#quietly and somberly

[angeart]

You say share AUs with you like that wouldn't be slightly intimidating xD

But :x AU where the Watchers steal Grian's voice (dunno why, haven't gotten that far), no talking no laughter no sound at all, and Grian acts like it's fine. It is! They have communicators! He can still talk to the hermits while X and Doc try and figure it out! Honestly he's close enough with some that facial expressions and gestures are enough to have a whole conversation sometimes. And bonus, he doesn't have to hold back his giggles when setting up a prank, Scar literally can't hear him laughing as he's tunneling under the base. .... but being in big groups is hard, he can't quip like he used to, by the time he's got a line halfway typed out the conversation moved on and the joke dies on his keyboard. (No hermit is excluding him on purpose!! Just, that's how talking flows and typing can't always keep up!) Can't hear him laugh but... can't hear him cry either.

I have nothing written, I haven't written in a loooong time, this just lives in my head. :x

-🎀

noo don't be intimidated. i'm harmless. i'm just a silly dummy. i love talking about aus and things. c'mere and share freely as much as you want! <3

OHHH mute grian! it's interesting that it also translates to any other noises. he can't cry! he can't laugh! (gathering this angst lovingly in my arms)

he can sob and nobody will hear it. he can hide and nobody will be any wiser. he— you know, he can't call for help, or call attention to himself, or even greet his friends. he can't call out scar's name, he can't say hi or bye to anyone. he needs eyes on him, or time to type and people's attention on the chat, and he doesn't always get those things.

(scar in particular forgets to check the chat, even when he's with grian. he sees him type, he just. he's a bit silly.) (grian has to make signs and meticulously place them and type on them to get scar to see any of his words, and even that has only like 50% chance of success.)

(he misses talking to scar.)

imagine cub gives him a bunch of custom horns. he means well. he tried to make some useful ones. but none of them feel like grian, or match quite what he wants to say.

his steps are still audible, but if he can't say a person's name or a greeting, he keeps accidentally sneaking up on people. he doesn't know how to alert them without it being absolutely ridiculous. they startle. mumbo especially lets out a loose comment directly after a scare, about how grian can't do that.

he doesn't mean it like that.

but maybe grian starts approaching hermits less.

[helaintoloki]

hello, I would like to make a request, a story based on the last episode of yours, Five talking to another Five in the final conversation and they talk about his wife and Canon Five doesn't have one, thanks if you want

a/n: i absolutely loved writing this ty for sending this in ! <3

warnings: language, slight angst, spoilers

summary: Five discovers his missing piece

When Five stumbled into Max’s and came across an entire diner full of alternate versions of himself, about a million different questions raced through his mind. However, the most pressing issue he found himself wanting to address was the context behind the lovingly placed portrait of a woman on the wall.

“Who’s the girl?” He asks his counterpart, his eyes remaining glued to the painting. The woman’s smile was gentle, her eyes kind, and her face the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He almost felt drawn to it in a way, as if there was some type of magnetic pull gravitating his focus to her and only her. It was like seeing a ghost or a familiar face from a dream that you���re not quite able to place.

“Don’t you recognize her?” The other Five retorts perplexed, confusion clearly etched on his features. “That’s y/n.”

“Can’t say I’m familiar,” the Boy confesses with an apologetic sigh as he finally pulls his attention away from the painting and sets it back to the Five in front of him.

“No wonder you’re such a mess,” server Five notes with a diverted smile as he tops off their coffee. Calling over his shoulder, he announces to all Fives, “The poor bastard doesn’t have a y/n.”

Murmurs of surprise and astonished laughter fill the cafe at the news, prompting Five’s face to heat in embarrassment at being the butt of a joke he has no grasp of. What do these Fives know that he doesn’t?

“Could you please be so kind as to fill me in on who this y/n is,” he requests agitatedly through gritted teeth. Reaching into his pocket, his counterpart pulls out a weathered photograph and slides it across the table for Five to see.

“Y/n is the missing piece that completes every Five. We all meet her in different ways at different points of our lives, but every time she manages to anchor us back down to earth. Y/n is the glue that holds us together when everything goes to shit. She believes in us, sees the humanity in us despite the horrors we’ve seen and the atrocities we’ve committed. She gives us unconditional love even when we think we don’t need it, when we think it couldn’t possibly exist.”

As Fives look down at the photo before him, he sees himself- or rather, another version of himself- enveloping y/n in his arms. They stand in front of a beautiful home with a picket white fence and a garden full of flowers smiling with pure bliss. It’s clear that the woman loved this version of him by the adoring look in her eyes, and it’s even clearer that she meant everything to the Five sitting across from him.

“She means something different to each of us, but I was one of the Five’s lucky enough to make her my wife,” his companion notes with an evocative smile. “That photo was taken on our honeymoon.

“Where is she now?” Five asks somberly after handing back the photograph.

“Dead,” he replies quietly, releasing a mournful sigh as he sinks back into the booth. “Lost her in an accident while I was trying to stop the apocalypse for a third time. That’s when I decided it was time to hang in the towel.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“We had a good run together, I wouldn’t change any of it,” the replica admits with a reminiscent smile. He takes another look at the photo, committing it to memory before handing it back to Five. “I think you need this more than I do. You may not have had the chance to know your y/n, but judging by the look on your face when you spotted the portrait I have a good feeling you would have loved her just the same.”

Gingerly taking the photograph back, Five stops to admire her gentle features and adoring smile before tucking it safely into the pocket of his suit. “Thank you.”

“You know what you have to do to fix the timelines,” the other Five firmly instructs him. “Just promise me you’ll do by right by my wife. She deserves a safe timeline to live in, one where she can grow old and be happy.”

Rising from his seat at the booth, Five takes one last longing look at the portrait on the wall before returning his gaze to the boy in front of him.

“You have my word.”

[giuliettagaltieri]

His Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat

Warning: Angst, cursing

Word Count: 4532

Part 1 • Part 2

You aren’t exactly certain how you’d feel with Rafe walking out on you like that. 

Partly, you were glad that you somehow managed to face him without breaking but the way his eyes bore on you, it was just awful, like you were physically causing him pain.

And perhaps you were. 

JJ saw how your mood has switched after you got your drinks.  Your eyes were all blank and you were spacing out.  He made the decision for you both to head back and meet with your other friends. 

You are sitting with your girlfriends, and JJ decided to join you for the rest of the night.  He was entertaining everybody with his overly exaggerated wild stories, trying to get you to focus on him, but your eyes are wandering on a certain someone.

Rafe was gulping down beer, cup after cup.  It was too much, even for him.

You understand he’s got an extremely high alcohol tolerance but this is just sad to look at.  His face was all red and his shirt was clinging to his back, soaked with sweat.

“You know, I really thought I could finally catch your attention with Cameron all gone.”  JJ suddenly leans on the sofa next to you.  You sigh, giving a quick smile without looking at him.  “But I guess it was stupid of me to swoop in when you are literally in love with him.”

Pursing your lips together, you look away from Rafe to glance at the man beside you.  JJ was looking sullen but a trace of smirk is still on his lips, never really looking utterly hopeless.  Sometimes you wonder how he was able to master such a carefree façade. 

“I really had fun hanging out with you.”  You say sadly.  “You’re a good friend.”

He scrunches his face.  “Good friend.  Yeah.”

“JJ, come on.”  You laugh at his blatant display of dislike at being called a “friend” but he breaks into a smile.  “I really enjoyed being with you.  It’s just I don’t…It’s too soon and Rafe-”

“I know.”  He cuts you off, his eyes wandering to the man.  “He looks like shit.”  He mutters and you look over to see just in time Rafe doubling over, looking like he is seconds away from ruining the carpet.

Your back immediately leaves the sofa and you sit up straighter, ready to move whenever Rafe needs you.

“Y/N, he’s not a baby.  Let him take care of himself.”  JJ chuckles, making you bite your lip, still anxiously watching. 

Rafe looks like he’s about to collapse, he was clutching his head and grimacing in pain.  Soon enough, he was shoving people away and heading to the bathroom.

“I don’t know, J.  I haven’t seen him that drunk since…”  You squint at Rafe’ direction in the dark, trying to find a memory to match.  “I haven’t seen him that drunk.”

JJ’s brows slowly rise.  “Really?  Not even when his father found out he did drugs?”

You shake your head.  “No, not even then.”  You slowly rise from the couch and JJ lets you go. 

“Well, I suppose he can’t be left alone, can he?”  JJ smiles somberly and you return it apologetically, still thankful that he’s supporting you right now.

Your girlfriends however were not so keen on the idea.

“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Ladies.”  JJ starts, throwing you a wink.  “Have I ever told you about that time we fought actual gators?”

You take your time, heading to the bathroom.  Your usual caregiver spirit when Rafe is in need has been dampened and you’re not sure she’s making a recovery soon.

The music gets muffled the deeper you go into the dark hallway.  The entire house is still buzzing from the music of course but you no longer feel like the speaker’s up your eardrums.  And with every step you take, the more you hear.  You are careful where you step, making sure your feet don’t step on any creaky floorboards.

You stand there, face to face with the bathroom door, hearing Rafe being absolutely wasted.  And is he crying?  You bite on your knuckle, brows meeting just a little as you try to listen.

Quietly, you twist the knob open.  He was retching, big arms hugging the tiny toilet, his head almost all the way in.  You stand there, watching his shoulders shake.  His sobs sounded almost hysterical, ripping from his throat.

What has happened to you, Rafe?

“Rafe?”  You gently call his name and he turns to you.  His hand absentmindedly tried to flush the contents of the toilet, missing it multiple times.  You watch him sag, his entire body sitting on his ankles as he looks up to you helplessly.

“Hey.”  He drawls.  “Wha... wha' are you doin' here?”  He asks casually in a coarse voice he got after barfing his guts out.  His heavy-lidded eyes look up at you, watching you hesitantly walk towards him.  “Shouldn’t be here.”  He shakes his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Rafe.”  You say his name so gently, he closes his eyes.  He’d pay just to hear you say his name again and again.  “Are you alright?”  You ask and he looks up at you dumbly, mouth slightly parted before nodding slowly.

“Yes.”

You fish out your own handkerchief and run the tap over it, just enough to dampen the fabric.  “You don’t look like you’re alright.”  You smile, a hint of teasing on your voice and he scoffs.

“Why ask when you don’…don’t believe me anyway?”  He gestured stupidly with his hand and he stills when you grab the said hand.  He looks up at you as you wipe the sick off his arm.

“You drank too much.”  You mumble as you start to step closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe at the corner of his lips.

“No, shit.”  He wanted to say but the words are stuck on his throat as he just stared at you, taking care of him, touching him, just looking at him again.  He drops his hands and his limp fingers rest on the cold bathroom floor.  He is feeling too much, how your ankles brush on his thighs, the warmth of your fingers, and the soft dampness of the fabric gliding on his chin.

Have you always been like this to him?

Rafe wonders if he just sat still while you tended to him before, would he have this sight of you all those times.  Was he so stupid he missed all opportunities to look at you like this?

“Come back.”

You pause.  “What?”

He shakes his head before looking at the pinstriped polo you are wearing.  His brows creased, teeth clenching in annoyance as he pinched the fabric.  “This…this is mine.  You’re wearin’ MY clothes while you’re kissin’ other guys!”  He fumes, hands clumsily tugging at your clothes that your knees almost buckle, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder so as to not fall.  “That’s fucking un…unacceptable!  You like ME!  You can’t go ‘round kissin’ other guys when y’ like me!”  He suddenly yells and your eye twitches.

Your finger jabs at his chest.  “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s glassy eyes widen as his breath gets caught in his throat.  Did you just…did you just curse at him?

“Fuck you, Rafe!”  You repeat in annoyance.  Blood boiling within seconds as you angrily run a hand on your hair, scoffing at the sheer audacity of this man to say those things to you. 

You glare at him again and he actually flinches.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  You have no right to decide for me.”  You angrily strip off the pinstriped polo, his head following your wild motion before you crumple it in a ball.  “This is your polo?”  You raise it and he nods hesitantly, still in shock at your outburst.  “Here!”  You throw it at his face and you watch it cover his head, his hands are sluggish as he slowly pulls it off. 

You’re heaving in frustration both hands on your hips as you look at his crestfallen face, bunching the fabric in his large hands.

“Then I can go kiss other guys now, huh?”  You say out of anger and you watch his shoulders sag as he brings his hands to the floor again, fingers twisting the fabric.

He looked absolutely wrecked and your heart starts to feel heavy again.  You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him stare at the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to kiss other guys?  You made it clear that you don’t like me.”  His head shoots up when you say that.  “I’m not waiting for you forever.”

Rafe presses the heel of his palms against his eyes before he looks at you in agony, face all red, his bottom lip jutting out just the slightest.

“Y/N, please.”  He moves to you, still on his knees as he loosely wraps an arm around your thighs.  You looked up at the ceiling when he stared up to you desperately.  “’m sorry, please.  Don’t leave me ‘gain, please.”

You attempt to push him off but he hugs your thighs tighter, his head pressing on your stomach.  “Rafe, let go!”

“No!”  He sobbed, his shoulders shaking.  “You’re mine!  You like me! Not sharing you with that…that fucking pogue-”

“Rafe!”

He flinches again but he doesn’t respond, only hugging you impossibly tight.

“You have to let me go.”  You say more calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He shakes his head against your stomach.  You lean further against the wall, trusting it to hold you up as you surrender, sighing out your frustration as you rub his back, letting him cry on your stomach.

Perhaps JJ was wrong, about Rafe not being a baby.  You truly feel like you are calming down an overgrown toddler.  A toddler that fed on steroids instead of milk.  His arms are tightly wrapped around you, just allowing you to breathe and aside from that, you can’t do anything else.  Your free hand that didn’t get caught in his trapping hold, tried to soothe him, trying to tell him that you’re there, with him.

You run your fingers through his buzzed hair, feeling the heat and sweat cling on your fingers.

“You’re a mess.”  You mumble, a small smile playing on your lips when his shoulders eventually start to stop shaking.  “You got snot all over my belly, ugh.”

Rafe loosens his arms around you and wipes his nose, his eyes glaring at you for a moment.  You smile at him smugly as he gathers himself.  He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, eyes kept on the polo that he crumpled on his hand like a ball.

“Wanna wash your face?”  You giggle.

He glares at you again but actually does what you told him to and takes the mouthwash you casually hands him.  You nudge him with your shoulder to get him to scoot over so you can wash your handkerchief.  Rafe watches your hands get under the faucet, just calmly watching the water glide over your skin, delicate fingers wringing the fabric that you so gently wiped on his face a while ago.

“’m sorry.”  He slurred as he watched you tidying up.  “Was so stupid.  Sayin’ things that I don’t mean.”  He continues, eyes starting to get desperate as you just rifle through your bag, not even looking at him.  “Sorry for causing you trouble all the time.”  He follows you like a puppy when you move past him to head to the door.  “Please, don’t leave me again.”

You grip the doorknob tightly before it loosens in defeat.  Rafe’s eyes brighten up when you turn to look at him.

“Why do you boys suddenly become the most honest people when you’re drunk?”  You ask exasperatedly, also remembering JJ’s confession on the porch.  “But then again, you could just be spouting nonsense.”  You open the door this time but he puts a hand against it to close it again.

“I’m not.  Please!”  Rafe almost begs, his entire frame caging you against the door, his respect for personal space long forgotten as there’s nothing else in his head but to try and get you to understand, to believe.  His tongue is heavy and his head is murky due to intoxication, which made him all the more frustrated.

You press your lips together, startled eyes boring into him.  You have known that Rafe has an extreme and overwhelming side to him, his entire presence just smothering you in the best ways you can imagine.  But with you trying to hold on to the fragile thread of anger and stability, you decide to push him by his chest.  “Why don’t we uh…grab coffee?  Let you sober up?”

He runs a hand on his face, it’s becoming a habit of his when he’s around you.  “Fine.  But don’t disregard everything I said just because I’m ‘drunk’.  Please.”  He said the last word with emphasis, his eyes offering no bargaining, prompting you to nod.

“Alright.”

Rafe looks into your eyes for a couple more seconds, making you understand that he is not willing to accept a half-assed response and you need to take him seriously.  He slowly backs up, hands shoving into his pockets while you tongue your cheek, hesitantly opening the door for the both of you.

The blasting music thrums in your ear the deeper you get into the party, maneuvering your way in the sea of hormonal teens.  A hand wraps on your wrist and you stop to look who it was.

It was JJ, heaving.  He probably ran the moment he saw you.  “Hold on, you’re leaving?” 

Rafe was quick to pull your hand away from JJ’s hold, immediately squaring up.  His chin was titled in a challenge as he eyed the flowers and bows decorating the band-aid on JJ’s chin.

“Rafe, please.”  You beg, arms circling on his bicep to stop him from doing anything to JJ, who didn’t look the least bit afraid.  In fact, he was looking at Rafe in pure entertainment.  “JJ, I’m sorry.  I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“No, you won’t!”  Rafe seethes but you only roll your eyes at him. 

Kissing his teeth, JJ nods.  “Yeah, sure.  Let me know if you need anything.”  He eyes Rafe one more time and smiles at you in his usual relaxed manner.  “I’ll tell your friends you left early.”

When you finally made it out of the crammed up beach house, you closed your eyes at the nipping sea breeze.  You can’t believe you’re leaving the party with the person you have been trying to avoid for weeks.

“Keys.”  You mutter and Rafe hastily digs through his pocket, his hooded eyes blinking as he tries to locate his keys.

Your deadpanned eyes watch him for a few more seconds before he finally passes it to you, along with the pinstriped polo, which you hesitantly take.

He felt weird, having to take the passenger seat, especially when it’s you with him.  Rafe gets in the car, his eyes on you the entire time you drive.  You’re not exactly acknowledging his presence in the car with you, despite his entire body twisted to face you, his head that is leaning back on the chair never turned to any direction but yours.  He didn’t even know you arrived until you were taking off your seatbelt.

Rafe follows you quickly, nearly tripping on his way out.  But he plays it cool, pulling his shirt down when it rode up.  He meets your eyes briefly in embarrassment.  This entire experience is ruining alcohol for him.

Even thinking about the mess he made in the bathroom, with you witnessing, made him want to smash every bottle that will ever grace his eyes again.  That shit’s evil.  Rafe blinks at the brightly lit convenience store, not yet able to process the colors of the different flavors of ramen and chips.  He closes his eyes tightly, nearly driven to overstimulation and seeks out a chair, collapsing on it as he attempts to massage away the bounding pulse on his temple.

He feels you place a hand on his shoulder and the scent of coffee fills his lungs.  Rafe looks at you briefly and the swirling liquid placed in front of him.  You sat yourself on the chair opposite his and your glossed lips wrap on a straw, sipping on your tall cup of slushie.

After muttering a quick thanks, Rafe picks up the coffee, tentatively blowing on it and watching the steam blow off in your direction before taking a sip.

Your cheeks heat up at the groan he lets out when he takes more sips.  His shoulders are slightly hunched and you quietly admire his physique as you continuously slurp, watching his intoxication being masked by caffeine with every gulp he takes. 

Realizing that you’re staring, your eyes slowly shift outside the glass, cheeks all warmed up.  Rafe sets down his coffee and just takes his time to look at you.  He does not know if it’s still the lingering effects of alcohol in his blood or the overly bright lighting in this rundown convenience store, but you look like you’re glowing.

“Y/N.”  He attempts to speak but you shake your head.

“Give it time, please. Coffee doesn’t magically cure intoxication, you know.”  You smile softly to reassure him.

Rafe smiles back before taking another sip.  He watches you turn to the road outside again.  There you were, in front of him again after weeks of not seeing each other, just sipping on sugar and ice as you swung your feet that were clad in babydoll heels, with pretty straps that he always found cute and alluring.  Despite the cozy choice of clothing, you never go without a statement piece.  

He steals another glance at your clothes, along with the pinstriped polo you decided to wear again.  He takes another sip of coffee.  “It looks better on you.”

You look down on your clothes, lips pressing together before giving him a curt smile.  “…Thanks.”

“Sure.”  He nods.  Both of you look at each other for a while, not quite certain what to do with the still tense atmosphere before simultaneously looking away, like a couple for teenager going on a first date, it’s fucking ridiculous.

Time passed with not a single word being uttered between you.  Rafe watches how the coffee stained a line on the cup every time he takes a sip, the liquid now cooled, and your slushie cup was starting to sweat and leave trails of water everytime you move it.  His eyes were starting to focus again and once he was confident in being able to speak without slurring, he cleared his throat to garner your attention.

“Listen.”  He begins but the words lodge themselves in his throat the moment your curious eyes flit to him, perhaps this was a bad idea.  He never knew what to say.  Rafe doesn’t know if he can last one conversation without offending you somehow.  “I know I hurt you.  And I know it wasn’t just that time at the party.”  He presses a knuckle on his lips to gather his thoughts.  “I always take you for granted, when all you ever did was take care of me.”

You cross your arms in an attempt to make yourself feel protected as you lean back, eyes avoiding him.

“Your kindness and efforts.  Your…feelings.  They were so easy to overlook when you gave them to me every single day without fail.”  He tries to reach out to you but stops midway and drops his hands on the table.  “I never knew what I had until you decided to take everything away.”

Your eyes sharpen and he winces at his careless mistake.

“I mean, until I finally succeeded in pushing you away.”  He reworded his sentence, making sure to pin the blame on himself instead of you.  He hated how hurt he made you feel.  He felt like shit.  He never cared when people called him an asshole or a psycho, but after what he did to you, he felt like every label given to him was all real, and this time, it hurt.

He had girls before, and all the wanting he can associate with them is the feeling of fleeting euphoria when they’re under him, that is all.  Rafe never missed anyone, or anything about anyone.  Until you came along.

Rafe found himself in the middle of the night, missing you calling him by his name.  He missed your smile and scent.  His cheeks suddenly go wild red when he remembers the mess he made out of himself when he got your shirt, one you accidentally left in his room, up his nose during those nights when the longing just beats him up.

“I regret everything I said and done.”  He says, trying to get back on track to apologizing.  “And if you want to be my…friend again…”  He takes a deep sigh.  “I’ll do better.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes shyly meeting his, and you uncross your arms slowly.

“You promise?”

Rafe nods quickly, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hand darts out to hold yours.  “Yes, I promise!  Just don’t shut me out again.”

Gently, you shift your hand to wrap around his and he gladly holds yours back securely.

“I’ll try to be less…controlling too.”  You look away.  “I won’t bother you as much and I won’t cling to you in parties or wherever-”

“I thought we’re okay already?”  Rafe was dumbfounded.

“We are.”  You say, equal confusion in your eyes.

“Then why are you still staying away from me after this?”  He asks in frustration.

Your lips part, trying to form words but his statement just muddles everything up.

“I…I just didn’t want you to get fed up again.”  You say quietly and he grabs both your hands this time, pulling them to his chest.

“Baby, I don’t care, just come back to me, alright?”  He says quickly, you don’t think he realized what he called you just now.  “I don’t care if you call me six times a day to argue that raisins do not belong in bread or if you hold my hand in every party we go to.”

The heat in your cheeks slowly travels to your neck.  “Rafe.”

“You can have me drive you around the island when you get hungry at three in the morning.”  He beams in a surge of confidence and affection.  “I’ll let you fix my clothes as it pleases you so much, slap as many hello kitty bandaids on my face as you want.”  He laughs, making you smile too.  “I-I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, just please let’s go back to how we were before, yeah?”  He presses a kiss on your knuckles.  “I don’t want to hear any of this plan you have.  I just want you with me again.”

At this point, there really is nothing you can say and you can only nod.  You are glad that Rafe is satisfied with that response.

After a few more minutes of you catching your breath in silence, you decide to call it a night.  Rafe, now sobered up, decided to drive, and let you enjoy the passenger seat like you always do.

Despite the conversation you had in the convenience store, both of you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re forgetting something.  Like there is something you are purposefully holding back from each other, and it visibly makes you antsy, Rafe more than you.

He taps his finger on the wheel, tugging at the seatbelt every now and then as you continuously shift your eyes from the road and back to the car interior.

When he finally pulls over in front of your gate, neither of you want to move, still waiting for that something to happen.  But as another moment passes, you realize that perhaps it’s time to leave it here for now, to take things slowly, see where it takes you.  But he isn’t sure if he wants that, to see you slip away again, like the finest sand between his fingers.

“Uhm…thanks for the ride.”  You make a move to open the door but Rafe was quick to lock it, making your brows meet in a soft frown.  “Rafe-”

He cuts you off by clumsily pulling his seatbelt off, cupping both your cheeks to smash his lips on yours.  It wasn’t careful nor romantic, just pure unadulterated need and impulse.  You can feel the tremble in each other’s lips, the fear that one of you might pull away, the fear of what comes next, the fear of not having the other’s love returned in the same intensity.

But as your breath mixes, your tears soaking each other’s cheeks, your body slowly melts into each other’s arms.  He was desperate, biting and sucking your lips, everything in his kiss wanted to possess you, making your chest tighten in having everything you ever desired at this moment.

Rafe pulls away abruptly, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips when he looks deep into your eyes.  “Tell me you still love me.”  He begs while he cradles your face.

“Rafe.”  You push him away gently but he presses his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking. 

“Tell me, please.”  He squeezed his eyes, not knowing what response he would be receiving.  He knows he’d die if you reject him, with his soul open and bared to you in its most vulnerable form.

His eyes slowly open when he feels a soft caress on his arm and you’re smiling at him with your tears cascading down your face.

“I love you.”

It felt like Rafe had winter melting in the palm of his hand, giving birth to spring.  Whatever doubt and fear is replaced with nothing else but sweet sweet warmth.  He is being shrouded with undeniable assurance that made him feel invulnerable yet ironically, impossibly vulnerable.  He had nothing moments ago, and suddenly he got a taste of everything, all at once.  He has you.  Just as you have him.

He laughs and kisses you breathlessly.  “God, Y/N, I love you.  I love you, I love you.”  He litters your face with wet kisses, making you laugh, before he kisses your lips once more, his teeth nibbling on your kiss-swollen lip.  “Mmmh, did you get a new lip balm?”

You gently pry his hands from your face as you continue to laugh.  He meets your eyes with sheer adoration, head still trying to wrap around the fact that you are his girl.  His girl.  His girl.

God, he’d gladly die if you told him to, just to prove his dedication. 

“I love you.”  He whispers gently, intimately, vulnerably.

And with equal passion, you reply, “I love you too.”

Rafe has never felt this kind of happiness in his life, not once.  You are his natural high, the ecstasy he’s been chasing.  And now that he has you in his arms, he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you there with him.

Not Your Girl • Not Her Man

[viennakarma]

The Lucky One

Part 1 (of 2) | Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: Formula One had been your dream and your goal ever since you were a kid, and you did all you had to in order to achieve it. Between ups and downs, Sebastian becomes a steady presence despite being your complicated frenemy relationship. Until everything comes crashing down. Formula One gives, but Formula One takes.

Word count: 6.5k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, reader is mirrorball coded, coming of age, cursing, romance, both are assholes, smut, +18, complicated feelings, rivals to lovers, crash, major injury, medical innacuracies, bittersweet ending, not beta read

Relationship: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Note: This is fully inspired by the song, and throughout my writing process I realized it also fits mirrorball. This one may require some tissues (especially in part 2). Everything is fictional and I mean no disrespect to Sebastian or his family (they don't exist in this story). Let me know in the comments if you wanna be tagged for part 2. Not proofread. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

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You knew from an early age that charisma could conquer the world, it was a relatively easy taught lesson back in your early karting days. Mum sat you down one day in karting, showing two other kids around. One sitting alone, quietly twinkling with his go-kart, you knew him, Jamie-something, one of the best kids in karting, and you always had fun battles with him, but he was a bit of an odd one out. The other kid mum pointed at was Nick, loud, funny and popular… not that good at karting but a really smart talker. And it showed as he was surrounded by adults and other kids, every bit of attention on him.

You were around 11 when your mum pointed out the difference between the two kids.

“What is different about them, darling?” Mum asked you.

“Jamie is alone… And Nick is surrounded by people.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, Mama…” You said, scratching your brain to try and reply.

“Jamie is not very good with people, right? He’s a bit of an introvert…” Your mum said, quite somberly, “And Nick, he’s charismatic, see how he manages to grab everyone's attention?” As you nodded, your mum kept talking, “There are greater chances of Nick making far in motorsports, rather than Jamie.”

“But it’s not fair! Jamie is much better…”

“I know, darling… But you’ll see that motorsports is not fair at all. And unfortunately, if you really want to go far in this career, you’ll have to do everything they want and more. Being a good driver won’t be enough.”

“Why not, mama?” You asked, pouting.

“Because everybody loves pretty and everybody loves cool.”

-

Over the next few years of your teens, you learned to adapt, not only in karting, then single seaters, then Formula categories, not only as a driver, but as a person. You were fun, charming, and after a few years, it came to you easily. Laugh at his joke, that’s a sponsor. Smile at the journalists and they’ll write you as the future of motorsport. Be funny, but not too funny to the point they won’t take you seriously. Smile, but not too much so they don’t think you’re flirting. Be smart about your sport, but not too smart so they won’t feel emasculated. Take good care of your career and your every step, but don’t let them know so they won’t call you manipulative. Never be angry, never lash out, never be curt.

Nobody ever thought about you as a carefully crafted person, because even that was planned out. No one called you fake. They always thought you were that person: funny, smart and pretty like a 60’s queen.

You made it to Formula 1 at the age 23, a little late but you had accounted for that, being a woman and all. You were a damn good driver, but really it was your charm that put you there. You knew that your presence was good PR for the Federation. Look how inclusive we are!

After substituting a driver twice in the 2014 season, you were signed in 2015 for Toro Rosso, rookie you and rookie Max Verstappen, who was much younger than you. You and him got along well, but you couldn’t help but think how he got the chance to join Formula 1 much younger than you, having had almost the same career path in earlier categories. The only difference? You were a woman.

But you didn’t let that outshine your happiness of making it to Formula 1.

Soon you got in everyone’s good graces, charming your way through motorsports like you had been doing your whole career. Your first ever race as an official driver on the grid, there was this sense of relief, of making it to the ultimate dream. All that you had endured was worth it in that glorious moment.

You managed a little friendship with most drivers, getting to chat with them despite your rivalry on the track. You end up getting two podiums that season, brilliantly going down in history.

Well into your first official season, somehow the nickname “Principessa” caught on after an Italian newspaper wrote a praiseful cover article about how you managed to be classy and talented in your rookie year at Toro Rosso.

Life was a dream come true all the way to 2016, when you realized, Sebastian Vettel didn’t like you much. You thought it was just a distance thing, since you two weren’t used to talking that much. Until you overheard him talking about you with Nico, one of the drivers he was always talking to.

“I’m just not really interested…” Sebastian sounded reluctant.

“She’s really nice once you get to chat with her,” Nico said, as you hid behind a pile of tyres, “Vivian adores her, she even sent her a basket of goodies because of the pregnancy.”

“I understand. But me and her don’t click,” Sebastian mumbled, sounding annoyed.

“And why not?”

“She’s fake. A perfect PR doll, and I don’t like it.”

There was a long silence from Nico, probably shocked at the sudden harshness of Sebastian’s towards someone he had barely opened up to meet. You stood there frozen for a couple of seconds, not understanding his aversion to you.

Snapping out of it, you silently walked away without them noticing you were ever there. You couldn’t believe how, or why Sebastian could see right through you, how he could say that stuff when he had barely talked to you. But worst of all, you couldn’t understand his aversion to you, being against you.

“Having a quiet day?” Nico asked later that day, at the drivers parade as you stood a bit quieter than usual, still in your head about Sebastian’s words.

“Oh, no! Just a bit hungry!” You lied with a believable smile, “How’s Vivian?” You decided to change the subject.

Later that year, you had a great, almost competitive car, which had taken you to P3 in the championship standings, with a real, consistent chance of fighting for the championship.

Unfortunately for you, after the fourth to last race of the season, one race you had finished first place, you and part of your team were called in to talk with the representatives of the FIA because of an irregular part of your car. It was a minimal part of the livery that connected with the air vents, they said it was irregular, and despite the team showing proof that you had gained no advantage out of that, you were still punished with disqualification from that race.

It wasn’t just the problem of being DSQ, but not making points in that race meant you were out of the fight for the championship.

It felt like a punch in the face. Unjustifiable and an arbitrary decision.

After that disqualification, that came out right after the race had ended, Sebastian was the one to inherit that win, and a small part of him wanted to check on you, just because those kinds of disqualifications were a blow to the confidence of a driver.

Sebastian walked into your driver’s room and the first thing he noticed were the objects thrown around on the floor, a flipped table and chair. Chess pieces and boards on the floor, along with water bottles and towels, he looked around and you were sitting in a corner, on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you tried to wipe them with trembling hands, but the tears kept coming down.

It sent Sebastian into some sort of shock, he knew you for around three years now, and he had never seen you cry, or be angry, or even annoyed. You were always happy and bubbly… And now… It was like you were someone else, so painfully real, multifaceted for the first time.

“Hey… you-” He wasn’t even sure of what to say.

“They took my chances from me…” You said, voice trembling and a fresh stream of tears, “they did it on purpose. They did it to keep me where I am, to keep me on a leash, to not let me become a World Champion.”

“I’m so sorry…” He knelt down by your side, unsure of what to do or say.

“I did everything right. Played by their rules. I smiled, and I danced like a circus monkey, and I clapped even when I shouldn’t… I took it silently even when they threw spears at my chest. I swallowed my pride countless times to be here. I did everything right…” You knew you were rambling, to someone who probably didn’t even like you, but you couldn’t stop, the burning rage that brought tears to your eyes was stronger than anything you ever felt.

Sebastian didn’t know what to say, too shocked by the view of the real you that he could barely wrap his head around it. There was anger in your eyes, sadness, but somewhat a sprinkle of despair too. So he did the only thing his mind could think of, he hugged you. A little awkwardly, but a hug nonetheless. He felt your tears dampening his shirt, your hands fisting the material as if you were drowning and he was the only lifebuoy left. The sobs rocked your shaky frame and he held you for a long time, until someone from the team came to check on you. Then Sebastian hesitantly let go of you, despite your fingers still gripping his shirt, he pulled back, astonished.

As he left, stunned, he couldn’t even remember the reason he had gone there in the first place.

You only saw Sebastian again, the following race weekend, during media day. You were sitting on a box, drinking some water, your legs dangling in the air. You looked like you always did, bubbly, content, hair in place, light makeup…

Despite everything, and the memories being a little blurry, you didn’t forget what Sebastian had done for you. But even though the support was nice at the time, you couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of shame and embarrassment for what he had witnessed. Your mask had slipped, and you didn’t know how to proceed in this new, unknown territory.

In the end, you opted for deflection.

“Hey,” Sebastian approached you, looking slightly worried, “how…” he cleared his throat, “how have you been?” There was a silent question there, a silent approach to everything that had transpired the other day.

“Hi? Yeah, I’m alright, thanks!” You said with a bright smile, but now Sebastian could see it never reached your eyes. You hopped off the box you were sitting on, starting to walk away.

“Um- about the other day…?” Sebastian tried to breach the subject, unsure of how you would react.

“Oh, that? It was silly, just forget about it!” You kept smiling, your voice was cheerful, but your eyes betrayed that. You kept walking away, eating fruits and Sebastian ran up to you again, confused about you brushing under the rug something that was a pretty big deal.

“No, uh- how-” He wanted to think of something to say, but your smile dimmed a little bit as you looked at him.

“Let’s forget about that. And please don’t pity me.” You said with that same frozen smile and Sebastian frowned. He wasn’t pitying you, he was genuinely worried about that.

You walked away before he could say anything else. He was shocked at you dismissing so easily a full blown breakdown you had the week before. He had spent days thinking about you, not because he enjoyed any of it, he didn’t, but because he saw you for the first time. The real you. The ugly and painful parts, but it was so, so genuine, he knew that was the real you, with an honest reaction to something that hurt and upset you. He saw something he had never seen in you before, and he couldn’t get that version of you out of his head.

It was obvious you didn’t want to talk about that, or even address it. And Sebastian wasn’t going to press for answers, because in the end, he didn’t even like you particularly. He didn’t. And in the media pen, when a reporter asked you about the penalty that took you out of the championship competition, you smiled politely.

“Oh, I believe the FIA did the right thing, if I was accidentally irregular, that’s what should have been done. No complaints on my part or on behalf of my team,” You said into the mic, seeing in their faces that no one expected that response. Sebastian kept staring at you, in disbelief.

“Well, I for one,” Sebastian said after a few shocked seconds, “think that her disqualification was bullshit.”

The room burst out laughing, even you. A fake laugh, but since no one could tell, it was still a laugh. Saving your tears for some other time, alone and quiet, away from prying eyes.

Despite everything, you and Sebastian didn’t become closer, but in some way he just decided to open up to you a little bit more, as opposed to what he had been doing these past few years. He still wasn’t a friend or a close acquaintance, but he was less closed off and less short towards you. There was a silent acknowledgement of each other in public settings, a quiet nod or polite smile here and there.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he was about to leave the hotel to go to a dinner during the week of the Malaysian GP, when he got into the elevator and as he got to the first floor, you stumbled into the small space, reeking of alcohol and makeup a little smeared. He called your name, in such shock he forgot to hop out and the elevator started going up again.

“What,” You said, holding yourself steady against the elevator wall. Sebastian was shocked, that was another facet of you, raw and belling with the persona you usually sold the world.

“Are you okay?” He asked, the elevator stopping on your floor.

“I’m fine,” you said, stumbling out of the elevator in your high heels, Sebastian couldn’t help but also step out, grabbing your arm to steady you, “I said I’m fine!” You said, drunkenly stomping your foot.

“No, you’re not. Come on, give me your key.” Sebastian said, with a voice that left no space for arguing. 

You tried to be stubborn, but he just grabbed your purse and started fumbling with it until he grabbed your key-card. Holding your arm, he guided you to your hotel suite. Once inside, he placed you sitting on an armchair, and as he knelt in front of you to remove your shoes, you plopped back against the backrest.

“No, no,” he said, tossing your heels away and pulling your arms so you’d sit up straight, “No sleeping yet, come on. I didn’t pick you for a drinker.”

“And I didn’t pick you for a nosy asshole” You snapped back.

“Well, well, well, isn’t motorsports’ favorite doll hiding a foul mouth?” He said, holding you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Well, isn’t that what you are? We both know the truth, Principessa.” There was some bitterness to the way he said the nickname. You were not particularly fond of the nickname either, but the way he said it, with disgust, it rubbed you the wrong way.

“Why are you here?” You asked slowly.

“Why are you hammered on a Tuesday night?” He held you up, putting you on your feet and calmly leading you to the bathroom.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Sebastian pressed his lips together at your deflection, deep down he knew. More than anyone he knew you were just pretending to be okay with being taken out of the fight for the championship. He knew you were hurting. He also wanted to tell you that wasn’t the way to go about it, but at the end of the day, you two weren’t really close.

“Get in the shower. Cold.” He said, walking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind himself.

He could hear the sound of the water running, so he went to the phone and ordered soup and tea from room service. He sat down on the armchair, somewhat worried about you. He had gone through that before, but he was also four times world champion, compared to you who was just in your second year, losing the opportunity to fight for the championship for a mistake that wasn’t yours and that was completely out of your hands.

You left the bathroom dressed in a fluffy robe, face clean off of remnants of makeup. But your eyes were puffy and red, and he wondered if you were crying in the shower. He didn’t ask.

“Since you look a little more sober, I’m going. Room service will bring you something to eat and something non-alcoholic to drink.”

You sat on the couch opposite to him, feeling a little better and a bit more sober. You watched as he got up, his blue eyes never leaving yours. You had many questions. But the most important one was why he was there. Why was he taking care of you? You knew he didn’t like you, he knew you knew it too. Before you could ask any of it, he walked towards the door.

“Thank you,” You mumbled. He only nodded, not bothering to look back at you. It was a quiet murmur, but some part of you hoped he knew that thank you wasn’t about just this instance, but also the time he consoled you when no one else did.

The rest of the season, you managed to get ahold of yourself since you knew, keeping wallowing in self pity would get you nowhere. So you focused on finishing the season better. Sebastian and you also didn’t grow particularly close in the following months, despite sometimes meeting his eyes across the room. There was always this underlying tension between you, like two people that knew a secret but swore to not talk about it.

During the Prize Giving Ceremony, you were mingling with some drivers, members of the team and from the FIA. You were known for being the life of the party, usually a social butterfly, always making connections and meeting new people.

But then, you made a small pause to grab a drink and some air, sitting down on a bench, when Sebastian made his way to you, a somewhat bright smile directed to you as he crossed the room. It was the first time he had ever directed that kind of smile to you. He looked like he had drunk a little bit.

“You look tipsy,” You pointed out as soon as he stopped before you. He grinned.

“High quality champagne,” Sebastian replied, sitting on the bench beside you, raising his flute for a toast. You replied by clicking your flute against his.

You two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the party in full swing.

“You’re back to your old self,” Sebastian pointed out, suddenly. But it didn’t sound like a compliment nor a critique. So you didn’t reply, unsure of what he meant.

“Well, we all do what we gotta do,” You shrugged gently, with a small smile as you turned to face him and his bright blue eyes were already on your face.

“But, you know, it’s good to remember you’re very lucky to be here,” he said.

His words made you stop, your smile fading and that almost accomplice glinting in your eyes completely disappeared. And Sebastian frowned confused, seeing the way you put up your walls again, back to the frozen, fake smile you usually gave the media.

Lucky. You hated that word. You hated how everyone used to say you got lucky to be there. You got lucky to get into Formula 1. You got lucky to be a successful driver. Rarely did anyone mention the efforts you had to put into becoming that. The early mornings training, the absurd amount of time and distance away from your family. All the metaphorical slaps you had to endure with a straight face. Then you realized, Sebastian saw you just the way everyone else saw you. You were lucky, your spot was a gift not the consequence of your efforts.

And Sebastian noticed the shift in your expression in that very moment. He hadn’t meant to offend, and he wasn’t even sure why his words had ticked you off, but he could see. He was probably the only one in that whole room who could tell the real you from your persona, mostly due to the fact that he had seen the real you a couple of times.

“Princess, I-” He started again, but you cut him off.

“Don’t.”

He watched as you stood up, gave him a polite smile and a nod, before sauntering away.

The following year, your car was improved, and even better than the year before, you were up there in the stands, and after a third of the season, you and the team knew you were a contender for the championship. You did everything in your power to be the world champion that year. Your main competitor was Lewis Hamilton. Somehow, despite the fierce battles on track, you two managed to maintain a certain level of respect outside it. Probably because you two were different kinds of minority in that sport, or because he had learned a lesson with how everything had come down with Rosberg. Funnily enough, you two had managed a somewhat friendship that very year.

You and Sebastian, on the other hand, grew more distant than ever, and you barely spoke that year. You two kept this cold, polite façade in front of the media and other drivers.

Battle after battle, the media pressure only grew on your shoulders, you weren’t just a pretty face for the sponsors to plaster your face around, you showed a real driver existed behind that persona. And it pissed some people off, just because now you were a woman playing a big man’s sport. They nitpicked every mistake you made if you had made some, or they diminished your every win if you didn’t make a mistake. Because you were lucky. You were lucky that one time Vettel DNFed. You were lucky this one time Lewis Hamilton crashed out. You were lucky your tyres were better during some overtakes. You were lucky for that good pitstop.

When you became World Champion that year, during the Mexican GP, it had all been worth it to endure. The weight of the trophy in your hands, the way you hugged it to your chest in the top step of the podium, crying as the other drivers splashed you with champagne, that was the taste of the years of dedication paying off.

The celebrations were wild, the team, some of the other drivers, everyone congratulated you. You were at a nightclub, drink in hand when suddenly Sebastian Vettel appeared out of nowhere. You supposed all drivers were invited, but you didn’t expect him to actually show up.

He walked up at you, loose shirt, messy hair and flushed face. Biting his lip to hide a smile, that genuine smile he had given you only once since you met him. And Sebastian had never seen you so beautiful. He knew you were always pretty, like you were some sort of model, but in that moment, you looked genuinely happy, and the smile you could barely contain in your face made you even more stunning than you already were.

“Congratulations, Principessa,” He smiled, stopping beside you. At that moment, you didn’t even remember that you were ever upset with him, that you had barely spoken the whole season. He remembered very well that feeling of being champion, the relief and happiness.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about what I said last year. I never meant to diminish you. And later on I understood why you felt upset by it.” Sebastian said, firmly. It made you feel validated, and it was nice that he had realized on his own.

“It’s okay. It’s water under the bridge.”

Sebastian nodded, understanding. You both went back to the party. And later that night you two were dancing on the dance floor with some other people. You were not physically close, more like jumping up and down and singing, facing each other, laughing. But there was that spark in each other’s eyes again, like there was a funny secret you two were keeping.

That’s how you two ended up going to his hotel, sitting silently in the back of a car, the windows a bit rolled down and the fresh air of the night hitting your faces. This silent tension that had always been brewing reached a boiling point. None of you moved or said anything, afraid of breaking the spell even on the way up to his floor. But the moment you crossed the threshold of his hotel room, you tiptoed to him, kissing him. He kicked the door shut, one arm around your waist as he pulled up to his height so he could properly kiss you. The other hand on the back of your head, pressing you further into him as if he wanted to merge with you, his lips and tongue coaxing yours open, his kiss all tongue and teeth as if he was starved for you. You two stumbled inside, but Sebastian managed to keep you upright by pressing you against a small side table, while you two laughed at his clumsiness.

When he put you down again, he reached for the back of your tube dress, tugging the zipper down, but it got stuck and he muttered a curse, which made you laugh again against his neck.

“Sorry about this,” he said, before forcefully tugging the dress, which made it rip off, and the dress fell down, pooled at your feet, leaving you naked in only your panties and shoes. He took a moment to take in your figure, humming appreciatively.

You took a step forward, removing his shirt without a second thought, followed by you also fumbling with his belt. You two were giggling when finally all clothes were out of the way and Sebastian pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply before pushing you into the bed. His lips around your nipples as his hands teased your body, touching, groping, feeling the smoothness of your skin.

When he climbed up, holding your head so you would look at him while his fingers fucked you open, there was this deep sense of intimacy in his eyes as he watched you. Then finally, he got on top of you, holding one of your thighs up against his waist and he sank down, in one deep stroke as you two moaned. His movements were slow and hard, enjoying every little thing about you. The soft sounds you made, your dilated pupils, the way your cunt fluttered around him when he hit a particularly perfect spot.

It didn’t take you long to come, your hands around his waist, nails sinking into his back. After you did, he knelt back, pulling your legs up, ankles by his shoulders as he then went even faster with each thrust, your moans growing louder as you went careening into a second orgasm, and soon he followed behind you, biting on your ankle to muffle his groans.

“Damn…” He sighed, breathless as he plopped on the bed right beside you.

“Damn is right…” You laughed.

After that, you two got in the shower, kissing and making out like teenagers, until he bent you over the glass wall, fucking you again until you two came again, your back to his chest and his hand down your front to tease you clit.

When you two fell on the bed again, you were out like a light.

The following morning you woke up painfully early, his arms around you as you situated yourself, when you checked your phone, you realized you were late to catch your flight. So you carefully removed yourself from his arms without waking him up, stole some clothes from his suitcase since your dress was ruined, and left in a cab.

You didn’t speak about through the final two races of the season and not at all during winter break. A small part of you had expected him to say something about what had happened. You were not sure what.

As the new season started the following year, the underlying tension between you now had a new kind of meaning behind it. Since you couldn’t look at each other and not think of that night. Of his hands tightening on your ass, of your nails scratching his back.

You decided to leave it all behind, focusing on the season and trying to strike that second consecutive championship. It was hard, it wasn’t that your car was bad, per se, but it was unreliable. Sometimes you were about to win a race when it suddenly had some sort of malfunction or some kind of shut down that had you DNF a race you should’ve won. Despite that, you made the best of it, achieving a couple of podiums and eventually, your first win of the season.

That night, you met with Sebastian again, the first real conversation ever since what had happened the year before. 

“Congratulations on the win,” He said with a smile.

“You too, congrats on the win last week.”

And just as the first time, soon you two were wrapped around each other in the elevator, lost in a desperate kiss. Kisses and giggles as you made your way stumbling to your hotel room. This time, he had you bent over the bed, hands on the mattress as he knelt down eating you out for the life of him until you had come fisting the sheets, then he got up and fucked you from behind.

You two laid on the bed, breathless and with a thin layer of sweat as he pulled you closer, a palm over your stomach, tracing all dips and curves lazily.

“Here we are again,” Sebastian whispered, and you looked at his eyes, shining blue and flushed face.

“Seems like we keep coming back for more…” You pointed out, with a laugh.

He was about to say something when his phone rang, and he found his jeans and picked up the call. You just watched as he started speaking on the phone, quickly grabbing his clothes and starting to dress up again.

“I’m sorry,” He said after finishing the call, buttoning up his pants, “We have a photoshoot to do, and I had completely forgotten about it.”

“It’s fine,” You said, sitting up on the bed.

He paused for a moment, looking at you all naked and debauched on the bed, looking especially delicious. Sebastian wished at that moment he could have taken a picture to keep with him forever while you looked like a goddess. He just pecked your lips, deep and fast, before scurrying off. A stupid smile in both of your faces that you couldn’t see.

Weirdly enough, you didn’t talk about that again. It was like you were two different people in other settings, but back in the motorsport world, you had no opening or desire to be that two people that stole kisses in hotel rooms. But the silent glances were still there, a knowing look exchanged. You didn’t grow any closer out of those brief moments in space and time.

As the season progressed, you got a somewhat grip on the car, even reaching second place in the standings for the WDC.

Your encounters with Sebastian also kept happening, at least once a month. You didn’t talk much about the nature of your relationship, about what it meant, or why it kept happening. It felt like you two were always focused on making the most of the little time you had. One of you would always leave in the middle of the night or early in the morning, without waking up the other, like a silent agreement.

Still, you had a growing feeling that Sebastian didn’t like you outside those fleeting moments. And you knew that those things could happen, you could have great bed chemistry and still not be friends or not particularly be fond of someone. Just sex. It was what you told yourself every time you had to see him be cold and distant during race weeks. You couldn’t help but remember those few years back when he called you a perfect PR doll in a conversation. The harshness in his voice when he talked about you that day still haunted you sometimes.

It all came to a head after you won consecutively the three races in the triple header, and the media was eating that up. But unfortunately, Sebastian had two DNFs and a qualifying so awful that he only managed to finish the last race P8. During the following media day, which had both of you in the same panel, you were asked some questions regarding your recent wins and the perspective of the championship. After replying, there was a small scoff that Sebastian’s mic caught.

“Anything to add to her reply, Sebastian?” The journalist asked.

“No, nothing much…” Sebastian scoffed, “I mean, with Red Bull’s rocketship, winning is what’s expected of it, no?”

The words hit you like a punch, and it took a herculean effort to keep a straight face and seem unaffected. But the wave of silence and tension that followed was enough to show that everyone had caught that jab. Lewis even muttered a disappointed “man…” to Sebastian, away from the mic.

You didn’t look at Sebastian again during that conference, but at that point he could tell your real smile from the fake one. He could see the discreet clench of your jaw and he knew deep down that he had fucked up massively.

That’s why that weekend after the race, one you had placed P3, he went to your motorhome before leaving the paddock, knocking on the door quickly. He waited for you to open the door, hoping and praying you had not left yet. When you finally did, dressed in casual clothes, probably about to leave, he could see the surprise on your face that you had not expected to see him there. You looked around to check if anyone was seeing that before pulling him inside.

“What do you want? Be quick.” You said, finishing packing your bag and barely looking at him.

“I’m sorry about what I said during media day. That was fucked up.” He said, carefully.

“Oh, fuck off, Sebastian…” You scoffed, “we both know you just said what has always been on your mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned.

“Don’t play dumb now, Sebastian. Everyone knows. I know and so do you.”

“Know what?” He frowned, taking a step closer.

“That you hate me!” You exploded, turning to face him.

“Is that what you think?!” He asked, offended, “You think I’d have sex with someone I hate?”

“It never stopped anyone before…” You said, rolling your eyes, “Let’s be honest here. All the secrecy, all the never talking about it, never calling or texting before or after… I’m just the ‘Perfect Fake PR doll’  that you don’t like.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, Sebastian frowned, but after a few seconds he remembered that he had said those exact words about you, with such annoyance and disgust. That was farthest from the truth, and he couldn’t dare to repeat those words now that he had seen so many raw, genuine parts of you.

“Listen, I just…” He sighed, “I just hate all this fakeness you sell. All this acting and playing a part.”

“It is survival!”

“Survival?” He scoffed, not buying your words, “you pretend to be someone you’re not to appease the world.”

“You wouldn’t ever know what this is about, Sebastian. You’re Formula One’s dream man. You’re the straight white guy they want, the perfect image for motorsports. Be fucking real with me. Do you think if I had half the attitude you do, I’d be treated like you? No, I’d be ostracized,” You said, eyes shining in defensiveness, like he was the enemy you had to pretend to, “I will do what I can to stay here. I do what I can to still have a seat and a career here. Everything I do, is to be perfect, to appease the audience, the sponsors, the FIA, everything, and I still have to deal with misogyny. I still have to hear people saying I should go back to the kitchen. So no, I won’t change.” It was like a dam had broken and you had to put out everything you felt, every pain you had regarding that.

Sebastian sighed, scratching his head. He had fucked up even more, because it had never gone through his head any of that. He had never thought of the backlash you must face, being a woman, about the difficulties to fit, to be accepted in an environment heavily made of older white men that liked things to stay the way they were.

“You got to see the real me, I let myself be vulnerable and genuine with you. God knows the reason why you have seen me more than anyone else has. And you get out there with your full chest implying that I’m winning because of the car, when you know the car has been unreliable and I’m bending over backwards to make this shitbox win races…” Your voice was shaken but you refused to let him see you cry again. That had become ammo in his arsenal one time, you wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again.

“I…” He stuttered like he had just been hit with that knowledge, ashamed that he had never stopped to think about any of that.

“You can hate me all you want, Sebastian. You can tell me you’d rather me be genuine, but I need to wear armor. Out there? I’ll still be the PR Doll you like to call me if it means I get to stay.”

“Principessa, I’m just so-” He started but you cut him off again.

“Just get out, Sebastian. This,” you pointed between you two, “was a mistake to begin with. We both know where we stand with each other.”

“I don’t hate you.” He said, suddenly.

“Right. You need to go.” You rolled your eyes.

“I need you to believe me in this. I don’t hate you.” He repeated, slowly, blue eyes pleading.

“Leave, Sebastian.” You said, not leaving room for argument. He took two steps back, knowing he wasn’t going to get through to you at that moment.

“I don’t hate you,” He said one last time, before turning around and leaving.

Let me know in the comments if you wanna be tagged for part 2!

[cottonlemonade]

A Night In The Country

word count: 3626 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.

pairing: University AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni

request: medium custom peach lemonade for Sakusa!♡ Custom: You thought your crush was one-sided little did you know... || fluffy-spicy, getting stranded with seemingly one-sided crush Sakusa

Sakusa leaned back in his seat. His long legs elegantly crossed, he took a sip of his iced hazelnut americano, tapping and scrolling aimlessly on his phone, his mask tucked neatly under his chin.

The lecture hall was filling slowly and the chatter of the dozen or so students that already waited just like him was quietly buzzing in the air.

Sakusa didn’t pay much attention to any of it. He already scanned the room and saw that you hadn’t arrived yet.

But only a moment later, his shoulders tensed slightly when your voice wafted over to him, like the sweet smell of a craving he’d had. He didn’t turn around but he angled his phone a little to catch your reflection. You were laughing with a friend as you walked down the steps, trying to decide where to sit. He was lucky today. You shuffled through the benches behind him and settled a few seats away.

“So it’s not gonna be fixed in time?”, he heard your friend ask somberly.

“I mean, it could be probably, but I don’t have the money right now. New brakes are so expensive, I’ll have to at least pull two extra shifts at the store to afford them. I was looking into some buses but because we live so far out there is no direct route and I’d arrive at the station some time after midnight and then would have to wait until morning for another bus and yeah… I’ll make it work somehow, but it sucks.”

“And asking your parents to chip in for a taxi?”

“Nah, that defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.”, you replied with a sigh, “Plus I don’t think they have any signal at their cabin so they couldn’t even send it until they get back on the road home.”

“Maybe I could ask my brother to take you?”, the friend offered.

He listened to you ponder. The thought of you spending possibly a couple of hours with some other guy alone in a car was unacceptable.

“I can drive you.”, he heard himself saying.

“Hm?” Both girls looked at him when he turned in his seat, casually waving with his coffee, the ice cubes rattling softly as he did.

“I can drive you.”, he repeated, “I was planning to drive home tonight anyway (lie), so it wouldn’t be a problem to take you. You live close to Nakagawa, right? I have to head in that direction, too (lie), so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way (lie).”

“Uhm. Are you sure?“ You only ever talked to Sakusa for questions on notes or when you were too short to get a book down from a shelf at the library. You definitely weren‘t close enough that you would have felt comfortable asking him for a ride.

“Yeah, no problem. I have training tonight but it ends around 8 if that‘s not too late for you.“

“No! 8 is perfect! Thank you so much!“

You checked the clock on your phone for the third time in as many minutes. You looked around, grabbing the handle of your old travel bag with both hands and rolling back and forth on your feet.

It wasn‘t quite dark yet but the parking lot next to the gym was already illuminated by street lamps. The sky was a pretty blueish gray and the cicadas were busy telling the world that summer was not over yet.

You smoothed out your linen shorts and adjusted the tuck of your shirt. Deciding on an outfit appropriate for a road trip had taken way longer than it should have. Especially since Sakusa was only doing you a favor. It didn’t mean anything so there was no reason to overthink it.

Of course, it was unsurprising that you found him attractive. Half the class was crushing on the anti-social volleyball star and the other half was just slightly better at hiding it.

But when you spotted him in the group spilling from the opening gym doors a few minutes later, your heart stumbled despite your better judgment. Sakusa split from his teammates walking towards the bus stop and lengthened his stride when he saw you.

“Hey, did you wait long?”, he asked and led you towards a sleek black car that most likely cost more than your tuition. You shook your head No as he clicked a button on his car keys to open the trunk, neatly placing his gym bag inside and reaching out his hand to get yours as well.

Somehow, even though freshly laundered, your clothes looked dirty next to his. Aside from the questionable neon yellow and green of his old training jacket, flung onto the backseat, he looked like he was ready to go to a dinner party. His hair was still damp from the post-training shower (his teammates had shrieked in surprise when he joined them for the first time ever in “those germ-infested stalls“) and the car quickly filled with the refreshingly cool smell of his shower gel. It made you feel cozy and light-headed at the same time. It had you imagine for a split second, how Sakusa would take you for a ride after training to grab some late night ice cream and watch the city lights dance on the river while holding hands and talking in his car. The sudden rumbling of the engine pulled you out of your little daydream and you also may have forgotten to breathe when his hand came up to hold the back of your seat as he turned to reverse out of the parking lot. This was going to be a long drive.

Sakusa kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other was propped against his temple, his elbow resting on the door. The road was smooth and barely traveled once you got out of Tokyo traffic. Nakagawa was about two and a half hours south and according to his GPS your house was another 20 minutes further out. All throughout training he had tried to listen in on casual conversations his team members had with each other to get some kind of indication what smalltalk he could bring up but it was mostly concerning volleyball or workout routines or an extensive ranking of protein shake flavors - not much he could use with you.

“Cow.“, he said, pointing out the window to a ruminant-shaped blob that practically blended into the meadow with how dark it had gotten by now.

You followed his eyes and confirmed it was indeed a cow, then smiled politely and went back to selecting music on your phone.

Sakusa felt like an idiot. You lived in a rural town. Cows were nothing novel to you. So back to square one.

He tried a few different approaches.

“Are you reading anything currently?”

And thinking he wouldn’t exactly be interested in the fantasy romance series that was splashed all over your social media, you just shook your head.

Meanwhile, Sakusa didn’t want to readily admit that he had picked up the books after the fourth time you posted about them and even less that he genuinely enjoyed the story. He pursed his lips and just kept his eyes on the road.

“What does your family do?”, he’d ask a few minutes later.

“They’re apple farmers. They also make everything from cider to wine to applesauce.”

He nodded, trying to find an angle to keep you talking.

You on the other hand didn't want to “bore” him with anecdotes about what it was like growing up on a farm. So you fell silent once more.

Sakusa wondered if he was doing something wrong. Usually, when he snatched a seat near you in the lecture halls, you were very talkative and could easily hold a conversation - in most cases ending your stories on a completely different topic than where you started. It was one of your most ridiculously entertaining and endearing qualities that made him notice you in the first place. Who, after all, could ignore a girl that talked knowledgeably about autapomorphies of any given taxon and then wondered in her next breath if crocodiles had a concept of friendship.

“Do you… like food?”, he asked and resisted the urge to bonk his head on the steering wheel. He had meant to be a lot more specific but it worked!

You had frowned at him for a moment, then chuckled, then laughed and said, “Yes, I do enjoy food. How about you?”

“Half an hour to go.”, he informed you when he turned off onto a bumpy dirt road between two rice paddies. The past hour he had talked and laughed more than he had all semester and even though his voice was getting hoarse, he was disappointed that the drive was nearing its end. Sakusa winced when he hit a pothole in his attempt to miss another. The car shook. It really wasn’t meant for off-roading, but it soldiered on. Until it didn’t.

After a couple more hits from rocks and uneven terrain, the engine sputtered and then stopped.

“Huh.” Sakusa turned the key in the ignition once, twice but never got more than a - described generously - weak little stutter.

“I’m so sorry.”, you said earnestly, but at the same time tried to suppress a snort at his incredulous expression.

“It’ll be fine.” He plucked his phone from the holder on the console and began searching for car workshops nearby.

You waited patiently for the realization to hit.

“Oh.”

And there it was.

“Should have figured that there are no 24h auto shops in the countryside.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You two looked at each other, then broke into laughter, still giddy from your pre-pothole conversations.

“Looks like we’re walking.”

With a flourish, you opened the door and got out.

“Walking?” He followed your example and met you at the trunk.

“Yup!” Your village-born “get to work” attitude sprung to life when you waited for him to push the button so you could retrieve your bag, “We’re only a few minutes out of Nakagawa. We can walk there and ask for help. And if all else fails, we can at least find a place to spend the night.”

Spend the night? Sakusa felt his heart stop and then pump hard to make up for lost time.

You shouldered your bag and grinned.

“Let’s go!”

Holding your phones aloft to illuminate the pitch dark a little, you hiked along the dirt road, always switching between checking your next steps and zeroing in on the few town lights that dappled the not too distant horizon. You picked up the conversation where you left off and learned about his high school years and the team he used to play with. You yourself were part of the archery club at university and had played a bit of softball in high school. Sakusa was asking question after question, feeling relaxed whenever you talked for a long time. He listened intently as you recounted key moments from your childhood and the one softball tournament you played in your first year, how you got hit in the face by a curveball once and then decided that maybe a different sport would be more suited for you.

“Oh, don’t you wanna call your folks?”, you asked suddenly, when the dirt road finally turned to asphalt and a large sign announced the entrance of Nakagawa.

In the dim cone of light from your phone you saw him frown.

“Why?”

“Cause you said you were headed my way today to go home. They must be worried sick by now.”

“Oh.”, he averted his eyes and felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “No, they’re not.”

“Hmm, I bet they are.”, you smiled, then obviously got an idea, “Oh! Maybe they can come pick you up! Where do they live?”

“Aoyama.”, he said it innocently and quickly as if ripping off a bandaid.

“Ao- wait, isn’t that in Shibuya?”

“Uh huh.” He walked past you, reaching the still surprisingly lively main road of town, feigning interest in a pub to his left.

“That’s the north of Tokyo.”, you noted.

“Yes.”, he agreed simply.

Your stomach flipped. Of course you didn’t want to assume anything but if his behavior tonight was any indication then…

He turned around, ripping you from your thoughts. “We should find a place to sleep first.”, he said, typing on his phone, “And then we can grab something to eat.”

“Right.”, you said, still wondering if the puzzle pieces in your head fit together or if you were just delusional.

“Seems like it’ll be difficult to find two single rooms on such short notice.”, he muttered, scrolling, then standing next to you so you could check the screen as well.

“These are all double beds.”, you so keenly observed.

“Right.”, he said slowly. Your proximity made his head swim. “Then we should probably look somewhere else.”

“Right.”, you agreed, clearing your throat.

“Or we could book two double bedrooms.”, he suggested, his calm tone not matching the excited panic rising his chest at all. Sakusa really hoped you would say No.

Being quite a bit taller allowed him the privilege to have you look up at him with your big (e/c) eyes.

“That seems reasonable…”

Were you disappointed? He searched your face for any hint. You were fairly open about your feelings, carrying your thoughts on the tip of your tongue and heart on your sleeve. It was another entrancing quality he felt himself drawn to.

He didn’t want to be the pervert who pushed for sleeping in one bed. You might end up thinking he tricked you somehow.

“But-“, you began, biting your lip for a moment before continuing, “maybe it’ll be okay to share for one night?”

“Right…”

“Just if it’s alright with you.”, you hastily added.

An image formed in his mind. He was sitting on a freshly made bed, when the door to the bathroom opened and you stepped out enveloped in a cloud of steam. A towel would be tightly wrapped around you, not quite big enough to cover your curves - a slid on the side teasing more of your plush thigh. You’d sit down next to him, applying lotion to your legs and he’d be mesmerized by the little water drops still clinging to your skin. In his head you’d ask if he could help you with the lotion because you were worried your towel would slip and he was nothing if not helpful.

Back in reality he tore himself away from staring at your reddening cheeks and his finger hovered over the booking button.

“Y/n-chan?!” A booming voice from up ahead made you two look up.

A woman with a graying perm stuffed under a bright green bandana came up to you with determined steps, a wide smile on her face and she embraced you without hesitation.

“In town for your mom’s birthday, I guess? You’ve certainly grown a lot. Must be all that good food in Tokyo. You look more like your parents every day. I remember when you were still that round-faced little thing stealing strawberries from my garden!”, she tsk’ed her tongue playfully, “Is your brother coming, too? Haven’t seen him in a while as well, but that’s to be expected when he is always so busy. But you should make time for family at least. - And who do we have here? My, my. I don’t know the last time you brought a boyfriend home but he is certainly a handsome one, isn’t he? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even know where to start, feeling like most of her questions were rhetorical. And although you definitely wanted to tell her that Sakusa was certainly not your boyfriend, you also knew that that would bring on a whole new wave of interrogations.

“Sakusa Kyoomi.”, he just said with a deep bow and an even deeper blush on his ears which the night and warm lights from the surrounding restaurants gratefully hid.

Maybe he also figured it would be easier to just play along, you thought.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was just happy someone put the idea in your head.

The woman was only about half his height and took her time taking in every inch of his appearance, no doubt making mental notes to tell all her friends about it first thing tomorrow.

Your situation was quickly explained and the friendly neighbor just waved it off.

“Don’t worry, dearies. I can take you home, no problem. The truck’s this way.” You exchanged a look with Sakusa who just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. “Well, come on, you two. No one is getting any younger here.”

The beige banged up pickup was only a few hundred meters away. The back was stacked full of large baskets holding different vegetables.

“Don’t mind ol’ Momo, but I think you two have to squeeze in the back.”

“Ol’ Momo” was a giant white Akita snoozing on the passenger seat. He lifted his head when they opened the doors and only gave a deep tired woof as a greeting, his tail wagging lazily when the women scooted in next to him behind the wheel.

Sakusa tried his hardest not to touch anything. The backseat was covered in dust and sand and housed more big plastic colanders with precariously stacked daikons, still dirty from the field’s soil. If the car wasn’t his worst nightmare he would have greatly enjoyed having you so close to him. Your thigh was pressed against his and he had flashbacks to his little daydream excursion from earlier. He was still pretty disappointed that he was robbed of the opportunity, however miniscule his chance with you might have been in the first place.

Off the truck went. Of course more dirt roads meant more potholes but unlike his fancy city car the sturdy little pickup truck had no problems trundling along. Apparently in no need of an actual conversation partner, the neighbor just kept on talking, bringing you up to speed on how her fields were doing, what her sons were up to and gave an exact play by play of how her husband managed to strike a bargain on new seeds for the following year. You nodded politely or asked an occasional question to keep her attention away from Sakusa, while he watched you being thrown around like a ragdoll during more turbulent road maneuvers. He at least had the luxury to hang on for dear life on the grab handle above the car window. You, sitting in the middle of the backseat with a non-functioning seatbelt, either dealt with your bumpy fate or tried to steady yourself elsewhere. The truck’s cabin jumbled again and you jerked forward, barely holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. His arm shot out almost automatically to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Thank you.”, you murmured so the woman wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry, I know you hate touching people.”

“I don’t mind.”, he replied.

Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he unhurriedly let you go and looked out the window into the pitch blackness of the country night. Sakusa had forgotten how dark it could get without the constant neon lights of the city. In the reflection of the window he still saw you staring for a moment, then turning your head back to the front, answering some question of the neighbor. He stretched his fingers, your softness now seemingly imprinted in his memory.

Another minute or so passed before you were thrown forward once again. This time, his arm remained around you. “If you don’t mind.”, he said under his breath, “Just until the road gets better.”

You nodded slowly and robotically looked to the front again.

It was difficult not to milk this opportunity. Having Sakusa holding you close like this sparked all kinds of ideas of snuggling up against his broad frame, drawing patterns on his thighs and asking dreamily if he also thought spring was the perfect season for a wedding.

Sakusa hid a smirk behind his hand when your head lulled against his shoulder as soon as the truck reached a smooth road. He adjusted his seat so you would be comfortable and didn’t stop grinning until the truck pulled up to a farmhouse.

“There we are.”, the neighbor announced and then hushed her voice when she saw you in the rear view mirror, “Oh, look at that. Well aren’t you just the cutest love birds. You wake her up, I’ll get her bag.”

He really didn’t want to lose your warmth despite the remaining summer heat. You felt so perfect in his arms like this.

“Y/n.”, he said softly, “Y/n, you’re home.”

Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face he poked your cheek with his finger. No reaction. He poked again. You mumbled something and cuddled closer. His body was about to explode from cuteness overload.

His door opened. “No luck?”, the woman asked.

He shook his head and began to think. Making sure to pull you along with him, he stepped out of the truck and slid his other arm underneath your knees.

“Oh you’re not picking her up, sweet boy. You’ll break your neck trying to lift this one.”, she warned but Sakusa already brought you close to his chest. He would ask his trainer to add extra sets for muscle gain in his workouts from now on, but at this moment he was just way too satisfied with himself to carry you across the courtyard up the few steps to the front door. The cool night air made you stir in his arms. “Sakusa?”

“Great timing. Do you have the keys?”

art: @KUM07474_V on Twitter

a/n: so uhm, yeah this one just kept on going xD thank you so much for your request and continued kindness @melimelisworld, I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[larcenywrites]

Hey, I saw that you were taking requests for Kurt, and I have an idea that I would like you to write please. Can you do a Nightcarwler X Reader story where Kurt had a bad day from an unfavorable encounter from earlier that day from an anti-mutant crowd, which called him a monster and demon and other bad things, despite him just wanting to help people. Kurt is now feeling a bit depressed and insecure about his unique appearance. The reader helps reassure him that he’s beautiful and comforts him, and their bonding eventually escalates to NSFW stuff. I would prefer the reader to be of the male sex, but ultimately the reader can be whatever sex you decide. Thank you so much for your time 😊

(I’m sorry this isn’t funny-)

So sorry it took so long D: but I hope this is okay :)

What It Means To Be Human

Nightcrawler x M!Reader

Warnings: male reader but no pronouns used | unprotected because I’m always a slut | do I even have to say a little tail action?? It’s nightcrawler 😏 | some light oral | “somehow” I got into my tongue and spit kink a lil tiny bit sorry | porn with plot but at least the plot is loving on Kurt 😚

Word count: ~2,100

It was hardly late afternoon, and already the day had gone to shit. For a handful of people, that is, but unfortunately, that handful included your people and, more importantly, your person. Rogue had already told you about the angry mom of humans. The usual, as she'd typically describe it. But you knew that for Kurt, "the usual" was a little more serious than the term made it sound and a whole lot more familiar— Personal, even.

You quickly made your way to your bedroom, immediately noticing the lump beneath the sheets. You climbed into your side of the bed, lifting the covers to reveal the furball underneath. "You're in bed early," you comment softly, trying to keep a lighthearted edge to your tone. He didn't respond, but after a few moments of playing dead, he finally shifted, sifting up next to you and crossing his legs. Downcast golden orbs studied the sheets.

"You okay?" You ask softly, already knowing the answer. In his silence, you study his bare chest and low-waisted pajama pants, clearly drained from his earlier encounter.

"Yeah," Kurt eventually mumbles back. He turns to look at you, tired eyes studying yours, picking up that you already know. "It shouldn't bother me anymore," he deflects, looking down again.

With a sigh, you lean against him, not taking your eyes off him. "It's okay for it to bother you," you reason, leaning against him to be shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip. "You don't have to be strong all the time," you continue. "You've had to deal with their name-calling for way too long."

"The name-calling I can handle," he quickly replies. "It's being considered less than human that gets under my skin," he remarks, tail thrashing behind him and resting around you. It was tempting to just tell him it didn't matter what they thought, but for someone like him, it unfortunately does matter. He's had to spend his whole life proving it just to continue helping the very people who ostracize him.

Wanting to take away from the somberness for a moment, you suddenly push a finger between his lips to press at a fang, making him open his mouth a little. "What, you're telling me these things aren't human?" You tease lightly, watching him shrug away.

"Those are probably the most human thing about me," he retorts, clearly trying not to smile as he looks down.

"Then maybe that's why they're not my most favorite thing about you," you tease back, making him snort softly. You study him quietly for a few moments before speaking again. "You know, if they gave you a chance, they would find that you are the most human of us all," you add on much more seriously, resting on his shoulder and watching his reaction.

"That's the issue," he replies somberly, resting his cheek against your head. "I don't think any of us are going to get the chance to prove that."

The statement hangs in the air for several moments. They would never understand what he's done to be like them, nor what he's been through to be just himself, and each time getting the same treatment.

"They know not what they do," he repeats a verse that has left his lips plenty of times, fingers rising to fumble with the silver cross that hangs from the chain around his neck. "That doesn't make it hurt less," he confesses.

With a heavy sigh, you lift your head again to look at him properly. "Everything that you are now is because you don't look human," you state bluntly but lovingly, bringing a hand to his cheek and tilting his face towards you. "And is exactly why you're beautiful," you add tenderly, making him look down shyly.

"I know what I am, liebe," he replies quietly, almost defeatedly, leaning into your touch with a soft sigh. "And what I am not," he continues with conviction, a hint of a double meaning behind his words and a gleam of determination in his solid yellow eyes when they glance back up at you.

You smile softly at him, rubbing your thumb over the fur of his cheek before tracing over his lips. He may, in fact, look like a devil, but he was a handsome devil— your handsome devil.

"I don't know," you start. "They might've been right about one thing…" you insinuate, a hint of suggestiveness in your tone and a mischief in your eyes that he knows well.

"Oh, the 'handsome devil' line again; how clever," he mutters sarcastically before you can even continue, glaring at you with a badly hidden grin.

"Oh, you like it," you retort as you lean into him with a mocking pout.

"I do," Kurt's low chuckle breathes against your lips after happily leaning in with you, the grin he'd been trying to hide now on full display. The soft fur on his face tickled your cheeks and nose as you connected in a kiss. Something short but sweet, loving but innocent. Just the human connection he probably needed after today.

With lips brushing and noses bumping, both of you simply rested against one another for a moment, letting him enjoy some peace of humanity with a soft sigh. You could practically feel his sly grin as he pressed a deeper kiss to your lips, his tail unfurling from your arm to curl over your leg. With your own knowing grin, you eagerly kissed back, playing with the broad tip of his tail.

Kurt teasingly bites into your bottom lip, dragging it with him when he pulls away just enough to let you see the mischievous gleam in his golden eyes and smirking fangs, challenging you to bite back. Shifting yourself to your knees, you plant a hand in the soft fluff of his chest while simultaneously diving into his neck. This time, you sink your teeth into him, still not entirely used to the feeling of fur against your tongue, nor his slinking tail around your thigh.

Lulling his head to the side to give you more room to ravish his throat, his tail tightens around your thigh in excitement, and hands find their way under your shirt, squeezing your sides with similar enthusiasm before wrapping his arms around you instead. His tighter embrace convinces you to fall with him. Right where he wanted you.

Despite his lithe form, Kurt easily rolls you both, switching positions to have you underneath instead. With his arms still hooked around your lower back, it was also his turn to sink his teeth into the crook of your neck, fangs pricking at your skin. You hum lowly and wrap your arms around his back, trailing over the velvety feel of his fur and playing with the longer curls on the back of his neck.

Without warning, he ground into you, making you hiss from the sudden friction. The sound spurred him on, deeply rolling his hips into yours in search of more. The rough fabric of your jeans was both frustrating and delicious, creating just enough tension to have you both twitching and humming in pleasure, but leaving far too much distance between your aching cocks. Yet, you continued, feeling Kurt's hot breath panting over your ear.

The strong hands on your back gripped onto your waist, sliding over your ticklish skin and riding your shirt up with them. He barely lifted himself, letting you take his cue to undress, hardly throwing your shirt to the side before that fluffy chest pressed against yours again. Lips passionately pressed against yours, with tongue tracing your lip and a hand sneaking down to the button of your pants.

You parted your lips only for him to pull away, sitting up to properly straddle you. Your hips twitch towards him in anticipation as he unfastens your jeans with a familiar precision. It's not long before you've both managed to shimmy the rest of your clothes onto the floor.

Now nude beneath him, Kurt eagerly flattens his tongue against your tip, fangs barely peaking from beneath his lips. At your low moan, he continues down your length, purposefully leaving behind a messy trail of saliva and licking back up to gently suck the head of your cock. He's just as sloppy, making sure to coat your length in his dripping spit and using his tongue to spread it.

You can't help but bury your hand into the soft blue and indigo hues of his hair with a soft groan, threading your fingers through his curls. Barely lifting his head enough to make your hand fall to his cheek instead, Kurt gives your palm the same treatment, licking over your skin with an obvious intent in his eyes, simultaneously hooking a thumb beneath the waistband of his pajama pants and awkwardly tugging them off. But there wasn't much time to mull over his graceless maneuver when his own hard length springs out.

As he straddles your waist again, you eagerly take his cock into your wettened hand, digging your other into the thicker fur on his thighs. His moans are soft, like the rest of him, letting you slowly jerk him off while he struggled to align himself with twitching hips. Peach fuzz tickles your thigh as that not-so-sneaky tail sneaks around your leg and tightens on cue with its owner as he sinks onto you. Your own hips thrust up to try and meet him, making the cock in your hand jump.

Kurt moans through bared fangs, caught between the feeling of your gentle touch circling under his leaky tip and heavier pressure filling him, involuntarily rolling his hips even while trying to adjust. The movement, or the lack thereof, left you just as tense and twitching inside him. Panting in frustration, you moved your hand along his shaft again, hoping to spur him on.

With another roll of his hips, he couldn't stop himself from practically grinding on you, lips parting as his gaze is drawn to where your hand pleasures him. He licks his lips at the sight, only moments later letting saliva drip from his mouth and into the base of his dick, making you curse under your breath as you spread it over his sensitive flesh.

Kurt plants his hands on either side of you, back arched and hips finally lifting. You both groan softly, slowly moving against one another. Your nails dig into his thigh and your hand on his cock struggles to match the slow pace. Desperate to chase after the feeling, it's not long before he speeds up, bouncing higher each time.

The long chain that hung from his neck dangled wildly with his movements, a hand coming to your lower tummy to steady himself a little and to brush his fingers over your skin. Lying your head back with a groan aimed at the ceiling, you peered down at him through your lashes, his parted lips panting and the thick curls that hung over his forehead softly bouncing each time his hips reconnected with yours.

The closer you got, the harder it became to keep a steady pace stroking him. With a whimperish moan, he shoos you away, taking his aching cock in his hands, movements desperate as he jerks himself off. You take the other furry thigh in your hand, holding onto him and watching closely. Kurt tenses around you and stops abruptly, working at his blush-red tip and obviously close. Just as desperate for more friction, you thrust up to meet his stilled form, making him moan loudly.

Keeping his hips in your grasp while you fucked into him, it didn't take much longer before he lurched forward, movements slowing as he finally came, dripping onto your stomach with a panted sigh that showed off his fangs. The sight had your own movements faltering, sporadically rolling your tensing hips against him as you released yourself inside him.

Kurt releases himself as you both still, hunched over you and squirming. You're both panting, your hands playing with his fur and his thumbs barely brushing at your sides. The constricting tail around your leg finally unravels itself as he lifts himself from you, falling into your side with his fuzzy cheek on your shoulder and knees drawn up against you. You quickly reached over to the nightstand for a few tissues, taking care of the pool of cum on your stomach.

With his tail curling over your waist once you settled again, he cuddles into you, kissing at your shoulder before turning to meet your lips. Entwined with you in the sunlit room, maybe this was all it took to be human. Something he didn't have to share, something he didn't have to prove. Somewhere where he didn't need to be anything other than loved.

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (1) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

next chapter

prequel

warnings: ANGST, allusions to death/mental problems as a result of the games/trafficking, arguments, finnick had a savior complex, but reader also low-key has one, unedited, maybe ooc!finnick it's how I interpret him but maybe you don't, mentions of past breakups, may be more I didn't catch, no use of y/n, terms of endearment like my love, angel, sweet boy

1.6k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Snuggled up to his side on the couch is where you felt safest, even with the pit in your stomach as you waited for whatever cruel twist Snow would announce for the Third Quarter Quell. You could tell Finnick had been anxious too, even if he would never want to verbalize it. He'd spent the day finding an activity to keep his mind busy at every second, little home renovations he'd never spoken of before, catching more fish then you could possibly eat, bossing you around as he did each thing all of which was so him, but there wasn't a moment of peace. He didn't stop to just hold you or stare out at the waters, there was no time when he knew that this year being a mentor would be much more difficult.

You knew that too, you'd been doing it for less time then he had, but it was eating you up inside. Even though the day was nearly barren of sweet nothings or the usual honey of his voice, him holding you as you stared at the screen made all the difference. But then your world stopped.

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this Third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.” Snow’s voice was exactly that, cold and icy. You felt nauseous and dizzy the moment the words left his cocky, freezing lips. Then the warmth from Finnick was gone, leaving you just as frozen.

“Finnick-" You began almost robotically as he stood, exiting the room. He said something incoherently and you knew better than to follow him. Both of you dealt with things differently. It was a thought true and tested that he would pull away to handle and you would cling closer. You hoped that being with him for so long would remind him of the happy medium.

Feeling consumed by sadness, anger, and a tinge of selfishness for even wanting Finnick’s comfort when he had so much to process you rose from your position on the couch as you mechanically walked towards the bedroom. Hearing the front door slam shut you knew Finnick was long gone, off to seek the refuge of the oceans currents. The warmth of a singular tear straying from your eyelids brought a stark contrast to how you felt.

They say everyone deals with grief differently, so maybe that explained why you’d just continued with your might as normal. Nearly burning your skin off with the warmth of the shower, stiffly moving through your nightly skincare routine, doing the dishes Finnick usually insisted upon working on, and finally when you'd sat down at your vanity for the final steps of your bedtime routine Finnick had reappeared. 

“You can't go back." Was all he said and you stared at him somberly in the mirror.

“That's not your decision to make." It wasn't angry or malicious, it was just a sad truth. There was no control over any of it and quietly you cursed Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire for ever daring to defy the Capitol's rules. Even if you knew it wasn't her fault that Snow was harsh and cruel, maybe if she'd played safely like everyone else had you and Finnick could be still curled up on the couch chatting mindlessly.

“It can be, I can ask people to volunteer, you need to be safe.” He was like a flighty bird as he knelt down besides where you sat. You could tell he'd been crying by the bloodshot look of his eyes.

"My life isn't more valuable then anyone else's Finnick. That's not fair and you know it.”

"I don't care."

“Mags is too old, she deserves to be in peace when she goes, Annie wouldn't be able to handle that, and Ondine would say no and I wouldn't blame her.”

"You can't volunteer. You have to promise me that, I need you to promise me that.” His eyes were so desperate, so pleading and his hands clung to your knees. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head.

"You know I can't do that.” It was true you wouldn't put poor, unstable Annie through that, Mags wouldn't survive, and Ondine probably could, but you'd be eaten by guilt if you let her. You doubted that you could be the victor once again, but it would be better than making any of them face it. 

Finnick hit the top of your table as he stood, “Goddammit, don't be stubborn about this, angel. I need you to stay here, you can't go back!" He was trying to hold back his own storm of tears which he was gulping down.

“Finnick, could you promise me the same thing? Could you swear to me that you wouldn't volunteer either?" He was silent and simply stared back at you. So you nodded and rose to your feet as well.

“That's different and you know it! There's been whispers amongst different Victors about rebellion and with this happening there has to be more imminent plans. I can be on top of them, angel, I can help end this." Your sweet, sweet boy who so vehemently needed to rid the world of the system that had hurt him so badly and so many others like him before it could do more damage.

“If you do that, if any of that happens. I need to be with you, Finnick. We can do that together, you don't get to just cut me out because you want to protect me. We're a team!” You made sure to keep your voice even, although all the built up emotions made you want to yell it all, to cry it out, and scream so gutturally that everyone would know what was happening.

"That's not fair." He repeated back at you, blinking away his oncoming tears. “I need you to be safe, to know you're gonna be okay. If I'm thinking about the future of the Rebellion then I can't be worrying about keeping you alive too.” His voice was harsher and louder, then suddenly you couldn't stop yourself from raising your voice to the same tone as his.

"I've won these before, Finnick, I'm not helpless! You have left me stranded before and I have dealt with it, and I won. I'm not some damsel you need to save.” The rational side of you knew that you were being unreasonable, but so was he. You did need him, you needed him so desperately that thinking of him is what had kept you fighting the first time around. You loved the fact that he didn't make you pretend to be all the things you were spouting out, you didn't have to act strong when you weren't feeling it and he would take care of you. But now, when it would be life or death, you didn't need that used against you.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I know you can take care of yourself, but that won't stop the fear of you getting hurt from eating me up inside.” Suddenly his forehead was pressed to you're, it was so intimate and so soothing it was already balancing you out. You forced your voice back to the soft tone it had once held.

"Finnick if I'm here and the Rebellion you're planning happens, they'll come for me. Snow will make sure that I'm not safe, he could have me killed for being with Finnick the rebel. I would be safer with you then in the palms of the Capitol.” His hands caressed your face with heat that relaxed your tense muscles simply on impact. 

“I just want to come home to you." His muscular arms were wrapped around you as he whispered his confession and let himself fully break down with you. Sobbing down your back and suddenly you didn't feel your own tears. All of you just wanted to help him, to absorb with warmth and give it back to his tortured soul. Your sweet boy.

“I know." You said it so lightly it could have been lost in the breeze, but Finnick was tucked into you so tightly that he heard. “Can we just go to bed, please? I just want to be with you."

Finnick reluctantly pulled himself away from you only because he knew he could envelop you in the further safety of your blankets. “Of course, my love." He muttered as he pressed his salty lips to your forehead. The dilemma would be left here for now, but he would convince you. His brain and heart were still scrambling for any loophole to keep you out of the arena, as distanced from the rebel plans as possible, and as protected as need be from any and all who could pose harm. 

Even if you were strong, charming, and smart, the Capitol's Princess. He knew you were all he needed, you accepted him and his flaws so fully, so blatantly shared each crevice of your soul with him that none of that mattered because it was the domestic bliss that you were really built for, that you deserved. The life with the house on the beach, where kids could run around and you would garden that he would fight to give you, but couldn't allow any chance that could prevent you from getting there.

But it broke you knowing that he wanted to protect you so bad he didn't open up, that there was a lack of trust in what he said simply in omission. You wanted to protect him just as badly in a way he couldn't understand, you wanted to be consumed by his every moment. To be two halves of one whole in any way you could and you feared your own instability would show if he was gone. You'd hidden it so well when he was there to calm you, but as you held each other so tightly both of your thoughts were silly consumed with the threats of what was to come. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

more of this series to come because I have a lot of thoughts even though this part was shorter. thank you for reading and so many of you for the support! if you enjoyed them let me know by liking, reblogging, commenting, or any type of feedback. feel free to fill my asks with thoughts lmao because it's consuming my thoughts. love you guys 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore

[run-clever-boy]

Hey! Could I request some Twelve smut? Maybe when he was blind/relying on touch a lot? Thanks in advance love you bye!

I have been wanting to write something like this for SOOOO long!! Thank you sm!!!! I’m so sorry that this took me forever to write, hope you are satisfied!!

also on AO3

Inch by Inch - 12th Doctor x Reader

Blind! 12th doctor x Fem!Companion!Reader

Words: 3,247

Summary: The doctor is having a tough time dealing with the complications of being blind. A companion of his and a very understanding reader is willing to help him navigate, but will he let her?

Warnings: Smut!! Minors DNI!!!, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Unprotected sex (0/10 do not recommend), Nipple play, dirty talk if you squint

You walked out of your room on the TARDIS as you heard some clambering downstairs. You assumed the doctor got into something he shouldn’t have and wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Doctor! Wait a minute stay where you are! I’m coming!” You yell down stairs as you come running down.

You abandon trying to put on your t-shirt, considering he can’t see you anyway. You start picking up the pace in your bra and sleep shorts. You tried not to think about the fact that you would be so exposed in front of the man you’ve admired (More romantically than you care to admit) for years. It was the middle of the night after all, but you knew the doctor never slept.

You run into the console room to see the doctor surrounded by bits and pieces of some alien technology you didn’t recognize. What was most important was that he was lying on the ground, and you needed to help him.

You rush over and grab him by the arm to pull him up and onto one of the chairs surrounding the console. “Doctor? Doctor are you alright??” You say worriedly, checking over his figure to make sure he isn’t injured. “What were you doing up?”

“I’m fine, Y/n, I promise” He says, stopping your frantic hands with his own, smoothing over your skin with his own. “Even with the glasses, the depth perception just isn’t on point” He says, his hand moving further up your arm.

“I am getting a med kit, there is no way you haven’t hurt yourself by now” You say, trying to get him steady. Once he looks steady you quickly turn on your heels and hear an exasperated sigh behind you as you leave to get the kit.

You return just as quickly as you left, walking quickly to ensure he doesn’t do anything stupid. You see him exactly where you left him. You can see him lean back against the console, clearly exhausted.

“You there y/n?” He questions

“Any time you need me, I will be” you quip back. You take out the neosporin and bandaids you loaded up a med kit with and help him fix up the scrapes on his hands. He scratched those up most often when he would try to catch himself as he ran into items around the TARDIS, despite the amount of clutter you cleaned up for him.

You help him up onto a chair that sat near the console, grabbing onto his arm firmly for support. He settles in the chair and takes his glasses off, running his hands over his eyes. You can see just how exhausted he is. You know that time lords don’t need hardly any sleep, but you assume the blindness has been taking its toll on him.

“Are you alright now doctor?” You ask timidly.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to fuss over me. In fact, I truly hate it when people fuss over me. You worry too much-”

“I worry with reason, doctor.” You interrupt.

He stops for a second, and exhales. “But you shouldn’t have to” he says quietly. His voice is shaky and there was a different inflection behind that than you expected. He can’t look you in the eye, but you know it’s not just his sight that’s bothering him.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me, Y/n. I’m supposed to take care of you, that’s how this works” He replies somberly. He can’t look you in the eye but he somehow finds you hand and holds it in both of his own.

“Doctor you do so much, I can take care of you too”

He brings your hand up to his lips gently. He stands up and brings you up to stand with him. He runs his hand along the seat to find his glasses and puts them back on, hitting a button on the side that presumably helps him navigate.

“I appreciate your help more than you know, Y/n. I have been a burden and I know that, please don't protest that. It's not easy having to take care of a stubborn blind man."

You chuckle a little. There was no doubt that he was stubborn. Even more so now that he was blind.

"Follow me" He says, squeezing your hand and turning to go down the stairs and into the halls of the TARDIS.

"I feel like that should be the other way around, Stevie Wonder"

"Shut up"

You can hear his smile in his voice as he says it. He very carefully weaves in and out of the halls of the TARDIS.

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise" His Scottish accent putting emphasis on the word.

"Well aren't we 'doctor mysterio' today” You quip back quietly. He turns his head and gives you the ‘shut up’ look. (Well almost, the angle was a bit off but you can’t blame him)

He arrives at a dark blue door, with some gold circular Galifreyan details. You recognize the language after spending so many years traveling with the doctor. You’ve seen him write in it once or twice, and you always found it mesmerizing. He’s tracing the pattern on the door with his free hand and you can’t help but stare. He turns the door knob and opens the room then walks in with you still in tow. You are just now able to see the room and look around properly. It’s a bedroom with a large bed in the middle which looks like it hasn’t been touched. It’s perfectly made with TARDIS blue sheets. You turn to see bookshelves filled to the brim with books, records, CDs, and pictures lining every wall. More Gallifreyan detailing is on the ceiling and sparkles like stars in the night. The room takes your breath away. Then everything click in your brain as you turn to face the doctor.

“Is this… your room, doctor?” You ask tentatively.

“It is” He replies. “It’s hardly ever used, other than storage lately. Considering the whole ‘Time lords don’t sleep’ ordeal” He smiles.

“It’s amazing” You say in awe.

“I thought you might like it”

He unclasped his hand from yours and ran it up your arm. You couldn’t help but shudder at the action, but your attempt to hide the shaky breath you let out was futile. He ran his hand down your side in an attempt to be able to guide you around by having his hand on your lower back only to discover that your side was exposed. You chose this particular moment to curse yourself for not putting on your t-shirt before running down stairs.

His movements froze when he felt your skin beneath his fingertips. You can feel you cheeks heat up and it quickly spreads throughout your body as your embarrassment floods through you.

“I- s-sorry” you mutter quietly, looking at the floor and shifting uncomfortably. You are all of a sudden way too aware that his hand still hasn’t left your side.

“What for?” He says quietly.

“Not wearing more, I guess” You stutter through and start nervously laughing.

There is a silence between you for a minute when he suddenly moves his hand against you waist. He finds a good grip against your side and gently pulls you in front of him so he’s facing you.

“That’s no reason to be sorry, Y/n” He says quietly, his face close to yours. “The only regret I have is not being able to see you right now”

You freeze in shock for a few moments. You feel your breath caught in your throat. All you can focus on is how the doctor’s hand is trailing up your side and across your chest. His hand finally stops when it finds the side of your face and his thumb glides over your bottom lip. You stay there frozen, finally letting out the breath you were holding. He could hear the shaky-ness in your voice and smiled at you. He was nervous too, you could tell (As much as he tried to hide it)

Just then you felt him tug you closer and you feel his lips touch yours. You could feel the hesitation in his movements so you pressed back against him. You could feel him instantly relax and get more bold with you. You move your hands up the smooth fabric of his suit jacket and wrap your arms around his neck. The one hand on your waist pulled you to him and you could feel the fabric he was wearing against your skin. You gasp and part your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He felt like he was every where, just overloading your senses. You ran your hands through his hair, needing him closer. You two move backward until your back hits the bookshelves behind you. You wince slightly at the contact not expecting it. He breaks the kiss for a moment, taking a second to breath.

“Are you alright?” He asks, evidently out of breath.

“Yes, god yes” You say, equally out of breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” it comes out as more of a confession than you meant it to be.

“I wish I could see your face, see your reactions to my touch” He says, bending down so the sound of his voice is in your ear. “But feeling you is incredibly worth it”

He kisses behind your ear and down your neck. He stops at your pulse points and sucks a hickey onto your neck and you use all of your self control to not let out the moans threatening to break free. Whimpers keep escaping as his lips work your neck and his hands are tracing your figure and exploring every inch of your body. Savoring every touch. He is running his hands and lips all over you as if to create a mental map of your body and memorize how you react. Certain touches leave you breathless, arching your back, goosebumps along your skin, and heartbeat skyrocketing.

“So responsive, love” He groans into your skin, hiding his cocky smirk behind explorative kisses.

He pulls you closer in an attempt to move to a different location, not that you minded. He guides you in the general direction of his bed, but stumbles as you both hit the edge of it. He uses the opportunity to wrap his broad hands around your waist, stroking your sides up and down from your ribs to your hips. He kisses you feverishly while he clumsily gets himself onto the bed and on top of you as you guide him. You run your hands up the fabric of his suit and gently guide the jacket off of his shoulders. He takes the hint and slips his arm out of it, tossing it carelessly to the side of the room, having no clue where it landed. You reach to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt while he pulls you closer to him by your hips. He helps you with the many buttons on his clothes in between his explorations of your body. You get everything off of his body and run your hands over the pale skin there. You can feel the roughness of him underneath your fingertips as you trace his body. He runs his hands wherever he can reach on you. From your neck, down your body, worshiping your hips and waist, and further down the run his hands over your legs. All he could want right now is to take all the time in the world to commit your every curve to memory.

His hands come underneath you and fumble around, searching for and then unclasping your bra and throwing it to the side. His lips leave yours for a moment and you almost whine at the absence.

“Show me where you want me”

His Scottish brogue is even deeper than normal. His breath is uneven and his attraction is evident within it. You know what he means now, he wants you to guide him.

You tangle your hands in his silver hair and gently pull his lips to your pulse point. He attacks the spot, licking and sucking hard. He moves just under your jaw and hits the amazing spot on your neck and a moan comes flying out of your mouth before you can stop it. He smirks into your skin as you mutter incoherent apologies. Ignoring your words, he puts more work into that spot, nibbling at the sensitive skin there which has you biting your lip in a failed attempt at concealing your whines. Your hips grind on nothing, begging for some sort of attention and the doctor presses his knee between your thighs to give you just that.

He glides his hands over your shorts and slips a finger into your waistband and slides the smooth material down your legs. You skillfully undo his trousers and he kicks them off.

You run your hands down his soft stomach and go to reach under the waistband of his boxers when his hand comes down and catches yours.

“You’ve done enough taking care of me as of late. Let me take care of you”

With that he resumes his kisses to your skin but then ventures them down your body. He roughly kisses the sensitive spots on your collar bone and then kisses the valley between your breasts. He searches for and then palms your tit, then kisses around until he finds you nipple on your other, taking it into his mouth. He licks over the hard bud lightly then puts a sudden but not unwelcome amount of pressure on it with his teeth. His other hand uses his fingers to roll your nipple between his fingers and pinches it allowing the very little pain to morph into complete pleasure. He switches his hand and mouth to give attention to both and you can barely think. Your breaths have run completely ragged and you can’t even bother to try and die down your moans. The whines escaping your lips go straight to the doctor’s cock and you can only imagine how hard he is for you. The inability to see you is only heightening every other sense he has and you are overwhelming them all.

He lowers his attention to your stomach, his hands running down the grope at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He can hear you, touch you, hell even smell you. All he wants to do now is taste you.

He runs his fingers over the cotton fabric of your underwear and you raise your hips involuntarily to meet his touch. He chuckles lightly at your enthusiasm and you curse him for his cockiness in your mind. He decides he’s wasted enough time so he slides your panties off and runs a finger through your folds. He groans when he feels just how wet he made you. He can’t wait any longer.

All of a sudden you can feel him everywhere. Licking stripes up and down all over you. Sucking your clit in his mouth. Sliding fingers around your entrance. It’s incredible and so much to take in at once. He has you bucking your hips into his hands and whining for him. He slides 1 finger into you. It’s just enough for you to squeeze onto. He continues his ministrations while curling that one finger to reach a spot inside of you that you had never felt before. Your eyes rolled back into you head and your back arched. You were so breathless even your moans had turned almost silent. He pressed his weight into your hips to stop their frantic movement as he added another finger which prodded at the most intimate areas he could possibly find. You didn’t even have time to think about the embarrassment that came with coming so quickly as you let out a desperate moan and your vision went blank. All you could feel was the white-hot sensation of the pleasure flooding through your every nerve. You could hear the praise and groans coming from the man you so desperately loved distantly as your consciousness came back to you. You didn’t realize that you were gripping his silver curls tightly as you came on his fingers. What you did see when you look down, however, was the Doctor licking his fingers clean with one hand and stroking his impossibly hard erection with the other.

This time you pulled him up and kissed his lips, desperate to taste yourself on him. He kissed you sloppily, his tongue sliding over yours and you biting his lip as he pulled back. You slid your hand into his boxers and grabbed his erection, pumping him slowly. His head fell onto your shoulder as he muttered a Gallifreyan curse.

“Fuck, Y/n. If you do that any more I won’t get through the night.”

You slid his shorts off his body and then wrapped your legs around his hips. You hooked your ankles into his back and pulled him closer. He hit your sopping wet entrance and a small whine escaped his lips. You reached between your bodies and lined him up with your entrance and pushed your hips forward.

“Take me like it’s the last time you’ll ever get the chance”

That was all he needed to kiss you fiercely on the lips and push into you, inch by agonizing inch. He bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to him. He felt like heaven, stretching you out just enough to where is felt like you were filled to the brim. You moaned at the thought and he took that as affirmation to start his thrusts. He hit the perfect spots in you and stroked every inch of you perfectly. It wasn’t long before the both of you were on the edge of complete bliss. His hips snapped with the fervor of a man much younger than him and his touch set a blaze on your skin. You had never felt someone pour so much into being intimate and it ignited a fire deep within you. He reached down and (with no vision might I add) expertly massaged your clit until you were writhing and screaming his name. The feel of you clenching around him had him gasping and stuttering out his orgasm quickly after yours, riding out your high to prolong this incredible moment. His hands still ran up and down wherever they could reach, but this time he hardly needed any guidance what-so-ever.

“If that’s what you can do without your vision, god knows what you could with” You joke, the words coming out breathlessly.

He pulls himself out of you and lays down at your side. “I don’t think I’ll need it”

“Why not?” You question curiously.

“Because…” He pauses to turn towards you and run his fingers down your torso. “As much as I would love seeing you under me, I can already tell that I’ve committed your every move, noise, reaction, and curve of your body to memory.” Sliding toward your ear as he says it. “I know you said to do this like it was the last chance I’ll get, but you greatly overestimate my self control if you think I can resist this for long”

You smile and lay your head down on his chest which is still heaving.

You couldn’t wait for him to explore your body once again, inch by inch.

[absentwriterdoll]

haunt

a doll that had a nightmare.

it's been some time since it woke up, sitting with its witch.

quietly, somberly, it muses to its witch.

it wonders whether its parents have dreams about who it was before.

whether it haunts their dreams the way they haunt its.

it hugs its knees closer.

[violinist-rachel]

Fluster

It’s the end of the day and the sun is starting to set. Karl is leaning against a wooden support beam, somberly looking outside.

Karl: "Hm. Time passes unfairly quickly when you're here..."

He turns to Rachel. Karl: "I suppose you have to go soon?"

Rachel: "Yes... It appears so..."

Rachel looks down at the inside of her violin case. She tucks away her instrument and its bow so that they remain in place within their molds. A question pesters her, causing her to fidget nervously while Karl continues to quietly look at the sunset.

Finally, Rachel breaks the silence.

---

Rachel: "Karl?"

Karl: "?"

Rachel: "Forgive me if this is a rude question, but can you really not feel anything?"

He gives her a skeptical look. Karl: "I don't know… This conversation's starting to feel a little painful, if you ask me."

Rachel: "O-oh... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said anything..."

Karl (waving his hands): "I'm kidding! I'm kidding. But last I've checked, statues don't have any nerve endings."

"Why do you ask?"

Rachel looks down at Karl's foot. Rachel: "Well... You almost lost your leg from those crocodiles that one time... But even if you did, would it have hurt? In any way at all?"

“That’s what she’s worried about?” He thinks to himself, bemused.

Karl: "I can feel things, but probably not in the sense you're thinking of."

"I can 'feel' the tugging and impact of forces hitting me, and I can 'feel' my limbs in the sense that I can still move them, even when they're detached. But I have to admit, I barely have an idea of what you humans consider 'pain'..."

He pauses.

"Not that I'm envious. It doesn't look like a good time."

---

Rachel: "Does that mean you can sense if something's on you?"

Karl grins wryly. Karl: "I'll always be able to tell if it's you, but we can test that if you're curious..."

Rachel blushes lightly and pushes Karl playfully by his shoulder. Rachel: "Karl-! Do you even know what you're saying..?!"

Karl (clapping): "Haha! Your reaction's really all I need to know! You're so cute when you're flustered."

Rachel (flustered): "Y-You…! Ahh!! Stop teasing me-!!"

Karl laughs at her again.

Karl: "But to answer your question, it depends on the object. If it were something light, like a bug, then probably not."

Rachel: "Let's say you were to balance a heavy book on your head. Would you feel it?"

Karl: "An odd thing to put on your head, but I might be able to feel its weight. Heavy can be relative, after all."

Rachel: "What about water? Do you feel damp when you're drenched?"

Karl: "Thankfully, my resin coating makes it glide right off me, like water off a duck's back! So… no."

Rachel: "How about temperature? Do you feel bothered by hot or cold weather?"

Karl: "Not particularly. Though, I can feel the effects of it; the cold makes me more rigid, so I feel myself using more energy to move around"

Rachel: "I see..."

---

Karl eyes her curiously. Karl: "Why the sudden interest, though?"

Rachel: "Hm?"

Karl: "Gasp! Could it be?" Karl: "Are you, perhaps, interested in learning about my body more... intimately?"

Rachel (amused): "Karl..."

Karl (coyly): "Because if you want, I can teach you everything you want to know, and more."

Rachel scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. She ponders a bit before her eyes light up and suddenly, her expression turns mischievous.

Rachel: "And what if I take you up on that offer?"

Karl raises an eyebrow. Karl: "Oh?"

---

Rachel starts advancing closer to him.

Rachel: "I've always been curious about you, Karl. And I've been wondering how you'd feel if you were put in... certain situations..."

Rachel doesn't break eye contact, gazing at him as she closes the distance with an expression that makes him nervous, and yet, excited at the same time.

Karl: "For example...?"

Rachel: "For example..."

She puts her hand on his chest, pushing against him with just enough force to make him lean against the wooden support.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel my weight if I sat on top of you?"

Rachel rests her other hand against the support and brings her hand up to lightly caress his lips with her fingertips.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel the moisture of my lips if I were to press them against yours?"

She moves her hand onto Karl's shoulder and leans forward, her face inches away from his face.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel the heat radiating from me if you were close enough to hear my heart beat?"

She gazes at him intently. Rachel: "I'm just so curious, Karl..."

Karl looks back at her, speechless and baffled by this sudden shift. His eyes scans her face as he desperately tries to process a cryptic expression that he’s never seen from her before. Tense with anticipation, he waits to see what she’ll do next.

---

A moment passes, and Rachel sighs wistfully, backing away from Karl with faux disappointment.

Rachel: "Based on your answers, though, it doesn't sound like any of those would do much for you."

"...Right?"

Karl snaps back to reality, realizing it's his turn to answer.

Karl: "...!" Karl: "Ahah…" Karl: "Ahaha!!" Karl: "Well!" Karl: "M-Maybe in theory...!"

Karl relaxes a little, though still shaken from the residual fluster. He tries to laugh it off, hoping she hasn’t noticed his lost composure.

Karl: "But you never know unless you try... right?"

Rachel smiles teasingly. She walks over to where her violin rests and picks it up.

Rachel: "It's getting late, Karl. I think should get going before it gets too dark."

Karl deflates a little. Karl: "Ah yes… Of course…" Time really does pass unfairly quickly when she's with him.

Karl: "Let me walk you to the bridge, at least."

Rachel: "Please."

---

The two walk over to their usual parting spot outside.

As usual, Rachel's stayed a little longer than she should've tonight. Not that she's ever minded, but she feels bad about worrying her poor mother back home. She'll have to do something to make up for it later.

Rachel: "Alright then. I'll see you around, Karl."

Karl: "I'll be here..."

Rachel smiles. Rachel: "Take care."

Karl watched Rachel as she walked away.

He wished she didn't have to go. She usually visits him once or twice every week, but he's never truly sure when he'll see her again, whether it's due to an upcoming event, or simply because she's not feeling well. She tries to keep him updated, but there's been times when he wasn't able to see her for weeks, without any warning. Sometimes even months.

Karl: "Rachel!"

Rachel turns around.

Karl (grinning): "Made you look!"

Rachel laughs and shakes her head. She waves at him before turning back around.

He always hated sad good-byes.

[msmk11]

Wish You Were Sober

Haymitch x gn!reader

WC: 1k

CW: booze, addiction, Haymitch is drunk (what else is new), a little fluff at the beginning, ANGSTY ENDING

Summary: We can't always get what we want

Day 15 of mk's mad dash

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Haymitch gives you a half smile, “You always know how to find me.”

“Or you’re just really predictable,” you tease, joining your blonde friend in the swaying long grass. It’s late and dark, but you’ve been here enough times that you could walk around blindly. 

“I think you’re just obsessed with me,” he says with a smirk. 

You shove Haymitch’s head gently, “You wish I was, you freak. God, so full of yourself.”

“But you love me.”

He tries to sound confident, but you can hear a hint of uncertainty in his tone nonetheless. It’s something you’ve always noticed about Haymitch- how even when he acts like he’s the most confident guy in the room, it’s only that- an act. It’s a mask that hides the insecurity buried underneath, brought about by an absent father and a tired mother pulled in one too many directions to be attentive. 

“You know I do…” you pause, “love you, I mean.”

There’s no cocky answer this time from the boy beside you. Suddenly, the air feels a lot heavier. The burden of what’s to come tomorrow- the reaping for the second Quarter Quell- weighs upon both of you like a boulder. This Quell’s twist? Double the number of tributes. The odds really weren’t in either of your favors. 

“I’m not making it out unscathed tomorrow,” Haymitch suddenly says quietly.

“Don’t say that,” you protest, tears already welling in your eyes, “You don’t know that. There’s tons of kids that could be reaped instead of you.”

The blonde looks at you so somberly, more serious than you’ve ever seen him before, “I just have this gut feeling, okay? I just know.”

Haymitch’s gut instincts are rarely wrong, so your tears begin to fall.

You rest your head on his shoulder, “Please be wrong. For once, please be wrong.”

As you cry into his shoulder, you feel your friend’s arm wrap around you and pull you into him closer. He rubs a comforting, circular pattern up and down your side and you take some deep breaths.

His hand stills, “Can you- can you do something for me?”

You look up at him softly.

“Will you kiss me?”

You’re a little dumbfounded, and the smirk that plays across his lips tells you he knows it too. 

“Can’t always get what we want,” you tease with a watery chuckle. 

But of course you can’t actually say no to Haymitch, so when he gently cups your jaw and pulls your lips to his, you don’t resist.

You open your eyes and stare out at the empty field stretching miles before you. You’re completely and utterly alone. Haymitch- your Haymitch- isn’t next to you or holding you or kissing you. That memory feels so faint and distant now, almost as if it never happened. But you know it did, and you hold it close to you dearly. It’s the only bit of hope you have left to cling onto. 

You’ve been gone long enough, and you know it’s time to return back to the village, as much as you don’t want to. So desperately you want to just go back home and crawl into your bed, returning to the peace of your beautiful dreams, but you know you can’t. You have things to do and a life to live- one that you can’t let pass by just because you favor your memories. 

The walk to the Victor’s Village is brisk and basically muscle memory at this point. You don’t bother knocking on Haymitch’s door because you know it’s already unlocked. He doesn’t bother with locks because, “who’d bother trying to attack a victor besides a peacekeeper?”

You slip your shoes off at the door out of habit, but it’s not like it really matters with how filthy the floors have become anyways. 

“Haymitch,” you yell out, shutting the door firmly, “where are you?”

You’re met with silence, as usual, so you make your way into the kitchen. He’s right where you’d left him yesterday, collapsed at the wooden table, asleep, open bottle of whiskey near his hand. You know better than to shake him awake because he will instinctually try and attack you, so you go over to the stove and bang together two pots. 

This does the trick and Haymitch jolts up, a stream of curses leaving his mouth. 

When he adjusts to consciousness, he looks over and glares at you, “what the hell was that for?”

You cross your arms and lean back against the stove, “You were out like a light Haymitch, and I’d rather keep my head, so banging around some pots was the best answer.”

“Could’ve just let me sleep, sweetheart,” he spits bitterly. 

You scoff, “Haymitch, it’s one in the afternoon, you need to get off your ass.”

“God you are such a nagger. You make up tenfold for all the years my parents neglected me.”

“Sorry I’m the only one who has stuck around to take care of you.”

Haymitch gets up and stalks towards you. He stands so close that you can smell the booze on his breath, “That’s cause fucking Snow killed everyone else, in case you forgot.”

“Not all your friends and neighbors, Haymitch. You pushed them away all by yourself.”

“You want a fucking trophy or something? Congratulations, you’ve wasted your life looking after a piece of shit, hopeless case who doesn’t give a fuck about you most of the time because he’s too drunk to care. Well done.”

Tears spring to your eyes at his confession. You already knew it, but to hear it out loud? It kills. 

Haymitch doesn’t love you anymore. 

What the fuck had you done with your life?

“You know what I want, Haymitch? I just want you to be happy. My biggest wish? I wish you were sober.”

Your lifelong best friend and the love of your life stands before you, suddenly looking more sober than you’ve seen him in a long time. 

“But I guess we can’t always get what we want.”

[helaintoloki]

hi can you do a ben hargreeves x reader where you comfort him after a mission because you know how he doesn’t like to you use his tentacles and how feels like a monster. Just major fluff I miss ben

a/n: i love writing ben fluff your wish is my command anon <3

warnings: brief mentions of blood, lots of comfort and fluff

Blood cakes itself into the crevices of your finger nails as you diligently scrub the metallic scented stains off of Ben’s favorite sweater. The sound of the running water from the sink fills the somber silence as the boy sits quietly and watches you work. He hasn’t said a word to you in over an hour, but you know better than to push him. This isn’t the first time Ben has sought out your company after a miserable day, and you surely doubt it will be the last.

You’ve lived across the street from the Umbrella Academy your whole life, and ever since you were five the Hargreeves have always been your closest friends. Despite their lives being full of heroism and extraordinary power, they enjoyed the normalcy of your life and relished in being able to live vicariously through you. They loved to hear you recount your day at school or your trip to the local mall; they asked about a million questions regarding your family and what it was like to have a real mom and dad. You were their window into the real world and the person that could keep them grounded even on the toughest days. As a result, whenever one of the children was having a particularly rough day they’d seek solace in the refuge of your bedroom.

And that’s exactly why it didn’t surprise you to come home after school and find Ben waiting awkwardly in the center of your room as he tried his absolutely best to avoid getting blood on your carpet. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know why he was here in the middle of your bedroom, and you didn’t press him for details as you immediately got to work cleaning the mess.

After some time you’re able to get his sweater perfectly spotless and hang it to dry before joining your friend who sits somberly upon your bed. He’s too ashamed to look you in the eye, but he doesn’t push you away when you carefully wrap your arms around his figure and pull him into your chest for comfort. Out of all the Hargreeves siblings, Ben seeks you out the most, so you’ve come to learn that all he usually needs is a soothing hug during times like these. It isn’t long before his shoulders quietly begin to shake in time with his sobs, his fists grabbing handfuls of your shirt to ground himself into the present as you reassuringly rub his back.

“You had to use your powers today,” you prod gently, though your words come out as more of a statement than a question. You already know the answer based on his demeanor, but you feel this is something you must voice aloud anyway.

“I’m a monster,” he cries miserably into your chest prompting your heart to ache painfully in response. You hate that he sees himself in such a way; Ben is perhaps the kindest boy you’ve ever met, and you wish he could view himself through your eyes and realize just how special he is in spite of his abilities.

“You could never be a monster, Ben,” you assure him with a tight squeeze before pulling back to see him eye-to-eye. “Every day you and your siblings fight to keep the world a safe place. You are so selfless and kind and important, and the portal in your chest doesn’t change any of that.”

“Is that really what you think?” He utters meekly, sniffing back his remaining tears as he slowly loosens his death grip on the fabric of your school uniform shirt.

“I would never lie to you, Ben” you reiterate with sincerity in your tone. You offer him a kind smile and use the pads of your thumbs to wipe away his tears before confessing, “I love you too much to do that.”

His breath hitches softly in his throat at your words, and he’s quick to swallow down his nerves before stuttering out a rushed, “I-I love you too.”

Your room grows silent until the only sound that fills the space is your quiet breathing. A look of understanding is shared between you then, and now it is Ben who pulls you into his embrace for the tightest hug imaginable. While he had once feared having you anywhere near the monsters’ den, he now held no trepidation at having you so close to his chest. He loved you, and you loved him in spite of the thing he hated most about himself, and in the safety of your room he could finally feel whole and at peace with his flaws.

Ben will always come to you in search of comfort, and you will always be there to give it to him.

[milliesfishes]

hello your writing is so beautiful and has deadass made me cry i love you so much !

could you write one about billy accidentally snapping you and feeling really bad about it when you get upset about it?

again i love you so much thank you for being my favorite writer!!

thank you lovey!! <3 (this took an angsty turn) ౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly snaps at you౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Silence stretched out across the room, doing a lap and settling back on top of you and Billy, sitting on the bed side by side.

You were staring at your lap, eyes wide and filled with tears. All you could focus on right now was not letting them fall. And you knew with one look at him they would come pouring down.

The thoughts swirling through your mind were panicked, and worst of all, uncharted. How could you have ever been ready for this? At your age, with your lack of experience, how could you have known love and new lust would lead to this result?

Your hand twitched, wanting to cover your tummy, but you resisted. The new life inside you was daunting, terrifying. You feared it, even though it was already coming to fruition. With this new knowledge had come improved vision apparently, because now the slight curve of your stomach was visible, your body having made room for the forming baby inside you without your knowing consent.

The news had stiffened you. It stitched a line between you and Billy, one that would leave your lives changed forever. Who knew one night could have such an impact on you? Suddenly you felt a thousand years older. Yesterday you had been so foolish, so naive.

Finally, Billy broke the silence. He shifted in his spot, turning his head to look at you. "Honey...this ain't your fault."

You looked at him somberly. "Right."

"I mean it, baby," he said quietly, reaching out for your hand. Grasping it in his, Billy squeezed your fingers. "I know you. I know you'll find a way to blame yourself whether it's really you or not."

It was almost scary how well he knew you. The only thought that turned the corners of your head and came back around had been that single one of guilt. You had made a choice, one that had lasting consequences. And now here you were, unmarried and pregnant at nineteen. You could practically hear your mother's voice in your head scolding you.

Putting your head in your hands, your fingers curled around your eyes as if wanting to tear them out. “What have I done?” Your words were dry and self-loathing, cursing yourself for what had happened.

“It isn’t ideal,” he agreed, the hand you’d dropped reaching up to rub your back. “But I don’t wantcha blamin’ yourself.”

“I was so stupid Billy,” your words tumbled out of your mouth like dominoes, a decrescendo nearly into tears, though you held back. “I was so stupid-“

“Wasn’t just you, baby,” he said, words bordering on firm. He hated it when you blamed yourself for anything. “I was there too.”

“But you didn’t-“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “It was my job to make sure this didn’t happen.”

Billy exhaled once sharply, shaking his head right back. “Sweetheart. Ya can’t shoulder all the blame for this. I’m as much at fault ‘s you are.”

“I could have prevented it, could have stopped it…” you mumbled, ignoring his words. Anxiety coursed through your veins as you thought of what you could have done, inevitably leading to more anger at yourself for not thinking of it at the time. "It was a mistake."

Billy cupped your face in his hands, eyes solid, voice unyielding. "A mistake? Was it a mistake to love each other like we've always done?"

Devastation crept into your voice. "We weren't careful."

"And what do you want me to do? Regret it?" His words were a boy's but his promise was a man's. "I'll never regret makin' love to you. Never."

"But now we have this," you gestured at your stomach. "Billy...we're not even married. I'll be the town pariah if anybody finds out. I made a choice and now look where it's gotten me." Clenching your fists, your nails dug into your palms. "I failed you. I got too caught up in the moment and I wasn't thinking-"

Billy clenched his jaw. "You weren't the only one makin' a choice. I coulda stopped. Coulda pulled out. But I didn't. I know what it takes to not get you pregnant and I didn't do it that night. I didn't take care of you."

A chasm of sadness opened up in your chest. "It wasn't your job-"

"It was my job to protect you!" he snapped, face firmly set. "It was my job to make sure you were safe. If anyone's failed, it's me."

Your face faltered at that, and you drew back, eyes wide. He'd never used a tone with you before, always been gentle and kind. Fear flickered in your irises, and you could see that he noticed, because his face softened, and he ran a hand over his face, head bowed for just a second. Then he looked up, eyes subdued.

In all the time you'd known him, Billy had been nothing but gentle. He was dangerous to the rest of the world, but a haven for you. Aware of this, he'd separated the worlds of his work and his love with steady arms, making sure you never had to see a whisper of the way he made a living. But now something had slipped through the cracks. The rope of his patience had been pulled taut until it unraveled at your degradation of yourself.

You felt your lower lip trembling, and you folded your arms around yourself, his apparent anger the final straw. Hot, salty tears rolled down your cheeks, and you sniffled to yourself, turning away from him.

Billy had always been self-aware, and you could practically hear him realize what he'd done. A hand touched your shoulder, and smooth, soft words drew from his lips. "Oh, sweetheart...angel, 'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap...'m sorry my love. I didn't mean for it to come out that way..."

You lifted your head slowly to look at him, the tension of the day and the suddenness of his snap weighing on you. It had broken you down into pieces at Billy's feet. But looking into his earnest blue eyes, he knew he'd stop at nothing to put you back together.

Holding out his arms, he whispered, "C'mere," and you fell into him, tears silently soaking his neck. He buried his nose in your hair, laying gentle kisses there. "'m sorry angel. I know better than to snap at m' girl."

You looked up at him tearfully, the other reason for your crying coming to light. "I didn't realize...I didn't even realize you felt guilty too..."

"I wanna protect you," he whispered, and you could see, hear and feel his sincerity. "And this...this puts you at risk. I don't wanna risk my baby for nothin'. 'Specially somethin' that coulda been prevented..."

Sighing softly, you clutched at his shirt, tears slowing down. And as you took in his words, you began to look at the situation from a new angle. A baby. Half of him, whom your soul was drawn to like a magnet, who you loved with all your heart, and half of you. And it was born of something so pure and wonderful, out of your shared love.

Now you didn't see a mistake. No longer was the child in your stomach a red tally marking an error, but a gift.

You reached up for Billy, kissing both his cheeks, and framing his face with your hands. Pressing your forehead to his, you murmured, "Billy..." You kissed his lips once, gently. "It's gonna be okay."

His eyes stayed open as you kissed him, a lost little confused look in them. "Honey?"

Picking up his hand, you put it on your belly, and something in his face changed. He hesitated, then splayed his fingers out over the space, rubbing it softly. The look in his eyes was tender, loving. He whispered, "You...?"

"I'm scared," you murmured, and he nodded, searching your eyes. "But...this is part of you, Billy. I..." An influx of love overwhelmed you, and you smiled softly.

In that moment you knew he understood. He knew you inside and out, and he could read you like a book. Billy's expression grew tender, and he leaned in, kissing you fervently. You melted into it like you always did, and his hand on your tummy slid to your waist, pulling you right into him.

He pulled back, resting his forehead to yours again. "It's you 'n me, sweetheart. You 'n me always." Now his eyes trailed down to look at your tummy, as if he couldn't believe there was a new life inside. "You 'n me 'n the little one."

You threw your arms around his neck, burying yourself into him. He kissed your forehead, murmuring, "We're gonna be okay angel. We're gonna be okay."

[hon3yyslvt]

The fireplace was lit. Your husband and you lay together on the couch, your head his lap as his sharp claws ghostly trace the definitions of your face, gently scraping crimson against your features, you lay quietly.

He stare somberly, eyes meeting your empty ones.

If only he had been able to gaze so lovingly before you would leave this realm.

A true shame your beauty went to such waste.

Truly a shame.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 65: Irises and Yellow Roses

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Everyone has left the Three Broomsticks to give Sebastian and Ominis some privacy to catch up on their own. Ominis explained how he and Anne fell in love, what their marriage was like, and how her health greatly improved over the years. He then recounted the events preceding her sudden death. Anne had become determined to have children to continue the Sallow family line; she didn't wish for it to end in tragedy. Deliberately going against Ominis' wishes, she stopped taking her contraceptive potion on purpose, which resulted in pregnancy. Close to the twins' due date, Anne had a random bout of illness, but they considered it fairly normal and unconcerning, based on her symptoms, and she stubbornly refused to see a Healer. The next morning, Ominis woke up to find her dead beside him. In this chapter, Ominis continues the story and later, Sebastian returns home.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Art Credit: the very talented @giselsann-opencommissions 💛

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story, but this chapter really has nothing I would consider triggering.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 65: Irises and Yellow Roses

“Ominis…” Sebastian murmurs, noticing his watery eyes.

“The coroner said that Anne had… experienced a stroke. That she had likely been suffering from something called toxemia,” the blonde man continues somberly. “It supposedly happens to many pregnant women, especially to those pregnant with multiples, and is difficult to detect. We just… thought the symptoms were normal. We were so used to her having bouts of illness like that.” He pauses, wiping at his eyes. “We didn’t realize the severity.”

Sebastian works his jaw. He cannot fathom how something so… mundane could have finished her off, after all she had suffered through. Anne’s refusal to see a Healer was infuriating - and so like her, but he understands that they could never have imagined her suddenly dying overnight with those symptoms. Then, he considers Ominis’ experience.

Waking up to find the love of his life dead without warning.

Expecting to raise a family, only to end up completely alone.

All hopes and dreams dashed.

Sebastian doesn’t even know what to say. He sits quietly, lost in his own pain, as he watches his old friend, his brother-in-law, cry. 

“I should have insisted she go to St. Mungo’s,” Ominis mumbles dejectedly. “I want to- to take it all back. Reverse it all. It… it hurts so badly. I’ve lost… everything.”

 Carefully choosing his words, Sebastian finally replies, “I understand. My situation… was never the same as yours… but I understand the feeling.” He reaches out to place a handkerchief in Ominis’ hand. “It’s indescribably… horrific. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. For many years, I wasn’t even sure why I was alive… or that life was even worth living.” 

Ominis uses the cloth to dry his cheeks. 

“I know this may sound impossible to you right now,” Sebastian continues, “but… things can change. Your life isn’t over. Try to find a reason to go on. The future is… open. It doesn’t have to be miserable forever. Honor Anne…” He trails off, fearful he might only upset Ominis further. How would one even possibly provide comfort in this situation? Sebastian stares at the floor. “Ominis… I want you to know that you aren’t alone. We’re friends, and now, we’re family… I promise - I will help you in any way I can. It’s what Anne would have wanted.”

When Sebastian returns to the cottage that night, he’s exhausted.

Kate kindly left a few candles burning for him, and he stumbles towards the bedroom to find her sitting up and reading in bed by candlelight. Her eyes take him in as he wanders in wordlessly. He undresses slowly, and she waits patiently for him to join her. 

Sebastian lets out a sigh as he settles, his head in Kate’s lap. She runs her fingers through his hair, silent for a long while.

Kissing the top of his head sweetly, her lips lingering, she whispers, “Would you like to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, no. 

“That’s fine,” she soothingly murmurs. “Let’s go to sleep, love.”

They readjust, and for once, Kate spoons Sebastian. She can tell that he is attempting to hold back tears, but his emotions quickly consume him, and she can feel his stomach contracting as he sobs. 

It breaks her heart, and she wishes she could take away whatever pain he’s experiencing. All she can do is hold him tight. This distress keeps her awake until she can hear him breathing deeply, finally asleep.

“I love you,” she whispers, even though he won’t hear.

Kate wakes early the next morning to the sound of Sebastian’s light snoring. 

Wishing for him to get much more rest, Kate carefully slips away towards her side of the bed, placing a pillow where her body had been curled against him. She slowly lifts herself up, trying to keep the bed from creaking too loudly. She slips on her deep green, silken robe and gingerly pads across the room to escape into the hallway.

She decides to start breakfast, trying to determine what type of food might be best after last night’s excitement. Kate wonders if Sebastian may have a hangover; she determines that it would be best for him to have a hearty breakfast to soak up the alcohol and replenish his hunger. 

When she is just about finished with cooking, she hears footsteps in the hallway. The sound disappears as he closes the bathroom door. Quickly, she plates everything and sets the table. 

Sebastian finally wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later, yawning, donning only pyjama trousers. His eyes grow large when he sees that breakfast is completely ready.

“Good morning, darling,” Kate cheerily says in a sing-song voice.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he echoes in a somewhat groggy tone.

“Sit,” she offers, motioning towards the chair he usually takes. “I’ve made breakfast.”

Sebastian gladly plops down, surveying the offerings.

“I’ve made oatmeal with cinnamon, pecans, apples, and dried cranberries,” she explains. “Breakfast tea is ready. I’ve fried up some tomatoes and sausages. There’s also a bowl of fresh strawberries and blueberries - I’ve just washed them.” She smiles. “But if there is anything else you desire, just say the word. I mean to please you.”

“Gods, no. I already feel spoiled,” he answers gratefully. He lifts her hand, kissing it. “You’re… you’re bloody perfect, Kate. This is incredibly considerate. I love you so much.”

She giggles in response. “And I love you.”

As they tuck into the food, Kate is surprised to hear that Sebastian is not hungover. 

He tells Kate everything about his private visit with Ominis. She listens avidly, asking several questions to which Sebastian does not yet know all of the answers. 

When he reaches the part in which he and Ominis said goodbye, he hesitantly says, “I need to tell you something. I hope you aren’t angry with me that I’ve not given you much notice, but…” He looks into her blue eyes. “I invited Ominis over for dinner tonight.”

Kate slowly nods, and Sebastian immediately assumes that she is upset. He quickly adds, “You don’t have to cook. I can order a meal, cook something up myself, or just change the plans and go out to dinner in Hogsmeade. And I’ll do everything to prepare the cottage for the evening. Sorry… It’s just… When we went our separate ways, I didn’t feel like we had fully caught up.”

“It’s alright,” Kate replies. “I don’t mind hosting. I don’t mind cooking, either. But yes, you will need to help quite a lot. Perhaps you can help out a bit in the kitchen… and I’ll certainly need you to do some work around the house.” She pauses. “Next time, I would appreciate more notice, though.”

“Of course.” He kisses her cheek. “Thank you.” 

Kate’s mind begins to run through the ingredients she has on hand and what might be impressive enough to make for a dinner guest. Knowing that Ominis is blind actually makes her a bit more nervous. She’s read before that when someone loses their eyesight, all other senses are heightened. This means her cooking will need to be especially flavorful. She will need to pull out all the stops. 

Ultimately, Ominis will be her brother-in-law, and she aspires more than anything to win his friendship.

Nothing is more important to Kate than family, and Ominis is the only other remaining member of the Sallows. This dinner could hopefully solidify a renewed relationship between Sebastian and Ominis and encourage them to get together more frequently. 

Sebastian needs that.

“Well, we’ll need to get to work right away,” Kate says decisively, standing up. “Come on, let’s get dressed.”

Sebastian pouts as he nuzzles his face between Kate’s soft breasts, barely covered by her thin robe. “Do we have to? Do you have to?”

“Sebastian.” She gives him a chastising look. “You’re the one that sprung this on me…”

“Oh, fine,” he mutters with a smirk, allowing himself to be helped up from the table.

The houseplants have all been watered, and windows are open to let in the fresh summer air. Sebastian has tidied up the living room and bathroom, and Kate has busied herself with baking a pie, using preserved apple pie filling. She places it near the window to cool.

“Sebastian!” she calls outside, “Will you be finished soon? I really need those vegetables.”

“Coming,” he shouts back.

Moments later, the front door swings open, and Sebastian enters, carrying a basket filled with freshly harvested vegetables. 

“I could be wrong, but I didn’t think the peas looked ready yet,” he informs her. “But I have everything else you requested - the potatoes, carrots, and asparagus.” 

“Alright.” She takes the basket from him, inspecting the garden’s yield. 

Then, Sebastian reveals a bouquet of flowers he had been hiding behind his back. Kate gasps as she accepts the yellow roses and purple irises, inhaling their scent. 

“Lovely,” Kate hums. “Just lovely.”

“I almost cut some of the peonies,” Sebastian mentions, “but these were also ready… and their symbolism… it’s meaningful for tonight.”

Kate nods. “Hmm… the irises… they’re…” Her nose scrunches. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten. Let me take a look in my book.”

He stops her. “They symbolize hope, faith, and trust in friendship. And the yellow roses - they’re optimism and joy in friendship.” 

Kate gives him a lopsided smile. “My clever Seb.” 

She turns around, strolling into the kitchen to find a vase. He follows her like a puppy.

“The pie smells fantastic,” Sebastian murmurs as she fills a vase with water. “I wish I could steal a piece right now.”

Kate smiles, carefully arranging the flowers in the vase. “You’ll just have to wait, dear.”

He pulls her hips forward, places his hands on her arms, and leans in with a mischievous grin. “You know patience is not my strong suit.” He kisses her cheek and eyes her up and down. She’s wearing a darker yellow dress, a rather simple one, under a cream-colored, frilly smock. Her hair is half-up, half-down; delicate white flowers are woven into a braid secured around the back of her head. “You look very pretty.”

She goes pink, secretly delighted by the compliment. “I know Ominis can’t see, but I still want to at least look… decent.”

They kiss, and the scent of her floral perfume envelops him in its sweetness. 

“You smell like a dream,” Sebastian whispers in her ear. “Flowers and honey… vanilla and cinnamon… so sweet.” 

He picks her up, placing her on the counter and going in for more kisses. She gives in, and their lips move together languidly. After a minute, the kisses begin to feel more insistent, and Kate finally pulls back, giggling. She pushes him away playfully, sliding off to stand on her own two feet. 

“Alright, Romeo. We have work to do,” she teases him, a smile tugging at her lips.

Kate puts Sebastian to work, asking him to wash the freshly harvested vegetables as she greases and flours a bread pan. She takes a cloth off the top of a bowl, revealing fragrant dough that had been left to rise, which she puts in the pan and then the oven. 

Eventually, the two stand side by side to cut the carrots and potatoes. Laughter fills the kitchen as they take turns feeding each other small scraps. 

Sebastian stares at Kate for a long time, his eyes filled with deep affection. “Kate…” 

“What is it?”

“I… I’m so lucky,” he finishes. “Sometimes I really cannot believe I’m here with you…”

Kate smiles back at him. “You are. You’re home, my love.” 

[hobiebrownismygod]

Such a Lovely Face Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x Fem!Reader

~1.5k words

Synopsis: After a bad day, you find yourself sitting on a rooftop to calm down, and end up encountering Hobie Brown. The two of you have a nice conversation.

TW: Mention of police brutality, explosions, slight implication of the reader having depression/being depressed

A/N: I tried something new with the lyrics being a part of the story, so if it doesn't really work I'm sorry 😭. I'm really trying to accustom myself to new writing styles cuz I'm still fairly new to fanfictions, so lmk if it doesn't make sense or could be better!

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On a dark desert highway Cool wind in my hair

You were sitting atop one of the many rooftops in Camden, London, quietly humming one of your favorite songs to yourself as you looked out into the distance. The cool breeze was refreshing compared to the stuffy atmosphere of your tiny apartment downstairs, and you decided you'd stay up here on the rooftop for as long as you could, until of course you were caught by the police for breaking the curfew. It had happened before.

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night

You hugged your knees to your chest and rested your chin atop them, breathing in the night air softly, the moonlight shining onto your face as you looked up at the stars. But you could barely see them, the entire sky covered in a thick layer of fog, gases emitted from the thousands of horrific factories littering the streets of London, courtesy of the one and only President Osborne, a hopeless tyrant with nothing better to do than pollute.

There she stood in the doorway I heard the mission bell

"What're you lookin' at lassie?"

You swiveled your head around, heart beating out of your chest as you stumbled back, nearly falling off the rooftop, searching for where that voice had come from. "Hey, don't worry. I'm not a cop" A man appeared from the shadows with a wink, wearing a bright red and blue costume, completed with a leather jacket and skinny jeans on top. The one and only Spider-punk.

"Whatcha doin' up 'ere all my y'self at this time of nigh'?" He asked, plopping down next to you, mask lit up by the light coming from the night sky. "O-oh just hanging out" you stammered, a bit taken aback by his cool, playful nature. You weren't expecting to meet the vigilante at this time, and you definitely weren't expecting him to take a seat next to you.

And I was thinking to myself This could be heaven or this could be hell

"I heard you singing somethin'." He leaned in toward you slightly, head tilted sideways as he looked down at you. "What song was 't?" You fidgeted with your fingers, sitting in a criss-cross position and keeping your gaze on the distance in front of the two of you. "Hotel California" you said quietly, a smile appearing on your face as the lyrics crossed your mind. "Its a nice song". He nodded, looking out at the distance like you were. "Tha' it is."

Then she lit up a candle And she showed me the way

"You didn't answer m'question though" He said, looking back at you. "What're you doing up at this time of night all by y'self?"

"I was just thinking."

"Thinking 'bout what?"

"Everything."

There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say

He blinked. "You gonna keep acting like a priss or are ya gonna tell me?" You shot him a scowl. "There's just a lot going on in my life right now, okay? Besides, I'm sure you don't want to hear about it. There's probably plenty people out there that you need to save" you said somberly, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked away again.

"Look 'ere peng," He said, snapping his fingers at you. "I'm London's friendly neighborhood Spider-man. I'm not just here to save people. Whatever you 'ave to say, I'm here to listen too."

Welcome to the Hotel California

"Really? So I can ask you anything?"

"Anything."

A moment of silence followed, a moment you took to think about what your question should be. And then it hit you.

"Why do you do what you do?"

He looked a bit taken aback by this question, the white eyes of his mask widening slightly. "Jumping right into it, are we?" He asked with a soft chuckle, looking down over the rooftop. His fingers fidgeted, picking at a rip in his jeans as he thought up what his answer would be. He hadn't been expecting you to ask a question that would require such a complicated answer.

"You did say I could ask you anything..." Your voice was slightly cocky, enjoying how tongue-tied he seemed trying to give a response. The question may have seemed innocent, but you were genuinely curious.

Your life wasn't terrible. You came from a fairly well-off family, you attended a good college, you lived in a clean neighborhood in a nice apartment. But you were so sad all the time. There was no reason for it, it was just as if you didn't understand the point of anything you did. Like nothing mattered. Like you didn't matter.

How was this man supporting the weight of the world on his shoulders without voicing a single complaint? How could a person be so strong? Why was he so strong?

"I do this-this Spider-man gig-" He gestured as his suit, "-because if I don't, nobody else will."

He looked back over at you and noticed your head slightly tilted as if you were waiting for a longer response. "Thats it. Tha's my reason."

"Oh?"

He stammered for a moment, gears in his head turning as he tried to explain what he was trying to say. "Look, I'm the only Spider-man in this city, right? If I'm gone, what'll happen to the people I'm s'posed to protect?" He pointed out towards the distant lights of the inner city, "The people in the slums, the punks and protestors of London, I'm their voice." He sighed softly, looking up at the stars, the light making the eyes of his mask shine brightly, an almost ethereal glow emanating. "I have to do this. I have to fight for these people. I'm their only hope."

Such a lovely place Such a lovely face

"I see." You said quietly, a slight smile spreading across your face. He wasn't as perfect as he seemed. The poor guy seemed pretty stressed from the look of it. All that pressure..., "I was expecting you to say it was for the freedom. Or the fame." You added in a slightly teasing tone, nudging his shoulder gently to snap him out of his somber trance.

He jumped slightly at the touch before a grin returned to his face. "What fame? Half the city hates me and the other half think I'm a saint." He shook his head. "I'm neither."

"You're not a saint?"

"I'm not a hero."

You were a bit taken aback by this declaration. "What are you talking about? If anyone's a hero it's you." you said, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckled softly, looking at you, the white of his mask boring into you. "Guess you're part of the second half then."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Mate, you're the sole reason London's not up in flames at this moment. That seems pretty heroic to me."

"I've been the reason for a lot of other things going up in flames, though" he countered teasingly, leaning in towards you slightly, that playful tone returning to his voice.

"Yeah but that's all Osborne's crap. Nobody's complaining about it."

Plenty of room at the Hotel California

"Hah. Damn right."

Another moment of silence followed, the quiet tension almost deafening. "Not as perfect as you seem, hmm pretty boy?"

"You think I'm pretty?" He gave you a sly wink. "You haven't even seen my face. But you're probably right about the perfect part." You smacked his arm playfully, laughing as you did so.

You hadn't expected your spirits to have been lifted so easily, but he just had that effect. A can-do attitude and a cocky tone could do wonders for a bad day. "So? Did your friendly neighborhood Spider-man save yet another boring night?" He asked smugly, tilting his head and putting his hands behind him to support him as he leaned back. "Honestly? Yeah. Thanks." You said, offering him as fist bump. He took it, gently bumping his suited fist against yours and making a pop noise with his mouth as he pulled it away.

Suddenly, you heard an explosion from the distance, probably the result of yet another instance of police brutality, Osborne's pigs being well-known for their trigger-happy fingers and exclusively deadly weaponry. There wasn't a day gone by where something didn't get blown up or a group of people wasn't killed. But that was just life in London. "I suppose that's my cue to leave" Spider-punk said, hopping up and stretching out his arms, cracking his neck to the side. "It was nice meeting you, Ms...?"

"Y/N"

"Y/N." he repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. "Lovely name for a lovely face."

You shook your head at him. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" You asked, suppressing a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you around, darling." And he was off.

Anytime of year You can find it here

"See you." you whispered as you watched him swing away, his guitar slung over his shoulder, just barely holding on. You smiled to yourself before you got up, ready to go back inside. You were feeling much better now.

You knew that next time you were feeling down, you'd be sure to call him over. After all, what's the point of having a friendly neighborhood Spider-man if you can't make use of him?

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Taglist: @s6onder @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe