#the first plane was you go too fast for me

[humanjarvis]

i'm sorry for scaring you

synopsis: caleb shows a new side of himself during one of your fights. it almost makes you believe he's changed.

tags: angst, suggestive (psychologically), fluff (sorta kinda), caleb kneels, caleb crawls, caleb is pathetic, caleb is overprotective and unwell pairing: farspace colonel!caleb x reader word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is angstier than i intended i wanted it to be hot, maybe it's still hot, when he tries to lock u up in his house but he has lethal booboo face ⬇

“I didn't ask for any of this! I didn’t ask for your protection, and I sure as hell don’t want it.”

“You not wanting it doesn’t change the fact that you need it,” Caleb replied blankly. 

In the four months since you’d reunited with Caleb in Skyhaven, your relationship had taken a hit. In the first few weeks, you’d barely seen each other; he’d stop by to check on you, assume you thought him the scum of the earth, and abruptly retreat back home. It wasn’t until you’d grown fed up with the awkwardness and uncertainty that you began approaching him again—asking him about his day, initiating phone calls, and even starting the rare video call, if he was lucky. 

Around the last month or so, things had gotten better. During your increasingly frequent visits, you’d gone out together several times—to see the new cyberpunk action movie, to window shop in the pet store, to marvel at the Skyhaven nightscape from the safety of his personal aircraft. Just as you thought you’d both been making progress adapting to your new dynamic, a wave of highly dangerous wanderers had infiltrated the city, and Caleb had had the nerve to essentially place you on house arrest until the threat was dealt with. Fast forward to now, his composure threatening to overpower your impassioned rebuttals. 

“Did you honestly think I’d let you leave right now?” he asked. “You’re here for a week. The Fleet will take the next couple of days to sort out the problem, and we can go out together when it’s done.”

“We can go out together. Right. So you can rush me back here the second someone looks at me the wrong way?”

“No one will look at you the wrong way. Not here. Not while you’re with me. But you need to understand, Pipsqueak: you came to Skyhaven for me. You’re in skyhaven for me. I won’t stand by and watch you put yourself in danger, and you won’t change my mind,” he replied, his large frame looming over you as he stepped closer. 

You’d had enough. You’d spent almost an hour on the losing side of this back-and-forth, and you were too exhausted to pull your punches anymore. “My first time seeing you after the explosion,” you started, voice trembling. “Do you know how it felt? When you stepped off that plane, when you interrogated me behaving like you never have in your life—I didn’t know what to think. But when you brought me back here? Started spewing off that shit about a world where my only world is you? I was scared, Caleb. I thought I’d needed to be afraid for you, but I was afraid of you. That you’d lock me in this house forever, that I'd only see the sun when you decided it wasn’t top bright for me. I was afraid that I’d die here having grown to hate the person I’d wanted to live for,” you finished, your words dripping with venom.

Seething, you spun around, ready to storm out of the kitchen and into the quiet of the guest room Caleb had remodeled for you. 

You’d taken three steps toward the door when you heard something hit the ground with a heavy thud. 

Body still facing the door, you stopped in your tracks. This was new. Unexpected. You’d been prepared to hear a few calls of your name, some “Wait!”s, maybe even a “Don't walk away from me.” Worst case, you’d expected him to pin you in place with his Evol, preventing your exit and prolonging your fight. 

But a thud? A thud could mean many things. Enough things for you to remain frozen contemplating the possibilities before the voice in the back of your head broke through your thoughts, reminding you of the very real chance that you’d spiked Caleb's blood pressure so much that he’d fainted.

The fear that he was hurt made you finally turn around, only for Caleb to catch you off guard yet again.

Caleb the Loathsome, the overprotective, obsessive, now cold-blooded colonel of the Farspace Fleet, was on the floor before you. Kneeling.

All at once, your anger dissipated, melting into shock at the assertive man before you’s sudden display of submission. 

Realizing you’d turned around, Caleb lifted his head, meeting your flustered expression with his pained one. His furrowed brows, shining eyes, and pouted lips—he looked pitiful, honestly. And as much as it tugged at your heartstrings, it awakened something dormant inside you. 

It made you feel powerful. It gave you an idea. 

Biting the inside of your bottom lip, you took several steps toward Caleb’s kneeling form, closing the distance you'd been so eager to put between you all of ten minutes ago. A slight gasp escaped Caleb at your movement, and he swiftly lowered his gaze back to the floor, as if worried that daring to watch your approaching form would make you retreat. 

When you came to a stop, you were just in front of his knees, looking down your nose at his bowed head. For a few moments, Caleb’s heavy breaths were the only sounds between you, thickening the cold air in the room. 

Then, finally—finally—you touched him, lifting his chin up before resting your palm on his cheek. At your touch, he leaned forward, nuzzling his head against your thigh. 

“…You want this that bad, huh? Want me that bad?”

“More than anything,” he breathed. 

You stared at him. 

“Please,” he whispered, turning his head into your hand to brush his lips across your fingers. 

At this, you hummed softly, running your thumb across his cheek twice before turning away from him once more. When you break contact, Caleb freezes in the midst of rubbing his face on your leg, his eyes popping open in panic. He only calms when he sees you heading for the armchair tucked into the right back corner of the room, slowly taking a seat, your legs spread. 

“Relax,” you call out, settling in your chair. He didn’t move a muscle.

You decided you’d had enough of the tense silence after a few more beats. It was time to test him.

“…Come here, Caleb.”

In an instant, his head snapped up. His gaze, abruptly ending its budding relationship with the floor tiles, held yours for more than a few seconds this time, your slight smirk challenging his slight disbelief.

Caleb had all the cunning in the world. Since joining the Fleet, nothing got by him—and on the rare chance that it did, he’d chase it down and make it beg for mercy. He was a prideful man. He was a calculated man. So when you called for him in your sweet voice, slightly breathy with unadmitted nerves, he figured you out quite quickly. 

You were testing him—to see if he’d walk or crawl to you—and he knew it. 

And unfortunately for his dignity, any reservation he held about the latter was overshadowed by his desire for you: to be in your space, to breathe your air, to be close enough to feel you—even if he rarely did now, out of fear that his touch would repulse you.

He needed you to need him. So he crawled. 

Inch by inch, Caleb crawled toward you, the only person who would ever see him reduced to this. The only person who could reduce him to this. And all the while, as the fabric of his dark pants dragged across the floor, his violet eyes never left yours. In them, you saw resignation. You saw anticipation. You saw the shattered remnants of a pride that he’d let be broken, and you saw them rebuild themselves in lust the closer he came.

A few inches away from you, Caleb stops, sitting demurely on his heels. His hands twitch in hesitation before falling into his lap. His vulnerability is palpable, and you can feel him banishing himself back to his hell of self-deprecation, the guilt-eroded space in his mind where he repeats how little he deserves you. Before he can lower his gaze again, you beckon him upwards,  guiding his palms to rest on your knees. His kneeling form almost equals your seated one in height.

“I used to love watching you scare off the boys who were mean to me,” you tell him, placing your palm back on his cheek. “But as much as I like you intimidating, this little act might be my new favorite.” 

His nervous breaths come to a momentary halt before he brightens slightly, chasing your touch. He nuzzles into your palm like he did your leg earlier, and you sigh. 

“You scared me, Caleb,” you murmur. 

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I know you want to keep me safe, that you have kept me safe for as long as either of us can remember,” you say, continuing to stroke his head. “But I don’t want to be afraid of you, Caleb. I won't be afraid of you. So if you want to keep doing this, if you want us to move on, if you want me—it can’t happen again. Tell me it won’t happen again.”

Your movements still as you tighten your grip on his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes. A grimace flashes across his face as he goes quiet for a moment. But you wait for him. You have to. As exhilarating as it’d been to see him crawl before you, this was the true test—if you extend your trust, will he extend his lenience? You have to believe that he will. To give him the chance to. 

And as you’re wrapped up in your optimism, your fantasies that he’ll acquiesce and let your relationship go back to normal, Caleb responds. 

“...I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

[caitified]

hiii can you do a fix where caitlin and the reader go on vacation with bella to like fiji and bella becomes obsessed with the ocean and the island you can also do it with paige if you want

FIJI

CAITLIN CLARK X READER

notes: more bella requests please!!

it was your first real family vacation in a long time, and fiji felt like paradise the second you landed. the air was warm, the sky was impossibly blue, and the moment you stepped off the plane with caitlin and bella, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. just the three of you, surrounded by palm trees, white sand, and crystal-clear water.

bella, in her tiny sunglasses and a sun hat that was just slightly too big for her, was already babbling excitedly, even though she had no idea what was happening.

“mommy, what’s that?” she pointed dramatically out of the airport window.

“that’s the ocean, baby,” caitlin told her, adjusting the toddler on her hip as she grabbed your luggage with her free hand. “we’re gonna go swimming in it.”

bella gasped, her little mouth forming an “o” as she turned to you. “swimming?”

you nodded, smiling. “yes, baby. you’re gonna love it.”

and she did.

from the second her tiny feet touched the sand, she was in love. she stomped around in it, laughing at how it squished between her toes, but the real obsession started the moment she saw the ocean up close.

you barely had time to set your bags down at the beachfront villa before she was yanking at caitlin’s hand, pointing toward the waves. “mommy, water! water!”

caitlin, who had planned to at least unpack a little, sighed dramatically but let bella drag her along. “babe, she’s already got me working,” she called over her shoulder as you laughed.

you followed them out onto the beach, watching as caitlin let bella go, and the toddler sprinted toward the water, her little legs pumping as fast as they could.

“bella, wait—” but it was useless. she was gone.

she stopped right at the edge where the waves kissed the shore, shrieking with delight as the water lapped at her toes. when a slightly bigger wave rolled in and covered her feet, she gasped and turned back to look at both of you with wide, sparkling eyes. “it touched me!”

“that’s what the ocean does, baby,” you laughed, stepping closer and picking her up before the next wave could knock her over.

from that moment on, it was over. bella was obsessed. she wanted to be in the ocean from sunrise to sunset. she called it “my water” and got very territorial when other kids ran past her.

“they can’t have my water!” she pouted to caitlin one afternoon.

“baby, it’s the ocean,” caitlin tried to reason, holding back a laugh. “it belongs to everyone.”

“no. my water.”

caitlin just looked at you and shook her head. “she’s literally trying to claim the pacific ocean as her own.”

you shrugged. “i respect the confidence.”

bella ran both of you ragged the entire trip. she wanted to go to the beach immediately after waking up. she’d sit in the sand, letting the waves roll over her legs like she was some kind of ocean princess. she’d talk to the fish she saw while snorkeling with caitlin in the shallow reefs. she even cried when you told her you had to leave the beach for dinner.

and when the trip was almost over, she sat on the sand with her arms crossed, frowning at the waves.

“i don’t wanna leave,” she grumbled.

caitlin sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her tiny shoulders. “i know, baby, but we’ll come back.”

bella turned to you, pouting. “promise?”

you bent down, brushing a curl out of her face. “promise, baby.”

that seemed to satisfy her just enough to let you scoop her up and take her inside, though she did give the ocean one last very dramatic wave goodbye.

and, of course, when you got home, she refused to talk about anything but her beloved ocean.

“mommy, remember my water?”

“mommy, i miss my fishies.”

“mommy, can we go back to my island?”

caitlin just looked at you every time, shaking her head. “babe, i think we accidentally created a beach bum.”

you smiled, watching bella play with the seashells she brought home. “yeah. and i don’t think she’s ever gonna recover from it.”*

[purrvaire]

no because crowley literally is the strongest soldier of god herself because NOT ONLY my guy has been pining for aix thousand years, now that they can rely on each other freely and Heaven and Hell are out of the picture HE HIT THE JEALOUSY TROPE honestly I would spontaneously self combust or something

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

Me, yesterday, 5:30 PM: wow I’m honestly doing so great at my adult tasks; I’ve gotten some homework done, I went grocery shopping, my laundry is almost dry. I spent so many spoons and I barely feel tired! Maybe I’m finally fully recovering from burnout!

Me, yesterday, 6:00 PM: oh.

[breeberrypies]

rbing bc there were too many tags so it wouldn’t show in my art tag. LET ME SPEAK MY TRUTH ABT MY SHOW⁉️⁉️

++(also you guys should totally not pirate this tv series nobody cares about anymore on wcostream.tv)

THEY TOOK VOLTRON OFF NETFLIX.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 700

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this is just a short prologue to show how things end (yay happy endings!), but the two have a lot of trauma to go through before they reach endgame. i love kinich's character and design so i'm excited for this! interaction is highly appreciated :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

Kinich thinks he’s loved you since forever.

He has no way of proving that, of course; those years are long gone, and even if he had the opportunity to ask, he’s not sure his younger self would have a comprehensible answer. He can only see now that he’s come so far, when the memories are too murky to make sense of but the warmth remains—when he thinks of your smile and feels something akin to the weightlessness of grappling and flying through the trees.

He says “forever” because he really has no idea when it started—the realization came far after the feeling. He’d been before school age when he met you for the first time, and it’s been over a decade since then.

“Kinich!”

Your call interrupts his thoughts, and his gaze is drawn skyward—you’re standing somewhere far above him, on one of the walkways lining the cliffs of the Scions of the Canopy. You’re waving so wildly and ridiculously that it almost makes him smile.

“Are you coming down?” he calls through cupped hands, well-acquainted with this kind of long-distance communication. Sound tends to echo well between the cliffs here, and he’s sure you heard him when you offer an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. 

“Yup! I bought a few things, so I was hoping you could help me carry them home!”

Kinich rolls his eyes teasingly. “Somehow I doubt that you have enough Mora left to afford my services.”

You pout in reply. Ajaw decides to appear then, a malicious puff of smoke over Kinich’s shoulder. “Of course not! You better not be making fun of me, letting some mortal treat you like a servant! The Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, won’t take this kind of disrespect—”

Ignoring his wordy introduction, you call down to Kinich again. “I’m coming down! Think fast!”

“—Don’t make me lau—wait, what?!”

Even Ajaw yelps in surprise as you take a running leap off the walkway, freefalling fast down the plane of the cliff. If he were any younger, Kinich might’ve had a heart attack. But you’ve been pushing your luck with him for years, and it comes as instinct when Kinich grapples up, deftly catching you in his arms with a light ‘oof’.

You’re holding a few boxes in your arms, he notices, and you smile. 

“I bought some Puff Pops for us to share later. I was thinking we can do some climbing, or there’s this cave I’ve been meaning to explore.”

His heart does a sort of flip that cannot be attributed to the way you fly through the sky. It’s all so much: the sensation of your warmth pressed against him, the scent of the wind rushing past, and the laughter of his tribe members below. Their eyes shine as they watch the two of you pass above them, chuckling at the familiar sight. 

And really, he can’t remember ever being this happy. When he thinks of how much it took to reach this point, the heartbreak and trauma aren’t the first things to come to mind. Instead, it’s you. The way you held him, the way you cried for him, the way you chased him. Always laughing, always in love.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice your curious stare for a moment. You poke at his cheek, and he startles, nearly dropping you both.

“Is something wrong?” you ask shyly, suddenly self-conscious of the box in your hands. “We don’t have to do any of that. Really, if you have a high-value job or something, I understand.”

Ajaw decides to butt-in again, reddened with rage. “Yes, all of that sucks! I mean, seriously, don’t you have anything better to do—”

“No, it’s great,” Kinich murmurs in reply, flicking Ajaw away with a strong hand—the Saurian’s roar dissipates with the wind. He holds you tighter against his chest. There’s nothing worth more to him than you. “That all sounds really, really amazing.”

As the two of you burst through the trees, laughing the whole way, he thinks that it doesn’t really matter when he started to love you. All that matters is that he doesn’t stop.

Kinich thinks he’ll love you forever.

[natsaffection]

Ghosted by You. | N.R

Spy!Natasha x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, stab wound

Word count: 3,7k

A/N: It’s based on this ask here! I tried to create the dynamics exactly like in the movie, but somehow also needed seriousness..🥸

You should’ve stayed home. You really should’ve stayed home..But no. Your brain, in its infinite wisdom, decided that after one amazing date, Natasha disappearing from your life had to mean something dramatic. That she was in trouble. That she needed you.

That she hadn’t just ghosted you because..oh, I don’t know, maybe she didn’t want to see you again. But did that logic stop you? No. Because instead of letting it go like a normal person, you tracked a random transaction on her credit card, hopped on a plane, and landed in London. And now? Now, you were tied to a goddamn chair in a dimly lit basement, with very angry men staring you down.

One of them paced in front of you, arms crossed. His accent was thick, British but rough, the kind that made you instinctively gulp. “Who sent you?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Who. Sent. You?” He leaned in, his breath hot against your face. “We know you work for the CIA.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “THE WHAT?!”

The second man sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes like you were personally wasting his time. “This one’s gonna be difficult.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wait, wait- hold on a second, you think I’m in the CIA?!” You let out a weak, breathless laugh. “Oh my God. Wait, I think I’m gonna throw up..”

“Cut the act.” The first man grabbed the chair, tilting it back so that you were nearly falling. “We know you were following Romanoff. What were you planning?”

Your what now? “Natasha? Natasha Romanoff?” You nearly choked on your own breath. “She’s, she’s a spy?!” The two men exchanged glances before the first one grumbled, “Great. The kid doesn’t even know.”

“Wait, hold on.” Your breathing was turning erratic, panic rising in your throat. “She told me she was a florist..?” The second man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.” You were spiraling. Your hands shook against the restraints, your brain struggling to process what the hell was happening.

“No! Wait, you don’t understand..” you stammered, words tumbling out too fast. “I literally just followed her because she ghosted me! I thought she wasn’t answering because she was in trouble! I-I thought I was being romantic!”

The first man just stared at you. “You followed a CIA agent across the world because she didn’t text you back?”

“…Yes?” For a second, neither man spoke. Then the first one turned to the other and said, “We should just kill her.”

“W-WHAT?! NO! No, that’s not necessary!” You wriggled against the ropes, full-on panicking. “I’m not a spy! I barely passed high school! I cried last week because my WiFi went out! Does that s-sound like someone who works for the CIA?!”

The second man pulled out a knife, twirling it between his fingers. “Too bad.” You squeezed your eyes shut. God, I’m gonna die. I’m actually gonna die because I followed a hot woman to London like a freaking idiot..

The door exploded inward. The first guy turned just in time for a bullet to tear straight through his shoulder. He collapsed with a scream. The second one lunged for his gun, but before he could even blink, Natasha stepped into the room, raised her pistol, and shot him twice in the chest.

Your brain short-circuited. Natasha didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink as she put a bullet between someone’s ribs. “Oh my God..” you whispered, eyes darting between the two men, one dead, one groaning in pain. “Oh my God, you!! You just killed-”

“Not now!” She stormed forward, cutting through your restraints with a huge-ass knife. “Are you hurt ?”

“YOU JUST SHOT TWO PEOPL-”She grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet. “I swear to God, Y/n, I will have this conversation later. Right now? Move.” She shoved you toward the door, and your legs felt like Jell-O. “I-I don’t think I can walk..” you stammered.

“Then crawl, I don’t care!” Gunfire erupted outside. Natasha grabbed your wrist and dragged you behind her as she stormed into the hallway, firing with precision. One man barely turned the corner before she put a bullet straight between his eyes. You screamed again. “Y/n, I will leave you here if you don’t MOVE!” she barked.

“What-” you whispered, watching people DROP like flies. “Don't look at them.” she snapped, grabbing your face and physically turning it away. “What the hell is happening?” Your breathing was getting worse, your chest tightening. “I—Natasha, I don’t- I don’t understand-”

She groaned. “Oh, for fu-”Before you could process, she picked you up. “N-Natasha!”

“Shut up!” She kicked a door open, carrying you like a sack of potatoes. “I can shoot faster when you’re not slowing me down!”

“I CAN RUN!”

“Clearly NOT!”

Gunfire shattered the walls behind you. Natasha spun, firing two bullets into the men chasing you. They collapsed instantly. Your breath hitched. “You’re killing them..” you whispered. Natasha didn’t hesitate. “And I’ll kill ten more if it gets us out of here alive!” Her coldness made your stomach drop.

You saw it now. The emptiness in her eyes, the precision, the way she fired without flinching. The woman you had been falling for, the one who had smiled at you over dinner, who had kissed you so softly..was a killer.

She caught your expression, saw the fear on your face and for a moment, her own softened. But there wasn’t time. She threw you into a stolen car, slammed the door, and sped into the streets. For a long time, you couldn’t speak.

“You’re scared of me now.” she said flatly, breaking the silence. Your mouth opened—closed. “You should be.” she muttered. Her hands were still covered in blood. You pressed yourself against the door, heartbeat pounding.

This wasn’t the Natasha you knew. This was someone else entirely. And you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into. The car ride was dead silent. You sat rigidly in the passenger seat, hands curled into fists on your lap, still shaking.

Natasha gripped the steering wheel like she wanted to break it in half. Her knuckles were white, her jaw clenched, and her entire body radiated fury. But you didn’t say anything. Because you were terrified. Your brain replayed it all on an endless loop, the gunfire, the bodies dropping, the blood on her hands.

You had thought she was a florist. You had kissed her, flirted with her, trusted her, And she had just killed six people without flinching. Your stomach churned. “Say something.” Natasha finally snapped, eyes still locked on the road. You swallowed, voice weak. “Where are we going?”

“A safe house.” A safe house. Right. Because that’s a normal thing to have. You nodded slowly, gripping the door handle like you might have to jump out of the moving car. Natasha let out a harsh breath, running a hand through her hair. “You’re still scared of me.” You flinched. Her grip on the wheel tightened. “I just saved your life, Y/n.”

“You also ended six others.” you whispered. The air in the car shifted. Her eyes flicked to you, calculating, cold. “That’s how this works.” You swallowed hard. “This?”

She exhaled sharply, looking back at the road. “You’re in my world now. You don’t get to judge me for doing what I have to do.”

“I didn’t ask to be in your world!” She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, really? Because flying across the world to follow me sure as hell says otherwise.”

Your face flushed with anger. “I followed you because I thought you were in danger! Not because I wanted to be thrown into some goddamn murder spree!” Her grip on the wheel tightened.

“You think I wanted this?” Her voice was eerily calm. You hesitated. “I don’t- I don’t know what to think, Natasha.” She went silent.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you. The reality that you had just witnessed multiple murders. That you had watched Natasha—the woman you had been falling for, kill like it was nothing. Your chest tightened. Natasha let out a long, exhausted sigh and muttered, “We’ll talk when we get there.”

She parked in a dark alleyway, leading you through a maze of backstreets until you reached an abandoned-looking building. The second she closed the door behind you, she turned, eyes blazing. “What the hell were you even thinking?!”

You jumped. “Excuse me?!”

“You followed me across an ocean. You got kidnapped. You almost died!”

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE A SPY!”

“THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT BETTER!”

She stalked forward, and for the first time, you actually backed away. Her face immediately fell. You weren’t just arguing.

You were afraid of her. Natasha inhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Y/N…”

You pressed your back against the wall, shaking your head. “I don’t..” You swallowed hard, voice trembling. “I don’t know who you are.” Pain flickered across her face, but it was gone just as fast. She turned away from you, exhaling through her nose. “You shouldn’t have come.” she muttered.

“You could have just told me the truth!” She spun back, eyes flashing. “Are you out of your mind?! If I had told you- if you had known- you would’ve been in even more danger!”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh yeah? And what now?” You threw up your hands. “I know now, Natasha! I was just kidnapped and almost killed!” She winced. Just for a second.

Then, she stepped closer, voice dangerously low. “You want to know the truth?” she murmured. You swallowed. “No-”

“You would’ve been fine.” Her voice was cold, calculated. “If you had just stayed home. If you had just let me go. But now?” Her jaw clenched. “Now, you’re a target.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?” She sighed, rolling her shoulders. “They think you’re CIA. They think you know something. You don’t, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Your heartbeat thundered. “So- so what? What happens now?” She gave you a pointed look. “Now? I clean up your mess.” She grabbed a first aid kit and tossed it onto the table.

“Sit.”

“I’m fine-”

“Sit down.”

You gulped and sat. She grabbed your arm, not gentle but not rough and started cleaning the scrapes from where they had tied you up. The silence between you burned. You stared at her. At the red stains on her shirt. The blood on her hands. The way her shoulders were still tense from the fight.

She was different now. The Natasha who had laughed at your stupid jokes? The one who had kissed you in the rain? That Natasha was gone. Or maybe…maybe she was never real. She caught you staring. “What?” she muttered.

You hesitated. “Were you ever going to tell me?” Her hands froze. Then, she dropped the antiseptic, stood up, and turned away.

“…It was never supposed to go this far.” she admitted. Something inside you ached. Because deep down, you knew, this meant goodbye.

She exhaled sharply. “I’ll get you back to the States. I’ll make sure they lose your trail.” Your heart clenched. “You’re just sending me away?”

“Yes.”

“But I-” Your voice cracked. “What about you?” She looked away. “I’ll handle it.” Tears burned your eyes. “Natasha-”

“This isn’t your life, Y/n.” she said firmly. “It can’t be.” Your chest ached. You had risked everything to find her. And now, she was pushing you away. But deep down, you knew she was right. You weren’t built for this. For her. And it broke you. Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll get you home tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Well..You and Natasha had been on the run for three days. Three days of gunfire, stolen cars, dodging assassins, and sleeping in dingy safe houses with barely enough time to breathe. Somewhere between nearly dying for the second time, sneaking across borders, and sharing a stolen coat for warmth, something between you shifted.

You weren’t just running anymore. You were running together. Natasha was still infuriating. She still rolled her eyes at your bad decisions, still called you reckless, still snapped at you for asking stupid questions. But now? Now she also held your hand when you got too cold. She taught you how to fire a gun, not that you were good at it, but she didn’t make fun of you when you missed.

She touched you more. Small, quick touches, her hand on your back, her fingers brushing yours. And most of all? She looked at you differently. Like she actually cared. Like sending you away wasn’t an option anymore. “We’re almost there.” Natasha muttered, pressing her hand to her earpiece. You both crouched behind a pile of rubble in an abandoned city square, panting from the last disaster of a shootout.

“Tell me ‘almost’ means we’re five minutes away from hot showers and real food..” you whispered. She gave you a dry look. “Try ten minutes and two more obstacles.”

You groaned. “Of course.”

“Look.” She pointed toward the far end of the square. A black helicopter was parked near an old church, CIA agents waiting by the doors. Your chest lightened. The helicopter was right there. You could hear the roar of the blades, see the CIA agents waiting, their weapons ready. Safety was so close you could taste it.

But of course..It was never that easy. You heard footsteps. Too many. And then, before you could react, an arm wrapped around your neck. Cold steel pressed against your throat. Your breath hitched. Natasha whipped around, gun raised. But it was too late.

The man holding you was grinning. He was tall, strong, covered in tactical gear. His knife dug into your skin just enough to make your pulse spike. More men emerged from the surrounding buildings, mercenaries, armed to the teeth. Your stomach twisted. You had walked right into a trap.

“Drop your weapons!!” the man holding you barked. The CIA agents hesitated. Natasha didn’t move. She stood rigid, her gun aimed directly at the man’s head. Her eyes burned. “If you touch her..” she said, voice dangerously low, “I’ll put a bullet between your eyes before you even think about blinking.”

The man chuckled. “Oh, Agent Romanoff. You care about this one, don’t you?” Her jaw clenched. “Drop. Your. Guns.” he ordered again. The agents exchanged glances. Natasha’s finger hovered over the trigger. You could feel her rage. The barely controlled violence. She was waiting for the right moment.

“Natasha.” you whispered, trying not to move against the blade. “Just go.” Her eyes snapped to you. And the way she looked at you, it was the kind of look that said she would burn the entire world down before leaving you behind.

“Not happening.” she said. Your heart clenched. Chaos Breaks Loose And then, everything happened at once. Natasha moved first. The bullet hit its mark, straight through the mercenary’s shoulder. His grip loosened just for a second. And that was all she needed.

You ripped yourself free, stumbling forward as gunfire exploded around you. The CIA agents opened fire. Natasha was a blur, taking down enemies like they were nothing. You scrambled backward, searching for cover, but the mercenary wasn’t done. He lunged.

And before you could react, the knife sank into your stomach. The second the knife plunged into your stomach, the world snapped into sharp, unbearable agony. You gasped, choking on your own breath, as fire erupted through your entire body. The blade twisted.

A raw, animalistic scream ripped from your throat. You collapsed, your legs giving out, your body feeling like it had been set on fire from the inside. The mercenary smirked. “Oops.” A bullet tore through his skull before he could even take another breath. His body dropped.

Her hands immediately pressed against your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. Her face was wild with panic, her breaths coming too fast, her usual iron control completely shattered. “No. No, no, no-” You couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone had shoved glass into your stomach, and every breath dragged shards deeper into you.

“Nat..” Your voice broke. “It- It hurts..”

“I know, I know..” she nearly screamed, pressing down harder. The pain spiked. You choked, nearly blacking out right there. “Stay awake, Y/N!” Her voice was frantic, almost desperate. “Do you hear me? Stay awake!”

Your ears rang. You barely registered the CIA agents rushing toward you. “We have to move-” one of them started. Natasha snarled. “Get a Stretcher on that helicopter NOW!”

Your vision blurred at the edges. Your limbs felt too heavy, your fingers tingling as the blood poured out of you. You could hear shouting. Gunfire? More soldiers? More fighting? You didn’t know. All you knew was that you were cold. And so fucking tired.

Natasha’s arms wrapped around you as she hauled you up. “I got you, I got you.” she kept muttering, her voice wavering. You let out a weak whimper as she lifted you. The pain was indescribable. Like your entire insides had been ripped apart, burning, splitting, bleeding. “I know, just hold on, okay?” Her voice cracked badly.

She ran with you, gun still raised, still firing behind her. You felt the cold metal ramp beneath you as Natasha threw herself onto the aircraft, clutching you close. ��Get us out of here!” she roared. The helicopter lurched. You barely registered it. All you could feel was pain. Someone was grabbing at you, pressing too hard on the wound.

“S-Stop..” you whimpered, the pressure making you see stars. Natasha snapped. “Be careful!”

“We’re trying to stop the bleeding!” a medic barked back. Natasha was breathing too fast. “She’s losing too much blood-”

“We know!” Your fingers trembled, reaching out. You didn’t even realize what you were doing until Natasha grabbed your hand. Her grip was tight and desperate. You tried to squeeze back, but you were too weak. That was when you saw it. The look in her eyes. The pure, unfiltered fear. Natasha was scared. Not of the bullets. Not of the mercenaries.

But of losing you. “Nat…” You barely got the word out. “Shh, it’s okay..” she whispered, pressing her forehead against yours. “Don’t talk. Just stay with me.” Your breath hitched. Everything was spinning. The medic’s voice faded. Your eyes fluttered shut.

Your body felt heavy. Everything ached. The dull beeping of a heart monitor filled the room. The scent of disinfectant burned your nose. You blinked against the blinding white light, your brain foggy, sluggish. Then, you heard her. “You better wake up soon, because if I did all of that for nothing, I swear to God-”

Her voice shook. Your lips parted. “Nat..?” The chair beside your bed screeched as someone jumped up. Hovering over you, her eyes wide, raw, frantic. “Oh my God.” You barely registered the way her hand grabbed yours, gripping it like she was afraid you’d disappear. You blinked up at her, throat dry. “Where…?”

“You’re in a hospital.” she said, her voice hoarse. You could tell she’d been awake for a long time. Your brows furrowed. “How long?”

Natasha hesitated. “…Three days.” Your breath hitched. “Three..?”

“You almost died, Y/N.” Her jaw clenched. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?!” Ah. There it was. The anger. The Romanoff rage. You offered a weak smile. “Saved your life, though.” Her eyes flashed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t joke about this!” Her grip on your hand tightened. You swallowed, watching her. Because beneath the anger…She looked wrecked. Dark circles under her eyes. Hair a mess. Still wearing the same clothes from the extraction. “Have you even left this room?” you asked quietly. She exhaled sharply, avoiding your gaze.

You sighed, shifting slightly, then immediately regretted it. White-hot pain tore through your stomach, forcing a shaky breath from your lips. Natasha’s head snapped back toward you. “Hey, hey-” She reached out, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you from moving. “Don’t do that. Just..stay still.”

“…Natasha.” you murmured. “It’s not your fault.” Her jaw tightened. “Yes, it is.” Guilt..The Romanoff Way of Suffering She stood up, pacing.

“You were supposed to be safe. You were supposed to be on the helicopter. Not..Not bleeding out in my arms..” You watched her. “You saved me.” you pointed out.

She let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? And look at you now.” You exhaled, trying to push through the pain. “You would have died.” you said softly. “That guy was gonna kill you, Nat.”

Her eyes snapped to you. And something cracked. “Then maybe I should have let him.” Your stomach dropped. “No.”

She shook her head, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I should have protected you. I should have been faster. I should have-”

“Stop.” She froze. You struggled to sit up, ignoring the way your body screamed in protest. “Natasha, look at me.”

She did. Her expression was so raw, so pained. “You think I regret saving you?” you whispered. She swallowed, lips pressed together. You reached out, grabbing her wrist. “You think I’d rather be lying in a grave than here?” She exhaled sharply. “…You almost were.”

“But I’m not.” you murmured. “Because of you.” She looked away. You squeezed her hand. “Nat.” Nothing.

“Natasha.” Her jaw tensed. Finally, after what felt like forever, she turned back. And the moment she met your gaze, something inside her broke. Because suddenly, her arms were around you. Holding you so tight it should have hurt, but you didn’t care. You felt her shudder.

“Hey..” you murmured, pressing your face against her shoulder. “I’m okay.” She shook her head. “You almost weren’t..”

“But I am.” She let out a shaky breath. Her grip didn’t loosen. You hesitated, then turned your head slightly, whispering against her skin. “I’d do it again.”

She stiffened. Then, she pulled back, her eyes burning. “If you ever do something that reckless again, I will personally kill you myself.”

You grinned. “I swear to God, Y/N-” You grabbed the front of her jacket and kissed her.

-

-

-

-

[rose24207]

Hello. Can I request something where mafia Lando and reader have only been fasting for a few months but Lando knows she’s going to be the one and while the reader is out shopping she’s bumps into her ex who was toxic to her and told her she was clingy and boring before they broke up so reader distances her self from Lando and when he starts noticing he confronts her and reassures that he loves her and she not any of those things. And maybe Lando at the end planing a murder 👀

Yours to protect

Summary: After your toxic ex shakes your confidence, Lando reassures you of his love—but secretly plans to ensure your ex never hurts you again.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia, plotting

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome! 

Masterlist

The boutique was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as you flipped through racks of dresses. Shopping used to calm you—a distraction from your thoughts and an indulgence in a moment of self-care. But today, your mind was restless.

Things with Lando had been… incredible, almost too good to be true. You’d been dating for a few months, and he’d swept you off your feet in ways you never imagined possible. From the candlelit dinners at restaurants you couldn’t pronounce to the mornings spent tangled in bed, he made you feel special, loved, and seen.

But as the glow of new love settled, doubt began to creep in. It wasn’t him—it was you. Your past had a way of clawing back into your present, reminding you of all the ways you’d once been told you weren’t enough.

You reached for a soft blue dress when a familiar voice froze you in place.

“Well, well. Look who it is.”

Your stomach twisted. Slowly, you turned to face him.

Liam.

It had been over a year since you’d last seen him, and yet the sight of him made your skin crawl. He stood there with that same smug grin, hands shoved casually into his pockets as if he hadn’t once torn you apart piece by piece.

“Liam,” you said, your voice flat.

“Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, his eyes scanning you in a way that made you feel like shrinking. “You look… different. Not bad, just… different.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the hanger tightly. “What do you want?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Relax. I’m just saying hi. Can’t I say hi to my ex?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the rack.

But he wasn’t deterred. Stepping closer, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into that familiar condescending tone. “Still as feisty as ever, huh? Tell me, are you still clinging to whoever’s unfortunate enough to date you now?”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?” you asked, though you’d heard him clearly.

“Come on, don’t act surprised,” he said, smirking. “You were always a bit… much, weren’t you? Always needing attention, always so… boring. Like you couldn’t handle being on your own.”

His words hit you like a slap. You could feel your chest tightening, your confidence crumbling under the weight of memories you’d tried so hard to bury.

“I’m not doing this,” you said, stepping away.

“Hey, don’t take it so personally,” he called after you. “Just giving you some friendly advice. Guys don’t like that, you know. Being smothered. I learned that the hard way.”

You didn’t stop to listen. You walked out of the boutique, the dress forgotten, your heart pounding as his words replayed in your head.

Over the next week, the cracks began to show.

You told yourself you were being cautious, that it was better to give Lando some space rather than risk suffocating him. You stopped texting as much, replying with short, impersonal messages instead of the playful banter he loved. When he called, you kept the conversations brief, always finding an excuse to hang up early.

And when you were with him in person, you held back. You hesitated before reaching for his hand, second-guessed your jokes, and overthought every word you said.

Lando noticed.

He wasn’t one to let things slide, especially when it came to you. One evening, after a quiet dinner at your place, he leaned back in his chair and studied you.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said, his voice careful but firm.

You looked up from your plate, startled. “Different? What do you mean?”

“You’re pulling away,” he said simply. “And I want to know why.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the look in his eyes stopped you. Lando wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was smart, observant, and unafraid to confront a problem head-on.

“It’s nothing,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’ve just been… busy.”

“Busy,” he repeated, clearly unconvinced.

You nodded, hoping he’d let it go.

But Lando wasn’t the type to back down.

“Love,” he said, his voice softening as he reached for your hand. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You tried to pull your hand away, but he held on, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that made your resolve waver.

“It’s stupid,” you said quietly.

“Try me.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Finally, you took a deep breath and said, “I ran into Liam.”

Lando’s expression darkened instantly. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It does,” he said firmly, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “What did he say?”

You swallowed hard, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “He said I was clingy. Boring. Too much.”

Lando’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as a dangerous edge crept into his expression. “He said that to you?”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “And maybe he’s right,” you added, your voice trembling. “Maybe I am too much for you. Maybe you’re just… putting up with me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Lando stared at you, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he stood, pulling you to your feet. Before you could say anything, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he said, his voice low but filled with emotion. “You are not too much. You are everything.”

Your breath hitched. “But—”

“No,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. “Listen to me. That guy? He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know how smart, funny, and strong you are. And he sure as hell doesn’t know how lucky I am to have you.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“Do you know what I thought when I first met you?” he continued, his voice softening. “I thought, This is it. This is the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. And every day since then, you’ve only made me more sure of that.”

Tears streamed down your face as his words sank in.

“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I’ll spend every day proving that to you, if I have to. But I won’t let you believe those lies about yourself. Not for one second.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as sobs wracked your body. He held you tightly, whispering reassurances as he stroked your hair.

Later that night, after you’d fallen asleep in his arms, Lando slipped out of bed.

He stood by the window, his phone in hand, the cool night air brushing against his skin.

“Mateo,” he said when the call connected.

“Yes, boss?”

“I need you to find someone for me,” Lando said, his voice cold and calm. “His name is Liam. I want everything—where he works, where he lives, who he knows.”

“Understood,” Mateo replied. “What do you want me to do when I find him?”

Lando’s lips curved into a dangerous smile as he glanced back at you, asleep and peaceful.

“Leave that to me.”

Thank you for reading!

[igotfatter]

Sorry to hear that your ex was so rude to you. But I have to admit, hearing about how in denial he was about his weight sounds super sexy. Do you know how heavy he got in the end? How did his weight effect the things you could/couldn’t do on a day to day basis?

The last I know his heaviest was 530 pounds. At 6’4”, he carried it relatively well, but it still impacted daily life. During the pandemic we lived full-time together and after I would spend two weeks in New York City, and two weeks with him At our place outside the city. When he visited me in New York, he went from being able to walk down the block with me to getting completely winded just reaching the street. He was in denial, blaming my fast walking, but even in the low 400s, he could outpace me. (Hot story about this) By the end, he barely left the house except for work and almost outgrew his car, exactly like Rasputia in Norbit blaming the weather one time. Physical intimacy became nonexistent, and he started needing extra help at work after breaking chairs. He outgrew our furniture and couldn’t manage hygiene or clean up after himself, often leaving plates and wrappers around. It was hard to watch him struggle, especially since he refused to acknowledge how much his weight was affecting him.

We traveled a lot and of course he could only travel if I was next to him, we would get business class or first class seats on long-haul flights and he wouldn’t be able to do the tray table and I would have to hold both of our plates of food on the plane. I’m sure there’s more. I know he couldn’t use the plane bathroom and had to pee in the sink. at a relatives house he physically was too big to use the toilet so I would have to like assist him in going pee in secret. this might be TMI for tumblr but when he would pee towards the end the floor would have a mess (he sat to pee) and  he physically like could not find his junk to pee in the right spot. But all of this was complete denial. I don’t know how else to explain it but I just never understood how people got to 800 pounds without wanting to be 800 pounds until I met him.

(He’s around mid to low 400’s here)

[heich0e]

shouto has not stopped talking about his new nephew for an hour and fifty seven minutes.

you can't blame him, really, for not being able to stop rambling since he got home—you saw the photos he snapped on his phone, the sweet little boy is borderline cherubic. and it's his first nephew, after all, with touya being the first of the todoroki siblings to have any children. there's added novelty to this new arrival. the fact that the baby is so cute is just a serendipitous bonus.

"...and then he fell asleep right in my arms." shouto rinses his toothbrush under the stream of water flowing from the tap in your shared bathroom. half the story he'd just told had been lost to the froth of toothpaste in his mouth, talking around the toothbrush as he cleaned his teeth before bed, but he'd already told you this part of the story three times—so thankfully you didn't miss anything.

you smile as shouto wipes at the corner of his mouth with a towel hanging from the rail on one side of the bathroom, watching his reflection in the mirror. his eyes flicker up to meet yours in the surface of the glass, and he sees the mirthful twist at the corner of your mouth.

he turns to you in the narrow bathroom just off your bedroom and approaches you slowly, his arms winding around your waist as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. he's in his pajamas now, ready for bed, and without lifting his head or stepping away from you, he begins shuffling the two of you out the door towards your waiting bed in the next room. you can't help but giggle as you go, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck for balance, allowing him to guide you wherever he sees fit.

shouto leans you back gently once the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, crawling overtop of you to get to his side of the bed and then pulling you into his chest once more as he tugs the blankets up around you both.

"sounds like you had a lot of fun today," you remark quietly as you settle into bed, your fingers tracing idle patterns into the flat plane of shouto's sternum.

"i didn't expect him to be so small," shouto replies. "or to smell so good."

you want to laugh at his sincere tone of surprise, but hold it back.

"i hope i get to meet him soon, too," you say.

"touya says you're welcome any time," shouto insists. "he said i'm only welcome some of the time, though."

that really does make you laugh, because you can practically hear the eldest todoroki son's voice saying the words.

it's quiet for a while as you and shouto lay in bed, tangled up together.

"he's gonna make me the godfather," shouto finally says after a while—so softly you almost miss it. the remark, and the tenderness in his voice, makes something in your chest squeeze tight.

"that's so nice, sho," you answer.

"that means if anything ever happens to touya, we get the baby."

'we' he says—not i—like he doesn't for a second picture any future (even one where his beloved older brother has met some untimely demise) without you in it.

"don't wish anything ill on him just because you want to steal his cute baby," you tease him, lifting your head up and resting your chin against his chest so you can watch his face. he looks pensive, like he's really mulling over your words, and it makes you want to laugh again.

"but it would be nice, i think," shouto finally speaks again after his careful contemplation. "having the baby here with us."

heat floods up fast to your cheeks, and you glance away unconsciously. you're sure shouto has no idea what he's just said—still a little giddy from how smitten he is with his new nephew. but it still makes your mind go to places it shouldn't.

"no baby stealing," you reiterate firmly. flopping down again to go to sleep—if for no other reason than you suddenly find it hard to meet his gaze.

shouto sighs a little, but the sound is resigned like he's reluctantly agreeing to your terms. he eases you over onto your side so he can curl up behind you underneath the cover of your quilt, his strong arm looping over your waist.

the heat of shouto's breath hits the shell of your ear as his face rests on the pillow behind you, and you can still smell the spearmint from his toothpaste. his warmth seeps into you as he presses into your back. you close your eyes and luxuriate in the familiarity of it.

"we could have our own, you know," shouto's voice is much nearer to you than you expect it to be when he speaks again, his lips brushing against the back of your ear softly as they shape his words. his hand slips up underneath the t-shirt you wore to bed—the tips of his fingers feel scorching as they ghost across your skin. "and i bet our baby would be even cuter than touya's—no stealing required."

[soulofapatrick]

“Patience, love.” - Azriel x female reader

Summary: Azriel gets home from being away and has even more work to do before he can tend to you

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Smut; cockwarming

Notes: Two Azriel stories in one day?!

Y/N's POV

I sit with Nesta and Cassian in the cozy living room of the House of Wind, the warm glow of the fire crackling in the hearth casting flickering shadows along the walls. Nesta’s sharp wit and Cassian’s booming laughter fill the space, their playful banter about training sessions and Illyrian wingspans enough to keep me entertained—for the most part.

But even as I smile along with them, my mind is elsewhere, thoughts drifting to him. To Azriel. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, his absence leaving a hollow ache in my chest. I’m just about to add something to Nesta’s argument when I feel it—soft at first, like the brush of a feather. Then, stronger. A pull. A familiar, soul-deep tug on the bond that links me to him, wrapping itself around my heart with a tender, insistent pulse. Azriel.

I sit up a little straighter, the change in me instantaneous. It's like a jolt of life surges through me, a spark that had been dulled in his absence now reigniting with full force. My heart skips a beat, joy swelling so suddenly inside me that I can’t stop the bright, eager smile that stretches across my face. The world seems to sharpen, colours brighter, sounds clearer, as if everything in the room has come into focus with that single, unmistakable tug. He’s home.

Cassian’s eyes catch mine, the knowing look in them unmistakable. He’s seen this before. I don’t even need to say it—he knows. He leans back, crossing his arms with a teasing smirk as if to say, Go on, then. Nesta pauses mid-sentence, her expression confused as she glances between us.

I can barely sit still, the urge to move, to find him, overwhelming. “I—” I stammer, already rising from my seat. “I need to go.” My voice is breathless, and I can feel the flush rising in my cheeks, the warmth of excitement spreading through my entire body.

Nesta arches a brow, clearly about to ask why I’m leaving so suddenly, but I’m too far gone, my mind entirely focused on the one person I need to see. “Sorry!” I call over my shoulder as I dash from the room, leaving the half-finished conversation behind. I can feel Nesta’s confusion lingering in the air, but it doesn’t matter—not when he’s home.

My feet pound against the floor as I rush down the hall, my heart thudding in sync with the bond’s steady pull. The corridors of the House blur around me as I pick up my pace, the excitement bubbling inside me, spilling over. Every step brings me closer to him—closer to Azriel.

I can almost feel his presence now, that comforting, grounding sensation that only he brings, and a desperate need blooms in my chest. I need to see him, feel his arms around me, the cool touch of his shadows curling around my skin. I can barely breathe with how badly I want him right now.

Rounding the corner, I nearly skid to a halt in front of our door, my breath coming fast, my fingers trembling as they close around the handle. Azriel’s home—the thought pounds through my veins, dizzying me with anticipation, and I push the door open, stepping into the room where I know he waits.

As I step into the room, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. Azriel is seated at his desk, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm light over the planes of his face, making him look almost ethereal. He looks up as the door clicks shut behind me, and the second our eyes meet, a soft smile tugs at his lips—those rare dimples appearing, the ones that never fail to send my heart racing.

His hazel eyes, a swirl of green and gold, brighten at the sight of me, that unreadable mask he so often wears slipping just enough for me to see the affection there. His dark hair, tousled from the day, falls slightly into his face, and he brushes it aside with a scarred hand. The elegant planes of his face are impossibly beautiful, his golden-brown skin glowing in the dim light. Broad shoulders and powerful muscles, shaped by centuries of Illyrian training, are framed by his massive wings, their black membranes stretching behind him. He looks like a warrior, a king—yet, in this moment, he is simply mine.

Azriel shuffles his chair back without a word, the soft sound of the wood scraping the floor echoing in the silence between us. His eyes never leave mine, and with that same gentle smile, he opens his arms slightly in invitation. It’s all I need. I cross the room in a few quick strides, my body practically vibrating with the need to feel him, to touch him after so many days apart.

Without hesitation, I straddle his lap, feeling his strong thighs beneath me, his scarred hands immediately gripping my hips to steady me as I settle against him. I giggle, breathless, and his smile widens, a soft laugh escaping his lips—a sound I rarely hear, but one that fills me with warmth. His fingers dig into my hips just enough to keep me from falling off the chair, and I feel the tension drain from my body the moment his warmth seeps into me.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, his breath fanning across my skin. And then, he pulls me closer, drawing me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me as if he never wants to let go. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in, his nose brushing against my skin as his wings curl slightly inward, forming a protective cocoon around us.

I melt into him, my hands sliding up his strong shoulders and into his hair as I cling to him. For a moment, we stay like this—wrapped in each other, feeling the bond between us hum with contentment, with home. But then, his lips move against my neck, the faintest brush of his mouth against my skin, and my breath hitches. Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes darkened with something deeper now, and before I can say a word, he kisses me.

The moment our lips meet, everything else fades away. His kiss is soft at first, gentle, like he’s savouring the taste of me after being apart for so long. I can taste the faint hint of mint on his lips, feel the warmth of him seeping into me, the smooth press of his lips against mine as they move slowly, sweetly. His hands slide up my back, pulling me impossibly closer, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my chest, grounding me in this moment.

But the kiss shifts. Slowly at first, then with a growing urgency. The bond between us tightens, a sharp pull, and suddenly, I’m not just kissing him—I’m devouring him. I grip his hair tighter, my nails scraping lightly against his scalp as I deepen the kiss, feeling his responding growl vibrate through my chest. Azriel’s hands tighten their grip on my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I feel the heat of him, the strength of his body beneath me. My heart races, and all the want and need I’ve been holding back during his absence surges forward in a tidal wave of longing.

His tongue brushes against mine, and the taste of him—so familiar, so intoxicating—makes me dizzy. The kiss becomes desperate, consuming, the bond between us sparking like wildfire, reigniting that primal pull I feel whenever I’m near him. I need him now. The warmth in my chest turns into a burning ache, and my hands slip down to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I press myself even closer, as though I can’t get enough of him.

He growls softly against my lips, his wings flaring behind him as the bond crackles between us, both of us teetering on the edge of control. Azriel breaks the kiss just long enough to meet my gaze, his hazel eyes now dark with desire. His voice is rough when he speaks, barely a whisper. “I missed you.”

Before I can respond, his lips crash into mine again, harder this time, the kiss filled with all the pent-up need, the longing, the hunger. The bond pulses, wild and insistent, and I can feel the desire coil low in my belly, a deep, aching need that only he can fill. I need him now—no, I need him now, the mating bond pulling us both into a frenzy of want, of overwhelming, all-consuming need.

Without a word, one hand finds my panties, fingers finding their way to my already wet core, a proud smirk gracing that beautiful face, “All for me?” 

I’m nodding almost so hard I’m sure I’ll get whiplash, an ache deep inside of me needing Azriel now.  My hips jerk down, trying to get him to sleep one into my aching heat but he clicks his tongue softly, his scarred fingers exploring, tracing a line from my extract up to my clit, spreading my ever-growing arousal. He moves a hand up to my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze when he draws a tight circle over my clit, watching the way my breath catching in my throat and my brain seems to turn to mush. 

Azriel. Need. Need now. Azriel. Az-

Before I can finish the thought, his voice cuts through the haze of desire clouding my mind, sharp and teasing, yet so achingly calm. “Now now, I still have work to do before we can play.”

His words snap like a whip, jerking me out of the intoxicating fog of want, and I freeze, the fire in my veins suddenly roaring hotter, fiercer. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, my breath ragged and shallow, my pulse thundering in my ears. He’s smiling—smirking—as if he doesn’t feel the same sharp, clawing need that’s twisting inside me.

I can feel the heat pooling low in my belly, my skin buzzing, a desperate ache between my thighs that makes it hard to think, hard to breathe. The bond pulses violently with my desire, a tidal wave of need that crashes into him, and I know—I know—he can feel it. The raw hunger, the gnawing need to be closer, to tear down the walls of restraint he’s so carefully built between us. But his words hang in the air, like cold water dousing the inferno inside me.

I bare my teeth, frustration bubbling over as a low growl rumbles from my chest. Anguish grips me, a burning, agonising frustration that has me trembling in his lap. I can’t stand it—the thought of being denied him, even for a moment longer. My hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt as I press myself closer, my body desperate for the touch of his skin, the feel of him inside me.

“Azriel,” I hiss, the plea tangled with raw need, my voice almost unrecognisable. “I can’t—” I can’t finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, too consumed by the sharp, aching pull of the bond, the primal need coursing through me like a live wire. My entire body is screaming for him, and the restraint he’s showing, the patience in his voice, only fans the flames of my frustration.

But he just chuckles. That low, rumbling sound of amusement spilling from his lips, as if my need, my desperation, is nothing more than a game to him. It ignites something in me, the flicker of anger sharpening my need into something almost unbearable. His eyes—those beautiful hazel eyes, darkened with lust—gleam with equal want, with the same hunger I feel. But beneath it, there’s control. A maddening, ironclad self-restraint that makes his jaw click as he holds back

His hands go back to my hips, resting firmly on them, his grip tightening just enough that I can feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the barely-contained desire pulsing through him. His wings twitch behind him, his body taut with the effort to hold himself in check. I can see it—the way his eyes darken with every breath I take, the way his gaze drops to my lips, lingering there as though he’s seconds away from devouring me.

He wants this. He wants me, just as badly, just as fiercely—but he’s holding back, holding himself at bay with that damnable, infuriating control. His teeth grind together, his jaw clenching as he restrains the need that’s clearly mirrored in my own. The way his hands tighten on my hips, the way his wings flex—it all tells me he’s fighting against the same pull, the same hunger.

“Azriel,” I growl again, my voice rough and edged with desperation. I lean in, pressing my lips to his ear, my breath hot against his skin. “You’re killing me.”

He chuckles again, but it’s strained now, his control wavering for just a heartbeat. His voice is rougher this time, the tension evident as he murmurs, “Patience, love.”

But patience is the last thing I have. I can feel the bond vibrating between us, the wild, untamed magic of it pulling us both into the whirlwind of lust and need. It’s a cruel thing, to feel the burning want in every fibre of my being and know he’s holding himself back from giving in, from letting go. And it’s driving me mad.

His eyes flicker with something dark and dangerous as he watches the frustration in my gaze, the primal need that has me trembling in his lap. His jaw ticks again, that battle for control raging within him, and I can see it—the moment he almost breaks, the moment the restraint frays and the want claws its way to the surface.

And gods, I want him to break. 

“Stand up.” He suddenly demands and I find myself doing so, watching, practically drooling as he sheds some of his armour. My thighs clenching together as his hands move to his belt, unbuckling it, fingers pulling the zipper of his pants down and I’m swallowing hard at the tent. 

How big he is never fails to make me worry that he won’t fit me despite us being made for each other. Azriel’s glancing up at me as he frees himself, stroking a hand up and down his weeping length and I can’t decide what I want in me more. Those deft fingers or his throbbing dick, both making me almost fall to my knees in front of him from wanting something. Anything.

“Sit.” Azriel’s voice is choked and rough as he reaches forwards and grips my hips, helping me straddle his waist again. My thighs feel shaky already as he lines himself up for me to sink down easily, our bodies molding to each others like they had never been apart before.I go to raise myself up, desperate to move, to ease the overwhelming tension pulsing through my body, but Azriel’s low, deep growl reverberates through his chest, rumbling against my skin. His scarred hands tighten their grip on my hips, stilling me with a firm, unyielding hold. “Patience, love,” he murmurs, his voice a silken warning, his restraint absolute.

“Az—” I begin, but his name falls short, caught in my throat, the word turning into a helpless sigh.

Oh, angel. This man is going to be the fucking death of me.

I know I make a muffled sound of anguish, my lips pressing against his shoulder, my body trembling from how close I am to what I so desperately need. But he won’t let me move. He won’t. Despite being buried inside me, to the absolute hilt, filling me fuller than I ever thought possible, he keeps me still, locked in place, holding back the release we both crave.

My nails dig into the hard muscles of his shoulders, almost painfully, as I fight the primal instinct to rock my hips, to seek that friction I so desperately need. But Azriel—damn him—keeps me pinned against him, his grip firm, unyielding. Every muscle in my body is taut with the tension of it, the ache between my legs a sharp, throbbing pulse that borders on torture.

I burrow my face into the crook of his neck, desperate for some form of release, and without thinking, I bite down on the soft skin there—almost too hard. His breath hitches, sharp and sudden, his body going rigid beneath me for a moment, and I feel a dark sense of satisfaction knowing I got a reaction out of him. His jaw clenches, the want flaring hot in his eyes, but he doesn’t give in.

Instead, his hand leaves my hip, moving slowly, deliberately, to card through my hair. His fingers tangle in the strands, a soft, rhythmic motion that sends an unexpected wave of calm washing over me. I hadn’t realised how badly I needed that gentle touch in the midst of all this aching, burning need. His thumb brushes the side of my temple, and despite the insistent pulse between my thighs, the raw desire clawing at my every nerve, I feel a strange, soothing warmth spread through me.

His hand strokes through my hair again, and again. It’s maddening, the way he can have me teetering on the edge of ecstasy and still manage to lull me into this state of almost… blissful surrender. As if his touch alone could make me forget the ache in my body, the way he’s buried so deep inside me yet keeping me utterly still, trapped in this agonising limbo.

I bite him again, though softer this time, trying to fight the pull of drowsiness creeping up on me. But Azriel’s hand continues to pet my hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort I can barely make out over the sound of my own ragged breaths. Somehow, impossibly, the gentle motion is lulling me, sending me into a state of slumber despite the sharp ache between my legs, the unfulfilled need twisting deep inside me.

I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to drift away. But I can feel my body surrendering, my eyelids growing heavier with every soft stroke of his fingers. It’s as if my exhaustion is finally catching up with me, and though the desperation still burns hot in my veins, I know he won’t leave me like this for long.

Azriel’s hand stills for a moment, his lips brushing against the crown of my head as he whispers, “Rest, love. I’ll wake you when I’m ready.”

When he’s ready. The thought should frustrate me, should make me want to push away, to demand more—but there’s something in the way he says it. A promise. And I know—I know—that when he’s ready, he’ll give me everything. Everything we both need.

So I let myself drift, trusting him to wake me when the time comes, trusting him to fulfill that promise. The ache is still there, pulsing between my thighs, but for now… for now, I let the exhaustion win.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[rafeandonlyrafe]

over the clouds

words: 1k

warnings: pregnancy, flying on a plane, established relationship, protective!rafe, some anxiety from rafe about reader being pregnant, illusions of sex but nothing happens

“rafe.” you say gently, placing your hand on his chest. “im only 20 weeks, don't you think this is a bit of an overreaction? the flight is only three hours.” 

“probably.” rafe smiles, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips, pressing kisses against your fingertips.

“you're ridiculous.” you roll your eyes, a smile taking over your face as well.

“im being extra safe.” rafe grabs your suitcase, only packing a duffel bag for himself for your short vacation to the bahamas.

he continues to cross the tarmac, the nurse he hired to join you on the flight following close behind. you know it will help settle rafes nerves about you traveling while pregnant, so you don't continue to push.

you're surprised rafe let you out of the house at all, he's always been a protective boyfriend, putting you first at every moment, but when you became pregnant, his protectiveness took on a whole new level you didn't know existed.

“let me help you up the stairs.” rafe sets your bags down, hands coming to your waist as he follows closely behind you until you're inside of the private plane that rafe bought specifically to take you on vacations to the caribbean.

“thanks.” you giggle, deciding not to mention that you have stairs at tanneyhill that you climb up and down every day.

you settle into your seat, rafe joining the crew in buzzing around, the crew getting the plane ready for takeoff and rafe getting you ready with anything you could ask for before you even open your mouth.

you've got your seat reclined halfway so your feet can be up, the l&d sat directly behind you. a glass of cold water is placed in your hand and multiple kisses are pressed into your face and hair by rafe.

“takeoff in five.” rafe says to you, relaying the message just said over the intercom.

“okay.” you laugh. “thanks.” 

rafe takes his seat across the aisle from you, briefly regretting buying a plane that required you to be sat apart, but he knows it's only for a short duration.

you place your hand on your stomach as the tires start to move against the runway, making sure your seatbelt is below your belly.

“everything okay? is he kicking?” rafe questions.

“nope.” you shake your head. you've had a couple kicks but rafe hasn't been fast enough to feel one. “im fine. baby is fine. just preparing for takeoff.”

“okay.” rafe hums, keeping his eyes on you instead of out the window as the plane lifts off the ground. as soon as he's able to, he unbuckles and crosses the aisle, sitting on the arm of your chair as he dotes over you, pushing your hair out of your face and bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip so you don't even have to raise your arm.

you let out a yawn, flights always making you tired, even short midday ones like this.

“nap time.” rafe declares, helping you recline your seat the rest of the way back before grabbing a blanket from the overhead bins and draping it over you.

you close your eyes as you let out another yawn, relaxing into the plush seat, glad you're not cramped in a tiny public airplane.

“it's safe for her to nap while we are in the air right?” rafe whispers to the nurse, hoping you don't hear.

“yes.” she chuckles, an older woman who says she's birthed thousands of babies.

“okay.” rafe nods. “thanks again.”

“honey, you're paying me to go on a two week vacation. no thanks needed.”

you miss the rest of their conversation as sleep overtakes you.

--

you let out a whine as you wake up, instantly throwing the blanket off of you and standing up so fast you get slightly dizzy.

“baby?” rafe is up in seconds, holding onto your hips as you begin to walk.

“im about to pee my pants!” you squeal and rush into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door right in rafes face although you're certain he would have crammed himself inside too if given the option.

you finish your business and come out with a frown on your face.

“i still feel like i gotta go.” you tell rafe as he walks you back down the aisle to your seat.

“that's the baby.” the nurse pipes up from behind you. “probably pressing on your bladder. he'll readjust and the feeling will go away.”

“oh.” you hum, patting your tummy. “move it, baby. you're making me uncomfortable.”

rafe kneels between your legs, placing one hand on your waist and the other on your hip, but not before pushing up your shirt to reveal your bump.

“come on, son.” rafe says in a soft voice. “be nice to your mama.”

you giggle as rafe presses his cheek into your skin, your eyes closing as you relax again.

you're guessing you're close to your destination and you're excited to land and go to the beach house your father passed down to you, buying his own bigger one on the other side of the island, always investing into new properties. 

they pop open when you feel the little foot pressing against your skin.

“rafe!”

“i felt it.” rafe looks up at you, wonder in his eyes as he presses his hand to the same spot his cheek was just resting on.

it's another minute before your baby kicks again, right against the warmth of rafes hand.

“hello baby.” rafe says, tears welling up in his eyes as he presses his lips to your tummy. “im here. daddys here.”

you bend down to give rafe a kiss, needing your lips against his as a tear slips down his cheek.

“you're gonna be the best dad ever.” you tell rafe. you never imagined when you started dating in high school that this is how your relationship would end up, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

“only because ive got the best girl to help me.” rafe kisses you deeply, moving to his feet to bend over and give you a proper kiss.

“woah there.” you giggle, pulling away. “wait until we get to the house.”

“what, don't wanna join the mile high club?” rafe grins, and you'd probably let him take you right there if it wasn't for the nurse clutching her pearls right behind you.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[stars1997]

Pls do a long freaky Quinn smut:)

Fantasies

sorry that I that i haven't been posting. i will be doing my best to get to all my request! hope you enjoy this one!

Paring(s): Quinn x reader

Warnings: (18+) smut, shower sex, jerking him off, unprotected sex, vocal Quinn, oral, some spanking, some hair pulling

(Not edited)

2.2K words

Summary: Quinn and you visit his family for Christmas. Quinn and you end up doing it in his childhood bedroom.

______

This year you and Quinn were going to spend Christmas with his family. Last year the both of you spent it with your family. Even though you and Quinn have been together for two years now you haven’t really spent much time with his side of the family. You never really understood why. Whenever he went to go spend time with his family there was always stuff stopping you form going. College was a big reason why.

But you graduated this summer so now school isn’t in the way, and you don’t start your job till the beginning of January, Quinn to this opportunity to bring you home with him for Christmas this year. You obviously said yes. Excited to finally spend more than one day with his family.

But now as you pack your bag you grew more anxious. Your foot taps fast against the carpet. You mumble to yourself about what else you should be packing when a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You let out a gasp.

“Quinn!” you turn so you’re now facing him.

“I could hear you tapping your foot all the way in the living room. Why are you nervous? You have meet them many times and they love you.” both of his hands rest on your lower back keeping you pressed against his body.

“This is the first time that I’m spending more than a day with your family. What if they change their minds and end up hating me.” You pout. He kisses the top of your head.

“Now why would that happen?” you shrug your shoulders then rest your head on his chest.

“I need to finish packing.” You mumble.

“You should pack that one dress that I like.” He smiles down at you. his hands squeeze your butt making you gasp and smack him on his chest.

“Get out so I can pack in peace.” you try to push yourself out of his grip. But he doesn’t let up.

“How about I help you pack so I can pack all the things I think you should wear.” You laugh, shaking your head before responding.

“If you packed my bag the only thing that would be in there would be my lingerie. So no, but if you want to stay in the room feel free to sit on the bed and don’t distract me because I will forget something if you do.” You poke his chest as you talk.

“Yes ma’am.” He does a little salute before letting go of you to go sit on the bed.

By the time you finished packing it was almost dinner time. You and Quinn order take out form your favorite Greek place and spent the rest of the night watching tv. You both ended up falling asleep on the couch. You woke up the next morning to Quinn shaking you awake.

“Honey its almost time to go so we can get on the plane. I already put the bags in the car and laid out your clothes for today on the bed. You just need to get ready then we will be on our way.” His voice was soft as he talked to you. you sit up on the couch taking a minute for your eyes to adjust to the lights that were on in the apartment.

You look out the window to see that it’s still dark out. You let out a little huff before getting up off the couch. Whenever you have to wake up early for something Quinn is always gentle with you. he knows that you’re not a morning person, so he always does things to make your morning just a bit easier.

It didn’t take long for you to get ready, no more than fifteen minutes. the car ride was quick too. when you finally got onto the plane and settled into your seats you were asleep with your head resting on Quinn’s arm.

_

When you got to the house you were greeted by everyone. Luke and jack helped Quinn bring your bags to your room. Ellen grabbed your hand and brought you inside. She was talking your ear off and asking you a bunch of questions before Quinn made his way back to you.

“Mom, leave her alone.” Quinn huffed out as he wraps his arm around your waist pulling you into his side.

“Fine I have to finish making dinner anyway. Everyone be in the kitchen for six o’clock please. Now you guys go change and shower to get the planes germs off you.” Ellen gave you a soft smile before Quinn pulled you upstairs and into his childhood bedroom. Quinn basically pushes you into his room closing the door shut behind him.

“You and I are so having sex in here before we leave. That’s a promise.” You let out a little giggle at his serious tone. “Don't laugh at me. 16-year-old me would high five me for sleeping with such a hot girl in my room.” You giggle again.

_

You have been with the Hughes family for a few days now. Christmas passed and they all got you a present. The rest of the family is out grocery shopping. You said you were going to stay behind to pack up your bags because you have to leave in two days. Quinn said that he was going to stay behind to help you, no one batted an eye and let the two of you stay behind.

You were bent over the bed putting Quinn’s cloths into his suitcase right above yours. Quinn comes up behind you giving your ass a hard slap.

“Exactly how I wanted you. your ass looks so good in these leggings baby. Fuck I’m getting so hard just looking at you.” he’s now standing behind you his hands on your hips.

“Fuck. Baby, please can I fuck you. I need you so bad right now.” he grinds his hard cock into you as he kisses your shoulder.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t want him too. you grind against him, matching his movements. he moves you over so he can push the suitcases out of the way before he bends you over the bed.

He spreads your legs with his hands before getting down on his knees. He grabs the seam of your leggings and rips them. You let out a gasp. he moves your underwear to the side before he dives right in to eating you out. His tongue sliding in and out of you a few times before he moves his mouth to suck on your clit.

“Fuck Quinn. Don’t stop please. Need more, please.” He was quick to answer your request by sliding two fingers into you. you scream his name your hands gripping the sheets.

His other hand comes up to slap your ass. Quinn loves eating you out he could do it all day if you let him. but Quinn knew that you had limited time. He pumped his finger a few more times before completely standing up. you hear shuffling behind you but only for a second.

His cock now resting on your ass for a second before he lines his tip with your entrance slowly pushing in. he didn’t wait too long before he started pounding into you.  you let out a moan. Reaching one of your hands behind you to grab on to him.

one of his hands rest on your hip as he thrusts into you his other hand now holding onto your wrist. he slows his thrust down a little so he can spread your legs wider.

“Give me your other hand. good girl.” you bring your other hand behind your back. his hand now wrapped around both of your wrists.

“Now you got to keep quiet for me. Do you think you can do that?” his thrust now picking up again. you nod your head in response not able to form any words. he gives you a little slap on the ass.

“Fuck. you like this don’t you? you liked being fucked knowing that my family can come home any minute. You like the idea of being caught don’t you baby? That why you always make me fuck you in the car after a game.” all you could do was let out little moans with every thrust. His words turning you on even more.

“You know you’re the first girl I have ever fucked in my room. Aah fuck. You’re squeezing my cock so tight baby, fuck.” He let go of your hands so he could grip your hips with both of his hands. He starts pulling your hips to match his thrusts. You could feel yourself getting closer to your release.

Your hands grip the sheets your knuckles turning white. You have to bite your tongue to keep from letting out a moan.

“Good girl. Fuck your doing so good baby. Cum for me, fuck.” You let out a moan. Quinn was quick to follow behind you. his movements stop as he cums inside you.

He grips your hair and pulls so your body is now up right. He turns your head so he can see your face. He kisses your lips.

“You did such a good job baby. Your always so good for me. How about we go and take a shower and ill help you get cleaned up.” you give him a lazy smile and nod your head.

-

Luckily for you guys’ Quinn had a bathroom that was connected to his room. You followed Quinn into the bathroom. He turned on the water and after a few minutes stuck his hand in to feel the temp of the water. When he took his hand out, he turned around to look at you, you were taking of your bra.

He pulled you closer to him by your waist, kissing you all over your face then moving down your neck. His lips stop between your tits before he grabs one of them and wraps his lips around your nipple. He flicks his tongue a few times before sucking. Your head fell back as your hands move to his hair.

Your grip on his hair was tight. Pulling hard on it as he continues to suck on your nipple. He lets out a grunt with every harsh tug on his hair.

“Quinn, please.” You breath out.

You don’t know exactly what you were asking him to do but you needed him again so bad. he took his lips off you before pulling down your pants and then taking off his cloths.

You both make your way into the shower. the nice warm water hitting your skin. you put your hair under the water before reaching over to your shampoo putting some in your hand before rubbing it into your hair.

You and Quinn took the time to just enjoy the quiet but all your brain could think about is repaying the favor. You grab the soap and lather it up on the scrubby, rubbing it up and down Quinn’s back. you bring both your arms around the front of his body bringing both your hands to his chest. You scrub his chest, brining your other hand down to his cock. you wrap your hand around the base of his cock stroking it slowly, your thumb swiping over the tip. His hand wraps around yours, moving your hand faster.

“Fuck, yes. God your hand feels so good. I love when you jerk me off. I love your hands on me baby.” You squeeze his cock; he lets out a hiss.

“Fuck, baby, don’t tease me. You know just how to get me off, you always have.” You let out a giggle. You focus on his tip for a second before going back to stroking him.

“Yes, oh god yes. I’m going to cum.” He grunts his hands move to the wall in front of him so he can support his weight as he cums.

He turns to face you, smiling at you. he grabs your face and kisses you hard.

“I love you so much!” he kisses you again. before pulling you under the water with him letting the water run down your face.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Idk if anyone done this, but we’ve all seen the post/fics of Danny being related to the Wayne’s (I even made one about Sam being related to Bruce, if you want to go check that out) but what about Tucker?

Specifically Tucker being related to Duke

Ok, so the senerio is The Foleys check their family tree and find a branch that they overlooked, the Thomases.

After a quick google search, they figure out that they all died except for Duke, so they invite him over to stay for a week or so.

Duke gets the letter and immediately googles up Amity Park and finds nothing. no news, no nothing except for the slogan ‘the most haunted town in America!’

So, in true Bat fashion, he packs his bags and boards a plane.

He quickly realizes that the slogan was not just for tourism.

This ties directly to the theory that ghost exist on a different light spectrum, and because Duke has light powers, he can see them.

He is freaked out, but he can’t leave now, regardless of the ghost, he wants to meet his extended family

The first dinner goes great, he meet his extended family and gets along great with Tucker, and who’s around a year younger than him.

The next day, Tucker takes him on a tour of the town, and they meet up with Tucker’s best friends.

The girl is relatively normal, with pale skin and gothic style.

But the boy looks dead on his feet. He has lightning scars and bandages peeking out from under his NASA shirt and his skin is cold to the touch.

But the strangest part is the white haired ghost hanging over his shoulder, with eyes the color of the Lazarus pits.

Dukes holiday is already strange enough now, and the ghost attacks are something he wasn’t expecting either. The residents completely ignored any ghost brawl, stating to him that Inviso-Bill will handle it.

Inviso-Bill is also a ghost, but apparently he’s a ghost vigilante and is strangely familiar to Duke. At least that’s how Tucker explained it to him,, and the younger boy seems oddly defensive about the vigilante. Tucker also said that he’d prefer to be called Phantom.

Regardless, Phantom is shit at heroing, getting injured a lot more than he needed too and without any proper combat training, he is on the fast track to dying again.

And Duke realizes exactly why Phantom is familiar.

Not only does Phantom have the same lightning scars as Danny, but he’s the ghost hanging over the kids shoulder.

And under no good circumstances would Duke let him continue fighting with proper training.

If you use this idea, plz tag me :)))

[hhughes]

i love your take on the at!reader x jack hughes 🥹 has me over hear giggling and blushing !!!

at!reader and jack definitely sit together on the planes when flying to an away game and the reader falls asleep on his shoulder and when the team teases jack about it, he shushes them and allows her to snuggle in closer to him 🥹🥹🥹

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ thank you. I adore them. and i’m so glad people are liking them as well <33

the first time he sat next to you on the plane was when he got hit in the previous game and his shoulder was acting up a bit. you didn’t have time to schedule an appointment and see him before the team was set to take off for their next game, so you suggested he come see you on the plane so you could hear what was going on and advise him accordingly.

jack ended up falling asleep next to you on that flight and had one of his best games ever when they landed. and jack wouldn’t consider himself a superstitious guy but he sat next to you on every flight after that. you’ve even started to develop your own little routine.

you’ll talk for a bit. catching up on whatever you’ve been doing the past few days. you’ll talk about superficial things at first. like what you watched the night before, what you had for dinner the previous night, what city you like travelling to the most.

but then eventually, a month or two in, no matter how hard you try not to, you form a comfortable friendship with jack and your conversations transform to conversations about how his brothers are doing, what his parents have been up to, and for some reason, all of the failed dates you’ve been on whenever the devils have a night off.

“he did not ask that!” jack laughs, astonished at the newest failed date you’re reliving with him

“he did! and I’ve never left a restaurant faster. I didn’t even finish my wine,” you pout and jack’s sent into another fit of giggles, knowing how much you love your wine.

“you have shit taste in guys,” jack says, smiling slightly when you hit his chest in retaliation

“I do not. there’s just been a couple of bad apples lately,” you mutter

“they’re all finance douchebags,” jack states matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes

“the finance guys deserve love too hughes,” you respond and jack bites his tongue at the way you address him by his last name. he hated when you did it, as if you were trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible and that was your way of making things go back to strictly professional.

“yeah maybe, not from you though. you deserve better,” he says softly, and and you send him a soft smile, your heart squeezing at his words.

not even five minutes after that conversation you were fast asleep on jack’s shoulder, soft breaths hitting his neck.

“hey, is doc up there? I need to talk to her,” jack hears one of the guys yell but doesn’t move or reply, not wanting to wake you.

“she’s sleeping,” jack explains as soon as nate comes into view

“I really gotta talk to her,” nate says, looking towards you hesitantly, as if he’s contemplating whether or not to wake you up.

“it can wait,” jack whispers, his tone making it clear he’s not negotiating on the statement but nate tries anyway.

“jack—“

“you’re not waking her up,” jack whispers sending nate a look and the older guy nods as he sighs

“yeah okay; it can wait,” nate says, making his way back to his seat and jack frowns as you shift and mumble incoherently

“jack” you murmur sleepily into his neck and he can’t respond for a few seconds because of the butterflies threatening to fly from his stomach out his mouth

“go back to sleep baby. I mean —“ jack panics, trying to backpedal but relaxes when he realizes you’re out again, probably not even having heard the pet name slip out and he releases a relieved sigh, resting his head on top of yours when his eyes start to feel heavy.

[sunnie-angel]

jason todd x gn!neutral reader

a/n: inspired by this incredible piece of art by @jjenthusee, part of the february acts of kindness challenge

“dance with me,” you say, slipping off the couch and extending your hand.

“hm?” jason todd hums, finger marking his spot in his book as he looks up at you.

“dance with me.” the music fills the apartment like a physical thing, a neighbour’s practice session with their trumpet seeping through the walls.

“what, now?” he asks. you nod and hold out your hand again.

“c’mon, it’ll be fun,” you cajole him. the lamplight in the darkening evening gilds him golden. he hesitates and you sigh. “please? the world could end tomorrow or i’ll end up getting called into overtime in a never ending loop or maybe you’ll break a leg slipping off a roof—”

“i’m not that accident prone!” he defends himself indignantly. “i haven’t been injured on patrol in three weeks!”

“yes, yes, and i’m very proud of you darling but my point is, the future’s an unknown country and i want to dance today.”

he laughs at your plaintive tone, but he pushes up from the couch, leather creaking under his shifting weight and grabs a hold of your hand. he uses it to pull you close, a little twirl that makes you gasp thrown in for good measure. you rest your cheek against the plane of his chest, warmth seeping through the cotton fabric of his shirt, and sigh. the trumpet player, whoever they are, aren’t perfect. there’s slightly flat notes and rhythms taken a half beat too fast but in the moment, it’s perfect.

what is decidedly less perfect is coming home the next evening to a crouched figure on the fire escape, the cherry red end of the cigarette the only indication of life. you sigh, then set down your groceries on the counter before going for the first aid kit under the kitchen sink.

“you’d better not be dying out there,” you call out. the figure twitches, then turns to face the music.

there’s blood on his face. no matter how glib you might sound or how many times it happens, it always opens up a pit in your stomach. your fingers tighten around the plastic of the first aide kit.

“oh sweetheart, don’t worry, it’s just a lil’ blood.” he’s aiming for reassuring but it’s landing somewhere north of cocky. you roll your eyes and lean out the window to take his chin in your hand, turning his head gently to get a better look at the damage.

“anything broken?” you ask instead.

he stubs out the cigarette on the little ashtray you’d insisted he keep out there if he wasn’t gonna stop smoking, and moves to join you inside the apartment.

“my pride’s a little banged up but that’s about it. should have seen the knuckle dusters coming,” he sighs, hand ruffling through his hair. in the distance, your neighbour takes up his trumpet again.

“looks like your injury-free record is back down to zero,” you tease, the first aid kit back under the sink. to your surprise, Jason’s standing right behind you, smelling of fresh air and nicotine.

“got anything frozen?” he asks, jutting his chin out towards the groceries still sitting on the counter, abandoned.

“no but—”

“good. let’s dance,” he interrupts you, a half smile tugging at his lips.

“what, now?” you ask, aware of the absurd parody to the previous night.

“no better time,” he insists. he pulls you to the centre of the room, where there’s nothing to stop him from twirling you about. “the world didn’t end, you didn’t get called in to overtime, and I didn’t break my leg.”

“might’ve broken your nose,” you sniff, trying not to let his charm get to you. it doesn’t work. he laughs, head thrown back and unguarded.

“pinkie promise it’s not broken, just bruised sweetheart, like my ego’s gonna be if i can’t you to dance with me.”

you plant a quick kiss on his bloodied cheek and let out an undignified giggle when he tries to dip you.

“i’ll keep coming home to dance,” he murmurs into your ear, pulling you close as he pulls you upright. “s’long as it’s with you.”

the trumpeter plays on, a little more on key and a little less out of time with your heart.