#vision starts to blur at the edges. and even having him better is not okay because hed be so embarrassed and i get red in the face too

[dirt-str1der]

Hate that im trying to write a story about haruka and i have to cut kiryu out of the story by making him too sick to participate in playtime and then i realise ive dug myself into a deep hole because i cant stop perving on harukas sexy sickly father

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Frisky Friday thot: you’re in a crowded elevator at work and jostled into one… Andrew Barber. Obviously you’re in love with him and coming on to him, and now you’re gonna belong to him—in every way—just like you want, honey 😌

Going Up

Warnings: naughty Andrew doing naughty and non-consensual humping.

"Oh, excuse me. Sorry, er," you try to dodge the bodies in the packed elevator, only to be elbowed and pushed deeper inside. "Uh, okay, um."

The doors open again and in blatant disregard of the weight capacity labeled on the wall, more people step on. You take another step back, right toward the corner, and hear a grunt as you press into another person. You can't move enough to see who it is; not that you would even know them.

"Sorry," you squeak as the heat and mingling colognes and perfumes thicken the air.

“It’s—” he coughs as you’re crushed against him. He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead letting out a strained sigh.

You try to fold into yourself. Curling your shoulders and hanging your head low. You need to get off of this elevator before you suffocate. You should have just taken the stairs. Now you know better.

Your chest constricts as sweat glazes over your scalp. You don’t do well in crowds. In fact, you’ve only ever worked remotely. Anywhere. Some might think it’s lucky that you’ve only ever worked from your bed or couch, but customer service isn’t exactly your strong suit. No, this office gig is supposed to be a fresh start.

Another man steps on. You can only see the top of his head. You lean as the space gets even tighter and you press into the man behind you again. You try to apologise but it comes out as a whimper.

Panic starts to crawl up your stomach and wraps around your neck. You hold your breath as the walls get even closer and you blink as your vision blurs at the edges. You tremble as you reach to fix the strap of your bag, swaying on your wobbly legs.

You should have stayed home. It’s easier to face people over a headset. This is too much.

“Take a breath,” the man growls under his breath as you feel a tickle on your skirt.

You push the air from your lungs and nearly collapse. He slips his hand around your stomach and holds you up. If it wasn’t for him, you’d fall into the see of bodies. He pulls you back against him.

“Take another,” he girds.

You do as he says.

“Keep it up,” he commands.

You don’t know why you obey. You’re scared. You’re about to shatter to pieces. You can’t think but he can do that for you. You focus on your breath; in, out, in, out…

He brings you flush to him and you feel something else. Something prodding. Oh!

The subtle tilt of his hips catches you off guard. You can’t make a noise as you feel what he’s doing. He grinds against the back of your skirt until it’s warm. You feel along his slacks and push on his firm thigh. You can feel his strength. It sends another jitter through your body.

His own heavy breaths fan over you and dampen your hair. You can’t move, you can’t speak, you’re mortified. All these people. How can this be happening?

He sighs as the elevator doors open with a ding. The top floor. Your destination. He lets go and you stagger out as the suits and heels disburse. You finally get your balance and look around. Who was it?

Everyone is in a hurry to find where they’re going. At least they know. You spin and come face to face with a blue neck tie. You follow it up to the face of its wearer. You gulp.

“Excuse me, sir,” you bat your eyes at the bearded man as your voice quavers. “Do you know where Mr. Barber’s office is?”

He grins, “that’s me.”

His voice sends a chill rippling over you. It’s the same one that spoke to you in the elevator. He extends the same large hand that stretched over your stomach. You stare at his long fingers and reluctantly take it.

“Let me show you around,” he offers as his thumb rubs between your knuckles.

[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓯our.

logan howlett and panic attack.

you’re not sure when it starts, just that your chest tightens, and breathing suddenly feels like trying to suck air through a straw. your hands are trembling, vision blurring at the edges as your mind races, thoughts spiraling out of control. you try to steady yourself, but it’s like your body won’t listen, the air thickening and closing in.

you don’t realize logan’s there until you feel the warmth of his hands on your shoulders, the low rumble of his voice cutting through the haze. “hey, kid, breathe. i’m right here.” his tone is steady, calm, grounding you in a way that everything else can’t seem to. you cling to the sound, trying to follow the rise and fall of his voice.

but it’s hard. too hard. “i- i can’t- ” you gasp, struggling to draw in a full breath. the panic squeezes tighter, like a vice on your chest, and you feel yourself sinking deeper, unable to reach the surface.

logan’s hands slide down your arms, gently pulling you toward him, and before you know it, he’s lifting you into his lap. “gotcha, bub,” he murmurs, settling you against his chest. “you’re okay.” one of his hands cradles the back of your head, guiding it to rest in the crook of his neck. his other hand rubs soothing circles on your back, the rough pads of his fingers a familiar, comforting pressure.

your breath hitches, but you try to focus on the way his chest rises and falls beneath you. it’s steady and strong, each inhale and exhale a reminder that you’re not alone in this. “just follow my breathing, baby,” he says softly, his voice a low, rumbling comfort. “in and out, slow and easy.”

you try to match the rhythm, but it’s shaky, your breaths still coming in shallow gasps. logan’s arms tighten around you, holding you close as if to keep you from slipping away. “you’re safe,” he whispers, and the words vibrate through his chest, grounding you in his solidity. “nothing’s gonna hurt you. just focus on me, okay? listen to my voice.”

his words are an anchor, pulling you out of the chaos swirling in your mind. you close your eyes, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek. “that’s it, kid,” he murmurs when your breathing starts to even out, still shaky but a little slower now. “you’re doing good. just keep goin’.”

the tightness in your chest starts to ease, like the pressure is finally letting up, and you take a deep breath, your first real one in what feels like forever. you’re still trembling, but the edge of panic has dulled, and logan’s hand doesn’t stop rubbing your back, his touch a constant reassurance. “better?” he asks, his voice softer now, like he’s afraid to startle you.

you nod against him, not trusting your voice just yet. he shifts slightly, one hand moving to brush your hair away from your face. “there ya go,” he says, and there’s a hint of a smile in his tone. “knew you could do it.”

your chest is still sore, the remnants of panic lingering like the fading echo of a storm, but you feel… lighter. less like you’re drowning. “thank you,” you manage to whisper, and you tighten your grip on his shirt, needing the reassurance of his presence.

logan’s hand tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him, his gaze softening when he sees the lingering fear in your eyes. “don’t have to thank me, baby,” he says quietly, thumb tracing a slow, soothing path along your jaw. “i got you. always.”

you feel yourself relax just a little more, leaning into his touch. “sorry,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know what… it just… happened.”

“ain’t gotta apologize for that,” he replies, voice gruff but gentle. “ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about.” his arms tighten around you, like he’s shielding you from the world itself, and there’s a fierceness in his tone when he adds, “you don’t have to go through that alone. not when i’m here.”

his words settle deep, unraveling the last of the panic still tangled up in your chest. you know it isn’t the first time you’ve had an episode like this, but the way he holds you, like you’re something precious, reminds you that you don’t have to fight it by yourself. that you don’t have to be strong all the time.

logan shifts again, leaning back against the couch with you still curled up on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around you. “you’re okay,” he repeats, and it’s like a promise, a vow. “just take it easy. i’m not goin’ anywhere.”

you bury your face in the worn fabric of his shirt, letting the familiar scent of leather and pine calm the last traces of your frayed nerves. his thumb strokes idly along your shoulder, a repetitive, grounding motion, and you find yourself breathing a little deeper, a little steadier.

“you did good, bub,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “real good.”

there’s a small, exhausted smile tugging at your lips, and you let yourself sink into him, letting his warmth and steady presence be your anchor. you don’t need to say anything else; the way he holds you, like it’s second nature, says enough.

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[risustravelogue]

Marks On You

Summary:

What would you get when you get frisky with your husband, the Duke of Meropide, throughout the day? You get bent over his desk, that's what.

Featuring:

Dom!Husband!Wriothesley, Sub!fem!Reader

Tags:

Smut. Filth. You have been warned. He basically manhandles you while you're being handcuffed. Marking, biting, breeding. Sweet aftercare 💕

Note:

I wrote this throughout the week and thought it would lie there unfinished like my bookshelf sex Alhaitham smut (hehe yes) but I suddenly had an inspiration for the opening line. ... I am so down bad for this man.

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky.

You’d tease him and he’d tease back; you’d steal pecks and kisses whenever you pass each other throughout the day, to his delight and amusement; and your hands would always find their way to his body—touching first innocently, then it gets increasingly not-so-innocent as the hours pass by.

Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky, because it means you’ll submit completely to his carnal whims once he gets his hands on you.

And as your most beloved husband, what better reward can he get?

Such is today, when you find yourself pinned under him, all compliant and obedient and taking him so well even though it’s barely past work hours. You lay face down at the edge of his desk with your wrists cuffed behind your back, helplessly squirming as his hips slam against yours from behind. The way his length slides partly out of your hole, only for the tip to churn your insides again as his balls slap against your slick-coated clit, elicit sinful whimpers out of you. His moans are raspy, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to hold you steady as he pounds you into submission.

“Good girl… I’ve marked you with my cum twice already, but…”

He growls beside your ear with a dangerously low voice as his fingers start playing with your sensitive bud.

“Too bad for you, it only makes me want to fuck you more.”

The sounds of both of your and his moans and wet slaps of skin echo across his office room while he thrusts into you again, again, and again, your mind going blank from the overstimulation. You try to sync your breathing with his movements to no avail, only blurting out a “Ngh– more– m-more–” as he fucks you senseless. You whine as you feel a sting on your butt from his palm meeting your ass.

“Louder,” he says. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he pulls you into him even more.

“Ah– ah– fuck– N-no– I can’t–”

“Beg louder, I said!” he orders. He bites the side of your neck as he slams his hips hard into you.

A loud moan escapes your throat without restraint. Someone outside must’ve heard your voice, but you don’t care anymore—his cock feels too damn good.

“Breed me!” you scream. “Please– I want you to breed me–”

Wriothesley chuckles and sucks on your earlobe, sending shivers rippling through your skin.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

He moves his hips faster. His thrusts become more frantic as he nears the height of his ecstasy.

“Cum with me, cum with– ngh!”

His hands squeeze at your hips and his teeth sink into the skin of your nape as he reaches his climax, shooting his thick, hot cum into you yet again. You shudder and whimper as you feel pleasure overloading your senses, the addictive sensation blurring your vision into blissful oblivion. You can barely hear the clicking sounds as your husband takes the handcuffs off your wrists, whining when he slides out of you while peppering your back with gentle kisses. The duality of his actions makes you dizzy with affection.

“It’s okay. I got you,” he shushes as he turns you around. He plants a kiss on your lips, then your forehead while he gathers your limp body into his arms. He carries you to the sofa and places your head on his chest as he reclines. His hand pulls you in, pressing your cheek against his bare skin. He kisses the crown of your head while his fingers absentmindedly play with your hair.

That’s when he notices that there are some small bruises forming on your skin, mostly on your nape and the side of your neck. A pang of guilt shoots through his chest, and he feels his heartbeat becoming just a little bit erratic at the thought of hurting you.

“Was I too rough?” he asks with a quiet voice, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“No,” you hum, unaware of the calming feeling your answer has on him. “I enjoyed every second of it.”

You plant a kiss on his flushed cheek, then nuzzle up against his neck.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you so much, you know that?”

Wriothesley feels his heart flutter. He buries his face in your hair, taking in your scent.

“I do,” he mumbles. “And I love you, too.”

© @risustravelogue 2023 • no to reposting, yes to reblogging. feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. :)

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[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 29

Prompt: Edging Pairing: sub!Bang Chan x dom!Reader WC: 1k Summary: A leader sometimes needs to not be so in control. At least, according to you and him.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Bang Chan or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

CW/TW: NO Pronouns/gender characteristics for the reader, Chan is called “baby” “baby boy” “good boy” and “Channie.” Sub!Idol, dom!reader. edgeplay (m receiving). jerking off (m receiving). unprotected penetration. everything is consensual but this is in medias res so nothing is directly discussed in the fic.

 Cock red and aching, Chan writhes in the simple wooden chair he’s tied to. Silken cords crisscross his milky skin flushed pink from hours of play. He could stop this at any time, just say the word, but where would be the fun in that. After all, this is what he wants. This thrill. A steady stream of shiny precum flows from the tip down the veins of his shaft as your nails skim the tender surface. Chan whimpers.  “Please, I-I’m close,” he manages to hiccup.  “I know baby boy, I know. Just a little longer for me okay? You want to be a good boy right?” You coo, settling with your legs bridged over one of his thighs. His wet cock nudges your flesh as you lean into his chest. His hips falter as even the slightest stimulation has him near climax. He’s gorgeous like this. Eyes shining with tears threatening to pool and fall. Sweating like the room was on fire. Yet it was all because of you. You and your hands, and hips, and thighs, and tits, and lips.  Chan likes that you prolong it as long as he can physically stand it. Yielding to your better judgement. He belongs to you after all. He loves being a precious toy in your collection, ready to be pretty and played with and that is all you expect of him. Wait for you, listen to you, obey you. That’s all he needs to do, follow your command and you will take care of him.  You do take care of him, you always do. That’s why he trusts you.  His eyes lock and vision blurs as you tip the bottle of lubricant once more, drizzling an almost excessive amount over his rock solid erection. Chan barely manages a strangled wheeze as one delicate hand wraps loosely around him. You hold his shaft just enough to spread the liquid evenly, your other hand cupping his testes equally as gently.  “P-p-please, oh please, oh god-” he pleads as his chest heaves. It’s not enough traction to finish him off and for that he bucks up, against any direction you’ve given.  Thwack.  Your palm strikes his length, rebounding it onto his stomach. His hips go wild as he jerks forward, almost able to fuck against his own abs.  “Did I give you permission?” You ask calmly.  “N-no. I’m s-s-sorry! I-I-I- couldn’t help-” he starts to blubber, a fat tear slipping down his cheek. Chan cranes his neck back to try to stop the cascade, to stay strong. Your hands slide over the soft parts of his inner thighs, waiting.  Using his legs to push yourself up with you crane over him, kissing his wet cheeks. “I know you didn’t my good, good boy. That’s why you have me, right?  “Y-y-es. Fu-uuuck.” His nerves sizzle as your nails scrape slow half circles out from his inner thighs over aching muscles in his quads. Chan tries to find peace in the frenzy of fires burning in his body.  Chan practically screams as you sit down on him, letting your wet heat engulf his oversensitive cock completely. The entire chair shakes and groans with him, legs scratching the floor as his full force jolts through his legs. Your arms hold his shoulder down, draped over them just so, settling until he’s done writhing. You don’t blame him for this, you know he’s at his limit. Face pressed into your chest you can feel the wetness of his tears, saliva, and sweat.  “Want me to use your big fucking cock Channie?” You coo, slowly rotating your hips. “You waited so long, let me treat you.”  “Let me- let me-” he chokes, hips shifting again. His shoulders tense and tug at the restraints. “Please let me- you’ve done- let me-”  “Let you what, baby boy?”  “God damn it let me fuck you. Let me touch you. Please god damn it, let me take care of you. I’ll be so good I promise, just let me- please, please,” he’s breathless, half blind with lust, practically chafing his soft skin by pulling at his ropes.  “Oh baby,” you softly chuckle, reaching farther down his back, “you only had to ask.” One yank in the right direction frees him quickly. Chan’s arms pop free first, flexing his biceps, he doesn’t bother with the rest. It always surprises you how strong he is, arms crossing over your back as he draws you closer, practically knocking the wind from your diaphragm.  Holding you in his embrace he jackhammers eagerly, clumsily, upwards into your silken walls. It’s his hard earned reward for being your plaything. Getting to hear your wanton groans spilling from your lips, knocked loose by his efforts, has him chasing your high as well as his own. Somehow he can hold himself off just that little bit more despite it all as long as he is promised something greater at the end.  Chan’s gut burns, all he wants is to cum deep inside you but he knows he hasn’t earned it yet. Your groans turn to whines and your walls squeeze him harder. Just a little more. He bites at your neck, small little nips, just enough for you to stiffen and clench.  “Cum for me, please, fuck, cum in me,” you whisper as your wet heat floods over him. “Fill me, please.”  Grasping tightly he thrusts deeper than he thought possible, practically hallucinating a second pop as he white out. Painting your walls with his release, each pulse has him dizzy as you stroke his hair softly.  “So good, so good for me Channie. Did so well.” You praise him endlessly with small murmurs and whines as you let his release drip out and around the both of you. Softening in you, you wait for his pulse to return to normal, for his eyes to dry and head to start to nod softly into your chest.

[smok3r7]

New Traditions // Valentine’s Day Oneshot

Joel x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Main Masterlist & My AO3

Summary: The last Valentine’s Day two years ago has shattered your view of the so-called holiday. When Joel brings up the idea, you shut him down immediately, but he doesn’t listen. He hopes he can change your opinion on the holiday of Love.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no Sarah or Ellie, slight angst, fingered, FLUFF

—

“What woman doesn’t love Valentine’s Day?” Joel questions as he lets your bent knees fall on his lap and lays one of his hands on your bare skin. The question throws you off, it’s a no-brainer; your face furrows instinctively.

“I guess just me,” you shrug your shoulders and laugh, “I just- I don’t have the best memories, is all. Ended up catching my ex of five years cheating on me two years ago with my receptionist. In my own home, might I add. So, safe to say that I despise this bullshit holiday.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah…fucking Adrianna, the gremlin lookin’ bitch.”

“Welp, his loss. So fuck ‘em.” Joel winks at you, causing you to chuckle and slightly shake your head.

“Thank you, but don’t think my feelings are gonna change just ‘cause you said that. Gonna take a lot for that to happen - if that’s even possible.”

“Oh baby, I got a week to think of somethin’ to do for you. But if it doesn’t work, I won’t try again okay?”

You give him a glance as your head lays in the palm of your hand, propped up by your elbow on the back of the loveseat. “Don’t go out of your way, baby, okay? I promise, I’m okay with doin’ nothing special or even related to it. Nothings gotta change, alright?” Your tone has more of an edge than before, making sure he understands that you really, really don’t want to do anything.

Joel must’ve heard the tension in your voice because he just nods his head, yes ma’am. He slowly leans closer and lays a soft kiss on your forehead as he cups your face with his large hands. Both of you turn your attention back to the TV that’s playing an old episode of Dexter, with both of you understanding your wishes.

—

The memory of that conversation finally clicks in your brain as you stand by the round kitchen table, with a mixture of fresh fruits and homemade omelets as Joel stands behind the wooden chair he’s waiting for you to sit in; you’re baffled.

“Joel, I told yo-“

“Don’t, I don’t want to hear it from you.” He interrupts your strong protest, before it can even begin. “Now, here’s the plan for toda-“

“But I said-“ you glare at his face when you cut him off, starting to become irritated because you really did want today to be the same. You just wanted to enjoy the day with Joel with no special treatment, but the fact that he didn’t listen to your wishes from a week ago kills you on the inside.

Why didn’t you just listen to me?

Joel interrupts your sentence by barking your name loud, this is when your body language shifts. Your arms quickly fold in front of your chest, your weight shifts to your left hip, and you just stare into his face with tears starting to blur your vision.

You hate to be yelled at, hell, scolded would be a better word for it. This has always been an issue for you; the minute you feel like a man goes against your wishes and then scolds you for arguing about it - you shut down and start to crack.

An eerie silence coats the walls of the kitchen that surrounds you and Joel. It feels like time has stopped, he stands in front of you with both hands wrapped around the rectangular dark wood chair and his face sharp. Although you’re about eye level to Joel, you somehow still feel small and broken as he looks into your eyes; you’re not quite sure what to do or think.

You look up slightly and start to rapidly blink so you can try to stop the tears from rolling, so you don’t seem like this weak little girl, but this just happens to cause the salty drops to fall. With a fifteen year age gap between you and Joel, there are times you do feel like a child and it twists your stomach into knots.

Your lips quiver from a smile, to biting your bottom lip, to being slightly pursed, all because you’re trying not to lose it completely.

“You went a-against my wishes, Joel,” you barely whisper, lowering your sight back to him in front of you.

“Just-“ he removes his fingers from the chair and turns his body to face you, now only about three feet apart from you.

“Please sit down n’ eat this breakfast, okay, baby?” He questions quietly, which causes his southern accent to vibrate through your ears.

Still with your arms crossed and body weight on your left side of your body, your eyes shift from his face to the delicious food on the table - that he clearly got up early and prepared for you. You don’t say anything when you look back at him, all you do is nod and wipe the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” Joel sighs, he then stands back and lets you sit down as he pushes the chair in behind you, and he kisses the top of your head, then walks to his seat across the small table from you and sits down.

Breakfast is eaten in silence, but a different one than before. This time, the silence feels comfortable and calm, no tension or eeriness in the walls. It’s just the scrapes of the knives and forks on the glass plates, mixed with the chewing from the two ends of the table, that fill your ears.

So delicious, my god.

By the time you clear your plate Joel is already standing up and reaches for your dishes. Instinctively, you move to stop him, but your brain stops your body from rejecting and you decide to sit back in the chair instead.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you scan your eyes up the large body only inches away from you.

“No need, darlin’,” he responds, staring down at you, he then turns and walks towards the sink and sets down the dishes with a soft, clink. “Now, I want you to head upstairs n’ wait in the bathroom for me. I’ll be right up.”

Your brain still isn’t functioning how it should be, and a large part of you wants to scream at him about how you don’t need to be treated with special treatment. But then the other part of you wants to accept this for what it is, that this man is madly in love with you and desires to treat you to special things.

An even smaller piece of yourself really does want to enjoy Valentine’s Day, it’s always sounded like a sweet thing; maybe this is the time.

So you know this isn’t a time to argue; instead, you smile when you stand up, and you don’t say anything when you walk in the direction of the landing that leads to the staircase. As you hesitantly step onto the dark carpeted landing, you hear the faint sound of the faucet turn on and the clinks of dishes in the kitchen.

The corners of your lips softly curl, and you continue up the staircase. The dishes are a part of the cleaning you did around the house - you and Joel split the chores around the large home, it was something that seemed fair for the both of you so no one got overwhelmed or felt taken advantage of.

So, the fact that he is taking the time to do something off of your list causes your heart to flutter. You reach the top of the stairs and head in the direction of Joel’s, and now your, bedroom. When you gently push the door open, your nose is filled with the scent of Joel, the musky scent of his cologne and his shirts lingering in an intoxicating way; this warm tender feeling forms in your belly, you feel so loved.

You just have to accept that Joel wants to do this, it’s not a chore for him, it’s a desperate need that he has.

Swiftly, you walk through the bedroom to reach the master bathroom that’s connected, and you slide the large barn style door open to the sight of tall candles lit and spaced out on the white tile floor and the outer edge of the porcelain tub, a small chair with bottles that read “Shampoo, Conditioner, Butter Cream Bubble Bath” next to the tub, and two white towels on the back of the chair.

When did he have time to do this? You whisper to yourself as you set your bare feet onto the cool tile, sliding the door closed behind you to keep the warm air from the heater confined to the bathroom. Your mind is trying to jumble ideas together, but comes up completely blank.

You still hear the sounds of dishes and water running downstairs, n’ wait for me. A smile grows on your lips, your cheeks warm up, and your belly spins and spins from anticipation. You spot your plush gray robe hanging on the hooks next to Joel’s black one, that’s hung up besides the glass standing shower.

So you decide to strip your pajamas off, the black tank top and sleep shorts dropping them in a small pile on the tile floor beneath your feet. Your right hand grabs the robe off the wall and swings it around your bare body so you can slip your arms through, and wrap the soft fabric around the front of yourself, as you do a little tie to keep it loosely together.

When you spin around to observe the bathroom from this side of the room, the soft glow from the candles is still just as breathtaking and beautiful. You catch the spot on the counter between the two sinks is empty like normal, at least something is the same. It’s the spot you sit whenever Joel shaves, brushes his teeth, showers - honestly, whenever he’s in here.

To keep some kind of routine and normalcy, you stride over to the counter and turn around so you can push your body up and set your ass onto the white and gray marble counter. Why does he insist on doing this? I’m not deserving of this kinda love and affection, it just doesn't seem real.

Your legs dangle off of the edge as you wait to hear the thumps from his feet on the stairs and the creak from sliding the door that separates you from the rest of the house. By now, the noises from downstairs have stopped and it’s only a matter of time until he’s in front of you.

The same time that you lean back onto the large mirror behind you, the barn door to your right gently slides open. The biggest smile appears on your face when you see him standing there, holding a long tray that’s filled with some more fruits cut up, but this time they’re covered in a white chocolate.

“Baby,” you purr as you sit up straight and he closes the door, then walks towards you on the counter and sets down the tray on the other side of the sink. Without saying anything, he turns around and turns the tub faucet on and to the hottest setting, and steam slowly rises from the water. Then he turns and brings his large body between your dangling legs, his hands placed on your hips, and he lowers his head to kiss you.

Your eyes start to well with tears as you kiss him back, but these are happy tears. You’ve never been treated with such care and tenderness, it’s very refreshing to know that a man is still capable of doing simple and effective gestures. Naturally, your arms hook around the back of his neck, which pulls your body right up to his; the smell of sweat, dish soap, and spices from breakfast overpower your nose.

God, he’s perfect.

“Okay, darlin’,” Joel sighs between the last couple kisses before he hesitates to pull away from you. “I want you to know that today is meant for you n’ that I want you to learn to love today. Cause’ you’re meant to, alright?”

With your hands playing with the curls that lay on the nape of his neck, you smile and nod as you stare into his soul-catching whiskey eyes, yes sir.

The smirk that appears on his face has your stomach doing flips, your hips instinctively grinding on his lower abdomen. His fingers dig deeper into your hips that’s covered by your robe as he groans under his breath, his eyes staring daggers into yours, trying so hard to not give in on his desires.

“Stop tryna’ distract me,” he tells you as he smiles and backs away from your jello-like body. Your arms drop in your lap as you watch him spin around and turn the tub faucet off, grab the bottle that reads “Butter Cream Bubble Bath” and squeeze a good amount into the water, and he swirls the steaming hot liquid. Bubbles start to appear just above the rim of the white bathtub, you can’t help but smile like a child waiting to be put in the bath after a long day.

Joel then brings his attention back to you, and the butterflies begin to appear like they did the first time you laid eyes on him at the bar where you met. The way his head cocks to the side to try to analyze you and your reactions tells you that he’s really trying to understand you fully, which you absolutely love.

He steps between your legs again, but this time his hands find a place underneath your ass and your arms hook around his neck once again. Joel then pulls you up, your legs latch around his waist, and your face rests in the crook of his neck, now lined with droplets of sweat from the warmth and humidity of the bathroom. You inhale once again, you can’t help it - you’re just so intoxicated by the smell of him, it’s almost an addiction.

But, just as soon as he lifts you up, he’s kneeling down and sitting you on the edge of the bathtub. You pout your lip at the loss of the body contact, your arms still around his neck as he kneels in front of you, his face now parallel to your chest.

“Don’t wanna’ get this wet, do ya?” His voice is deep and low as his hand reaches for the tie at your waist, his fingers slowly pulling the string keeping the piece of clothing together. You chuckle at his sudden confidence change, and you love when he does this, it somehow makes you fall even more in love with him.

His hands rise up to your shoulders and he gently pulls the fabric off of your body, letting the soft robe pile around your ass and thighs. His eyes gaze up and down your bare body, lingering on every inch of your skin like he’s eyeing his food, about to devour.

You slightly shiver from the warm air that hits your bare skin, Joel’s eyes move to your tits and he watches how your nipples perk from the humid air that circulates around the room. He licks his lips and mumbles something to himself, between the heater on the floor and the thumping of your heart in your ears you can’t make out what he’s said.

Both of his hands are placed on the top of your thigh and his thumbs start to do small up and down sort of motions. Your cunt beats at the same rhythm as your heart, a swirling feeling growing stronger in your belly, and you try to move your hips for some sort of friction. But your body is stuck from the grip Joel has on your thighs. You slightly whine and he smiles at seeing you losing your control.

“Now, spin your little self around n’ sink in.”

You do as he says with no hesitation, no questions, and no arguing. When you spin around and sink your feet into the bubbly steaming water, you’re immediately wrapped in warmth. Hhmm, you moan as you shut your eyes and fully submerge your body into the tub, laying your back on the porcelain behind you.

The water is almost at a scalding temperature, but it feels amazing on your skin, immediately relaxing the tension in your limbs that you didn’t even notice before.

“There you go, babygirl’, just relax n’ I’ll be downstairs, yell for me if ya’ need me.”

“Wait-“ you quickly say as your eyes shoot open and you lift your body up, causing your tits to surface from the water with clouds of soapy bubbles over them. Joel stops his movements and looks at you in the bathtub, waiting to hear what you have to say.

“You’re not gonna come in with me?”

Joel’s jaw clenches at your soft voice and the question, “Only if ya’ want me to,” he smirks back at you. All you do is nod and move your body closer to the faucet so he can slide in behind you. He watches the way the water moves with your body, and he starts to strip himself of the basketball shorts and his dark gray t-shirt, dropping them in the pile of your clothes.

Your cunt clenches at the sight of Joel naked in front of you. His chest and belly full of dark hair, his tan skin underneath, his cock hard up against his lower abdomen, and his thick legs beneath - he’s the perfect man, physically and emotionally.

He steps over the ledge and sinks into the same water you’re in, the bubbles and water now only an inch away from spilling over the edge of the tub. He slowly maneuvers your body so your back is against his chest, and you feel his cock lay against your lower back. Your head falls to his shoulder and leans into the crook of his neck, and your hands rest on his thighs that bend on the outside of yours.

Joel’s strong arms hook around your waist, one hand spreads against your lower belly and his right hand lightly grabs your inner thigh and raises it out of the water to hook your calf on the outer edge of the tub. The drastic temperature change between the water and the air causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, and Joel chuckles. You feel the rumble at your back as he does.

“Now, I want you to listen,” he whispers in your ear as he drags his fingers down your thigh and submerges back into the bubbles and water, stopping right at the crease before your mound.

“My moon n’ stars, you’re beautiful inside n’ out.” He bends his face and you feel his stubble tickle your neck as he starts to leave soft kisses between his words. His hands are still on your lower belly and thigh, giving soft squeezes to your skin; the mixture of it all causes soft moans to escape your lips, but you want more.

“You deserve nothin’ but the best things in life,” the hand on your thigh lowers and hovers over your aching cunt; your hips rise to try to feel him, causing the water to spill a little bit.

“My baby’s needy, huh?”

Mhmm, is all you can force yourself to do as you dig your fingers into his thick thighs and bite your bottom lip as you let him continue to leave sloppy kisses on your neck. Your stomach feels like it has dropped into a sinkhole, you’re just waiting for his touch so you can relax that overwhelming feeling. And just like that, his middle and ring finger swipe from your slick hole to your clit, your back arches and a broken moan leaves your throat from the sensation.

“Love when you finally give in, the noises you make,” his two fingers softly circle your clit and your right hand comes up to hook around the back of his head as you turn your face to meet him.

“N’ the way your body moves,” he whispers into your mouth as he kisses you with moans between each one. His fingers swirl slow circles on your clit for a moment before he lowers them and slowly inserts them in your small hole. The moan that leaves your lips is swallowed by Joel’s kisses as he pumps his fingers in and out, “So tight baby, relax,”

You try but you can’t. You’re so overstimulated from his fingers, his palm hitting your clit with each thrust, his cock throbbing behind you, and his other hand now pinching your left nipple.

I love you, my sweet girl, you look so damn pretty when you’re full of my fingers, your cheeks get so flushed and the way you can’t form words, just drunk off of the love.

You’ve never felt so loved before, this was all about you and Joel being able to do things for you - you’re finally starting to understand the appeal of Valentine’s Day. Pure love.

“That’s it darlin’, just like that. I’m right here.”

You break the kiss and lean your face into his neck, arm still wrapped around his head behind you, and you finally let that coil snap. With the last pump of his fingers, your back arches and you feel this tension release in your hips. Joel, fuck, you repeat into his neck as you calm down from the orgasm he just ripped from you, as he continues to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of you.

Shhh, pretty girl, I gotchu, he purrs as his left arm lowers around your waist so you don’t slide down too far into the water.

By now the water has cooled down, and it’s still warm but any longer and the two of you will be laying in a cool bath, which is fun for no one. Joel waits until your breathing has calmed down, and when it does, he taps your thigh that’s still hooked onto the outside of the tub. It jumps a little before you submerge it back into the bath water.

You and Joel chuckle at your body’s response, “You ready, dear?” You lift your face to look into his and you nod with a fucked-out look on yours. “You gotta carry me though,” you laugh as you say it, causing Joel to smile ear-to-ear and a deep laugh leaves his chest, “Was already plannin’ on it baby.”

Joel taps you once again to tell you to lean forward for him to get out, which you do. You watch him grab his black robe off the wall and slip it on as he ties it loosely in front of him. He then goes to grab yours and throws it over his shoulder, his hands then reach for yours to grab onto. You smile as you lift your hands into his and with the help of him pulling, you’re able to stand up and step out of the white tub. Water and suds drip down your body as Joel brings your rope around your body and lets you slide your arms into the soft material, then he ties the string to keep it together.

The smile has not dropped from your face, and you don’t think it will any time soon. Joel now has a softer smile over his, like he sees your opinion changing of valentine's right in front of him.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the barn door once more as he opens it and tells you to lay down on the king size mattress you two share. Your brain is too foggy to try to refuse, so you climb on the navy comforter that smells of Joel. When you reach the pillows and turn around to lean against the headboard, you notice Joel holding the tray that’s full of the chocolate covered fruits that you forgot about.

Your face lights up as the sight of the chocolate strawberries, pineapples, and melons. So much so that Joel chuckles, I knew you forgot about these. He walks over to the side of the bed and sets the tray on your lap, he then grabs the TV remote that’s on your nightstand and he turns it to the station that plays movies that you always seem to love.

As you shove your face with the fruit, you also watch the guide on the TV as Joel scrolls and you look in the top left corner which reads, “2:48PM”. You almost choke when you realize that you two spent over an hour and a half in the bath, it definitely did not seem that long.

“There it is,” Joel says out loud as he clicks on the 234 channel, “Look at that, Good Will Hunting,” he turns his body to gauge your reaction, which is amazing nonetheless.

“How did-“

“Don’t. A magician never reveals his secrets. Now, I’m gonna’ go start dinner-“

“You’re not gonna watch with me?” You pout, setting down the small strawberry you were about to pop into your mouth.

“I mean, I had a couple more things planned, darlin’.” He replies but he watches your posture and how your eyes lower with sadness, it’s like a gut punch to him to see you like this.

“But if you’d rather sit up here n’ watch this, I’d be more than happy to do that with you.”

Your face brightens when you hear his voice tell you that with pure sincerity. You nod your head quickly, yes, please, baby, spills out of your mouth and you scoot over for him to sit next to you. He chuckles and climbs into the spot you cleared for him. “Wanna’ share?” he asks with a smirk on his face.

The laugh that leaves your chest causes Joel to blush and smile like an idiot. “My bad baby, of course.” You grab the tray and lay half of it on your lap and the other half on Joel’s. You lean into Joel’s side, he lifts his arm and rests it over your opposite shoulder as the two of you watch Matt Damon solve a ridiculous math question.

“So did I change your mind?” Joel’s question vibrates your body against his.

You take a second to answer him, you raise your eyes off of the TV and to Joel’s face where he’s already looking at yours below him.

“Order some Chinese takeout, and you sure did.”

Joel’s laughs and shakes his head, deal, darlin’. The same smile you had from the bath, takes over your face again as you push yourself up to kiss his soft lips.

“I love you, thank you.”

“Anything for you pretty girl, I love you more than the moon n’ stars combined.”

He kisses you one more time before he grabs his phone from his nightstand and goes to the menu for your favorite Chinese restaurant down the street. You bury your body more into Joel’s black robe, and you lower your eyes back to the movie.

Matt Damon bangs on the restaurant window, “You like apples?” The other dude nods his head, and Matt slams the napkin with the girl's number on it on the window, “How do you like them apples?” All his friends laugh as they walk into the street.

[itsangelll]

hello could I get a fic of 2010 Tom x f reader where he’s kinda like a bad boy or whatever and the reader’s like really innocent and stuff but Tom always has a soft spot for her somehow? Like they meet at a club and Tom immediately has an attraction towards and they start hanging out and if his friends ever say anything bad about her they quite literally kick their asses and it’s really sweet

tyyyy

A/n: of course I did change it up a bit but I hope you enjoy!! creds to @cafekitsune for the divider andd @bunniethinks for helping me out with this <33

Opposites Attract ❤︎︎

pairings:2010 Tom x femreader

warnings:mention of alcohol swearing do not read if you are sensitive with these topics!!

genre:angst to fluff

You’ve never been this nervous before, you came to a party with Tom which you were quite unsure about cause it wasn’t really your scene. When you walked into the house the smell of alcohol and other things filled your nostrils making you feel even more uneasy, “Tom I’m unsure about this I don’t think I fit in here” gripping onto his arm. He chuckled and placed a kiss on your cheek “it’s okay Liebe I promise.”

You smile at him feeling some the nerves ease as he reassures you. He grabs your hand leading you to a quieter part of the house and sits down on the couch next to you. You bounce your leg up and down looking around frantically showing that you still have some nerves, you look downwards as you feel Tom’s hand slide onto your though rubbing small circles against your soft skin. “Schatz you’ve got nothing to worry about I promise” pressing a small kiss to your shoulder then looking at you with a soft gaze. (give me that.) Tom stands up and you look at him confused “I’ll be right back im just gonna get a drink.” he says before he leaves.

Watching Tom walk off you looked around at everyone they looked a lot different than you some people were throwing up and making out. Till someone comes and sits next to you it was one of his friends, “You know Tom shouldn’t be dating you” his words slurred. “Sorry what?” your voice slightly shaky “Look at tom and look at you, I bet you can’t even compete with his standards he deserves someone way better you should leave while you still can.”

Your heart dropped everything his friend was saying could be true maybe you weren’t right for Tom after all you felt like you couldn’t speak everything almost became a blur, without another thought you grabbed your things and ran out of the party not looking back, tears were perking up in the corner of your eyes your vision going fuzzy finally you made it home.

Walking into your bedroom you collapsed onto the floor, you couldn’t take it all of your thoughts were clouding your head you didn’t know what to think. Was it true? did Tom really deserve someone better, After an hour or so you calmed down. You were about to fall asleep until you heard a loud thud right near your window, you looked over and you were shocked, “Tom what the hell?! There’s a door for a reason” you said while kneeling down to help him get up “I’m sorry Princess the door was locked” You looked at him and the sight was awful his hands were bloody and his face was slightly bruised.

You look at him with a worried expression on your face concern etched through your eyes. Holding out a hand to him you place him onto your bed as you look at him with a sad expression a tear dropping from the corner of your eye. Once he’s on the edge of the bed you stand between his legs cupping his face in your hands brushing a thumb under his non hurt eye. “what happened Tom” your voice barely above a whisper he sits in silence for a moment before speaking up. “I was trying to find to you but you weren’t anywhere in the house, then my dickhead of a friend came up to me telling me what he said to you I just lost it I’m sorry Schatzi”. Looking up at you regret written all over his face.

You grab his hand “we’re getting you cleaned up” leading him into the bathroom sitting him on the sink, you grab some cotton pads and alcohol to clean the wounds and his hand “This might sting a little” you carefully dab the wounds not trying to hurt him. Tom looks down at you “You don’t have to do this Princess” you look up at him and continue treating the bruises “well you shouldn’t be getting into fights with your friends.” You say as you finish cleaning up his face.

He gets up from the sink cupping your face in his hands, “You don’t need to listen to them Liebe I love you the way you already are” rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip “you mean that?” he smiles and rests his forehead against yours “You know i do princess opposites do attract.”

A/n: I hope you guys enjoyed im sorry I’ve been so slow with these requests, school is coming up soon and I don’t know when I’ll be able to have time to write mwah bye cuties <33

Taglist:

@bunniethinks

@itsmealaiah

@memzyyy

@madzandmore

@jadedchar

@tomssexdoll

[estellan0vella]

Just Stay With Them ❀ Kento Nanami ft Ino

Masterlist HFBU

The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus. The faint hum of cicadas buzzes through the air, blending with the soft rustle of leaves. You’re standing in the training grounds, watching Ino sweat and struggle through another round of exercises. His determination is admirable, even if his technique leaves much to be desired.

"Keep your stance lower," you instruct, voice steady and calm. "It'll give you a stronger base."

Ino grits his teeth and adjusts his posture. He looks up at you, eyes filled with a mix of respect and frustration. You’ve been training him for weeks now, ever since Nanami entrusted him to your care. Your boyfriend is often busy with missions, but he always makes sure you’re never left alone when he’s not around.

You notice the way Ino's muscles strain, his movements still rough around the edges. Despite his flaws, he has potential. You see it in the way he pushes himself, in the fire that burns behind his eyes.

"That's better," you say, nodding in approval. "Now, try the sequence again."

Ino takes a deep breath and starts the routine, his body moving through the motions with newfound precision. You watch closely, ready to offer guidance or correction as needed. But as the seconds tick by, you feel an unsettling sensation creeping up on you. It's a familiar feeling, one you’ve learned to recognize all too well.

A tingling sensation runs through your limbs, and the world around you starts to blur. Your vision narrows, and a cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. You know what’s coming, but there’s no stopping it now.

"Ino..." you manage to say, voice strained. "I think... I'm having..."

Before you can finish the sentence, your body convulses, and you collapse to the ground. The seizure takes hold, and your mind is swept away in a chaotic whirlwind.

Ino’s eyes widen in panic. "Oh no! What do I do? What do I do?" he mutters to himself, looking around frantically. He drops to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly in the air. "Stay calm, Ino. Think. Think!"

Remembering what Nanami told him about your condition, Ino pulls out his phone with trembling hands and dials Nanami’s number. The phone rings, each second feeling like an eternity until finally, Nanami picks up.

"Ino? What's going on?" Nanami’s voice is calm, but there's an edge of concern.

"It’s Y/N," Ino blurts out, voice shaking. "They’re having a seizure. I don't know what to do!"

Nanami’s tone changes instantly, becoming more urgent yet still controlled. "Alright, Ino, listen to me carefully. First, make sure they're lying on their side. It helps keep their airway clear."

Ino follows the instructions, gently turning you onto your side. He can see the muscles in your face twitching, your eyes unfocused and distant. His heart is racing, but Nanami's voice on the other end of the line keeps him grounded.

"Make sure there’s nothing around them that could cause injury," Nanami continues. "Move any sharp objects away."

Ino quickly scans the area, pushing aside a few training weapons and ensuring there’s nothing that could harm you. "Okay, done. What now?"

"Now, you just wait. Most seizures only last a few minutes," Nanami says. "Keep an eye on the time. If it goes on for more than five minutes, call for medical help immediately."

Ino glances at his watch, mentally marking the time. "Alright. Got it."

Nanami’s voice softens, a hint of his worry breaking through. "How are they doing now?"

"They're still seizing," Ino replies, his voice trembling. "But I think it’s starting to slow down."

"Good. Just stay with them. Talk to them if you can. Let them know they’re not alone."

Ino nods, even though Nanami can’t see him. He looks down at you, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Y/N, it’s okay. I’m here. Nanami’s on his way. You’re going to be alright."

As the minutes pass, the seizure finally subsides. Your body relaxes, the convulsions easing until they stop completely. Ino lets out a sigh of relief, though he knows it’s not over yet. He keeps talking to you, his voice soft and reassuring.

"Nanami, it’s over," he says into the phone. "But they’re still unconscious."

"That’s normal," Nanami replies. "They'll be exhausted. Just stay with them until they wake up. I’m on my way."

Ino sits beside you, his heart still pounding. He watches your chest rise and fall with each breath, a reminder that you’re still here, still fighting. He can’t help but admire your strength, even in such a vulnerable state.

Minutes later, Nanami arrives. He rushes over to you, his usually composed demeanor cracked by worry. He kneels beside you, gently brushing the hair from your face.

"Y/N, I’m here," he murmurs, his voice filled with a tenderness that’s usually hidden behind his stoic exterior. "You’re safe."

Ino steps back, giving Nanami space but staying close in case he’s needed. He watches as Nanami checks your pulse, his movements sure and steady.

"Thank you, Ino," Nanami says, looking up at him. "You did well."

Ino blushes slightly, nodding. "I just... I didn’t want to mess up."

"You didn’t," Nanami reassures him. "You did exactly what you needed to."

After a while, you start to stir, your eyelids fluttering open. The world comes back into focus, and the first thing you see is Nanami’s face, his eyes filled with relief and love.

"Hey," you croak, your voice weak.

"Hey," he replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You gave us quite a scare."

You manage a weak smile in return. "Sorry about that."

"Don’t be," he says, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Just rest now. We’ll take care of everything."

Ino steps forward, a hesitant smile on his face. "I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N."

You look at him, gratitude shining in your eyes. "Thanks, Ino. For everything."

He rubs the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. "Just doing my job."

As you lie there, surrounded by the people who care about you, you feel a deep sense of comfort and security. You know that no matter what happens, you’re not alone. And with Nanami by your side, you have all the strength you need to face whatever comes next.

[elisysd]

16. I want you to see, how you look to me

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack : BIRDS OF A FEATHER - Billie Eillish

He was furious. He had pictured Zandvoort and the second part of the season as some sort of resurgence. A fresh start. A new beginning. In his mind it was supposed to be different. He was feeling happy in his private life, why his professional one couldn’t follow the same path? The worst thing was that he wasn’t furious against his team, no, it was mostly against himself. He just needed some peace and quiet to focus on himself before going to media duties, which he dreaded. He wanted to hide in his driver room, he wanted to brood, just a while. He passed his door right as he felt an anxiety attack coming for him. His throat tightened, making it hard for him to breathe. He tried to cough, thinking it would make everything better when it just managed to make it worse. His vision started to blur right as two arms circled his waist and he felt a head pressed on his back as the sweet perfume of vanilla mixed with lavender hit his nostrils. 

“It’s okay, Charles. You’re okay,” you whispered, scared a sound too loud would scare him or make him spiral. As though he was about to break.  “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’ll try to get it.”

“Can you give me a better car?”he asked, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. 

“That might be out of my hands… sorry,” you pouted, trying to make him laugh for real. “But seriously, I’m here for you. You’ve been there for me when I needed you most, so it’s natural to show up when you’re feeling down.”

“This is the worst weekend of the season. I know I say this every Sunday but this is how I feel. But somehow, you’re making it a whole lot bearable,” he mumbled, burying his head in your neck. “I don’t want to go to the interviews.”

“Do you want to have an interview simulation with me?”

“As long as you don’t hold back.”

“When have I ever held back with you, Leclerc?” you teased him, bumping his shoulders with yours.

Coming back to the hotel with you, he was in a happier mood. Your help before the interviews had been much more useful than Silvia’s briefing and Pierre, his best friend, had earned his very first podium with Alpine after a complicated beginning of the season. In the end, the weekend was not that bad. His first move when crossing the door of his hotel room was going for a shower while he saw you throwing yourself on the bed, exhausted. He felt stupid for not checking up more on how you felt. He knew it had been a complicated day for you as well. He briefly hesitated joining you but he was feeling sweaty and in his own head. He didn’t want to drop his bad mood on you, even unconsciously. 

When he came back, you were sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, scrolling on your phone and not caring about his presence. He was sure you hadn’t even noticed him. He slowly approached you, carefully sitting next to you to see a picture of both of you arriving together, hand in hand, in the paddock. 

“Y/N…”

“They are blaming me,” you said, matter of factly, without an ounce of anger or sadness in your voice. “Because of your DNF.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It is. I don’t understand how some people can be so… violent. I’ve done nothing but walk next to you and hold your hand. And here they are calling me nasty names, saying that I only bring you bad luck. As if you had been exceptionally lucky this season… Sorry. How can all of this be my fault?”

Charles saw a tear forming on the corner of your eye and he quickly caught it before pulling you against his side. 

“I was stupid to think we would go unnoticed, that we would manage to stay out of people’s radar. It was naive.”

“If it is too much for you…”

“Don’t you dare finish this sentence. It’s not too much, you’re not too much. Your life is not easy to handle, sure. But I love you. What I feel for you is worth going through that. I just need to get used to it. I knew it was a risk, that being insulted was part of the game even if I don’t understand it. It hurts, I won’t deny it. But I love you. That outdoes the bad sides.” you reassured him, putting a hand on his cheek. 

“If you don’t want to attend Monza, I would understand.”

“I’m going to Monza. It’s your second home race, there is no chance I will miss it.”

“Then, I promise you, you won’t be alone. My mom will come and I’ll make sure you stay by her side.”

“I… I think I would like that.”

Monza was everything you were expecting and more. Sea of red and yellow flags were displayed everywhere. Fans chanted Charles’ name wherever he was going. Autographs and pictures taken every minute of every day. It was exhausting and you were not the one having all these duties. But Charles didn’t seem to look tired, quite the opposite. The more he was seeing people, the more he was excited and the more he couldn't wait to go on track. His goals were clear and he would do anything in his power to get them. That’s why he was absolutely crushed after the qualifying. He wanted to be the one on pole and no matter how much he was happy that a Ferrari would start P1, he would have rathered it be him. 

“You can still aim for the podium, Charles,” you tried to reassure him at the table of the restaurant the team had booked.

“No matter what, I’m proud of you Charlie,” Pascale said, stroking his back as Charles was sighing, defeated. 

“Negotiations for my contract renewal are on pause. Fred wants us to focus on the remainder of the season, he told me it was not his priority. Bu it’s mine. I need to deliver. I need to show Ferrari that I’m still their biggest chance to come back on top. And it means that I have to outperform Carlos. And being P4 while he starts on pole, is not showing that.”

“They know how valuable you are for the team, Charles,” Lorenzo intervened. 

“Do they? Because I’m not sure of that myself.”

You glanced at Pascale who shook her head, clearly disagreeing with Charles’mood. You bit your lips, trying to find the right words. 

“If you are not sure, please look at the crowd. They love you. They trust you. They don’t care which positions you are starting tomorrow, they have your back. Always have and always will. Look at them. Look at us. We love you. We are proud of you. We are with you. It doesn’t matter if there are bumps on the road, we are sticking by your side. And not only us but your dad too, Jules, Anthoine… my brother. We are all here for you. You won’t let us down. I don’t think you could ever let us down, if I’m being honest.”

Charles turned his head in your direction. You could feel how emotional you were. Since the beginning of the weekend, Luc had been on every corner of your mind. You couldn’t help but think of how much he would have loved to be there so you had tried your best to keep engraved in your memory each details you had come across. Your phone was full of pictures of the track, cars, little italian streets, crowds and flags. Charles. Charles in his suit, Charles in his team merch, Charles, half asleep on the hotel bed, Charles and you taking stupid selfie mirrors. You were a lovesick mess, you knew it and you couldn’t imagine what Luc would say about that. You knew he would feel excited and would tease you endlessly. You would have been annoyed, sure, but you couldn’t help to miss it. Missing something that would never happen was a strange feeling, but one you had regularly. 

“I love you,” he simply replied, kissing the side of your head. 

The race went by like a blur. Your eyes, Pascale and Lorenzo’s were glued to the screen as you watched Charles and Carlos battling in a not so clean way. You feared that one of the cars, if not both, were going to get taken out and you knew it would be a disaster. It was the very last thing Ferrari needed for their home race. Thankfully, Charles brought the car home safe but, you knew, deep down, that he would be disappointed and angry. And from what you could read on Pascale’s face, she was thinking the same as you were. 

It took a whale before Charles finally appeared and contrary to what you expected, he was smiling and laughing. You didn’t have time to react when he took you in his arms, spinning you around and burying his head in your neck, inhaling your scent. 

“I’m so happy,” he mumbled against your skin as you ran a hand in his hair. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s been a long time since I felt so alive walking out of that car. This battle reminded me why I love racing so much. The thrill, the danger, pushing the limits… I missed that.”

“So… you’re not disappointed of not being on the podium?” you asked, trying to get a confirmation out of him. 

“Would I have loved winning against Carlos? Of course. But this is what racing is about, you can’t always win. But one thing is for sure, it fueled me with a new desire to be the best for the next races.”

He took you hand in his, kissed his mother’s cheek, promising her to visit her soon and left. The Tifosi were still there, waiting for him and as he looked at you, silently asking for your approval to go and see them, you nodded. 

“Join me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a need. You followed him as the screams were getting more and more intense and soon, he was totally swamped with pictures, autographs on t-shirts and caps, and gifts handed to him. In front of such euphoria, you came to his rescue, helping fans getting their merch signed, collecting the little books and letters for Charles’ to read later. You could see in their eyes how grateful they were and you tried your best to reciprocate the feeling. When they finally went out of the paddock, you were both tired, but happy. Charles swung his arms around your frame and leaned into you. Once in the comfort of the crowd, he faced you, suddenly serious. 

Here you were, a Ferrari’s cap on your head, eyes shimmering with pride and happiness, rosy cheeks and a smile that hadn’t left since he had come back. It hit him. You belonged with him. You belonged in his life, around his friends and his family, in the garage, in his car, in his apartment. You belonged everwhere he was. 

“I love you,” he blurted out. 

“I love you too,” you replied, your fingers tracing his jaw. 

“No, I don’t think you understand. I’m in love with you. I’m in awe of what you are and I don’t believe that you are mine. There is not one fiber in my body that has fully proceeded that you chose me. But, I swear, If I have to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you, then it is something that I’ll do gladly. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

“I know. And I can promise you that I’ll do the same. I intend to make this, us, work. Because I truly believe you’re the love of my life, Leclerc.”

That night, as the moonlight was reflecting on your face, Charles couldn’t help a feeling of guilt to snake around his guts. You hadn’t complained about following him around, he knew you were happy with it, but he also couldn’t miss how you had, countless times, glanced at the media section of the paddock and he swore he had caught a look of longing in your eyes. You wouldn’t say it but he knew how you missed your job. And despite saying that you could find something else, that it was all okay, he knew you would never be as happy as you were in a F1 paddock, a media pass hanging around your neck. He was deadly serious when he had told you he would do anything for you. And anything started with talking to your old boss. 

Author's note: And I'm back! It feels good to be there and to finally uplaod. I feel like I haven't done that in ages. I still don't know how regular I'll be so bear with me.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

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[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Later that morning, I sit back in my chair and stare blankly at my desk. I absent-mindedly swipe away a dark speck of dust that has landed on the otherwise clean white surface while Blinky gives me side-eyes in my periphery. The headphones he wears have become just as much a decoration as he is since the left side started crackling with static during certain songs, and I have to admit, they look better on him anyway.

Today, it feels like my whole head is full of static, like an old television that’s losing reception. I start to wonder if I angle my head the right way, maybe I can get a sharper image and clearer sound again. I tilt my head to the side in a half-hearted attempt with no luck and feel silly for it.

Mornings usually aren’t this difficult for me, but today I just can’t seem to fully wake up. My vision blurs and I pinch my eyes closed, pressing into them with my thumb and forefinger. The office gets gradually louder as people start their day, chatting with one another and typing on their keyboards. I look forward to being able to put in my earbuds and drown them out.

Suddenly, a heavy hand lands on my back. I know without looking that it’s our manager, Kiyoshi. I lift my head up as he asks, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I tell him as I try to focus on his face rather than the stars floating in front of me, “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Sorry to hear that. We’re training tomorrow, so try to get some rest tonight.”

“Will do.”

He gives me a nod and turns his attention to his own desk and computer screen.

I glance at the clock and sigh. How can a day feel this long at only 8:54 in the morning?  

With a yawn, I grab my empty mug, grateful that I at least have time to fill it before our morning meeting.

As I turn the corner toward the kitchenette, I notice two people already hovering around the coffee machine. I stop in my tracks and debate turning back. There’s nothing I want less than to wait awkwardly behind them while they finish up and leave. Especially if they try to make small talk. I don’t know their names, so it’ll be even worse if they know mine. No amount of coffee is worth it. I don’t care how tired I am.

I curse under my breath and walk back to my desk, set my mug down, and make my way to the conference room.

I take my usual spot in the back, against the window, and wait as the rest of our team files in behind me. Lex catches my eye and skips over, “G’morning,” she greets me with a smile.

“Morning,” I say, attempting to give her a small smile in return, but inevitably giving up.

“You alright?”

“Just tired. I thought your friend was starting today. Or is that next week?”

“No, it’s today. He’s with Jeanie, getting his badge and all that. He’ll be here in a minute.”

I nod and look out the window, to the mountains in the distance. I like the view here. Our last office was surrounded by other buildings on all sides so you couldn’t see anything aside from the busy streets below. When we relocated here, to the edge of Uptown, it was a pleasant surprise to see a real view. As senior developer, I’m lucky enough to have a desk by the window. It almost makes the extended commute to this stuffy neighborhood worth it. Almost.

I turn my attention forward as Kiyoshi starts the meeting, and immediately see a flash of teal out of the corner of my eye. My heart stops and my breath catches in my chest as though I just had the wind knocked out of me, a small piece of my dream suddenly clear in my mind, so real that I can still feel the weight of him lying limp in my arms. A wave of grief climbs up my throat and I nearly scream his name, but… but I don’t know his name. I try to remember it, unable to take my eyes off him as he walks into the room.

“Oh good, you made it,” Kiyoshi gestures toward him, “Everyone, this is Asher, our new environment artist. Evan will show you around after the meeting and get you up to speed.” Evan raises their hand and Asher nods to them.

Asher.

Ash.

The name echoes in my mind, again and again, like it’s being shouted in a vast and empty cave, bouncing off every wall and back again.  The room around me tilts sideways, and I think I might be sick.

Prev // Next

[sunnyswide]

Simon & Konig x Female Mafia reader

The room was almost pitch black with flickering ceiling lights that seemed to always have that cliche fly swarm. You sat uncomfortably in a metal chair, wrist tied behind the seat.

“Where.. am I”

You could barely hear yourself, with your whole body throbbing in pain. The room looked as if it was spinning slowly, endlessly in dreadful misery.

Your breaths were labored as you tried to hold your head up, in front of you, a pair of slick black military boots cross your blurred vision.

The sound of metal scrapping the ground to your right.

“Someone awake”

You look up to see a man in a skull mask, leaning against the wall of neatly hanging tools and weapons. He was large. 6 foot and a little more. Simon Ghost Riley they called him. Ghost. A monster in human flesh when it came to torture.

The metal screeching stops as a much larger man fills your vision.

He flips the metal chair around, folding his arms on the top rail, propping himself lower just to meet eye to eye with you. Konig. 6’10 giant. Took out 30 so men just by himself. At least that’s what you heard

Your heart races at the sight.. at some point you realize why you’re in this situation…

Fuck..

You look at Ghost.. watching him stare emotionlessly at your state. Which you couldn’t blame him for being so rude..

“Don’t look at him. He’s not going to help. Look at me.”

…

“I know”

You glare at him intently, there was no way you’d let him intimidate you.

“Don’t get to cocky. Look where you are nobody’s gonna find you. Not your damn soldiers.. nor those shadows”

You gulp, feigning fear but you couldn’t help but feel like breaking. Telling the truth wouldn’t be so bad?

“Where are the chemicals.”

You stare at him blankly, mouth sealed.

“Not talking?”

He looked back at Ghost, standing up from his seat.

“Last chance. Or he’s taking over”

You already knew his ways. Fuck. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He began unhooking the knvies.. saws.. drills, anything that would make you regret staying silent.

“Alright luv, ready for the show?”

Ghost flipped the knives in his hands, placing the sharp edge dangerously close to your skin.

“Start screamin-”

He stopped, looking at your face. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were already tearing up, holding back little squeaks of pain even though he barely moved the knife. Your cheeks plush and slightly puffed with air as you “prepare” for the pain.

“What are you..”

Konig walks over to you, pushing your hair out of your face to get a better view. Fucking hell. You were on the verge of sobbing.

You opened your eyes slightly, sniffling at what’s to come. The small whimpers that comes from your rosy lips fill the rooms silentness, making the two men stop in their tracks.

You looked.. in their heads

“Fucking adorable”

“Is it in yet” you mutter inconsolably. Little diamond tears slowly dripping down your cheeks

You asked them as if they were administrating a flu shot. Jeez. Look at you.

"I.."

His knife retreats from your throat. Well fuck you just mess everything up don't you Luv?

Konig holds your face, rubbing the tears away with his gloved hands, making a bloody mess all over your face.

"stop! you're just making my face sticky" you whine, needing two hands just to hold his.

"Liebling.." Konig mutters as he marvels at how cute look look.

SImon sighs, using his rough fingers to clean your wet puffy cheeks. Its hard to hurt someone so adorable. weren't you suppose to be okay with pain?

He bites his lip, looking at your flustered face, filled with fear but also inexperience. Maybe they'll just take you back home, far away from the crime life which you clearly don't belong in.

[spuffybaby]

Time to Heal (6)

chapter links: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (7)

Her lids were heavy, fluttering, making her vision blurry as she tried to focus, to see clearly, her breathing increasing as she could slowly but surely make out the image in front of her eyes, a dimly lit cave, she was so close to the edge, by herself, a stake in each hand, no other weapon against the army of vampires below her, her whole body was shaking though she was prepared, then, they shrieked, loud and drowning out anything else, her vision blurring again and before she could feel relief over the defeat of her enemy, the pain of what it meant overshadowed anything else, the stakes fell from her hands and she felt the warmth, the champion's soul. He'd done it again, all her hope and relief meant nothing.

It was like her heart would burst from her chest, pounding, her breath coming out in pants, her palms sweaty, as well as her temples. She shot up straight, gasping, desperate to breathe, her throat dry and she started coughing, her hands flying to her throat, she felt like she was suffocating. The fear of the battle in Sunnydale was set deep in her bones, as if not a moment had passed since then, as if she was still there. The grief was overwhelming, all over again, as if she hadn't spent months trying to make sense of it, it came from one moment to the next, the way it had then. She should have known better.

And then, there was a shift behind her and she felt a hand wrap around each of her wrists, drawing them slowly from her throat and with tears stinging in the corners of her eyes, she spun her head, despite the darkness of her bedroom looking right back at Spike's face.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, shakily, her voice hoarse, then, forcing herself to speak, “I can't breathe.”

He wrapped one hand loosely around the side of her neck, his thumb stroking over her throat, cool, soothing. “Yes, love, you can,” he said calmly, his voice steady.

She tried to focus on his face, on feeling the cool skin of his palm, on believing him when he sounded so sure.

“Buffy!” The door to her room flew open and Dawn ran inside, stopping in her tracks, her hand on the door knob. “Oh. Are you alright?”

She was still desperately trying to catch her breath. “It's okay,” she managed to get out, not wanting Dawn to worry. “Go back to bed,” she added. “I'm alright. Just... a bad dream.”

“I've got it, Niblet,” Spike said, his voice still surprisingly steady.

Dawn swallowed. “Are you sure? Should I get you something?”

Buffy shook her head. “I'm... good.” She couldn't quite fool herself, but hoped Dawn would trust Spike.

“Alright. Tell me if you need anything,” Dawn said.

The moment the door closed, Buffy sank back, Spike's arm wrapping around her before her head could hit the bar behind her pillow, instead the back of her head met his chest. “I've got you,” he whispered, hesitant to pull her closer, but when she turned and her face was against his neck, he felt the closeness was what she needed.

She slowly started to gain control of her breathing again, the dizziness beginning to lift from her mind.

“You're all okay, pet,” he whispered, his fingers brushing her hair from her face. “I've got you.”

She inhaled deeply, wanted to make sure she really could smell him, wasn't just imagining it, that it wasn't just wishful thinking. But it wasn't just his scent, it was the touch of his hands that she had never quite got used to, always gentle, even when, back in the day, he'd been rough with her. It was the sound of his voice, always somehow melodic. “Are you really here?” she sighed, deflated. She just wanted to know he was, she wanted to believe it. Things would be simpler, after everything, she wished that before the battle, things had felt as simple. As complicated as they'd been then, his sacrifice had made everything simple somehow.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I'm really here, pet. Don't you worry. You have a nightmare? A vision?”

She took another deep breath. “Nightmare,” she said quietly, speaking against his collarbone. “Sunnydale. Losing the battle. Then losing you.”

He was quiet for a moment, despite everything, he was surprised that a nightmare like that could knock her off balance like this. “I'm right here,” he assured her, though his voice lacked the steadiness then when all he wanted was give her something to be sure of.

She drew back her head, ready to look at him, figure out what had changed, though before she met his eyes, she leaned back into him, realising it was what she'd said, the impact of her own words, more direct than she would have offered under different circumstances.

Her voice came out in a whisper when she spoke again. “Are you still terrified?”

Another pause, his arm loosened around her slightly. “Terrified, love?”

“Of me. I mean, before the battle, you said that the night we spent together away from the others... that it was terrifying that that was the best night of your life.”

Spike swallowed, remembered exactly just how much it'd cost him to even tell her then, felt the fear all over again that he'd felt then, that she wouldn't take him seriously, that even when he made himself more vulnerable than ever before, she would brush it off. He knew better now, trusted that she wouldn't and yet, he still could barely find the words. “Well-”

That time, she drew back and looked up at him, but his gaze was directed at the window. “Spike.” She pressed her lips together, reaching to cup his face. She cleared her throat. “William,” she tried.

“Don't,” he said, his eyes closing instead of looking back at her. “It's still terrifying,” he said. “Not the same way it was then. I had time to think, before I managed to come and find you. It was a lot to process before, but I came to the conclusion that...” He opened his eyes again. “Well, all I know really is that I want to be with you. As terrifying as it can be, being so close... well, without you, it's more terrifying. If being with you means facing whatever it is that scares me, it's worth it.”

She was unprepared for the softness in his eyes when he turned his head and met her gaze again, leaning into her touch. “Sometimes I wish I could just say things like that. Like you,” she said with a small smile.

He huffed out a laugh. “Trust me, 's not as easy as it looks.”

“You make it look effortless,” she said, tilting her head back. “But I do understand. And I don't want to be afraid anymore. And I don't want you to be afraid. I know I've not made you feel very safe before, I was so hot and cold. But now, I just want you to be able to trust me. I've made up my mind for good.”

The look of certainty as she spoke, the touch of her hand, the sweet scent of her, it was overwhelming, barely allowed him to think clearly. “I want to kiss you.”

As quickly as the yellow in his eyes appeared, it was already gone again, but the rasp in his voice made her skin tingle, it was the least composed she'd seen him since he'd come back to her. She gave him a slow nod, ready to bring him closer, but her response was all he needed and before she could move, his arm tightened around her again and she let him do as he wanted, and with one quick shift, her head was back on the pillow and he was on top of her, groaning against her lips.

She cupped the back of his neck to keep him right where he was, kissing him back with equally as much need, gasping as his fingers found her hair and tugged her head back lightly, just enough to expose her neck, kissing his way down, his teeth grazing her skin, breathing her in, leaving her without a doubt that he knew exactly what he was doing, her breathing faster and it took all she had in herself to stop him, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him up with force.

His gaze was wild when his eyes reopened into hers, desperate. “Buffy.”

“This isn't what you want,” she whispered, could barely believe her own words. She wanted him so bad, knew exactly what he could do to her if she just let him.

He growled. “Oh, you have no idea...”

“No, I mean...” She sighed. “What you said before. You want to do this right.”

His eyes widened. “You don't want-”

“That's not it,” Buffy said quickly, shaking her head. “But what you said wasn't just about me, was it? You know I've chosen you. But you feel selfish accepting it, because you don't feel like you deserve it. We've both done things we regret. I've treated you badly, too.”

“No-”

“You know I'm right,” she said. The harsh grip on his hair loosened and she started stroking her fingers through it. “You want to do this right, so you have to be with me in this.”

“I am with you,” he insisted. “God, Buffy, I couldn't be more sure.”

She smiled softly. “You saved the world, Big Bad. You went through hell to get your soul because you wanted to be good. You have protected me and those close to me, with your life.” She shook her head as he opened his mouth to speak. “No, don't you dare tell me now that you're dead. You listen to me. If what you've done for the world isn't enough for you, let's just talk about what you've done for me. You protected my sister when I couldn't. Nothing's ever kept you from protecting me, not just from danger, but from anything bad. When I needed you just to... when I used you, I know you didn't mind. You wanted me. But it wasn't just that. You knew I needed someone to take it all out on and you let me. I shouldn't have done that and I know that. But that doesn't change that you let me, for me. When Warren tried to make me believe I killed someone, you dealt with it so I wouldn't have to. When I didn't like that, you didn't fight back. When I got a job, you wanted to get money so I didn't have to. Should I go on?”

She didn't. He knew he'd been devoted to her. “I'll get there,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. He had to. The worry that was beginning to form was too great, that she wouldn't want him under these circumstances, if he didn't feel he deserved her. And he couldn't lie to her. “I promise.”

She recognised the fear in his face, sitting up and cupping his cheeks. “And I'll help you,” she assured him. “Even though I don't understand it. You've made these choices to be good, against your demon. Me, I'm the Slayer. I acted just as I'm supposed to, you know? And with you, I didn't. If anything, it's you who deserves better.”

“Don't say that.” His gaze hardened. “Don't.”

She stroked her thumbs over his cheeks. “I know all that isn't simple, okay? But you and me together, that is. So we'll figure it out. I promise.”

The tension slowly left his body. “I bloody love you.”

To her own surprise, the words did more to her than she'd expected. It wasn't like she didn't know, nor like he hadn't told her in some way since he'd come back, but not like this, not with that flash of yellow shimmering behind his eyes, not with his face so close to hers, not directly.

She smiled. She hadn't said it either. “I love you.”

He swallowed hard, knew they both thought about what he'd said last time, so he said nothing. He tried to really let the words sink in. She had no other reason to tell him now, other than because she meant it. He smiled back at her. And though he didn't understand, he realised he believed that she did.

[tommykinard217]

Don't Turn And Run

A bucktommy fix it fic

Read it here on AO3

Tommy knew he was a coward at heart. Sure, he was in the army and he can fly planes and helicopters in some of the most stressful situations imaginable, but that didn't matter. 

When he worked under Gerrard, he was a coward. He let his own fear of being seen turn him into someone he could barely look at in the mirror. 

He's said shit he didn't mean for brownie points from a man hellbent on making everyone feel miserable and small. 

But he liked to think he was getting better. That he confronted that toxic shit inside himself and purged it bit by bit. 

Yet there he was, staring at the elevator in Evan’s building, his warped reflection in the metal surface of the closed doors taunting him. 

Here he was. Being a coward once again. All he knew how to do was turn and run, at the core of himself. 

Stare at the edge of something good and run away from it. 

From Evan. 

But he knew from experience that he didn't get the happy ever after. It's why he liked romcoms so much. Living vicariously through the men and women on his screen. Crazy, dramatic acts of love. Kisses in the rain and hanging from a ferris wheel and tender declarations of love. That wasn't for him, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

He wasn't the one people ended up with.

He had been at peace with that. Until he met Evan. And God. He could never have predicted just how deeply he would have fallen in love with that sweet, eager, ridiculous man. 

But he did. And that's why he had to leave, even if it just confirmed the truth. That he was a coward and he wasn't the guy who got a happy ever after. 

The elevator doors had finally opened, and he once again stared at his warped reflection from inside the elevator. 

The look on Evan’s face was going to haunt him for the rest of his life, he knew it. But the pain wouldn't last forever for Evan. Not like it would for Tommy. Already the pain in his chest felt like it was going to swallow him whole. 

He couldn't imagine how much more it would have hurt if this happened after he moved in with Evan. After he let himself get complacent and think “yes, maybe this is it.” 

He couldn't survive that. He was already in too deep when it came to Evan. Every step away, every floor down, made it harder and harder to breathe. 

Thankfully the doors opened before he really started to hyperventilate though he still had to take a moment and try to steady himself.

This is what was best. For the both of them.

Buck can find someone better, more worthy of his love and admiration. And Tommy won't have to be the one in too deep yet still not enough. 

After a moment, thankful no one else was there to witness Tommy's heart breaking in real time because of his own cowardice, he steeled himself and walked out of the building. 

To his surprise, it was raining. Downpouring, actually. He couldn't even remember if there had been clouds when he arrived. He guessed Mother Nature wanted to give him a physical reminder of his misery, as if the hollowed feeling in his chest wasn't enough. 

As he walked towards his truck, the too good parking spot practically mocking him, he heard something.

The opening of doors.

“Tommy!” 

Evan. 

He couldn't help but stop. Couldn't help but turn, looking at Evan suddenly running towards him, his breath hitching and the rain blurring his vision. 

As Evan caught up to him, he stumbled to a stop. Tommy was already drenched, Evan was getting there, the rain slowly soaking into his curls and his clothes. 

“Look, Ev-Buck, I-” He tried to make out before Evan glared at him and opened his own mouth to speak.

“Yeah, no. You already said enough. I deserve to speak. You owe me that much.” Tommy watched as Evan crossed his arms, standing his ground, and he could only concede. 

“Okay, you're right, go ahead. I'm listening.” 

“First of all, you're kinda being a dick about this. I'm in my thirties! I pay taxes! I know what I want, and you don't get to decide otherwise.” Evan stated, and God, even angry and soaked to the bone he was gorgeous. Tommy couldn't stop looking at him, drinking him in, memorizing this moment down to it's finest details. 

“You're right, Buck-” and suddenly he was being interrupted again. 

“Don’t. Stop calling me that.” Evan seemed to get closer somehow, pointing his finger so that it was just inches from poking Tommy in the chest. 

“Besides, I'm not done. I don't, I don't know why you're so certain I'm going to break your heart, why you think I'd leave you after we moved in together but that's not fair. You're the one breaking my heart, right now, all because you think I might break yours later on. That's not fair, Tommy.” Evan's voice had turned into a plea at the end, cracking on the word fair and that nearly shattered Tommy's own heart.

It's not like Evan was wrong. By protecting his own heart, he was clearly breaking Evan’s. But Evan would move on. Tommy doesn't think he could.

“I'm not someone's forever, Evan.” And even just saying his name felt like a mercy he didn't deserve. “I'm not your forever.” 

And that seemed to spark a rage in Evan that Tommy had never seen. 

“No! No, you don't get to say that, you don't get to decide that. I'm not a kid, Tommy. I-I know what being in love feels like. And I know that even when I was in love, I-I could never really see a future with them. We move in together and that's-that's where it would end for me. But you, Tommy, I saw. No, I see a future with you. I see buying furniture and-and setting it up, and getting a dog, and-” he trails off, out of breath and shivering from the rain.

Fuck, what were they thinking, hashing this out in the rain? He didn't even think he had a jacket in his truck that he could offer Evan. 

“Evan, let's get you back inside, you're going to get sick like this.” He reached out to touch him, and Evan grabbed his hand, holding onto it tightly. 

“No. I'm not done. Not until you listen.” 

Tommy sighed, worry and frustration leaking into the sound. “I'm listening, I promise. But I'd really rather you not catch a cold.” 

Evan's grip onto his hand seemed to tighten, and his stance seemed to hold even more firmly. “You'll just have to take care of me then. Because I'm not letting you go. You love me. I know you do, this is that whole ‘if you love something, let it go’ thing and I'm not letting you let me go.” Suddenly Evan is so close he can practically feel his breath. “Don't turn and run away from me, Tommy. Please.” 

Tommy took in the sight of Evan. Soaked through, angry, and so beautiful. He had two choices, he knew. Turn and run, or leap off the edge with Evan regardless of where it would leave them. What Evan said, about building furniture together and getting a dog. God, he wanted nothing more than that. 

Tommy was a coward at heart, and this somehow seemed more terrifying than any flight. 

He thought of his reflection in those elevator doors. Warped and heartbroken from his own choices. 

He thought of Evan, still holding onto his hand, more pleas about to fall from his lips. 

“Okay.”

Evan blinked. “What?”

“Okay. We'll do this. I won't give up on us. I'm done being a coward.” 

Suddenly all the strength seemed to fall away from Evan as he slumped against Tommy, sighing in what sounded like relief. “Good. Good.” 

“Evan.” Tommy said, slowly tilting his head up with his fingers, so reminiscent to their first kiss. “I'm sorry I was a coward. I love you. So much it scares me. I couldn't stand losing you.”

He seemed to laugh a little at that, a wry strangled sound. “Yeah, and you almost did. Good thing I'm stubborn.” And then Evan's mouth is on his, cold and wet but so perfect. He leans into the kiss, letting Evan take what he wants from it and giving it back in equal measure. 

The kiss was slow. Gentle. More like an ‘I'm here, I'm staying’ from both of them than anything else. After a few moments, Tommy pulled away just slightly, though he kept Evan’s body close to him. “Okay, can I get you inside now before you die of consumption?” 

Evan rolled his eyes, smiling wide regardless. “Yeah, there's better ways to be wet, I think. Like in a hot shower.” 

Tommy let out a laugh, nudging Evan gently as they start to walk towards the building’s doors. “Yeah, and after that nice, hot shower, we're going to be talking more about what this means for us.”

“Oh, so now you want to communicate.” Evan teased. 

“Yeah, I probably should have heard you out before running like a bat out of hell, I unfortunately still have the tendency of acting like the same scared asshole I was way back when.” They were in the building now, the temperate temperature a stark contrast to their rain soaked bodies. 

“Please don't run next time, Tommy. I know I came on too strong with the-with the whole moving in thing, but I didn't deserve that.” Evan’s voice was quiet as he pressed the button to call the elevator. 

Tommy sighed, his heart aching at what he had just put the love of his life through. Because that's what Evan was, even though he just did a really shit job of showing it. “I won't, sweetheart. I promise.” 

As they walked into the elevator, Tommy watched as the doors closed, revealing his and Evan’s reflection. Evan's arm wrapped around Tommy's waist, like he was afraid Tommy would somehow turn and run again even stuck in an elevator. 

But he was done being a coward, he was done running. 

Whatever future they were leading to, he was going to seize with both hands. 

The elevator doors opened, and they walked into the hallway. Into Evan’s apartment. Into whatever the future was. Whatever forever might lead them.

[barkovsasha]

don't threaten ME with a good time

' do you like it when i bleed for you? ' matthew tkachuk + whoever u want :P

Matthew can’t stop staring at Sam.

That should really have been the clue that something was going on but Matthew, for the life of him, can’t even think about why he’s staring or the fact that he should stop. He really should stop.

Matthew keeps staring.

He watches as Sam touches his fingers to his lips, watches as they come away red, blood dribbling down the length of his fingers and pooling darkly at the base. Matthew can barely focus as a little of it drips down onto his palm and he has the sudden urge to lick it clean.

He blinks, brow furrowing as he tries to get a hold of that thought and wonder why the fuck he’s thinking that. About Sam, no less. Sam, his friend, one of the closest he’s ever had. Someone he has never thought about like that before. Well, okay, not never. He’s only human. It’s totally normal to think about your closest friends the way he’s thought about Sam.

Well, is it? He’s always thought it was. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s thought about a friend in a non-friendly way. But with Sam, it’s always been there. Since they first met. Even more now that they’re on the same team again. But with the way Sam has been playing lately, he’s doing so well, he’s taking care of Matthew so much. He’s jumping into fights just for Matthew. The entire thing makes him feel like he’s floating, like if he isn’t grounded enough, he’ll just float up and up and up until he’s living in the clouds.

“Chucky?”

Matthew blinks, vision blurring at the edges when he realises Sam is staring at him. He realises with a start that he’s been staring directly at Sam the entire time.

“Hey, Benny.”

His gaze darts to where Sam’s lip is still bleeding and Matthew wants to bite it, dig his teeth into the split somebody put there with their knuckles. He doesn’t even remember which player it was on the other team, who grabbed him, if it was the same guy who hit Sam or somebody else. All he knows is how badly he wants to make it bleed more.

If Matthew were a smarter man, he wouldn’t stare at his best friend like this. So openly, plainly. In a way that nobody could misconstrue as innocent or platonic. He can practically feel the heat in his gaze, the flush in his cheeks. Matthew doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything as much as he wants Sam in this moment.

When he drags his eyes back up to Sam’s, the look in his eyes is curious, searching. Like he knows what Matthew is thinking and he’s trying to figure it out for himself. Matthew isn’t sure if he wants Sam to work it out or not, but he knows Sam will. No matter what, Sam will get it out of him. He knows Matthew better than he knows himself most of the time.

And maybe it shouldn’t make sense, maybe Matthew should be scared that there was somebody who meant so much to him and they knew so much of Matthew. That they could take Matthew apart with just a few words, dig their fingers into all of his soft parts and rip him open until he was bleeding for them. Maybe he should be scared that that person is Sam.

But he isn’t. It makes sense, really, when he thinks about it. Sam has known him for so long, Sam has seen him through it all. Sam has stuck by him. Sam was part of the reason why Florida had looked so inviting, so close to what he had been searching for. Sure, he would have made his way to Florida even without Sam, but that didn’t happen because Sam was here. And now, Sam was fighting for him. Sam was bleeding for him.

Sam was talking to him and Matthew couldn’t fucking focus.

“Sorry, what?”

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he runs his tongue over his lower lip, Matthew’s eyes tracking the movement eagerly.

“Do you like it when I bleed for you?”

Matthew goes rigid, shoulders tense and drawing up. He’s on edge and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s not that he’s been caught out, it’s that Sam is the one to do it. And of course he is, hadn’t he just been thinking about how well Sam knows him? But God, it’s one thing to think it and another for Sam to make it so plainly obvious.

He swallows thickly around the lump in his throat as he shakes his head, trying to keep what little composure he might have left. He’s still staring at Sam’s mouth, utter refusal to even consider looking in his eyes and looking anywhere else feels like a cop out. It also feels like a cop out not to look him in the eyes, but Matthew is afraid of what he might see there.

Nothing could prepare him for seeing the smile that tugs at Sam’s mouth. He can’t look away from it. He’s always thought Sam had a beautiful mouth. It looks heavenly stained with blood.

Sam’s hand is suddenly in view, knuckles bruised and crusted over with blood. Matthew hadn’t even realised his knuckles had split from the fight. He moves without thinking, reaching out to wrap his fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand closer until all he can see is Sam’s hand in front of his face.

“Yes,” he whispers, “Yeah, I fucking like it.”

He thinks Sam sounds a little breathless, a little smug with how he was right. Of course he was right. It’s sickening how he’s always fucking right. Matthew is sort of insanely into it.

Before he can stop himself, Matthew is leaning closer to press his lips against Sam’s knuckles, pressing kisses across his skin. He can feel where the blood is still slightly tacky and he finds himself hoping that his own lips are stained with it. That when he pulls away, anyone who sees him will see that Sam is there, too. That Sam is a part of him.

When he does pull back, he finally allows himself to look into Sam’s eyes. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, where it feels like they might just be the only two people who even exist. Matthew licks at his lips, the familiar tang of blood on his tongue makes him feel slightly light headed. It’s not his blood for once, it’s Sam’s. Sam’s blood on his tongue. Sam’s blood in his mouth.

“You really fucking do like it, don’t you?”

Matthew doesn’t get to answer, Sam’s hand is grabbing at the back of his neck, tilting his head back before he crushes their mouths together. The last thing there is for Matthew to focus on is biting at Sam’s bottom lip, digging his teeth into the cut to draw more blood out.

[akirakirxaa]

“Look at me. Focus on me.” - for the Whump prompts!

[Canon verse for this one! Takes place starting in the quest "Warm Hearts, Rekindled Hopes".]

Akira didn't even realize she'd moved before she hit the water, instinctively lunging after the mother and child knocked aside by the beast above. She would not lose them too, not after all the horror she'd already seen at the hands of these...creatures. Horrors the likes of which she'd only seen in Emet-Selch's horrifying recreation of the Final Days.

But she misjudged the depth of the pool; she had dove with such force that, combined with the weight of her gear and her scythe, she plunged straight to the bottom. She tried to turn, succeeding at least in not breaking her neck but landing squarely where her neck and shoulder met, the side of her head knocking hard into the stone. Bubbles obscured her vision as all the air was knocked from her lungs, and she felt herself panic for a heartbeat before she remembered she could breathe underwater. Her head still hurt fiercely, though, and as the bubbles cleared she noted her sight seemed blurry.

Unimportant. She had to find the mother and her child.

It didn't take long to ascertain that the woman was beyond saving; she floated in the water, unmoving, eyes glassy and sightless. Akira grit her teeth and turned to find the baby nearby. She seemed lifeless too, but Akira wasn't prepared to give up on a child. She hauled the bundle close and dragged her to the surface, scrabbling to the edge and handing the baby over to Alisaie and Alphinaud.

When they were beset upon by more of the beasts, child handed over to Matsya to deliver to safety, Akira drew her weapon, fighting down the horrible nausea that threatened to overtake her. Now was not the time. She could be sick when she was dead.

~*~

By the time Akira stumbled back to Radz-at-Han, she knew something was very wrong. But with so much happening, it felt foolish to complain about a headache and blurred vision. It would pass. She had survived worse.

She told herself that all the way up to the point she found herself collapsed against a stone wall, legs refusing to continue holding her weight and feeling like the whole city was spinning.

"Akira!" someone approached; she felt she should know the voice was it was hard to concentrate through the pain in her head and the ringing in her ears. "Gods, Akira, what-" She looked up and recognized the red hair and eyes of G'raha Tia. There also appeared to be two of him, though she was fairly certain that was yet another issue her eyes were now having.

"Hi Raha," she gave him a little halfhearted smile. "Just took a light blow to the head, I'm fine."

"You are not fine," he frowned at her, taking her head in his hands gently and probing lightly here and there. "Just focus on me, alright?" She winced as his fingers passed over a particularly sore spot near the bottom of her skull.

"Just...just tired," she insisted. "Just need some rest and-"

"You can rest after I've healed you, okay?" G'raha pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, and she wasn't sure if it was her current dizziness or if his hands actually shook. He drew his staff, gathering magic and directing it at her hurts.

"It was...impressive, how you calmed the people," she gave him a loopy little smile, and she thought she heard him huff and almost-chuckle.

"Wouldn't be the first time I had to settle a bunch of panicking civilians," he mumbled as he continued his work; before long Akira felt the throbbing in her head subside, and the world stopped spinning.

"There, is that better?" he took her chin in one hand, looking closely at her eyes; had something in them been what told him she was hurt? For a moment, she was a bit distracted at how close his face was...

"Y-yeah, all better," she stammered, giving her skull a little knocking motion with her knuckles. "Like I said, just a little bruise was all."

"You had a concussion, Akira."

"Well, I'm fine now, so--" she went to push herself up, but almost stumbled back again; G'raha was there to catch her though, with his least amused 'I told you so' expression in place.

"Alright, alright, I'll rest."

[moony-ghoul]

Blankie dew is still in my thoughts!!!!!!

lucky for you it’s still in mine too

dews grateful to finally have a night in an actual bed after weeks of uncomfortable bus bunks, even if that bed is in a hotel, even if his roommate of the night is phantom.

ant has a sleep talking problem. back in the abbey it’s not that bad but on the road nobodies sleeping well so it’s only gotten worse. dew drew the short straw when it came to picking room arrangements for the night meaning he’s stuck sharing a bed with the chatty ghoul

they both get settled in and dew goes downstairs for a smoke before they go to sleep

however, once he’s back in their shared room he feels like he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him. sitting perfectly folded on the bed is his blankie with dragon resting on top

ants sprawled out across an arm chair not looking up from their phone while it feels like dews entire life is flashing before his eyes

he doesn’t know if he should bring it up, almost like not mentioning it would make ant not notice the soft green toy and blanket. realistically dew knows they know, he didn’t bring them, he made sure they were safely in rains bag

dews stuck frozen in the doorway trying to make sense of the situation in front of him when ant finally speaks up. “you good?”

ant speaks so casually as of dew isn’t considering diving out the window to avoid even further embarrassment. they follow dews eyeline to the pile on the bed

“you seemed stressed,” they shrugged, “i asked rain for it. it might help you sleep better”

“he” dew corrects before he can catch himself, immediately wishing the earth would swallow him while and take him back to the pit

ant smiles softly at dew, not that he’s looking at them anyway, eyes still glued to dragon

“i get why you like him, he’s real soft”

“how did you- i never-“

“i saw you once,” ant explains not letting dew finish, “after a show a few weeks ago, you’d been on edge all day, went through ‘bout a pack and a half. you didn’t seem like yourself until you had that blanket in your hands”

dew finally makes his way over to the bed slowly, running a cautious hand across the fabric like it might fall apart if he’s too rough. ant has a similar approach to dew

“its okay to need a bit of extra comfort sometimes, ya know? no need to be embarrassed about it. shits just stressful and that’s okay”

tears start to blur dews vision, he doesn’t really know where they’re coming from, be it a level of shame finally be lifted off his shoulders or ant showing so much care and love in a simple action

or maybe the exhaustion is just finally getting to him

“t- thank you” it’s a choked off whisper, half getting caught in dews throat

“anytime man”