#she's much smaller than expected but that made it so much more amazing

[echollama]

😏👉🌟

😳😳😳

SHE’S HERE-

THE RAIDEN SHOGUN

ALSJHSAFSFSFDSSA IT”S SO WELL MADE AND CUTE OMG

Great charger for my stylus 😭😭😭😭😭😂😂😂😂😂 my doodles are gonna be supercharged from now on

(just to clarify it is NOT a charger)

[tangerineastronaut]

can you do a yunho reader thigh riding where shes his gf

Missed You | j.yunho

Pairing: Idol!Yunho x Nonceleb!Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff (MDNI) - mostly smut, very little fluff but still a main theme. Requested: Yes w.c. 3.5k Warnings: Thigh riding, established relationship, praise, slight degradation (nothing in a hateful way), size kink if you squint, namecalling, pet names, humping, I think that's it? If you notice any potentially triggering content not listed here please let me know. A/N: Hello lovelies ~ it feels so good to be back. I haven't written in a while but after browsing some of the amazing fanfic writers here it really made me miss it. Thank you to anon for my very first request! Also, this is poorly edited so please don't mind any errors. I will likely edit it in the future if I find any. Please excuse my rusty skills as well, I promise I'll get better! Requests: Open ~ please see the guidelines for requesting here.

5 months. 

For 5 months, your gorgeous golden retriever boyfriend had been gone on tour, and you were expected to endure a meal with him and the members. They’d landed just hours ago and were no doubt exhausted, but Yunho looked as unfairly beautiful as ever. There were shadows under his eyes and he definitely seemed to be craving home, but the moment he’d spotted you when you walked into the restaurant…god. His tongue had slid over his lower lip, likely thinking about the way you taste, long fingers raking down his pants as if to stop the tingling spreading through him. He was wearing casual clothes, just a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but nothing could hide the art of his figure. Tall and lean, toned where it counts. His broad shoulders, his chest and stomach that you loved peppering with kisses. And those thighs. 

You’d never really considered how sexy a man’s thighs were until you’d met Jeong Yunho. Muscular and thick, perfect for sitting on when he was in the mood to game for hours. Fine with you—was there anything more fun than teasing your lanky gamer boyfriend in the middle of a match? Squirming in his lap, making him fumble the controller and lose until you were bent in half, said boyfriend sinking into you?

Dinner. 

Dinner dinner dinner. 

You were proud of the boys and knew this was important, so despite wanting to jump his bones, you kept yourself in check and listened to the bickering between Woo and Jongho, beginning to wonder if Seonghwa had opted to dye his hair white to hide the grey caused by his children. 

You were about to scold them yourself to give the poor Captain and His Wife™ a break, but a warm hand sliding up your thigh made the words die in your throat in an embarrassingly high pitched sound. You coughed to cover it up—thank god for Woo as no one was paying attention to you—and glanced up at Yunho.

“I missed you baby,” he hummed, low enough that only you could hear. His pretty lips formed a smirk that wasn’t as sweet as his words. You smiled up at him, placing your smaller hand on top of his and squeezing, silently begging him to leave you the fuck alone before you drag him to the bathroom. 

“Missed you too,” you reply, making a visible effort to turn back to the conversation you weren’t part of. 

You’d hoped he was just being coy, teasing you a bit, but he apparently wasn’t satisfied with your reaction as his hand slipped inward. He wasn’t far above your knee, but it didn’t matter, making you clamp your legs together and grip his wrist beneath the table. The smug bastard smiled, hiding it in his glass as he took a sip of water. 

It was irritating, the mere fact that his large hand spanned much of your upper leg making you squirm. It was far too easy for him to rile you up, while he managed to maintain composure most of the time. You bit the inside of your cheek and released his wrist, your own hand moving to his lap. Yunho stiffened a bit, but that was it. You spread your fingers over his thigh, squeezing once before gently moving your hand side to side. 

When he turned to San and casually asked about next week’s practice schedule, it felt like a slap to the face. 

You’ve been dating for 3 years. You’ve fucked countless times on many, many surfaces. But when your fingers slid toward his crotch and found his cock already fully erect, you tore your hand away as though it had burned you. The bickering had died down, so to hide the flush on your face you took a sip of water. Yunho hadn’t even flinched, still conversing, unbothered, and wearing that cocky little grin. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You almost felt guilty about the buzz you felt as everyone began to say goodbye, promising to rest before work started up again next week. You could’ve sworn Yunho was purposefully talkative tonight, as you knew damn well he didn’t care whether or not Yeosang’s apartment had more than one elevator. By the time he was willing to humor you, you were all but vibrating next to the company’s black SUV, the driver waiting much more patiently than you. 

Yunho had the audacity to ask if you were ready to go, his warm hand sliding over the small of your back. You nodded so quickly you were almost dizzy. 

The SUV was quite tall, and you were…quite not. So when he opened the door for you, you prepared to climb inside ungracefully, but your boyfriend placed both hands on your hips and lifted you into the vehicle. You had no time to react, as he was climbing in after you. You prepared to shuffle across the seat to give him space, but he easily caught your wrist and yanked you across his lap. One hand gathered both of your wrists, the other resting calmly over your ass. You both glanced over at the same time to make sure the divider was closed. 

“Someone’s horny,” he chuckled warmly, the hand on your ass moving in a slow circle. You frowned, tugging your wrists out of his grasp so you could sit up. Your hands found his shoulders and you swung a leg over his waist, straddling him but not letting your full weight rest against his cock just yet. 

“Jeong fucking Yunho—I have been waiting 5 months for you and not just so you can grope me in a restaurant,” you grumble, fisting his hoodie. 

“Technically speaking, all I did was touch your thigh. You, however, grabbed my—”

You shut him up with a kiss, mushing your mouth against his so hard you could feel your teeth pressing the inside of your lips. Yunho’s large hands found your waist, squeezing, trying to pull you down against his aching groin. You resist by using your knees, the grunt of irritation escaping him making you laugh.

“What’s funny?” Yunho asked, sucking your lower lip between his teeth. The shock made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to buck off of the seat of the car, hips meeting the plush underside of your ass. 

Unwilling to let him win whatever the hell this was, you moved a knee between you, coming dangerously close to his clothed cock. 

“Nothing, just my desperate boy acting like a dog,” you hum breathlessly. “All worked up, trying to call me out as the slut here.”

“You fucking—” Yunho grumbled. He wrapped both arms around you, crushing you against his chest and leaving you no choice but to straddle him again. This time, he hugged you tight; you could hardly breathe as he rutted against you so hard that it made you squeak. 

You wanted to do more than pitifully submit, but you thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a dress, as each dry thrust pushed his cock right against your clothed clit. It was shameful how needy you felt, already able to feel a second heartbeat between your legs, the familiar ache as your cunt woke up from its 5 month hibernation.

“Thought about you every night,” Yunho groaned, his breath coming out in pants as he did all he could to create friction between your bodies. “You have no idea, baby. ‘m gonna fuck you until we pass out.”

“Yeah?” you manage to weakly spit out, your fingers curling into the material of his hoodie. You knew you should do more, give more, but your head was spinning, mouth dry from moments of contact after so long. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna make those sounds for me, just like you did over the phone. Want you to say my name,” he says, his head falling back against the seat. “Fucking pillows…nothing looks as pretty as you.”

“P-Pillows?” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him, his hips still working against your body. He licks his lips, eyes squinted as he looks over your face, nodding. 

“Mm.”

“You…you fucked a pillow?”

“Mhm. ‘s soft and I can hold it down just like you, pretend it’s my girl taking me so good,” he rambles, not an ounce of shame in his tone. 

Fuck. 

You’d used fingers and toys, nothing doing what he could do for you. You assumed he used his hand—knew it, actually, based on the sparse dirty phone calls you’d managed to have. But the idea of Yunho, your gigantic boyfriend, desperately fucking against a pillow because it reminds him of you…it did something to you, woke something up that you were not proud of. You wanted to see it. 

“Gonna hurt you…”

“H-huh?” you stammer, your cheeks flushing red despite your current state as you were caught daydreaming about Yunho and the poor pillow.

“It’s gonna hurt, baby. Need you wet,” he breathes. He reaches his hand between you, catching you off guard as he swipes beneath your panties, rubbing the sticky wetness of your cunt. You let out a broken moan, your hole clenching around nothing like muscle memory as you think of those long fingers pumping into you. 

“I’m wet Yuyu,” you say, silently praying he gives you something, even just a finger to the first knuckle. But Yunho shakes his head, hands settled on your hips. 

“Not enough…I’m telling you it’s going to hurt. Need you to cum first.”

“When we get home—”

“Now, y/n,” he says. His voice isn’t mean, not even commanding like it can be, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. 

“O-Okay,” you mumble shyly, glancing back as if the driver might decide to open the divider. He didn’t, probably knowing better. “Use your fingers.”

“No,” Yunho mumbles. He easily manipulates your body until you’re perched atop one thigh. “Like this. Love it when you ride me.”

You exhale, situating yourself until your cunt is pressed against his jeans. Your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, and you meet his eyes as you begin to move, grinding against his leg. Yunho’s mouth opens, a gasped curse leaving his mouth as you lick your lips. 

“Faster baby,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over you as you rut against him, “want you desperate. Want you to whine.”

“Fuck,” you say to no one, rolling your hips forward. Yunho grips the seat on either side of you both, fingers twitching like he wants to grab you and move you himself. But he just watches, licking his lips and nodding as you drive yourself to the edge on his thigh. 

You feel him flex, the hardened muscle beneath you offering a firmness that makes you shudder. There’s a hotness between your legs as your juices coat his thigh, creating a wet patch on his jeans. After so many months, you’re sensitive, but unfamiliar with the movement as you struggle to hit the mark. 

You falter, pausing to catch your breath. 

“Don’t stop, baby,” Yunho says, his voice almost a whine. Your head falls forward on his shoulder, shame making your face warm. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumble. “Sorry, yu.”

“Want me to help? Hm? Need me to make you feel good?” he whispers, lips catching your cheek. You nod weakly, fisting his hoodie again as his warm hands move to your waist, squeezing once before he begins to move you. Your body is like putty to him, and he grinds you down against his thigh like a doll. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, burying his face against your hair. You nod, unable to say much. He does it just right, somehow knowing your body better than you do.

Yunho reaches between you, hooking his thumb into the front of your panties and tugging them to the side. You gasp as your bare clit makes contact with his jeans, able to feel just how much you’d soaked through them. The thought makes you buck against him, catching the friction yourself with a choked gasp. 

“That’s it, baby,” Yunho says, one hand going back to the seat while the other keeps your panties pulled to the side. “Like that. Let me see you use me to make that pretty cunt wet.”

“Fuck, Yunho,” you whimper, your hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. He hums in approval, biting his lower lip hard as he watches you carefully. You groan and wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing your eyes closed as you grind hard against his thigh. The scent of his cologne is stronger now that he’s sweating, the smell making you dizzy and needy. You lower your head to his throat and kiss him there, tasting the saltiness of his skin while your tongue leaves a wet trail.

“There she is,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. You whimper and mouth at his skin, nipping and sucking as you work yourself to destruction on him. He groans as you latch onto his pulse point, using his free hand to grip your hair and pull you off of him.

“Be good,” he chuckles softly. You bite your lower lip, eyes wide and brows tight, hands moving up to scratch gently at the nape of his neck. 

All it takes is a few seconds of you staring at him like that, still rutting helplessly against his thigh, needing to mark him up. Yunho sighs and leans back to get his hands between you, grabbing both his hoodie and shirt and tugging them over his head. His chest and stomach are revealed, your hands immediately palming at his skin. He nods and runs his thumb over your lower lip. 

“Go ahead baby,” he hums. “Nothing above my collar bones, yeah?”

You nod obediently and kiss him softly, his lips plush and warm as always. You want to cry at the sensation of coming home, despite the fact that you were currently humping your hot boyfriend’s thigh during the longest car ride to your apartment ever. 

You go for his shoulders first, you bite down and get your hips back into rhythm, relishing in his hiss of pain. Your teeth leave marks as you let go, breath hot against his skin. 

Your nails leave half moon crescents as they work with your teeth, leaving a trail of love bites over the expanse of his chest. You’ve momentarily forgotten the goal here, though Yunho has no trouble reminding you. When you go in to kiss him again, he catches a fistful of your hair once more. 

“You don’t want my cock going in like this,” he murmurs, free hand gently smacking your thigh. “Running out of time, babygirl.”

“I’m wet, Yunho,” you whine, bouncing in irritation. “Jus’ wanna kiss you. I can take it.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, eyes trailing over your form where you’ve paused your movement. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Since when can you not take his cock? He was huge, sure, but it’s not like you’ll break. 

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much?” he repeats, his hand slipping between you again. You try not to react as his thumb goes beneath your sticky panties, easily sliding over your swollen clit. 

“All of it,” you scoff, unsure of what he was saying. Yunho smiles. 

“No, I mean how much? How long can you take it? I’m not gonna stop, baby,” he says roughly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Gonna fuck you until you can’t move…still gonna fuck you until you ask me to stop.”

You pause at this, licking your lips and jolting at the heat sprouting from between your thighs. 

“I-I can take it still,” you mumble, grinding down against his hand. He moves it, tugging your panties again, the cooled wetness of his jeans making you shiver. 

“I’m gonna take my fill, baby,” he says, watching you move against his thigh. “Been practicing. Edging myself for months. Gotta make sure I use that pretty pussy until it’s wrecked and full of my cum.”

You squeak, your brain trying to think of a good response to that. Yunho chuckles and lifts his knee, making you involuntarily buck against him. 

“You gonna shut up now and make sure you can do that for me? Get that little cunt wet enough so I can use it as much as I need to?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer. His dark eyes drop to see the result of your grinding, the wetness beneath you. 

“Good girl,” Yunho nods. “Come on. Harder baby, need you to make a mess on my jeans.”

You do as he asks, grinding hard against his thigh, biting your lower lip as he alternates, flexing and relaxing the muscle beneath you. You move your hand to his and push it away, tugging your panties aside in one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other, looking down with parted lips because holy shit—you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet. 

He feels so fucking good, there’s so much more you need from him, want to do for him, but you promised you’d cum. So you rub and grind and clench your teeth until you’re mumbling incoherently, much to his delight. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So fucking pretty and stupid when she gets desperate, can’t understand a word you’re saying,” he says, hands finding your waist. You sob and begin clumsily rutting against him, no rhythm whatsoever, just desperation and chasing physical sensations. Yunho loves to see it, coaxing you over the edge the closer you get. 

“That all you’ve been thinking about, baby? All your holes getting stuffed? Bet you miss waking me up with my cock in your throat.”

You whimper and nod, eyes shut tight as your orgasm remains just out of reach. You need him to do it, to finish you off, you’re not sure what that would be, just that you want him to help. 

“M-More yu, gimme more,” you whine softly, mouth open like a dog as you pant. 

“More? More what? I haven’t given you anything, babygirl,” he chuckles. You’re not in the mood to play with words, but Yunho suddenly grabs your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. You feel the burn of tears as you squirm and rut, his eyes full of satisfaction. 

“You still gonna ask for more when I’m stuffed inside you?” he asks roughly. You nod eagerly, but Yunho only smirks. 

“Knew you would, baby. Such a fucking slut for me. I tell you to ride me and here you are, too needy to realize we would’ve been home half an hour ago.”

“H-Huh?” you mumble out, that knot in your stomach untwisting. “F-Fuck, ‘m… g-gonna—”

“Gonna what? Ruin my jeans with your pretty pussy? All so I can get my cock inside as soon as I get you home?”

“Yunho,” you sob, a gasp on your lips as you begin to cum, eyes squeezing shut. 

You ride out one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, mouth open, nothing coming out but pitiful squeaks and choked sobs. Yunho watches, lip caught between his teeth, holding you tight as you briefly leave this plane of existence in his arms.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes, releasing a mixture between a cry and a sigh. “My good girl. I’m the luckiest man on this planet, baby.”

You choose to breathe rather than respond, but he’s fine with that, hugging you to his bare chest and cupping the back of your head. 

“I love you so much, you know that?” he says, words muffled as he speaks against your hair. “Can’t wait to get you home. Gonna show you how much I missed you.”

He runs his fingers through your damp hair. You know you look wrecked already, and you’ll be shocked if you last more than one round tonight. But you’ll try for him.

“M-Missed you too, yuyu,” you weakly reply. “Why…why aren’t we home?”

Yunho laughs, brushing your hair back to kiss your temple. 

“Arranged for us to ride around for a bit beforehand. Figured one of us would cave at the restaurant,” he admits. You look up at him, the stupid boyish grin on his face making you smile. 

“I love you,” you huff. He leans down, lips soft and unhurried against yours for what feels like the first time that night. He tastes no different, feels no different than he did 5 months ago, and it livens you up a bit, much to his amusement. 

“I love you too, pretty.”

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about how Logan is more open about his emotions than Wade despite what people perceive, and how Wade slowly learns to open up and confront his own emotions because of Logan.

Prompted by this amazing thread. Shoutout to @ramblingautisticman and @desperatelyneedcoffee for inspiring me to write this.

---

Most people expect Logan to be the more closed-off one. To hide his emotions behind a mask and keep them to himself.

But that's Wade's role.

Logan is honest about his emotions—when he's angry, he'll growl and thrash and let people know. When he's happy, he'll bark out a laugh and grin and let his eyes wrinkle at the edges. When he's sad, he'll cry and scream and drown himself in alcohol.

He may not be phased by smaller things, but he's honest about his feelings. (Something Wade could never do.)

Wade, on the other hand, isn't. He exaggerates trivial feelings, obvious situational ones—he'll cower in fear at a "scary enemy or pretend to be pissed over a minor inconvenience. He makes his outward, shallow emotions so loud that it turns everyone's attention away from what he's feeling inside.

(Because if people know how he feels inside, they'll see him and hate him. It's easier to be hated when you can chalk it up to "understandable" reasons, to being annoying or loud or inappropriate. It isn't easy when they hate you. When they look at you, bare and vulnerable and open, and hate who you are at your core.)

Wade has spent his entire life hiding his emotions. Even from himself.

He shoves them so deep down that they become a slightly bitter taste in the back of his throat until it all becomes too much and he violently throws them up.

Wade is like a glass bottle: he can steadily hold all his emotions inside, pretending to be OK, until the glass shatters and explodes and the shards dig everywhere and he's left to pick up the pieces.

But Logan isn't like that. He lets himself feel. He lets others see how he feels.

Even from the first moment they met, he let Wade know how he felt. How he fucked everything up. How he wasn't the hero he was looking for. How he was battling with so much grief and rage that he'd reached a point of complete apathy.

(It made Wade envious. To be able to just say it and move on.)

Logan was the first person Wade met to be so blatantly honest. To wear his emotions on his sleeve and act on them and still be strong and keep fighting.

(...Could he still be considered strong, if he did the same?)

When Wade was vulnerable, it felt like he was choking—the words tumbling out without his permission and leaving a mess behind. Even with the people he loved, he couldn't ever bring himself to fully trust them even if he knew he should. Even if he wanted to. (Even if he tried to.)

(He still remembers sitting across the kitchen table from Vanessa. She held his hand tightly, as if she was afraid he would slip away. Was slipping away. She was urging him to let her in. To tell her why he hadn't been himself. To open up so they could share the burden.

But he just... couldn't. How do you tell someone who loves you, who you turned back time to save that nothing was helping? That no matter how hard he tried to focus on Vanessa and just live a "normal" life that it all felt wrong? That he felt an itch under his skin to do more more more and nothing was "more" enough.

That he felt like he was just wearing his skin. Like it wasn't his, not since Francis twisted him into a monster he didn't want to become. That he still remembered her look of surprise and the reluctant way she cradled his face when she first saw it.

It wasn't her fault. He knew that. It was an adjustment.

...But why didn't anyone understand? The gnawing loneliness, the self-hatred, the feeling of everything being nothing and too much all at once.

He hated himself.)

But Logan let his emotions course through his veins like second nature. Wade watched as emotions twisted across his face like it was a form of art.

And, for the first time, he felt comfortable opening up. He let the words spill from his mouth, except instead of feeling the trail of acid burning through his throat it felt like relief. He finally met someone who understood him, who had gone through the same suffering. He saw his loneliness reflected in Logan's eyes and finally, finally, felt he could reach out without dragging someone down. (They were both already at rock bottom, anyway. The only place to go from here was up.)

And so he told Logan about Vanessa. About the family he wanted to save. About how, yes, he vaguely cared about the world, but none of this was to save the world. (It was for just nine people.)

And Logan... didn't judge him. He saw understanding—a tired, but real kind—reflected in his eyes. He didn't make fun of him for his selfish motivations. Didn't snarl in disgust that he could never be a hero because of them. (He saw him and didn't recoil.)

And there, sitting across the table from each other in that shitty building they'd escaped to, Wade finally felt seen. Understood. (Ironic, isn't it? To have to go to the void to open up about the void inside of himself. Wade would write a poem about it if he knew how to.)

He felt that same kinship as they continued their journey. Even through the insults, the exasperation, the annoyance, Wade could tell none of it was serious. Because Logan never really told him to fuck off. To stop.

If Logan didn't like him being touchy, he'd shove him off. (He didn't.) If Logan didn't like him asking questions and rambling about himself, he'd actually try to get him to shut up instead of just grumbling. (He didn't.) If Logan really didn't want to be here, he'd leave. (He didn't.)

Logan's visceral type of emotional honesty allowed Wade to let himself be vulnerable. Because if Logan hated him, he wouldn't be here. If Logan didn't want to hear it, he wouldn't tilt his head and listen and ask questions.

(It made Wade feel safe to express himself for the first time since he'd been strapped to that shitty operation table and torn apart until all that remained was a body not quite his own.)

Things were going good.

They were.

(Wade desperately hoped they'd stay that way.)

But then Logan pulled over the car, real and raw fury in his eyes. He yelled at Wade, his voice trembling with the intensity of it.

He picked apart everything Wade had told him. Threw it back in his face.

And oh. Oh.

Logan was honest. He was true to himself and his emotions.

And so, Wade thought quietly as the tired continued, he really meant it. It felt worse than when Logan had stabbed him.

(It felt like he was back on that operating table, small and weak and pathetic but still trying to keep smiling. To keep cracking jokes and being annoyed. Because, if he didn't, he'd break. If he didn't keep the shards of his personality clutched so tightly to his chest that they dug into his hands, nothing would be left of him.)

Logan dissected him. Using everything Wade told him. (Using the ammunition he'd provided.)

(Was Logan really looking at him with understanding, back then? Or was it disgust? The images blurred together in Wade's mind, distorting his memory.)

Told him how he was worthless. That the Avengers and X-men were right to reject him. (Ouch.) That it was his fault he couldn't salvage his relationship with Vanessa. (He'd tried. He'd tried so hard.)

That Logan saw him for what he was: a pathetic, attention-seeking parasite who clung to others instead of facing his own problems.

It really was God's greatest joke that he couldn't die.

Wade spiraled.

(Was he wrong this whole time? Did Logan really, truly hate him? He had to, if he's looking at Wade like that.)

If even Logan (the only person who could begin to understand his suffering) couldn't accept him, who could?

He felt like the ground was crumbling underneath him and he was falling and floating at the same time. He felt like he was an observer, looking in on the outside, even as his emotions crashed over him like a tsunami.

But he couldn't let himself break down. Wouldn't let himself be vulnerable. Not here. Not now.

So, he slid the mask back on and responded in the only way he knew how to.

"I'm going to fight you now."

(Even when they'd collapsed, bloody and weak and exhausted, the words kept ringing in his head. They'd let out their physical frustrations, maybe, but the words still clung to him like a blanket. There was still a sinking feeling in his gut. Dread twisting his stomach at the thought of being open.)

(The feeling never really went away.)

---

They started living together, in the aftermath.

Wade had called after Logan as he was about to leave and awkwardly asked him if he'd like to come home with him. Just long enough to find a place to stay, or even just for dinner.

(Logan couldn't refuse. Not with the sense of wrongness filling him as the distance between him and Wade grew with each step. When he heard Wade's voice, it felt like hope. It felt like coming home.)

One night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into a month until Logan had his own side of the dresser and nobody bothered to ask if he was leaving. (Thinking of leaving made Logan vaguely nauseous, now. It felt like ripping away the foundation of the home he'd painstakingly started to build here.)

Logan still had baggage. Still had days where all he wanted to do was grab a beer and stare blankly at the wall, thinking of all he'd done and all he'd lost.

But it was easier. Wade would walk into the living room, plop down next to him, and begin talking his ear off about whatever happened that day. He'd sling an arm around his shoulder, flip on the TV, and keep talking.

(Logan would lean against him, slightly. Would focus on Wade until his warmth and touch and voice drowned out his thoughts.)

(It worked better than alcohol ever had.)

Logan tried to let Wade know that he cared about him. That he appreciated it. Appreciated him.

(That Wade's presence was what made everything worth it. Made him finally feel like he was able to tread water without drowning.)

He'd cook Wade meals. (And pay attention to what he liked and disliked, making sure to cook things he knew Wade would comfortably eat.) He'd lean into his touch. Listen when he talked. Answer any questions he asked.

And so, when Logan came out from the shower one night and saw Wade curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the black screen of the TV, he approached him.

Wade had a vacant, empty look in his eyes. The kind that Logan recognized, but hadn't seen on him before.

It made him worried. He'd never seen Wade like this. (It was unsettling. To see Wade, who was so vibrant and expressive, look so bleak.)

"Is something bothering you, bub?" he asked, settling down next to Wade on the couch.

Wade finally seemed to register his presence, eyes flicking over to where he sat.

"Oh, peanut! I was wondering when you'd get out of the shower. Was it nice and steamy? I'd love to join you next time," Wade wriggled his eyebrows (or what was left of them) suggestively.

It was like a switch had flipped. Wade went from blank, like a doll with its strings cut, to animated and excited in a second. His eyes were sparkling again and he grinned at Logan like nothing was wrong.

(It was... uncomfortable. Did Wade not trust him? Was Wade hiding something from him?)

Logan wanted to question him, but Wade kept chattering and he could never really get a word in edgewise. (A part of him wondered if it was intentional.)

Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe Wade was just having a bad day. Logan tried to rationalize it, even as a pit formed in his stomach. A feeling of deep wrongness.

Except it kept happening.

Wade would get that same, desolate look in his eyes (always when he was alone, away from everyone) and Logan would walk in on him. Logan would try to see if something was wrong, but Wade would interject before he could.

(Logan knew his expression was concerned. Knew Wade could tell he was worried, that he cared about him. So why didn't Wade let him in?)

(Wade always listened, patiently, when Logan talked about his problems. It was one of the few times he'd go quiet, only occasionally asking questions and making extra commentary. He'd look at him with a grim understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, but empathy. Free of judgment. It was the first time Logan felt like his emotions were actually being received by someone, cradled and held and protected so that they didn't burn him out.)

Until, finally, one day, Logan snapped.

"What the fuck is up with you?" he snarled, and that didn't come out the way he intended but he was so frustrated by Wade refusing to just let him in.

"What do you mean, Wolvie? I'm—"

"Shut up. You're not fine. I've been alive for two hundred fucking years, I know by now when someone's lying, Wade," Logan interrupted before he could continue his usual antics.

"Look, I'm just having a bad day, alright? You know how it is. I'll be up and running after I take a nap, don't worry about little old me!" Wade's voice took on a faux-cheerful tone.

"This isn't just a bad day, bub. It's been happening a lot. You get this look in your eye, like you're not really there, and just stare at the wall." Logan stared at Wade with concern evident on his face. "It's worrying."

Wade snorts. "You don't have to worry about me of all people."

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean? 'You of all people?' Of course, I'd be worried about you, dumbass. I care about you and if you're hurting, I want to know why."

And Logan was so painfully honest. It was so clear in his eyes, in his expression, in his body language that he cared about Wade. Deeply.

It made Wade snap.

"Just shut up! Stop fucking talking. I don't want to hear it." Wade wished he had hair right now so he could fucking tear it out. He'd take any kind of physical pain just to distract himself from Logan, worried and open and trying to pry him open.

"Wade, what are you—you know you can tell him about anything, right?" Logan tried to regulate his breathing, to keep his tone calm. To not show the panic he was feeling. (It was obvious anyway.)

"What, so you can throw that back at me, too?"

What? What was Wade—

"So you can tell me I'm a fucking joke? That every superhero team was right to turn me down? That I couldn't even manage to keep a relationship with a stripper?"

Oh. Oh fuck. That was—

"That I should just fucking kill myself, but of course, it's God's best joke that I can't die, so now my pathetic existence is on you?"

He couldn't possibly think Logan meant that, right? Couldn't have been thinking about that this whole time—

"I don't want to burden your royal highness with my stupid problems," Wade practically snarled, "so stay the fuck out of it."

He slammed the door and left.

And Logan was left alone.

Logan wanted to run after him, to grab him and tell him that he didn't mean it. He was pissed off and spewing whatever came to his mind in the moment to hurt Wade. (And he'd achieved that goal, hadn't he?) He felt betrayed and responded in the only way he knew—by lashing out. (But that wasn't an excuse, not really. Not to take everything Wade had trusted him with and twist it. To betray his trust in such a personal, visceral way.)

(Logan knew that Wade meant well. That he was just scrambling to save his world and thought of the only solution that would get Logan to help. That when he made an "educated wish" he'd still try to see it out, had still asked the TVA after everything. But he was so fucking angry and so fucking tired and just wanted any excuse to lay down and die.)

Did Logan really have the right to, though?

Wade had listened to him. Helped him. Even after what Logan had said and done, he'd still cared. (And wasn't that a sobering thought. That this whole time, Wade thought that was Logan's opinion of him. That he still cared about Logan despite having his voice ringing in his ears, tormenting him.)

(It made Logan angry to think that Wade was used to it. To setting aside how people treated him and not expecting anything in return for his kindness. To loving and giving without receiving. It made him want to murder the people who set the bar so low. It made him want to rip out his own tongue.)

(It made him realize, yet again, that Wade was a better man than he'd ever be.)

...And Logan had fucked up. Immensely.

Had given Wade hope that he could finally open up to someone who came from a similar background and understood his suffering. All to tear it away in one glorious, horrible, mistake.

Logan had no right to fix things. To ask for forgiveness. (From Wade. From anyone.)

But what was the alternative? Letting Wade think he hated him? Leaving?

Logan would rather die than go back to living completely isolated from the world. He couldn't go back to waking up every day and drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Letting memories flash behind his eyes as he replayed everything he fucked up and obsessed over what he could've done differently.

(Because, without Wade, he would still be there. At rock bottom. Without a place to belong or any reason to get up in the morning. A samurai without a master. A drifter without purpose. A stray without a home.)

The thought of leaving behind the only thing he cared about anymore made him panic. He felt nauseous, like he wanted to throw up yesterday's dinner and his own heart alongside it.

He knew it was selfish and pathetic, but he couldn't let go. Couldn't handle losing the only thing that made living worth it, after everything.

(Of course, when he finally found someone who was like him, who felt the same loneliness, who couldn't die, he had to go and fuck up. What is Logan good for if not ruining anything good in his life?)

Logan knew he was selfish. And pathetic. And stupid.

(He felt his mouth move around the words. Spit venom at Wade, who was completely, utterly silent. He heard them, vaguely, but they didn't register. He was running on pure rage and adrenaline.)

(Why did he take until now to notice?)

He knew that.

But he didn't think it was this bad. That he'd end up ruining the only good thing to come out of his miserable existence.

He thought, at least, that even if he'd fucked up everything else, he could be good with Wade. Could be good for Wade. It was the one thing he prided himself on.

And now look at him.

Instead of Wade, it's Logan who was God's best joke.

Fuck, he wanted a beer.

[goosewithtwoos]

TOO SWEET

pairing: bob x reader

summary: bobs just too sweet

“You’re just,” you struggle to find the right words. “too sweet.”

Bob furrows his brow. “Too sweet?” He asks, placing down his tea.

“Yeah, that’s you’re problem. You’re too sweet. You let people walk over you. You need to have a bit of a backbone if you want to be respected.” You explain.

The two of you were sitting in his living room, having just come back from a morning run. You hated cardio - weight lifting was a much better workout in your opinion - but Bob was a runner and had wanted you to join him for a run for so long you finally gave in.

His Naval Academy shirt was faded in stark contrast to his blue PT shorts. You’d never be caught dead in PT uniform outside of the work day but somehow he made it work.

During the run, he had been explaining how this new command was trying to keep him from hops and began training him as an unmanned aircraft system operator. Of course, it was nice to have this extra knowledge but he was a WSO and should be treated as such. He talked for most of the run, mainly because you couldn’t speak for more than three sentences without getting winded, so now was your time to offer advice.

“There’s nothing wrong with being firm.” You sip your now lukewarm coffee, making a flippant gesture with your hand.

Bob shifted in his seat. “I don’t want to seem belligerent. It is a good opportunity.”

“But it’s keeping you from your primary job.” You roll your eyes. “Come on, Bobby, you don’t actually want to be some drone operator, do you?”

His eyes dipped. “No.”

“There you go!” You exclaim. “Tell them that. Exactly like that. You want to be a WSO. You’re amazing at your job anyways, they’d be stupid to keep you from it.”

A light dust of pink began to cover Bobs’ cheeks. You knew he had a hard time receiving compliments and always tried to brush them off. Your current attempts at getting him to accept compliments was exposure therapy and you tried to interject as many as possible during your conversations.

“I’m not that good…” He mumbles into his tea as he takes another sip.

You snap your fingers at him, shaking your head. “This is what I mean. You’re letting people get into your head. Take the compliment.” He dipped his head lower, taking another lengthy sip to avoid speaking. “This is where you say, ‘You’re right’ and ‘Thank you, I know I’m amazing’.”

“I can’t say that if it’s not true.”

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kill him or squish him. He was so adorable and yet made you want to pull your hair out. It was quite a confusing mix.

“Robert. For once, if you’ve ever loved me, take the compliment.” You say, placing down your cup.

He shrugs a little which makes you gasp in mock horror before he smiles. “Of course I love you but it’s just hard to accept.”

You shrink back in your seat, crossing your legs. “Who hurt you?” You mumble more to yourself than to him. “Have you ever taken a compliment?”

“Of course!” He cries.

You raise a brow. “Three examples, now.”

“One, when I received my acceptance to the Academy and had my college counselor beaming with pride. She told me I had done well.” He looked proud of himself remembering that one. “Two, when I graduated and my grandmother came to see me, she said that I was the smartest in the family. And three, when I-“ His voice cut off and his ears went red.

“When?” You press, leaning forward ever so slightly.

He waves you off. “Let me think of something else. It was a bad example.”

“No, no, no,” you push. “Tell me.”

He turned away, unable to meet your eyes. “When I…I went…” his voice was growing smaller by the second. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand ever so slightly before finishing the statement. “on a girl and she called me a good boy.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter that came out of you. You’d never assumed Bob would have a praise kink, and especially not one that consisted of him being called a good boy.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Bob was completely red by this point, opting to drink his tea rather than respond.

“I mean, were you being a good boy?” He chokes.

Sputtering, he looks at you, eyes full of panic. “I can’t answer that!”

“Oh, come on, you can tell me. I told you about my…incidents.” Incidents was a polite way to put it. Bob was the first person you’d go to whenever something had gone awry during on of your hookups due to his understanding and nonjudgmental nature. No matter what you’d say, he’d listen and nod, telling you it was always the mans fault and even though you might have called him someone else’s name, it was his problem for not having a more memorable name.

“I think I was.” He says quietly, shrugging ever so slightly.

“I bet you were.” You hum, finishing off your coffee.

Bob just stares, eyes wide and lips slightly apart. His breath hitched as he tried to form a coherent sentence. A sound that slightly resembles “Huh?” come from him and you roll your eyes.

“You’re always such a good boy, Bobby.” You mean it as a joke. You were saying it in a slightly mocking tone. So why did the words feel so right? Why were they so smooth on your lips? And why - God, why - did they seem to have such an impact on both you and him?

Something changed in his eyes. They glossed over with a feeling you didn’t think you’d ever see in him. Desire. Need.

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a question, he was demanding. Damn his pretty blue eyes.

You swallow hard. This had implications. You could tell how badly he needed it and what it was doing to him. You didn’t want to just fuck with his emotions. But you did mean it. He was a good boy. He’d always helped you with reports and post-flight write ups. He always went out of his way to make sure you were okay. He was such a good boy.

“You’re a good boy.”

His breath was coming out a bit harder now, and his hands had curled into fists like he was trying to keep himself from reaching out and touching you. Not like that would have been a bad thing.

“Can…” His voice failed him. He tried again. “Can I show you?”

“Show me how you’re a good boy?” You ask. Your heart was starting to race. You’d never seen this side of him before. He nods fervently. “Okay.”

It was barely a whisper. You weren’t even sure if a sound came out or you’d just mouthed the words but once you’d said them, that was all he needed.

He grabs you by the back of the head, tangling his fingers through your hair, and pulls you into a lip bruising kiss. This was definitely not sweet. This was needy, urgent, like he wanted to devour you. You kissed back, allowing yourself to melt into him. He was taking and you’d give him everything.

He leaned farther into you, pressing you backwards until you were laying on the couch. He was over you, pressing all his body weight down, and you could feel what suspiciously felt like him grinding against your thigh.

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Your hips buck up, desperately trying to chase the friction against him.

His glasses felt cold against your skin and you smiled ever so slightly.

He moans into your mouth and pulls a hand from your hair down to your chest. Your hands grip into his shirt as he paws at you, feeling your ribs, waist, hips, anything he can get his hands on.

“Need to taste you.” He groans out, like it was paining him not to be nose deep within you. “Bet you taste so good.”

You’d never seen a man so worked up before. Bob was panting like he was in heat. And it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“I’m still sweaty.” You say between a laugh. He moved down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin, finding any open area and leaving a mark. He groans, pressing himself down against your thigh again.

“Bet it just makes you taste better.”

Your mind was short circuiting. Was this really the same Bob who once cried while watching a nature documentary because a penguin carried around a rock instead of an egg? The same Bob who called you when he got drunk to confess that he’d once stolen a phone charger from some gas station during a cross country trip when he’d lost his wallet at a Waffle House? Somehow, it was.

And this same Bob was pushing your shirt up and pulling your shorts down.

He looks up at you and it was a sight to behold. His mouth was slightly ajar, and his pupils blown completely wide.

“Hold these?” He asks, taking off his glasses and passing them up to you. You put them on, more as a joke than anything, but the moment he saw you wearing them, he surges forwards and kisses you again.

“So pretty.” He moans. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

You would normally feel self conscious but something about him made you feel so safe and secure. You trusted him with everything. He really was -

“Such a good boy.” You murmur as he began sliding down your body again. He stops, dropping his head so his forehead presses against your lower abdomen.

“Again.” He whispers. You could feel his breath tickling ever so slightly.

“Fuck, Robert, you’re such a good boy.” Your hand runs through his hair, pulling slightly before letting go.

He lets out a whimper before getting back to the task at hand, removing your shorts entirely, leaving you in just your underwear with your shirt pushed all the way up. He finds his place between your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. It probably wasn’t the most comfortable position for him but in that moment, you were sure he couldn’t care less.

He licks you through your panties, moaning when your legs tense around his head.

“Please.” You moan when his tongue presses especially well against your clit. “Need you so bad.”

He eyes flit up to yours again, his glasses having fallen partially down your face so you could see just over the rims, and it was a miracle you didn’t come right then and there.

Feral, a man possessed.

He doesn’t even bother taking them off properly, he just pulls your panties to the side and dives in.

It was good. God, it was so fucking good. Your hand finds his hair again, pulling him impossibly closer to you. It was like he knew your body better than you did, the way he could alternate between fucking you with his tongue to sucking on your clit.

“Fuck, Robert,” you cry out. “You’re such a good boy. Oh my God, so good. Such a good boy, holy shit.” You were babbling at this point, the words didn’t make much sense in your mind but your mouth just kept moving. “My sweet boy, my good boy, fuck honey, you’re amazing.”

He pulls away and you want to cry. He presses kisses against your thigh while you try to remember how to breath properly.

“You taste so good. Wanna keep you here forever so I can have this forever.” He says.

You nod in agreement. “Please. You can. Anytime you want.”

His groan sends vibrations through you. You’re mind is a daze. Your hand cups his cheek, gently rubbing the side of his face. His stubble feels rough under your skin but the coarseness only makes your heart swell more.

“Gonna make me come like a good boy?” You ask, voice barely a whisper.

He responds by diving back in, tongue licking up your slit, collecting your wetness on his lips. Your back arches again, hips bucking. His glasses begin to slip off but your mind can’t care about anything other than the man who’s head is currently between your legs, showing you more pleasure than any man has shown you before.

He wraps his arm around so that his hands are free and you can feel his biceps tensing under your legs. The thought of his muscles had never turned you on before but suddenly, it caused a rush of heat to shoot through you.

His thumb comes down to play with your clit while his mouth still works your slit. The light teasing circles from his finger was such a different feeling from how his relentless and eager tongue was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You could feel that cool in your stomach tightening. Your hips were bucking more frequently and when you felt his index finger run across your folds, you knew you were a goner.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Robert, please.” You moan.

“You don’t gotta beg.” He tells you, resting his head on your thigh for a moment, taking you in. His fingers were still working you, keeping you right on the edge. “I’ll give you everything you need.” His accent was thicker than normal and you wanted to see just how deep it could get. Another time though, you didn’t want any distractions from this current event.

When his mouth connects with your clit, you swear it was a religious experience, and you were coming before you even realized it.

“Good boy, good boy, good boy.” You keep repeating as he works you down from your high. Finally, once he deems you to be clean enough, he lifts his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do you uh…do you want anything for yourself?”

He looks to the side sheepishly. “I’m…good.” You sit up quickly and look at him. A wet spot stains his crotch just barely visible in his PT shorts. The thought of him coming just from eating you out sends another wave through you.

Perhaps a five minute intermission before round two wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

[peachglazewrites]

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: medical procedures, tlou typical violence, PTSD 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: literal sleeping together, friends to lovers, slow burn 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6475k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Eight months ago, you sustained a life-altering injury while on patrol. Five months ago, you were officially dismissed from your unit and, after a tense meeting with Isaac, were transferred to the medical centre to train under your friend/roommate, Mel. Four months ago, you offered your couch to Abby to sleep on whenever she got kicked from her apartment for Manny's ‘sleepovers’. Two months ago, you started sleeping in the same bed. It works, this arrangement you have. She just doesn’t know that just over twelve months ago, you started to fall in love with her.

: ̗̀➛ masterpost

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ save/read the fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: 𝙸

“You good to stitch this while I wash up?”

Mel wipes at her sweaty forehead with the back of her arm, slippery blood coating her hands. The procedure got messier than expected, and with gloves being stretched thin across the different bases, you had to get real comfortable with blood on your bare skin.

“Yeah, of course. Need to practice my knots anyway.”

Malcom, the older WLF soldier, lays back on the bed, shirt cut away and blood coating his abdomen. A bullet caught him in the side, going right through his front and leaving out his back. If he got medical attention right away it would have been fine, but his thinner skin and continued combat just made the wound deeper, ripping right through his side. The two holes he would have had were now one big gash that needed to be stitched.

“Be sure you make all them bows pretty, doc.” Malcom grins at you, his chuckles stuttering into a nasty cough.

Your eyes roll as you turn to the surgical cart next to you, setting up the sutures. “Sure thing, Malcom.”

Wheeling the table over to the bedside, you grab the curved needle and sterile thread, sitting on a stool next to his bedside to get a good angle on him. You grunt and stretch your left leg out stiffly under the cot, trying to release some of the tension in the muscle.

“You know, they should give you one of those punch cards for coming in so often. Visit us five times and you get a treat on the sixth.”

He squints at you, wincing and cursing when you push the needle through his swollen skin.

“Yeah? And when’s that lesson on bedside manner comin’?”

Mel laughs from the back room, washing and disinfecting her hands. “Oh, this is as good as it gets.”

Flashing a grumbling Malcom a smile, you continue your stitching, doing a row of smaller ones that you need to cut off and tie after each knot.

You’re getting the hang of it, though tying all the small knots with the forceps was your weakest point. You were much better at doing running stitches, but for a wound like Malcom’s on such a mobile part of his body, these were the best option.  You’d obviously improved enough though, or else Mel wouldn’t have let you do them mostly unsupervised.

She’s a good teacher, Mel. You were hoping when Isaac approved your request to move to the medical centre that he would assign you to her. It only made sense. Not only was she one of the best here at the Stadium, but the two of you were already familiar with each other.

You share one of the Stadium apartments, have done for just over a year and a half. As far as roommates went, Mel was amazing. She’s friendly, respectful of your space, quiet. It was hard not to become friends with her. You spent late nights talking, would join her and her group of friends for meals. It was nice.

And then you got injured. Well, a bit more than injured—you fucked up your leg pretty bad. Mel was on call when you were dragged in and helped you as much as she could. She’s incredibly talented. Quick hands and quicker thinking. She had your broken leg splinted up and healing in no time.

Until you fucked it up again, leaving your leg to fuse itself in a weird spot. You can walk, sometimes even run for a bit if it’s a good day, but you’d be biting back the pain and severely regretting it afterwards. On a bad day? It’s a struggle to even stand for more than a couple of hours.

Now you have a limp that won’t go away, and your position as one of WLF’s many grunts taken away from you.

“We need soldiers, not bait. Next time you come asking me for your rank back, make sure you’re not shaking from your walk down the hall.”

Yeah.

Mel was the one to suggest becoming a medic. You’d spent enough time around Mel to pick up a thing or two, and those ten weeks in and out of the medical tent made you pretty familiar with the goings on. She even offered to be your supervisor, taking you under her wing to teach you all she knew.

You clip the final suture, placing the forceps and scissors back onto the metal tray next to you.

“Okay, I think we’re done. Mel,” you call over your shoulder, “Can you check this for me?”

Mel looks up from the chart she’s scribbling on, tucking it under her arm to come and lean over your shoulder.

“Nice work. You lost a bit of tension in the middle, but not too much that it wont hold.” She reaches over, ghosting over the segment in question. She brings her hand to rest on your shoulder. “Otherwise, they’re perfect. I think you’ve officially gotten the hang of it.”

You beam up at her, chest puffing in pride. It’s been good knowing that you’re good at more than combat. A relief. You don’t know what you would have done if this didn’t work out.

You’d rather not think about it.

Malcom shifts on the cot, twisting his body to look down at his stitches. He reaches a hand down to touch them, but you slap them away before he can.

“Touch them and I’ll put a cone on you like a dog.”

Malcom grins, laughing and rubbing at the red slap mark on his hand.

“You flirtin’ with me, doc?”

“Gross. Get out of here, Mal.”

His laughs once again devolve into gargling coughs, levering himself up off the bed with a hand from Mel.

She wraps him up, bandaging the wound while giving him the rundown.

“No getting this wet for twenty-four hours. After that you can shower, but no soaking. You’ll need to come back in two weeks to get the sutures out, so until then I don’t want you touching it or picking at the scabs.” She gives him a pointed look, and he has enough in him to look away guiltily, scratching at his chin.

“Yeah, I know the drill. Any sign of infection I’ll come back.”

Mel nods, stepping away from his side to grab a small bottle of pills off the counter.

“Take two of these when you need them, but wait four to six hours in between.”

“Got anything stronger?” Malcom winks.

“Not for you.” Mel’s lips twitch in a smile and she presses the bottle to his chest. “Have a good one, Malcom.”

Malcom takes the bottle and grins, bringing a hand up to tip an imaginary hat on his head. “Appreciate all you do for us, doc.” He peers around Mel, calling out to you in the next room. “And always a pleasure seein’ you. Remind me to take you up on that treat next time.”

“Goodbye, Malcom.” You call from the sink, scrubbing down on your knuckles. You stare him down as he leaves, laughing the whole way.

You roll your eyes, turning back to washing the blood off your arms. It had started to dry, making your skin tacky and gross.

Mel wanders over, leaning to rest against the sink next to you as she finishes filling out Malcom’s chart. “He’s got a point. You’ve got to be nicer to patients.”

“Malcom’s a dirty old dog. He’s fine. If he wasn’t going to be okay, then I’d be nicer.”

“The severity of someone’s injury doesn’t factor into how nice you are to them.” She’s trying to tell you off, but you can see her smiling from behind her clipboard.

You just shrug, turning off the tap and shaking out your arms. “Seems fair to me.”

She breaks, snorting and poking you in the side with the board as she walks past, placing it on a hook on the wall. She grabs the metal tray and wheels it away to be sanitised.

“You’re done for the day. Go home and relax, your leg is shaking like crazy.”

You look down at your leg, sighing as you watch the muscle of your calf twitch from the strain. It wasn’t too crazy today, but there was a lot of sitting down and standing back up. You were starting to feel it.

“You sure? If I’m sitting, I can- “

Mel cuts you off with her signature ‘excuse me?’ look, her brow raised, and her lips curled downward. That shuts you up real quick, as it does most people. Poor Owen is on the other end of that look too often, and he pouts for ages afterwards every single time.

You grab your coat from a basket under the sink, where you all put your belongings when you clock in.

“I’ll see you for dinner?”

Mel shakes her head, gathering up all the dirty tools and putting them in a metal tub for sanitation.

“I’m going to Owen’s tonight. We have the morning off tomorrow, so I think we’re going to head to the aquarium with Alice.”

You smile, throwing your coat back on. “That’ll be nice. I know Alice was antsy about getting out of the kennel when I saw her yesterday.”

Mel chuckles, “That’s how she gets you. You know she has to go on a diet because people keep giving her treats?”

You laugh along with her, the zip lock bag of jerky you save just for Alice burning in your coat pocket.

Coming up behind her, you press a chaste kiss to the back of Mel’s head as you pass. “Well, have fun. Drink responsibly. Use protection- “

“Shut your mouth right now.“ She hisses, whipping her head around to see who’s around to hear. She’s in the middle of cleaning up, but you know you’d get a punch right across your shoulder if she had a hand free.

Pulling back the tent flap you wave goodbye to Mel, grinning at her flushed face.

“I’ll see you when you get back!”

Swinging by the front you sign out for the day, writing down your reasoning for clocking off early. You only had two hours left of your shift, and you really do think you could have lasted if you were allowed to sit the rest of the day. But what Mel says goes, as both your supervisor and your doctor.

The sun is setting when you leave the tent, the November air nipping at your skin. Winter is right around the corner, and you can already feel it. You’ll need to take up Mel’s offer of making some legwarmers to wear under your clothes, knowing that the freezing temperatures are going to be hell on your leg.

Wrapping your coat further around you, you shuffle inside the stadium as quickly as you can. The caf should just be starting to serve dinner now, and if you hurry you can beat the rush before everyone clocks off.

Just as you predicted, people are already lining up at the food stations when you reach the mess hall. Each of the stalls are serving something different, though it usually all boils down to a combination of rice, meat, soup, and stew. Today it looked like everyone was lining up by the old pretzel place, which usually meant it was burritos.

You do an awkward shuffle, a small circle as you try to decide what to eat. The burritos stall is always packed for a reason, but it looks like the butchers finally got some of those pigs in-

A sharp whistle from behind you cuts through the rumble of voices.

“Hey, doc!”

You turn, looking over at the old Noodle Bowl.

A woman a bit older than you stands behind the counter, her cropped hair hidden underneath a backwards cap. Her tank top is drenched in sweat from the hot kitchen, her deep skin flushed from the heat. She holds out an opaque container, though you can already smell the rich beef stew coming from the kitchen behind her.

“Skip the line! You know medics get priority.” She grins, waving the container at you.

You smile and limp over, your leg starting to throb. You meet the woman at the counter, gently taking the container from her. It’s nice and warm in your hands, feeling them tingle as they heat up.

“Thanks, Isabella. You’re a life saver.” You sigh appreciatively. You crack the container open to peek inside, your mouth watering at the dark broth and floating chunks of potato and beef.

“You know what would be perfect with this?” You begin, looking up at her. She smirks, reaching off to the side.

“Bread?” she asks, sliding over a small parcel of tinfoil.

You gasp, reaching for it. “A woman after my own heart.” You laugh, placing the foil of bread on top of the container. “Remind me again why we didn’t work out?”

“You were way too out of my league?” Isabella teases, leaning across the counter towards you.

“Good answer.” You grin back at her.

Isabella chuckles, taking off her cap to smooth out her hair again before putting it back on.

“You take care of yourself, yeah? Enjoy.” She winks, rapping the counter with her knuckles before turning back to the kitchen.

Stew in hand, and a light blush on the highs of your cheeks, you make the long trek back to the comfort of your room. Luckily yours is only on the second floor, as opposed to being on the third or fourth, but with the escalators out of order it’s still a huge hike for you and your leg.

You end up taking your coat off to make a temporary bag for your stew, folding it up and using the arms as handles. It gives you more room to grip the rails as you need them, which becomes more and more often the higher you climb.

You’re slightly out of breath and coated in a fine layer of sweat by the time you reach your room, taking a second to catch your breath before stepping in. Maybe you couldn’t have done those last two hours. Dammit Mel for always being right.

The stew is still hot when you unwrap it from your coat, moving to hang it up on a peg near the door. If you were quick about getting changed, you could probably get away with not having to heat it back up.

Depositing the container on the dining table as you pass, you make your way over to your side of the room, having to pivot and turn back when you automatically start going down the steps.

You and Mel split the room pretty evenly, her having the slightly raised segment to herself, and you having the area in front of the window. You liked being so close to the giant windows, peeking through the curtains you both strung up when you couldn’t sleep and pressing your cheek to the cold glass on warm nights. But ever since your injury, Mel suggested the two of you swap.

It made sense, taking away as many unnecessary obstacles as possible, but you still kind of missed your old spot. Maybe if you asked ever so nicely you could swap again.

You strip in front of your wardrobe, quickly hopping into comfier clothing. It was by no means anything close to proper pyjamas, a pair of slightly more worn in cargo pants and a long sleeve henley. Something that you could feasibly run around and fight in if you needed to.

Your days as a solider are over, but old habits die hard.

The rest of your night is simple. It always is when you have the room to yourself. Having Mel around is always fun and you love staying up and talking to her, but it is nice to just be alone sometimes. It feels different, not like how it used to when you were fighting for your life before you joined WLF. You can choose to be alone now, knowing that you’re safe and warm and that your friends are just around the corner. You can enjoy it.

Setting up a CD to play some soft music in the background, you eat your dinner. Isabella had served you up richly, enough chunks of beef in your single serving to split across two. She’s always been like that, giving special treatment to those she likes and admires. Your brief but very intense history got you onto that list, and you’re thankful for every day you’re still on it.

Using the bread to soak up the last of the broth, you savour the final bite of your food. If Mel was here, you’d get to have her broth too (she only likes the chunks, apparently), but tonight you miss out.

With dinner done and nothing else to do, you decide to curl up in bed for the rest of the night, give your leg a much-needed rest. You keep the CD playing quietly and grab one of Mel’s textbooks, tossing it onto the bed.

You run through your stretches for the night, positioning yourself on the floor to bend and stretch your leg just as Pierre-- the closest thing to a physiotherapist you have around here-- showed you. It hurts like a bitch, so you give yourself some leeway tonight and stop when it gets too much.

Peeling yourself up off the floor, you practically crawl under your covers, dragging the book under with you. The book is heavy, one that would be used during school, but you’re finding it somewhat useful. A lot of what they’re talking about goes over your head, but there’s enough diagrams and things you recognise to somewhat keep up. A lot of what Mel teaches you is done through the real thing, so you don’t have a lot of time to learn the name of every single bone or nerve in the nervous system. It’s a lot more… ‘Don’t cut here’ and ‘If you don’t put pressure there, he’s going to bleed out and die’.

You fall asleep around eleven, the textbook flopping to the floor when your arms couldn’t hold it up anymore. You’ve shifted in your sleep, back facing the rest of the room and limbs tucked in. You should start looking for a thicker blanket now that it’s getting colder.

The corner of your bed dips under their weight as someone sits, trying not to squish your feet under the covers. The thumping of boots being kicked off their feet and to the floor is just enough to pull you back to consciousness, though it’s the rush of cold air under the blanket as they pull it back that wakes you up entirely.

“Abby… Cold.” You hiss, turning and trying to tug the blanket from her.

You can practically hear her eyes roll as she crawls under with you, shifting onto her side so she can press her back up against yours. It makes up for the biting cold she let in, her back strong and warm, heating you up more than your blankets ever could.

“How was patrol?” you mumble, brain still catching up.

Abby hums. “Fine. Normal.”

You nod, or think that you do. You’re so tired.

“S’good.” You yawn, burying your face into your pillow more. “Sorry Manny kicked you out.”

She shifts, her rolling muscles move against your back.

“Yeah,” she sighs, sinking into your mattress, “It’s whatever. He uh, got to the room while I was eating dinner.”

“Should talk to him. Tell him to keep it in his pants when you get home from patrols.”

You hear a ghost of a laugh, your music quiet enough for you to pick it up. It puts a sleepy smile on your face.

“I should, huh? Maybe tomorrow.”

“Mmhm.” You yawn, stretching out your legs before relaxing back into your mattress with a hum. “I’ll be your back up.”

Ever since you found Abby passed out in the library, an open copy of Lord of the Flies laid across her chest, she’s been sleeping in your room.

She rejected your offer initially, looking at you like you’d grown a second head before rolling back over to keep sleeping. Which was fair, you guessed. You weren’t exactly friends, just two people that hung out in the same group.

Not that you didn’t try to be. You knew from the moment Mel introduced you to everyone that you wanted to know more about Abby. She was intimidating, a bit rough around the edges, and more than a little cold during your first interaction. It should have been a sign to stay out of her way, to leave her alone. But unfortunately, it just made her incredibly attractive.

No matter what you did, nothing seemed to favour you to her. You eventually found out it was because of Mel, and while no one could tell you exactly what happened, you figured it was bad enough for her to dislike you through pure association.

Something must have stuck with her though, because soon after rejecting your offer she was knocking on your door, pillow tucked under her arm, ready to take over your couch.

And she did. Anytime she needed a place to sleep, and Mel wasn’t home, she would come over. You started leaving out nicer blankets, draping them over the back of the couch, switching out the throw pillows for softer, less scratchy ones. She never said anything, but you knew she appreciated it.

It wasn’t until two months ago, drunkenly collapsing on your bunk together after Manny’s birthday party, that you started sharing your bed. The nightmares you would have, that the both of you shared in common, seemed to fade away when you weren’t alone.

A silent agreement passed between the two of you then, an unspoken arrangement to slide in next to each other. Backs pressed together, sharing your warmth, getting hours of blissful sleep.

You feel a nudge to your calf.

“Go back to sleep. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” She whispers, drawing her foot back to curl into herself. The movement presses her back more firmly into yours. A contented sigh tumbles from your lips.

“You’re fine. G’night, Abby.”

“… Night.”

You both fall into comfortable silence, the soft music still playing from the corner of your room. The CD will finish soon, but you should hopefully be asleep by then. You wait for the telltale signs of a sleeping Abby before you let yourself fall back under.

While the nightmares aren’t as intense when you share the bed, all it takes is a particularly bad day for them to rear their ugly head. And while you have your own long list of issues, you’re not the one still in active duty, so you like to make sure that Abby falls asleep. That she isn’t left to stare into the dark until the sun begins to rise, or gets dragged into whatever hell her brain has fixed up for her.

Her breathing eventually slows, and while she doesn’t snore, her deep breaths are interrupted with the occasional huff and groan. The pressure of her warm back on yours builds as her muscles relax and she shifts into the divot in the mattress between you. Her foot twitches and she shuffles her legs, unconsciously nudging you to entangle your legs with her own.

Only when you are certain she’s out and her sleep is peaceful do you let yourself go back to bed.

⸙

She’s gone in the morning when you start awake, the sound of a door down the hall slamming closed making your heart leap into your throat. Shooting upright in bed, the blanket tucked gently around you falling to your lap, you reach out for your firearm. It takes feeling the lumpy, cold mattress beneath your fingers to bring you back to yourself.

You’re in your room. Not outside hidden amongst the trees.

There are no Scars here.

Knees come up to meet your forehead as you curl in on yourself, shutting your eyes and forcing deep, shaky breaths.

It’s been months since you were on any kind of active duty, yet your body wouldn’t let you forget a second of it. Once a soldier always a soldier, you guess.

Once your heartrate slows back down, the sweat that was beading along your temples cooling, you lift your head up from your knees, peaking at the curtains. The morning sun is breaking through, sending slivers of light over Mel’s bed and the couch. If you strain your ears, you can hear people shuffling in the hallway, tired grumblings as they make their way into work.

Without checking a watch you’d say it was around eight in the morning.

Mel wasn’t scheduled for work until tonight, which means that you too got to have the morning off too. Though you were really getting somewhere with your training, Isaac didn’t want you working solo until Mel had signed off on you. So, unless they were absolutely swamped or it was an emergency, you worked the same shifts as Mel.

Flopping back on the mattress you shut your eyes once more, stretching out your limbs across the entire expanse of the bed. You had absolutely no issues with sharing your bed with Abby, but this mattress wasn’t exactly a king, and often find yourself tucked right up against the wall.

You doze on and off for a few more hours, taking advantage of the free day to catch up on all the sleep you’d been neglecting. It feels like you and Mel have been working around the clock lately, being assigned long shifts at odd hours. Ideally, you’d nap until your shift tonight, but your body refuses to let you sleep peacefully after 10am.

You putter around the room for a bit after dragging yourself out of bed, getting changed into your clothes for the day and drawing open the large curtains to let the sunlight into your room. The rays warm you as you do your morning stretches, flexing and pulling your leg into repetitive positions.

You so desperately want to just laze on the couch, curl up with a book or a magazine and rest your leg, but looking around the room you spot multiple piles of belongings neither your nor Mel have bothered to tidy up. Knowing the two of you, they’ll never get done if you don’t tackle them now. And who knows, maybe Mel will be so impressed that she really will swap spots with you.

You stomach begins to rumble around lunch time, just as you’re standing up from the CD rack you spontaneously decided to reorganise. Sure, there was probably something more important to do, but now your CDs are back to being in alphabetical order. For now, atleast.

Checking the fridge, you grimace at the lack of edible food left on the shelves. A withering carrot, some marmalade, and leftover rice and beans from a few nights ago make up its contents.

Sighing, you shut the door and grab your jacket. You’ll just get something from the cafeteria. Maybe when Mel comes home you can figure out her schedule, see if she’ll be willing to split some groceries with you.

⸙

“Hey, doc! Come sit with us, huh?” A voice calls out to you as you walk past their table, a container of stir fry hot in your hands.

You swivel around, eyes roaming the few tables in front of you when you spot Manny, waving you over. He’s seated with a few other soldiers, some you recognise from prior hangouts, others that must be part of his unit.

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip as you toss up between sitting in the cafeteria with company or scampering off to your room to eat in private. Not that you don’t like sitting with Manny and his friends. They can just get real rowdy sometimes without Mel or Nora around to talk to.

You open your mouth to politely decline, wanting to chill as much as you can before your shift tonight, when the person opposite Manny turns around to look at you.

Abby.

She looks good this morning. Her usual braid is draped over her shoulder, getting long enough now to do so. It brushes the collar of her t-shirt, the sleeves of which she’s rolled up to the seam to fit her arms. She’s holding a bowl of rice up to her chest, spoon hanging out of her mouth as she looks at you.

Unable to hide the small smile that twitches your lips, you give Manny a nod and head over, weaving back through the crowded hall. Manny grins and shuffles along the bench, pushing against Jordan to make room for you next to him.

“There she is! How’s it going? Seen anything gross lately?”

You laugh, pushing yourself into your spot between him and Jordan, having to climb over the seat to get there. “Unless you count touching Malcom, then no. Not lately.”

Abby huffs a laugh around her spoon, twisting back around to face the table. You look to her as you set your container down on the table, smiling when you see she’s already looking. Her eyes flick down to your food and back to you, brows raised slightly in question.

Tilting your container you show her your lunch, the stir fry still steaming and warming your hands.

“Malcom isn’t that bad,” Manny laughs, diving back into his own food. Some sort of sandwich from the looks of it. “He’s a good shot.” He muffles through a mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes, picking up your fork and stabbing at a few vegetables, “Yeah, and a bad dodge. He keeps coming in to get stitched up, but I’m convinced it’s because he gets his chest felt up.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying his best. Not all of us are as lucky.” Manny snickers, elbowing the man beside him. The rest of the boys laugh back, the noise at the table picking up.

Abby just shakes her head, slouching over her bowl of rice to continue eating. From where you’re sitting it looks like plain brown rice. Knowing her, it probably came with a side that she’s already eaten all of, not planning out her bites ahead of time and just going right for the tasty part.

You twist to the side to face Manny, reaching up for his ear.

“Speaking of--” You pinch the top, yanking on it to bring his head down to your level. He yelps, grabbing at your wrist and swearing. “You need to stop having your play dates the same day Abby gets back from missions.”

Manny eyes you as he curses, briefly looking over at Abby before turning his attention back to you. Across from you Abby tenses, spoon pausing halfway to her mouth. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“How’d you know I had someone over?”

You sniff, letting go of his ear and turning back to your food, getting a bite in before answering. “Caught her in the library again.” You lie, hopefully smoothly.

The two of you never agreed to keep her sleeping habits a secret, but you knew enough about her to know that she liked to keep her business to herself.

Manny grins, throwing his hands up guiltily. “What can I say? I have poor timing. Well, not all of the time...” He winks.

You fake a gag, grimacing as you pick up your food container.

“And with that, I need to go get ready for work tonight. I’ll catch you all around.”

Manny laughs, his voice booming through the hall. He playfully grabs at your sleeve, tugging it as you stand up to leave.

“Baby, don’t go! Please, I can change!” He pleads, gently trying to pull you back down to the table.

You stumble and laugh, batting his grabby hands off your clothes as you squirm away. Nearly tripping on the seat, you pry yourself free, stepping out of Manny’s range and across the table.

“Bye, Abby.”

You slide your container of food next to hers as you pass, having eaten all the vegetables and leaving her the beef. Her head whips up to yours, eyes questioning and mouth full of food. A piece of rice is stuck to her bottom lip.

Cute.

She tries to swallow her mouthful to say something, but inhales wrong in her haste, choking on rice. Manny, observing the interaction, bursts out in a fit of laughter as he slides over his canteen of water, watching Abby gulp it down to clear her throat. Some of the guys sitting next to her lean over to slap at her back, chuckling along with Manny. He’s calling her something in Spanish as she pushes all the hands away, the tips of her ears reddening as he jeers at her.

The last thing you see before the crowd shuffles and blocks your view is Abby, leaning over the table to punch Manny in the arm.

⸙

“He even said that we could decorate for Christmas. Apparently, he knows some department store that has trees and everything.” Mel gushes, setting up the surgical cart for the night.

“You two are so fucking cute.” You smile, spinning yourself in the office chair they have back here.

Mel flushes, feeling the heat of her cheeks with the back of her palms, “I just… I don’t know. I feel stupid for getting so giddy about it all but he’s just sweet, you know? Thoughtful.” She smiles softly to herself, reaching up in a cupboard for some gauze. “We haven’t even been dating a year and he’s already talking about getting new room assignments.”

“And you want that? He’s not like, pressuring you to go too fast or anything?” You slow your spin, digging your heels into the tent floor to stop to face her.

She shakes her head, laying out a handful of freshly bleached bandages and some scissors. “No, he’s been really good about it. I said that I’d like to wait until the New Year at least. Start fresh.

You nod, looking at her. Mel is a kind person, though she can be very outspoken and tough when needed -- you’ve seen this enough times when dealing with Abby or an unruly patient. But you’ve never seen her so happy. So flustered.

She giggles sometimes. Mel has never been a giggler.

Owen has been good for her. She needed someone to stop her from overworking herself, to make her feel appreciated and special, and if Owen is anything, he’s a hopeless romantic and a great distraction.

You let out a sigh, dramatically throwing you hand up to your forehead, pushing with your feet to spin on the chair.

“I can’t believe my wife is taking our child and leaving me for another! Leaving me to wallow in our shared home all alone.”

She snorts, throwing you a look over her shoulder, “Our child?”

“Alice, obviously.” You peek at her from behind your hand. “I expect visitation.”

Mel laughs, throwing her head back, “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of keeping her from seeing you.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, Mel double checking the contents of her cart.

“Maybe when I move out you can see about getting someone else to move in so you’re not as lonely.”

You shrug, leaning your head all the way back on the headrest so it hangs over. You feel something shift and pop in your neck, a pressure fizzling away.

“Yeah, no. I’ll just live it bachelor style until someone needs the space.”

Mel hums, “So you wouldn’t even offer it to your mystery woman?”

You try so hard to school your reaction, to not make it so obvious how right she is, but it’s difficult when she gets you like that out of nowhere. You tilt your head up to look at the back of her head.

“My who?”

Mel turns around, a smirk playing at her lips. She knows she’s caught you out. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’ve been having someone over while I’m gone.”

Your cheeks pink as you go to defend yourself, but for the life of you, you can’t find a non-damning answer. You’re left stuttering, gaping like a fish.

“I- Who- You don’t know that.”

“Oh? Then why do you always ask if I plan to be home or not?”

“Can’t I be invested in your safety? As your friend- “

“And, “ she cuts you off, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against the sanitation sink, “We both know you have trouble sleeping alone. But suddenly on the nights I’m gone, you come into work having slept like a baby? Nuh-uh.” She points an accusing finger your way. “You’ve got someone you’re bringing home that you’re not telling me about.”

She looks triumphant. Victorious in having called you out on your sneaking around.

Your hands come up to cover your face, hiding from her gaze.

“Mel, it’s not like that,” you groan, sliding down in your chair.

“Seems like that to me.”

“No, it’s just… we’re just friends. I’m just hanging out with a friend.”

She doesn’t believe you. You don’t have to be looking at her to know that for a fact. “And you’d be content to just… stay friends?”

“Obviously I’d be fine with whatever she wants,” you rush out, getting overwhelmed with the intimate questions.

Theres a beat of silence.

“But…” she prompts.

You throw you hands up, looking up at her, “Yes, Mel. Fine. If she was interested, I would take her up on it. Happy?”

Mel nods, pleased as punch at getting you to admit this out loud. She has a bad habit of doing that.

“So,” she breaks the silence, kicking off the bench, “Are you going to tell me who it is?”

You cringe. Seeing as they aren’t exactly on speaking terms, you doubt that she’s going to be super thrilled about Abby hanging out in her home while she’s gone.

“I… I don’t know, Mel. Sorry, I just- “

“Hey, it’s fine. I get it.” She says softly, walking over and placing a warm hand on your arm. “No hard feelings. I’m not going to be mad because you don’t want to tell me who you’re crushing on.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, sagging against the backrest of the chair. “Thanks, Mel.”

“But if you ever wanted to talk about it- “

“Yes, yes,” you wave her off, unable to help yourself from smiling, “I’ll come to you about it.”

Mel smiles, pushing you on the shoulder so that you spin around in your chair.

“Come on, time for work.”

«« masterpost ꩜ next »»

[pigfacedbitch]

Falling In Love With Leo Valdez

summary : title speaks for itself. reader is a daughter of Poseidon. timeline is from the lost hero to mark of Athena.

word count : 0.7k

type : imagines

pairing/s involved : Leo Valdez x Reader, Brother! Percy Jackson x Reader

warning/s : dealing with a loved one's disappearance, depression, and coping

here is my masterlist!

Percy is the amazing older brother anyone could ever ask for. He made sure that you were thoroughly trained and well-oriented on what it means to be a demigod.

The only downside? He is extremely protective, especially when someone is romantically interested in you.

"PERCY!" You see the camper who flirted with you earlier got knocked off of his canoe and almost drowned in the lake.

"What? It wasn't me."

But his face says otherwise. He can be insufferable.

You love him dearly anyway.

So when he vanished that summer, you are a mess. Chiron had to monitor your every move because you might try to find Percy on your own.

Annabeth told you she received a word of where he is and assured you that everything will be okay. Instead she brought back three strangers with her.

One particularly caught your attention with his elf-like features and scrawny build. You found him... cute.

As expected, Leo flirted with you right away. How could he not? You are hot! 😍

"Hey there, cutie. Are you a goddess?"

"No. My name is (Y/N)."

"Leo Valdez but you can call me anything you want-"

"How about dead?" Annabeth cuts him off, giving him an icy glare. That was enough to shut him up.

Leo uses all of his time to be with you. He is so in love, it's almost sickening.

At first, it's just harmless flirting.

Then he notices the little things— you don't eat that much, easily space out in conversations, lethargic, and has always a forlorn look on your beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, have repressed your emotions to look 'strong'. Annabeth tries to be there for you but she is suffering too.

That's why you bawled your eyes out when Leo asks you about Percy one night.

After that, he swears to you that he will be there to help you cope and look for your brother as well.

He lessens the flirting, shifting to jokes and funny stories that make you laugh.

Disobeying the rules in the dining pavilion, he eats his meals with you on the Cabin 3 table.

You're the first person he brings in Bunker 9, letting you use the place for your own leisure. You often nap there.

Despite the instant attraction, trust gradually grows between you and Leo.

You weren't some silly crush anymore but someone Leo can confide in, and he to you.

Those who observe see that you are becoming lively again. Your smile is no longer forced, you're now eating well, and looking forward to training and games.

The moment you realize Leo wasn't just a friend was because of some jerks who think you were out of his league.

"Come on, man. She wouldn't date you."

You quickly walked up to them and kissed him in front of everyone.

To say Leo is surprised is an understatement. He almost blew up right then and there. That was his first kiss.

You had to pull him to your cabin to confess properly. Let's just say Leo had more than his first kiss that night. 👀

You two aren't officially dating yet, probably because of the war that's about to come.

However, you act like you do��� displaying affections, acts of service, and most importantly, keeping each other alive.

There were no need to exchange I love yous, actions were more than enough. Though, Leo loves saying that to you whenever he can.

Annabeth knows Percy will likely kill Leo but if he makes you happy then why not?

Flashforward to Camp Jupiter, you walk to Reyna with Jason and the others. By the distance, you see Percy running towards you with his hands reaching out.

He engulfs you in a hug that you're sure will break your ribs.

"How come my little sister got smaller?"

"Shut up."

You both feel the heavy weight of worry on your shoulders disappear, Percy tigtening his hug on you if that was possible.

Even with the danger looming over all of your heads, you felt safe and content in Percy's arms. Everything seems perfect.

Now, there's only one problem...

How can you tell Percy that you're in love with Leo without the chances of drowning him to death?

[bones4thecats]

➸ Your Wedding Day; Idia Shroud × S/O

Character: Idia Shroud A/N: This was something that I've wanted to write for quite a while, so I'm happy I finally got my Idia-wedding ideas out and posted for you guys to see. Hope you fellow Idia simps enjoy! Disclaimer(s): Reader's dress, Idia's suit, and song to listen too

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Idia Shroud ════════════════════════════╝

🎮 We all know this guy enjoys his privacy, and that includes privacy with you (of course it does, why wouldn't it?)

🎮 You happily handed him a list of some ideas for your wedding, to which he just sighed and set his headphones down to read over. Ever since College ended, he had been working more and more with S.T.Y.X., so whenever he got some free time, he'd either play games or rest with you

🎮 More than not, he would just sleep with you right beside him. The guy's tried, give him a break

🎮 But, when he proposed, he did not expect such a long list of things you guys needed to decide on for your wedding. He figured that you'd have it all laid out and not worry about it like a character in a show/movie

🎮 As he read the list over, he put tiny skulls by whatever he found that he liked the idea of. Cost wasn't a big deal, but he knew that you wanted a smaller wedding when you guys spent your second-year anniversary together

🎮 He agreed with the idea, but never gave it a second thought. Rookie mistake.

🎮 Idia handed you back the list and you then put check-marks besides the ones you agreed with him on. Your big-day was in only 9 weeks, so getting everything else laid out was something you guys needed to get done immediately

🎮 Snapping his headphones back on as you made call after call and message after message, Idia let his mind wander onto what he dreamt your wedding would look like. From flowers to you in your dress, it didn't matter. It was all there

🎮 When your wedding finally came, your soon-to-be-husband was having a nervous breakdown. Though, why wouldn't he be? He was an introvert having to go up there in front of people and confess his love to you

🎮 While yes, it was all people both you and him knew extremely well, it was still a lot of people!

🎮 His father walked up behind him and smiled, his blue-flame hair matching his son's as he put the brooch of a gem-eyed skull on his suit

"You look so awesome, big brother!" Ortho said from behind their father.

"Thanks, O'. How's Y/N doing?" He asked.

"She's doing great! She looks beyond amazing in her dress! You're gonna be a big strawberry when you see her go down the isle."

🎮 Idia smiled and looked at himself in the mirror, the long flame hair that he always kept loose without any care for, all neatly put together in a brushed-up style with a bow keeping it behind his shoulders. This was what you wanted, so it was what you were going to get

"Boys! Come on! Wedding's about to start!" Mrs. Shroud said from the doorway, causing all three Shroud boy's hair to erupt before settling again. Thankfully it didn't burn anything...

"We're on out way, dear!" Mr. Shroud answered.

🎮 Mr. Shroud looked back at his sons and smiled, planting his new face-only helmet back on his head, his hair sticking out, as it was shorter, but brighter in terms of fire-light

"Let's head out to see your new chapter, Idia."

══✿══╡

🎮 Idia stood there before you, hair all nice, while you stood before him, your long white dress standing out while your veil was draped in front of your face, much to your future husband's dismay. It was hard to find comfort in your eyes without straining his eyes to look beyond the thin fabric

"Now, let's get these vows out, shall we?" The Minister said.

🎮 You smiled and looked at Idia, motioning for him to start. He just took a deep breath, taking a simple glance at his mother, whom was standing behind you as one of her bridesmaids, to which she nodded

🎮 Idia looked deep in your eyes and spoke from his heart. Like I said, no planning involved for this poor boy

"Y/N. You were like the boss that I couldn't defeat. I feared everyone in College, but you just kept coming back and I couldn't seem to put up a firewall to keep you away from me. Every time I heard you were somewhere, I felt the urge to go there just to see your face and hear your laughter. I was at your mercy, and your mercy alone. Ever since the first date we had years ago, I just wanted... no... I needed you to always be by my side. I love you, and I hope you feel the same in your heart."

🎮 You smiled and raised your hand under your veil to wipe a stray tear from your face as you then looked into his eyes and spoke your own vows

"Idia, you were everything I could've asked for. That may sound weird, but it's the truth. When I first met you, I thought you'd be one of the most difficult people to deal with, but I could never have been more wrong. You were charming in your own way, and you still are, without even trying! The way you link in technology in when you speak, the way you furrow your eyebrows when speaking, to the way your eyes shimmer when you find like or do something successfully, it's all enchanting to me. And I never want to let that enchantment go. And I never plan on it. I love you so much, Idia, forever and always."

🎮 He smiled at you as the Minister called for the rings, making Ortho come up and hand you both your wedding wings. Yours to Idia's being black with dark-blue colored edges, while Idia's to you was also black-ringed with a shining blue, heart-shaped gemstone on the top

🎮 You looked into his eyes once more as you placed the jewelry on his ring-finger while he did the exact same afterwards. All of his anxiety was now gone, nobody else was there besides you and him in his mind. You two were the only things that mattered

"You may kiss the bride." The Minister announced, stepping back for you both.

🎮 Idia lifted your veil before grabbing your waist and holding one side of your cheek with his hand and laying his forehead on yours, slowly moving to close the gap between your lips

🎮 Everyone cheered as you left one another's kiss and smiled, hugging one another as he whispered into your ear before setting off for the after-party with the people who attended your day

"I love you so damn much, Y/N."

[uniquexusposts]

The Dutch Grand Prix - M. Verstappen (2)

Summary: Y/n and Max meet again after the race in a restaurant.

Note: you ask and I write✨✨

Part 1

The sun was setting over the North Sea, casting a golden hue across the sandy dunes of Bergen aan Zee, a town north of Zandvoort. The small town was wrapped in a familiar calm, a peace that Y/n hadn’t felt in weeks. She’d left Zandvoort with her thoughts still racing as fast as the cars she’d watched earlier.

Now, in the fading light of the evening, she found herself drawn to her old favourite spot—an unassuming beach restaurant nestled just beyond the dunes, where the waves whispered against the shore and the world seemed to slow down. The place hadn’t changed much; the same weathered wood, the same string lights swaying in the breeze, the same scent of salt and seaweed lingering in the air. It felt like coming home. It was like coming home.

Y/n chose a table by the window, where she could watch the tide roll in as she tried to unravel the knot of feelings in her chest. The waitress greeted her with a warm smile, recognising her as a familiar face from years past. 

“Y/n L/n, right?”

Y/n nodded, trying to recall the girl. Who was she? Where did she know her from? “I know you from somewhere, but I can’t remember it…” She squinted her eyes. “What is your name, again?” 

“Manon,” the woman chuckled. 

Y/n’s eyes grew and a smile grew on her face. “Holy shit, you have changed so much,” she said. Manon used to be her classmate during primary school. 

“Honestly, it’s like twenty years ago. I saw you and I just immediately recognised you. How have you been? Still live in France?” 

This moment made Y/n happy, exactly what she needed after this weekend. “Yes, I still live in France, we still own the chateau. How are you?” 

They rolled into a conversation, reconnecting again. And luckily, the restaurant wasn’t busy at all, so Manon had some time to talk. During the chat, some other people of the restaurant joined the conversation. Bergen was a small town, everybody knew each other, and it was something big when Y/n’s family emigrated to France. This was like a reunion. 

“So, how what the Grand Prix?” Manon asked after her eyes fell on the pass that was still hanging around Y/n’s neck. 

“It was amazing, but I’m glad I’m having a moment of peace.”

They both laughed about it. Then Manon asked Y/n for her order. Just like the old days, Y/n ordered a citrus lemonade and the famous club sandwich. 

As the lemonade was served, she gazed out at the horizon, the sun dipping into the water, turning the sky into a canvas of oranges and pinks. She tried to lose herself in the view, in the simplicity of being alone. Yet, she couldn’t do it. She hadn’t expected to feel so…unsettled after the race, after seeing Julien again, and after that brief, electrifying conversation with Max. 

Max Verstappen. 

The name still felt foreign on her tongue, yet it lingered in her mind, a strange echo of something she couldn’t quite place. She’d tried to brush off the connection they’d shared in the garage, telling herself it was nothing more than a polite exchange. Why am I making such a big deal of it? He’s having this kind of conversation with everyone. This was some kind of pre programmed conversation. And everybody got trapped in it. 

A sudden burst of laughter pulled her out of her thoughts. Y/n turned her head, and her breath caught in her throat. There, at the entrance of the restaurant, stood Max. He wasn’t alone—his family was with him, all smiles and easy conversation, clearly enjoying the afterglow of his race. But his presence filled the space in a way that made the small restaurant seem suddenly smaller, more intimate.

For a moment, their eyes met across the room, and the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. Max’s expression shifted from surprise to something softer, a recognition that mirrored her own. She hadn’t expected to see him again, not here, not like this. She had the impression Max would leave the track, and the concerning country, as quickly as possible. But here he was, at a beach restaurant, near a small town, 40 kilometres up north from Zandvoort. 

Y/n quickly looked away and felt her heart quicken, a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in her chest. She never knew how to act when she saw a famous person. But for real, what were the odds? In this quiet corner of the world, after everything that had happened today, here he was—again. She looked into his direction again. Max offered her a small, almost shy smile, the kind that made her stomach flip. Then, without breaking eye contact, he said something to his family, and they all began moving toward her side of the restaurant. Y/n’s pulse raced as she realised they were being seated at the table next to hers.

Internal error. 

As they settled in, Max glanced her way again, and this time, there was a question in his eyes, as if he were silently asking if it was alright for him to be here, to share this space with her. Y/n answered with a small, reassuring smile.

Besides herself and Max’ family, there were only two other people in the restaurant. It was like everyone else was at Zandvoort, or watched the race at home. No one would be at this place and beach now. It was odd to Y/n, it felt like she was an intruder to his time with his family. She looked ahead of her, to the sunset and tried to distract herself from the fact that Max was sitting next to her. 

A few minutes passed with stolen glances, the two of them navigating the strange but not unpleasant tension that crackled between them. Eventually, the waitress brought over another chair, sliding it in between the two tables as if sensing the inevitable—bringing them closer together.

Max’s family, getting lost in their conversation, didn’t seem to notice as he moved his seat to bridge the gap between their tables. But Y/n noticed, her breath catching as he settled beside her, their elbows nearly brushing. He looked at her then, really looked at her, and in his eyes, she saw the same question she’d been asking herself all evening: what now?

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Max said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the glow of the setting sun. There was something in his tone, a mix of surprise and something else—something hopeful.

“Neither did I,” Y/n replied, her voice just as quiet, as if they were sharing a secret. “But it’s nice… to see a familiar face.”

Max smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes this time. “Yeah, it is.” The pressure was off. “Do you get here often?” Then he looked away and he smirked. “That sounded like a bad pick up line. I’m sorry.” 

The wasn’t wearing his Red Bull Racing shirt, but just a black T-shirt and it seemed like he became a completely different person. 

“Didn’t even notice it,” Y/n laughed along, but it indeed sounded like a bad pick up line. “But, actually, yes. Well, not really now, but when I was a child, yes.” She noticed the question in his eyes. “I grew up in Bergen, the town around the corner. I moved away when I was ten years old.”

“Really? To where? Let me guess. France? Because your…”

“Ex.”

He nodded. “Your ex,” he filled in, he caught a flash of hope in his stomach. “They spoke French.” But why was she here with her ex?

“Yes, yes, we moved to France when I was ten years old. Do you know Ik Vertrek?” Ik Vertrek was the Dutch version of the British No Going Back, where a family emigrates to another country to build a new life. 

He nodded. “No way,” he blurted and his eyes grew. “Which season and episode?”

“No,” Y/n laughed and covered her face with her hands. “Don’t you dare to look it up. But we were on that show, yeah.”

“You are a real reality star, Y/n,” Max teased. “And now? What’s happening with it now?”

“We are still running a business there.”

“Wow. I never met someone who was on Ik Vertrek.”

“And I never met a driver before,” she playfully replied, giving him a wink. 

A shy, but cheerful laugh rolled over Max’ lips. 

And just like that, the conversation flowed between them as easily as the waves outside, the earlier awkwardness melting away. Y/n carefully brought up the race. She didn’t want to only talk about the Grand Prix, she would understand if he wanted to talk about other things. And they talked about why Max was in Bergen; his family loved this place from weekend trips and they saw it as an opportunity to relive this moment again. Y/n found herself laughing more than she had in days, the weight of the weekend slowly lifting as they shared stories and memories.

As the evening wore on, the line between their two tables blurred until it was as if they were one group, one conversation, one shared experience. Max’s family welcomed her into their fold without hesitation, and Y/n felt a sense of belonging that she hadn’t felt in a long time. But most of all, she felt the connection between her and Max grow stronger with every passing moment, like a tide that couldn’t be held back.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313 @barcelonaloverf1life @itsjustkhaos

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Secret’s Out

[A/N: Some fluff in honor of our favorite man’s birthday 🖤]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x wife!reader

—————

You love celebrating your partner’s birthday. An excuse to pamper your favorite person more so than usual, and they can’t refuse because it’s their special day? Amazing.

Your partner, on the other hand, is less than enthusiastic about the day. “It’s just another day,” he always tries to play it off. “Another year around the sun gifting me with more grays and wrinkles to prove it.”

You’ve adjusted to his understated manner, toned down your celebratory whims to make his day special in smaller, less overt ways.

“I’m not making a big deal about it,” you’d promised your first birthday together with a smile, catching the raised eyebrow you were greeted with when he spotted the lavish breakfast spread out over the kitchen table.

“Still not making a big deal. You needed a new one,” was your excuse some birthdays later when he opened a carefully wrapped box to find a new watch with words from your wedding vows engraved on the back.

“This one is so not-a-big-deal,” you’d affirmed just last year, presenting him with two tickets to a five day island getaway. “It’s November in DC and I miss the sun, that’s all.”

And so the years have gone, keeping Aaron Hotchner’s birthday under wraps much to the chagrin of his team. Garcia, to her credit, has made a Herculean effort to keep the date quiet as requested, or perhaps she’s sworn everyone to secrecy by now. Inexplicably, Aaron finds a single cupcake waiting on his desk annually.

Aaron’s birthday was a quiet affair, that is, until this year.

The case your husband had been on had spanned many more days than expected, and you’d been forced to postpone the family trip you had planned to celebrate his birthday. So here you are, waiting in his office for the team’s return. Chatter suddenly breaks the silence of the bullpen, the unmistakable sound of Aaron’s baritone mixed with the many voices of your found family.

The kids are tearing out of the office before you even rise from the couch.

Your toddler reaches the BAU team first, and Aaron’s quick to drop his go-bag in favor of catching the pig-tailed bundle of energy midair as she squeals out an excited, “Happy birthday, Daddy!”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, and your stomach swoops at the FBI’s best kept secret being so blatantly revealed by the littlest Hotchner.

But then Aaron’s propping your daughter on his hip and pressing kisses to her cherubic cheeks while she giggles at the onslaught, and Jack is wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist, mumbling a “Welcome home, Dad, happy birthday,” into his dress shirt, and Aaron is squeezing both of your kids like their very presence imbues life into him, and all is right in the world. You take note of money quietly exchanging hands behind Aaron greeting your kids. Evidently, Garcia had kept the date a secret.

The team splits up to drop luggage and paperwork on their desks, and Aaron looks up to the stairs leading to his office then, his smile somehow growing wider when he spots you standing there, a blush dotting your cheeks. “You know there’s no stopping these two when their hero comes home,” you offer sheepishly, and he angles his head to beckon you closer. You’re by his side in an instant and pressing a kiss to his lips even as your children- spurred on by Uncle Derek and Uncle Spencer- protest with a chorus of ews and elaborate gagging noises.

“You were just giddy about me kissing you,” Aaron points out to your daughter whose face is screwed up in feigned disgust from her front row seat on Daddy’s hip.

“It’s not the same as you kissing Mom,” Jack huffs with the gusto of an all-knowing pre-teen, so his dad rolls his eyes and pecks your lips again for good measure.

“May I propose,” Rossi interjects, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your husband’s, “dinner at my place to celebrate?” Aaron opens his mouth to protest, but Dave lifts a hand and clarifies, “Ah- celebrate closing the case, Aaron. It’s not all about you.” He shoots you a wink and you bite your lip to hide a smile.

“Up to you, birthday boy,” you murmur, lightly running your hand across his chest, but your kids and his team are looking so hopeful that Aaron knows it’s really not up to him, after all.

“Okay,” he relents with a laugh, nodding his head. “Thank you, Dave, that’s really kind of you to offer.”

The night turns out to be an absolute blast full of good food, great drinks, and wonderful company. Your little one is currently sound asleep in her Uncle Spencer’s lap while he stumps her older brother and JJ and Will’s sons with his latest magic trick. Penelope and Derek are out on a secret mission (they’re getting a cake) that Aaron is completely in the dark about (he totally knows). The rest of you are scattered about the living room, chatting and sipping your drinks while you await the secret agents’ return, and Sinatra croons on in the background about having a love to keep him warm. Sidling up to Aaron, you rest your head on his sturdy shoulder and murmur a simple, “Hey.”

He turns to press his lips to your forehead and utters a, “Hey, you,” in return.

“Sorry the cat’s out of the bag after all these years,” you say, absentmindedly toying with the collar of his tie where he’s loosened it a bit.

“Oh, honey, don’t apologize,” Aaron admonishes lightly, shifting his position so he can snake an arm around you and you can settle more snugly into his side. “Honestly, I’m amazed we kept it under wraps for so long.”

You let your hand drift further upwards, now tracing a little heart into Aaron’s cheek with your index finger. Emily clearly used a heavy hand in her role as bartender. “Really?”

Your husband curls his hand around your wrist to guide it closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to the pad of your finger. “Really,” he affirms. “Y’know, these guys had a bet going about my birth date but…” He leans closer like he’s about to let you in on a secret, and you sit up straighter, all business. “Dave and I had a bet going about who would spill first. That little chatterbox,” he murmurs, inclining his head toward your sleeping toddler, “or her chatterbox mom.”

“I resent that.”

“I know.”

With a huff, you kiss his cheek, then his nose, and then his lips. “But I’ll let it slide since it’s your birthday.”

The lights in the living room grow dim then, and Penelope enters with a small cake in hand, her face lit up by a ring of candles. “Derek said we shouldn’t mortify you by singing, but I couldn’t resist at least getting candles, sir.” She sets the cake down on the coffee table before taking a step back as the rest of your family gathers around. Your little girl barely stirs in Spencer’s arms when he approaches, while Jack slips into the spot next to his dad and instructs, “Make a wish!”

“Oh, buddy,” Aaron laughs warmly, looking around at your big family with a smile before kissing the top of his head and affectionately squeezing your knee, “what more could I wish for?”

__________

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d

[firstdivisiongirl]

Chifuyu x Reader: Polka Dot Wrapping Paper

Chifuyu was a hopeless romantic which meant everything he did seemed to come out of a shōjo manga.  He knew you were one too, so every year for your birthday he tried to get you something amazing and super cheesy.  But you loved it every year.  You two fell in love because you were both hopeless romantics.  But as hopeless romantics, there were high expectations for birthdays and Chifuyu was determined to make this year the best one yet.

Chifuyu had called you yesterday to tell you to meet him at his apartment.  When you got there, mom answered the door.  She said he wasn’t there but he asked her to give you his blue polka dot wrapped box.  You opened it and there was a little handwritten note that said find our biggest cheerleader.  You knew exactly who that was: Baji.

You walked up to the fifth floor.  This wasn’t an unusual trip for you, since you spent a lot of time with Baji as the three of you hung out together a lot.  He was standing outside his door, so obviously, he knew this was coming.  “Here,” he said handing you the polka dot wrapped box, “I don’t know what he’s got planned for you, but he put a lot of work into it.  I can tell you that much.”  The whole day you did this.  You went from one place to another finding more and more polka dot wrapped boxes with little clues inside of them.

Eventually, after going from the park where he confessed to you his feelings, you found another more box.  The note said “Go to the place where we first met”.  That was an easy one: the manga shop right by the train station.  You arrived at the store.  There were three tables in the front covered with novels but you knew Chifuyu wouldn’t just be hanging out in the front waiting.  No, he was making you hunt.  You walked up and down every aisle of books.  Once you reach the manga section in the back of the store is when you see it.  Another blue polka dot wrapped box.  When you opened it, the note said simply, turn around.  When you turned around, Chifuyu was standing there, wearing a polka dot shirt.  “Sorry,” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “I got a little carried away with the scavenger hunt.  But I promise this is the last box.  Happy Birthday,”  He handed you the last box.  It was a lot smaller than all the others, but still wrapped in the same paper.  You opened this box but what was inside made you smile.  It was the rose gold heart necklace you loved when the two of you went to the festival but you couldn’t bring yourself to buy and a black cat keychain that matched the one he carried around.  “Chifuyu,” you said looking up at him, “I love it.”

“Anything for your birthday,” he replied, pulling you into a hug and kissing your temple, “let me help you put your necklace on.”  He put your necklace on you and it was so pretty.  He grabbed your hand and rushed out of the store so he could spend the rest of the day together.  Maybe there was some truth to girls loving polka dots and surprises.  You did at least.

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[licorice-tea]

The Captain Who Loved Me (1/2)

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Angst, Reader is hurt/unconscious (briefly), reader tries to run away from their problems, ends up in a dangerous situation, themes of fear/ danger!, fluff afterwards, sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Word Count: ~1.6k

A/N: Hey… Sorry it’s been so long! My life has been busy, to say the least. Borderline chaotic, but I don’t want to make it out to be a bad thing when there are so many amazing things and people in my life right now. However, there have been a few personal events that have made me less motivated/ less focused on writing. I’m sorry for making you all wait for updates/ requests, but I genuinely am just lacking a lot of interest in writing fanfic at the moment. Still, J appreciate all of your support so so much <3 It makes my day when I go on this app and see that people are still enjoying things I’ve written! So, I hope you enjoy this one too. (Part 1/2 bc i want to do a shorter ending.)

Part 3

Law hadn't thought that when you said you would “go,” you wouldn't really try to leave. And in all fairness, neither had you. You just started walking away from him, way too peeved to even look back or slow down when you heard his stuttered “wait!” And when you got back to your cabin, you picked up a backpack. Then you had filled it with only the essentials (the same way you would pack to go inland for a day or possibly longer.) And finally, with no purpose in your plan besides getting away for a little while and clearing your mind, you headed below deck to the Soldier Dock System.

Franky named this deck the Soldier Dock System because, as he had once explained to you, all of the smaller vehicles housed within the Sunny are like her soldiers. The memory makes you smile as you quietly open the door and close it behind you, then stroll along the small walkway until you spot what you came down here for in the first place: The Mini Merry 2. She bobs in shallow water and seems to call to you; “Get in! Let’s go!”

You’re too tired to make the right decision, so you quickly open channel 2 of the dock system, drop your bag into the passenger seat, and climb in after. An opening on the side of the Sunny lets in higher waters, which carry the Mini Merry out to sea…

~

“Have you seen y/n?”

Zoro’s head snaps up to the other swordsman. The two don’t converse much outside of what's necessary, so he's surprised to see the equally stoic man standing over him while he “naps” (keeps watch) in the crows nest. He shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch?”

“Yeah, on the ocean. Not my own crew mates.”

Law scoffs, and mutters; “Thanks for nothing.”

Zoro can tell the other captain is annoyed for some reason, and decides to throw him a bone. “Traffy!”

“What?”

“Check the lower levels. They might be hanging out in someone’s workshop… or whatever.”

Law regards Zoro with a suspicious gaze, but it soon turns to one of quiet thanks. He nods and leaves through the hatch in the crows nest.

Cool sea air hits him stronger than expected as soon as he exits the confines of the crows nest. With one hand and both feet planed (somewhat) firmly on the rope ladder, Law leans back to view the weather. A storm is brewing on the horizon, which shouldn’t be any problem for a ship as massive and advanced as the Thousand Sunny. The navigator/thief had briefed everyone on board on the gloomy weather that night after dinner, and though Law had been too distracted by thoughts of you, he had managed to pay a little bit of attention for the sake of important information. You hadn’t been at the impromptu meeting regarding the sea and sky’s conditions, so he had just assumed you were probably resting in your cabin already. No reason to worry over your safety if you were already fast asleep, right?

But as Law continues to survey the waters surrounding his temporary residence, he spots an anomaly. A tiny boat, rocking on the water as the ocean seems to send more violent waves its way. With squinted eyes, Law observes the miniature ship. It’s hard to see through the oncoming rain, but he can make out the lone passenger’s bent knees. They’re apparently trying to brace themselves as they struggle with the steering mechanism at the front of the boat, and their hair is whipped every which way about their face by winds that must be much stronger that far out at sea. It’s hard to make out their features because of the rain that comes down in sheets over their mysterious figure, but when he finally catches a glimpse of their face, Law’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

He watches in horror as, what he now recognizes as your ship, is tossed back and forth on the tumultuous waves. You look over your shoulder and back at the Sunny, before you lose your balance. But your head seems to be struck by something at the front of the ship during your short fall, based on the way you first wobble, almost find your footing by leaning forwards, then jolt backwards. Law yells your name at the top of his lungs, but you do not move.

~

When you open your eyes to find yourself tucked into your bed, you think nothing of it. That is, until the throbbing pain in the center of your forehead reveals itself to you. Then the memories of a storm all come flooding back: the freedom you had felt in your first few moments in open water, alone with your thoughts. How quickly that sense of calmness had turned to panic as the weather changed in an instant, leaving you to desperately try to steer back towards the Sunny in a boat no taller than yourself. Slipping on the small deck, only for your head to hit something and… black out. And you remember Law’s voice, too; he had sounded so distant that it must have been your imagination .

The soft creak of your bedroom door draws you from the rush of memories, and you look up to find Chopper making his way into your room with a tray. He doesn’t realize your eyes are open until he’s set it down on a bedside table, and climbed up onto your bed with a stethoscope in hand.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” he gasps.

You offer a weak smile and attempt to sit up, but the reindeer gently pushes you back down. “Chopper… What happened?”

“You had an accident during the storm 3 days ago-“

“3 days ago?”

“Yes, Nami briefed the crew on it. But then Traffy found you on the Mini Merry 2, a mile from the ship!”

“I- I didn’t know there would be a storm…”

Chopper frowns while placing his stethoscope on your chest. You take 2 deep breaths in and he nods to himself before simply sitting beside you. “What were you doing out there?”

You shrug, “I just wanted to clear my head.”

He pays your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Traffy, but he cares for you a lot. He used his devil fruit to save you in the middle of the ocean, which… could have ended badly.”

This strikes a chord within you. Of course you knew Law cared for you to some degree, but knowing that he put his own safety on the line to help you in your time of need… Perhaps it was wrong of you to assume he was selfish and cold for refusing to admit what was so glaringly obvious to everyone else. What is now so clear to you, too.

He loves you.

“Oh… And is he-“

“He’s fine, but I prescribed him some much needed rest from coming in contact with sea water.”

Chopper finishes examining you and gives you some pain medication for your head, then leaves you alone to properly wake up and get yourself together. To no surprise, your alone time doesn’t last long as an influx of visitors find their way to your cabin.

First are Nami and Robin, who knew you were awake from hearing your voice through shared walls. They come with a small bouquet of flowers from Robin’s garden in a pretty little decorative vase, and each make themselves comfortable in your room. Though the door is closed, Luffy excitedly barges in soon after, followed by Usopp, then Chopper again. He scolds the two young men for disturbing your peace and possibly riling you up, but you assure the even younger doctor that it’s more than fine. Because, in your opinion, there’s nothing like your nakama’s company to raise your spirits. Zoro must have wandered in at some point and decided to take a nap on your floor, which you only realize when Sanji opens the door and hits the swordsman’s leg when he (gently) kicks it open. They resolve to only glare at each other for a moment before Sanji hands you a cup of something warm and sweet, “For someone warm and sweet.”

The 8 of you spend some time chatting and enjoying your company before you find the courage to ask, “Where is everyone else?”

“Jimbei is steering the ship-“

“Brook is keeping watch-

“And Franky is working below deck. Something about improving the Mini Merry 2… But that’s not really what you wanted to know, is it?”

You feel your face heat up as you meet Robin’s all-knowing eye and shake your head “no.” She smiles at you and giggles pass between your crew mates.

Your friends file out of your room (or are ushered out by Nami and Robin, rather, who insist that you should get some more rest.) But soon enough, there’s yet another knock at your door. Your breath hitches, as you feel you already know who’s on the other side…

“Come in.”

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14 @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @nyxlai @mrs-monkey-d-luffy @pi-crust @bookboyfriendssaveme @dark-swedish-suitcase-blog

[xoxodeardiary]

On purpose -2

Roman reigns x oc

Lauren is handling her ex-boyfriend from colleges divorce, he and Lori embark on a journey that proves how things happen for reasons. Either hers or his will it work out this time.

Her thoughts are slanted and this is somewhat proofread.

Previous part

This was my last case as a divorce settlement lawyer before I returned to being a prosecuting attorney. When I first went to law school it was to be a criminal attorney but when I graduated I was desperate to get out of debt and get a job so I settled into a smaller firm that paid well and was able to pay off my debt a few years ago but over time every last case became my last until the next one came along. I meant it this time Joe Is my last case and hopefully it's open and shut.

Making my way into the next conference and meeting I had with Joe walking down the long white minimalist halfway, with bright white lighting and pieces of furniture here and there and a mixture between abstract and a kind of Picasso. Opening the big gray painted white oak door laying eyes on the tall, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in damn near twenty years, his hair was wrapped in a military style bun with his salt and pepper beard and he smelt more than heavenly when he reached in for a hug before we broke apart. I watched him drink in my grown woman's body. I hadn’t always had the curvy of curves but after college my grown woman body really settled in and I was more than in love with myself.

“Hello Joe, can you give me a bit of background or insight into your marriage over the last few years?” I said sitting down getting right into it sitting himself across from me and the polished oak table that matched the door. Looking back and forth between Joe and my pen and notepad as I waited for him to answer the question.

“Hi Lori, I'm doing great thank you for asking, haven't seen you in a while but that's okay.” he said sarcastically, having a conversation with himself using a bland tone before seeing my face and sitting up clearing his throat. “It was amazing the last few years but i've been working a lot between the traveling and long distance she couldn’t handle it and wanted to divorce about three years ago but I wanted to save us and suggested counseling and that i'd cut back on working and for about seven or so months it worked and everything was blissful but then I got an amazing storyline and it projected my career up and i started making more money but then i was way for way longer and we barely got to see each other and a few months ago she served me and said it was over and she didn’t want to try again.” he listed I wouldn’t dare and say I knew him because he’d changed so much since since id last seen him but i could see sadness in his eyes when he listed off the last few years with his wife Juile.

“Okay so what do you do for work?” I asked, jotting everything he’d just told me.

“I'm a wrestler, including endorsements of at least five million more if I book a lot.” he told me

“Okay and your wife wasn’t able to travel with you?” I asked him looking up.

“No, she gets sick in a car long distance and she works as a trauma surgeon so it’s hard for her to take time.” he explained watching me write it down, before asking my next question i made sure to make direct eye contact with him. “Did you at one point or another cheat on your wife with anyone whether that be emotionally or physically? I need you to be very honest with me.” I asked, waiting for something to change to tell if he was lying. At this point Joe had spoken with firmness in his tone and kept his answers short but detailed.

“No, because i was working so much i was too tired for sex at the end of most days.” he said staying firm with his tone and maintaining eye contact not seeming nervous at all.

“Okay and I don’t expect you to know this but did she at some point cheat on you in any way?” I asked keeping the same vibe, not one of tension but honest and open.

“No, she didn’t” continuing to answer firmly.

“Okay, and during the counsouling what was the conversation like?” i said counting to ask my normal oeping questions.

“Same things i just said working long and late and she felt like we weren’t married anymore and she felt neglected.” he reiterated

“And finally do you have any children?” I asked him

“Five, two set of twins four and six and a older daughter who just made fifteen.” he said making my eyes slightly bulge out of their sockets.

Damn

Hearing his deep chest laugh

“Sorry its just damn anyhow is there anything else i should know?” I asked him.

“No” he quickly gave

“Okay we’ll be intouch and figure out numbers and settlement later it seems like you both are ready to move on, this should be finialized by nexty month.” I said walking him out the door wanting to get the day over with.

Finally getting home just after ten o’clock I was beyond worn out and itching for a bubble bath, unlocking my front door hearing the automated voice announcing my arrival, my mother was standing in my kitchen over the stove.

“Momma, whatcha doing here?” I asked her sitting my briefcase down and stepping out of my heels my height dropping as I took them off one by one. Standing over with her hands in her hips looking at me some kind of way.

“Is that how you speak to someone let alone your momma?” She said with her ‘fix yourself tone’.

“Where Joe?” She asked looking behind where I was sitting and into the walk way.

“At home probably” I said standing and looking through the pot seeing chicken that hasn’t been fried yet as well as red beans with sausage and rice on the stove.

“I told you mama we’re not just going to fall out of the sky into a relationship, I’m just his divorce attorney.” I told her leaving the kitchen to go into my room and take my bath for bed.

Turning the faucet on and filling the tub floor with bubble solution slipping out of my clothes and into the water feeling the water warm and the bubble form on and around my wet body. Taking in a deep breath peacefully before my momma busted into the bathroom.

“Momma!” I said frantically gathering the bubbles to cover me before she smacked her teeth at me and with a wave of her hand said.

“Girl I’ve seen every crevice of your body you ain’t special.” She said sending a small ping to my heart but nonetheless shaking it off.

“That doesn’t matter, momma I’m grown you can’t do that.” I pouted at her. “God why does she always make me feel like a child”

“You worried about the wrong things you need to worry about how you gonna get Joe back, he’s doing more than well for himself with his play fighting.” She pointed

“What happened to this all being immature and besides that was a long time ago.” I said sinking I to the bath wanting her and this conversation to stop.

“Girl money is forever don’t be dumb now I’m going to finish the food and be on my way since you wanna act like you don’t care about nobody.” She said with an attitude walking off. Which made me sigh and just lay there and enjoy the warmth.

Getting out of the tub sometime later I dried my body off and did my nightly routine, slipping into a big tee-shirt before dipping into the kitchen for some food seeing a plate made and everything else cleaned up. Eating my food I thought about yet another guilting conversation with my momma.

I didn’t understand why she flipped from mommy dearest to getting like that. Finishing up and putting away my dish I slipped into bed and allowed sleep to take me.

-

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝!𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝!𝐠𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // your parents were never kind and sweet type of people, but in your sixth year things got out of hand. To put a cherry on top, a certain platinum blond haired Slytherin Prince decided to be Sherlock Holmes and found out your secrets, ones nobody is supposed to know.

// Warnings // mentions of violence, both physical and verbal violence, abusive parents, bullying, hate towards reader, name calling (princess in a mocking way, shame, disgrace, disappointment, waste of time), reader has a backstory, more warnings to come.

// Author’s Note // please pay attention to warnings! I don’t write about Draco usually, but I couldn’t get idea out of my mind, so I just went with it. This is enemies to lovers. Also, I have mentioned once that reader is 16, but for the sake of this plot, since every sixth year is 16 / divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @talesfromthecrypts

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 in progress

Being the only daughter of the two pureblood supremacist maniacs that your parents were, was not very nice. Hell, it was horrible. All they have ever wanted was a perfect daughter, who would hate on every ‘mudblood’ and ‘blood-traitor’; who would be an excellent student with only ‘Outstandings’ and ‘Exceed Expectations’; who would always live by her prents’ rules.

You always disliked your parents, but after your first year at Hogwarts when you got sorted into Gryffindor, dislike turned into hate.

In your third year, you befriended the famous trio; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, aka half-blood, mudblood and the blood traitor. They weren’t exactly your best friends like they were to each other, but they still were close to you. This fact, of course, made your very sweet and supportive parents angry and they decided to be even stricter than they were before.

It started with insults and just empty words, but then it turned into beating, hitting; physical abuse. All you wanted was to run away, but it would get you into a huge trouble, so you stayed quiet.

After some time, their punishments and the methods of abuse became unbearable and you started slowly distancing yourself from the infamous golden trio. Was it cowardly? Yes. Did you want to experience more of your parents’ cruel punishments? No.

It was the summer break before your sixth year. Things got pretty… terrible? Horrifying? Both. Voldemort was arising. He was gaining power. Every day, there were more people joining him, including your parents. They wanted you to become a Death Eater as well, but you, of course, said no, and in return your mother simply tortured you with Cruciatus curse for five goddamn minutes. It was painful, truly painful.

You glanced around your huge, but crappy room. The walls were depressing shade of plain black, making the room feel even more bleak and cramped. The room was big, definitely bigger than you needed, which only made you even more uncomfortable. You have always preferred your shared dorm room at Hogwarts than your own room, because of its smaller size. The queen sized bed was the only thing that you loved in your room, no, in this whole manor. You clasped your hands tighter around the handle of the trunk you were holding, and headed towards your bedroom door.

As soon as you climbed down the stairs, you were greeted with your parents’ cold glares. They would be aparating you straight to the platform 9 and 3/4, much to your dismay.

You walked towards them and nodded politely, “Mother,” you glanced at your mother, but she only scowled at you, “Father.” Then you glanced at your father, but he just ignored you.

Your parents stood side by side. Your father grabbed your arm roughly, and aparated you away.

You landed in front of the Hogwarts Express. You turned around and glanced at your parents for the last time, since you wouldn’t be seeing them until the Christmas holidays.

Your father kept ignoring you, and your mother flashed you the fakest smile ever, more for others to see than for you, “Behave yourself, child, or you will face consequences, and as you know, they are not very pleasant.” she gritted through her teeth, an evil smile playing on her lips.

You nodded politely and said one last goodbye. Then you turned around and started towards the awaiting train.

You climbed up the stairs and headed off to find an empty compartment. Fortunately, you did, so you went inside, settled in and started reading.

After some time, the door of the compartment was pushed open, and there stood none other than Draco Lucius Malfoy and his goons.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the greatest blood traitor. I’m confused your parents haven’t disowned you yet.” It was Goyle who spoke up.

“What do you want?” You asked with monotone voice.

“Lose the attitude princess.” Zabini smirked.

“Or?” You asked challengingly.

“Or you will face the consequences an-” you felt your blood boil, as soon as those six words left his filthy mouth. You didn’t even give him the chance to finish his sentence, you stood up and pushed him back with all your force, which made him stumble backwards. You shut the door and closed the curtains.

Was it really necessary for that son of a bitch to say the exact same words your beloved mother told you almost everyday?! He successfully ruined your mood. But something was wrong, Malfoy was uncharacteristically quiet. You shrugged off the thought and went back to reading.

When you finally arrived at Hogwarts, you changed into your Gryffindor robes, immediately left the train and sat in the black carriage, which led to the castle.

Unfortunately, you ran into your dormmates; Lavender Brown, Padma and Parvati Patil. They weren’t your friends though. You were quite a lonely person. As soon as your parents started torturing you, you couldn’t take it any longer, so you cut every kind of friendship with every Gryffindor, and every single Slytherin despised you with their whole beings. You exchanged quick ‘Hellos’ and answered few questions about your summer, though they were lies. That was all.

You soon reached the castle and walked inside. Everything was the same. Nothing had changed. You pushed the double doors of the Great Hall open and walked towards your house table. You felt eyes on you. Turning around, you saw Zabini, Goyle and every Slytherin glaring at you. You ignored them and turned back around.

Some time later, Dumbledore ended his speech and made food appear. You were very hungry, but still didn’t eat much. You were used to the lack of food, so it didn’t really bother you. Your amazing parents often starved you because you were ‘behaving badly’.

It just tired you, really. Never being enough. The amount of insults you were receiving from your own parents, people that are supposed to protect you and care for you the most, was insane. Instead of helping and supporting you, they only made you even more insecure.

Dinner ended soon after, and you walked out of the Great Hall before anyone could say anything to you. You speed-walked towards the Gryffindor tower and stopped when you realized you didn’t know the password. To your luck, or the other way around, the golden trio arrived. At first, they didn’t recognize you, but eventually they did and smiled at you. You didn’t return the smile though.

“Y/n! How are you? Oh my god, you have changed so much. I didn’t even recognize you.” Hermione squealed excitedly, but her smile quickly faded away, when she saw your emotionless face.

“Hello.” You said in your, very well practiced, monotone voice.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked. This question caught you off guard and your face softened for a split second, but you were mastered in hiding your emotions, so you put on the mask and played as though everything was fine, even if it wasn’t.

“Yes.” You simply answered, giving them the faintest smile, “I am sorry, but I don’t know the password. Could you please tell me?” You asked, softer this time.

“Y-yeah, sure.” Harry mumbled, almost suspiciously and said the password. You thanked him and walked straight to your dorm. The room was empty. Apparently, your dormmates were still out. You opened your trunk, which was already brought there and placed on the floor, and took out your pajamas. You quickly changed into them and laid down. You were very tired and you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

[therapycat21]

All Right Now Part 5

Travis Kelce x Famous!Reader Description: The reader catches the eye of famous footballer Travis.

Warnings: None

Social Media AU

It has been almost a month since me and Travis had become exclusive and told the world. So far it has been amazing, we still both get hate but the positive comments outweigh the negative. A lot has changed since then I now have my own cooking and baking show on Max the streaming service where I have a new chef teach me how to cook or bake something they have made while some friends and family are there to help and join in.

I still haven't had Trav on yet even though the producers are trying to get me to agree to it.

Well he has partially been on the show, you can hear him sometimes in the background but still hasn't shown his face yet. Which fans have noticed all over Twitter.

The amount of information they are trying to get from us is insane but expected and it doesn't seem to bother Travis at all. If anything he embraces it more than anything. Which is definitely a difference for me considering past relationships.

Travis and I have been posting with hints of each other but not fully showing our faces, In a way it’s kinda fun but if only I knew it was gonna change by this afternoon. I just finished getting ready to start filming an episode for the show and now waiting for my guests to let us know they're ready.

 My special guest for today was a heavily requested Gordon Ramsey. The producers gave me a signal that Gordon was on the phone, I’m then greeted by him on the big screen so we could see each other. I wave and smile “Hi! Thank you so much for coming on today” I tell him still smiling, He waves and gives a small smile “Hello darling, It is an honor to be here with you and teach you how to make one of my most famous dishes today” he tells me, we talk and joke for a minute before we get right into cooking. 

After learning and copying his steps we’re then interrupted by a yelling “Baby!” I hear Travis's boisterous voice yell from the other room, I share a panicked look at my mom before looking at Gordon holding in a shocked laugh “What in the bloody hell was that?” he questions.

I give him a small half smile blushing, feeling everyone’s gaze on me “That would be my boyfriend, who I told I was filming today” I tell them laughing, breaking the tension a little, I hold my finger up before excusing myself. 

I walk into the other room where Travis sits manspreading on what was supposed to be a huge couch but he makes it look thirty times smaller and playing his videogame. I give him a small look before he smirks, trying to get me to come closer. I walk over and try to stand in between his legs before he pulls me into his lap.

I give in before giving him a teasing look “You know I’m in the middle of filming right?” I question. He smirks before putting both hands and pulling my face to his, kissing my nose “I know but I wanted to tell you, you look beautiful today, oh and Mom wants us all to have dinner together tonight, if that’s alright with you?” he asks I nod at him “yeah, definitely, does she want me to make anything?” I ask he tries to hide a smile before nodding his head slightly “If you can, could you make some empanadas?” I try to hold back a smile before it breaks out onto my face anyway “Of course baby, now I gotta get back okay?”

I give him a chaste kiss before heading back into the kitchen. “Oh, wait, who’s the guest this week?“ he asks before I fully leave the room. I look back “It’s Gordon Ramsey” he goes blank giving me a shocked look, I can already see what he wants to ask next, I smirk waving my hand towards the kitchen “Come on, come say hi” I laugh as he jumps off of the couch rushing us both back into the kitchen.

We are greeted by the shocked look on my parents' Faces, I stand back in the frame behind the kitchen counter waving Travis over more “Gordon, this is my boyfriend Travis” he walks into the frame “Hey man I’m a really big fan” I look over to see he has a cheesy smile on his face, I give a quick laugh regaining his attention “why you laughing at me, it ain’t every day you meet a famous chef” he teases “I know I know It’s just adorable to see you so cheesy over him.” I tell him before he and Gordon talk a bit more before Travis excuses himself back into the other room but not before leaving me with a kiss on the nose and a tap on my side. I break the silence giving a giant sigh “Okay let’s get back to it” I smile at the camera.

The producers are gonna be extra happy about that, now they're off of my back and Travis got to meet one of the greatest chefs. Gordon smiles giving a cheeky response “Just so you know, when you two get married I will be the chef for your reception” he says making my face turn even redder “Ugh, are you calling it now?” I ask smiling he gives a belly laugh “Oh I am definitely calling it right now, you two will be married I guarantee it.”

We finish the episode and we all say goodbye to Gordon. I now clean everything before getting started on the empanadas for dinner tonight, this is the first time I will be making something for his family to try and oh my god it is nerve-wracking. After making the empanadas and both of us getting ready we head over to his mom's house for dinner.

3 Hours Later

After having dinner and the family gushing over the empanadas me and Travis decided to head back to the apartment for a chill night in.

After getting showers and into comfy clothes, we both sit down when Travis breaks the comfortable silence “Is it okay If I post you sometimes?” he asks hesitantly Looking over at him from my corner of the couch “You know what, yeah I am okay with it” I give a small smile to him.

He gives me one before tugging on my foot to get me to come closer, I move to sit on his lap, He brings one of the throws down over us and we both sit there in our little bubble finally in peace. As I dozed off. Travis leaned for his phone taking a quick picture of them both and captioning “end game” before posting to his Instagram, happy he could finally show off his girl.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Note

This is kind of a fill chapter but a glimpse into their relationship with each other and their families! I love writing for them!! How do yall feel about this couple please let me know!! much love for all the support with this series;)))) TC21

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Like my writing? buy me a coffee! I would be so grateful!

Taglist:

@whitemanswhore3

@bxdbxtxh15

@cixrosie

@kkrenae

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[jiggy-manda]

restriction

jennifer jareau x fem!reader

jj and her girlfriend have to meet her mother, the woman obsessed with numbers and weights and calories

tw: disordered eating

wc: 4.3k

JJ has never had a healthy relationship with food.

Growing up as an athlete, she was always expected to be in tip-top shape, and it didn’t help that her mother was naturally a size two– “Naturally,” as her mom put it.

But JJ knew better.

Maybe her mother wasn’t aware of her own eating patterns, but JJ definitely was. She’d grown up with it. The first time she’d ever had a regular soda was at ten, and her mother nearly had a heart attack when she saw the red can. Roslyn had to be the one to tell her that talking about calories and sugar content to a ten year old wasn’t going to do anything but weaken her relationship with food.

But Roslyn isn’t here anymore.

————

JJ has never been skinny enough.

Even as a varsity soccer player, her mother still found ways to dote on her appearance. Whether she noticed that JJ only ate on the days she had soccer games or not, she didn’t let on. Whether she noticed the shower running after dinner every night or not, she didn’t let on. Even at ten, when JJ was still playing on the smaller field, her mother found ways to correct her. Your stomach is showing through your shirt. Your calves are too fat for those socks. Keep this up and they’re gonna put you on goal.

Roslyn was the only one that understood. She took JJ to get ice cream after her games, even if she lost. She bought ice cream for JJ, and then took it home every single time after JJ started refusing it.

But Roslyn isn’t here anymore.

After Roslyn died, everything spiraled out of control.

Except for JJ’s diet.

Once Roslyn died, JJ started obsessively counting her calories. Her sister was gone, and she was left only with her parents. Her dad was absent most of the time, leaving her in the care of her mother.

Her mother stopped commenting on JJ’s weight and what she consumed.

Instead, these comments were then replaced with compliments.

“Jennifer, darling, your collarbones are absolutely stunning.”

“Jennifer, you’ve been looking amazing lately. I’m not sure what you’re doing, but whatever it is, it’s working.”

“Jennifer… Ros would be so proud of the woman you grew into.”

It made her sick.

Anytime anyone mentioned Ros— her Ros— she felt sick. They didn’t know her. Not like JJ, anyway. They didn’t cry with her at three in the morning; they weren’t there when she had panic attacks in the bathroom. Nobody was there for Roslyn when she was alive, and nobody was there for her when she just couldn’t take it anymore. Nobody but JJ.

Nobody else knew about Roslyn’s girlfriend. Nobody but JJ.

JJ’s mother was never there for Roslyn when she was alive, but she was there at the funeral, playing the grieving mother who was oh so sad and had done absolutely everything she possibly could to save her.

Bullshit.

JJ knew the truth. Her mother had just as much of a part in Roslyn’s suicide as everyone else, if not more. JJ found her mother’s grief almost laughable. She might as well have just done the job herself, with the way she treated Roslyn.

Over the years, JJ only kept in contact with Roslyn’s old girlfriend, Emily.

Roslyn had died when JJ was eleven. Now, almost 23, JJ is almost just as broken as she was more than a decade ago.

Almost.

————

JJ sat down on her bed as she quickly tapped her thumb and middle finger together, an anxious habit she’d picked up from Ros. Today was the anniversary of Ros’s death, and while she’d much rather spend it with her girlfriend, she knew her parents would never allow it.

A movement causing the weight of the bed to shift caught her attention, and she turned as you sat down next to her.

“You doing okay?”

JJ gave you a pointed look.

“Valid.”

You heard her sigh, and you took her hand into yours, tracing the patterns in her palm. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered.

JJ smiled and covered your hand with hers, a silent sign of appreciation.

“When do we leave?” You asked her.

“Um,” JJ looked down at her phone for a moment. “We have about half an hour.”

“Okay,” you said with a smile. “And, um…” You trailed off, not quite sure how to segue the conversation into what you wanted to discuss.

“She’s not coming, is she?”

Your heart dropped when you saw the disappointment and sadness on her face. “No.”

JJ let out a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling, trying to control her breathing. “Okay. That’s okay,” she said, convincing no one.

You frowned. “JJ… you’re allowed to feel upset.” You put a hand on her shoulder. “Emily is the only current connection you have to her right now, besides your family. And… Emily is the only one who really knew you guys. Both of you. It makes sense that you’re upset, just… try not to blame her too much. It’s… a lot. This time of year. Mom and Dad worry about her, and I do too.”

Blue eyes met yours as JJ lifted her head up to pay more attention.

“She...” You hesitated, not wanting to approach unwarranted territory.

JJ heard the shift in your voice.

It wasn’t just any shift. It was a shift she knew perfectly– the shift of tone where she immediately knew that someone was about to bring up food in front of her.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Just say it,” she said with a sad smile.

“She doesn’t eat,” you said guiltily. “This time of year. Especially today. And I think… I think she’s scared that if she sees you today, she might spiral. And it’s not about you, or your eating habits,” you quickly corrected. “It’s about the situation as a whole, and I just don’t think she can mentally handle it. Not yet.”

You squeezed JJ’s hand, and she returned the gesture, giving you a smile.

“I get it. It’s just… I wish we saw each other more often. I know she’s busy, and I know I’m busy, but I just wish I didn’t have to invite her to the memorial of her dead girlfriend to get her attention.” JJ flinched at the bluntness in her own voice, still sensitive to her sister’s death.

You squeezed her hand again. “I know.” You swept some hair off her shoulder, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now,” you started, leaning back and situating yourself comfortably. “Your mother…”

JJ groaned and covered her face with her palms, falling backwards on the bed. “I hate her,” she mumbled.

Adjusting yourself to lean back, you crawled to cuddle into her side and gave a soft kiss to her neck. “I know.” Another kiss. “But we need to figure out a way for you to interact with her that’s not triggering to you.”

JJ looked at you as if you’d just suggested she swim across the pacific.

“Listen, your mom is an asshole who bullied you to the point of an eating disorder. She’s a piece of shit, but she’s your piece of shit, and until we can completely cut her off, we just have to do what we can. Bare minimum. We won’t even stay that long, okay? Two hours, tops.”

JJ gazed up at you, her sad doe eyes breaking your heart. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

She grinned as she sat up to hug you, grateful for the support. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I love you,” you responded.

Her grip tightened.

————

JJ’s house was big. Not nearly as big as you and Emily’s, but big nonetheless. You’d only ever been there a few times– JJ wasn’t big on bringing people home, and since you both lived together, she didn’t really feel the need to bring you around often.

JJ’s parents didn’t know about you guys, but they didn’t not know. JJ never sat down and told them that she had a girlfriend; she sort of just started bringing you around everywhere and people made assumptions accordingly.

You held onto JJ’s hand as you walked through the hallway, passing the fireplace and living room. Her mother was standing near her father, likely having a silent argument solely through stares. Once JJ’s mother caught sight of the two of you, she immediately made her way over.

“Jennifer! You look amazing, dear.” She rested her hands onto JJ’s shoulder, allowing herself to take a longer look.

JJ’s skin prickled; she could feel the judgment coming off of her mother in heatwaves. She felt as her mother’s eyes traced over every line and curve in her body, and she felt sick at the thought of ever even having curves.

“You know, Jennifer, this dress is actually really beautiful. It hugs your body in just the right way– I can finally see your beautiful hips!”

You felt JJ get stiff next to you, and you gripped her hand just a bit harder, a silent reminder that you, too, heard what she just said. “Thanks, mom.”

The words tasted like bile in her mouth.

“You know, you’ve always been so skinny. And you have such a beautiful figure! I always wondered when you’d grow into it, but it seems like you’re finally filling in! Be careful though,” she added with a smirk, leaning in to wink at her daughter. “You don’t wanna look like all those girls with the fake butts and hips.”

You looked over at JJ, giving her a what the fuck? look. You knew her mom was borderline abusive– that much was true, but it seemed as if she was trying to purposely trigger her. Your mind was racing, and you couldn’t even imagine what was going through your girlfriend’s.

The entire event was extremely uncomfortable and heartbreaking, but thankfully JJ had other family members that wanted to catch up with her. You mostly sat back and listened, trying to digest everything while also keeping an eye on JJ.

The memorial itself went smoothly up until dinner.

You were sitting next to JJ as she ate her pasta when you heard her mom speak up. “Jennifer, are you really gonna eat all that? I mean, pasta, it just– the carbs and the calories.. You’ve been doing so well with watching your food around us. Do you really wanna…” She trailed off for a moment, breaking eye contact with her daughter before frowning. She looked as if she were about to say something more, but shook her head as she decided against it.

You looked over at JJ, and it was as if you could hear the gears turning in her head. She was angry, that much was obvious. But she was also smart, and she needed to play it accordingly. It didn’t stop the whole situation from breaking your heart, though. You could hear the gears turning in her head, but you could also see the tears forming in her eyes.

The blonde sighed, giving in and looking up at her mother. She took the bait. “What, mom?”

Mrs. Jareau guiltily looked at her daughter for a short moment before speaking. “Well, you have gained a little bit of weight recently.”

“What the fuck?”

All heads turned to you, eyes bulging out of their sockets, watching your response. Your eyes widened in fear as you realized what you’d just said in front of your girlfriend’s family. You looked over at JJ, and she had the same expression in her eyes.

JJ scooted her chair out and stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

You quickly scrambled to your feet to follow your girlfriend down the hallway.

“Y/N, you don’t need to come with me,” she said as she walked.

“Yeah, like hell I’m letting you go into that bathroom alone.” A hand on her elbow stopped her in her tracks. “I know what you’re thinking. I know you, and I’m not gonna let it happen.”

JJ just glared at you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You asked.

The older blonde let out a sigh before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She stared at you, willing you to speak. You knew it was common for your girlfriend to shut down during uncomfortable situations. She had trouble speaking, even simply forming words. It was even worse when it came to her eating disorder, because her emotions almost always took over her rational thoughts, preventing her from clearly articulating her feelings. All her energy went into controlling her emotions; there was none left to form words.

You decided to break the silence with something lighter, not wanting to bring up exactly what her mother had said just yet. “JJ, I’m really sorry for what I said. I usually have such a good filter; I don’t know what happened…”

JJ smiled slightly, rubbing a hand up and down your shoulder. “I know. Neither of us were expecting her to say it so explicitly like that; it took us both by surprise.”

JJ always knew how to make you feel better. She was perfect like that.

“But, um..” You danced around on your feet, feeling a bit uncomfortable and out of place, not quite sure on how to lead into your next question. “Are you okay? Because what she said— it’s not okay.”

JJ’s smile faltered. “I’m okay.”

You tilted your head, giving her a warning look. “Really, JJ? I’ve known you for years; you could at least try to make your lies believable.”

The tall blonde frowned and looked down. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” you interrupted her, willing her to meet your eyes. Her head lifted a bit, and you took your chance. “I’m not mad at you. You don’t have to apologize; you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes trailed across hers as you observed her expressions, admiring the beautiful features that adorned her face. “It’s not your fault.”

JJ’s eye twitched slightly, and your stomach clenched in pain.

“None of this was your fault. What happened to you, to…” You trailed off, not wanting to bring up her sister while she was crying over her mom. Your voice hardened as you locked eyes with her, hoping she wouldn’t look away. “It wasn’t your fault, JJ.”

JJ blinked, looking down as a tear escaped her eyes. “I know.”

Your heart clenched as you listened. That didn’t sound like JJ. Not the JJ you knew. JJ was strong-willed and opinionated; the voice you heard was small and broken.

“But it feels like it is.”

The upset in your stomach was soon replaced with anger, and all you could think about was a ten year old JJ confused as to why she could only have one piece of chocolate per week. Fury, hatred, and rage soon followed, and the feelings festered in your gut, bubbling up and fizzling out every few minutes.

You knew it was only a matter of time before your usually-perfect filter went out the window completely.

You knew it was bound to happen. You just didn’t know when.

“JJ, I need to be completely honest. If we go back out there, I don’t know how much patience I’ll have.” You looked at her cautiously, monitoring her expressions for anything that could give away what she was feeling.

She gave you a small smile and squeezed your hand. “I know. I could see it happening earlier. But Y/N/N, seriously, you’re doing an amazing job. You don’t give yourself enough credit. I know you lost your patience earlier, but that’s a rare occasion.” She squinted her eyes a bit, thinking about what to say. “And this is also a very specific situation, so really, I wouldn’t say your reaction was… unwarranted,” she added. “You’re just protective of me.” She smiled. “And that’s okay.”

You grinned back at her.

“Ready to go back?” You asked as you took her hand.

“Yup,” she sighed, moving away from the counter. “Might as well.”

————

You and JJ hadn’t missed much; it was mainly still just the same group of relatives conversing with each other. Her mother was there, as well, obnoxiously laughing at a joke that seemed way too funny to be told by her father.

The two of you walked over to the living room, taking a seat next to each other on one of the couches and making small talk with some of JJ’s aunts and uncles.

It was interesting to see JJ interact with her family; they were all really sweet, for the most part. It seemed as if her mother was the outlier of the bunch, which both angered and confused you at the same time. You knew people’s filters deteriorated over time as they grew old and cared less about how they were perceived, but it was as if JJ’s mother never had one to begin with.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by a tight grip on your wrist, immediately swiveling your head to see what had happened.

JJ’s face was sheet white as she stared at the woman in front of her; you hadn’t heard what her mother said, but judging by the expression on your girlfriend’s face, it couldn’t have been good. Not that anything her mother said was ever really great, anyways.

“JJ?” You looked at your girlfriend, willing her to reply, but she wouldn’t break her gaze; she stayed staring directly in front of her.

You picked up on her energy fairly quickly; you knew if she tried to move or change her expression she’d likely breakdown, and there was nothing she wanted less than to have her family see her cry.

You stood up quickly, taking hold of JJ’s hand as she turned her gaze towards the ground, likely trying to keep her tears in.

“Jennifer, don’t ignore me.”

Her mother’s voice was warning, as if JJ were a child giving her the silent treatment.

“I can’t do this,” JJ whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You squeezed her hand before speaking, turning your gaze to her mother. “We’re leaving,” you said with a tight smile.

Her mother scoffed, looking you up and down as if you were nothing– just one of her daughter’s playthings.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Your skin prickled with the insult, and your grip on JJ’s hand grew even tighter. She turned to her daughter once again, willing her to speak. “I asked you a question, Jennifer, and you should really look at your mother when she’s speaking to you.”

You had to fight the urge to scoff at her mother talking about herself in third person; how dramatic could someone be?

JJ’s mother changed her stance to a more relaxed position, tilting her head to the side as she examined her daughter.

“Jennifer, how much do you weigh?”

“What?” The question almost knocked you over, taking you completely off guard.

JJ stiffened next to you and stood up straight, no doubt trying to make herself look thinner in the eyes of her mother. Mrs. Jareau ignored you and continued staring at her daughter, acting as if you weren’t even there.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

That got her attention. She whipped her head around to you, giving you another once-over before clicking her tongue. “Jennifer, wi–”

“No, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you so out of touch with reality that you can’t see how much of an asshole you’re being?”

JJ looked over at you with a warning glance, the only acknowledgement that she’d heard you during this entire conversation.

“You think that just because you have issues with food you can just force it on your daughter? She was a child. You didn’t even give her a chance,” you accused, feeling yourself get more and more worked up.

“Y/N,” JJ warned, her voice deep and gravelly, the voice she used when you were speaking out of turn or going out of line.

“Oh, please,” her mother replied. “She doesn’t have issues with food; she has issues with discipline and self control. You think she would look like that if she had ‘issues with food’? Plenty of women are able to control their cravings; I know I can.”

You shook your head in disbelief as she spoke, in utter shock of the cognitive dissonance the woman had.

“And if you’re gonna talk about issues with food, it certainly would not be my daughter. You wanna talk about choices? There are thousands of girls with food issues; my daughter is not one of them. Those girls never even had a chance, but Jennifer did. She chose to be selfish over being healthy; there’s nothing wrong with pointing it out.”

JJ’s grip on your hand wasn’t even tight anymore; it was loose, as if she had given up, as if it was taking a significant amount of energy to even hold on. You knew she was exhausted, and you knew this was only making it worse.

“Didn’t have a chance? Didn’t have a chance? What the hell would you call JJ’s experience then– a choice? You think she just chose to stop eating out of nowhere? Where the hell do you think she learned it from? It sure wasn’t her friends. Her whole life has been about you; you and your desire to have the perfect daughter. You did that.

So maybe those other girls— Maybe they didn’t have a chance. But your daughter did, and you took that away from her. So while you wallow in your own puddle of self pity, maybe you should reflect on why she started restricting in the first place.”

You took a deep breath, trying to control your thoughts and calm yourself down.

Next thing you knew, an iron hard grip on your wrist was dragging you out the door. “What the hell was that?” JJ’s voice was low and demanding.

You just stared at her as if she’d asked one of the most obvious questions in the world. “What was what? You saw the way she was acting.”

“She was acting like that the entire time, Y/N,” she warned. “I’ve told you multiple times how she is; you’ve met her before. We literally talked earlier today about what to possibly expect from her.”

“JJ, your mom–”

“Right— my mom. Not yours,” JJ interrupted, eyes narrow.

You felt a ball of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

“I understand that you want to protect me, but this was not the time nor place. And quite frankly, it is not your place to speak on my ‘issues with food.’ You were out of line; you do not get to decide how or why I developed an eating disorder.”

Your heart dropped. She was right.

You bit your lip, looking down as tears formed in your eyes. You knew it wasn’t fair to cry, not right now, but it was becoming increasingly harder to control your emotions. You didn’t like upsetting JJ, and you knew speaking on her eating habits was out of line, especially because her mom had been doing it incessantly for years.

You coughed, trying to hide the hiccup that came with your tears. Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You’re right. I’m sorry, JJ.”

You were still looking down, too ashamed to meet her eyes.

Next thing you knew, you were being pulled into her chest, engulfed in a hug as she held you close, swaying a bit as she tried to help you calm down. “I love you,” she whispered, keeping you attached to her. “I’m sorry for snapping.” Her voice was soft; it had returned to the usual loving tone she used with you.

You buried your face in her chest, gripping her jacket and holding her close.

“All you were doing was sticking up for me, I know. But baby, my mother is just… You can’t win with her. I know you wanted to help, but really, it wouldn’t have done anything.”

Your heart broke as she spoke those words, because you knew they were true.

“And Y/N, I really do appreciate it. I probably could’ve handled it better; I’m not used to people defending me like that, so it took me off guard.”

You were still wrapped up in her embrace, her hand on your head as she held you and continued to sway back and forth. “Also… I was absolutely terrified because I had no idea how my mom would respond. I’ve never said anything like that to her, so I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if someone she barely knew talked to her like that.”

You sniffled a bit, nodding your head as she explained herself. You pulled away, looking her in the eye for the first time since you’d left. “I really was just trying to help,” you said guiltily.

She gave you a sad smile. “I know, honey.”

You smiled back, reaching for her hand.

“I think it was a good idea we left our stuff in the car,” you said with a slight chuckle. She repeated the sound, taking your hand in hers. “There’s no way I’m going back in there.”

“Yeah, well don’t worry about that because I wouldn’t let you,” she joked, pulling on your hand as she began to walk to the car. “You and that mouth of yours.”

“Hey!” You protested, lightly hitting her on the arm. “I told you my filter could only last so long.”

She snorted, grinning as she walked around to the driver's side.

“You’re silly,” she said as you both took your seats.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you replied. “You love me.”

She grinned at you as she started the ignition. “Yeah, I do.”

——

a/n: hii i hope you guys enjoyed this <3 i wrote this like a year ago but never moved it from ao3 to here.

[meanbossart]

Spicy Asks: The Sequel is here. I'm so, so sorry.

Oh he's a very passive guy, he likes being manhandled around and not having to do much of the work (a bit of a pillow princess one might say). As far as fetishes go, he does have fantasies about group sex and of being roughed up, but I think if put in a situation where he could practice it in a controlled environment he'd be like "EHHHH nevermind actually" and go home very quickly LOL

DU drow would have 100% banged Lae'zel if he hadn't killed her. He couldn't stand her personality but they would have gotten on like two peas in a pod in the sack.

He does find Shadowheart very pretty, but they struck up a friendship so quickly that I don't think he could see her in that way 🤷 but that's still a smash, technically speaking.

Jaheira. Ohhhh Jaheira. As far as general dynamics go she would have been the best choice after Astarion, probably - though there is no way in hell or high heavens that she would have ever let him touch her LOL regardless, DU drow finds her looks and personality to be very attractive.

He's pretty much utterly indifferent to anyone else. Wyll is too idealistic, Gale is Gale, Karlach isn't his type, Halsin gets on his nerves - oh, he WOULD have banged Mizora if he hadn't been heads over heels for Astarion by that point.

The man just likes his femmes I guess LOL

HMMMMMMM yes, but since it's not really a porn fic expect any scenes like that to be in line with what we've had so far, where there's more of a focus on developing character dynamics rather than gratuitousness (I hope I've gotten that across, at least LOL).

LOL, It's ok, it's a ridiculous not-name and I'm so sorry for all the people I have made confused and will continue to confuse because of it.

As for your question, definitely not! I personally like big-bottom/smaller-top scenarios so that's why I focus on it, and I do think character-wise those are the roles they fall into most naturally - but they switch around every so often when the mood strikes and it isn't really a big deal.

Oh are you kidding me? The guy LOVES being cared after in an intimate setting. Being doted on, groomed, checked up on, having his hair played with and clothes fixed up - he doesn't express it outwardly much, but these are all things that make his murderous little heart skip a beat. He was the same way pre-tadpole but it was mostly servants and Sceleritas doing it, so he didn't get much out of the exchange; and Orin didn't entertain this at all, or, if she ever did, it was very, very, very rarely and really just a crumb of intimate affection that he most likely misread anyways.

I'm not sure what to say to this one LOL the penis is full of blood already man I don't think a vampire needs to make it any more tempting to themselves to chomp down.

I wrote a thing about that not too long ago :D ! The answer is complicated but, mostly yes.

Alright you joke, but, if you don't think DU drow hasn't spent a little too long lingering over Astarion's feet and ankles then I got amazing news for you.

I touched on what they generally like on the previous edition of Wine Fuelled Spicy Asks, but as for what they like to do as a couple, it's probably a lot of body worship and some playful denial on both ends. Du drow thinks Astarion is the most elegant and limber thing he's ever seen (and he loves how he smells), and Astarion thinks DU drow's body is an expertly put together murder machine. They have a great time being mutually enamored with each other's (and their own) appearances.

I think they also venture into some blood-play and vapid threats of violence in the future, as a treat, but takes a while for them to trust themselves and each other enough to indulge in that kind of thing.

Needs a little direction, plus you gotta learn to enjoy a bit of teeth and a very slobbery time - also I think he distracts easily, It's nice to have a man who's willing to venture the whole perimeter with his mouth but sometimes you do just want him to stay on the prick. But generally speaking - yes, DU drow gives good head. Fun head, even!

What do you people want from me? Do you want schematics? Diagrams? Do you want me to compare their holes to famous people holes? Do you want me to take out my measuring tape and give you numbers, tell you which kind of produce each of them can fit in there???

One is pink, the other one is brown. One of them just looks normal and the other looks and feels a little like it been around the block a few times. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW.