#then I'm not even gonna think about doing it for even a second

[satellite-evans]

just rain

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando claims his first win of the season in a rain-soaked Melbourne Grand Prix with a gentle reminder of his son.

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: fluff, anxiety

A/N:

picture credits @pucksandpitlanes <3

AHHHHHH LANDO WON IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM!!!! I couldn't watch bc of time zones but when is saw it in the morning I was soooo 🥹🥹🥹

also Alex being higher than the ferraris was NOT on my bingo card lol but im super excited for him too🤎

I overdramatized the race a bit and it is not 100 % accurate 😅

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sky was breaking open.

What had been a perfect, cloudless Saturday — where everything had felt possible — was now a roaring mess of water and wind.

The same track that had held his first pole position of the season now looked like a stranger.

Lando stood by his car, helmet tucked under his arm, rain sliding off his race suit in steady streams, like the sky itself was crying for him.

He was trying — really trying — to get his head straight.

But it was hard.

Hard when the weight of every near-miss, every mistake, every podium that wasn’t a win pressed on his shoulders.

Hard when the image of Max in São Paulo, slicing through the rain like it wasn’t even there, looped in his mind, taunting him.

This was supposed to be his day.

Pole was supposed to mean something.

But now, all he could think about was how easily rain could take that away.

What if I mess it up? What if I lose everything? What if-

“Daddy?”

The small voice broke through the storm in his head like sunshine through clouds.

He turned.

There was Noah — rain dripping from the ends of his jacket, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes wide and honest and full of something Lando had lost in the last few hours: belief.

You hovered just behind him, watching quietly, giving them space.

Lando crouched down, resting his arms on his knees to meet Noah at eye level.

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, though his throat felt tight. "You okay out here in the rain?"

Noah frowned, taking a step closer until he was right up in Lando’s space, hands reaching to tug gently at Lando’s suit.

“I am okay, but why are you not okay, Daddy?” he asked, tilting his head. "Aren’t you gonna win? You said you were gonna win."

Lando let out a breath, a shaky laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I know, mate. I… I wanna win." His voice cracked at the end.

Noah blinked up at him, unbothered by the rain hitting his face. "Then why are you sad?"

Lando hesitated. What could he even say? Because sometimes winning feels impossible? Because I don’t know if I’m good enough? Because I'm scared?

Instead, he shrugged, offering a small, forced smile.

“It’s raining a lot,” he finally said, as if that explained the weight in his chest.

But Noah just gave him a look — the same look Lando had given you a thousand times when he thought you were worrying too much.

“It’s just rain, Daddy," Noah said matter-of-factly. "We like rain.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard.

"You always chase me in the rain," Noah continued, smiling now, that childhood certainty glowing in his eyes. "You say it makes you run faster. And you always catch me, even if I’m the fastest runner ever."

A soft laugh broke from Lando's lips, something warmer, something real.

"And Mommy always says we’ll get sick but you don’t care," Noah went on, as if this were the most important fact in the world.

"You say, 'It’s just rain, Noah. Rain makes us faster.’”

Lando’s throat tightened.

For a second, he couldn't speak.

Because in that moment, through all the noise and pressure and fear, his son had reminded him of something he’d forgotten:

Who he was.

Not just a driver. Not just a number on a screen.

But Noah’s dad. Your partner. Someone who could be brave when it mattered.

Lando reached out and pulled Noah into a hug, pressing his face into the crook of his tiny shoulder, breathing in the rain and the smell of his son — like grass and soap and home.

"You're right, little man," he whispered, voice thick. "It's just rain."

He pulled back, brushing wet curls from Noah’s face.

"And you think I'm faster than everyone, huh?"

Noah grinned, eyes lighting up. "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy! Even if it's raining forever!"

Lando let out a real laugh this time, warmth blooming in his chest.

He looked up to find you, standing there with your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, but smiling, tears quietly mixing with the rain on your cheeks.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and you gave him a nod — small, but enough to say we believe in you.

Lando stood, keeping Noah’s little hand in his, squeezing gently.

“Okay, buddy. I’m gonna win that trophy for you.”

“Yay!” Noah beamed. “But you can keep it for your shelf... if you want.”

Lando chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Noah’s head.

“No, I think it belongs in your room.”

Noah’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with pride, as though his father had just promised to conquer the world for him. In that moment, the rain didn’t feel so heavy. The doubts that had plagued Lando’s mind were still there, but the weight of them didn’t seem quite as unbearable with Noah at his side.

And you — your smile, your quiet support — made the world seem possible again.

As they walked toward the pit lane, Lando felt a shift inside of him. The rain wasn’t a burden anymore. It was a challenge. A reminder that no matter how many times life tried to knock him down, he could always get back up. Just like he always did when Noah ran faster than him, laughing, his tiny feet splashing through puddles.

Lando squeezed his son’s hand tighter.

"Let’s show ‘em what we’ve got, buddy."

With a nod from Noah and a final glance at you, Lando felt the familiar rush of determination surge through him.

This wasn’t just about the race anymore.

It was about being the man he promised to be — not just for himself, but for the ones who believed in him.

The Australian Grand Prix was shaping up to be a classic.

As the cars lined up on the grid in Melbourne, the drizzle had kept the track damp, just enough to keep the tire choices uncertain. It wasn’t the heavy rain that everyone had feared, but it was far from perfect racing conditions. Still, Lando sat in P1, his hands firmly gripping the wheel, his focus set on one thing: keeping that lead.

The McLaren car was well-suited to the conditions, and Lando had a good start. The lights went out, and he got off the line clean, his heart racing in sync with the growl of the engine as he took off into Turn 1. He held his ground, blocking Max, who was gunning for the lead, while Oscar — his teammate and the home hero — was hot on his heels in P3.

The track was slick, but Lando’s experience in these tricky conditions helped him build an early gap. His McLaren was light and agile, its handling sharp as he darted through the twists of the Melbourne layout. Verstappen, however, wasn’t far behind. The Red Bull driver was a constant shadow, ready to pounce at the slightest mistake.

By the first pit window, the rain had picked up a bit more, turning the track into a quagmire of uncertainty. Tire choices were a gamble — intermediate tires or full wets? The crew had to decide quickly, and they were calling for intermediates as the rain began to settle. Lando glanced nervously at the sky but held his ground. “Let’s stay out a bit longer,” he told his team, his voice steady but with a hint of doubt. Don’t get greedy, just don’t make a mistake.

Max pitted early, pushing for the full wets as he believed the track was getting too slick for anything else. He rejoined the circuit behind Lando, but it was clear he was closing the gap, his tires cutting through the water more effectively than Lando’s.

Just as the McLaren pit crew started to signal for a pit stop — the conditions changing rapidly — the first Safety Car period was called. A rookie crashed heavily into the barriers, bringing the race to a halt. Lando’s heart raced again as he followed the Safety Car. Was this a blessing or a curse? The rain had intensified even further, and the conditions were treacherous. Oscar, who had been showing great pace, was caught out in the slippery conditions, skidding onto the grass, and although he tried to recover, he struggled to get back on track in time. He was forced to return to the pits, ultimately falling back to P13.

Now it felt like a battle between Lando, Max, and the rest of the pack. But just as they prepared to go racing again, the rain poured down harder, the track quickly becoming a slippery mess. It was a delicate balance for Lando, who was managing the lead with grit and skill but was well aware that Max was waiting to pounce.

The green flag waved again, and the cars shot back out into the mix, Lando still holding off the charging Verstappen.

Lap after lap, Lando danced on the edge of control. Every corner was a fight, every moment a test of his patience and skill. The McLaren’s rear end was constantly sliding out, but Lando somehow kept it in line. He could feel Verstappen breathing down his neck, waiting for him to make a mistake — and then, it came.

The rain intensified in a sudden downpour, and the track became a slick, unpredictable nightmare. The tires couldn’t keep up, and the grip was nonexistent. As Lando tried to brake for Turn 4, his tires locked up, and he was forced to take a detour through the gravel, his heart nearly stopping as he fought to stay on the track. He got back on just in time to gain his way back to P1.

Lando was far from done.

He set his sights forward, telling himself to focus — just focus. The rain was lashing down, but with each lap, Lando found his rhythm again, using the high-speed corners to his advantage, keeping the McLaren planted while others struggled.

A second Safety Car came out as Jack Doohan spun into the gravel, and just as quickly, the race was halted once again. The field bunched up, and Lando’s mind raced. He could feel the pressure of it all — a season opener, a potential win slipping through his fingers as Verstappen loomed behind him.

And then, when it seemed like he was about to lose his edge, Lando had a moment of clarity. He’d thought about Noah — his little boy, his voice in his head, telling him, "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy."

Lando could feel his son’s words ignite a fire inside him. He wasn’t racing to prove anything to anyone else, but to show Noah, to show himself, that no storm, no matter how wild, could stop him.

When the Safety Car came in again, Lando took a deep breath. The track was as slippery as ever, but the fight wasn’t over.

Lando’s heart was hammering. He was in the lead, and with the final few corners in sight, he pushed his car to the edge. The track had dried just enough, but the pressure on him was unbearable. He took a deep breath and crossed the line with the loudest, most cathartic roar of his life.

Lando Norris had done it. He had won.

P1.

He couldn’t believe it.

The rain had made this race a battle of attrition, and as he eased into the cooldown lap, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

He slowly lifted his hand to the radio and spoke to his team, his voice shaky with emotion.

“Oooph! Little bit of pressure, well done boys. Beautifully handled. Excuted to the second. One second later and we were done so well done everyone. Congrats, amazing way to start the year. Thank you so much. This one was for you, Noah.”

The world exploded in cheers as the McLaren pit crew erupted, their joy a mix of disbelief and ecstasy. But through the noise, Lando only had one thing on his mind: you and Noah.

He couldn’t wait to share this with his little boy and with the love of his life.

Lando brought the car back to the pit lane. He could hear the roar of the crowd, the fans cheering from the stands, even as the noise inside his helmet began to fade. He blinked, trying to keep his focus, but his hands were still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. His chest felt tight, like he was trying to contain all the emotions swirling inside him — relief, pride, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

He had done it.

He had won. P1.

As the car coasted into the pit box, the team was already waiting. The McLaren crew flooded around him, clapping and shouting, their faces beaming with joy. But Lando barely registered any of it. His eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for the two faces that meant the most to him — you and Noah.

The cheering around him felt distant, almost muted, as if it wasn’t real. But seeing you, standing by the barriers, your eyes wide with emotion, was like a splash of cold water. The world around him snapped back into focus. He could see Noah next to you, bouncing up and down, his small face lit up with excitement.

Lando’s heart swelled.

He quickly removed his helmet, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and climbed out of the car. He could feel the weight of his win, but in that moment, it felt lighter. He was overwhelmed by how much this meant to him. It wasn’t just the victory, it was that he had made it — for himself, for you, and for Noah.

Before the team even had a chance to celebrate properly, he was walking toward you.

“Daddy! You did it!” Noah cried out, his voice high-pitched with excitement. Lando's eyes softened, and he dropped to one knee, his arms open wide.

Noah ran straight into his arms, as Lando hugged him tight, holding him close like he had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime. The rain still fell lightly, but it didn’t matter. All the chaos of the race, the uncertainty, the fear — it was gone.

“I did it, buddy,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We did it.”

“You’re the fastest, Daddy!” Noah exclaimed, his small hands grabbing onto Lando’s race suit. “I knew you were!”

Lando chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at his son. “You knew, huh? You were right all along.”

Noah nodded vigorously, his smile as wide as it could go. “You told me you were faster than everyone. And you are!”

Lando’s chest tightened at his words. He had said it to Noah so many times, almost as a promise, a reassurance that no matter what, he could always come out on top. He had made sure to tell Noah that on the tough days, on the days where it felt like nothing was going right, but now it was reality.

And it was because of you and Noah that he had found the strength to keep pushing.

Lando stood up, holding Noah in his arms as he walked toward you. The world seemed to slow as his gaze locked with yours.

You were smiling, but there was something else there — something that said “I knew you could do it”. You were just as emotional as he was. Your eyes glistened with pride, but there was a tenderness in your expression that made him feel like he was home.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Lando’s voice was rough with emotion as he reached out for your hand.

You nodded, your hand fitting perfectly into his. “I never doubted you for a second.”

He leaned in, his eyes soft as he looked at you — the weight of the moment hanging in the air. Without thinking, he pulled you into him, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was full of emotion. It was gentle at first, a quiet acknowledgment of everything he had been holding inside.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, and Lando could feel the joy and relief in that single kiss. It wasn’t just the victory he was celebrating, but the shared understanding between the two of you — the quiet support, the unwavering belief, the love.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a beat longer, as if he didn’t want to let the moment slip away. "I couldn't have done it without you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Noah squirmed in Lando’s arms, eager to get down and join the celebrations. Lando carefully set him down, and Noah immediately ran off toward the McLaren crew, who were cheering and clapping for the win.

As Noah ran off, Lando turned to you, the full weight of the victory finally sinking in.

“I didn’t think it was going to happen, not with the rain, not with Max so close,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I almost lost it.”

You smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “But you didn’t. You held it together, even when it was tough.”

Lando nodded, his heart full. “I had to. For you, for Noah. I couldn’t let this slip away.”

“You didn’t. And look at you now.” You cupped his face gently, your thumbs brushing over his wet skin. “You’re amazing, Lando.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the quiet moment before the world around him started to roar again. But it didn’t matter. He had done it.

The sound of the crowd cheering filled the air, and Lando turned back to watch his team. His crew was celebrating with Noah in the center, lifting him up in excitement. It wasn’t just his victory, it was theirs too. They had all worked for this moment, and Lando could feel the bond between him and his team, his family, stronger than ever.

As the team ushered him toward the podium for the celebrations, he couldn’t stop smiling. His eyes sought yours one more time, and in that glance, everything was clear. This was just the beginning.

As the excitement of the podium celebrations slowly faded, the atmosphere began to settle. The noise of the crowd dimmed as the McLaren team gathered to wind down, still congratulating Lando for his incredible win. It was time for the world to return to normal — at least for a little while.

The rain had stopped during the post-race celebrations, but the sky had once again darkened, and soon enough, the first raindrops began to fall, soft and steady, like a quiet whisper.

Lando was supposed to be getting ready for the press conferences, and Noah had been escorted back to the team’s area, his energy barely contained after all the excitement. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself standing near the pit lane, looking around, trying to spot them — Lando and Noah.

They had been with you just moments ago, but now, there was no sign of either of them. You checked the garage. No luck. You headed toward the pit, but nothing. The sound of the rain grew louder, and you could feel the cool droplets on your skin, the familiar scent of wet pavement filling the air.

As you were about to turn back toward the team area, you heard a familiar laugh.

You looked up. There they were.

Lando and Noah were standing near one of the back entrances to the track, the two of them laughing and completely drenched. Lando’s jacket was already soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind. Noah, in his little race suit, was jumping up and down, splashing in the growing puddles, his face glowing with pure joy.

Lando had both arms raised, pretending to be a goalkeeper as he blocked Noah’s wild attempts to splash him with water. They were in their own little world — no race, no press conferences, no podiums, just the rain and the playful chaos of it all.

And for a moment, it felt like everything had slowed down again, just like it had on the track.

You smiled to yourself, watching them. The rain didn’t bother them; if anything, it seemed to make the moment even more special. You could hear Noah shout over the rain, his voice filled with glee, “Come on, Mommy! It’s just rain! You can do it too!”

Lando caught sight of you, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He shrugged with a grin, as if to say it’s just rain, no big deal.

Noah ran toward you, water splashing with every step. “Mommy, come play!” He giggled, his face streaked with joy and raindrops. “It’s fun! Daddy says it’s just rain!”

Lando was right behind him, shaking his head in mock exasperation but his smile betraying the playfulness in his voice. “Come on, babe, it’s just a bit of water. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You could see the way Noah looked up at you with those wide, hopeful eyes. You couldn’t say no.

With a sigh, you gave in. “Fine, fine.”

You stepped forward, and in a moment of complete surrender, you joined them, letting the rain soak through your clothes as you took a running leap into the nearest puddle with Noah. The splash was enormous, and Noah shrieked with delight, running off to jump in the next puddle.

Lando joined you, laughing, as the three of you danced and played under the darkening sky, the rain falling harder now but somehow feeling like the perfect way to celebrate the day.

For that fleeting moment, there was no world beyond the sound of Noah’s laughter, the rain crashing down, and Lando’s teasing calls as he splashed you and Noah. The storm had come back, but instead of being a nuisance, it was the backdrop to a perfect family moment.

“Look at us,” Lando said between laughs, his hair soaked and his face flushed with happiness. “We’re all drenched and I couldn’t be happier.”

You caught Noah as he tried to leap into a particularly big puddle, lifting him up and holding him close. His wet hair clung to his forehead, but his smile never faded.

“This is the best thing ever!” Noah giggled, kicking his feet playfully.

“You sure know how to make a rainy day perfect, don’t you, bud?” Lando said, holding you close as you both watched your son’s joyful antics.

“Just rain,” you said softly, your gaze meeting Lando’s. The chaos of the day had faded into the background. What mattered now was here — this moment, with Lando and Noah, playing and laughing in the rain.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there just a moment longer. “It’s just rain,” he whispered, and for the first time today, you didn’t mind the rain at all.

[shouyuus]

hiii rain how are you doing beautiful💞

what do u think about long-distance relationship!vi

a quick lil thing bc its been a long day u__u; i'm alright bby! still sick but im getting better slowly!!! <3

tiny lil bit 18+, mdni, vi-shaped brainrot as per usual

longdistance!vi who has a separate ringtone just for you, so she'll always know when it's you calling; she never misses a phone date, even if she's a little late sometimes, who nearly fumbles her phone when she tries to answer, so eager, every single time, who stares down at the image of you with the goofiest smile, because god how'd she get so lucky?

longdistance!vi who will phone you in the morning just to brush your teeth together, the both of you still half-asleep, messy hair and all, doesn't say a word, but will make faces at you when she's rinsing her mouth, gargles extra loud just to try and make you laugh so you'll choke on your toothpaste, winks when she catches you staring at her when she steps back to change, doesn't mute at all when she pees right after, laughing when you roll your eyes and hang up, only to call back a second later, her face shoved up against the screen, distorting her features just to say, "it's healthy to pee in the morning!"

longdistance!vi who's never shy with telling you that she misses you and is unrepentantly needy, texts you at all hours of the day, whines that life must hate her because you're so far apart, counts down the hours till she gets to see you again in person (three months, two days, and thirteen hours --)

longdistance!vi who doesn't hold back describing to you all the things she's gonna do to you the second she gets her hands on you, even as she's got a hand shoved down her own panties, the sound of your whines in her ears -- "god, can't wait to fuck you till you're cumming around my fingers -- you're always so wet for me baby --" "miss how you taste, miss the way you pull my hair --" "want you to cum on my mouth over and over, can you do that for me, baby? yeah?" "lemme hear you cum, doll, that's right -- moan nice and loud for me -- yeah, fuck the neighbor, he can complain to me when i get there."

longdistance!vi who definitely makes good on her promises, and then some, but you'll wake up to the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning, to the sound of her humming in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts; who can't help the smile that takes over her face when she turns around to see you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, wearing of one her old band tee's, your hair a bird's nest tangle from the night before.

"morning, princess -- sleep well?"

you patter up to her, press a kiss to her cheek, reach up for the moka pot to make some coffee.

"mm... depends on what well means -- we didn't get to sleep till wayyyy late," you tease, tugging two mugs from their hooks on the wall, bending over the fridge for the milk carton.

"yeah well -- 's not like we had plans today other than chillin' at home and --" she leans over to mouth at your neck, looping an arm around your middle, groaning into your skin even as you giggle and let her suck yet another hickey into your shoulder.

"i thought you wanted to go grocery shopping today? weren't you gonna make me vander's famous meatballs?"

she sighs, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

"fine, fine... but that can wait till the afternoon right?"

"sure it can," you say, laughing as she waddles the pair of you back to the stove to flip the bacon and eggs.

longdistance!vi who's always been terrible at goodbyes, who lingers too long and almost misses her flight, but she'll always be the last one waving, either by the airport drop-off or in the window of her cab, who texts you nearly immediately as you're out of sight, reminds you to drive safe, that she misses you already, and that she's already counting down the days till she can see you again.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x shy!fem!reader

Summary: While previously being close friends, after your fourth year you distance yourself from James and he doesn't understand why.

Genre: Fluff with hurt and comfort <3

Warnings: slut shaming, reader has a sexual rumor spread about her, protective!James, gross teenage boys, attempted sexual harassment (non-consentual touching), reader is justifyingly emotional

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

James likes you. He's always liked you. You are kind, albeit a bit shy, but James doesn't mind. He'd spent all of first year simply watching you. He didn't mean for it to be creepy and he did his best to go unnoticed as he watched you feed the animals near the Forbidden Forest. Or when he paid attention to where you liked to sit in the library and what books you read. 

When second year came around, he joined Quidditch half in hopes to see you in the stand. You never came. 

In third year, his confidence grew and he started actually talking to you. You were quiet but you didn't seem to mind whenever he'd walk you back to the dorms, or when he helped you study for your Potions exams. You'd smile at him so pretty James was positive he left every conversation with the deepest blush.

By fourth year, you changed and you didn't seem to like the compliments he'd give you anymore and James couldn't understand why. "If you think a girl is pretty, you should tell her, Jamsie." James took his mother's words very seriously, but the more he complimented you—the more distant you became. 

By the end of fourth year, Sirius and Remus warned him he should just leave you alone, but James was stubborn. and hecouldn't understand why you didn't like the compliments. 

He really meant them after all.

"I don't understand," he groans one evening, laying on his bed, his legs thrown against the wall, his hair falling over the edge of the bed, as he plays with the maroon curtains of his dorm room canopy bed. Sirius and Remus are standing over him, looking unamused. 

"Just leave the poor girl alone," Remus says.

"It's been almost three years now, Prongs," Sirius leans down, his black hair falling over his cheeks as he looks into James's pitiful eyes. "You should just move on. I heard from Alice that Lily Evans has her eye on you now."

"Who?" James mutters, barely listening. 

"Y'know, the pretty red-head from our year?"

James shakes his head and sits up, flopping onto his back as he presses his palms into his eyes. "I don't care about anyone but her," he says, "I don't understand what I'm doing wrong."

"Overwhelming her?" Remus deadpans. 

"Being a stalker?" Sirius adds, resting a hand on his hip as he sends Remus a knowing look and the latter sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

James groans and sits up, his eyes lighting up. "There is the Quidditch finals today, do you think she'll come?" He asks, sounding hopeful. You've never once come to any games. Sirius and Remus shake their heads, knowing the answer is most likely a no and James's expression falls.

* * *

"She came," Peter points to the crowd. He's sitting next to Sirius and Remus as they watch you navigate the stands. Sirius, who had previously been sulking because he couldn't play because of his injury, grins and nods, looking out at the pitch to see if James has noticed you.  

"James is gonna freak," Sirius laughs. 

"She isn't here for him, Pads," Remus nudges Sirius's shoulder and Peter's expression sours. 

"She's with Raven Griffins," the boy says, a disgusted look crossing over his features. "What is she doing with that arsehole?"

Sitting a few students away, you're very uncomfortable. You keep nervously fiddling with the hem of your skirt. You suddenly wish you hadn't come. The only reason you'd said yes to this date was because Griffins was one of the only boys who'd seemed genuinely interested in you. He spoke to you normally, with no ulterior motives and no mocking tone. He was smart and handsome and he seemed genuinely interested. Still, you want to disappear. The game hadn't even started and it was already much too loud. Plus, Griffins had seen some of his friends and now this date didn't feel like a date anymore anyways.

Once the game begins, students stand and cheer and you're jostled to your feet with everyone else. You bite your lip, holding your breath as you focus on the way your nails dig into your palm to ground yourself. You've never liked crowds. 

"Raven?" you whisper, turning to the boy. He shifts his gaze towards you, only grinning as he wraps his arm around you and squeezes your hips. You frown, a shiver running up your spine as his touch feels wrong. 

You shimmy from his grasp and Raven frowns. You can barely hear him over the cheering but as he grabs your arm, fingers digging into your flesh. It seems like he laughs, eyes gleaming with malice as he turns to his friend and says: "Bloody hell, I knew she was easy, but I didn't think she would be this easy. Clearly wants me bad, mate," he laughs. It feels like a bucket of cold water has just been splashed all over you and you tear your arm from him.

You spin around, pushing students to find the quickest exit. Your eyes burn. 

How could you have been so foolish to think this would have gone any differently? 

Tears blur your vision and you run down the stairs to the path around the school. The gravel crackles under your shiny leather shoes. You can't be here anymore. You should have never come. You're in such a rush you don't hear someone call your name until a strong hand grips your wrist and you spin around, almost crashing into the person's chest. You're standing just outside the Quidditch pitch now, the cheers less violent as you focus on the person in front of you.

"James?" 

James is holding his broom in one hand and the other falls from your wrist. He's panting, sweat gathering at his hairline and making his already curly hair even curlier. You can see dirt staining his cheek from what you assume was a harsh landing from his brook and behind the nasty bruise on his cheekbone, his cheeks are tinted crimson and he coughs, leaning forward. 

Did he run here? 

"What happened?" James mutters, clearing his throat as he looks up at you again. "I saw you and Griffins in the crowd and it seemed like he upset you. What did he do?" James spits Griffins name with venom and his usually kind eyes turn dark.

You're shocked, your breaths coming out raspy. Did he follow you here? You back away from him, catching your breath along with him.

"You're missing your game," you whisper. If there is anything you remember from your friendship with James Potter, it's his love of Quidditch. You look at him, realizing it's been almost three years since you'd spoken to him properly.

After what happened, you'd distanced yourself from him. He was just too much at the time—his kind words only made the situation worse. Your heart clenches and you lower your gaze. "Don't miss Quidditch because of me," you add, tears forming on your eyelashes. 

James sees them and he panics. "Did Griffins make you cry?!" He's angry and he drops his broom and rushes up to you. 

You flinch when he cups your cheeks in his hands and you push him away. 

"I'm sorry," James says. His eyes look sad and it breaks you. You cover your mouth, realizing you can't stop the tears anymore. You can't even speak. All you can do is cry into your hand, muffling the sobs as Griffins words repeat in your head;

I knew she was easy, but I didn't think she was this easy.

You choke on a sob and tense when you feel someone's arms hesitantly wrap around you. James hugs you, his chin resting on your head and you break some more. You don't pull away and instead, you wrap your arms around his waist, crying into his uniform. His hand smoothes over your hair and he feels like crying as well. You're hurt. You're hurt so badly you've broken down in front of him and he doesn't understand why. 

"I'm sorry I disappeared," you mutter, all your emotions crashing over you. "You were my f-friend and I- I ignored you."

James frowns, holding you tighter. "Is that what this is about?" he asks softly. "I'm not upset with you. I missed you, yeah. But I'm definitely not mad," he pauses and lifts his head, stroking strands of hair from your face. He looks serious. "Can you tell me what happened? Why are you so sad?"

You look confused and you tilt your head in question. "You don't know?"

James frowns. "Am I supposed to?" 

You don't believe him. James and his friends are some of the most popular boys in your year. In the school even. There is absolutely no way they didn't hear the rumor. Everyone had. That's why you'd avoided James until now. You couldn't face him after what everyone was saying. It was too cruel.

You let out a weary breath. "The rumor—about me? H-how I lost my virginity in fourth year, with some boys from sixth year–? You– you haven't heard it?"

James's blood runs cold. That was you? Of course, he'd heard the rumor but he wasn't one for that type of gossip. He didn't care who the girl was because honestly? He didn't believe the rumor. He didn't even entertain the thought—it had seemed so ludicrous to him. His heart breaks now that he knows it had been you that the rumor surrounded. 

"You stopped being my friend because of a rumor?"

"You don't believe it?"

James laughs. "Believe it? I never did, and now I believe it even less because it's you." James holds your chin, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "Why didn't you come to me? I could have helped you. You didn't have to go through this all alone," he whispers sadly. 

You look at him, feeling overwhelmed all over again. "I- I thought you knew—"

He shakes his head, his expression stern. "Why would you think that?"

You chew on your lower lip, avoiding his gaze now. The words suddenly feel too embarrassing for you to admit out loud. But you can't avoid them now. You're stuck. "Well, you started to compliment me more. You would call me pretty and all that and I- with the rumor going around I assumed y-you just wanted me to sleep with you. It feels so stupid to say now, but you weren't the first boy to see me like that and I didn't know what to think. I just had to distance myself from you and all your sweet words. I'm sorry."

James's heart sinks and he feels sick. "You assumed I was being ingenuine?" He sees the panic behind your eyes and he feels bad. He doesn't mean to interrogate you. He isn't upset that you assumed he was just like all the others, he's more upset that you'd kept this feeling for three years. 

He holds you closer, still stroking your cheek as he keeps his breathing steady. You're so beautiful and he wants nothing more than to tell you. But he knows it isn't the time. "I'm sorry you've had shitty experiences with arseholes in the past, and judging by how upset you seemed, Griffins seems to have been one of them," he says, any angry look passing across his features again.

He lets out a breath and continues, "I promise you, I didn't know and I didn't compliment you with any ulterior motives. I just, well, I thought you looked pretty and you deserved to know it."

Your heart melts as you look at him and the walls you'd built start to crumble. You look at James and he looks like the same boy you knew three years ago. 

He looks at you the same way as if nothing had changed and you hadn't abandoned him over something so stupid. You strain a small smile, looking a little bashful. "You've always been too kind, James Potter." 

James shakes his head. "You deserve it and more," he whispers. He sounds sincere and still shame bubbles in your stomach. 

"Your game—"

"Can wait," James walks closer, his hand inching towards you as he delicately brushes his pinky with yours. "You're more important."

You feel like you're floating. 

"There's no need to feel alone anymore," he adds, smiling. "I'm here with you."

You could faint. 

"Now, what suitable punishment do you think Griffins deserves?" A familiar smirk graces James's features and he pauses for a moment before he muses darkly, "I know a potion that can cause hair loss—permanently. Or blistering acne?" he sends you a wink. 

You laugh, tracing his palm with your finger. You don't say a word and instead, you walk into his arm and hug him again. James is surprised for a moment until he relaxes into your touch. He inhales, smelling your shampoo and he smiles. He's really missed this. 

For the first time, James doesn't care that he's missing the most important of the season. He doesn't care how angry his teammates will be or how disappointed McGonagall will be with him. He'll deal with the consequences later. All that matters now is you in his arms. 

He's determined not to let you slip from his grasp again.  

[bvrnesher]

۶ৎ ii — Marry, Kiss or Kill me

tap here for chb masterlist ! part i here

warnings: language, unprotected piv (don't do it, please be safe), making out, smut.

ㅤ୨ৎ —˳ luke castellan ! reader

summary: part ii of "marry, kiss, or kill me." luke is enjoying the effects of his honesty in a simple party game. so are you.

𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠, 𝗦𝗟𝗢𝗪 but firm, like he wanted to make sure you felt it. Like he was memorizing the way you tasted, the way your fingers curled into his shirt without you even realizing it.

His other hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face slightly as he deepened the kiss—not rushed, not desperate, but thorough, like he wanted to take his damn time.

He wanted to savor you.

And gods, if that wasn’t enough to send heat curling through your stomach.

You sighed against his lips, melting just slightly, and Luke—ever the opportunist—took advantage of it immediately, smirking into the kiss before dragging his lips just barely across yours, teasing.

His nose brushed against yours as he whispered, low, just for you:

"You taste even better than I thought you would."

Your breath hitched, but Luke didn't give you time to think. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you into his lap in one smooth motion.

You gasped against his lips, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss-hotter, hungrier. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you closer, like he couldn't get enough. Like he wouldn't get enough.

Your hands found his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low groan from his throat. The sound shot straight through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach.

"Gods," he murmured against your lips, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to yours. "You're gonna kill me."

You smirked, "Then die happy."

His response was a growl, low and desperate, before he kissed you again-deeper, messier, his hands roaming like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

And gods, you were so okay with that.

Luke's lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. His breath was warm, his voice rough.

"You sure about this?" he murmured, his hands still gripping your waist like he was barely holding himself back.

Your response was immediate-you tilted your head, giving him more access, pressing your body closer until there wasn't a single inch of space left between you. "Luke," you whispered, your voice breathy, almost pleading.

That was it.

His hands slid up, fingers teasing the hem of your dress before slipping underneath, warm against your bare skin. His lips moved lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, lingering where your pulse hammered hardest.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer. He groaned softly against your skin, the sound sending a sharp jolt of heat straight through you.

"You're not making this easy," he muttered against your collarbone, his teeth grazing lightly before he kissed the spot again, softer this time.

"That's bad?" you shot back, breathless.

Luke's hands roamed lower, gripping your thighs, his lips finding yours again—this time deeper, more desperate, like he needed you more than air itself.

Luke’s hands tightened on your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin like he was grounding himself—or maybe like he was trying not to lose control completely.

His lips were relentless, claiming yours in a way that could have killed you right there. You could feel the tension in him, the way he was holding back.

So you decided to push.

You shifted in his lap, rolling your hips just enough to test him.

Luke froze.

Then, a sharp exhale. His grip on you turned bruising, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a split second—like he needed to catch his breath.

"Stop that if you don't want me to just... gods, I'm burning," he muttered, his voice strained.

You smirked, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails up his stomach, feeling the way his abs tensed under your touch. "I'll burn with you."

That snapped something in him.

Luke’s mouth crashed against yours, rough and desperate. His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the curve of your ribs before his fingers tangled in the thin straps of your dress.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured against your lips, breathless.

"Thank you," you whispered back, tugging his shirt over his head, swallowing the groan he let out when your nails scraped down his bare back.

His hands were everywhere—exploring, teasing, memorizing. His mouth never strayed far from yours, only pulling away long enough to murmur things that made your entire body burn.

And gods, you wanted more.

Luke grabbed one of the straps of your dress, pulling it down just enough to show more skin.

Either way, you beat him. Before Luke had time to really process everything that was happening—which was saying a lot—your lips were on his again, tracing a path down his jaw to his neck, leaving lingering kisses on his skin.

Nothing would have made you happier than seeing his reaction when your mouth found his throat, placing a kiss on his Adam's apple, sucking a little. Luke could have died right there.

He let out a growl as low as it was inviting, his hands sliding from your thighs to your ass, taking it in his palms firmly, loving them. With his hands there, Luke knew it would be his new favorite toy.

A hand on Luke's chest, and the next thing he knew, his back hit the mattress with a soft thud. Your kisses moved from his neck, trailing hot kisses down to his chest, where you trailed up to his lips again.

"Shall we fuck?" he asked against your lips, a smirk forming on them. "Because I do want to fuck."

You rolled your eyes, shooting him a warning look. "You're ruining this."

The husky laugh that ripped from his throat almost made your knees weak. Seizing the moment, Luke's hands found the hem of your dress, lifting it up just a little.

"Lift your arms," he ordered, and you found yourself obeying without even thinking. Luke tugged the dress off until it was completely off you, tossing it somewhere in the cabin without taking his eyes off you.

When you were only in your underwear, Luke took a few seconds to admire you in a way that for a moment made you feel like you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life... Until he grabbed you by the hips and rolled you both onto the bed. Now, he was on top of you, his eyes landed on yours, with a gleam as lascivious as it was mischievous.

"And here I was, thinking you couldn't look more perfect," he murmured just before capturing your lips on his again in a kiss that drove any logical thought from your mind.

Between your ragged breaths and the demigod who didn't let you breathe, everything became a blur. Everything was fast and fucking slow at the same time. You were going crazy with the way his tongue caressed yours.

Moaning quietly, you couldn't help the way your hand slid down, trying to find the button of Luke's jeans, needily trying to undo it. Luke chuckled against your ear, his hot breath making your whole body shiver.

"Let me help you with that." No teasing, no dirty tricks. He was just as needy as you were.

Your hand trembled, making it difficult to undo the button. Luke aided you in doing so, unzipping his trousers and giving you full access to his boxer-clad cock. You broke the kiss, staring down at the thick bulge in Luke's boxers. You couldn't help your bodily reaction, whimpering and bucking your hips up, attempting to hump his throbbing cock.

Luke growled at your movement, burying his face in your neck for a few seconds, trying not to fuck you right then and there. Then, with a hand on the back of your neck, he guided you back to his lips while he maneuvered to get your panties off in record time.

As soon as your panties were out of the way, Luke's fingers moved on their own, sliding his index finger between your slick folds. Wet. Hot. Soft.

Luke's cock throbbed at how wet you already were, and he had to stifle a moan at how easily his fingers slid over your pussy.

"Luke..." You whimpered at the feel of his fingers, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to keep him close, while also trying to hold on to your own sanity. The feel of his hand alone made your poor walls clench around nothing.

"I know, baby, I know," the man reassured you, even though his voice cracked a little mid-sentence. He vacated his hands with the sole purpose of removing his pants completely, looking at you for a few seconds before doing the same with his boxers.

As soon as he got rid of all his clothes, your breath left you. He was... beautiful.

The sight was simply wonderful. The way his cock stood, throbbing with a small amount of precum leaking out. The head swollen, leaky, a shade darker than the rest and with a few visible veins along its length.

Your mouth watered, and you looked up at him, almost surprised. Huge, throbbing, leaking. Gods.

Luke smirked at your reaction, his ego obviously inflated. "Something you like?" he said huskily, giving himself a few strokes before placing a hand on your knee, almost coaxing you to spread your legs for him.

And you did.

To be honest, you didn't even need him to coax you. Luke positioned himself between your legs, grabbing your calves and draping them over his hips, pulling you towards him. Close.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to think you're more scared than horny, love," his voice was low, almost teasing and snapping you out of your trance.

You blinked and blushed, frowning slightly, though you couldn't help the chuckle you tried to pass off as a snort.

He smiled.

"Spread your legs for me, darlin'," he requested, caressing your thigh. "I need you closer."

The way he said that last bit made your stomach flutter. Not romantically. Well, maybe a little, but mostly you felt like a wild bird trying to escape.

You obeyed his command anyway, thighs falling further apart to make space for Luke's large torso.

The first push of his hips into yours had you immediately breaking the kiss with a gasp, back arching against the sheets.

"Shhh..." he sushed you, repeating the same movement as you wordlessly hummed in agreement.

At first it was just the tip. And then... plap.

The whimper you let out when Luke thrust all the way in was... His balls slammed against you, and suddenly he was completely buried inside you, skin slapping against skin. Your first instinct was to dig your nails into his back, wincing at the sudden sensation of your pussy being stretched.

"Fuck!" you whimpered, and Luke placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, caressing your waist with the delicacy his movements lacked.

"It's okay... it's okay..." he whispered in your ear, his breathing relatively controlled despite the fact that he'd literally just buried his cock in you without warning.

Luke continued his movements, each push of his pelvis stronger than the last, his lips finally connecting to yours, just as he started grunting in pleasure.

He didn’t want to hear his own moans, only yours.

"That's good...?" He grunted, his lips trailing down your neck, bitting and then shooting with licks.

"Mph... fuck, yes... so fucking good..." you managed between whimpers.

Your nails raked Luke's back, likely leaving marks that would be visible tomorrow. Your back arched with every thrust and sensation Luke extracted from you, fucking you just the right way.

Luke's sounds began to get louder, going from grunts to moans at a pace that denoted how much he'd been waiting for this. His thrusts escalated almost as quickly, his caresses ceasing at your waist to bury his fingers in your hips.

A knot formed in your tummy, walls clenching around Luke's fat cock. He instantly knew waht it was, and buried his face in your neck for a few seconds before pulling away to look into your eyes.

He cupped your chin, making you look at him.

"Open your eyes," he urged, and for the first time, it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. "You're close, aren't you?"

You nodded almost frantically. Your eyes closed, and the only sounds leaving your lips were moans mixed with curses, a mix of Ancient Greek and English. Your mind was clouded with pleasure.

"No," Luke's voice was husky, dropping almost an octave. His grip on your chin tightened, but not painfully. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look at me while you cum, understood?" His tone made it clear that this wasn't a suggestion.

"Look at me," he ordered. When you opened your eyes, you met Luke's gaze. Dilated pupils, swollen lips, and messy hair, you nearly came at the sight alone.

"Lemme—Luke... wanna... wanna cum..." You begged.

You swore you'd never beg for anything. But not when you swore it was clear you hadn't met Luke.

"Don't close your eyes," he murmured. "That's all I ask."

And so you did.

You looked at him as his hand found its way between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit as his thrusts became rougher, messier, deeper.

You whimpered and finally let yourself go in Luke's hands, looking into his eyes as you did so. Your walls clenched around him, and he didn't stop moving as you came around his cock, chasing his own pleasure.

After a few moments, he slid out of you, his cum shooting all over your abdomen and sheets with the loudest groan he'd allowed himself to release that night. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders and chest covered in scratches, nail marks, and bite marks, all covered in a light layer of sweat, making his skin glisten in the dim light of your cabin.

He gave himself a few more strokes, making sure he was completely done before plopping down next to you with a soft thump on the bed and a exhausted expression.

"Gods..." he groaned softly, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing.

You were tired too, and for a moment—when the pleasure stopped clouding everything—you turned to look at him. But he wasn’t looking at you. His hands stayed over his eyes, like he was gathering himself.

For a second, you figured he’d just mumble a quick thanks and slip out of the cabin. You closed your eyes, letting out a slow breath, your mind already drifting to the idea of cleaning up the mess and taking a shower.

Just as you predicted, the extra weight on your bed disappeared as Luke stood up. You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, waiting for some kind of farewell, maybe a lazy thanks.

It never came.

But before you could open your eyes, the bed dipped again under Luke’s weight, and something cold brushed against your stomach.

Your eyes fluttered open, and there he was again, kneeling between your legs, a damp towel in his hands as he wiped your skin. The contrast between the cool fabric and the warmth of his touch was both jarring and oddly soothing.

Luke glanced up at you, catching your surprised expression. A smug little smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head.

"What?" he said, his voice lazier now, relaxed. And yeah, he was still very much naked. "Already trying to kick me out?"

His tone was almost teasing—classic Luke. After a few seconds, a small smile curled at your lips.

"What? Were you planning to stay the night? Cuddle? Whisper sweet nothings in my ear?" you shot back, watching as he let out a quiet laugh, still wiping you down.

"Take out the whispering sweet nothings part and... yeah. That was kinda the plan," he admitted, that mischievous glint in his eyes mixed with something more genuine—something you weren’t used to hearing from him. It did something to your stomach, heat creeping up your cheeks.

Luke tossed the towel aside and flopped down next to you again, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. Your head rested against his chest as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

"But first," he murmured, lips brushing against your hair, "we really need a shower."

taglist: @spider-ghoul @imafuckinstar @nothingbro123 @nana-luvy @girl-detective16 @heartsfloatingg @rafslytherin @lexiereyyy @jupeyily @whatthesigmaaaaaa

a/n: I hesitated FOR A LONG TIME about writing part two of this, but I finally did, and here it is. Now that I think about it, I really liked the dynamic between these two characters. I'm seriously considering Part III. Should I?

taglist — open: in case i make a part iii or even series, the taglist is still open!

[renku]

A Diary Confession

Asa's POV

8:03 P.M.

I blame this guy I met the other day for what secret I'll confess in these pages.

He's so fly. I can't stop thinking about him that it turned me on so much. As soon as I got home—not a soul is around, thankfully—I went straight to my room and locked myself.

I went straight onto my bed, still wearing my shirt and black skirt, along with my white long socks. Gosh, I hate myself for doing this again but I can't help it. Maybe it's my hormones acting up but it's driving me crazy.

AC was on and I was ready too. Ready for doing this thing again that might shock my parents. Never in their life that they would think I can do things like this. But, at this point, I don’t care.

I laid on my back, pulled my shirt up just right to expose my breasts with already hard nipples, starting to fondle them while I think about the man that I wish doing the job for me. I pinch both nips with my fingers, elicting soft moans, imagining how his lips are exploring my neck, going down to my shoulders, and then starts to suck my nipples. God! I moaned his name out loud just with the thought of it! I continue to fondle myself, savoring the sensation it gives.

I picture him whispering words, dirty, yet ones that I crave to hear. Words that will push all the right buttons in me to unleash my sluttiness. Yes, I'm willing to be his slut! What I'd give to have him right now. Fuck!

My left hand stayed on my left tit still doing its job, while the other starts to crawl its way down. Slowly. Taking its time to trace my curves thinking it's his that does it. I feel panties were getting wet just by the thought of it. In just the right time, my hand reached inside the waistband of my skirt, tracing the piece of undergarment that's already wet from my juices.

I placed my middle finger on top of the fabric to my sacred entrance, tracing its folds right on the middle. Up, down, up, down and again, repitition sending goosebumps in my body. Shit! I feel so hot! Add the fantasy that my dream guy is already topless with his fine body, doing this for me, hearing him ask 'Do you like this, baby girl?' in a sultry way, making me more horny than I am earlier, even thirstier to feel his presence on my body. The things—unholy things—we'd do to this perfect room of mine. Oh, fuck, fuck, yes!

Enjoying myself more would be absolutely good but I need to get off before my parents get back. My panties landed somewhere in the room. Will probably easy to find since my room is always clean.

Oh, to see how drenched my pussy was! Will he eat me out first? Play and suck it? Fantasizing things is far from what I'd experience first hand but that's where the fun lies. The unknown, the excitement of possibilities.

My two fingers already went inside, spreading my legs wide even more, letting the cold air brush against my cunt. Strokes and strokes made me writhe in pleasure, hitting my spots, while his name escapes my lips in such a lewd way that I wish it was his cock infiltrating my pussy, coating it with slick juices. Letting him feel how tight I am for him and him only. Moaning and screaming his name letting him know how I feel. Oh boy, he will sure know. He continues to feast on his prey, leaving his mark, making me his slut the moment his cock entered my cunt.

My digits upped the tempo and my thumb attacked my clit more. I feel it. That familiar sensation, but this time it will be stronger with him in my thoughts. My feet served as lever to lift my ass off the sheets.

Muffled moans, shorter breaths, distorted face of pleasure. I'm close. Oh, how I wish he's fucking my brains out. How I long to hear the words with his deep voice, 'Baby, I'm close, and I'm gonna fucking cum in you.' How beautiful and sinful is that?

With one last push, I came. And I didn't just cum, I squirted. Hard. My legs trembled in pleasure, my chest heaved, catching for air. My fingers stayed inside for a few seconds, extract any residue of pleasure before all of it went down. So good. A perfect night session of easing myself. Do I feel guilty? A bit, yes. But all of these will stay with me.

Now, I better clean myself and my room before my mother come barging in without knocking first.

I can't wait to see him again next week!

[thedevilsoftruth]

Rivers

B. Barnes x f! Reader

Bucky beard appreciation post. Cunnilingus + face sitting, squirting, and beard wetting ( AGAIN!!! ill write Cunnilingus Bucky fics until the day I DIE ) not beta read, kinda lazy writing ( I was half asleep writing this. I fell asleep twice. )

Wrote this very short drabble because I couldn't sleep and am experiencing awful mittelschmerz, and apparently, now I write Bucky smut whenever I'm in pain. Goodnight.

[ My Marvel request box is open again. Please see my pinned post for request rules. ]

Mdni!! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet.

He's outgrowing his facial hair again.

It scratches against the inside of your thighs and your dripping, sweet cunt as you sit upon his face. He'd had you like that for hours and would keep you like that for many more if you'd let him.

Plump thighs open, knees braced by the sides of his face and all as his tongue works fucking magic on you. He closed his mouth, building up saliva in his tongue before it goes back on your sensitive little center. Your hips jerk against his face, lifting up from your perfect spot in him slightly, loosing the pressure the both of you needed.

" nuh-uh. Back on my face. " His large hands direct your hips back onto his handsome face. " Yeah, jus' like that, sweetie. Good girl. " His words vibrate against your core, making you shiver. His hold on you is so harsh that you're certain it'll bruise. But you're okay with that.

Each time his perfect, skilled tongue hauls around your folds, it's like a brand new feeling and it makes you crazy. You're sitting above him, thighs shaking around his head and your throat hoarse from all the moans and screams he inflicted out of you that night.

His tongue flicks up and down your little clit, making more soft whimpers escape your lips. He kisses down to your plush entrance, his nose lightly pressing against your over-sensitive flesh. He goes back up, his lips closing in around your soft bundle of nerves, pecking it a few times before he let his tongue take over.

His vibranium hand reached up, taking your breast within his palm, massaging it softly before he tweaked your nipples between his prosthetic, cold fingers.

You were seeing stars.

And he was loving the view.

" beautiful, you look like.... " he spoke against your cunt, giving it a few gentle licks before continuing, " you look like a fucking mess. Is this good for you? "

You choked on a moan, your eyes fluttered shut. Your hips shook on his face, rocking against it slightly. He hummed in amusement.

" Y-yeah. Feels s-so--ooo-ah.. good, Bucky." You barley managed, too fucked out of your mind to proper a former sentence or even think about anything else in that moment other than how good he felt. He chuckled darkly, the sound making your cunt flutter around his face.

" oh, I know. " His tone was cocky and overconfident as he licked up your dripping cunt. You were getting wetter by the second. " Jus' wanted to hear you say it. "

His palm goes against your ass, smacking it, letting the noise bounce off the halls of the room along with the loud, lewd--almost squelching sound of his tongue dancing on your pussy. It's like a fucking porn film.

And your moans are getting more desperate, loud and whiney. As he gives your little pussy butterfly kisses, your practically falling apart in his arms. His name leaves your mouth, repeatedly, almost like a god damn prayer and encourages him to redoubled his efforts.

" Gonna come soon, gorgeous? " He asks, though he knows he doesn't even need to. Your little cunt tells him everything you don't. Every jolt or squeeze it makes hushes every secret you have into his ear. You truly are an open book.

And all you can do it bite your finger, drooling down it, whimpering and moaning softly.

All until you finally do reach the orgasm you so badly needed to finish off your night.

He doesn't even have time to react before you come flooding down his face. It's a very intense climax; the kind that makes your entire body jerk and shake. Your stomach heaves heavily as you look down to see your perfect lover practically drowning in all the love you had to give him.

" Fuck.. yes..! " he groans, holding you down onto his face as he laps up every last drop like it's his last meal. " So, so good for me. " He praises, running his hands down your thighs at he licks you up.

And your cum gets everywhere on him.

It drips down his chin, onto his neck and absolutely soaks his beard. Everything only gets wetter as he cleans you off.

[queen-mihai]

Holy mackerel, I did not think people were still into this post

Today's update is a huge one.

Literally my life has made several gigantic swings. My goodness yall strap in cuz we're going for a ride.

I have a polycule now. I'm not sure when the last actual update was, but I've been doing a bit of online dating ever since...idk maybe for about a year now

I have known I was polyamorous since before I started this blog. But I never knew my love life would or even could go as deep as it has

As... as of right now I have a dozen people who I call my partners and probably more than two dozen in a giant poly cluster in varying states somewhere between friendship and "we could not imagine our lives without each other and we've changed each other for the better but technically we're not dating cuz life is complicated but it's cool cuz we're happy and anyway we love each other"

Multiple people have literally altered their entire life plan as a result of meeting me

I... how is that even.... like that's so easy for me to say and so obviously true that I can't not mention it in a big life update like this.... but it also seems insane to say!!! Changed lives? With an s? Multiple lives? And these are people all over the world! The implications! Friggin' army of hot queers! I love yall so much!

🥹

So.. what else.. money...I still need to finish making the master-post for "The Master's Quest: Meet Annabella"

I really need to sell that book more, along with finishing and publishing the second book of the series. I really need to make my own way in the world. I've got to actually make it as an author because there's a LOT riding on me continuing to have the ability to care for people close to me

I've moved. I have a nice new apartment that's bigger than the house I used to have

At least one of my partners wants to move in with me and we're making arrangements to make that work for everyone.

I have a discord server that I'm looking at taking public so that yall can get to know me better... and so that we can build a lovely community that works as well as my private friend group. I'm really good at running these communities, so it should be really good. I just need to make sure I have moderation in place so that it doesn't disrupt my entire life

I've gotten really good at making soul food, and I realized I'm the matriarch of my own online family... meaning I'm closer to becoming "Big Mama" than I ever thought I'd be at this age

Like

I'm the Big Mama of my internet family... that's huge

Oh and I've started gaming again! I play a lot of Warframe and Baldurs Gate 3 at the moment! It's so fun!

Also I stream on Twitch! Come hang out with me while I play Warframe! I'm probably gonna start playing every other Thursday thanks to my not-quite-a-partner

There's been a lot of stupid stuff too. My doctor hasn't updated my sick leave. I met a girl locally who I thought was cool, only for her to trap me in a looping conversation for a day and a half and treat me like crap when I tried to leave, and lots of people misunderstanding my intentions on so many things

But honestly forget all that

Because my life has improved SO FREAKING MUCH

And continues to get better and better and better

I've never felt so loved in my entire life

Yall feel free to follow @rikkibelle6 @jadethebunny @bwrtrain113 @silentrhow @icyravensflint I love yall so much

I guess I'll see yall in a few months and we'll see where we are then 🥰💝

You know the great thing about my Tumblr?

I'm invisible. Nobody sees me. I'm essentially talking to the void. This will get no notes.

Watch this:

I'm trans. I'm a girl and I'm SUPER bisexual. I like everybody. Girls are hot. Guys are hot. NBs are hot. Trans people are hot. I like to dress and act and be really super girly and I love flirting with people. It doesn't matter cuz this will get zero notes just like everything else I post on here.

Screw it. I'm not even done

This is me. A black trans bisexual.

I wrote an Ace/Aro person into my book. A trans person too. And one of the guys is gay. He literally has a big flirting scene with a guy in the book. It's pretty strongly suggested that they banged. As the author I can tell you; they did. It's the only sex scene even hinted at in the book and it's gay af.

Wanna know a secret? I think I've been in bed with a famous person. It's so crazy because I'm so terrible at famous people there's no way I'd have known who he was unless he straight up told me. But I did get the inkling he was somebody important by him talking about his soho apartment in New York. And the fact that he was staying in one of the nicest and most expensive hotels in Houston at the time.

And yes,bbtw. I was not aware of my being trans yet. And he was a man. This was a gay interaction. A very gay interaction. I'm bi. But you don't care cuz you're not even reading this.

Anyway yeah I love Tumblr. Nobody notices me

[dimonds456]

"Perhaps he may yet prove his worth to me" headcanon

I have So many Ford thoughts about this era of his life, here is only a sliver of my insanity FGHJSD

Alt text below cut ^^

ID: a bunch of Discord screenshots showing a single user rambling about Stanford Pines from Gravity Falls. User Dimonds456 has their profile set to the autism eyes Stanley image from Lost Legends. Here is the full transcript of everything they said:

Listening to Hana's Ford video at work again today (the 5 hour one) and something they were talking about in it I kinda wanna elaborate on. The line "perhaps he can still prove his worth to me," to me, is a line that I think Ford both does mean and doesn't mean at the same time, and the reason why is. sad.

To me, this is Ford realizing he's got no way out, right? Like, contacting Stan is part of his last resort plan, the one he had to switch to once he was given the 72 hours before his life- and the world's- came to an end

Like, let's be real: the plan "I'm gonna go back up to the caves to where I first discovered Bill and hope and pray there's an answer there" REALLY ISNT a plan

Hope and pray isn't a survival strategy, but that's where Ford is at rn

Every other plan failed.

Project Mentem takes too long to encrypt, and more than likely wouldn't stop possession anyway. It would just prevent Bill from seeing Ford's thoughts and memories. Might provide some protection, but not enough.

The Bill Proof suit he isn't mechanically knowledgable enough to actually make effectively, and he doesn't know McGucket is still in town

He can't go down to the basement else risk the possibility of Bill possessing him, and if he tries to dismantle the portal, as we see in TBOB, there's a good chance Bill will just fucking torture him over it

He doesn't know about the Cipher Wheel at this point, or if he does, doesn't believe it'll help. And even if he did, he doesn't know enough people or enough about people to know who he needs

He doesn't know about using a metal plate/tinfoil hat

He couldn't get access to unicorn hair, so the barrier is out(edited)

The caves were his last resort

At this point, he knows there's a good chance he's going to die. All he can do is make sure the world stays alive after the fact. But that doesn't mean he wants to. He is fighting Bill tooth and nail, holding out for as long as he can, despite the knowledge that in 72 hours, he is going to die.

Or, if not die, he's going to be blind and subjected to Bill's every whim

To me, the "perhaps he can still prove his worth to me" line is him clinging to the one last thing he DOES have control over: his emotions. And he's choosing to be angry because anger is a better emotion to feel than fear or anxiety

Cuz at this point, his entire world has been flipped upside-down, right

Bill was evil

Fidds was right

He's second-guessing his decisions about Stanley

He writes, in code, "have I been too harsh [to Stan] all along?"

Like, over the course of a couple days/a month, his entire view of the world and how it works has spun WILDLY out of control

He can't change the fact that Bill is evil, he can't change the fact that Fidds was right, so in a desperate act to cling to the one thing he has control over, he continues to take it out on Stan, cuz that's all he has

It's PEAK learned helpllessness

He has to have been right about something.

Cuz otherwise, he's the worst. And no one wants to feel like that, especially while being tortured at the hands of a demon and trying to protect the goddamn world

So he both means it, since I do think that came from a genuine place (his anger at Stan over the project), but also doesn't mean it at all (he knows Stan has worth but is too Regina George to admit that right now)

It's also why he was SO QUICK to bring that up during his and Stanley's fight

Again, he's clinging onto that anger as hard as he can

He had to cooporate with Stan to try and get him to take the Journal, but as soon as it looked like that plan was gonna fail, he started flipping out, both from stress, fear, anxiety, and from his anger he is refusing to let go

Again, Ford isn't dumb. He knows he's running on borrowed time at this point.

And something about knowing your life is either gonna end soon, or you're gonna become disabled and toyed with for the rest of your life, would mean he's not thinking rationally

ON TOP OF the lack of sleep and clarity

Does this make sense FGHJSKD

I'm pushing my learned helplessness headcanon on y'all SO HARD I'm not even gonna lie GFDHSJK

End transcript, end ID.

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (c.bg) ♡

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.2k warnings: mention/description of reader’s nudes, beomgyu imagines Doing Things and gets hard, implication of sexy time at the end, they’re both horny for each other synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | taehyun ver. (coming 3/21) | kai ver. (coming 3/24) |

masterlist

──────────────────────

beomgyu is often not too hard to read.

your goofy best friend who'd rather cause mischief than let a situation turn boring, who loves to stir things up and watch the chaos unfold around him.

but one thing that you just can't seem to get a grasp on... is how he really feels about you.

as well as you can confidently say that you know choi beomgyu, the never-ending mixed signals he throws at you may just be your downfall in that department, from the outrageous flirting towards you on one end of the spectrum to the bragging of his latest phone number acquirement on the other.

i mean, what are you supposed to think when he's sweetly tucking your hair behind your ear one second and then commenting on how pretty that passing girl is the next? (unbeknownst to you, he's actually just trying to gauge your reaction).

but at this point you've had enough of the guessing games. you're gonna take things into your own hands and find out exactly how he really feels.

...or at least... that's what you told yourself, when you'd laid out across your sheets and took those coy little pictures, fully nude and fully ready to "accidentally" send them to your best friend to see what he would do;

but now, you release a resigned sigh as you set your phone aside untouched and tug your — his — sweater further over your shoulders in the chilly air of your room.

"stupid beomgyu," you grumble. "stupid me... stupid idea."

your lost confidence seems to mock you as your phone suddenly buzzes with a text from none other than the exact man of the hour, and you huff as you read it.

— hellspawn 🙄🤎: i'm coming over

his contact name feels as fitting as ever. "right, just invite yourself on in," you mutter to yourself (as if that's not exactly what the two of you always do anyways).

you have half a mind to respond with something snarky, but instead you just leave it be as you stare down at the nudes still sitting hauntingly unsent in your end of the message box, and with a shiver you resort to sticking your tongue out at his contact picture and leaving the text unanswered as you punch the air in a mini fit and toss your phone away into your pillows.

"i hate boys."

and with that, you grouchily trudge your way into the living room to start up the show that you've been binging together, phone and pictures forgotten.

unfortunately.

because what you don't know, but what you're soon about to find out, is just how crazy your best friend actually is about you — and as beomgyu stands frozen outside of your apartment building, staring down at his phone with a short-circuiting brain and eyes growing blurred from lack of blinking in the chilly night air, convenience store bag full of snacks falling forgotten to the ground — well.

he didn't even buy a lottery ticket, but it seems he's just won.

your naked body glows back at him from his screen as he fumbles back into motion, urging his fingers to remember their own mobility as he gulps and swipes hungrily through the array of photos that you'd sent.

hurriedly he brushes his long hair out of his eyes as it falls forward, his hunched frame in the middle of the sidewalk probably resembling that of a homeless man as he holds his phone close, shielding the sight of you from any prying eyes (there are none) while his thoughts suddenly erupt into every possible direction.

is this really happening? is this real life? what does this mean? is this a confession? she obviously wants me too, then, right? shit, should i have dressed better? do i smell okay? should i run back home and — oh god, what if these were meant for someone else? did she really mean to send them? what if she never speaks to me again? oh god, she's so.. she's so.. holy fuck.

beomgyu is breathless as his eyes roam across your soft skin, your pretty curves, the sly hint of a smirk peeking from your lips as your finger slips between them —

he feels his cock straining tighter against his pants the longer that he scrolls.

relishing in the sight that he's been dreaming of for so long, he imagines it were his hand wrapped gently around your throat instead of your own, his fingers caressing your bare tits and sliding down beyond the camera where his imagination is left to run wild — fuck, he's gotta get up there.

forcing himself to tear his eyes away, he quickly gathers the scattered snacks and stuffs them mindlessly back into their convenience store bag as he hurries towards the entrance of your building, not even needing to think twice as he inputs the code and all but lunges for the elevator.

"alright, be cool, be cool, be cool."

the deep breaths he's been taking and mini self pep talk he's been mumbling all but crumble away meaningless when he types in your apartment's passcode and opens the door to see you standing there by the couch wearing his sweater, so big on you that it's easy to pretend that your little pair of shorts underneath aren't even there;

and he's suddenly grateful for the long length of his hair as he feels the way his ears burn red underneath, but the inevitable flush on his face doesn't escape your notice as you glance up at him for a moment before turning your attention back to the tv remote in your hand.

"why do you look like you just ran a fucking marathon?" you scoff. "did the ahjumma downstairs hit you with her grocery bag again?"

but beomgyu is far beyond saving as images of you underneath him flicker across his mind, now no longer fueled by his imagination but by the real thing that you'd just graced him with minutes before.

"those for me?"

you pause. his voice is raspy, strained, almost breathless.

you glance back up at him. your brows pull together in confusion.

"huh?"

beomgyu barely breaks eye contact with you as he unlocks his phone, wordlessly holding it up to show you, eyes raking over your face for your reaction;

the remote falls to the floor with a thunk as your eyes widen and hands fly up to clap over your mouth in shock.

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- I SENT THEM?!?!

you rip your eyes away from the sight of your own body on his screen to meet his burning stare, and when you do — all excuses fizzle away as a shiver runs along your spine and straight down to your core.

the desire pooled in your best friend's eyes is unlike any look you've ever seen on him before, breaths coming out labored from his chest though he tries to control them; and when he takes a step forwards and asks again, voice deep and words punctuated,

"were those for me?"

you're nothing but a goner as you answer him with shaky legs and a nod.

the triumphant grin that spreads across beomgyu's blushing face is downright sinful as his bag of snacks once again meets a forgotten fate on the ground — along with his jacket that he immediately shrugs off of his shoulders, already reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt as he moves towards you with well-mustered boldness and says,

"should've waited for me, sweetheart. we could’ve taken them together.”

──────────────────────

— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @hyukascampfire, @kejingken, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[vainvenus]

mind games. | ln4 | pt.3

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The race debrief and the after party are both some of your favorite parts after a good race but it seems like Lando your mind is ruining it for you.

Includings: Dark!Lando Norris, gaslighting to the max, distorted reality, anxiety/stress, power dynamics, tension, hinting towards a panic attack near the end, paranoia ( what's new lol )

An: I think this is my fave chapter I've written so far @slutforvoldy

The debrief room, like always was very lively. Multiple reporters and journalists trying to get a question or two in for the podium winners. You were sat between Max and Lando, tapping your nails against your microphone as you tried to pay attention to any questions that were specifically towards you or for all of you.

"[Y/n] how do you feel about that race? Going from P13 to P2 must have been exhilarating." One of the journalists commented and you nodded your head with a warm smile, a genuine one that you hadn't felt in a while.

"Yeah, yeah, it feels amazing. I was really worried I wasn't gonna be able to pick it up but thanks to my amazing strategist and engineers, I'm sitting here with these guys." You giggled. "Which is kind of a punishment."

"Hey!" Max laughed, playfully shoving your shoulder and Lando nudged you with his shoulder as the three of you laughed together.

And for once, you felt at ease—like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, the tight knot in your chest finally unraveling. The heavy rock that had sat in your stomach for so long was gone, leaving behind a lightness you almost didn’t recognize.

Maybe you were just stressed lately and this win and debrief was just what you needed.

But just as you began to settle into that rare sense of peace, a singular question circled in your mind like a shark in the water, lurking beneath the surface—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Lando, why did you back off on Lap twenty-three instead of defending?"

He had stopped laughing, he now looked confused as he made eye contact with the interviewer who asked the question. "What?"

"You barely put up a fight. She came up the inside and you.." He had gestured. "Just let her through?"

Lando tilted his head. "Did I?"

You froze, your grip tightening around your microphone.

A few murmurs passed through the room, giving each other glances of confusion. Everyone in that room had seen the race and even if they didn't there was a replay of the moment as one of the journalists had it on their phone already to show.

The three of you leaned forward to watch the footage and sure enough, there it was. Your car driving down the inside, Lando's car holding steady before easing back just enough to let you slip by.

It was quiet for a bit before Max spoke up to try and ease the slight tension in the room. "Yeah, mate what was up with that."

He shrugged. "That's not how I remember it."

The air felt tight again. Like there wasn't enough for you to inhale and exhale. You turned to him, searching his face, but there was nothing. No flicker of uncertainty. No nervous twitch. Just an easy, unreadable calm.

"Lando." The interviewer sighed, rubbing his temples. "We're literally rewatching it right now."

Lando leaned forward, studying the footage like he was seeing it for the first time and hadn't done it about an hour ago. He hummed. "I don't know, it looks like I covered the inside pretty well."

The room fell silent again, hushed whispered and mumbles spreading throughout before your voice cut through it with clear denial. "That's not what happened."

He turned his gaze to you, slow, careful. His eyes bored into yours and he tilted his head, similar to how he had done earlier like he was testing you. "Are you sure?"

Something cold curled in your blood.

"Lando." You said his name slowly, like coaxing a confession from a liar who wasn't ready to break. "We were in that fight. I know you didn't defend, it's so clear."

He held your stare for a second too long before his lips curled into a smirk.

He smirked.

To anyone else it was playful but you knew it was deliberate, calculated even because it was the exact same one you recalled seeing in your rearview mirrors when you passed him.

"Funny how memories work, huh?" He chuckled, raising his brows. "One of us must be misremembering, shame it's you."

His words landed like a gut punch—sharp and undeniable. How he chuckled right after made it settle in like a twist of a knife, slow and deliberate.

Murmurs of amusement rippled through the room. Someone even laughed and the interviewer that brought it up mumbled something about watching it incorrectly then. His PR manager let out a sigh of relief from the side.

You swallowed hard.

They didn't see it. They didn't see him. They didn't see how he was so clearly lying through his teeth.

But now he wasn't only just lying to you. He was lying to Max. To the media. To anyone who would end up hearing this interview.

And worst of all.

He was doing it with that fucking smirk.

★

The after party was everything that it always was. Loud from all the yelling and singing, glittering, a swirling mess of neon lights and dancing bodies brushing against each other or pressed too close. Music throbbed through the air, bass heavy enough to shake beneath everyone who was dancing.

You should have been enjoying yourself. You had an amazing race, going from P13 to P2, points for the team and a 1-2 podium you should have been walking around like you owned the place.

But instead you were leaning against the wall with your drink cold in your hand, condensation slipping between your fingers as you tried to focus on anything else besides that feeling that you hadn't been able to shake off since the race debrief.

You shifted your weight, exhaling softly. You needed to stay calm and you needed to at least try and look like you were enjoying yourself. You needed to ignore the thoughts creeping in, the ones whispering that something was wrong, that nothing was making sense.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, jolting you from your overbearing thoughts.

"Alright enough brooding." Max urged, tugging you towards the dance floor. "You look like you're trying to solve world hunger over here."

You opened your mouth to protest but before you could Max had waved his hand at you dismissively, a clear sign that he didn't want to hear any excuse you were about to come up with. "You need to loosen up."

"I'm fine." You nearly spat for what felt like the millionth time today.

Max rolled his eyes. "No you're not. You're standing there like you just saw a ghost or something. We just won, remember? Try acting like it."

You wanted to. You really did.

The Redbull driver pulled you onto the dance floor before you could argue any further, laughter and music surrounding you almost instantly. The bass pounding beneath your feet, vibrations travelling up your spine. Max was grinning, smiling and spinning you around a few times as you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

Eventually you let yourself move with the rhythm despite your nerves working against you. You let the energy of the room take over your nerves.

Max pointed to your almost empty drink, offering to get another order of what you had and gin and tonic for himself. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up before you watched as he moved through the crowd and made a B-line to the bar.

You continued to sway along to the music, sipping on what was left in your cup. For a few fleeting moments you almost believed that you could down out the unease curling in your gut

And then you felt a hand on your waist.

Smelt a scent that was close to familiar but not quite.

And heard a voice too close to your ear.

"Couldn't let you dance alone now could I?"

You stiffened before you even turned.

His grip was light, gentle even but the way he pressed against her and leaned a little too close for comfort made her stomach turn.

"Breathe." He murmured, his voice barely audible over the music and the sound of your own heart beating against your chest. His fingers tapped against your waist. "Though I'm not sure you really can in this dress."

"Yeah..not really." You mumbled, a nervous giggle leaving your lips. You were fine. You were okay. Until your gaze dropped down to his hands which were comfortably situated on your hips. But then you saw it.

Your ring.

The one you swore up and down you lost.

It was just there on his ring finger like it belonged there. Like it was his.

Your stomach had dropped.

Lando must have noticed the small shift in your body language because he leaned a little bit closer, his fingers brushing against your waist in slow, comforting circles. "Something wrong?" He questioned, tilting his head slightly.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The words tangled somewhere between your lungs and throat, suffocating under the weight of realization.

The music swelled around you two, bass-heavy and relentless, as if mocking your silence. Laughter rang from the bar. Glasses clinked. The world kept spinning, oblivious to the way yours had just tilted off its axis. No one noticed the way your body had gone rigid in Lando’s grasp. No one saw the way your fingers twitched, hovering between fight and flight.

But Lando noticed.

His grip remained steady, fingers pressing against your waist in a way that felt both grounding and suffocating at once. Not tight enough to trap you, but firm enough to remind you he was there.

The ring glinted again under the strobe lights, a flicker of silver that felt like a slap to the face. The same ring you had lost. No, the same ring that had gone missing. It hadn’t been misplaced. It wasn't hiding somewhere in your home or purse. You had searched for it, turned your place upside down, convinced it was your own mistake.

But it wasn’t.

Lando shifted slightly, just enough for his breath to ghost against the shell of your ear. He was waiting for you to react, waiting to see how you would play this. The smirk on his lips wasn’t just amusement—it was knowledge. Confirmation.

You swallowed, trying to force your lungs to work properly, but it was useless. The walls of the club felt like they were pressing in, the air too thick, the lights too bright. Your heart wasn’t beating right—it was stumbling over itself, struggling to keep up with the panic clawing its way up your throat.

Lando’s hold on you didn’t falter.

The smirk didn’t waver.

And for the first time all night, you couldn’t breathe.

[fireinmoonshot]

drabble dump 2 | joaquín torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: Two more drabbles inspired by some headcanons: Joaquin and how much you love his curly hair and Joaquin holding your handbag for you. Warnings: I don't think there is anything. Word Count: 745 A/N: I'm finally home from my trip 🎉 But I had a diverted flight late last night so my 45 minute flight home ended up being almost 4 hours of travel in the end, so I'm feeling extremely exhausted today – hence posting another small little drabble collection tonight. I have received so many requests from you all this weekend and I cannot wait to start writing them now that I'm home 💗 Thank you for all the love on my fics I posted while I was away.

Curly hair.

Every time Joaquin washed his hair, you loved getting to see his curls come out in full force again. He never did anything to style them, usually leaving his hair as it was or putting some kind of mousse or gel in it to tame it a little. But curly haired Joaquin was your favourite out of all of his looks.

It might’ve had something to do with the fact that he was also almost completely naked, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and that his hair was still a little wet, dripping water onto his chest as he walked out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom. 

From your spot, sitting in bed and scrolling on your phone, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. “Damn, my man looks good right now,” you said, meeting your eyes as he grabbed a towel and started to dry his hair a little.

Joaquin laughed, shaking his head. “Just right now?”

“Hmmm,” you pretended to think on it for a minute. “You do always look good, but you look especially good right now… you should wear your hair curly more often, baby. It suits you so much.” 

He put the towel down over his shoulder and turned around to look at you again, raising his eyebrows. “You think so? Or is it just because I’m shirtless, freshly showered and wearing nothing but a towel that makes you think that?”

You smiled to yourself as he walked closer to your side of the bed and sat down on the edge of it so he was closer to you. You reached forward to touch the curls, even though they were still wet. 

“I mean, that certainly has something to do with it, but it’s not the only reason I love when your hair is all curly,” you admitted. “I’m just saying, maybe you should look into how to style it and keep the curls in longer. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to you doing that…”

Joaquin chuckled to himself. “Okay, angel. I’ll take your word for it.”

~~~

Joaquin holding your handbag for you.

One of the many things you loved about Joaquin was that he never thought twice about things that you asked of him. He was so head over heels in love with you that he would do anything for you – holding your handbag was like second nature to him.

“Baby,” you pulled him aside as the two of you started to walk out of the restaurant.

You’d come out to dinner with your co-worker and their partner, a double date, and realised you needed to use the bathroom before you left. It was going to be at least another half hour before you got home. 

Joaquin looked at you, a little bit of worry in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom, will you wait for me here?” 

He nodded and you started to walk away before he realised you were still holding your handbag. He didn’t hesitate before hurrying after you. “Angel, give me your bag.” 

You turned around upon hearing his voice. “Oh, you wanna hold it? I can just take it in there with me, I don’t mind.”

Joaquin stared at you and held out a hand for you to place the bag into. He didn’t need to say anything for you to give in and take the bag off your shoulder before placing it in his hand. He walked back over to where your co-worker was waiting while you were in the bathroom, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he did.

There wasn’t a single moment that he cared about the fact that he was an adult man, well dressed in one of his nicest suits with your handbag over his shoulder. All he cared about was that you could go to the bathroom without worrying where to leave your bag and that everything inside of it was safe. 

Even when someone walked past him and gave him a strange look, he didn’t blink.

When you rejoined them a few minutes later, you tried to remove the bag from Joaquin’s shoulder but he shook his head. “I can carry it till we get to the car, angel,” he said, reaching down with his other hand to take yours as you followed your friends out of the restaurant. 

You don’t know if you could love him any more if you tried. 

[ranneondeeznuts]

Forever with me...

Yandere! Duke x Modern! Gn! Reader

Salvatore Anders Han Ghelse believed that he was incapable of love. Even the people think so. That is until a certain weird human appeared. His heart somehow clings to them. But, is it really his fault that he can't differentiate love and obsession?

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

TW!: Even if the Reader is GN, they are described as beautiful (Because you guys are💗), drugging, Hints of Non-con, typical yandere shit (He chains you up). He thinks what he's doing is good for you smh

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𖹭 Recently, you were drinking a small drink outside your favorite cafe. Nothing special. Work got on your spine today so you ended up treating yourself.

𖹭 Everything was fine for a couple of seconds as you scrolled through your phone on social media (yandere fics) until an odd sketchy man in a black suit walked toward you.

𖹭  You didn't think much of it until the man introduced himself as a merchant. You tried not to turn your face sour. The term merchants was outdated. Usually, it would be door-to-door salesmen and those people alone are pretty weird to talk to.

𖹭  You were about to say you weren't interested until he introduced to you a watch. It looked like an old antique pocket watch that looked valuable. If he wasn't a "merchant", you would've thought he stole it from a museum.

𖹭 To your shock, the "merchant" said it was only for a dollar. Sketchy as fuck.

𖹭 In the end, you bought it anyway. Who would miss out on a pretty antique watch that looked like it was worth millions, only to find out it was only a dollar? Who cares if it's fake and sketchy? It works and still looks cool.

𖹭 When you got back home, you dreamily stared at the watch's beauty, using it as a necklace. Of course, good things can't always end with good.

𖹭 While walking mindlessly in your own home, you tripped on the TV's power cable and had a nasty fall on the ground. You groaned in pain before passing out.

𖹭 This was a waste of time. Salvatore heard from the townspeople that a person from nowhere appeared in the forest, wearing weird clothes and supposedly, was very beautiful.

𖹭 It sounded like nonsense until they were dragged by some of the people and presented in the town square.

𖹭 He quickly fought through the crowd (He didn't really since the people made way for him) and he saw you.

𖹭 Your face has an annoyed and quite nervous expression, looking around at the crowd circling them.

𖹭 "Everyone, return to what you have been doing before this. And do not bother this… person." His commanding voice was loud and clear. The townspeople quickly returned to their affairs, glancing at you and Salvatore.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

"Who are you..?" you questioned with narrowed eyes. Salvatore approached and looked down at you. You weren't gonna lie, he looks hot. But he looked like he was gonna devour you. "I'm surprised you don't know. I'm Salvatore Han Ghelse. Duke of the Insterie Kingdom." he introduced himself.

Salvatore Han Ghelse? Wasn't he the hot duke from your 10th-grade history class? You stared at his features again. Black hair as a raven and silver-blue eyes that looked like it could cut you… Holy shit, it is him.

Noticing your awestruck expression, he raised a brow, "And you?" You flinched a bit when you heard his deep voice bringing you to reality again. "Y-Yes! Of course…"

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

𖹭 You introduced yourself and his intrigue spiked up even more. Even your name was foreign.

𖹭 He decided to take you in his estate and clean you up from your weird clothing. The servants were shocked, seeing you beside him. You were far from his type. You looked like you were made in the streets, according to them probably.

𖹭 He commanded his maids to bathe you. The clothes they gave you weren't that bad. They were just a little too tight.

𖹭 During the next few days, you stayed. You had decent food, a VERY nice place to stay, and somehow, the servants started treating as if you were another lord/lady. But who cares? Free food and roof? You'll take it. But you knew you had to return home soon. So, just in case, you took empty parchments and a quill from the library to document everything when you finally return home.

𖹭 Salvatore can't shake the feeling off his chest. For the first time in his life, he felt his heart race for someone else.

𖹭 Sure, he had sex with other women in the kingdom, but their jobs were just to warm his dick.

𖹭 You were cute. Always asking about certain things that even peasants know, going to the library, eating such yummy biscuits. He can't help but stare at the sight of those pink and rounded lips around the treat. He wonders if they are as sweet as they look.

𖹭 He felt like he was sick when looking at you. But he is successfully keeping his face neutral.

𖹭 After a few weeks of you staying in the estate, he finally realized what he was feeling. He was happy. Content.

𖹭 He thought the feeling disappeared after the death of his mother. Was this how dad felt when he met mother? So suffocating, yet so… so… addicting..?

𖹭 Is it love?

𖹭 It's definitely love.

𖹭 He'll make sure it is.

Salvatore looked down at your sleeping face. You were just so beautiful. He sat near the edge of your bed. It was quite dark, considering you were now in the chambers. He carefully tried to move slowly, not wanting you to wake up with the chains rattling from your arms and legs.

He took out your pocket watch from his pocket. It's just so cute when you think you can hide from him when you're staying in *his* estate. He learned it a week ago when he tried visiting you in your bedroom. He didn't find you there, but he did find something else.

A stack of papers, all perfectly documenting who you truly were.

A modern someone who got sucked in the past because of a suspicious pocket watch.

He can't help but laugh at your naivety but silently thank the "merchant" for selling the pocket watch to you.

He heard the chains start to rattle. Your eyes started opening, your sight blurry and head aching. "You're awake…" Hearing the familiar deep voice, you turned your head and saw him, a small smile on his face. "Salvatore…" you muttered, "Where am I..?"

He approached you, "In my chambers darling," he reached out to you and caressed your cheeks. Your mind was still blurry, unable to comprehend what was happening. "The fuck..?" You cursed out, but he seemed to hear.

"Ah, ah, watch that mouth, darling. I don't want my spouse having such foul language." he smirked. "..Spouse..?" you whimpered before shivering. His gloved hand started to touch your thigh, caressing it. Salvatore slowly raised it up, fingers an inch away from your core. He smiled,

"Because after this, you're gonna be mine and mine only."

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

[fruitypi]

I just cried. Seriously. And do you know why? Because of the newest Alan's video: Animation vs addiction.

I love this video. And I'm going to yap about it now, yippee!! (Right off the bat: I'm no specialist when it comes to addiction, so I'm gonna just talk about how I feel it fits Blue's personality.)

First things first: Blue was always a comedic character. Let's get that out of the way. He is usually not taken seriously. That isn't always bad, but it's sometimes actually weird. It's like most of his characteristics are used only for jokes. One of his main traits is that his addicted to drugs (netherwart).

I love DJ's first reaction "Oh, it's Blue! He's perfect for addiction." He had no clue how serious this video is.

Alan made this video to show that addiction isn't anything funny to deal with. It's a real problem real people have. Not a joke. Also I highly doubt he intended Blue to be addicted in AvM. It wouldn't be taken so frivolously and carelessly.

I think that's a reason Animation vs Addiction exists. Which is awesome. I also love that he specified this video isn't about netherwart.

Also, most people I know consider addiction to be for the weak or unsuccessful people. Wrong. Blue is the second best of the group after Green, he has a loving family, friends. Anybody can get addicted if they're unlucky enough. Sometimes it's the pressure of friends, sometimes a way to escape reality, sometimes it's just curiosity.

And I love the contrast between the segments of the video:

Even with high quality, it's just blank and boring. Adding a lack of music we get a pretty sad world.

Five minutes in, we can see a lot less. Fog, low quality. It looks even sadder than before. Ambient noise consisting of repetitive clicking of the button and quiet piano music fills the scene with this eerie feeling. We know he is hurting himself and we can't do anything about it.

Now that's how it looks at the end. It's filled with color and light and the music, oh the music! I can describe it in one way: hope. The color palette isn't as vibrant as before and it never will be, but it is even more beautiful.

I love every bit of this video and especially the fact that breaking the addiction wasn't easy. It wasn't "yeah, a friend helped and they lived happily ever after". It's long and tiring and sad and hard. But there's no other way.

Also, the fighting elements here felt so much.. heavier. Every punch and struggle stung and felt unnatural. Contrary to the usual fight scenes. Especially considering the fact Blue is the pacifistic one in the group.

And I just wondered: will Red and Green have something more similar to Yellow's and Orange's or Blue's video? I mean it would be weird if Orange had math and physics, Yellow had codes, Blue suddenly had a very serious topic and then Red and Green had something related to their interest. I'm very interested in how it will play out!

And that's all I have to say

[nicknackpw]

Polyancients headcanons because I can

Body type wise both dark cacao and hollyberry are the biggest. Both of them are insanely muscular, the difference is hollyberry has wide hips and thighs that could kill and dark cacao has broad shoulders and man titties with a snatched waist

Golden cheese is all lean muscle. Great abs, muscular thighs, but she's not big. She's the second smallest just over pure vanilla and lords it over him every chance she gets (she's like 2 inches taller)

Pure vanilla is a short king, like 5'2" but cookie equivalent, he kinda has a sleeper build, but it doesn't matter because the others can just pick him up whenever they please

White Lilly cookie is the tallest of all of them, and also the skinniest. She's all beanpole, and while her posture already wasn't great, it gets even worse after she's woken up

Now I don't know enough about the lore to take a hard stance but I don't actually think that they all got together before the flour wars or after them either. I think that they all wanted to, but assumed no one else was interested so never confessed. Afterwards they're all busy with their kingdoms and lives and it isn't until after they finally pass on their kingdoms and soul jams that they can get together and just live on a farm somewhere

(On another note i know it's not really confirmed how or when cookies get old or how immortality works, so I'm just gonna assume it's power scaled and since all of them were strong before they had the soul jams I'm just going to assume they have plenty of years to live out their lives)

Also on the note of soul jams, who do I think they would be passed to? Well I saw a parallel between the main story characters and the ancients that I reblogged, but! there's a more interesting answer I believe

For the soul jam of truth I think pv would either give it to custard cookie the iii or to raisin cookie (this is under the assumption that raisin cookie wouldn't join the polycule which is a whole other story)

For passion, I think the obvious answer is princess cookie, she's a direct descendant and basically proved her worth in the princess contest, but other than that I think choco werehound brute would be the funny answer

For resilience I am literally begging and pleading for dark cacao cookie to apologize to his son and give him the soul jam. I would give anything for it I would write it I would draw it if I could I just need it so so desperately

For abundance it would probably go to one of the other cheese cookies, buttttt from the very little I know of capsaicin cookie (literally nothing I saw the thumbnail of one YouTube video) I think he should get it

Lastly freedom, I think white Lilly would either give it to silverbell, or I think that cream puff cookie should get it purely based on vibes

Also all the ancients are different brands of autistic except golden cheese, she has adhd

Pure vanilla and white Lilly cookie both have the, "wait they were flirting with/bullying/wanted to be friends with me?" Mostly, and pv does the blunt truth thing that neurotypicals hate and white Lilly goes into research mode and doesn't eat or drink for a day or two unless someone makes her

Dark cacao is kinda obvious, there's only so much one man can talk about his literal sword and it feels like every time he has a moment in the story it has to be mentioned once, he's always bringing up his special interest (just like me fr)

Hollyberry is audhd, but sadly cannot claim the uncanny adhd reading people. It's very rare that she dedicates herself to one special interest and instead cycles through a few (she's also just like me fr)

I don't have more depth on golden cheese because I'm still learning about her character, but she just has the vibes

[whoredyceps]

“If you need bail, don't call me.”

» it's friday night, and you just want to let loose and forget about the feelings you've started to develop for your neighbor. when your friends suggest you all drop by the bar that said neighbor works at, you know you're in for a bizarre night.

» pairing: modern!Din Djarin x reader

» tags: au - modern day, bouncer!Din Djarin, non-descript f!reader, bar setting, alcohol consumption, violence, bar fight, reader gets grabbed/pulled, crushing, slow burn-esque

» author's note: is anyone really surprised i wrote another din fic? this is in the same universe as this fic, but it can be read as a standalone! truth be told, i want more bouncer!din so i'm sharing my hyper-fixation with you all :) a bit longer than my usual stuff and i had SO much fun writing this

You stood on the front steps of your building, your girlfriends already on the sidewalk talking about the bar you were visiting. As you closed the door behind you, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without a second thought, you pulled it out of your pocket

➤ Be careful tonight.

A small smile spread across your face as you read the text. You were surprised Din remembered the offhand comment you made last night. As you passed each other in the hallway, you returning from work as he was headed out to start work, the two of you struck up a conversation.

"You workin' late again?" Din asked. His tall, built stature looked good in a black, long-sleeve shirt with a white club logo spread across his chest. That, along with black cargo pants that did all the right things to his hips had you looking right at his face.

Not that you weren't equally as flustered, but it was easier to get lost in those warm, brown eyes of his.

"Unfortunately. If my boss puts anymore on my plate, I'm gonna snap," you huffed with a roll of your eyes. "If I didn't love what I do, I'd leave and never return." You watched Din as he listened intently. He had a habit of watching your expression as you told him about the project you were assigned to take charge of.

"It's all for the right reasons," Din assured you. "Tomorrow's Friday, right? Make some plans and forget about work this weekend." As if this wasn't the beginning of what would be a long weekend for him. Thursday through Saturday was like a three-day-long Monday in his field. Still, he was always one to boost your morale when you needed it.

"You're right. Maybe I'll join the girls tomorrow night. Look, be careful at work, okay? I'm making a big pot of soup for this weekend, so you'll have some waiting on your counter when you get off," you told him.

"What kind? If it's another one of those recipes from your Aunt Carolyn, I'm revoking the spare key," Din warned. You found yourself in his apartment from time to time, whether to check on his cat, Grogu or leave an extra meal on the counter.

"It's a pumpkin soup recipe I found in a cookbook," you gave him a pointed look. "Anyways, go to work. If you need bail, don't call me."

You had all but forgotten the comment, but it was in Din's nature to pick up on those things. He had a knack for remembering details that even you had forgotten. You responded to his text as you made your way down the steps.

➤ I will be. I think we're going downtown. If we get home at the same time again, pretend we didn't see each other.

As you joined your friends on the street, you easily slipped into the semi-circle they had created.

"We were thinking of hitting that new bar across town," Monty suggested as you arrived. The others chimed in that they heard great things and the mention of the special they were having on drinks.

"Let's do it," you agreed. Your phone buzzed and you glanced in your pocket, just barely able to see the response.

➤ And miss my opportunity to talk with you? Not a chance.

You tried to bite back a smile. Fuck, he really did something to your head.

Din had saved your ass a few months ago when your coworker had given you the creeps. He gave a great performance, and the smoking gun came in the form of a passionate kiss in front of the man who no longer looked your way.

You were sure you had recovered from the kiss and could be completely normal about Din Djarin.

Ha. Best laid plans of Mice and Men, right?

Now, you were trying to not feel that flutter in your chest that happened every time you so much as thought about him

"We should hit that place just around the block and pregame so we party as soon as we get to the other club," Stella offered. "We're gonna take a cab anyways, so why not do a couple of lemon drops then call the cab?"

The group all agreed in varying degrees. You muttered a small 'yeah, that sounds good' as your friends already began to move in that direction. Now you had to face Din directly after receiving that text.

You decided to just let it go, and enjoy the moment. As you all turned the corner, your chest felt tighter with each step towards the bar. It was a busy spot that had been known for one too many bar fights when things got too heated inside. While it wasn't your favorite spot to grab a drink at, you got to see Din in moments like these.

Before, tonight would have been just a friend dropping by to see another friend at work. It was one of your favorite things to do when you got the chance. It was so endearing and a pleasant surprise— you know, before you experienced the cataclysmal feeling that was Din Djarin's kiss.

The girls filtered into the bar and you held the door open for them. Each of them took out their licenses for the bouncer you almost didn't want to look at. His chuckle was enough to break your will, the way your head snapped in Din's direction. Your friend made a witty joke that had him shaking his head as he gave a lighthearted laugh.

You watched as he took each ID and examined it as he listened to the group. If you knew Din, he was also listening for any excitement in the bar. He took his job very seriously, which you had learned early on.

When the two of you first began exchanging work stories, he mentioned what it was like to do his job. Every time he came to dinner with a work story, you listened with bated breath. He spared no detail, which you appreciated.

"We don't serve your kind here," Din held his hand out for your ID. "Don't take kindly to you." You smiled and rolled your eyes as you handed it to him. His warm gaze felt searing hot, the smirk on his lips tattooed into your skull. How had one simple kiss put you into such a tailspin?

"What kind is that, Djarin?" You smirked and snatched your ID out of his hand once he gave it back to you. He chuckled again as his arms crossed over his chest.

"Deadly. Now go have fun, and don't make come find you," Din winked. All of the girls thanked him before they headed straight for the bar. You watched them glance over their shoulders, the way they noticed you lingered behind.

"You shmooze all the ladies that come in?" You kept your usual demeanor when you talked to him. At least, you tried. You looked less at his face and more at anything else you could put your eyes on.

"Part of the job," Din shrugged. "What, is it working on you?" While you rolled your eyes again, you knew that deep down, it was.

"In your dreams. We're just pregaming here, then we're taking a cab to that place on 22nd," you explained. Din never took his eyes off of you as you spoke to him. He nodded along as if he had been hooked on every word that came out.

"Sounds thrilling," Din gave a straight-laced look. You gently smacked his arm.

"It will be. Bye, Din." You adjusted your purse over your shoulder. With a smile and a wave of a hand, you began to head back to your friends. Before you got too far, you felt a warm hand on your arm that stopped you in your tracks. Without a word, you turned over your shoulder to look at Din.

"If you need bail, don't call me." The shit-eating grin on his face sent you whirling around and playfully smacking his chest. For a moment, he was just your stupid friend who happened to live across the hall. Not whatever your mind had morphed him into.

"You're a dick! Bye!" You both laughed as you finally left him to keep at his job. Your mind reeled on your way to the bar, which your friends had settled at. Silently, you slipped into the group and ordered a drink.

"Is that the guy you're head over heels for?" Monty asked once you settled next to her. You bit your lower lip and nodded.

"Yeah, that's the one. God, that kiss really did me in. Why did he have to be so chivalrous?" You leaned your arms on the bar, your fingers fiddling with a napkin.

"He's got a thing for you," Quinn chimed in next to you. "I saw the way he looked at you." You bit back a groan; you were sure your friends were trying to kill you.

"Enough of this! Can we discuss it at the place he doesn't work at? You know, in front of his coworkers." You motioned to the woman who stood behind the bar, right in earshot as she made a drink. She seemed to be focused on the cocktail, but you knew how to listen while looking oblivious.

"We're talking about this in the cab. That's the compromise." Monty's look left you little room to argue back. You sighed and muttered that you'd talk about it in the cab before you took a long swig of your drink.

The conversation finally steered to Stella's thesis work, and you were thankful. It was nice to take your mind off of the whole thing, if only for a drink or two. You were also thankful your view of Din was obscured by the patrons that seemed to pour in.

As you listened to Melrose finish her review of the new movie she watched, you noticed a shift in the corner of your eye. You turned and realized it was two men at the end of the bar whose voices began to rise over each other. They were throwing arms around and shifting as the dispute began to grow.

"Oh shit, bar fight! We get to see the boyfriend in action," Stella winked as she leaned on the bar to watch.

You began to retort that he wasn't your boyfriend when you felt a sharp yank as you were almost dragged out of your seat. You yelped in pain and stumbled to your feet. Before you could gather the words to say, you quickly realized you were grabbed by people wrapped in the fight.

"That's enough." You had only heard that voice once, and it sent a shiver down your spine. While you knew things weren't in your favor at the moment, you knew you had Din to show up when you needed him most.

Whoever had grabbed your arm, a patron who egged on whatever argument was at hand, suddenly let you go as he was dragged off the stool next to you. Din held him by the back of his shirt and slammed them forward, his chest thudded as it hit the metal rod on the edge of the bar. You jumped back right in time before the man landed at your feet. He was still conscious, but barely.

You stood frozen against the bar, your eyes on Din as he turned towards the idiots who were in a slapfight. Even the ache in your arm couldn't pull you away from the sight of him shoving them out of the bar. He moved with such intensity, his face set in a hard scowl as his hands threw them both out of the front door.

As soon as the men were sent out, Din right behind them, the patrons quickly tried to return back to their previous activities. You took a moment to reorient yourself before you moved your arm. It strung, but it wasn't anything serious.

"Are you okay? That looked so painful," Monty guided you away from the man who was laid out at your feet. You nodded, your injured arm tucked close to your body.

"I'm okay. I'm just thankful he didn't pop my arm out of the socket. That was terrifying," you muttered the last part under your breath. "What was that guy even thinking? Neither of us were involved in the fight."

"We should just leave. I think we'd be better off at the other club anyways." You felt your stomach lurch at the notion. The bar fight put a sour taste in your mouth, and you worried that if a fight broke out at the other club, you wouldn't have a 6'2 bouncer who felt like your own personal guard dog.

"Yeah, let's get out of here. Next time, no pregaming," Stella suggested before she turned to you. "You okay? You still wanna go out?" She wore a calm expression, a soft smile that made you feel better.

"I won't let some idiot ruin my night. Let's bounce." You gathered yourself and led the girls out of the bar. Din wasn't back at his usual post, and you hadn't noticed him amongst the crowd, which meant he was probably still outside.

You were right. Din stood at the edge of the sidewalk as he talked to one of the men. He had that same intense look, and you weren't sure what he was saying, but it looked harsh from where you stood. Monty went to flag down a cab while the other girls moved to steer clear of the scene.

Din glanced up when he noticed you moving with your friends. He said something and clapped the guy's shoulder as he pushed past him. You stayed in your spot, feet glued to the ground. As he got closer, your heart began to hammer in your chest.

"You okay? I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. Got warned about barreling through bystanders," Din muttered the last bit to himself as he looked you over. You felt his gaze on you, the way his hand gingerly brushed over the bruise that had begun to form.

"I'm okay. You know, if you keep saving my ass, I'm gonna start getting used to it," you joked. You hoped a little humor would ease some of the tension between his shoulders. It didn't, but you noticed the way they shifted up and down as he huffed out a single chuckle.

"Then that means I'm doing something right. You still gonna go out?" Din let go of you before he crossed his arms over his chest. He was a wall of a human from top to bottom, wide chest and thick legs that demanded space.

You nodded and adjusted your bag on your shoulder. Even as you spoke, the ache in your arm dulled. By tomorrow, you would have a bruise and feel a bit tender. You had faced worse on a Friday night.

"I'm not gonna let some idiot ruin all the fun," you assured him. "I didn't do all of this just to go home early." You motioned to your outfit and hair. Din's chuckle rang in your ears, past the whistle of the windy night and the sound of the city nightlife around you.

"Atta girl," Din gave a slight smile. "Go have fun. Don't let some jerk-off take that away." You didn't try to hide your smile as you looked at him. Fuck, he looked just as hot here as he did when he stepped in to help you.

"Thank you. Have a good night at work. Hopefully, you'll do a lot less of that tonight." You motioned to the man he had spoken to, who was ranting to his friends who had gone out to talk to him. Din gave a slight shrug in response.

"Let's not ask for miracles," he said.

"Hey, our cab is here," Stella called to you. You assured her you were coming and looked back to the bouncer.

"Good night, Din." You hugged yourself as you slowly stepped away from him. As you took a step back, he took a step toward you. You quickly realized Din was walking you to the cab, especially when his hand lightly touched your lower back as you climbed in. He held the car door open and leaned in.

"Call me when you get back to the house, if you remember," Din told you before he looked at your friends. "Be careful. Keep an eye out, okay?" The girls all chimed in with various assurances and thanks. He glanced back down at you, his eyes lingered on you for a moment.

"I'll call you," you replied. Before he closed the door, he held the top of the cab and leaned down to kiss your cheek. It was brief, and you felt the scratch of his beard before you even registered that his lips were against your skin. By the time it clicked, the door had been closed shut and the car started down the road.

"Yeah, he definitely doesn't have feelings for you," Monty said sarcastically.

"He's so in love, it's kind of cute." Melrose grinned as she clasped her hands together. She was the hopeless romantic of the group. Most of the time, you just brushed off her musings but this one sunk into your mind, as did every other comment your friends offered.

The talk of Din and his actions was the hot topic for the rest of the night. You had given up on trying to stop them after you made it to the second bar. Instead, you had another drink and chimed in when it was appropriate.

While they stayed on it for some time, the conversation finally redirected to another subject and you swore you could have cried from relief. Your mind was trying to piece together any bits of logic you could grasp, but every piece of evidence from the girls only made it more confusing.

By whatever luck, everyone agreed that it was time to dance and actually enjoy the night out. You let your mind slip as you joined your friends on the dance floor. Between the music and cocktails, you finally felt the weight lift off your shoulders. For the rest of the night, you let go and do what you had intended to from the start. Have fun with your friends.

As much fun as it was, you had hit your wall once the buzz had finally worn off. You and Quinn were the first to leave, a plan to share a cab because the two of you were on the same street. The rest of the group decided to stay out a bit later, which you wished them the best of luck on. You hailed a cab once you and Quinn made it outside.

"For the record, I think you and Din would be nice together," Quinn said once the two of you had settled into the car. You looked up from your phone and smiled.

"You think so?" You asked. Quinn nodded, though they didn't tear their eyes away from the window as they said it.

"I do. You two have something that I don't think either of you can see." You tried to decipher what they meant, but without their expression to go off of, you were lost.

"I think I understand what you mean," you wondered aloud. "I don't see it, but I can feel it. When I'm around him, it feels like there's a live wire in my chest. Ever since that stupid kiss, it's like I get a hot flash and my legs feel fucking useless."

"Sounds like something you don't want to admit." Quinn glanced at you before they let the cab driver know their apartment was the first building on the next road coming up. Their expression said it all.

You were falling in love. You were fucked.

"I hate it when you're cryptic and correct," you grumbled.

The cab rolled to a stop once at Quinn's building. You exchanged a quick goodbye hug before they headed upstairs. Once they were inside, the cab continued to the other end of the block where you lived. You paid the driver and gathered your things before you headed inside.

As you stepped into the elevator, you called Din as promised. It was rang once before the other line picked up.

"Calling it a night so early? It's barely even 2am." You practically heard his smirk through the receiver.

"What can I say? My party animal days are behind me," you mused. "Now, the exciting part of my night is going home and getting into my pajamas." Din knew well enough that you weren't one to party all night.

"Yeah? Me too." You shared a chuckle at his comment. You tucked your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you unlocked the door to your apartment. It was a welcoming sight after the night you'd had.

"You only have a few more hours to push through," you assured him. "I wanted to thank you for getting that guy off of me. I still don't understand why he grabbed me. It's not like either of us were part of the fight." You heard some shuffling on Din's side, the music growing more distant.

"That happens, unfortunately. Idiots with nothing else to do find a way to center the fights around themselves. They're willing to take others down with them, and you were caught in the crossfire." There was a brief silence before Din spoke again.

"I wish I had gotten there sooner. The fact that you even got hurt at all is bullshit," he sighed. You were able to pick out something in his voice, but it was hard to pinpoint. Most would have taken it as regret, but you knew Din's tone. It was regret, mixed with... anger, maybe?

"It could have been a lot worse," you pointed out. "The guy could've tossed me clear across the bar and I'd have a broken skull." You hoped the absurdity was enough to get a chuckle out of Din, but the gruff noise he made told you he did not find it amusing.

"I'd rather not think about what else could have happened." You put your phone on the speaker as you shuffled around your apartment. As you talked, you went through the motions of your personal closing shift. Everything was locked up, and you headed straight for your bedroom.

"Then lets drop it," you offered. "I'm okay and in one piece. There were no other fights at the club, if it makes you feel any better." You peeled off your outfit and dug around in your drawer for a set of pajamas.

"Good. Your friends had fun? Did you have fun?" Din asked. You smiled, now donned in an oversized shirt and a set of shorts.

"We had a lot of fun. They all gushed over you, you know? You're like their knight in black cargo pants," you mused. "If you're looking to catch someone's eye, just break up a bar fight." You heard a slight chuckle on the other side of the receiver.

"Good to know. Yeah, Bo told me she overheard you and your friends." You felt a pit in your stomach. You knew better than to mention your feelings in public, let alone a foot away from one of Din's friends. How were you going to handle this?

"Yeah? What did she tell you?" You tried to remain calm and collected, but internally, you were on red alert. How long had he been sitting on this information? What information was he even sitting on? Questions swirled around in your head as you crawled under the covers.

"She mentioned something about 'head over heels' and 'chivalrous', but that was it. Why, got something to confess?" You heard his smile through the phone. He had to know more than he was letting on. If he knew you were the one lamenting about your crush on him, you'd lay in traffic.

"Oh, fuck off. Don't you have a job to do or something? Another person to save from a bar brawl?" You tried to deflect from the magnifying glass that was Din's question.

"Alright, alright. I'll conceded," Din sounded amused. "I need to get back to work. Dinner at my place tomorrow?" It felt like a game of cat and mouse, the way you barely slipped out of the grasp of his claws. If he knew, he wasn't letting on and you weren't going to stick your nose in the one place you shouldn't.

"I'll be there. Good night, and don't do anything stupid. Leave that to the patrons." You turned out the lamp on your bedside table, the only light in the room came from the glow of your phone.

"I'll try to remember that. Good night, sweetheart." Din hung up shortly after. You stared at the phone as the call ended and it quickly faded to black. He had never called you that before. Hell, outside of your name and dumbass, he didn't call you much of anything.

Sweetheart?

You collapsed onto the pillow with a sigh and a hammering heart. Yeah, you were done for.

You were in love Din Djarin.

[gullemec]

Late

Golden Ruin - Chapter Five

series masterlist ao3

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: Two decisions are made. Their impacts will change your life forever.

Warnings: more emetephobia/vomiting, lots of angst, talk of periods, pregnancy

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 4.8k

A/N: I'm very sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out! I hope it's worth it! :) <3

You’re late.

If you weren’t already exhausted from vomiting your guts out on the way here in an alley next to a dumpster, now you’re late to your second emergency meeting in a row. Fantastic.

You burst into the room flushed, out of breath, drenched in sweat from your sprint up the stairs. You straighten yourself as best as you can, tugging your bag higher on your shoulder, and force your legs to carry you to an open chair near Annie’s desk.

Everyone else is already seated. You can feel Butcher’s eyes snap to you the second you step into the room, but you don’t dare look his way. You keep your gaze trained forward, aloof, pretending his presence doesn’t make your stomach twist even worse than it already has.

Annie leans toward you as you sink into the chair, her voice low, brimming with concern. “You okay? You look…” She hesitates, searching for the right word. “…exhausted.”

You force a tight smile. “I’m fine. Just late. Again.”

Annie’s face twists in a way that says she absolutely doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t press. Her eyes flick toward Mallory, who stands at the front of the room, arms crossed, wearing her usual mask of distant annoyance.

“I’ll get straight to it,” Mallory begins, leaving no room for small talk. “The situation in Russia is escalating. Labs are still being hit, but it’s not Vought behind it. Someone else is looking for something, or someone, and we need to act fast.”

A ripple of unease passes through the group. MM leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, his brow knit tightly. “You’re saying there’s competition? For what, exactly?”

“The same thing we’re after,” Mallory replies, her gaze steady. “The weapon. Something powerful enough to kill Homelander. You all know what that means. And whoever they are, they’re getting close.” 

There’s something in her voice… is she nervous?

The weight of her words settles over the room like a suffocating blanket. Frenchie, who’s been fiddling with something in his hands, stops mid-motion and glances toward Kimiko. She doesn’t move, but her fingers tighten around the notebook in her lap. Annie shifts uncomfortably and Hughie chews on a hangnail, his nervous energy palpable.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. You just sit there, staring straight ahead, feeling Butcher’s eyes burning into the side of your face. You keep your focus on Mallory, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a glance.

But, of course, Butcher is the first to break the silence. “Alright, who’s goin’?”

His voice is casual, almost flippant, but there’s a tightness beneath it, and it makes your heart contract. Mallory’s eyes narrow at him, clearly anticipating his reaction.

“You, MM, and Frenchie will leave tomorrow night,” she says curtly. “The remaining labs are deep in the Russian tundra. It’s going to be dangerous, but if we don’t act now, we’ll lose our window.”

The room erupts into overlapping voices.

“This is crazy,” Annie says, shaking her head. “You don’t even know who’s behind the attacks. What if it’s a trap?”

Hughie nods in agreement. “Do we even have intel on who we’re dealing with? Or what they’re after, specifically?”

MM frowns. “We’ll need more backup if we’re gonna pull this off. This shit sounds dangerous, Mallory.”

Frenchie raises his hand, like a child asking to speak in a classroom. “And what if we find the weapon? How do we even know it works? On him?”

Through it all, you stay silent, your heart thundering in your chest. You’re not thinking about logistics, or backup, or intel. All you can think about is Butcher. Butcher walking into God knows what. Butcher putting himself in danger again, like he always does. And Butcher leaving without a single word to you.

Finally, he stands, slamming his hand on the table. The sharp crack of it cuts through the noise like a whip.

“Enough,” he growls, his voice low and commanding. “We’ll be fine. We’ve handled worse.”

But you know him. You know the tightness in his jaw, the way his hand grips the edge of the table just a little too hard. He’s playing the part, putting on a show. But inside, he’s just as tense as everyone else.

Mallory uses the silence to reassert control. “This is why we’re here,” she says, her tone sharp. “If  Homelander dies, Vought falls. This mission is non-negotiable. If we fail, there won’t be another chance.”

Non-negotiable. Inevitable. Like everything that’s gone wrong in your life, your protests won’t mean a damn thing. Like the universe set up a game of dominoes long before your existence was even a thought and your resistance is just a means of tiring you out until you accept your fate.

You risk a glance at Butcher. He’s already looking at you. His expression is unreadable, hard, closed off, but his eyes… there’s something there. Something raw and fleeting, gone almost as soon as you catch it. He looks away first, turning his attention back to Mallory.

As the meeting wraps up, the room slowly begins to empty. Mallory pulls Butcher, MM, and Frenchie aside to discuss logistics. Hughie and Annie retreat to a corner, their heads bowed in quiet conversation. Kimiko lingers for a moment, her eyes meeting yours, communicating sympathy wordlessly, before slipping out the door.

You remain seated, staring blankly at the cluttered table in front of you. Your stomach churns, not from the sickness this time, but from the thought of Butcher walking into danger without so much as a proper goodbye.

Annie’s hand on your arm startles you. “Hey,” she says softly. “You okay?”

You nod, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Butcher laugh at something MM said. The sound is rough and hollow, and it grates against your already frayed nerves. His gaze flickers toward you one last time. For a moment, just a moment, your eyes meet.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t say anything. He just gives you the faintest nod before turning back to MM.

And with that, he’s gone, leaving you with nothing but the sinking feeling that this mission is going to change everything.

~~~

The paper grocery bag rustles as you set it down on the counter.

Your stomach growls, a rare and startling moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of the day. You unpack the groceries one by one, methodically lining up a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, a head of lettuce still wet from the produce section’s misting spray. There’s something soothing about the repetition, grounding you in the moment, until your hand brushes the last item at the bottom of the bag.

The box.

You pause, staring down at it. Small. Innocuous. But it might as well be ticking.

Your throat tightens as you pull it out, holding it as if it might bite you. Setting it face-down on the counter, you push it out of your mind, busying yourself with dinner instead.

The sound of the knife meeting the cutting board is steady, rhythmic, almost meditative. Chop. Chop. Chop. The vegetables pile neatly on the board, but your concentration slips, your eyes drifting back to the box like it has some magnetic pull. It’s absurd, really, how something so small can hold such power.

No. What’s absurd is how hard you’re clinging to denial.

You think back to earlier, to the way the day unraveled. After the meeting, you had come home and collapsed onto the couch, too drained to even change out of your clothes. The sunlight had slanted low through the windows, the whole place awash in a golden glow, something you loved about this place when you first moved in. Your head ached, your body ached, and your stomach churned, but none of it compared to the noise in your head.

You stared blankly at your TV, not even registering what was playing. A daytime talk show rerun, maybe. Your mind kept circling back to the meeting, to Mallory’s voice, cold and matter-of-fact, condemning Butcher to his fate. You pictured him leaving, walking into danger without a thought spared for his safety or your feelings. The weight of everything washed over you, the words you and he shared, the silence that followed, the ache of missing him despite everything. Your hand drifted unconsciously to your stomach as another wave of queasiness rolled over you.

“God, what is wrong with me?”

Your hand lingered, when suddenly a new thought flickered in your mind. You immediately discounted it, shoved it back down, but it wouldn’t relent. Your heart skipped a beat as you sat up straighter, the nausea momentarily forgotten.

“No… there’s no way.”

The more you tried to dismiss it, the louder it became, until it had unraveled everything. The exhaustion. The mood swings. The nausea that wouldn’t let up. The way you’d cried during that dumb movie with Annie last week, the way you couldn’t stop yourself from jumping Butcher’s bones and the confrontation that followed.

Frantic counting on your fingers, wracking your brain trying to remember the last time you reached for the box of tampons stashed beneath your bathroom sink. You’re late.

And then the memory of that one night, well, several nights if you were honest, where you and Butcher hadn’t exactly been careful. It had been a reckless comfort, a way to feel close to him in the chaos of everything around you. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

You frantically reached for your phone, fingers trembling as you typed a quick search into the browser. Early pregnancy symptoms. The words stared back at you from the screen like they knew.  Fatigue. Nausea. Heightened emotions. Cravings and aversions.

Also common symptoms of stress, of which you had an abundance.

Your stomach churned again, but this time it wasn’t just nausea, it was fear. Maybe something else, too. Something deeper and scarier and harder to name. Hope? You pressed your hand to your abdomen, as if expecting to feel something different now that the idea planted itself in your mind.

Now the test sits there, small, yet taking up all the space in the world. Its cheery branding feels mocking, like the test itself is grinning at you, daring you to confront the truth. 

Your thoughts shift to Butcher. His sharp wit, his rough hands, those rare, fleeting moments when he let his walls come down for you, when you got to glimpse at the man beneath the armor. How would he react if you told him he was going to be a father? Would he laugh it off, crack some crude joke, not taking it seriously? Would he panic and push you away even more? Would it terrify him as much as it terrifies you now?

You shake your head, trying to shove the thoughts aside, focusing on the vegetables as you toss them into the pan. The sizzle fills the silence, but the smell hits you wrong, sending your stomach lurching violently. Your hand flies to your mouth, just barely making it to the sink before you’re heaving. Tears prick your eyes as you rinse your mouth, not just from the nausea, but from everything. The uncertainty, the fear, the utter loneliness. You grip the counter tightly, staring at the test box like it’s the source of all your problems.

“Just get it over with,” you mutter to yourself.

Your voice sounds hollow even to you. 

You grab it and head to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you even though you’re alone. The quiet feels oppressive now. Your hands shake as you open the box, pull out the test, and read the instructions twice just to be sure. It’s simple. Straightforward. Except nothing about this feels straightforward.

You follow the steps mechanically, like you’re watching someone else do it. When you’re done, you place the test face-down on the counter and leave the bathroom as quickly as possible, shutting the door like you’re trying to trap the weight of the moment inside.

The apartment, once comfortably spacious, feels impossibly small now, suffocating as you pace, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You put a record on, trying to distract yourself with the sound of soft vinyl static and warm, melancholic guitar. You tidy the kitchen, but your mind drifts again, this time to your mom. If she were here, what would she say? She had always been the strong one, the steady one, guiding you through every storm. She would’ve been calm, pragmatic. She would’ve wrapped you in her arms and told you everything would be okay, even if it wasn’t true. You ache for her in a way that feels unbearable now.

Minutes pass like hours, the knot in your chest tightening with every tick of the clock. Finally, you can’t take it anymore.

With shaky legs, you walk back into the bathroom. The test sits where you left it, unassuming but impossibly loud in its presence.

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself. “You can do this.”

You flip it over.

Two lines.

Two unmistakable magenta lines.

Your breath catches and, for a moment, you forget how to exhale. The world tilts slightly, and you steady yourself against the counter. Tears well up in your eyes, but you’re not even sure what kind they are. Fear, joy, grief, all tangled together into something you can’t unravel.

Your reflection in the mirror looks back at you, wide-eyed and vulnerable. You wrap your fingers around the edge of the sink, your mind spinning with a thousand questions. What happens now? What does this mean for your life, for Butcher’s life, for this new life you’re suddenly responsible for? 

You press a hand to your stomach, feeling a new kind of weight settle inside you. It’s terrifying. It’s real. It changes everything.

But even in the fear, even as your mind spins with questions and doubts,, a small, fragile spark of resolve glows within you. It’s faint, but it’s there. 

You’re not the same person you were a few minutes ago.

And there’s no going back now.

~~~

The plate of untouched food sits precariously on the coffee table, the fork resting on its edge, forgotten. You pick at the corner of a piece of garlic bread, tearing it into smaller and smaller bits, but the thought of eating makes your stomach churn. Whether it’s the nausea or the nerves, or both, you can’t tell.

The room feels too quiet, the hum of the refrigerator and the faint ticking of a clock only amplifying the silence. You sink further into the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The test is still in the bathroom, but the weight of it clings to you. Every time you blink, you see those two lines, bold and undeniable.

It doesn’t feel real. Not yet.

Your phone vibrates on the cushion beside you, the sudden noise startling in the quiet. You glance down, your heart clenching when you see Annie’s name on the screen. For a moment, you consider ignoring it. Your finger hovers over the decline button.

But then your eyes catch on the contact picture. It’s Annie, grinning wide, flashing a peace sign, her other hand holding a cocktail aloft. It’s from a night out a couple of months ago, one of the rare times you’d let yourselves unwind, laugh, and forget about everything. Annie had insisted on taking silly selfies, and you’d taken at least six before she deemed one perfect. You chose your favorite and made it her contact picture that night.

Your lips twitch into a sad smile at the memory.

The giggles, the easiness, the normalcy, it all feels so distant now.

With a resigned sigh, you answer.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Annie’s voice is warm, familiar, and immediately soothing. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know today was… a lot.”

You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter. “It was, but… I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“You always say you’re fine,” Annie replies gently, a hint of teasing in her voice. “But you don’t sound fine. And, honestly? After today, I wouldn’t be fine either.”

There’s a pause. Your throat feels tight, and you don't trust yourself to speak without breaking.

Annie’s voice softens further. “Listen, I know how much Butcher means to you. Him leaving like this… it’s a lot to handle. And if you’re scared, it’s okay to say it.”

That does it. The words hit too close, too true, and the dam breaks. Your breath hitches as the tears come, hot and uncontrollable.

“I don’t know what to do,” you manage, your voice trembling. “I’m so scared, Annie. I—” Your voice cracks, and you press a hand to your mouth, trying to hold yourself together.

“Oh, hey, hey,” Annie says quickly, her voice full of concern. “It’s okay. You don’t have to hold it in. I’m here, okay? Just let it out.”

And you do. The words tumble out between sobs, the weight of the day crashing down on you. “The other night, after I left your apartment, I—I confronted him. About us. About whatever the hell we were. And it didn’t go well. I don’t even know if we’re—if we’re anything anymore.” You choke on the last word, wiping at your cheeks with the sleeve of your hoodie. “And now he’s leaving. What if he doesn’t come back? What if that was it?”

“Oh, God,” Annie breathes. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. That’s… that’s a lot. No wonder you’re feeling like this.”

The warmth in Annie’s voice threatens to undo you all over again. You lean your head back against the couch, closing your eyes, trying to calm your breathing.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Annie continues after a moment. “About anything? I mean it. No judgment, no pressure. I just… I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this.”

Annie’s words echo in your head, tugging at the edges of the realization you’ve barely had time to process yourself. You want to say it. You want to tell her, to share the weight of it, to have someone, anyone, help you figure out what to do.

But then the doubts creep in.

What would she think of me? Of this?

The thought of Butcher finding out makes your stomach turn again. The mission, the stakes, the risk, he doesn’t need this on his plate, not now. And what if Mallory finds out? What if they bench you, decide you’re too fragile, too much of a liability?

You swallow hard, guilt twisting in your gut.

“Thank you,” you say finally, your voice small. “For being here. For… for caring.”

“Of course I care,” Annie replies. “You’re family. And, for what it’s worth, I know Butcher. He’s not great at showing it, but he cares about you. More than you think.”

Your chest aches at the words. You want to believe them, but the memory of Butcher’s hardened expression, his silence, still lingers.

“I hope you’re right,” you murmur.

You talk for a little while longer, Annie doing her best to comfort you, offering reassurances and promises that Butcher will come back, that things will work out somehow. You listen, grateful for the warmth in Annie’s voice, the way it eases the edges of your despair.

By the time the call ends, you feel lighter, if only slightly. But the guilt remains, a knot in your stomach.

You set the phone down and stare at the untouched plate on the coffee table. Your hand drifts to your abdomen, a gesture so instinctive it surprises you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to no one, to yourself, to the life you haven't even begun to comprehend. “I’m so sorry.”

The apartment falls silent again, but Annie’s words linger in the air, a small comfort against the heavy truth you keep locked inside.

~~~

You wake the next morning, and for a few fleeting, blissful moments, you simply exist in a haze of sleepy contentment. The morning light filters through the blinds, soft and golden, warming the space around you. For those precious seconds, the world feels quiet, simple.

But then reality creeps back in, unwelcome and heavy, pulling you down from the fleeting comfort of sleep. The events of the past twenty-four hours rush back into focus.

Butcher is leaving. He’s walking headlong into the lion’s den, and though he’ll never admit it, you know he’s scared. That terrifies you more than anything. You can’t stop the image from forming in your mind, what the world might look like without him in it. The thought alone makes your chest tighten.

And then there’s the other truth, the one that feels even more surreal: you’re pregnant with his child. A part of him is growing inside of you, and yet, you’re not sure he even wants you. At least, not the way you want him. Even if he survives this mission, what then? Would he have any desire to be a father? You consider the fact that you may be raising this child alone.

The questions feel endless, and every one of them leads you to the same conclusion. You’re completely unprepared for this. And beyond that, beyond Butcher, beyond the baby, there’s the nagging feeling that you don’t belong here, not really. Your place in the Boys feels precarious at best. You’ve always felt like the odd one out, the weakest link. No superpowers, no extraordinary skills, just your sheer determination to throw yourself into whatever fire Mallory points you toward. And now, even that’s slipping away.

Your stomach twists further when you realize what day it is. Tonight, Butcher will be boarding a plane to Saint Petersburg. From there, he and the others will head into the Russian wilderness, chasing a weapon you still don’t fully understand. The details of the mission are fuzzy, frustratingly so, but you know one thing for certain. It feels final. Like something is about to break.

In a desperate attempt to distract yourself, you spend the day cleaning your apartment. It’s a ritual you’ve always relied on, a way to bring order to chaos, to clear your head by clearing your space. As the sun begins to set outside, you carefully arrange the photos on the shelf above your record player, lingering over each one.

There’s a picture of you and your mom, taken when you were small. It’s housed in a delicate gold frame, the same one Butcher picked up the first time he followed you up to your loft. That day feels like a lifetime ago now, but the memory of his rough hand brushing the frame makes you smile. Next to it is a photo of you on your high school graduation day, your parents flanking you, all three of you wearing matching wide smiles. It’s the last picture you have of all three of you together.

You stare at the collection, a lump forming in your throat as the thought flickers through your mind. Family. It’s taken so many forms for you over the years. Your parents when you were little. Just you and your mom as you got older. And now, the Boys. For better or worse, they’re your family, too. And soon, you’ll be starting your own. The thought is overwhelming. You’re not sure if it fills you with hope or dread.

You’re pulled from your reverie by a knock at the door.

Hesitant, almost unsure, but unmistakably him.

You freeze mid-step, heart lurching. For a split second, you consider pretending you’re not home. Whatever this is, whatever he’s come here to say, you’re not sure you’re ready to hear it. But your body betrays you. Your legs carry you to the door before your mind catches up.

When you open it, Butcher is standing in the dim hallway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. He looks rougher than usual, tired, worn. There’s something in his face you can’t quite place. Guilt, maybe, or regret. But when his eyes meet yours, they soften, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice low.

You hesitate, but then step aside, gesturing for him to enter. He moves past you, his presence filling the small space. You close the door behind him, your fingers lingering on the knob as you brace yourself for whatever this is going to be.

When you turn around, he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, like he doesn’t quite belong here anymore. The sight breaks something in you.

“What are you doing here, Butcher?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, a rare, almost boyish gesture that makes your chest ache.

“I just… I couldn’t leave without seein’ you first.”

Your heart skips, but you force yourself to stay guarded, crossing your arms over your chest like a shield.

“You’re leaving tonight,” you state.

“Aye.”

The single syllable is heavy, laden with everything he’s not saying. He glances around the room, avoiding your eyes for a moment before finally meeting them again.

"Look, I’ve been a right bastard lately. What I said—or didn’t say—back at mine... You didn’t deserve that."

You don’t respond, letting him fumble through his words.

"It’s not that I don’t care about you,” he continues, his voice breaking. “Hell, you’re probably the one thing I care about most. That’s the bloody problem, innit?" 

Your throat tightens, your carefully maintained composure slipping. “Why does it have to be a problem?”

"‘Cause everything I touch turns to shit. You think I don’t see that? You think I don’t know what I’d do to keep you safe? And when I lose you, and one day I will, it’ll destroy me. Same way it destroyed me when I lost Becca. I can’t do that again, love."

His words are a slice and a balm all at once. You can see it in his eyes now, the fear he’s too proud to name. He’s terrified, not of you, but of what loving you might cost him.

“You don’t have to lose me,” you whisper, stepping closer.

He shakes his head, his jaw tightening as though the idea is too dangerous to even entertain. But then his shoulders slump, and he looks at you with something that’s almost desperation.

He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. And I wanted to see you, just in case…”

He trails off, the unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air. You swallow hard, the reality of his words sinking in. This mission to Russia isn’t just dangerous; it’s reckless. And he knows it.

"You’re coming back, Butcher. You hear me? You don’t get to leave me like this and not come back."

He nods, but there’s a flicker of doubt in his eyes that he can’t quite hide. He reaches out then, his hand brushing your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender.

"I promise you, we’ll finish this when I get back. Alright?"

You want to believe him, but the lump in your throat keeps you from answering. Instead, you nod, leaning into his touch. For a moment, there’s a comfort in his presence, a temporary reprieve from the storm in your mind. 

Your hand moves unconsciously to your stomach, and you force yourself to still it before Butcher notices. Should you tell him now? The question feels like it’s screaming in your mind. He has a right to know, doesn’t he? But then you look at him, see the strain in his eyes, the weight of the mission already pulling at him, and your resolve falters.

What would he do if you told him? Would it break his focus? Would it make him reckless, or worse, would it push him further away? You don't know. And the uncertainty feels too dangerous to gamble with.

"Butcher... just... be careful, okay?"

He looks at you sharply, catching the tremble in your voice, but he doesn’t press. He pulls you to him, his arms wrapping around you tightly, like he’s afraid to let go. You clung to him just as fiercely, your face buried in his chest as you blink back tears.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment as you memorize the feel of his hand against your skin, his smell, his size. When you open them again, he’s watching you with an intensity that makes your heart ache.

"You take care of yourself while I’m gone, yeah?" he whispers.

You nod against his chest, unable to speak. When he finally steps back, the warmth of his absence is almost unbearable. He lingers for a moment, his hand brushing yours, before he turns and heads for the door. He looks back at you one last time, his expression unreadable.

Then he’s gone.

The silence he leaves behind is deafening. You stand there for a long time, staring at the closed door, your chest tight with a mix of longing and fear. You press a hand to her stomach, the weight of everything bearing down on you. Your secret. His promise. The uncertain future you share.

“Come back to me,” you whisper into the empty room.

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