#sure hope that's not anything else major

[ganondoodle]

just to get this out again though

zelda lore is dead to me and i have never hated the sonau (zonai) more than now, shoved literally into everything, all the way into skyward sword, if that is even canon still

i hate this stupid ass book (masterworks 2.0) before its even out, if that is whats on no more than 4 pages (-take it with a grain of salt, just repeating what i have seen- hylia made the stupid magic pebbles and gave them the sonau, they lived since skyward sword at least, possible triforce and skyward sword retcon, totk gan being the literal first gan(?) and rauru being the literal first king of hyrule(???) and also the gerudo having been their own established COUNTRY, thus making raurus goal to take them over too even WORSE together with how ganondorf is meant to be seen, AND it possibly meaning that totks past was actually that far back to the literal beginiing of the timeline even though it looks 1to1 like botw even which SUCKS on more ways than one- (edit: ALSO NONE of botw seemed to lead up to anything like that, totk was supposed to a DLC and it shows and yet they do this with its lore????the fuck are they smokin?? botw was a neat like soft reboot that leads to like, a new kind of zelda without changing the past, then they do THIS literally brute force it back to the literal start?? as if totk couldnt get more seperate from botw) ) what else are they gonna fuck with on the lot of other pages, i cant WAIT to find out!

they can shove their weird sonau obsession elsewhere, didnt think my hatred for totk could get even worse, id have happily locked it away and out of my memory as possible at some point but i guess you cant escape it anywhere bc they are literally everywhere apparently weehooo!

(my franchise now)

[wickmitz]

SEDGEWICK SABLE & MITZI MAY : an overall study, part two . part one .

discussing their individual characters, their relationship, their respective scenes, and a plethora of details found in-between.

now that we’re here at the second part of this analysis, we’ve finally reached wick once again in the narrative! in grindstone there are a few things to note, like wick’s haggard state, tired from the events of last night and curing his hangover with more giggle water -- working away on finances he needs to present to the investors before the start of the week. lacy is also there at his house, slaving away on a variety of things we hear more about in sneakthief. it’s noted today is potentially one of her days off, but the workload is potentially a little behind and big enough that she’s decided to lend an extra pair of hands even when she shouldn’t have to. they are busy at work in grindstone, hence the title! there is hardly any time for extra activities that don’t involve wick chained to his desk and slaving away, with him already in poor working condition ; he claims he can’t see a thing he’s writing despite having his reading glasses on, and not only disrupts his time but lacy’s in an attempt to ‘find’ them. he’s very much out of it and whatever work he’s doing will probably need some revisions at best, yet wick’s job is put on hold again when lacy asks if he’s expecting company, a comment which spurs him into hurriedly changing and telling her to stall mitzi at the door. again, we have wick confirming that him and mitzi indeed made ‘last minute plans’ to meet up today, even though he and lacy acknowledge that he has no real time for this. despite that, wick greets her warmly after he’s dressed, also adorned with a fond smile while hovering a hand over the small of her back when ushering her into the foyer so he may fetch the car for their outing. nothing seems too amiss here, though things begin changing come balderdash, where wick noticeably begins crumbling as a character for the first time.

to start off, i think people are rather generous with wick’s character overall. his flaws are limited to readers, to where the most common ‘bad’ traits talked about when referring to his character is : alcoholic ( not a trait ), hypocrite ( accurate! ), and he’s too kind or oblivious. while the latter two can still be something the character can have too much of or lead to genuinely bad traits, this is still an extremely small inspection overall, one that almost shies away from a harsher read. this can be attributed to how little we see of wick, but there are things we can infer via his scenes with mitzi as well as church’s words all the way back in caveat … words which come into play here. during the comic page balderdash, rocky is desperately trying to ward off wick from his beloved miss m, getting rather physical in the meantime -- he’s still seething after the events of last night and in his attempts to thwart wick from helping mitzi further, he decides to lean into the public shared narrative that this widow is dangerous and got her husband killed. we see how strong wick’s faith in mitzi is during this page ever so briefly, looking almost amused at rocky’s words while maintaining an aura of confidence when dismissing these rumors. he says, “i’ve known her a while, rocky. whether out of class or kindness, she wouldn’t harm a fly.” what wick clearly hasn’t considered, however, is what rocky implies next, which is the idea that wick’s paramour could’ve hired someone else to do the dirty work for her … an idea that very quickly disturbs him and shakes his view on mitzi and, perhaps, the lackadaisy, even when he tries verbally dismissing all this as a joke.

despite his dismissal, it’s rather obvious that rocky’s words stay with wick. throughout the date, wick is stuck in a state of doubting things that he’s never entertained before, with no way of discerning what’s appropriate to fret about and what’s not, and this is in no small part because of the verbiage rocky was using. wick thinks he’s doubting mitzi, that he potentially doesn’t know her as well as he thought or that he has a reason to be afraid of her, due to rocky’s claim that she’s dangerous and his insistence on throwing the carnage and consequences of rumrunning onto mitzi as a person. however, his true feelings are rather far from that. while it’s true that wick is riddled with doubt after rocky’s attempt at driving him and mitzi apart, i find it prudent to clarify here that his love for mitzi outweighs those doubts in large measure. wick’s sudden and unfounded fear doesn’t drive him to isolate himself from mitzi, and thus some part of him does still believe that she isn’t a cruel person and that she wouldn’t try to harm him. there’s no reason why he would think otherwise apart from rocky’s unsettling and instigating threats. wick’s fears are both similar and dissimilar to the ones zib voices in blood-money. while zib is worried about the corrupting influence of the life mitzi is leading, wick is more so afraid of the life itself. wick still views mitzi as every bit the charming, funny, and impeccably elegant woman he fell for, but he is now forced to wonder if he would ever be harmed because of her presence in his life. in essence, rather than questioning mitzi as a person, he is worried about the danger inherent in the life she leads and how that danger might directly impact him. unfortunately, though wick seems to at least subconsciously trust mitzi, his doubts stick around like intrusive thoughts, presenting a constant what-if that wick can’t shake, and it’s these very thoughts that continue to make the business-meeting-turned-date as awkward as it is.

now, it’s rather interesting how much the notion of mitzi hiring rocky to kill her husband shakes wick up due to how normal this sort of method is within gangster lifestyles ; with us even seeing atlas absent or abstaining from mordecai and viktor’s violent work ethic, his hands physically clean despite how its his order causing all this destruction and death. asa does the same! they have workers for a reason, ‘faithful operatives’ as rocky so lovingly calls them, and these men are utilized with complete efficiency. it’s not insane to think that mitzi hired another to kill atlas, and besides rocky’s bumbling incompetence, it’s not strange to consider him a likely man for such a job due to his utmost loyalty to miss m over anyone else, including atlas. yet wick acts as though this hasn’t ever crossed his mind, wholeheartedly believing that mitzi would have to kill atlas herself in order to get the job done, something he’s sure she doesn’t have the heart nor the guts to do. he is visibly shaken the rest of the date, one more distraction piled on his plate high, so suddenly paranoid through the haze of perpetual tiredness that he even snaps at mitzi over something as simple as the word bunny. for the first time, i believe wick is thoroughly beginning to question his part in all of this and is starting to reexamine these once harmless aspects now that the inherent danger has been shoved in his face so earnestly. while a part of this is naivety ( he’s far away from the criminal underbelly after all, as rich and comfortable as he is, a lackadaisy patron and nothing more ) i’d also point out that another aspect of it is a sense of subconscious invincibility. perhaps he is too content in his status and wealth and how well he’s been doing to even consider he’s hardly exempt from consequences, much less the side effects of hanging around criminals or dangerous establishments.

it seems rather strange and far-fetched of a claim, but think of church’s warning to him back at the start of the comic ; “you’ve done well lately … but don’t imagine it means you and your reputation are invincible.” it’s easy to dismiss church’s words due to how mean he often is, how overly critical, but he arguably knows wick better than the readers do, so i think it’s pertinent to take his words and to consider them. he’s also not wrong. everything church says in caveat is the god’s honest truth and wick, to some degree, knows this! it’s why he’ll practically regurgitate church’s advice in mephistopheles when rejecting mitzi and explaining why he must reject her proposal. so then why wouldn’t church’s read on wick be somewhat accurate as well? i think wick’s biggest flaw is that he’s too easily caught up in emotional throes while also struggling to think of every tiny detail, an issue that may or may not have to do with how excessive exposure to alcohol has affected his short term memory. he doesn’t bat an eye at the ruffians or violent gangsters who hang around the lackadaisy because they aren’t currently threatening wick himself, and he won’t dwell on it too hard that these men have to procure their hooch somehow, and that it’s said to be a bad business. if it’s not affecting wick and his enjoyment of the establishment ( or the woman he’s eyeing ) then it is not something he concerns himself with or feels the active threat of. has a simple mindset that sort of functions like : well, mitzi wouldn’t be able to kill someone with her bare hands! she’d loathe to get blood on her lavish garments, doesn’t have the coldness inside to see the life leave a man’s eyes! much less her husband’s! it’s ludicrous. imagine knowing the lady and thinking her capable of that, when she looks and acts as she does! …

again, it’s a rather closed-minded view of the whole thing. how could you not consider she has guns for hire? that the men she surrounds herself with are indeed dangerous individuals who are more than willing to watch the life leave another’s eyes for her? he sees viktor at the bar and in the pilot even appears intimidated by his stature and scarred face, yet doesn’t think twice about what a man like that is doing there on mitzi’s paycheck? even thinks it normal to take viktor to the hospital after hearing that viktor’s been shot at the lackadaisy, not at all considering that police and doctors would pry. wick is extremely privileged and short sighted here, a little full of himself and what he can get away with -- this is the very same man who actively showed interest in a man’s wife, for crying out loud, and didn’t at all consider that someone like atlas would’ve killed him had he known wick’s intentions. this is more than just being blind or oblivious. while i love wick for his kindness and loyalty, i can also admit that he’s still a capitalist at the end of the day, and a successful one at that. him getting too big for his britches and throwing himself into scenarios without considering how this will affect him is extremely likely for his character, and is exactly what he did when agreeing to meet with mitzi the first night in lackadaisy. i believe wick was too caught up in the passion and euphoria of finally getting what he wanted, and started making promises and plans he couldn’t necessarily deliver on, not thinking at all about the logistics or the next day and instead focused on some whimsical future. he loves the lackadaisy and he adores mitzi, so why not invest in it? sure, they can discuss the details tomorrow, he has time just for her … and then reality hit him like a train twice over, leaving wick scrambling around aimlessly. he knows what he has to do but doesn’t want to actually do it, which instead makes him seem completely disinterested and wishy-washy instead.

( i also want it on record that the potential of harm or danger really scares wick when he’s made aware of its presence, at least in certain scenarios. while he can brush off the pig farmers raiding the lackadaisy and viktor’s injuries, he can’t ignore rocky’s threat or its implications because this is shoved directly into wick’s face rather unsubtly. what wick gets from the lackadaisy is mitzi, it’s some strange sense of belonging, and a break from his stressful normal life -- it’s not the awful booze he’s interested in, it’s not the thrill of being in the center of danger, it’s the mindless company and vague sense of ‘i have a seat here, right here, around all these people who don’t seem forever irritated by my presence.’ it’s also the rocks but that’s less poetic. point is, wick’s horrific loneliness and ridicule from his peers is what has him drinking at the lackadaisy instead of in the wine cellar he has at home, which means him being perfectly blind to the danger the workers there face is all the more heartbreaking. he won’t ever truly be one of them until he’s actually breached their criminal lifestyle in its entirety. he may pose with them in pictures, but he’s still an outsider in title. he can’t choose them over his business because he needs and wants his business and, clearly, the lackadaisy needs that too. he can’t sacrifice his safety but he doesn’t want to sit idly by and allow mitzi and her employees to suffer because he is still a very kind man. it all exists in extremes and is what makes wick’s arc fascinating in my eyes … his character also becomes more interesting with this in mind, more human, and that’s exactly why i adore him and mitzi ( and their relationship ) as much as i do )

though here we are, finally done with the detours and event recapping to discuss the original question : what is wick’s and mitzi’s mindset during their date? we have all the tools available and any further information i may give later should be extra elaboration at this point rather than anything new. after all, in order to understand why the date went the way it did we had to understand wick and mitzi’s individual characters and what they feel towards each other, what they think they feel, as well as how their relationship has functioned so far. and with a multitude of misconceptions cleared up too, this section hopefully seems a bit more straightforward, though i suppose we’ll wait and see. now, we’ll be discussing the pages doublet, drollery, veracity, photomajig, briar-patch, and mephistopheles … plus some of the date’s aftermath much, much later!

at the start of doublet ( and carrying into drollery ) mitzi and wick are seated in a rowboat, with wick doing the rowing while she’s situated comfortably on a pillow and enjoying the view ; typical of their gender roles during that time. wick looks almost quizzical in the first panel we see of him, though some of that tenseness appears to leave his face by the time mitzi turns to look at him … only for such a look to return when she says, ‘let’s talk business, wick.’

throughout this page and the others it becomes obvious wick very much doesn’t want to discuss business with mitzi, despite that being the purpose of their little meetup at all. he’s extremely quiet when she begins rambling on about how wrong her approach had been last night, how she should’ve just sought wick out to begin with ( an interesting thing for her to say given how reluctant she was to use him initially ). there is a wave of compliments and flattery here from mitzi, an almost buttering up, and it’s worth saying that what works a genuine smile out of wick here is mitzi saying something as simple and as romantic as liking his face. it’s undoubtedly an earnest expression, still tired but softened considerably, and wick will continue to show that what he’s most receptive to are mitzi’s advances, her small flirty remarks and gestures. but once again, when she decides to come out and say what she’s trying to discuss with wick, ‘i’d like you to be my business partner’, he quickly shuts down. his expression falls and he becomes even more quiet than before, enough so to prompt mitzi ( who’s now rowing with him ) to ask if he’s lost interest overnight. all wick can muster in response is some hesitantly worded excuses, like how he’s a little tired and that this proposal is a lot to think about. i say these are excuses because i think wick knew from the start that he was going to reject mitzi’s deal, whatever it was, because now that reality has set in he’s come to understand church’s warning as pure facts. there was never a moment during the outing where wick was even thinking about mitzi’s offer, and he does everything he can to avoid discussing it because he knows his answer.

mitzi, similarly, only wishes to discuss business with wick here -- it’s what she came over for, after all, and she’s at the end of her rope after last night’s and today’s events. she needs this deal and wick’s money, to the point where she remains almost purposefully stereotypical throughout their entire outing. gone is the more genuine bond between them that we saw in rendezvous, because now every time mitzi does a romantic action ( or a sexual one ) it’s wooden and rather fake ; it’s her feeling as though there’s no other choice and being desperate enough to stoop so low if it means wick won’t reject her business. their wants and desires are complete opposites at this point, with wick wanting this to be a date and to be with mitzi while the woman in question is avoidant of any lovesick antics until she feels like she’s losing wick. there’s definitely some manipulation happening on mitzi’s end just as much as there’s some purposeful misleading on wick’s, with both of their behaviors rubbing the other party the wrong way ; wick is still on edge due to rocky’s comment and is prone to getting upset whenever mitzi so much as jokes about it, and then we have mitzi, who’s already dealt with a similar situation today with asa, someone who dragged her to an outing she didn’t ask for and then avoided the conversation she wanted to have with him. for perhaps the first time, neither wick nor mitzi are really seeing each other anymore, they’re instead doubting one another where there had once been ironclad resolve and are too blinded by their desires to have an honest conversation about any of this. add this on top of how exhausted and stressed they both are, it’s no wonder their ‘date’ was doomed from the start.

i also want it on record that mitzi is being extremely open and upfront here about what she wants from wick from the first page. she didn’t waste any time before making her intentions with him clear! this isn’t me dismissing her more manipulative behavior during the date, but she certainly doesn’t use wick to the extent some people act like she does. rather than asking him to be an investor, she tells wick she wants him to be her business partner who would get 40% of the revenue and a 40% say in her decisions regarding the lackadaisy. it doesn’t seem like much, but given how little wick actually needs this money back, it’s a rather generous offer all around, with it almost being half and half. while she’s still undoubtedly using him, there is still a level of respect here, i think, some kind of : well, if i have to use wick, let me at least make the terms as good as they can be. some fans act as though mitzi deceived wick from the start when i’ve more than proved she’s mostly been completely transparent with him outside of a few select situations, which happen to be moments where her desperation turns her impulsive and wholly selfish, as seen briefly in rendezvous and whenever she flirts with wick during their outing. an impulsive instinct that will only worsen come sneakthief, when mitzi is utterly humiliated, angry, and at the very end of her already thinned rope. to me, it’s important to understand that her reasons for her actions during this arc are understandable and, perhaps, a bit sympathetic -- but that and the fact that what she does is wrong can coexist. wick is in a similar boat, where i mostly want to present him through a neutral lens so we can understand that he’s also done some wrong himself and is hardly a perfect victim, but that these wrongdoings still don’t dismiss the fact he shouldn’t have been stolen from or had his affections used. but i’ve gotten a little ahead of myself, so let’s dive back into doublet and drollery.

doublet ends with mitzi cooing at wick in an almost teasing but fond tone, calling him a ‘poor bunny,’ a comment so unremarkable that she’s not at all anticipating wick to react rather aggressively. he’s sort of accusatory and defensive, as though bristling from the mere title alone. we quickly find out in the next page ( and from his mumbling before his outburst ) that he’s still unable to shake rocky’s threats from balderdash, to the point of internalizing the confusing metaphor he was given, which wick hardly understands but is still reactive towards. he’s tired and stressed and on top of that he’s suddenly nervous for his life, it’s little wonder why he’s so jumpy. mitzi, in turn, expresses utter confusion at his question and, when wick explains that rocky insinuated he killed atlas because she wanted him to, she begins making light of the situation … much to wick’s dismay. to her, it’s just not something to take seriously! and she repeatedly pokes fun at the mere idea, going back and forth between ‘i’m kidding!’s and ‘or am i?’s until relenting entirely, going on to tease wick for believing she’d do something so awful and for taking rocky’s words as something to be worried about. drollery is a deceptively important page, as it’s a great demonstration of how little wick and mitzi are understanding each other. it makes complete sense for mitzi to make light of the situation and to be unable to understand why wick is so afraid, considering that rocky idolizes her and therefore has never threatened her or even done so much as to appear annoyed around her. in stark contrast, wick’s emotional state here is frazzled and fraught, and he’s in desperate need of some sort of comfort. he seems to get that comfort when mitzi teases him about believing rocky, only for fear to take over once again when mitzi casually mentions, ‘rocky’s name is definitely not on my murderers-for-hire roster,’ implying that she still has one even if rocky himself isn’t on it. wick is noticeably so shocked or frightened that he stops rowing, and then there’s a brief timeskip before we see the pair again in veracity.

what i find most prudent to talk about during this page is the discussion of atlas may between the pair, with wick asking two rather wise questions ; if the talk about mitzi’s part in her husband’s death is false and, if so, why not speak up on it? her answer is rather similar both times, saying she didn’t kill atlas because she loved him, and that she doesn’t like discussing the circumstances surrounding his death due to how fresh it all still is. she begins fiddling with her necklace, a telltale sign that her late husband is on her mind, before offering something rather interesting.

as we know it, mitzi is a rather reserved and private person, and that goes tenfold for anything involving atlas post mortem, an aspect of her character that’s even referenced in this very page! so for this to even be offered, albeit hesitantly, is fascinating on many levels and can be read through two lenses. either this is a genuine offer from mitzi or a fake one in an attempt to garner wick into her corner, with the promise of a solved mystery in his pocket. both are completely valid interpretations of this scene given where mitzi’s currently at, and i won’t dismiss either one. however, i personally view her words here as an honest invitation, one she’s extremely reluctant to give but is willing to let it be out there regardless. she’s not promising that wick will get this information, it’s merely a possibility ; if such a question truly weighs on him so heavily, then perhaps she can find it in herself to someday tell him about atlas. i think mitzi is more than willing to give wick that sort of honesty in return if he decides to help her out -- which, in a way, is a blend of the two options i brought up earlier. i just don’t see why she’d bring this rather sensitive and personal wound up to wick at all unless she was serious about it, given how avoidant she usually is with this subject.

one aspect of lackadaisy that i rarely see brought up is the tangible theme of grief. mitzi is often interpreted without her grief being a factor, or her grief being a small obstacle that she simply needs to ‘get over’. this is hardly how grief works, especially not when a loss is sudden and violent, as atlas’ death unquestionably was. this is to say nothing of the horrific circumstances that followed mitzi afterwards -- while previously, she was a wealthy socialite, sheltered from harm and the particularly gruesome details of her husband’s work, she is now forced to wear shoes that are far too big and bloody for her to fill. i find it prudent to digress and harp on this a bit, as it’s hardly ever mentioned in the lackadaisy fandom that it can be incredibly difficult for a grieving person to hear the name of their lost loved one, especially when you’re someone as reluctant to share your feelings as mitzi is. hell, mordecai just hearing atlas’ name once was enough for him to flee the luncheon and squirrel himself away in mitzi’s car. and not only has atlas been brought up twice today already, he’s been used as a tool to threaten mitzi’s life. while wick could hardly know that his discussion of the rumors surrounding atlas’ death might have a serious impact on mitzi considering the context of what happened that day, he certainly belatedly realizes that his words have the very real capacity for hurting mitzi -- he just doesn’t realize how much. with this in mind, there is undoubtedly something to be said about how mitzi offers to talk to wick about atlas at all, with us being able to read into this as a testament to their previous closeness or miss may’s rising and almost animalistic desperation. wick’s response to this is rather telling too, with him immediately rejecting her offer due to mitzi not ‘owing’ him such an explanation and apologizing for bringing atlas’s death up at all, as well as expressing that he’s duly ashamed of himself for it. while this puts a damper on their outing ( and gives wick another excuse to try and avoid mitzi’s desired topic by ending things early ) there’s no denying that even when they’re on relatively strained terms, a glimmer of respect and care for each other keeps shining through. it’s either that or wick just has impeccable manners and an innate understanding that bringing up a widow’s murdered husband during what’s supposed to be a date isn’t a wise move. or, like always, it’s probably a mix of the two. this fondness and affection towards one another, as subconscious as it may be, is highlighted once again in photomajig! a page which i won’t talk about too much, but one that’s integral nonetheless.

realizing things aren’t going the way she wants them to go, mitzi spies an opportunity to prolong and ‘fix’ things when seeing a photo booth, one which she drags a curious wick to with a renewed smile upon her face. for the first three-ish photos, wick seems rather apprehensive about this situation, likely still feeling their earlier talk in its awful entirety ; only for mitzi to physically tug and pull at him in an attempt to help him loosen up, going as far as to pinch his cheeks into a poor facsimile of a smile for the camera. after this, wick gives more of an attempt during the next two pictures, mimicking mitzi’s pose both times and seeming to find himself having fun despite circumstances. there’s a noticeable shift in the photos where the two not only appear to be enjoying themselves, but are actively enjoying one another’s company. for a couple shots it’s almost like the current despairing state surrounding them disappears entirely as they silently fawn over each other and indulge in some harmless fun, with these three specific pictures being prime examples of this.

there’s no denying that wick is visibly smitten with mitzi here once he loosens up, burdened with an overwhelming attraction his face can barely hide once the date begins feeling like an actual date. mitzi’s more subtle, though there’s a lightness to her expressions that feel less forced and sad, actively engaging in ridiculous poses and naturally falling into more loving gestures without much orchestrated affections on her end. you can see what they could perhaps be like as a genuine couple if they could allow themselves such a future ; happy and silly and capturing memories to always keep … and this brief insight makes what happens at the end much more devastating, where we see mitzi ( who has, maybe, remembered herself and her goal ) throw this away to force herself onto wick again with a bruising force, attempting to take advantage of his good mood so they can talk about her business proposal again. just like that the moments are gone, as are their more honest feelings, and although wick still dodges the topic yet again ( which, as previously stated, he shouldn’t be doing given the true purpose of this outing ) he retains a more playful attitude than before. joking that he was planning on running away from mitzi until he begins looking rather smug and adoring while teasing her ‘ruthless’ strategy, and how it doesn’t leave him in an advantageous negotiating position. the page ends with them realizing they’ve cultivated an audience with their antics as wick laments he’d hate to disrupt them with business talk -- a sarcastic remark undoubtedly, but further drives my previous points home nonetheless.

now we approach the last stretch of this analysis, centering around wick’s rejection of mitzi and then briefly touching upon her stealing his money. briar-patch is an intricate dance between two exhausted parties, but this exhaustion is exactly what makes it so easy for them to fall into their normal styles of talking. the next time we see the pair, they’ve left the park and have since returned to wick’s home ; holed up in his wine cellar and enjoying some quality wine. it’s very interesting that wick has an entire underground room full of illicit beverages when he so often frequents the lackadaisy, though i digress. still sporting his improved mood, wick behaves rather coyly during most of briar-patch, rambling about the bottle of wine mitzi asks him about and implying he’s too socially awkward to properly entertain a lady … this is an obvious lie, and it’s one mitzi doesn’t hesitate to call out, but this doesn’t dampen his spirits any. once again looking smitten at the woman sitting in his lap, his tail seeming to curl slightly around her outstretched leg. it all paints a rather fond and romantic picture, in spite of its context.

just like mitzi with his earlier fabrication, wick sees through her attempts at getting him drunk until he acquiesces to her proposal, though doesn’t visually appear mad at mitzi for this. naturally, she denies the claim -- a little tipsy and not at all a good liar, instead resorting to a minor guilt trip -- ‘i’m starting to worry you’re leading me on,’ -- as another way to nudge wick into her desired direction. i’m sure wick knows what mitzi is getting at when she claims he’s leading her on, but he chooses to ignore her true meaning by saying that he couldn’t be leading her on because he’s been eyeing mitzi since she was married to atlas. and mitzi admits to knowing about his interest … making a slight remark that she’s surprised atlas didn’t have him killed for it. we see more evidence of wick’s avoidance towards the topic of murderers for hire in his very clear statement of ‘…that’s comforting. anyway’. wick goes on to immediately dismiss the very real danger he was in and confess that he ‘couldn’t help’ being attracted to mitzi. this highlights one of wick’s other flaws ; his belief that he is unable to resist his impulses and that this somehow absolves him of the consequences of his actions. he could very easily have gotten over his initial attraction to mitzi instead of constantly mooning over her and feeding his interest. he could also have thought through mitzi’s invitation and decided against sacrificing his investors and their reputations for his own gain. this flaw can be tied into his alcoholism as well, where we see that wick has poor impulse control yet again when, after just being scolded by his secretary for drinking, he then pours hooch into his coffee when her back is turned, not even waiting for her to leave the room. all of this is to say that wick has a penchant for ignoring the consequences of his impulsive decisions and struggles heavily with the awkwardness involved in taking accountability for them.

we then move onto the next page where lacy interrupts the two, asking if wick could drive her home since bix, wick’s driver, isn’t outside anymore. wick, who admits to essentially forgetting about her presence, promises he’ll be up in a second to take her home -- and it’s that scene which marks the end of the date. wick was more than content to drag this on as long as possible, having been all but relaxed and cozy earlier, in a manner of undress with mitzi ( who had taken her heels off ) and filling the air with meaningless conversation. these aren’t the actions of a man who is eager to push the lady out the door, but rather someone who enjoys this reality too much to do the right thing and end it ; to save them both the now wasted time because they both have businesses to run, and can’t afford pleasantries like dates that last hours … or, in mitzi’s case, this was never what she wanted at all with this meeting, and wick knew that deep down and purposefully withheld from addressing the topic until the end was near, and then there wasn’t much else he could do except finally come clean. his face falls and scrunches, initially turned away from his company before he begins to let her down, fidgeting by scrubbing his neck and avoiding her gaze again by looking into his wine glass. i think paying attention to wick’s body language is always important, because his tone and how he speaks is rather glib in nature.

wick is a character who doesn’t really speak emotionally with his voice ; perpetually stuck in a stuffy but charming sort of tone as seen in the pilot ( even when he’s noticeably angry at rocky’s implications of dynamite and machinery ) as well as here, where his words are so casual sounding that it’s hard not to view them as apathetic. starting his rejection with a polite but seemingly uncaring, “uh, i was saying … i’d love for this to work out … but, uh …” he sounds like he’s talking to a stranger, almost, someone who came up to him on the street with a business proposition rather than with a girl who he cares for and selfishly kept the entire evening once he could manage it. even his verbal hesitation can be viewed as indifference. he carries this normal air afterwards too, able to seem unfazed during sneakthief and chauffeur ; propped with a casualness to him and his words that make it hard to comprehend that the situation is as bad as it is. as mentioned above, wick is rather short-sighted and tends not to think through the finer points of things. he has a notable talent for dismissing schools of thought that aren’t immediately pertinent, and i’d argue that he has a penchant for self-soothing, burying his problems in fine wines and expensive toys. it’s not outside the realm of possibility that wick would immediately fall back into his glib, carefree tone, trying to soothe himself with the normalcy of bantering with lacy. it’s probably fairly easy to write wick off as never being too interested in mitzi because of this, but given the rest of his character ( along with the brief faltering we see in his expression here and there ) that’s likely not at all true. honestly, i believe he’s even less likely to consider the true consequences of what’s transpired, considering that he a.) completely dismisses lacy’s assertion that mitzi had been rifling through her things and threatening her with dismemberment, b.) is so tired he is hallucinating a duck and therefore can’t drive straight, and c.) is definitely drunk, having seemingly polished off two bottles with mitzi over the course of the date.

sedgewick sable, for all intents and purposes, is a businessman and a capitalist after all. and while he’s leagues better than his peers in terms of kindness, passion, and humbleness, there’s still no denying that he’s still a man made of money who has to spend hours of his day rubbing elbows with blue blood types. he may be an outlier, but he’s secured investors for a reason and isn’t new to the social games that are a part of that environment. can’t be, when he can act so confident and ���better than’ when such displays are needed from him. i understand the narrative of wick being ‘socially inept’ or ‘socially awkward’, because he is to a degree, though i think some people have the habit of erasing him of any competency entirely. during quarryman, caveat, and quacksalver, wick does well when holding his own and is able to keep an almost smug look about him even when faced with ridicule or critique from his wealthy peers ; never letting their insults or boredom stick, and behaving as if he’s amused by their comments at best.

i don’t think wick truly feels unbothered by these events nor do i believe his constant pleasant tone is always genuine. there’s a case to be made here about masking : the practice of concealing or suppressing aspects of one's ( potentially ) neurodivergent traits or conditions, in order to fit in with the norms of the workplace or society. it may be a ruse, but it’s a damn good one, to the point where it’s potentially taken over how he speaks entirely. and it’d make sense given the themes surrounding wick’s character already, but i’ll just leave that there for now. what matters in the context of him rejecting mitzi and his behavior thereafter is that wick has a really bad habit of coming across as uncaring on occasion, something not only the reader could be fooled by, but mitzi as well ; in her already sensitive state, still angry and hurting from asa’s imposed lunch as well as last night’s many humiliating events. despite this, the actual wording of wick’s confession, as distant as it may seem, is rather purposeful in my eyes, because he says : “i’d love for this to work out, but, uh … not if it’s contingent on a business partnership.” here, wick makes it clear that he’s not rejecting a romantic relationship with mitzi, merely the business proposal itself. if she wanted to date him without the business part, than wick would be more than willing to indulge her -- and even during the rejection itself, he never comes across as mad or angry at her in particular, expressions-wise. just rather saddened about things, a little shameful, but he seems to hold little issue with mitzi even though he’s still uncertain of her motives.

it’s also worth noting that despite wick’s feelings for mitzi being ‘obvious’, it’s very likely mitzi has no clue what those feelings really are in nature. to her, it could be a physical interest and nothing more, and given how she acts around wick ( as in, being extremely touchy physically ) i think her views of his attraction veer towards more shallow waters than sickly sweet romance. something that adds further insult to injury here, and makes her rather aggressive reaction, where she essentially says this :

all the more understandable, and honestly a rather human reaction all around. people love to dismiss everything mitzi says as ‘manipulative’ or ‘fake’, but tracy herself has essentially called wick a hypocrite before too … so there’s more truth to her words here than fans are comfortable to admit. while cruel, there’s honesty to what she’s saying. wick is indeed, by definition, a hypocrite. he also has, undoubtedly, led her on throughout this entire date and did so on purpose. she has every reason to lash out at him here and to continue doing so afterwards, torn between being angry at him as well as desperately needing him in turn ; still throwing herself at wick in a last ditch attempt to save things, even though we know she regrets and loathes such actions. her shallow view of wick’s affections isn’t exactly helped when, in response to her still biting words, he calls her mephistopheles and draws attention to her curves. if you don’t know, mephistopheles is a demon who corrupts the souls of men, and in some interpretations is said to take on desirable and pleasing forms. while a rather mean remark ( something mitzi even points out ) wick’s lips are in a tiny smile, eyebrows raised as he stares at mitzi with lidded eyes … it reads more like a tease, an action that the two engage in often when talking to each other ( as can be seen here, and other such instances ), rather than being a scathing review of character like mitzi’s words previously.

still, despite mitzi’s tempting offer of the more sexual implication, wick holds his ground and stays true to his rejection. a rejection that was practically just church’s words to him word-for-word, might i add. the date ends here and they separate. but i’d be remiss to not even briefly discuss sneakthief and other events afterwards, since they’re rather major in nature. though i will only talk about these events briefly, since they’re an entirely other can of worms and this analysis is long enough as it is.

as we’ve thoroughly covered thus far, mitzi stealing a blank check from wick’s checkbook wasn’t her plan all along, nor was it even a malicious action on her end. it was pure desperation that drove her to steal, just like it was pure desperation that drove her to play the condescending, evil crime boss gig to lacy … a gig she’s scarily good at, and one she’ll probably utilize more in the future. and no, this doesn’t dismiss how awful these actions are, it merely explains them. mitzi is not some evil manipulative mastermind, she literally heard about the checkbook in lacy’s bag and instantly ( foolishly! ) stole it immediately thereafter, basically getting caught as well. mitzi doesn’t even seem to think about what she’s doing before she moves to do it, a side effect of her all consuming obsession and, again, her desperation. these are hardly the actions of a woman who’s thinking reasonably or with any level of coldness, even if her actions here are extremely selfish. still, there’s no excusing it, though mitzi tries to find some justifications for her actions in an obvious attempt to soothe her own mind and, perhaps, to make her actions more palpable to even herself. you see this in backalley, where she briefly touches upon her actions in a way she won’t ever do again.

she’s rationalizing it to herself, thinking wholeheartedly that she’ll pay it all back eventually, and that she isn’t intending to take this money without giving any of it back. this is rather shortsighted of her, since a.) she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to make this money back, enough so to be able to give it to wick, and b.) that’s hardly the issue here, when the real betrayal lies within the fact she’s done this to wick at all. like most things, mitzi’s clouded view isn’t allowing her to realize the extent of what she’s done … i don’t even think she’s understanding that by doing this, she has potentially lost wick as a friend forever. or if she has realized this, it hasn’t begun weighing on her yet -- which is understandable, given her fight with zib and his disappearance right after the fact, as well as her beloved necklace being broken. there are just other things on her mind besides wick sable! and that’s the tragedy, isn’t it? there’s no room for her to really evaluate her feelings about him or him at all when she’s so obsessed with the abstraction of her late husband and all he represents ; down to the pearls she wears of him and the bad reputation he kept. it’s still easy to justify things in this state, to talk in circles about how wick is too nice to be mad at her or send her to jail and how she’ll eventually pay him back, when there’s no clarity for her. mitzi knows what she’s doing is reprehensible but she doesn’t know how bad it all is yet, something tracy has, again, said about her before. the last we see of mitzi in the comic currently is her saying this, which isn’t the expression nor the words of someone who is feeling anything but awful, though has found company and comfort in it despite the pain :

and we’ve now reached the end of this analysis! i want to give an immense thank you to anyone who’s sat through and read all of this from beginning to end given its length! and i also want to say that i understand some of the things covered here are a bit vague when compared to other parts, so if anyone has further questions or wishes to discuss this further, please feel free to do so! i view this project as an overall analysis rather than one that’s extremely specific to certain topics, so because of that ( and for your sanity and mine ) there were things i was curt with on purpose. trust me when i say that there’s not one aspect of these characters or their relationship that i haven’t given immense thought to, or analyzed. similarly, to reiterate my earlier disclaimers, everything i’ve said here is said with neutral evaluation at best and with some bias at worst, a bias that pertains to both wick and mitzi. i adore them both equally and i don’t want my words here to be twisted as me saying one of them deserves ‘better’ than the other, because frankly i care very little for that argument. at the end of the day, they’re two extremely human characters : flawed and intense and existing in multiple extremes, good and bad, and that’s exactly why their relationship fascinates me. i’m not here to play the moral police on fictional characters who are actively in a morally ambiguous work, i’m here to merely observe them and hopefully give them justice in my readings of their dynamic and respective complex characters … especially since i don’t think the fandom has done a good job of that for either of them!

though this is still just my opinion and analysis of the text that’s been given to us, so to each their own. i feel like i have so much more to say or elaborate upon, but this is a nice little place to leave it for now, so again, thank you all … and thank you tracy butler for squeezing my brain for thousands of words worth of braincells that has went into studying her comic like the bible <3 and then actually writing those thoughts down like some insane person!

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[sourkitsch]

Two things that are true at once:

I am not nearly as mentally ill as I’ve convinced myself I am

I am far sicker than I’ve convinced my friends that I am

[v6quewrlds]

imagine being joe's person.

author's note⠀⁎⠀suffering from major joey withdrawal. reads more like a character study/brain dump than anything else but enjoy <3

For as long as Joe can remember, he had been told by everyone - coaches, doctors, teachers, teammates - that his coolness was to be envied. In the pressure cooker of professional football, the ability to keep his nerves in check had been his superpower. He loved the feeling of the game slowing down when everyone else was speeding up, the way he could read the field and make split-second decisions that could change the course of a game. From the minute he stepped onto the field, he was in control. He was commanding the huddle, keeping his eye on the clock, setting up the play, and taking lead on the outcome. He thrived when he was in control.

But when he stepped off the football field and into the public eye, all of that control completely slipped away. He couldn't help but feel like he was performing, acting the role of someone named Joe Burrow instead of just being himself. It didn't help that the cameras and curious eyes followed him everywhere. Everyone seemed to be eager to catch him off-guard, eager to see the "real" side of him, eager to witness him lose his cool.

She had caught on to his nervous tells early on in their relationship. It was subtle at first, just a hint of a tremor in his voice when he cleared it before speaking, or the way he'd swipe his palms against his pants when he was about to be interviewed, even the way he would shift from side to side slightly when he felt uncomfortable. But over the course of their two years together, she had learned to read him like a book.

He would never admit it out loud to anybody but her, but Joe was terrified of letting his guard down. The weight of his ever increasing fame and the constant pressure of living up to expectations had turned his life into a tightrope walk. But with her, everything felt different. Her presence was like a gentle breeze that calmed the static in his brain. It was always just a touch, the smell of her perfume, or the sound of her approaching footsteps that could soothe him.

His foundation was always a top priority for Joe, and today was particularly special. The charity golf event was a chance to give back to the communities in southeastern Ohio and Baton Rouge that had supported him through his football journey. From the moment they started dating seriously, she had been by his side at every event, making herself available to support him in his philanthropic efforts. His mother constantly gushed about how she was the perfect partner for Joe, handling the social graces with ease, and contributing her talents to make sure the events ran smoothly.

She had a knack for making people feel at ease, a skill that Joe greatly admired. She had a way of connecting with people from all walks of life, and it was evident in the way the guests at the check-in lit up when she greeted them. Her genuine smile and warm handshakes made even the stiffest of the corporate sponsors crack a smile. Joe watched her from across the room, feeling a sense of pride swell within him.

The golf event was in full swing now. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the meticulously manicured greens. Joe's could feel his mind racing, his inner monologue murmuring his anxieties as he mingled with the guests as they arrived.

Between the never-ending carousel of guests, Joe would find himself glancing in the direction of the entrance, hoping the line would soon thin out and she would be by his side - where she was supposed to be. The hour reserved for check-in seemed to drag on with Robin and Jimmy occasionally stepping in to take some of the conversational weight off him. He loved them for it, he really did, but all he wanted was her comforting presence, her hand in his, her laugh in his ear.

Finally, she appeared, looking absolutely radiant in a simple white sundress that contrasted with her brown skin, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and a small black handbag in her hand. She made her way through the crowd, a vision of confidence and grace that made Joe's chest tighten. She had that special glow about her today, something that seemed to have been amplified by the excitement of the event.

Her eyes met his and he couldn't bring himself to focus on what the shorter, gray-haired man in front of him was saying. Everything around him blurred into a muffled murmur. She was everything he wasn't in social settings: poised, articulate, natural, and absolutely magnetic. As she approached, Joe felt his body relax, his breathing even out, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She was by his side in an instant, taking her rightful place as she handed him a chilled bottle of water.

His hand gravitated to her waist, and he felt a wave of comfort wash over him as she leaned in slightly, her hand brushing against his back. He could feel his back straighten, his shoulders ease, and his breath deepen. The familiar warmth of her body began to ground him, bringing him back to the present, and reminding him that he was more than capable of remaining in control.

"George, Tim, this is my girlfriend," Joe introduced, his voice steady as he finally had the strength to redirect his focus to the guests. He watched with a proud smile as she offered the two men her hand for a handshake, easygoing greetings of "Nice to meet you," and "Thank you for coming," leaving her soft lips.

She tucked back into his side in an instant, her free hand coming up to rest between his shoulder blades, his hand wrapped around her waist once more. They made small talk with George and Tim, who both looked at Joe with a knowing smile, nodding their heads in approval at the mention of her name. Though they wouldn't have guessed it before she appeared by his side, they could see his nerves smooth out, his shoulders drop, and the tension in his jaw ease.

"So, how long have you two been together?" George inquired, sipping his drink and looking at the couple with genuine curiosity.

Joe's gaze flickered to her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he replied, "Two years now."

Her eyes sparkled with affection as she listened to Joe speak, her thumb idly tracing patterns on his back. "It'll be three years in August," she added, clarifying gently.

Tim, the taller of the two, chuckled and said, "Well, Joe, you're getting closer to the big 3-0. Maybe it's time to start thinking about settling down? I think you've got a pretty good candidate by your side. My wife was raving about her when they were setting up the check-in."

Joe felt his cheeks warm slightly, but the smile didn't leave his face. "I've already started planning, actually," he responded, surprising even himself with his decisiveness. Her hand stilled its motion on his back, her eyes widening in shock as she turned her face to meet his eye.

"Oh, really?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "That's news to me."

Joe felt a twinge of panic, realizing he had spoken before thinking. But the look on her face wasn't one of annoyance or upset; her eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation. He took a deep breath and said, "Well, I mean, I've been thinking about it. We've got a good thing going, and I can't see my future without you in it."

That was the truth. He often found himself wondering what life with her could look like beyond football. The dream with the white picket fence, curly-haired kids playing in the yard, her standing in the kitchen with a baby on her hip and a smile on her face when she welcomed him home. It was a picture that had started to form in his mind more and more often in the quiet moments between games and practices. At times, he questioned how he managed to be motivated to do anything that wasn't football before her - couldn't fathom how he managed to exist before her.

Her smile grew wider. "Is that so?" she said, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Very interesting."

Tim and George laughed heartily, their faces reddening with good cheer as they slapped Joe on the back. "Good for you, Joe," George exclaimed. "You're going to need someone like her to keep you grounded in this crazy world. Good luck, you two."

The conversation flowed around them as they found themselves in the middle of the bustling golf clubhouse. The air was filled with the chatter of excitement and the clinking of glasses as people mingled and shared stories. She leaned closer to Joe, whispering, "So, you're planning our future, without my input?" Her voice was teasing, but her eyes searched his, looking for a hint of what he might be feeling.

Joe looked down at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Well, I figured you'd be okay with it, given that you're a big part of it," he replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the sudden seriousness that had entered their conversation. The room felt warmer, and not just from the bodies packed into the space. "I want to do this right, babe. I want to make sure you're happy, that we're both ready."

Her expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek, the gesture unseen by the surrounding guests. "Joey," she whispered, "you always make sure I'm happy. I'm ready for whatever comes next, whenever it comes."

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[no-144444]

making moves- l.norris

a/n: HI AND WELCOME TO MY FIRST FIC-TOBER FIC I HOPE YOU ENJOY :)))))

Day 1 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Lando and you don't exactly get along and now you're quitting, he'll surely take it well, right?

pairing: lando norris x fem! mclaren publicist! fem! reader

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You turned the corner of the media pen with Lando’s arm in your hand. If he stepped one foot out of line, if one hair was out of place, one unnecessary giggle or joke, you’d lose your mind. You were getting sick of this, of him, of cleaning up every single one of his messes. 

“I said I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you sighed. You hadn’t studied mechanical engineering and sports journalism for years in college to become a goddamn babysitter. “Just do your interviews and don’t say anything about your relationship status, please Lando.”

He rolled his eyes but obliged, moving past you to start an interview with some sports journal.

You watched the room around you. You would miss this, the buzz of the media pen, the entire paddock, being so close in the action of your favourite sport. You wished it hadn’t come to this. You didn’t want to quit, but you were being driven mad by a 24 year old man-child, and you couldn’t take it anymore. A year and a half ago, you were being driven crazy by how much you wanted him, now, it was his party-boy ways and arrogant smirk that set you off. Lando had always been a popular driver, you understood the attraction on every level. He was a pretty, sometimes funny, and rich man. He was on the younger side of the grid, and he was talented. Christ, was he annoying to work with. He was conceited, self-centred, a manwhore, and downright difficult the majority of the time. You disregarded almost every time he was kind to you, because less than 48 hours later he would do something dickish and ruin your weekend off, or make you cancel a date to come get him from a club because he was drunk and his friends left him alone, blah, blah, blah. You were excited to finally be free of Lando Norris and his asshole-ish ways, yet, maybe you’d miss his face. Anyways, just one race left, and your two-weeks are up. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ Team dinners were simple, you usually sat beside Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend, and chatted with her about her course (the same one you took) and whatever else came to your minds. As the night came to a close, you walked Lily and Oscar back to their rooms with Lando trailing behind, texting on his phone. 

Lily pulled you into a hug. “I’ll miss you so much!” she sighed. “It sucks you’re not even finishing the season with McLaren.”

You shrugged, hugging her back. “I’ll call you, I promise. And we have Greece in January,” you reminded her. She nodded and pulled back. 

“See you in the morning,” she smiled, then disappeared back to their hotel room. 

“See you in the morning,” Oscar smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “You better call her once you land in New York, or she’ll lose her mind,” he chuckled. 

You nodded, smiling. “I will, don’t worry. And I’ll miss you too, Osc.”

He smiled, pulling back. “I’ll miss you too.”

You turned to go to your room, but Lando stopped you. “Why are you going to New York?”

“For my new job,” you explained calmly. “I’m leaving on Sunday night.”

Confusion flashed across his face, and you took the silence as a chance to leave. You brushed past him and continued on your way down the hall. 

“What do you mean you’re ‘leaving’ on Sunday night? Are you going on holidays for the weeks we have off?” he asked, catching up with you. 

“No, I start my new job the next week and I need to get my apartment unpacked and sort out my office,” you explained. 

“What? Why are you doing that?”

“Unpacking my apartment? I’ll be living there-”

“No, moving? You have a job, y-you work here, you work with me,” he stumbled through his sentence and you raised an eyebrow. 

“Did Stella not tell you? I’m leaving after the race this weekend. I sent in my two-week notice almost two weeks ago. I got a job offer from the New York Jets and I took it. Anyway, good night Lando, I’ll see you in the morning,” You continued on your way to your room. 

“You can’t just leave! What will I do without y- someone to-”

“Get your laundry and fix your mistakes in the media? You’ll be getting a replacement when I leave. His name is Will, he’s organised, and he’s quite funny. I think you’ll get along.” 

“What will I do without you?” he gritted out. “You’re meant to be here, with me, and now you’re leaving? How am I supposed to feel?”

“Imparcial I’d assume.”

“Imparcial? Y/n, come on, you can’t be that blind?” This was a different version of Lando than what you were used to. He was usually a brass and confident arsehole. Yet, here he stood in front of you, upset that you were leaving. 

“Blind to what? The way you abuse your power? The way you make me do your bidding? The way you make me cancel important things in my personal life to fit your schedule of heavy drinking? The way-”

“The way I’m in love with you?!” He practically shouted. You clapped a hand over his mouth and a surge of panic ran though you. You pulled him into your hotel room after you and sat him on the bed, then proceeded to pace the room. 

What did he mean he loved you? He hated you. He made your life a living hell. He made sure you’d have to see him everyday. He made sure you’d be in his apartment building. He made sure to-

Oh. Shit. He loved you. 

“Y/n,” his voice was soft. “You need to calm down.” 

You turned to him. “Calm down? What the fuck do you mean ‘calm down’? I’ve just spent the last fucking year and a half burying any and all romantic feelings for you, tried to hone in on all of your flaws to make myself hate you, quit my job to get away from you, and now you’re telling me you love me? What the fuck Lando?!” 

“You had romantic feelings for me?” He blushed. 

“That’s what you got from that?!” 

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, alright. We can work this out, just tell Andrea you don’t want to quit-”

“Lando I’ve accepted the job offer in New York, I’ve signed the contract. I can’t back out,” you sighed, putting your head in your hands. “You really have great timing,” you scoffed. 

He smiled, placing his hands on your waist. “Then we’ll make it work,” he shrugged. “I want you, if you’ll have me.” 

You looked up at him. Were you really doing this?  Lando Norris was your typical male celebrity in his twenties. He had everything he could ever want, any girl he could ever want, and he wanted you? Every insecurity and logical bone  in your body told you to run away. You’d seen what the internet did to girls he was seen in public with, let alone a girl he actually came out and admitted to dating. Was he worth being torn apart for? 

“You’re killing me here,” he laughed to hide his fear. He’d waited a year and a half for this moment. He wanted you more than anything. He wanted to be able to call himself your boyfriend and get to call you his girlfriend. He wanted you around him all the time. Every time he’d found out about a date you’d been on or met a guy you’d been seeing he was filled with jealousy. He was yours, he just needed you to be his too. 

“Lando, I don’t know if this is a good idea-”

He pressed his lips to yours and it was undeniable. This was what you had been searching for. That stupid ‘spark’ all those rom coms talked about all the time. Kissing him was like fireworks. He brought your hands up to wrap around his neck and smirked when you kissed him back. You fit together so perfectly, his lips against yours, your skin against his, everything. 

You pulled back slowly. 

“So can I be your boyfriend now?” he whispered, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Only if I can be your girlfriend,” you smiled back.  He pressed his lips to yours again. Maybe he was worth being torn apart for.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff

[madamtrashbat]

When I was ten, we lived on a rice farm with a lot of big buildings in the middle of nowhere. One of the shitty employees of the rice farm decided that, because we had barn cats on the premises, it was perfectly fine to dump a litter of very small kittens into one of the barns.

(I hate her I hate her I hate her)

The kittens were not old enough to be on their own, and despite one of the barn cats looking after them, the majority of them did not make it. All except for one, a little tuxedo that let my dad pick it up.

He brought it into the house, and I decided I was going to nurse it back to health. He was mostly black with a white chin, little white toes, and a white belly. He was so small. I fell in love with him.

I named him Pookie.

He would curl up in the crook of my neck and sleep on my shoulder, where it was warm. He was eating the cat food I mushed up with water, and for three days I thought he might make it.

Then, inexplicably, our dog Fancy, a heeler/shepherd mix, attacked him in the laundry room. She had never done anything like that before and never did anything like that afterwards. I never knew why she did what she did.

I begged my parents to take him to the vet. Please, see if there's anything we can do. I want to save him so badly.

But we had very little money at the time, and my mom couldn't justify an enormous vet bill for a cat we'd had for less than a week that there was surely nothing to do for.

I put him in his basket that night with food and water and many blankets. He had no external injuries besides a nosebleed, so I hoped it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

He didn't see the morning. My dad buried him in the flowerbed without much ado.

I cried for two days into the arms of an unsympathetic mother who didn't understand why I felt so strongly over a cat we'd had for three days, bombarded with criticism from a judgmental sister who severely disliked cats. My dad did his best to try and comfort me, but he's not the best with emotions and didn't know what to say.

It has stuck with me for 20 years. I wonder, from time to time, if I did enough. If I'd kept him in my room instead of the laundry room, if I'd looked up how to care for him, if I'd kept closer watch on him and kept the dog away from him, would he have lived. Would he still have been my cat. Would he have known a life of love and warm fireplaces and full bellies and cuddling into my shoulders until he was too big to fit.

I'll never know.

I told Sawyer about this recently, in a moment of emotional upheaval where I was just spewing out a list of things that had happened in my past that I'd never really gotten over. The conviction of my sadness apparently struck a deep chord with Sawyer, who decided to make me a memorial for Pookie to keep his memory close.

No one else had taken my emotions regarding Pookie seriously. Not until now. And not only did Sawyer take it seriously, the emotional vomit of an adult woman still crying over a cat she had for three days in fifth grade, but Sawyer thought it important enough that it should never be forgotten.

It's nice, sometimes, to know the person you've chosen to go through life with is the best person in the world for you.

[qlossytbh]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 in which you and spencer almost say i love you four times and one time where you actually do.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 16+ minors dni!, fem!reader, established relationship, spencer is down bad, so is reader tho, idiots in love, they’re both lowkey rlly hormonal bro, pet names (love, handsome), this one’s a rollercoaster, fluff, angst, lots of suggestiveness because reader likes to tease lol, allusions to smut (didn’t actually write it tho sorry!) fighting, spencer kinda acts like a bitch, makeoutshesh, mentions of reader being insecure of her physical appearance, mentions of typical cm content, mentions of blood, mentions of reader getting hurt, protective!spencer, derek and reader have a cute friendship, lots of mentions of maeve so spoilers on that end, pls let me know if i forgot anything!!!,

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 8.1k (damn)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i had many cute loose concepts and i kinda meshed it all into one fic. this is also loosely based on birds of a feather by billie eilish! im in love with this piece ugh

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time

“You look different,” Derek mumbled, mostly to himself, but loud enough to catch on. You turned towards his voice. The only thing different was that Hotch had let you come in later than your usual schedule since you had a random doctor's appointment— Oh, and the recently purchased light-blue button up you were wearing.

Your brows furrowed at Derek, one hand adjusting the strap of the purse that hung loosely on your shoulder as a light brown bag sat comfortably in the other. “Different..?”

Emily followed Derek, joining in as she glanced over at you from her own respective desk. “Actually he’s right,”

“I’m wearing a new shirt..?” You fiddled with the first button of your shirt, pursing your lips in bewilderment.

“No—“ Emily squinted at you. “It’s something else..”

Your mouth hung slightly open, not really sure how to respond to their prying eyes. They both were glancing at you, then at each other, then you again, but this time up and down—

“I hope it’s a good difference,” You commented as you waltzed past them and towards your boyfriend's desk. Spencer was hunched over at his desk, eyes practically burning holes into the files that sat in front of him.

His lips were pursed familiarly, just like he always did when he was so concentrated, along with the familiar furrow in his brow. His hair was tousled, a strand or two falling flat in front of his forehead. He looked so good it made you dizzy.

An instinctive smile had already reached your face once you made it to his desk. You leaned over him, slapping the brown bag on top of the files he was reading. He flinched slightly, but nevertheless, was finally pulled out of his deep concentration pool. You placed your palms on his shoulders, running them down his chest as you leaned over to hug him from behind.

You placed a kiss underneath his ear. “Hi handsome,”

He sank in his desk, realizing it was only just you and immediately easing. He hummed placidly, entranced by the sound of your sickeningly sweet voice. You pulled away to which he took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder at you.

You gave him a soft smile, one you used that made his heart soar. How your eyes grew lenient and lips curved gently upwards as you scanned as much of his features as your brain could possibly take in.

You placed both hands on his shoulder and nudged your chin towards the bag. “Brought you your favorite,”

His hands were already on the bag before you could say anything else and when he looked inside he was in fact correct on his suspicions when he saw two chocolate sprinkled doughnuts.

They smelled heavenly and he knew they were enough to cure his very major and very much present sweet tooth he had woken up with this morning. A large uncontrollable smile slapped right onto his face as he opened his mouth. “I—“

He stopped, clamping his mouth shut abruptly.

Thank god. He swallowed those three words that had nearly left his mouth, pushing them right back into the back of his throat before the damage could be done.

It wouldn’t necessarily be the first time this week where he let the confession accidentally slip. He realized that as of recently, he would catch himself with more and more of a necessity to tell you how he felt.

The two of you started seeing each other romantically about six months back. It was completely out of nowhere when he asked you out for the first time. The second— and third, and fourth and continuing times after were more than expected.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to realize how much of an importance the other partook in your day to day basis, even despite being friends for so long prior to the dating.

And everyday he saw you he felt this big tightening in his chest that made it actually impossible for him to breathe. He felt all this pent up emotion that was getting harder for him to manage with every passing day.

It scared him, how much he cared about you. How much he wanted you to be a part of his everyday life and how much he wanted to tell you how it made him feel— how you made him feel.

But that fear was exactly the reason why he’d clamp his mouth shut every single time he felt like he wanted to tell you.

“I—uhm,” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, really I—“

You watched him, titling your head to the side with a prying gaze. “Have I ever told you how amazingly perfect you are?”

You purse your lips, leaning over his shoulder and pretending to be deep in thought. “I’m not sure— I think you’re gonna need to jog up my memory.”

He shook his head, huffing a laugh as you leaned down and pressing a long kiss onto his lips. You hummed in contentment, feeling the fuzziness in your chest reach every nerve in your body.

“Hey,” You pulled away, glaring over at Derek from Spencer’s desk. “Calm your hormones or I’m telling Hotch to hit HR up,”

“Actually hormones aren’t something you can consciously control, they’re a biological response to situations we find—“ Spencer quipped, earning a loud groan from Morgan.

You rolled your eyes, looking down at Spencer and reaching a hand up, running it ploddingly through his thick brown curls. “Are you coming over tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah,”

“Looking forward to it,” You pecked his lips once more. Before rounding his desk and making a b-line for your own.

Spencer scanned you up and down as you waltzed away, not realizing you were wearing the shirt you bought last weekend. The one that enhanced the beauty of your hair and skin color, mapping a perfect picture he wanted to get lost looking at. He also couldn’t fail to avoid the way the shirt deliciously hugged every curve and bump your body had to offer. And those dress pants—

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning internally. He then thumped his forehead onto his desk, cheeks blazing with heat, knowing he was more screwed than anyone in this whole building, a lost cause if you will.

As you strutted past Derek and Emily’s desk towards your own, Emily gasped loudly. “I think I finally got it,”

“Yeah, I completely agree with you,” Derek followed. You looked at them both quizzically.

“Could it be?— No,” Emily gasped once again and you immediately noticed that it was fake, alarming you of whatever game they were getting at.

“Yeah, I think it’s finally happened.” Derek leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue and smirking over at you. “Pretty girl here is in love,”

Your cheeks turned hot, as your eyebrows shot up defensively. “What?”

Derek liked to say the two of you were still in your ‘honeymoon phase’ and you couldn’t disagree with him— it was the most accurate description of your relationship with Spencer.

But saying in love triggered something— physically and emotionally.

“No wonder she looks so different,” Emily tutted. “She’s got that ‘happy in love’ glow to her.”

“Shut up,” You have the strap of your purse on a death grip as you opened your mouth to protest but failed miserably as all the words died in the back of your throat. Thank god Spencer seemed preoccupied with the donut you had just given him.

“I’m—“ You shuffled, slapping yourself internally. Way to give it away. “You guys need to find a better hobby.”

And with blazing cheeks, a dry throat and a concerning pattering heart blaring against your throat, you stalked your way back to your desk.

The second time

“But that isn’t fair Spencer!” You groaned, gripping your bag as if your life depended on it. “You can’t expect to save everyone and then blame yourself when it doesn’t go well,”

There had been a sensitive case today, clearly an unsuccessful one. Spencer, like usual, jumped at the first opportunity to start blaming himself— for not being quicker, for not being smarter.. Whatever reason he could nitpick at, he was currently doing so.

You tore your purse off your body and tossed it into a small basket by your front door. You roughly tore your heels off, slightly relieved at the feeling off the palms of your feet on the wooden floor.

“There were flaws in the profile— flaws in the geographical profile,” He huffed, frustrated, filling every fiber of his words. He tore his satchel off his body, grabbing his files from it prior and slapping them onto your coffee table. “We couldn’t even correctly pinpoint the Unsubs M.O before he started sadistically killing again, we couldn’t—“

You felt for him, you truly did. Spencer was one of the most kind hearted, considerate people you knew, but that came with a lot of self-demands. He had to be everything at once, and be there for everyone at once and if he didn’t reach the bar he’d set up for himself, this would happen.

He pushed past you and towards your kitchen. “Spence, we aren’t going to solve every case, no matter how good our work may be.”

“You think I don’t know that? The average percent of homicides cleared or "solved" is 60 to 65 but around 35 to 40 percent go unsolved.” You opened your fridge, grabbing a pitcher of water and grabbing a glass from your cabinet as you listened to Spencer.

“35 to 40 percent, do you know how high that is?!” He stressed. You realized his irritation was heavy because he was reaching his peak of rambling.

Spencer just couldn’t stand when things like this happened. When people did horrible things and got the luxury of roaming free— he couldn’t help but feel like he was at fault for that. If he was just quicker, or smarter maybe they would’ve caught whatever bastard was terrorizing people.

“I know you know that!” You huffed a breath of frustration. “But that’s the way this job works Spence!”

“What would you know about how this job works?” He turned, hot on his heels, facing you with an indescribable exasperation pooling around his eyes.

You stopped in your tracks, looking up at him sharply and setting the still empty glass of water and pitcher back onto the table “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes were deeply upset— cold and hard and so much different from the soft and welcoming gaze of your partner. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler. You joined the team around three years after the rest of us.”

You stared at him with incredulity. When in a relationship with somebody, as well as learning all of their admirable virtues, you also learn their defects. And one of Spencer’s defects was that he had no filter whatsoever when he got angry. He just said the first thing that came to mind and spit it out and towards whichever person was unlucky enough to fall victim.

Not that the two of you fought often because you quite literally never did— but you’d see him pissed at people and his petty side sometimes felt the need to make an appearance.

You, however, had never had to experience this firsthand. You’d seen it happen at work, with JJ, with Derek, with the press. But two of you had never spoken to each other the way you were doing now. And if he thought you were gonna let him slide, he’s got another thing coming.

“What about Rossi?” You challenged as you crossed your arms across your chest. “I was accepted into the team just months after he was, you’re gonna tell him he wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler?”

“That’s different—“

“How?” Your veins were pumping with adrenaline. Your fingers shook violently, and the back of your throat suddenly burned with the need to cry. “I had jobs before getting called into the BAU, and I busted my ass off in college—“

“It’s not the same!” He spat. “You had never worked with the team before, it took you months to learn how we processed things, how we handled them.”

You could visually see Spencer bite down on his tongue only now attempting to reel himself down back to earth. And if you didn’t know him better, you wouldn’t be able to recognize the identifiable regret that appeared in his eyes while you continued on.

“And who are you to hold that against me Spencer?”

He swallowed thickly and let out a heavy sigh. You ran a frustrated hand through your curled hair. “All i’m saying is that—“

“I know what this job is like, which is why I’m telling you to get out of your goddamn head.” You didn’t scream at him, but there was a firmness in your voice that could scare practically anyone off.

“The things that have happened, happened today or will happen are never going to be in our control,” You told him. “Never.”

“Just because you’re angry and pissed does not give you a free card to attack me,” You slammed the glass cup onto the counter and pushed past him, making your way out of the kitchen. Spencer didn’t follow you to your room, he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

So as your bedroom door slammed shut, he stalked over to your couch, opening up the paper files onto your coffee table, and rerunning them once again. He wasn’t able to concentrate at all though, knowing you were in the other room tossed in bed and probably crying because of him.

A few long hours later, Spencer closed his files and looked over towards your door. There had been no noise emitted whatsoever from your room, which he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He felt like an idiot. Presumably so, he was so stupid for just lashing out like that on you. Your intentions were never ill intended, yet he still pushed you away and he hated himself for that.

He stood up, making his way into your kitchen and grabbing the empty glass. He poured some water into it and went over to your door.

You were lying down, blankets wrapped around you protectively as your back faced him. He couldn’t help but smile, feeling the endearment tighten in his chest.

You stirred in your sleep as the bed sunk beside you, groaning softly. Spencer hovered over you, setting down the glass of water on the nightstand beside your head.

“Hey,” His voice was very soft, maybe even enough to send you back into the nap you were in— until you remembered what had happened earlier and thought that maybe talking to him was a better idea.

Your eyes burned and your head hurt. You sniffed away the buildup that the crying had caused. You then blinked away the grogginess from your eyes, along with the slight burning sensation due to the tears you had shed earlier. “Hey,”

Your sleepy voice was enough to send Spencer into a whirlwind. It tugged at the strings of his heart and all he wanted to do right now was grab you in his arms and hold you there forever.

He laid on his side beside you, running a soft hand across your arm with the encouragement for you to turn around and face him.

A slight sense of anxiety was coursing through him. He was scared that a part of you was still mad at the way he spoke to you, and the worst part was that he couldn’t blame you, because he had in fact acted like an idiot.

You blinked up at him from over your shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Around nine?” You hummed, flipping on your side and turning to face him. Spencer slapped at the nerves inside him and shifted slightly in his position.

“Hey,” He reached his hand over to yours and intertwined his fingers with your own. “Were you crying?”

“Yeah,” His tone hadn’t been patronizing or ridicule intended, it was more so concerned. You reached up to rub your eye.“You were pretty fucking mean.”

Spencer wanted to kick himself. Truly. There wasn’t anything else to say but how utterly stupid he had been for causing you any type of harm when his main promise was to prevent you from any of it.

“You should drink some water,” He lifted himself up by his elbow, hovering over you again and reaching for the glass.

“I’m not thirsty,” You mumbled, snuggling closer into your pillow.

“You should still drink love, you haven’t had a single drop of water since we got here and you’re probably dehydrated,” You didn’t look at him. “I added those watermelon electrolytes you like so much.”

You peered at the glass, suddenly feeling deathly thirsty. With a huff, you reached for the glass. “Fine,”

You downed the whole drink in a matter of seconds, melting at the taste of the sweet watermelon tartness on your tongue. Once you finished the glass, you handed it back to Spencer who set it on the opposite nightstand.

“Can we talk?” You nodded. “I’m sorry,”

You looked up at him, opting him to continue. “I shouldn’t have snapped the way I did. You were trying to help me, and by attempting to push you away I said stuff I really, really shouldn’t have and I’m so sorry,”

With a few seconds of silence, you reached down, intertwining both of your hands. Your thumb glided over his knuckles as you listened to him.

You mumbled. “It’s okay Spence,”

He shook his head. “It’s not, honestly. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”

Yeah, good point.

“I know,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But you said that you're sorry and next time we’ll learn how to manage these things a little more efficiently.”

You quickly pulled his arm over your body and scooted forward, too tired to dwell in an emotionally exhausting conversation, nuzzling your face into his neck while his arms instinctively tightened around your frame. “We’ll get the hang of this, okay?”

There was silence after that. One that could’ve been filled by anything, honestly.

Those three words were all you wanted to say right then and there. It had been on your mind a lot recently, how Spencer was making you feel a ton of scary and big and complicated feelings— all amazing but terrifying. And those three words felt the most accurate when it came to telling him how you felt about him.

You really wanted to tell him at that moment. You don’t know where the necessity came from but it hit you like a tidal wave. Strong and capricious. Uncontrollable almost.

But then the fear settled in and you’d obstruct yourself from doing so.

So you didn’t say it, even though you may have wanted to.

Instead you just held him tighter and nuzzled into him as close as you physically could, hoping that somehow the message would get across. He placed a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Okay.”

The third time

You smiled into the kiss, tugging at his hair as you leaned back, supporting yourself solely on his grip around your lower back. Your legs rested on either side of him, sitting in his lap while his hands raked across your back in a way that made you feverish.

His lips moved swiftly across yours. He squeezed your hips, fingertips slipping just slightly underneath your shirt. You shivered at the contrast of his cold fingertips against your blazing skin. Spencer pulled away, voice breathy. “Is this okay..?”

“Yes,” You whispered back before pulling him onto your lips again.

Your relationship with Spencer was something that made your heart feel so light and airy— something so pure and easy. It made you grow dizzy just thinking about his hands on you and all the sweet things he’d whisper in your ear constantly. How he was always so considerate and sweet and perfect.

You were staying the night at Spencer’s apartment, too tired to drive back to your own apartment after work. But some things lead to others and well— yeah.

When having to restrain so much physical contact at work, strictly wanting to remain as professional as possible, you could merely blame yourself for needing him like this once back at eithers apartment.

You hummed against his lips, raking your hands slowly through his hair. The kissing hadn’t stopped for the past half hour or so— honestly you lost track of time.

Spencer pulled away breathlessly and placed a few messy but calculated kisses on your jaw and neck. You smiled almost stupidly. He pulled away, looking at your dozy face and feeling his chest tighten.

Your lips were slightly pinker than usual, and puffier. Your hair was just slightly tousled while your cheeks glowed a beautiful red hue. Your fingers remained tangled in the locks of his curls.

“You look pretty,” He was saying that as if it was another one of his scientifically proven facts, as if no one could say or believe otherwise. You tucked a small curl that had slipped onto the side of his face behind his ear, humming passingly. However, you never found his eyes, only focusing now on the curls that sat comfortably framing his face.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed, fiddling with the hem of your loose shirt. “You do that often,”

You look down at him, questioning him with a hum. “Do what?”

“Overlook the things I say when I compliment you,” He remarked. “Like you don’t believe me.”

You still didn’t move your attention from his curls. You didn’t believe him most of the time.

You weren’t an insecure person, not entirely anyways. You put a lot of focus on your physical appearance, always maintaining your clean look intact to the public eye. To many, you were considered extremely attractive. But unlike popular belief, you had many insecurities that you always tried to overlook. Sometimes it was hard though.

It was just hard for you to understand how he saw you so perfectly, like you had not a single flaw. ‘Beautiful’ and ‘breathtaking’, just like he always says when he sees you at work or back at your apartments. How he’s able to litter you with a million compliments

“I don’t overlook your compliments,” You let out an airy laugh, pulling back slightly to look at him properly, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t..!” You laughed, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a long kiss. He drew away, only by a few centimeters, desperately trying to get his point across because god forbid Spencer keep his thoughts to himself.

“You’re deflecting,” He whispered over your lips before you laid another feather-like kiss into his lips. You hummed dismissively, assuring him that you weren’t avoiding anything.

But god, if you didn’t stop kissing him so softly and so painfully slowly, if you didn’t stop shifting around on his lap the way you were and if you didn’t stop your hands from wandering their way across his shoulders and chest— he was going to have a hard time remaining composed.

“You’re—“ A kiss.

“trying to—“ Another kiss.

“distract me,” It was as if you were a magnet he was so desperately trying to detach himself from, but failing miserably. Gravity itself pulled him towards you, he couldn’t help nor control it. He couldn’t blame himself either.

“Is it working?” You whispered, voice dangerously close to a taunt. Your hands began fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt, popping the first two undone.

Spencer found himself growing dizzy as his hands dug into your hips. “Unfortunately,”

You kissed his jaw, and Spencer let out a stifled groan. With the willpower of the gods themselves, he reached up and grabbed your hands into his own, stopping their mission at undoing his shirts buttons. You pouted with a glare, pulling away from him as his thumb gilded affectionately across your knuckles.

“So wait,” You pulled back. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to sleep with me.?”

Spencer choked. “What?— No!”

Spencer groaned as you stifled a giggle. Oh, how you loved teasing and getting him all flustered. “That’s not— No.”

You tilted your head. His hands rested on your hips, as he sighed looking up at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

You blushed. “You tell me often,”

“I know you’re beautiful,” He shook his head and sat up, trailing his hands across your back. “Do you?”

“People tell me often,” You smirked and when he glared at you all you could do was kiss it off him. “But I only like hearing it from you,”

“I asked you something,” He let out.

“Sort of,” You admitted meekly, finally responding to his question. His hands came back to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it as his lips found yours again.

“You’re probably the most beautiful person I know,” He whispered above your lips matter of factly.

“Probably..?”

“Definitely,” His hands gripped at the plush flesh of your hips in a way that was making you want to fall to the ground and melt into a puddle of goop. It was so gentle yet there was a specific urgency to it.

He pulled away, kissing your cheek immediately after. “You’re also so smart and kind,”

He kisses traveled across your cheek, to your temple, towards your jaw and that damn spot on your neck that he knew drove you crazy. All while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Your witt was slowly melting away with any trace of self control you had left in you as you closed your eyes, arching yourself into his addictive touch. ”And funny,”

“Spence..” You warned.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” He looked back at you, reaching up and cupping your cheek in his hand. “I—“

His words failed him as they whipped all the way back into his throat, daring not to leave his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to say it, there wasn’t anything else he wanted to say to you, because no matter how much he’d wash you in compliments, those three words were the closest thing to allowing you to understand just how much you truly meant to him— hell, it didn’t even feel like enough sometimes.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Which is why he quickly thought of the closest thing to those three words and spat them out, avoiding any growing suspicions. “I love the way you make me feel.”

You weren’t gonna lie, the first two words had gotten your hopes up in ways that were too pathetic to admit out loud. But his words had other intentions, so it seems, and you had to force yourself from slouching your shoulders foward in disappointment.

Beside, it’s not like the things he was saying weren’t causing a wonderful heat to pool in the pit of your stomach— and among other places.

You watched him, for a second or two, trying to maybe tell him with your eyes what you couldn’t tell him with your words. But it still wasn’t enough, and if you didn’t release the neediness that was starting to take shape within you, you'd quite literally explode.

You tangled your fingers within his hair and pulled his mouth onto yours in a steady but desperate kiss. He responded pretty well, given since his hands found your waist instantly and tugged them towards himself in a feverish manner.

He began pulling at the bottom of your shirt, signaling he needed it off of you and pulled away, whispering breathlessly. “Can I?—“

“Please.”

The fourth time

“Ouch,” You hissed as Morgan dabbed a piece of gauze onto the now stitched up cut on your head. “Are you trying to give me another concussion?”

Derek deadpanned at you, slightly relieved that you still found the energy to pick on him after being whacked in the back of the head with a pipe by the Unsub.

The team was searching for a local Serial Killer that targeted young women around the area, per usual. You and Morgan were put in charge of entering the Unsubs apartment since Garcia had been able to track it down while you and Morgan were on call.

It wasn’t anything past ordinary. This was your job, you had done this more than a thousand times before— much less carelessly and it wasn’t like you to be so careless. But sometimes you get so comfortable and cocky with your job that you forget about the actual risks of it.

Eventually that cockiness would have turned around and bit you in the ass.

When you and Morgan busted down the door, guns in hand, you split up, each directioning yourselves into different rooms of the apartment— in hindsight that was a horrible idea.

When you walked into what seemed to be an empty room, you stupidly failed to check the back of the door. Which was why a second later, when you opened your mouth to inform Morgan that the room was clear, something solid and cold wacked you across the back of the head, knocking you out unconscious.

You weren’t aware of what happened after that, given how the blunt force had knocked you out profusely and you really couldn't recall anything prior to the attack when you regained consciousness. All you knew is that you were alive and the Unsub had been caught, which was all that mattered honestly.

Derek was now wallowing in the self inflicted guilt of not knowing better. But to be completely fair, you didn’t know better either— you were as much to blame as he was.

But Derek was convincing himself that because of his lack of observation, you had ended up with a concussion, six stitches and a bruised cheekbone.

“Derek—” You pleaded, watching him dump the ice pack onto the counter of the back of the ambulance with an angry toss.

All he was doing right now was huffing in anger. “Come on,”

He turned to look down at you. Shot him a stiff thumbs up and a smile, signaling that you were more than okay. Sure, your head was throbbing, but you weren’t dying.

“Stop doing that,” You rolled your eyes and squashed your eyes shut, attempting to relieve your headache.

“Doing what?”

“The sulking,”

“I’m not sulking,” Derek scoffed. Now it was your turn to deadpan him. He opened his mouth, intending to jump instantly to his defense.

“Where is she?” A panicked voice from the depths of the crowd caused you to grimace, immediately recognizing it to be Spencer’s. Derek suddenly felt dread when realizing he now had to face him.

Spencer could be rather ardent when it came to you and your safety— you knew you were fine, but having to convince Spencer that you were fine as well was a tougher job.

Spencer pushed through the vast amounts of people, finally breaking through the last line of them and finding you sitting placidly in the back of the ambulance. The panic Spencer felt coursing within him was something he wished upon no one.

When Hotch told the team that you were down, Spencer couldn’t help but freak out. He hid it well, knowing he had to stay focused on the case, but god was he slowly crashing. His usual sharp intellect was fogged, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your wellbeing. His head was flooded with questions and worries and he needed to know that you were okay.

He strided over to you, quickly crouching and taking your cold hands into his own. His distressed eyes flew all over your face, scanning it as his hand came up to cup your cheek. His thumb gilded gently over your bruise and the deep furrow in his brows was enough to tell you that his mind was going haywire.

“Hey you,” You said, humor glistening your tone while smiling sweetly and oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Spencer forced a weak smile to spread across his own face.

“Hey,” He cooed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine actually,”

Spencer straightened himself out, turning to Derek. “What did the paramedics say?”

“They gave her six stitches for the superficial cut on the crown of her head and some ice for the bruised cheekbone,” He crossed his arms. “They say it’s probable she has a concussion.”

Spencer felt his blood run cold. “A concussion?!”

You could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to remain calm. It was evident in the deep breaths he was taking and the tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg. He was doing a horrible job at it though, although you wouldn’t tell him that because he’d just freak out some more. His voice was getting all pitchy and his shoulders shook feebly. He sucked in a deeper breath, closing his eyes and attempting to regain his composure.

“Spencer,” You didn’t need him panicking more than he already was. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, probably to scold you or maybe even defend himself, Hotch's stoic voice cut through.

“We need to deliver a statement. Morgan, Reid,”

Spencer looked down at you. But you pushed him to head over to wherever your chief needed him to be. “Go. You can—“

“Hotch, I’m going to stay,” He told the chief, almost finally.

“For the first 24 hours after the injury, it’s important for someone to stay with her to keep an eye out for any new symptoms that develop.”

You clamped your mouth shut and looked at Hotch, who remained neutral watching the two of you. You offered him a shrug, and the two of you knew there was no getting through to him. Hotch hesitated momentarily, but knew Spencer would be more of use if he wasn’t with him worrying about you.

Spencer was as smart as they came but god could he be stubborn.

With a final nod from Hotch, he and Morgan pushed through the group of press. You followed Spencer’s movements with a sweet smile glued onto your face. He sat next to you, close enough so that you could feel the side of his thigh warm against yours.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked again, voice small, worrying that if he spoke too harshly or too loudly it would hurt you further.

“Surprisingly good for someone who was smacked in the back of the head with a metal pole,” You shrugged indifferently. Spencer, however, did not find your humor amusing.

“How sleepy are you on a scale from one to ten?” He asked urgently. You pulled back, pursing your lips quizzically.

“Like three? I slept like shit last night—”

“How about your neck? Does it feel stiff?” His hands reached up, cupping the sides of your neck as his thumbs traced your jaw.

“No,”

“Are you unable to move any part of your body?” His questions were spewing out of him uncontrollably, and it was getting hard for you to keep up.

“I don’t—“

“What about your pupils? Did the paramedics check them?”

“Spence,” You whined, slumping your shoulders forward while your face still rested in his hands. “The bright lights and harsh noises are giving me slight headaches, but that’s it.”

He stared at you. Long and hard, he just looked at you and wondered what he wanted to say out of all the things swirling around in his head.

“What were you thinking?” He asked finally. You stared at him and his eyes hard with annoyance, but still shining an amount of concern. His voice was barely above a whisper. You let your shoulders fall, licking your bottom lip.

You reached up, grabbing his hands steadily from your face and lacing your fingers with his. “We weren’t,”

“We jumped in head first and didn’t think coherently,” His frustration was rational, but to a certain extent. You really wanted to validate his concern, but he was not allowed to get mad at you. “Spencer.”

As you called his name firmly, he only looked away, jaw and shoulders tense and constricted. You sat there, silently waiting for him to react however it is he needed to in order to process.

“I should’ve gone with you, I should’ve—” His head ducked low. His voice was full of frustration, at himself mostly. It didn’t have to be because this was not something he could have prevented.

“Spencer,“ You gave his hands a firm squeeze and tugged on them slightly. “What did we talk about when it came to personal prevention?“

He remained silent. “I’m serious, there isn’t anything we could’ve done to prevent this.”

Spencer couldn't call to mind the last time he had felt this strongly about someone. Maybe Maeve, but he knew deep down it wasn’t the same. He was almost positive he really hadn’t ever felt this way about someone— he’d been in love, but never like this.

Your entire existence ameriolated his entire being. There wasn’t a moment in the day where he didn’t think of you, where he didn’t wonder what you would think of things, where he wasn’t excited to see you every morning for work. A life without you didn’t exist to him anymore— he didn’t want it too.

That could be the main basis as to why Spencer felt so implausibly terrified at the idea of losing you.

His hand left yours, replacing it with a cold emptiness. His free hand flew up to his eyes urgently, pinching them simultaneously to get rid of the minor tears that had welled upon them. He ducked his head low, not wanting you to notice that he had started tearing up.

Immediately, your whole face softened at the realization that he was crying. It tugged on the strings that held your heart up and made your stomach churn in the worst way possible. “Spence…”

Seeing him cry, possibly because of the fear of losing you, made you feel— funny. It gave you this airy feeling in your head that caused you to feel lightheaded and filled your chest with blithe. You weren’t sure if it was your concussion or the affection you felt towards Spencer that made you feel this way.

You smiled meekly, fondness across every one of your features. Spencer cleared his throat and spoke, voice wobbly and unsteady. He sat up, trying to recollect himself. “Sorry, I— I don’t know what i’m crying for—”

You looked into his eyes, eyebrows swooped downwards. At that second a million thoughts ran through your head, but only those three freaking worlds were the only ones that felt adequate enough to say in that moment.

“I—“ You started.

It was right there. It sat in the back of your throat irksomely. You were ready to jump off the edge, to slip into the abyss— to say those words that you’ve been holding off for the past weeks, months even. Spencer watched you, simultaneously growing nervous because he could tell by the way you swallowed thickly that you were about to say something.

“I think I’m seeing double,” You opted. Just the way his eyes blew wide was enough to make you giggle.

Next time.

“What do you mean?! Like actually double or are you—“ His voice died down at the sound of your snort and soon enough you began laughing. He blinked a few times before he glared at you.

“That is not funny.” It irked him massively how you had the capacity to always joke when he wasn’t at all in the mood to. But it also unraveled the itching anxiety that had grown in his chest and replaced it with a deep affection that surged throughout him entirely as he watched you laugh. “I’m serious.”

“Did you know that you look so cute when you’re mad?” Your hands reached up, cradling his face in your palms. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away his frown was still present. The pads of your thumbs rested on both corners of his lips, pushing them upwards and creating a makeshift smile.

“I’ll let you baby me these next few days all you want,” Your voice was soft and sweet, making his head spin as you hovered your lips over his, placing another slow kiss there. “But right now, I’m promising you that I am fine, okay?”

His jaw clenched, eyes flying down to avoid your prying one’s. “Spence.”

You were saying his name one too many times that he was finding it increasingly hard to compose himself. He glanced up at you, nodding weakly. “Okay.”

The fifth time

You leaned forward in the mirror of Spencer bathroom, poking at the scarring on the crown of your head. “It feels weird,”

“It’s scarring tissue, it’ll feel weird for a bit, love” He watched you silently from his seat on the edge of his bed.

“Do you think it’ll leave a scar?” You mumbled, voice tight with concern. “The bruising on my cheek is fading but god help me, if this leaves a weird bump on my head I’ll physically seek this psycho out in jail and give him his own bump to worry about,”

Spencer stopped himself from laughing, finding your pouting adorable.

“After an injury, the inflammatory process signals fibroblasts to lay down new, protective tissue in the form of scars,” Spencer quipped. “But it won’t be noticeable since it’s hidden underneath the rest of your hair.”

You huffed, poking at the bruise on your cheekbone and admitting. “It’s hard to feel pretty when I’m all busted up.”

“You always look pretty,” You continued to poke at your cheekbone to which Spencer stood up, walking into the bathroom and planting himself behind you.

“Stop poking at it like that,” He scolded, reaching behind you and grabbing your wrist. You focused on your face, huffing a breath of frustration.

This past week has been utter hell for Spencer. A newfound persistent anxiety managed to find him after your injury and sink its teeth into him, claiming him victim. You've been staying with him since your concussion, ensuring him that you were safe, but he noticed he’d grown more vigilant to his surroundings when he was at work, more possessive when it came to you and your wellbeing and more conscientious.

You didn’t obtrude, since you understood it was a perfectly normal reaction for him to have.

But he hated it. He hated this clawing anxiety he was having. He hated having the persistent fear of losing you. He tried to decipher whether it truly was all related to the recent events or if there was something deeper. But he knew for sure that the thought of you getting hurt was making him sick to his stomach.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You grabbed his arms, rubbing soft circles onto it with the soft pads of your thumb.

“Bruises make me feel ugly,” You miffed. “Except the ones you give me, I love those,”

Spencer looked up from your neck, catching your gaze and watching your mischievous smile lighten up through the mirror as he cocked a brow at you. You giggled out a laugh.

Spencer zoned out. He just looked at you, watching your pretty eyes latch onto his through the mirror, seeing your body safe and warm and alive in his arms. His throat tightened and as much as he hated it, his mind immediately thought of Maeve.

Not because he was comparing, of course not. He could never— the two of you meant very different things to him and they were very different relationships.

But he could remember how he wasn’t able to tell Maeve that he loved her— he wasn’t given the chance.

And it made him think about your recent accident, and all the times he'd been stopping himself from telling you. Fear, worry— whatever it was, he had been stopping himself time after time from telling you how he felt.

The thought of him losing you before he could ever tell you how he truly feels is something that made him want to throw up.

“Hotch said I could go back to work on Monday,”

“I love you.”

He said it because he could, he said it because he meant it, and he said it because he didn’t want to live a second longer without you knowing how he felt despite its reciprocity.

He won’t ever forget the way your face just fell. Just stopped moving, mouth hanging open and eyebrows shooting upwards. How your mind just went blank. God, his heart was in his throat and your silence wasn’t helping.

“What did you just say?” You asked, mostly in disbelief— entirely in disbelief.

“I love you.” He’d repeat it for you as many times as you wanted him too. He’d do anything for you.

You turned and his grip around you loosened. Now facing him, your eyes shot around every fraction of his face to determine that this wasn’t a lie or a joke or something cruel he was planning.

“Say that again,”

“I love you.”

And it definitely wasn’t.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a suffocating kiss. One that was desperate, and urgent and full of passion and all over the place.

He pushed you against the marble counter, quickly hoisting you up onto the cold tile as your mouth moved along his perfectly. Your hands dug themselves into his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, tugged at his body, pulling him impossibly closer to your own.

He pulled away breathing over your lips. “I love you,”

He kissed you again before pulling away and whispering once again. “I’m in love with you.”

He rested his forehead onto you, reaching up and tangling his hands in your hair. The two of you heaved. Your chest was hammering against your rib cages, the oxygen wasn’t fully reaching your head or lungs and you were pretty sure you were going to faint. It was too much. “You are?”

You both peered your eyes open, looking at each other deeply. He whispered, voice crackling slightly. “How could I not?”

You kissed him, this time slowly and softly, wanting to show him how much you loved him back— needing to tell him how much you loved him back.

“I love you,” You said, wavering an unsteady laugh. He opened his eyes and pulled away, looking at you and infatuated with every part of your existence.

“Really?”

“Spencer..!” Your voice cracked in a protest, ludicrously referring to such a stupid assumption— you’d love him till the day you died. You pulled him closer. “It is physically impossible for me not to love you. Don’t act so surprised.”

He smiled. A big, wide and stupid smile that probably made him look like a kid on christmas morning. He kissed your forehead. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to say it.”

You perched up, hands falling onto his chest. “How long have you wanted to say it?”

He cringed bashfully, letting his hands fall to your waist as he shook his head shamefully. “Too long,”

“Well that makes two of us then,” You leaned forward, placing a relaxed kiss on his jaw. “Was there a point you realized?”

He shook his head. He’s pretty sure that after a month of going out on dates and seeing you consecutively outside and inside of work, he knew he’d fall in love with you. How could he not? “My breaking point, however, was the day you were wearing your new shirt,”

He kissed your neck, giving your hips a tight squeeze. “Which by the way, looked absolutely incredible on you,”

“Is that so?” You mumbled, lips curving up in a smirk.

“I love how it looked on you,” He admitted. “I love you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that,”

“I’m never going to get tired of saying it,” He responded. “When did you realize?”

“It was either that time after our first big fight or on that night on the couch when we,” You shot him a sneaky look, to which his cheeks turned pink, recalling the events of that night. You shrugged. “You know.”

You were going to be the literal death of him.

He kissed your jaw twice more. He loved you and you loved him. It seemed like something too good to be true. “I think I’m going to need you to jog up my memory,”

You giggled at the reference, heart doubling in size at the amount of affection you were feeling towards him at that moment. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, emitting a loud shriek followed by a string of laughter as he hoisted you up and carried you over to his bed.

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!

a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him.  he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.

shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering.  he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.

post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck.  he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head.  and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.

minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk

praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.

vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else.  all he needs is you.

kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered.  he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*

minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay

mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms.  happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.

wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.

dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too.  always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.

minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play

massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect.  he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!

fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs.  he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open.  he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)

the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them.  he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.

minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk

face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.

wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head.  nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.

anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.

minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare

teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine. 

overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.

morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk

cowgirl — this man & his obsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”

photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word.  he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.

threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.

minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling

rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.

aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard.  he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.

pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials

exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!

spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.

brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)

minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys

final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes​ where i reblog inspo & recs!

[impishjesters]

Pomni, Kinger, Caine & Jax's reaction to their s/o abstracting

warning(s): angst, hurt no comfort, self-blame, "death" of the reader, implied "death"/abstraction of another character (spoiler: Kinger), hopeful outcome note(s): There's nothing incredibly heavy or detailed, just tread carefully if "death" is something you are sensitive to, please. The "hopeful outcome" implies that Caine will at some point in time be able to fix those who've abstracted. A/N: I was feeling particularly cruel and wanted to write some angst, this came to mind and I'll be honest. I made myself a little sad.

Pomni

She never saw it coming, of course, you were acting different lately but she didn’t think it would… lead to you abstracting…

It took forever for things to get some semblance of normalcy, and you being with her was a major part of it.

Sure the relationship in a place like this was a bit, weird, but you cared about her, and she cared about you.

You kept her sane and grounded, so when you were found abstracted? It felt like she failed you.

Ragatha tries to assure her that you aren’t completely gone. Like Kaufmo you’re being kept in the cellar. Caine claims the abstracted are being kept there until he can find a way to “fix” them. (Whether he’s genuine or not though, none of them know.)

It’s all empty promises though, she still feels like she failed you.

Kinger

Not again…

Kinger silently promised himself not again, he was fine being friendly with everyone else that fell into the circus, but he had no intentions of being more than that.

But then you happened, and while he was still in shambles from the time and the insanity spent here, you were there beside him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He hadn’t been around when you abstracted, in fact, he didn’t know you abstracted until there was yelling, and boom an abstraction was causing chaos.

Kinger didn’t know who it was until it was sent off to the cellar, actually, he didn’t know who it was until he realized everyone was present except you.

There’s a high probability that losing someone again, losing you, is what ends up being his own downfall. The other’s (not including Jax) try their all to get him to calm down but it’s not enough, it’s too late…

Caine

Of all the humans to be pulled in he never once got attached.

This was never supposed to happen, he’s incapable of love.

Caine does his best to keep the humans from abstracting, and as many eyes as he has over the place, there are always ones that slip through his grasp.

Of course, he’s not around when you abstract, it takes a bunch of hooting and hollering from everyone before he shows up and oh hey an abstraction.

At an immediate glance, he knows it’s you, abstractions never remotely look like the person they were before but he knows it’s you. You don’t recognize him as you lash out, of course you don’t, you can’t.

He’s unsure about tossing you with the others in the cellar, there’s nowhere else he can truthfully keep you without causing problems. So into the cellar, you go.

Caine visits you though, not for long but he does check in on you. Not that anything changes, but out of all the abstractions down there, he knows exactly which one is you.

You’ll be the first human he fixes as soon as he’s able to.

Jax

His s/o abstracted? Nice joke, though it’s in poor taste. You’re completely fine, he just saw you earlier.

Jax doesn’t believe it until he sees it, and seeing it absolutely ruins him. He’s seen countless others get abstracted and thrown into the cellar, but why, why does it have to be you?

Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? He didn’t give a shit about anyone else, the one person he cared for, and you…

Similarly to Pomni, he feels it’s his fault like he could’ve, no should’ve done more. Was he so wrapped up in everything else that he didn’t notice the signs? Why didn’t you talk to him? You didn’t, didn’t do that on purpose, did you?

For the first time ever, the others are genuinely worried about Jax, they all saw/know how much you meant to him. The two of you even spoke fondly about what the two of you would do if you got out of the circus.

For a while Jax becomes even more irrational and unhinged, they try not to hold it against him too badly, even when he oversteps. He’s grieving and none of them know just how long that’ll go on.

Jax isn’t quite the same afterward, but he makes sure that nobody else tries to worm their way into his heart.

If it’s possible, he’ll make sure Caine fixes you the second he’s able to. Even if Caine can fix only one person, it’s going to be you.

[creamecafe]

Heyyy there I saw your post about allowing a request for various squid game characters. Can I request Hwang In-ho/front man?

Partner! Reader x Hwang In-ho/Front man

Like s/o doesn't know anything about the games and In-ho just have a whole nother identity just for her. She knows that In-ho goes on a business trip for 7 days and then comes back like nothing happens. And just before In-ho leaves for the "business trip" they have fluff moments and In-ho tries his best to keep her out of his other life

🫶🫶🫶

Secrets I have held in my heart

Summary: What the requests says

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho x GN!Reader

Warnings: none just fluff and maybe feelings of guilt, bathing together but it's NOT smut

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it! I also tried making my own dividers. It's not the best, but if I make one that's decent I'll post them for people to use

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Hwang In-Ho was an interesting man. But he was yours. Your friends and family say they find him to be scary or something off about him. But you can't see him anything else than what he is, a caring husband who makes sure to provide well for you.

He tells you that his job is working at a sales company of always testing new products for people and surveying so you really thought nothing of it. Majority of the time he would go on business trips for at least a week. He never told you where he was going but you never wanted to bother him so much.

It was three days before he left and he always made sure to spend all his time with you. Taking you out to eat at your favorite place, watching your favorite movies, cooking and taking naps together.

Doing these things with you made him happy, but he also felt bad about lying about his work to you. He knew that your perspective and love would change because of that.

He didn't want to lose you because of that. But he also couldn't lose his job.

Today was the last day he would be spending time with you and he wants to make the most of it. You woke up with breakfast in bed. Your favorite.

"Don't worry about work sweetheart, I called in sick for you."

You smiled knowing you were really going to spend the day with him together

After you finish your breakfast, you two would take a warm bath together. Nothing sexual, just you two holding each other and making small talk.

Then it would be you guys just watching TV and cuddling with each other.

He really loves you so much. It was hard keeping his double life from you. But all that mattered was that you were safe and anything that you knew could put you in danger.

A few hours have passed and he ordered take out on your favorite restaurant. There it was again, just talking and him saying he's going to miss you

Before you knew it, it was time for you both to go to sleep. You were sad knowing that the next morning he would be gone.

Both of you guys were wrapped up in each other, cuddling and innocence of you two sleeping together meant so much to him.

The next morning came and he had to get ready to leave. You helped him prepare the stuff he needed, suits, snacks, and a goodbye kiss.

"Promise you'll text me everyday to at least make sure you're alight?"

"I promise my darling."

Both of you smiled at this and kissed each other as he was heading to his taxi. He looked back at you and waved to you.

You waved back and soon the car drove off.

When he was in the car, he pulled out his phone with a text message asking if he was on his way. He responded and then took something out of the pocket from his jacket. It was a picture of you. It would at least be a reminder of everything he's doing for you to have the best life possible even if you didn't know.

It would be a few hours before he had to put his love aside for you and keep focus on the bigger picture.

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[areislol]

genshin men getting reverse isekai’d into creator! reader’s world

►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. fluff, although it is a gender neutral reader it does mention afab reader, lowercase intended, not proof read 🙅🏻‍♀️

►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.

►— a/n. i have been meaning to write isekai’d or reverse isekai’d fic for SO long but i’ve been busy and procrastinating so 😢 this is sagau!!

►— wordcount. 3.8k

✧ part one | ✧ part two | ✧ part three | ✧ part four | ✧ part five |more tba.. NAVIGATION

at first, it was the genshin men who wanted you to be transported into their world. you know.. the world you’re familiar with. but somehow albedo’s machine malfunctioned and did the opposite of what it was supposed to do.

it was a normal day, well for the residents of teyvat who were just minding their own business, but not for the men who had gave away nearly all of their mora for albedo’s machine to work.

a very selected few men from each region gathered to mondstadt (sometimes it took a few days for a week to arrive there but they were determined to arrive there faster as they didn’t want to waste time).

kaeya, diluc, venti and albedo from mondstadt gathered were anticipating for the day albedo would put out the news that the machine would finally work. everyday when they had spare time or whenever they could, they would vist albedo in dragonspine and check up on the machine and ask for the good news

if albedo needed anything or needed some mora (or if he needed someone to run errands for him) they would happily oblige, anything for their grace.

zhongli, xiao, baizhu from liyue would anticipate for the news ever since they had gotten the information and letter from albedo himself as well from jean about the machine that would supposedly bring the creator to their world.

they immediately started to help with whatever they could, even travelling to mondstadt to see if there was anything they could help or provide with, if nothing they would stay for however long they could and watch albedo work on it, fiddling with their fingers or twisting their articles of clothing from anticipation, trying to hold back their excitement and joy of finally meeting their creator.

zhongli is one of the few who were your oldest worshippers, in his prime he would sculpt many statues of you, based on what the scripts had described of what the creator looked like and he was sure that it was one his most best work in his lifetime.

zhongli definitely gave albedo all of his mora, not caring if he needed them to buy food to eat, why worry about that when he has something else to prioritise? all he needed was you, to survive.

kazuha, itto, gorou, ayato, heizou and thoma from inazuma was ecstatic at the news of your soon arrival!! they spent their minutes, hours and days filled with excitement and could not focus on anything.

although ayato was calm and collected, there was no denying that deep inside he was freaking out like c’mon? the creator is finally descending? after thousands of years? and they expect him to be calm? no way.

all gave albedo and sucrose their up most help. giving him materials that would only be found in their region and not in mondstadt, for the machine. in their spare time they would fight the enemies and gather whatever they dropped and send it to albedo in the hopes that it would be a major help to the machine (it was and albedo sent his thanks in a letter).

cyno, al-haitham, kaveh, wanderer and tighnari from sumeru was shocked to say the least, at first they were wary of the news. i mean of course they believed in you, and the story of your descent but at the same time how could they trust this.. albedo person? but after getting the letter inviting them to dragonspine to see the machine for themselves and to see his blueprints, notes and so on, they agreed and once arriving, they definitely believed him.

after confirming that everything was real, they began to team up with albedo (if he allowed them but albedo was more than happy for some help as he was getting tired just from doing majority of the things with sucrose..) and helping him. kaveh was an architect so he helped albedo with the model of the machine and with al-haithams, tighnari and wanderer’s knowledge they began to make the machine more safe and reliable.

they’re all very happy and overjoyed knowing that soon they will bring their creator back to where they belong, just knowing the fact that they will soon be able to see and witness their grace in their glory and flesh was everything.

lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley, freminet and aether from fontaine was more than ecstatic upon hearing the news. lyney started to practise more with his magic tricks, trying to add more action and more of the surprise factor in his tricks so that he could impress you and hear you praise him.

neuvillette almost cried tears of joy (and flooded fontaine) at the letter albedo sent to him. just looking at the sentence “we will be able to see our grace soon, please help in anyway you can.” made his eyes water.

he started to mentally and physically prepare himself for your arrival, making sure to look his best and presentable, while also preparing for how he would greet you. a bow would do- no.. a bow where his forehead touched the ground, yes, that will do. he couldn’t wait for your arrival (even explaining to the very excited melusines too about his profound love and adoration for you).

neuvillette admired you from hundreds of years ago, hearing your stories and heroic acts made him fall more in love with you. he goes to your temple (that he made by himself) and prays every day before going to bed.

wriothesley, freminet and aether on the other hand was more calm although nervous at the same time. wriothesley (and everyone else) had heard many great stories about you, the great power you hold like no other, your kindness, your hospitality, your beauty—everything. so there was nothing else he wanted than to witness you in the flesh, although he is scared what your beauty may blind him.

aether is also anticipating your arrival, when he was younger his parents would tell him the great stories about you and how the elements came about, not only that but he has a hunch that you could possibly help him find his sister, no.. he’s positive you will.

and from the other regions, childe, capitano, dottore, pantalone, pierro and dainsleif were almost going batshit crazy once word spread that the creator was going to be teleported into their world from albedo’s machine. dainsleif could feel it in him, he could feel the shift in teyvat, the way the trees and nature around him started to be more responsive and grow more large and.. prettier?

the fatui had paused all of their plans and focused soley on you, their creator. they wanted to make sure that the archons or anyone else doesn’t reach you but.. that would be diffcult considering that a non fatui was creating this machine along with the help with so many different people from different regions.

they had always worshipped you and was hopelessly devoted to you, giving you gifts right below your statue, sometimes even ranting to you about their problems and how the archons were absolutely useless.

dainsleif was.. consumed with many emotions. he believed that he was one of your most devoted and the most loyal of them all followers. he believed that your word was law and whatever you ordered him to do or whatever order you give to anyone, they should obey. and if not he would love nothing more than to deal with them, anything for you.

altogether, they all (reluctantly cough cough the fatui, diluc, tighnari and wanderer cough cough) helped cooperate with bringing you back to the world you belong in, giving albedo thousands and millions of mora, any material from their home region, their support and so on. that was how devoted they were to you.

and finally, the day albedo and sucrose sent out all of letters telling them that the machine was ready, everybody came scurrying to dragonspine, their hearts racing in an inhumane beat, once they all arrived they were swearing BULLETS and albedo offered them all towels since he knew none of them would like to be presented to the almight creator looking… sweaty.

everybody stood around the machine, their eyes shining with excitement and their hearts beating from nervousness, and on the count to three, albedo would turn the notch and whatever came next, well, they would just have to cross their fingers and pray.

“1..”

“2..”

“3..!”

albedo turned the notch on the machine and within a milisecond a bright light had appeared, blinding everyone as they quickly raised their arm to cover their eyes.

some started to cough as smoke filled the room, many yelling in confusion, yelling on top of their lungs if it worked to which no one replied of course, they couldn’t open their eyes nor felt anything different until their bodies started to feel all gooey like they were melting. their vision (despite covering their eyes) was going white, their mind was foggy and they were dizzy.

but after a few seconds they felt better, they felt like they were in a different place, they could sense it.. after waving their hands away to clear the smoke and before they knew it, they were in a totally different room and place. they were inside of a room, not a room from their world, their was unknown technology on a desk that they have never seen before. there was unknown stuff all around them.

they all looked around in confusion, taking in everything. “where are we?” “what is this place” “are we going to meet our grace?”

suddenly, zhongli spotted someone on the bed, sleeping calmly despite all of the ruckus they had caused. zhongli shushed everybody to which some scowled at (wanderer mainly) and before they could argue back, he pointed at you.

pointing at the sleeping figure on the bed wanderer immediately shut his mouth. it was dark so they couldn’t make out your face but no worries! your phone just lit up and everybody looked at it, curious at the light device. kazuha paid no mind to it and grabbed the strange device before shining it on your face. his breath hitched, stumbling back just a bit.

everybody else looked at your face and was stunned. their voice caught in their throats as they finally, finally saw you, their grace.

your beauty was like no other, even the little drool seeping out of the corner of your lips were adorable!

some started to sob quietly, too overwhelmed with their feelings and with the fact that they just saw their creator (neuvillette, lyney, childe and zhongli a little bit..). while everyone else was murmuring under their breaths about what they should do, you were sleepinf peacefully. and everytime you moved in your sleep everybody would tense up and hold their breaths, scared to wake you up (and scare you in you did).

but after a few minutes you did wake up, to their horror and fascination. you rubbed your eyes and looked around groggily and through the seeping moonlight through your blinds you could make out the many black silhouettes in your room, surrounding you.

freaking out, you held your breath and tried to calm yourself down, telling you that your mind was playing tricks on you but after gulping and turning on your lamp to just reassure you it was nothing, you saw many men surrounding you, wincing at the sudden light.

your jaw dropped before screaming absolute bloody murder, grabbing your pillows and (your poor) plushies and throwing it at the unknown men in your room, closing your eyes shut you prayed to god that this was just a dream when someone spoke.

his voice was dreamy and so soft although deep, like silk. it flowed smoothly like running water.

“are you alright, your grace?”

your what? opening your eyes, you could see that some of the men were grabbing a hold of your plushies while some were on the floor, meaning some did get hid while some others didn’t.

wait a minute.. as you took a closer look at the people you realise that it’s…

“zhongli..?” you mumbled, squinting your eyes to see if it was really him and there was no doubt it was really him. you could see his eyes lighting up, he seemed really happy that you said his name, it was sort of cute.

that was when childe and heizou along with others pushed zhongli, trying to get your attention as they called you their “grace” and acted really really happy to see you.

observing everyone you soon realise that all of these men are all from the very famous game you play—genshin impact. “w-wait a minute.. zhongli-“ you point at him, he nods with a tender smile, you could only smile back nervously, totally unaware of the death glares zhongli was getting.

“heizou, childe, thoma, dainsleif, xiao.. holy crap!” your eyes widen and you hop off your bed, slipping on your slippers are you look at everyone else. “this isn’t real…” you mumbled, holding your head with one of your hands. looking around once more you felt the very intense gazes of the very handsome men staring you down.

your cheeks flushed red as you took in the fact that these handsome men are fighting for your attention, and are literally standing in your room and just.. there!!

walking back into your room, you yank the mattress with all your strength when dainsleif and xiao walked up to you, offering you help to which you shake your head at. “no i’m good, thank you though!”

everybody was waiting patiently for you as you set down the mattress.

“okay.. you guys can sit and sleep there for now.. now tell me what happened. as far as i know you two aren’t from this world, obviously because you are all from genshin impact! you know, the game?”

you said, sitting down on your bed as you watched some of them sit on the mattress while some stood beside the mattress.

they all nodded before albedo spoke. “you see, your grace, we intended to bring you back to our world because that is where you belong—the world you created.” he began, looking into your eyes to look for any reaction.

your eyes widened at his words. “me..?” you said in disbelief. “oh.. uh continue!” albedo continued on.

“and we spent many months working on the machine, and today i had finished it, i called everybody else who are in your room and i turned the notch, and there was blinding light, and then we were in your room.”

you nod your head at his words, taking in the information. “i’m just as confused as you are, your grace.” albedo reassures you, you could only give him a small smile before speaking again.

“listen i’m just.. i’m confused on why you’re you know.. calling me ‘your grace’.. i mean i understand the formalities and all but..”

zhongli and neuvillette raises their brow. “that is because, you are our creator, you created the elements, giving us visions, you carved the very world we live on, teyvat.” zhongli explains.

furrowing your brows, you tried to understand him, you really did but, you just couldn’t imagine yourself doing all of those great things zhongli explained to you.

“listen.. you probably have the wrong person and-“ “no,” everybody whips their towards dainsleif, giving him a scowl for him daring to cut their creator off.

“i can feel like, you are our creator, you.. this feeling you give me, to us, is other worldly, please.. your grace, believe me.”

dainsleif pleads, his eye(s?) staring deep into your soul, begging for you to understand. and to be honest you felt yourself getting lost in his eyes, it was tempting you and… you gave in.

gulping you closed your eyes and sighed. “i-.. fine, i may not believe that i was capable of doing all of those mountain moving stuff but i will.. you know.. just call me y/n.”

all of their eyes widen from surprise. kaveh breaks the mumurs of the men among him. “y-you would give us the honor to call you by your real name? i’m afraid we can no-“

“nuh uh, no need to call me ‘your grace’ anymore, it feels weird being called something so high..” you cut kaveh off and you could hear the collective, audible gasps from around you.

venti, heizou and kaveh (who were standing beside the mattress) basically launched themselves onto you, almost crying from happiness of the fact that you were allowing them to call you by your name.

“oh your grac- no, y/n!! it would be such an honor to call you by your name!” venti cries, hugging your body as heizou and kaveh clinged onto your arms, tears brimming their eyes.

you could only laugh nervously at the sudden affection and pat venti on the back, when you realized that this was a one in a life time experience where you actually meet these handsome (fictional but not anymore) men so you decide to hug venti back, patting his back.

“i-it’s all good venti but uh.. you’re squeezing me a bit too hard..” you managed to get out, tapping him on his arm. venti pulled back and smiled sheepishly. “oops..”

venti, heizou and kaveh got a good scolding from zhongli and dainsleif about jumping on the creator like that.

it was starting to get a bit hot and stuffy in your room so you decided to get up (with kaveh still clinging onto your arm) and walk over to the window and opening it up. feeling the cool breeze hit your face you sighed with satisfaction.

turning back around you saw all men staring right back at you. right.. you still had 23 men in your room. “uh.. so, are you guys thirsty?” you said nervously, offering them a small smile. it was your first time having a guy over at your room let alone 23!!

you don’t even know why you offered them water, you just wanted to ease the awkwardness.

they all nodded and you nod your head, making your way to the door and you could feel them staring holes into the back of your skull.

“i’ll go get some water, i don’t know if i have 23 glasses though..” and as you walked out of your room you could hear many footsteps following behind you, through the hallway and into the kitchen.

sighing, you crouched down to the cabinets and opened it, grabbing as many cups as you can. there was only 10. geez, who knew those “best child in the world” and “best co worker in the world!” would come in handy? you had 5 each, filling each of them up with cold water before passing it to thoma, xiao, neuvillette, wanderer, al-haitham, and a few others.

they were all fighting over who would get the last cup since you held that cup, it was special.

“‘kay, once you’re done drinking just wash and pour another cup for the others okay? here’s the tap and here’s the water jug.” you pointed to the water jug and once they gave you a nod of acknowledgment, you made your way back to the bedroom with zhongli following right behind you.

soon, everybody else came into your room, talking amongst one another. you plopped down on your bed and took a deep breath, taking in everything.

you were sleeping peacefully, woken up to 23 handsome men in your room, threw pillows at them, sat down and talked to them about their situation, offered them water and a place to sleep. yeah.. what a day.

“everything alright, your- y/n? i know it’s a lot to take in i… i want to apologize. is there anything i or we can do to make it up to you?”

turning your head, you faced zhongli and smiled softly. “no, it’s okay, if anything im worried for you guys.. i mean how do you feel? you’re not home anymore and i don’t know how long it’ll be until you guys go back home.”

the men hum and agreement and started to question when they will come back home. that was until neuvillette spoke up.

“but, y/n, we worship you and devote our entire selves for you.. i mean yes we would miss our positions but being with you is much more meaningful.

hm. interesting.. you thought to yourself. they seem very fond and loyal to you. it was cute. yawning, you blinked away your sleepy tears and hummed, making yourself more comfortable in your bed.

“blankets and pillows are in the closet right behind the mattress, make yourself at home..” you mumbled sleepily. “if.. if there’s no more space then you can sleep with me, i can only fit two or three people.”

honestly, who on earth would offer that? but you couldn’t pass this opportunity with these handsome men!! so why not?

everybody’s eyes widen at this offer. some of them scrambling to get onto your bed to sleep by your side, dainsleif, zhongli and neuvillette were pulling back heizou and venti back onto the mattress, knowing they would probably be up to no good next to you.

the ones who managed to get on your bed was childe and xiao, yes, xiao. he wasn’t trying to fight for a spot though (kind of was..) but he accidentally pulled away kaveh instinctively and landed him a spot beside you!!

childe sighed happily and snuggled up close to you, while xiao laid on the bed motionless, it kind of scared you.

“it feels so nice to be by your side y/n~” he mumbled, holding onto your arm, xiao scowled at him—staring daggers at childe. “don’t be so jealous, you’re beside them too you know..”

xiao narrows his eyes before staring up at the ceiling again. even though it was dark you noticed how he seemed to be blushing, was xiao always this cute?

the rest of the men had to sleep on three different mattresses, some even sleeping on the floor because they refused to sleep beside some people. most people ignored itto because he snored, really.. really loudly. he kept you up until 3 am.

you knew you were way too calm when reacting to this situation but then again, you have been a big fan of genshin impact for years now.. and you were crushing on all of them!! you would always wish on the very same bed you’re sharing with childe and xiao, that you could meet them, even if it was in your dreams.

so now that you could actually feel, look and talk to them.. you decided to take this opportunity and try to become as close with them as possible.

even if they have to leave in the end, you want to create many happy memories.

> ✧ part two

note: THIS WAS SO RUSHED AND DOESNT MAKE SENSE I KNOW IM SORRY 😭😭 i promise next part will definitely be better 🙏🏻 as i said before this is not proof read so excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes 😢

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: I CAN ONLY ADD 30 TAGS? GOD

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now Part 10 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You left behind too many reminders of the weekend you spent with Jake, and even though he wants to, he just can't seem to get rid of them. You're free to test your theories, but you should have known you wouldn't like the results.

Warnings: angst, sex, oral sex, adult language, 18+

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

You stood in your building on campus and looked around like it was completely foreign to you. The few days you'd spent at Jake's place made this seem like a distant memory, and you felt like a completely different person now as you wiped at your tears. When you stood inside the lobby and watched him slowly pull away in his pickup truck, your heart begged you to run back out to him. But it was over. He gave you what you asked him to, and it was done.

Someone who lived on your hallway waved to you, but you barely acknowledged her. You were too tired to even stop at your mailbox to see if there was anything inside, so you headed for your door. With your fingers crossed, you slid your key into the lock, hoping like hell that Kylie was out for the night. But it was Sunday, and you found her sitting on the couch with a smirk as soon as she saw you.

"Where have you been?" she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder and pausing her show. The common area was small, but you'd have to walk right past her to get to your personal bedroom, and you thought better of trying to blow her off.

"Out," you replied carefully, unsure how much you wanted her to know.

"With Cooper?" Her eyes flashed with excitement. "You've been gone all weekend!"

You shook your head and held your purse against your chest. She'd get it out of you eventually if she tried hard enough, so you said, "I went to that Navy bar you liked so much."

"The Hard Deck?" She was on her feet now, surprise written all over her face. You were sure she was having a hard time picturing you there; you had in fact stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Yes."

She screeched. "You slept with one of those hot aviators, didn't you?" she asked, tone somewhere between accusatory and delighted. But even though she didn't know what type of quest you had been on, she was definitely able to tell you'd had your world rocked. "Which one? What was his call sign? I just love their call signs."

You stared at her, suddenly surprised you'd ever considered sleeping with Rooster in the first place. You were a completely different person now because of the past forty-eight hours, and you were also embarrassed by what you said to the man who had treated you with respect the entire time.

"His name was Jake," you whispered as tears threatened your eyes again. "I need to finish something for my first class tomorrow, so I'm going to do that now."

You walked past her while she nodded in approval, like she was proud of you now, and you closed yourself in your room as a sob escaped your lips. Your bag fell to the floor as you tried to kick your sneakers off, but you gave up and just collapsed onto your bed. As you cried into your pillow, you realized your lace thong was still somewhere at Jake's place. It would probably end up in the trash along with everything else that the women he fucked accidentally left behind. 

How could you have been so stupid? Falling for a man like Jake? A thirty year old man who simply agreed to fuck your virginity away so you could get on with your college life. A man who was the equivalent of a major league ballplayer while you were barely a little league benchwarmer.

"You insulted him," you whispered as you rolled onto your side, and the tears kept coming. He said you made him feel cheap, which he had never once done to you. He made you breakfast and took you on a pizza date in his dining room and snuggled you in his bathtub, and you acted like he was undesirable. 

He called you naive, and perhaps he wasn't wrong. You had no idea what you were doing there. The weekend was supposed to be simple: lose your virginity so you could go out with Cooper. But you couldn't even manage to do that much correctly. Jake was a million times better than anyone you'd ever met on campus, and that was the kind of thing he deserved to hear you say. He deserved so much more, and he'd probably find it in someone older and more put together than you.

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

Jake fell asleep with his bedroom window open, but the sound of the ocean was less peaceful and more turbulent when he was alone. His kitchen was a mess from the meals he'd shared with you, and the pizza box was still on his dining room table. But he couldn't bring himself to clean any of it up just yet.

He still felt like shit on Monday morning. In your mind, he was exactly the same as Rooster or any of the other guys would have been, but you were so much more to him. He felt good when he was around you. Or at least he had before you abruptly ended the weekend by telling him he was only made for one thing.

When he walked into his bathroom, he was greeted by an empty bottle of Sam Adams and a wine glass on the edge of his bathtub. "Fuck," he gasped, turning away from them to brush his teeth. The green toothbrush he gave you to use the first night you slept over was right there next to his, and he couldn't keep his fingers from touching it like he half expected it to be a figment of his imagination. 

But no, all of these items were strewn about just to make coming to terms with things harder. It should have been laughable, getting rejected by a twenty year old, but the weekend he spent with you was the closest thing he'd felt to a relationship in years. You fed him that disgusting pizza. He held you while you napped. You actually listened to him when he talked. He couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. Even the clothes in his drawers made him think of the way you dug around in there like you owned the place.

"God damn it," he groaned when he realized your lace thong somehow ended up on his dresser. It was too easy to picture you on Friday night, wearing it in his kitchen with your skirt on the floor at your feet, trust in your gaze even though you didn't really know him yet. You looked sinful that night with a sharp retort on your lips when he thought he was the one in charge. You weren't just some dumb college kid; you were a funny and resourceful and sexy woman. He ran his thumb along the lace before pushing it to the side to finish getting ready for work.

He flew worse than he could ever remember, so maybe it was a good thing you rejected him after the weekend was over. He couldn't focus, but it would have just been worse the longer he was hung up on you. He was surly and short with everyone he encountered, and by the middle of the week, they just left him alone.

But it was still so bad by Friday, and it wasn't helping that he hadn't yet cleaned up the wine glasses or the pizza box or thrown out the green toothbrush. He skipped dinner and took the time to hand wash each glass he'd filled with ice water for you. Then he walked the pizza box directly to the dumpster. But your underwear and that fucking toothbrush remained in their spots, and he decided he would save them for another day.

Alone and sprawled out on the couch, he couldn't help but wonder what you were doing right now. Last Friday around this time, you were at the Hard Deck with your fake ID, and he sat up abruptly when he considered that there was a chance you might be there again tonight. That you might be looking for him.

Like an idiot, he grabbed the keys to his truck and headed there to find out for sure. Maybe you wouldn't agree with him, but he still felt like he'd been better to you than any of the others would have been. God, all he wanted was to know that you learned something useful from him, not just that he had casual sex with tag chasers. 

But when he got to the bar and looked around, he knew right away you weren't there. No leather mini skirts, and no Converse sneakers. Just aviators getting loaded while playing pool, and an assortment of every kind of woman anyone other than Jake could possibly want.

He was nothing other than a self-fulfilling prophecy, the way he was almost immediately approached by a woman he took home weeks ago. Your words echoed in his mind. 

"You're so good at fucking, no wonder all the tag chasers want you. I'm sure they all missed you this weekend."

"Not tonight," he told the woman who pouted at him. She gave him no witty retort before she walked away, but it didn't matter. Jake was already thinking about how he should have held onto your fake ID so you couldn't get into any real trouble with the fucking thing. But you weren't his to worry about or protect, and perhaps that was what bothered him more than anything else. If you were, he'd have you wrapped up in the fleece blanket that he kept on the back of his couch while the two of you ignored a movie in favor of making out. If you were, he'd have a reason to keep the toothbrush.

He just fucking knew you were with that dipshit Cooper who was the reason you came to the Hard Deck in the first place. There was nothing wrong with you when you met Jake, but Cooper was the reason you thought there was. "Fuck," he groaned running his hands over his face as he took himself back out to the parking lot and and drove home again. 

You hadn't reached out to him once. He wasn't sure if his number had successfully saved in your phone, but it didn't much matter. You knew where to find him, and you hadn't tried to.

While he drove, he let himself get lost in the memory of how fucking good he felt last weekend. He didn't want to forget that feeling. He wouldn't be able to anyway. He just wished he couldn't still hear the way it sounded when you apologized and told him he had been perfect.

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

"Stop," you said with a forced laugh. 

Cooper was drunk, and his hand was on your bare thigh again as you hung out at his place with some of your mutual friends. What a departure this was from last Friday night when you had to beg Jake to touch you. At least at first. After a bit, neither of you could seem to stop.

But Cooper was doing this in front of other people. Maybe it was your fault for agreeing to hang out with him tonight and agreeing to see a movie with him tomorrow, but you would have preferred he do this in private.

"Let's go to my room then," he coaxed in what you were sure he thought was an endearing tone. But his breath smelled like beer in a bad way, and when he kissed you, it was obvious that he had overdone it. 

All you could think about was Jake. 

Jake. Jake. Jake. 

You needed to put a stop to this, but tonight wasn't working for you.

"Cooper, I think we should just hang out tomorrow. You know, when you're sober?"

At least he had the decency to look abashed. And when you went out with him on Saturday, he was much better. He didn't invite you back to his room again, even after you made out with him, which you appreciated. You'd known him for months, way longer than you knew Jake, but you couldn't figure out why you weren't as comfortable around him. 

There was just something about Jake. Charisma. That was it. Charm. Every woman probably reacted to him the way you had, and he was probably just as attentive to everyone else.

Since Cooper was the reason you ended up at Jake's in the first place, you let him eat lunch with you all week and walk you back to your dorm from your classes. You let him wrap his arm around your waist and tuck his fingers into the top of your jeans. You let him kiss you each time you saw him.

You needed to give him a shot. It wasn't really his fault that you had Jake on the brain after weeks of dodging his advances. He wanted you, and you deserved to enjoy him. You already rid yourself of your virginity, and you knew the twelve rules. Condoms and communication and no cutting corners. You had this. Besides, you'd never know if it would always be just as good with another partner unless you saw it through.

So the following Friday, after you finished your classes for the week, you took a shower and changed into a dress that Cooper told you weeks ago looked cute, and then you walked the mile or so to the other end of campus where he lived. He was waiting for you when you got there with a smile on his face, and your heart beat a little faster.

"Come on inside," he said, holding out his hand. He was familiar now, and comfort could grow over time. You were sure of it. And he was a good kisser when he wasn't drinking. Tonight it felt nice, and he wrapped you up in his arms as soon as you walked past his roommates who were playing video games. 

When he opened his door, he said, "I even cleaned my room for you. What do you think?"

It looked the same as it always did, and you rolled your eyes and laughed. "You didn't. But it doesn't matter."

"I tried a little," he mumbled, grinning at you before he closed the distance to kiss you again. "Give me a tiny bit of credit?"

Your heart skipped a beat as his hands found your waist, and you sighed when his lips drifted along your neck. He sucked on you there, bruising you before pulling away. But it didn't feel bad. Not at all. It felt okay. You closed your eyes, immediately getting lost in the feel of it. Firm chest against your breasts. Big hands. Soft hair. Your fingers gave a little tug on the strands, and he groaned, cock hard in his jeans, pressing against you.

"Do you wanna....?" Cooper asked, easing your dress up your legs. You were almost startled when you remembered it was him instead of Jake, but you nodded.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I want to." You still had the three condoms in your little purse along with your fake ID and your actual ID. But when you ended up on your back on his bed, Cooper was already excitedly reaching for your underwear even though you definitely weren't ready to get a condom out yet. 

"How about a little more foreplay?" you asked, and he looked back at you like it was a foreign concept. "I like foreplay," you added softly. 

"Right," he replied, climbing on top of you where he touched you through your panties until you weren't exactly sure if you were wet or not. You tried to slow him down by kissing him, but he was practically rutting against your leg. 

"Will you go down on me?" you asked him, and he almost groaned.

"I mean... I guess. If you go down on me."

It must have been because it was your first time together, but he seemed in a hurry. He didn't stay in one place long enough for you to get the hang of how it felt with him. You didn't like rushing. You liked long, drawn out orgasms and being called Darlin'. Cooper didn't call you anything. He didn't speak at all; he only grunted as the two of you had sex that left you completely unsatisfied.

Well. You had tested your theories and come up with several conclusions. Sex was not exciting with every partner. Guys did in fact like to cut corners. And not all of them seemed to know the twelve rules rules. As you pulled your dress on over your head, you thought about how much better you felt around Jake than you ever would around Cooper.

"Feel like playing video games with me and the guys? Or you just want to leave until I see you tomorrow?" Cooper asked, opening his bedroom door and hovering there expectantly as tears stung your eyes. 

"You know," you whispered, trying to keep your voice calm, "I think I'll just walk back to my place."

"Okay, cool."

He didn't offer to walk with you. All he did was send you off with a kiss as he opened a can of beer while his friends called his name. You made it about two blocks before you started crying, because you had tried so hard to fool yourself, but you completely fucked everything up.

Jake was nothing but a perfect gentleman the whole time you were with him. He took care of you in so many ways, not just sexually, and you made him feel bad about himself. It didn't matter why he was skilled in bed, he was sweet. He hadn't mentioned other women while you were there, but you did. There was nobody to blame except yourself.

You practically tripped on the sidewalk as your tears obscured your vision, and you sat down hard on a bench with your phone in your hand. You tried to find Kylie's name in your contacts list, hoping she would come pick you up, but instead your thumb paused over Jake Seresin. And then you did something stupid.

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

Jake was sitting on his couch in his underwear eating a pizza with toppings he didn't even like when his phone rang. The caller had a local area code, but he didn't know the number. He was about to swipe to ignore it when his curiosity got the best of him.

"Hello?"

He was met with silence. Or so he thought. He was about to end the call, but then he heard a soft sigh. His heart beat a little faster as he tossed the slice of pizza back into the open box.

"Hello?" he repeated, gentler this time.

"Jake."

He would know your voice anywhere. He'd been replaying everything you said to him in his mind for the past two weeks. He was afraid he'd never hear from you again. "Darlin'," he said softly, missing the way that word felt on his tongue. "Are you okay?"

The sound of your breathing was followed by a sob as you said, "Not really."

He was on his feet, tearing down the hallway toward his bedroom in search of clothing as he tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. "Well, then why don't you tell me where you are so I can come try to make it okay?"

There was a short pause, during which he could hear nothing but his own heartbeat. "I would like that," you whispered. Then you gave him an approximate address which he knew was on your college campus.

"I'll be right there," he promised.

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

How are we feeling? Maybe Cooper was a good idea before Jake, but definitely not after. The next chapter will be the last one. Thanks for reading. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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[lustfulslxt]

Spoiled Rotten - Chris Sturniolo

summary : chris spoils you like no other and you show him how grateful you are

warnings : chris basically being a sugar daddy, swearing, m! oral, p in v, breeding kink, probably some other shit idk

a/n : hii, it’s been entirely too long. i’m kinda rusty but i hope this makes up for it!!

—

Getting everything you’ve ever wanted, even without having to ask, is something you never would’ve imagined for yourself. You’ve always had to work so incredibly hard for even the smallest things. Hell, you’ve had to work two jobs since you were old enough to work, just to be able to afford your bills.

Having a deadbeat father and a mother who had passed always made your life hard. It was up to you to keep things afloat. Keeping the bills paid, the kitchen stocked with groceries, the house tidy — it was all up to you, on top of having to keep your grades up to avoid the wrath of your absent yet, for some reason, still abusive father.

After your mom died, everything went downhill. Your father spiraled out of control. Because of his own wrongdoings, he took his anger out on you. He lost his job, gambled away the majority of your family’s savings, and spent the rest of it on alcohol and drugs. He made it all out to be your fault. If you hadn’t stepped up and started working your ass off, you’d definitely be living on the streets right now.

So, from where you were only a few years ago, to where you are now — you never would’ve pictured having any and everything you could ever want. Especially, from someone else’s wallet.

Chris’ wallet.

Your boyfriend knew of your previous struggles. He’d been your best friend since you were in elementary, so he witnessed what you had to do to get by. He’d beg and beg for you to just let him help, but you’d always refuse. If your own father can’t take care of you, why would you expect someone else to?

However, after so long, Chris ignored your reluctance and was quick to pamper you. Quick to provide for you. You’re everything to him, and he wants to make up for your sorry excuse of a father.

He moved you in with him after being together for two years. He doesn’t let you pay for anything. Him and his brothers keep the bills paid, as well as food in the kitchen. Anything to do with money, he’s got covered. And he still makes sure to spoil you rotten. Yet, not without a complaint from you.

“Chris!” You pouted, “Will you put your damn wallet away?”

Instantly, he’s shaking his head, “No. I don’t know why we have to keep going over this. Whatever you want, I’m getting. So, stop complaining and accept it.”

“But-“

He’s quick to cut you off with a peck to your lips. When you huff, he only grins and wraps an arm around your waist, continuing your stroll through the store.

Chris is extremely observant, and he knows you. He knows you like the back of his hand. So, when you turn away from something too quick after checking the price tag, he knows it’s something you like. You’re trying to throw him off and act uninterested in the entire store, but he can read you better than anyone.

So, while you’re off browsing through everything, grabbing the few things that you can afford, in hopes of talking him into letting you pay for it, he’s backtracking and grabbing your size in everything you took a liking in. By the time you make your way to the registers, Chris is already swiping his card.

Upon seeing the multiple bags on the counter in front of him, you can’t help but frown. You slowly turn around, heading to put the few shirts you had grabbed back. There’s no use in trying.

When you head back to Chris, he’s eyeing you with furrowed eyebrows. You walk next to him and he’s looking between you and the rack you were just at.

“Did you want those?” He asks.

You quickly shake your head, “No.”

“Are you sure? I can-“

You instantly loop your arm with his and drag him to the exit. You’re extremely grateful, but you can’t help but a little guilty because he spends so much money on you. You don’t want him to feel obligated just because you had a shitty past.

However, that’s far from how he feels. He just loves and adores you, and wants to give you everything you could ever want.

On the way home, Chris has your hand in his while he drives. Your eyes never leave him as you’re deep in thought. Thinking of everything he’s ever done and continues to do for you makes you so happy you could cry. You just want to show him how appreciative you are.

Pulling up to the house, you notice a big box sitting in front of the door. You furrow your eyebrows for a second, before concluding one of the boys must have ordered something. Once you both get out with the few bags, you head over and Chris picks up the box with a giant smile on his face.

You can’t help but smile at his smile, “Is that for you? What did you get?”

His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, “You’ll see.”

You give him a quizzical look before following him inside. Rather than stopping at the kitchen, he goes straight down to your shared room, so you follow him.

He places the box on the floor and is quick to open it. You set your bags down on the desk chair and walk over to him, your brows raised with curiosity. As soon as he gets the box open, he smiles widely and gestures for you to look and rummage through. Which you do. What you see has you gasping.

“Chris! You did not…”

He proudly nods, “I did, baby.”

Inside the box are numerous purses, shoes, fragrances, and several boxed skincare products. All things you had in your online cart. Things you never actually planned on buying, for the prices are too expensive, and you were only having a little fun.

Your heart swells at the gesture. He’s always doing the absolute most for you. There’s never ever been a time where he’s denied you of something you want, especially if it comes with a price tag.

You turn to Chris, a downward smile pulling to your lips as you look at him. He smiles back, only bigger and brighter. You take his hands in yours and yank him into you. Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. When he pulls away, you’re left chasing his lips for another. Passionately kissing him, until you’re both left breathless.

As soon as you part, you’re pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He falls with a bounce and wide eyes as he stares up at you.

Before he gets a word out, you’re straddling his lap. “You’re always so good to me. Let me be good to you.”

It takes seconds for Chris to start growing beneath your center. You lick your lips and lean forward, diving into a feverish kiss. His hands quickly meet your back, rubbing up and down, and along your sides.

You hum against his lips, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your body. Your hands move from his face to his hair, sharply tugging on it, eliciting a groan from him that makes your heat throb.

You pull away, your breathing shallow as you tug at the hem of his shirt. He leans up to assist you in removing it, before taking your lips in his again. Your hands instantly meet his bare torso, touching along his pecks and running your hands down his abdomen. His skin is hot beneath your fingertips and it stirs something inside of your stomach.

Your tongues dance together, moving in perfect sync with one another. The kiss gets sloppy, saliva coating both of your mouths. Chris is now rock hard beneath you, and you can’t help but grind against him, the two of you moaning into the kiss.

Your hands travel down his stomach, hooking onto his belt. Without parting from him, you undo his buckle and pull the belt from the loops of his jeans.

“God, you’re so hot.” He groans against your mouth.

You grin and push him back, his hair fluffing as his head hits the pillow below him. Your fingers grasp the button on his pants and quickly part it, slowly sliding his zipper down. He bucks his hips into your hands, desperate for more friction.

You lean forward, whispering in his ear, “Easy baby.” You place a kiss on his neck, causing him to shudder. “Promise I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

With one last kiss to his lips, you remove yourself from his lap and kneel beside him. He lifts his hips up to help you pull his pants down, his boxers following shortly after.

His cock stands tall, fully erect. Precum dribbles from the tip as his veins practically throb. Your mouth is watering at the sight. You take him in your palm, gripping softly. He takes in a sharp breath at the feeling, already fisting the sheets.

You stare into his eyes, puckering your lips, and push forward a jewel of saliva. It falls onto his head, trickling down his length, causing his mouth to fall slack as he takes you in.

You never cease to amaze him. Looking so innocent, but about to swallow him whole. He loves everything about you, especially the way you wrap your mouth around him.

Your tongue flicks over the slit of his tip, causing him to let out a small groan. You smile and wrap your lips around his head, sucking softly.

“Fuck..” He whispers, breathlessly.

Letting your mouth salivate even more, you continue teasing him. His breathing is erratic, eyes wide as he watches you. He so badly wants to shove his dick down your throat.

Luckily for him, you stop with the games and take him into your mouth. You force yourself down to the base, your nose pressing into his pelvic bone. He lets out a throaty moan at the feeling of his tip digging into the warm walls of your throat.

You flatten your tongue and begin bobbing your head up and down, working his cock the way he loves. Occasionally humming around him, pulling more moans from his pretty mouth.

“So fucking good.” He groans, bucking into your mouth.

His hands entangle in your hair as you look up at him and give him the slightest nod, keeping your mouth on him. His grip on you tightens, holding you in place as he begins thrusting in and out of your mouth.

The sounds of wet gagging fill the air, topped with his moans and groans. Your eyes prick with tears before they’re soon falling down your cheeks. Your face is flushed and stained with mascara streaks, drool falling down your chin. Chris can’t help but think you look the prettiest you’ve ever looked as he fucks your throat.

Your hand cups his balls, softly massaging them. His moans grow louder from the sensation, his orgasm approaching rather quickly from the combined stimulations.

His thrusts into your mouth grow sloppy and disorganized. His stomach tightens and his arms flex as he’s pushed over the edge. His hands push you into his dick, holding you in place as it bulges through your neck. He tosses his head back with a lewd moan leaving his mouth, his cock simultaneously spilling down your throat. It’s warm as it smoothly coats your throat, almost like honey when you’re sick. You love every bit of it.

Licking around his member, you pull your lips from him, making sure to suck every bit of cum from him. He groans at the sight of you swallowing every drop, and instantly pulls you up to him with a rough grip on your jaw.

He smashed his lips on yours, kissing you deeply and hungrily. Your pussy throbs for more, aching to be filled with his cock. It only takes a few seconds before he’s flipping you over.

He kneels between your thighs and tugs at your shirt, swiftly removing it. You bite your bottom lip in excitement, ready for him to fuck your brains out. His hands are quickly at your shorts, tugging them and your panties off in one motion. Him being eager to be inside you has you clenching around nothing.

His hands grope your bare tits, squeezing them in his palms. Your soft moans only encourage him. One hand goes back and forth between them, tweaking your nipples. His other hand slides between your legs, running through your folds.

He hums, “So wet already. Does sucking my cock turn you on? Hm?”

You only nod, your bottom lip still pressed tightly between your teeth.

“Mm, such a good little slut for me.”

You whine at his words and push your core into his hand, desperate for more. He pulls away from you, his hand suddenly coming down on your pussy in a quick motion, causing you to yelp as your body jerks. Your arousal only leaks more than it was. To which he notices.

He pouts, “Aw, you like that? You want it rough, don’t you?”

Your head quickly shakes up and down, whining as he rubs your clit. “Yes! Please, please. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

It didn’t take much for Chris to become fully erect again. You always do it for him. The second he kissed you after you swallowed him, he was growing again. That’s something you both love. Sometimes, you can go round after round.

He takes hold of his dick and runs it along your pussy. You whimper from the feeling, slightly grinding down into him. After a few teasing touches, his cock his saturated with your juices, making it easier to slide into you.

Your walls stretch around his girth in such a painfully pleasurable way. Your breath is stripped from your lungs as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full. His breath staggers from above you, loving the way you hug him so snugly.

He waits for you to adjust, and once he feels you aren’t so tense, he begins rocking in and out of you. Soft moans leave your lips as your hands run up his arms and grip his biceps. He leans down and presses a few kisses to your hand before picking up the speed.

“You feel so fucking good.” He moans, his strokes deep and hard.

Your mouth falls open, continuous moans emitting from it as your eyes roll back while your head falls to the side. Chris nudges your head to the side and attacks your neck with wet and sloppy open mouthed kisses. His hand suddenly wraps around your throat, applying a great pressure as he pushes himself up. His opposite hand grips your tit before smacking it, causing you to moan and clench around him.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you.” He grits, his hips snapping into yours with a strong force.

You want to look, but you can’t. Your eyes are practically stuck rolled into your head. You can hardly breathe with how hard he’s fucking you. Before you can even try, his hand slaps your face. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to feel the remaining sting. You can’t help but gush around his cock, loving every bit of it all.

You forcefully put your head down, eyes straining to focus on him. And boy are you glad. His hair is slick against his forehead, his skin glistening with a sheen layer of sweat. His cheeks are flushed a rosy pink color, his lips plump from your previous make out. His brows are furrowed in concentration and his entire face is struck with absolute pleasure. He looks like a dream.

You reach your hand out to caress his face and he leans into your touch. You love that he can still be sweet while completely wrecking you.

“Tell me how you feel.” He groans as he fucks in and out of you.

You bring your bottom lip in between your teeth, biting hard to control your moans. Though, it doesn’t work as your jaw drops and loud cries fall from your mouth.

His hand meets your jaw, slightly jerking to snap you out of the blissful trance he’s put you in. His eyes are dark as they bore into you, reiterating with every thrust, “Tell me. How you. Feel.”

Your face contorts in pleasure, sobbing out in between thrusts, “Mm, so good. F-feels sooo good, baby.”

“Such a good girl for me.” He coos, breathlessly.

Your mouth falls open, silent moans leaving it as he fucks into you. You’re on cloud nine. Your body feels on fire as pure bliss floods your veins. You can’t help but repeatedly clench around him as your climax nears. Your face contorts in pleasure, nails digging into his arm, leaving behind crescent shapes in his skin. The knot in your stomach tightens before unexpectedly snapping. You clench around his cock, your juices saturating him as you come undone.

He moans at the feeling, burying his face in your neck as he drops down again, digging into you deeper and deeper. “Gonna fill you up, ma. You’d like that, yeah? Give you my babies? Just wanna have even more to give you, you drive me fucking crazy.”

You soak in his words as you come down from your high, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist, pulling him into you. He smirks at your action, pressing a few sloppy kisses on your lips.

“Yeah, I knew you’d like that.” He moans as his thrusts grow erratic and out of rhythm.

His grip on you tightens, surely leaving behind purple finger shaped bruises. He buries cock into you, loudly groaning as he fills you up. He keeps fucking into you, determined to give you all he’s got. As soon as he can’t take it anymore, he pulls out and collapses beside you.

The two of you lay there, sweaty and panting, trying to recover from your intense orgasms. You both meet eyes, silly grins pulling to both of your faces. Neither of you have ever loved someone more.

Before succumbing to the exhaustion he felt, Chris perks up and leans over to his bedside table. “Oh, I got you one more thing.”

He turns back to you with a small black bag in his hand, offering it to you with a bright smile. You look at him with a pout, before taking the bag.

“When are you gonna stop with this?” You question, cheekily adding, “Aren’t your kids enough?”

He chuckles at you, “Just open the bag.”

So, you do. Inside it is a small black wallet — a wallet that is known for being one of a kind. Its intricate patterns are displayed along the material, the infamous logo engraved in the corner. You open it up to further examine it, your brows furrowing at what’s inside. Upon retrieving it, you look at Chris with a deadpan expression. His black credit card.

He smirks at you, “Yours now baby. No limit, so don’t even bother asking before you swipe it.”

—

a/n : ughh, okay so tbh i rushed the ending bc i ended up losing half of what i had since my cellular device is a literal piece of garbage. anywho, fingers crossed this was enjoyable lmaoo. it’s gonna take a minute for me to get back into things! missed you guys tho <3

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @chrissfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @knowingnothingnoel @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @strnlsblog @venusbabysblog @domaniquessidehoe @mattslolita @junnniiieee07 @pepsienthusiasts @gamermattsgf @cupidsword @iloveneilperry @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @luul223 @matt444nixi @sturniololol

[targaryenluvs]

HARD TIMES / EVAN BUCKLEY

PAIRING: Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Whilst waiting for his appointment, Evan abstains from sexual encounters. Which is a bit hard whilst simultaneously having a crush on the girl from the coffee shop.

WARNINGS: Fluff, sex mentions, teasing, makeouts & sexual depictions

WORDCOUNT: 2.5K Words

A/N: I’m actually in love with this idea 😂 May or may not have made Buck a whiner 👀 As per usual, @megalony for giving me the inspo to finish this off - check out her Buck fic!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

He was cursed, indefinitely.

Getting rescheduled, running out of gas, random remodels galore. It seems as if someone was against him finally making his donation. But the waiting wasn’t the worst part, the no sex rule was major. Why on Earth had he stuck with it? Evan assumed it wouldn’t be too difficult, which it wasn’t.

Until he met you.

It was the fourth day of waiting and he’d changed his usual coffee place ever since they randomly only served skim milk. And he was happy to make the change, since his new place was actually three minutes closer as well as better. Ever since he saw you, he’d found himself ordering more than needed, adding a muffin or two, or ordering for the crew.

Anything that let him stare at you for a little while longer. You were always on time, every morning you showed up, ordered the same thing with the occasional additional treat. A smile on your face and always equipped with a kind compliment.

But Buck surprisingly couldn’t find it in himself to approach you. Whether he was too scared of embarrassing himself or he just liked staring. He found himself second guessing his actions at every turn. It wasn’t until you came in minus a smile that he worked up the courage to interact with you.

You were currently sitting outside, gazing at the oncoming traffic and people going about their day. The cup in your hands taking the brunt end of your restlessness as you tapped your fingers. The hand waving in your face brought you back, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you need something?” The man in front of you grinned, “Uh no, not really. I just- well you were…” He pointed out to the traffic before pointing at you again.

“Would you like to sit? Maybe it’d help you get your words together.” You joked as he laughed before pulling his respective chair, “Thanks, I’m Evan. But people call me Buck, whatever works for you.” You reached your hand out, “Y/n, nice to meet you Evan.”

Evan smiled before revealing the brown bag, “I uhm, well you looked like you were a bit down, so I ordered you a pastry. Thought it’d cheer you up.” Your regular pastry sat inside the bag, waiting for you to eat it, “Oh! You really didn’t have to, that’s so nice of you.” He waved his hand, brushing off your words, “It’s nothing really, just enjoy it.” You wanted to ask how he knew, but figured there was no point in it.

And the two of you talked for almost an hour afterwards, slowly getting to know each other better. The pair of you were quick friends to your surprise. And your relationship only grew afterwards, regularly catching up in the mornings over coffee. Which then turned to lunch together during his off day, and then dinner.

You knew it was quick, but you couldn’t help yourself, you really did like Evan. It was unbelievably easy to talk to him, he was such a warm person. And Evan sure as hell liked you. Every day he found it easier to get out of bed, overly eager to get to see your face and hear your voice. God, he could listen to you for hours.

He’d never really clicked so easily with someone, and he was grateful for it. It’d been a while since Taylor, it was refreshing to talk to someone and not just for a night. He found himself checking his phone every few minutes, hoping for a reply from you.

And everyone else noticed.

“What’s got you so happy Buckley?” Chimney asked from the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. Hen glanced over to find Buck smiling down at his phone, “Nothing, just looking at photos.” Hen circled back to him, sitting down across from him as she surveyed his body language. You and Evan had been out last night at a movie, and you’d both posed in the cardboard cutouts.

The photo he was looking at had you as a bodybuilder and him in a dress he looked “absolutely stunning in”, according to you.

“It’s like your face is permanently smiling. Please tell me it’s not frozen.” She poked his cheek before he swatted it away, “Can I not just be happy?” Chimney shrugged before settling down next to Hen, “You can be happy, as long as you tell us what, or who, has you feeling this way.” Bobby came towards the trio, Eddie in tow, “Who’s feeling what?” Hen chuckled, “Seems we’ve got a smitten Buckley in the house. We’re trying to figure out who’s making him happy.”

Buck rolled his eyes before getting up, “It’s really not that big of a deal guys, cmon.” Bobby shook his head, “Yes it is, someone’s in love.” The group laughed as Evan shook his head, “Not you too, I thought you were sensible.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I am extremely sensible, and curious. What’s their name?”

“Her names Y/n, and that’s all you get to know for now. Damn vultures.”

“Don’t make me circle back for you Buckley!” Hen shouted out as Evan made his way down, what he didn’t expect was for you to be waiting for him. “Y/n?” You turned swiftly to meet his eye, “Hey Buck, you called me?” His eyebrows furrowed, “It must’ve been an accident, I’m sorry. But you didn’t have to come here.”

He was thoroughly impressed, did a phone call from him warrant a visit? Not that he was complaining. You looked even more gorgeous than usual, and you smelled—

“Yeah but we were supposed to meet for lunch, and you didn’t reply, I only got a call.” His eyes widened in realisation, he’d forgotten your date. Was it a date? Did you think it was a date? Is that why you were wearing a dress? You said you usually only wear them for special occasions or people. Was he a special person?

“I’m so so sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind. We just came back from a run. We can go now for sure.” Your smile spread as he spoke, “Is something funny? Please tell me I don’t have sauce on my face.” Your laughter filled the air, did you know that your eyes creased when you giggled? Your nose also scrunched, god you were cute.

His eyes trailed up to the balcony, where his entire team stood staring before straightening up, “Mhm, the top of the trucks are so pretty. Probably shiny too.” The random topics of conversation were more than enough to alert Evan to the eavesdropping taking place. “Guess you might as well meet those idiots.” You smiled, “Lead the way Firefighter Buckley.”

“Oh! You are brilliant!” Chimney exclaimed as the rest of the group laughed uncontrollably. Buck sat with his arms crossed, “It’s not even that funny!” You couldn’t help but pat his bicep, “Of course you don’t think it is!” You leaned into him as you giggled, practically pushing your chest into his arm.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Evan’s eyes were staring right into Eddies soul, as Eddies laughter died down, “You okay?” He mouthed as the man across him from blinked rapidly before nodding. Eddies eyes trailed to you, and your low cut dress before returning to Buck. Oh, oh! Eddie smiled, “That’s a really lovely dress Y/n/n.” Evan’s eyes narrowed, wishing a few horrible accidents upon Eddie.

Murmurs of agreement broke out from everyone else, “It really is, what do you think Buck?” Evan’s lips drew into a tight line, “Oh, yeah. Definitely, they look good in it. I mean— you look amazing. Really good today. Not that you don’t usually, you always look so good. And smell! Not that I smell you, you smell. Good! You smell good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he stumbled his way through his monologue, “Good to know Buck, good to know.” You promptly turned to Bobby, “Yknow Evan never shuts up about your cooking, would I ever be so lucky to experience it for myself?”

Buck zoned out of the current conversation, replaying his epic fail in his head.The tightening of his pants had him shifting around uncomfortably, and Eddies grin aimed his way was getting to him.

He was going to kill Eddie.

Dinner that night was probably amongst one of the best dates he’d ever had. And he had asked you before you went out whether or not it was a date, repeatedly. But it was also a test of strength. You’d decided to wear a gorgeous dress, designed to test his patience.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he’d made the stupid mistake of inviting you back to his apartment.

Which, A) Gave the impression that something was going to happen.

B) Maybe made you think that he thought you were the type of girl to put out easily.

And Evan never wanted you to think that.

With a few glasses of wine, sweet music and amazing company you were bound to end up on his bed. Evan’s hands were soft yet controlling, lifting you up onto his lap to straddle him. “God you’re gorgeous.” He murmured into your neck as you giggled, “Is that so?” He smiled up at you as your arms locked around his neck, “Definitely.”

“Then we should settle in for the night, no?”

Evan wanted to curse his own mind for reminding him, maybe he could make the deposit another time, right? He knew it was wrong to think this way, but how could he stop himself from going all the way with you on top of him? “Dammit, I am so sorry. But I can’t.” Your swiftly lifted yourself off his lap, settling down next to him.

“Hey that’s fine, you’re not being forced into anything Buck.” Evan groaned as he leaned in to capture your lips again, “You are so annoyingly understanding. And I love that about you, it’s one of the many things I love. Including this gorgeous lace.” He joked as he traced the strap of your bra. “Oh hush, what’s going on?”

“Promise you won’t freak out?”

“Promise.” You smiled before grabbing his hands, with wide eyes filled with curiosity staring up at him, he couldn’t help but feel the pressure. “An old friend asked me to be a sperm donor, and before making my donation, I thought it best to uh…” You raised an eyebrow as Evan struggled to find the right words, “To keep my swimmers in the tank, if you catch my drift.”

“I catch your drift, or is it a flow?” Evan rolled his eyes as you raised yourself to kiss his cheek, “I fully understand, you don’t have to be sorry. I think what you’re doing is absolutely amazing Evan, helping to start a family? That’s really sweet of you, but it must’ve been a hard decision.”

And that’s what the loved about you. Your willingness to listen, to wait and understand what you were being told. Most girls Buck had been with had never really seen everything about him, nor understood him. With you felt truly seen, and heard. Never judged. And you were breathtakingly beautiful, which was a nice bonus.

“It was.” He watched as you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, “If i’m half naked, so are you. Now let’s sit and talk, when did you decide to help them out?”

For the rest of the night, the two of you simply laid in bed and cuddled, looking up at each other. Whilst you talked, Evan found his eyes trailing down your body. The two of you were in your underwear, and you your bra. With you practically ontop of him he found an intruder settling in.

“What is that?” You whined from underneath the covers, “Uh, maybe it’s my phone?” Evan rationalised as you stared at him, “Unless I stole someone’s phone and put it on charge, I don’t think it’s a phone.” Evan tried to stop you before you raised the covers, “Oh.”

“Well hello there.” The pillow was swept from underneath you as Evan buried his face in it, “Don’t,” Your laughter made his heart beat faster, and your hand which circled his crotch made him buck his hips upwards. “Oh god, please don’t.”

“Don’t… what?” Evan buried his head into your shoulder as you continued to tease him, it was the funniest thing you’d seen all day. And a helpless Buck was a fun one. “I like hearing you beg.” He slammed the pillow down onto his lap, “Y—you can’t say things like that!” His cheeks were turning red, whether it was embarrassment from his stutter or your hands, you liked it.

“Sure I can, just did. And you want to know something Evan?”

“Not really.”

“Indulge me,”

“Okay.” Evan gave in as you leaned into his ear, “I don’t sleep well with anything on.” You quickly kissed him before unclasping your bra, throwing your undergarments onto the floor and settling back in.

“Goodnight baby.” You smiled before turning off the lamp.

It was going to be a long night. Evan sat in the dark for about an hour before his situation calmed down, if he was sure of one thing? You were going to be the death of Evan Buckley.

It was donation day, finally.

Evan was practically bouncing off the walls after his shift, zooming down to the clinic before another mishap ruined his donation day. And luckily for him, he was given a cylinder and a few magazines before being sent on his way. His fingers drummed against the wheel of his jeep, he was having a good day.

The only thing better? His date with you tonight. What he hadn’t expected was to come home to candles, rose petals and his favourite girl happily sleeping in bed.

“Uhh, Y/n?” You sat up straight away in bed, “Evan! You’re back!” He walked up the stairs before setting his phone and keys down, “Whoa, you look…” You were wearing one of your favourite sets, and a new favourite of Evan’s, it didn’t exactly leave a lot to the imagination.

And he’d seen more than enough of you.

“Oh god, you look so good.”

“Well you’re extremely lucky, this is all for you. Almost five weeks, you did so well Evan.”

“I did well?”

“Yes you did, and you know what?” Evan shook his head rapidly, he was itching to touch you, “I cleared the day tomorrow for you and me, we can stay here as long as you’d like.” Evan felt weak in the knees, “Oh I love you. Now can I please throw you into bed?” You giggled before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You can do whatever you’d like, Firefighter Buckley.”

“Oh, Firefighter Buckley?” Evan pushed you down to the bed before climbing over you, “Mhm.” His hands lifted your gown slowly, stroking the soft skin, “Now I really want to see you in my coat.”

“Oh? What, with your name on the back? All yours aren’t I?”

“That you are. You’re not gonna be walking for a few days.” Evan teased as he planted kisses along your neck, you raked your hands through his soft hair, “I’m definitely not complaining.”

Hard times have good outcomes, or something like that.