#something something beauty even in the hard moments and the value of slow mindfulness ESPECIALLY in the midst of suffering

[goldkirk]

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[marveloustimestwo]

Hello yandere Harwin Strong and female Targaryen Princess and yandere Criston Cole.

Hello! Thank you for the request!

Warnings: Yandere themes

When it comes to their individual, separate darling, both of these men are very dedicated, both in their own ways and for their own reasons.

Especially when you're Targaryen royalty, the main reason they fell in love with you was because they were so close to the throne.

Harwin's status as the heir to Harrenhall and eldest Strong son ensures that he knew of you, and you of him from an early age.

Criston's talent as a budding knight had him climbing the ranks. Soon, he was within your range, seeing you walk the halls, even being able to speak to you once or twice.

For both of them, it would take a few years of knowing you and friendship for any sort of obsession to start blooming.

Criston greatly values his honor. When he is assigned to protect you, he takes his job very seriously. In the first year or so, he has a hard time even conversing with you beyond a few short sentences.

He wants to know you; you're kind, you're beautiful, but you are royalty and it is his job to keep you safe.

It is only after spending so much time around you that his will starts to crumble. And the more he allows himself to know you, the more obsessed he becomes.

For Harwin, while he is still a knight, he is not bound to you as Criston is. Again, considering his house, he is a bit more free to speak to you and befriend you.

Despite that, I feel that Harwin would take time to fall into obsession. It is a slow process, but one that would feel like an avalanche once it is there.

Both of these men would be deeply devoted to their darling. Your protection, happiness, and well-being are their top priority.

Harwin finds happiness in being your rock and trusted friend, even if you do not want anything more.

If you did, marriage would be the first thing on his mind. He had noticed Criston's affections for you long ago, and the only reason he had not done anything about it was for your sake.

Criston finds this from being your knight, your personal guard at every point. Whatever you need from him, he will be, whatever you ask of him will be done, even if it results in his death.

I can see him being rather delusional, especially if you've spurned him.

If Criston had lost you to Harwin, there would have been anger, yes, but not with you. What had this man done to you? What poison had he filled your mind with to turn you against him like this?

The hatred these two harbor for each other would run deep. Criston especially would let it fester.

His position as a knight holds him back and makes him want to act like he has this position for a reason. But that does not mean he won't make snide comments to Harwin, egging him on at every turn.

If Ser Breakbones happens to snap, Criston won't mind. The worse injuries he gets from the fight, the more sympathetic he might look to you.

Is this really the man you love, Princess? He's so violent, so animalistic. He could turn on you at any moment.

Let's hope you don't hear what words Criston said to make Harwin snap like that; your honor is not something he takes lightly. Having someone like Criston threaten it is a crime in his eyes.

For them, this feud can only end in death. Their love runs too deep for you, so their hatred must sink its sword into someone else.

[pa1nkill3r]

"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

[sukirichi]

overtime

You let your boyfriend release stress from working overtime.

REQUEST. med! student au / doctor! au + forbidden relationship + praising kink + dacryphilia

CONTENT/WARNINGS. praising kink, dacryphilia, face fucking, huge age gap (Nanami is like 20 years older), mentions of gloomy atmospheres expected of medical centres, gagging, mentions of previous lovemaking sessions

NOTES. ah thank you for this request anon, i’m really in love with the whole med student / doctor au ingredient cuz well...it’s sorta self-indulgent. i hope you liked this as much as i did!

The familiar stingy aroma of disinfectant looms at every corner of the wall, pressing down beneath your scrubs and deep into your scrubs. You find it ironic that the walls are always so white, barely any colour to surround the entire building. Growing up, you believe that white represents tranquillity, silence, and serenity – which is the exact opposite of what university hospitals really are.

You’re no stranger to the pained moans echoing at the ends of the hall, the sight of children with sunken cheeks playing with a cannula almost too painful to look at.

The clock above the front desks reads that it’s a little past four in the morning, and you’re beyond weary. You’ve grown used to just being high off caffeine and being satisfied with quick ten minute naps before you’re summoned again. People always ask you, why choose this profession? You could make as much money without having to be this tired, to which you always respond with a frown, claiming that it’s never about the money and actual working professionals are a lot more exhausted than you are, yet not once have they complained.

They do have their days though, and it just so happens that it’s one of your superior’s days as he tugs at your wrist, dragging you inside the nearest empty room before soft lips dive down to capture yours.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

You’ve fooled around long enough with your superior to know it’s his scent washing over yours, that all too familiar tent growing in his pants pressing between your legs and bumping your core as a silent promise of what’s to come next. A stuttered, breathy moan immediately greets his ears when he pins your arms overhead, his lips falling into the sweet column of your neck.

It’s clear that this is wrong – both of you know this – but the pleasure and need to relieve stress in such an overwhelming environment clouds both your consciousness that neither parties pull away.

Your relationship with him started off with just curiosity.

Doctor Nanami is a well accomplished man, earning beyond money and titles in his twenty years of service in the field. He knows he looks good, knows he’s irresistible every time he comes in front of the class, looking equally dashing in either a nude suit or in white coats. Someone of his age and experience definitely is no fool to the way his bright eyed student’s gaze lingers over his lips as she stays behind in class to ask about something she doesn’t get far longer than should be necessary.

He’s an expert at the human body more than anything else – Nanami knows lust when he sees one.

And he’s always been such a kind, concerned doctor who only wants everyone to feel better that how could he say no to you, especially when you’re only so eager to suck him off under the table, getting off to the fact your pretty lips are wrapped around his thick and veiny cock?

What once starts off as a mutual agreement to use each other for pleasure while still keeping the faux professionalism to not lose face, something shifts during the stolen kisses during break times and heated touches as promises of I’ll see you later after overtimes. Private tutoring sessions turns into moments of reminiscing childhoods, hands splayed all over his chest while he tucks you in his arms, mumbling something about always have wanting to be his own version of a hero.

Things move faster than both of you realize, the titles dropped and replaced with sweethearts and good morning sir topped with a sweet, intimate smile that only he could ever know the meaning of.

It’s simple, longing, and definitely unprofessional, even more so when Nanami pushes you down on the floor, eager hands unbuckling his belt to spring his cock free. Your mouth salivates at the red pulsing tip already leaking with pre-cum, your tiny hands on its way to wrap itself around his base when Nanami takes matters into his own hands and slips his cock through your lips in one thrust.

Your back hits the wall and your eyes spring with tears, gurgled sounds of Nanami fucking down your throat lewd and dirty in the empty room. He sighs, chest panting and hands cradling your head. “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he praises, bucking his hips further inside. “Don’t know what I’d do without you here, always so ready to make me feel good.”

The moan you let out vibrates around his cock, fuelling his desire intensely.

Nanami has always been gentle with you; as a man who values time over anything else, he likes to savour each second he has with you, slow, rough hands running up and down the curve of your spine before he flicks his tongue deep within your pussy, wanting to make you cum countless times before he makes love to you. Had you both been home, he’d cradle your face and stare deep into your eyes as he fucks you, sweat tinged from the slight burrow of his brows as he commands, “Look at me. Look at me when I’m fucking you, angel.”

And you being you, you’ll remain submissive to the pleasure he’s more than glad to give you, leg wrapping around his waist all to feel the way he’s hitting deep inside your sopping cunt.

He’s impatient this time around, and you can’t blame him. You’ve barely seen each other from hours of working overtime, with you staying up late to study for finals and him barely leaving the operating rooms. You gladly let him use you like this just as he’s allowed you to cum multiple times before despite his clear order to hold back, but Nanami is a soft man at heart, unable to resist his precious lover when you’re trembling around him like that.

Nanami places a palm at the back of your head to prevent you getting fucked into the wall, his pace not slowing down a bit. He gazes at you under his lashes, cheeks hollowed and drool dribbling from the edges of your lips.

He finds you utterly filthy, a complete contrast to the well-put med-student who’s always admired and looked up to by their peers. Nanami groans as his tip hits the back of your throat, your nose pressing down on the neatly trimmed blond hairs brushed on his base. You gag around him, the tears crystallizing your cheeks. Filthy, yet still so pretty his little angel is, and for a moment, Nanami pauses, captivated by your beauty.

His cock is still pulsing inside your mouth, a thumb running across your tears to wipe them away. Nanami grabs your chin to tilt your head up, and he swears he could cum right then and there. You’re kneeling on the bleached floors, eyes wide with a tinge of innocence, tears collected in your lashes and cheeks sucked to take him in deep.

“Always so pretty for me, angel,” he coos, sliding his drenched cock out your mouth gruesomely slow, stopping only with the tip in. “Is my cock making you cry? You’ve taken me before, angel, this isn’t difficult for you now, is it?”

You hum around his cock as a response, and Nanami bucks into your mouth by accident, causing his length to slip past your walls until he’s right at your throat.

He’s big and long, his dick always having been a blessing to the both of you, but at this time, it feels more like a curse. Drips of cum paints the back of your mouth but you only grip your thigh harder, ignoring the painful throbbing of your cunt that’s so needy for him already. You remind yourself not to be selfish and focus on him instead, to your precious superior who needs you to help get his mind off things.

Eager to be of service as always, you swipe your tongue all over the ridges of his cock, making sure to press the wet muscle harder on the prominent veins. Nanami throws his head back to moan, his nails gently scraping your scalp with each thrust.

It’s hard to tell who’s setting the pace, but it becomes clear as you kneel there motionlessly, squeezing his ass instead while he relentlessly fucks your mouth. His groans are growing louder, breaths falling out of rhythm with each passing seconds. Your eyes are shut tight as you let him abuse your throat, hitting deep inside you with each precise thrust in addition to his balls slapping your chin.

Your face is sopping wet, both from drool, tears, and his cum. You stay there like a good girl, doing your best to breathe through your nose as he throbs inside you. Nanami’s words are garbled and incomprehensible, enticed to only snap his harder when he sees your tears streaming down your face and wetting your scrubs.

His length slips past inside your mouth into an impossibly deeper angle as he tugs your hair up, his knees bent just to continuously pummel against your tonsils as if it was his own winning goal. Your cries increase in volume at the way he’s losing himself in you, forgetting to watch the back of your head before he thrusts all the way, keeping you flat and frozen gagging on his cock, nose nudged against his hairs.

Nanami’s groan is accompanied by the twitching of his cock, and he cums, thick spurts of white shooting down your throat. You try to pull yourself away from him after that, thinking that he’s satisfied, but he only grips your hair harder as a warning.

Still struggling to breathe, you swallow around his thick saliva-drenched length, the mere motion of you gulping making your walls close down on him.

Nanami grunts at the oversensitivity and he pulls out, his dick growing boneless and soft.

He’s utterly spent, your drool and his cum dripping down to the floors in audible plaps. Nanami sighs as he takes sanitary wipes from the unused desk to wipe his dick clean, while you stay on the ground, palms flat beneath you as you pant for air.

You can tell you’ll have a sore throat by tomorrow because you utterly fucked, voice growing hoarse with each failed cough. Falling back onto the wall, you close your eyes, only to snap them open again when you feel something wet and warm rubbing your skin.

Nanami is in front of you, his touch gentle and eyes soft as he cleans your face, thumb absentmindedly cradling your bottom lip.

You don’t fight back the smile that matches his. Even after everything, Nanami is still your boyfriend, someone who isn’t just a good fuck to you anymore. This is only one of the reasons you’ve fallen so madly in love with him; his effortless ability to take care of others truly meritorious of him.

He dunks them into nearest bin and kisses you flat on the lips, his large hand cupping your cheeks. You sigh into the slow kiss, enjoying what little – and fleeting – time you have with him.

Nanami pulls away with a popping sound, a lovesick smile on his usually stoic expression. It makes you feel giddy and even a little shy, forgetting the fact he just fucked your skull seconds ago, but it’s rare that he lets his guard down anywhere that isn’t the comfort and safety of his home. You’re his home though, and he kisses you one last time, the gesture telling a thousand more words than he’s ever able to.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “I promise I’ll make it up to you when we’re both home.”

You don’t stop him once he finally leaves the room, his rushed footsteps to make it back to the operating room a signal for you to get back to work too. It’s already five am when you’ve made it back to your post, but instead of feeling tired, you’re a lot more energized compared to when you first got here.

Perhaps working overtime isn’t so bad after all, not when there’s always a promise you and Nanami are never leaving the bed for the free weekend.

You’ll just have to be patient.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?"  All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

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

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

@rogermeddow

(message me if you want to be added to any of my oneshot/queen/beatles/chapter taglists)

[chrizbang]

Pairing: Lee Felix x female reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: mature content, lowkey slow burn, breeding kink, soft!dom Felix, creampie.

Word count: 2.975

You and Ashley have been friends for four years now. You went through a lot of hardships together, especially when Ashley had an unplanned pregnancy in the last year of college. Luckily, Mason, now her husband, is an amazing person, and even though it was hard, she was able to graduate. You loved her baby, Arthur, so much, like it was your little brother. You knew that their anniversary was getting closer and you wanted to surprise her.

"No way, I cannot ask you for something like that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Besides, you know I love spending time with Arthur," you said, holding your phone with one hand while you tried to wash the dishes you used to eat dinner with the other. 

"I don't know Y/N..."

"Girl, just stop. I'm not taking a no for an answer. Spending quality time with your husband is important and I know that you have been not getting laid lately."

"You have no idea how hard it is to have sex with a one-year-old making a mess everywhere." You both laughed. 

"I'll go to your house tomorrow at 7 pm. Get a reservation at a nice restaurant, get shaved and, wear your best dress. I want you and Mason to have a good time together."

"Okay, but only because it is our anniversary. I'm gonna take this as a present." Ashley sighed, knowing that she had to say yes anyway.

"Because it is, Ashley. I'll see you tomorrow, bye."

"Bye, honey."

You finished your shores and were planning on watching some videos on youtube when you heard your phone buzzing. You picked it up and saw that you had a message.

Felix, 8:45 pm: Hey

Felix, 8:45 pm: Sorry for messaging late but, are you free tomorrow?

You chuckled. Almost 9 pm wasn't late.

Y/N, 8:46 pm: Sorry, I'm going to my friend's house after work.

Y/N, 8:47 pm: I'm going to babysit her baby so she can go have dinner with her husband.

You met Felix at work, during lunch. He was new there and you have seen him sometimes walking around the place, but you never talked to him. Until one day when he dropped his coffee on you. You remembered how embarrassed he was, his cheeks were red and he profusely apologized. Ever since, you had some small talk with him here and there until one day you gave him his number, saying that he could message you if he needed help with something from work. You know it was bullshit since he was from a different department, but still, you needed an excuse to talk to him. He messaged you a few times but eventually, you thought it was a lost cause.

Y/N, 8:57 pm: Why do you ask?

Felix, 9:00 pm: Nothing.

Felix, 9:01 pm: It's silly.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: If it was that silly, you wouldn't have messaged me.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: Spit it out.

Felix, 9:12 pm: There's a convention for Star Wars fans tomorrow. You said that you loved the movies one time so I bought tickets for you.

Y/N, 9:14 pm: Why didn't you tell me before? 

Felix, 9:15 pm: I didn't know if you would want to go. But it's okay, don't worry about it.

You thought for a moment. You really wanted to spend time with him. Felix was so sweet, respectful and kind. He was also very, very handsome.

Y/N, 9:30 pm: Do you wanna come to my friend's house tomorrow with me? 

You looked at your phone five minutes later and saw that Felix visualized the message but didn't answer. "Congratulations, you fucked it up, Y/N," you said.

You sat on your couch and turned the tv on, planning on finally watching your favorite youtube videos, when you heard your phone buzzing again.

Felix, 9:50 pm: Sure, why not? Is it okay with your friend? She doesn't know me.

You sighed, happy that he answered.

Y/N, 9:51 pm: I'm gonna tell her but I'm pretty sure she'll be fine.

"Is he cute?" Ashley asked, putting on her earring. She looked gorgeous with a tight red dress that accentuated her curves and contrasted with her dark skin. Her curly hair was in a bun, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed. You knew Mason would love it.

"He is very cute. And he's so nice too. I only invited him over because he seems really sweet."

You went to Ashley's house one hour before she would leave for dinner so you could help her get ready, and by help, you meant to force her to wear something that wasn't a t-shirt and jeans.

"How do I look?" she turned around, facing you.

"Gorgeous as always."

Ashley hugged you tight. "Thank you so much, Y/N. You know you don't have to do this, right?"

"But I want to."

The bell rang.

"That's probably Felix," you said.

"Let's go downstairs, I wanna meet this boy."

When you went to the living room you saw Felix talking to Mason.

"Hello, I'm Ashley, nice to meet you."

"I'm Felix, nice to meet you too," Felix raised his hand so he could shake Ashley's hand but she gave him a light hug. You smiled, finding really cute how awkward he was.

"Arthur is sleeping now, he already ate, but if he wakes up, there's milk on the fridge. He usually sleeps all night so you don't have much to worry about."

"Okay, you guys have to go before you're late for dinner," you said, pulling Mason and Ashley towards the door.

"Call me if you need anything. We'll be back tomorrow morning so you'll don't have much trouble with him."

"Don't worry about it. You can take your time."

"Also, don't forg-"

"Baby, we have to go," Mason insisted, holding her hand and trying to get her inside of the car.

"Fine. Bye everyone, see you tomorrow."

You waved at them before going inside and closing the door.

"I'm gonna check on Arthur for a second, you can wait here, okay?" You told Felix.

"Sure."

You went upstairs and checked on Arthur's room. He was sleeping soundly. You felt the urge to lightly pinch his chubby little cute cheeks but you decided not to bother him. You went to the living room again and Felix was sitting on the couch.

"Are you hungry? We bought pizza."

"Uhm, not really."

"Are you sure?" you insisted.

"Okay, one slice would be good."

Felix got up and followed you to the kitchen.

"Your friend has a beautiful house," he said, admiring the place.

"She does. I mean, she's an architect and Mason is an engineer, so they were able to buy a nice place," you cut a piece and handed it to him.

"You said that you studied together."

"We went to the same college, but I graduated in graphic design. For obvious reasons, I don't make as much money as them," you laughed. "Did you always wanted to work in a publishing company?" Felix sat on the balcony standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Honestly, I just wanted to work with what I love. Graphic design is not something that people value but it is what makes me happy." You looked at him and Felix smiled at you, his dimple prominent on his face. He was so cute. "What about you?" "Oh, marketing is definitely not something I dreamed of working with. My family has a long line of people that have been working with it, so I barely had a choice,” Felix confessed. "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah." He looked thoughtful like his mind was somewhere else. "I actually wanted to work with art. I love painting." "Really? That's so cool. Do you have a picture of a painting to show me? I would love to see it." Felix hesitated for a while before he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his gallery. "Please don't think I'm weird," he said before showing you the picture. You raised your eyebrows when you saw what was on the screen of his phone. A beautiful painting of you. You realized that he used your profile picture on Facebook as a reference. "Felix, this is amazing." "It took me a week to finish it," he said, holding his hands behind his back, clearly feeling shy. "I love it, really." You and Felix finished eating. You talked more about your plans for the future, the things you wanted to do with your life, your dreams. You were sitting on the couch watching tv when you heard Arthur crying upstairs. "Ops, somebody woke up." You got up to go to his room and you noticed that Felix was following you. "You don't have to go if you don't want to." "It's fine, I wanna help you." When you entered the room, Arthur was up in his crib, deeply crying. "It's okay," you said in a soft tone, picking him up. "I think somebody needs to change its diaper," Felix said. "You are right," you laughed. "Let's change this little boy." You put Arthur on the changing mat and started to change him, but to be honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Felix laughed. "Let me help you." Felix quickly changed his diaper, he clearly knew what he was doing. "Woah, how do you know that?" you asked, looking at him dumbfounded. He laughed again, amused by your reaction. "I have a small brother so I have changed his diaper plenty of times." "Aaah, that explains a lot."

"Let's see if he wants to eat," Felix said, holding Arthur in his arms. You went to the kitchen and looked for the milk. After pouring it into a pan, you heated it up. "We need to make sure we don't overheat it so it won't burn the baby," Felix said while he tested the milk's temperature. You put it into a baby bottle and gave it to Arthur who promptly drank it. "I guess he was hungry," Felix chuckled. "Do you plan on having kids, Felix?" you looked at him, completely mesmerized by how good he was with kids. "Yes, I love kids. I plan on having two kids one day." "That's so cute, I'm sure you'll be an amazing dad." Felix smiled, making your heart skip a beat. "Do you want to have kids, Y/N?" he looked apprehensive. "Yeah, one day. I still need to find the right person." "Of course." Arthur went back to sleep again when he was done eating. "Not gonna lie, taking care of a baby can be tiring," claimed said, sitting on the couch. Felix sat next to you, his knee touching your leg. "Do you want to watch a movie?" you asked. "Sure!" Twenty minutes later, you started to sleep. Your head felt heavy until it fell on Felix's shoulder. He simply smiled, enjoying the feeling of you so close to him.

The sound of the bell ringing woke you up. You were laying on the couch, a blanket over your body. You looked around and Felix was sleeping on the smaller couch next to yours, with just a pillow under his head. You got up and answered the door. "Hey!" Ashley said, hugging you. "Hi. How was your night?" "It was amazing. Thank you so much, Y/N." Ashley went to the middle of the living room to drop her bag on the couch, Mason following behind. "How's Arthur? Did he behaved?" Mason asked. "Yeah, he slept almost all of the time." You rubbed your eyes, still feeling sleepy. Ashley turned around, seeing Felix sleeping on the couch. "You guys could have slept in the guest room," she laughed. "I'm gonna check on Arthur. What about some breakfast later?" Mason suggested. "That sounds great, but I think we should go home. Besides, you guys need to spend some family time with your baby." You woke Felix up, and while he was trying to get conscious, you chatted with Ashley about dinner. Mason went downstairs with Arthur and you chatted a little more before leaving. "Do you want me to take you home?" Felix asked, leaving Ashley's house by your side. "No, it's okay, I'll get an Uber." "Aw, come on. I'm not gonna let you leave on an Uber so early in the morning." You looked at him, admiring the freckles on his skin. His pink lips looked soft and you had to fight the urge to kiss him. "You know what, okay. I'll go with you." The drive to your house was silent, the music playing on the radio helped you to distract the thoughts on your head. The night you spent with Felix was amazing, seeing him being so sweet like that only made you even more attracted to him. Felix stopped in front of your house. "Well, we are here." "Do you want to come in?" "Oh... uhm, sure, yes, that would be great." You smiled and left the car, running to open the door for him. "Please don't mind the mess," you said, taking some clothes that were on the couch. "Don't worry about it." "Do you want to eat something?" "I'm fine, I'm still full because of the pizza from yesterday." "Okay." There was an awkward silence for a while and you realized you didn't think this through. Invite him over and what? "You know what? There's something I want to eat," Felix said. "Oh, okay. What do you want? I have bread, cereal, we can make panca-" "You." "What?" you looked at him, your eyes wide. "I w-want to eat you." Felix stuttered, his face showing that he was feeling too shy to be saying the words that left his mouth. "Oh, I'm... I-" you didn't have the chance to finish, Felix approached you and kissed you. You were still processing what was happening so you didn't kiss him back yet. Felix noticed and stopped kissing you. "I-I'm so sorry, Y/N, I shoul-" "No! It's okay. I just wasn't expecting." You kissed him, holding his face and tasting his lips. His left hand held the back of your head while the other held your waist. He bit your lower lip, his tongue entering your mouth and playing with yours. He pressed his body against yours and you felt his semi-hard dick. You whined, trying to control your breath. "Do you want to keep going?" Felix asked, his forehead resting against yours. You simply nodded. "Where's your room?" You grabbed his hand, guiding him to your room. Once you were inside, Felix slammed you against the door, pressing his body into yours. He started to grind his clothed cock on your heat and, this time, you couldn't hold your moans anymore. "Felix," was all you managed to say before he kissed you again. A messy kiss that screamed how much he was longing for you, how much he desired you. His hand grabbed your ass, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. "I wanna taste you," he said, taking you to the bed. You laid down and he wasted no time to take off your pants, pulling your panties with them in a swift movement. Soon enough, his tongue was exploring your wet lips, savoring the taste of your arousal. Felix played with your clit, his tongue sliding against the sensitive skin. You hoped that your neighbors had already left for work, otherwise you would end up waking them up because of your moans. Felix stopped eating you out to unbutton his shirt. "You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you," he said, his voice deep, making you raise your hips, craving to be filled up. "Felix, please," you moaned. "You want me to fuck you, baby?" "Yes, please." It was embarrassing, you weren't used to begging. Most of the time that you had sex, you were always the one in control. But not with Felix. "Are you on the pill?" Felix asked, taking the rest of his clothes off and pumping his rock-hard cock. "Yeah, please fuck me." "Anything for you," he growled, sliding his dick into your dripping pussy. Felix already started an incessant pounding into you, stealing moans from your throat. "You are so fucking beautiful." You closed your eyes, feeling the burning on your stomach getting stronger. "Fuck, so fucking good, Y/N. You are taking me so well." "Please, don't s-stop." "Turn around, I wanna fuck you from behind." You didn't have much strength left, but Felix helped you out. He was inside of you again, hitting the right spots in this position. Felix felt your pussy tightening against his dick and he started to play with your clit. "Fuck, Felix, I'm gonna cum," you screamed, not being able to control yourself anymore. You came, a long moan leaving your mouth. "I'm gonna cum inside of your little pussy, I'm gonna fill you up so good." He didn't slow his pace, his hips hitting yours in a fast rhythm. "I'm gonna put a baby in your little cute belly, baby girl," he said, closing his eyes as his dick slid in and out of your pussy. "Fuck," you moaned. "You are gonna look so good, all swollen, f-fuck." A few lazy thrusts and Felix came inside of you. He kept thrusting on you for a while until you milked him out. He laid by your side, trying to catch his breath. Felix put his arm on his face, hiding it. He looked completely flustered. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was way too soon for me to let out this embarrassing kinky stuff." "Felix, shut up. It was fucking hot," you smiled, turning around to hug him and rest your head on his chest. He played with your hair, the warmth of his skin making you fall asleep. But sleeping wasn't on Felix's plans. "Ready for round two?"

[bored-storyteller]

Okay, I can't find where this request went anymore, but I'm sure it existed (or I wouldn't have written this). I'm going to try to look again in the mail. Anyway, our boys (Vil, Azul, Leona) a little sad and the reader comforting them with hugs.

54- Twisted Wonderland, Vil, Azul, Leona x Reader

His life isn't that easy. Back straight, head up, be elegant, be polite, never show the weight that falls on your shoulders. This is Vil's life, nothing more, nothing less.

As beautiful as a marble statue, a precious object that can only be admired, not touched. Sometimes he himself forgets that he is human.

It's hard to never break down, it's hard to keep up appearances, and you make it more difficult. You, the most precious thing he has.

He should feel free with you, right? Isn't that the cliché of every love story? But he can't really know, he's always the bad guy in stories.

So even with you it is the appearance that counts him, because you love him for that, right? It's not like there's much more to him than just his appearance - and apparently not even that is enough to give him any real value.

He is tired, that's why he has such negative thoughts. A restful sleep and the next day it will be a fragrant flower again, but it is still early to go to sleep.

"Vil?" Your angelic voice rouses him. You are there, stuck a few steps behind him, you look at him doubtfully and his heart trembles. Oh, did you notice too much wrinkle in his expression?

"Vil." You call his name again, and he is already preparing to tell you how tiring his day has been to clear the doubts that are likely creeping into you.

Vil is not someone used to being touched, he is a precious work of art after all, yet he is convinced that even a caress from you could at that moment bring him relief. But he has to keep up appearances.

"My dear?" His questioning smile tries not to be too guilty under your worried eyes that scrutinize him.

After a few seconds of silence, you are moving. You are slow, yet fast. Your arms slide gently under his, and your body tightens to his chest. Your warmth invades him as your face seeks refuge under his chin, lovingly rubbing your nose against his neck.

"It's cold ..." You murmur, and this is the justification you use, but he knows that you have only read inside him, and you have simply taken some of his weight for you.

"You smell good." You continue, while his arms hold you slowly, in a silent request for affection.

“Oh yeah… it's a new perfume you know? I thought…"

"Yes, that perfume is good too, but you also smell of something else."

He just walks away, so that his purple eyes can look for the answer in yours for that doubt you have posed to him. There is no need for him to ask, he knows that you will give him the answer.

"The scent of Vil." Your cheerful and affectionate smile erases all poison from his heart, and he smiles at you as he does not smile at anyone else as he silently welcomes you back against him.

Who knows, maybe with you appearances are completely useless.

 

A faint sigh comes from the dorm leader's lips to confide only in the air the pressure he is feeling inside him.

He is an excellent trader, a businessman, an excellent speaker and a perfect gentleman. Is not enough. He is never enough, and he probably never will be.

Sometimes the slander and contempt of many also burn him. Not everyone looks favorably on him, Azul knows, it's the price he himself chose to pay - at least he got something in return, right?

He isn't sure. Days like this, flat and heavy, occasionally bring back the most latent insecurities of him. Not that he shows it, only his eyes barely reflect the weight in his heart if you look at them carefully.

You are a relief, usually. Like every day he waits for you to come and greet him, but more than every day he would like to drop everything else, take you in his arms and hold you there. Yet despite his appearances he is still so shy. Sometimes even your gaze makes him blush, you know it, and you also know how much he cares about his figure and his representation in front of others, so you never take a step too far towards him, and he never has the courage to ask.

"Azul?"

Your voice finally reaches his ears, your bright eyes peeking through the crack of the half-open door before you allow yourself to enter.

"Oh, here you are ... give me a second, I'm almost done." His voice is as firm and calm as ever. He doesn't look at you, it's not strange, but the way he bows his head to avoid you sends you strange meanings.

He doesn't have the courage to look at you, the need he has for you makes him feel ashamed. A child who needs pampering, that's what he is at that moment. A nullity in front of you.

He feels you close, you are next to his chair, standing, looking at him. You don't move away, and he understands that you want his attention, he won't be able to ignore you for long.

"Do you need something?" He finally asks you, and his eyes force them to lift to your face, and he is surprised when he sees you smiling.

You just stare at him for a few moments, without giving him an answer, and then suddenly your arms are around his shoulders, his cheek gently resting on your shoulder.

"I missed you, Azul!" Your light but cheerful voice caresses his ear, while you hug him protectively, full of affection.

"We only met last night ..." he murmurs, in a tone that wanders between wonder and relief.

“I know, but I don't care. I missed you." You confirm again, as you make your way into his lap and let him hold you.

Your weight on him is reassuring, your touch and your presence welcoming.

"I can't hide anything from you, right?" He whispers in your ear, as if he is afraid of being heard by others, even if only the two of you exist in the room.

"No, I would say no." You mutter satisfied, snuggling up to him.

 

Usually he is so good at silencing that part of him, but when that black feeling arises it feels like a living being inside him struggling to get out and leave him weak, empty, mocked. He always swallows it, never allows it to peek out. Sometimes it curls up in the stomach, other times in the lungs, or gets stuck in his ribcage making his heart heavy, almost blocking his breath.

Leona is good at silencing those wounds to his pride, but sometimes it happens that a gesture, a laugh, a word at the wrong time weaken his defenses, taking him away from the already heavy looks of others.

In the greenhouse he is alone with himself. No, he's not there to sleep, he just needs to calm down. For some reason today it is difficult, more than usual. The weight in his chest causes him to hunch over, head bowed, ears down. His hands are left in his lap as he sits hidden among the plants, he almost seems to be meditating. Calm down, calm down, calm your anger. It is what he repeats to himself like a mantra as he listens to his own breath. Nobody can beat you, nobody can hurt you.

No, no one is going to hurt him - no one thinks he's worth hurting, do they? All that he is, all that he knows he is worth, is always trampled on, torn to pieces, thrown away by others, as if it were of no use.

"Caught!"

Your weight is never too violent against his sturdy back, but his surprise causes him to lean forward slightly.

You laugh as your hands gently tighten around his neck, and he growls.

"Idiot! Are you crazy ?! " His words are acidic, but by now you've got used to it. You are the only one who can ever afford to do such a thing with him, you are the only one he can forgive.

He doesn't realize it right away, but that little leap to his heart you gave him has suddenly lightened his mind. He only knows when your arms go away from him.

Wait, stay still.

That thought unexpectedly reaches his mind, but he is quickly kicked out. He won't beg for mercy, not even from you, especially with you.

Still, even if he doesn't speak, your weight doesn't stray too far. Your arms now slowly encircle his stomach as you drop relaxed on his back, like a lion cub on his father's back.

With your head resting behind his ribcage, Leona knows you're listening to his heartbeat. He knows this because he is listening to you too, he listens to your breath which naturally coordinates with the muscle moving slow and powerful in his chest. And then he understands that you understand his need that he pretends not to have.

"You are so strong, Leona."

And that's enough.

A light sigh caresses his lips: "Of course I'm strong, otherwise you-"

"I'd be fine!" You defend yourself, knowing full well where he wants to hit.

You don't see him, but a proud smile is painted on his face as he continues on his way: "Otherwise you would have already been eaten by now."

[lunatictimekeeper]

Obey Me | Lucifer x Male!Reader

❥ WC: 1494 || ❥ Rating: Explicit || ❥ Genre: Smut || ❥ Fandom: Obey me (Shall we Date?)

❥ Summary: Lucifer was begging.

“Please,” his voice just a vibration on your inner thigh as he mouths the new mark he’d proudly put there. It’s a whimper, a whine, and a moan all in one. You look down at him from your position at the edge of the bed- Lucifer kneeling between your legs. One hand is hooked under your thigh, the other rests on your waist with a loving but greedy grip. With lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, he presses another kiss to your inner thigh, but grazes just the tips of his fangs against the skin. It’s enough to make you give a pleasurable shiver- causes your heartbeat to spike in anticipation.

If you like my writing, considering sending me a ko-fi!

Lucifer was begging.

“Please,” his voice just a vibration on your inner thigh as he mouths the new mark he’d proudly put there. It’s a whimper, a whine, and a moan all in one. You look down at him from your position at the edge of the bed- Lucifer kneeling between your legs. One hand is hooked under your thigh, the other rests on your waist with a loving but greedy grip. With lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, he presses another kiss to your inner thigh, but grazes just the tips of his fangs against the skin. It’s enough to make you give a pleasurable shiver- causes your heartbeat to spike in anticipation.

But he won’t do it. He can’t. So he repeats his plea.

You take your hand off the bed to cup his cheek, causing him to lean desperately into your palm. You smile innocently, but the lust swirling in your eyes betrays any semblance of purity you might’ve feigned. Looking at you from above, Lucifer feels his blood rush lower- tries to swallow the lump in his throat as he looks at you.

You’re beautiful. He wants to make you a mess, and show you how much your being was valued. How precious you were to him. But he waits, not even thinking of his own need or the hard length that’s firmly pressed against the bed frame and his stomach.

Your fingers caress his cheek, but you remain silent, messaging his lip with your thumb. He shivers as your nail grazes his lip, but welcomes the finger into his mouth. You push his tongue down, but he’s stubborn in a way, he wants to taste you, feel you! And yet, before he can make a full loop with his tongue you take your finger away with a soft pop and Lucifer keens.

“Please? Please what, Luci?” You question sweetly, leaning forward just enough to put your lips centimeters apart. Lucifer whines, traces circles on your waist, and breathes your name like the air he needs to live. "Please, let me show you a pleasure only I can give..."

In response to his breathless plea, you blink. And then you take a look at the sculpted god below you. Flushed cheeks and lidded eyes, Lucifer’s air was seemingly constricted with just a look from you. You grin, nothing but animalistic desire as you taunt him. You finally tug the leash around his neck with your other hand, a brief kiss pressed to his lips. "But Luci, I'm quite enjoying myself right here. Such a strong demon, the eldest son, reduced to a whimpering mess because a human lays bare above him? I must say you look good under me."

If you were elated by a needy, wanton Lucifer below you, you took unholy pleasure in the sound that left him, his defeated, teary eyes stare and his frustration. "Aww, how absolutely needy you are, such a good boy," you practically moaned. Lucifer whined again at your silence, your words of praise travelling south, and pawed at your hips in an attempt to get you to come closer. To let him kiss you, touch you, worship you... But a firm tug on the leash stilled any movement from him. How obedient, you thought sadistically. But Lucifer was almost in tears, and though you were lost to your own lust, you wanted to see how far you could take this power trip.

With a slow, measured movement, you stretched out your index finger and glided gently over the head of Lucifer's length. A sharp gasp echoes in the room, a long drawn out moan, and Lucifer's begging make another symphony in your ears. How cute, you muse to yourself, even as Lucifer's form shifts slightly. The metal around the base of his length shines with the glint of your eyes. He whimpers unintelligible mess as you make a round trip with your index finger. And then, with every intention of making him plead, you drift that feather light touch to the leakage at the head and flick. He shudders as the cries leave him, your ministrations to his searing, sensitive flesh causing him to draw blanks. Suddenly, Lucifer grips your thigh- it's bruising, but it isn't intentional and that makes it all the more enjoyable.

"Oh? Something wrong, love?"

"More," He trails quietly, your smirk twisting maliciously. But before the sentence he could dream leaves him, he shifts, the band around the base of his length snaps and clatters out the floor. In his demon form, Lucifer is a sight to behold, nothing but muscle and power. But more than that, he openly radiates the need to please you. Even if he breaks a few rules to do so. He's on his feet in an instant, pulling you up and around as he switches your positions, with you on his lap. You tug at the leash, testing how far gone he is, but in the moment he lurches forward, he presses a hot, feral kiss to your lips. You moan, shifting in his lap until both of your erections are pressed together, forcing Lucifer to shiver and pull you closer. But his orgasm is the last thing on his mind, especially with you bare on his lap.

"No more teasing, let me touch you properly," He mouths against your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone and choosing where his teeth nipped at the flesh with care. Just the right mix of pain and pleasure, with so much hunger and need that even you could feel it. "So beautiful," He whimpers against your skin, deciding to give his dominance a parting gift. His hands, warm and large, engulf you, and then his teeth are sinking into your neck and you yelp and cling to him, the stimulation a bit too much. You whine, but Lucifer laps reverently at your skin, and apology of sorts. "I'll make a mess of you."

He growls, and it's all you can do to sit still, unbothered in appearance, and not palm yourself. It's so possessive, but more than that, it's hungry and passionate. A growl reserved for you, when Lucifer decides that you are the only ruler who could possibly make him feel all this and more. Taking your hips in his hands, he pulls you chest to chest so that he can easily overpower you with kisses. But his hands are drifting, everywhere and nowhere, hot and then unsatisfyingly cold as they move to their next destination. Lucifer spares no effort in letting you know he worships you, but he also knows that if you tug, he will obey. Because he worships you above all else.

He pauses for just a moment, laying you on your back as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. "Let me treasure you, and only you." He whispers, kissing down to your navel, until he uses his strong arms to open your legs- not that you would have denied him. He's so focused, so determined to please you, so dedicated... the moment the kisses on your inner thigh make it to your length, he's drooling. He hums, nuzzling his face into you in a lewd manner, but even then you can feel the love in it. And then he sucks the tip between his lips, and you can't help the helpless whine that leaves you. Lucifer moans in return, and though he's tried to restrain himself, he comes to the sound of your pleasured moans, hollowing his cheeks even then as he focuses solely on you. His pleasure vibrates against you, and you can't help but whimper his name in unabashed lust and pleasure. Lucifer doubles down, keeps his eyes on your face as much as he can with you down his throat. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. He takes his time bringing you to the end, pulling off with a slick pop to breath, before his hands begin to work you along with his mouth. "Mmm," he hums, teasingly, maybe even tauntingly, before he focuses on your orgasm and begins to suck and circle his tongue around you.

"Lucifer!" You cry, hands flying to tangle in his hair. Your stomach tightens, and you can't warn him fast enough- you get the feeling he doesn't want you too - before you climax hits and Lucifer pulls away slowly, a string of fluid connecting his lips to the head of you length. You blush as you catch your breath, but Lucifer smiles and climbs over you, wrapping around your back as you come down from your high. You open your mouth to speak, but Lucifer moves his finger to your lips to silence you.

"All about you," He huffs, though he is happy that you're worried about him. He pulls you closer, and with that warmth and Lucifer tracing circles on your stomach you both fall asleep. But your smile doesn't fade, and your dreams are consumed by fantasies of Lucifer going all out.

[adapembroke]

The Best Self-Care Routine For Your Moon Sign

If you’ve ever read an article about self-care and felt like it was adventures in missing the point for you, you’re not alone. Just like one-size-fits-all clothes are a myth, one-size-fits-all self-care routines aren’t going to work for everyone.

In astrology, the moon describes the things you need to be happy. It is your personal recipe for comfort and well-being.

In this article, I talk about what a daily routine of self-care looks like for each of the astrological signs.

Moon in Aries

Aries is a stress magnet. With the moon in Aries, it’s essential for you to build activities into your routine that help burn off stress.

In the morning… Start your day with a quick yoga routine or an adaptogen-filled smoothie.

At work… It’s easy for you to fall into a bad posture or unconsciously clench your muscles when you’re stressed out at work. Make sure to take a few minutes throughout the day to stretch and move your body—especially if your job requires you to sit for long periods of time.

At lunch… Fuel up on food that will give you energy, and take a few minutes to do deep breathing exercises. If you have a hard time sitting still long enough to meditate, try taking a walk or doing a simple mindfulness practice.

After work… It’s important to communicate to your body when stress is over. If you find your work or your commute stressful, do something that marks the transition from work-time to home-time like changing your clothes or taking a shower.

On your days off… Look for adventures. You weren’t made to be bored, and there’s a big, wide world out there to explore.

Moon in Taurus

Earthy Taurus moons feel best when you are in your body, and it feels good. You weren’t born on this earth to be a stress-ball, and the more you lean into that, the happier you’ll be.

In the morning… Try to give yourself plenty of time to get through your morning routine. Taurus is a slow sign naturally, and you thrive on calm. Having a few minutes before you begin your day to drink your coffee before you have to start anything important will do a lot for your mood.

At work… Resist the temptation to give into productivity culture. You work best when you’re able to work at your own pace, even if that’s slow and steady. The time other people spend healing from burnout is time you can use to catch up.

At lunch… If there’s anything about your job that is physically uncomfortable, spend a few minutes getting away from that thing, if you can. Otherwise, eat something delicious and take a walk outside when the weather is nice.

After work… Take care of your body. Taurus is the most embodied sign in the zodiac, and it’s important for you to make time in your routine to feel good every day, even if it’s as simple as switching to the comfy shoes instead of the ones that pinch.

On your days off… Spend as much time as you can outside in nature. Taurus gets a lot from connecting with animals, so spend some time at the park watching people walk by with their dogs.

Moon in Gemini

Gemini is the sign of the conversationalist. Gemini moons are happiest when you feel like you are thinking quickly and on top of your game.

In the morning… Take a deep breath. You might be tempted to do All The things, but you don’t have to jump into everything right away. All you have to do right now is breathe.

At work… You might do your best work by going along with the task that is most immediate or urgent, but it’s important to remember that your priorities are important, too. Make a list of a few things you think are important to finish every day and do your best to make sure they don’t get lost.

At lunch… Talking with people is a very important emotional need for you. If you have a job that doesn’t allow you to talk to people while you’re working, reach out to a friend or grab a colleague for coffee.

After work… If you have a job that bores you, now is the time to stimulate your mind. Talk to people you find interesting or geek out about the thing you’re obsessed with at the moment.

On your days off… Socialize, socialize, socialize.

Moon in Cancer

Cancer is the sign of the nurturer, which means that it is extra important for you to take care of yourself. There’s a lot of pressure (especially on people of certain genders) to put everyone else’s priorities first, but you will do a better job taking care of others when you’re well taken care of first.

In the morning… Feed yourself. Literally. It sends a message to your body that you’re taking care of yourself.

At work… Honor your emotions, whatever they are. If it isn’t appropriate to express your feelings in front of your colleagues, there’s a reason the bathroom door has a lock on it.

At lunch… Find quiet if you can. If you can’t, a good pair of noise cancelling headphones works wonders.

After work… Reconnect with your feelings before you jump into anything. If your job is particularly stressful, be careful about making plans on work nights, or make sure you can back out of them. Sometimes self-care isn’t compatible with dinner parties.

On your days off… Schedule yourself some free-time alone. Ask yourself: If I was my best parent, what would I do with this time? Then do that thing.

Moon in Leo

Leo is the sign of the entertainer and the child. You have an emotional need to be seen, and you need to feel like you are making the people around you happy. When you are alone, creative self-expression feeds your soul.

In the morning… Put on something that feels like You. Other signs can get away with wearing the same gray dress slacks 6 days a week. (I’m looking at you, Capricorn.) You don’t have that luxury. A spontaneous smile when you look in the mirror is a must.

At work… You need to be in a job where your work is appreciated. If the people around you don’t get what you’re about, lunch breaks are for job hunting.

At lunch… Do something playful. Adult coloring books were made for Leo moons.

After work… If you’ve got social energy to burn, use it, baby!

On your days off… The best audience is a grateful audience. Take a few hours to volunteer for a cause you believe in.

Moon in Virgo

Virgo is famous for being a detail-oriented perfectionist. As a Virgo moon, you have an emotional need to feel like you have all your ducks in a row. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

In the morning… Get straight on your priorities. List making was made for Virgo moon mornings.

At work… Find yourself being especially critical of yourself (or someone else)? Make it a practice to notice three things you (or they) do right every day. You can do it. Honestly.

At lunch… Check in with yourself: How is that to-do list coming? If you’re feeling antsy because things aren’t getting done, reassess your plans and make peace with changes or set some boundaries on your afternoon.

After work… Make yourself a healthy dinner and get some exercise. …That isn’t the kind of indulgent self-care advice you usually get, but it will make you feel better.

On your days off… Connect with a craft. Anything that you really enjoy doing and can work on perfecting is good for the soul.

Moon in Libra

Libra is the sign of the scales, which means that feeling like you have balance and calm in your life is important for your emotional health.

In the morning… Get into your body and literally find your balance. Spending a minute in a one-legged yoga pose will tell your brain that it’s time to wake up and find your footing.

At work… People are going to look to you to be the peace maker. You can embrace this, or you can fight it, but your ability to see all sides of an issue is valuable. Allow yourself to shine.

At lunch… Look at your face in the mirror. If your best friend had that expression on their face, what advice would you give them? Go do that.

After work… Tend to your relationships. A healthy relationship is a happy Libra moon.

On your days off… Seek serenity, chase beauty, live poetically.

Moon in Scorpio

Scorpio is the sign of the psychologist and the sorcerer. No one feels their darkest emotions as strongly as a Scorpio moon. Tending to hard emotions is essential for your emotional health.

In the morning… Watch out for getting in the habit of waking up depressed, anxious, or angry. If you find that you’re in the same bad mood every morning, it doesn’t have to be that way. Change up your routine, and, if that doesn’t work, talk to your doctor.

At work… It can feel sometimes like you are a researcher behind a one-way mirror. You can see everyone else, but everyone else can’t see you. You can use this to your advantage. It can also make you invisible at times when people should be seeing the good work you’re doing. Make sure you’re using your super power intentionally.

At lunch… If your job denies you solitude, take it back during your breaks. Having times to sort through your feelings during the day is vital for Scorpio moons.

After work… Music is your best friend. If you have a commute, listening to music that resonates with your feelings (or, better, takes you to a better emotional place) will give you a much better evening.

On your days off… Connect with people who love your intensity. The cool kids are supposed to be easy-going, but there are people who value deep honesty. Treasure them when you find them.

Moon in Sagittarius

Sagittarius is the sign of the wanderer, the philosopher, and the student, and no sign understands that life is a journey better than Sagittarius moons. You have an emotional need to feel like life has meaning. Don’t let the cynical world out there put out your fire.

In the morning… If you don’t know the reason you got up this morning, figuring it out is the first thing on your to-do list.

At work… No matter what your job is, find some time to do something you’ve never done before, even if it’s finding out where they keep the big boxes of ketchup packets. Learning something new every day is key to your happiness.

At lunch… Do something that makes you happy. Taking a break to look at silly kitten pictures is a thing.

After work… Break up your routine and try something new. That new Ethiopian restaurant down the street really is calling your name.

On your days off… Explore, explore, explore.

Moon in Capricorn

Some of the other signs might not realize that you weren’t born wearing a business suit, but we know you have a big heart, Capricorn moon.

In the morning… The person who invented goal setting was probably a Capricorn moon. Feeling like you have a clear idea of the mountain you have to climb today is important to you.

At work… You don’t need advice. You’re a Capricorn.

At lunch… Be intentional about eating at your desk. Is it really helping, or does it just feel like it’s helping?

After work… Exists. If you let it.

On your days off… Take them.

Moon in Aquarius

Aquarius is the sign of the genius and the rebel. Aquarius moons have an emotional need to go against the crowd and do their own thing.

In the morning… If you can, try to wake up without an alarm. The feeling of starting the day on your terms will do a lot for your emotional state.

At work… Check your relationship with authority. If you are in a position where you need to take orders from someone you don’t respect, don’t underestimate the toll that will take on your emotional health, and account for that in your self-care practices.

At lunch… Think about the future. It’s something you probably enjoy doing anyway, and if you don’t like your current circumstances some healthy day-dreaming will help you make changes.

After work… Get back into your body. Aquarius’s favorite coping mechanism is dissociation, and it’s important to remember to stop when the need is gone.

On your days off… Do your own thing.

Moon in Pisces

Pisces is the sign of the mystic, the poet, and the open ocean. It is essential for Pisces moons to have free time to explore the mysteries of consciousness and Just Be.

In the morning… Start your day with meditation, even if it’s a few minutes staring out the window on the bus.

At work… Pisces has the ability to masquerade as other signs when necessary, but it’s important to remember who you are. When you’re starting to feel ungrounded lean into the place in your body that feels like the core of your being. Meditate on it for a minute. You’ll know what I’m talking about.

At lunch… Space out. If you don’t do it now, you’ll do it this afternoon. (You might do it this afternoon, anyway.)

After work… Have you meditated yet today?

On your days off… Sensory deprivation tanks were made for Pisces moons.

What about you? What’s your moon sign, and what are you doing to take care of yourself today?

If you’ve read this far, you’re pretty cool, I’d love for you to connect with me on Instagram and tell me about your plans.

Related Posts

[lilsuzn]

MLQC Victor - NSFW abc headcanons (REMASTERED)

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Warnings: Explit sexual content (GN READER)

it's what I posted a while ago, but better - I changed some things, I deleted some thing and wrote new. I think it's much better now

A = Aftercare (What they are after sex?)

Victor is a man that has his values straight

You are the most important part of his life (even if he sometimes struggles to shop it) and he will do anything for you… and only for you

Other people don’t matter. He only takes what he wants and leaves.

But you - his sweetest, dearest, little love… can ask anything and everything (well, almost - see N).

You crave massages? He will buy the most luxurious oils on the market, might even take a course to perfect his skills to give you more pleasure

Want to take a bath? He will have a bathtub installed if he doesn’t have one already

Pillowtalk, kissing, snuggling, another round? No need to say it twice. He leaves to please you

When it comes to him, he likes to pull you close and tell you all the things he has no courage to say at any other time

Leave no space for misunderstanding in the department of his unconditional, boundless, eternal love and devotion for you

Tell you just how happy he is to have you and how everything is worthless in comparison to you

After he makes sure you’ve been pleasured throughly already, he will want to share a shower

And make no mistake - he will wash you. You can wash him too, if you want, but taking care of that pretty body of yours is his responsibility

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part is his waist

It wasn’t easy to get that V shaped body and he is extremely proud of this accomplishment…

Especially when he sees your hungry gaze roaming his torso up and down

And you… He couldn’t possibly choose one part

Beautiful legs, rounded butt, soft abdomen and that gorgeous, gorgeous smile

Yeah…

No…

That would be your thighs when it comes to the sexual aspect

You have such a delicate skin there. So suckable. Kissable. More plush than any pillow could ever be

He feels so secure and at ease when they squeeze around his head as you ride his face.

The sound of his hips slapping against them - heavenly

Not much can make him calmer than your lovely, plump thighs

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

It should come (hihihi) as no surprise that he loves to spill inside

It’s so intimate… Bonding…

Doesn’t really like to cum onto you for reasons he himself doesn’t really understand

It just feels… somewhat degrading? And he doesn’t like it that way?

Then again cuming into your mouth is a strong YES. Maybe it’s because of how enthusiastically you take him in

How you collect all the spill from your chin and lick it off your fingers like it was some kind of delicious delicacy

That sight makes him hard all over again…

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory - a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a folder of your photos on his computer

Some of them were taken with consent… Some without you realising…

Because you were in his bed sleeping in your naked glory… And he could only stop himself the first, like 20 (?) times

He sorts them by aesthetic and cuteness/sexiness

Jacks off to them when you’re not around

Most of them are very artistic. He tries his best to make them as good as the ones he was using before you… (see J)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He slept with a few girls in college, but he saw it only as ‘taking care of his sexual needs’ - no real feelings included

He had one dedicated booty call - a girl who fell in love with him despite him saying that he only only sees her for sex

That period really allowed him to explore his sexuality

So he knows what he likes and what to do, so his partner likes it too

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Everything when he takes you from the back

He’s rather keen on yanking hair, slaping ass…

But when it comes to the person he loves - you, he likes to face each other during sex

He wants to kiss your face, neck and chest. Nuzzle his face into your abdomen while he’s going down from his height

Your legs thrown over his shoulders so he can slap his hips against your soft thighs

Or legs pressed to your sides, hands gripping your thighs

And he can’t even attempt to lie he doesn’t absolutely love when you sit on his lap… or get on top in general

Or when your thighs grip his head when you 69 on the couch while ‘watching’ a movie. Your lips sloppy around him as his tongue pleasures you with most precision and dedication

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

No goofy.

If they start to joke around, they get spanked. HARD.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Victor is a passionate swimmer, so most of his body is hairless

But he doesn’t shave his pubes. Finds it weird to be completely bare down there and the first time he had sex with a completly hairless girl, he was a bit taken aback with her baby like smoothness.

Only trims them with a ‘pubes razor’ which is his old razor that he doesn’t use for face anymore, because he got a better one from his aunt for Christmas

Carpet matches the drapes

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

No goofy.

Only love and eternal devotion.

He will caress and leave kisses all over your body. Keep you close in the warmest and most loving embrace

No dummies or idiots in bed. Only treasures and loves

Almost like he’s trying to make it up to you for his tendency to be so aloof on a daily basis

The sweet talk doesn’t stop there, but I already said everything about it in A

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

This man didn’t have time to waste on women when he was building his empire, so he naturally spend quite a lot of his life masturbating instead of having sex

He doesn’t really enjoy porn, though. It’s too cartoonish for him. He much prefers to look through lingerie commercials or nude photoshoots - the more artistic the better

After he reunites with you, he starts to feel all that pent up sex tension and starts to jack off almost every day

Thinking about you. Looking at photos of you. Carving you with every small bit of his being

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

First of all - seeing his partner being pleasured. Either by him or by a vibrating toy plugged into them or pressed against their sensitive spots. He doesn’t even pump himself watching. He’s way too consumed with the enticing sights

Double penetration. His huge dick in one whole, dildo in another… Just thinking about it gets him going

He can’t deny himself at least some manhandling (if you consent - obv). Although he doesn’t go full on dom every time (at least with you) he seems to be unable to deny himself some hair pulling and choking... Although he almost does it lovingly? Spanking and whipping will surely also happen from time to time. Can get very rough when jealous

Also a slight daddy kink. When he hears it slip past your lips in the form of a joke - he feels some strange tingling in his groin and it’s not a venereal disease

If you sit on his lap, make a cute, helpless expression and ask daddy to play with you… It just turns him into a primal animal with no self restraint

That he kinda always seems to be

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Where nobody can hear them

Or see them

Anywhere with a stable surface really, but he needs to know you will have full privacy

Would never agree for public sex

All the sweet sounds and expressions he makes you do are his and only his to experience

M = Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

Stress, irritation, anger, hurt… Sex is a great way for him to gat this weight of his chest since he doesn’t really like to think those negative feeligs through

Or any feelings, if we’re at it

A nice butt is also a motivation, especially when it’s attached to a fine pair of legs

But both of these factors aren’t a guarantee of a turn on and even if they have that impact on him, he still will most likely not act on it

What he really struggles to control is a real attraction that reaches what’s beyond physical

A beautiful, hardworking and open-minded person is something Victor finds hard to ignore

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do/turn offs)

No sharing

No blood play

No permanent marking

Nothing too forcefull or aggressive

No sex before assigning boundaries and exchanging preferences

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As I already said In B, Victor is an oral lover

More into giving than receiving, but would never push his lover away

(you can always 69, right?)

The man is humming in pleasure as his tongue slides along your sex

Is more than willing to go for hours if only you let him

The more you moan the more intense his movements become

His main goal is to please

The secondary one is to be the best at yet another thing

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He has two base modes

One: I love you, my sweet creature - all about measured, unhurried but hard thrust. True, pure love-making

Two: Little girls don’t get a say in how daddy fucks them - you’re tearing up, sobbing, drooling and he gets even more turned on by it. Fucks harder and faster then you both believed possible. Years of engaging in sports come to show themselves

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He will participate when the occasion occurs

Might even initiate an occasion

But it’s not really sex for him. It’s a quickie

And when compared to the real love-making with you… it’s just meh

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

When it comes to taking risks, I believe I already made it clear that he isn’t too into that

If someone walked in you, it would be very upsetting for him

If you got accidentally hurt would break his heart

But experiment he would happily

New toys, new positions, new kinks… He will try anything once

Well, almost anything (see N)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

We all have our better and worst days, and this man has a whole company to run. It’s only natural for him to be tired

So usually he won’t last for more than one round. Maybe 3 on weekends

But will last a while if he sets a slower pace (see P)

On vacations however, after a few days of rest his stamina will increase dramatically

Have you seen this guy’s torso? Exactly

He has some stamina to spare

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not against, although he prefers to experiment with positions that to experiment with toys

Will probably never propose any, except when he knows his partner is into such things

If you do - Victor will do his research and find something exciting for you to enjoy

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He really is not patient enough for that

Doesn’t have time for it either

Why would he even want to? They’re unsatisfied = he’s unsatisfied (as I mentioned in K)

He sees no appeal in it. When he wants to fuck, he wants to fuck. No reason to beat around the bush

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Victor can be a bit more talkative than usual during the foreplay

Throughs some praise (a lot of it)

Tell you about his feelings (but not too much at that point)

About things that made him jealous…

A quiet Fuck may leave his lips when he enters you and when he’s about to come

In the middle of those two - he’s rather silent

Not much of a moaner

He grunts and growls a lot though. Can get a little bit loud from time

W = Wild card (A random headcanon for the character)

It was a sunny, autumn day. You were walking down the street. You’re fingers entwined. The sunlight was gracing your beautiful features so gorgeously… and he had already been yearning for so long

When you’ve finally reached the Souvenir’s door, the man is all worked up

Not that you could tell from his steely expression

But you sure got suspicious when he got all touchy feely out of the sudden

Not that you would ever mind - obviously

Feather light kisses on the nape of your neck and shoulders. Fingertips caressed your waist to then slide down to your hips. Then he reached for the hem of your dress…

“I love you…” he whispered in your ear

Goosebumps momentarily appeared on your skin as all the intense feelings he had been making you experience from the very day you saw him for the first time in his office travel down your spine in a form of a intense shiver

You wanted him. So bad. For so long.

And there was no hiding his feelings for you at that moment as you turned your head to face him

Soon after stomach was pressed against the kitchen counter. Your naked butt was all out on display for Victor to squeeze and spank as you squirmed and moaned under his touch

Victor didn’t take any unnecessary time to move his long, broad fingers down, to stroke your sensitive slit

He praised you for being so wet, so flushed, so eager for him

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

“I love you, too” you whispered to his ear as his arms pressed you as close to his body as possible, while you were still going back from your highs

And after that, from his lips slipped the words of the most sincere adoration… and true love

Words you would never expect to leave his beautiful, soft mouth

Matches the rest of the man

Long and thick

No curvature. Perfectly straight

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Rather average

Ha has periods when he doesn’t even think about it

And he has ones when he can’t stop thinking about it

However he doesn’t go too much either way

Z = Zzz… (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Remember what I said in S? Applies here as well

He’s a hardworking man

Simplu needs to work hard to keep his business growing and to keep his lover pleased

Then he just needs to get some rest. Don’t try to change his mind because he will

If he’s well rested however, he won’t let you sleep

Like, not a chance. You need to come at least five times. He doesn’t make the rules, sorry

[antarax]

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

It's late at night when Damian makes a stop by your house with the intention to confess his feelings for you.

Damian Wayne x Black!Reader, gender neutral.

Words: 2,105

AN: Happy Valentine’s to all the beautiful black people in the fandom!! I dedicate this one to all of us, who rarely get any works that include us or are actually vague enough to. Hope you enjoy it 💞

It was a quiet, cold night in Gotham. Neon city lights blurred into your room as the muffled sounds of the videogame on the old TV kept you company, the blue hue of the fluorescent lights washing over your bedroom even through half-pulled curtains. 

The day had been a slow and uneventful one. For you, at least, after the hope of receiving someone's valentine had been completely blown off, the same energy manifesting itself in you as the night also dragged itself along. 

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of your window opening, having had no expectations of anything more for the day –that, and the fact that it was well into the night already. You saw Damian standing outside with his hand on the window sill, a bag in the other, Robin uniform dirty and tattered as his cape fluttered violently with the breeze. 

He seemed stuck in his place, as if he had been the one surprised, frowning like he hadn't expected you in your own room. 

The slight semblance of a smile grew on your face, "Well, come in," you said, pausing the game. 

It wasn't uncommon for Damian to stop by your building after a busy night, the moon shining beautifully in the sky and the clouds a beautiful swirl of the light as he came through your window expertly quiet. But, even then with the known comfortability and trust you two had managed to reach in your relationship, it also wasn't uncommon to feel like remnants of the younger, more insecure Damian still clung to him slightly. 

Slightly as in  heavily. 

You watched him as he moved into the small space and set down the bag on the floor, taking off his gloves and mask with the rough delicacy you associated with him. 

He stood as if he was tightly wound up, like perhaps he could breathe wrong, or whatever new, unspoken rule he'd created for himself plagued his mind now. 

It was a little funny. 

"I'm not going to eat you, you know?" 

Damian rolled his eyes, "I'm aware." 

"Doesn't look like it," You muttered, glancing down at the controller in your hands, "What's in the bag anyways?" 

"I— Things." 

You raised a brow. 

"Food, sweets. Drinks." 

"Really?" 

"Yes," Damian replied, sitting down and sagging against the wall underneath the windowsill, chest rising and falling slowly as he exhaled deeply. Damian grabbed the bag again, putting it down next to you, "They're yours." 

You set aside the controller and rummaged through the bag, the thoughts racing in your head. Damian knew you well and you him, your friendship spanning over a few years now. There had been a lot you'd trusted him with. Secrets, worries, embarrassing shit you'd done that still haunted you and Damian had been no different. He let you in on his bigger secret, how he carried the mantle of Robin every night. Some of his deepest remorses were ones that you had knowledge of; although never diving too deep in the murky waters of Damian’s life, you still valued the clear trust he had in you. 

And along all these moments, every opportunity you've had to know each other, slowly and softly peeling aside the layers covering the people you were, a warm intimacy rooted itself in your growing friendship. A comfortable sort of intimacy. 

Every once in a while you stopped by the manor on the quiet days where it was only Alfred and the animals. You helped Alfred in the kitchen whenever he was practicing for a new recipe or baking a dessert for the family later in the day. You spent hours with Damian in his room, where his cat Alfred would always curl up next to you on his bed as he worked on his art, walking around the manor or playing around with Titus and Batcow in the manor's backyard –which, really, was just an enormous open field that they were too humble to call so– and sometimes you'd even earn an invitation to dinner. 

As for you, Damian tended to visit at night more so than day, but there were moments where he would show up on a sunny afternoon when everyone else wasn't home, slumping down on your couch for an hour or two before going back to his own things. Sometimes he'd drop by books he'd seen at the library, a small trinket he'd bought at the store and various other paraphernalia that, somehow, you always ended up loving. 

Damian knew your taste well, and there was no doubt he'd spend countless amounts of time pondering over each of his gifts before they ever reached your hands. All things that while anyone else might have brushed over you appreciated immensely. 

"You know," you began as you leaned back into the foot of your bed, ripping off pieces from a napkin you'd taken out of the bag, buying time. Hesitating, "I actually— sort of, was hoping for a valentine this year." 

You gazed at Damian's eyes, your interest boring into them, digging as deep as you were allowed. They looked nervous, hilariously so. Almost like he'd been caught. But caught... doing what, exactly? 

Perhaps caught in the middle of staring back at you as he'd tend to do; how he'd tend to do and assumed you didn't notice. 

Or maybe caught when he would discreetly drop off something in your room or your locker after having seen it at the store or the cafeteria and knowing immediately you'd like it, always behind the guise of simple complacency. Caught, in his true intentions, what truly made him do all these otherwise insignificant things that were much too small even for somebody as detail-driven as Damian. 

Olive-colored eyes still shifted uncomfortably in front of you as the sole giveaway of the true nervousness Damian was drowning in, refusing to show anything more of himself, even when it mattered. 

Especially when it mattered. It was frustrating. 

"You were?" 

"Yeah," You shifted in your spot, "I was." 

No one could ever, ever know something about Damian that he didn't share. It's just not something you could do. Not when it came to him. Anybody who knew anything at all about who Damian Wayne is, at his core in existence, knows it only because he's allowed them to. 

And he'd allowed you to know this too, and yet now he was hesitating. 

"You wished to have... a valentine. Anyone?" 

"Anyone." 

"You could have, easily, if you wanted it," Damian rolled his eyes. 

"I could?" You smiled, and the twinkle in your eyes was nothing short of mischievous. 

"Yes." 

"Reeeally. How?" 

Damian slouched against the wall, "Well, you'd simply have to ask," he said it as if it had been an obvious fact, "I'm sure anyone at the academy would've said yes." 

Your smile widened as you raised your brows, "Oh?" 

Damian frowned, "You are making fun of me." 

"What do you mean? How." 

Damian crossed his arms as you laughed. 

"You think I'm making fun of you," you protested, "I'm not." 

"TT." 

"There's something you want to say, isn't there? Just spit it out, Damian." 

Damian's eyes lingered all over the room. His hands had started to sweat a while ago and by then, his heart had sped up so much he was sure it was making some attempt at breaking through and out of his chest. 

Originally, his plan had been to drop by and bring you a gift, but then he'd gotten nervous and internally malfunctioned, because he'd bought a double of everything so that you wouldn't assume it had been a gift and instead just him coming by to hang out like he always did. 

He had planned to come by, tell you he'd... harbored a few unwanted feelings towards you and hoped you would have been tired enough that you wouldn't have realized it, but clearly, his plan had flipped over backwards and blown up in his face. 

Damian took as deep a breath as possible with his collar putting him in a choke hold, as if trying to push out his words while simultaneously wanting to keep them buried the deepest he could. 

"I— hm," He stared intently at the floor, for the first time in a while feeling like the small child who would trip over his own emotions again, but he was resolved to tell you, "I like you. I suppose." 

It hadn't been surprising to Damian. More that it was hard to accept. He'd mulled over it for a long, long time. In fact, the reason he'd visited you tonight, made up his mind to tell you so, had been his ridiculously embarrassing performance. 

Being surprised by petty thieves and thrown out of the loop by measly codes, none of which happen, ever, not to him at least. Damian was far above such childish mistakes, at least so he thought until he started taking a closer look at his own thoughts and realized your eyes had gone from brown to 'beautiful pools of honey', your skin a beautiful, shining shade of brown. 

He was an artist, after all. He'd spent afternoons studying his environment, the shapes and colors, how everything fit in together; you were no stranger to his thoughts. 

Which of course, you wouldn't know. If you had, you would have taken the jump much earlier. You would have never acted based off of assumption alone, but having the confirmation, well. 

By now you had to contain your smile because surely, surely, your cheeks would be sore afterwards. 

"Wow," you raised your brows in obvious mocking, "Really?" 

Damian scrunched up his face in disgust, like he'd witnessed the most foul thing yet, crossing his arms tighter but refusing to meet your gaze as he turned to the wall. 

"You know, Damian." 

"Yes?" 

"The valentine I was hoping for this year… was yours. You could've easily made a card and thrown some glitter over it and that would be the end of that." 

"A card, with glitter?" Damian snapped his head at you, seeming almost bored as he spoke in a deadpan voice, "Is that how lowly you think of me?" 

At this you did laugh, almost too loudly for one in the morning, that you had to push both your hands against your mouth. 

Damian frowned, "Please do know that if I were to ever make something so miserable, it must be because I've been replaced. Which would not happen. Ever." 

You stood, shuffling over to Damian and sitting down next to him. 

He looked pretty underneath the moonlight coming through the window, the curls over his forehead looking soft and shiny. 

Damian looked right into your eyes, for the first time that night not looking away, he was trapped now. Not truly, he could leave, but did he want to? Not at all. 

Softly, Damian touched your hand, something perhaps akin to fear in his eyes as if he still expected rejection. 

"Damian?" 

"Hm?" 

"I'm going to kiss you." 

"Oh." 

"Unless you don’t want me to." 

"Please do. I mean—" 

It was a shy and quick kiss, but so, so exciting as Damian's grip tightened around your hand and you leaned into him. 

When you leaned away, it was with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

"Please do—" 

Damian frowned again, clearly not amused. After a few seconds though, your laugh died out. Truth is, your stomach was churning. Because, while you were very much happy and excited, you were also incredibly nervous. 

Both of you were stitching your thoughts back together, seconds of silence passing by. You were still holding Damian's hand. 

He closed his eyes, frown deepening considerably and quickly before he spoke, vile spilling out of his mouth, "A card? With some glitter thrown over it?" 

He looked downright furious, disgusted even. 

"Seriously?" 

"It's not that big of a deal," You chuckled, "Get over it." 

"Hm." 

Damian looked out the window, and you followed, the moon standing beautifully in the middle of the sky. 

Damian sighed, "I have to go." 

"Oh... okay." 

He didn't move. Neither of you did. 

Damian gave you a quick kiss again, looking absolutely scandalized when he pulled back. You stared at each other in complete disbelief before he stood up and started putting his gloves on again. 

He pressed his hands onto the windowsill and took a deep breath.

Damian looked at you, tenderly, "Goodnight, Y/N." 

"Goodnight, Damian." You smiled. 

Damian gave you a small smile, "Hm." 

You watched as he jumped off, grappling to the nearest building and laughed when you saw him standing still before disappearing into the night. 

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 10

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - allusions to sex, slow burn and slight angst.

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TEN - NEXT

You hadn't heard Maxwell's faint whisper when he had gotten into the car. You had, however, acknowledged Jeeves brief nod of affirmation when Maxwell sank bank into his seat and clicked his seat belt in place before taking hold of your hand and pressing gentle, comforting kisses along your knuckles. Jeeves had taken the long way back to the penthouse, or so you assumed. There were plenty of detours, and pretty soon you realised he was actually driving you away from the bustling city. Pearly white snow lapped the landscape around you as he drove down the long road, framed by tall bare trees.

"We're leaving the city?" you asked Maxwell, leaning your head into his shoulder. "I thought we were going home."

"We are." Maxwell replied and you furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment, but opted not to say another word. You didn't need to. You trusted him. The rest of the journey was spent in comfortable silence, you and Max just glad to be in each other's presence once more.

Finally, Jeeves pulled up outside a huge white mansion with pillars bigger than you had ever seen before. It was magnificent, unlike anything you had ever seen before. Your hand not leaving his, Maxwell helped you out of the car and walked you to the front door, reaching into his pants pocket for the keys and unlocking it in one swift movement.

"This is- this is-" you were speechless.

"My home," Maxwell replied with a smile, carefully guiding you into the lobby. You wiped the icy water from your winter boots on the mat before following him down the hallway and into the front room. It was enormous, carpeted. A gorgeous marble fireplace and oil paintings hung up on every corner. Maxwell took a spare key from a fruit bowl and handed it to you. "And, your home. If you'd like."

"Wh- what are you proposing?" you quizzed, your eyes flicking between the silver key and Maxwell.

"I'd feel better knowing that you were here, safe. No one will harass you and you'll be way out of Tristan's reach. Although I'm inclined to believe that he'll be locked away for a very long time. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" Maxwell took a deep, nervous breath. "Move in with me?"

"Here?" your eyes were comically wide in disbelief.

"I understand if you don't like the idea. If you think it's too soon…"

You swung your arms around Maxwell and hugged him tight, burying your face into the warmth of his chest. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you back. "Yes." you mumbled happily, trying your hardest to hold back tears.

Maxwell spent a good hour giving you a grand tour of the house, and you were enamoured with the sight of every single room. Maxwell loved seeing how awestruck you were. This was all completely normal to him, but you helped him recognise how privileged he was to have such luxury. Maxwell took both of your hands when you had reached the final room of the house, his bedroom. "I know I told you I don't share a bed with… with…" you raised an eyebrow. "You know," he shrugged nervously and you nodded your head understandingly. "But I- I just think it might be nice if…"

You smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek before scowering around and checking out your beautiful bedroom which you shared with Maxwell Lord.

"I can't wait to get settled in." You admitted, your eyes sparkling.

"There is something I have to tell you…" Maxwell frowned and you looked at him with concern. Was this it? Was he finally going to admit his feelings? You had to say it back.

"Me too." you nodded confidently. "But, you first." You said with a small smile and Maxwell took a deep breath.

"I have a business trip and… I'll be out of town for the week leading up until Christmas. I leave tomorrow." Your heart sank. That was not what you were expecting at all. "But if you want me to stay… I can postpone until January. I mean, it'll be hard but- you've been through a lot and. If there's anything you need…"

"Oh," you couldn't help but reply, your brain desperately fumbling to collect the right words. "No, that's okay. I understand." you smiled weakly. You knew how much Maxwell valued his business, and that was okay. You just thought he was going to at least mention his drunken revelation from the previous night.

"I'm glad," Maxwell responded, and there was a short silence. "Uh- do you have plans for Christmas?" Maxwell asked and you shook your head. "Because, I don't really do anything on Christmas but I wouldn't want you to be alone. So maybe…"

You smiled. "You don't do anything on Christmas?" you asked curiously. Maxwell took your hand and pulled you down onto the bed.

"Uh, no. My dad loved Christmas. When I was a kid we'd do all kinds of cool stuff but after he passed… it just wasn't the same. My mother didn't make an effort. Sometimes she'd even leave me with the nanny while she travelled to New York to be with her friends." Maxwell explained, and you appreciated the fact he had most likely never revealed so much information to anyone before.

"That's awful, I'm so sorry." you whispered, leaning into his lap.

"Part of me doesn't want to leave you," Maxwell admitted. "Tomorrow- I mean… but it's Simon Stagg from Stagg Industries. Shit, if I don't go I could lose investment."

"It's okay," you reassured Max who simply just sighed. "I'll miss you."

You felt nervous. It was the first time you had been with Maxwell in such close proximity since realising your true feelings for him. And Max felt the same.

He placed his big hand on your face and ran his finger over your lower lip. "Well, let's make tonight count." he said, his voice low and husky as he leaned in and pressed a passionate kiss into you.

***

You were the first to wake up in the morning as the golden sunlight seeped through your curtains and highlighted your body. It didn't take long for you to realise that you were wrapped in Maxwell's arms, your head buried into his chest as you recalled the amazing night you had before. He was still asleep, light snores escaping his lips and you felt comfort in hearing his heartbeat. You felt safe, like you could live in the moment forever. You also realised this was the first time you had shared a bed with Max— slept together. It was a big deal, especially knowing how he had previously felt about such a thing.

There was one thing still praying on your mind. You and Max had yet to discuss what had been said the night of the gala. You had been desperately waiting for him to bring it up and reaffirm it. Tell you that he did in fact love you. But he hadn't. And you didn't know why. You tried to be optimistic, but it was easy to believe that maybe he wasn't bringing it up because he just didn't feel the same way. Maybe he thought he loved you, but his words were just induced by the actions of his mother, and Bruce, and a landslide consumption of alcohol.

You spent a few moments thinking about it, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you shuffled around uncomfortably. You felt like you had to get out of Max's confined grip; you felt like you couldn't breathe. Max mumbled something incoherent as you broke free and rolled out of bed, rubbing your eyes and grabbing Max's robe to cover your naked body.

"Good morning," he mumbled groggily, adjusting his vision to focus on you. You paced around backwards and forwards by the foot of the bed. "Are you okay?" he quizzed, sensing your stress.

You wanted to say it— you wanted to confront him. Your mouth opened but before you could speak, Kenneth came running in. "Sir, your carpool to the airport is waiting outside."

"Airport?" you raised an eyebrow. "Max, where is the business meeting?"

Max sighed, rubbing his head. "Uh, London," he replied quietly and your eyes went comically wide.

"London?!" you repeated, your voice a little too high and a little too loud. When Max said he was going out of town, you thought he meant a different state at furthest… not a different continent!

"I- I will call you from the hotel every night," Max promised, sitting up and pressing his hands together. "I'll be home for Christmas. And you'll be safe here." Max cleared his throat and turned to Kenneth. "Uh, Ken, do you think we could get a little privacy?" Max requested and Kenneth nodded his head before leaving the room.

Max crawled out of bed and sat you down. "I don't have to go. Just say the words and I won't go." he told you quietly.

"I don't want to be the person who gets between you and your work," you replied sadly. "I'll be okay. Just- I'll miss you."

Max nodded understandingly, taking his wallet from the nightstand and pulling out one of the many Black Gold Cooperative business credit cards he owned. He placed it in your hands. "Remember darling, you want for nothing."

You appreciated the gesture, but the feeling of his credit card in your hand made you feel sick to your stomach. It reminded you that you were just his sugar baby. Nothing more. And as you watched Maxwell leave for his last minute business trip, you realised you might never be anything more.

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!)

Sugar and Spice: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23 @softly-sad @laaadygisbooornex3 @kaelyn-lobrutto24

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

[queen-scribbles]

“  knowing you is like…coming home. like i’ve finally found something that’s been missing all this time.  ” from the soft prompts

Well, hello there, Tragen/Jaesa feels, long time no see :D

-------

It was a beautiful day; sun shining, clear skies, lingering freshness from the recent rain. And Jaesa was oblivious to all of it.

Her nails scraped the inside edge of her thumb as all the calming meditation tricks in the galaxy fell short in the face of what she felt.The Force was rippling with the fallout, long before anyone involved returned.

“I’m not doing this alone, Jaesa,” he’d promised, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “It’s safer for you to stay here. I’ll be fine.”

She couldn’t argue with the first part, and so now waited in anxious silence for him to prove the last part true. In the same spot she’d been doing so for three hours. Since Lana checked in to say they were on the way back.

Fortunately for the slow ache growing in her legs, it wasn’t much longer before a shuttle came into view and set down on the free half of the personal landing zone. Jaesa pushed away from her perch and hesitantly stepped closer once the shuttle had touched down. Please let him be alright. Lana had been vague, and aside from that, there was only rumor so far.

Lana was first down the shuttle ramp, but even as Jaesa bit her lip around a worried hum, Tragen followed a few steps behind.

He didn’t look hurt at first glance, but the sheer exhaustion that rippled off him across their Bond almost knocked her breathless. So, still an ordeal, even if physically he’d escaped unscathed. (For once.)

She surged forward to meet him with a hug. “Tragen!”

His arms wrapped around her shoulders as she slammed into his chest, his cheek pressed to the top of her head and her fingers dug into his clothes.

“I’ll leave him in your capable hands,” Lana murmured, and headed inside.

Jaesa nodded, but wasn’t sure Lana even saw it with her buried inside Tragen’s hug.

“I was worried you might not come back,” she admitted after a long, quiet moment, muffled into his chest. She knew how strong he was, what he was capable of--especially with allies at his back. But the whispers around the base, the broken pieces of early reports that said this had been the Sith Emperor, again.... Evil like that never went quietly.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Tragen mumbled into her hair, swaying slightly. “Not again.”

She could feel another wave of weariness from him, how hard he was working to keep it at bay, to not burden her, and it made her heart ache. “Here...” Reluctant as she was to end their embrace, Jaesa eased back enough and drew on the Force to support more of his weight as she shuffled them over to the stretch of hillside hidden behind his ship. It was one of their favorite spots, both for the view over the forest and the privacy. Though she was pretty sure Lana would keep everyone at bay for now.

They sat in silence when they got settled, hands intertwined and so close their hips pressed together even though Jaesa remained upright and Tragen leaned back against the hillside with his eyes closed.  She studied him as they sat there, gently probing the edges of the weariness she sensed in him, her thumb rubbing absently over his all the while.

I wish I could have been there to help, she thought, her gaze tracing over his face.

“No.” Tragen’s eyes flicked open and he pushed himself up to hold her gaze.  “I’m glad you were not.”

Jaesa gave him a searching look, her grip around his hand tightening.

He sighed and shook his head. “Much as I value your support and skill, Jaesa, I love you too much to ever wish you’d endured that for my own benefit.”

“Tragen...” Something in his tone made her unsure what to say.

“It was...” he hesitated, searching for a word, “smothering. Oppressive and desperate and....” Tragen’s voice trailed off and he stared unseeing over the forest as a breeze kicked up to ruffle their hair. “Even after being defeated, destroyed, twice, he was still powerful. I could feel his rage, his malice, his confidence. He was so sure he was going to destroy us.” He fell silent, and she could feel the lingering strain of that struggle in him. What it had taken to prevail. His gaze dropped to their joined hands and he swept his thumb across her knuckles. “Jaesa, you...Knowing you is like coming home,” he said softly. “Always has been, even before... everything. Like I found something I’d been missing in that Hutta swamp.  And even moreso after Ossus. I would protect that. You.”

Tragen- It stuck in her throat, caught on the overwhelming surge of her emotions as she sensed how afraid he’d been. How determined.

He squeezed her hand. “It might merely be a different kind of selfish,” he admitted with a shaking laugh, tucking back hair loosed by the breeze, “but I couldn’t risk you. Not on this, with what Kira and Scourge said, not when it could be avoided.”

Jaesa was silent, the instinctive protestation she could handle herself warring with the deep-set understanding of his motivation. She, too, would do just about anything to protect him.

Tragen rested his forehead against her temple. “The galaxy has been harsh to you, love,” he whispered, “I would spare you what I can.”

Jaesa closed her eyes and leaned into the contact. “Just don’t do it at the expense of yourself,” she murmured back.

He slipped his hand free of hers, but before she could protest, his arm was around her shoulders, pulling her in for another hug. “I’ll do my best,” he promised into her hair.

And Jaesa finally relaxed, sensing when he did, too. Before long, they were both reclined back against the hillside--Tragen half-asleep--and enjoying what time they could take before reality was too urgent to ignore. Jaesa curled close to Tragen’s side, his words still playing in her mind.

You’re my home, too, she thought, and smiled when his arm tightened around her as if in response. She was glad she had him back.

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 3]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“I can’t tell if this is a date or a debt collection“

“So where do you want to eat?” Corpse murmurs, sitting in the same car with the same girl he’d been in only a few days ago. His seatbelt clicks and he tilts his head to peer at her from his peripheral vision. She’s buckling up and getting settled in the passenger seat where no one but her has sat in for months. His cheeks turn pink when she turns to look at him, catching him staring which brings a grin to her face. 

“I’m buying you food, bud, you pick.” She answers simply, leaning back in the old seat. 

Corpse sits frozen for a minute or two as he contemplates what the best option would be. 

Nowhere? Could I get away with that though? 

His anxiety is starting to creep up again - the dark demon of his existence. The everpresent rain cloud over the parade of his life. 

What if I make myself look like an idiot. What if I picked something she doesn’t like? Would she think I’m weird? What if whatever I get makes me sick and I end up embarrassing myself! 

Wait, she’s a klepto. What if she robs me?!

“If you can’t think of a place, there’s a little bistro about ten minutes down West Colt avenue that has some pretty bangin’ Greek food.” She suggests calmly, taking his silence as indecisiveness. She’s good at picking up subtle cues, he’s thankful for that. She seems to easily be able to get along with anyone despite her wild personality. She may have a wild spirit, but she’s got the ability to tame it when needed. She’s the only one with that power from what it seems. 

Corpse takes a moment, nods and puts his car into drive to head in the directions she mentioned.

He isn’t completely sure how she’s perceived his indecisiveness though, which is bothering him - was she annoyed by it and wanted to put an end to it or was she just trying to be helpful and prevent him from getting himself worked up? His mind spirals so easily, he hates it. Even in a calm and casual - ok, as casual as it’s gonna get with this girl - scenario, his head is spinning with nothing but the worst outcomes and possibilities. That’s anxiety for ya, it’s a fucking bitch. Either way he appreciates her stepping in like that, saved him quite the bus load of anxious pondering, so the least he can do is offer her a quick smile. 

Don’t make it weird, Corpse!, he scolds himself.

She’s looking out the passenger side window, fingers tapping calmly and rhythmically against her knee, seemingly not bothered by the loud silence in the vehicle. He, however, is not so at peace with it. He’s usually the one to enjoy silences, unless he finds himself in these kinds of situations - in-closed space with another person. He tries to ask himself what would other people do to put an end to the quiet that feels almost like a physical presence. Small talk? That’s one thing he’s never been good at. Music? That’s the key here, however he can’t be sure how to properly use it to his advantage. He can’t just play whatever and expect it to be fine. He appreciates taste in people - he knows he’d be mildly offended if people didn’t respect his taste, that’s why he always pays attention to the favors of others. Especially when it comes to music. 

That’s why, before turning the car radio on, he pauses to ask: “What kind of m-“

“Anything. Really.” She says quickly, cutting him off mid-question before laughing in a certain way Corpse can’t quite place...nervously? Could that be it? That’s a sound he never expected he’d hear from her. Is that feeling even in her specter of emotions? Her? Nervous? - sounds more impossible than him being confident. 

 “Anything?” He’s curious now. She’s managed to intrigue him so easily. He smirks, switching from the radio over to the CD he has placed in the stereo. It’s a compilation of several bands he enjoys listening to, songs that help relax and soothe him. Bonus points for the effect they have on his anxiety - they always manage to suppress it even the slightest bit. Many of his favorites are on there, a lot of genre mixing as well: rap, punk, industrial. But there are also a few mellows on there, even a couple foreign songs that she might not have heard before. 

Much to his relief, a little glow appears in her eyes at the sound of the tunes that fill the car, burning brighter than the reflection of the midday sun that’s already present in them, “I’ve always loved music...haven’t found anything I don’t like.” She tells him, voice traveling softly as she closes her eyes for a moment before opening them and allowing her grin to widen, “So...my choker, huh? Thought it suited ya?”

Corpse laughs a little, low and timid as the car comes to a slow stop at a red light. “I thought it was mine, I swear.” He admits, shrugging slightly. “I go by a C name on the internet so…thought it was a product of my bullshit sentimentality or a shopping spree I can’t recall.” He swallows hard, contemplating whether mentioning he’s online was a bad move or not.

 Luckily, she doesn’t  seem to have acknowledged it, as she promptly speaks up again, “You do look good in a collar, you have that bad dog kind of vibe. If it didn’t have such sentimental value I would’ve let you keep it.” She laughs, a sound so light, almost like a glow you can see more than a voice you can hear. It’s contagious too and he can’t help but chuckle with her, blushing again. 

“You would look good in one too I bet.” He says but cringes right as the words leave his mouth. He’s quick to regret what he has said, his tongue burning with a bitter taste as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel and clenches his jaw. 

Fuck! Stupid! Stupid! Why the fuck would you say something like that?? She’s going to think you’re a fucking creepy pervert who’s imagin-

Corpse’s mental anguish is put to an abrupt pause as something warm covers the fingers of his right hand. He lets his tunnel vision focus on his hand to find hers curled over it. 

“Hey…you still with me?” She asks carefully, thumb touching one of his rings. “You don’t have to worry about offending me. It takes a lot to do that, if you can’t tell. Besides, you seem pretty cool and you’re not a narc so that’s a huge plus.” She squeezes his hand before wiggling her fingers under his palm and pulling it from the steering wheel so their fingers could intertwine. “If you need it, you can always grab my hand any time and squeeze until you don’t feel nervous. Although, you never need to be nervous around me. Consider me your personal human safety blanket. Or a….what to call it?... - A checkpoint! If everything or everyone else makes you anxious, I’m your checkpoint person where that anxiety should evaporate. Sounds good?”

Corpse stares at this literal stranger in his car. A stranger holding his hand and promising to be there for him when his anxiety overwhelms him. Letting him rely on her whenever his chest tightens or his heart speeds up. He feels so much while looking at the sight she is. Gratitude and confusion take over though. “Why would...you-..” He attempts to mutter, but she’s quick to cut him off yet again.

“Because I know what it’s like to be anxious and I wish I had somebody to help me when I was feeling that storm in me.” She replies, shrugging her shoulders with nonchalance and gives his palm another gentle and encouraging squeeze. “Even if this is a one time hang out sesh between strangers, you can count on me until we go our separate ways.” Confidence radiates from her like waves of warmth and safety. 

Her aura’s reaching out to his, offering him reassurance and comfort. And so, he decides to accept.

Corpse finally brings himself to squeeze her hand back. “-...thanks.” He murmurs, lips quirking up in a smile. 

But I don’t want this to be a one time thing…I might actually have a friend. I may have just clicked with someone like I haven’t in so long. 

She releases his hand so he could continue driving, nodding her head as if to tell him she’s still there despite the loss of contact, reassuring him that he could reestablish that contact whenever he’d like or need to. 

He now feels more comfortable in the car, more relaxed than he can even remember. Music plays from the speakers but it’s overpowered by their voices singing along to the songs they recognize. Corpse can’t help but note she sounds nice, singing like that - so carelessly. She’s by no means a Utada Hikaru, or a Mariah Carey but she knows how to hold a tune and he can appreciate that. He’s no BONES either after all.

He doesn’t want this drive to end, he doesn’t want this bubble of comfort and leisure to burst. He rarely gets the luxury of finding himself in a state like this one so peaceful yet so chaotic. So familiar despite him not having experienced it before. It all feels so natural despite how out of place it is. It’s so many things contradicting each other and it’s beautiful to him. It’s comfort, it’s happiness. It’s the absence of anxiety - a feeling he wants to enjoy for as long as possible. He has Cora to thank for this, for managing in less than a full day of knowing him what people who’ve known him for years haven’t been able to do. He’s aware that this is temporary, this car ride can’t last forever and neither can this outing. But he knows that when they step out of this car, when they leave this bubble, her hand will still be within his reach. And when this hang-out sesh is over, he’ll be able to make another one happen. There is always this big step of overcoming his anxiety he has to face whenever he wants to invite people within his proximity and in his life, but with her, that step disappears. It’s erased from existence by the simple touch of her fingers. The oddly powerful grip of her small, gentle hand. 

Corpse is not one to believe in fate, but there are some things that are inevitable. Things that are special and always happen with a reason and a message. He’s not blind either - he knows what he’s got here, with her, falls in that category of special.

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus

[long-cosmos-overhead]

James Norrington x Reader

Prompt: I was thinking about this one for a while but if you're ever in the mood for writing PotC could you maybe do something with Barbossa or Norrington? Maybe something with a build up like a first kiss or the first time the character and the reader fight someone/something together by each other's side, and their coordination on the battlefield gets tested for the first time and perhaps it strengthens the connection or leads to taking certain measures like training/teaching how to use weapons and react under pressure

I’m going to split these into two parts this one is for Norrington the other will be for barbossa

(I do not own PoTC or its characters/ gif not mine)

Your hand gripped the hilt of the sword. If it were a warm sunny day the blade would’ve reflected the light back out into the vast port just like it did for the past few weeks. The sky was a dark grey possibly setting to rain making the atmosphere cold and dreary. The type of cold to get in your bones and latch on tight until the golden sun tore through the clouds again.

Your knuckles and fingertips turned a harsh red and your wrist ached from swinging the sword only to clash with his powerful defenses that returned in sending pain right up your wrist in swift pangs. You had concluded the moment James first swung at you, that you could never truly appreciate the extent of skill, concentration and pain it took to seem so effortlessly fluent in a field unless you yourself have tried to walk the same path with the same motive.

The more you attacked and defended from what would be fatal blows out on vast seas or faced with a man or woman with the intention to maim or kill, the more energy flowed out your body. You were drained. It felt like water passing from a stream downhill and into dry land most likely to never be seen again. You had improved since first starting you could barely lift a sword back then however your grip still faltered when you lost energy and your movements still became sloppy and delayed.

Your mind trailed away. A dangerous move much too dangerous. Once your mind and body was out of sync you had written your death sentence.

A kick to your legs dragged your mind back down. It was a harsh reminder that you had once again failed to meet your standards the reality knocked down the platform your stood on like a fire against wooden beams. You fell to the ground your sword clattering somewhere in the distance. Your hip instantly throbbed in pain, your wrist and elbow followed suit in acquainting themselves with the hard floor below you.

“Y/n!”

You hadn’t realised your face scrunched up in pain until you opened your eyes to meet the owner of the deep voice. James’ eyes wore worry like a new pair of shoes and his hand trailed inches away from your body before softly resting uncertainly on your cheek almost pleading you to react to his touch instead of pain.

“Y/n I am terribly sorry, I didn’t-”

Your words cut him off saving him an apology and you the salt being rubbed in the wound that you managed to be taken down by a kick to the legs.

“It’s fine James, I wasn’t paying attention, I’m at fault here.”

James picked you up from where you lay gently placing a hand round your arm and one under your waist. If anything standing up made it hurt a little more. Your eyes met James’ face, an almost unreadable expression settled on his features. Only a little readable emotion bled through. It read love however undertones of desperation and want. You weren’t sure what was going on and in all honesty you didn’t feel in the state of mind to be able to piece together such heavy emotions.

However you did pick up on how attractive he looked. Even fresh from a fight you couldn’t deny he was a beautiful man. The way the light caught his eyes and made them appear like the stars beaming in the dark. The way his facial features only seemed to compliment one another, the way he treated you as the most important and valued thing in his life. James Norrington was perfect to you.

James stared back at you and by all the grace of you gods he loved every part of you. The way your skin felt when it touched him, the way he could hold you, the way you made him feel safe and enough in such a plagued world. He was so proud of you. The way you picked up sword fighting the same way as his men once had despite the ridicule from ladies and hours of straining physical movements. James wanted you safe, as safe as you could be. He would always be there by your side to fight off evil but should the time come where he wasn’t he couldn’t even think of what he’d do without you.

His eyes wandered to your lips and it shook him at just how much he wanted to kiss you. To share all his love through such intimacy and feel your body against his and despite the looming cloud that stole all your energy and the dull throb in your side you wanted the exact same.

You two were entranced into a void where only each other existed, time slowed till the point where every little thing was almost slow motion and the intensity of the gases which you looked at each other were immeasurable. Your heart beat irregularly in your chest almost as if it were trying to meet James’ or to drag you closer and by all the power in the world you could not think to move away.

Nasty twangs of pain at your side bled into the void you and James got caught in. Your face suppressed the obvious uncomfortableness that seemed to follow blunt force injuries however as much as you tried James noticed. He had a thing for noticing things. He never let on that he observed far more than the average man or he picked up inconsistencies but you knew.

“Y/n if I may.”

He reached out a hand for you to take asking permission to touch you and lead you to your home. No matter how much you protested he must be tired, James always walked you home. He wanted to know you were safe and be able to share some sort of intimacy with you, to slip his fingers between yours and warm your cold hands.

It may not have seemed like much holding his hand but even the most simplistic touch from James was euphoric. Some days you walked down cobbled streets laughing, today James was pretty silent just focusing on you and on the way you walked with a slight limp to your step. James felt guilty, a growing guilt that thrived the more he looked at you. He shouldn’t have swiped your legs it was not only wrong in terms of fighting with honour - it was misconduct, it was cheating. However his mind wasn’t all too concerned with that. His priory, his true priority was that he had hurt you. He never loved anyone the way he loved you even if you hadn’t kissed yet but that was no way to treat you especially since he is supposed to make you feel safe.

You looked over at James. His strong features never failing to entrance you. You were more than disappointed when you reached your door. Your house was pale in comparison to James’ yet he never seemed to mind. Before you knew him you assumed he was wealthy, commanding and rather uptight however you discovered none of the sort. He was kind and ever so gentle uncaring if he was seen away from well kept and otherwise anything he wouldn’t be associated with. He’d even offered money for upkeeps or repairs yet still left it after you declined.

“I trust you will be safe here Y/n.”

“I will always be safe at my own door, James you need not worry.”

He took your hand in his lightly pressing his lips to your knuckles trying to ignore how cold and tense you seemed. However he failed to notice how your muscles relaxed under his touch and how your eyes almost sparkled from how it felt as if you had been flushed with serotonin.

The feeling ebbed away as quick as it came when he walked away. His long coat that wrapped around his shirt fluttering at the end from the wind. You didn’t like being away from him it felt as if a part of you left with him even if it were only for a few hours. You couldn’t let him just leave. The kiss to your hand was like a spoonful of magic but you wanted more. It seemed selfish but you’d never loved anyone the way you loved him.

“James.”

He turned round to met with your arms around his waist and your body against his chest. He felt happy. Much happier than he’d ever felt you in his hold felt right and for once he could look around the port and see something beautiful. His arms came around your body pressing you a little closer to him. James was warm much warmer than you expected yet he felt far warmer with you despite the cold taking claim to you. It was like the warmth spread across his whole body. He was utterly in love with you.

Neither of you wanted to pull away but eventually you did but this time even when the cold settled back in your body you felt comfortable. He made you dizzy on love.

“Goodnight Norrington.”

It took him a while to break from his lovesick trance.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

You lay in your bed, the soft sheets encasing you like battle armour braving the war against the cold. Yet it seemed like a losing battle your fingertips red and your breath releasing from your mouth as white whisps, the way you imagined a soul would part from its physical being. A shaky breath parted your lips as you rubbed your hands together in hope that the friction would spark some ounce of warmth. Faint drops of rain hammered in the distance, the first few drizzles making way for an inevitable harsher forecast and despite the rain making you feel that bit colder and worried for the wood of your house you felt calm.

You turned on your side. The rustling of sheets almost silenced by the downfall outside. The last pieces of warmth you owned were slowly leaving your body. However the only thing you could focus on was how it would feel to be in James’ embrace. You wished to lay in bed with him and instead of slow dancing with the bitter cold you would be embraced in his warmth. To be completely domestic in each other’s arms. James made you feel warm. A nice warm like bathing in the soft evening sunlight. Your lips tugged upwards slightly and your hands rubbed together once more to grasp the heat amoung the cold before the white whisps parted your lips and wrapped around the candles orange flame releasing darkness through your room.

You awoke with a hammering at your door. It was clearly not a sophisticated knock at the time you weren’t even sure it was a knock however it woke you up immediately. Light shone through the gaps in the wall illuminating strips of your skin. You heard the shouts of men and the screams of woman. Metal on metal rung in your ears until the silence of death were clear, dominating any other sound you could hear.

You shakily stood up, eyes still fixed on the same spot as earlier. You shifted on your feet slightly tripping on the uneven floorboards that was until you heard the distinct voices of the navy men.

“Groves, Mullroy man the east ports.”

James. Something about his voice hit something within you. All your nerves that froze you in fear dissipated. They weren’t replaced by rationality if anything blind need to help, not just James but every man, woman and child took the main stand.

The hilt of your sword gleamed in the dreary light beconing you deeper into your mind with its persuasive grip. The vision and need blurring its lines to rally your body to take the cold hilt of the blade into your hand.

You didn’t acknowledge how the cold metal gripped you back however rushing outside your house you felt bare to the world. You felt small like you were back in your mothers arms again. Men were fighting left and right, some laying on the floor clutching dyed clothing. Smashed glass and splintered wood covered any remaining road. In the distance you heard the fire of guns and cannons which, had they been any closer, would’ve reigned superior to your hearing.

Strangled shouts and chokes were no longer shielded by the walls that you lay in and for a minute it was already all too much. The thought of James and the ever present survival instincts kept you from cowardice and you took your first step into the heat of the fight.

James boot kicked against the chest of its opponent. Water bled through the thin shirt and for a split second he seemed dazed enough for James to get the upper hand. Yet his mind and body were travelling in different wave lengths, his body urging for defence as desperate as a drowning man but his mind was focused on you. James was practically pacing from worry. You were alone without him or anyone to watch your blind spot. Even your home was bordering on the ever expanding outskirts of the gruesome battle and he’d seen firsthand how vicious and merciless pirates were, if you got caught you would not be spared.

The blade swiped all too close to his eyes slicing a stay stand of hair parting it from the others. James sword clashed on the second offence and continued to create the devils music until the blade was wedged in the oppositions lower abdomen. Shock contorted to pain and for a moment his eyes cleared and it was just two men with complex lives staring at each other. It was perhaps the most cruel curse that only a step away from death were people remorseful. His eyes held the heaviest emotions until they glassed over with nothingness. His body fell limp and he stared without seeing. James tugged his arm removing the support on the body allowing the man to finally rest.

James’ head whipped around in every direction he was surrounded by chaos but he needed you, by his side or not he needed to know you were safe.

Your body ached worse than you’d ever felt previous. A gash at your side created a passage for blood to freely travel out of and you wished you stayed in the safety of your home. You were almost fully doubled over in pain and your hand pressed against the growing red stain on your white shirt. The pirate infront of you grinned baring his gold teeth you could smell the alcohol on his breath and his movements read tipsy yet experienced with the blade. You knew the final hit was coming.

You surged any bit of energy that still remained within you to block the attack. Both swords clashing together sending ugly throbbing pains through your hand and wrist, they faired far worse than the ones while training. You barely saw the confusion on the pirates face, he was a rather big and muscular man easily outmatching you. You swiped your foot hitting the back of his knee sending him to the floor where your blade struck true.

You couldn’t tell how long or far you’d been walking through the carnage. Puddles rippled and quaked beneath your foot. Your sword gripped in your hand, the hilt somewhat warmed however still plagued with a different kind of a cold. Your wound had since clotted somewhat just not enough to offer taking away the need for medical care. Your hand had been placed at your side so long it too was beginning to cramp and lose its abilities. Fights were ugly affairs and you just wanted James.

James had been searching for you for longer than his liking. His stress and worry grew each passing second he traced the port unable to find you. Tears sprung to his eyes, he was overwhelmed sometimes the love he held for you overwhelmed him. Being faced with a hideous reality of losing you without even sharing a kiss coupled with the ever growing pit of fear and frustration never ceased to tip him closer and closer into the dangerous territories of his mind.

James blinked back the moisture in his eyes forming a warm uncomfortable gloss over his waterline. His chances of holding you once more grew thinner and thinner thoughout the fight and if it were a physical concept he may as well be walking on string. Pirates swung at him left and right most clearly tipsy and some outright drunk which lessened the danger equipped to them. They had since taken their retreat leaving devastation upon the port but leaving immeasurable torment within James.

“James.”

Your breath was strained, the rise and fall of your chest tortured your side. Your body bent at such an angle it seemed as if you had been sliced in two but you found him you finally had him.

He was disheveled, his hair fallen out of place to hang loosely infront of his eyes, clothes wet and sticking to his body at odd angles creating little shadows patterning his chest, his body was tired and his eyes still searching for the comfort of finding a lost thing so close to your heart. But he was beautiful.

The second the words parted your lips James turned around glossy eyed and mouth slightly parted. He felt his body lose hidden tension he didn’t realise he held onto. His demeanour shifted from relieved to grief stricken once his eyes laid on the red of your shirt. After the red pattern revealed itself to his eyes, the rest followed; the way your body shook in the bitter cold, how the tiredness trickled from your skin, how pleading you seemed to be relieved from such a horrific ordeal.

James couldn’t even acknowledge himself gravitating towards you until you were in his arms. He too shook however out of pure fear for your condition.

“My love, oh god.”

His words were jumbled as his hand ghosted over the wound at your side unsure to touch you or not. His mind too scared and filled with adrenaline to think logically.

“Y/n-,”

His words died in his throat when he felt you launch yourself into his embrace. His chest sparked like a flame kissing wood and fuel was generously added when you buried yourself deeper into his warmth. He had you in his arms right where he yearned for you to be.

“James,”

Your voice came out weaker than you anticipated and tears gathered in your eyes.

“I went out for you.”

James felt his heart fill with pure love. You had trained before but going to battle among pirates was an entire new level. He knew then as he stood with you in his arms that you were his keeper.

His hand gently traced the outskirts of your wound, it had almost entirely clotted itself up now, giving James some peace of mind however he still dare not touch you to cause more harm.

“Does- does it hurt, my love.”

His fingers traced around your skin sending electric through your body despite having barely grazed it.

“A little but I would suffer a thousand times if it meant I could come back to you.”

James couldn’t resist himself any longer your words touched something so deep within him breaking down the wall that restrained him from you. His hand came to slide around your lower back and the other around the back of your shoulders perfectly avoiding anything that could cause you pain. He tugged you towards him, his grip so tight and protective yet gentle and considerate. His lips connected with yours and if you could describe how you felt it would be as if all the warmth and love in the world channeled through your body at once. It was a simple kiss nothing alluding but full of passion and love, the ultimate outlet for all the events that took place a short time ago.

When the two of you parted you were left dizzy searching for air get already addicted to the feeling you had felt in such sheer quality.

“Come back with me,” he almost pleaded. “I want to keep you safe at least for tonight.”

You responded by leaning further into him your mind and body were exhausted yet somewhere in the back of your mind there was an urge. James saved your life, if it weren’t for his countless hours spent teaching you defence and offense and his constant patience you would surely have not survived.

“James, thank you,”

He looked down a slight bit confused for a moment.

“If it weren’t for you I’d surely be dead.”

“I’d spend the rest of my life teaching you if it meant you were safe.”

@lau-rae-lei

[the-witty-pen-name]

Fell in Love in Scotland Pt. 2

Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Warnings: ptsd/trauma related to war; mentions of nightmares; angst; cursing; pining; slow burn; 18+ in later parts (maybe? not sure yet)

Summary: After finding about the new Captain America, the reader goes to Louisiana to visit Sam.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: So I know this isn’t on my list of things I *should* be working on, but I had this idea today and I had to get it down! This is only going to be 2-3 parts.  (Edit: 3 parts!) This is my first time writing for Sam!

I’m taking a small break from working on my other works in progress to focus on getting out as much Sam content as a can before Sam’s (and my) bday on the 14th! Not sure how much I’ll be able to write but that is my hope!

My biggest flex at the moment is sharing a bday with Sam.

This references Civil War, Endgame and Infinity War events in flashbacks but you know, canon is a thing I like to just maneuver around so I’m sorry if there are many major inaccuracies!

This is unedited and please let me know if I missed anything that should be included as a warning.

Taglist is in my bio

The safe house in Scotland was small. A little cottage hidden away in the countryside. Absolutely beautiful, if not for the looming reminders of why you were there in the first place.

You didn’t handle laying low well. You didn’t like not doing anything. Your resolve for handling your thoughts, your problems had always been to just push them aside. Focus your energy on anything but what would pull you down. You couldn’t allow yourself to just exist. Time stopped and there was no fight to be fought, and you hated it.

Fortunately, you were with people who understood. Sam and Steve especially. It didn’t take long for Sam to work his way in. He understood you, and he related to you. Neither one of you really needed to acknowledge it. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you which made it all feel so seamless.

You were restless, and nights were always the worst. You’d spend several hours tossing in turning on your mattress, unable to get comfortable. You’d bring your pillow and sheet with you onto the floor of your room, and if you were lucky enough to fall asleep, you’d wake up after only a few hours. Sometimes you’d remember the nightmares vividly, other times it was just the feelings that lingered.

Most nights, you’d wait it out in your room watching the clock until it was early enough to “get out of bed.” So, you’d wait until the red numbers on the screen turned to 4am and then you’d sneak your way downstairs to the kitchen or the living room, so you didn’t need to face the idea of sleep.

After a few weeks, Sam caught on to your routine. He would join you in the mornings, help you make coffee and talk about nothing. Just helping you keep your mind off the things that bothered you. He looked as tired as you, and you would insist on him getting more sleep. But Sam never made you go through any of the hard days on your own.

“You get used to it,” he’d say, understanding what you were going through better than anybody.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit, curled up in a ball on the sofa, the warm mug of coffee Sam made cradled tightly in your hands. The curtains are pulled open, and you stare out the window to your right, watching the sun slowly coming up.

“You should try sleeping in your bed again,” he suggests. You’d recently promoted yourself from sleeping on the floor to the couch. Baby steps. You nod, knowing he’s right.

You get a rental car the next morning and you drive to the address Sam texted you. You’re greeted immediately by two rowdy young boys, asking you if you’re an Avenger like their Uncle Sam. He’s literally Uncle Sam. How could he think he didn’t deserve the shield? Well, you know why. But the coincidence is too funny not to bring up to him once all of this is resolved.

Each of them grabbed you by an arm and drag you to the backyard. You chuckle, following their lead as they ask you a million questions. They call out to Sam when he is in view and he smiles when he sees you. Your heart flips.

“They bothering you?” he asks and you shake your head.

“No, they’re great,” you beam watching them run off.

“You look good,” he compliments you, and you feel like jelly. “You’re sleeping?” Oh.

“Yeah, I mean, for the most part,” you reply, “So do you.” You can’t miss the smile on his face. “So, uh, have you heard from Bucky?”

“I text him all the time, trying to check in, but no nothing. You?”

You shake your head. “I stopped trying,” you admit, “but I can’t blame him. He really doesn’t know me.”

“He’ll come around,” he reasons, trying to be optimistic. “So, I want to show you the boat?”

“You have a boat?” you chuckle, and he grins, nodding like a little kid.

“35-foot yacht,” he teases.

“Of course,” you smile.

It was only just noon when you both arrived at the docks. The air felt crisper, and the sun felt phenomenal on your shoulders. It wasn’t until you were outside in weather like this that you realized how often you opted to stay hidden away in your apartment. The atmosphere just felt more alive, and the air in your lungs felt almost cleansing.

You sat across from Sam on the bow of the boat, your legs dangling over the side. You were sitting close enough to him that your thighs touched, and you were trying your hardest to ignore the feeling. You just felt warm, and you felt more relaxed than you had been since you’d last seen him.

“I just need to ask,” Sam asks, cutting through both of your laughter. You really had spent the day so far just reminiscing, talking about nothing really. “Did you and Cap- were you guys…?”

“Oh god no,” you choke quickly, you stifle another laugh, “Steve was just a really great friend. No nothing like that. I would go to the end of the earth and back for Steve… but no, I didn’t have feelings for him that way.”

“I had thought maybe at one point something was going on there,” he shrugs. Is he serious?

“Never,” you reiterate.  

Sleeping in a bed became easier, but the nightmares were something that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Many times, it would be late in the night and you’d be gently shaken awake. Sam would be kneeling next to your bed, trying to wake you up.

“Please stay,” you’d ask, eyes glossed over and your skin stained with tears. He could never say no. You’d scoot over and he’d climb in and settle next to you. It wasn’t even anything romantic. You didn’t cuddle or invade his space. You just needed to feel him next to you, and you’d be able to sleep. The cycle continued for a long while until you were able to sleep through the night without the haunting dreams.

But you missed waking up with him there.

“You need to tell him,” Steve would insist, and you’d shut down the idea every single time.

“No, I can’t,” you’d insist. The only person who knew how you felt was Steve. You hadn’t even told him; he just knew you too well.

“You’re making yourself miserable,” he’d elaborate, “you deserve a little happiness- Sam deserves happiness. He wants you too.”

“Happiness? With me?” you snort, “Steve, think about me, my past- everything I carry around with me. You know as well as I do, I can’t infect him with that when he has his own issues. We’re all too broken- he deserves better.”

“You don’t to be the one to decide that for him,” he counters. “What Sam deserves is the truth.”

“I know, I know!” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself and you can’t look at Steve. “Telling him how I feel complicates things to much. I can’t risk it.”

“Even if he feels the same way?”

“Especially if he feels the same way.”

You rest back on your palms, close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the direction of the sun. Your mind wanders to Steve, and how much you miss him. You were oftentimes too thick headed to take any of his advice but it was something you hadn’t realized you needed.

You decide to just throw out all your apprehension. And just take the advice from Steve you should’ve taken years ago. The timing is perfect. The universe is screaming at you to just tell him.

“I gave up the shield because I didn’t think anyone could follow Steve,” he admits, “I didn’t think I could fill the role- no one can, or maybe no one should.”

“You’re the only person who can, Sam,” you say, looking back over to him.

“When I gave it up, I didn’t think it would be given to someone else. I donated it- to keep it with the rest of what we have left of him. God- if I had known…”

“I watched on television when you donated it, Sam,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Symbols are nothing without the men and women that give them meaning… I wish you saw yourself the way Steve did- the way I do…”

“That’s not fair…”

“You said we need new heroes for the times we’re in. Sam- the world needs a new Captain America. And you know as well as I do, that man on TV they pushed out there isn’t it.”

“It’s not me, either,” he says, looking down at the water, the reflection of the two of you rippled and distorted.

“I wish you could see how much that isn’t true,” you admit, “I also- I also wish I was more like you… You’re so good at talking to me… people like us and Steve. You show people their value and their worth, and you’re just so fiercely loyal it’s almost annoying. And I suck at that, I’m a terrible communicator, and I can’t vocalize how much you’re worth, and how much you deserve the shield. Feelings are just too overwhelming and I can’t focus them into anything coherent. And you right now need what you give others just so freely, and you’re stuck with me… I know I’m not Steve, and I as much as I try to convince you the decision is yours, but you need to know that you are the only person who can be our new Captain… Steve wasn’t wrong about you, and I just… I’m in your corner.”

“(Y/N) …”

It was safe in Scotland. Quiet, secluded. Time wasn’t looming over you. There was nothing there that was any imminent threat except your own demons that you carried with you. You had a lot of regrets, past mistakes that haunted you whenever you slowed down. It’s why when you left the air force, you joined SHIELD. You were like Steve, kindred spirits plagued by the after effects of war and both of you resolved to fighting rather than be left to your own devises.

Not like Sam. Sam put his focus into helping others. Selfless, and understanding, he was always there. He was thoughtful with what he chose to fight for, which is something you greatly admired. He was morals and loyalty, and everything that made a great man. He was a friend first, and a fighter second.

Which is such a rare quality that you wished you could tell him you noticed.

Steve got very into crossword puzzles. He found a box up in the attic tucked away of old books from whoever used to live here. He’d sit on the armchair in the living room, pencil in hand and try his best to fill in what he knew. He ended up heavily relying on you and Sam to fill in the references he didn’t know.

You and Sam would be on the couch, you tucked into his side, watching television or sometimes you’d both read, old magazines or anything you could find for entertainment. One night you both sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table with an incomplete deck of cards playing Double Solitaire, and Steve would occasionally vocalize a clue he was stuck on.

“Drummer of Duran Duran. Blank Taylor. Five letters,” Steve said, not looking up from the flimsy book.

“Roger Taylor,” Sam answered aimlessly, tapping the card in his hand to his chin as his eyes scanned the columns of cards.

A few minutes of silence follow before Steve speaks again.

“1996 Looney Toons film starring Michael Jordan. Eight letters.”

“Space Jam,” you smirk, and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You want to ask him what the theme is for the puzzle he’s working on but you decide against it. You don’t want to embarrass him.

It felt really silly. The three of you, all ex-military crime fighters on the run, couped up together in this tiny living room, playing cards and helping Captain America with a pop culture crossword. Maybe it just felt weird because it was so normal.

You’re sweating. You didn’t realize it until just now. The dampness of the underarms of your t-shirt was all you could focus on. Why were you so nervous? Because again, the universe if giving you every single sign to just tell him. Yell it out so loud it echoes back to you across the water. Tell him. Tell him everything.

Every harbored fantasy of being with him. Tell him how much he means to you and how sorry you are that your fears drive you away from him. He feels so strong, and stoic next to you, it’s making your head spin and you feel like your brain is leaving your body behind. He’s so understanding and patient, and here you are, again, leaving him on another cliff hanger.

“Sam, I need to tell you something.”

No going back now.

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