#so everything is just going to sit on my tablet

[witchygagirlwrites]

Hold On- Pt 1/2

Kelly Severide x Reader

When Kelly hears about a threat at med he doesn't think he's gonna end up facing losing even more than the love of his life

Warnings: Gun violence, death of a child, shooting of a pregnant female

“Kelly!” you all but giggled his name out, he had you down on the bed and was teasing every spot he knew would pull a reaction out of you with his lips and tongue. He’d worked his way down your neck and was now kissing across your collarbone. “What baby? You really want me to stop?” he teased, blue eyes moving up to meet yours. You felt your face warm under the intensity of his gaze. God you loved this man. “Not really, I mean I’d much rather keep you in bed then send you off to walk into fires”

He smiled and pressed a kiss onto your chest “Love, you know I’m going to always find my way back to you if there is any way possible” you ran your nails through his short hair, teasing the grey locks and smiling when he nuzzled further into your touch “I know Kel, doesn’t help me feelings any about the love of my life being in danger every damn time he goes to work” 

“Well you know if something does happen and they can get me to Gaffney, Rhodes will do everything in his power to bring me back to you” he teased and you shoved playfully at his head “Do not use Connor to tease me!”  He laughed and moved up the bed, turning to lay on his back and pulled you towards him so you didn’t have a choice but to straddle his waist.

You crossed your arms and he grinned, gently unfolding them and taking your left hand in both of his. He ran a finger over your engagement ring “I promise you. I will dig my way out of hell itself if need be to be able to become your husband” you shook your head “I wish you wouldn’t take how dangerous your job is so lightly Kelly. I love you, I respect your job but you need to respect that it is a little nerve wracking” he nodded, “I know baby. That’s why I call you so much during the day, just to calm your nerves. I love you”

You leaned down to press your lips against his “I love you too Kelly” he grinned against your lips “We have enough time” you laughed and braced your hands against his chest, enjoying how the smooth muscles moved under your palms “Then don’t waste the damn time” he pulled you down to him and flipped both of you over “Yes ma’am”

You stared at the little plastic test in front of you. The two pink lines felt like they were staring back. You were pregnant, at least a few weeks from how damn dark those lines were. This wasn’t a faint positive by any means.

You took a deep breath, a smile working its way onto your face. Your wedding was in a couple weeks, maybe you wouldn’t have to get many more alterations done to your dress? At least you knew you hadn’t just randomly gained weight now, right?

A laugh escaped you at your own dumb little joke. You snapped a photo of the test so you could show Kelly tonight then wrapped it in a paper towel and threw it away before washing your hands and heading back out onto the floor. You had to hide your excitement or you’d give yourself away the moment Maggie or Connor saw you. They’d know some form of good news had come your way.

You were pregnant. You and Kelly were going to be parents. You couldn’t wait to tell him. “Soon to be Severide” you turned at the sound of Connor’s voice, a grin slipping onto your face “Hey Con” he smiled “You’re with me today, I got a couple pediatric surgeries so who better than my favorite peds nurse”

“Such a suck up” you laughed and he grinned “Gotta make sure no one knocks me out of place as your best friend” you shook your head “Never” and fell in step with him as he handed you the tablet that had the first patient’s chart pulled up.

‘So, big day’s getting here quick man” Matt told Kelly, sitting down next to him in the bays. Kelly nodded “Couple weeks, I can’t wait” Matt laughed “I never thought I’d see the day that you of all people would be downright excited to get married”

A broad grin slipped onto Kelly’s face as he shrugged “I guess it really does just come down to finding the right person. I couldn’t imagine my life without her now Matt” “I’m happy for you both and I’m honored I get to stand up there with you” Matt told him, patting his knee.

For it to still be early in the day the firehouse had been fairly busy so they were enjoying a little bit of downtime while lunch was getting cooked. “Where’s Gabby?” Kelly asked and Matt waved towards the door “Her and Sylvie are in there watching Cruz cook”

He nodded, pulling his phone out to send you a text. Just checkin in. I love you a few seconds later the bubbles that you were replying popped up then the reply came through I love you too

He smiled and Matt laughed “You’re adorable Kelly, really” and he threw his hat at Matt “Man, shut up” Matt grabbed the hat and tossed it back “I’m just teasing. It’s good to see. It is”

___________________

Kelly was running drills with squad when Boden walked to the door leading out into the bays. “Kelly” he looked up and the moment he spotted his chief he felt his stomach drop. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what. He didn’t know how bad, but he knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked and Boden looked like he was bracing himself “There’s an emergency at med, there’s been a lockdown” he didn’t hear anything else Boden said because he was already running to his mustang.

You stood next to the bed in the hybrid OR, staring down the man that was threatening both you and Connor. He had brought his son in with a ruptured appendix but from what Connor could guess, the appendix had ruptured the day before. You didn’t even know how the hell the kid was still alive to this point.  “Save him” he ordered and Connor nodded “I’ll do everything I can but you need to surrender to the police” the man currently had a gun in his hand.

He shook his head and raised the gun towards you “Save my son or I kill your nurse” you swallowed hard, your thoughts immediately going to the baby  “Please, I just found out I’m pregnant this morning. I haven’t even told my fiance” “What?” Connor asked, the look in his eyes had gone from worried to downright terror now that he knew it wasn’t just your life at risk but your baby’s too.

“Then he better do his job” the man spoke. Connor nodded “I will, let her go. Hold the gun on me. Something besides having the gun on a pregnant woman” “Connor you can’t operate alone” you reminded him, swallowing hard from where you stood across the table. You slowly met Connor’s eyes “Just concentrate. I’m ok” 

____________________

Kelly threw his car into park and ran towards the entrance of the ED despite the fact that there was police tape everywhere. “Severide!” he heard several voices calling his name. It was both Halsteads and Voight. “She’s in there” he barely got the words out. Voight nodded “We’re getting tapped into the security cams to get some sort of idea what we’re dealing with so we can form a plan. Come on”

He fell in with the older man and followed him. He walked over to where Burgess had a laptop set up on the hood of her suv. The screen went black then the footage of the ED, namely the hybrid OR came onto the screen. His heart stopped when he saw a man point a gun at you. His heart crumbled when your next words were  “Please, I just found out I’m pregnant this morning. I haven’t even told my fiance” he felt his knees go out from under him and he would have hit the concrete had Jay and Will not lurched forward and caught him. 

“She’s pregnant?” he whispered more to himself than anyone. Voight nodded to Jay “We’re taking control of this scene, fuck SWAT. We have our people at risk”  “I’ll get ready to breach” he nodded then looked at Kelly “We’re gonna do everything we can to get her out safe Kelly” “Please Hank” he pleaded, eyes glued to the screen.

_____________________

You handed Connor another tool, feeling your stomach drop with every bloody gauze. There was no saving this kid. The appendix rupturing was bad enough then he’d sat for over twenty four hours? His blood had gone septic. At this point Connor was just trying to keep his heart beating long enough in hopes that whatever cops were outside could figure this out.

You knew this, you just hoped his father just didn’t figure it out. “His B.P. is dropping” Connor spoke low to you and you nodded. You didn’t have what you needed to keep it up in the OR. If he flatlined….You were fucked. 

He was purposely staying between you and Connor too. There was no way out of this without the cops getting in before this kid flatlined and unless they made it within the next two minutes. You looked up into Connor’s eyes, feeling tears forming in yours and whispered “If something happens look out for Kelly, promise me” “Nothing is going to..” you cut him off “PROMISE ME” he nodded, tears in his eyes “I promise” 

The man was getting twitchy, he was either due for another hit or catching on. You could feel your hands start to shake slightly. You were engaged to the love of your life, pregnant with his baby and now facing being killed.

“Why isn’t his blood pressure coming up?” he asked and Connor didn’t look up “That’s normal” you nodded, “It is” he kept fidgeting, moving to shove the gun into your side “It better be because the little pregnant nurse probably wants to make it home to her fiance”

You stiffened and Connor glared at him “Come shove that thing in my side. I’m the surgeon, not her” “Yeah but she’s the one with a kid. She’s the one who deserves to die if my son does” you felt tears slip down your face.

___________________

Kelly watched the laptop, frozen to the spot. He knew Voight’s team was moving in. Connor was doing everything he could to keep this son of a bitch’s attention off of you but he could see just how fucking scared you were. He could see your lips moving and knew you were whispering something to Connor.

The next few moments seemed like they happened too slow and too fast all at the same time. He could see Jay come into view just in the corner of the screen. The man moved to look out of the OR, the kid flatlined and he saw the barrel of the man’s gun flash right before you hit the ground.

He turned and ran into the ED, shoving only god knows how many people out of the way. He ran past the body of the man and hit his knees at your side. “Baby?” he whispered and you rolled your head to the side to look at him, eyes full of pained tears as Connor snatched stuff down to hold pressure and screamed for help “I’m sorry Kelly” “It’s ok love, just stay awake” he tried but your eyes fluttered shut, the blood seeping through Connor’s hands as the medical team flooded into the room. They got you onto a gurney and wheeled you towards the elevator “We need to get her to an OR now and get ASHER!” 

He heard Connor giving orders but he couldn’t move. The love of his life and his baby. Was he going to lose you both?

[sunlightfeeling]

does anyone like the process of creating posts? I don't mean the actual media you're showing off with gifs, artwork, scanning, etc.

I mean, actually drafting up the post to share it?

..Because I'm kind of starting to not like it much

And I lowkey could use help? Its getting more difficult to draft things up and it’s zapping some of my motivation knowing when everything’s ready, I need to now go and queue it up

*Not everything is ready because they're dupes I need to compare or still need editing/deleting, but a good number are “ready”

I've started getting a nice flow with scanning, which is great! But then the idea of making the post pops in my head and I freeze and go "ugh…😞”

Again, its not that I don't want to post. Actually I want to post more (at least for now since I'm at a good scan-pace), but I think I'm annoying enough posting about 4 times a day across two blogs 😂

I just...can't get motivated to upload/manage the pictures, write a caption, write tags...

Usually (practically always, unless it's a clip tbh) I'm not even considering metrics or trying to skew a post a certain way. Some posts are legit just dropping the shoot and captioning with the magazine name but that's still like...too much? right now. I don't want to give you guys crap-effort posts but I also can barely get myself to just add a magazine title and some tags sigh

Basically, I still want the posts going to these blogs, but I'd provide the scans to have the posts queued up? Idk maybe I could open another side-blog (or just use the one I have already?) That's would maybe be easier since it's collaborative......right? lol

Anyway, half rant half actually could use some help? If you want? Idk I really want to share more and I really love scanning and making gifs but…

....also, I kind of would like time to watch things and play Gaiden, while also still rolling out posts

[dexaroth]

i cant believe the day but i finally got a full tower pc. bought it already built and at a considerable discount of some 320 dollars off. its fucking huge and theres so many things going on inside... i was initially planning on choosing the parts myself but finding the graphics card was so hard and everyone else convinced me to just buy it built and honestly? good. id probably have fucked this up so badly by myself

i cant use it yet bc i took too long to buy the monitor that was also on sale and now its regular price -_- tho i managed to find a discount used one for now. well see how that goes since ill get it tomorrow. i tested it on out living room tv and it had some kaspersky thingy open and like thats so cute. i hope they left some treats in the browsing history for me to search through before i wipe it clean

[catchastarorten]

—License and registration, please.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Did you pass the speed limit? No. Did Jun-ho pull you over anyways to steal a few moments (and kisses) with you? Yes.

Content: fluff, shared kisses, a girl flirting with him but Jun-ho being very loyal, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.1k

The air was cool that afternoon, sunlight glinting off the windshields of passing cars. Traffic duty wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was steady, and after everything Jun-ho had endured chasing shadows and secrets, it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t mind the transfer. It gave him time to breathe. To be with you.

A motorcycle driving into sight caught his eyes, bringing him out of his thoughts. A man carrying a girl on the back, helmet-less.

Jun-ho approached the two as the motorcycle came to a stop, his partner—a younger, less experienced officer trailed after him.

“You’re not wearing a helmet. Your license, please.” he took out a small tablet as the man cursed, eyes full of impatience and annoyance.

“Isn’t this entrapment? Hiding to catch people is shady. You want to squeeze money out of broke citizens?” the man scoffed.

“Your license, please.” Jun-ho ignored him and extended a hand out, waiting.

The man handed over his license begrudgingly as the girl sitting behind him on the motorcycle hopped down, giving the man a reassuring pat as if saying, “I’ve got this,” before coming closer to Jun-ho.

“Look, can’t you just let us go? I’m wearing one.” she gestured to her own helmet, giving it a steady pat.

“No, ma’am.”

The girl frowned, but took a second look at him and her eyes sparkled, peering at him. “Hey, you’re really handsome!” her voice tuned into a higher pitch at her excitement, as if she found some treasure.

“I could charge you with obstruction.” Jun-ho said dryly, checking the information on the small tablet in his hand.

“You’re a tough cookie,” the girl smiled wider, taking out her phone. She snapped a few pictures, striking different poses as Jun-ho tried to avoid the camera, his head ducked low as he scanned over the information shown on the tablet. The man on the motorcycle narrowed his eyes at the sight.

As the ticket printed out from a machine strapped to Jun-ho’s vest, the girl patted his shoulder. “Come on, get in here!” she leaned closer, but he stepped away to maintain a good distance, before walking over to the man.

Jun-ho handed the ticket to the guy. “The fine for not wearing a helmet is 20,000 won. Pay it on time.”

The man snatched the ticket away as the girl continued fawning.

“What’s your number? Are you single?” she squealed.

Jun-ho blinked, momentarily taken aback, before he smirked softly and raised his hand, the band on his finger glinting in the sunlight. “Happily married,” he said simply, his voice warm.

The girl’s excitement evaporated, replaced by a pout. “Seriously? Who’s the lucky woman?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer, instead he walked back to the squad car.

The man drove off on his motorcycle, a bitterness clinging onto him. The girl was startled and chased after the guy, shouting and exclaiming and throwing her helmet at him but missing while trying to catch up, her loud curses disappearing into the distance along with the motorcycle.

Jun-ho watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, shaking his head before getting back into the squad car. His rookie partner shot him a bewildered look. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“More than you’d think. Just ignore them,” Jun-ho replied, settling back into his seat, looking down at the band on his ring finger as his eyes softened, already missing you.

They were driving back toward their usual patrol route when Jun-ho caught sight of a familiar car in the distance. It was yours, the unmistakable silhouette of the vehicle and the way it handled the road bringing an instant smile to his face.

“Pulling over for a second,” he told his rookie partner.

“What? Why?”

Without explanation, Jun-ho sped up slightly, falling into step behind your car before flicking on the lights. You weren’t speeding—you rarely did—but you pulled your car to the side of the road obediently anyway, your indicator blinking calmly, putting the car in park.

Jun-ho stepped out of the patrol car, smoothing his uniform. His partner stayed inside, fiddling with the radio.

He walked up to your window, tapping lightly on the glass, then gestured for you to roll it down. When you turned to look at him, he saw the way your eyes flickered in recognition and affectionate annoyance. He could already feel his heart melting.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along as you pressed the button and lowered the window.

“Officer,” you said, your voice laced with playful suspicion. “What’s the problem?”

Jun-ho leaned against the frame, speaking in a serious way, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “License and registration, please.”

You scoffed. “I wasn’t speeding. You know I wasn’t speeding.”

“You were driving suspiciously… within the speed limit,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Am I really getting a ticket for obeying the law?”

“Yes,” he said, dipping his head closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “But you can pay in kisses.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in through the open window, his lips brushing yours in a tender, stolen kiss. It was soft, warm, and lingering—the kind of kiss that reminded you just how much he adored you. When he pulled back, he waited for just a moment before stealing another kiss. And then another.

“Jun-ho,” you mumbled, your voice half-scolding but mostly filled with affection.

“One more,” he murmured, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the window.

You gave in, letting him kiss you again.

“That’ll cover it,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled back, his eyes lingering on yours.

Just as he straightened, the passenger door of the squad car opened, and his rookie partner stepped out, looking thoroughly confused. “Uh… everything okay?”

Jun-ho let out a sigh, his expression shifting back to something more professional, though you could still see the softness in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute, go wait in the car.”

The officer hesitated but nodded, retreating back to the patrol car, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Jun-ho said, his voice softening as he looked at you.

You smiled warmly. “I’ll see you at home.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “Sharp.”

With one last lingering look, Jun-ho stepped back, letting you drive off. He stood there for a moment, watching your car disappear down the road, his heart full.

As he returned to the squad car, his rookie partner gave him a questioning look, but Jun-ho didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just for him to cherish.

[dolcekissy]

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes oral sex, and a lot of spit ;)

─────────────────────────

you were bored ─ thumbs scrolling as you skipped through videos on tiktok. rafe invited you over just to chill in his bed and spend the night together, you loved spending time with rafe but you were fucking bored.

rafe laying down in his bed next to you, mindlessly scrolling through instagram ─ stopping to watch different reels and like pictures people posted. he stopped ─ his head snapping over to you and your phone when you gasped.

"oh my god! rafe look at this!" you shoved your phone in his face, showing him a video of a girl laughing with wide eyes ─ her mouth opened as saliva poured out of her mouth. "ew, what the fuck." he groaned out, his brows furrowing as he looked away.

"no way that shits real!" you laughed, clicking on the link to look at the little mints and reading the description. "we have to try these, that's so funny." you giggled, immediately adding it to your cart and purchasing it.

rafe scoffed and continued scrolling through his phone, "that shits not real ─ bet it's a scam or some shit."

─────────────────────────

a few days passed and your package came in the mail, you excitedly opened it and texted rafe to pick you up. you were going to surprise him and try to get him to try them with you.

rafe had totally forgotten about them, so when you pulled out a little bright package he furrowed his brows at you ─ asking you what that is.

"it's those mint tablet things i showed you ─ the ones that make you drool a lot, told you we were trying them." you giggle, opening the package and popping one in your mouth.

"you've gotta be kidding me." rafe scoffed, he looked at the little package and read the strength ─ not even a minute later you're opening the car door and laughing as saliva starts dripping down your chin and onto the ground.

"rafe! oh my god look!" you step out of his car, holding your hair back with your hands as your mouth drips and pours. rafe shakes his head and gets out of the car, walking over to you as you look up at him with a laugh.

you stick your tongue out and watch your spit pour down onto the ground with wide eyes. his eyes widened and his dick is immediately hardening when your wide eyes meet his.

"how long does that last." he asked, trying to adjust his pants as you looked down at the ground glistening in your spit. you shrug with a laugh, "i dunno ─ they said people use this for cotton mouth but i bet people use it to suck dick."

he shook his head ─ watching you close your mouth for a moment before opening it again, spit pouring down your lips and chin. you look up at him with raised eyebrows, his eyebrows raising too as he waits for you to say something.

"wanna try it?"

─────────────────────────

you're on your knees in the back of rafe's car ─ holding all the saliva that's been begging to come out as rafe eagerly pulls his sweatpants and underwear down. you quickly grab his cock with one hand and open your mouth, letting everything drip on him.

he groans at the feeling of your warm spit and the sight of you in front of him. his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you wrap your lips around his cock ─ your dripping tongue twirling around his pink tip.

"shittt." he groans. you begin bopping your head on his cock, feeling your spit run down and your chin and drip onto the floor of his car. he grabs his phone sitting next to him, pulling the camera app up and turning the flash on while he records you.

your eyes meet the camera lens as you let his cock hit the back of your throat ─ his groans going straight to your needy pussy. after a few moments of literally slurping on his dick, he guides your head up and down his cock before pulling your head back.

"fuckkk, m'gonna cum ─ stick your tongue out, doll."

you stick your tongue out, letting the camera watch your saliva and his warm seed drip off your tongue and onto his cock ─ the seat below him glistening and his thick cock shining.

"mmm, 's your turn rafey." you lean over, grabbing the pack and popping one into his mouth ─ immediately switching positions with him and pulling your lace panties down, your ass laying flat against the puddle of spit as you wait for him to create an even bigger puddle while he drools over your sopping pussy.

─────────────────────────

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

that type of dad .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Summary: sometimes, dads just aren't present enough. y/n would rather kill lando than let him become that kind of dad.

˙ᵕ˙ ln x reader ꨄ︎

˙ᵕ˙ flulff ꨄ︎

masterlist ☾☼

the plane shuddered as they boarded, economy seats seeming just a tad too intimate after the first class lounge. y/n settled into the window seat, lando clumsily into the middle, a dad already outstretched in the aisle seat. across the thin gulf, a mom was attempting to calm two toddlers, a battle she was very much losing.

y/n sat by, watching it play out. one of the toddlers wanted a treat, the other a toy. both demanded mother's attention, pronto. meanwhile, the father snored on, a travel pillow draped round his neck.

"seriously?" y/n murmured under her breath to lando rather than to herself. "what an asshole."

lando, eyes wide with watchfulness, nodded.

as soon as the plane departed, the chorus of baby screams ensued. one yelled because his brother stole his blanket. the other bawled because he was supposed to have the window seat. the mother attempted to manage with snacks, toys, and pacifiers but to no avail. the father, bless him, slept undisturbed, now watching a film on his tablet.

y/n's muttering grew into full-fledged rant. "i swear, if we ever get kids, i am never letting you be that guy. never. one kid, one parent. that's the rule. no exceptions."

lando, who was imagining miniature versions of y/n and himself, just blinked. "yes, dear," he said quietly, a goofy smile spreading across his face.

the flight kept going, and so did the toddler chaos. one required a diaper change, the other became instantly hungry. the mom, frazzled, attempted to make her way through the miniature airplane restroom with a wiggling toddler clutched in her arms. the dad? he was now munching on a huge bag of chips, completely unaware of the chaos that was erupting around him.

y/n was seething. "i mean, come on! how can he just sit there? does he not hear the screaming? does he not see his wife struggling? if i didn't know better, i'd think he was a cardboard cutout of a dad."

lando, now picturing y/n as a mother, a small human between them, simply nodded again. "yes, dear," he echoed, his eyes twinkling.

y/n continued ranting the remainder of the flight. "and don't even get me started on sleeping arrangements. if we have two children, one sleeps with me, one sleeps with you. no discussion. i am not handling two toddlers alone. no way."

lando, lost in a daydream of y/n, a warm house, and two small ones, simply smiled. "yes, dear," he breathed, his heart full.

as the plane touched down, the mom was tired but relieved. the dad, well-rested and well-fed, stretched and took his bag. y/n glared at him as they disembarked.

"i mean it, lando," she told him, as they strode through the airport. "if you ever behave like that guy, i'm gone. i swear it."

lando, who was starting to plot their wedding in his mind, nodded simply. "yes, dear," he replied, holding out his hand to her. "i promise."

y/n rolled her eyes, but couldn't help grinning. she knew he'd never be that type of dad. but it felt good to complain, to just get it all out. and lando? he didn't care. he was too busy being joyful that she was already making plans for their future, their kids. even if it meant a lot of "yes, dears" and an official split of childcare responsibilities. he could deal with that. he was a formula 1 driver, for crying out loud. pressure was his middle name. and y/n? she was his everything. even when she was yelling about bad dads on planes. especially then.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

yes, i know i was supposed to add y/n and lando helping the mom, but i forgot about it until after i wrote it. sorry. anyways, dee, this is for you. i hope you enjoy this! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff ; @opastries81

[peanutpinet]

Under My Care - Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader

Random Blurb Idea: When Sylus was taking his innocent, clueless girlfriend out for a date only to be interrupted by his business partners who just happened to be at the bar Sylus owned in Linkon

Prompt Sentence: No, it’s alright, come here

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

When I mentioned “innocent”, it’s more so clueless and not really understanding the danger of the world type and not so much in a negative form like being “dumb” or anything like that.

Also I’d like to mention that I don’t know what currency they use in the game but assuming since the game is from China, I’ll be using Chinese money aka Chinese Yuan

And I want to point out the reader (aka you) is not the MC (Miss Hunter)

Warnings: fluff, slightly aggressive Sylus (not towards you, his men lmao), possessive and protective Slyus (not in a bad way), cursing and sexual names (not from Sylus)

“Luke, Kieran, see it that all schedule for the day is cleared out” Sylus mentioned, putting on his coat over his sweater

“Right away boss!” both Luke and Kieran exclaimed as Mephisto eyed the situation from the window. “Are you visiting her?” Luke asked, making Sylus chuckle

“Yes. And I hope that I won’t be disturbed by anything. I trust you both will take care of everything until I come back later on” Sylus mentioned and the twins hummed, taking notice how their boss looked much more appealing and approachable in his outfit compared to his regular attire in the N109 zone.

Once he finished getting ready, Sylus went to use one of his most lavish car instead of his motorcycle to blend in with the people in Linkon and to not draw much attention.

It was a short trip and right before noon, Sylus had already parked his car in front of your house, waiting for you as he leaned on his car, ignoring all the passerby who were shocked to see such a tall muscular yet lavish man in a regular neighbourhood.

“You’re here already?!” Sylus immediately looked up to see you standing by the door, you had already done your makeup and hair but was still in your loungewear.

A smirk went onto his face as Sylus walked up towards your door and greeted you with a kiss on your forehead. “I thought I’d come earlier so I can enjoy moments like this with you. Will you let me in?”

You nodded and opened the door, letting your tall scary looking boyfriend into the cozy small home you have. “Do you want something to eat while I change?”

Shaking his head, Sylus opted to just sit by the couch. “I’m alright, sweetie. I had something before coming here. You go on and change then. Take your time. I can wait”

You nodded and peck your boyfriend’s cheek before walking back up to your room and finished getting change while Sylus was mindlessly scrolling his phone; ignoring all the incoming messages from business colleagues both in the N109 zone and in Linkon but Sylus could care less about all of them.

Today was about you and him. He won’t let anything get in the way of a whole day ahead of him spending time with you. His loving, caring, adorable girlfriend.

“Sylus, I’m done!! Let’s go!!” you exclaimed as Sylus put his phone away and smiled when he saw you jogging down the stairs wearing a simple white sweater, long flowy skirt, the branded shoulder bag Sylus gifted, and oxford shoes.

“Shall we, sweetie?” Sylus extended his arm as you latched onto it, giggling, making Sylus smile

Sylus then led you to his car, being the gentlemen he is, he opened the door for you, closed it. He even put on your seatbelt as he settled in the driver's seat.

The whole day, Sylus took you to places you want to go. Sylus knew your wishlist as your shopping account is linked to his phone. Several new books just released? Sylus would bring you to the bookstore, pay for it, and take it out of the shop. Don’t want to bother flipping the pages? Sylus bought a tablet and downloaded every book you’ve owned and on your TBR.

You wanted to try a new cafe? Sylus wouldn’t hesitate to bring you no matter how far it was at the moment. He would go as far as to look up the recommendations and order practically everything on the menu much to your complaint. You’re too full? He’ll pack it to go for you. You want to have dessert almost immediately? Sylus would tease you before giving in to your wants.

You wanted to go around the mall, play the claw machines, kitty cards, go to the arcade? He’ll do it all. You want to buy new makeup and clothes? Anything you see or touch, Sylus instantly gets it without caring about your whining about it being expensive.

The whole entire day, Sylus is practically your sugar daddy. Anything you want, anywhere you want to go, he’ll do it all for you. He even carried all the plush and things he bought for you despite your complaints about everything being expensive or too heavy.

Sylus didn’t once complain about anything and just smiled at your secretly sparkly eyes when he paid for your wishlist items. By the end of the night, Sylus decided to bring you to one of your wishlist restaurants which just happens to be the restaurant that he owns in Linkon.

Once you both entered the restaurant, Sylus confidently brought the two of you towards the front of the waiting line, ignoring all the stares that where directed towards the two of you until the waiter at the front realised who had just come and immediately, the manager of the restaurant immediately came to greet Sylus and it was then did everyone realised that Sylus was the owner of the restaurant.

Sylus held your waist tightly as he brought you with him, following the manager who led the two of you to the exclusive VIP room which confused you but made Sylus smirk with pride. “Just a little something I pull for you today. But you’re welcome to come here whenever you want”

Sylus helped you sit down as the waiter came and asked Sylus for his usual order but this time Sylus just told the waiter, “It’s up to the lady tonight. I’ll have anything she orders and make sure that it reaches the minimum spending”

You looked in shock when Sylus said there was a minimum spending and Sylus chuckled at your shocked expression. “Don’t worry sweetie. You won’t know the exact number. Only I do. But I’ll give you a hint. You have to order at least an equivalent of 5 tomahawk steaks”

You looked at Sylus as if he was crazy but you tried to order several menus that you thought weren’t as expensive. Sylus chuckled at the several orders you made and asked the waiter to bring it out as soon as possible.

Once the food and drinks came out, Sylus had you try everything first and let him know your opinion about the food before eating them himself. As the night goes on, the two of you continued eating together, occasionally talking and updating about each other’s life. Sylus was sipping on his wine while you were drinking your fresh lemon tea. Though the two of you are a contrast to one another, neither of you mind. In fact, both of you enjoyed the contrast and see it as complementing each other.

Sometime when dessert was just about to come, you decided to excuse yourself to the restroom, saying how you were quite full to the point your stomach had to lose some of the food you just ate to save room for dessert.

“Alright, sweetie. Don’t take too long. Your dessert will melt later” Sylus teased as you stuck your tongue out as a reply, making Sylus chuckle at your slightly childish behavior

In the midst of waiting for you, Sylus felt another presence and the door to his private VIP room was opened to reveal some of his business partners barging into his private room where he was waiting for you, his beloved.

The bouncer who tried to stop the men came in went to Sylus. “I apologise sir, I tried my best to keep them away but they threatened and…” Sylus raised his hand indicating the bouncer to stop talking. “Leave us”

The bouncer immediately nodded and left the room while Sylus’ business “partners” were standing across him. “Tell me what updates you have or shall I put a bullet in your tongue for every miscellaneous reason for coming here, into my private dining area and disturbing my dinner”

Sylus felt his men were lucky for they provided him with some useful information regarding the updates of his businesses however some were testing his patience and got on his nerves when they were asking if they were going to get paid more or if there were going to be a promotion to be part of his field men. Sylus was ready to end the conversation when there was a soft knock on the door and the bouncer opened it with you peeking in.

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing your sudden meeting?” you asked in a soft tone and before Sylus could answer, one of his men decided to try and act all tough, not knowing you were Sylus’ beloved girlfriend

“Yes you are, you slut. Can’t you see that Sylus doesn’t have time to deal with you attention-seeking girls?” one of the men scoffed as the others were agreeing but also looking at you as if you were a treat

Hearing the comments and stares, you felt small and somehow, tears were building up in your eyes. “I, I’m sorry. I, I’ll go…” you stuttered until Sylus’ strong voice echoed the room

“No, it’s alright, come here sweetie” Sylus reassured you and even motioned you to come back into the room where he used his evol to pull a chair next to him

You were still unsure and fidgeted with your fingers. It didn’t help that the men in the room were still eyeing you but Sylus made his statement loud and clear. “Stop fucking looking at her as if she’s a piece of meat or I’ll gauge your eyes out one at a time”

Though the statement was meant for his men, you can’t help but be scared of Sylus’ loud and commanding voice which he never uses when he’s with you. Once his men looked down, Sylus took it as his chance to use his evol and gently dragged you so that you were now on his lap.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice with you in the room, sweetheart. Are you alright?” Sylus asked, his hold around your waist was gentle and loving; contrasting to his voice and actions towards his men who were shivering at Sylus’ commanding tone

You were still shaken up at what happened but tried to tell Sylus how you felt. “I, I thought I came into the wrong room…”

Sylus shook his head and brought one of his hands to your cheek, gently brushing your hair back. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetie. They came here unnoticed even though…” Sylus looked at his men, gently pushing your head to his chest, ensuring your vision was not towards his men. “I’ve made it fucking clear that no one is to disturb me today”

Sylus leaned back on his chair with you in his arms as he slowly lulled you to sleep. His touch might be gentle but his eyes were ready to kill anyone who so much looked at you the wrong way. “Not only did you all carelessly walk through that door and interrupt my day off but you all just had to eye my beloved as if she was some kind of girl you can pay your way. In addition to that, you dared to call her by an absurd name? Looks like you all need some lesson about respect because no one” Sylus’ hold on you looks more possessive but caring at the same time

“No fucking one, eyes, touches, or even talks about my beloved in a disgusting, animalistic way and gets away with it. She is my lover and specifically under my care. And I’d be dammed to let anyone who mistreats her in any way shape or form get away with it without some kind of lesson”

A/N: I have a confession. I have been trying out c.ai and honestly, it gives me some story ideas for Sylus but I'm not sure if anyone will be interested. I read on Tumblr someone mentioned what if the MC is the 'I don't believe in love anymore' type of girl and Sylus is the 'I can show you what real love is' and I'm just like T^T gosh, that would be so me. Anyways, just a lil fic I decided to pull up before I slowly descend back to the real world since I've been busy :')

If anyone would like to request me anything of Sylus or LADS, do send me a request and I will try to get to it. Otherwise, I hope this fic brightens up your day and take care xoxo peanutwott

[dollishmehrayan]

# TAKE EVERYTHING AS IT WAS WRITTEN FOR YOU ── .✦ ( batboys x writer!reader who writes ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: hey so I’m back from the dead apparently, anywaysss omgg I missed you guys Hii and I will posting more content from now on and taking this seriously and these past days I was super stressed out over moving but hey my lovess anyways I decided to base this writer s/o over like anyone, like whether you write fan fic like me or write actual books, it matters to this hcs !! Tags: (batboys x writer!s/o)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

# DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He loves that you're a writer ( listen he just LOVESSS creative women like hello !? God forbid a guy likes creative people 🫠) he's your #1 fan and biggest hype man.

Tries to read your work over your shoulder while you're typing, even if you hate it “Babe, I need to know what happens next!” Like constantly over your shoulder seeing what you’re drafting and etc.

Occasionally offers cheesy plot ideas like “what if the love interest also knows parkour?” (His ideas suck)

Will 100% brag to everyone: “Yeah, my partner’s a genius novelist. Ever heard of them? You will.” OOOOO

Falls asleep listening to you ramble about story arcs and character development. It's his favorite sound.

Writes you little encouraging notes like, “You got this, Hemingway 💪” and sticks them on your laptop / tablet or wtv you have bbg.

# JASON TODD ── .✦

Loves your dark, gritty writing especially if there's violence, angst, or moral grayness involved since a lot of people don’t write angst that casually.

Offers surprisingly insightful edits or plot ideas: “This villain's motivation is weak. Give them a tragic backstory and don’t make them redeemable.”

Low-key wants you to base a character on him but will pretend he doesn’t care.

Has a soft spot for reading your fluff pieces though and will be quietly emotional about them.

Will threaten anyone who leaves bad reviews on your work. "Just say the word. Username 'Booktoklover93'? I got 'em."

He buys you fancy notebooks and pens and acts like it's no big deal, but he's proud of himself.

# TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Absolute king of writing dates you'll both sit in a café typing furiously and sipping terrible coffee.

Helps you fact-check obscure things at 3am without complaint (okay, maybe some complaint).

If you write mystery or thrillers, he treats it like solving a real case. “Wait… that clue in chapter 5…”

He totally has a secret folder on his computer labeled “[Your Name]’s Writing – Favorite Stuff” with all your pieces saved.

You’ve accidentally inspired him to write fanfic once and he WILL take that secret to the grave.

Sends you prompts or memes like “this is so your OC.” (Sorry I just keep cringing at oc 🥲)

# DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

At first, he might not get why you write fictional stories… but then he reads them.

He's completely blown away and demands to know what happens next immediately.

Occasionally critiques your logic but ends up emotionally invested in your characters.

“Why did you kill him off?” Because it served the story—” “You’re a monster.”

Will sit next to you while you write, drawing or sketching your characters in his own style.

Has probably told Alfred he thinks you’re a genius at least once when he thought no one was listening.

# BONUS WHICH MR WAYNE! ── .✦

Loves that you're creative and has the patience of a saint when listening to you rant about plot holes.

He doesn’t read everything you write, but when he does, he’ll quote it back to you at random times like a proud husband.

“Chapter 7 really showed growth. I was impressed.”

Offers to fund your writing career or self-publishing venture without blinking. “You’ll need an editor and marketing team.” SIGN ME UP !!

He also gently reminds you to eat and sleep when you’re on a deadline: “You’ve been writing for 16 hours. Come to bed and go to sleep.”

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro

Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series!  Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!

Check out Metal's interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!

How has your style developed over the years?

I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?

Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!

@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.

@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!

@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!

Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro! If you haven't seen their Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here!

[merthosus]

The Deli

Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside. Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside.

Here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

"You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you"

I stumble out of the train, almost tripping over the edge. This can't be, he would never. I hate him, I never thought that I could do this but I do. My heart was shattered, it felt like it was being torn out of my torso and ripped in thousand parts. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to Diego? I have no idea where I am, or rather when I am. But I didn't care I just walked along the train station. My heels clicked with every step they took. The sound echoed with every thud on the white tiles.

I caught them. Five was missing and in my head there where millions of horrible ideas what could be happened to him. I can't believe I worried. We gone through so much shit and he shattered everything just like it was nothing. I traveled so far with these damn trains, no idea how I could possible come home again, just to caught them kissing each other. These assholes! Slowly the sadness turned into anger and every step I take gets louder.

In the distance I see red light reflecting on the floor. I swear to god if this is a trainstation-stripclub I trow myself on the rails. Seeing so much today what I couldn't believe makes me getting the wildest ideas, expecting anything but normal. I step closer and what I see is a Diner. Without hesitation I enter. I would kill for a chocolate croissant and a nice cup of coffee right now. But as soon as I entered everything went silent. Even a fly could be heard.

As shocked as they were as shocked I was. "This can't be", I mumble to myself. Every pair of eyes, which stared me down, were his. The Five which was now coming out of the back, let his tablet fall onto the ground. The sudden loud noise made the other ones fall out of their trance. "Y/n?", a few said, but others were just looking. "She's mine!", one of the Five's screams. Others were already talking him down. Another was punching a different Five and two got them apart. Without hesitation one five stood up and walked towards me. "I am sorry it's been a long time since they seen you", he says confusing me even more. "i...I what the hell is going on?", I ask, not believing what I saw standing infont of me.

"You just kissed Lila and now you are talking with me as nothing has happened? And what is this here? A stupid joke?", I ask him outraged. "Oh no darling I am not the five you know. I am coming out of a different timeline, but wouldn't you like to sit as I explain?", he asks politely. Like it was the most normal thing I go to sit with him at one of the diner tables, ignoring the fact that at least twenty versions of my boyfriend were looking down at me. As we sit down the Five on the counter rushed to our table.

"The black coffee, cappuccino and the chocolate croissant will be on your table soon", he stumbles, while looking at me. "How...?", I begin to ask but he was faster gone than I could blink. I feel more comfortable now as I saw how the attention was no longer drawn to me. "Explain, now", I demand as I was staring the Five before me down. "Feisty, as I remembered you", he says. I can't help myself but smile a little bit. "Why are there so many of you? And why was the one so obsessed", I ask. He crocked his neck. "We are all different Fives, out of different timelines. Most of them lost their Y/n, that's why things got out of hand", he explained. "So your five cheated on you? That's new, none of us did that, guess a new timeline has formed. Why would he do that...?", he asks himself.

I was shocked, overdosed with unimaginable information. "So what happened to your Y/n?", I ask him, just releasing I went to far. "She died in a fight, Hazel shot her", he says. "Five over there, who said you were his. She killed herself", he explains some more. I can't believe what he was just saying. "I would never do such a thing", I say. "No. Yourself in this timeline wouldn't but the on in his did. It's the same with us, we are all the same but different at the same time. I would never cheat on you and that's the point", he looks down on the floor. "I will find him don‘t worry, he will pay for what he did", he says while my eyes get big. "No... no he's still my Five I...", I try to bring the words out of me.

"Darling...", he leans over the table looking me staring into the eyes. "You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you. Every single one of us is better as this little small cocked asshole", he says. I get nervous and have trouble looking him into the eyes. "He doesn't have a small...", I try to say. "I know I know...", he interrupts me.

Let me know what you think in the comments!

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi gorgeous,

can you do Lando with teenager daughter who has diabetes or epilepsy and something happens at a race weekend and so Lando looks after her the whole time and makes sure she’s okay,

looking forward to it x

Sweet as sugar

The paddock buzzed with energy as the race weekend in Silverstone kicked off. The familiar scent of burnt rubber and gasoline filled the air, mixed with the excited chatter of fans and the occasional roaring of engines in the distance. It was one of Lando’s favorite places in the world—one that had felt like home for so many years.

But this weekend, his mind wasn’t on lap times or race strategy. It was on his daughter, Yn.

At sixteen, Yn was used to life in the paddock. She had grown up surrounded by F1, walking through garages, watching races from the pit wall, and sneaking into drivers' debriefs when she was little. But growing up in this world didn’t mean it was always easy—especially with her diabetes.

Lando had been overprotective of her ever since she was diagnosed as a child. He tried to act normal about it, but the truth was, he always worried. And now, as she walked beside him, scrolling on her phone, he glanced down at her every few seconds, just to make sure she was okay.

"You’ve checked your blood sugar, right?" he asked casually, adjusting the cap on his head.

Yn sighed, lowering her phone. "Dad, I literally just did."

"When?"

"Like, five minutes ago. It’s fine."

Lando squinted at her. "What’s the number?"

She rolled her eyes, pulling out her phone to show him. "5.8. Happy?"

He nodded, pretending not to be relieved. "Very."

Yn smirked. "You worry too much."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, "I have to. You’re my little girl."

She made a face. "Dad, I’m sixteen."

"You’re still little to me."

Before she could argue, they reached the McLaren motorhome, where the team was gathered. Oscar was already inside, sipping on a drink and reviewing some notes with the engineers.

"Hey, Yn!" he greeted with a wave.

"Hey, Oscar," she replied, sitting on one of the chairs and stretching her legs.

Lando sat down beside her, watching as she lazily scrolled through Instagram. Everything seemed fine, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen.

And unfortunately, he was right.

---

The first sign that something was wrong came a few hours later, during FP2. Lando was in the middle of a long run, focused on his pace, when his race engineer’s voice came through the radio.

"Lando, Yn is in the McLaren motorhome. She’s feeling a bit off. Wants to let you know."

Lando’s hands tightened on the wheel. His heart immediately jumped into his throat.

"What’s wrong?" he asked quickly.

"She said she’s a little shaky. The team’s keeping an eye on her."

Lando was already making a decision before they could say anything else. "I’m boxing this lap."

His engineer hesitated. "Are you sure? We still have—"

"I said I’m boxing," Lando snapped, already heading toward the pit lane.

As soon as he pulled into the garage and hopped out of the car, he ignored the confused looks from the mechanics and jogged straight to the motorhome.

When he entered, he found Yn sitting on one of the couches, looking pale. Her hands were slightly trembling, and she was chewing on a glucose tablet.

"Yn," he breathed, kneeling in front of her. "What happened?"

She looked up at him, her face slightly flushed. "I think my blood sugar dropped too fast. I felt fine earlier, but then I got all shaky, and my vision went weird."

Lando ran a hand through his hair, his heart pounding. "Did you check it?"

She nodded, holding out her phone again. "It was 3.1. It’s going up now."

He exhaled sharply. "Shit, Yn."

"I’m fine, Dad," she reassured, trying to smile. "I just need a minute."

But Lando wasn’t convinced. He stood up and immediately turned to one of the McLaren team members. "Get me another juice box and something with fast-acting carbs."

"Already on it," they replied, hurrying off.

Lando turned back to Yn, sitting beside her this time. He watched her closely, still frowning. "Did you feel it coming?"

She hesitated. "Kind of. I thought I was just tired."

His stomach twisted. "You should have told me earlier."

"Dad, you were driving," she pointed out.

"That doesn’t matter," he shot back. "I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a qualifying lap, Yn. You call me. Immediately."

She sighed. "It wasn’t that bad."

"It could’ve been."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the worried look on his face stopped her. She knew that expression too well.

"You were scared," she murmured.

Lando swallowed, glancing away for a second before nodding. "Yeah."

A McLaren team member returned, handing her another juice box and some crackers. Lando made sure she ate all of it before speaking again.

"I don’t want you wandering around the paddock alone today," he said firmly.

Yn frowned. "Dad—"

"No," he cut her off. "I mean it. You stay with me or with someone I trust. I don’t want this happening again when no one’s around."

She looked frustrated, but deep down, she understood. "Fine."

He relaxed slightly, but he still wasn’t done worrying. "And you need to check your blood sugar more often. Even if you feel fine."

"Okay," she agreed softly.

Lando let out a breath. "Good."

There was a brief silence before she nudged him. "You abandoned FP2 for me, didn’t you?"

His lips twitched. "Of course I did."

She grinned. "That’s kind of badass, not gonna lie."

Lando rolled his eyes. "I just love you, idiot."

Yn leaned her head against his shoulder. "I love you too, overprotective dad."

For the rest of the weekend, Lando did not leave her side.

He made sure she checked her blood sugar constantly. He made sure she ate properly. He even carried an emergency snack pack in his racing suit, just in case.

Yn found it both annoying and endearing.

"Dad, I promise, I’m fine," she said for the hundredth time, standing beside him in the paddock as they watched Oscar’s FP3 run on the screen.

Lando crossed his arms. "Yeah? And what’s your blood sugar right now?"

She sighed dramatically but pulled out her phone. "6.2."

He nodded approvingly. "Okay, good."

Yn smirked. "Do I get a prize?"

"Your prize is me not lecturing you."

"Damn. What a reward."

Lando gave her a look, but his eyes were still filled with warmth. "Brat."

The weekend continued with him hovering over her at every turn. Even after the race, when he finished P3 and had a podium to celebrate, his first instinct was to find her.

And when he spotted her in the McLaren hospitality, watching him with a proud smile, he grinned back and pointed directly at her before stepping onto the podium.

Because at the end of the day, no trophy or champagne shower mattered more to him than his daughter.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 

[solxamber]

Valentines day event woowoowoo (dont burn yourself out aye!!)

Idia, romantic, "absolutely smitten" by Dodie (if i got that right-) :]

Hope it could be a fun one ! Stay safe ayeaye

i love the pining potential in the song!!! hope you like my interpretation of it <3

"I'm absolutely smitten" || Idia Shroud

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Absolutely Smitten by Dodie

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 670

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Idia first sees you during orientation. Not in person, of course—there’s no way he’d willingly subject himself to a room full of loud, unpredictable people—but through his tablet, streaming the event from the safety of his dorm.

It’s routine, really, just scoping out who he’ll inevitably be avoiding for the next few years. But then the camera pans across the crowd, and he sees you.

And something unfamiliar stirs in his chest.

It’s a strange, unquantifiable feeling, something too big for him to handle, too much for his ribs to cage in. His fingers tighten around the tablet as he watches you smile at something someone says, and a thought creeps into his brain before he can stop it.

I wish that were me.

It’s over for him. Absolutely, completely, no-respawn doomed.

And when he actually gets to know you? Oh, he’s done for. Every interaction with you is a critical hit to his heart. You are bright where he is shadowed, warm where he is cold, a force of nature where he is content to be static.

And yet, somehow, you seem to like being around him. You talk to him, seek him out, sit with him even when he fumbles through his words and hides behind his hood.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Idia Shroud, the ghost of Ignihyde, the one who would rather face a boss battle on the highest difficulty than make eye contact with another human being, wants nothing more than to be close to you.

He wants to talk to you about everything that makes his mind race at 3 AM, wants to know what makes you tick, wants to kiss you until he forgets what loneliness feels like.

But he can’t. Because you are you, and he is him, and the idea of ruining what he has with you is a fear greater than any horror game could ever conjure.

So he does nothing. He pines. He wonders.

Are you just being nice?

Would you ever see him that way?

Is he even worth your time?

And yet, he doesn’t know that you are just as smitten.

The day you met him is engraved in your brain like a prophecy fulfilled. You think he’s the one. It sounds ridiculous, impossibly romantic, something straight out of a visual novel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you and Idia are meant to be.

And so, one day, when you’re sitting next to him in his room—shoulders almost touching, his leg bouncing like a loading screen buffering at 99%—you slide a little closer.

“Idia.”

He stiffens. “W-what?”

“I like you.” A pause. “I really like you.”

His brain blue-screens.

You barely have time to process his expression—wide golden eyes, parted lips—before he starts tearing up.

“Wait, wait, are you okay?” You panic, reaching for him, but he shakes his head rapidly, hands clutching his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“You—” His voice cracks. “You actually—?”

You nod. “I mean, yeah. Kinda thought it was obvious.”

Obvious? Obvious? He’s been agonizing over this for months, drowning in his feelings, convinced you were nothing more than a dream he was too scared to wake up from. And yet, here you are, looking at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you.

He doesn’t know what to say. But you do.

So you pull him into a hug, letting him bury his face in your shoulder as he trembles. His hands hover before finally clutching the fabric of your shirt, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tightly.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Idia feels whole.

He pulls back slightly, and when he looks at your soft smile, something inside him clicks into place. He’s never letting you go.

And when you look at his teary-eyed grin, you think the same thing.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[norrisradio]

ALMOST, ALWAYS

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ “I’m always going to love you.” - La La Land (2016)

ᝰ PAIRING: lando norris x race engineer! reader | ᝰ WC: 1.4K ᝰ GENRE: situationship-to-lovers, as the title says: when the almosts turn to always, lando and mc are both down horrendous, a little bit of angst in the form of lando (as usual) being hard on himself ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: this was written in one manic session after lando's post-quali skysports interview - this is part desperate prayer and part manifestation for tomorrow's race ꨄ︎ requested by anon ! (i'm so sorry - i know you asked for a bittersweet ending but after quali, writing lando not getting the girl at the end would have been psychological torture for me)

send me an ask for my line by line event .ᐟ

Lando Norris knows what destiny feels like, because he's spent his entire life trying to snatch it from fate’s cruel hands.

It’s the way he tightens his grip on the steering wheel when the car jolts over a curb. The way he bites back the sting in his voice when the radio crackles with numbers that don’t match the effort. It’s a god he doesn’t believe in, teasing him with glimmers of greatness, only to pull them away with a shrug and a yellow flag.

It’s also you.

Not because you’re a superstition or a lucky charm—but because you’re the one reading fate’s data. The one in the back room, eyes scanning a dozen screens, voice steady over comms even when the world is burning down. You're not just part of the team. You're his engineer. His brain when emotion runs too hot. His breath when his lungs forget how to work.

But even gods fall short.

And today, so did you.

P8.

You’d gone aggressive on the tire plan. Bet on track evolution. A gamble, one you both signed off on with twin nods in the pre-quali briefing—his jaw tense, your hand gripping your tablet too tight.

You don’t remember walking out of the debrief. Don’t remember the words you said to the engineers or the drivers. You just remember his fingers almost brushing yours when you stood up, papers rustling between you. A breath held. A touch dodged. The same silent question hanging between you that’s been there for months.

You were never his. Not really. Not officially. But you’ve spent late nights pouring over lap deltas with your feet kicked up on his coffee table. Shared hotel breakfasts where your knees touched and neither of you moved away. You know the way his voice shifts when he’s pretending he's okay. He knows the exact moment your voice falters on the comm, even when no one else can hear it.

You both know what it feels like to almost cross a line.

And now, hours later, you’re asleep in your hotel room—lap charts open beside you, headphones still in—when your phone buzzes.

Lando.

You answer on the third ring, already sitting up.

“Hey,” you murmur, voice wrapped in sleep and regret. “You okay?”

“I bombed it.” His voice is quiet, but cracked. “Absolutely fucking bombed.”

You don’t correct him. Not yet.

Instead, you exhale slowly. “Talk me through it.”

“I don’t know. Didn’t hook it up. Rear end was loose, tires didn’t feel ready. Got traffic in S2. I should’ve—” He chokes on the words, and there’s a silence that says: I should’ve trusted something else. Someone else.

You bite your lip, guilt curling in your stomach. “It wasn’t all on you.”

“I know,” he says, but it sounds like a lie.

You shift under the covers, flicking your laptop closed. “One quali doesn’t rewrite the whole season.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice distant. “But it still fucking sucks.”

You let the silence stretch. Not uncomfortable—just true.

Then, quieter: “I woke you up.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips curling into a soft smile, “but I’d rather be awake with you than sleep without you.”

He breathes out a laugh. It’s small, but real.

You talk for a while. About nothing, about everything. You tell him the cat at the paddock hospitality tent tried to follow you into the sim room today. You tell him one of the interns mistook your race notes for a coffee order. You tease him about how he still hasn't figured out how to work the printer back at the factory.

And he listens. Let's himself breathe.

Eventually, it fades into quiet.

“You still there?” he mumbles.

“Still here,” you say gently. “You getting sleepy?”

“A little.” His voice is soft. Barely there. “You make everything feel lighter, you know that?”

You smile into the phone. “That’s the goal.”

There’s a beat. Then:

“I’m always going to love you.”

He says it like a secret, like a truth he’s been holding inside his chest so long it’s bruised.

It’s not the first time he’s almost said it. But it’s the first time he lets it breathe. Let’s it be.

And you—you feel it. The weight of it. The ache. The fear and the want and the exhaustion.

You don’t say it back. Not yet. Because you’re still his strategist. And he’s still the boy chasing destiny with a race suit and a number on his back.

So instead, you stay.

You stay on the line until he falls asleep, quiet breathing soft in your ear like static.

Race day.

The sun blazes down on the circuit like a spotlight. Lando starts P8, jaw clenched, hands shaking in his gloves.

You’re in the garage, headset on, every sensor live. Your voice calm over radio, but your heart is a snare drum.

The lights go out like gunfire.

The start is chaos—front wheels locking up into Turn 1, one of the Ferraris darts wide, someone’s radio explodes with static and frustration. But Lando? He doesn’t flinch. He’s already shifting inside out, folding himself into that familiar headspace where nothing exists but the blur of corners and your voice cutting through the noise.

“Car ahead’s vulnerable into Turn 6,” you tell him, cool and clipped through the headset. No panic. No overthinking. You’re holding it together even though he knows your stomach’s in knots. He knows, because it’s his stomach too.

He trusts you. He always has. Even when you make bold calls. Even when the quali gamble didn’t pay off. Even when you won’t quite let your fingers brush his after a strategy meeting.

Lando dives down the inside of the Alpine into Turn 6. Tires shriek. He holds it.

P7.

The laps fall like dominoes.

“Gap ahead, two seconds. You’re quicker in this chicane.” “Box opposite Russell. We’re watching his undercut.” “Next two laps are critical. You can do this.”

He eats into the delta like it’s his last meal. When the tire drop-off comes, your call is perfect—box, outlap, traffic-free window. He rejoins behind one of the Aston Martins but doesn’t wait. Doesn't need to.

DRS open. Straight-line speed sings. Late on the brakes.

P5.

By lap 42, his gloves are soaked through. His neck aches. His visor is streaked with sweat and G-force. But he doesn’t lift.

“Rain maybe in the last five. Category 1 only,” you say, and even that—even that—lands like scripture.

You’re right. You always are.

Spots on the visor. Just a shimmer. Just enough to make it a test of nerves.

The Merc in P4 twitches into Sector 2. Lando capitalizes, flicks it up the inside with the kind of confidence you’ve been begging him to believe in.

He’s on the podium now.

P3.

The last few laps are a blur of tire management, double-checks, and defensive lines, but by the time he crosses the finish line, there’s only one thing he hears:

Your voice. Breathless in his ear. “Well fucking done, Lando.”

He rips the helmet off after parc fermé, hair plastered to his forehead, adrenaline running hotter than the engine. The champagne hasn’t even dried on his suit by the time he’s shoved past press officers and camera crews, giving the post-race interview answers half-distracted.

Smiles for the cameras. Nods at the questions. Grins when they ask about the race. But it’s all white noise.

Because you’re in the garage.

And destiny—destiny’s not on the podium. Destiny’s in black team-issue fireproofs, standing near the telemetry screens, trying to hide the fact that your hands are shaking.

He doesn’t call. He doesn’t wait.

He finds you.

You barely have time to smile before he’s running. His arms wrap around your waist, lift you clean off the ground. Your headset nearly flies off, but you’re laughing, holding onto his shoulders like gravity forgot its job.

He spins you in a tight, giddy circle, and the garage blurs behind you—engineers, mechanics, screens, all of it disappearing under the sound of his laughter.

“You did it,” you whisper, breath caught in your throat.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, hair a mess, eyes wild. “We did it.”

You stare at him. Just stare.

And this time—this time—there’s no almost.

He leans in, forehead to yours, voice so soft only you can hear it, even with the noise around you.

“I meant what I said last night.”

You already know. You felt it in every overtake. Every corner he trusted you to guide him through.

You nod, lips trembling. “I love you too, Lando.”

He kisses you like it’s the last lap of the race. Like he’s already won. Like destiny finally stopped running, and turned around to meet him halfway.

[cheol-e-kat]

• random slutty CUTE thoughts - seungcheol •

the valentine’s day one with clumsy cheol

seungcheol has big plans for valentine’s day, but everything seems to be going wrong - he just wants to make it the best valentine’s day you’ve ever had, no matter what

seungcheol had plans for your valentine’s day evening - he planned the food, the jewelry, the flowers, literally everything PLANNED

but now he’s lying on his back in a hospital bed because he tripped in the bathroom - he wasn’t even showering - he just slipped and whacked his head on the tile and maybe got woozy when he saw some blood

it was so embarrassing, literally everything about tonight was supposed to be sexy

but when you come into the hospital room, worried and squishing his cheeks, asking if he’s ’okay’ and ‘what can you do’ - all he can think is how you’re so cute when you’re worried about him, cooing over him and petting him, calling him ‘baby’ and kissing his forehead - he certainly doesn’t hate it

plus, he’s usually the one who’s protective, but you’re kind of scary when the nurses can’t answer basic questions, like whether it’s a serious head injury or a mild concussion

he’s annoyed when the doctor says he needs to stay the night because he can literally imagine everything he planned sitting at home and going to waste, but at least they say you can stay the night too

you had planned for that, of course, and already brought some extra clothes for yourself and for him, plus a tablet full of downloaded shows and movies and the pillow he likes and an extra blanket

it’s funny to him how a few things from home and having you curled against him make a hospital room seem almost homey

he’s almost okay with things, but also he isn’t at all - tonight was important - he had been waiting to tell you something and this wasn’t the romantic evening he had planned

but when you lean up to kiss him, your warm lips pressing to his, he immediately feels all the warm, quivering feelings you always make him feel - he loves those feelings dearly

you lean back slowly, smoothing his hair and staring at him quietly for a few moments, he returns your gaze, adoring the gentle way you look at him, like he’s someone truly special to you

you lean down again, kissing his cheek softly, “you’re so sweet for planning everything,” you whisper

he flushes slightly, “you weren’t supposed to see that,” he whines

you just smile, “but i did and it was so perfect” —

he stops you, “i know, but then i fell and ruined everything”

you shake your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, cheol,” you assures him, “it’s just a special story we can tell everyone one day,” she smiles, “the day i realized i was completely in love with you,” you kiss him again, lingering for a moment before pulling back

his eyes were large, “i was supposed to confess today!” he whined again

you laugh softly, “so go ahead then - it’s not like we can’t realize it the same day”

he shakes his head, “no, i’ve known - i just wanted to tell you today so it’s romantic…special,” he pouted

you nod, “ah, so you wanted it to be memorable when you told me?” you giggle, “there’s nothing memorable about today, i guess”

he knew you were joking, but he still sulked, and you press closer, “cheol,” you stroke his cheek, “really, i mean it, i love you,” you whisper, “just you,” you press another kiss to his cheek

“maybe i’ll pick another romantic day,” he exaggerated his pouting, making you laugh softly

you nuzzle close, “at least i told you as soon as i knew how i felt”

he sighs, “i knew at christmas when you picked the matching necklaces and refused anything else they had”

she laughed, “that? can it be something else?”

“no - it’s just when i knew you were really the person i love,” he strokes your cheek

you smile, “i guess it’s okay then”

he rolls his eyes, “i love you too,” he finally confesses

you nuzzle closer, enjoying his warmth, “i love you more”

he swats your arm gently, “i’m injured, let me win,” he pouts

you grin, “of course you win, my perfect cheol”

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

a/n: i just wanted something cute for cheollie

♡ kat

if you want to be tagged, go [here] my [master list] if you want to read more

[cece693]

Affectionate

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: bucky being treated like a normal being, male reader is very affectionate, kinda like tony, flirting like lil puppies

“Barnes, my sweet metal-armed dumpling, you’ve got bedhead.”

You say it with a chuckle as you effortlessly drape an arm around Bucky’s broad shoulders, and for a moment, the entire room goes silent. Natasha’s trained eyes narrow from across the conference table, ready to spring into action. Tony’s eyebrows shoot up behind his tinted glasses, and Steve actually tenses, fists tightening like he’s expecting Bucky to toss you across the room at any second. All around, the team braces themselves, anticipating a meltdown—a flashback—anything resembling the Winter Soldier they still fear might be lingering inside the man you have so casually slung your arm over.

In the resulting quiet, Bucky’s expression flickers, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if the Avengers might be right. His jaw flexes, and his fingers curl slightly before unclenching.

Then he lets out a small huff of a laugh, the corners of his lips lifting, and you feel his posture relax against your side. “Seriously, you’re making a scene,” he murmurs, quieter than usual. But there’s absolutely no bite behind his voice, no threat—just the husky edge that always manages to send a pleasant shiver through you. “Knock it off,” he adds, though there’s a ghost of a smile there.

Knock it off? Absolutely not. The man is gorgeous—dark hair still damp from a shower, the mechanical arm catching the overhead lights, his face etched with haunted lines that only make him look even more rugged and unfairly attractive. How can you possibly resist? You’re only human (albeit an Avenger-human with a penchant for tackling alien invasions and Hydra remnants). But still, you have eyes.

You just grin, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before loosening your hold. “Aww, Barnes, you know you’d miss it if I did.”

Bucky grumbles something in reply, but there’s a lightness there, an ease he didn’t carry before. The rest of the team, however, remains on full alert—like big cats itching to pounce. Steve in particular looks about two seconds away from physically peeling you off of Bucky. Even Clint, who was half-dozing in the corner, sits up, eyes keen.

“Cap,” Clint warns softly, nodding toward where your hand is still lingering near Bucky’s nape, fingertips idly tracing the spot where flesh meets vibranium plating.

Steve clears his throat. “Everything okay there, Buck?”

Everyone seems to hold their breath again, and you can practically see the tension in the air. Poor Bruce is looking uncertain, Wanda is biting her lip, and Sam’s eyebrows are drawn together in concern. They’re so worried that Bucky’s going to have an episode, or get triggered, or that he’s going to accidentally crush your bones with that metal fist if you keep…well, doing what you’re doing.

And if this were two years ago, maybe they’d be right. If this were weeks after his deprogramming, back when he couldn’t even look into a mirror without disassociating, Bucky might’ve pushed you across the room with lethal force. Or at the very least, wrenched free of your hold, stiff and wary. But they don’t see the subtle signs that you do: the tension in Bucky’s shoulders is not the tension of danger, but of mild embarrassment. He looks shy, maybe even flustered. He’s definitely not displeased. And if anything, you know he’s grateful you treat him like a normal person, not a ticking time bomb with horrifying memories.

He shrugs off Steve’s concern with a tight-lipped smirk. “I’m fine,” he says. “I’m not made of glass.”

Or vibranium, you add silently with another playful grin. You resist the urge to poke at his arm, but your fingers twitch at the thought. Next time, you promise yourself.

Tony slides a diagnostic tablet across the table as if presenting evidence. “Look, I’m all for affection, but maybe, for the sake of our dear ex-Hydra assassin’s comfort, we keep it PG-13 in the debrief?” He’s half-joking, half-serious, eyebrows shooting up when you lean closer to Bucky again.

You tilt your head at Tony. “I’m not exactly straddling him on the table, Tony. Chill.”

“Just you watch,” Sam mutters under his breath, arms folded across his chest, likely recalling a previous incident in which your casual affection got a bit…handsy. Hey, you can’t help it, Bucky’s arms are a national treasure.

From beside you, Bucky sighs. “Seriously, guys, it’s okay. This—” he flicks his eyes at the point where your forearm slides across his back “—it’s nice.” He lowers his gaze, almost bashful, but admits quietly, “Makes me feel like…y’know. Like I’m—”

“A normal dude, living a normal life,” you finish for him, your voice softer. It’s what both of you want, though neither of you outright says so in crowded company.

“Alright,” Tony relents with a theatrical sigh. “I mean, if Barnes is okay with it, I guess we can let it go.”

“Seriously, Tony,” you huff, “I’m not some savage about to devour the man.”

Bucky sends you a cheeky side glance. “Could’ve fooled me,” he grumbles, but his lips twist into an amused smirk.

“Watch it, metal dumpling,” you shoot back fondly, the new (and very ridiculous) nickname making Tony gag in mock horror.

There’s a collective groan and roll of eyes from the team, but underneath that, there’s this subtle wave of contentment. You can feel it in the air—everyone’s settling into this new normal. Sure, Bucky carries a lot of ghosts and trauma, but right now, with your arm around him, he just feels alive. Connected. Like the piece of him that’s still James Barnes is being coaxed to the surface.

And you? Well, you’re just happy to be the one to coax it out of him. Bucky might be Hydra’s ex-assassin, but you can’t help it—he’s also hot as hell, and you’re pretty sure your vision works just fine, thank you very much.

“Alright,” Steve says, clearing his throat again, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks from secondhand embarrassment. “So…mission debrief?”

“Mission debrief,” you echo. Without missing a beat, you re-sling your arm across Bucky’s shoulders, ignoring the universal eye-roll from the rest of the team. Bucky doesn’t shove you away. He doesn’t tense. He just gives your knee a quick pat under the table, and for a single, quiet second in that big conference room, you can swear you feel a little more at home.

And yeah—maybe you’ll have to tone it down for the sake of collective sanity. But then again, the look in Bucky’s eyes says he needs this just as much as you do.

So if anyone’s got a problem with it, well…they can take it up with the ex-Winter Soldier himself—and hope they can handle the glare he’ll give them for standing in the way of his self-proclaimed “annoying but sweet” Avenger.