#someone KNOCK ME OUT THE GEARS ARE TURNING IN MY HEAD

[negrowhat]

Old QL Game

Rules: Think about the oldest BLs you've ever watched. They have to have been released prior to 2020. Now name 5 - 10 iconic scenes that you cannot forget.

Tagged by @ommited-miscellaneously and the OG post is by @brazilian-whalien52

This is going to be fun. I've been in the BL space for a supremely long time. Like I don't want to date myself too much but literal decades so reaching back into the vault is going to be insane. Be prepared for screenshots because I know there are no gifs for most of the scenes I'm going to talk about.

SOTUS S (2017)

Kongpob turning Khaofang down. One of my most favorite things about Kongpob is how straightforward he is when people confess to him. One of his juniors tried to give him her gear and confess her love to him and he immediately told her that he was already taking care of someone's gear. He shut her down gently and kindly and kept it pushing and I just LOVE that scene.

TharnType the Series (2019)

Type asking Tharn to have sex with him. He really just sprung that on Tharn while they were having breakfast. He claimed it was because he didn't want to "owe" Tharn anything but really he was curious. And let's not forget we got the iconic ice scene in that ep.

Takumi-Kun Series 5 (2011)

Takumi tells Gii about his childhood trauma. They had just finished having sex and Takumi finally tells Gii what caused his phobia of people touching him. They sit there in bed and Gii holds Takumi tightly and listens to Takumi tell a horror story involving sexual abuse at the hands of his older brother when he was very, very young. It's a scene that was hard to watch but still very memorable.

I Love You As A Ma AKA Like Love (2014)

An Ziyan tells Mai Ding he loves him. Mai Ding literally runs into An Ziyan's room and asks him if he loves him to which which An Ziyan literally just laughs in his face. Mai Ding storms out of An Ziyan's dorm room and goes back to his which is just next door and angirly lies in his bed. An Ziyan does in fact love Mai Ding and just doesn't want to say it so he sits on his bed too and knocks on the wall they share and the knocks are in the rhythm a person would say 'I Love You' in. It's very sweet and Mai Ding is touched and happy again. If anyone can tell me where I can find that gem of a movie and it's sequel please let me know!

Until We Meet Again (2019)

DeanPharm meet face-to-face in the market. Win and Dean are out shopping for snacks for the swim team where Dean sees Pharm trying to reach for some peas or beans of some sort so he grabs them for him. WHEN THEIR EYES MEET?? And Pharm IMMEDIATELY starts crying!? And Dean caresses his cheek?? They don't know each other but their souls do and it's such a raw reaction and it literally makes me cry every time I see it.

Dark Blue Kiss (2019)

Sun stopping Mork from fighting. Specifically in the noodle shop when they went coffee bean hunting. Some jerk was harassing Mork and Sun and literally threw hot soup on Mork! So when Mork punched him out and almost bashed his head in with a solid wood stool all Sun could do was drag him out of the shop. I think it was a justified fight and Sun should've let the boy bludgeon that dude. One of my fave things from DBK was how Sun was always trying to keep Mork from fighting.

Long Time No See (2017)

Chisoo finds out about Gitae. Loved this part because Gitae really doesn't want to fight Chisoo so Chisoo is giving it all he's got and Gitae is holding back and mostly blocking. Anytime he has an opening to hit Chisoo he doesn't take it. Chisoo somehow rips off Gitae's mask and is stunned to see who he's fighting. Gitae has been a double agent their whole relationship and was hired to kill Chisoo.

ReminderS (2019)

Phun saying he's not worried about Noh cheating. Phun's new friends are asking him why he's not more jealous or worried about Noh hanging out with another man on campus. Phun easily just says that Noh is too stupid to notice anyone's advances and he's not generally worried because of that and because Noh tells him everything. It was such a funny scene. This entire series felt like a fever dream but it brought back PhunNoh to us.

Love Place 1: Hakanaki Kata Omoi (2013)

Doumoto sets Kana up to walk in on him and Souta. Kana is in love with Souta and his boyfriend knows it. Souta and Kana sort of used to date before he came out but she's still in love with him even though they agreed to be friends. Doumoto calls Kana and asks her to go to their apartment to check and see if they left the door unlocked when they stepped out to the store. She's in the middle of strawberry shopping but leaves to do that. Of course they're both still at home and Doumoto makes sure they're right in the middle of sex when she arrives. She is so pissed off that she screams, rips off the blankets, and throws the strawberries at them. A very justified crashout.

2 Moons 2 (2019)

Forth kissing Beam to shut him up. Beam has just accidentally hit Forth in a head with a hammer and they rush him to the hospital. When Forth comes to Beam is there and babbling out his apologies for giving him a concussion and the only way Forth can shut him up is to kiss him. Top tier. A lot of Pavel stans were born from him in 2 Moons 2 so I can't make this list without mentioning my beloved Bi Biker Icon Forth.

I'm tagging @bengiyo @lurkingshan @thisautistic @slonekaru @itsallaboutbl @benkaben @cirphu @babyangelsky @respectthepetty @khaotungthanawat @omarandjohnny @pharawee and whoever else sees this and wants to participate!

[the-and-sign-anon]

Fire and Smoke

Fandom: The Pitt

Word count: 3,175

Reader: mid-30's, nonbinary! they/them, Firefighter

A/N: First time writing for The Pitt, first time posting anything in a while. I hope y'all enjoy this! I do intend to write several more parts to this, I just need to lay the groundwork.

Not everyone could put their life on the line for someone else. You would never judge anyone for that. But there was something inside of you that knew you’d never hesitate to jump into danger. You could never turn your back on a chance to help, to prevent a loss. 

While you were never the one poking fun at probies or laughing at the start of a shift with your crew, everyone with the Bureau of Fire did tend to like you. Most probies had at least a few shifts with you straight out of the academy; you were a great teacher and got them into the swing of things quickly more often than not. 

One new guy in particular had earned the nickname Shadow for following you around beyond his first month. He gladly took a schedule that matched yours and followed your every order. He was the closest anyone else at the fire station had seen you get to a friend. 

It was a hot afternoon in Pittsburgh. The sun was shining, the air was still, and a fire had started in a four story apartment complex. The flames spread from one apartment to five by the time your crew arrived. Another engine was already setting up and clearing residents from the lower floors. You got your orders and led the way inside, taking the stairs up to the top floor. 

“Jazz, Gran, you take floor three, Shadow and I have this one. Check in with each cleared apartment, don’t waste any time.”

The pair nodded and left at the entrance to the third floor while you continued on. You cleared five units before hitting trouble. 

“Miss, can you hear me?”

The girl couldn’t respond. She was shaking and crying, curled up in the corner of what you guessed was her bedroom. 

“I need you to come with me.” You glanced back. “Shadow, clear the rest of the unit and keep moving, I’ll be right behind you once she’s out.”

“Are you sure, Dex? I can-”

“I’ve got this, you keep going.”

He gave a hesitant nod and moved on. 

You looked back and knelt down in front of the girl. 

“My name is Dex, can you tell me your name?”

She still didn’t answer, so you moved a little closer. Just as you reached out, she lunged forward, throwing you off balance and knocking you to the floor. She straddled you before you could process what was happening and threw off your helmet. 

“You can’t make me stay! I won’t!”

“I’m trying-” You grunted and tried to keep her hands from grabbing at your mask. “I’m not trying to make you stay, miss! There’s a fire; we need to go!”

She screamed in your face and ripped off your mask, sending a wave of hot, smoky air across your face. You tried again to grab her hands and stop her, but her nails raked across your exposed face and it erupted in pain. 

Shadow, Jazz, and Gran were all speaking over your radio, calling each cleared unit. When you offered no response, Shadow tried again. 

“Dex, you good? You get the girl out?”

“Get off me!”

You thrashed around, but the heavy gear you wore made it difficult to get out from under her. 

“Dex, what’s going on?”

She was still screaming about something you couldn’t understand and swiping at you. You could tell enough to know you didn’t want to hurt her, but you were low on options as the room continued to grow hotter. Your train of thought stopped dead when her fist connected with your face, a sloppy but solid hit. 

Your head slammed back into the floor at the impact and you finally gave in. Your hand scrambled for a grip on your fallen helmet and you swung at her head.

It didn’t take her down, but it knocked her aside enough for you to move out of her reach. You fumbled to your feet and raised your hands in a placating gesture. 

“I’m just going to reach for my mask. Don’t attack me again.”

You kept your eyes on her as you slowly reached down, but your vision was getting a little hazy. You grabbed the mask and fixed it back over your face. 

“I am not here to hurt you. This building is on fire and it’s my job to get everyone out. Do you understand that?”

“I don’t want to stay. They can’t make me stay!”

“You can go, right now. Just follow me, yeah?”

She watched as you moved back out of the bedroom and headed for the door. You gave her a wide berth, and she followed warily a few feet behind you. 

“Dex!!”

“I’m here, sorry. I’ve got another one coming down, female, late twenties. She’s got something going on, but I don’t know what.”

You and the young woman went for the stairs and she started down first. You stayed about half a flight behind her to avoid another fight. When Shadow came over the radio again, you paused. The woman kept going. 

“Dex, I have a door I can’t open. I think there’s someone inside. I’m at unit 407.”

“Copy that, I’ll be right there.” You looked down to the woman. “Keep going, miss! There will be emergency services outside to help you!”

You went back up the stairs to the top floor and met Shadow at the unit. The front door was open, but the first bedroom was locked. 

“Dex, what the hell happened to you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get it checked out later.” You pounded on the door with one fist. “Pittsburgh Fire! Anyone in there?”

You listened. A small voice answered. 

“Help!”

It was faint, frail. You nodded to Shadow and braced yourself before kicking the door in. The doorframe splintered, giving way under your effort. 

“Let’s get you out of here, miss.”

“Thank you, young man.” The little old woman smiled sweetly at you both and allowed Shadow to help her to her feet. 

You led the way back out of the apartment and back to the stairwell again. 

“Get her down. I think we’ve got a few units left. I’ll cover them.”

“But you-”

“I’m fine. Go.” You tried for a reassuring smile. You were pretty sure it was closer to a pained grimace.

Shadow looked hesitant, but focused on the old woman and started helping her down the stairs. He quickly realized it would take too long and asked her permission to carry her instead, which she allowed. Meanwhile, you went back and cleared the last four units. 

With each unit, your breathing got heavier and your vision got weaker. You called in each unit number and kept your focus on making sure everyone else was out. When your air ran out, you took a few labored breaths to realize it. 

By the time you got one flight down the stairs, you stopped to lean against a wall and slipped your mask off. The pain in your face continued, but the air came a little easier. You didn’t have a spare second to wonder why your alarm didn’t go off. 

You just kept walking, one heavy step after another. Your vision was blurred by the time you burst through the last door. The parking lot was chaos, overseen by an order you didn’t currently have the presence of mind to understand. You just stumbled forward into the throng of people.

“...Dex, what’s going on?”

You shook your head to clear the smoke, but that just made you dizzy. Arms wrapped around you, kept you upright. 

“Dex!”

You dropped your helmet and tried to wave off the people around you. Touch was on an expressed consent basis only, everyone on your team knew that. With all the control you could muster, you headed for your engine. 

Huh. The pavement looked a lot closer than it should. 

---

There was a mask on your face, but it was wrong. It only covered your mouth and nose. This wasn’t your mask. So why were you wearing it? And what was that annoying beeping sound?

One eye slowly blinked open, followed by the other. 

You were resting in a bed with sterile white sheets. 

There were wires and tubes connected to your arms, and a thick tube coming from the mask over your face. 

Shadow was resting at the foot of your bed, a book in his lap and his feet propped up next to yours. He looked like a mess. His reddish brown curls were pressed to one side of his head, darkened with soot. There were smears of dust on his face and his clothes were clearly a day old and heavily wrinkled. 

You slid one foot over and nudged his. He startled out of his book and dropped it on the floor as he shot to his feet. 

“Dex! Hey-” He came closer, then seemed to think better of it. “I gotta- uh-” He leaned around the curtain drawn across your room and called for a nurse. “I should call the team!”

You waved him away to do so as a nurse and doctor came into the room. 

“Good morning, Lieutenant Dexridge.” You waved softly. 

The nurse, a woman in a hijab, checked over your vitals and started removing your oxygen mask. 

“My name is Doctor Robinavich, but you can call me Robby. This lovely woman is named Perlah, she’s your nurse. Are you aware of why you’re here?”

You waited for the mask to come off before trying to answer. 

“Uh… I was on a call. Fire in an apartment building.” 

Your voice sounded almost foreign to your own ears, so rough and worn.

Perlah grabbed a thin tube and fit it into your nose, tucking both ends over your ears. 

“Now that you’re awake, we’re switching you off the non rebreather and onto what’s called a nasal cannula, that’s gonna keep fresh oxygen running into your blood. That fire did a number on you, Lieutenant.”

“Just Dex is fine.” You watched Perlah put away the mask and offered a quiet thanks. “How long was I out?”

“You were brought in yesterday afternoon, so it’s been about…” He checked his watch and did a quick guesstimate, “Eighteen hours. You’ve been asleep pretty much the whole time.”

You nodded slowly. It was only then that you noticed a plush dalmatian resting on your bed, just to the right of your knees. 

Robby talked you through the steps they’d taken when you came in. Shadow had been at your side, refusing to leave in his absolute grief. The charge nurse had resorted to manhandling him out of the room so the doctors and nurses could work properly. You’d needed a bronchoscopy, among other things, which didn’t help the aggravation in your throat. 

When you were determined to be stable, Shadow set up camp at your bedside and didn’t move once. Another crew member dropped off his backpack, which contained his book, and your pillow from the firehouse for a little extra comfort. That little effort went further than you figured they knew. 

“So… what are the chances I can get discharged today?”

Robby had settled in the rolling chair backwards, resting his arms over the back of it. Perlah made herself scarce once her work was done and Shadow returned with an exhausted sigh. He was curled up in the visitor’s chair with his knees at his chest. He watched your every move like a hawk, as if the slightest misstep would send you into cardiac arrest or something. 

“Not good. We’ll need to keep you at least one more day to make sure your lungs and throat are healing. This was a close call, Dex. You understand that, right?”

You looked down and realized Shadow was nudging the stuffed animal closer to your shaking hands. 

“I’ll be fine though, right doc? If not today or tomorrow, then next week. Or next month. I can keep fighting fires and leading my team.”

Robby sighed and ran a hand down his face. 

“Mr. Mohr-”

“Just Shadow, please.”

He nodded and continued, “Shadow, why don’t you go wait at the nurse’s station for the rest of your team? You said they were on their way?”

He nodded, but looked to you for confirmation first. You waved him out and he ducked past the curtain. 

“Dex, I’ll level with you here. What you went through yesterday was serious. Would you care to explain where the scratches and blood on your face came from? Because that definitely wasn’t the smoke inhalation.”

“I… had a run-in with one of the tenants we were evacuating.”

“Would that happen to be the young woman we have on a psych hold right now?”

You shrugged. If it was her, that was a good thing. She might get the help she certainly appeared to need. 

“You just went through a trauma, Dex. Not just the smoke inhalation and the broken SCBA, but the attack, of whatever caliber, by a person going through some sort of mental break. At the very least, you shouldn’t be back at work until we know the exact extent of the damage you suffered.”

You didn’t want to hear that kind of news. The job was everything to you. You didn’t want time off, you wanted to get back to the fire station and keep working. You ran your fingers over the ears of the plush in a quick pattern to keep yourself grounded. 

“I understand that.”

“I also want to do a mental health evaluation. We have a social worker here, her name is Kiara. She can sit down with you while you’re here and talk you through what you’re dealing with.”

“Doc, I really don’t think all that is necessary. I work a stressful job, like you do; I’ve learned to cope. I appreciate the effort, really.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. I just want to rest a bit, I guess. And is it alright if I get some food?”

“Absolutely. We have some meal services here, or I’m sure your crew are willing to bring you something. They all seem to like you.”

You shrugged. You’d never tried all that hard to develop deep bonds with any of them, but you made sure you were a damn good lieutenant. 

Robby took his leave once Shadow returned with Jazz and Gran. In her typical fashion, Gran had a little tupperware container full of cookies and a throw from her handcrafted collection for you. The trio stuck around for most of the day, even when you suggested they go home. 

“Shadow, I mean it. Get the hell out of here.”

“Dex, I just think-”

“You’re off the clock. You don’t have to think. Go home. Sleep. Shower while you’re at it, you reek of smoke.”

“Pretty sure that’s you, Dex.”

You waved off Jazz’s response. 

“I’m your lieutenant. Take it as an order.”

Shadow let out a shaky sigh and rose to his feet. 

“Alright, I guess I could do with a break. Keep an eye on ‘em, Jazz?”

“You know it.”

You offered a little fist bump, which Shadow met, before he headed out with his bag over one shoulder. Once he was gone, you let out a long, shuddering sigh that sent you into a coughing fit. Gran patted your back softly and readjusted your pillow for you to lean back once you managed to catch your breath. 

“Dex, Shadow didn’t give us all the details. How bad is it?”

You forced a deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. Once you were sure you could speak, you let your gaze fall to the sheets. 

“I’ll just need some time. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

The two women shared a look across the bed. They’d both worked with you long enough to know when you were trying to fool yourself. Shadow didn’t.

Gran kept you entertained for a few hours catching you up on the trash reality television she loved. You couldn’t have cared less, you never had. But it was sort of nice to know she was making an effort to keep you from being alone. 

Once, just after sunset, a doctor stopped in to check on you. He was shorter than the one from that morning, with graying curls and a stern expression. All he said was that he was the night shift attending and would ensure someone was available if you needed anything. You just nodded and thanked him quietly. 

Jazz stuck around until nearly midnight. She pulled out a deck of cards from her bag and played games with you, ran out to grab dinner to share, and gave you the updates she had on the fire and its victims. 

“Jazz, you know you don’t have to stay here all night, right?”

She shrugged and shuffled the cards again. 

“I’m not a child, or a fall risk or something. You’ve been here all day. Just go get some rest. I’m not about to go anywhere.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but you just laid your head back and closed your eyes, breathing deeply with the tube in your nose. You heard her sigh and stand, then shuffle out of the room slowly. Once you were sure you were alone, you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep. 

Your dreams were filled with flames and screaming. The girl from the call was swinging at you with something in her eyes between loathing and terror. You turned and ran, against your own better judgement. You couldn’t face her, couldn’t fall to the hot floor again. When you cleared the doorway, only an endless hall of scorched walls greeted you. The unit doors had disappeared, but you could still hear the screams of your crew as if through the walls themselves. 

Your feet kept moving, your ears straining to hear anything beyond the shrieks of pain. The girl caught up with you, tackling you to the floor and shoving your face into the burning surface. You bucked and fought like a wild animal, but nothing was enough. When you began to turn, barely reaching your back, she lunged at you again, your face erupting in the same pain from the day before. 

Just before she could strike you once more, your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. 

Your skin was slick with sweat and you could hear the ever present beeping of the heart monitor next to you. The lights had been dimmed to allow you to sleep, the curtain still drawn to give you privacy. Your eyes darted around the room to pick out whatever you could. Everything was blurred, which you slowly came to realize was the fault of tears in your eyes. You furiously wiped them away and tried to even out your breathing. The dream had felt so painfully real. It had been real, to a lesser degree. You’d be fine. You just needed to recover and get back to work. That’s all there was to it.

[evafhernee]

something something qfit telling everyone who says that their gift isn’t that good that they are the gift by showing up to his birthday party something something he’s never celebrated his birthday with anyone let alone people who care about his well-being so them just being there to celebrate with him is enough

something something his birthday party with a giant castle and many gifts and people and huevitos who practically smother him with fanart and happy-birthday messages and the god forsaken earth-shattering heart-wrenching birthday letter that ramon writes him about how he loves being his son and how he loves that fit loves him, sings him lullabies, calls him ridiculously cute nicknames, even points out how fit says his name in a specific, softer tone

something something how he treats pac’s letter different than the others because he’s his boyfriend, and even though the message is the same, reacts differently because it’s definitive proof that someone he loves, loves him back, gave him a meaningful gift, wrote him a letter even though he couldn’t wake up, the letter more than enough for him to be fine with his absence in the party because it’s from his boyfriend

something something qfit has never felt this much appreciation or love in his entire lifetime something something “yeah 2b2t fit and qsmp fit are very different” because now he has people he cares for, people who care for him something something im so normal about his birthday party seriously guys

[shadyfestivalperfection]

Fifth Time’s The Charm~Oneshot

Summery: Every date gets interrupted before they can steal the deal. By the fifth one, they’re both so wounded up, it turns explosive-in the best way

Characters: Bucky Barnes x F!reader

Vibes/warning: Sexual tension, mutual pining, flirty banter, interrupted make out sessions, smut, tension building.

Note: All characters except y/n are not mine.

||Master List||

🌙 Date One: Rooftop Romance & a Falcon Crash

Bucky’s hand is warm as it slides over yours, his vibranium arm resting on the rooftop table like it belongs there.

The rooftop restaurant is quiet. Just a few candle-lit tables surrounded by fairy lights, with soft jazz playing through overhead speakers. The skyline behind him glows like a dream. And Bucky?

He’s in a button-up. Sleeves rolled to his forearms. Hair tied back. Eyes locked on you like he still can’t believe you said yes to dinner.

“So,” you murmur, swirling the wine in your glass, “this is… kind of perfect.”

Bucky smiles. “I figured if I’m going to ruin someone’s night, might as well do it with a view.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re not ruining anything, Barnes. Though I’m still not convinced this isn’t some weird pity date.”

He leans forward, eyes twinkling. “Sweetheart, if this were a pity date, I wouldn’t have rehearsed what to say in front of my mirror five times before picking you up.”

Your heart flips.

It’s funny—everyone sees Bucky Barnes as the brooding soldier, the stone-faced assassin, the Winter Soldier. But here, tonight, he’s just Bucky. Soft-spoken. Charming. A little shy. And very into you.

“So… what’d you rehearse?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He groans, covering his face with his hand. “Nope. That was supposed to stay buried.”

You grin. “Come on. You owe me at least one line.”

He groans again. “Fine. I was gonna say…” He sits up straighter, exaggerating the delivery. “‘You look beautiful tonight, doll.’ And then maybe something cheesy like… ‘Nothing in this city shines as bright as you.’”

You blink. “That’s… actually good.”

“Right?” he says, pleased. “Sam told me it was too much. Said I sounded like I was

quoting a romance novel.”

You’re about to respond—something flirty and appreciative—when your phone buzzes on the table. You glance down, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Don’t check it. I’m trying to live in the moment.”

You nod. “Me too.”

You don’t even notice how close you’ve gotten until his knee brushes yours beneath the table. His eyes drop to your lips for just a second. And your breath catches.

He leans in.

You lean closer.

He’s inches away. One hand rising to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice drops—

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time you handed me a cup of coffee in the break room—”

CRASH.

A loud thump echoes above you. Then—

“Shit! Sorry!”

You both jump as something heavy hits the rooftop ledge and rolls, a few pebbles scattering across the floor.

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “No. No no no—”

“BUCKY!”

You turn to see Sam Wilson—in full Falcon gear—tangled in his own wings, skidding to a stop right in front of your table.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bucky hisses, standing up.

Sam grins sheepishly. “Hey, man. Didn’t know you were up here. Testing some tech. Kinda… overshot the landing.”

You just blink. “That’s… impressive. Actually.”

Bucky runs a hand down his face. “Sam. I swear to God.”

Sam glances between the two of you. “Oh. OHHHH. Shit—were you two—”

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky snaps. “We were on a date.”

Sam’s mouth opens. Then closes. Then he shrugs.

“Well… my bad. I’ll just… backflip off the side and leave you to it.”

“You do that.”

With a whoosh of his wings, Sam vaults back off the building—leaving behind only a couple of knocked-over chairs, one blown-out candle, and the unmistakable sound of Bucky’s teeth grinding together.

You burst out laughing.

Bucky glares at you—but it’s mostly mock offense. “Glad you’re enjoying the death of our first date.”

You reach across the table and take his hand again. “Okay, it was interrupted, not dead. Honestly? I like that he crashed it. Now you owe me a second date.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You squeeze his hand. “Next time… somewhere Falcon-proof.”

His grin is soft. Wicked. “Anywhere you want, sweetheart.”

You smirk. “As long as I get that kiss you were about to give me.”

His eyes darken. “Oh, you’ll get it. Trust me.”

🎬 Date Two: Movie Night & Third-Wheel Steve

The sound of a movie plays quietly in the background, but neither of you’s really paying attention.

You’re curled up on Bucky’s couch, under a fleece blanket, one of his old sweatshirts hanging off your shoulder. He sits behind you, legs spread, body warm and solid, and you’re tucked between them like you belong there.

Spoiler: You do.

“I swear,” you mumble, reaching for more popcorn without taking your eyes off the screen, “if this ends with another crash landing, I’m suing Sam for emotional damages.”

Bucky laughs into your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “This one’s Falcon-free, I promise.”

“You said that last time.”

He groans, playful. “C’mon, don’t hold that against me. It was one crash.”

“It was our almost first kiss, Barnes. That’s a felony in some states.”

He leans closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You want me to make it up to you?”

Your breath catches. “Yeah. I do.”

You twist in his arms, shifting so you’re straddling his lap, knees on either side of his hips. The movement is smooth. Bold. A little reckless.

But he doesn’t mind. In fact, he looks thrilled.

“Well damn,” he says, hands gripping your thighs through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. “Is this part of the movie, or…?”

You smile, teasing. “Bonus content.”

His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. “You’re killin’ me, doll.”

And then his hands slide up your thighs, fingers curling around your waist. You can feel him underneath you—hard, hungry, ready—and you’re barely even kissing yet.

His voice drops, rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop now if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” you whisper, breathless.

That’s all he needs.

His lips crash into yours—hot, intense, a kiss you’ve both been aching for since the rooftop. His tongue teases your bottom lip, and you open for him, moaning into his mouth as his hands tighten on your hips. You rock forward instinctively, and he groans, hips bucking beneath you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “you’re gonna make me—”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

A heavy knock slams against the front door, startling you both.

You freeze.

“No,” Bucky mutters against your neck, lips still brushing your skin. “No. Not again.”

“Ignore it,” you whisper, grinding against him a little just to tease.

He groans. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re gonna kill me.”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Bucky!” a familiar voice calls from the hallway. “I brought pizza!”

You pull back, blinking. “Is that—?”

“STEVE,” Bucky growls.

You scramble off his lap, cheeks blazing as Bucky nearly explodes off the couch.

The front door swings open—of course he still gives Steve a key—and there stands Captain America himself, smiling, holding two pizza boxes and a six-pack of root beer.

“Hey,” Steve says, totally oblivious, “movie night?”

Bucky’s expression is somewhere between a murder charge and emotional devastation. “STEVE.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

Bucky gestures wildly. “What does it look like?!”

Steve finally notices your flushed cheeks, the messed-up blanket, the very awkward distance you’re both now keeping.

“Oh,” he says.

There’s a pause.

Then: “Should I… leave?”

Bucky looks like he wants to throw him through a wall. You try not to laugh.

“Probably,” you say, standing and adjusting the oversized sweatshirt. “Unless you wanna be very scarred tonight.”

Steve holds up the pizza hopefully. “I brought pepperoni?”

You groan. “Okay, fine. But I’m picking the movie and you’re sitting at the other end of the couch.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath about “damn super soldiers and their terrible timing,” but you give his hand a squeeze as you walk by.

When your eyes meet, he mouths:

“Next time. You’re mine.”

And something about the heat in his stare tells you next time’s gonna be very worth the wait.

🖼️ Date Three: Art, Anticipation & An Unwelcome Mission

The Met is unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. Dimmed lights. Velvet ropes. Elegant, whispered conversations.

But Bucky’s not paying attention to the Monet in front of him.

No—he’s watching you.

Your dress hugs your curves too perfectly. Your eyes shine every time you pause in front of a new piece. And when you tilt your head, smiling at some abstract sculpture like it just told you a dirty joke, he damn near loses his mind.

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,” you murmur, not even turning around.

“You make it hard not to,” he replies, stepping closer, voice low. “You know that dress should be illegal, right?”

You smirk, still pretending to focus on the painting. “So arrest me, Sergeant Barnes.”

His fingers brush your lower back. Soft. Teasing. “You sayin’ you want me to cuff you, sweetheart?”

You shoot him a warning look, cheeks heating. “This is a museum.”

“This is foreplay,” he corrects, voice deep and delicious in your ear.

You nearly choke on a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…” His metal hand slides down your waist, resting right at the curve of your hip, “…you still came out with me.”

You turn to face him, caught in that pull he always seems to have over you.

“I came because I like the way you look when you pretend to care about art,” you tease.

He raises an eyebrow. “I do care. Especially about the nudes.”

“Bucky!”

But you’re laughing, and he’s leaning in—smirking, dangerous, beautiful. The tension between you crackles like electricity in the air.

“I need to kiss you,” he whispers. “Right now.”

“Not in the middle of the sculpture room.”

His smirk grows. “Then come with me.”

Before you can protest, he takes your hand and tugs you down a quiet side hallway labeled “Staff Only.”

“Bucky,” you hiss, half laughing, “we’re gonna get kicked out—”

“I’ll make it worth it,” he says, pulling you into the shadows.

The hallway is dark. Silent. Cold stone walls and empty echo. And Bucky?

He’s all heat and hands and hunger.

His mouth finds yours like it’s been waiting too long. You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands grip your hips and press you against the wall. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whimper—soft, needy—hips rocking forward just slightly.

The sound he makes? Absolutely feral.

“God, doll,” he groans, grinding into you. “You keep makin’ those noises and I’m not gonna make it to date five.”

You gasp against his lips. “Then make this one count.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips travel down your jaw, nipping along your throat. One hand slides under your dress, brushing the inside of your thigh—and you know if anyone catches you right now, you’d be banned for life.

And honestly? Worth it.

Just as his fingers start to trail higher—

Bzzt. Bzzt.

His phone vibrates hard against his chest.

Bucky groans like he’s in actual pain. “Ignore it.”

But it buzzes again. And again.

And then your phone starts to vibrate in your bag.

You both freeze.

He curses softly, reaching into his coat. The moment he checks the screen, everything changes.

His entire posture shifts. Military. Tense. Ready.

“What?” you ask, straightening, heart dropping.

“It’s Sam,” he mutters, already walking back down the hallway. “HYDRA hit a black site in Berlin. Nat’s down. Cap’s calling us in.”

You’re suddenly cold all over.

He turns back to you, jaw clenched, eyes apologetic. “I have to go.”

“I know,” you say quietly, following him.

“This isn’t how I wanted tonight to end,” he admits, pulling you into a brief, fierce kiss that tastes like regret.

“I know,” you whisper again. “Just… come back in one piece, Barnes.”

He cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “You too.”

And then he’s gone.

You’re left standing in that dim, forgotten hallway—heart pounding, skin still tingling from his touch—wondering what the hell it’ll take to finally finish one damn date with him.

🌧️ Date Four: Rain, Restraint & a Damn Phone Call

It starts as a simple walk after dinner.

You and Bucky wander through downtown Brooklyn, hands tangled together like you’ve been doing it for years. The streets are damp, slick from a light drizzle that started an hour ago, but neither of you care.

You’re laughing. Warm. Buzzed off good food and wine and him.

He keeps sneaking glances at you like you’re the most stunning thing in the entire city. And truth be told, the way the rain makes your dress cling to your curves? He

might be right.

“You cold, doll?” he asks, pulling you a little closer under his umbrella.

“Not with you like this,” you reply, and rest your hand on his chest. It’s firm, warm even through his jacket, and you feel the way he subtly leans into your touch.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “You say things like that, I’m gonna have to press you against this brick wall and make out with you like we’re in a damn movie.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

His smirk could melt steel. “Why don’t we find out?”

And that’s all it takes.

You stop walking.

Grab the front of his coat.

And pull him into the nearest alley.

“Holy shit,” he laughs, stunned, as you shove him gently against the damp brick. “You’re serious.”

“I’ve waited long enough, Barnes,” you say, pressing your body to his, looking up through soaked lashes. “Every single date, someone or something gets in the way. Not this time. I want you. Right now.”

He growls low in his throat, both hands grabbing your waist with barely restrained hunger. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, sweetheart.”

Then he kisses you—hard.

Tongue, teeth, rain-slick lips. It’s messy and desperate and hot. One hand slides down to your ass, gripping it like it belongs to him, while the other slides up under your dress, metal fingertips dragging fire across your thigh.

You whimper against his mouth, grinding into him. He’s already hard, pressed right against your core, and the friction makes your knees damn near give out.

“You feel that?” he rasps against your throat, dragging his mouth down to your collarbone. “That’s what you do to me. Every time.”

You moan, tugging at his belt. “Then do something about it, James.”

The way he groans at that—your real name for him, full of need—it’s feral. You feel him fumbling to push your panties aside, fingers sliding through your slick folds, and—

RING. RING.

You both freeze.

The loud, shrill ring echoes in the alley.

“No,” you gasp, panting. “No. Don’t you dare—”

He pulls back just enough to glance at his phone, face wild with frustration.

“Ignore it,” you plead, nails scraping down his chest.

“I want to, believe me,” he groans. “But it’s Sam.”

You nearly scream.

He kisses you again—fast, deep, like a fucking apology—then answers the call with a snarl in his voice.

“What?” he snaps.

You can hear Sam on the other end: “Uh… hate to ruin your date again, but we’ve got a situation.”

Bucky closes his eyes and lets his head thunk back against the brick wall.

You adjust your dress and sigh, already knowing the answer.

⸻

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back at his place, soaked and pissed off, watching Bucky gear up like he’s going into war. (He is. Kinda.)

“I’m starting to think the universe hates our sex life,” you say flatly, arms crossed.

He gives you a tight smile as he straps on his thigh holster. “I’m gonna kill something just for interrupting us.”

You walk up to him, grab him by the collar, and pull him in for a slow, intense kiss. Your lips barely part, breath warm and heavy between you.

“When you come back,” you whisper, “you’re not getting another first date.”

He nods. “When I come back, you’re getting every inch of me.”

Your cheeks heat. “Bold talk for someone who’s gotta run.”

He presses his forehead to yours, voice ragged. “I’ll be back soon. And when I am… we’re not stopping.”

You don’t say goodbye.

You just let the promise hang between you—thick with tension, soaked in heat, and aching to be fulfilled.

💥 Date Five: No More Waiting

He doesn’t knock when he comes back.

He storms through the front door, drenched in rain and adrenaline, chest heaving like a man who’s run straight through hell just to get to you.

And when he sees you—curled up in one of his shirts, waiting on the couch with wide eyes and bare thighs—he stops.

You rise slowly, heart thudding, drinking him in. His hair’s wet and messy, jaw tight, dog tags clinking as he drops his gear to the floor.

“Bucky—”

“No more interruptions,” he growls, striding toward you. “No more missions. No more waiting.”

You don’t speak. Just back toward the bedroom.

He follows.

You barely make it through the door before he has you pressed against the wall, kissing you like it’s the last oxygen on Earth. Tongue, teeth, need. You moan into it, fingers already tugging at his shirt.

“Off,” you breathe. “Want to feel you.”

He rips the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, muscles rippling as he tosses it aside. You press your palms to his chest—scarred and strong—and slide down, mouth open as your lips trail kisses across his pecs, down his abs.

But he stops you with a growl, metal hand in your hair.

“Not tonight, doll,” he says, voice rough with control. “Tonight’s about you.”

He lifts you easily—like you weigh nothing—lays you gently on the bed, and kneels between your legs.

“Bucky—”

“You’ve been so damn patient,” he murmurs, dragging your borrowed shirt up your torso, kissing every new inch of skin he exposes. “Four. Fucking. Dates. And every single one? Ruined.”

His mouth ghosts over your navel. “I haven’t touched you the way I want to.”

“Then touch me now,” you whisper.

He looks up at you—eyes dark, starved, desperate.

“Oh, sweetheart… I’m gonna do more than that.”

And then he slides your panties down your legs and devours you.

His mouth is sinful—hot tongue swirling, slow licks that make your hips jerk, breath catch. He doesn’t rush it. He feasts. Like you’re dessert and he’s been starving.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, back arching as his tongue circles your clit.

He groans into you, loving the sounds you make, the way your thighs shake around his head.

“Let go, baby,” he murmurs against your heat. “Come on my tongue.”

You do.Hard.

Your climax crashes over you like a goddamn wave, and Bucky doesn’t stop. He guides you through it, tongue relentless, even as you squirm and gasp from overstimulation.

“Too much—” you whisper.

But he pulls back, just enough to kiss your trembling inner thigh. “Too much? Or not enough?”

You blink, dazed. “Bucky—”

“I need you,” he growls, standing, shedding his pants, revealing just how ready he’s been. “Been dreaming about this. About you. Every fuckin’ night.”

He climbs over you, forearms braced beside your head, his tip sliding along your still-wet folds.

“You want me?” he asks, voice thick.

“Yes. Please—”

He sinks into you in one smooth, slow thrust, and everything else disappears.

Your moan is filthy, and his? It’s practically a growl.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he hisses, forehead resting against yours. “God, you feel perfect.”

He starts to move—slow at first, deep and steady—rocking into you like he’s savoring every inch.

“You take me so good, baby,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Like you were made for me.”

Your nails dig into his back. You wrap your legs around his waist. “Harder.”

He obeys instantly.

His thrusts pick up speed, power—his metal hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread wide as he pounds into you with deep, possessive strokes.

The headboard hits the wall. The bed creaks. The room fills with the sound of skin, breath, moans.

“Fuck—Bucky—yes, just like that—”

He leans down, nipping your jaw, your throat. “You’re mine,” he groans. “This pussy? Fuckin’ mine.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “All yours.”

He kisses you then—hungry, messy, like he’s claiming you—and slips a hand between you to rub your clit, fast and perfect.

You shatter around him a second time, crying out his name, your entire body trembling. He follows moments later, burying himself deep, moaning low in your ear as he comes.

He doesn’t move for a moment.

Just holds you, breathless, bodies tangled, hearts racing.

Eventually, he rolls onto his back and pulls you with him, cradling you on his chest.

“Worth the wait?” he murmurs, brushing your hair from your sweaty face.

You hum, nuzzling into him. “Absolutely.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Next time,” he whispers, “we skip the date and go straight to dessert.”

You laugh softly, eyes fluttering closed.

And for the first time in weeks, nothing interrupts the night.

-The end

(Yes, I know that I said I don’t write smut. I am not good at it. But… I gave it a shot to see how it goes.)

[mayasaurusss]

hey how are you? could you write jinx x reader? something like jinx taking the reader's virginity. thanks ❤️🫰🏻

My favorite piltie

A/N: Hello! I am okay anon, thanks for asking! Just a bit sad that tomorrow Arcane will end😭.

I want to make it clear that I tried to do this before the next act drops, so I wrote it in two days and some things might not be very good, but I hope you will enojiy it nonetheless!!

Contains: female reader, detailed description of a wound, smut. All characters are 20+ years.

2,8 K/4 pages

When Jinx came knocking at your door tonight, you didn't think you'd end up in this position: her hands gripping at the skin of your chest and with her head buried in it.

The beginning of your night had kicked off with a strange twist when you heard a knock on your fifth floor appartment's window. You gulped down your fear and with a fast beating heart, looked past the window's glass to see a crouching figure with bright pink eyes staring at you. Any other occasion and you would have died on the spot, but you knew who she was. As soon as you opened the window, the figure let herself in, crawling out of the darkness and into the light of your room. "You are so nice letting me in, piltie" she said, and you don't miss the venom laced in the last word she spoke. "Your people aren't really known to be kind" her long fingers mess with the many little trinkets displayed on your shelves, checking their mechanisms and turning their gears.

"What do you want, Jinx?" you can feel a tingling sense of anger inside your skull at her continuous teasings.

You still remember the first time you had seen her, running from enforcers and covering her wounded shoulder.

You knew how ruthless they could be, especially since Miss Kirramman had taken control over the city. In a strange turn of events, you had found her curled up in one of Piltover's abandoned alleys and brought her with you to your home, taking care of her for the next few days until you found your window open and the blue haired criminal nowhere to be seen. During that time, you grew fond of her and were sad when she disappeared. Some weeks had passed and your life continued to flow normally, until she showed up at your door again. You were actually kind of amazed by the fact that she managed to sneak inside the appartment's building without being noticed, but after the third time, when someone called the enforcers on her, she had begun to climb on the building's exterior and knock at your window instead.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to pay a visit to my favorite piltie" she falls back on your bed, sizing you up from head to toe with that smirk of hers that makes your heart beat faster. "That's all?" the mattress dips under your weight as you sit next to her, always keeping your eyes on hers. "Mhmm, maybe" she fishes something from a bag -one you've just noticed- and shakes it: a small glass globe filled with water and fake flakes of snow. The tallest buildings of Piltover reflect the warm lights of your room, making the city of progress look ethereal under the glass. But it wasn't the shiny buildings or the snowflakes that got your attention, but a small name made with metal and gear parts glued to the bottom of the globe. "No way...is this a real Valdiani?!" the shock in your voice makes Jinx's heart flutter, something that she has never experienced before.

She lets out a proud snuff of air from her nose, pushing her chest outwards, "Consider it a gift for my fav- shit!" the sudden swear catches your attention and you look over to see Jinx doubled over. "Jinx! What is going on?!" It's faint, but you can see her hands wrapped tightly around her left side, traces of blood seeping from between her fingers. "Oh shit! Jinx what happened?" she lets out a breathless chuckle, her skin suddenly far paler than normally. "Hah, just some gift the bluebellies have given me" she sucks in a breath when you move her hands, biting a scream away. A deep wound runs along her side, pus forming where her skin had been pulled back from the slash, bleeding red on your covers. You run outside of your room and collect gauze, antiseptic, healing creme and a glass of water.

"Here, bite this" you hand her an old cloth, which she promptly places in between her teeth. "Ready?" she nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The heat of your hand is the only thing that brings her comfort. She isn't ready though when you pour the liquid over her wound: it feels like billions of needles stinging and burning her flesh, making her want to vomit.

"There there, it's over..." you quickly dry her skin and massage the healing cream on her, finally finishing when you cover her stomach with the gauze. She releases a huff of relief, mindlessly tangling her fingers with yours. When the pain subsides, she realizes how close the two of you are. You on your knees, her panting and sweating, how close you are to her and how fast her heart is beating. It would take a second, just a second for her to reach for your lips and melt into you...

"Uh... I- uh, just-, what happened?" you try to not sound too shy but your voice gives your feelings away. "I..." Jinx's throat bobs and it seems that she'd rather curl herself up like a hedgehog than admitting whatever she did. "You know, the usual. Went on a walk, stormed a shop, stole some things, got the enforcers called on me and..." she gestures towards her side, "...this happened".

Jinx isn't clear with her words, but something about the blush on her skin hints at the fact that there may be something else underneath her facade. You might try at least, right? Reaching for the glass globe, you twirl it in your hands, watching the snowflakes fall on Piltover. "Jinx...did you get chased after stealing this?", she doesn't answer, but her shy silence is enough for you.

"Why? Why do this for me?" she pouts her lips before answering, still held back by some sort of pride. "W-what can I say? Anything for my favorite piltie...".

A heavy silence fills the room, of the kind that is difficult to bear.

You can't believe it. You just can't believe that she'd be so reckless, so stupid! It's difficult to bite your anger back, but you do so, and instead of crying or screaming or scolding her, like Jinx thought you were going to do, you just hug her tightly against your chest. Your grip is so strong against her that she feels like she'll choke on it.

But you are so warm in comparison to her body, so, so warm. For the first time in a while, after Silco's death, after Vi's betrayal, after everything went to shit, she feels like she can breathe. And so she does, inhaling your scent in between, tasting it on her tongue. When you pull back, Jinx's eyelids are heavy with want, her mouth slightly open and her skin red.

It takes a second for her lips to push against yours, for her hands to come up and grab your face and pull you down towards her. The kiss is surprisingly tender for it to be Jinx's: you expected teeth and tongue, not pecks and soft touches. The way she sighs and runs her hands on your chest has you keening for her. "Jinx..." a small line of spit connects your lips, and before you can say anything else, she wipes it off on your bottom lip and sighs, "You know what piltie? I think I deserve something too".

Blinking at her a couple of times, she groans at your naivety and continues while taking your cheeks in her hand. "It has been a hard day for me: running from enforcers, bleeding all the way here... I think I deserve a gift too".

And that's where you are now, naked from the waist up with Jinx on your lap, diligently taking what's hers. The way her tongue teases your nipple is something to die for. It seems all her softness has died with the kiss you shared before, now tugging and biting every part of you. You gasp as she bites your nipple, leaving the indents of her teeth on the delicate skin.

"If I knew I could see you all shy and fidgety-" she tugs your left nipple with her long fingers, smiling cruelly when tearing a gasp from you, "...I would have done this earlier". Her lips leave your right nipple, spit chilling the skin, before she teases both of them with the point of her fingernails, moving and tickling them.

Jinx lets out one of those cruel laughs of hers before diving right back on your nipple, giving it one last kiss and moving towards your stomach. She kisses and strokes every one of your scars, every mole or freckle, every inch of skin, until she comes across the hem of your pants. "N-No wait, Jinx..." you place your hand on her forehead, strands of blue hair falling in between your fingers. She halts immediatley at your discomforted voice, billions of little alarms going off in her head and an attentive yet scared look in her eyes. "What is it?".

"I... I have to tell you something" and with that, her heart beats faster and faster and that obnoxious voice inside her head speaks; 'You've hurt her' and 'Look at what you've done' and 'Did you really think she would genuinely like you?'. But your voice is stronger than theirs. "Hey? Is everything alright? We don't have to do this" in the meantime, your hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking at the pale skin. "Yeah I- I am okay. And I want to" her own fingers close in on you and she takes a moment to breathe. Your own warmth is one of the only things that can make her calm. When the voices blur away and only you and her are left, she opens her eyes again, your reflection sharp inside their pink. "What do you have to tell me?" now it was your time to take a breath, because knowing Jinx, she could have two reactions over your news: making fun of you or absolutely losing her shit. "I... I am a virgin".

She takes a moment to process the information and then lets out a wheezing laugh, making blood rise quickly to your face. "That's it?! I thought I accidentally hurt you or something!". The only thing you can do at this point is pout and look away offended. "Oh come on toots" her hands take a hold of your face before turning you to her, who is smiling softly and with tenderness. "I am just kidding. Don't be so moody. And besides..." she captures your lips, biting and licking and sucking until they darken, leaving a faint trace of blood where her teeth were, "...It's so fucking hot".

The descent to get to her prize is tedious and long, but Jinx can't help but want to savor each one of its steps. Her fingers finally hook on the hem of your pants and pull down, revealing your naked thighs to her; the only thing stopping her from claiming her prize is the fabric of your underwear. "Wait a second..." despite how cute you look to her, Jinx rolls her eyes at yet another one of your attempts to stop her. "What, toots? You don't want me to fuck you?" your eyes widen when she so bluntly says that, without an ounce of embarrassment on her face, but continue. "What?! N-no I want to....it's just that..." you eye Jinx's position on the floor. "The wound might be painful if you crouch... I don't want you to hurt yourself".

"So, what do you want me to do?". You look back between Jinx and the plush, comfortable bed, a lightbulb popping off on your head. "Lie on the bed", you say, making Jinx blink a few times before processing and understanding your intentions. "Ohh, I didn't take you for the kinky type, toots". She crawls over the bed, making sure to look as alluring as possible, then lies down with her head pressed on one of your pillows. "There. Do you like this more?" the way that she's so smug about it, with that stupid smirk of hers, makes you want to choke her to death.

"Shut the fuck up", you follow her, placing yourself on each side of her head, feeling her hands rise on your tighs to curl on the soft fabric she so wishes were to disappear. "Hmhm, alright" she eyes the patch of cloth that has begun to show a wet stain, images of what she is going to do to you already flashing in her mind. But this position prevents her from sliding them off without you having to move away from her, and she'd rather keep you and your pussy here. "You know, as much as I love how cute you look with these..." you only have a brief moment to see a malicious glint in her eyes, before she tears your underwear apart, leaving you naked in front of her "I'd much rather have you bare". "Jinx! I just told you to shut up!" it doesn't help that she doesn't mind you and whistles loudly, making you feel more and more embarrassed. "And I -shut up!-. And-and those were expensive! Do you know how-!" but all your words die in your throat when she, with a strength you didn't know she had, pulls you flat against her mouth.

She licks your clit like a starved woman, like it will be the last meal she'll ever have. She doesn't dive right in your pussy, instead takes her sweet time to torture you, making you wish she'd just fuck you already. "Jinx...please, I-" she opens her eyes to see you above her, naked and panting with pleasure, something she only ever dreamt of seeing.

She can't say no to her favorite piltie. Her cold hands grab your ass, propping you up in a new angle on her face so you can't move, but she can do everything she wants to. She spends the next minutes milking your pleasure out of you, before pushing one finger slowly inside of you. You gasp in pain at first, a small trickle of blood wetting your skin and her fingers, and after a few minutes, feeling need arise from the depths of your guts. Jinx's eyes widen when she first feels you move atop her fingers, riding them messily; and she already has a new idea. "No, none of that toots" with her left hand, she yanks your hips down on her fingers, preventing you from moving further. Her next words feel like ice cold water on naked skin; "I won't make you cum if you do it again" and as if that wasn't bad enough, she emphasizes her point with a trust of her fingers. "You will be a good girl, won't you?".

"Yes, yes, yes I will be a good girl..." her smile is all you see before she disappears underneath your thighs. As soon as you get used to the alien feeling of her fingers inside of you, her pace is unrelenting; fast and hard, torturing your clit with her lips. She takes your hips and places your slit directly onto her tongue, forcing you to grind down on it. When you start to wheeze from her touches, she decides to move onto the next phase of her plan. "Hey baby, get up a sec" you would rather keep on grinding on her tongue, but comply anyway. You get up, putting ditance between your slit and her mouth, but while you do, she directly shoves in her fingers, making your legs almost give out. With her other hand she pushes you until your ass is flat against her lap. "Come on, bounce" you don't let her repeat herself twice, already fucking yourself on her fingers at the best of your abilities. What she's seeing is far better than anything she could have ever dreamt of: her favorite piltie bouncing up and down her fingers, eyes heavy and panting above her. And your movements on her own crotch only make her feel more and more euphoric. Oh, if only she could feel you... When she curls her finger on that spot that has you keening, you finally come undone; finger intertwined, billions of stars exploding beneath your eyelids and electricity coursing through your veins. You collapse on her, skin against skin, puffing and gasping for each breath. Your whines reach Jinx's ears and right now, she wants nothing more than to tear orgasms upon orgasms from you, but she'll have to wait.

You roll over, taking a place near her on the bed, shivering from the intensity of your first time. And when Jinx, with a horrifyingly both sweet and sadistic smile turns to you, excitement clear on her face, your pussy clenches around nothing and your blood turns to ice. "So, wanna go again?"

[wosospacegirl]

Mamá - Alexia Putellas

Summary: The first day as a family of three. Featuring baby Clara.

Word count: 4.7k

This is part of my 1k commemoration blurb! <3

Masterlist

..

The hospital doors slid open with a soft , and the afternoon sun hit them like a warm welcome home. Alexia had one arm curled protectively around Y/n’s as she walked at a snail’s pace.

The reason why?

She had just given birth to the little baby girl, who was lying on her arms peacefully. 

Clara was a calm newborn, as if she wasn’t that excited to meet the world just yet.

“Careful,” Alexia murmured for the fifth time in two minutes.

“I'm walking,” Y/n muttered, voice hoarse with exhaustion, “not skydiviing.”

But Alexia didn’t laugh. She just frowned, holding the car door open and watching as Y/n  all but melted into the seat, her face pinching when her body shifted.

“Mi amor…” Alexia leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “You okay?”

"I'll put Clara in," Alexia whispered, as if the baby might wake from just the words. 

“It hurts,” Y/n mumbled, head back against the headrest.

Alexia gently took the baby from Y/n’s arms and walked to the back seat, where the car seat awaited. “Alright, baby girl. Let's do this.”

Clara, of course, didn’t respond. She was completely knocked out, mouth slightly open, little fists curled by her ears.

The tiniest snore escaped her, and Alexia froze, awe and panic hitting her all at once.

“Okay,” she whispered again, more to herself this time. “Okay.”

She bent down, trying to gently manoeuvre Clara into the car seat, but every buckle looked suspicious. One looked like it would strangle her. Another looked like it would crush her ribs. 

Were these designed by engineers or villains? 

”Ale…” Y/n ’s voice was soft, a little slurred. “Do you need help?”

Alexia straightened up immediately, back rigid, almost offended. 

“No! I mean. No, amor. I’ve got it.” She said, “Of course. I'm a mom. Moms knows this.”

She turned back to the car seat, staring at the buckles like they might arrange themselves out of respect.

Por favour... she thought. Let me put my daughter in a seat without traumatising all of us.

And then, miraculously,,it clicked.

Literally.

The buckle snapped into place, snug and perfect and safe. Clara didn’t even flinch.

Alexia stared at her handiwork for a second, then blinked up at Y/n, wide-eyed. “I did it.”

Y/n gave her the softest smile, eyelids drooping.

“Told you. Mom of the year already.”

Alexia beamed, shutting the door carefully and whispering, “Gracias,” like the baby might bless her in her sleep.

Alexia slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door with exaggerated care. 

She adjusted the mirror like she was preparing for a rally race, then turned the engine on with a low purr.

And then… nothing.

She just sat there.

Hands on the wheel. Eyes locked on the rearview mirror.

Clara, visible only in the reflection, was still sound asleep, tiny chest rising and falling like the gentlest tide.

Her cheeks were pink and soft, lips parted in the most peaceful little O.

Y/n  cracked one eye open from the passenger seat. “Ale.”

Alexia didn’t move.

“Bebé. Please drive. I need a shower. Like a real one. Standing up. With hot water and dignity.”

Alexia flinched a little, glancing over. “Sí, sí, of course. Sorry. I’m just–”

She looked back at the mirror.

“She’s just... she's so small. What if someone hits us? What if I hit someone? What if the sun is too bright on her eyes?”

Y/n  blinked. “Her eyes are closed, she’s literally sleeping.”

"I know!" Alexia hissed in a whisper-yell. “But what if it…blinds her?”

Y/n let out a tiny, tired laugh. “The sun won’t blind her, you tinted the window, because of this, now please, drive.”

“Okay, I’m driving the car,” Alexia said, putting it in gear.

The car inched forward like it was made of glass.

A few minutes later, they were still crawling through the hospital parking lot.

Alexia was gripping the steering wheel with both hands, eyes flicking between the road and the mirror every three seconds.

“You’re going ten kilometres an hour.”

“It’s a safe ten kilometres.”

“At this rate, Clara will be old enough to drive herself home.”

Alexia exhaled through her nose, tense. “I just... she's so little. And you’re in pain. I-I’m scared.”

Y/n  reached out, hand landing gently on Alexia’s thigh. “You're doing great, mamá.”

Alexia swallowed. Hard. Her jaw tightened.

Then, under her breath, she whispered, “I know this is not the moment because you just gave birth, but I think I’m gonna cry.”

Y/n smiled, eyes already closing again.

“That’s okay. I might too. But please cry at home. In the shower. After me.”

They finally pulled into the driveway, after forty minutes–the hospital was 15 minutes away from their house.

The sun was dipping low and casting a soft orange over the house, especially over the tree house Alexia had already built for Clara.

Before the car had even fully stopped, Y/n was reaching for the handle, ready to launch herself toward the promise of a real shower and clean clothes.

But Alexia practically lunged across the car. “NO! Let me–wait, don’t move!”

Y/n froze. “Alexia–”

“I’ll open the door. Just–just wait, mi amor, por favor.”

“You’re not defusing a bomb, calm down.”

Alexia was already out the door, hurrying around the car like a mom on a mission. She flung open the passenger side with a triumphant look.

"There," she said, slightly breathless. "Now you may exit."

"Thank you," Y/n  deadpanned, dragging herself out with an exaggerated wince.

Before Alexia could stop her again, Y/n  made a beeline for the back seat, reaching for the three bags they had packed.

“No! No, no, no!” Alexia’s voice went up a full octave. “You can’t carry anything heavy, remember? You had a human being ripped out of you yesterday.”

Y/n turned, halfway holding a diaper bag. “Okay, so you plan to carry three bags and our 26-hour-old daughter?”

Alexia straightened her shoulders, clearly insulted by the doubt. “Yes. Obviously.”

Y/n was now standing at the doorstep, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, watching as Alexia approached with the determination of someone carrying the fragilest thing in the world.

Over one shoulder, she had the hospital bag and the diaper bag.

In the crook of her opposite arm, baby Clara was swaddled and sleeping, completely unbothered.

Dangling off two fingers was a small tote with Y/n ’s essentials.

Y/n opens the door wordlessly, stepping aside.

Alexia entered slowly, carefully, like every step might trigger a booby trap.

Her face glistening, jaw clenched, eyes darting between the bags and Clara.

“Mi amor,” Y/n finally said, watching her wife set everything down in a precise, strategic order. “Are you sweating or crying?”

Alexia exhaled. "Both."

“You could’ve just asked me to carry one bag.”

“No,” Alexia said, straightening up with the wild eyes of someone who's been through enough. “You gave birth. You earned this.”

Y/n blinked. “…The right to not carry a bag?”

“The right to not do anything for the rest of your life if you don’t want to.”

Y/n huffed a laugh as Alexia gently shifted Clara into her arms.

Alexia’s whole body relaxes the second their baby is safe against her chest. She pressed a soft kiss to Clara’s head, then to Y/n’s temple.

The house is finally quiet.

The kind of quiet that feels sacred, like no one dares breathe too loudly in case baby Clara wakes up and decides to use her lungs.

Y/n was slouched on the sofa, the baby tucked under her shirt and latched, nursing quietly.

Exhaustion hung heavy in her posture, the weight of new motherhood evident in the way her body sagged and her voice softened when she spoke.

Alexia crouched down in front of her.

“How’s it going? Still hurt?” Alexia asked, her voice full of concern.

“Yes... I feel like she’s not latching properly,” Y/n murmured, her eyes half-lidded as she looked down at the tiny baby nursing in her arms.

Alexia hesitated, then suggested, “We could always try formula–”

“No.” Y/n’s voice was sharp, a little defensive. “I’m breastfeeding. No formula.”

“There’s no shame in it if it’s hurting you, Y/n,” Alexia countered, her tone soft but insistent.

Y/n looked down at their baby, who had an incredible amount of hair already, a soft shade of brunette that looked just like Alexia's.

Her heart ached. “It’s important for her,” she said quietly.

Alexia nodded, understanding the desire to give their baby the best. But her concern didn’t waver.

“It’s important for her to have a mom who isn’t in pain, too.”

Y/n met her gaze, a warning tone creeping into her voice. “Alexia…”

Sighing, Y/n kissed her forehead gently, the exhaustion making her movements slow.

“What if we call a midwife? Someone who specialises in this?”

Y/n looked up at Alexia, a hint of unease in her eyes. “I don’t want someone coming here. She needs time to build her immune system.”

Y/n shifted a little, wincing as the baby continued to nurse, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of Y/n’s shirt. 

She could feel the pain in her body, but there was also something soothing about the way their daughter was close to her, the connection that came with breastfeeding.

Yet, the discomfort still lingered, and she couldn’t ignore it.

Alexia watched her carefully, noticing the tension in Y/n’s shoulders. She hated seeing her in pain, especially when she was trying so hard.

Alexia reached out, her voice soft but filled with concern.

“Amor,” she started, hesitating for a moment, “maybe we can try pumping? That way, she still gets the milk, and you’re not in so much pain.”

Y/n stiffened for a second, the idea swirling in her mind.

She looked down at their daughter, her heart aching at the thought of not breastfeeding in the way she had envisioned.

 “I... I don’t know, Alexia,” she said, voice quiet but heavy. “I just wanted to feel this connection with her, you know? I wanted to do this... like this.”

Alexia’s heart clenched. She understood. 

She had seen how important this moment was to Y/n, the desire to have that bond, that closeness.

But she also knew that Y/n’s well-being mattered too.

“I know, amor,” Alexia said softly, her voice tinged with regret. 

“I’m sorry it’s been harder than we thought. But you don’t have to keep pushing through the pain just to feel that connection. You’ll still be connected to her, yeah?” Alexia continued.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/n whispered, glancing at Alexia, her eyes filled with exhaustion and a little bit of vulnerability. “I just... I just wanted to do it right.”

Alexia let Y/n and Clara have their moment while she went around the house to give it a quick clean.

When Y/n’s water broke two days ago, they hadn’t exactly cared about keeping the house tidy.

Thankfully, Clara’s nursery and the little set-up they had created in their bedroom for the first month of Clara’s life were done, so Alexia only had to worry about vacuuming and laundry.

When she was done upstairs, she went to the kitchen and did the dishes.

When she passed through the living room, she couldn't help but smile at the way Y/n was talking to Clara about how excited she was for the baby girl to meet all the different animals in the world.

After the kitchen was sparkling, Alexia made her way to the sofa again.

She sat on Y/n’s side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and bringing her closer. Clara was all done; now she was just sleeping against her mom.

“Want me to go set up your shower?” Alexia asked, kissing Y/n’s cheek while gently rubbing Clara’s cheek.

Y/n hummed sleepily. “Make it hot, but not so hot I pass out.”

“Sí, mi vida. I got you,” Alexia nodded.

Upstairs, Alexia moved with mechanical precision again. 

She tested the water temperature five times– slightly warm, but not too warm. 

Postpartum rules, she remembered the nurse telling her. She lays out the softest towel they own. Then a robe. Then that pair of Y/n ’s favourite loose cotton boxers

Alexia hesitated before grabbing the postpartum diaper.

Y/n hated them. Declared them a war crime while the midwife made her wear one in order for them to check out. 

But Alexia laid one on the edge of the counter anyway, right next to the perineal spray and the cooling cream. 

She even placed a tiny bar of lavender soap and some wipes down the counter, just to make sure she had everything she needed.

Alexia made her way downstairs and paused in the doorway, heart twisting at the sight.

Y/n was still on the sofa, head tilted back, eyes closed. Clara was curled against her chest, as if she hadn’t moved since Alexia looked at her 5 minutes earlier.

One of Y/n’s hands was cupping Clara’s tiny bottom protectively. The other is slack on the sofa cushion.

Alexia swallowed. Then crossed the room, leaning down to kiss Y/n’s forehead.

“Okay, mamá,” she whispered. “Time to go get your shower. Your dignity. Whatever’s left of your spine.”

Y/n didn’t open her eyes. “You sure you got her?”

Alexia takes Clara as carefully as if she were made of glass “I carried three bags and a whole newborn earlier. I’ve got her.”

Y/n cracked an eye open. “You also sweat-cried through the driveway..

Alexia, already walking away with Clara nestled in her arms, paused and shot a glance over her shoulder.

“Shower, mi amor,” she said with a grin, her tone light and amused.

Y/n groaned softly, pushing herself up from the sofa.

Her body was still sore from everything–postpartum fatigue, the lingering aches of labour–and every movement felt like a chore. 

She muttered under her breath, “I swear, if this is what motherhood is, I’m gonna need a nap every five minutes.”

Alexia paused, turning back to look at Y/n with a soft smile.

“I know it’s tough right now, but I promise you a shower will make it better.”

Y/n tried to shift her weight to stand. Her muscles screamed in protest, and it took every ounce of energy she had just to push herself upright.

Alexia glanced as she heard the sound of Y/n struggling, her expression changing into something more tender.

“Need help?” she asked, already halfway across the room, Clara secure in her arms.

Y/n gave her a look–a mix of exhaustion and sheer stubbornness–that clearly said: Obviously.

Alexia’s smile widened as she walked over, carefully positioning Clara in one arm and reaching out with her free hand to steady Y/n.

“Come on, let’s get you to the shower, yeah? You deserve a break.”

Y/n leaned into her touch, her body grateful for the support, but still managing to roll her eyes a little.

“This isn’t what I imagined when you promised me ‘helping hands,’” she muttered.

"Clara," Y/n muttered through gritted teeth as they went upstairs. “Your mother is doing everything for us right now. Please, at the very least, remain unconscious."

Clara stirred in her sleep, and Alexia kissed her hair. “She’s listening. She’s very polite.”

They make it to the bathroom. Y/n leaned against the doorframe, trying not to cry from the sheer effort of movement.

“Okay,” she said, breathlessly. “Shower time. Thank you.”

Y/n started to close the door, but then Alexia gasped, her hand flying to the door to stop it from shutting.

“Amor, we never close the door!”

Y/n shot her a look over her shoulder.

“Alexia. The next time you have a child tear your vagina open, you can choose your own boundaries. Right now? I need one, please.”

“But–”

“I’m not asking you to sleep in the guest room," Y/n cutted in dryly, sliding the door shut with one hand. “I just need a ten-minute break from being touched, stared at, or milked.”

The door shut gently in Alexia’s mildly offended face.

Alexia stares at it for a second.

Clara moved in her arms again, she yawned softly, then opened her eyes– wide and hazel, just like Alexia’s.

They stared at each other.

“Hi,” Alexia whispers.

Clara blinked.

“Okay, seems like mamá needs her time,” Alexia said, slowly pacing backwards down the hall. “So… it’s just us now.”

Clara didn’t respond. She just stared. With full intensity. Like she’s trying to figure out what Alexia’s whole deal is.

Alexia swallowed. “Hm. I don’t really… know what to do with you yet. We’ve known each other for less than two days, you see.”

Clara blinks again. Still staring.

Alexia nods solemnly. “Same.”

..

Alexia didn’t go far. In fact, she didn't go anywhere.

She paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door. Baby Clara tucked snug against her chest, her tiny nose brushing against Alexia’s collarbone.

The bathroom door remained shut.

Alexia leaned against the wall. She looked down.

Clara’s still wide awake.

And staring.

Again.

“You're so quiet,’ Alexia whispered, brow furrowing. “I thought babies were supposed to cry.”

Clara blinked. Her tiny mouth moved a little. But no sound.

Alexia tilted her head. “Okay, this is weird. I feel like you're judging me.”

“Seriously. You’ve been out of the womb for—" she checks her watch, "twenty-eight hours, and you already have an opinion? About me?"

The baby squinted slightly, like she was trying to focus on Alexia, or like she was trying to psychically assess if Alexia was competent enough to be trusted with her life.

Alexia straightened, suddenly defensive. “Hey. I’m not a stranger, you know. I talked to you every night since we found out you were in mamá’s belly.”

Clara said nothing. Just slowly, judgmentally blinking.

“I sang to you,” Alexia continued, her voice rising slightly. “I read you books. I put my phone speaker on her stomach like this so you would  know my voice! Don’t look at me like I just showed up today, okay?”

The toilet flushed. Water ran in the sink.

Alexia lowers her voice immediately. "Okay, okay, okay. Inside voice. Inside voice, mamí’s gonna get her show now, I think she wants quiet."

Alexia rocked on her heels. Clara stared. Still no crying. No nothing.

“I thought this would be harder,” Alexia whispered. "You’re supposed to scream, right? Be mad? Hungry? That’s what they told me in the classes. But you’re just…”

She exhaled. Her voice gets soft. “You’re just... here. With me, being all calm.” 

Clara blinked.

Then, just once–barely even a movement–her tiny hand shifted. It was not much. But it felt like something.

Alexia grinned

“Okay. I forgive you for judging me. But only because you’re extremely cute.”

When Clara started to fight sleep, Alexia went to their room and gently laid Clara on her bassinet beside their bed, watching as her daughter’s tiny chest rose and fell, her soft breath filling the room. 

The baby’s little hands curl, grasping at the air, and Alexia can't help but stare at her with awe and love, so much love.

Alexia quietly walked back into the hallway, settling against the doorframe with a sigh.

Her mind was still swirling already–how to balance it all, how to care for Y/n, while also caring for Clara, how to... do this.

Then, Y/n ’s voice called from the bathroom, a soft, exhausted whisper. “Ale?”

Alexia didn't hesitate. She knocked gently. “What is it, baby? Do you want me to come in?”

There’s a long pause, and then Y/n ’s voice cracked, just enough to send a sharp pang through Alexia’s chest. “I... I can’t.”

Alexia’s heart races. She pushed the door open slightly. Y/n stood there, the image of postpartum exhaustion. 

Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes wet and glassy, lips pursed into the most heartbreaking pout Alexia has ever seen.

Her body was a patchwork of vulnerability: her belly still soft and swollen, the evidence of the intense labour still visible.

Her eyes flickered down to the pants she was struggling to pull on, the ‘mom’ diaper visible beneath. 

It was raw and real. Alexia just wanted to wrap Y/n in a bubble.

“I can’t dress myself, Alexia," Y/n muttered, a hint of stubbornness breaking through her, but there’s no masking the sadness in her voice.

Alexia steps closer, her hand reaching out but not quite touching. “I’ll help then, sí?”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears. She sniffled, her shoulders shaking just slightly.

“My whole body hurts.” Her voice cracked as she wiped her eyes, the pain on her face. “I have a life to take care of. I’m leaking, and I have to wear a diaper, Alexia!”

The tears fell freely, as if everything from the last hours had suddenly caught up to her. 

The overwhelming, relentless pain. The vulnerability. The immense responsibility.

Alexia felt a lump form in her throat, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words, watching the woman she loves break down in front of her.

She didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to make it better.

So, instead, Alexia took a small step forward, her arms wrapping gently around Y/n, careful not to press too hard against her sore body.

She hugged her softly.

“Shh,” Alexia whispers, her voice soothing and steady. “It’s okay. I’m right here, mi amor, you can cry,”

Y/n’s sobs were soft but pained as she sank into Alexia’s embrace. “I’m so tired and we’ve just got her home, I-I’m just scared. It’s too much.”

Alexia pressed her cheek to Y/n ’s temple, kissing the top of her head. 

“It is too much, we have a daughter now. You went through labour. It’s a lot to take in, but things will settle, and your body will heal. We just need to be patient, okay?’

Alexia gently guided Y/n into the bedroom, her hands careful as she helped her dress.

She took her time with the soft, soothing motions, her fingers brushing lightly over Y/n’s skin. There’s no rush, no urgency.

When Alexia moved to the bedside table, she retrieved the cream. 

She was preparing for this, had had it ready for days, but she had never imagined applying it like this.

She rubbed the lotion over Y/n’s belly–gentle strokes that linger just a little longer than necessary, like a silent promise that she was there, always.

Y/n ’s breath hitched, the warmth of the cream mixing with Alexia’s touch. It was soothing.

“I’ve got you, bebé”, Alexia whispered, her voice low and soft as she helped Y/n pull the pyjama top over her head. “We’re in this together.”

Y/n ’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, letting the care wash over her, letting herself just breathe in the safety of the moment.

When they finally settled into the bed, Y/n lay back, her body aching, but not so much after the shower. She turned her gaze toward the little bassinet by the bed. 

Clara was peacefully asleep, her tiny hands curled by her face, her chest rising and falling with each soft breath.

Y/n ’s hand drifted to her cheek, the sensation of Clara’s presence more grounding than anything else.

Alexia noticed the way Y/n ’s gaze softened. She stepped closer. “She’s the most beautiful baby ever.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away. Her eyes remain fixed on Clara, and Alexia watched her, watching her become a mother in real time. 

It was overwhelming, beautiful, and fragile all at once.

“She is,”  Y/n  finally whispered. “And it’s not just because we’re her moms. She’s actually perfect. I mean, look at that hair–she already has more than I do.”

Alexia smiled, nodding. “I’m glad she’s not a bald baby.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Why? Already planning her hairdos?”

Alexia’s grin widened. “Yes, actually. I’ve been watching videos on how to do baby hairstyles.”

Y/n stared at her, wide-eyed. “You did?”

“Yes,” Alexia replied confidently. “She’s gonna wear a lot of Barça bows, right, bebita?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Hmm, but what if she grows up to be a Madrid fan?”

Alexia’s smile immediately faltered, her eyes widening in mock horror.

“Don’t joke about that.”

Y/n grinned, enjoying the moment.

“Just saying, you never know. She could be one of those rebellious kids.”

Alexia frowned playfully. “I will disown her. You can raise her then.”

Y/n laughed, but the sound softened as she looked at Clara, her little features relaxed in sleep.

“I love you,” she murmured, her voice low, “Even if you’re talking about disowning our newborn daughter.”

Alexia’s playful frown melted into a soft smile. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/n’s forehead.

“I love you more, and I’m sure we don’t need to worry about disowning her, no daughter of mine is gonna wear Madrid colour, I’m sure we’ll manage to steer her in the right direction.”

Then, they just lay there in silence, watching Clara sleep, completely unbothered by anything other than the comfort of her little world. No football rivalries, no pressure, no expectations. 

Just a tiny, peaceful human, curled up and completely unaware of the chaos of the world.

..

Alexia stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. It was dark. She blinks, adjusting to the dim light coming through the window, and then Alexia heard a soft, desperate sound. 

A faint whimper at first, and then, unmistakably, a full-on cry.

Clara.

“Shh, mi amor,” Alexia whispered to herself, her voice barely a murmur as she carefully slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Y/n. She went to Clara’s bassinet, scooping the baby into her arms.

Clara’s cries were louder now, her little face red, her mouth open wide.

“Shh, mama got you, don’t worry,” Alexia cooed softly, her hands instinctively holding Clara close, her movements gentle as she cradled her against her chest.

Y/n stirred softly at the sound, mumbling something, but Alexia didn’t want to wake her–not yet.

She could see the exhaustion in her face, in her limp form against the pillow. 

So, with one last look at Y/n, Alexia stepped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as she could, trying to see if Clara maybe just wanted some attention.

It took only a few minutes for Clara’s cries to become more frantic, and Alexia sighed. 

She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but there was no stopping it. Gently, she nudged Y/n  awake, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Baby, it’s time for her feeding. She's hungry.”

Y/n  groggily turned, her tired eyes blinking as she processed the words.

She grumbled something, too soft for Alexia to understand, and then adjusted herself. 

Alexia helped her sit up, pulling her into a half-sitting position, propping pillows behind her for support.

Clara was immediately quiet as Y/n pulled her close, the baby nestling in, instinctively finding her place.

Alexia stood back for a moment, her heart swelling as she watched Y/n. 

When Clara finished feeding, Alexia gently took the baby back into her arms, guiding her to burp.

The little one was still so small, and Alexia’s fingers gently massaged her back as she leaned her against her shoulder. 

After a few moments, Clara let out a small, satisfying burp, and Alexia smiled, already putting Clara back to her bassinet.

And then she looked at Y/n.

Her wife was already half asleep, her shirt still off, her body tired and heavy.

She didn’t even stir when Alexia gently cleaned her breast from the milk that had dripped.

Alexia’s movements were careful, her touch reverent as she applied the soothing cream to Y/n’s chest.

She couldn’t help but smile softly as she did it—this was her Y/n.

She gently adjusted Y/n’s shirt, pulling it back down over her chest before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Sleep, mi amor,’ Alexia said softly.

The kiss lingered for a moment, and then Alexia returned to bed, slipping into the covers next to Y/n, pulling the blanket over both of them.

“I love you, my girls,” Alexia murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

..

a/n: if you read this far — first of all, ily. second of all, feel free to let me know what you thought!

i love hearing your reactions, fav lines, or just general thoughts 🫶 it really makes my day <3

Tag list: @edensbreeze @silentwolfsstuff, @goodloe-e @mccabeskcc @blaugranafairy @footy-lover264 @the-fandom-ness @wosofavfanfics

[kiwriteswords]

Trope Tuesday marriage/relationship of convenience then actually catching feelings 😁

I guess you're just what I needed [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Oh my gosh, I am obsessed with how this turned out. I want to make this a series of one-shots! Let me know if anyone is interested in seeing more!!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, marriage of convenience, contracted marriage, canon-typical themes, flirty!reader, bold!reader, non-bau!reader, stressed!hotch

Summary: You're a high-profile political figure's daughter in immediate danger. The only solution is to place you in protective custody of the BAU. Your family's only catch? You have to marry the man who's at the head of it all: Aaron Hotchner.

Aaron Hotchner adjusted his tie as he approached Erin Strauss's office, a feeling of dread settling over him. It had been one of those weeks where everything seemed to pile on, and the last thing he needed was Strauss's particular brand of supervision. His mind was cluttered with the details of their latest case, not to mention the challenges of being a single father. Each step towards her office felt heavier than the last.

He knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation, finding not only Strauss but also the BAU Director and several serious-looking government officials seated around the conference table. The air was thick with tension, the kind that precedes a storm.

"Agent Hotchner, thank you for coming on such short notice," Strauss began, her tone more subdued than usual. "Please, have a seat."

Hotch's brow furrowed as he took in the array of faces. "What's this about?" he asked, his voice firm yet laced with fatigue.

The director spoke up, "A situation has developed that requires the BAU's unique expertise." He paused, glancing at a dossier before continuing, "A high-profile political figure’s daughter has been threatened by a radical group. The threats are credible and escalating. She needs to be put into protective custody immediately."

Hotch nodded, processing the information. "Understood. We can coordinate with the Protection Detail and provide a psychological profile on the threats. What specifics do we have on the group responsible?"

It was Strauss who replied, her expression unusually grave. "There's more, Aaron." She hesitated, her discomfort palpable. "The situation...it has an unusual stipulation."

Hotch's patience was waning. "What stipulation?"

The room felt colder, the tension thicker. "The terms of the protective custody dictate that she must be married to an agent from her protective detail. It’s a condition set by her family to ensure her security, given the cultural context and her status," Strauss disclosed, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"And you’re telling me that--" Hotch's voice trailed off, already piecing together the unsaid words.

"Yes," the director interjected. "The family has requested, specifically, that you be the agent to marry her. They trust your reputation and record. It’s non-negotiable if we want their cooperation."

Hotch sat back, his mind racing, yet outwardly composed. "You want me to marry someone as a part of her protective detail?" he clarified, his tone incredulous yet calm. The lawyer gears began turning in his head. He’d been divorced once to a woman, who, despite the love he had and would always have for her, caused him a bit of a legal headache and a pile of bills. The idea of marrying someone--marrying for the sake of protecting her? It seemed pretty absurd to him. 

Strauss nodded, "I know it sounds unprecedented, but given the political sensitivity and the potential international implications, we've been cornered into agreeing. You are, of course, our best negotiator and profiler. This isn’t about marriage in the traditional sense, but a strategic move to safeguard her life."

The weight of the room's gaze felt heavy on Hotch. He understood duty, the sacrifices it entailed, but this was beyond anything he'd anticipated. His thoughts flickered to Jack, to the remnants of a life he tried to keep normal.

"Give me 24 hours to think about it," Hotch finally said, standing up. The meeting concluded with nods of agreement, though the unspoken pressures lingered like a thick fog.

Aaron Hotchner had barely risen from his chair when the Director’s firm voice stopped him. “Agent Hotchner, I need to be clear--this isn’t a request. It’s an order, and we don’t have the luxury of 24 hours.”

Hotch paused, the chair’s back providing a brief physical support against the shock. “An order,” he echoed, his tone a blend of disbelief and resignation.

“Yes,” Strauss added, her voice softer, yet firm. “We understand the personal magnitude of this, but you are uniquely qualified for this role, Aaron. The political figure’s family has specifically asked for you by name, trusting your capabilities and integrity. This isn’t just about protection--it’s about ensuring an international alliance. They believe their daughter will only agree to the terms of protective custody if it involves someone of your stature and reliability.”

The government officials nodded in agreement, their faces etched with the severity of the situation. “Agent Hotchner, we wouldn’t impose this on you if there were any other way,” one of them added.

Hotch stood motionless, his mind racing through every protocol and moral guideline he had followed in his career. Marrying someone under these circumstances was unprecedented, yet the alternative might leave a young woman's life in peril.

“How long is this arrangement expected to last?” Hotch asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Until the threat is neutralized,” the BAU Director responded. “It could be weeks, possibly months. You will live together, and she will be integrated into your life as necessary to maintain the facade.”

“And my son?” Hotch’s voice finally betrayed a hint of personal concern.

“We’ll provide support,” Strauss assured quickly. “Jack’s well-being will be a priority, and we’ll make sure this impacts him as little as possible.”

The room was silent for a moment as Hotch processed the enormity of the commitment being forced upon him. Finally, he nodded slowly. “I’ll do it,” he said, the weight of his words heavy in the air. “I’ll need complete access to all information regarding the threats and constant updates. I’m doing this under protest, for the record. This is against my better judgment, but I won’t let her be harmed because we didn’t act.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” Strauss said, a hint of relief in her voice. “We’ll support you every step of the way.”

As he left the office, Aaron Hotchner felt the familiar surge of duty that always guided him. Yet, this time, it was mingled with an acute sense of stepping into the unknown, not just as a protector but as a man compelled into an extraordinary role that blurred the lines between his personal ethics and professional obligations. The challenge was immense, but so was the responsibility. With a deep breath, he prepared to meet the young woman who would soon be his wife in name, bound together in a pretense woven from necessity and strategy.

Hotch’s stride was more clipped than usual as he re-entered the bullpen of the BAU. The tension radiating from him was palpable, setting the team on edge as they watched their normally composed Unit Chief move with uncharacteristic urgency.

The team members were dispersed around the room, some by the coffee machine, others at their desks sifting through paperwork. However, the atmosphere shifted noticeably as they caught sight of Hotch’s stern expression.

“Conference room, now,” Hotch barked, louder and with more edge than intended. His voice cut through the usual hum of activity, leaving a trail of surprised and concerned looks among the team members.

They all knew the tone, and the look – something big was underway. As they gathered their materials, they exchanged glances, piecing together their questions and concerns.

Once in the conference room, Hotch stood at the head of the table, his hands pressed flat against the surface, his eyes scanning the room to ensure he had everyone's attention. The team settled quickly, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I’ve just come from a meeting with Strauss and some very high-level officials. We’re being tasked with a highly sensitive and unusual case,” Hotch began, his voice steady but his underlying tension unmistakable.

He paused, considering his next words carefully. “A political figure’s daughter has been threatened by a radical group. The threats are serious and imminent. She’s been targeted, and we need to protect her.”

Murmurs of concern and nods of understanding passed around the room. It was the kind of scenario they were trained for, yet there was more.

“There’s a complication,” Hotch continued, his jaw tightening. “For reasons of her family’s cultural and political significance, she must be married to someone on her protective detail. They believe this will provide an additional layer of security and compliance.”

He let that sink in, watching the team digest the information. But the biggest shock was yet to come.

“And...” he hesitated, the next part harder to disclose, “they’ve designated that I will be the one to marry her.”

The room went still, the team staring in disbelief. Garcia’s mouth fell open, Rossi raised an eyebrow, and Prentiss frowned, her mind racing through the implications.

“This isn’t a request; it’s an order,” Hotch added quickly, anticipating their questions. “I need your support on this. We need to integrate her into our operations without disrupting our ongoing cases. She arrives tomorrow, and we need to be ready.”

Reid’s brow furrowed in thought. “How long is this arrangement expected to last?” he asked, the scientist in him seeking parameters.

“Until the threat is neutralized. It could be weeks, could be months. We don’t know yet,” Hotch replied, his tone final.

Morgan leaned back, his arms crossed. “Man, Hotch, this is... this is a lot. But we’ve got your back. We’ll make it work.”

Garcia finally spoke up, her voice a mixture of concern and determination. “Do we know anything about her, sir? Anything at all that could help us make this as smooth as possible?”

Hotch nodded, appreciating the team's quick rally to the cause. “I’m receiving her files now. We’ll go through everything together. We need to cover all angles--background, known associates, and potential threats. Every detail matters.”

As the team began to discuss logistics and roles, Hotch felt a slight easing of the weight on his shoulders. This was his team, his family in arms, and if anyone could pull off this unprecedented situation, it was them. Together, they would navigate the choppy waters of what was undoubtedly one of the most bizarre assignments of their careers.

In the days following the unusual directive, Hotch found himself delving deep into the complexities of his new assignment. Files and reports about the political figure's daughter filled his office--details about your life, your social circles, and the nature of the threats against you. The gravity of the situation was clear, and the added pressure of an arranged marriage only compounded the stress.

Explaining the situation to Jack was challenging. Hotch took care to frame the conversation in a way that his son could understand, emphasizing the importance of helping someone in need. "We're going to have a guest staying with us for a little while," he explained gently. "She's in a bit of trouble and needs friends to keep her safe." Jack, ever the understanding child, nodded and asked if you liked video games.

If only we could always be this simple. 

Meanwhile, the BAU team rallied around their leader, holding extensive debriefings to strategize the best way to integrate you into their operations without compromising their effectiveness on other cases. Garcia dug into digital backgrounds, Reid analyzed behavioral patterns, Morgan reviewed security protocols, and Prentiss coordinated with local law enforcement agencies. The team also made a point of checking in on Hotch frequently, offering both professional support and personal encouragement, understanding the emotional toll the situation might be taking on him.

Erin Strauss surprisingly became a pillar of support during this time. Her usual stern demeanor gave way to a more compassionate and cooperative approach. She facilitated necessary clearances and liaised with the government officials involved, smoothing over some of the bureaucratic hurdles that initially seemed insurmountable. 

Hotch knew this was out of Strauss’s hands. He knew that. He was rational enough not to blame her; there was nobody to blame here. 

However, the involvement of extra hands from various government bodies proved to be a double-edged sword. While it meant additional resources were at their disposal, it also led to bottlenecks. Decisions that should have been straightforward were bogged down by red tape and the conflicting agendas of different agencies. The BAU found themselves navigating not only the logistics of protective custody but also the complexities of inter-agency cooperation.

The decision was made for the BAU to continue taking cases as usual, with Hotch working remotely when necessary. This arrangement was meant to maintain normalcy and effectiveness in their ongoing investigations while also ensuring the safety and integration of his soon-to-arrive 'wife'. It was a balancing act that required meticulous planning and flexibility from the entire team.

As the day approached for you to arrive, the atmosphere at the BAU was one of cautious anticipation. Hotch, in particular, was a study in stoicism, his face giving away little of the internal conflict he felt about the impending marriage of convenience. Yet, he was determined to fulfill his duty, trusting his team to back him up every step of the way.

Penelope Garcia, ever the heart of the BAU team, approached Hotch’s office with her usual mix of exuberance and empathy. She had a file in hand, which was not unusual, but the gleam in her eye suggested she had more than just paperwork for Hotch. She knocked lightly on the open door, catching Hotch’s attention as he was buried in a pile of case files and paperwork.

He didn’t help but notice Penelope’s eyes drift to the marriage certificate sitting at the top of the files on his desk. The ink barely dry. 

“Hey, Hotch, got a minute?” Penelope asked, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.

Hotch looked up, managing a small nod. “What is it, Garcia?”

Penelope entered her colorful attire a stark contrast to the somber tones of Hotch’s office. She walked up to his desk with a slight bounce in her step. “I know you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders right now, and I’m not here to add to that. Actually, I hope this might lighten things up, even if just a smidge.”

She handed him a file, which was open to reveal a photograph. “I couldn’t help myself; I had to look her up. And, Hotch, she is beautiful.” Penelope pointed at the picture with a flourish.

Hotch took the photograph, his expression softening slightly as he looked at the image of the you, who would soon be playing a significant role in his life. In the photograph, you had a poised, elegant demeanor, your eyes reflecting intelligence and perhaps a hint of the burden you, too, must be feeling about their forthcoming arrangement.

He had thought so much about how much this would change his life. He couldn’t imagine a young woman like you, what you might be feeling. 

Penelope leaned over the desk, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “At least when you’re pretending to be madly in love, it won’t be hard on the eyes, huh?”

Hotch couldn’t help but let out a small, rare chuckle. “Garcia, you always know how to make light of a situation.”

“I do my best,” Penelope replied with a grin. “But seriously, Hotch, we’ve got your back, and we’re going to make sure you two are as safe as houses. Plus, I’ll be just a call away if you need to vent or if you need a quick exit strategy from any awkward ‘married couple’ moments.”

“Thank you, Garcia,” Hotch said, his tone sincere. “That means a lot.”

Penelope nodded, her expression turning more serious. “We’re here for you, Hotch. All of us. This...situation is far from ideal, but if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

With a reassuring pat on Hotch’s shoulder, Penelope left the office, leaving Hotch with the photograph still in his hands. He studied it for a moment longer, a myriad of thoughts crossing his mind about the surreal situation he was about to enter. Despite the oddity of it all, knowing he had the support of his team made it all seem just a little more manageable.

You arrived at the BAU under the weight of both expectation and apprehension. Despite the stress, your posture remained confident; your chin held high as you navigated the final steps toward a strange new chapter of your life. The officials accompanying you fussed over your every step, attempting to smooth your path, but you quickly tired of their coddling.

"Really, I can walk by myself," you snapped lightly, irritation lining your tone as you gently shrugged off an overly attentive hand from one of the aides. Your voice carried across the room, catching the attention of the BAU team assembled to meet you.

They watched with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as you handled the situation with a blend of authority and annoyance. When Erin Strauss stepped forward to formally make introductions, the tension in the air was palpable, but your presence brought a dynamic shift.

"And this is Agent Hotchner, your...husband," Strauss said, her voice tinged with a professionalism that didn’t quite mask her discomfort with the situation.

Hotch stepped forward, his usual stoic facade in place, but internally, he's taken aback by your beauty and the sharp wit he had just witnessed. He extended his hand for a handshake, the standard formal greeting he offerred everyone.

You smiled, a spark of mischief in your eyes, and instead of taking his hand, you stepped into a warm, embracing hug. "If he's going to be my husband, we better get used to this," you declared, your voice loud enough for the nearby team members to hear. Your words were bold, but your tone was light, trying to infuse warmth into the moment's awkwardness.

Hotch stiffened slightly, unaccustomed to such open displays of affection, especially under the watchful eyes of his team and superiors. Yet, he managed a small pat on your back, an awkward yet sincere gesture. "I suppose we should," he responded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, appreciating your effort to lighten the mood.

The team observed this interaction with a mix of surprise and amusement. Garcia could barely contain a delighted giggle while Morgan raised an eyebrow to approve of your forthright manner. Reid studied you with interest, perhaps already trying to psychoanalyze your dynamics, and Prentiss offered a supportive nod, sensing the strength you'll need to navigate the coming days.

Strauss cleared her throat, concluding the conversation. "Well, I'll leave you to get acquainted. Agent Hotchner, perhaps you can give her a tour of the facility."

As you and Hotch walked away, your side slightly brushing against his, the team exchanged looks and whispers, their expressions a blend of shock and amusement. Hotch, for his part, was silently preparing himself for the challenging yet intriguing partnership that lay ahead. Your boldness and affectionate nature promised to make this arrangement anything but dull.

Through the labyrinthine halls of Quantico, away from the curious and watchful eyes of the team, the reality of your new life together began to sink in. Glancing sideways at him, you decide to cut through the impending awkwardness. "Let's skip the small talk until we're playing house, shall we?" you suggested, your tone light while edged with a hint of resolve.

Hotch smirked--a subtle, almost imperceptible upturn of his lips--acknowledging the practicality of your suggestion. "I suppose that makes sense," he agreed, appreciating your straightforwardness.

Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "And for the record, I'm glad the rumors about your looks weren't exaggerated. You're quite the topic at political galas, you know," you added, a playful twinkle in your eye.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback by your forwardness yet intrigued by your ability to disarm him. He quickly decided to steer the conversation towards more practical matters, perhaps to maintain some semblance of control over the rapidly evolving situation. "Well, if there’s anything specific you need to make your stay at my apartment more comfortable--especially since you’ll be living with Jack and me--please don’t hesitate to let me know."

You nodded, your demeanor reflecting both confidence and comfort with direct communication. "Oh, don’t worry, I’m not shy about voicing my needs. You’ll learn soon enough," you responded with a hint of humor and a certain look in your eyes, indicating that while you understood the gravity of the situation, you weren’t about to lose your own identity in it.

Hotch allowed himself a moment to study you--a partner not just in a protective detail but now in a life he never anticipated. Your assurance and clarity provide him with a strange sense of relief. It was clear you were not one to mince words, and in the peculiar, winding journey ahead, that was perhaps exactly what he needed.

[heesimp]

https://youtube.com/shorts/-aU455EC9QI?si=wrPfARb8dHR9wrDY

I JUST SAW THIS AND I'M GOING CRAZY???pls can we get a short drabble on this cuz I need jay deep in my guts😭

jay you are the only man to have ever

-

You really should go home. It’s late, well past midnight, and the man beside you is someone who’s given you three mind blowing orgasms already. You’re starting to feel like you might be taking up too much of his space and time.

“Stay the night,” he whispers as he kisses up the skin of your neck, his wet lips leaving a trail of spit. Not that you mind.

“It’s so late, Jay,” you argue, even though your body starts to fold and cave into his touch.

You’re both naked underneath his expensive silk bedsheets that are no doubt wet and soiled from both of you. His toned chest keeps you pressed against his mattress and your breasts squish on his warm skin that makes your body feel like electricity is constantly running from your head to your toes.

Your legs are spread before him as he’d just finished coming deep within you. His soft cock rests against your messy pussy but you can feel him inadvertently pushing up against you every time he maneuvers to kiss your jawline and neck. You can’t help but subtly roll your hips beneath him too.

“I won’t let you go home,” he whispers into your ear before licking your earlobe. “Your pussy’s too good to quit.”

You don’t want to go home. Not really. But one night stands aren’t your thing and you don’t know if Jay expects you to act like you two didn’t have sex when you inevitably leave. The gears work in your head now that you’ve came so many times and have gotten some of that sexual frustration out of your system.

Remnants of the night come back to you all at once. Jay is someone you met a few hours prior at a stuffy housewarming party. He knocked into you by accident and apologized by replacing the drink in your hand with another flute of champagne because the two of to agreed that the party was nothing more than wealthy people showing off their wealth. You were just a plus one. Jay was invited by the host. How you two ended up agreeing is beyond you.

He took you home an hour later and kept you wet on the entire drive home before stripping you of your dress, heels, and panties on his king sized bed. His home is luxurious and his bedroom alone makes you feel like you’re some sort of royalty for the night. Jay’s expert tongue and fingers made you push over the brink simultaneously while his cock had given you another two orgasms before he eventually came inside of you too. Memories of Jay pushing your head back against the wall as he fucked your mouth gets you slicked up again.

Jay sees the gears turning inside of you like clockwork and pushes his body up to kiss your lips like a passionate lover. His semi hard cock ruts against your bare pussy and the squelching of your mixed cum is like music to his ears. The sensation of grinding is too good for you to pass up but you think you like hearing Jay asking you to stay the night.

“I’ll cook you breakfast,” he says against your lips before moving back down to the other side of your neck. “You deserve a reward after letting me fuck you how I like.”

“I might need a little more convincing…”

Your hips grinding back against Jay has him smirking against your neck, nipping at the skin. “You get to cum as many times as you want until I fall asleep. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jay pushes himself off of your body with his cock still resting against your folds. He puts both palms on the mattress beside your head and flexes his biceps to keep himself steady as he drags the side of his cock against your wet folds. He feels the cum sticking everywhere, remnants of your orgasms dripping down onto his balls until he push up against your asscheeks. Jay judges your hole a few times and it’s enough to have you tossing your head to the side when he comes in contact with your clit.

Without using his hands, Jay sinks into you.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Stay with me.”

[the-thing-withfeathers]

the archer’s arrow part 2 (w.a.)

are you hiding something?

part one | next part

a/n: teehee i am so sorry for the wait but i hope y’all enjoy this one <3

pairing: wednesday addams x female reader

warnings: mentions of blood & death

➶ ➶ ➶

thwip!

it was your arrow, definitely your arrow.

“go! wednesday! go!”

and your voice, definitely your voice.

wednesday gasped awake, sitting up instantaneously. she gripped her chest, bunching the fabric of her shirt up into a fist. her head turned to look at her alarm clock.

she was awake ahead of schedule but she was grateful she woke up when she did. she immediately got dressed, the stomping of her boots lining the walls of ophelia hall.

she reached your room, knocking thrice before stepping back.

you were already dressed, today was an early practice day.

“wednesday, you’re early.” you tilted your head, stepping aside to let her in anyways.

“i value punctuality.” she lied. she was getting better at coming up with them in her efforts to try and hide her true intentions from you.

a bit of her looked disheveled, like she had rushed to get there. you noticed her braid a little out of place and her socks mismatched— both black but definitely not from the same pair.

“right. well, let me finish this and i’ll be ready to go.” you took to your chair at your desk, settling back down.

wednesday noticed that there were a couple of envelopes littered across your desk. you were in the process of writing letters.

“you’re writing.” she pointed out.

“yes, wednesday. thats something i can do too.” you joked back, she remained stoic.

“what are the letters for?” she inquired.

“mainly family but also for some of my friends at the academy.”

“i understand your family lives remote but surely your friends have phones?” she furrowed her brows.

“they do, but we think letters hold more sentiment.” you clarified, scribbling more words onto the piece of parchment paper you had aquired. “and it’s always nice to receive things in the mail.” you shrugged.

“i suppose you might be right.” she agreed. you were surprised to hear her validation.

her eyes followed the ink that your pen left behind. it caught her attention particularly when you drew a heart next to someone’s name on the envelope.

you sealed the letter and then proceeded to stand, grabbing your gear from your closet. you opened the door for wednesday, allowing her to exit first.

you two walked side-by-side down to the practice range.

“did you have many friends at the academy?” she asked as you exited ophelia hall.

“many? not many. but a good handful. they were all very kind. i would love to know them forever.” you smiled, reminiscing at the memories you shared with them.

“any more than friends?” she asked, not looking at you. you looked at her with your lip curled. at the back of your mind, you questioned her curiosity about your romantic life.

“who’s asking?” you retaliated, a smirk plastered on your face. you glanced at her only to be met with a glare. you knew you would certainly meet your end if you left the question unanswered.

“yes, wednesday. i had a girlfriend.” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. it was a bit of a sore spot, this topic.

but wednesday cared not for sore spots.

“what happened?” she pryed further. why was she pushing those buttons so much?

the memories of her rejection flooded through your brain. she had no right to ask these things. you remember how the look on your face was probably the single most heartbreaking thing most of your fellow students have ever seen.

“why are you asking about this, wednesday?” you practically hissed at her.

“i’m not going to take advantage of your practice times and not get to know you.” she spat back.

“you… hm.” you paused. “i never thought i’d be answering questions from wednesday addams. you’ve changed too.”

“so answer them if my question intrigue you so much.” she continued walking at your pace.

“fine. we split up because i wanted to come back and we couldn’t do the long distance.” you answered openly. “but we’re still friends. she and i were very close, she helped me through a lot.”

you continued to stride towards the forest as wednesday simply watched you. you had someone, but were fine giving it all up to come back. the feeling opened a pit in her stomach, if only you had known what she was hiding.

—

she had taken a liking to your routines in the wilderness.

“i purposefully try to miss.”

you had told her that was the closest thing you could get to immersing yourself into your environment. murder of fauna in the nevermore woods was frowned upon, so you had to learn control.

“isn’t that counter productive?”

she asked back, but you proved her wrong. your control was incredible. nicking a squirrel by the hair of its tail, she watched the focus on your face as you tried to ensure it’s life.

“it’s harder to hunt down animals and make sure they live rather than die.”

today, she sat with a notebook. she said she just wanted to focus on writing up ideas for her novel while you practiced.

it was like she was your body double, just a shadow that lingered around while you did your thing. somehow, it worked. you felt more productive and so did she…

if she was working on her novel.

her pen glazed across the yellowed paper on her notebook. the ink morphed into the image of your bow. on paper, your body was facing the trees, arm reaching for an arrow from your quiver. wednesday captured your physique, how your body flexed with every move you made.

thwip!

wednesday did not flinch.

but she nearly did.

an arrow lodged into the tree trunk, directly above her head.

“i can literally feel your stare, wednesday. you’re making me nervous.” you teased. her eyes grew dark at you.

“try that again and you won’t have fingers to shoot an arrow with.”

you couldn’t help but smile at her empty threat. you knew wednesday more than either of you thought. you knew that she wouldn’t take your fingers, they would stay with you.

you drew your bow again, pointing an arrow straight at her jokingly.

“try me, addams!”

the statement made wednesday’s head shoot backwards, her eyes clouding over.

“try me addams!” you yelled at her. you were younger. your cheeks were fuller, you hadn’t quite grown into your face yet.

but there you were, back then, the object of wednesday addams’ affection. but she could never admit that then.

you were on your back, pinned against the ground with wednesday on top of you. she remembers this fondly, she was trying to steal back her hairties that you had stolen as a joke.

you were laughing. it was the most joyous she’d ever seen you. she didn’t know how she was getting that reaction from you.

she was reaching as you held the ties above your head, swinging your arm around to make sure she didn’t get it. she was growing frustrated.

she groaned and drove two of her fists down into your chest, robbing your body of air. you coughed as a response and caved in, handing her the hairties.

“okay addams!” you choked out, sitting up to be closer to the girl. you laughed softly, coming face to face with her. “i just wanted to play a prank on you.”

“pranks are a waste of your time. you have better things to do.” she said, standing up. “you’re going to be late for practice.” she looked down at you. you remained seated.

“they’re not a waste of my time if it means i get to spend time with you.” you said, honestly. sure, you were mildly flirting but you were geniune. wednesday didn’t know how to process the admitted desire for companionship. she returned the sentiment, but it wouldn’t come out of her.

“i’ll come to your practice then.” wednesday said, putting the hairties in her bag. “i’ll sit there and wait for you.” she held her hand out for you to take so she could help you up.

you grinned up at her from where you were.

that grin, she would have killed for it.

“deal!” you jumped up excitedly, a proud smile on your face. you took her hand to stabilise yourself.

and it was then she got her first vision of you.

you were older now. definitely older.

you were still in the forest, holding wednesday’s hand just like how you were in the real world.

your bow was in your left hand, like you had just come from battle. blood was dripping down from your ears.

you had blood staining your shirt. and it looked bad. something most people wouldn’t be able to recover from.

and it flickered between the image of your eyes crickling from how huge your smile was and the sight of you donning crimson in front of wednesday.

“wednesday!” you cried out to her, catching her in your arms.

and then she was back to reality.

“wednesday!”

a vision of a future in a vision of the past? that was new for her. her powers might have been trying to tell her something— something more urgent.

she remembers leaving you alone at practice that day, taking back her deal to you. she had to sit alone and process.

three days later, she broke your heart.

“you still get those often?” you asked, sitting her down against the tree trunk.

“of course i do.” she snapped, her conscience pounding from the double vision she just had.

“sorry, stupid question.” you said, regretfully. you sat in front of her, still holding her back to steady her. “do you want to talk about it?”

she hated how you cared.

“no.” she shook her head. “it was just… nothing. nothing important.”

“you and i both know your visions have saved countless lives, wednesday.” the way you said her name had her head reeling. “is there something we should be worrying about?”

“no… no.” she waved you off, pushing you away. you sat there nonetheless.

“okay well… are you feeling okay?” you worriedly questioned her.

“i would feel better if you stopped asking questions.”

you recoiled, knowing it was best not to provoke her like this. her heart twisted at your concern, they made her feel almost guilty for pushing you so far away.

she had broken you down slowly, she knew that now. you poured your heart into your affectionate manner, it was something that scared her.

you sat in silence, taking in your surroundings and letting her recover from the vision. you were around when she first started getting them, you knew how badly they affected her.

she almost wanted to apologise, tell you that she was sorry for snapping. but she couldn’t let you get close again.

“we should go soon, lunch is in 30 minutes.” you spoke up first, breaking the peace. she simply nodded at you, helping herself up. you followed suit, yanking the arrow you had previously stabbed into the tree out and putting it back into your quiver.

➶ ➶ ➶

you sat across from wednesday. she recalled a time you would fight for the seat beside her, but instead, you filled the space next to yoko.

“you’re already thinking about the rave’n?” you asked enid, munching away at your food in between sentences.

“of course i am!” enid jumped up. “it’s our last year here! we need to think about these things!” she turned to you and grabbed your hands.

“and it’ll be your first & last rave’n back! we have to make it good!” she squeezed your hands. you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back a smile.

“okay well, you’ll help me shop then.” you held your pinky up, which the blonde gladly took in her own.

“good! and you, wednesday?” enid turned to the shorter girl, tilting her head.

“my rave’n experiences haven’t exactly been pleasant, enid.” wednesday brushed her off. “maybe this is the year i skip out.”

“you shouldn’t. i would like you there if it’s my first one back and last one i’ll ever have.” you said, forgetting that such desires were usually turned down by wednesday.

but that was somehow enough to convince her.

“fine.” she grumbled, a contrast to the smile that was now stuck to your face.

“never thought that would be so easy. you must be the sentimental type, addams.” yoko commented. the mental image in wednesday’s head was her brutally bashing the vampire for saying that.

“do you know the theme?” you asked enid. the werewolf was finally asked to head the planning of the rave’n, she was perfect for the job.

“yup! since it’s halloween— we’re doing guts & gore!”

you swear you saw wednesday nearly crack a smile, this was right up her alley.

“and glitter!” enid added in, you were unsure if she was joking.

the joy on wednesday’s face faded slowly, you softly laughed at the change of expression.

“don’t worry, addams. i’m sure you’ll look fine bedazzled.” you joked, snickering. yoko laughed beside you.

she glowered at you, your smile persisted. did she no longer have an affect on you in these situations?

you really had grown.

“i would rather choke and die before covering myself in sparkles.” she took an angry bite of her food.

“don’t worry, wends, i’ll forgive you this once.” enid giggled. “gore is still your element, i’m sure it will be reminiscent of your first rave’n.“

“i heard about that.” you chimed in. “pig’s blood, right? maybe you can work with real blood this time, nobody seems to know the difference. and you’d probably enjoy that better.” you had said that almost too casually, it bothered her.

she was like an old book you hadn’t picked up yet still knew the insides and outs of.

“yes. maybe i will.” she answered briefly. you returned to your meal, finishing up and picking your bookbag up.

“gotta go, i have some botany homework to catch up on.” you said, turning to wednesday quickly. “did you want to join me for archery club later?” you asked.

she paused for a second, debating her answer.

“no, i can’t. i have homework i need to do in my room.” christ! why did she say that? she meant to say yes!

perhaps it was her defense mechanism, she wanted to keep you at arm’s length after what happened in the forest today. she needed some time to process.

“no worries. i’ll see you guys later!” you jogged off and waved as you left.

“is it weird hanging around her again?” yoko asked, she realised she hadn’t talked to wednesday about your return much.

“i suppose.” wednesday nodded. she had grown closer to yoko overtime, finding herself being honest towards her. “she’s changed a lot.”

“i mean, yeah. her entire environment changed in a whim. that makes you grow up.” yoko agreed. “you two seem to be getting along just fine.”

“indeed. but we can never go back to how we used to be.” wednesday tried to put up a front. “i’m sure she wouldn’t want that either.”

“given how you tore her heart in half last time you saw her? i wouldn’t put it past her.” yoko sighed, “but you can’t hold it against her forever.”

“i can and i will.” wednesday scoffed. yoko squinted at her.

“are you hiding something?” the vampire asked. yoko had an excellent talent for reading people, it infuriated the addams girl.

“no.” wednesday responded firmly, standing up abruptly and gathering her things. “i have to go. i’ll talk to you both later.”

enid and yoko shot each other worried looks.

wednesday stomped off to her room, a scowl evident on her face.

she hated this. all of it.

she hated that her visions were getting stronger, they were so loud that they were making her entire body hurt.

she hated that she would once again become responsible for saving someone, she was always thrust into the world of the weird. was it such a crime that she wanted some normalcy?

she hated you. she hated that she was forced to reject you in order to prevent your impending doom.

she hated you. she hated you for returning and making her feel things again.

she hated you. she hated that she was terrified of your death.

she hated you. she hated you. she hated you.

but she had to save you.

➶ ➶ ➶

author’s journal

okay i’m soooo sorry this took ages! and that this is relatively short! but i was in the middle of quitting my job and planning my christmas trip to see my family!

i’ll let y’all in on the reader’s powers more in the upcoming chapters but she is definitely a psychic!

i also am sooo excited for halloween!!! i’m going as wednesday this year and i also bought from the doc martens x wednesday collaboration so i’m so so keen on getting it in.

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter & hopefully chapter 3 will be out before you all know it!

kisses xx

[queenie-the-court-jester]

that isn't very holy of you :/

Yandere church boy x gn!reader

It came out shittier than I hoped for. Not proofread 🌺 I'll fix this when I have the time

Tw: religious themes, noncon mention, minor cult mention

✝️ you had just arrived in the small town of morning star. Having been needing a break from the city life, you rented a one bedroom cabin close by. Planning on staying here for a month, you quickly headed towards your new home, very eager to start exploring the area

✝️ wandering around the town square, it seemed everyone knew eachother. A family like community perhaps? Maybe that's why they all kept staring at you as passed through, must not be use to new faces

✝️that was until a group of children approached, asking you to come play ball with them. You couldn't say no to their puppy dog eyes, and the adult's judgemental stares so you agreed. And it was fun surprisingly! You noticed none of the children had any phones.. or the grown up's for that matter

✝️your first week there you were unsettled, but you just pushed it off as the townsfolks strange behavior, Focusing on unpacking and enjoying your stsy. Until one of the school teachers, a kindergarten one, knocked on your door on a sunday

"hi there honey! On behalf of the people I'd like to sincerely apologize for the cold welcome. It's just been a hard year for all of us! So to make it up you, won't you come to church with us on this fine morning?"

✝️ whether or not you're religious yourself, she managed to convince you to come along. Chatting the whole walk there. Talking about her husband, her children. She mentioned something about having a son your age but you weren't really paying attention

✝️ walking through the grand double doors of the church house, she sat you on the front row with the pastors family, next to a young man. You were startled as she sat on the other side of you, leaning in to whisper In Your ear as she pointed at the pastor preaching

"that's my hubby right there. He's a handsome fella ain't he?"

✝️david looked at his mother in disbelief, he told her a few a times he found you attractive and now look at her! He could practically see the gears turning in her head. thankfully you seemed preoccupied thinking, so he did his best to seem normal while his poor heart beated 300 mph

✝️after the sermon, david turned to you and have you a sheepish smile

"hi.. my name's David, but you can call me dave.. its.. nice to meet you"

✝️you and David hit it off, unlike all the other people. He didn't constantly talk about praising god and forcing his religion down your throat. He was kind, understanding. Laughing at your jokes and nodding along to your words. He never met someone so.. ethereal

✝️growing up, he had a hard time believing in his small towns "god". Watching them cut up and sacrifice newcomers to their false idols, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach heading their screams. But he could definitely devote his cause to you...

✝️he trapped you in this shitty town when he asked you out on a little date a few days later. Unaware he drugged your food and dragging you into his home, waking up chained to a bed. You couldn't tell how long you've been there, but every time you'd try to escape he'd punish you in bed. Not letting you cum or overstimulating you to the point of tears. Why would you want to leave something that can make you feel so good?

✝️he grew up desensitized to blood and gore, so he's confused when you're screaming and crying. Why are you doing that? Don't you know that this is what happens to bad spouses? What do you mean you're not married either? ofcourse you are. Stop being so difficult...

✝️nobody blinks an eye when he strides into town with you on a collar and leash. And that's when you realized, you should have left earlier. Because the whole town was sick in the head. It wasn't like you could call for help because he fucking destroyed your electronics and the people don't even have phones. Something about wifi signals can brainwash you

✝️ he's whipped for you, that much you can obviously tell. but he's smarter than he looks. Eating dinner with his family is just painful,since all they talk about is God god god. It hurts your ears with how often they just Randomly start singing praises. It's bad enough they force you to watch their cult church activities...

✝️if you give in to his demands, he'll let you off the leash but you have to stay close by at all times. If you don't, he'll have to make his punishments a little more extreme. There's also a possibility he'll force you to help around the town. whether that be looking after the children or just running around doing errands. The shock bracelet on your ankle stops you from running into the woods..

✝️if you don't, well.. you wouldn't mind if you became permanently handicapped right?

"don't be so difficult sweetie.. just stay still and it'll cut right through okay?'

[cameronsbabydoll]

Can you make a fic of dealer!Rafe and Cook!Reader (not this type of Kook)but a type of Cook that can make Rafe favorite drugs…reader is super smart like knows how to make anytype of drug but she needs a dealer to sell her product……..

chemical lust ۶ৎ

dealer!rafe cameron x cook!reader

warnings: drugs, illegal activity, all fictional

wc: 570 — a/n: this is such a cool concept bby!

the garage doesn’t look like much from the outside. that’s the point.

you don’t want it to.

the rusted tin roof, the faded “CLOSED” sign dangling crooked on the door, the smell of oil and burnt metal — it all does a good job of keeping people away. people, but not him.

you hear the car pull up. the engine’s too nice for this part of town. expensive. showy. loud in a way that makes your fingers itch for the silence of your lab.

then the door slams, just as arrogant as you pictured. he doesn’t knock. just walks in like he owns the place, like he owns you.

“you rafe?” you ask, not even looking up from your burner. you’re mid-pour, and your hands are steady, precise — unlike his loud, booted steps behind you.

“that depends,” he says, voice smooth and cocky. “you the chemist?”

you smirk, eyes still on the clear liquid shifting in the beaker. “didn’t expect your new plug to be a girl, did you?”

“i didn’t expect her to sound like she’s already sick of me.”

“i am,” you reply simply. “now shut up. this part’s delicate.”

it goes quiet. not silent — you still hear him moving behind you, taking in the setup, the gear, the controlled chaos you live in. most guys would’ve made a joke by now. not him. not yet.

when you finally turn around, you size him up. tall. tan. sunglasses pushed back into his hair. sharp jaw and even sharper eyes, the kind that watch everything. a guy used to getting his way.

“sit,” you say, motioning to the metal stool across the table.

he does, slowly, eyes scanning the space like he's still trying to figure you out. "so what is this, exactly? your little science project?"

you slide the sealed container across the table toward him. “this is your product. 98% purity. clean. stable. better than anything your little beach boys have touched.”

he opens it, lifts the container to his nose. his pupils dilate. his tongue runs across the edge of his teeth. “no way you made this here.”

“i made it in my head first,” you say. “then here. don’t underestimate me just because i don’t run around with a glock and a gold chain.”

he leans back, eyes locked on yours. “and what do you want from me?”

“i don’t sell. i cook. i need someone with connections, someone with muscle. you in? it’s 60/40, i cook, you move. don’t ask questions, and don’t fuck it up.”

there’s a beat of silence. you see the smirk before it fully forms.

“and if i want more than that?”

you raise a brow. “then you can take your dick and your attitude and find some other genius willing to make you millions.”

he laughs, low and warm, but there’s something hungry underneath it. you don’t like that. you don’t like him. but you need him. for now.

“so that’s how it is,” he says, drumming his fingers on the table. “no flirting. no touching. no fun?”

you lean in just slightly, voice cold. “you want a cook, not a girlfriend. and i want a dealer, not a babysitter. you don’t touch my setup, and you don’t touch me.”

that seems to amuse him more than it should. “sure, sweetheart,” he says, pushing the container back to you. “but let’s see how long that rule lasts.”

[astraljedi]

With you, I serve

With you, I fall down - Joaquin Torres

This wasn't requested and I haven't written in a while for Tumblr, but I suddenly had the itch to write this after watching Captain America yesterday. I've loved this man since forever and its a shame that I started so late to write for him! Warnings: Contains spoilers from Captain America: Brave New World, angst, mention of war & combat trauma, severe injuries (burns, surgery)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female OC

Word Count: 2,931

Song: epiphany by Taylor Swift

A/N: For every Joaquin fic I write, I’ll be using my OC. It makes writing easier for me when I can create a character with a backstory. I don't include any detailed descriptions of the OC, other than that she's female.

You can find Part 2 here

-

Unknown Location, Military Base – 08:45

“I want to make this clear: everyone in this room is considered the top of your class as pilots. Your classmates are not your enemy—ego is your enemy,” I begin, scanning the faces of the pilots seated before me. “We are all here for one reason: to protect those who need protecting. We might butt heads during flight practice, but get this through your skulls. We defend the helpless, and we all make it back alive.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the class chants, posture rigidly straight. I stand at the front of the room, just beside the podium I refuse to use. With a nod, I dismiss them to retrieve their flight gear and prepare their planes for their first flight evaluation.

As I gather my belongings to do the same, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance at the screen—unknown caller ID.

“Captain, a word.”

I turn to see Colonel Matthews stepping into the classroom. I’ve been under his wing since I started my career and he was still a lieutenant. I enlisted after my mother passed during deployment, and he gave me the support and time to grieve. But he also made sure I knew I was more than my mother’s legendary career. I built my own, becoming a pilot and now a flight instructor.

“Colonel, of course.” I set my phone atop my files and face him.

“What do you think of the class? I need your honest opinion.” His brows are nearly stuck together, and he shifts on his feet, the stress written all over his face.

“Well, on paper, they look good, but I haven’t started their evaluations yet,” I admit. This assignment was suddenly dropped on me, so I only had a few hours to go over their files last night. I barely slept, and during my morning FaceTime with my boyfriend, he didn’t hesitate to scold me for it. As if he has any room to talk when he can knock out the second his head hits the pillow, while I need a full ritual just to get a decent six hours. “I’ll have a solid opinion after their flight practice.”

“Good. With what happened at the White House, Celestial Island, and whatever the hell decides to show up next, we need the best.”

When half the world disappeared, we adjusted and survived. But when suddenly everyone came back, it was chaos. And things just keep happening. Now we live in a new fear—what if the Blip wasn’t the worst? What if something bigger is out there?

“We do.” I nod. “And I know I can push these pilots to their full potential.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why you’re here.” He smiles, patting my shoulder. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

I force a smile, ignoring the faint ache in my chest. “Thank you.”

He glances at my still-vibrating phone and raises a brow. “Looks like someone really wants to talk to you.”

I hesitate, then pick it up. “Excuse me, Colonel. This might be an emergency.”

With a small nod from him, I step into the hallway and answer. “Hello?”

“How’s my gorgeous girl?”

My body melts against the wall as my shoulders loosen, the stress of the morning fading instantly.

“Better now that I’m talking to you.” My cheeks burn. It’s just a phone call, and yet he flusters me so easily. “Why are you calling from an unknown number? Is everything okay?”

“Not really—but we’re okay,” Joaquin sighs. “Listen, I’m going off the grid with Sam. I don’t know when I’ll be able to call or when I’ll be back. That’s all I can say for now.”

I sigh. I really miss him. It’s been weeks since I last saw him. We didn’t even get a proper date night. Instead, we ended up tearing down a wall in the house and pulling out carpet so filthy I don’t even want to guess when it was last cleaned.

“Don’t worry, yo entiendo.” That’s the thing about this job—you never know when you’ll be pulled into a mission or how long you’ll be gone.

“Please try not to worry too much,” he says gently, as if he can already sense my anxiety kicking in. “I’ll call when things clear up.”

I’m proud of him. I really am. But that damn Falcon suit still terrifies me. Some nights, I have to drag him away from working on it and into bed with me. Usually, that’s not an issue, but he’s too damn excited about having his own suit.

“Yo siempre me voy a preocupar por ti, Torres.” I push away the image of him falling from the sky, replacing it with something softer—his smile. The one I catch in the rare quiet of the morning when our schedules align. The one that greeted me at the airport after my deployment. The one he wore when he finally asked me out.

“I have to go,” he says, voice quieter now. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” My throat tightens. “Try to be careful. Please.”

“I’ll try.”

The Following Day, 22:00

“Today wasn’t terrible,” the exhausted group of pilots sighs. Some throw themselves onto the sofa, while others collapse onto the floor.

I could’ve gone easy on them—it’s only their second day with me. But that’s not my style. They’re decent pilots, and with a few tweaks, they’ll graduate as the best.

“Captain Estrada.”

I turn as Captain Sofia Ramos, my best friend, rushes into the common room, her face tight with urgency. “You need to see this.”

My gut clenches. I already know. Even before she grabs the remote and turns on the small TV mounted on the wall, I know.

Joaquin.

The broadcast cuts to footage from Celestial Island, the contested territory between America and Japan. My eyes lock onto the screen, and suddenly, no one else in the room exists. Just me and that damn TV light.

No. No, no, no.

I silently beg any god who will listen as I watch the Falcon in the background, disarming missiles—missiles fired from American fighter pilots.

“Everyone, clear out,” Ramos orders.

The pilots groan but comply, irritated that they’re being kicked out when Captain America is on-screen. They don’t get it. They don’t see what I see.

While everyone else watches Sam, my eyes are locked on the blurry figure in the background, engaging with the other pilots.

“What are they doing?” My voice is barely above a whisper, desperate. Every time Joaquin moves, nausea churns in my stomach.

“All I know is that our guys fired first,” Ramos says, her tone clipped. “It looks like Cap and Falcon are trying to stop them.”

I hear her, but I don’t respond. I can’t. My entire focus is glued to the screen. Paperwork be damned—I have to be here.

Sofia kneels beside me, wrapping a steadying arm around my shoulders. I always worry when Joaquin’s on a mission, not knowing where he is or who he’s fighting. But this—this is my worst nightmare. A front-row seat to him in combat, in the Falcon suit he spent countless hours perfecting. And I can’t do a damn thing.

“What are you doing?” My breath catches as the camera pans to Sam, with Joaquin in the background, flying straight toward two missiles.

“Shoot them down,” I beg the screen, as if he can hear me.

One missile explodes harmlessly in the distance.

The second—

Joaquin flies straight into it as it detonates.

The camera jerks away, refocusing on Sam.

“No—get him back! Move the camera!” I cry, scrambling to my feet, legs unsteady beneath me. “Did you see him fall? Please, tell me you saw him.”

I turn to Sofia, cheeks wet with tears, pleading for an answer neither of us has.

“If he fell, rescue will get to him,” she says firmly, pulling me into her, holding me tight as my body shakes from sobbing. “You and I know how it feels to be on that side. They have only the best there. He will make it home.”

I cling to her words, but fear sinks its claws deep into my chest.

“If I have to pull rank, I will get you on the next flight when he gets back,” she promises.

I nod weakly against her shoulder, unable to say anything past the lump in my throat.

Washington, DC - 14:34

In the end, Sofia didn’t have to pull rank. Colonel Matthews himself got me on a plane and straight to the hospital.

But now, standing outside, I can’t get in.

“Ma’am, I can’t let you in there. Only authorized personnel are allowed.”

I’ve been arguing with this officer for more than ten minutes, but he won’t budge. He won’t even listen.

“I’m his wife! I need to see him,” I shout, my voice cracking. Desperation claws at my throat, but the words don’t seem to reach him.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You haven’t been cleared to enter the building.”

My hands shake as I pull out my military credentials and shove them toward him. “I work for the Air Force. Isn’t that clearance enough for you?”

His expression doesn’t waver. “I’m sorry, but no.”

I exhale sharply. Behind me, the press stirs, their voices rising, cameras flashing like lightning in a storm. But I can’t be bothered to care.

“You don’t understand—no one will tell me anything. I need to know if he’s okay.” My voice breaks, the hours of agony finally taking their toll. The waiting, the silence, the unanswered calls—it’s been unbearable. Joaquin could be—

No. I can’t let my mind go there.

“Vanessa?”

The familiar voice makes my head snap up.

Sam.

I could’ve kissed his feet right then and there.

“Sam! I need to see him, please.”

He looks like hell. His face is bruised, exhaustion etched deep into his features. His eyes, heavy with worry, probably mirror my own.

Sam doesn’t hesitate. “Officer, thank you for doing your job, but she’s with me.” He reaches for my hand, pulling me gently to his side.

The officer stiffens. “Of course, Captain. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam shakes his hand before leading me inside.

I pick at my nail beds as a nurse guides us toward a gallery room.

“Are you sure you want to see him like this?” Sam asks, his voice low.

I nod. If I try to speak, I’ll break.

He hesitates. “He’s on the table now. He has burns, and it’s not pretty, sweetheart.”

“I’ve been at war too, Sam,” I say carefully.

Sam exhales, then pushes the door open. I step inside first, my pulse thundering in my ears.

I’ve spent years in the force. I’ve seen injuries—horrific, fatal ones. I’ve suffered them myself.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for this.

Joaquin lies on the operating table, his body covered in burns, his skin raw and blistered. Doctors and nurses move around him in a blur, their voices overlapping as they work tirelessly.

My knees buckle.

Sam catches me before I hit the floor.

“It’s one thing being kept in the dark when he’s away,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of machines. “But watching it happen on TV was a living nightmare.” My throat tightens. “I can’t take my eyes off him now. I’m scared that if I blink, he’ll be gone.”

Sam is quiet for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper, he says, “I’m sorry.” His hands are deep in his pockets, his shoulders tense. “I tried. But I failed the kid.”

I shake my head immediately. “Don’t you dare, Sam Wilson.” My voice steadies, sharp with conviction. “This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, and neither will he.”

His jaw clenches. “I could’ve done more.”

“You carry the weight of the world, Sam. We do the best we can out there—we try to save everyone. But sometimes, we can’t.” I reach for his arm, squeezing gently. “You saved the day. You both did. And I’m grateful you made it back home.”

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “You would’ve beaten my ass if I didn’t bring him back in one piece.”

A small, watery smile tugs at my lips. “If the both of you had died out there, I would’ve brought you back just to kill you myself.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, and I nudge his arm playfully, the moment of levity breaking through the weight in the room.

But when I look back at Joaquin, the lump in my throat returns.

“You two are important to me,” I say softly. “Don’t ever forget that.”

And as I watch the machines breathe for Joaquin, I silently pray he heard me too.

A Few Days Later - 13:11

“Surgery went well. There were some complications, but thankfully, he’s stable now,” I say into the phone, my voice still laced with exhaustion.

“I’m glad, honey.” Sofia’s voice is a balm on the other end. “You had me scared for a second there.”

“Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve completely broken down in front of everyone.” I exhale, pressing my fingers to my temple. The memory of that moment—when the weight of everything nearly crushed me—is still fresh. If Sofia hadn’t cleared the room before I shattered entirely, I don’t know what I would’ve done. “Honestly? I blacked out. I don’t even remember getting on the plane. It wasn’t until Sam was walking me toward the hospital that my brain seemed to wake up.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No. They put him in an induced coma to help his body heal, but he’s been stirring more lately. It won’t be long now.” My voice softens. Joaquin was there for me when my body endured its own battles—now it’s my turn to return the favor. For now, Sofia and Colonel Matthews will oversee my squadron’s training while I stay behind to help Joaquin recover.

“I have to go, but keep me in the loop, babes.” We exchange quick goodbyes before she hangs up, off to oversee flight maneuvers for the team.

I tug at the sleeves of Joaquin’s favorite football hoodie—the one I’ve been practically living in since the moment I stepped into the hospital. His scent lingers in the fabric, the only comfort I’ve had in days. The only time I’ve left his side has been when Isaiah or Sam dragged me away to eat or take a quick shower.

Even now, my stomach twists in knots. Sam brought me food, a thoughtful gesture, but I can barely stomach more than a few bites of fries before nausea wins again. I wrap the leftovers back into the paper bag and sit on the bench in the hospital’s courtyard, letting the late afternoon breeze wash over me. Sam had forced me outside, insisting I needed fresh air that wasn’t recycled through hospital vents.

Eventually, I make my way back inside, my steps heavy with exhaustion. The press has finally cleared out, leaving the entrance eerily quiet. I offer the nurses a small, tired smile as I head toward Joaquin’s room, already dreading another night on that stiff hospital sofa—the damn thing might as well be made of cardboard.

I reach for the door handle but freeze.

A sound echoes from inside.

Laughter.

My pulse spikes.

I push the door open, my breath catching at the sight before me.

Joaquin. Awake.

He and Sam are laughing about something, the warm, familiar sound hitting me like a punch to the chest.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Joaquin says, his voice rough, tired—alive.

Just like that, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over.

His face has more color now, the rawness of his injuries still evident but softened by the warmth of his smile—the same smile I fell in love with all those years ago.

It’s only been a few days. But it feels like a lifetime.

“Come here,” he murmurs, opening his arms.

I don’t hesitate. I slip onto the bed carefully, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. For the first time in days, the world outside disappears. Neither of us notices when Sam quietly slips out of the room giving us some privacy.

His arms wrap around me, firm despite the exhaustion in his body. A quiet groan slips from him at the movement, and I start to pull back, worried, but he tightens his hold—well, as much as he can.

“Don’t you dare, wife,” Joaquin teases, his thumb brushing my shoulder.

I let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I needed a way to get in and stay here with you.”

“I love the sound of you being my wife, but for now, let’s focus on that fixer-upper you begged me to leave an offer on.”

I roll my eyes. “Begged? Please. I barely had to convince you.”

He chuckles. “The second you mentioned an outdoor kitchen and a barbecue pit, I was done for.”

I grin. “Don’t worry. I’m in no rush.” Because right now, I have everything I need—him, here, safe.

“Mrs. Vanessa Torres has a nice ring to it,” he muses.

I tilt my head, smirking. “Mrs. Vanessa Torres-Estrada sounds even better.”

His lips curl into a slow smile. “You got yourself a deal.”

He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my empty ring finger before pulling me in for the first real kiss we’ve shared in weeks.

And for the first time in days, I finally breathe.

[lilghostiequinni]

Was Never Just You

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Single Mom!Girlfriend!female reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: Somethings just start in a crisis, but it's not always a bad thing.

Requested: NO / yes

When you met Lando it was by complete accident.

The day started out normal and then later turned into a disaster.

Your sons, well, they wandered off.

It was the first winter vacation for the ski lodge you normally go to that they could come with, the boys were 3, having turned three the day you left for the trip.

But your mom didn't ski or snowboard and volunteered to watch them while you, your siblings, siblings-in-law, and your father had hit the slopes.

You snowboarding and racing two of your three older brothers, both also snowboarding, down one of their bigger slopes, you won, of course, maybe using some blackmail tactics, maybe.

When you got to the bottom of the slope after the fourth or fifth time, you went to see your boys and also got a warm drink.

You found your mother and your eldest brother's wife, who ended up staying behind because she wasn't feeling good, searching around the lobby; when your mom saw you, you could see the panic and fear in her eyes.

When you asked what was wrong, she told you that they and the boys were playing hide-and-seek, but they couldn't find the boys, and they had searched the whole inside of the resort.

When she told you how long she had been looking for your two sons, over an hour and a half.

You shred your winter gear faster than ever, leaving everything in the lobby, running around the hotel in just your socks, and having no shoes or slippers in the lobby to wear from leaving your boots there.

You ran through every floor calling your sons' names, "Theodore. Sebastian." You would knock on doors, holding up a photo of your two trouble twins if someone answered the door, asking if they had seen them.

You went from floor to floor and back down again.

On you, probably the third pass on the third floor, you ran into someone, expecting to feel the floor but instead feel the body of the person you ran into.

"I'm so so sorry." You apologize as you stand up, before trying to help the person you knocked over.

"It's okay," The man says as you help him stand and he takes off his hat and goggles.

"No, it's not, I'm sorry. I'm just looking for my twins, Theo and Seb. They were playing hide-in-seek with my mom and they... Well, they hid a little too good, and they have been missing for a couple hours." You explain, worrying even more when you realize the time.

"Maybe I can help. Let me change, and we will look together. Two sets of eyes are better than one, I can even get my girlfriend, she's just in this room." The man told you.

"You want to help me?" You were so distraught that you couldn't fathom that someone other than your family would help.

"Yeah, it's just kids. And I'm sure that my girlfriend will say the same. Just breathe and give me like ten minutes." He says, then goes into his room, and you start to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your overactive mind.

Before the ten minutes are even up, you hear the door open and look up, it's a blonde woman who comes out and gives you a hoodie.

"This is one of our friends, I'm Pietra, and this is Max." She says as Max comes out of the room.

"Everyone just calls me Cookie. My boys, they're only 3." You say as you show the two a photo of them from your phone, tears in your eyes.

Max's eyes widen a little. "I think I know where your boys are."

"Really." You ask, your eyes widening.

"Yeah, I think they're downstairs with my friend, in the restaurant," Max tells you as Pietra grabs hold of your hand as MAx leads the two of you downstairs.

When you do get back downstairs and into the restaurant, you look around and then see Max pointing in a direction that you follow with your eyes and you see your boys.

"Theo! Seb!" You cry out and run toward them.

Your boys whip their heads around and yell out, "Mommy!" getting up and then running to you, not making it far from the table, though.

The friend of Max's following behind, just in case.

You fell to the ground to hug your twins, tears in your eyes as you hugged them.

"Where did you go?" You asked them.

"We was play seek with Gramam and Celi."

"Then we was hungry an fogot."

"Den Lanwo saws us and we gots food."

You knew their explanation was too little to be something for them to be missing just shy of three hours.

You must have looked in the restaurant three times.

But you just smiled at them and hugged them again, before standing up.

"Hi, thank you for looking after my sons." You say to the man who had also been at the table with them.

"It's no problem. I saw them on my way to my room from outside, and I figured that their mom would be with them soon. When I came back down for some food, I saw them close to the door looking out the window. One was trying to open the door, and I stopped them from going outside and offered food until you got here." He explained himself.

"Thank you again...."

"Lando. Norris. Lando Norris." He said as he offered his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Lando, everyone calls me Cookie." You said taking his hand.

That's how it started.

One singular mishap that had led to the best years of your life.

The fans were skeptical at best at first, but when they seen the smile that your sons brought to Lando's face, that you brought to him.

How you helped lift the weight off his shoulders.

At the end of the 2025 season, you basically jumped over the barrier to get to Lando after he won the championship.

He picked you up and spun you around.

He had to leave to go to the podium and do other after-race debriefs and media duties.

During December, not long after the end of the season, you and Lando both post a post on Instagram with two photos, one an engagement photo, the other a pregnancy annoucement.

Just like the year before with Max, there were retirement rumors the year before.

But when Lando came back in 2026, the rumors died out.

Life continued on, and the season was one of the best for him, only after his first wins.

A/N: First in the 100 Follower Cele Driver poll, I feel like I wanna redo this and make it longer but at the same time, most of my celebrations are usually just drabbles. But let me know if you'd want a longer fic using this idea

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @charli123456789 @smashcrabsblog @hadids-world @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @watermelonslut @gigicisneros @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[bloodchapell]

honey, come on — senku i. 1: blackberries

brief summary: you are home waiting for him

what to expect: post-canon, domestic bliss, pregnancy, implied stanxeno

your sword's note: ughhhh someone take me away and drop me into married life with senku, i wrote this listening to lana's new song, idek what it is about but it is so beautiful omgg, killl meeeey, more on my mistresslist

Another day at the lab that went by so fast. Usually everyone would have stayed later, but Xeno had plans with Stanley and their kid, Chrome was taking out Ruri on a date and Suika was having a normal girl day with Mirai at the mall, so Senku had no other option than walking home too. The sun was starting to drop on the sky, tinting it of orange and pink hues, his mind immediately ran to thinking of you, he already knew what you were doing home, probably sitting in the balcony of your shared room, sitting in front of a canvas as you spent 15 minutes trying to color-match the colors of the sky. He smiled and kept walking home, only stopping by a supermarket when the sight of the fruits outside made him think of your conversation the previous night and your cravings for blackberries.

The house came into his field of vision quite soon, he opened the gate and walked through the garden towards the door, the flowers were blooming beautifully now that you had taken time off work to play housewife and rest, and you had time to take care of the plants and paint like you did before petrification happened. He entered the the house silently, trying to surprise you, left his coat on the hanger and took his shoes off, walking upstairs quietly, moving across the hall to your shared room, where from the door, he watched you paint sitting in the balcony as he had expected it, a brush between your teeth as you mixed paint on a palette, squinting while looking back and forth between the sky and the mixed paint. Senku laughed softly, and knocked on the opened door just to get your attention.

As soon as you heard the knocks you turned around, and saw him standing by the door, greeting you with a nod. Immediately you left the palette and the brushes down, and stood up from your chair, entering the room back. "You're home!"

"I'm home." He repeated after you with a smile, seeing you trying to hug him, forgetting that your belly was getting in the way of regular hugs as always.

"Damn it I keep forgetting." You frown as he shakes his head and grabs your cheeks for a quick kiss. "So how was work today?"

"It was exhilarating, we are recalibrating the gears for the propeller that ignites the motor of the time-machine, recalculating the sizes, all that good stuff." Senku explained as he grabbed your hand and walked down the hall and downstairs into the first floor, stopping at the kitchen, opening the box of blackberries and washing a few, putting them in a plate and hand-feeding them to you. "Brought the wife and the child some fruits too."

"What a thoughtful husband." You winked eating the fruit he put in your mouth.

"So how was the baby today, too kick-y?"

"Hey, my baby is not too kick-y, if anything you kick more in bed when you sleep." You threatened pointing your finger at him, your other hand resting on top of your belly, caressing it.

"You hear that kid? A fierce mother you have." Senku said, holding your hand with one of his and the plate with the other one, walking towards the living room and sitting on the sofa, you sat too. He continued to give you the blackberries. "How did your day go?"

"I woke up soooo late, had breakfast and watched a movie, the baby was moving a lot during the movie, then I took a nap, took care of the plants, spent like an hour on the phone with Yuzu, then started painting." You narrated, Senku listened with attention. After you ate the blackberries, he laid down on the sofa and started talking to your baby as he always did once he was back home, and you caressed his hair listening too.

"I won't go to work this weekend, how about we go buy the baby's crib and set it up?" He suggested looking at you.

"Really?" Excited you asked and he nodded.

"It will be an efficient crib, for a future genius." Senku grinned.

The sun finished setting, and the sky got dark. You went back to painting, finishing the small piece and leaving it beside the others you had done, then you went to the kitchen to heat up the food.

"I'll serve and wash the dishes." Senku said after leaving his office, which was full of the little paintings you had given him before, some even in leather, the ones from so long ago when you two would sleep in the observatory of Chrome's hut, and framed there was a portrait of Byakuya you had painted for him.

"Let's watch that new episode of our show." You said giggling while sitting carefully. Senku brought two plates and two cups of water, sitting beside you to eat as you turned on the TV and looked for the show you two had been watching. As you ate, you two discussed about the show, yelling occasionally at the TV when the characters did something you did not expect and Senku giving alternatives to their actions that were ten billion percent more logical.

He washed the dishes, and you stood by his side simply watching with a smile. Since you had taken time off work to rest as your body grew your baby, it had been the most peace you have had since petrification, the calm routine and the easy days made you happy, and you had noticed that Senku had also purposefully decelerated his workload to spend more time with you at home.

You both went up to the room, Senku holding your hand as you went upstairs, you two sat on the bed, you picked up your bedside book and he picked his, reading for a while until you decided to get ready to go to sleep. You brushed your teeth together, and changed into your pajamas together, he watched as you applied some oil to your belly and massaged it under Yuzuriha's suggestion for skin benefits or something and then you two went to bed.

Before turning the lamps off, he put his wedding band on his nightstand and you did the same with your ring.

"Goodnight honey." You said giggling out of pure and simple happiness.

"Goodnight honey." With a small teasing tone he repeated like a mock, but right after he kissed your forehead and then your lips, and made sure to cuddle you as he caressed the baby through your skin.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part ten —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter kicked my butt. thanks for the patience~

An ear-splitting gunshot bites the ground near your boot, close enough to feel the heat simmer through the worn leather. It takes everything in you not to freeze in terror. You grab Blue and run. 

Adrenaline kicks into high gear once again, but with her dead weight and your lack of strength, you know you can't get far. You manage to tumble behind a stack of rusted bins just as another round fires. 

Blue clings to you. "He's following us!"

Your heart sinks as your fingers reach for your bow— you left it.

"Give me your gun," you sputter quickly.

She shoves the unfamiliar weapon in your hands. A tremble consumes your body as you peek over the barrel to find your target. For a second, you see your attacker as he passes by one of the jeeps. A young man no older than yourself. 

Without hesitation, you close an eye and go for his heart, but the bullet grazes the top of his shoulder with a spray of blood. Used to a bow, you aimed too high.

He barks out a swear and then lifts his rifle in retaliation. Before he can shoot, a Grey bursts through the window of the jeep, clamping down on his neck. His throat turns to gore. The gun falls from his grip as screams of pain quickly turn to muffled groans.

Relief and horror pound through your veins. That was close. Too close. You have to get Blue out of here. But how—

There is no chance to decide. Suddenly, she screams again. You whip around to meet the slash of a long knife and the flush of cold air as your coat is torn. Someone has snuck up behind you. You fumble with the gun but the attacker knocks it out of your hand, then fists your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. It happens so fast. You can't even get a good look at him— only the wild stare of his eyes and the strength of his stature. Whoever these people are, they are certainly better fed than that man in the woods.

You thrash against him, hurling saliva at his face. Apparently, he didn't expect that because he hisses, "Fuck."

You use the distraction to grab your own knife, the only weapon on you, and blindly drive it into the taut muscle of his thigh. He howls, letting go of your hair, and you slip away just enough to dodge the next swipe of his blade.

The fight is short-lived. You've grown stronger, but not enough to fight a man. He is skilled and bulky. Your attempts to hit him are futile. His knife catches you in the forehead, sending a curtain of blood down your face, and he grabs hold of your hair once again.

"Gonna cut your throat first," he murmurs, low and gravelly. "Then your little lamb's."

He will kill you. Then her. You can't let him. You won't. Something animalistic takes hold of you. You do the only thing left you can think of— bite. Hard. The sickening taste of human flesh and hot blood fills your mouth as you rip out a chunk of his nose.

"You bitch!" 

He clutches his oozing face. Blue shouts at you, her finger jutting toward something— the Grey. Done with its first meal, it draws toward the scent of fresh blood. Before your attacker can recover, you throw all your weight at him, which isn't much, but it is enough to make him lose his footing and veer into the Grey's path. It grabs hold and sinks another bite into his face.

Suddenly, two more gunshots ring out. One to the Grey's head, and the other through the man's eye. Both bodies flop dead to the ground. Before you can panic, a wild-eyed Ghost returns in long strides. 

"Blue!" he bellows. 

"Dad!" she yells back.

He heads straight for her, quickly dipping down to check her bandaged leg and search for any other wounds. Fear has forced her eyes to stay open, her body stiff and alert. There is a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans. 

"They tried to kill us," she cries.

“I'm here, baby. I won't leave you again.”

You wipe the blood off your face and glance around, panting so hard your lungs hurt. The air reeks of carnage and gunpowder, but the firing has ceased. 

"They attacked us," you speak in a raw shout. “Two of them. Did you— Are the rest gone?"

He nods. "Could be more nearby. Let's get out of here before we find out."

He slings the rifle over his shoulder and scoops up Blue without an ounce of the effort it took for you to do so. 

He moves fast. Retrieving your bow, you push hard to keep up with him. 

Twilight tints the sky purple. You make it past the fence and zig-zag through the medical tents when movement catches your eye again.

"Ghost, to the right!" you scream.

You knock an arrow onto the string, aiming for the distant figure. But the movement multiplies, more shadows lurking towards you with uneven gaits. Not people. Greys. The realization forms a pit in your stomach.

"They can fucking smell us," you choke out. 

"Hit the faster ones!"

Arrow after arrow, you aim for the ones that move with the stamina of a more recently infected. To your right. To your left. Ghost carries Blue with one arm and shoots with his handgun. More and more crawl out like cockroaches, no doubt catching a whiff of the blood that stains all three of you. 

Two built like linebackers run wildly up to Ghost from either direction. He shoots one, while the other grabs him by the shoulder. You launch an arrow at its skull, your aim more precise now that you're not shooting bullets, and it lets go of him with a squeal. 

When the trees grow thicker, it becomes harder to see them. Despair pushes a cry up your throat when you slap a hand back to your quiver and feel two arrows left. 

A slippery mix of mud and leaves suddenly takes you down to the ground, your knees landing on a hard tree root. You swear under your breath, fumbling to get back up, when a Grey you hadn't noticed behind you lunges on top, slamming you back down. Pain shoots through your ribs as you frantically roll around, thrusting a forearm against its throat to avoid its opened mouth and kicking your knees into its chest. Then, a fiery bullet lodges into its forehead, the Grey going limp on top of you with a splatter of brains and coagulated fluid. 

"Get up, Twix!" Ghost barks. 

You shove the body off and scramble to your feet, legs feeling like jelly, but you force them to keep running. 

You whip a brief look behind you. 

"There's too many— I'm almost out of arrows!" 

"The river," Ghost throws over his shoulder. "Those fucks can't swim."

You realize his idea when the roar of water greets your ears. Ghost doesn't hesitate to sprint onto the rusty rebar, slipping his gun away to hold Blue with both arms. 

You follow behind, forcing your eyes on the bank ahead as you slow down to keep balance. All you have to do is get across and the river will take care of the rest. Heartbeats pound in your skull, each step requiring an unfathomable amount of focus that you struggle to muster. You're about halfway there when you hear the splash of Greys falling in, and a brief glance below causes your footing to falter. 

This time you fail to grab the beam.

Cold water envelops you like a million needles.

A mouthful of water burns down your throat, and for a moment, you can't move. Can't breathe. Everything spins around you. It's not until your feet collide with something hard - the bottom of the riverbed - that your brain registers what's happening and you kick out to propel yourself up. 

You break the surface for a gulp of air before the current pulls your head back under. Your arms flail around in search of something to grab. Just when you latch onto what feels like a log, a hand seizes your ankle with a hungered screech. You slam your foot back, over and over, more water filling your mouth as you struggle to kick the Grey and hold on at the same time.

Finally, the rotten skull caves in and the current sucks it away. With your leg freed, you haul yourself up the log toward the edge of the river. You begin climbing up the cliffside, using the twisted roots as footholds, your hands digging into caked soil. You're almost to the top, but you feel numb and weak. So weak. You can't find anything else to grab. The wet sole of your boot begins to slip.

"Grab on!"

A gloved hand stretches down. Ghost is crouched above, Blue now on his back so can he lean over. You grip his hand and he pulls you up, until you collapse on the ground, wet and shivering. 

You cough up water and bile. 

"Bloody fucking hell.” 

It's been a while since you've thought about dying. You've made it this far, instinct always taking the reins and pushing you onward. But now, as the reality of the cold, wet clothes clinging to you sets in, you consider asking Ghost to just shoot you. It would be quicker than freezing to death, and a much better fate than drowning or turning Grey. At least you know Blue will be safe now.

Before you can form the words, you hear the shuffling of fabric. A jacket, a beanie. Set on the ground beside you.

"Take off your clothes. Put these on."

The rest turns into a dream. You don't remember putting the clothes on, or standing up and moving your heavy limbs. You don't remember getting to the hunter's cabin, but the next thing you know, you are curled up on the floorboards beside a small fire, inhaling the musky smell of Ghost's oversized jacket, with the blanket you brought tucked around your bare legs. You don't feel cold anymore. Your head pounds. You can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, slow but present. Behind you somewhere, Ghost tends to Blue. You know this because you hear him whisper to her as her sobs are muffled by biting onto a shirt. Amelia, Amelia, he says to her. A name you've never heard before. He must be cleaning the wound, the pain of it causing her to thrash and kick. Then, the sounds fade, and you know she is asleep. 

When your eyes finally tear away from the flames, you spot Ghost hunched over, lifting up his shirt. Dark blood and ink stain pale skin. 

"You were shot?" 

His eyes snap up. He regards you for a moment, and it is now you notice that most of the white of his mask has been stained with red from his kills. 

"Knife," he says.

You don't know why you offer, or why he silently accepts. Somehow you end up knelt beside him, your cracked fingertips cleaning the puncture wound in his torso without a single word exchanged. It's not deep enough to need stitches. You clear the blood and dab on antiseptic. The only sign he feels any pain is the flex of corded muscles beneath your touch and the occasional sharp inhale through the mask. His skin is oddly warm, a temperature that does some to ease the tension in your muscles.

When you're done, you roll the shirt back down. He doesn't say thank you, not that you expected him to. 

You break the silence with a voice that barely hovers above a whisper. "You could've let me freeze."

His brows lower. "You could've let them kill her."

"I would never do that." When he doesn't respond, you glance at her sleeping form. "She's okay?"

"Just a graze," he confirms.

"She lost quite a bit of blood. She might need a few days to rest."

Your gaze shifts back to his. You quietly add, "Did you recognize them? Were they a part of the military?" 

"Maybe. Their gear was. Didn't know them, though."

"Why did they try to kill us?"

He gives you a look. Of course. He tried to kill you for the same reason once.

"They have a camp nearby," you murmur the answer, more to yourself than to him. "Something to protect."

He gives a slow nod, then moves to grab his rifle and a hoodie to slip on in place of the thick SAS jacket he lent you. As he moves to the door, you realize what he plans to do. Keep watch.

You slip the beanie off and run your fingers over the cut on your brow when he says something just before leaving.

"For someone who once asked me to kill them, you fight hard to survive, Twix."

You don't know what to say. Just hours ago, you almost asked him to kill you again.

There's a beat of silence and then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you fight so hard."

A breath sticks in your throat, and you stare at the floor. You're not sure why he is asking this, or why the answer is so hard to give.

"I... I don't know."

With that, he leaves. You watch the fire turn to dark embers. The faded adrenaline has left you with a fatigue you have grown familiar with. If you weren't so tired, maybe you would still be scared, your mind filled with fresh memories of gore and death and screaming. But you fall asleep quickly, scooting beside Blue and sinking into the warmth of his jacket. 

[kamisobsessed]

I Don't Get Jealous

Summary: Takes place in S4E6 "Poetic Justice" when Tim takes Officer McGrady out on patrol, he meets McGrady's daughter Ashley who invites Tim over for dinner to thank him for taking her dad back out on the streets. Tim eventually agrees to go, but runs it by you first. Then after they find the treasure, the station celebrates Jerry's retirement. Tim does Jerry's end of watch and Ashley thanks Tim again. You are standing nearby talking with Harper and Chen, but you see Ashley flirting with Tim and you don't hesitate to stop it. (I am so bad at summaries)

Some other background info: You and Tim are engaged, you're a metro sergeant/metro liason at mid-wilshire, he's an LAPD sergeant at mid-wilshire. Ashley is obviously clueless to your relationship, you don't really show your relationship at work.

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Metro Sergeant!Reader, no use of y/n.

Warnings: jealousy, fluff, kind of implied possible smut at the end?, follows the plot of S4E6

A/N: My first Tim Bradford fic! Also, I hate Ashley and hated her and Tim's relationship so I had to go with this prompt from @reignsboy19, "Y/n being a badass and shutting down Ashley who was trying to flirt with Tim (her boyfriend) and Tim just being proud of her and everyone else just laughing at her jealousy" though I changed it up a little. Hope you enjoy!

[This is not proofread or edited, I'm too busy for that, I just wanted to post this]

****************************************************

When Sergeant Grey told Sergeant Bradford to talk Officer Jerry McGrady into retirement, Tim thought it would be easy. Until he had to actually talk to McGrady about it. Instead of discussing retirement, Tim asked him to go on patrol with him.

You always made sure to see Tim before he goes out on patrol, so you were waiting by the doors to his shop when you saw McGrady coming over with war bags and gear.

"Officer McGrady, no kit room duty today?" you ask him.

"Nope, Sergeant Bradford asked me to ride with him today," he says.

You raised your eyebrows and held back a chuckle, "oh really?" you say.

"Yep! It's truly an honor! I'm glad to be able to hit the streets again," he says.

"Well, you be safe out there Jerry," you say with a smile.

"Will do!" He says, and he went into the garage to set up the shop.

Tim came over after talking to Grey.

"I thought Grey told you to talk him into retirement?" You ask him, raising an eyebrow at him with a smirk.

"I told Grey I got this, he'll be thinking of nothing but retirement after today," he says.

"Right," you chuckle, knowing Tim just couldn't bring himself to rip the bandaid off.

He just grinned a little shaking his head, "Don't you have some metro op to do or something?" he asked.

"Nope," you smile. He just playfully rolls his eyes and opens the door to the garage.

"Be safe out there sarge," you say to him.

"You too, sarge," he says with a small smile looking back at you before the door closes.

-

You were in your office at the station when Tim knocks and walks in.

"Hey, how was riding with Jerry, he retire yet?" You ask him.

"Not yet, turns out he may be of some help on the treasure hunt case," Tim said, "But, once that is over, I'm sure he will retire," He says.

"Right, I'm sure," You respond sarcastically.

"Are you judging my ability to make someone leave the job?" Tim asked, "Should I remind you when I was your T.O., you almost washed out on day 2," he says.

"That's not the same, I was a rookie, I wasn't on the job for multiple decades like Jerry," you say.

"After this treasure hunt thing, I know Jerry will be ready to retire," he says.

"Okay, I believe you," you chuckled, "Now what has you in my office Sergeant Bradford?" You ask him, "Not that I don't like seeing my favorite person," you smile.

"Jerry and his daughter, Ashley, invited me over to have dinner, a thank you for me getting Jerry back on the streets. I said yes, just wanted to let you know," he says.

"I'm sure Jerry will like that," you say, "I'm gonna be late getting home anyways, have so many reports to catch up on, this treasure hunt has the city going mad," you sigh.

"Well, I'll see you at home later then," he says coming over to you and leaning down to give you a kiss.

"okay," you say giving him another quick peck on the lips.

"I love you," he says before he goes to leave your office.

"I love you, too," you say back before he heads out.

-

Tim was at dinner with Jerry and his daughter. Jerry was sound asleep on his recliner and Tim was helping Ashley clean up.

"You know, riding with you today was the highlight of dad's year," Ashley says, "Hell, his last 5 years."

"Yeah, I don't get it. Most cops who stay on the job this long, they don't have anything else waiting for them, but I'm sure you'd love to be able to spend more time with him," Tim says.

"Mm, because I've got nothing going on in my own life?" Ashley snaps back, jokingly.

"No, no. That's- that's not what I meant," Tim says defensively with a chuckle.

Ashley laughs, "Relax. It's a joke," she says. She lets out a sigh "No one ever gets my jokes," she says.

"I guess I'm just used to jokes being funny," Tim jokes back, "I guess that's why I got confused," He says and they both laugh as she throws a towel at him playfully.

Ashley sighs, "Honestly, I think my dad regrets not retiring 15 years ago when he was still on the street," she says looking over at her dad, "Like all his buddies did."

Tim understood and he looked over at Jerry who was softly snoring in the chair.

-

The treasure hunt case was finally closed. Jerry McGrady was officially retiring.

Tim had called Ashley to come to the station for when he and Jerry got back. Then he had Harper gather everyone at the station.

"Alright folks, attention please," Harper announced, "Turn your hand packs to the district channel," she says.

Lucy goes over to Ashley and Jerry, "I need to borrow your dad for a second," she tells Ashley and Ashley nods.

You stand next to Nyla as the station gathered around looking at Tim who was standing on the platform of the staircase.

"Control, 7-Adam-100," Tim spoke into his radio, his voice echoing out of everyone's radio pack in the station, "I am privileged to announce the retirement of Officer Jerry McGrady, badge number 9944. After 43 years and 9 months of service, this concludes his final shift," he continues, "Officer McGrady, you, sir, are End of Watch," Tim says, "Congratulations!"

Everyone cheers and applauds for him. Jerry just looks around, letting out an emotional sigh.

"It's been an honor serving this great city all these years," Jerry says, "so, take care if her now that I'm gone."

Everyone cheers and applauds for him once more.

People go up to Jerry to give him hugs and congratulations.

You went over to him and gave him a hug, "Congratulations, Jerry, we'll miss you around here," you say.

"Thank you, sergeant, I'll miss you all, too," he says.

You stand there with Nyla and Lucy as they talk, but you don't listen as you watch Ashley go up to where Tim is on the platform of the stairs.

"That was really beautiful," She says to him, "Dad won't forget it, and...neither will I," she smiles at him.

"It was my honor, your dad is a hell of a guy," Tim says.

"Maybe you could...stop by the house sometime, see how he's handling retirement," Ashley says.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Tim says.

Nyla and Lucy both see you looking at Tim and Ashley.

"Oh, someone's getting jealous," Nyla says.

"I don't get jealous," you said, "I'll just...be right back," you say and you walk away toward the stairs.

"She's definitely jealous," Nyla says.

"I think it's cute, she and Tim never show any affection at the station, they're both so professional," Lucy says.

"Maybe, you and I could grab dinner sometime?" Ashley asks Tim.

"Oh, I- um..." Tim says flustered, but you come up behind him.

"Ready to head home babe?" You ask Tim, you look at Ashley, "oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," you say.

"Uh Ashley, this is my girlfriend," Tim says introducing you "She's the metro liason sergeant."

"Oh, hi, it's nice to meet you," Ashley says, "I better go find dad, thank you again for everything, Tim," she says.

Tim nods, "it was my pleasure," he says.

She just nods and awkwardly smiles at me as she goes down the stairs.

Tim turns to you with a smile on his face.

"What?" You ask him with a chuckle.

"You're pretty cute when you're jealous," he says.

"I- no, I wasn't jealous, I just- she- she tried asking you out," You say, fumbling over your words.

"I was going to turn her down, you know," he says.

"I know you were, I was just-" you say but he cuts you off,

"Jealous?" He asks, smirking at you.

"Shut up," you say nudging him playfully and you both laughed.

"Let's clock out and head home and relax, yeah?" he says taking your hand.

"Yes, sir," you say with a grin as you walk with him down the stairs

"Watch it, or we'll do more than just relax," He says lowly so only you hear as he smirks at you.

"Is that a promise?" You say back.

"Hmm, maybe," he says with a wink.

****************************************************

A/N: My first Tim Bradford fic! Idk, I'm kinda proud of this. I took a LOT from the show obviously, but I saw that prompt and had to write it. So glad he and Ashley broke up...otherwise we wouldn't get Chenford. And I swear if Chenford doesn't get back together in season 7...Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading :)

Tags: @justwhisperingfantasies