#we can enjoy some of it but the rest is gonna melt

[themothinboots]

i'm gonna say, i do like it when games have very vague lore. when you get little bits and pieces of environmental storytelling and everyone connects the dots differently. i like when there are many different interpretations of the same characters and events, it really brings out the creative spark in us!

that's why i'm a bit worrying about the two embers solidifying everything in stone. not that i'm not exited about the show, but i'm gonna miss the vagueness and mystery of sky's world

best case scenario, this show gives us more questions than answers, and we can continue our lore speculations

[1-ker0sene-1]

Poly 141 x Reader

Home is where you are

"What ye think she made this time?"

Johnny mumbles, dropping his head back against the seat behind him. Blinking tiredly up at the ceiling of the truck, a daydream clear in his eyes. Simon next to him stares out the window, sweat seems to practically seal his balaclava to his face.

"We'd be lucky if anything. It's three in the fucking morning.."

Kyle says from the passenger seat. Pursing his lips a bit.

"She should be sleeping.."

Price chuckles from the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel, paying close attention to the road.

"She knows we're on our way home. If she made something. We'll be thankful."

His other hand is resting on Kyle's knee, his thumb rubs slow circles against him.

Simons foot taps on the floor of the car silently, brows tight together. The man just wants to go home, shower, eat whatever heaven you cooked and sink into that california king mattress. With all of you, all five of you together.

"Steaks."

He mutters.

"Hm?"

Johnny questions with a hum, Simon clarifies.

"On days we come home.. it's either steak or shepherds pie. She made shepherds pie last time so it's gonna be steak."

They all salivate at the damn thought.

"It's tha little things with ye huh Simon?"

Johnny smiles warmly, leaning on his shoulder.

It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are. Filing out of the truck, bags over their shoulders. Covered in grime and dried blood, they didn't even let themselves clean up at base before going home to you. Walking forward, Simon slings an arm around Kyle's shoulder. Tucking the sargeant into his side as they walk to the house. Both Johns walking behind them, Price giving the younger a good slap on the back.

"Home, boys. Let's enjoy it while we can."

Price comes forward to unlock the front door, pushing it open for the four of them. Mumbling out a reminder to take off their shoes inside. Leaning down with a grunt to pull off his boots. The others doing the same. They can already smell what you're cooking, Simon was right. The smell of steaks is pretty clear, garlic butter, some kind of steamed vegetables and spices.

The house is clean. Warm. Low lighting, some candles lit. Everything about it screams home. John opens his mouth to call out for you, but he can feel his spine practically melt hearing you hum in the kitchen.

Johnny is the first stumbling forward, hopping on one leg as he throws off his remaining shoe. Eager to get back to you. Grinning as he comes around the corner into the kitchen. He melts. Seeing you there, in your chair dishing up their plates of dinner.

".. Hey lass.."

He mumbles, feeling like all the air left his chest.

You turn your head when you hear him, the brightest smile spreads across your face. Tossing the fork down from your hand as you turn towards him.

"Hey soldier-"

You beam. You don't even get another word in before Johnny rushes towards you, you let out a puff of air as he crashes into you. Laughing against him as he squeezes you to his chest, his face buried in your hair.

"Fuckin' missed ye hen.."

He whispers. You return with one of your own.

"I know baby.. I missed you too.."

You lift your head, kissing the scar on his chin.

"This bloke botherin' you love?"

You already know that voice immediately, smiling as you turn to look at Kyle. Who is quick at your side with Johnny, his hand cups the back of your head. Pressing a long kiss to your cheek. Taking a deep inhale of your scent through his nose. You smile warmly, your hand finds his bicep, giving a soft squeeze.

"There you are Kyle.."

You murmur, turning your head to press your own kisses across the bridge of his nose.

"Always here."

He chirps, kissing on your skin. His eyes bore into you, drinking you up. Johnny huffs, mumbling something about stealing all your attention. Earning a small tug on his mowhawk from you.

"Alright you two- showers. The both of you. You need it-"

You chuckle, giving them both a hug. Giving Johnny one more kiss on the jaw. Letting Gaz get one more kiss on your face. Watching them head past you down the hall to the bathroom. Kissing on eachother, bumping into walls. You shake your head at them with a smile.

Eyes flicking back to the entrance. You find Simon staring at you, his shoulders slack and sinking. Eyes half lidded and tired. The rest of his face under the balaclava. Your eyes soften, holding out your hand to him.

"Oh Si.."

He takes the invitation. Coming over to you. He would tower over you in height. But instead he falls to one knee in front of your chair. Hands resting on the arm rests of your chair. Your hands immediately cradle his head. Leaning forward to press your head to his.

"You're home.. it's alright now .. no more Lieutenant.."

You whisper against him. Your fingertips lift the edge of the balaclava, pulling it over the nape of his neck. Over the back of his head, nails dragging soothingly up his scalp as you take the fabric away. Making him shiver in vulnerability. Putting his mask aside on the counter.

Seeing your Simons face eases the both of you, cupping his jaw and lifting his head.

"I know doll.. I know."

He mutters, you kiss his temple. Caressing his skin. Threading your fingers into his hair.

"Go shower with the boys sweetheart.. I'll be in there soon."

You coo at him. He chuckles deeply, kissing your head between your brows as he gets up. Bumping your foreheads together one more time before walking to the bathroom.

"You're not gonna say hello to me John?"

You joke, turning your head to watch said Captain. Who was holding his hat in hand, leaning against the wall watching you. He's been watching you the whole time.

"Just seein' you with our boys darlin'.."

Pushing away from the wall he walks over to you. His eyes full of exhaustion, longing, warmth. Tossing his hat on the counter behind you. He leans down, callous hands hold your cheeks. Bringing your lips to his.

He's not as sneaky as he thinks. You know of his little demand to the boys. He's the first to kiss you. Each time they come home.

You kiss him back feverishly, as much as you've been calm and steady for them. You missed your men like hell. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, beginning to work on the knots of tension in them. Emitting a deep groan from John into your mouth. You smile against his lips, feeling the scratch off his beard.

"Everyone's alright?"

You whisper against him. He nods, his hands finding your hips. Slightly lifting you from your chair and towards himself.

"No one's broken. .. Kyle's a little stressed. Y'know how he is.."

You nod, eyes still closed, continuing to brush your lips together.

"And you?"

"Just tired.. But I'm home. That's what matters."

John mumbles, kissing you deep again. Dipping his tongue past your lips, a soft sigh slipping out of you. Arms pulling him closer.

"Taking good care of our boys John.. You always do.. Making sure you all come home to me again... Our strong Captain.."

You can feel him sinking at your praise. The older mans knees want to buckle at your voice.

"Let's get you in the shower baby.. Hm? Get you washed and relaxed.."

You mumble against him.

You yelp as your lifted into the air by his arms, laughing openly as he carries you like a bride. Burying his nose to the crook of your neck. Carrying you down the hall, to the bathroom door. Where you can already hear the chatter of the men in the shower waiting for the two of you. John is grumbling against your skin.

"We need you darlin'. "

"Our boys and I need you bad.."

[solxamber]

One Date and a Lifetime: Leona Kingscholar x reader

You have chosen Leona! ; aka the times Leona-i-don't-care Kingscholar puts in effort for you;

1k masterlist ; Prologue

You never thought Leona would actually take this date seriously. Honestly, when you first call him, you half expect him to suggest, "Let's just take a nap or something." Instead, his voice is low and smug, almost purring through the phone.

“Sure. I’ll pick you up later. Be ready.”

And just like that, he hangs up before you can ask for specifics. Typical. You're prepared for some half-hearted effort involving him dragging you to a secluded spot to nap under the stars or something like that. But then, a knock sounds at the door of Ramshackle, and there stands Ruggie with a bouquet.

“These are from Leona,” Ruggie says with a grin that’s two parts mischievous, one part disbelief. “He told me to get the ‘good ones,’ whatever that means. I charged him double, by the way.”

You take the flowers, cheeks warming, trying not to feel too charmed by the fact that the laziest lion you know thought to send you flowers. “Compensation good?”

“Let’s just say I’m eating like royalty tonight.” Ruggie winks before scampering off, probably with plans to milk his housewarden’s generosity for the rest of the week.

When Leona finally arrives at your doorstep, you're stunned into silence. He’s dressed to kill, sharp black slacks, a sleek button-up rolled at the sleeves. Effortlessly regal.

"You..." You blink. "You’re somehow even prettier than usual. How is that fair?"

He grumbles, averting his gaze, but you catch the way his chest puffs out just a little. “Tch. Cut it out.”

“Admit it—you love the compliments,” you tease, looping your arm around his as you step outside.

Leona scoffs but doesn’t pull away. “You gonna keep flattering me all night, or are we leaving?”

And so begins the wildest date you could have imagined: Leona, the notorious nap king, escorting you to a local festival, of all things.

You glance up at him as you stroll through the brightly lit stalls. “I thought you hated crowds.”

“I do,” he replies, but then adds in a gruff mutter, “It’s fine if it’s with you.”

Your heart skips a beat. You're lucky he looks so good because you might’ve fainted on the spot otherwise.

At one of the stalls, you spot a mountain of cotton candy, pastel pink and blue fluff that looks like it’ll melt if you so much as breathe on it. You buy a stick and tear off a piece, holding it up to Leona.

“C’mon, try it.”

He eyes the sugary fluff suspiciously. “That’s just sugar and air.”

“Exactly. Now open up.”

With an exaggerated groan, Leona leans down, and you pop the piece into his mouth. His brow furrows as he chews. “Way too sweet.”

But the next time you hold up another piece, he still eats it, grumbling under his breath about “sugar addicts.” You don’t miss the tiny, fond smile that sneaks onto his face, though.

As you continue through the festival, you spot a prize stall lined with plushies, including a little dragon that immediately catches your eye.

“I need that,” you say, determination sparking.

You try... and fail. Repeatedly. Leona watches your attempts with a smirk, arms crossed like he’s enjoying the show.

When you lose for the fifth time, he sighs dramatically. “Move.”

He steps up to the game and, with one smooth flick of his wrist, nails it on the first try. But instead of the dragon plush, he gives the attendant a lazy grin. “The lion.”

When he hands you the lion plush, you stare at it, confused. “What happened to the dragon?”

“Lions are better,” Leona says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No debate.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but smile. It’s ridiculous, but it’s him, and somehow that makes it perfect.

Later, when he takes you to an absurdly expensive restaurant, you raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this? It’s... kind of pricey.”

He gives you a flat look. “Order whatever you want. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

So, naturally, you do. And the food is fantastic. Leona leans back in his chair, watching you with a lazy smirk as you happily dig into your meal.

When the date winds down and Leona walks you back to Ramshackle, the night air is cool, and you instinctively rub your arms. Without a word, Leona shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

You clutch onto his arm with a grin, snuggling into the warmth. “Thanks, Leona.”

He shakes his head, amused. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Of course you do.” You laugh, leaning against him. “Oh! Did I tell you what Ace and Deuce did earlier today? You won’t believe it.”

He humors you as you chatter away, recounting the latest shenanigans. “So, Grim decided to ‘supervise,’ which really just meant eating half the snacks while Ace accidentally set off the fire alarm—again.”

Leona snorts softly. “Idiots.”

“Yeah, but they’re my idiots.”

When you finally reach Ramshackle’s doorstep, you turn to face him, a little reluctant for the night to end. On a whim, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Leona freezes for half a second, and when you pull away, his expression is somewhere between surprised and utterly smitten.

“Goodnight, Leona,” you say softly, watching as he blinks down at you like you just shattered every lazy expectation he had about this date.

He clears his throat, looking away, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah... night.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help but feel like you’ve just unlocked a whole new side of him—and you kind of love it.

You’ve been talking about this video game figure for weeks. Every time you hang out with Leona, he hears about it. Well, "hang out" is a generous term—he naps on your lap or leans against you, and you yap his ear off about how amazing the game is and how this figure is the holy grail of limited merch.

“I’ve been doing everything,” you rant one day, lying next to him in the botanical garden. “Crowley made me do ten extra assignments this week. I even agreed to clean Grim’s litter box without arguments—twice! But it’s worth it. If I get that figure, my life will be complete.”

Leona, who’s half-asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, cracks an eye open. “That good, huh?”

“Yes, that good. There are only ten in the world, Leona. Ten.”

He grunts, shifting a little to get more comfortable. “Better hope your luck’s good, herbivore. Sounds like a lotta effort for a toy.”

“It’s not a toy,” you huff dramatically. “It’s a collectible figure, and it’s the coolest thing in existence. Just wait—when it drops tomorrow, I’m getting it.”

And yet, the universe doesn’t care about your efforts.

You stare at your phone screen in disbelief the next day. The site crashes, the countdown ends, and the figure sells out in 0.2 seconds flat. You refresh. Then refresh again. But it’s gone—snatched from your grasp like a mirage in the desert.

“No... no, no, no.” You sit there, devastated, as the weight of your failure sinks in. After all the work, all the chores, and all the emotional speeches to Leona, you’ve been denied. The limited-edition figure remains forever out of reach.

By the time you see Leona later, your mood is somewhere between tragic despair and begrudging acceptance. You find him lounging in the garden again, his favorite napping spot.

“Didn’t get it, huh?” he asks, his voice carrying that lazy drawl as you flop down beside him.

“Nope,” you sigh, resting your forehead on your knees. “All that work, all that hope... and nothing.”

Without another word, Leona pulls something from behind him and chucks it onto your lap.

You blink. Then blink again.

It’s the figure. The figure. THE limited-edition figure you’ve been pining after for weeks.

“Leona???” you squawk, holding it up like it might vanish into thin air if you let go. “What—how—why—?”

He just shrugs. “Still the second prince, y’know.”

“You—" Your jaw drops. “Did you use royalty status to get me this figure?!”

“Yeah.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he just asked the palace cook to make toast instead of pulling strings for a rare collector’s item.

You gape at him, torn between disbelief and giddiness. “Leona... that’s cheating.”

“So?” He leans back with a satisfied smirk, clearly amused by your reaction. “You wanted it, didn’t you?”

You can’t help it—you burst into laughter, clutching the figure like it’s the greatest treasure ever gifted to you. “You’re impossible.”

Leona tugs you down beside him, trapping you in his arms. “Yeah, yeah. Now quit yappin’ and let me nap.”

Still grinning like a fool, you curl into him, giggling into his hair. “You’re way too good to me, you know that?”

He huffs, but there’s no hiding the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hand rests lazily against your back, warm and grounding. “Hmph. Lucky I like you.”

And just like that, he drifts off into sleep, his arms snug around you. And you? You lie there, feeling like the happiest person alive, hugging your figure close while Leona naps against you, his soft breaths the perfect lullaby.

The first sign something is wrong comes when Grim tries waking you up for your usual chaos-filled day.

“Hey, get up, henchhuman! We’ve got things to do!” he says, poking your cheek with one of his fluffy paws. “It’s already late! If Crowley gets mad, I ain’t takin' the fall!”

Normally, you’d groan and roll out of bed—or at least threaten Grim with chores—but today? All you can manage is a weak grunt before you flop back onto your pillow like a defeated pancake.

“Henchhuman?” Grim nudges you again, this time with more urgency. You crack one eye open just long enough to see his ears flatten in concern. “Oi, don’t ignore me—what’s wrong?”

Your head is heavy, and it feels like your bones have melted into jelly. You try to say I think I’m dying, but all that comes out is a sad, congested whimper.

Grim’s eyes widen, and suddenly, he’s a blur of blue fur and panic. “You’re dying!” he yells, as if confirming the worst-case scenario. “Don’t go toward the light, henchhuman! I’ll be right back—stay alive!!”

Before you can reassure him—or at least remind him that people don’t die from mild fevers—Grim is already out the door, paws skidding against the floor like a tiny tornado.

Somewhere across campus, Leona is enjoying a particularly satisfying mid-morning nap in the botanical gardens when an absolute menace of a furball barrels into him.

“HEY, YOU! Lion guy!” Grim shouts, climbing onto Leona's chest. “Get up! Henchhuman’s dying!”

Leona cracks open one bleary eye. “Dying?” he repeats with a skeptical grunt, already half-expecting Grim to be overreacting. “Probably just overslept.”

“I know the difference between sleeping and dying!” Grim shrieks, paws batting at Leona’s face. “They're burning up, can’t even sit up! You gotta do something!”

Leona grumbles under his breath, but he’s on his feet before Grim can push him again. The usual lazy slouch is gone, replaced by swift, purposeful movements.

By the time he strides into your room, Leona has already called his personal doctor, much to Ruggie’s dismay (“Do you know what time it is?! Do I get paid overtime for this??”). Leona doesn’t care. He’s moving fast—like a lion with a mission.

It’s a blur after that. You vaguely register a cool hand against your burning forehead, Leona’s voice a low rumble beside you. The doctor checks your pulse, takes your temperature, and declares it’s just a fever with some exhaustion thrown in. Nothing dangerous, but definitely enough to flatten you.

“Hah.” Leona lets out a short sigh of relief, slumping in the chair beside your bed. “Told ya Grim, not dead.”

“Yeah, well…” Grim’s still pacing at the edge of your bed, tail twitching in frustration. “They looked dead, okay?! How was I supposed to know?”

“You weren’t. That’s why I’m here,” Leona says flatly, though his tone is less irritated than usual.

The next few hours pass in a fog of sleep, soft voices, and the occasional pressure of something cool against your skin. Ruggie swings by every now and then to drop off food, grinning as he deposits soup and medicine like it’s some kind of delivery service.

“Man, if I knew babysitting was part of my job description, I’d have charged extra,” Ruggie teases, setting down a tray.

Leona just rolls his eyes. “Get lost, hyena.”

Despite his usual snark, Leona is surprisingly attentive. He makes sure you drink water, feeds you spoonfuls of soup even when you mumble protests, and keeps an arm draped lazily around you when you shiver. If anyone asks, he’ll say it’s just because you’re annoying and need constant supervision.

When you finally come to, it’s because something warm and heavy is curled against you. You blink a few times, head still foggy, and realize it’s Leona—completely sprawled across the chair next to your bed, but with one hand tightly clasping yours.

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. Carefully, you nudge closer, nestling against his arm. The movement stirs him awake, his golden eyes blinking down at you groggily.

“You awake now?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

“Barely,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leona grunts, but the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles is answer enough.

Just as you’re about to fully enjoy the peace, a loud, dramatic voice cuts through the moment.

“Finally!” Grim bursts into the room, leaping onto your bed. “Took you long enough to wake up! I thought I’d have to hire a priest or somethin’!”

You chuckle softly, the sound a little scratchy. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”

“Pfft! As if.” Grim crosses his arms, looking away with a huff. “I just didn’t wanna be stuck with Crowley as my only companion. He’s useless.”

But despite his words, Grim scrambles onto your lap anyway, curling up against your chest with a grumble. “Don’t get sick again, okay? It’s a pain.”

You pet his fur, grinning as you feel him relax. “Okay, okay. No more dying.”

Leona shifts beside you, rolling his eyes. “What, am I invisible?”

“Shh,” you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Just let me enjoy my two favorite cats for a minute.”

Leona huffs, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I'm not a cat. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

You grin back at him, and for once, you don’t need words to say thank you. He knows.

You like to think of yourself as a strong person. Someone who can hold their own in this chaotic, magic-ridden school where everything from magical accidents to actual ghost attacks is a typical Tuesday. You’ve handled your fair share of weird situations and even gotten through them without embarrassing yourself too badly. But… you are still a magicless human. And that’s a fact you can’t change.

So when three tall, muscle-bound Savanaclaw students corner you in a dimly-lit corridor on your way to visit Leona, your heart sinks.

"Where ya headin', little herbivore?" The biggest one grins, flashing sharp teeth that remind you just how much worse your day could get.

“Leona’s been hanging out with you a lot, huh?” another one sneers, blocking your path. “Think that makes you special or something?”

"Maybe they've got some kind of deal with him," the third one suggests, his voice dripping with mockery. "How about you tell us what’s really going on between you two?"

Your stomach twists, but you keep your face neutral. No way are you going to let them see how nervous you are. "How about you back off before you embarrass yourselves?" you say, proud of how steady your voice sounds.

The tallest one leans in, his grin widening. “Look at you, acting all tough. Too bad there’s no magic in that mouth of yours.”

You force yourself to hold your ground, though your fingers twitch toward your pocket. You really don’t want to bother Leona, but… well, desperate times. With a quick, discreet motion, you send a single SOS text.

You: Cornered. Help.

The three of them are still jeering at you when you hear footsteps approaching from behind. Slow, measured, and heavy with the kind of weight that makes everyone in the hallway tense.

"Oi," a familiar, low growl cuts through the noise like a hot knife through butter.

All three of them freeze. You glance over your shoulder—and there he is. Leona Kingscholar.

He stands at the end of the corridor, his usual lazy posture replaced by something much sharper, much more dangerous. His emerald eyes gleam with a warning, and a sly, predatory smile spreads across his face.

"Seems like I showed up just in time." His voice is deceptively calm, almost bored. “What do you think you're doin'?”

The boys shift uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances.

"Just… chatting," one of them stammers, the earlier bravado leaking out of him like air from a punctured balloon.

Leona steps forward, leisurely, as if he’s in no hurry—but there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes the air heavy with tension. His presence fills the space, demanding attention and submission.

"You must be real stupid," Leona drawls, "if you think you can mess with what’s mine."

The tallest boy blanches. “W-We didn’t mean—”

Leona’s grin sharpens, all teeth. "Didn’t mean to what? Annoy me? Make me waste my time on some sad, third-string rejects?"

They flinch, shrinking under the weight of his words. Leona isn’t yelling. He doesn’t have to. His authority is clear—absolute.

One of them mumbles an apology, and the others nod hurriedly, ready to slink away. But Leona’s not done.

“You ever try this again,” he says, his voice dropping into a dangerous purr, “I won’t just kick you out of Savanaclaw. I’ll bury you so deep, nobody’ll even remember your names.”

The boys scatter without another word, practically tripping over each other to escape.

Leona watches them go with a snort, then turns his gaze to you. His sharp expression softens just a fraction, the predatory edge giving way to something lazier—something almost… fond.

“You good?” he asks, as if he didn’t just verbally annihilate three guys on your behalf.

Your heart is racing, but not from fear. No, this is something else entirely. Something far more dangerous. You’re not sure when it happened, but you are completely, utterly smitten.

“Yeah,” you say, trying—and failing—not to sound starstruck.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

“Like you’re impressed.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, but you notice the faintest hint of color creeping up his ears. “Tch. Idiot.”

You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks for showing up, though.”

Leona shrugs like it’s nothing. "I told ya—just call me when you need me."

That does it. You feel yourself practically glowing at the simple promise, the quiet reassurance beneath his words.

You lean toward him, your grin widening. “What if I need you right now?”

He smirks, draping a lazy arm over your shoulders. “Then I guess I’m stuck with you.”

You let yourself melt into his side, the earlier tension gone like a bad dream. The two of you walk off together, his arm comfortably slung over you like it belongs there.

And, in that moment, you’re pretty sure it does.

The assignment in front of you is a nightmare.

You’ve been staring at the same page for what feels like hours, your head throbbing with frustration. You chew the end of your pen, tapping your foot anxiously against the floor. Why did you leave this for the last minute? Why does it feel like every word on the page is written in an ancient, cursed script meant specifically to drain your soul?

Meanwhile, Leona is draped over you like a weighted blanket, his head resting comfortably on your shoulder. You know he’s napping because of the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. This man has zero care in the world.

He’s been napping while you’ve been spiraling. Because of course he is.

You mutter curses under your breath, willing the assignment to finish itself. But the numbers swim in front of your eyes, and your breaths grow shorter, more unsteady. Panic claws at the edges of your mind.

Leona stirs. He shifts just slightly, cracking open one eye to glance at you. “Oi,” he grumbles. “Stop breathin’ like you’re about to pass out.”

You ignore him and grip the pen tighter, heart pounding, trying to push through the stress. That’s the worst part about this assignment—if you don’t finish it, your grades will nosedive, and Crowley will never let you hear the end of it.

Suddenly, Leona's hand slips out from around you and snatches the pen from your grip. "Gimme that."

You blink as he pulls the paper closer.

"Leona, what are you—"

"Shh." He flips through the pages like they personally offended him. His eyes scan the questions with the kind of effortless ease that makes you want to scream in frustration. Without so much as a sigh, he picks up the pen and starts writing.

You can only sit there, dumbfounded, as his neat, surprisingly elegant handwriting fills in the answers you’ve been struggling with for hours.

"Wait—are you actually doing my homework?" you ask, staring at him in disbelief.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Told ya. I'm a senior. This stuff’s easy."

"Easy for you, maybe."

“Then why didn’t you ask me earlier?” he drawls, finishing the last answer without breaking a sweat.

You blink at the completed assignment like it might disappear if you look away. "I… didn’t think to."

Leona rolls his eyes and tosses the pen onto the desk with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Next time, just ask. I ain't gonna let you stress yourself out over dumb stuff.”

And that’s it. Just like that, all your anxiety evaporates.

You turn to look at him, utterly smitten once again. "You're ridiculous."

He leans back, resting his head against your shoulder again with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

You let yourself melt into him, the earlier panic now a distant memory. His warmth, his steady breathing, the way his arms rest loosely around you—it all feels so easy. So right.

For a moment, you just sit there in silence, the peaceful kind that feels rare and precious. The assignment is finished. The world isn't ending. You don’t have to do everything alone.

You tilt your head to rest against his, your smile soft. "Thanks, Leona."

"Mm," he hums, already halfway back to sleep. But his hand gives yours a lazy squeeze, a quiet reassurance that makes your heart skip a beat.

The day passes in a haze of warmth and peace, your stress long gone. And you realize something: being with Leona feels like this—like having someone who makes the hard days bearable, without needing you to say a word.

And yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

You've thought about asking him for weeks. Maybe even months. But every time the words start forming, you chicken out. You’re this close to accepting that you’ll just live in relationship limbo forever.

It’s safer. No awkward conversations, no heartbreak. Just… endless naps together, weird dates that may or may not be dates, and him doing sweet things without ever calling them what they are.

But tonight, as you sit curled up in his arms, watching the stars from a balcony in the botanical gardens, it feels like the moment. Leona is lounging beside you, one arm slung lazily around your shoulders, the other resting on your leg like it's the most natural thing in the world. His warmth is comforting, grounding, and for once, you let yourself think: Maybe, just maybe, this is real.

You take a breath, steeling yourself. If he laughs or acts indifferent, fine. If it ruins everything—okay, not fine, but you'll survive.

“Hey, Leona?”

He hums, eyes still half-lidded. He’s relaxed, probably thinking about nothing except how long it’ll take for him to drag you back to bed.

You clear your throat. “What are we?”

Leona cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy look. “Huh?”

You shift nervously under his gaze. “Like… What is this? Are we—” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “—a thing? Or… I mean, are you—do you even like me like that? Or—?”

He stares at you for a second, blinking slowly, like a cat woken from a nap it didn’t want to leave. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You feel your courage start to wither, but you force the words out. “I mean, I thought… We never really said anything official. And I don’t know if this is, you know—” You wave a hand. “Something? Or if you’re just putting up with me or—”

Leona makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, like you just asked him the dumbest question imaginable.

“You really thought I’d let you hang around me this much if I didn’t want you?” he says, giving you a flat, incredulous look.

You blink at him. “So… we’ve been dating this whole time?”

He just stares at you. “...What else did you think we were doing?”

“Oh my god—” You slap a hand over your face, torn between relief and secondhand embarrassment. “I thought you were just vibing.”

Leona snorts. “Yeah. Vibing with you. Idiot.”

Despite yourself, you laugh—a little breathless, a little giddy. It’s so absurd. All this time, you’d been worried about asking him where you stood, and he just… assumed you knew.

Leona rolls his eyes but shifts slightly, turning to face you. His gaze is softer now, and the usual laziness in it is replaced by something raw and unguarded. His hand, rough and warm, cups your cheek.

“Listen,” he mutters, voice low and a little rough around the edges. “I’m not good at sayin’ stuff like this, so don’t make me repeat it, okay?”

You nod, holding your breath.

“I love you.” The words slip out easily, like they’ve been waiting there all along. “Don’t care what anyone says, don’t care what they think—I'm not good at a lotta things, but I know I want you.”

Your heart stumbles. For a moment, the world feels too quiet, too small. You reach up to cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading through your chest.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, like it's the easiest thing you've ever said.

Leona's lips twitch upward into a faint, self-satisfied smirk, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze lingers on you, like he’s not used to getting what he wants.

“So,” you say softly, “are you my boyfriend now?”

He gives you the look—that deadpan, long-suffering stare, like you’ve just asked him the dumbest question of the century.

“Then what the hell else would I be?” he grumbles.

You can’t help it. You laugh—bright, free, and maybe a little too giddy. And before you can stop yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.

The kiss is soft, warm, and it lingers just long enough to make your heart race. He tastes like mint and the faintest hint of something earthy, something that feels like home. His hand slides down to rest at the small of your back, holding you close like he has no intention of letting you go.

When you finally pull away, you grin at him, still breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well.” He smirks, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” you whisper, and this time, it’s him who leans in.

And just like that, the world slips away, leaving only the two of you—wrapped in warmth, in laughter, in everything you never knew you needed.

Leona saunters into your room, hands in his pockets, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Hey, Falena and his family are visiting today,” he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

You blink at him from your bed, mid-scroll on your phone. “You mean the King and Queen of the Sunset Savanna are visiting.”

Leona shrugs. “Yeah. Same thing.”

You sit bolt upright. “Leona, that’s not the same thing! Those are literal royals!"

He raises an eyebrow, already amused. “I’m royalty too, you know?”

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “But you’re my boyfriend!”

Leona’s smirk grows as smug as the desert sun. “Exactly.”

Oh no. He’s loving this way too much.

Despite your protests, you're soon standing next to Leona at the main entrance, sweating bullets as Falena, his wife, and Cheka step through the doors. They’re all gorgeous and elegant, the epitome of royal perfection. You’re about to pass out from nerves, but Leona? He looks like he’s two seconds away from falling asleep on his feet.

Cheka spots you first. “UNCLE LEONA!” he shrieks, barreling straight for his favorite uncle—and by extension, you. Before you can brace for impact, the little lion cub is already latched onto your legs.

“You must be the one Leona told us about!” Falena grins warmly, stepping up beside his wife, who’s equally radiant. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You gawk at him. “Wait... Leona talks about me?”

Falena’s wife smiles knowingly. “Quite a bit, actually.”

You shoot Leona a look, but he just rolls his eyes. “Don’t get weird about it.”

Meanwhile, Cheka, still latched to your leg like a koala, looks up with big, bright eyes. “You’re my favorite person now!” he declares, squeezing your leg tighter. “After Uncle Leona. But you’re mine after him, okay?”

Leona huffs out a laugh, amused by the possessive cub. “Tch. Good luck, kid.”

“I’ll fight for you!” Cheka promises dramatically, like you’re a prize to be won at a carnival. He even makes little fists, shadow-boxing an invisible opponent. “I’ll become a strong lion and beat all the bad guys!”

You try (and fail) to hold back a laugh. “Well, I look forward to it.”

Falena claps his hands together, his grin brighter than the savanna sun. “Since we’re all here, how about a walk around the grounds? It’ll be nice to catch up.”

“Nope.” Leona’s arm is suddenly wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer to him. “We’re good right here.”

Falena and his wife exchange that look—the kind that says they’ve been married long enough to know exactly what’s going on.

“We’ll leave you two alone, then,” Falena says with a chuckle, patting Leona on the shoulder. “We’re happy for you, Leona.”

His wife nods, her eyes twinkling. “Very happy.”

You open your mouth to protest—Wait, this isn’t what it looks like! We’re just standing here! I’m not even sure what’s happening!—but the words don’t come. You just sputter and blush as Leona tugs you closer, looking far too pleased with himself.

“See?” Leona murmurs smugly, lips quirking into a grin as you bury your face in your hands. “Told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

You groan into your palms. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His grip tightens just a bit, his voice low and lazy as ever. “C’mon. Admit it—you like having a royal boyfriend.”

You peek through your fingers, cheeks burning. “Leona...”

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Say it.”

You glare up at him, flustered beyond belief but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “...Okay, maybe I do.”

He hums in satisfaction, practically purring. “Thought so.”

And just like that, he pulls you into a lazy, one-armed hug, as if holding you is the easiest thing in the world—and honestly? It kind of is.

The moment the news breaks that you’re dating Leona, you know it’s going to be a thing. A very loud thing. Ace and Deuce are the first to get wind of it, and honestly, you almost regret ever telling them.

“Leona Kingscholar?!” Ace yells, gaping like you just told him you were moving to Mars.

“Why??” Deuce adds, equally stunned. “Are you okay? Blink twice if you're in danger.”

“Isn’t he the guy who naps literally everywhere?” Ace squawks. “Like, you’re really dating a guy who falls asleep during fights?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Ace. I am.”

“Not to mention he’s scary,” Deuce mutters. “What if he, I don’t know, kicks you out of the relationship because it’s too much work?”

“He’s not going to ‘kick me out,’ Deuce.”

Ace leans in conspiratorially, wiggling his eyebrows. “Have you thought about what happens when Riddle finds out?”

Deuce pales. “Oh man, I’m not telling him.”

“You’re definitely telling him.”

“No, you tell him!”

“Do I look like I have a death wish?” Ace scoffs. “I can already hear him screaming something about ‘poor romantic judgment!’”

Meanwhile, Jack is sitting with his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “I don’t know why you’re all acting like this. Housewarden Leona’s actually cool if you get to know him.”

Ace stares at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “Jack, the man once threatened to ‘accidentally’ kick me into a bush because I sneezed near him.”

“Yeah, because you sneezed on him.”

“It was allergy season!”

“Uh-huh.” Jack shrugs. “Still deserved it.”

Before you can jump in, Grim waddles in, arms crossed like the world’s smallest mafia boss. “I don’t care who you date as long as you’re still my henchhuman. Priorities, ya know?”

“Gee, thanks, Grim.”

Then, from across the room, Epel starts cackling like a madman.

“Oh, Vil is gonna lose his mind when he hears about this!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “Leona’s the exact opposite of Vil’s whole life philosophy. This is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Ace adds, smirking. “It’s like watching two completely different wildlife documentaries crash into each other.”

Before you can stop him, Sebek jumps in, indignant. “I cannot believe you would choose that lazy lout over the Young Master!” He practically growls the words.

“Sebek, Leona is—” you try to reason, but Sebek steamrolls right over you.

“He sleeps through his classes! He’s rude! And worst of all, he doesn’t respect Master Malleus!”

You sigh. “Sebek, you can’t date someone based on their respect levels for Malleus.”

“You should!” Sebek declares, crossing his arms dramatically like a lawyer who just delivered the winning argument.

Before things spiral further, Jack mutters, “Leona’s not rude. He’s just… efficient with his energy.”

“Efficient? He calls that one freshman ‘footstool,’ Jack,” Ace deadpans.

“Maybe it’s a term of endearment,” Jack grumbles defensively.

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. The whole scene is chaotic—Ace flailing, Epel wheezing, Sebek looking personally offended, Deuce still white-knuckling through the idea of telling Riddle—and somehow, it’s perfect.

Because deep down, you know something they don’t.

Even though Leona doesn’t show it, even though he hates doing anything that even smells like effort, he cares. He really does. Whether it’s texting you to remind you to eat, draping his jacket over you when you forget yours, or waking you up from an accidental nap with your favorite snack—he makes sure you know.

You just smile quietly to yourself, heart warm. And when Ace notices and nudges you, asking what’s got you looking so smug, you just shrug.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, already counting down the minutes until you can see Leona again.

Because even though the man drives you up the wall and naps like a professional, he’s yours. And that makes all the teasing worth it.

1k masterlist ; Main Masterlist

i know lions don't purr but in my delusions, leona does. work with me here

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

best seat in the house.

blame it on the moustache.

eddie diaz x female reader (nickname - blue)

warnings - smut. cursing. I think the word moustache is in this about 500 times.

word count - 3k

authors note - save a horse, ride a… firefighter. we all know I go feral for a pornstache, so it was only a matter of time before this happened.

masterlist. inbox.

You’re going insane.

You’ve been away for two months, on a placement course with the academy. As a trainee EMT, you’ve been lucky enough to earn your place in the 118, the one firehouse that every firefighter and paramedic in Los Angeles covets. With that comes training days and practical exams and occasionally, a two month placement that you’re scored and assessed on.

You passed with flying colours, of course - no one doubted you for a second. You’d expected to cruise back into your firehouse after some time away like you’d never left, everything exactly the same as it was.

Except, you’re going insane.

Eddie Diaz has a moustache.

A full on 80s inspired pornstar brush of a moustache.

It suits his face beautifully, accentuating his dark features and those big brown eyes. It’s made him ten times more attractive - which you didn’t think was even possible. You’ve had a harmless crush on him ever since your first day, and the moustache seems to have accelerated it tenfold.

“Are you okay?”

A heavy arm is slung around you, pulling you into the side of a solid body. You know who it is based on his cologne. You relax into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He looks at you skeptically, eyebrows raised.

“Blue.”

“Buck.”

“You’ve been kinda spacey these last couple of days. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal. Just tired, I guess.”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong though, right?”

You look up at him, heart melting at the genuine concern in his eyes.

“Of course I would,” you reassure. “Love you.”

“Love you,” he mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss onto your head. “Even if you are stubborn as hell.”

You chuckle, burrowing further into his side and getting comfortable on the couch. You both sit like that for a while, praying the alarms don’t sound so you can enjoy your peace a little while longer.

“Hey, Blue?”

The source of all of your stress comes striding up the stairs, all bright eyed and gorgeous.

“Eddie.”

He takes a seat on the other side of you, pressing his thigh into yours. You will yourself to take a deep breath and calm down, before he feels all of the tension in your body.

“Chris has been counting down the days until you came back. You wanna come over for dinner tonight? He’s missed you like crazy.”

“I’d love to,” you breathe, grinning at him like an idiot.

He grins right back, squeezing your thigh quickly. You determinedly ignore the way electricity zips through your veins at the action.

“Alright, I’m gonna workout for a while. Let’s hope we don’t get a call when I’m mid weight set,” he laughs, winking at you cheekily before heading down the stairs.

Heat blooms across your chest as you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from beaming from ear to ear. As soon as he’s gone, Buck grabs both of your shoulders, shaking you like a maniac.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What? Buck, what? Jesus, what?”

You grip onto his wrists, willing him to still his movements.

“That’s what’s gotten into you! It’s Eddie!”

You choke on your words, struggling to get any out - so you punch his leg as hard as you can, giggling when he yelps. Buck swings his arm around your neck, catching you in a headlock and pulling you into his lap. All you can do is try to wriggle out, smacking any of his body parts you can reach. Eventually you separate when you both crash onto the floor, laughing and out of breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he pants, lying next to you on the ground.

“Tell you what, Evan?”

“That you’re in love with Eddie.”

Your eyes go wide as your jaw drops open, alarm bells going off in your mind.

“Woah- that’s, yeah, uh… no.”

“Okay, not love, then. But you’ve got the hots for him. Big time.”

You sigh in defeat, head dropping back onto the wooden floor.

“He’s a handsome man.”

“I know,” he agrees. “All of us would agree with you on that.”

You lie in silence for a moment, praying that no one comes up the stairs and finds you here. Buck intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing reassuringly.

“It’s the moustache,” you whisper. “The goddamn moustache.”

“Oh, you like a man with some facial hair?” he smirks, propping himself up on his elbow.

You sit up, leaning back against the sofa and dusting yourself off.

“I do. I like you better when you have a little bit of stubble going on.”

“Noted,” he winks. “You should tell him.”

“Huh?”

“That you like the moustache. He’ll appreciate it.”

“Yeah. No. Not gonna happen.”

“You never know… something good might come of it.”

“Evan. Are you hearing yourself?”

“Loud and clear, Bluey. Listen, you’re a beautiful girl. You tell Eddie you like his moustache… he tells you he likes your entire face… and boom. Fireworks.”

You throw your head back as you cackle, laughing with your full chest.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying! You never know what might happen.”

“And I’m just saying… you’re ridiculous.”

You’re startled suddenly by the bells ringing and lights flashing, both of you jumping up and running down the stairs towards the truck.

“Saved by the bell,” Buck grins, winking at you.

Saved by the bell indeed.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

An evening with Chris is exactly what you need.

Only… that’s not what you get.

“He got invited to a birthday party at the movies last minute. I didn’t have the heart to tell him you were coming over. I should have called, Blue - I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kicking off your shoes by the door like you’ve done so many times before. “I brought wine, anyway. Just in case.”

“You’re the best,” he chuckles, heading to the kitchen to get some glasses. “You and I can catch up tonight. I want to know all about your assessments.”

“It wasn’t that exciting, really. Lots of time in a classroom listening to some old dude talking.”

You get comfy on the couch, tucking your legs underneath yourself and happily accepting the glass of wine that Eddie holds out to you. He takes the cushion next to you, turning so his body’s facing yours.

“Did they let you drive the ambulance?”

“Yes! We had driving lessons, which were hilarious. There were some people there I wouldn’t trust to drive a golf cart, never mind an ambulance with a dying patient in.”

He cackles, knocking his knee into yours. All you can think about is how good he smells, all woody and musky and masculine.

You launch into a story about an emergency amputation on a plastic doll to distract yourself, which ends in both of you in fits of laughter, tears dripping down your faces.

The bottle of wine goes down too smoothly over the course of the evening, both of you a little tipsy. You’ve inched closer, legs tangled as you lean into each others sides. You can’t stop giggling, warm and flushed and happy to be in one another’s company.

Eddie’s phone vibrates, both of you scrambling around the cushions to find it. Eventually, he finds it, both of you chuckling at the theatrics of it all.

“Hello? Oh, hi Jenna. Yeah, sure. No worries, that’s fine. Give me a call if he needs anything, alright? Okay, tell him I say goodnight. Thanks, Jenna.”

You raise your eyebrows in question.

“Chris is going to stay the night at Cameron’s. His mom was just checking it’s okay.”

“He’s so grown up now,” you sigh. “Where does the time go?”

“I wish I had the answer to that,” he says as he throws his phone onto the coffee table. “I’ve got no idea.”

You lean against the back of the couch, resting your head on top of your arms. Eddie stares at you with the softest look on his face that you’ve ever seen, mirroring your posture.

“We all missed you,” he murmurs. “The 118 wasn’t the same with you gone.”

“I missed you. All of you. I was counting down the days until I could come back.”

He smiles at you all gentle and honey sweet, and you’re surprised you don’t melt into a liquid on his nice couch. Your heart is thumping against your chest, working overtime to keep you upright and breathing.

It’s never been like this with Eddie. Or maybe it has. You’ve always been able to tamper down your feelings, keep them buried and in check - so much so that a beautiful friendship has blossomed over time. You don’t want to ruin what you’ve built by admitting you’ve got some silly school girl crush on him and his moustache. It’d kill you if you lost him - Christopher too.

“Have you done something different?”

His buttery voice breaks you out of your daydream.

“Hmm?”

“You look… different. In a good way. Beautiful.”

He’s rambling, trying to cover his tracks so it doesn’t look like he’s coming onto you. You smile, shaking your head.

“Thank you, but I don’t think so. Oh wait, I have a new blush on my cheeks. Maybe it’s that?”

“Suits you.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me, Blue?”

“Always.”

“What do you think of the moustache?”

Oh no. You pause, trying to formulate an appropriate answer quickly.

“I… like it.”

“You don’t sound like you do,” he chuckles.

“No, I do. I like it.”

“I thought you promised to be honest.”

His hand is resting on your knee, settled and comfortable. You’re not sure when he put it there, but you’re not complaining.

“I am being honest.”

“Look me in the eye, then.”

You hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding him, too busy worrying about keeping your heart rate steady. You finally catch his gaze, those big brown eyes staring straight into your soul.

“Blue?”

“Eds?”

Your voices are low and cautious, careful not to disrupt the atmosphere you’ve created. You’re both wine drunk and warm, giddy off of the happiness of being reunited with one of your best friends.

“Tell me what you really think about the moustache. I trust you to be honest - if you think it’s terrible, I’ll shave it off right now.”

“Don’t shave it,” you say a little too quickly. “I meant it when I said I like it. Promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You look good. Fuck, you look good.”

The wine is making you too honest, but it’s too late to turn back now. He wanted the truth… he’ll get the truth.

“Oh. You like it, don’t you?”

He’s got this cocky smirk on his face, arrogant and self assured. You wish you hated it, but you don’t. Unfortunately.

“So what if I like a man with facial hair? Is that a crime?”

“It’s not a crime,” he laughs. “Just didn’t think the pornstache would be your kind of thing.”

“Well I didn’t think it’d be yours either, but here we are.”

He looks at you with nothing but mischief in his eyes, gaze raking up and down your body slowly. A shiver runs down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing up in anticipation. You sit in the quiet for a moment, waiting for Eddie to make the next move - you’re worried that your raging crush means that you’re misreading the atmosphere of the room.

“You wanna take it for a spin?”

Time stands still for a moment, both of you holding your breath.

“I- I- you… Eds, I- what?”

He chuckles all low and slow, like butter wouldn’t melt.

“You wanna take it for a spin?”

You’re looking at him with your jaw hinged open, blinking like a deer in headlights. When you don’t say anything, Eddie speaks again.

“You wanna sit on it?”

You’re quite convinced you’re in another dimension, catapulted into an alternate reality all of a sudden. An alternate reality where Eddie Diaz is… asking you to sit on his face?

“I- what, um… where has that come from?”

You’re only now noticing the blush on his cheeks, unable to tell if it’s from you and the close proximity or the bottle of wine that now sits empty on the coffee table.

“You like the moustache. And I like you.”

He looks almost sheepish, like he didn’t mean to confess out loud.

“I… do like the moustache. And I do like you.”

He grins at you all bold and beautiful, and you can’t help but grin right back.

“I had a dream last month that you sat on my face,” he murmurs, leaning in so he’s talking right into your ear. “I can’t get it out of my head. It’s like it plays on repeat.”

You clear your throat, attempting to get words out.

“Tell me more.”

“It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life. It felt so real, Blue. I swear I could taste you on my tongue when I woke up.”

You’re almost gasping for breath, heart working overtime in your ribcage as you pant.

“Well I guess I better… how did you say it? Take it for a spin?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you to ask are you sure?, which has you smirking at him with nothing but deviance in your eyes.

“It’d be rude not to, Eddie. Seeing as you asked so nicely. And seeing as the universe is sending you psychic, prophetic, sexy dreams about me.”

He doesn’t waste another second, shuffling down the couch so he’s lying flat. When you don’t move, he props himself up on his elbows, looking at you expectantly.

“You can’t sit on my face from all the way over there, Bluebird.”

Laughing in disbelief, you crawl your way up his body, stopping when you’re straddling his waist. You lean down, pausing so you’re nose to nose as you breathe each other in.

“Can I kiss you?”

He looks confused that you’re asking but nods eagerly, softness written all over his face. You kiss him gently, carefully, sweetly. You’re figuring each other out, not wanting to push any boundaries too far too soon.

Eddie slips his tongue into your mouth eagerly, hips bucking up into yours. It’s all teeth and lust carnal need, years of built up longing bubbling to the surface. When you’re both so out of breath you’re lightheaded, you pull away, pecking his lips quickly before standing up to shimmy your shorts and panties down your legs. Eddie looks drunk - not on the wine, but on you.

You climb back on top of him, shuffling up his chest so you’re hovering over his face. You’re completely sure you want this, but there’s a tiny little inkling of anxiety that’s spreading through your veins, lighting up your nerves.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes. “Always.”

“I know,” you smile, gently moving a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. “Show me what you’ve got, Diaz.”

With that, you quit the hovering and sit down exactly where he wants you, throwing caution to the wind.

Eddie takes it slow at first, taking mental notes. It’s all careful and loving and considered, both of you holding back. He’s kitten licking, sucking gently, savouring the taste of you while he can. Eventually, you get a little impatient, accidentally bucking your hips into his face.

“S’that what you want?” he mumbles from underneath you. “Use me, Blue. Take what you need.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, as you instantly grind your hips forward. He slips his tongue inside you, your back arching when the gorgeous slope of his nose bumps against your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, tangling your fingers into his hair to use as leverage. “Right there, Eds. Keep doing that.”

He does exactly as he’s told, curling his tongue just right as you rock forwards and backwards, taking control of the situation. He’s groaning beneath you, clearly enjoying this just as much as you are. When you let out a particularly pornographic moan, his hips are bucking up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Close,” you mumble, fingers tightening in his hair. “So close, Eddie.”

His hold on your thighs only gets firmer, his grip bruising as he digs his fingertips into your flesh. As if he knows you need a little push, he smacks your ass hard with an open palm, the unexpected jolt of it sending you flying into your climax.

Eddie works you through it, tongue never ceasing its movements until you’re tugging him away and shuffling down so you can collapse against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, drawing patterns on any skin he can reach to calm your racing heart. There’s not an inch of space between you, bodies plastered together on his couch.

“You okay?” he’s asking all muffled into the top of your head.

“Never better.”

You feel his laugh rumble through your bones, making you chuckle.

“So… you don’t want me to shave the moustache?”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. “But don’t you dare.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teases, pressing a kiss into your hair. “Loud and clear.”

You’re not sure how long the two of you lie all tangled up on the couch together. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight, you have all the time in the world.

[sweetfcwn]

handsy george😝 he just always needs to be touching u

always - george clarke.

first post in a while so i made it a long one! i hope you enjoy <3

it starts small. it always does.

you’re at the kitchen counter, half-distracted while scrolling on your phone, trying to remember what you came in here for. george appears behind you like it’s muscle memory, arms snaking around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“what are we doing?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear.

you lean into him instinctively. “trying to remember if i wanted tea or toast.”

“i vote toast,” he says, already moving to grab bread one-handed, his other still snug around your waist like you might float away if he lets go.

he’s always touching you. always. not in a demanding way—not like he needs something from you, but like it grounds him. a hand on your back when you walk into a room. his fingers brushing yours when you’re watching something on the couch. his thigh pressed against yours in the uber even when there’s plenty of space.

you used to think he didn’t notice he was doing it. now you know better.

-

later, you’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked up, some random show playing that neither of you are really watching. george has you pulled into him, your legs draped across his lap, and his hand is running slowly—absentmindedly—up and down your shin.

you glance down. “you’re doing that thing again.”

he hums, not looking away from the screen. “what thing?”

“you’re petting me like a cat.”

he smirks. “you purr when i do it.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. instead, you shift just enough to let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

george drops a kiss to your temple and keeps his hand moving, slow, warm, familiar. “you love it.”

you do. not that you’d admit it out loud.

-

you’re out with friends one night—some crowded pub with too-loud music and sticky tables. george is in full social mode, laughing at some story arthur’s telling, but even then, his hand finds the back of your chair. then your knee. then the crook of your elbow.

he doesn’t even look down when his fingers find yours, lacing them together under the table.

you try not to melt on the spot.

“he’s so handsy with you,” liv teases when george goes to the bar.

you shrug, cheeks warm. “he always is.”

and he really is. it’s not performative. it’s not just in public. in fact, if anything, he’s worse in private—less filtered, more shameless about the way he pulls you onto his lap while you’re trying to get dressed, or slides a hand under your shirt while you’re brushing your teeth, like he can’t go ten minutes without touching you.

he never asks. he doesn’t need to. it’s never possessive, never too much. it’s just george being george.

-

one lazy sunday, you’re both holed up in bed past noon. the curtains are drawn, and the world feels quiet. you’re on your stomach, half-asleep, and george’s fingers are tracing slow shapes along your spine.

he’s barely awake. you can tell by the way his breath is soft and even, but his hand doesn’t stop. it moves on instinct, warm against your skin.

“you’re so tactile,” you mumble into the pillow.

george makes a sleepy noise behind you. “means i like you.”

“you say that like you didn’t literally cling to me in your sleep.”

“you’re warm,” he murmurs. “and soft. and you smell nice. ‘course i’m gonna cling to you.”

you snort. “you’re like a giant koala.”

he hooks an arm around your waist and drags you back against him. “shut up. i’m adorable.”

you laugh, letting him pull you in, letting his hand settle under your shirt again, splayed across your stomach like it belongs there.

(which, annoyingly, it kind of does.)

-

he does it when you’re getting ready to go out, too.

you’ll be in front of the mirror, fixing your hair or trying to decide between two tops, and he’ll come up behind you—always barefoot, always quiet—and wrap his arms around your waist.

“this one,” he’ll say, gesturing lazily to the shirt you’re not wearing. “shows off your collarbones.”

“why do you care about my collarbones?”

“don’t know,” he shrugs, kissing the space beneath your ear. “they’re hot.”

you roll your eyes, but you change anyway.

sometimes he just wants to sit on the floor while you do your skincare, his head resting on your thigh. he doesn’t talk. he just wants to be there, fingers drawing idle lines along your leg, watching you in the mirror like he’s never seen you before.

and then later, when you’re lying in bed, freshly washed and soft, he’ll be on you again—hands under the hem of your shirt, palm over your heart.

-

one night, after a particularly long day, you climb into bed feeling worn out and quiet.

george doesn’t ask questions. he just pulls you into his chest, one hand sliding up your back and the other cradling your head. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t push—just holds you like that’s the only thing that matters.

you think about how easily he reads you. how he always knows what kind of touch you need—soft and grounding, or playful and teasing, or firm and steady when your mind won’t stop racing.

his hand smooths down your spine again, slow and repetitive, and you let your body relax into his.

“you okay?” he whispers after a while, pressing a kiss to your hair.

you nod against his chest. “just tired.”

“you’re safe,” he says quietly. “i’ve got you.”

and he does. he always does.

-

sometimes it’s teasing, too. the way he sits behind you on the sofa and rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering commentary in your ear while you scroll your phone. the way his hand slips under your hoodie just to rest there—no agenda, just warmth.

other times, it’s… not so innocent.

like when he passes behind you in the kitchen and lets his hand drag across your lower back.

or when you’re doing laundry and he pulls you toward him by your waistband, murmuring something low and smug into your neck.

or when you’re brushing your teeth and he plants himself behind you, wraps both arms around you and says, “need my daily cuddle. don’t care that you’ve got toothpaste in your mouth.”

you roll your eyes and mumble something about personal space, but he just sways you side to side like you’re dancing in the bathroom and hums tunelessly into your hair.

you never pull away. not really.

-

there’s something reassuring about the way george is always touching you. like if he keeps a hand on you, he knows you’re real. here. his.

sometimes it’s his fingers brushing yours as you walk down the street. sometimes it’s his hand on your thigh under the table at dinner, or his foot nudging yours gently when you’re out with friends.

you don’t need the attention. you’re not the clingy type.

but somehow, with him, it’s different. comforting. like an anchor.

you’ve started reaching back now, too. looping your arm through his when you cross the road. curling into his side when he’s editing videos, your fingers fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

he never complains. he leans into it.

“touch-starved,” he teases once, smiling against your neck.

“takes one to know one,” you shoot back.

he just laughs and pulls you closer.

-

the first time you notice he really can’t go long without touching you, you test a theory.

you sit on the couch beside him and fold your arms. nothing dramatic—just casual. you keep your hands to yourself. you wait.

two minutes pass.

george shifts.

three minutes.

he glances at you.

four minutes.

“you alright?” he asks, already leaning toward you.

“yep.”

“why are you sitting like that?”

“like what?”

“like…” he gestures vaguely. “all self-contained.”

you grin. “no reason.”

he narrows his eyes, then slides over and practically throws himself on top of you. you squeak as he wraps himself around you like a blanket, smug and victorious.

“better,” he mutters.

you laugh into his shoulder. “you’re ridiculous.”

“shhh,” he says. “you love it.”

and you do.

god, you do.

-

it’s bedtime, finally, and george flops into bed dramatically, grabbing your hand before you can even get under the covers properly.

“can’t sleep without you,” he whines.

“you say that every night.”

“and it’s true every night.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s full.

you slide into bed and george immediately pulls you into him, one leg hooked around yours, his hand settling on your hip like it’s lived there for years.

“george?”

“mm?”

“why are you so handsy?”

he shifts, propping himself on one elbow to look at you properly. his eyes are sleepy, but warm.

“dunno,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “you’re my favorite person. i just like being near you.”

you bite back a smile. “you are a koala.”

he grins, then leans down to kiss you—soft, slow, full of everything unspoken.

when he pulls back, he murmurs, “you make me feel safe. so i touch you all the time to make sure you’re still here.”

you blink, surprised by the quiet honesty.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

“i know,” he says, settling back down, arms curling around you again. “but just in case.”

his touch lingers. it always does.

and you fall asleep warm, wrapped in him.

just the way he likes it.

taglist: @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @phantomveb @just-yazz @wherethezoes-at

[interruptedtrance]

can you write something about first time anal with lando?

First time trying anal (lando x reader)

Smut; 18+

word count: 3.3k

contains: anal, butt plugs, nicknames (baby), aftercare, just reader being smart and doing research, sexting (facetime)

i might have done a bit too much research for this, but thank you so much for the ask! and i'm so sorry this has been rotting in my ask box for so long, but i really wanted to give it justice.

masterlist

“lando, don’t laugh” you say, your cheeks becoming warmer by the second, making lando stifle a laugh, “oke rude, you didn’t even know what i was gonna say!”

lando pulls the best serious face he can, “please continue baby”.

exhaling “i really hate you sometimes”, now sitting next to him on the couch “i want to try anal” you blurt out feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again, making lando look at you with a surprised expression, “no, no, you are great and really you please me, but i -”.

“baby, stop, breathe” he says firmly, “i’ll gladly try something new with you” gently giving your hand a squeeze, “i know i please you, the scratches on my back are proof of that”

“sorry” you interrupt.

“but i also understand you want to try something new and different” he says, giving your lips a quick kiss in the hopes of relaxing you.

“thank you” you mumble, melting into the kiss.

making him smile, “don’t thank me yet” he says pulling you onto his lap kissing your neck.

gently you pull away, “lando not yet, i haven’t done it with anyone before” you whisper.

“that's alright baby” he kisses your lips, “how about you do some research while i'm gone for the weekend, and then we talk about it?” lightly tracing his fingers along your back, “find some toys that you like, check out the different materials, and sizes, hm? does that sound good?” he whispers back, giving you a shy smile.

bringing your pinky to him “promise we will talk all about it once you get home?”.

he wraps his pinky around yours “i promise”.

time skip

you wake up to lando wrapping his arms around you, “you’re home!”, you turn around in his tightening grip.

“i am baby” he says with a smile, softly kissing your lips, “how about you tell me everything about the research you have done in the morning? hmmm does that sound good baby?” he speaks with a yawn.

“yeah” you answer yawning back, shifting closer to lando and falling asleep in his arms.

time skip

“lando, wake up, the breakfast will get cold” you whisper slightly, shaking him awake.

“five more minutes”.

“i made waffles”, making him jolt up.

“what are we waiting for, let's go eat!”

“i can’t believe you” you mumble, walking behind him, to your kitchen. where both of you prepare your plates and move to the balcony, cuddling on the sofa enjoying the view and food.

“so, tell me about it?” lando interrupts your train of thought.

“hm?” you look confused, “oh yeah!” you sit up a bit, looking at your lover. “so,-”

“do you want to order them?” he questioned.

“they are already here” you say with a whisper, cheeks heating up.

“yeah, you are not eager at all” he teases.

“shut up, do you want to hear the rest?” you plea.

“yes, please continue” he says, while moving his empty plate to the table and resting one of his hands on your thigh, gently caressing it.

“so i've ordered a glass set of different sizes, i didn't want metal ones, people said they might be too heavy for your first time, and i didn't want silicone, it feels like we won't be able to clean it. i have also ordered anal lube with them, but not the kind with numbing agents because they increase the risk of injury.”

lando nods, “that sounds good, any positions?”

“yes!” you smile, “it's called face to face, basically i sit in your lap while you are sitting, it really is just a sat up cowgirl.”, “and i'm supposed to practice twice per day for 5 to 10 minutes, for two weeks before moving to the next size.”

lando interrupts, “yes baby the position sounds good, but how do you want me to insert them, or do you want to do it yourself?”

“oh yeah! could you please do it? while i'm laying down.”

“of course i can baby” he says, giving your lips a quick peck. “wanna start now?” he questions, raising his eyebrows.

“hmmmm maybe” you tease, getting up from the sofa and reaching out a hand to grab his, and lead him to the bedroom, where you plop yourself down onto the bed.

“wait, lan, go get a towel” you say, making him leave the room to grab a few towels, while he is out you rid yourself of your clothing and pull out the lube and the smallest butt plug from a box under the bed.

“you ready baby?” lando questions, his arms wrapping around your middle, after he drops the towels on to the bed, gently swaying you side to side.

you smile, and relax in his hold, “i am a bit nervous, but it's a good nervous”.

he spins you around so you face him, “are you sure?”

“i am, can we please start?” and with those words lando gently pushes you on the bed, and climbs over you so your faces meet aging. gently he kisses you, and flips you over so you are laying on your stomach.

he grabs a pillow from the headboard, and covers it with a towel, “can you lift your hips for me baby” and without much persuading you lift your hips, where he slides the pillow under them. your butt now sticking up in the air, making shiver from how exposed you feel.

“i won't do anything without telling you first, okay baby?” lando gently speaks, while rubbing the back of your thigh.

“okay”

“what’s our safe word?”

“it's red”

“yes, you are so good for me baby” he praises, making a smile appear and your cheeks to heat up, only intensifying your need to bury your face in the covers.

you hear and feel movement behind you, making you raise your head up to see what lando is doing, “oh baby you can lay down and relax, i'm only applying lube to my finger”

“can you help me a bit, could you please hold yourself open for me?” without hesitation your hands move back and spread yourself open, “thank you baby” he says while softly giving one of your thighs a peck.

“i will just drop a bit of lube onto your hole, i'm sorry baby but it might be cold for a second” the sudden cold feeling made you squeeze yourself and cry out a bit from the difference in sensation.

“you are doing really well baby, here baby i will now start.” and you feel a gentle pressure at your entrance but not enough to penetrate, now carefully moving around in a circular motion, making your toes curl, and pulling out a moan from you.

“baby, i will now slowly put my finger in” and the pressure on your hole increases, you gently and slowly feel lando's finger enter you, making you breathe harder. “you are doing so good baby” he praises.

“does it feel good? hmmm do you want me to move?” lando whispers.

“it does feel good, please move” and with permission granted he carefully starts circling his finger, making you gasp out, and moving your hands back to your front so you can grab onto the covers. “lando, please don't stop”.

“do you want me to add another finger?” his motion never stopping.

“can we try the plug please?”

“of course we can, but i'll have to remove my finger, are you alright with that?”

“mhm, just be quick”

“alright, alright” he removes his finger frim, you making you now moan at the empty feeling. “here baby i am applying the lube to the plug, i will gently spread you, you just focus on your breathing and the pleasure” lando says, before you feel his other hand spreading your ass open and gently bringing the tip of the plug to your entrance but not yet applying any pressure, making your breath hitch from the new feeling.

“baby, i will apply pressure now, tell me if anything hurts” you now feel a steady pressure at your entrance, the plug is pushing you open, but so far nothing you can't handle. soon enough you feel the plug widen a bit, which stretches you out a bit more than lando’s finger, making you inhale deeply, and lando stops for a second so you can adjust to the size. once you give him a little nod he continues, gently you feel the plug slide into place, and your ass closes around the neck of the plug, making you moan out in pleasure.

lando brings both of his hands to your ass and gives a bit of a rough squeeze making you moan out, “baby, fuck you look so good, i'm so fucking hard right now.”

the statement makes you gently get up and kneel on the bed, where you can see lando practically forming a tent in his shorts. carefully you get off the bed and kneel in front of your boyfriend, silently asking for permission to blow him.

“no, no baby get up, we are cuddling, this is only about you.”

“but-”

“no buts, i'll go drop the towels in the hamper, and you better be waiting for me in bed.”

“yes lando” and with that lando collects all the dirty towels, and walks out the room.

you carefully stand up, and walk over to the full length mirror to check yourself out, the plug reminding you each step of the way that it's fully in you. carefully you bring your hands to your ass and spread it open, the little orange diamond shining nicely between your cheeks.

still with a careful step you walk over to your wardrobe and pick out one of landos shirts to wear. slowly you make your way to the bed, the plug now feeling very comfortable, almost like it isn't there, until you sit down, where you feel the plug penetrate you deeper, making you let out a little moan.

now you carefully lay down and roll yourself onto your stomach, making sure the plug stays in place, and is visible to lando. “fuck, baby, you will be the death of me” he says, entering your shared room, making you smile in return, “i can't wait for when you are ready to take my cock.”

“it will only be a few weeks, now come and join me” you say, without hesitation lando walks over to you, kissing you on the side of the head, and laying down next to you, pulling you up to his chest, so you can comfortably lay on him. after a few minutes of gentle kisses, both of you fall asleep cuddling.

time skip

“baby wake up, it has been 15 minutes since we inserted the plug, we need to remove it.” he speaks, with gentle kisses littering your face to try and wake you up.

you cry out in protest, “but lan, it feels very good!”, now slowly raising yourself with your arms.

“baby, it's your first time. i don't want to risk an injury, you can continue laying down, just please let me get it out.” he says gently, moving to place a pillow under your hips, “can i?” he asks before starting anything.

“alright” you say annoyed, you feel him move his hands to your ass, where he gently spreads you open, and with one hand grabs onto the base of the toy, with a gentle and slow tug, the toy comes out, making you whine in protest from the feeling of now being empty.

lando gently spanks your ass, making you face him, “don't worry baby, as soon as you can take me, you can have me for entire days” he says, making your cheeks heat up. “also, we are repeating this tonight, you said it needs to be done twice per day.”

time skip

“don't do your night routine just yet!” lando interrupts you moving to the bathroom, you give him a confused glance.

“we need to do it for another 15 minutes” he says while moving you back to the bed.

“i forgot, but now i can see who's the eager one!”, you pull down your underwear before grabbing a pillow and laying yourself down. “can we please do it in the same way as this morning?”

he gently pecks the side of your head, “of course we can baby”.

time skip

doing it alone, when lando leave for work, with a larger size, on call with him, i’m a bit scared, i would prefer you here with me

“baby, you don’t have to do it alone, you can wait for me to come back”

“yes i know lan, but i don’t want to lose any of the progress” you mumble at the screen, where your boyfriend is staring back at you. “i wish you were here”

“i mean-” he smiles, “you can prop your phone up, so i’ll kinda be there with you” making you stop for a second, and heat rising to your cheeks.

biting your lip, you start walking faster to your bedroom, where you prop your phone up against a pillow. swiftly you undress, and grab all the supplies.

“baby, you know you don’t have to use a larger size”

“i know, but i want to feel you as soon as possible” you whine to him, while laying down a towel. “do not even joke about me being the eager one, i can see your little problem”

“little, is that why it’s taking us so long to have anal?” he exclaims.

“i mean this is the last plug before we can try, are you excited?”

“of course i am” he assures, “i just wish i was here with you, but someone is too impatient”

“i can always hang up”

“no-” he scrambles to grab his phone, “don’t you dare”

“i won't” you whisper, gently laying down on the towel, making sure lando can see what you are doing. “can you walk me through it?”

“i can” he smiles, “first hold the plug in your hand for a moment so it warms up, while you are waiting for it to get warm, grab the lube and spread it on your fingers, carefully circle your hole, and slowly insert one finger at a time, baby please don’t rush it” he scolds.

“sorry lan” you slow down your pace, pulling a moan from yourself.

“once the second finger feels comfortable, apply the lube to the plug, and slowly, and i mean slowly start inserting it”

“ok, ok i get it” carefully you remove your fingers, and grab the bottle of lube again, squeezing out a generous amount to add to the plug. while lando observes your every move. “i think i’m ready”

“if you say so baby, just go slow, and it will be fine” he moans while stroking himself.

“i know” you confirm, moving the tip of the plug to your entrance, and slowly applying more and more pressure, having the plug enter you at a steady pace. “lan, idk if it will fit” you whine to your boyfriend.

“just relax baby, take a deep breath, you can pause however many times you need and for as long as you want”, “just breathe baby”

“i know, but it feels like it wont fit”

“it will, i can see it from here, you are closer than you think, i swear”, “just take a few deep breaths” with lando coaching you through you managed to get the last bit in, “see you did it baby”.

you breath heavily nodding your head yes, “while i wait, can you tell me about your day lan?”

he smiles “i can baby”

time skip

“are you nervous?” he questions, giving you a peck on the lips.

“a bit, but i'm more excited” you speak with a smile, “come lets go!” you practically drag him to the bedroom. once there he grabs you by your hips and turns you around, slowly walking you over to the bed to lay you down, him following behind.

“i want you in missionary, i want to see your pretty face while i fuck you in the ass for the first time.”

the words making a smile appear on your lips, “then what are you waiting for?”

softly he kisses down your jaw, removing both of your shirts and kissing to the waistband of your pants, “lift your hips”, without hesitation you lift your hips while he takes off your final bit of clothing.

“can we start?”

“yes” and with your confirmation lando applies lube onto his fingers, and then carefully on your hole, making sure he covers every inch in you, so as to not cause any discomfort.

once he is done with you, he carefully removes his fingers from you and applies more lube to his hand, with which he pumps himself, “tell me if anything hurts?”

“you know i will.” lando lines himself up with your entrance, giving you a glance, which you only nod at, he brings one of his hands up to yours and intertwines your fingers together, so he carefully applies pressure, and slowly starts entering you.

you gently give a squeeze to his palm, making him stop all his movement, “did i hurt you?”

“no, i just need a second to adjust” making him breath out, carefully he moves his head closer to yours giving you a peck on the cheek. lando straightens back up, “you can continue”, and so he carefully resumes his movement, soon his full length is in you, where he stops again in order to give you some time to adjust.

“you did it baby” he whispers carefully moving towards your face to give you another peck on the lips.

“can you please move?” you ask between the kisses he is peppering onto your face. still carefully he lightly starts grinding his hips against your, making you moan.

“yeah, is that good?”

“please be a bit faster and rougher.” and with that lando quickened his pace, pulling a moan from both of you with each thrust. “just like that” you praise him, “i'm close” you breathe out.

“me too baby” and with a few more thrust, you can feel lando twitch and his cum filling you, which brings you to your own release. he gently pulls out from you, stopping a moment to watch his cum drip out.

both of you panting heavily, “baby, we have to do this again!”, only making you nod in return.

after steadying your breath lando speaks up, “come let us go and shower, and then cuddle” with that, lando picks you up in his arms, and sets you down in the shower, making sure to let the water warm up before getting you wet, and yashing you with your favourite body wash.

“come baby, i know it feels nice but we can't stay under the hot water for forever” he gently prys you out, only to wrap you up in a big towel.

“wish we could” you say through a yawn. he gently grabs your hand and pulls you towards your shared bed, making you drop your towel to the ground, and get under your warm covers with him following behind.

[marsmaximoff]

🏛️ emperor caracalla ; headcanons ⋆₊𐕣˚𖤐 ݁｡☽

content warning: fem!reader. mentions of blood, killing and sickness, cheating, possessiveness, toxicity. idk if there’s anything else.

word count: 0.7k

author’s note: first time writing headcanons, so constructive criticism is welcomed. and english is my third language so please bear with me. i apologize for any mistake 🙏🏻 also, i’m unlocking a new obsession, so i needed to write for caracalla asap. i’m gonna write for other fred characters too because that man has me down bad. that’s it! enjoyyy! <3

emperor caracalla is a menace with an insane duality and you know that better than anyone

we have 1) mad ruler with an insatiable thirst for blood

you ALWAYS go to the games

he demands wants you there with him

(not like you have much choice being married to him)

but still, he loves to know you’re there. mostly because he actually enjoys sharing his passion and spending time with you. buuut, also because he REALLY likes to show you off. (you love seeing him all giggly clapping and yelling tho)

and let me tell you, he takes every opportunity to do so. to remind everyone that you’re his. and to brag in front of his pretty much unmarried brother.

i’m talking hand rubbing your thigh when sitting by his side (he does it absentmindedly, it’s genuinely cute), arm around your waist during feasts, sitting on his lap when watching combats, theatre or any sort of entertainment and a ton of PDA.

both of them are possessive, but he is more subtle, not as straightforward

regarding Geta, you two have an… odd relationship. he’s thankful there’s someone else to deal with his brother’s madness. but he’s suspicious of your intentions. tho jealous.

some would even say not only of the marriage itself…

caracalla knows, and absolutely feeds on it. he finally has something that belongs to him and only him

god forbid someone doesn’t get it

Dondus has grown to adore you. you’re like his other parent -he’s adopted you as such.

squeaks at you and happily climbs your arm to rest on your shoulder

loves using your braids as little ladders

and snuggling against your neck too

he’s just so cute can u tell i love him :3

anyways

and 2) sappy child

he follows you around like a puppy

you hate it when he gets overwhelmed, he tends to hide and isolate himself

you end up acting like his mother

gets insecure of his real face and keeps it from you

needs a lot of reassurance

the guards always look for you when he has an outburst

your touch and presence are the only things that ground him

LOVES LOVES LOVES cuddling

clings to you like he needs you to breathe

good luck waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom 💀

play with his hair and he’s GONE

big on pet names

to you is always “my love” “my dear” “my darling” “my wife” “my empress”

emphasis on the “my”

everything’s fine with him but ���sweet boy” makes him melt

and obviously “my emperor” cause it makes him feel powerful

and compliments too

spoils and pampers the shit out of you

jewels, clothes, animals, entertainers, you name it

absolutely whipped

loves kissing

now, it can’t all be a fairytale 😞

sometimes you feel like he loves Dondus more than you

and it seems that some men being forced to kill each other brings him more happiness than you ever could

he can switch from sad to angry in a matter of seconds and sometimes his sudden change of tone and expressions startles you

🚩 🚩🚩

being married to a sick man is hard

many palace servants and guards feel bad for you

paranoid

thinks you don’t love him anymore and are going to leave him quite often

obsessive

if you say something that feels ‘off’ to him get ready for an intense interrogation

possessive and extremely jealous

cause why the fuck where you laughing with some random man?

he’d threaten to kill him and would probably get rough with you

hates other people touching you

gets violent

has hurt you before during one of his fits

regrets it afterwards but has a hard time apologizing

would probably be unfaithful. i know, i hate it too 🥲

over all i think he wouldn’t be that bad of a husband, like it could be way worse

and i say he could genuinely love you, it just wouldn’t be the healthiest of loves

but you can try to fix him girl ✨✨

[agi-ppangx]

low battery (han jisung x gn!reader)

no warnings, fluff/comfort, just two lovers comforting each other after a long evening; 0.5k words

author's note: this was requested by my lovely green, i hope you'll like it although its not my best work<3 also its not proofread so i apologise for any mistakes and typos🫡 please remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

“baby?” jisung called out as soon as he heard the door open, followed by your heavy sigh. you remained silent as you took off your shoes, happy that you don’t have to wear them anymore that day. dropping your bag on the floor you dragged your feet to the living room where jisung was laying on the couch, a fluffy blanket draped over his shoulders as some anime was playing quietly in the background. 

“hi,” you muttered, giving him a little peck on the forehead, and decided to grab some water from the fridge. “i thought you were supposed to go out with the boys tonight?” 

he sighed at your words, pausing the show. “i joined them for a while, but they invited their girlfriends and it felt too crowded after a while.” 

“did you at least have fun?” 

“i mean, yeah, we went to that new restaurant down the street. i have to take you there sometime, the food was amazing,” he responded with a small smile and you mirrored it. “i had to give up karaoke though.” 

you let out a little mhm, sitting down next to him and hugging him. for a moment it was silent between the two of you, you didn’t really know what to say more, you knew exactly how he felt after the night out.

“how about you? how was the dinner?” jisung broke the silence. 

“boring, tiring… do i have to say more?” you whined, taking a sip of your water. you put the bottle on the coffee table in front of you and without a word laid down, placing your head on jisung’s lap. “my boss was so annoying, he kept making those weird jokes about dogs. he was so drunk, you wouldn’t believe it,” you giggled as you recalled your memories from a few hours ago. he laughed at your words, trying to imagine your boss in that state and soon after the comfortable silence once again settled between you two. 

when jisung and you started dating you were afraid he’s gonna think you’re weird for being so tired after nights out. it’s not that you didn’t enjoy it, but social interactions simply exhausted you. as a kid your family used to make fun of you for wanting to leave any types of family parties, thinking that your weariness was a sign of disrespect. that’s why when jisung happened to not only understand you perfectly in that matter, but also feel the same, you were relieved. some might think it’s nothing, but you finally felt seen and validated.

“i’m so exhausted, sungie…” you yawned.

“i know, baby, i know,” he whispered, running his fingers through your hair. you closed your eyes, relishing in the quiet moment, glad that the day was almost over. “you can rest now, i got you.” 

“i love you,” you mumbled quietly, but he managed to catch that, smiling to himself before leaning over and placing a kiss on your temple. 

no more words were said as you melted into jisung’s lap. soon your soft snores and the anime on the tv were the only noises in the apartment as you recharged, feeling the most comfortable in each other’s presence. 

taglist ! @astraystayyh @laylasbunbunny @l3visbby @like-a-diamondinthesky @hanjsquokka @xichien @xocandyy @minhosbitterriver

[tacowacco]

husband!shadow milk x reader

🌀 cw: sexual explicit content, breeding kink, baby fever, overstimulation, creampies, and fingering. 

🌀 reader is afab/fem and stated to have female genitals

🌀a/n: first smut post! let me know what guys you think, and if i should continue writing smut ,, requests are heavily encouraged and appreciated :))!

Recently, you've been contemplating what life would be like for you and your husband with a child. You undoubtedly enjoyed his company and loved him dearly, but there were times when it felt lonely, especially in the Spire of Deceit.

One evening, as you were having dinner together, he was passionately recounting his day, filled with stories of his theatrical antics and his minions. For a moment, the room fell silent, with only the sound of silverware scraping against plates breaking the stillness.

You stared at an empty seat in front of you, imagining a child eating dinner alongside you and shadow milk. You envisioned how lovely it would be having a little one. 

“It's getting too lonely here, isn't it? Just the two of us?” Shadow Milk asked, interrupting you in your moment of thought.

“Wha—what are you talking about?” you sheepishly asked, being caught off guard from your husband’s sudden question.

“You’d look so beautiful, so full and round with part of me, with our child,” he says, whispering softly in your ear as his hands travel down to your lower stomach.

“Where's all this coming from?” you ask

“I could ask you the same thing, dear.” he replies.

“Eh? What do you mean?—” you ask before Shadow Milk interrupts you.

“You can't deceive the beast of deceit, my dear. I’ve seen you eyeing children's toys and clothes.” he says teasingly. 

You quickly turned your head away, trying to avoid eye contact as your face flushed a deep shade of pink. You felt embarrassed that Shadow Milk had confronted you about your wish to have children.

“I want to have kids with you..” you muttered under your breath, as you looked down at the ground.

“What was that? Hm?” 

“I…”

“C’mon use your words.”

“I said..I want to have kids with you, Shadow Milk.”

--

Shadow Milk gently tosses you onto a plush, velvety bed, your body landing against the soft pillows and mattress. You let out a yelp as you settle in, trying to ignore your husband's snicker in response to your surprise. Shadow Milk hovers over you, pinning you against the mattress as he leans forward, bringing your lips together. The kiss transforms from gentle and passionate kiss into a heated, messy embrace. He melts into your mouth, exploring it as he chokes your breathy moans with his tongue. His hands travel along your body, removing the first layer of clothing you had.

Shadow Milk quickly removes your bra and panties, tossing them aside somewhere as he quickly slides two slender fingers into your folds. You let out a pathetic needy whine as his fingers instantly greet your clit. 

“So soaked..such a pretty pussy..” Shadow Milk coos, as he teasingly circles your clit watching you clench and tighten around his fingers. 

It isn’t long before you let out a painfully loud moan, “Sh–shadow milk! Fffuck, I’m gonna-” you choke between breathy moans, clenching around his fingers. Before your orgasm can wash through you, Shadow Milk quickly removes his fingers. In an attempt to gain some sort of friction, or movement you buck your hips against his clothed cock. 

“Uh, uh, uh! Not yet, we haven’t even touched the grand finale yet!” He tuts, before he crawls down to your level. 

Without breaking eye contact, he licks the remaining juices on his fingers with his tongue before leaning in to kiss you. He presses a sloppy, heated kiss to your lips. You're able to taste yourself on his tongue. A trail of saliva connects your tongues, as you pull attempting to regain your breath. 

Shadow Milk envelops you as you bend at the waist, your legs resting on his shoulders. Finally, he lines himself up with your entrance, his eyes carefully surveilling as his cock slips into your wet hole. He lets out a soft whine, as the juices from your soaked cunt squelch against his cock creating a wet slap. He thrusts faster, raw fucking you as hard and as long he can go. His head rolls back as his balls slap against your pelvis, releasing a loud groan from him.

“Haaah– your pussy fits so perfectly inside of me, it’s almost like you were created to fit me. Say it, say that you were meant to take me.” Shadow Milk says as he cums inside of you.

"m' m—meant to take you," you choke out as tears begin to fall from your eyes, and drool drips down from the corner of your lips. Shadow Milk enjoyed seeing you like this all empty headed, and filled with his future offspring.

He thrusts his hips forward, making sure that all his cum isn't wasted and shoving it back til it's seeping from your hole. You moan as your back arches in a way you didn't even know was possible. As your orgasm washes through you, Shadow Milk cums once more inside of you before removing his cock from inside of you.

"Hhaaah, look at you! Just the thought of you carrying a piece of me drives me insane. How am I supposed to hold back when you look so pretty like this?" Shadow milk teasingly says as he looks down at your quivering thighs from the overstimulation, cum seeping from them.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James is the best boyfriend while you're sick.

Genre: Fluffy <3

Warnings: having a cold, germs, mentions of being contagious? really none lmao i'm just over cautious

~ for my lovely 🍓anon! enjoy! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You're convinced you're dying and no matter how much your boyfriend promises you you're not, you still feel miserable.

"No, no," you shake your head, your nose running obnoxiously as you blow into another tissue—you could start a whole collection by now. "you don't u-understand. My body is crumbling as we speak," you tell him as you're curled up in your bed, under a bunch of blankets and wearing James's warmest and favorite sweatshirt.

James sits by you, one hand pressed against your forehead and he frowns, suppressing a small smile. "Is that so? Guess I'll have to glue you back together again then," he hums softly. 

Your eyes narrow and then you cough loudly, your throat hoarse, "You aren't funny."

James feigns hurt. "Ouch," he strokes your hairline with his thumb, looking at you fondly, and then gives in as his eyes soften. "I'm sorry. I can feel you burning up, I know you must feel very ill, hm?" 

You nod, sitting up against the pillows as you cough again. The sound sounds horrible. James leans closer, his expression morphing into concern. Your eyes widen as guilt dawns on you and you panic, pulling away from him. 

"Jamie, no, I'll contaminate you!" you practically shriek.

James raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Contaminate me? Darling, you aren't diseased." 

You sniffle and whisper, "You don't know that." 

James can't help himself. He laughs, and the sound is a beautiful melody as he shakes his head. Still, he listens and pulls away from you. He sits back and thinks for a moment. "I'm gonna run to the store and grab you some things okay, I don't think this cold will disappear on its own, lovely."

You sniffle again, feeling sorry for yourself as you prepare to blow into another tissue. "If you leave me now, I'll surely perish," you state quite dramatically as James stands. He sends you a look as if to say be serious, his dark curls falling before his eyes.

You sniff, sending him a look in return as if to say, I am serious and James just leans over to kiss your forehead and then press another sloppy kiss on your cheek. 

"James!" You exclaim as he kisses you, alarmed.

"If I'm sick, I'm sick," he states seriously, gently cradling your chin as he strokes your skin carefully. "A silly little cold isn't gonna dictate when I can or can't kiss my darling girlfriend."

Your chest loosens at this and you feel a sense of warmth and relief at his words. You want to protest and tell him he's putting himself in harm's way for no reason. But, instead, you relish in the feeling of his lips on your skin and you sink into the pillows as you wait for his return. 

When he does return, you rouse from your small nap and let out a weak cough. Your eyes are bleary as you blink them furiously. "Oh, sweets, have I woken you?" he says in the sweetest voice you've ever heard and you almost melt.

You sit up and rub your eyes as James sits beside you again, resting the glass of water he'd brought in on the bedside table, and then drops the brown paper bag near your hip. He rummages inside and lays out an array of medicine, candies, and almost four boxes of tissues.

Having been feeling a little better from your sleep, you joke, "I'm not dying, am I?"

James chuckles and hands you some medicine for you. You swallow it reluctantly, pouting up at your boyfriend. He rests his hand on your forehead again, smiling.

"No, you aren't dying," he whispers, "far from it. Your temperature seems to have gone down, which is really good."

You nod, still tired as you reach for James's other hand and play with his fingers. "Can you make me some tea?" you ask bashfully. 

James frowns, smiling a little as his fingers gently pinch your cheek. "Of course, love. Don't be embarrassed. I'd move the moon for you."

You cough again, the sound much lighter already. "Kinds dramatic, no?" you whisper.

"No. Not really. It's all true," James pauses, his voice turning serious, "for you, I'd do absolutely anything." He kisses your forehead again, and this time you don't even want to protest.

[supernotnatural2005]

Hey love! Could I request Dean and wife!reader who have been trying for a baby and reader is finally pregnant and then during some celebratory sex, Dean has a moment where he realizes that he might have a tiny (massive) pregnancy kink? Maybe we can traumatize Sammy with it a little too just for fun

Burning for You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You're pregnant and it's awoken something feral, something instinctual in Dean.

Word count: 4.7k

Prompt: "But you said..."

Warnings/tags: Smut (18+), Canon divergence, 'fix it fic', fluff, pregnancy kink, established relationship. Kind of spoilers?

AN: Okay so I've done a 3 in 1 one with this one!😅 What originally started as inspiration from this gif 👆🏻 by @heytheredeann, then turned into writing up this prompt, which then felt like it would work well with this request too! 😂 This is set during and after the events of 'Carry On'. Yes, another "fix it fic" because, why not? 😂 I hate that ending! But, I hope you enjoy this one @sir-thisisadndserver and also excited to kick off my second @jacklesversebingo card 😁

Main Masterlist

JVB Masterlist

“But you said…”

“I know, baby.” You sighed, pausing as you folded a shirt into your duffle. “I promise, once this case is over, we will. Okay?”

Dean didn’t respond right away. When you glanced over at him, you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. He sat on the edge of the desk, head bowed, fingers fidgeting in his lap—like a little boy who’d just been told Disneyland was off the table. No tantrum, just pure, pitiful disappointment.

It was tempting to give in. But this was a decision you both had made—one final hunt, one last job, and then you were done. No more blood-soaked motel rooms, no more chasing monsters in the dead of night, no more wondering if you’d make it back alive.

Just a normal life. A real future. And maybe, just maybe, a family.

You, Dean, Sam—even Eileen—had all agreed. It was time. Let the next generation of hunters take the wheel. You’d earned your way out.

Of course, the universe had a sense of humour, because your last job wasn’t just any hunt. It was pulled straight from John Winchester’s journal—a cold case, buried since 1986.

Akron, Ohio. A family torn apart. The father drained of blood, the mother’s tongue removed, and the kids—vanished. Classic vamp MO, the kind John had chased for years but never managed to put down. Now it had circled back, like some twisted full-circle moment. And it was up to you three to finally put it to an end.

You sighed, taking pity on him and crossed the room, stepping between his legs. You let your arms slide over his shoulders, fingers curling at the nape of his neck, and his hands instinctively found your hips, thumbs stroking the skin just beneath your shirt.

“Look,” you murmured, tilting his chin up. His pout was as ridiculous as it was endearing. “I’m all for trying, I am. And if this is really it, our last hunt, then we’re gonna have all the time in the world to, you know…” You smirked, voice dipping suggestively.

Dean’s eyes lit up instantly, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Oh, hell yes.”

He leaned in, pressing a firm but chaste kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to study you. His fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, then skimmed down to your cheek.

“It is the last one,” he said, voice rough with conviction. His hands squeezed your hips like he needed you to feel it. “I want to stop. I want to do life with you.”

One of his hands then slid lower, resting over your belly where, for months now, he’d been dreaming of something more. A future. A family.

“I wanna make a baby with you.”

Your heart swelled, and your hand came to rest over his. “I want that too.” It left you in a whisper, but the second the words were out, Dean lit up—equal parts awe and that boyish joy that melted you every time.

“So…” he grinned, already pulling you in closer, “why not start now? We’ve got, what—” He flicked his wrist dramatically to check his watch. “Fifteen minutes before we hit the road. And technically, this is our last hunt…”

His eyebrows waggled as his hands slipped down to squeeze your ass, all charm and mischief.

You closed your eyes with a quiet sigh. “You’re impossible.” You huffed humourlessly as you pulled away. “I am not potentially conceiving our child during a quickie, Dean.”

He’d been pestering you for days to ditch the last layer of caution, but you’d held the line. You wanted to be sure—really sure—that this was the end of the road. No more hunting. No more living out of duffels. Just you and Dean, grounded in something real.

“Hey, some of our hottest moments have been on a time crunch, and you know it.” He pointed at you as if daring you to argue.

And honestly? You couldn’t. He had a damn point. Your wedding night, for instance—sinful, passionate, right there in the chapel, until an angry Elvis had chased you both out onto the Las Vegas strip.

But that was beside the point.

“C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while,” he coaxed as he stepped up behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist. His lips ghosted over your neck, trailing to that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that had you shivering in his arms.

Goddamn it.

Twenty-five minutes later, you slid into the backseat of the Impala, cheeks still warm and hair slightly out of place. Dean climbed behind the wheel, looking like the cat who got the cream—smug, satisfied, and grinning like the devil himself.

Sam was already in the passenger seat, arms crossed, jaw tight. The moment Dean turned the key in the ignition, Sam glanced between the two of you, narrowing his eyes.

First at the faint, fresh bruise on Dean’s neck.  Then at you, subtly tugging your rumpled shirt into place.

And it clicked.

“Guys. Seriously?” Sam exhaled through his nose and shook his head like a disappointed parent.

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. Dean didn’t even try.

“What?” he said, full of faux innocence. “I can’t show my girl a little love, but you can have phone sex with Eileen?”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “I—what? I wasn’t—”

“‘Course you weren’t, Sammy.” Dean smirked in triumph, looking far too pleased with himself. He may have accidentally overheard his little brother’s, not-so-innocent, conversation with Eileen over the phone as he passed by his room on the way to you. 

To further prove his point, Dean continued, in a terrible imitation of Sam’s voice, “I can’t wait ‘til I can see your—”

“Dean!”

“Dude!”

You and Sam shouted in unison, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Dean just burst into laughter, the sound echoing as the car pulled out of the garage.

You shook your head, fond and exasperated all at once.

In all the years you’d hunted together—fought monsters, cheated death, faced down the end of the world more times than you could count—some things never changed.

This. Your family. And now, another chapter awaited. One you were looking forward to the most.

All it needed was for the three of you to make it out in one piece. Then, finally, that dream could become reality.

Three months later…

You couldn’t stop picking at the skin on your thumb, nerves fraying with each tiny tear you made. Your leg bounced restlessly, the stiff white paper beneath you crinkling with every tremor, filling the quiet exam room with a sound far too loud in the silence.

It smelled like antiseptic and latex gloves. That sterile scent that clung to medical offices, mingled with the chill of the air conditioning and the hum of fluorescent lighting above. Your palms were clammy and your mouth tasted like metal.

The door was closed, but every creak in the hallway made your breath catch in your throat.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, willing your heart to slow down, to stop pounding against your ribcage like it was trying to escape. It didn’t work. It never did. Especially without him.

The gentle knock came a moment later, and you startled slightly before forcing a smile as the nurse reentered the room. Her scrubs were a soft lavender, her badge clipped to her chest. Julia, RN.

“Sorry about the wait,” she offered, voice light as she moved toward the counter to update something in the chart. “Dr. Harlow’s busy with another patient. So I’ll be doing your ultrasound today.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. Her practiced small talk filled the air like a balm—something to distract you from the gnawing anxiety. You let her ask the usual questions: last menstrual cycle, any spotting, morning sickness. You answered automatically, a little detached, but you caught her eyes flickering to the empty chair beside you.

You saw it—the subtle flicker of sympathy before she masked it again with professionalism, and you cleared your throat trying to stay composed.

“Will I... will I see anything yet?”

“Depending on how far along you are, yes,” she said gently. “We will be able to detect the heartbeat, too.”

You hesitated. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl?”

She gave you a soft smile, probably used to all these questions. “Not until around 18 to 20 weeks. But if you’re about twelve weeks, we should get a good look at the gestational sac, yolk sac, and your baby.”

Twelve weeks. You’d done the math a dozen times already. Calculating to the day you’d left for your last hunt three months ago. Where Dean had seduced you right before. Ironically, you’re certain that ‘quickie’ is what knocked you up in the first place. 

Dean.

Your eyes drifted to the door and you blinked quickly, instead focusing Julia’s instruction to unbutton your jeans and tug your top up beneath your bra line. You did as she asked, shivering slightly as the cold of the exam room kissed your skin. 

“This’ll be a little cold,” Julia warned, twisting the cap off the bottle of coupling gel.

Just as she lifted the tube, the exam room door clicked open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” came a breathless voice—his voice. “Damn roadworks blocked off half the street. I had to park three blocks away and run the rest.”

Dean was flushed, chest rising and falling with each breath, a faint sheen on his forehead. He moved straight to your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple before easing into the chair beside the exam bed.

Your hand reached for him instantly and he caught it without hesitation, wrapping both of his hands around yours, lifting your knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss.

Julia paused, arching a brow as she looked between the two of you. “I take it this is the father?”

Dean gave a crooked grin. “Well, I sure hope so.” You smacked his arm lightly, and he let out a playful hiss.

Julia chuckled under her breath and resumed her position beside the ultrasound machine, gliding the gel tube across your belly and dispensing a generous amount on your skin. You hissed slightly at the sudden chill, muscles tensing.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” she murmured, lifting the transducer probe and pressing it gently against the gel.

The machine beeped softly as she began her sweep, shifting the probe at various angles, the monitor flickering with black-and-white static before resolving into grainy anatomical structures. She adjusted the gain and depth on the control panel with quick, practiced movements, her eyes scanning the screen.

Dean leaned in instinctively, his brow knit with quiet intensity, both of his hands still wrapped tightly around yours. His thumb stroked over your knuckles—slow, nervous, steadying. You could feel the tension vibrating through him. Neither of you were breathing properly.

The room stilled.

Just the soft hum of the machine and the rhythmic taps of Julia’s fingers on the keyboard filled the silence.

Then—

“Right there,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She angled the screen toward you both, her hand still steady on the probe. “That’s the gestational sac. And see that little oval inside? That’s the yolk sac.”

You both leaned forward, eyes locked on the image, as she adjusted the probe slightly, changing the angle.

“And here,” she continued, pressing a few more keys, “is your baby. Measuring around 12 weeks. Everything looks perfect.”

Dean’s grip on your hand tightened as if grounding himself. You could feel him trembling ever so slightly.

Then with a few more taps, the sound came—soft and crackling at first, then unmistakable.

Womp womp womp.

“There’s the heartbeat,” Julia said with a warm smile. “153 beats per minute. Nice and strong.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

There on the screen was the tiniest flicker of life. A rhythm. A pulse. A flutter of motion in a shape no bigger than a lime, with arms and legs now starting to form—so tiny, but so perfectly human. A miracle, unmistakable, undeniable. It was real. Yours. A heartbeat separate from your own, yet part of you. A miracle forming inside you.

Your chest ached, breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

Dean was completely still beside you, his thumb frozen on your skin. When you looked over at him, your throat tightened.

His eyes were wide and wet, his jaw clenched as though he was holding back everything he was feeling—but it was there. Every ounce of emotion was written all over his face. He looked like he was seeing the world for the first time.

Julia printed the sonogram photos and gave you some paper towels to wipe the gel from your stomach, all the while murmuring about your follow-ups and OB appointments before she stepped out for a moment.

Silence settled over the room again, and you both looked down at the black-and-white strip in your hands. Dean reached for it first, holding it so delicately between his fingers like it might crumble if he breathed too hard.

“That’s… ours,” he whispered, voice cracking around the edges. “We made that.”

A tear slipped down your cheek with a quiet sniffle and before you could wipe it away, Dean turned to you, cupping your face gently in both hands. His thumbs brushed across your cheeks, catching the tears before they could fall any further. His eyes shimmered with unshed emotion, the vulnerability in them something you rarely saw—raw and unguarded.

The moment was made more intense for the fact you’d almost lost him on that hunt. A few more inches to the left and he would've had a rebar shaped hole in his heart. Could you imagine how ridiculous that would’ve been? 

“I love you,” he breathed and your heart swelled to the point of pain, your lips parting on a breath. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice thick and trembling.

Dean leaned in and kissed you softly—slow, reverent, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that one touch. Your hand tangled in his flannel as you kissed him back, your foreheads resting together as the kiss broke.

Then you both looked back down at the sonogram again. Two pairs of eyes locked on the tiny life that was half him, half you. A piece of each of you growing into something whole.

Excitement blended with your nerves for what came next. For the journey you were about to take—together.

By the time you made it back to the bunker, the emotional buzz hadn’t worn off. If anything, it had only deepened, sinking into your chest like warmth after a long cold spell.

Sam and Eileen were already up, rounding the corner at the sound of you and Dean descending the steps. Miracle was right behind them, tail wagging like he sensed the joy radiating off you both.

Eileen’s face lit up as soon as she saw you, her hands already moving. “So?” she signed eagerly, her smile wide with anticipation.

You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your lips as you reached into your bag and handed both her and Sam their own copies of the sonogram. Your fingers trembled slightly, the moment sinking in all over again.

Eileen gasped softly, lifting a hand to her mouth as her eyes scanned the blurry black and white photo. Tears welled in her eyes almost instantly. She looked up at you, her gaze shining. “It’s real,” she signed with a shaky laugh. “You’re really having a baby.”

You nodded, lips wobbling as you fought back a fresh wave of tears—only to lose the battle completely when Sam looked up at you, his eyes already glassy.

“This is… wow, I don’t even know what to say,” Sam breathed, laughing a little as he shook his head. He then pulled you into a careful hug, one arm around your shoulders, the other hand cradling the back of your head. 

He kissed your hair before stepping back, visibly choked up. “I’m so happy for you both.” He said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Then he turned to Dean, and the brothers embraced briefly, but it was more than the usual back-pat—it lingered, unspoken gratitude. Dean’s eyes looked a little misty when he pulled away, but he just cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck.

Eileen was already pulling you into her arms, sniffling softly against your shoulder. “You’re going to be amazing,” she signed when she stepped back, voice trembling as she spoke it aloud.

The celebration that followed was cozy, full of soft laughter and teasing. Dean poured a round of whiskey—apple juice for you—and you couldn’t help but grumble about your temporary drinking ban. But truthfully, you didn’t feel like you were missing out. Not tonight.

By the time the excitement had settled, it was late and you were exhausted. You and Dean said your goodnights, and headed down the hall to your room hand in hand. But the moment your bedroom door shut behind you, Dean turned and pressed you gently against it.

His mouth was on yours before you could catch your breath, his hands threading into your hair, tilting your head just right as he kissed you deep, slow, like he needed you to feel what words couldn’t say.

Your surprised squeak turned into a soft sigh, your hands finding the back of his head, fingers curling in the short hair there. His mouth moved against yours with aching tenderness, stealing your breath as easily as he always did.

“You’re really pregnant,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with awe. Like seeing it on the ‘big screen’ solidified it. “We’re really doing this.”

You nodded, heart thudding as you cupped his scruffy jaw. “We are.”

He kissed you again—softer this time—and then, without warning, bent to lift you into his arms. You gasped and instinctively clung to his shoulders as he grinned, carrying you across the room like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He laid you down like you were something delicate, something precious. His lips brushed your forehead, your cheek, and then he kissed you again—slower, but with simmering heat.

Then he trailed down. Along your neck. Across your collarbone. He pushed up your shirt, his rough hands gentle as they skimmed along your skin, and pressed soft kisses down your stomach.

There was the faintest bump, only a hint of life growing inside you, and he paused at your navel, hands cradling your hips, thumbs moving in slow circles.

“That’s our kid in there,” he whispered, voice rough and reverent. “Our baby.”

Your fingers threaded into his hair, heart pounding as you looked down at him. The look on his face nearly undid you—pure awe, disbelief… and something else. Something darker. Needier. Hungrier.

Dean froze, staring at you like the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs—eyes wide, pupils blown.

“What?” you whispered, breath catching in your throat.

He let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh and dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know, I just—” He shook his head, voice dropping, eyes darkening. “The idea of you carrying my kid? It’s so damn hot.”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second—then grinned. “Yeah?”

“I’m serious,” he rasped, voice low and rough as he slid back up your body, his gaze locked on yours, all heat and hunger. “You’ve always been sexy, sweetheart, but now?” His hand came to rest on your belly, possessive and tender all at once. “Knowing you're mine… and that you’re carrying my baby? That’s—fuck, that’s next level.”

He groaned as he kissed your jaw, your cheek, your mouth—like he was trying to devour you piece by piece.

Your breath hitched at the sheer intensity in his voice, the look in his eyes like you were something holy. Then your mouth met his in a crash of heat and urgency, and he answered with equal fervor—like something inside him had just snapped loose.

You tugged him closer, breath hitching as his hands gripped your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t stand a second of space between you.

You were both surprised by it—that sudden, burning need. But the more it sank in, that you were carrying his child, something primal flared to life in him. It rewired everything. Made him want to claim you all over again.

It wasn’t just lust—it was need. Raw, instinctive, protective. It was a part of him he hadn’t even known existed, But now, now it was fully awake.

And it had only just begun.

One month later…

You and Dean were curled up on the couch in the ‘cave’, the flickering images of an old action movie dancing on the TV screen, but neither of you were paying much attention to it. 

Dean’s body was pressed flush against yours from behind, the heat between you simmering as he slowly moved inside you, his large hand splayed possessively across your belly—now rounder, more pronounced as your pregnancy progressed.

Your leggings and panties were long forgotten on the floor. Dean’s jeans and boxers were shoved haphazardly down to his knees, giving him just enough freedom to move inside you with that torturous, maddening pace—slow, deep, controlled. His cock dragged against your walls in that way that made your toes curl, made you arch back against him for more, always more.

“Fuck,” he rasped against your skin, voice low and reverent, “you feel so fuckin’ good like this. So full, baby.”

His lips grazed your neck, then your shoulder, kissing and nipping every inch he could reach while still moving inside you. His breath was hot and uneven, his mouth trailing along the shell of your ear as he rocked into you again, the thick heat of him stretching you open like he belonged there—because he did. God, he did.

And still, that hand never left your belly.

It was possessive. Proud. Worshipful. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were his—like he needed the physical reminder that you carried something he’d made.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your fingers digging into the couch cushions for purchase as your body trembled. You could feel him twitch inside you, thick and throbbing, pushing deeper with every roll of his hips. His other hand slid beneath you, rough and greedy, cupping your swollen breasts, teasing your sensitive nipple with a practiced touch that made your back arch and a strangled cry escape your throat.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he whispered, grinning against your skin. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you? Wrapped around me, nowhere to go…”

“Yes,” you breathed, whimpering as your body tightened around him again, helpless to the sensation. “God, Dean…”

You pushed back against him, chasing that edge, chasing him, needing it—needing him. The friction was heaven, his cock dragging slow and hard inside you, until you were right on the verge of—

The door creaked.

“Hey, I grabbed those chips you were—OH MY GOD.”

The sound of Sam’s voice cracked through the haze like a gunshot.

You both froze. For one hilarious, horrifying second, and then with a gasp, you scrambled for the blanket Dean had kicked to the floor after his wandering hands had convinced you to let him fuck you right here on the couch. 

“Are you serious?” Sam exclaimed, hands flying to his face in an attempt to block his view, but it was clear he’d already seen far too much.

Your face went up in flames. You scrambled to yank the blanket up over you both, heart hammering in your chest. Dean didn’t even flinch—he just let out a low, unbothered scoff like his little brother had interrupted a commercial break, not mid-fucking.

“Don’t be jealous, Sammy,” Dean drawled with a smirk, voice thick with satisfaction. “One day you’ll knock up Eileen and then you’ll get it.”

“Dean!” you gasped, horrified, smacking his thigh as your eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh my God.”

Dean just chuckled, the sound deep and smug, like he was proud of getting caught. You practically shrivelled into the couch, trying to disappear into the cushions as Sam let out a dramatic groan, turned on his heel, and slammed the door behind him like he’d just witnessed a crime.

Dean snorted. “Damn kid needs to learn to knock.”

You covered your face with both hands, mortified, still curled up in Dean’s arms as the aftershock of the interruption pulsed through you. “Dean,” you groaned, voice muffled behind your palms. “This is the communal room.”

Dean just shook his head, utterly unbothered, and gently peeled your hands away from your face. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes soft with amusement as he looked down at you. “You weren’t complainin’ a minute ago.”

You tried to glare at him, but it faltered when he leaned in and kissed your burning cheek, then your jaw, then your lips—slow and deep, like he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Whose side are you on, sweetheart?” he hummed against your mouth.

You opened your mouth to retort, but it turned into a shaky breath when his hand slid down again, settling right over your belly with that same heavy, grounding pressure. Possessive. Reverent.

And then you felt him.

Still hard. Still inside you. Still twitching.

The heat flooded back like a wave, washing out the embarrassment and replacing it with a low, simmering ache. You shifted, breath catching as you clenched around him involuntarily.

Dean felt it too.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah... I’m definitely not done.”

And just like that, your argument disappeared. Along with any thought of Sam—or the damn chips.

You couldn’t help it.

Sam had become an unfortunate, unintended witness to this very new phase of your relationship with Dean—one that involved a whole lot more skin, a whole lot less shame, and a very inconvenient inability to keep your hands off each other.

Since finding out you were pregnant, something had shifted in him. Desire had always been a part of your relationship, but now… now it was constant. Insatiable. Like some primal instinct had flipped inside him. He touched you with a reverence that bordered on obsession. It wasn’t just sex anymore—it was possessive, protective, feral.

This wasn’t some generic “pregnancy kink.” No, this was Dean losing his mind because you were carrying his child. The thought alone seemed to short-circuit something in him.

And honestly? You were just as wrecked. Yes, you’d been mortified more than once—especially by Sam’s increasingly bad luck—but at the same time, it turned you on beyond belief. The way Dean made you feel, like you were the most beautiful, most desired woman in the world. It made your body hum.

Unfortunately for Sam, that devotion came with side effects.

Take a couple of mornings ago, when you were making pancakes, for instance. You’d opted for a pair of loose shorts despite the bunker’s steady chill, thanks to another hot flash, but it was enough to drive Dean out of his goddamn mind. Your body was changing—hips a little wider, breasts heavier, ass just a little more plush—and Dean worshipped every new curve like it was the first time he was seeing you.

He’d come up behind you at the stove, his hands spreading over your stomach with that now-familiar, possessive touch. His hips pressed into your backside, already hard, already needy. His mouth found your neck, and his fingers slipped beneath your waistband, teasing your soaked folds like he had all the time in the world.

You’d barely gasped his name when Sam walked in—right as Dean slid a thick finger inside you.

Poor bastard hadn’t even gotten to the coffee pot.

And then there was the library. After dinner. Dean, completely unprovoked, hauled you up onto the nearest table and sank to his knees, muttering about wanting ‘his dessert’. You’d barely managed to stifle your cries when Eileen walked in, book in hand, and promptly turned on her heel like she'd never been there.

You tried to be discreet. Truly. But Dean didn’t care. Hell, he seemed proud when someone caught a glimpse of just how thoroughly he worshipped you.

And as mortifying as it all was, deep down… You loved it.

You loved him.

This time in your life could’ve been scary. Lonely. Uncertain. But Dean had made it something else entirely. He made it intimate. Raw. Beautiful. He made you feel like a goddess, like you were his whole damn universe—and he wanted the world to know it.

So maybe Sam had to suffer through a few mental scars. Maybe Eileen was avoiding eye contact for a while.

But as Dean curled around you again on that couch, hand warm and protective on your belly, still deep inside you, his lips brushing against your cheek like he’d never get enough—

Yeah.

You figured it was a price worth paying.

AN: Okay, so this was a new one for me, I've never been pregnant so most of this is research or from my friend. Plus shout out to all you moms out there, I know this isn't entirely accurate, but if I had me a Dean like this 😮‍💨. Let me know what you thought, and again thank you for the ask @sir-thisisadndserver, I hope this is what you were hoping for ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in this series or my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

[qrrieterisunnq]

Good Luck Kiss - Jack Hughes

strawberry girl masterlist

JACK!HUGHES X AMARA!JAMES — WARNINGS: nothing, just sweet pure content — SUMMARY: Jack swears he plays better when Amara kisses him before every game. Now that he’s injured, Amara kisses every Devil on the cheek for good luck. — WORD COUNT: 2,4K — AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey there, guys! Quick question: Would you be interested in a taglist for the AU's and fictions? If yes, please let me know!! Love you guys!<3 PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

No one believed when Jack said that you were his good luck charm. At first, Amara didn’t believe it either, but then she started to notice that it might be true.

Every time she kissed him, the devils won the game, but the days when she couldn’t attend the game and give him his kiss, they lost.

And later into it, the rest of the Devils noticed it too. And they made it their mission to not let Jack step on the ice before he got a kiss from her.

But now, with Jack being after surgery, they don’t know who their luck charm will be.

“Jack!” Jesper yells when he sees his friend entering the locker room. “Amara!” he yells even louder, happy to see their luck charm. Yeah, that is what they started to call her.

“Hey, Bratter.” Jack grins at him, wrapping his good arm around Amara’s shoulders.

“Hi Jesper,” Amara smiles back and snuggles deeper into Jack’s warm chest. “Hey, guys.” She waves back at the others as they stand by the entrance of the locker room.

“Came to look at us?” Nico asks, walking towards them and pulling Amara in for a hug. Amara melts in his embrace, closing her eyes for a brief moment just to enjoy the presence of her best friend.

“Yeah, decided to fly down to give you some moral help! You better win it, assholes!” he looks around the locker room, earning laughs from everyone.

“Plus, I wanted to give you your lucky kisses.” Amara smiles up at Nico and at Luke, who is the next one to pull her in for a hug, even though she lives with him.

“Oh, I’m gonna kiss the hell out of ya!” Dawson smirks at her, blowing her a kiss. The whole room explodes in laughter when they notice Jack’s face.

“I can’t wait!” Amara winks at him while she watches Jack’s surprised look from the corner of her eye.

“Are you serious, Berry?!” he asks in disbelief, while the entire locker room laughs at him.

“Course not, baby.” She grins up at him, walking back to him to snuggle in his chest.

Jack pulls her even closer, resting his hands in the back pockets of her jeans, and kisses her hair. “Good, 'cause you’re mine.”

“Oh, we know that, Jacky.” Pauly wiggles his brows at them.

“Anyway, we’re going upstairs to watch warm-ups, and then we’ll return so Amara can give you all your lucky kisses.” Amara looks around the locker room and enjoys the atmosphere there as Jack speaks, and they slowly make their way to the door. “But don’t think this will be happening next season. As soon as I’m on the ice, I am the only one she’ll be kissing.” He glares at the guys who are in there and walks out with Amara. But before they can exit the room, Amara turns and blows them a kiss.

 “Don’t be jealous, Jacky,” Amara nudges his side as they make their way to the family section.

“M’not,” he grumbles, but tightens his grip on her hand. “Just don’t like sharing, s’all.”

“I love you,” Amara smiles up at him and brings their hands to her mouth, kissing his knuckles.

He looks down at her, his eyes softening at the sight of his girl. “I love you.” Bending down, he kisses her lips with a smile.

They both make their way to their seats, greeting the staff on their way there.

“Shit,” Amara whines when she searches for her crocheting kit.

“What?” Jack asks with cocked brow.

“I forgot my crocheting in the car. Can I borrow your keys?” she looks at him with doe eyes.

“Yeah, be careful, okay?” he pulls out the keys, handing them to her. With a peck to his cheek, Amara takes the keys and jogs down the stairs and out to the parking lot to get her crocheting.

“Best at the end.” Amara grins at Dawson, who is standing right in front of her. Jack, who is standing a few feet from them, just rolls his eyes, but doesn’t look away.

“Of course. Gimme my kiss, babe!” he says, blush creeping up on his cheeks. Giggling, Amara grabs his cheeks and gives him a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“No, go out there and win the game, handsome!”

“Will do, Ma’am!” he salutes and spins her around, landing her in front of Jack. “Here you go, Rowdy. Wasn’t that bad to share her with us, was it?”

“Good thing this is the last time she’s doing it!” Jack grunts as he wraps his hands around Amara’s front and brings her flush against his hard chest. He dips his head down, planting a few kisses on her hair.

“But what about the playoffs?” Luke’s brows shot up in well-played confusion, and with a pout on his lips.

“No-”

“The games you’ll play here, I’ll be standing at this spot waiting for you!” Amara grins at him and bumps his fist.

Cheers interrupt in the locker room, as Amara laughs at them and Jack frowns. He doesn’t like that his girl is kissing other men.

“Oh, come on, babe. You know I love you. They are like family to me.” She murmurs in his hand and brings it to her lips to kiss his knuckles.

“I love you, too, Berry.”

“Okay, fellas!” Coach Keefe shouts as he walks inside the locker room, stopping in his tracks as he sees Jack and Amara. “Jack, Amara, hello,” he smiles at them, shaking their hands as a greeting.

“Sir,” Amara smiles back at him, before hiding in Jack’s chest.

“Anyway! Time for you to hit the ice, fellas!”

With shouting and high-fives, the Devil’s leave their locker room and Amara with Jack make their way back to their seats to watch the game.

“So, what’s for dinner tonight?” Jack asks, caressing Amara’s thigh as she watches the game and crochets yet another summer dress.

“Ah, not sure.” She shrugs, looking at him for a second. “Was thinking about salmon and fries or chicken wraps,” she adds. “But maybe I’ll wait for Luke to tell me what he’d like to eat.”

“Oh, Luke will eat everything you cook,” he chuckles, but the smile fades away when one of the Rangers shoots on the net. But Jacob, being the best goalie, saves it, and the game continues. “So don’t worry about him. More like what you’d like to eat.”

“I don’t know, I’m not really hungry or in the mood to eat,” she sighs, her gaze not leaving the ice, as the Devil’s moves toward the Rangers’ net. Timo makes a shot on the net, but the Rangers’ goalie saves it, and the sound of the whistle rings through the arena.

“Did you eat today?” he asks with a sigh and stands up, ready to get them some food.

Amara looks at him with a guilty smile and shakes her head. It’s hard for her with her ADHD to remember to take care of herself, and Jack knows it.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he says, shaking his head at her, leaving for the family room with food. He fills their plates with shrimps, vegetables, grilled potatoes, and mushrooms, smiling when he spots chicken nuggets.

Putting some on Amara’s plate, he leaves the room and returns to his seat. His eyes are glued on a guy, standing next to Amara, who doesn’t even care to hide how he’s checking her out.

His grip tightens around the plates as he reaches them and leans down to kiss the crown of Amara’s head.

“Got your food, baby,” he smiles at her, his eyes searching hers for something. He isn’t sure for what exactly, but for something.

“Thank you,” she mumbles back, reaching for his hand, interlocking their fingers. Amara then looks back at the guy, who is openly looking at her boobs. She clears her throat, earning his attention back.

Jack shrugs his jacket off, throwing it around her shoulder to shield her boobs from the guy's gaze.

“I guess you can go now,” Amara says, wrapping the jacket tightly around herself and looking back at Jack with a wide smile, taking the plate from him. “Oh, shrimps!” she exclaims happily, taking one in her mouth.

Jack smiles at her enthusiasm for shrimps, but his face tightens when he notices the guy still standing there.

“Need something else? Do you wanna sign something?” he asks, his brows knitted together in jealousy and confusion.

“Oh…ugh…no…sorry,” he stumbles over his words, jogging away.

“Who was it?” Jack asks, sitting back in his seat, taking a bite of the nugget.

“I have no idea. He just showed up, saying that my crocheting is cute.” She shrugged, her full attention now on her food and the game.

Jack just nods his head, relaxing in his seat and enjoying Amara’s presence and the game.

There are two remaining minutes of the last period, and every Devil’s fan is sitting on the edge of their seats. Devils lead by one, but Timo just got a two-minute penalty for slashing, and the Rangers look really happy about it.

They are now almost thirty seconds in the Devil’s defensive zone, attempting shot after shot on Jacob. But being the absolute king he is, he blocks every single one of them.

Jack grabs Amara’s hand when Trocheck skates towards the gate with a puck on his stick. Nico skates quickly to catch him, but it’s not helpful when he scores a goal a second later.

“Fuck,” Jack groans, falling back in his seat.

“They’ll win, don’t worry. They will score a goal in overtime. And if another kiss helps them, then I’ll be down there in a second.” Amara grins at him, bringing their interlocked hands to her mouth as she kisses the top of his hand.

“Yeah, let's go.” He stands up and lets Amara drag him down to the locker room. Coach is just giving the boys a speech when they get in, so when he’s done, Amara and Jack step in, grinning at them.

“Came to give you another good luck kiss.” She smiles shyly at them, watching carefully their reactions.

“Come here with them!” Luke yells, making grabby hands at Amara, causing giggles to slip from her mouth.

While Amara does her job of giving all of the Devils their lucky kiss, Jack talks with them and shares his ideas on how to play the next twenty minutes.

“Hey there, handsome,” Amara says in a flirtatious tone when she reaches Nico. Nico grins up at her as she stands between his legs. He places his hands on the back of her thighs, his eyes watching Jack.

It takes him a few seconds before he searches the room for Amara. But when Jack’s eyes land on Nico’s hands, which are lingering on the back of Amara’s thighs, he frowns.

“Is he looking?” she asks as giggles leave her mouth. She isn’t really sure why she wants to make him jealous; she’s just in the mood for jealous Jack and what will come as soon as they get home.

“Why are you even trying to make him jealous?” he asks, chuckling, when Jack's gaze doesn’t leave his hands.

“Probably want to rail him up,” she shrugs, turning her head to look at Jack with a sweet smile like nothing is happening. “You know, for tonight,” she wiggles her brows at Nico.

Nico makes a gagging sound, which makes her laugh even more.

“Okay, here’s your kiss,” she says, kissing his forehead. “You better win this, cap.”

“We will, Berry.”

“You done touching my girl?” A masculine arm wraps around Amara’s waist and pulls her away from Nico.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Hughes.” Nico grins at him.

“M’not jealous.” He denies.

“Okay, fellas! Let’s win this game!”

Cheering and the sound of a loud siren sound through the Prudential, as Dawson scores the winning goal.

Jack’s shouting in excitement, his not-injured hand curled around Amara’s shoulders, who is cheering with him.

“You really are our luck charm,” He shouts, bringing her in for a deep, passionate kiss. “Fuck I love you so much,” he groans in the kiss, but pulls away, not wanting people to stare at them. “But don’t think I don’t know what you were trying to do all night,” he frowns at her, causing giggles from her.

“I love you, too, Jacky,” she grins back at him, resting her head on Jack’s chest. “Let’s go to the locker rooms! I need to congratulate them!” she cheers, packing her crocheting, jumping up in place from happiness.

Jack doesn’t say anything, he just waits for Amara to pack her things before his hands sneak around her waist, so she doesn’t run from him too far, especially with thousands of people leaving the arena.

Moving his hand to her wrist, he interlocks their fingers and leads her to the locker room. When they arrive five minutes later, music blasts through the room, some of the boys are changing, a few of them are doing interviews, and the rest are just enjoying the atmosphere.

“Luck charm!!” Cody yells when he catches a glimpse of Amara’s long, dark hair at the entrance.

“Congratulations! I am so proud of all of you!” she shouts, hugging Cody tightly. Even though he’s been in Jersey for only a month, he took a spot in her heart.

“Thanks, Ara,” he murmurs, pulling away only for her to be pulled in a chain of hugs from the rest of the boys.

She congratulates every single one of them, praises them on how good they did, and just enjoys their presence.

“You coming to the bar?” Timo asks Jack as he comes out of the showers.

“Uhh,” Jack looks at Amara, who has a tired smile plastered on her lips. “I think we’ll head home. Amara looks tired, and my shoulder is starting to hurt a bit.” He explains, rubbing his shoulder in the process.

Timo nods his head, drying his hair with the towel.

“But you’ll come tomorrow for dinner, right?” Nico asks, pulling on his dress pants.

“Yeah, we will,” Jack turns around, noticing his girl standing behind him. “What am I supposed to bring?”

“Well, you don’t have to bring anything, but if you wouldn’t mind helping me with the food?” he asks with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” she grins.

“Now c’mere!” Nico and Timo pull her in a hug, giving her kisses on the cheeks.

“Thank you for the kisses.” Nico grins at her.

“Whenever you need one.” She wiggles her brows.

“You are such a tease.” Jack grunts, smacking Amara’s ass.

“But you love me.” She nudges him.

“Yeah, I do.”

“And I love you!” Luke shouts, throwing his hands around their shoulders. Grinning Jack looks over at Amara with so much love and pride. She just won them another game.

[bluemantics]

ficlet giveaway prize for @yuutsunaoi of klance "struggling to adjust with their new roles as the red and black paladin." i hope you enjoy!

Shiro was gone, and everything was going incredibly wrong.

"Pidge, go to sleep."

"I can find him."

"I'm serious. You need to sleep."

"You can't tell me what to do, Keith, you're not my mom."

"We need you well-rested for Voltron, and I'm the Black Paladin--"

"Isn't he your brother? Do you even want him back?"

Lance groaned, pinching his nose as he leaned against the wall. He had positioned himself just outside the Castleship's living room after he saw Keith go in, worried that the temperamental fighter would offend their youngest teammate. Lo and behold, it hadn't even taken two minutes before the two started to clash.

While Lance could appreciate how they normally melded, he knew that Shiro's... vanishing would trigger fight-or-flight responses in both of them. Honestly, it was a miracle that Keith hadn't spirited off to some random planet on a panic-induced sabbatical. Or maybe the true miracle was that Pidge hadn't ripped Keith's face off, he wondered, as he walked through the door and took in the scene before him.

Pidge had jumped on top of the couch, face contorted in anger, hands balled at her sides. Her computer was lying forgotten beside her feet. Facing her, Keith was entirely red, thick eyebrows pulled down in distinct rage. At least, that was what he wanted Pidge to think.

It was easy for Lance to note the glimmer of hurt in his eyes. Yeah, that comment about Shiro had definitely landed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lance called out, raising his arms. Instantly, both heads whipped to face him, expressions unchanged. "Let's back it up, guys."

Keith straightened up and crossed his arms. "It's fine. Pidge just needs to listen."

"I swear to god," Pidge seethed, "I will tear your stupid hair off your stupid head."

Okay, Lance was always in support of a hair insult when it came to Keith, but he had to stop this.

"No one is ripping anyone's hair. Pidge, I admire what you're doing here. Really, I do," Lance began, gesturing to the computer. "No one else on the team can sort through all the data you're collecting from the lion and the Galrans."

"I know. That's why I have to keep working," she snapped. Lance approached her slowly.

"Okay, but what if I told you that's the reason you need to slow down?"

"That makes no sense." Pidge looked curious, though, and a soft smile pulled at Lance's lips. He'd caught her on the hook easily. Unlike the others, Pidge couldn't be persuaded with placating words or niceties. No, what she needed was a little bit different.

"Logically, humans can't operate at capacity for 24 hours straight. We don't have the brainpower." He knocked on his own head to demonstrate, aware of Keith's eyes fixating on his every movement. Good. Maybe he could take something out of this. "Brains need time to breathe, Pidgey."

"I know that," she huffed, but her eyes softened slightly.

"So, if you know that, you know you're likely not an exception." Lance reached over to her computer and plucked it up, closed the lid, and held it out to her. His heart melted a little at her frown. Pidge was far too young to be losing her family and Shiro at the same time, much less being burdened with their rescues. "You'll find him. I know you will. But you're gonna make a mistake or miss something if you aren't in tip-top shape while you search."

Hesitantly, Pidge's hand darted forward to pull her computer to her chest. Hugging it to herself tightly, she looked between Lance and Keith, apprehensive yet seeming more open than before. Finally, she gave Lance a sharp nod. It wasn't long before she jumped down from her perch and stomped out of the room, the automatic doors swishing shut behind her. Keith let out a sound that sounded like a mix between a sigh of relief and a groan.

"I'm shit," he mumbled, wiping his hands down his face. A chuckle pulled out of Lance's throat.

"A little bit," Lance agreed, turning to face Keith with amusement clear on his face. His lighthearted mood died down, though, when Keith moved to sit on the couch, elbows braced against his knees as he slumped over. "Oh, hey, buddy."

"I can't do this, Lance."

"What? Force Pidge to sleep?" Lance quickly took a seat at Keith's right, crossing an ankle over his knee.

"All of it," Keith muttered. His deep eyes looked thoughtful and weary as they stared straight ahead, fixed on nothing. "People wanted to listen to Shiro. Sure, sometimes they'd disagree, but they eventually came around. They trusted him to know more. I trusted him."

"Hmm," Lance nodded, thinking back. Keith wasn't lying; following Shiro had been natural. He was older, experienced, and had a solid balance of intimidation and empathy. "So you don't feel like you've got that same respect as Black Paladin?" Keith let out a broken laugh, shaking his head.

"Why would they listen to me? I'm a mess. I didn't exactly hide that."

"No, that's not it," Lance pressed. "They just don't think you understand them."

"I don't. They're right."

"Well, you can try," Lance said, gears turning in his head quickly. "Tonight was a good example. Pidge is angry, kinda like you, about a lot of stuff, but especially about losing control. She feels like she's entirely out of control with the loss of Shiro and all the changes in our lions."

Keith was watching Lance, now, eyebrows raised at his explanation. Hopefully, that was an invitation to continue. "So, meet her where she is. Relate to her. Explain things how she'd want to hear it, not in the way you think Shiro would."

"I'm not good at that," Keith responded, shifting uncomfortably. His hands twitched where they rested. "You do that shit way better."

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to help you. Which is literally my job, by the way." Lance's hand moved between the two of them as he spoke. "I can help you meet them where they are, help them feel seen. I'll show you their communication styles. I promise, it isn't as hard as it seems."

"Okay," Keith agreed, unsure but still affirmative.

"But you have to help me, too. This is a partnership."

"A partnership?" Keith snorted in disbelief. "You hate working with me off the battlefield. You called me stupid at least five times in the last month."

Lance scoffed, waving the notion away. "Well, I'm a mature adult, so I can put aside my qualms with you despite your tragically dramatic hangups." That drew an actual laugh from Keith, oddly enough, sparking little butterfly flaps in Lance's stomach. Weird.

"What do you need?" Keith asked through the slight upward tilt of his lips. Shaking his head, Lance snapped back to their conversation.

"Teach me to fight."

"Fight?" Keith tilted his head. "You're our sharpshooter, though. You shouldn't need to do hand-to-hand." While that acknowledgment pleased him, Lance rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but clearly I'm occupying some different shoes now." He shrugged. "I need to be ready to fill any gaps on the team, now, with one of our close-range guys out of the picture. Plus, I can't always expect that the battles won't come to me, even if you guys try to protect me."

Without pause, Keith sat up, leaning toward Lance. His eyes bore into Lance's with an intensity and fire expected out of the former Red Paladin. "You'll take it seriously?"

A pang struck Lance's gut. "Obviously. I'm insulted you'd ask."

"Fine, then. It's a deal."

"It's a partnership," Lance reminded him, elbowing his side. A grunt of affirmation sounded from Keith, who shoved Lance away with an arm. Letting the momentum carry him, Lance flopped down onto the couch with a pleased sigh.

The whole team had been struggling recently, not just Lance and Keith. Pidge was staying up to run data on Black. Allura spent overtime poring over diplomatic records and contacting foreign planets. Hunk struggled to tamp down on his anxieties during group discussion, nausea clear on his face. Even Coran was less chipper and more focused than before.

But, just maybe, if Keith and Lance could lead the way, the others would fall in step. Together, they could... make it easier. Okay, even.

That was only his privately held theory, though. Voicing it aloud was unthinkable.

"Bedtime?" he suggested to Keith.

"Training," Keith shot back, heaving himself to his feet and yanking the couch cushion out from under Lance. Crashing to the floor with a yelp, Lance stared up at Keith, rubbing his leg.

"Ow, dude!"

"I'll meet you at the training deck in ten minutes. Get changed and grab water."

Lance smirked at his retreating back and shoved himself upright.

Yeah, they'd be fine.

[winterssecrett]

MIDNIGHT TALKS | THEODORE NOTT

ღ 02:00 a.m and the group of snakes was still on the astronomy tower, a place they had started to love when they discovered that professors and prefects never went to “guard” or check for students out of bed. Sleep was something hard to find with how dark and scary things had gotten in school and around the world, so their best option was to be together as a group and as a family.

Astoria was sitting on the floor with Draco’s head on her chest, playing with his blonde platinum hair. Besides her was Blaise, who had Pansy between his legs, hugging her by her waist. And the other three -Theo, Y/n, and Mattheo- were close to the balcony, finishing their cigarettes.

Y/n didn’t smoke much, not as much as her boyfriend, but it was exams week and the stress alongside her anxiety was too much, she needed to take it down a bit.

— I don’t wanna see a fucking book on the rest of my life — Pansy whined, letting out a huff

Draco rolled his eyes — If you pass, you won’t have to.

— can you believe it? In a few months, we won’t be here anymore — Y/n said with a bittersweet tone of voice

Theo nod a that, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend frame. For some reason, he was always looking for her warmth, and since it was so late and so cold, he loved having her close to his body.

— Does it matter? — Draco asked not waiting for an answer — It’s not like things are gonna change, or that we are gonna be able to escape the hell that our lives are.

Clearly the alcohol was working on the blonde, cause otherwise he would have never said something like that. Draco didn’t talk, and definitely not about how sad his life was back at home. All of them, including the whole house of Slytherin were living in the same hell that the dark lord brought, and that’s why no one talked about it, it was easier to pretend that everything was just fine.

— Well, it’s not a surprise. We have been marked and judged since we were kids, like it was our fault the last name that we carry, or the house that we are in — Theo responded with harshness, making her girlfriend frown

Mattheo let out a sigh — We better play our part, right?

He was the most fucked of the group, he was the son of the person that was trying to destroy the magical world for years on end. The silence invaded them and everyone started to get lost in their thoughts, Y/n turned around putting her arms around Theo’s neck.

— Well be fine, right? — she asked in almost a whisper, wondering how bad things were gonna be once they graduated

Theo caressed her cheek — Well be together, that’s all that matters, Bella.

Y/n smiled at him with sadness, they had just a month left of school and they were trying to enjoy as much of it as they could. For example having breakfast together everyday, even if they were dying to sleep a little bit more. Partying from Thursday to Sunday with not just their house, but also the other three. Swimming in the black lake at night, and then going to the kitchen to get cups of hot chocolate.

Just a lot of things to be happy in times of death, darkness, and cruelty.

— I love you, cara mía, you know that right? — He said with a small smile

Y/n smiled back at him — Of course I know, and I love you too, darling.

One of Theo’s hands went to the back of her head and brought her close to his lips, almost melting when he felt her warmth. God how he enjoyed kissing and touching her.

— Get a room you scandalous people!

Everyone laughed at Draco’s slurred words, he was gonna regret all of the fire whiskey he had drunk tomorrow morning.

[merakiui]

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.

[yvesssssssss]

Since you did heisuke and shin dealing with pregnant reader's morning sicknesses, may we have nagumo, gaku and Natsuki dealing with reader's morning sicknesses? 🥹

Please?

Morning sicknesses with them

I hope you enjoy!!💞

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Nagumo Yoichi

Nagumo squats beside you as you cling to the toilet, your forehead pressed against the cool ceramic.

“Morning sickness again, huh?” he murmurs sympathetically. Then, with an exaggeratedly serious face, he adds, “Are you sure it’s not just my overwhelming charm making you nauseous?”

You groan in reply, and he laughs, brushing your hair back gently and rubbing your back.

Despite the jokes, he’s alarmingly attentive—stocking your favorite snacks (the few you can stomach), memorizing scent triggers like a ninja, and even learning pressure points to ease nausea.

He sits cross-legged on the floor, holding up a glass of water like it’s a peace offering. “You throw up, I hydrate you. Romantic, right?”

When you finally feel okay enough to sit up, he kisses your temple, whispering, “We’re gonna make it through this. And hey—if you throw up on me, I won’t even dodge.”

(He will. But he means well.)

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Gaku

“Uhh… you good?” Gaku peers into the bathroom, one hand awkwardly resting on the doorframe.

You’re hunched over, retching, and he panics—internally. Externally, he stiffens like a cat seeing a cucumber.

After a beat, he rushes in, kneeling beside you. “Should I fight the toilet? Is it attacking you?”

You can barely laugh, but that tiny snort you make is enough to melt his circuits.

He hands you a towel with both hands like he’s defusing a bomb. “I Googled what to do, okay? I got ginger tea. And...uh...some crackers. And peppermint. And—”

“Gaku,” you rasp, “I can’t eat anything right now.”

“…Oh. Right. Then I’ll just sit here and look cool while you puke.”

He ends up rubbing your back, surprisingly gentle, quietly muttering threats at your stomach like, “Tch. Work properly. You’re making her suffer.”

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Natsuki Seba

Natsuki wakes up to the sound of retching and immediately throws his blanket off, slipping into house slippers with surgical speed.

He kneels beside you, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, voice soft and steady. “I prepped the lemon water last night, remember? I’ll grab it. And I restocked the peppermint gum.”

You lean back against him, exhausted.

“...You really did all that?”

“I also called my mom. She said morning sickness usually fades by week fourteen,” he says, brushing sweat from your brow with a damp cloth. “We’re almost there.”

He never complains, never flinches. He logs your triggers like a scientific journal—‘Note: smell of soy sauce = immediate vomit.’ He reorganizes the fridge, the pantry, even switches shampoos.

And when you start crying because you're just so tired, he wraps you in a blanket and whispers, “You're not doing this alone. I’m with you every step.”