#to keep going even when you know the light at the end of your tunnel is closer than anyone else's

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

What if I cried? What if you, Asaba Harumasa, made me cry?

[irinochka25]

Did Charles commit suicide?

What if he didn’t go north... What if he left for good? (A soul-crushing headcanon about Charles Smith)

What if Charles took his own life? Yes, yes, just like that — what if he left, not north, but FOR GOOD. I keep thinking about this more and more. Because so much about him screams — “I can’t do this anymore.”

Everyone says: he went to Canada. Oh sure, sure. But maybe it’s time to stop repeating that comforting bedtime story. Canada was mentioned once, barely, like a breath. But in another dialogue — he says he wants to go to INDOCHINA. Can you imagine? Indochina! Where is that, and where’s Canada, and where is he? He’s lost. He’s torn. He doesn’t know where to go. Because he feels at home NOWHERE. And all of this — it’s not a plan. It’s emptiness. It’s pain wrapped in scraps of fantasy.

And when he tells John: “What does your family need an old gunslinger for?” — that’s NOT A JOKE. That’s a scream. A plea. A wound masked as a smile. Because he’s the outsider among friends. He’s the extra. He’s just... there. But he’s not part of it. And he knows that. Feels it in his bones. In his heart.

He doesn’t even sleep in the house. Doesn’t sleep on the property. Wanders into the woods. Into the dark. Into solitude. Some would say — it’s just habit, right? He’s used to the wild. Used to isolation. Bullshit. It’s not habit. It’s escape. Because being close — hurts. Watching Abigail, watching John, watching their child — it’s like a blade across the soul. Their dream came true. And him? Who is he? He’s — no one. Once, he was an outcast among outcasts. Now he’s just... the only one left. Alone among the joyful.

And the doubts he voices to John — “Will this life be enough for you?” — that’s not about John. That’s about himself. He’s asking himself. He doesn’t believe happiness is possible for him. That he deserves it. That he’s even capable of feeling something other than this tight, choking loneliness.

And that talk about going north, starting a family, finding a woman... I DON’T BELIEVE IT. NOT A SINGLE WORD. It sounds like a script. A rehearsed line. A mask. A way to say something so they’ll stop asking. He has no plan. No place. No direction. He says it himself. “I don’t know where.”

Not Canada. Not Wapiti. He could’ve gone back there a hundred times. In eight years. But he didn’t. Because he never saw it as home. It was something lost, something nostalgic — not a place he was needed.

And just finding a woman? Really? This is Charles. A man who lets NO ONE in. He’s built like a fortress. In his mind. In his soul. In his silence. And if he lets someone in — it’s forever. And if he doesn’t — no one gets close. This isn’t about “settling down.” This is about finding a soul that moves him. And those are rare. Maybe one. Maybe none.

He says: “These last eight years, I’ve come to accept the things I can’t change.” Is that supposed to be hope? It’s not acceptance. It’s surrender. That’s not light at the end of the tunnel — it’s the tunnel closing in. It’s numbness. It’s emptiness.

And John, dear John… tells him: “You’re the strongest man I know.” I HATE THAT PHRASE. I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY IT ABOUT HIM. I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY IT ABOUT ME. It’s NOT strength. It’s survival. It’s when life beats you so hard, all you learn is not to fall. It’s not a choice. It’s endurance. He’s not strong. He’s exhausted. He’s shattered. He’s lonely, he’s silent, and he’s so, so tired.

Even if he met “the one” — would she love him? The real him? The broken one? The quiet one? The distant one? Or would she fall for the mask — for the “I’ve made peace with the past” lie? And if she never sees the real Charles — how could he ever be happy with her? He doesn’t do halfway. Not him.

Abigail and John are different. She knew his pain. All of it. His monsters. His sorrow. She accepted it. Who would accept Charles? Who even knows who he became?

And in that last ride... he says: “I’m heading north.” Turns down Sadie’s offer to work together. Says it’s time to move on. But what if he wasn’t moving forward. What if he was moving toward the end.

(Another powerful and unwavering argument for me: we all remember how Charles and John ride out to save Uncle in the epilogue — and how Charles, with a chilling steadiness, says that if the uncle’s wounds are too severe, the only mercy left would be to help him cross over. He speaks of killing — not driven by hatred, not poisoned by cruelty — but as a final act of love, a broken, desperate kindness to release a soul from agony. And I ask: was it only uncle’s suffering Charles wished to end? Or was he, too, reaching for a way to quiet his own howling grief? I believe he was. I believe he desperately was.)

What if that was his way of saying goodbye. Softly. Quietly. Not “farewell.” Just — gone. So they could keep living, believing he’s somewhere out there. Alive. Just... far. But in truth — he had already made peace. He had written his ending.

Not to the north. Not to Wapiti. Not to a woman. But to the place where nothing hurts anymore.

And if that’s what happened... if he really left...

...maybe, finally, he found peace.

[saintobio]

the biker's book club, feat. l&ds sylus.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, biker au, 18+ tags. petnames (kitten), unprotected sex, spitting, hair-pulling, consensual filming, creampie, dirty talk, possessiveness, violence, slight yandere themes, impregnation notes. ik he’s probably into cafe racers but the sportbike enthusiast in me thinks biker!sylus is the m*tthew w*ods of l&ds, booktok/biketok girlies iykyk

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who collects liter bikes like they’re toys; he’d usually get rid of them as soon as he gets bored, but his current favs are his black & red edition fireblade, m1000rr, and superleggera v4.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who got famous on booktok overnight after posting a video of him riding his bike through the tunnel with a half-buttoned shirt. the view offered a peek on his toned chest and abs, leaving the rest to an innocent girl’s imagination. the comments on that post are wild, and the views went up to 2 mil in a day.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who broke numerous girls’ hearts literally a day after that post, revealing that he already has a backpack (you) and that his sunset and midnight rides are exclusively booked for his girlfriend.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who eventually taught you how to ride your own bike, gifting you a white N400 on your birthday—a bike he calls “too slow” for him, but is actually fast enough for a beginner like you.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who once chased a car for nearly rear-ending you on a red-light. as soon as he saw how the car almost hit you from behind, the loud and chilling roar of his bike bolted you in surprise as he accelerated to chase after the car, breaking the asshole’s side mirror, and teaching him a ‘lesson’.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who always keeps a possessive eye on you, always riding within his acceptable distance because the last time he allowed you to ride ahead of him, some guy on a Ford 150 tried to ask for your number, calling you a hot biker girl he hopes to have a ‘good time’ with. that didn’t end well for the poor guy, because the interaction was cut short when sylus revved his bike, lane splitting between you and the car, and running over the guy’s outstretched arm along the way. he might’ve broken a bone or two, who knows?

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who owns a springfield .45 gun, and claims he has no problems shooting another guy’s head if they dared touch even a single strand of your hair. he’s a very territorial individual and would not think twice on committing a crime if it meant protecting what’s his.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who’s hated by his neighbors, both because of how loud his bike gets in the morning, and how loud his girl can get during the evening. he doesn’t care though, because the sound of your moans were actually music to his hears. he swears he has to hear them every night or he won’t be able to sleep well.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who gets very kissy and touchy whenever you two arrive at home, unable to keep his hands to himself while you’re still parking your bike beside his. his lips would go straight to your neck, placing feathered kisses on your skin, tickling you with his warm breath as he tells you, “you know you’re mine, right?” of course you’d say you’re his. and he always follows up with a reminder, “good, because i’d kill any son of a bitch who tries to steal you from me.”

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who loves to fuck you raw, rough, and fast. he always had you gripping on the sheets, or scratching his back, or screaming out his name in a salacious escape to release your earth-shattering, mind-blowing orgasm. he always had your legs shaking, your body twitching, your breasts bouncing with each slam as he doesn’t stop pounding into you even after you came. he adores the sight of your beautiful, begging face each time he buries his hardened cock inside of your sweet, sweet pussy. “my kitten’s being too needy, huh?” he’d whisper to your ear before meeting your hips with another satisfying thrust. “always a slut for me.”

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who likes to spit on your mouth, pull your hair, and slap your bum. they’re some of his many kinks, and he can get nastier if he wants to, but he’d often say he’d rather save the best on your wedding night.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who enjoys filming your extremely erotic moments together, claiming that he needed to revisit those videos for when he misses you. his favorite content seems to be when he’s cumming inside of you, shooting every drop of his thick seed straight through your womb. kitten, you’re so tight, he’d think to himself. he goes even crazier for the view whenever he pulls out and sees his own semen dripping out of your swollen entrance.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who makes you breakfast the next morning after a long, passionate night. he always seems to cook the perfect pancakes, like he had specifically mastered the skill after you told him that pancakes were your favorite choice for breakfast.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who proudly displays you on social media, and bluntly rejects every girl who’d leave thirsty comments on his posts. he gets a little too sassy for their liking, but he doesn’t really give a damn about hurting another girl’s feelings if it were to protect yours.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who lets you ‘break’ his masculine ego by allowing you to paint his nails, give him skin care, or place cute, tiny, heart-shaped clips all over his hair whenever you were in the mood to. he’d just stare at you the whole time, amused at how you’d treat him like your own ken doll.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus whose immediate response when you told him you’re pregnant was “do you think it’s a baby girl?” there was no ounce of surprise in his eyes, no scintilla of worry at the thought of being an unexpected father, clearly, because he should already see it coming especially with how sexually active you two are. he really wants a baby girl, too. and a boy next. so while you were nearly horrified at seeing your positive pregnancy test thinking he’d ask you to terminate it, his calm and loving reaction to your unexpected baby was what made you realize that there was nothing else you could ever want in a man.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who, on the very next day, asked you to try and test start your bike because he thinks something’s ‘wrong’ with it. you hurried to check your bike, of course. little did you know, the keychain strapped onto your key had been replaced, now with a new, embroidered keychain bearing the words, “marry me?”

[lovelyghst]

craving consensual somno with (slightly intoxicated) simon riley and his (extremely heavy sleeper) girl. take this as ur warnings.

just him coming home late at night as usual, the bourbon in his system keeping him loosened up and tranquil, yet ever so cognizant as he enters your shared bedroom. those familiar creepy-crawlies invading his stomach with boyish excitement to see you, and quickly turning towards his dick when he lays eyes on your pretty body.

it’s nearly a routine at this point; you purposely fall asleep in these skimpy, two-piece pajamas, usually some sort of small berries, cherries, or flowers adorning the thin, white fabric that leaves little to the imagination, knowing it’ll get him all worked up. the curtains are left pulled and the door cracked open, you kick the covers off and lay with a pillow hugged tightly in your arms beneath you to give him the best view; infinite signs telling him you want it just as bad as he does. it is routine, but it gets so him riled up, each and every time.

he trudges over, as quietly as the tipsy man can manage to the end of your bed, and with tunnel-vision on your exposed thighs. even his jaw fallen slack just a bit in hunger. desperate to get his hands on you after being apart for so long, and wanting to soothe that ache in his cock he hadn’t even realized he was palming through his jeans.

you barely stir when he kneels on the foot of the bed, and neither when he crawls above you and places a kiss right behind your ear.

he presses a cold palm to your shoulder, attempting to urge you onto your back to give him a visual of your features. to let him see your curves in the raw moonlight, how the dainty material of your pajamas becomes a tad bit see-through around your tits and incidentally rides up past your bellybutton, endless thoughts running through his dazed mind as he eventually manages to flip you over successfully.

though, your sleepy hum suddenly alerts him to a standstill, his worst nightmare being to wake you from your serene rest. not now, anyway.

“shhh, sweetheart,” he gently coaxes you, and he can’t help the grin spanning his lips when you mumble the first syllable of his name in that questioning, dreamy tone. he clears fallen hair from your face, slipping his pillow from your grasp as he mutters, “yeah, dovie, s’only me. you’re okay, you’re safe… jus’ go back to sleep for me, now.”

your unconscious mind obeys like clockwork, the smallest of smiles curling your lip corners in contentment, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s returning to his endeavors.

kissing all across your exposed collarbone, thoughtlessly slipping a finger or two beneath the strap of your little pajama shirt and carefully allowing it to glide down your shoulder as he repeats the process on the other side. peppering kisses to your soft skin, before rolling the fabric upward from the bottom so he can properly pay attention to the rest of your chest and tummy.

lips grazing your sternum with short, controlled breaths fanning your sensitive parts; aware of how easily ticklish you are and attempting not to light that fuse, equally straining himself in not turning too feverish as he takes your hardened nipple in his mouth and paws at the other in his hand.

he works his way down slowly but surely, until he’s pulling your shorts off with tender hands and unveiling your bare, soaked pussy, and he can’t even think to suppress the low groan pushed from his lungs at the sight in front of him. he inches forward with nearly crossed eyes, taking incisive ministrations in lifting your legs up and over his back.

your breathing hitches a bit in your slumber when he licks an almost reluctant yet long stripe from your hole to your clit, unable to give himself a moment to savor it before he’s diving back in for more.

“missed this pretty, little cunt on my tongue, baby… christ,” he chuckles lightly to himself, “good girl’s gonna be the death o’ me.”

he sloppily makes-out with your pussy, any and all devotions of rhythm and precision thrown far from his intentions. he only gets to be selfish when he has you like this, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity as it’s laid out on his bed. moaning at your wetness and taste, how your pussy drools for more and coats his chin with a slick he devours like a madman deprived.

the small whines you make in your sleep are nothing but precious to simon, burning them into his brain like any other occasion he’s pulled them from your lips. saving them for the later times like when he’s a thousand miles away, locked away in some office, and can’t possibly bring himself to bother you with a pestering, horny phone call.

you turn your head to the side with a hum, empty hands reaching for any semblance of comfort on your abdomen, which rather concerns him for a moment until he realizes just what you want.

he gives you one of his hands and you blindly accept it, wrapping your smaller fingers around his wrist and thumb to pull the appendage closer. resting just below your ribcage, satisfied and holding it close like you would a teddy bear.

“sweet thing… always loved this perfect pussy,” he mumbles right up against your warmth, quiet as to not disrupt your blissful obliviousness in your sleep. he’s utterly drunk on you and your taste, and the alcohol he had beforehand certainly contributes to his filthy, forward language.

“how easy y’get on my mouth, ‘nd yet how tight you are around my cock… fuckin’ hell—”

he watches intently as the tips of his fingers delve between your folds, gradually disappearing whilst your chest begins to heave a little heavier; a faint, broken noise of pleasure omitting straight from your throat. tightening around his digits as he pushes them further in, just as you do wrapped around his cock when you’re conscious.

he’s not thinking straight; he’s merely experimenting with you as he curls his fingers upward, prodding at that gummy spot in your cunt and greedily sucking on your clit to push you over. toying with you, rather, because the face you make when you’re first emerged from your slumber with a mind-shattering orgasm is truly priceless.

your eyes snap open as you come around his digits, squeezing his hands tight with your vision going blank. the high is strong but you don’t allow it to last very long when the dots in your brain are connecting, turning you all excited for the implications of it all.

erratically catching your breath with a huge grin on your face, matching his as he comes up to greet you. he’s stupid, shamelessly drunk on your taste, and it radiates from his expression as if he just witnessed a star being born right before his muddy eyes.

you haven’t a clue what just happened, but you fucking loved every sober second of it.

and before you know it, he’s coming back up to meet your lips with his own, which you graciously accept, taste of slick and alcohol and all. humming as he slips his greedy hands upward and behind your back, giggling when he impatiently flips over on his back and hauls you with him. til you’re curled up by his side, halfway on his chest whilst one leg slips between both of his bulky ones.

“i‘m glad you’re home…” nearly a pout, “really missed you, si.”

you’re the first one to speak, quietly, sincere as ever as you examine his pretty face. the faint bags beneath his lids, the wetness that sticks to his dirty-blond stubble. his rough and gruff exterior that hides behind it a boy who’s absolutely and utterly whipped for you.

“that right?” he taunts, eyes remaining shut. “and my tongue, i bet?”

you shy away with a laugh. he won’t remember these words in the morning, but you’ve always loved how cocky and brazen he gets with a couple of drinks running through his blood.

“i missed all of you...”

his eyes barely have to open for him to effectively, and lovingly, judge you with a mere glance. it’s one of his talents.

“some parts more than others, clearly.”

“that’s not true,” you contest, but the humorous hesitancy and sheepishness in your voice tells him otherwise.

“sure, baby, sure.” he takes a moment to breathe, overtly proud of himself. “y’missed my mouth, n’ my hands. even with how rough they are with ya sometimes, yeah?” you hide your flushed face in his neck with a groan, praying this embarrassment is short-lived though preparing for the worst as you feel his lips inch closer to your ear.

“prob’ly missed me fuckin’ my cock into that tight, little cunt—”

“okay, fine!” you finally admit and pull away defensively, slapping his chest but only earning a laugh from him. “but i definitely don’t miss that dirty brain of yours, you big dog.”

“you love me anyway,” he states, matter-of-factly.

you give a big smooch to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips, which he returns.

“i do. a lot,” you add and he hums, feeling fulfilled.

and, oh, he’s so fulfilled with you. you take care of him by allowing him to take care of you, and it’s a two-way street. you ground each other whilst never forcing one to tether themself to earth.

you sit up to fix your top, smoothing over the fabric and shrugging the straps back into place. shimmying back into your shorts when you catch a glimpse of the large man’s dark jeans contrasting your light sheets, belt buckle glimmering in the corner of your eye.

“simon, honey, you need to change before you—”

you look over and are suddenly forced to stifle a giggle when you discover that the poor man has fallen asleep, a droopy smile still ornamenting his slick-covered face. taking your hand and swiping the apple of his cheek with your thumb, you’re pleased when he doesn’t budge one bit. dragging it downwards past his muscled chest and abdomen, landing just beneath his leather belt.

your fingertips trace his hard-on over the jeans, knowing you can’t just leave him like this, all aching and pent up and too exhausted to do anything about it himself.

maybe you could do him a favor and return the sweet gesture? <3

[powderpinkprincess]

Speeding Ticket [Lando Norris x reader]

description: You get your first speeding ticket.

Lando was sitting at the kitchen table, mindlessly scrolling through social media when he heard the front door open. You finally arrived home. He had been waiting for you to text him back, so he could finally order food for lunch. You didn't see his texts, but he didn't want to call you, knowing you were in an important meeting. Yes, technically he had lunch at home, but that was the healthy stuff his dietitian made him eat, and he didn't feel like forcing down those veggies this today.

You shuffled into the kitchen with an unreadable expression on your face. You pressed your lips together into a thin line as you approached him, nodding stiffly. "Hi."

Lando could immediately tell that something was off. He frowned, setting his phone down on the table and turning to look at you properly. "Hey, everything alright?" he asked, studying your face.

You rummaged through your handbag and took out a white envelope. Then you put it on the table and slid it to him as if you were a part of some underground mafia, trying to arrange a business.

Lando raised an eyebrow at your weirdly ominous gesture, but he took the envelope off the table. "What's this?" he asked, lifting his gaze from the envelope to your face. Why were you acting so strange?

 "I got a speeding ticket," you mumbled sheepishly. "Thought I would tell you before you got the notification."

It was awkward and you felt especially bad because this morning you took his car, not yours. The tires of your car haven't been changed for a while now, and when Lando realized that the previous night, he told you not to drive it until it was done. Therefore, his number plate was shown on the ticket, not yours. Besides, you've never even gotten any kind of a ticket before, and now your first one was while driving your boyfriend's car.

Lando tried to keep a straight face, he really did. He tried to act serious, but the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as he suppressed a cheeky smile. He could've been really annoyed at you for speeding in his McLaren, but he found your grim face much more entertaining than he should have.

 "How fast did you go?" he asked, unable to contain his amused expression.

 "Sixty," you pouted. The speed limit in the urban areas of Monaco was 50 km/h, as it was full of twisty, narrow streets, tunnels, and traffic jams. Funny enough lots of people owned sports cars there, yet they were never allowed to drive fast.

Lando's smirk widened at your answer. "Sixty?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "You did 60 in a 50 zone?" He tried to sound serious, but the grin spreading across his face betrayed his failed attempt. "You do know you're not street racing right now, right love?" he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

 "I am a threat to your job, am I not?" you mumbled, crossing your arms. You were secretly a little relieved that he wasn't angry with you, yet you felt bad.

Lando chuckled at your words and leaned back in his chair, his smirk slowly transforming into a playful grin. "Oh yeah, you're a real danger to me," he teased, his tone still light. "I should watch out. You'll be taking my seat in no time."

You watched him in silence for a moment before you sighed, letting his arms fall to your side. "Seriously though, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your car in trouble."

Lando's expression softened as you apologized. His initial amusement was replaced by a hint of genuine concern. He reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle as he gave it a comforting squeeze.

 "It's okay, babe," he said softly, looking up at you. "I'm not mad, I was just teasing you. Besides, it's just a ticket. It's not the end of the world."

 "I got points on my license now," you whispered, your eyes filling with tears.

Lando noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, and his heart immediately sank at the sight. He stood up, stepping around the table to pull you into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he spoke.

 "Hey, it's okay," he attempted to soothe you. "It's not a big deal, really. I'm more surprised these are your first points with the way you drive sometimes."

You let out a sad chuckle and wiped your eyes. "Is this the way you are trying to comfort me?"

Lando grinned, his usual, cheeky personality resurfacing. "It's my special brand of comfort," he teased, before his tone turned serious again. "But honestly, love, it's just points on a license. It'll be okay. We'll pay the fine, and it'll be as if it never happened."

 "Nothing will be ever the same," you whispered dramatically.

Lando snorted at your statement and rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, love, you and your theatrics," he said, his teasing smirk back on his face. "It's a ticket, not a world-ending catastrophe."

 "I didn't even know what to do, it was so awkward," you started explaining the way you got pulled over. "The policeman asked if I drank, and I was so startled that I accidentally said yes."

Lando's eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and amusement as you described what happened. He couldn't suppress a laugh that escaped his lips. "You what?!" he stifled. "You told a policeman you were drunk?"

"Accidentally! I was trying to seem cooperative and say yes to whatever he wanted," you tried to explain yourself, but that only made Lando cackle louder. “Stop laughing! I thought he was going to take away my license right on the spot.”

Lando studied your face for a moment, trying to assess the emotional damage you suffered. Then he pulled you into a hug again and stroked your back.

 “Do you want to order Chinese? We can buy those stupid fortune cookies you love. Maybe they will tell the future of your license,” he offered, unable to stop himself from teasing. This was just so amusing.

You lightly smacked his chest. “Oh, shush, aren’t you supposed to be eating healthy anyway?”

 “I didn’t break any rules today yet. I must catch up to you,” he retorted.

You couldn’t help but finally smile. “Alright, let’s order then.”

 “How lucky that I don’t have to find out how to sneak cookies into a prison cell,” he added, sending you a quick glance before he picked up his phone from the table.

 “Lando!”

He started laughing again.

[ptergwen]

Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY YOUR BACK! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: You’re unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peter’s voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok

stay

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w/c: 2,005

warnings: mentions of blood, angst (happy ending!)

a/n: hi lovely thank you sm! you guys know i love my angst so i felt very in my element with this one hehe, thanks for the patience while i get used to writing again! feel free to keep sending in your reqs and chatting, i love hearing from y'all and will answer asap ♡

"y/n? it's over, i got him. i’ll come find you, okay?"

you don't answer.

"y/n/n? can you hear me?"

there's only silence on peter's end of the headset. peter isn't worried, not at first. he figures maybe you just got disconnected.

"y/n?"

nothing.

now that peter hasn't heard from you on the third try, he is starting to worry. the two of you had gotten separated during your mission. the plan was for you to distract your opponent and peter to web him up, but you lost him somewhere along the way. it was hard to stick together in the dark, twisty tunnels. he'd thought it would be best to take care of your opponent himself and find you after.

tony is going to kill him if he let anything happen to you. it's okay, though. he can just use his suit to track your location.

"friday?"

"yes, peter?"

"take me to y/n."

peter swings through the tunnels to get to you faster. friday guides him, which he's grateful for because he doesn't have a great sense of navigation as is. it's even more difficult underground. peter lands where friday tells him to, but he doesn't see you.

"are you sure this is where she is? i think she might've lost connection... maybe her location didn't update."

"y/n's watch is online, peter."

peter notices something on the ground, its blinking light catching his attention. he picks it up. sure enough, it's your stark tech watch, but where are you?

"would you like me to check again?"

peter makes out a figure a few feet away. it isn't moving. he takes a few steps toward the figure, reaching for his mask.

"that's okay. thanks, friday."

he removes his mask to see better, brows knitting together. something doesn't feel right. peter's senses confirm it, the hairs on his arms standing up and eyes focusing harder in the darkness. in peter's head, he already knows it's you. in his heart, he hopes it isn't.

peter crouches down and puts a hand on the figure's shoulder, rolling them over to face him.

it's you.

your spandex suit has some rips in it, and dirt is coating your back. your mask is pulled up part of the way. peter takes it off, revealing blood dripping down your forehead, your eyes just barely open. tears roll down your cheeks. peter cups your face tenderly in his hands, eyes desperately searching for yours.

"oh my god, baby, what happened?"

"that guy."

your voice comes out weak. despite the blood and tears staining his gloved fingers and the tightening in his throat, peter does his best to stay calm.

"what guy? the one we were fighting?"

"yeah."

"he did this to you?"

you hum in response. peter props an arm behind your head for support.

"it's okay. everything's gonna be okay."

"but... it hurts."

"i know, baby. but you're gonna be okay. we're gonna get you home and..."

your eyes flutter closed.

"hey, hey, hey. look at me."

peter strokes your cheek, willing you to stay awake. you grunt.

"tell me where it hurts so i can take a look. can you do that for me, y/n? where does it hurt?"

"my head. on top."

peter carefully parts your hair, searching for the source of your bleeding. there's a damp patch of hair near the top of your head. he moves it aside and finds a gash. it's small, but fairly deep. he doesn't think he can handle this on his own; he needs to tell tony.

"i’m gonna call your dad, okay?"

you don't respond. your eyes are closed when peter looks for them.

"y/n? you have to stay awake."

you don't say or do anything to indicate that you hear him. tears prick peter's eyes, threatening to spill over. he doesn't know much about head injuries, but he knows this isn't good.

"please wake up, y/n/n."

peter grabs both your shoulders and shakes, hard enough that it should wake you. nothing. you seem to have slipped into some sort of an unconscious state.

your watch starts to beep with an incoming call from your dad. peter accepts it with a shaking hand.

"friday tells me your vitals are suspiciously low, little lady. what's going on?"

peter fights to keep his tears at bay. he cradles your head with one hand, placing his other on your heart. he needs to feel your heartbeat to remind himself you're still here.

"it's me, tony."

"kid? where's y/n?"

a quiet sob escapes him, tears finally falling. tony doesn't need to hear anything else.

"i’m on my way."

it doesn't take long for tony to get to you and peter. he comes whirring through the tunnels, retracting his iron man suit when he lands. you lie on the ground, your head in peter's lap. you'd woken up shortly after peter spoke to your dad, but you aren't really responsive. peter is cradling your head gently in both hands and whispering words of reassurance.

he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice tony is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"what happened, kid?"

tony kneels down next to peter.

"i... i don't know. the guy we were fighting... i didn't see, i think she hit her head."

"okay, okay. let me see the damage."

tony uses his watch to illuminate the dark area. there's dry blood all around the crown of your head, in your hair. it's worse than he expected. he doesn't let it show, though. he doesn't want to alarm you any more than you already are, or peter for that matter; he's a mess.

"i found this."

peter moves your hair to show your dad the wound on your head. tony shines the light on you to get a better look. concern flashes in his eyes briefly, but long enough for peter to see it.

"friday, call the med bay. tell them it's my daughter."

"yes, boss. it appears y/n may have a concussion. i've detected a large contusion."

you bring a hand up to your head, trying to feel the wound. peter coaxes your hand away with a don't touch, baby. you try to say something, but you can't. you're in too much pain. your dad and peter share a knowing look.

"we'll be there soon, fri. make sure they're ready for us. and call happy, tell him to pick us up asap."

"i’ll let them know right away, boss."

a bright light shines directly in your eyes, making you stir a bit in peter's lap. you whine and squeeze your eyes shut. fresh tears fall down your cheeks.

"it's okay, it's okay. it's just your old man."

you squint your eyes open.

"dad?"

"hey, y/n/n."

"what... what're you doing?"

"just gotta take a look at something. look up?"

you try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids feel heavy. tony holds one of your eyes open himself, then the other. he clicks his tongue.

"what's wrong? is she okay?" peter asks your dad.

"pupils are bigger than they should be. still reacting to light, though. that's good."

"what does it mean if her pupils are too big?"

"friday's right. she could have a mild concussion."

the light turns off, your body finally relaxing. peter's body stiffens.

"that's serious, isn't it?"

peter looks from tony to you, stroking your hair and cupping your cheek, then back up at tony. tony can see the fear in his eyes.

"it shouldn't be, the bleeding just gave us a scare. we'll know more when we get her home."

you grab at peter's knee. he places his hand over yours, thumb smoothing along the back of your hand. you look around the tunnel with blurry vision.

peter doesn't like the uncertainty of this. they don't even know the extent of your injuries, just that they might be serious. he knows you're going to be okay, that tony and the med bay team know what to do and you'll bounce back from this because you're you, but he's scared. you've never been hurt this badly before.

"happy's got our location. he'll be here as soon as he can," tony tells you, voice uncharacteristically soft. you blink your eyes in response. "how long is that gonna be?" peter asks.

"i’m not sure, kid."

hot, frustrated tears fill peter's eyes.

"we can't just wait around anymore. she's been like this for a while."

"trust me, pete. i don't like waiting either."

"then let's just bring her back ourselves."

tony gives peter a stern look.

"let's not."

"why not? it's faster if one of us takes her. i’ll swing her there right now."

peter is already scooping you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. you groan at the sudden movement. tony removes you from peter's arms and takes you into his own protectively.

"i said no. we're not flying her home, and we're definitely not swinging her. it isn't safe."

peter stays quiet, blinking back tears.

"you've gotta remember, y/n isn't like you. she doesn't have powers. for the stark's, it's just us out there."

he knows tony is right, of course he is. he forgets how vulnerable you actually are because you're always so strong. riding home with happy may take longer than peter wants it to, but it's safer for you. he needs to think about your best interest. putting other things first caused all of this in the first place.

if peter had found you earlier instead of finishing the fight, maybe he would have been able to get you help sooner. maybe you wouldn't be in this bad of a condition.

"i’m sorry, tony. i’m really, really sorry."

"no biggie, i get it. you're just looking out for her."

"no, that's the problem. i wasn't."

"what're you talking about?"

peter can't hold back his tears any longer.

"i wasn't there when y/n got hurt. it must've happened when we separated. when i found her, she... she was already like this."

"hey, kid. don't do that, don't blame yourself. you didn't know."

"i could've known if i paid more attention. i could've heard, or... or maybe she said something."

peter avoids tony's gaze, too ashamed to look at him, and too guilty to look at you.

"everyone gets caught up, pete. hell, you know i do. but you know what? you're here for y/n now, and we're taking care of her. that's what matters."

"you mean, you're not mad at me?"

tony surprises him by outstretching an arm and pulling him into a side hug. peter manages a small smile, wiping at his watery eyes.

"do i seem mad?"

"guess not. thanks."

tony pats him on the shoulder.

"time to go. happy'll be here any minute."

"okay, i’ll go ahead of you guys so you can see where you're going."

peter starts to collect your things while your dad helps you up. you're disoriented, head pounding, and you stumble a bit because you don't quite have your balance. tony is quick to catch you.

"easy, y/n/n. you're alright, yeah?"

"i want peter."

"he's right here, just leading the way. i’m gonna help you."

"no, i want peter."

peter's heart clenches. he looks to your dad for permission.

"alright, parker. i'll trade you. but be careful, she's precious cargo."

tony lets go of you, but he stays close just in case. he takes your things from peter. you fling yourself into peter's arms, hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. peter hugs you to his chest. tony smiles at peter and nods in approval, making peter smile back.

"i got you," peter coos. "are you gonna need help walking, or you got it?"

"i dunno, i'm dizzy. carry me?"

"sure, baby."

peter picks you up bridal style, one arm secured under you and the other supporting your head. you loosely wrap your arms around his neck.

"can you stay with me when we get there?"

peter kisses the side of your head lightly.

"i’m not going anywhere."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[caitified]

Hello! I absolutely love your family series so much. I love Caitlin’s family but can you please do Paige next?

Can it be like Paige introduces their baby to Geno and CD after Paige’s game (she’s in Dallas already) and idk just cute interactions and fans are eating it up. I hope you give this a shot. Thank you!

INTRODUCTION

PAIGE BUECKERS X FAMILY READER

notes: finally…after literally 100 requests i’m properly starting my paige family series. enjoy! (p.s i think i changed this a bit from the req, sry)

requests are open for this.

packing for any trip with a baby was always a process. no matter how much you tried to pack light, you always ended up with more than you needed.

“paige, we’re not moving to connecticut.” you glanced at her over your shoulder as you zipped up one of eva’s bags. “why does she have like four different pairs of sneakers in here?”

paige, sitting on the floor with eva in her lap, looked up sheepishly. “because she’s gotta look fresh?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile. “she’s not even walking yet.”

paige turned eva toward her, gently bouncing her. “tell mama you need options, baby.”

eva, six months old with bright blue eyes just like her mom’s, blew a spit bubble.

paige gasped dramatically. “see? she agrees.”

you laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed the last of your things. “fine. whatever. let’s just go before we miss the flight.”

—

the flight from dallas to connecticut wasn’t too bad.

eva, thankfully, was a pretty easy baby. after some snacks, a few rounds of peekaboo with paige, and a little bit of fighting sleep, she finally passed out in your arms.

paige, sitting next to you, smiled down at her before looking at you. “this is so weird,” she murmured.

you shifted slightly to look at her. “what is?”

her lips curled slightly. “going back to uconn. with you. with eva.”

your heart softened. “you’re excited, though, right?”

she nodded. “of course. but, like…” she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “when i left, i never thought i’d be coming back like this, y’know? like, yeah, i knew i’d visit, but—” she looked down at eva again, voice dropping slightly. “now i have a family.”

you reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “it’s a full-circle moment.”

she nodded, exhaling. “yeah. it really is.”

—

the game itself was electric.

stepping into gampel pavilion again felt like stepping into a time capsule. the energy, the fans, the love—it was all still there.

but this time, instead of sitting courtside just as paige’s girlfriend, you had eva in your lap.

instead of fangirling over paige as the uconn superstar, you were watching her experience the game as a wnba player, an alumni, a legend in her own right.

and, of course, you were just trying to keep eva from throwing her pacifier onto the court.

“baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her head as she wiggled. “no throwing things.”

she cooed back at you, completely ignoring your request.

the fans ate her up.

anytime she clapped her little hands? cheers.

every time she got excited when the crowd got loud? adorable gasps.

by halftime, there were already tweets circulating about how paige’s baby was a uconn legend in the making.

you glanced at paige, who was beaming, filming eva on her phone.

“she’s gonna steal your thunder,” you teased.

paige smirked. “i’d let her.”

—

after the game, it was time for introductions.

geno and cd were already waiting in the tunnel, and the moment paige stepped forward with eva, their faces lit up.

“there’s the real superstar,” geno said, grinning as he looked at eva.

cd, beside him, immediately reached for her. “oh, let me see her!”

eva blinked at them, big blue eyes full of curiosity, before reaching her arms out for cd.

paige gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “i can’t believe this. my own daughter is betraying me.”

you laughed, nudging her. “relax, babe. she just knows good people.”

cd beamed, adjusting eva in her arms. “she’s beautiful, paige.” she glanced at you, smiling warmly. “you two did good.”

geno crossed his arms, tilting his head. “i dunno… she kinda looks too much like paige. are we sure she’s not already stubborn?”

paige gasped. “coach!”

you smirked, shrugging. “i mean, she is kind of a diva.”

geno nodded knowingly. “oh, she definitely got that from her mom.”

eva babbled happily in cd’s arms, clearly enjoying the attention.

paige sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. “i can’t believe i came back here to get roasted.”

geno clapped a hand on her shoulder. “it’s what we do, kid.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile.

you squeezed her hand, grinning.

back home. but better.

i’m in now. keep the paige family requests coming

[skipper1331]

Little things // Alexia Putellas

headcannons

The little things Alexia and you do while being absolutely in love with one another

car and driving around

Alexia always opens the door for you

She‘s the driver while you‘re the passenger princess

She insists on hearing your playlist, even though you both have a shared playlist (she knows you love your playlist)

you kiss her temple/ cheek at every red light

She’s getting you some flowers in the time you‘re at your appointment (she insists on driving you everywhere)

having a water bottle and snacks in the car, just in case

in the kitchen

Alexia helping you the best she can but ends up admiring you from the bar stool or hugging you from behind as she whispers compliments in your ear

when it’s her turn with cooking, she only cooks things you love

Also she lets you try everything before serving and vice versa

"The chef deserves a kiss now "

She makes sure the table is set perfectly and the atmosphere is tranquil

Dinning with you is very important to her, so she makes sure not to mention work or anything that causes stress, she likes to keep the calm and lovely atmosphere

with her family

having a hand on your thigh under table, also drawing patterns on the back of your hand when you intertwine your fingers

one time, you dropped your fork, so within seconds her hand was covering the corner of the table, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself while picking up the cutlery

She loves the bond you have with her family, even though the mocking and teasing of you and Alba can be a pain in the ass.

Kisses always make up for it

"I‘m going to marry her" she tells her mother

Her family already knows because they can see it in her eyes when she looks at you

And they also know you‘ll say yes because they see the look in your eyes when you look at Alexia

You two are the perfect match

Her mother loves you

Her sister does too

at night

You wear her clothes, she loves the sight

both of you sleep better when you‘re with/next to each other

Alexia always has an arm around you, in the need of protecting you

you cuddle into her, legs tangled together, arms around each other

sometimes she‘s the big spoon and sometimes you are, it depends on the mood

when she can’t sleep, you‘ll scratch her back and she‘s in a slumber in an instant

During off days you‘ll stay up till the early hours, just talking, giggling, stating random facts or debating the newest gossip

soft snores filling the room

Alexia often wakes up before you, though she doesn’t make any signs of leaving the bed before you‘re up

If she has to get up though, she‘ll kiss your forehead and promise to be back soon and wishing you a good day

football

you‘re not a professional footballer (you had to google the rules after Alexia had told you she’s a pro) though she likes to think you are as she puts you in goal when the two of you are training together

'training together' - she begs you to join her training routines, ends up convincing you with kisses

It‘s enough to see her pout

you can’t resist her pout

-

watching random football matches at home

Alexia puts a jersey on the bed before each home game, so you have something to wear for the stadium

'Alexia' and '11' on your back making her heart flutter

Your heart bursts with pride every time you see her walking out of the tunnel

Cheering for her

always in the stadium at home games and at important away games (champions league final, etc)

you‘re her biggest supporter

Alexia makes sure football and you are balanced - she never puts football above you but she‘s still ambitious and always gives 101% to be the best

You‘re always impressed by Alexia, her talent is phenomenal

Alexia enjoys impressing you

-

at first Alexia used to shut you out after a lost match

over time she learns to let her guard down

you make her feel loved and appreciated

She can let her walls down around you and likes to think that it‘s okay to be vulnerable sometimes (you assure her that it always is)

after won matches only happy things happen; nice dates, kisses, relaxed evening, etc

the achievement jar

One evening, after Alexia had scored two goals and an assist, you brought up the idea

It‘s been in the back of your mind since awhile but only now the mini marble footballs had arrived

won game? One marble in the jar

Alexia scored a goal? one marble

Alexia scored two goals? two marbles

Alexia assisted a goal ? one marble

won trophy? three marbles in the jar

and so on

when the jar‘s filled Alexia gets a big big surprise. Such as special days with massages, literally anything to show her how proud you were and how much she deserved

Yes, you still had date nights which were also special but the achievement-appreciation-days were just a tiny bit more special

Alexia loves it

So do you

your job

Alexia supports you on every step of the way to your dream job

After a long and exhausting day, Alexia hugs you, runs you a bath, anything that makes you feel relaxed and appreciated

She‘s your date to any work event (vice versa)

Alexia has all of your (important) meetings and appointments in her calendar

If you have to study, Alexia makes sure not to bother/distract you yet also always making sure that you stay hydrated and take some breaks

future

Both of you have your future planned together

Alexia dreams of marrying you, she has the ring hidden in her football drawer because she knows you‘d never look there

You talked about getting a dog, both of you really liking the thought. You just couldn’t agree on which breed (yet)

private proposal

wedding just like you dreamt of as a kid

happy tears spilling out of your eyes as you see each other for the first time

best day of your life

amazing honeymoon

Both of you never taking of your rings

Alexia taping it for her matches

her new celebration is to kiss her ring after scoring

kids, if you want them

The future bright and welcoming as you continue to share the perfect marriage

you‘ll never stop loving each other

[yelenasbraid]

none of the bullshit — joe burrow

summary — you’re an athletic trainer with the bengals. joe’s taken a liking to you.

warnings — fem!reader, fluff, some good ol’ banter, implied smut, language, i sort of know what i’m talking about pls don’t come for me

tags — @wickedfun9 @softburrow @starsinthesky5 @joeburrowshaircurl @joeyfranchise @willowsnook @ebsmind @iosivb9 @blairsworld22 @kazsbrckkers

IT WAS COLD. Earlier, you were begging for the colder weather. The summer heat was no joke, but now, the colder winters were biting. You stood out on the practice field, layered up as best you could, keeping your eye on the players.

You were an athletic trainer for the Bengals, a damn good one you’d add. You had to put up with a lot of bullshit over the past couple of years, especially with a certain quarterback.

flashback to the summer

“This is the third time I’ve done this, Y/N. How is this helping me get anywhere?” Joe was frustrated. You’ve asked him to throw the ball the exact same way, three different times. It was his first time throwing after his injury and you were being cautious.

“You want to get out there and snap your wrist again?” You shot back, the summer heat beating down on the both of you. You didn’t have time for his complaints or his nonsense.

“No, but throwing ten yards isn’t going to do much,”

“You think I’m stupid? I know that. It’s called we’ll get there,” you chirped. His attitude was warranted, only sometimes. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel, but he thought it was closer than it really was. He also hated that you were right. Your wit has kept him sane, if he were to be honest with himself. It’s pushed him to be better, to do better.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he shook his head, going to throw the ball again.

End of flashback

You’ve watched Joe excel, watched as his wrist strengthened as he climbed the charts to be one of the best quarterbacks in the league. It was a thrill to see, even from the perspective of a witty athletic trainer.

“Cold?” you turned your head to watch a red-nosed Joe walk up to you.

“No, I’m actually sweating right now,” you sarcastically quipped, “yes I’m cold,”

“Sorry I asked,” Joe quipped, but a smirk painted his lips. He loved messing with you, mainly to see your pink cheeks and your smirk. As much as he messed with you, the feelings he had for you were very real. Having feelings for an athletic trainer wasn’t on his bingo card for the year, but here he was, never being able to pull himself from you. There was just something so magnetic about you.

“And you’re out here in shorts,” you scoffed, seeing the hoodie/jersey combo and the shorts he wore. He looked like he was taking a walk in the park when it was 50 degrees outside. It was below 30.

“It’s the high metabolism,” he came to stand next to you. He was much taller than you, and while he adored the height difference, he was well aware you could kick his ass.

“I think it’s the cockiness getting to you,” you muttered, earning a scoff from Joe.

“Wow,” he laughed, “I’ll make sure to put your name in for most supportive athletic trainer of the year,”

“Thanks, I deserve it,” you chuckled, looking up at him. He would agree with you; you did deserve it. Through his injury, the bullshit he put you through, you deserved some type of award. He wanted to be the one to give it to you, to see your face soften and your eyes widen.

“Yeah, you do,” he admitted, turning his face away from looking at you. There was a buzz between you, and you looked over at him. You watched as his breaths came out in puffs, how his cheeks, ears and nose were painted red. He wasn’t bad to look at, but you to remind yourself that you couldn’t indulge in those feelings. You’d lose your job.

You turned back to the field, feeling your heart slam against your chest. Now you were warm, your palms sweaty and your cheeks red. One of the coaches blew the whistle, signaling the end of the break and the beginning of the second half of practice.

—

Your cheeks were rosy, and you were warmer at the end of practice. You threw with Joe some more, gave him some strengthening techniques, and continued on with the banter that usually came from you both.

You grabbed your things, including a practice bag, and hoisted it on your shoulder. You looked back at Joe, who was standing with Ja’marr and Tee, a laugh spilling from his lips. He looked so cozy, so relaxed, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

You looked away, shaking your head. It wasn’t going to happen. You were an athletic trainer and he was a player, not just any player, the star player. You walked off of the field, a pep in your step as you started towards the facility.

“Boo,” you heard a voice in your ear, making you jump. You snapped your head over, and saw the towering quarterback next to you.

“Asshole,” you shoved him, your heart slamming in your chest from his scare and from him.

“Oh come on, you’re just a lil jumpy,” he teased. He liked seeing you all riled up, but he wasn’t stupid. He respected you enough to stop when you asked, or even when your body language betrayed you.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, walking next to him. He kept his pace with yours, even though it was slower due to the height difference.

As he walked next to you, he felt his stomach tie itself into knots. He usually didn’t get nervous; he was confident enough in his abilities to focus. But now? He faltered. You were beautiful, in every way, and the way you handled his antics just made his feelings ten times stronger for you.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” you hummed as you walked with him. The silence that was between you was tense, and it buzzed with unsaid feelings. What those feelings were, you couldn’t tell.

“Just thinking about all the ways to annoy you tomorrow,” he dramatically sighed, but it wasn’t completely true. He thought about you, the way your eyes sparkled in the sun, the way your face blushed under the cool weather. He found himself, at points, thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you, to have you as his.

“I knew it was preplanned,” you teased, giving him a smirk.

“Everything’s preplanned. I don’t do anything without thinking first.”

“That’s a lie,” you laughed, earning a scoff and a gentle shove from him.

“You’re supposed to support me, not break me down,” he pouted, and you mockingly pouted back.

“Aww, poor baby,” you huffed, and he only shook his head. You both neared the facility doors, and as warmth enveloped you both, so did Joe’s feelings intensify. He pursed his lips, flexing his hands as he tried to control the impulse to kiss you, to shove you against the wall and take you.

“Y/N?” he asked, and you turned to face him. It was just you two, standing in the hallway. Everyone else had gone ahead.

“Yeah?” you prompted, watching him. You picked out uncertainty in his eyes, the way his lips were tightly pressed together. Something was weighing heavy on him. But he looked at you, his eyes blank, his face pale. He forgot the words. His tongue was thick, like cotton in his mouth.

“Nothing, I’ll see you later,” he smiled, and brushed past you to the locker room. His heart hammered in his chest and his palms were sweaty. His mind was in a fog, consumed at the thought of you. He chickened out, and he’d beat himself up about it for the rest of the day.

You were left standing, confused and empty. You watched as he left, his form retreating down the hallway before he disappeared. Part of you hoped, based off of the look in his eyes, that he’d tell you that your feelings for him were reciprocated. Part of you hoped that he’d say something, but he didn’t.

You walked back to your office, a smaller room along a hallway. You unlocked your door, walking in to the warmer room. Your desk was in front of you, a window behind it, letting soft light into the room. Two guest chairs stood in front of your desk, and a small table held a coffee maker.

It was the bare minimum, but you were lucky you had an office.

You set the bag down, sitting down at your computer. You needed to write your reports, to check reports that have been submitted, but you couldn’t focus. Your mind drifted to Joe, to his eyes, to how he so easily talked to you, his arms, his thighs.

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes.

You opened up your emails, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts of Joe. He was your coworker, not someone to become romantically involved with. No matter how he made you feel, no matter how attractive he was.

You didn’t know how much you got done, but your eyes never left your laptop until you heard a knock on your door. Your eyes lifted from your laptop, watching as Joe opened your door. His hair was wet, his skin a warm tan. He was dressed comfortably; sweats and a sweatshirt.

“What’s up?” you asked, pursing your lips.

“I just wanted to stop by before I left,” he said, stepping into your office and softly shutting the door behind him. His heart slammed against his chest. He was only ever nervous around you, except when it came to practice. He was in his element, he knew what he was doing and that distracted him from you. Now, as he stood in your office, he didn’t have his football knowledge to back him up.

“Oh,” you smiled, “is there something bothering you?” you asked him, concern furrowing your brow. You couldn’t think that Joe would come and see you for any other reason than football, or his wrist. He wouldn’t come and see you because he wanted to.

“Yeah, can you check my wrist before I go?” he asked you. He didn’t need his wrist checked. He was totally fine. He’s been fine for weeks.

“Sure, yeah,” you stood up, meeting him in the center of your office, “but I thought you’ve been fine for weeks,” you hummed as you took his extended wrist.

“I was, but it felt really tight after my shower,” he swallowed. Your soft hands against his wrist, the way your fingers gently pressed to see where his supposed pain was, it sent shocks throughout his body.

“Ok,” you hummed, turning over his wrist. You didn’t see any swelling, you didn’t feel any heat, and he didn’t react to your pressure.

“I don’t feel anything,” you told him, meeting his eyes, “there isn’t obvious pain,” you added, but as your eyes met, tension buzzed between you. Your stomach twisted, your heart skipped a beat. You fought the urge to look at his lips.

“That’s good,” he sighed, nodding his head. He could feel the tension, the way you looked at him, the way his heart skipped beats. He inhaled deeply to try and control his breathing. His free hand, with a slight tremble, reached up and caressed your cheek. His light touch sent shivers down your spine, and as much as you should fight it, you didn’t. You stepped closer to him, keeping your eyes on him.

He softly placed his lips on yours, and for a moment you stiffened. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect him to kiss you, to do the very thing you’ve wanted to do for a while. He parted from you, feeling you stiffen.

“I’m sorry-” he was interrupted by your hands grabbing the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling his lips to yours with a hunger like no other. He immediately kissed you back, one of his hands cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You tasted sweet and it made his body thrum with his need for you. The need he’s been shoving aside for months.

Your lips danced together with a roughness and passion you’ve never experienced. Your hands looped around his neck, keeping yourself as close as you could be to him. His hunger for you could be felt as his hands moved to grip your hips. He began walking you back, keeping his lips on yours. When your hips hit your desk, you gasped, and it allowed his tongue to slip into your mouth. You moaned as his tongue explored your mouth tasting more of you.

He slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He panted, his breath fanning your face.

“Is the door locked?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know, why?”

“Because we’re gonna need it to be,” you hummed, the look in your eyes telling him all he needed to know. He’s never locked a door so fast in his life. He came back over, and smashed his lips back to yours with a newfound hunger. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, and in that moment, you were glad that door was locked. You were also glad you were an athletic trainer; you’d need to be able to do your own stretches later when he took your ability to walk.

[kabr0ztrousers]

a fem!reader getting captured in a cave by a well endowed male lamia (with two cocks of course), using his immense strength to keep her bound up while he uses her like a fleshlight for who knows how long (it’s real dark in the cave so when she’s drifting in and out of consciousness due to exhaustion, she has no way of knowing how much time has passed)

Kabr0z Writes Episode 75: Snakes in a Cave

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Noncon; breeding; kidnap; imprisonment; bondage; intox; envenomation; impregnation

A/N: You mightn't have thought this was going to be yesterday's bonus, but has been giving me such difficulty!

##########################################

You'd never been caving before. You much preferred the open sky above you, but your friends had managed to cajole you into following them to their subterranean hobby. Of course, when your body includes seven feet of undulating tail dragging behind you, getting gear that fits is a bit of a pain. Nevertheless, they managed and so you descended with them. Headlamp and helmet strapped tightly under your chin, you negotiated your long, sinusoidal body down the narrow cave. It felt a shame to hide your emerald scales from the sunlight, but your body was well adapted for the dark tunnels under the earth.

You remembered stories your grandmother told you as a girl, how hundreds of years ago Nagas ruled the caves beneath mankind, first emerging some decades after magic started returning to the surface, joining the minotaurs, the catmen, and the werewolves. It fed into the stories everyone learns at school; one part myth, one part history, detailing the first appearances of what modern society would refer to as "variants" - though the term encompasses everyone with human intellect but not-entirely-human physiology, an umbrella so large as to be functionally useless.

You were last into the cave, your tail made it almost impractical for anyone to follow you. Thankfully, you're a strong climber as it turns out. Your body moved so easily through the caves it was hard not to believe this is what you were built for. You slid this way and that, following the man in front of you.

You yelped. A spider the size of your open hand had shot between you and your friend. It only took a moment to carry on its way, but it was long enough that you lost sight of the boots in front of you as they disappeared into the gloom. You listened out, able to hear the scrambling men in front of you. Following on was simple enough, right? You sure hoped so as you slithered on, flat chest held against the rockface as you slid through gaps just wide enough to fit through, the cold rock pressing in to you on both sides.

It never occurred to you that the men you were supposedly following were both quite substantially broader than you, nor how they said they were following an introductory route, with no tight squeezes. This became all too clear when the tunnel spat you out into a wider opening, tumbling down to the bottom of a cavern. You landed on your back, tail lay out, staring at the hole in the ceiling that dropped you here.

You looked around, the cave walls were bare. The only light was coming from your headlamp, anemic and yellow-tinged. You got up, slowly moving around the perimeter of the room. There were a couple of ways onwards from here, but you felt it's a better idea to stay put. The thought of being lost down here chilled you, even more than the cool stone under you. Hopefully staying put and not getting more lost would help.

You gave up staring down the crevice, turning back to the centre of the room.

You screamed.

A naga stood at the other end of the room. Tall and pale, his wide eyes milky white, forked tongue tasting the air. He could sense you, even without sight, sliding towards you, in no hurry to close the gap. You tried to squeeze into then gap, making a little progress before he grabbed your tail, yanking you backwards as your nails scraped the sides. Inch by inch you slid back into the cavern. The pale serpent gripped you tight, claws digging in to you. He drew you into his grasp, wrapping you in his tail as you struggled in vain against the muscular body intertwining yours. He bit your shoulder, cold numbness radiating from the site as his paralytic venom took hold. Your arm went to sleep, then your neck started to ache, followed by the other arm, then your tail began to shut down, losing control over its movements as the toxin shut down your motor neurons. You felt the naga holding you, almost gently as he wrapped himself tighter around your body.

He was stripping off your clothes, little by little, starting by revealing your body, then the form-fitting skirt around your hips, revealing your genital slit as the twin shafts of his cock stood to meet it.

His hand strayed to your slit, gently parting the lips, testing the supple flesh within. Was it the venom making you wet? You hoped so. Either way, you could feel him pressing two fingers into you with ease, rubbing your moisture around your opening, readying you for him. His body moved around yours, pressing the double-shafted cock against you.

The shafts slid into your welcoming body, fitting like a jigsaw piece. You gasped a little as it filled you, better than your baseliner boyfriend ever could, the twin shafts finding their marks inside you. Just because your body wasn't listening to you, didn't mean it wasn't sending sensation back. You felt every inch of the ribbed, tapering hemipene as he gyrated next to you, sliding it in and out, unhurried in all things. You aren't going anywhere, after all.

His cocks felt amazing, pressing and probing in ways you'd never felt before. It was like you were made for him. Your eyes rolled in your head, your tail twitching as you approached your peak, cunt squeezing against him as you came around him. You felt his cocks spasm inside, starting to fill you with his seed. He bit you again, more venom flowing into your body, knocking you out.

You woke up, he was still around you, soft cocks still inside you. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but only succeeded in waking the sleeping snake. He dosed you again with his fangs, needling into the meat of your shoulder again as the familiar numbness took you again. Again, he started slowly thrusting in and out, picking up speed at the grunts and moans that escaped you as your breath caught and your body responded to his. Again, you spasmed and shook as orgasm took you over, milking him into you as he gave you more of his venom, putting you out for another spell.

Again and again the cycle repeated, each time you woke he'd stir again, or already be midway through having his way with you. The light on your helmet long since went out.

Every so often he wouldn't be there when you woke, only to return some hours later with some variety of rat or other cave-dwelling rodent he'd swallow down, before tossing the other paralysed creature to you. Eventually he stopped biting you before having his way. Eventually you started to let him.

And so time went on, fucktoy for a blind, almost feral naga. You could feel the eggs moving inside you, fertile with your brood.

This is your life now

########################################

Yeah, yeah, this should've gone up like 7 hours ago, but I literally fell asleep after finishing it

Expect tonight's episode tonight, I guess?

[clickercouture]

After The Storm's When The Flowers Bloom.

︵︵﹆ . ⁺ . ✦ ﹒₊˚★﹒₊‧

I was listening to Kali Uchis’ song “After the Storm” this morning, and it made me think of something. I paid closer attention to the lyrics than I normally would—and I had a revelation. What was it, you may ask? Simple: I realized that a lot of the song’s lyrics can be seen as an analogy for shifting and manifestation. That’s exactly what this post is about. If I went through it lyric by lyric, we’d be here forever, so I’ll just highlight the ones that specifically caught my attention.

── .✦ I. Perserverance Is The Key.

At the end of the day, you’re the only person who has control over your destiny. You decide if you shift, you decide if you manifest whatever you want—you decide everything. Nobody else. You’re not the only one who’s struggling, but that doesn’t mean you can just give up and throw in the towel, expecting someone else to save you. It’s all up to you.

Just like Kali says, “you gotta save yourself.” One day, you’ll make it—you just have to persevere and keep moving forward despite the challenges. It’ll all be worth it in the end, I promise.

── .✦ II. There's Light At The End of The Tunnel.

This one’s pretty self-explanatory. No matter what you’re going through right now, you will shift and get what you want—it’s already set in stone. Circumstances don’t matter; they can’t and won’t dictate anything—past, present, or future.

Sometimes you’ll have to wade through the bad to reach the good, and that’s okay. It’s natural. Struggling doesn’t make you any less of a person, shifter, or manifestor.

── .✦ III. You Can't Succeed if You Give Up.

I need you to really think for a second. Did those shifters, bloggers—whoever it is you look up to—give up? No, right? So what makes you think you should?

Even if you haven’t seen much success yet—or even if you have—you should NEVER give up. When you give up, you gain nothing but anger and resentment: toward yourself, toward those who kept going, and toward what could’ve been.

But when you try—even just a little—you have everything to gain. E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. I can’t even begin to put it into words.

If you’re okay with having nothing, then sure—give up. Throw in the towel. By all means, go ahead.

But if you know deep down that you’re meant for more, for something greater—then don’t. Take that towel, and burn it to the ground. Because you won’t be throwing it in anytime soon.

── .✦ IV. There's Value in The Most Unlikely Places.

Be open to anything. Don’t think you have to manifest or shift a certain way. If you come across a method or technique that really resonates with you—try it! You never know what could happen.

You don’t have to be a lone wolf, y’know (unless you want to be). There’s often something valuable in other people’s ideas.

While it’s great to take control of your journey and be independent, it’s also okay to want help sometimes. As long as you’re leading the charge and remember that the real work is up to you, you’re golden.

[inkedinshadows]

Calanmai

Day 28: Breeding kink — Tamlin x f!reader

Warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, rough sex

Word count: 1.507

A/N: sorry again for the delay in posting this one. I’m not sure about how this turned out, I honestly don’t know what to think of it. It's not exactly what I wanted it to be, but it also is what I wanted? Idk, I have no idea lol

Tamlin had warned you about Calanmai. He explained what it was and what he was required to do, and he made sure you knew you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to. But you had stood by each other’s side since the day you met months ago, and you weren’t about to abandon him now.

Especially because you knew he hoped you would be there, even if he never said it and left the choice to you. And you wanted to be there. You wanted to see this part of him, too, and love it as much as every other part.

You stood among the faeries lining the path that led to the cave where the ritual would take place. They were all female, all waiting for Tamlin’s arrival and hoping to be chosen.

Would he choose you? You had no way of knowing for sure. It was the magic flowing through him tonight that would make the choice, not him. But you pushed the thought away, unable to stomach the idea of him with some other girl. Even more so because he had told you he needed to “complete the rite inside the chosen one.��� You needed it to be you.

The drumming picked up rhythm and volume until it was an almost deafening frenzy. Swaying on your feet alongside the others, you resisted the urge to cover your ears and instead focused on the other end of the path, where every faerie—lesser or High Fae—had gone utterly still.

You felt the thrum of power before you saw him, and when he appeared, he looked like a god.

Tamlin wasn’t wearing a shirt, his muscled chest painted with swirls of blue ink that shimmered in the light of the bonfires. His hair was unbound, and a crown of golden leaves rested on the top of his head. His back was rigid, his stride long and unhurried as he surveyed every faerie gathered just for him. A part of you swore he was looking for someone specific.

But what if you were wrong? What if he wouldn’t pick you? The question crawled its way into your mind, and this time, you couldn’t shake the concern—not when you heard the girls next to you sigh dreamily. You couldn’t blame them, but something churned in your stomach.

Suddenly, Tamlin stopped in his tracks. He seemed to smell something in the wind, and then his head snapped in your direction, his eyes immediately locking on yours amidst the crowd. You held your breath as he stalked closer, and only when he stood in front of you did you realize what he meant when he said he wouldn’t be himself tonight.

His pupils were blown wide, his short fangs exposed, just like his claws. Even his beautiful features seemed more animalistic than usual—sharper. There was nothing soft in his face, nor in his voice, as he snarled, “Y/N. Come with me.”

Every worry disappeared the moment he grabbed your wrist and headed for the entrance of the cave, not bothering to glance back to check if you were keeping up.

You followed silently as he led you deep into the hillside, the rock walls illuminated by only a few lanterns casting long shadows. Tamlin stopped after a turn in the tunnel and pointed to several blankets laid out on the ground.

“That’s where I’m going to take you,” he growled.

The sound trembled down your body, a shiver of anticipation and excitement coursing through you at this new version of him. He pulled you closer until your chest pressed against his. The paint smeared on the front of your dress, but you were too caught up in his eyes to notice.

You caressed his cheek as you normally would, and something softened in his gaze, if only slightly.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said, but there was a light tremor in his voice that revealed just how much he was struggling against the magic of the land.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Don’t.”

As if the word were a trigger, the softness you had glimpsed disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving behind only that feral, lustful gaze. His mouth descended on your neck, and he bit the tender spot where it met your shoulder, not hard enough to pierce the skin and draw blood, but enough to make you yelp at the jolt of pain. Yet, there was a sort of tenderness to it all—the way he soothed the spot with his tongue before he pulled back, how his claws retracted until they were nothing more than sharp nails so he wouldn’t hurt you.

Tamlin was already panting, a victim to whatever greater power flowed through him. His cock was straining in his pants, and you reached for it, palming him through the fabric. He flinched, as if not used to being touched in such a situation.

“Let me,” you murmured.

He bared his teeth in another growl. “Later.”

He was on you again, kissing you with such hunger that a moan escaped your lips. He dragged a short claw over the laces at the back of your dress and the fabric soon slipped off your body. You shivered as the cold air of the cave hit your skin, and a guttural groan came from Tamlin at the sight of your peaked nipples.

For a moment, you caught another glimpse of your beloved High Lord in his eyes when he helped you lay down on the blankets. But soon, his clothes joined yours, and he was back in the grip of the magic-induced frenzy.

The male that would normally murmur sweet nothings and soft praises as he pleasured you was gone. This Tamlin kept silent while he spread your legs and lowered his mouth to your cunt. His thumb drew tight circles on your clit, making sure to use just the pad and avoid scratching you with the sharp nail. Your eyes closed as he lapped at you, but he stopped shortly after—once you were wet enough for him to slide in effortlessly.

He thrust into you with a single roll of his hips and you cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth when he kissed you again. He immediately set a punishing rhythm, fingers digging into your thighs, and you welcomed the slight twinge of pain, relishing in the knowledge that he would leave little marks on your flesh. By the time the night was over, you hoped there would be many more all over your body.

Tamlin looked like he couldn’t get enough of you. He was nibbling on your neck one moment and sucking on your nipples the next, and then his mouth was on yours again. Yet his pace never faltered, pounding into you relentlessly as if his very life depended on it.

“Tam,” you whimpered. You held on to his broad shoulder, your hands smudged with the blue paint that was now also smeared on your breasts. “Gods, this is—”

“I’m not stopping,” he interrupted you with a snarl. “I need to come inside you to complete the ritual.”

His words were accentuated by a deeper thrust that had you almost screaming, but concern about him stopping was actually the last thing on your mind. You knew that already and you wanted him to come inside. A primal, hidden part of you wanted—needed—him to breed you.

“That’s not what I—” you tried again, but Tamlin was too lost in the magic.

He growled and kissed you, teeth slightly sinking into your lower lip. His hips slammed into you faster, harder, and you were soon arching beneath him as you neared your climax.

“I’m about to come, princess.” His voice was barely recognizable. “I’m going to fill you up.”

“Yes… yes, please,” you whined. “Breed me, Tam. Put a baby in me.”

His grip on your thighs grew tighter, his thrusts became frantic and he came with a roar that echoed off the cave, spurting hot seed inside you. The sensation pushed you over the edge and you reached your own orgasm just a few seconds later. You clenched around him and as you did, you felt a wave of power shake the ground beneath you and expand all around.

“The ritual,” Tamlin muttered. He sounded more like himself now, though the animalistic growl lingered, along with the unnatural glint in his green eyes.

You went limp beneath him after coming down from your high, but Tamlin was still moving, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, pushing his cum deeper inside you.

“We’re not done yet,” he warned you. His hands let go of your legs to roam up your body and cup your breasts. “That was just the bare minimum we had to do.”

You were still panting, but you offered him a smile. He had told you that too. The Great Rite could take hours, if not the whole night.

“Then keep fucking me, High Lord.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Kinktober taglist: @thyellablackk @p1nkfluffysocks @maddieboo8 @a-courtof-azriel @whataenginerd @loviseamms @chaconnelatte @okaytrashpanda @scarsandallaz @velarisdusk @olive-main @krispypotato @scorpioriesling @fourthwing4ever @asaucecoveredsomething

[revelboo]

I haven't actually read the canon content for lost light tbh, just fics. So I'm not sure his face place even works right cus I only ever see his mouth closed...

✨How ever✨ if it does open

I feel like Cyclonus could eat out reader the best. Top tier tongue game. Man being trilingual, a Cunni-linguist if you will.

I’m pretty sure it does open- and I headcanon him and TFA Blitzwing (maybe Brainstorm, too) having crazy venom-style glossas

🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Well. That’s not terrifying to wake up to. It’s typically around 300-400 max overnight

Scenario-glossa

Cyclonus x Reader x Tailgate

• “Do I even want to know what you two are giggling about?” Cyclonus growls, head lifting from his datapad. And you go red as Tailgate starts shaking with laughter to make his optics narrow. Deciding that no, he probably doesn’t want to know because it’s likely about him. Venting tiredly as you lean into the mass displaced minibot, hand over your mouth to keep from laughing and Tailgate flaps a hand at him.

• “Do the thing,” Tailgate demands, hooking an arm around you as you choke with laughter. And Cyclonus just stares at you both. “You know, my favorite thing,” Tailgate adds and Cyclonus growls, mouth opening and- holy crow. Your own mouth is falling open as you see his glossa for the first time. Oh. Ohhhhh. And you’re squirming against Tailgate.

• Feels the shift in your biofield where you’re leaning against him as Cyclonus curls his glossa slightly to make a loop with the tip. “Berth, please,” you say, staring and Tailgate cracks up as Cyclonus freezes and makes a low, rumbling noise. ‘Seconded,’ Tailgate adds, hooking an arm around you and dragging you so you’re sitting between his spread thighs. Hears Cyclonus clear his vents with a little huff, but he sets his datapad aside and stalks over. Rubbing his masked face against your neck as you start stripping, Tailgate rumbles. Wants to see how you look with Cyclonus’s glossa between your thighs, the sounds you make.

• Vaulting up with the two of you and mass shifting, he kneels between your spread thighs. Watching Tailgate’s wandering hands stroking over you. Knowing that the minibot just wants him to get you ready for his spike, but he’s been wondering how you’d taste. Knows how you feel wrapped around his spike, all slick heat. And before the end, he’ll be spike deep in both of you anyway taking turns with you.

• Flushing as Cyclonus stretches out between your thighs and drags that glossa against your inner thigh, looking up at you and his stare is almost predatory. And you’re grabbing his horns when he licks you, that thick glossa tunneling inside you as you throw your head back against Tailgate, hips bucking. Moaning a protest when Tailgate hooks his leg under yours one at a time to lift them over Cyclonus’s shoulders. Feel that thick glossa curling, thrusting inside you as he growls. “Your favorite thing, too, huh?” Tailgate whispers, masked cheek brushing yours as he watches, a servo brushing your bottom lip and you latch on to him with a whimper. Definitely your new favorite thing.

[puck-luck]

hi qween, could i request mocha with qh43, whipped cream = established relationship, and cold foam 💗💕💞💗💗💞 happy 1 year i love your writing :3

hi!! thank u for requesting!! since you didn't specify what you wanted with the cold foam, i used this kink prompt generator to determine the wild card.... which was sexting!

so, warnings (1.2K): sexting, slight angst (they're fighting, the mocha part is that they're making up here), mentions of ass-eating, no actual sex but lots of allusions to it, puns and double entendres about cooking/sex, quinn is persistent and dorky and stupid and i love him, reader is doing her best to not fall for his goon-ness <3

Things have not been good between you and Quinn lately. It wasn’t by any fault of yours, or of Quinn’s, but you haven’t had sex in weeks. You’ve barely seen each other with Quinn’s schedule and your work. It’s been driving both of you crazy, and you’re both stressed in your own jobs, and it hasn’t been manifesting well. 

Quinn left his sneakers in the middle of the hallway one day and you tripped over them while carrying a fuck ton of groceries inside. That had started a big fight, which hadn’t been resolved, and you’re still upset whenever you see something out of place… like the toothpaste this morning, left on the bathroom counter capless. The cap was next to the tube. How hard is it to screw the cap back on the tube when you’re done brushing your teeth?

You’d lost track of time and been late to picking Quinn up after a roadie one night, which sparked a fight on his end. That also hadn’t been resolved entirely. You know Quinn is still holding it against you because he’s driven himself to the arena every single time since you were late, insisting that he’ll just take himself so he doesn’t have to worry or wait. 

So there’s been tension lingering in the air of the apartment ever since. You’re sure that when you and Quinn have more time, you’ll be able to talk about it. The hockey season is almost over and the presentation you’re working on at work is almost due, so you both will be free in a couple of weeks. The light at the end of the tunnel is growing brighter and drawing nearer.

Quinn is at home tonight, which is nice most of the time. Over the last two years that you’ve been together, it’s rare for you and Quinn to avoid each other. Today, though, you’re staying away from each other. You’re both still upset and holding a grudge.

Quinn sits on the couch flipping through a book. You worked on your computer at the dining room table and now you’re on your lunch break, chopping up stalks of celery to toss into the pot of soup you’re brewing.

As you turn and make your way around the island in the kitchen, you can feel Quinn’s eyes roaming over your skin. You pay him absolutely no mind, keeping your head down and returning to the cutting board to chop up a few carrots.

Your phone buzzes a minute later. 

I’m starving

The text pops up from your lovely, annoying boyfriend and strikes a chord within you. Does he expect you to be cooking for him? The pot of soup is big enough for four people at least, but Quinn didn’t ask you. He just said he’s starving and expects you to do something about it. He’s a big boy; he can make his own meal. You let your screen fade to black without replying.

Another buzz:

But not for food ;)

Unimpressed, you raise your gaze to Quinn on the couch. He’s watching you with a barely-suppressed, smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You shoot him a glare, letting him know that you’re not budging, and go back to chopping a carrot into tiny pieces. 

Whereas you were unimpressed, Quinn is undeterred. 

Buzz.

Baby your cooking smells so good, it’s making me crave YOU… wanna add something sexy to that savory?

You squint at the text and return to your carrots, scooping them off of the cutting board and dumping them into the broth.

Buzz.

Cooking looks good on you. Making you moan is even better. Come and let me season you up properly ;)

You pick up your phone and face Quinn, staring him in the face as you shut it down entirely. You place the phone on the counter out of reach and go back to stir the pot. There’s shredded chicken and veggies in this pot, plus some spiral noodles that have been thoroughly cooked in the simmering broth.

He clears his throat behind you and starts to speak. “Hey, babe, I thought I’d give you a call since you hadn’t replied to my texts. Your hands must be full since you didn’t answer, so I hope this voicemail will be fun for you.”

You take a deep breath and press your lips together, closing your eyes. He is such a fucking dork.

“Hm, what am I up to?” Quinn fake-ponders aloud. “Nothing much, just sitting on the couch, rock-hard, and thinking about bending you over the stove.”

Your nostrils flare and you halt your movements. 

“I’m going to need you to turn off the stove and turn me on, though. I’m dying for a sample of your other delicious skills.”

You’re at your wit’s end, about to break your silence. You’re not sure whether you’re going to tell Quinn to shut up or if you’re going to fall for his silly sexting-turned-voicemail, but you’re almost at the point of saying something. 

You can hear Quinn holding back a laugh. “You look so hot stirring that pot, beautiful. Wish it was your ass I was stirring instead. Lemme grab a bite, yeah?”

You scoff, surprised and amused by his pick-up line. “I am not letting you eat my ass, Quintin.”

He chuckles and stands from the couch, his feet padding over the wooden floor of his apartment as he enters the kitchen. “Okay, not your ass. We can still skip the utensils and I’ll put my tongue on something else. I promise I’ll be thorough.” His reflection in the microwave shows you that he’s still talking into the phone. He’s close enough to touch now and he makes a point to splay his fingers over your hip, standing with his crotch pressed against your behind. “Can I serve you something hot and hard, baby?”

His breath washes over your neck, followed shortly by the scratch of his scruff as he kisses the curve of your shoulder. Instinctively, you bare the skin to him. 

Quinn drops the call and places his other hand on your other hip, holding you steady as he rolls his hips against your bottom. He kisses your jaw, then your cheek. “‘m sorry I haven’t been very happy lately. Things are tense. I don’t want them to be.”

“It’s just a difficult time right now,” you reply softly. “I’m stressed and every tiny thing that goes wrong gets on my nerves and makes it worse.”

Quinn takes the spoon from your hand and turns off the stove, moving the pot to the backburner and off the heat. “You get an hour for lunch?”

“About forty-five left.”

“I only need fifteen.”

You laugh. “It’s been long enough that I think you could do it in less.”

“Ouch, you’re making fun of my stamina?” Quinn pouts. “I’ll show you, baby. I’m a machine.”

You release a breath of a laugh, relaxing into Quinn’s touch. “Is sexting your new way of initiating?”

“Only when you’re mad at me. It’s cheesy enough that it’ll diffuse the tension, right? Did you like my lines?” Quinn asks, seeking your approval. One of his hands is unbuttoning your blouse, the one you threw on to look professional in your video meeting this morning.

“I liked that you were trying,” you confirm. “But you’re still not going to eat my ass.”

Quinn steers you toward the bedroom. “I’m perfectly content eating your pussy, baby. You’re my main course.” He scoops you up bridal-style and carries you across the apartment. Once you enter the bedroom, he tosses you onto the bed and grins at you. “Alright, spread ‘em. Gotta lick my plate clean.”

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part Twenty-Three

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

Two days before the Champions League final in Lisbon, the apartment is quiet.

The golden light of the late afternoon filters through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room. You’re curled up on the couch with Alexia behind you, her arm wrapped tightly around your waist, your fingers intertwined. Your back rests gently against her front, her steady breath brushing your hair with each exhale.

It’s peaceful—but you can feel the tension in her body.

Her fingers keep twitching slightly in yours. Her jaw is tight, and even though her gaze is locked on the TV, you know her mind is somewhere else entirely.

She’s been like this for days—lost in her thoughts, her nerves gradually rising. You understand why, of course. It’s the Champions League final. Against Lyon. A match that carries weight. History. Pressure.

Still, you don’t like seeing her like this. You tilt your head slightly and press a soft kiss against the underside of her chin. That always gets her.

And it does.

Alexia blinks and looks down at you, her eyes softening immediately. You smile gently, stroking your thumb across the back of her hand.

“You don’t have to be so nervous,” you say quietly. “Barcelona is the best team in the world. And you are the best player in the world.”

A smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, a small huff of breath escaping as if she’s surprised how quickly your words can find their way into her heart. Her chin rests on your head.

“I know… but Lyon’s good. They’re smart, and experienced. And this is one of those games where anything can happen.”

You shift, just enough to look at her. “I know. But I believe in you. In all of you. You’ve done this before. You’ll do it again.”

She kisses the top of your head—long, slow, full of gratitude.

“You’re my calm,” she murmurs. “Always.”

Later that evening, the clock ticking down toward her departure, you walk her to the door, suitcase waiting just outside. She looks at you like she doesn’t want to go—but she has to. The job calls. Greatness calls.

You kiss her slowly, lingering, wishing you had more time. “I’ll see you soon,” you whisper. “I’ll be there. Cheering for you, always.”

She smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”

And then, just like that, she’s gone.

Tomorrow, you’ll fly to Lisbon with Eli and Alba. You would never miss this.

---

Two days later, the big day is here.

Estádio José Alvalade is buzzing, alive with the hum of thousands of fans. You’re in the stands, Barcelona jersey on—of course with Putellas across the back and the number 11. Eli is beside you, holding a scarf, and Alba’s already yelling chants with the fans around you.

When the teams walk out from the tunnel, the roar is deafening. But your eyes are only on one person.

Alexia walks out with her head high, the captain’s armband snug around her bicep. She scans the stands—and then her eyes find you.

That smile.

That big, shiny, Alexia smile that only ever shows up when she sees something—someone—she loves.

You blow her a kiss. She catches it in the air, like always.

The first half is intense. Every player is giving their all. Opportunities come and go on both sides, the tension thick with every near miss. At halftime, the scoreboard still reads 0–0.

As she walks off the pitch, you see it in her eyes—that familiar flicker of frustration. That feeling that she has to do more. You hate it. She always gives everything. Always. It’s never just on her.

When the team comes back after the break, she looks up again. Searching.

You meet her eyes and raise your hands, gesturing for her to breathe, to calm down. You mouth, You’ve got this. Alexia nods, lips pressed together, and runs to her position.

And then… magic.

The second half is Barcelona at their absolute best.

In the 64th minute, the first goal finally comes—a stunning build-up ending with Vicky slotting the ball perfectly into the net. The crowd erupts. Alexia is one of the first to reach her, ruffling the youngster’s hair, hugging her like a proud big sister.

Fifteen minutes later, Mapi scores.

A free kick, curled so perfectly into the top corner it could be framed. You lose your voice screaming.

And then, as if it couldn’t get better, it happens.

89th minute.

Alexia gets the ball just outside the box. One move, two defenders gone, and then—boom.

The net ripples.

She rips off her jersey, twirling it over her head, running toward the Barca corner before dropping into a playful bow. Yellow card or not, no one cares. The fans are in a frenzy.

She turns, finds you in the stands again, and blows you a kiss.

Your heart nearly bursts.

Moments later, it’s over.

Barcelona: Champions League winners. Again. Three in a row. Four in total. History made.

The ceremony flashes by in a blur of glitter and noise. You’re almost dizzy with pride and emotion when they lift the trophy.

Then come the moments you love most—the barrier opens. Families and friends are let onto the field.

Alexia is already waiting.

First Eli runs into her arms, then Alba. You’re next. She sees you climbing over and meets you halfway, arms already out.

You crash into her, both laughing, both nearly crying.

“You were amazing,” you breathe, holding her face between your hands. “I’m so proud of you.”

Her arms lock around your waist, her forehead pressed against yours.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

The celebration spills on for over an hour. You dance around, talk with Ingrid, with the players who’ve become your friends too. You watch Mapi as she runs along the sideline, arms wide, flag flying behind her. Kika, Vicky, and Esmee chase after her like a squad of overexcited puppies. Everything is joy.

Later, the team disappears to shower and change.

And then the party.

The club’s rented out an incredible venue. Music is blasting, drinks are flowing, and the Champions League trophy sits on a pedestal in the center of the room, glowing under the lights.

You dance with Mapi, Esmee, Ingrid, even a reluctant Frido who finally cracks a smile. You're laughing so hard you nearly fall over when Mapi pulls out the worst dance move you've ever seen.

Alexia left a few minutes ago and you look around for her.

You spot her watching you from across the room, a soft smile on her face, arms crossed, eyes full of love.

She just won another Champions League title.

But all she can think about is how she already won something more. Someone more.

You slip away from the crowd and join her, sitting beside her, cheeks flushed from dancing, smile never fading.

You take her hand in yours and lean your head against her shoulder. “You’re incredible,” you whisper. “I’m so endlessly proud of you.”

She blushes a little—Alexia Putellas, the woman who faced down Lyon and led her team to glory, blushing at your words.

You kiss her cheek.

The night stretches on—laughter, stories, champagne-soaked memories—and through it all, you stay by her side.

Together.

Because trophies will be won, and games will be played, and history will continue to be written—but this?

This is the real victory.

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

The last part will be posted on Sunday!

[evan4ever]

You Left Me

Warnings— angst, that’s about it! And I did not proofread lol

a/n— I’ve wanted to write for Barba for so long and this popped in my head tonight so I hope it’s good, it’s my first Barba x reader!!

*******

“I’ve got donuts!” You chirped as you strolled into the station, holding the box of donuts up high for everyone to see, though blocking your own view momentarily. Thankfully, you knew your way around well enough that you maneuvered your way to your desk, still holding the box in front of you waiting for someone, anyone, to say something about the donuts— but when no one did, you finally lowered to box to see Amanda, Sony, Olivia… and Rafael staring at you.

Your heart nearly stopped. It had been nearly 3 years since Rafael had left. Left the squad. Left town. Left you.

No call. No text. No nothing. After a nasty case that left everyone confused and devastated, you arrived home to the apartment you had shared with your long time boyfriend, Rafael Barba, for all of his belongings to be gone. Nothing of his left, but a note.

“I love you. I’m sorry.

Rafi”

You were left broken beyond what you thought could ever be repaired. It took a lot of time, a lot of therapy, a lot of “self love” and time off for you to even come close to healing from that. You still weren’t completely healed. You were just on the mend, finally seeing light at the end of the tunnel, thinking that maybe things could be okay again. You were finally finding love towards your job again after spending the last three years being so angry and taking that anger out on every perp you could. Olivia knew what you were going through, thankfully doing her best to hold you together knowing you had no one else to do it for you. She never fired you when you were out of place, she never judged you when you blew up at anyone who looked at you wrong, no, she simply turned you in the direction she knew you needed to go.

And now, the moment your eyes landed on Rafael’s, they quickly diverted from his and found Olivia’s.

You swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on you and the way silence filled the room. You dropped the box of donuts harshly on your desk and cleared your throat, running your hand through your hair, something you did often when nervous.

“Um, I can’t… this isn’t..” you stuttered, shaking your head, “I’m not doing this here.” You stated, turning and making your way into the break room, away from the wandering eyes, knowing Rafael would follow you.

The air felt thick around you, your skin hot and wet. You almost didn’t want to believe he was really here, that this was really happening. Why? Why now? After all this time? After all these years you had to spend healing the parts of you that he broke? Why now?

You felt the presence as someone entered the room, and it was all too familiar even after three years. Your ps were currently pressed against the counter, your body hunched forward.

“Close the door, please.” You demanded, quietly. You knew you weren’t going to be able to keep your temper under control when the two of you begin talking, and the others really don’t need to hear your dirty laundry.

You listen as he obliges, the door latching giving you the okay to push yourself away from the counter. You still couldn’t bring yourself to face him yet, so there you stood tall, facing away from him, staring at the white kitchen cabinets in the break room filled with only the presence of yourself and the man who was at one point the absolute love of your life.

It was dead silent, as if both of you were terrified to speak first. Or maybe neither of you knew the right thing to say. All you did know was you weren’t going to be the first to speak, and he had no right to make you.

“Can you turn to me?” His voice finally filled the room, filled your ears. “Please?” It was so soft, and still so beautiful, if you weren’t so pissed off at him, you probably wouldn’t buckled there.

“I don’t know if I can face you.” You admitted in a shaky whisper, you weren’t sure if he even heard.

“I know you’re angry, but if you would just listen—“

“Angry?” You cut him off, whipping yourself around so quick that he wasn’t expecting it and took a few steps back out of surprise. “No. I’m not angry, Rafael. I’m furious. I’m livid. I could kill you if it wasn’t illegal and I didn’t love my job.”

You stepped towards him with every one of your words, now chest to chest with him. Your noses were nearly touching as you stared up at him and he down at you, a look of pure despise mixed with betrayal in your eyes.

You stayed like this for a moment, almost threatening him to move away from you. When he didn’t, you finally backed off and put space between you, shaking your head at him.

“I know that I’ve hurt you y/n.” He states, his eyes remaining on you.

“You left me.” Your voice nearly squeaks in reply, causing Rafael to flinch slightly. “I would’ve done anything for you, Rafi, and you left me.”

“I had no choice!” He finally raises his voice, a hint of his own hurt showing. “I couldn’t make you give up the job that you worked so damn hard for all because I did what I did? I wasn’t going to make you pack up your life and come with me all because of a screwed up case! Don’t you get any of that? I was trying to spare you. I was trying to give you another chance at this beautiful life you built. I wasn’t going to make you follow me. I would never do that to you. Not because of my poor choices.”

You stared at him for a moment in disbelief, as if the last nearly decade you guys had spent together he truly had never heard a word you had ever said to him. Yes, you could see he was looking at your best interest, but he failed, miserably, at seeing what YOU would have wanted. What YOU would have thought was best.

“I would have gave up my entire life for you. My career, my home? Those are just things to me. You knew this.” You spoke slowly and clearly to him, making sure he understood you. “There was nothing else in this world I wanted more than to be with you, wherever you were, wherever you would go. I would have been there.” Your eyes stared directly into his, holding contact for a moment while he thought over what you just said. “But you took that choice from me when you left me here.”

Turning away from him now, you took a deep breath almost feeling free, finally getting that off your chest to him. He took that choice from you. He thought he knew what was best for you, and that’s what really hurt.

“And you didn’t even give me the courtesy of a phone call or… or a goddamn text message.” You laughed harshly. “No, I got to find out from a note Rafi! A note, and all your shit gone from our apartment! But hey, thanks for paying the rest of that year’s rent. You really did me a favor there.” You sarcastically joked, rolling your eyes.

All Rafael could do was stand there, thinking over your words again and again. He really did think he was doing what was best for you. That’s all he wanted, what was best for you. He didn’t want to make you pick your entire life up for him.

“I’m sorry y/n. I only wanted what was best for you. I didn’t think you—“

“No, you didn’t.” You cut him off, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. You didn’t think.”

He just stares at you, his mouth opening to say something but quickly closing on second thought.

You both now, once again, just stares each other down, neither daring to break eye contact. Though, his stare at you is filled with sincerity and warmth while your stare at him is still filled with anger and coldness.

“Do you know what I had to do to pick myself back up from that?” You once again break the silence, referring to his leaving. His eyes quickly meet the floor, almost scared to find out what his disappearance in your life had done to you. “I was in therapy FOUR DAYS a week with Olivia’s freaking shrink for months. Then it was three days a week. Now I’m finally at two days a week so, we’re making progress huh? I was on desk duty for a year because I would beat the living shit out of every perpetrator I could get my hands on. I had like.. four different lawsuits on my hands that, thank god for Olivia and the rest of my squad, they got me out of. I lost a partner to a bullet because my mind was on YOU. I lost the privilege to talk to victims for a year because my mind was on YOU.” His eyes remained on the floor as you flooded him with everything he had caused you to go through. “You left a hole in me, so big, that even three years later Rafi, I’m still working on filling it. All because I would have went with you.”

“So come with me now.”

His words take you back, nearly making you trip over your own feet as you process what the hell he just said. You stare at him, your eyebrows pushed together, questioning if you heard him right. Surely, he didn’t just say that now, after all this, after all this time.

“What?” You whisper, deciding you need to hear him say it again to confirm it.

Rafael pushes himself a few steps towards you now, maybe a foot between the two of you, and looks down at you carefully, and gently repeats himself. “So, come with me now.”

Your mouth drops open in awe, and not the good kind.

“Are you kidding me? Why now? Why now and not then?!” You raise your voice again, feeling the anger once again rise, though he quickly grabs either side of your arms and gives them a small squeeze.

“Please. Just listen to me.” You want to object but instead, you sigh and allow him to continue. “I realize now how wrong I was for not giving you the choice. Y/n, leaving you was the biggest mistake I have ever made in my entire life. A mistake I have been dwelling on since the day I left. But I needed to hear you say, from your own mouth, your own words, that you would’ve came with me. I would’ve never forgiven myself if I forced you to come and you hated it. Please understand that.” You slowly relax at his words, in his touch, feeling slightly more confident that he truly meant well by his actions, though they still weren’t okay. “There’s nothing I love more in this world than you. There’s nothing I want more in this world than you by my side wherever I go. And if you still want that, so do I.”

He lets his jabs gently run up and down your arms, in a familiar way he used to years before, and God it felt so good. Your eyes flutter shut as you replay his words in your mind, your stomach turning in all which ways making you almost nauseous. You’re not ever sure how to feel at this point, you don’t even know what to say or how to respond.

Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was just so natural, but you found yourself leaning into him and allowing him to hold you. He was careful not to overstep any boundaries you may have put up, only holding onto the sides of your arms and allowing you to rest into him as you pleased, your head lying against his chest. You felt his chin finally rest on the top of your head after some moments, like he wasn’t sure if you’d allow him to or not.

Here, like this, you guys stayed for some minutes in silent. You had no idea what to do, or what to feel. All you did know was in this moment, it was the most whole you have felt in three years, since before the day Rafael left you. It might seem silly, or cheesy or cliche, but you really would have given up your entire life for this man. He was your everything. He treated you with the utmost respect, kindness, love, he treasured you. You guys had a good thing going. And you had no one else. Sure, you had your squad and they were the closest to a “family” you were going to get, but Rafael was the one.

“I have to get going mi amor.” Rafael finally pulls himself away, your heart skipping a beat at his use of Spanish, something you haven’t heard in so long and god, something you have missed. He looks down at you, you quickly squeeze your eyes shut to hold back the tears that suddenly tried to push themselves out, then blink a few times before looking up and meeting his eyes. “There’s that case, with the veteran and his daughter, Nydia.” You nod, knowing which he’s talking about before realizing he must be going against Carisi. Rafael notices your realization and a small smirk grows on his lips. “Yeah” he confirms. You clear your throat and nod. “We can talk later, if that’s okay?”

You nod again as he back away towards the door, watching him carefully but staying where you are.

He stops before he leaves and looks back at you one last time, meeting your eyes, “just think about it, okay?”