you weren’t sure if you would ever dare to do so. It was a constant emotional battle, one that would keep you up at night.

You turned your attention back to the track when you heard the loud engine noise disrupt your late afternoon contemplation. Lando Norris raced past in his orange-coloured McLaren, skillfully following the racing line around the corner where you were seated. Your attention was fixed on his car. You were watching him become one and the same with his car, which made you feel proud. You had always believed in the McLaren driver’s talent since he entered the grid three years after you did. He approached his racing craft differently. It felt natural to you, like another limb attached to your body. You didn’t need to think, maybe that was your problem. Lando was a lot more precise. Everything needed to be perfect. Perhaps that was his flaw as well.

As you watched him carve through the empty track, you couldn’t help but feel proud of how far Lando had come. But that pride was enlaced with a deep sadness that haunted those feelings every time you stole a glance at him. Every time you locked eyes, it was a reminder of the life you had once been a part of, and now it was a world, a life, you psychically couldn’t touch anymore. And you had to watch from a distance as Lando Norris chased his dreams.

It had been two years since the last time you raced together. The last time you both held the title of Formula 1 drivers, did shoots, did press, and sometimes even pissed off your PR managers. You shared the same dreams, the same thoughts and the same annoyances. You had been partners on and off the track, creating a tough bond to break. It made things easy and challenging at the same time. Your relationship was good. It was still a secret, but you spent the rest of the time together at the race weekends and the days after. You were talking about strategy, which you actually weren’t allowed to, laughing about inside jokes, and being there for one another whenever one of you had a terrible weekend. It felt like Lando and you were invincible until everything suddenly stopped.

No matter how much you tried to deny it, to shake it off like it didn’t matter, there would always be this ache or emptiness of seeing Lando, the boy you once loved, live the life you had imagined for each other. Moments like this, where the roaring sound of a car’s engine at full speed on an empty track where the sun was slowly setting, made you doubt if you could ever adjust to the life you were forced to live.

You were supposed to compete at the highest level, pushing each other to your limits. Win races, perhaps even championships. Go public…

Now, Lando was still competing in races around the world, living the dream you shared from a young age. Meanwhile, you found yourself stuck watching from the sidelines, longing to be out on the same track, the deafening sound of the engine in your ears, but held back by the broken leg, the most significant consequence of your crash.

And then there were the off-track part of your feelings, quite a bit more complicated. Even though you both had agreed to move on, in Lando’s case, pretend like nothing had happened in the first place, you still felt connected to the young McLaren driver. But he was with someone else now. Her name was Hailey. About five-three, just his type. And in contrast to your relationship, where he’d only kept you for his eyes only, she was all over his Instagram story.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, pulling you from your deep thoughts. It was a text from your father: “Meeting in five. Don’t be late.”

You grunted as you struggled to stand up, your hand supporting your knee that had taken a hard blow during the crash. Based on the grunts you were making, people would have assumed you were reaching your forties or worse. It was time to focus. There was no need to dwell on something beyond your control when there was something else you could make a difference in, which was recruiting Max Verstappen to Mercedes. At least this was achievable, you thought, but it wouldn’t be easy.

From being karting friends to training buddies and eventually your biggest competitor, Max has always played an essential role in your career. Regardless of his role on the track, he’d always been a friend off the track. However, lately, it feels like something had changed. Whenever the two of you were together, there was a tension that wasn’t there before, and it was becoming harder to ignore. Perhaps it was because you were starting to feel uncomfortable whenever he was around. After all, you were hiding a secret from him, which was never the case before. Your father had become even pushier since Max won so dominantly in Bahrein. You understood why. It made sense strategically. He was one of the strongest, most driven drivers on the grid, and it would definitely help secure Mercedes’ chances for new trophies in the upcoming years. However, it wasn’t that black and white for you.

As you entered the Mercedes motorhome, you spotted Max in conversation with your father. Max’s tall figure appeared relaxed, his arms casually crossed as he listened to Toto. You paused in the doorway, your heart beating, and you tried to catch your breath. It felt like the clock had stopped ticking, and everything except for Max and you had stopped moving. And then the clock moved at triple speed, but you stood frozen while your hand tried to search for something close by to hold on to. Your hand successfully reached the doorpost of one of the first rooms in the motorhome. Before Max could turn and see you, you took a small step back, pressing yourself against the wall, hiding from the Red Bull boy and your father. A part of you wanted to leave entirely before either of them could notice you so you wouldn’t have to deal with the awkward situation you were about to enter. After everything, the crash, the breakup with Lando, you didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with this ‘will they, won’t they’ situation with Max and your father.

On the other hand, you wanted to close the distance and join their conversation since they were the people you felt most comfortable with. You knew Max would understand if you explained what was happening, he always did. But you couldn’t lie to yourself, and you had doubts this time. You tried to sneakily look past the wall to the place where both men were still deeply in conversation with each other. Your fingers clenched in a fist as your pulse was quickening again.

As you tried to calm yourself down, you didn’t notice Max glanced up and found you almost instantly. His blue eyes locked into yours a little longer than necessary.

“What are you doing?” Max called to you, an easy smile on his face.

You felt caught as your cheeks turned slightly pink. “I- I-” Before you could answer Max, your father came to the rescue and said, “I asked her to join us.”

Sheepishly, you emerged from your hiding spot, your cheeks even redder than before. You motioned a silent ‘thank you’ to your father for helping you recover from this slightly embarrassing manoeuvre. “What were you talking about?” you asked both men, but your gaze stuck on Max.

“I was just telling Toto how much I’m looking forward to tomorrow. The car felt good today, but I had some suggestions for improvements,” Max explained.

“It’s never good enough, is it,” you teased lightly, trying to ignore the underlying tension.

“Never,” Max replied, his eyes sparkling.

Your father began walking towards one of the conference rooms in the motorhome. Max and you followed him like two lost puppies. When you reached the room, Toto asked you both to sit down.

“As much as I am happy to discuss the upcoming race, I have invited you, Max, to discuss important matters. Particularly for next season,” your father said, his voice firm and his figure straight, serious, and businesslike. Your gaze continued to switch between the two men in the room. Your heart was racing, and your palms started to sweat so much you had to hide them underneath the seat of the chair you were sitting on.

“Max, I know you have been very vocal about staying at Red Bull until the end of your contract. I respect your loyalty towards Helmut Marko, but I think there’s an opportunity that could benefit both of us.” Your pulse quickened even faster as your father explained his plans towards the Red Bull Racing driver. “One of my biggest regrets in my career is not having given you a better deal when I had the chance to. I wish to make it up to you.”

You had to hand it to your father. He knew how to persuade someone to accept a deal. It would have worked for you as well. If you were in Max’s shoes, you wouldn’t have known how quickly to make the switch. However, you were also impulsive and didn’t take the time for important decisions as you probably should at times.

While your mind raced to other places, you could see a flicker of hesitation in Max’s eyes. Mercedes and Toto were prepared to drop their plans for Max and meet his needs wherever they could. The deal and the opportunity were more tempting than anything you had encountered before in your years as a Formula 1 driver. Not that anyone had the guts ever to recruit you as a driver since your future was set ever since you were a little girl. Nonetheless, your father was prepared to lay all his cards on the table. Your father’s plan for Mercedes and Max could change the course of Max’s career.

But for Max, it was more than money or prestige. Of course, he wanted the best car on the grid, but so did the 19 other drivers. Who wouldn’t? For him, loyalty was also crucial, possibly the most important thing. Since his Formula 1 debut, Max has been loyal to Helmut Marko, director and head of Red Bull’s driver development programme. You knew how much that man meant to Max, and convincing him to leave wouldn’t be easy. It seemed nearly impossible, you thought after contemplating it.

As you drifted off again, your father finished his pitch and leaned back into his chair, his sharp eyes on the younger boy opposite him. “Think about it,” he said. “Mercedes is your future.”

Max shifted in his seat, his gaze flicking between you and your father. “I’m not going to lie. It’s a tempting offer, Toto,” he muttered. “But-” You heard him release a deep sigh before he continued, “It’s not an easy decision,” he admitted, confirming your previous thoughts.

You squinted your eyes as you were looking at Max. His conflict was noticeable. You couldn’t read a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on his face. And you knew him well enough that his loyalty wasn’t the only factor weighing on him. There was something more, something he wasn’t telling you.

“I-” you stuttered, trying to fill the silence in the room that made you heavily uncomfortable.

“It’s as much news to her as it is to you,” your father intervened, “I apologise for bursting in like this, but it couldn’t wait any longer.”

You looked at your father in disbelief. It felt as if your eyes were about to fall out of their sockets, your mouth wide open, and your face red as a tomato. What was he talking about? What was he doing? Who did he think he was, completely disregarding you in this situation and leaving you in an uncomfortable predicament?

Before you could say anything else, your father announced the meeting would end. He explained he had another one to attend. One, you weren’t required to attend with him. Max and you stayed behind as your father left the room. It was silent for a few minutes as both of you contemplated what to say. “Do you want me to leave Red Bull and come to Mercedes?” Max asked, turning to you. His voice was softer than usual.

You swallowed as you nervously played with the sleeve of your shirt. “I don’t know, Max. I don’t think I can make this decision for you,” you replied to him in the same soft tone. “I mean, my loyalties lie to the team. My history was set in stone, and then it all changed. I- I think it’s time to do what you want, damn whatever anyone else is thinking.”

Max rolled his chair a little closer, his eyes searching yours in desperation. “Whatever I want, huh?” His words hung in the air, making it impossible to look away. It felt like your eyes were stuck on his, gawking at him. His words kept repeating in your head as you tried to figure out how to reply. “It’s complicated,” you finally answered, barely above a whisper, filling the silence in the room.

Max’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he would pursue the conversation further. Then he sighed deeply and ran a hand through his messy hair in frustration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “It always is.”

[braxlrose]

i read your tom kaulitz weird and silly headcanons and i can't stop laughing 😭 wtf it's 4 am.. anyway will you do the same headcanons only with bill, pretty please?🤭 i know one hundred percent that this little bastard isn't so innocent what he looks like.. i'm sure he's as dirty as Tom 😭 btw sorry engilsh is not my first language ☠️ Greetings from Poland!!:)

(his skirt is so cute?!?)

Cześć jeszcze raz! Rzadko spotykam Polaków, więc cieszy mnie możliwość ćwiczenia języka polskiego!

also his skirt is super cute omg

silly and weird bill headcanons

cw: mentioned oral(f and m!recieving), making out, nipple play?, etc

-you are completely right, this mf is far from innocent 💀 tom is seen as the dirty minded one but this little shit would make the most dirty fucking jokes every and then act all innocent LIKE BITCH

-he's also passive aggressive. like very passive aggressive. pookie can't help it 😪

-the first time you, him and tom all got high together he got super paranoid and thought that you guys were all just figments of a dog's imagination

-when you guys are spooning, he reaches underneath your shirt and cups your boobs. it helps him fall asleep quicker apparently

-but sometimes when he's feeling like a little shit, he'll tweak and pull at your nipples and you have to slap him away. so then you make him promise not to do it again. spoiler alert. he does it again 😐

-hes an impatient mf so the amount he's burned his tongue after heating up a pop tart 😒 like bitch..just wait the two fucking minutes

-he loves kissing your temple and your forehead

-during the winter, if his hands are cold he asks if he can put his hand in your pants. 💀 like that's his exact words. "Can I put my hand down your pants?" he says it's because you're warmer down there than he is, but I think it's just cuz he's a dirty minded little fuck

-when cooking marshmallows over the fire, it's a 50/50 thing. Sometimes he's super patient and will wait and make his marshmallows a crispy, perfect golden brown color and other times he gets to lazy and will just shove it in the fire.

-he also thinks it's like the coolest thing in the entire world when his whole marshmallow is on fire

-he didn't know how to snap until he was like 16 and always got mad whenever tom could do it 😭

-he was super happy when he realized that he was the taller twin bc tom was allllwayyss talking about how he was 10 minutes older.

-YOU GUYS GOT MATCHING TATTOOS

-he literally loves getting matching tattoos with you, he thinks it's so cute and fucking loves it. somehow he convinced the both of you to get some dumb ones 💀

-when you two were little kids he used to beg the teacher to make you, him and tom partners. lil bro would get down on his knees

-speaking of getting down on his knees, the first time he went down on you he "accidentally" 🤨 bit your clit. I still say he did it on purpose though

-you guys know that thing that Gomez does with Morticia when she reaches her arms to the side and he kisses from her finger tips to the other finger tips? yall know what I'm talking about? WELL BILL DOES THAT

-he likes to sleep naked sometimes. because it's "better for sleeping" but I think it's just because he wants to sleep next to naked you.

-almost drowned tom at the pool 💀...multiple times

-him and tom make you sit by the pool and then make you tell them who's cannon ball was better. and this isn't just a like 16 yr old boy thing. they do this at 33 too.

-bill once stood up upside-down on a keg and drank it 😧. not the whole thing but it was super crazy. you later found out it was because tom didn't think he would do it

-he once jerked off in class and found a way so nobody would notice him EXCEPT YOU 😨 MF YOU WERE TRAUMATIZED

-he also doesn't know how to lock a door. so you'll just walk in and he'll be jerking off, or you'll turn a corner in his house and he'll be jerking off, you go to use the bathroom and he'll be jerking off. "I'm a teenage boy it's what we do!" BRUH GET A HOBBY

-if you don't know german, he'll randomly say dirty stuff to you in german. BUT THEN PROCEED TO GET MAD AT TOM IF HE TEACHES YOU BAD WORDS IN GERMAN 🙄

-he loves sitting in your lap when making out. like obviously he loves it when you sit in his lap, but he LOVES when he gets to sit on top of you and kiss you

-the first time he tried to give you hickies, he wasn't completely sure how to and ended up biting you 💀

-he's not a morning person, we all know this. so if you want to get him out of bed, you will have to drag him out by his feet.

-his dick is big. we all know this, but the first time you tried to give him oral, he accidentally slapped your face w/ his dick 😭

ANYWAYYSSS TY SM FOR THE REQUEST POOKIE I HOPE MY POLNISCH WASNT TOO BAD

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @dead-tapes @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles

[azrakaban]

Heyyy how are youu?

I saw your resquests are open and i wanted to ask:

Enemies to lover with the boys? Mattheo pretty please and reader being a hufflepuff?

Like the whole you meet and both hate each other from the start for years because reader is always in her own world reading caring for magical creatures but she isnt afraid to talk back to them when they're arguing (like calling them players or returning their insults) until one of them as a 'fuck it' moment and kisses the reader and confess their love?

Sorry that was long thank you for taking time to read and thank you if you do write it 🤭💋

I'm great my lovely! Having a good day? Did you drink and eat 2day? :)

actually fr giggled and blushed when making this tbh, have so many Hufflepuff friends so basing this off of them <3 Also totally happy to write for Mattheo hes so bbg !

Careful - Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo Riddle didn't like you. That was clear to anyone who saw you two interact, and honestly, there never seemed to be any kind of reason behind it.

The assumption was just basic house prejudice, but Mattheo was fine with other Hufflepuffs, so why were you so 'special'? You knew he had it in him to be nice, heck, you'd harboured a crush on him since third year, so why now had he decided to be an ass?

Maybe it was that you had a habit of tripping over certain uneven flagstones when reading, or accidentally smashing bottles in potions because you'd spotted a niffler. But you couldn't help being clumsy, right?

Everytime something like that happened, Mattheo would give a sigh and eye roll, which made you upset, naturally. It's not like you wanted to fall over!

As a result you would confront him and he would say the obvious. 'you're so uncoordinated it's almost painful to watch.' Well unfortunately for you, it actually was painful.

So you could imagine the reaction when Snape paired you for potions.

"Careful."

"Shut up, I am being."

A quiet sigh.

"CAREFUL!" He threw out a hand to steady a jar of frogspawn you had nearly knocked over. You glared at him.

"It wasn't my fault, it was in an awkward place..." You said quietly.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, with that same sigh. "I'm sure it was."

You rolled your eyes, mocking him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Mocking me? Real mature n/n." You mocked him again, and he copied you.

"Mr Riddle, Ms L/N, something you'd like to share?" Snape said acidly. You quickly stopped, shaking your heads.

"No sir."

Once he had turned away, Mattheo muttered to you. "Your fault."

You gasped, offended. "It was yours, whore!" You replied indignantly.

Mattheo scoffed, trying to continue work on the potion. You pushed him to the side, and he looked at you in shock for a second, before pushing you out the way.

You did the same, and it turned into a war, before you both pushed at the same time and ended up on the floor.

"L/N, Riddle, Detention." Snape said greasily. "And leave the class."

You both packed your things, flushing, and left.

"Your fault." He murmured, smirking.

"Honestly fuck you." You replied.

"Careful."

"Shut up."

"CAREFUL!"

You turned, glaring. "How about, until told otherwise, I'll be careful?"

Mattheo rolled his eyes. "Good idea."

You two were stuck in detention together, polishing trophies. Mattheo sniggered.

"You should get one for falling over, your face seems to have magnetic attraction to the floor." You bit back an exasperated scream.

"Look, I don't get why you hate me Mattheo, but just stop!"

"y/n-"

"No, no, just shut up! Can you just stop?"

"Y/N-"

"I don't like it when I fall over, it hurts, but you seem to be a sadist on some level-"

"Okay fuck it, I'm just going to shut you up."

Mattheo kissed you then, cupping your face in his hands, pulling back after a few seconds.

"I don't like it when you fall over either, you know, y/n." He said, rolling his eyes. "I can tell it hurts, so it irritates me that you're not more careful! You get hurt, Y/N, I see the bruises, and that hurts me too. Just... look out for yourself? For me?" He pleaded with you.

You froze, trying to process.

"Okay so... you don't hate me?" You said, confused.

"No actually, I kiss all the people I hate to shut them up. Oh look, here comes Potter, I'd better give him a snog. NO, Y/N, I DON'T HATE YOU." He laughed.

You giggled quietly, then smirked. "You like me." You said in a sing song voice.

Mattheo flushed slightly. "Do not." He grumbled.

"Youuuuu like meeee." You sang, giggling.

He kissed you again, effectively shutting you up as you kissed him back.

"You like me too though, y/n, let's not forget that." He smirked.

"You know you can't just kiss me every time you need me to be quiet." He laughed at that.

"Don't worry, I plan on kissing you a lot more than that. Though you do have quite a tendency to yap." He reminded you.

You poked your tongue out, moving back to the trophies to continue your detention, and nearly tripping over another wobbly flagstone.

"CAREFUL!"

Love and thanks for the request, hope this was what you were looking for, remember to eat and drink water <3

[quin-ns]

The blue VII (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: almost to the end…

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ waited with baited breath for Pope to shake him awake and tell him they had to go deliver groceries. He was convinced he was dreaming, even as he watched you redress yourself in front of him, he couldn’t believe he now knew what it felt like to have his dreams come true.

You loved him. Of course you did before, but this was different. This was the same kind of love he felt for you—the type he’d spent so much time trying to ignore out of fear. But the fear was gone, and all he could feel was sheer bliss as you threw a smile his way. He was so busy watching you that as he pulled on his own clothes, he stumbled a few times. At least he didn’t fall. You never would’ve let him hear the end of it if he went face first into the sand and ruined the moment.

A question still lingered on his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. If he asked, he risked seeing that smile of yours he loved fade away.

A thrill shot through him as you buttoned your shorts. He’d be with you for the rest of the night. The thought was enough to make his cock throb in his pants, but he took a breath and kept it together because you were approaching him now.

The frustrated fire in your eyes was gone, and it was hard to imagine that just an hour ago you’d been fighting. It seemed like a distant memory—one he hoped to never relive.

When you stopped in front of him, you smiled softly. You reached up to brush strands of his hair back into place before pressing up on your toes to give him a gentle kiss.

“Hi,” you said teasingly, having clearly seen the dumbstruck look on his face. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah,” he rushed out. He swallowed and nodded. “I’m great. Better than ever, actually.”

You grinned and shook your head before meeting his eyes again. “Good, because so am I.”

The question clawed at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down and told himself not now.

Instead, he asked, “Wanna get back to the party? Our friends might be looking for us.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I need water anyway.” JJ smirked to himself. “Shut up,” you playfully scolded, elbowing him lightly.

It was so normal. JJ wouldn’t have believed himself if he said he’d just fucked in you the sand not too long ago. His face felt warm at the memory, and his cheeks grew sore as he let his teasing smirk grow into a grin. This was the new normal, the one where he got to have you entirely. His world was already looking brighter.

Side by side, the two of you returned to the party. You used the bonfire as a guiding light. You ran your hands over your hair and across your clothes—mostly definitely trying to appear like you hadn’t just been fucked—by you step brother, no less.

“Hey,” JJ said lightly, reaching for your arm when you once again went to mess with your shirt. “You look fine. It’s okay, don’t worry.”

You took a breath. “Okay,” you agreed easily. You trusted him to tell you the truth. A second passed before you added. “Just ‘fine’?”

JJ snorted. “Amazing. You look amazing and beautiful and like the girl of my dreams.”

You had started the teasing, but you looked a little surprised. “Since when did you get all poetic?”

JJ chuckled. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a shrug. His eyes met yours and he had his answer. “You bring it out in me, I guess.”

“Well,” you started. “I’ll let you give me credit, but maybe you’re softer than you think you are.”

JJ thought that over. You said it like a compliment, but all his life JJ had always had a shield up. He was reckless and did stupid shit and hated talking about his feelings. This was new territory. He should’ve been scared, and he was, but he was mostly ready. You made him want to stop running from himself, and he doubted he’d ever be able to tell you that, but JJ hoped you somehow knew.

The party was still going on just as you two had left it. JJ looked around the shore and no one appeared to notice his and your return, let alone your absence.

“What do we do?” he deferred to you. “Slip into the crowd?”

When JJ’s gaze fell back on you, you weren’t looking at him.

“Maybe not…” you said, the slightest bit of worry in your tone.

JJ followed your stare and sure enough, you were right. John B, Kiara, and Pope had all congregated and were heading your way.

You shifted on your feet, wincing a little as your thighs brushed together. JJ looked out to the water. He couldn’t let himself fall victim to his own lustful thoughts right here right now.

There would definitely be questions if he was staring at you with a hard-on in front of all his friends.

Then again, no one really noticed before, but he still tried to control himself now.

“There you are,” Kiara said, looking mostly at you.

“We were wondering where you guys went,” Pope added, giving JJ a questioning look.

Kiara crossed her arms. “John B said you two ran off. Were you fighting? Because this is getting really tiring.”

You looked to JJ, while he wondered how long John B watched the two of you. Thank god his best friend didn’t follow, or things would’ve gone very differently.

“We’re not fighting,” JJ announced. He looked between the three, who all had various looks of confusion on their faces. “We’re good.”

“Yeah, we talked and it’s fine,” you added. You gave John B a sympathetic smile. “Sorry I ran off after we talked…”

“It’s okay,” he assured quickly. JJ bit his lip to keep back his jealousy. There was no reason for it anymore. “I’m just glad it’s all good.”

“All good,” JJ seconded. “You guys wanna party or what?”

In hindsight maybe it was a bad suggestion to be around all your friends, but he wanted to throw off suspicion. You were a better actress than before, but maybe because you knew the stakes were higher.

JJ ended up sitting across from you as everyone found some branches and stumps to chill out on and talk. They all looked like they wanted to ask you and JJ more questions, but more than that, they were relieved the tension was gone from the group. Things were back to normal—mostly.

For now, the only thing that changed around the others was that you now returned JJ’s pining glances.

If you asked, JJ would deny that he’d been counting the days. But you never asked, so it had been about almost a month since that night on the beach. 5 weeks since he confessed and kissed you, and 6 weeks since he thought he’d have to take his love for you to the grave.

JJ thought the two of you had talked about everything in the time you grew closer months ago, but now he realized there was so much left to learn. He wanted to know all of you, just as he wanted you to know all of him. You felt the same, and for the first time in his life, everything was good.

Everyday he awoke to you in his arms in your bed, and every night he fell asleep the same way. If his dad caught on, he didn’t care enough to say anything. Small mercies from his old man, JJ supposed.

When the two of you hung out with your friends, it was business as usual. At first it was a bit awkward given the whole argument with John B and the crush his friend had on you, but after having an actual conversation, JJ patched things up. John B seemingly got over his crush and Kie and Pope gave up on wondering what happened between both boys inside the house, and what happened with you and JJ at the movie night.

JJ got his friends and you, the best of both worlds.

Still, when you were all together in a group, the urge to hold your hand or kiss you was getting harder to resist.

He thought about what would happen. What would really happen if his friends found out. It’s not like they’d throw tomatoes like he was some kind of pariah. JJ even ventured to guess that most of his guilt and shame was internal from back when he thought you’d never be interested. Truthfully, JJ didn’t see a problem. Maybe he was wrong for that, but at least he was honest with himself now. You weren't actual siblings and you didn’t grow up together. If he explained it to them the same way he justified it to himself they might even understand.

JJ could tell you thought the same thing, but had yet to mention it. It was like the two of you shared a brain, you could sense his worry just as much as he could sense yours.

“What’s up?” you finally asked him one night. The two of you had just gotten back to the house after leaving the Chateau. You had changed into a pair of underwear and threw on a shirt of his. He only made note because it was so distracting. JJ laid on your bed with your head on his chest. You turned your head and looked up at him. “Something is on your mind.”

The question that rattled around JJ’s brain for a month finally came out. Two words that carried so much implication.

“What now?”

You looked a little puzzled as you tried to come up with an answer.

“What do you mean?”

JJ sat up with a sigh. You went with him, shifting to sit beside him against your headboard. You leaned your head against the wood and looked at him in a way that made JJ weak.

“Pretending everything is normal isn’t going to work forever. I know that because, well—“

You raised your brows a little. “Look at what happened last time you did?” you supplied, knowing what he was getting at.

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand and took it in his own, running his thumb across the back of your palm. “And this worked out. So if we tell our friends, maybe that would work out too.”

You nodded slowly. JJ felt a twinge of panic. It had been a long time since he saw a look on your face he couldn’t decipher.

“They might not understand,” you finally said, a sadness to your voice. JJ immediately wanted to comfort you, but you took a breath and continued. “Or, if they do, it might just take a while.” You nodded a little to yourself. “I’d take the risk.”

Pure relief flooded his entire being. “I would too,” JJ said. A smile appeared on your face. In an instant, you went from his side to sitting in his lap. JJ’s hands found your hips. “I love you, you know that?”

You hummed, leaning down. “Yeah, I know,” you said softly. Your lips brushed against his ear. Shivers ran down his entire body as your hips rocked down. His cock was already growing hard in his pants. The effect you had on him was maddening. “But I like it when you remind me.”

That was all it took for JJ to break. Desire flooded his body and as soon as he got his shorts and shirt off, JJ didn’t care about getting the rest of the way undressed. You got his boxers down around his thighs and pulled your panties aside. You left on his shirt, and JJ knew the dark gray T-shirt was going to become one of his favorites.

You reached between your bodies and stroked his cock. It was already hard. His hips bucked up eagerly into your soft palm.

His skilled fingers pulled your underwear to the side, removing the barrier so he could slide one into your warm walls. Your chest rose with a gasp and JJ’s cock twitched in your hand.

He worked you open before adding another, enjoying the way your walls squeezed around him, wanting more.

You broke first, in rushed, breathless words you encouraged him to line up with your entrance. JJ’s fingers left your body and passed his own lips. A sound rumbled deep in his chest at the taste and it took everything he had to not throw you on your back and dive between your legs. He could save that for another time, right now you were desperate for him to fill you and JJ wasn’t going to deny you. He never could.

You lined the head of his cock up with your entrance and gave no warning before sinking down. JJ’s hands gripped your hips, jaw dropping. He kept himself quiet, aware you two weren’t home alone.

The teasing look in your eye made his heart race. You let him guide your movements when he was ready, rising up and sinking down in his lap with a slow, torturous pace. He wanted you to feel the stretch of the way he filled you, wanted to feel your warm, wet walls squeeze him.

Except you got needy and started moving faster. He let you, but when your lips started to part, he smacked a hand over your mouth.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. You whimpered into his hand but nodded. Your lust blown eyes stared over his hand and JJ nearly lost it right there. “I’ve got you.”

You fell over the edge quickly, shaking and quivering in his lap as you rode out your orgasm. JJ had never seen anything as incredible as you falling apart on top of him in his life. He felt the same way every time and never got tired of you. He never could and never would.

When you dropped your head to his shoulder he let your mouth go. He held your hips tight as he pounded up into you, eager to fill you. He bit his lip and groaned as he did. His cock throbbed and his thighs tightened as he spilled inside.

Heavy breathing was the only sound that filled the room for a few minutes.

Finally, you lifted your head and spoke first, voice both ragged and pleading.

“Wanna go shower?”

“Have I ever said no?”

A lazy grin appeared on your face. “I love you too, by the way.”

JJ’s grin matched yours. “I know.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. “But I like it when you remind me.”

You kept flicking your eyes his way. Every time you did, his heart rate spiked. JJ watched as you fiddled with your hands in your lap, how you chewed at the inside of your cheek, and the way your leg bounced.

It broke him to not be able to go and take you in his arms, but he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

John B was talking about work, but JJ couldn’t supply any jokes at the expense of his rich boss like usual. He had a lot else going on in his mind.

You’d woken him up in the morning, unable to wait any longer. You told him you wanted to tell your friends, and JJ had been quick to agree.

Finally, he had thought. But it was easier said than done. He’d driven the two of you to the Chateau in the morning and it was now the late afternoon, and neither of you had tried to brought the subject.

It was one thing when you and JJ talked alone in your room about what you meant to each other, but this was something entirely different.

Still, it needed to happen. Aside from the fact he couldn’t stand to see your worry, he was tired of concealing his winces every time the word brother or sister floated out in reference to the two of you.

He’d never thought of you in a familial way, and even if you had for a while, it was long gone. You weren’t related by a single drop of blood. You hadn’t spent your formative years growing up together. Every justification in the book JJ had locked and loaded in his mind over the years he shared with you. You got to a place where you didn’t feel guilty any longer.

But now with your friends, it was a different story.

JJ was unsure how they didn’t notice. Maybe John B had gotten over his crush, but he knew you both well—especially JJ—so it made him wonder how his best friend missed it. And Pope? JJ was still pretty sure he had a crush on Kie. Pope and overthinking went hand in hand, so as astute as he was, once he got fixated on one thing, he was going to figure it out. JJ almost chuckled to himself at the idea of Pope trying to figure out Kie. Kiara could’ve liked Pope back, JJ wasn’t sure enough to say since he’d been more than a bit busy with you.

One love confession in the friend group at a time. JJ wanted to get it out, the sooner everyone knew the sooner he could start acting like you were really his girlfriend. There was nothing he wanted more.

A chair scrapped and JJ looked towards it, snapped out of his thoughts. You were on your feet and heading into the house without a word.

“Is she okay?” Pope wondered first. It couldn’t be a coincidence that everyone looked to JJ.

“Yeah, she’s been quiet all day…” Kiara added on.

“I’ll check on her,” JJ said quickly, already on his feet. When he stepped inside of the house, you were leaning against the counter, eyes cast to the floor. You had a thoughtful expression on your face and hardly noticed JJ walking up to you until he said, “Hey.”

Your eyes flicked up. “Hey,” you said softly.

Without another word, JJ pulled you into his arms. You went willingly as they crossed over your back. JJ could feel the nervous energy radiating off of you. All he could do was hold you and hope it helped.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered and looked up, a pout on your lips. JJ wanted to turn it to a smile. “I was ready, I swear, but—”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips without a second thought.

“It’s okay,” he said softly against your lips.

Then he heard it. The sound of a throat clearing.

His stomach dropped as your hands fisted his shirt for security. When JJ turned his head, he saw none other than John B standing in the doorway.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just an ask or reply to lmk 🫶

The blue taglist: @empath-bunny @juniebugg @lashay28 @redhead1180 @mariaeirhnh @wearemadeofstardust0 @obxwatcherficreader @echobx @rafeinterlude @rubixgsworld @niyahnotnia @enchantingstarfishrebel @aphroditesblunt @spideysimpossiblegirl @ifilwtmfc

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 22

Hello everyone! I hope everyone had a good week. We're really getting down to the wire on this one.

I finally finished Secret Tunnel (game show) and am going through the game show parts and neatening things up a bit, but they'll be ready to go by the time it needs to be posted.

In this we have Steve learning to lean on his friends and kicks out an asshole at a press junket.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

~

Steve and Eddie were careful but they were also friends. So every time Steve and Eddie were seen (with or without other people there) the media blew it up.

“Rocker seen with long-time friend, Steve Harrington, an EMT for the band The Fallen…”

“Steve Harrington punching above his weight class with Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin?”

“Steve Harrington, former rich boy, now EMT seen with frontman, Eddie Munson; could a scandal be brewing for the heavy metal rock god?”

And all of them were insinuating that it was Steve who was only in it for Eddie’s fame and fortune. Even though they had had pictures taken before the tour as friends. Especially since they had gone to school together. But no. Now they were seen together on tour, it was tawdry and lewd.

Which shouldn’t have dug at Steve as much as it did. Because in a perfect world it wouldn’t be tawdry. It would be two famous people having a lunch together romantically. They could be seen kissing each other, holding hands, and just staring at each other with heart eyes.

But the world was not perfect. And Steve was not out as bisexual, even if Abbadon was. Shane had come out to his family when Astraeus did, but Steve had chickened out. He couldn’t look Dustin or Max or Will in the eye and tell them he liked men too… especially Will.

He couldn’t imagine telling his kids that all that posturing he did in high school was all for show. That he wasn’t the token straight friend with Robin and Eddie. They were the only ones who knew he liked men at all. Outside of his band anyway.

Steve let out a long shuddering breath and then did the smart thing for once in his god damned life. He called Vickie.

“Hey, Abbadon,” she greeted warmly. “What’s up?”

He told her what was going on with the most recent rash of media bullshit. “Is there anyway we can just put out a statement or something that Eddie and I are just friends?”

“That would actually do the opposite of what you looking to do,” she said kindly. “People are going to think whatever they want to. There’s no changing it, but instead play up into it. Whenever you see someone taking pictures. Grab Eddie’s hand. Swing it like you’re school children. Wrap your arms around each other and giggle. Stay clear of obvious PDA, like kissing and whatever. But make them uncomfortable with it. Make it their problem.”

Steve stopped for a moment to think about it. Really think about it. “Oh. I like that. Because then Eddie and I can get goofy with it without feeling like we’re hiding something special. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Vickie said with an obvious smile, even though he couldn’t see her.

He paused for a moment and then asked, “What made you think of that? I mean, it’s brilliant and you deserve all the credit for it, but I’ve got to ask.”

“It’s actually a common trick,” she said with a laugh. “A famous child star would come out of the play he was starring in wearing the same jeans and jacket every night so the pictures would be useless. Or another pair of child stars walking down the street holding hands, being goofy because the one has anxiety and holding hands helped. Sometimes it a zero sum game where nobody wins, but that’s way you’ve got to play it.”

Steve let out a deep sigh. It was a horrible thing to have to play by someone else’s rules, but it came with fame, like it or not. “Yeah, I can see that. Thanks again, Vickie.”

After he hung up the phone he felt a lot better. It wasn’t the fix he was looking for but then again nothing in life had a permanent solution. Fame least of all. He bit his thumb, eyeing his phone. He had heard about phone hacking in the UK and was worried someone might get a hold of his text messages.

He was in the safety of his own hotel room, but Eddie might not be. After chewing it over for a moment or two, Steve shot Eddie a text message:

-Call me when you’re alone

Immediately his phone rang. “Hey, babe.” And all of Steve’s worries and fears melted with the warm tone of his boyfriend’s voice.

“Eddie,” Steve murmured and just let everything out instead of bottling it up inside.

Eddie listened through it all. Just humming and agreeing where needed. Finally Steve told him what Vickie had said to do and how grateful he was to have someone who knew this kind of thing. It was still all new to him.

“That is a really good idea, sweetheart,” he agreed once Steve had finished. “I’m known for being goofy and affectionate with all of my friends, so this will just be seen as an extension to that.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “So how about we go out to lunch today to celebrate our new master plan?”

Eddie laughed. “Could do, sure.” He paused for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Steve paused for a moment to really think about it. The truth was that he probably wouldn’t be all right for a while. He was trying to adjust to the meteoric raise to fame and it wasn’t going well if he was honest.

“I think this whole fame racket is getting to my head,” he muttered. “I just feel like I’m slightly out of step so I just keep bumping up against things I thought I would move past, clear sailing. I’m feeling a bit bruised and battered.”

“I wish I could tell you gets better, but it really doesn’t, it’s just your edges get rounded off.”

Steve let out a long, hard sigh. “I suppose so. It still sucks, though.”

“It does that,” Eddie agreed. “I’m glad you called Vickie and me. I’m glad you’re reaching out for help when you need it. Because you really worried us, no one could get through to you. I don’t know what Shane said to you and I’m not going to ask. But I’m so grateful he knew what to say.”

“He told me I looked hot.”

Eddie burst out laughing. He just started and could not stop. Steve grinned into the phone. “If I knew that’s all it took I would have told you that, sweetheart.”

“It was a bit more than that,” Steve conceded. “But that was the gist of it. He just got me out of my head. He didn’t want me focusing on the fact people made it more than it was and instead focus on how hot it was from any angle.”

“I like that,” Eddie said softly. “I’ll meet you in an hour for lunch.”

“I’ll see you then,” Steve said.

Once he was off the phone, he flopped on his bed for a moment. He sat up and looked around. It was a nice hotel room. Not as nice as Corroded Coffin’s rooms. Mainly because it would be weird that a couple of EMTs, a couple of PAs and a roadie had such lavish rooms. But also because Steve liked it this way.

The home away from home of a sort. None of his Abbadon wardrobe was kept in his hotel rooms but he did sneak out a couple of pieces that he liked that didn’t really blow his cover, just a couple graphic t-shrts, a pair or two of white sneakers, and a white denim jacket.

He threw on the sneakers and denim jacket over a pair of fade blue jeans and Corroded Coffin t-shirt. Just to give the paparazzi the middle finger or two.

He gathered up all the things he needed and paused briefly in the hallway mirror. He grinned at the image.

If the media wanted something to talk about, Steve was going to give it to them, both barrels straight to the face.

~

They were getting ready for a press conference the way always do these days: Spence on the phone with Nadia, Simon panicking in the corner and Shane and Steve trying to get him to breathe and calm down. He has done this a dozen times before. He wasn’t Simon, the shy nerd who hid behind his guitar, he was Asmodeus. Super confident sex god.

Simon nodded shakily. They helped him get to his feet. He slowly got dressed into his persona and pulled the red mask over his features. Steve looked over at Spence and gave him the thumbs up.

Spence nodded and said goodbye to Nadia. Then he too got ready. The jet black clothes covering the built body of a former EMT. He put on the mask and pulled up his hood.

Then it was Shane’s turn. He moved quickly and easily. His persona an easier fit than Simon’s or Spence’s. He was all over the place in his day to day life, but as Astraeus, he was grounded, more centered.

Then they all turned to Steve. Their leader and best friend. Their older brother, even though they were all super close in age. The man with the vision. The reason they were all here, living their dream.

Steve loved to play with blurring the gender lines with Abbadon. He painted his nails, wore bodices and corsets, high heels and even skirts. Like today. He was wearing a short pleated tennis skirt with knee high boots and a sheer long-sleeved crop top. He wore a short leather jacket reminiscent of Asmodeus’s stage jacket. He pulled on the mask and then carefully applied pink lipstick.

Then as if on cue, Hopper knocked on the door. Steve nodded to Spence, who walked over and knocked back.

They were ready.

~

“What do you make of Corroded Coffin leading the charge in changing the culture surrounding what a metal band should look like?” one journalist asked.

Abbadon and Asmodeus shared a smirk.

Asmodeus leaned forward to the mic. “We think it’s a healthy thing. I think country should do the same. You shouldn’t have to wear denim with tassels on it and cowboy boots to sing country and you shouldn’t have to wear leather and chains to perform metal.”

“You’ve spoken about how you were booed off stage early in your career for not looking metal enough,” another reporter asked, “what were you like before the getup?” He waved his hands over his face.

Abbadon decided he hated this guy. “Not this. Our past is our past and we’re going to leave it there. We’re here to talk about the future of the band not its past.”

The questions turned to their music and the tour then the smart ass asked another question.

“Is there a reason Abaddon is spelled incorrectly?” the guy asked with a smirk.

Abbadon stared at him blankly.

“You spell it with two Bs when its correct spelling is with two Ds,” the asshole explained like Abbadon was stupid.

“No, no,” Abbadon said flippantly. “I got that. I’m just wondering why you thought it was a question you should ask.”

The asshole’s smirk grew like he knew he had won. “I was just curious and I’m sure other people are as well.”

Abbadon drew his tongue over his lips slowly, his eyes narrowing at the man through the mask, as he thought about how to answer that.

“An error in the printing of the first fliers we ever made for the band,” he said coldly, “and no one noticed it until our second album and by then it was already set in stone.”

The guy squirmed in his seat as Abbadon continued to glare at him. He stopped taking other questions with a finger upraised.

“I want him out of here.”

And before the guy could protest, he was being hauled out by security where he was greeted by Vickie.

The rest of the press conference went off without a hitch.

The headlines the following day made a mockery of the guy. Apparently he was a shock jock radio star who had a podcast where he talked about conspiracies and aliens and was a general ass about everyone who he didn’t agree with.

No one was even sure how he got in in the first place. But Vickie swore that he wouldn’t again. She made sure that his comments were pushed into obscurity and the fringe side of the internet where he belonged.

~

Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

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5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[denial-permanente]

Hello, first off I have to thank you and Tom for all the advice within your blog! It has helped answer a lot of questions for my wife and I.

When I am caged (which is most of the time now outside of showering and inspections), and I wear the harness with her favorite dildo for us to enjoy each other, there are times I end up ejaculating during the act. Lately it is almost an every time occurrence when She is having her orgasm it makes me as well.

She feels this is an amazing thing that happens while I also feel that, I just wonder if that’s a normal occurrence within the chastity world?

I'm discovering that more couples are trying this, which is great to hear because for years it seemed like we were the only ones who had even heard of this. I honestly don't know if coming in the cage is typical because it's only in the past couple of years that I have learned that there are other couples who do this.

Even back when we first started "foxing" it always made my husband come. Because one of the reasons I lock him is to control his orgasms, I used to make him tell me when he was getting close so I could decide whether or not to allow him to come that way. When I did, he often complained that they were not satisfying enough and it left him feeling weird afterward.

Right now, we are going on almost 7 straight years of him being locked and only allowed to come that way. For the first few years, he did complain that they weren't full orgasms. But as time went on something happened and he began to enjoy them more and more. There was a time that he came almost every time that we had sex that way, because the orgasms would happen very suddenly. I guess now he has learned how to watch out for them because he can feel it happening.

To me, it's very sexy to know that he has to hold back from coming because he is so excited. I imagine your wife feels the same way... her orgasm triggers yours. What a great way to feel more close and intimate together!

🔏Tom here. After having been locked for about three years I noticed that my brain was becoming rewired to enjoy the caged orgasms. By another year, they became so intense that they feel better than I remember conventional orgasms feeling. They drag out for a long time and seem to come from a place deep within me.

For a couple of years, Mrs Edge allowed me to come about once a month, maybe two. However, that changed in 2023 where she only allowed me to come twice (right after the holidays, and again in the summer), and she has continued that during 2024. While she enjoys it when I do, she also enjoys the power and control in not allowing me.

I don't know if this is "typical" within the community. Foxing itself is not as common as one might think, but in the various forums I read and moderate, I do see this enough to know that it's not at all unusual. It moves the male orgasm from a mainly physical thing to rely more on the mental/emotional phase. If it's working for you and your wife, then definitely you should keep on enjoying it.

[venerawrites]

helloo! back to humbly ask for more content for him hehe but this time I wanna add for his brother as well!💜

how they'd react to their s/o sacrificing themselves to save them/for their sake? how they are in their last moments together and how they handle the aftermath? I love the Uchiha boys being soft but i cant resist the angst sometimes 🫣

thank you again! adore your work as always!

author's note: I am in an angsty mood right now, so I literally RUSHED to my drafts, so I can finish this request! Thank you so much for sending it and I really hope I did it justice! <3

➤ Sasuke

The death of his s/o would be one of the two things: either the birth of the greatest villain to ever exist or the end of the 'ninja path' for Sasuke Uchiha.

It really depends on WHY did they sacrificed themselves for him or more importantly WHO took their life.

I think no matter when Sasuke has met them (before or after the war), he would take them as granted. He didn't even want to think about a scenario where they would not exist or be part of his life, let alone accept it.

So when they fell in front of him, a giant hole in their chest, his immediate reaction was shock.

This could not be happening... This should NOT be hapenning!

His whole body would be frozen and he would stay in place for at least a few minutes, till your weak attempt to mutter his name brings him back to reality. He immediately rush by their side, cradling their face in his hands while he kept muttering the same words over and over again.

"No, no, no... Don't close your eyes, you are fine! Don't... don't do this! Please!"

(the first and last time he ever said the word "please" to his s/o)

Once the realisation that there was still a battle going on hits him, his rage would erupt like a volcano. He would make sure that whoever is responsible for his s/o being gone would suffer not only painful, but also a gruesome death.

Now like I said above, why did his s/o sacrifice themselves for him and who was on the other side of the attack would be KEY details in shaping Sasuke's future.

I think if it happens way after the war (let's say 10 years+) and his s/o sacrifices themselves for him during mission or during an attack by foreign ninjas, he would most likely retire as a shinobi and seek quiet life somewhere outside Konoha.

(he not only looks like John Wick, but he also follows a similar path... 👀)

He would no doubt contribute their death to him being a ninja and I don't think he can accept the idea of continuing being one, knowing it has costed him so much. He lost EVERYTHING to that lifestyle and now all he had left were memories.

If his s/o, however, died during the war or shortly after, and have the fate to be killed by a Leaf Shinobi there is NO GOING BACK for Sasuke.

Full 100% Villain Mode!

I have no doubt that he will put all his effort, time and energy in avenging his s/o or even worse - try everything to bring them back to life!

Would wage a fifth and even a sixth world war if it means that he will finally find a way to destroy the villages, especially Konoha once and for all.

➤ Itachi

The idea of death never scared Itachi.

He was responsible for countless deaths, including the ones of his own parents, and he himself was clearly seeing the upcoming end of his own life.

Yet the idea of his s/o dying was not one that ever crossed his mind. He has always imagined that they would live many, many years after him, having a beautiful family with someone who can give them everything he could not.

I imagine his s/o would die either during the fight with Sasuke or shortly after.

Just like Sasuke he would be in disbelief and shock at first, but instead of just staying frozen to the place, he would rush toward his s/o and catch them before they hit the ground.

"No... What have you done? You should've stayed away, you should've listened to me!"

Itachi is usually calm and collected, but this may be one of the few times he actually loses control (or maybe even the only one?).

If his s/o was killed before that battle by some other enemy, he would kill his enemy the same way as Sasuke - slow and gruesome, leaving the battlefield a bloody reminder of what an Uchiha is capable of in the name of love.

If Sasuke was the one that took his s/o life, he would not hold back and unleash all his power, despite his weakened state.

He would forget all his initial goals and feelings when it comes to his little brother, and would use every attack in his arsenal with the sole purpose to kill.

However, in that instance, I do think there will be a moment where he will get some clarity before the end of the fight and he is immediately filled with guilt.

If his s/o has never met him, they would still be alive. The fault was not Sasuke's - it was only his.

This would be the key moment when he loses all determination to fight and let's his younger brother take his life.

With his s/o gone, he actually looks forward death. Because maybe someday, somewhere, in another life, he would have a chance to make things right.

That moment when Zabuza died next to Haku... yep, that is Itachi next to his s/o.

He would use the last remaining energy in his body to crawl over to them and slip his hand in their cold one.

(I think I may have made myself accidentally cry with this one... :( )

cc artwork: Karine Vilette

[gojoidyll]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 15 | your confrontation, sukuna's answer

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Also, I miss gojo so much, so take this picture and a new chapter while I miss him in my little corner 🥹

Infinity Masterlist

GOJO SATORU hummed to himself as he entered the library that same night.

“Gojo?! The Gojo in my library?!”

He turned to look at the librarian sitting behind her desk, her eyes were wide with surprise, but her lips were quick to form a big smile when she got up to rush over to him, “can I get a picture with you?”

“Sure! I don’t see why not.”

She ended up giggling to herself as she pulled out her phone and leaned into him, her arm brushing his side and everything. It took everything in him to not put-up infinity. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t imagine the librarian as y/n.

Once the picture was snapped, Gojo forced his usual easygoing grin when the librarian turned to look at him again, her eyes practically sparkling at this point, “so, what brings you here? Are you looking for something?”

“Nah, I’m just browsing.”

“Ok! Uhm- please let me know if you need anything, alright?”

He nodded and gave a gentle wave to the woman before turning and going straight to where he believed the book was. However, as he traveled through the halls, he felt two familiar cursed energies. It had his stomach turning as he rounded the corner.

“And that’s how you complete this problem, simple enough, right, Itadori?”

Itadori nodded vigorously, his smile bright as he grinned at y/n, “it is! Thank you, sensei!”

She smiled too, “though, she was momentarily distracted when she noticed Gojo. Itadori, noticing how she was distracted, looked over to where he was looking too.

“Oh! Gojo-sensei! When did you get here?”

“Just now,” he said smoothly as he butted into the conversation easily, “what brings you two here so late at night?”

Y/n spoke up first, “Itadori was having trouble with some of the homework you assigned, so I offered to help him.”

“That so? Well, Yuji, if you were having so much trouble, I would have made it easier for you.”

“Really?!”

Y/n shook her head and lightly swatted at Gojo’s arm when he got close enough to them at the table, “you can’t make it easier Gojo, how would he learn?”

“And how do you expect him to learn if you’re helping him all the time,” Gojo fired back.

Y/n frowned at him, her hands resting on her hips as she glared, “making homework easier doesn’t teach them anything, but helping them learn now will help them be able to do it on their own in the future.”

Gojo loved how cute she got when she got all pouty like this. He just wanted to squish her cheeks so bad-

Which is exactly what he did.

“H- hey!”

Gojo let his big, soft palms encase her cheeks as he squished them together, causing her lips to pucker up. Her glare was still there, but she definitely looked non-threatening from this angle.

“Gojo-sensei! Stop bullying L/n-sensei!”

Gojo ‘s face went blank when Itadori forced his hands away from Y/n’s face, and for a moment he saw Sukuna’s eye open before closing just as quickly. Gojo sneered.

“Got something to say Sukuna?”

The curse never hesitated to rise to a challenge, especially from Gojo.

“She already read through the book. She finished it by the time this brat found her.”

Gojo lips tightened into a straight line as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Y/n, all the while, gave Sukuna a questioning look, “the book from before?”

She turned towards Gojo, “I didn’t know you wanted to read it to. Here, let me go get-“

Gojo shook his head, “that’s alright, I guess I was just curious what was in it, but… not anymore,” he said with a shrug. Gojo glanced at Sukuna before grinning and looking back at y/n, “anyway, since I am here now, would you like me to walk you home?”

He waited for her response, watched as he thought for a moment. Hesitation clear in her eyes, “actually, I have to look into one more thing, but I would like it if you were to ask me again tomorrow?”

“Sure! Don’t stay up too late, y/n. I know how much of a hard worker you tend to be,” Gojo joked as he bid both y/n and Itadori a goodnight before taking his leave. The librarian at the front not even being able to say goodbye as he left in a hurry. (He was pissed.)

And when he was gone, y/n had turned to Itadori, her hands playing with each other as she looked him in the eye, “Itadori?”

“Yes, l/n-sensei?”

“Can you bring Sukuna out? I want to talk to him.”

Itadori quirked an eyebrow, “…are you sure?”

She nodded, “don’t worry! I can handle myself, and I don’t want to fight him either, I just want to ask him about something is all.”

“How long do you need?”

“I…a minute will be enough.”

Itadori nodded, he was still unsure though. If you wanted to talk to Sukuna wouldn’t it have been easier to ask while Gojo-sensei was still here? He shook his head at the thought and closed his eyes. Time to come out, Sukuna.

Opening his, or the brat’s eyes, Sukuna raised his hands and slicked his hair back, a smirk soon forming and resting on his lips as he looked at y/n.

“It’s been so long, y/n.”

“So, it’s true then?”

Sukuna tilted his head to the side, “what is?”

She played with the sleeves of her shirt, “past lives, the book I was reading when Itadori came to ask for my help. Is it true that I’ve lived a past life?”

Sukuna chuckled, she didn’t like how sinister it sounded, “a past life,” Sukuna mused, “try multiple.”

She frowned, “what do you mean?”

“You have dreams don’t you? Of a white haired man with the same face, but a different name? Dreams where you’ve been poor or living with the rich?”

“How many lives have I lived then? And…have I…ever met you in any of them?”

Ignoring that first question, Sukuna took a step towards her, and she took a step back, “met me? You did far more than just meeting me.”

She felt her back hit the bookcase and Sukuna stopped his advance forward. He was an armlength away.

“What was I to you?”

Sukuna stood up straighter, his held slightly tilted back as if he was looking down at her, “why don’t you remember that yourself and come back to me with the answer.”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand. And before she could question any further, Itadori took back control, “did he do anything? Are you ok, sensei?”

She steadied her hammering heart, “I’m alright. Thank you for bringing him out, Itadori.”

“Sure! Anytime! Though, can Gojo-sensei be here next time? I don’t like Sukuna being out and around you?”

“What do you mean?”

Itadori crossed his arms and closed his eyes in thought, “don’t know, I just get this uneasy feeling everytime he looks at you. It’s weird.”

She smiled, “thank you for your concern, Itadori,” she said as she went to the desk and picked up his homework, “now, why don’t you go back to your room and get some rest. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Ok! See ya tomorrow, sensei!”

She waved goodbye to him as he left the library, and when she was finally alone, she collapsed in one of the chairs.

“Just who am I, anyway?”

Infinity taglist | note, some were not tagged because it says "blog not found"

@whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix @zeniiis @rin1802 @mrowwww @kenstarsworld @bubera974 @littleplantofdeath @fangirl-332 @thaliadoesthings @hellsingalucard18 @tamaki-simp @obsessedwithfanfiction @babygivertyrant @carvelcakes @itzmeme @nervouschocolatecat @aspiring-bookworm @babyorphanstastegood @lilacskyly @ilovethegold @mythicalsongbird

[midnightlizard]

Delusional

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Summary: Certain rumors start to spread all over the city

A/N: something short and old while I finish another fic

Warnings: none

Word count: 727

-

-

One could say that the avengers were some sort of celebrities, with the massive parties Tony threw to gain sponsors and the avenger's compound being the tallest building in New York.

So, when rumors about them started, they never took long to spread all over the city. Especially the romantic ones.

The current one was that the golden boy, captain America, was in a relationship with the black widow. How or why did people get this idea? It's a mystery.

Truth is, you were the one dating Natasha, but you mutually decided that it was safer not telling the whole world, and funnier keeping it a secret to your teammates, seeing how long it takes them to figure it out. You two have been together for almost seven months now, and only Clint and Wanda seemed to catch up, fairly quickly too, noticing small changes in their best friends.

- - - -

"honestly this rumor is so stupid, how can people think Cap and Nat are a couple?"

Pietro rhetorically asked, breaking the silence from the spot he was sitting on the couch, in between you and Wanda. Making you both look at him.

The witch stopped her reading to lean against her brother and look at his phone, a fan 'theory' on display.

She returned to her position to ask with curious eyes directed at him, and a teasing smile just for you. "you don't see them together?"

He shook his head. "nah, they're just so, different" he stopped for a second, eyes not moving form the screen. "I honestly don't see anyone being in a relationship with Natasha...maybe except for one person."

At this last sentence you perked up, narrowing your eyebrows. Did he find out but didn't tell you? "and who is this person?"

The blonde raised his head to look at you with a cheeky smile, while winking at you. "well me, of course."

What he got in response was your dumbfounded silence and Wanda's laugh.

"what? Why are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry, it's just" she waved her hand around dismissively, her laugh only increasing once you rolled your eyes. "it's just, you're the last person I imagine her to like" she quickly came up with an excuse.

"and why is that? I am awesome in many ways, tell her Y/N" he started, turning to look at you "tell my blind sister how much of a catch am I"

"oh...oh yea, sure, you are a catch, a pretty good one" it was so hard trying to keep a straight face, but thankfully he didn't notice.

"I'm sure everyone will be lucky to have you, and maybe Natasha will realize that quickly." Wanda started laughing at the face you made but once again, Pietro did not notice.

"what will I realize?" said woman stepped into the room, nearing the couch. the voice instantly made you smile, but it made the man beside you freeze in his place.

"nothing!" he exclaimed, clearly embarrassed, speeding out of the room.

"why were you talking about me?" the redhead changed her question once she sat next to you, slightly leaning on your side, making you wrap your arm around her shoulder.

Knowing you wouldn't answer, Wanda did it for you. "Pietro may have mentioned how much of boyfriend material he was, and how much of a boyfriend material he was...for you" she finished with a teasing smile.

Tha assassin raised her eyebrows "that is the thing I will realize?" she turned her head to you, wanting to see your reaction "he is a good catch, to be honest"

"you listened to the whole conversation?"

Wanda interrupted, noticing how Natasha used the same words used before.

"I wasn't spying, but I have a good hearing, and he talks loudly so-" she shrugged. she returned to look at you with mischief clear in her eyes, enjoying your slightly annoyed face.

"Do you think Pietro and me would make a great couple? Or me and cap? yea I see it happening, we also kissed on a mission. did you know we kissed on a mission, I don't think I ever told you, or maybe they were two?" The read head continued her rant until you groaned loudly, putting your head on her shoulder.

"stupid rumors" the sound came out muffled, but was still heard by the other two women, causing them to laugh.

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

MCU Masterlist - General Masterlist