#but I’ve been trying for HOURS and I! just! can’t!

[icarryitin]

Pretty

spencer reid/gn!reader

i realised i’ve done a lot of introspective narratives about Feelings™️ but not a whole lot of interaction so pls have some as a treat ilu🧡

word count: 1.9k // warnings: there is so much pining in here it could be a forest

You can’t sleep.

Sheep have been counted over, and over, and over again and still, it evades you. For a day where you’d been looking forward to nothing more than collapsing into bed at the end of it; you’re not best pleased. It’s a rough case as it is, you don’t want to be sleep deprived on top of everything else. But it just isn’t happening.

You count seventy three individual little swirly panels on the ceiling before you decide to get up. A walk might go a fair way to unravel your nerves enough to get a couple of hours, at least you hope it will.

With your jacket thrown over your old college hoodie, you don’t bother changing your sweatpants for jeans, and just slip your feet into your boots. Garcia would be outraged at the clashing colours. The look won’t win any best dressed awards, but at this time of night you’re more concerned with clipping your holster in place. You’re not taking any chances. Especially not with the victimology of this case - although you do have the advantage of knowing the Unsub is out there somewhere. It’s still not an overly comforting thought. But you’re out of options, it’s this or counting the rest of the ceiling panels and, frankly, you’re sure you’ll go blind if you have to stare at plaster swirls for much longer. So you tuck your phone and room key into your coat pockets, and leave the dingy little room behind for a while.

The hotel is, thankfully, almost completely dead, save for the night manager dozing at the front desk. Faded carpet plush under your feet, you’re quiet as you descend the stairs to the lobby and its dimmed lights. The world is dark outside the front doors and you hesitate. Is it really the best idea? To walk around in a city that’s home to a serial killer whose victims bear a striking resemblance to yourself? No, no it’s not. Especially not at, you tug your phone out of your pocket to check the time - jesus, two o’clock in the morning.

“Hey, you.”

It would honestly be wrong to say you’re not expecting his voice - if you were to guess which of the team would still be up and about at this time of night, you’d pick Spencer. It’s a no-brainer.

“Hey, me. Couldn’t sleep either?” Your smile is more strained than you mean for it to be when you turn it to him in response, he must have just come back, snuck in unnoticed while you were glaring at the time on your phone. He’s similarly dressed, coat huddled around mismatched pyjamas, another victim of case-induced insomnia then. His eyes are tired, they are more often than not these days. Yours aren’t all that better.

There’s a comfortable moment of silence where you just exist together, in the hushed quiet of the hotel lobby. Breathing in the calm of the night. It almost makes up for the chaos you know awaits the team in the morning.

“Is it nice out?” You ask, toeing the carpet with your scuffed boot.

“You’re not going for a walk, are you?”

“I’m armed, genius, and I’m twice as scary as anything out there.”

Spencer just huffs your name through an exasperated sigh and looks at you as you waltz past him with your hands in your pockets, turning at the waist to watch you go.

“So come with me.” There’s the vaguest hint of a teasing smile on your lips as you walk backwards towards to the front doors. He’s still not moved when you spin on your heel to push them open and walk off into the night - but you could live a hundred lives and still know the footsteps that follow you down the concrete steps anywhere.

He’s not exactly intimidating, but having him by your side in the small hours makes you feel safer than the weight of the gun at your hip ever could. You try not to think too hard about what that means.

“How many ceiling panels are in your room?” Your breath puffs out in a cloud, words winding around each other in the chill of the just about morning.

“A hundred and nine, if you count the ones that are cut in half.”

“Damn, I gave up at seventy three.”

“I’m not sure how much I believe that, I’ve never seen you give up on anything.” Spencer kicks a pebble into the road at the same moment your feet stop working.

To think he’s paid enough attention to you to notice a thing like that. Maybe you should expect it, especially being part of the team that studies human behaviour, but it still takes you by surprise. The idea that he could, would want to, notice things about you. It’s borderline dangerous. Stubbornness isn’t cute - you’ve been accused of being like a dog with a bone when it comes to your theories more than once. But the way he says it so casually yet so reverently, like it’s something to be proud of, like it’s something he admires. You just about manage to get your legs to cooperate before he can realise you’ve fallen a step behind.

He offers his elbow to you, an uncharacteristic first move, and you almost don’t know what to make of it. Spencer doesn’t initiate contact, ever. Or at least, you’ve never known him to unless it’s to check your tac-vest, and yet here he is. Hands in his pockets, sticking his arm out for you to take. You’re sliding your own arm through his before you even really realise it. Well, it would be rude not to wouldn’t it? When he’s offered so kindly?

In the name of safety, presumably. When there’s a killer on the loose and you just so happen to fit the victimology. Keeping you close is a precaution. You steer the conversation towards the case, if neither of you are resting then you might as well be trying to unravel the latest psycho’s motivations. Another precaution, although a little selfish this time around, to save your heart from falling even further for the man beside you.

“Statistically, people who are attractive are targeted more often that those who aren’t. This Unsub isn’t exactly going against the grain, he’s picking pretty victims.” He rattles off the thought as though it doesn’t threaten to stop your heart in your chest.

It was Spencer who’d pointed out the striking similarities between you and the victims in the first place.

“Doctor Reid, do you think I’m pretty?” Your scandalised gasp matches the hands you press against your chest in faux-shock. And, for once in his life, he doesn’t seem to have any words. He just stands there beside you, gulping like a fish. You like him too much to leave him squirming any longer than he already has.

“I, uh-“ He scrambles for a response.

“Because you’d be right, I am pretty.”

The answering chuckle you get is enough to encourage you to link your arm back through his.

“What you’re saying is,” You press on, shaking off the moment, giving him the time to recover, “There’s no shock factor. Single bullet to the head, dumped unceremoniously with the trash. There’s nothing that says ‘hey look at me’ about this guy.”

Spencer hums in agreement, suddenly very interested in his shoes as they traipse along the drizzle dampened pavement beside yours, and the conversation lulls. But you don’t mind. It’s never an uncomfortable silence with him, it never has been. You’re both more than content to just exist in the same space together - his is a calming presence, for all his nervous energy. There’s never any expectation to be anyone but yourself when you’re around him, no judgement, no pressure.

You’re more than happy to trundle along beside him between the streetlights, dodging puddles, the weight of your linked arms nestled comfortably between you. Except, you’re a profiler. So, for all his valiant efforts to keep your suspicions to a minimum, they’re just not quite effective enough. One glance at his face confirms that he’s thinking far too hard about something. You let your shoulder knock into his, your elbow in his side jolting him out of his thoughts.

“You’re doing it again.” It almost feels blasphemous to disturb the peace that’s settled over you.

Spencer releases his lip from between his teeth.

“There’s something we’re missing.”

“We’ll find it. With fresh eyes in the morning, I bet it smacks us right in the face.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, and you’d have to agree with him there, but the furrow of his brow relaxes at your gentle reassurance. That’s enough for the moment.

A car door slams up the street and makes you both jump. For all the security the gun at your hip awards you, you’re still a little on edge. It’s just you, Spencer, and the door-slammer on the street - though the stranger seems to be so absorbed in his own world that he barely registers the pair of you. While you’re both fairly confident that the man walking towards you isn’t the Unsub, Spencer tugs you closer into his side by your linked arms all the same. He makes sure he’s solid where he stands between you and the passing stranger, even though you both know he wouldn’t stand a chance in that fight with his lanky frame. There isn’t a bit of you that minds the protection. Something catches in your chest, blooming, warming you from the inside out. It’s dangerous.

You’re not sure when you looped back onto yourselves, but the shadow of the hotel looms and suddenly there’s plush carpet under your feet again. Part of you is glad that your chances to embarrass yourself tonight are numbered. He’d be kind enough not to point it out if you did, though.

The elevator is too close to the front doors, there aren’t enough storeys to pass to get to the floor commandeered by the team, and your rooms are the first in the hallway. Doors opposite each other, the irony of the parallel isn’t lost on you. But it’s so rare that you get to spend time with him without any external pressures of a case or the prying eyes of more than a few colleagues. It feels a little unfair that the time has gone so quickly - an hour, your phone confirms when the screen lights up as you fish around in your pocket for your room key. There’s that pang in your chest again, the one that makes you feel like an impatient child. You know you can’t have him the way you want, you know why you can’t, you know it would probably end in heartbreak for everyone. But god, do you want him. It’d be worth every painful second.

Spencer’s voice across the hall stops your hand, room card outstretched halfway to the scanner in your fingers.

“For the record, I do.”

He’s chewing his lip again.

“You do what?”

You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. But neither of you will admit to it out loud. So it just hangs there, in the air between you, as you stand in front of your respective hotel room doors for a moment longer. And then he’s in his room, and you’re swiping your own keycard through the slot, and you’re shut away again. No less wired than you were when you left - but it’s hard to find it in yourself to worry about the sleep you definitely won’t be getting tonight, there’s no doubt about that.

Because Spencer Reid thinks you’re pretty.

if you’re reading this then thank you i love you i owe you my life i can’t wait to put these guys in more situations 🧡🧡🧡

#i rly thought i was gonna get this posted on friday and then decided i hated half of it huh #i still don’t know if i like chunks of this BUT we move #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

[g0dlyunsub]

hey!!! Ugh I just love your account! I have a request for Spencer Reid x fem reader!! Can you do one where he is always working and it makes the reader upset bc he is cancelling dates and coming home late and kinda neglects her feelings and doesn't really notice how much it affects her and how sad she gets and then he misses their anniversary dinner and she breaks and tells him that it makes her upset when he's gone all the time and he just feels so awful bc he's so in love with her and never wants her to feel that way because of him and apologizes and reassures her and makes sure she feels loved!!

ty for the request and i loved the idea for this one!

wishful thinking.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

warnings :: angst with a fluffy ending; very mild makeout session at the end :3

word count :: 2.4k

author’s note :: i kind of giggled at the ending as i was writing it, but i’m pretty proud of how this one turned out!

accompanying song :: neverthere by xander

spencer’s phone is quite literally the bane of your existence.

you know what to expect whenever it rings, so you hate when it actually does – its earthquaking vibrations and trilled beeps tear the happiness straight out of you.

it’s the second date in a row that he’s had to pass, and you wonder if you should just stop trying so hard. was it selfish to want to have him all to yourself, to have him seated right across from you, sharing your laughter as you pass him his plated pasta? were you expecting too much, imagining a serene life with him ten years down the road, perhaps with kids or pets of your own? was it unfair to think that you could craft a lie, telling him your stomach hurt really bad, so bad that you would have to curl up on the floor and pray he’d stay by your side just this once to comfort you?

all you ever wanted was spencer. more specifically, you wanted spencer during your first three dates, when he’d silence all of his phone calls, and wave them off like nothing even though you insisted he take them. maybe if you didn’t bring up the importance of taking work calls, none of this would have ever happened. maybe it was all coming back to bite you for your non-confrontational nature, since you could never plead him to actually stay.

but he’s your boyfriend… and that’s all that matters, right? after all, he has lives to save – people whose names are called out during prayers day and night by their loved ones as they cling on to the sliver of hope that your boyfriend and his team promise during the darkest hours. granted, spencer would drop everything if you were in a similar situation, but none of your problems have actually been life-threatening. but a girl can dream, can’t she? your first anniversary date was when spencer promised to make amends, a formal compensation for all of the past dates that he missed and left you feeling empty on your shared bed, stains of mascara chalked up on your dry cheeks.

“i’m so sorry, honey, i’ve just been… called in for work,” spencer stands, dusting the napkin that was folded nicely on his lap. you watch as he takes a sip of his glass of water, then walks over to you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

he runs his fingers along the velvety texture of the sleeves of your dress, and you offer him a weak smile.

“it’s okay, duty calls, right?” you feel the tears surfacing and you have to fight yourself to not blink. it’s too early to cry.

“i-it’s a really bad one this time, and i hate to do this on such an important day-” spencer begins to apologize frantically, and his face marks an expression of genuine concern with his brows furrowing and lips twitching.

“it’s okay. you need to go, i understand.” you state plainly, and you immediately feel shameful – your words are too assertive and snarly for how you normally respond.

spencer pauses briefly, fidgeting with his fingers, before he gives a slight nod in your direction. he then walks over to the couch, grabs a book, and tightens the clasps on his bag. 

“i’ll be back as fast as i can,” spencer utters quietly and walks out of the door. when the apartment door locks with a click, you break down immediately.

at first, the tears fall one by one. but then, a salty stream evident of pure emotional wreckage makes its way into the slight gap of your lips, and it’s an unstoppable domino effect. your shoulders shudder and heave as you struggle to catch breaths in between, and you splutter cries of your boyfriend’s name. 

maybe it would’ve been better to just stay as conversational partners, to exchange updates once in a while when he’d actually commit to a time. it was your fault for getting your hopes up high, and all of this – fanciful dinner and dressing your best for the occasion – was wishful thinking. you just didn’t want to admit it.

“y/n?” 

you look up to see spencer in front of the doorway, and his bag that was barely holding on to his shoulder drops to the floor with a thud.

you quickly look away, brushing the tears away with one arm and sniffle before choking out a response.

“i thought you left already, why are you here?” again, your words come out icier than you had hoped and hit you with a sharp pang of guilt.

spencer narrows his eyes ever so slightly as if he’s scrutinizing you, observing your body language. it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re upset.

“i was going to. realized i forgot-,”

he clears his throat when you raise your eyebrows and proceeds, "i misplaced my wallet."

he slips out of his loafers, shoving aside his pair of converses that lie adjacent to your pretty pair of heels. he walks over to you, and you realize that you’re still seated at the dining table. you must look so stupid right now, waiting as if he’d just be returning from a bathroom break.

“i need to head out, but i promise… i promise we’ll talk about this really soon. we’ll have the anniversary dinner and-”

“did you even try?” you blurt out, and you look up at him with your puffy eyes glazed with tears.

a deathly silence clouds over the entire apartment, and you’re thinking of two options: leave the apartment and go run to a friend’s place, or confront him and see whether making amends – again, wishful thinking – would be possible.

“y/n. please believe me when i say that i’ve tried to, i’ve tried-”

you slam a hand to the table before standing up, your face twisting into an expression of outrage.

“no, because then you would’ve silenced it. you would’ve cut the call, just like you used to.” you fire your words at him as your hair sticks to the drying tears on your cheeks, and you begrudgingly wipe at your face. 

a slow sigh escapes from spencer’s lips, and he looks at you with those eyes – the eyes that seemingly warn you, saying you don’t want to go there. not right now.

but you double down on him, the rage fueling your words as you lash out. 

“it was just this one time. i only wanted you to stay for dinner just this one time.” you helplessly drop your hands to your sides, the tears landing on the floor with soft plops.

“i know. and i’m terribly sorry.” spencer bites his bottom lip and takes a step toward you. but you take a step back, and maybe that pulls a string between the two of you, because you can see how his shoulders tense up.

“look, can we talk about this when i get back? i’ll make it up to you, i swear.” he combs through his hair, the stress almost palpable as it leaks from his shaking fingers.

while you know he has to head out again, the way he so easily brushes off the conversation like it’s something he doesn’t even want to think about feeds into your disbelief. soon, however, your anger subsides into a tired frown. 

“i don’t know, you might come home late… when i’m asleep or something.” you look at the wall where a photo of the two of you is framed, and you weakly smile at how happy you seemed then. 

“i’ll give you a call, is that okay?” he searches your face for any signs of approval, but you’re zoned out thinking about the past, of how everything used to be.

“whatever, just go.” you wave him off and walk to the couch, where you lie down and turn against him to face the plush fabric.

spencer sighs, and his hand looms over your head momentarily before he grabs his wallet from the table. you hear a faint sorry trail from behind as he leaves the room, and your nails claw at the arms of the couch before the darkness cradles you once again.

it’s 10:30 pm, and you hear the doorknob click again. you had just cleaned up the dishes after eating dinner alone and left his portion in the fridge. you were now changed into your pajamas and getting ready for your night routine.

you peep out of your bedroom door to see spencer, his suit all wet. he looks at you as he takes off his shoes, and a sullen expression paints his face. did it start raining after he left? you realize that you were mostly cooped up in the bedroom since his departure, so you wouldn’t have known.

bravely looking up at him in the eye, you state: “you came back early.” you hate how unwelcoming you sound in his own home.

he pauses before he sets his wet bag on the floor and removes his blazer jacket to throw over a chair. 

he approaches you, hands in his pockets and hair twisted in matted curls. 

“hm.” he grabs a towel from the closet and makes his way to the shower, brushing past your shoulder. you feel an icy shudder spread through your spine after he closes the bathroom door.

was he giving you the silent treatment right now? 

you hear the water start from the bathroom and you sink into your bed while turning to twist the lamp lights on.

after all that torturous waiting you went through, he was giving you the silent treatment?

fifteen minutes later, a knock reverberates from the other side of the bedroom door, and even though you don’t respond, spencer steps in. he’s changed into a t-shirt and black pajama pants, and he drops next to you on the bed.

“i’m taking the week off.” 

the sentence startles you, and it’s something so unexpected you choke on your own saliva.

“what, what do you mean you’re taking the week off?” you ask him, finally turning to face him in the eyes. his brown irises blaze into your own.

“i’ve been pushing off everything you wanted to do with me — things that I wanted to do with you — and i’ve just been…” he turns away to play with the wrinkles on his pants as he speaks, picking out the dust that lies embedded between the folds.

he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a deep sigh. he continues, “i don’t know if it’s all worth it.”

silence casts a blanket over the two of you.

“spence,” you say after a while, and hesitantly lay a hand on his thigh.

“nothing’s more important in the world to me than you. you and your happiness. i know you love this job and i know you love helping people. you’re such a kind hearted man, and it’s why i fell in love with you in the first place.”

when spencer gives you no response, you confess: “spence, i get jealous sometimes.”

this time his eyes widen, and he looks at you.

“you do?” he asks softly, peering into your eyes and you cave instantly. 

“of course i do. it’s… everybody wants you, spencer. we all need you, whether we realize it or not.”

he scoffs.

“but i only want you.”

his voice is raspy yet mellow at the same time, the smoothest stream of sweetness seeping through your eardrums. god. you can never stay mad at this gorgeous man, the same man that made you cry on numerous occasions just counting the past week.

“you need to do more than that, if you… you know.” you quietly murmur as you fidget with the hem of your nightgown.

“i know,” he speaks with a hushed tone. “i told hotch, and i told him it was going to happen whether he liked it or not. the demands of this job are… tough, but i don’t want to miss out on all the things we planned together. i won’t.”

you start bawling right when he delivers the last word, and all the tears that you were holding back spill over your flushed cheeks. your boyfriend immediately leans in to console you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his chin rests on top of your head. 

it’s okay, he murmurs reassuringly. you ease into his touch, and you realize how much you missed this. how much you missed spending time with him.

his left hand tugs lightly at your soft hair while his right rubs your back in smooth circles. 

“i missed you,” you speak with a hushed voice, looking up into his eyes as a glassy coat of tears blur your vision. 

he cups your face with his hands before whispering, “i missed you too.”

you continue to blabber words of love-stained anguish but he cuts you off short, pulling you in for a short kiss on your lips, which are now tainted with your tears.

“you taste… salty,” he whispers, giving you a slight smile as he brushes off the rest of your tears that weigh down on your eyelashes.

“it’s because of you, silly,” you drawl as you taste the salty residue of your tears.

yeah, spencer responds hesitantly. but he’s wearing a small smile, tilting his head to one side as his eyes emit a glint of tranquilizing peace.

he reaches into his pajama pocket and takes out a piece of candy. you curiously watch as his fingers quickly remove the wrapper, revealing a glazed cherry-flavored sphere. 

“may i?” he asks, and his faint voice is a gravitational force that you can’t resist.

you briefly respond with a lazy hm? before he plops the candy into your mouth and kisses you again. the sweetness explodes like fireworks with his warm breath, and the sticky layer of sugar melts like acid on your intertwined tongues. you let out a satisfied hum when you pull back, and it’s undeniably attractive the way spencer licks the corner of his lips.

a tear falls from your eye again, and this time, it’s not out of sorrow.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #mgg x reader

[pinkflower2003]

Can you do an imagine where reader is heavily pregnant and overdue. She’s grumpy and sore and just overall not feeling too good so (driver your choice) comforts her and tells her how amzing she is? 😩

Overdue Love - Lando Norris x Reader

a/n: Thank you so much for your request my love!!🍓 I loved working on this one, such a cute idea! I have no idea why I wrote for Lando, but I thought he would be such a good girldad <3

Send in your requests!

Masterlist

Y/N sat on the couch, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to find a position that didn’t make her sore back ache. She was heavily pregnant, overdue by a week, and every minute felt like an eternity. Her swollen belly seemed to defy gravity, and the heat of the afternoon didn't help. She sighed deeply, glancing at the clock and wondering if this baby would ever decide to make an appearance.

Lando, her loving and supportive partner, walked into the living room with a gentle smile. He had just finished a video call with his team, but his thoughts were entirely with Y/N. Seeing her discomfort, he immediately came to her side, his concern evident in his eyes.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N sighed again, leaning into his embrace. “I feel like a beached whale, Lando. Everything hurts, and I’m so ready for this baby to come out.”

Lando chuckled lightly, his fingers brushing through her hair soothingly. “You’re doing amazing, you know that? I can’t imagine how tough this is, but you’re handling it like a champion. Our little girl is just taking her time, getting ready to meet the most incredible mom.”

Despite her grumpiness, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words. Lando always knew how to make her feel better, even in the most uncomfortable situations. She placed a hand on her belly, feeling the baby’s gentle kicks.

“She’s already got a sense of drama, just like her dad,” Y/N teased, looking up at Lando with affection.

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Well, she does have a flair for the dramatic. But she’s also got the best parts of you. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Y/N tried to shift again, her face contorting with discomfort. “I can’t find a position that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being crushed.”

Lando got up and fetched a couple of pillows, arranging them around her to provide some support. “Here, try these. Maybe it will help a bit.”

As Y/N settled into the new arrangement, she sighed with a bit more relief. “That’s better, thank you.”

“You know,” Lando began, sitting back down beside her, “I’ve been thinking about how strong you’ve been through all of this. The morning sickness, the cravings, the sleepless nights… You’ve handled everything so well.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “I don’t know if I’d call it handling it well. More like surviving.”

“Well, to me, you’ve been amazing. I’m in awe of you every day,” he said sincerely, his eyes shining with admiration.

Hours passed with Lando staying by Y/N’s side, making sure she was as comfortable as possible. They watched movies, reminisced about the past, and talked about their hopes and dreams for their little family. Despite the discomfort, Y/N felt grateful for Lando’s unwavering support and love.

As evening turned into night, Y/N began to feel the first twinges of contractions. At first, she brushed them off as more Braxton Hicks, the false labour pains she’d been experiencing on and off for weeks. But as the contractions grew stronger and more regular, she knew it was finally time.

“Lando,” she called out, her voice tinged with both excitement and nervousness. “I think it’s happening.”

Lando’s eyes widened, and he immediately sprang into action. “Alright, let’s get everything ready.” He had been preparing for this moment for months, and his excitement and nervousness were palpable.

They grabbed the hospital bag, which had been packed and ready for weeks, and headed to the car. Lando drove carefully but quickly, glancing over at Y/N every few seconds to make sure she was okay.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching over to hold her hand.

Y/N winced as another contraction hit. “It’s intense, but I’m okay. Just keep driving.”

They arrived at the hospital, and the staff quickly ushered them into a room. Lando stayed by Y/N’s side the entire time, holding her hand, encouraging her, and reminding her to breathe. The hours of labour were gruelling, filled with moments of pain and anticipation.

Y/N squeezed Lando’s hand tightly as another contraction rippled through her body. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted, tears streaming down her face.

Lando wiped her tears away gently, his own eyes glistening with emotion. “You’re doing great, love. Just a little longer, and we’ll have our baby girl in our arms.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on Lando’s soothing voice. He talked to her about their future, about the first time they’d bring Poppy home, about all the things they would do together as a family. His words were a lifeline, helping her push through the pain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the moment arrived. With one final, powerful push, their daughter entered the world. The room filled with the sound of her first cries, and Y/N collapsed back against the bed, exhausted but overwhelmed with joy.

“She’s here,” Lando whispered, tears of happiness streaming down his face. “Our little Poppy.”

The nurse placed the tiny, squirming baby on Y/N’s chest, and she looked down at her daughter with a mixture of awe and love. “Hi, Poppy,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Welcome to the world.”

Lando leaned in, kissing Y/N’s sweaty forehead and then the baby’s tiny head. “You did it, Y/N. You were amazing.”

Y/N looked at Lando, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “We did it,” she corrected him, her voice filled with emotion.

The next few days were a blur of feedings, diaper changes, and sleepless nights, but through it all, Lando and Y/N were a team. They took turns holding and comforting Poppy, marvelling at every little coo and movement she made.

One night, as they sat together on the couch with Poppy sleeping soundly in Lando’s arms, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe she’s finally here,” she said softly.

Lando smiled, looking down at their daughter with a tender expression. “She’s perfect, just like her mummy.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though she was still tired from the labour. “I think you’re a little biased.”

“Maybe,” Lando conceded, “but it’s true. You’re amazing, and Poppy is amazing because of you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying the peace and quiet. Y/N felt a sense of contentment she had never experienced before. Despite the sleepless nights and the challenges of being new parents, she knew they were incredibly lucky.

“Do you remember the first time we talked about having kids?” Lando asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Y/N nodded, smiling at the memory. “It was on that trip to Italy, right? We were sitting by the lake, and you said you wanted a big family.”

“Yeah,” Lando said, his eyes distant as he recalled the moment. “I remember thinking how perfect it would be to raise a family with you. And now, here we are, starting that dream.”

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. “I’m so glad we’re doing this together, Lando. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Lando leaned over and kissed her gently. “Me neither, love. Me neither.”

As the weeks passed, they settled into a routine, learning the ins and outs of parenthood together. There were sleepless nights and moments of frustration, but there were also moments of pure joy and love. Lando continued to be a supportive and loving partner, always ready with a kind word or a helping hand.

One evening, as they were getting ready for bed, Y/N looked over at Lando, who was gently rocking Poppy to sleep. “You’re such a natural with her,” she said, admiration clear in her voice.

Lando looked up, smiling. “I’ve had a great teacher,” he said, nodding towards her. “You’re an amazing mum, Y/N.”

Y/N blushed slightly, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

“The best,” Lando agreed, walking over and placing Poppy in her crib. He wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close. “I’m so grateful for you, for us, and for our little Poppy.”

Y/N rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Me too, Lando. Me too.”

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #ln4 #ln4 imagine #baby imagine #pregnancy imagine

[azzibuckets]

This is sort of a long and specific request but I just have this idea of an ansty fic idea for pazzi or reader.

azzi gets her wisdom teeth out and she’s like all loopy and when paige takes her home, they are all cuddled up. Azzi talks about the love of her life in third person and paige doesn’t realize it’s her until she does… but basically she’s like heartbroken until then.

loopy in love [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: i know i said i was taking a break from pazzi fics but god bless anon for giving me the best prompt i’ve ever read

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

“Make sure she takes acetaminophen or ibuprofen if she feels any pain,” the nurse instructed. “She can also sleep with an extra pillow tonight to support her neck and help circulate blood flow.”

“Alright, thank you. I’ll keep all that in mind,” Paige said gratefully. She looked over at Azzi, who was slumped in the chair. Her eyes were dazed and her cheeks swollen with numbing from anesthesia, but Paige’s heart warmed. Azzi had never looked cuter, she thought.

“I understand you guys are basketball players?” The nurse looked up from her clipboard of sheets with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. How long is she out for?”

“No strenuous activities for at least three days, and definitely no cardio for five. We don’t want any rebound swelling or bleeding,” the nurse explained. “Other than that, you just need to sign her release form, and then you guys are good to go.”

Paige nodded, accepting the paper the nurse handed her and starting to work her way down the page. The nurse walked over to Azzi. “Make sure to keep biting on the gauze, okay hon? Your girlfriend can help you replace it with a fresh one every 20 minutes.”

Paige’s head snapped up from reading the fine print. “Oh, uh, we’re not dating.”

The nurse looked taken aback. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I just assumed…” she stared uncomfortably between the two of them. Paige flushed, knowing that the way they’d entered the office a few hours earlier hadn’t exactly looked very friendly. Paige’s hands had been wrapped around Azzi’s waist as she’d whispered reassurances in her ear.

“No, it’s okay.” Paige scratched the back of neck. “We kinda get that a lot.”

The nurse nodded awkwardly before hurriedly making an excuse to leave the room. Azzi wrinkled her nose, eyes following her out. “Did she think I had a girlfriend?” she slurred.

“She thought we were dating,” Paige breathed out a laugh as she signed the form.

“Ew!” Azzi gagged on her saliva. “I’m sorry, but we could never be together.”

“Geez,” Paige muttered, trying not to let the younger girl’s words sting too much. “I didn’t think I was that that revolting.” Paige turned the form into the receptionist before helping Azzi out of her chair. “Up we go,” she said softly. Azzi stumbled, but tightened her grip on the blonde’s arm to keep steady.

In the car, Azzi stared moodily out the window. Paige chuckled; she’d expected for the anesthesia to make Azzi more quiet and subdued, even though a part of her had wanted a loopy and crazy Azzi to laugh at. “You okay?” she asked.

Azzi started sniffling, and that’s when big tears started rolling down her cheeks.

“Woah.” Paige almost braked the car. “Hey, Az, what’s up?”

“I miss her!” Azzi cried out, folding her arms like a grumpy toddler. “Everything hurts and I can’t feel my tongue and there’s blood and I just want her.”

Paige’s heart sunk. She knew she should be supporting Azzi right now, who was so out of it from the drugs, but she couldn’t help but welcome back the burn of jealousy she’d gotten so familiar with the past few years. Pining over your best friend in secret was not an easy thing, but it was something Paige had become awfully good at.

“Miss who, babe?” Paige asked gently. “I can call whoever you need.”

Azzi dramatically threw her head in her hands. “Nooooo!” she wailed. “You can’t. Or else she’ll know.”

Paige bit her lip. “Know what?”

“That I’m in love with her!”

Paige sucked in a breath. Lately Azzi had been acting distant, coming back to their apartment late at night and making excuses for missing their movie nights. Paige had had a creeping suspicion that Azzi was talking to someone new, had been spending her hours with a new girl or guy she’d met. She’d tried to respect it - she knew Azzi would come to her and tell her if the relationship ever evolved into something serious. She always did. And now here Azzi was, confessing in her stupefied state.

“You’re in love with someone?”

Azzi leaned her head gloomily against the window. “You don’t understand, Paige.”

Paige hesitated. “I understand. I’ve been in love before.”

“No,” Azzi insisted. “You don’t. You don’t understand.”

Paige laid her hand over Azzi’s in an attempt to pacify her. “It’s okay, Az,” she soothed. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. Let’s just get you home first, yeah?”

Azzi snatched her hand away. “Of course you don’t wanna talk about it,” she grumbled, shifting in her seat to move further from Paige.

Once they reached their apartment, Azzi seemed to be in a slightly better mood. “I’m hungry!” she exclaimed as soon as the door closed behind them, immediately making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Uh uh,” Paige denied, running so she could stand between Azzi and the cabinets. “You’re not allowed to eat anything for a few hours.”

Azzi pouted, her bottom lip sticking out. “Pleaseeeeeee?” she whined.

Paige stifled a laugh at how adorable the younger girl was being. “I’m sorry, but no,” she said firmly.

“Ugh!” Azzi aggressively brushed past Paige, knocking her shoulder as she stormed out of the kitchen. “You hate me.”

“Quite the opposite.” Paige followed Azzi as she flopped angrily down on the armchair. “Stay here, alright? Imma go get some pillows and blankets for you and we can watch a movie?”

Azzi didn’t respond, staring grumpily at the dark TV. Paige rushed to gather the softest and biggest blankets she could find. She cursed at herself for not setting up the couch earlier. Now Azzi had to sit there waiting for her. Once she got everything, she threw it on the couch and tried to make it the most comfortable, padded blanket and pillow ridden couch in the history of all couches. “Come on Azzi,” she encouraged in a sing song voice. “Sit on the couch. It’s super comfy.” She patted the couch.

“Will she be there?” Azzi asked hopefully.

“Be where?” Paige’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“On the couch. With me.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, trying to hold in her exasperation but failing mightily. “Are you talking about that girl again?”

“Yes,” Azzi breathed out dreamily. “I think she’s it. She’s the one for me. I can’t stop thinking about her. Even before the surgery she was the last thing on my mind.”

Azzi sounded way too detailed right now to be talking randomly from being hopped up on drugs, which finally confirmed Paige’s suspicions. There had to be an actual girl that Azzi was talking about. She made a note to ask about it later, when the anesthesia wore off. Azzi had never spoken about anyone like this before, so this girl must be a big deal. A hot shot, Paige thought moodily to herself. But she’d support Azzi, like she always did whenever she started something new with someone. Don’t let her know, Paige reminded herself.

“So? Did you call her?” When Paige didn’t respond, too lost in her thoughts, Azzi’s bottom lip started to tremble. “You said you would!” Paige rushed to her, rubbing her back in the way she knew the dark haired girl liked.

“I don’t have her number, Az,” she said gently. “I’m sure we can get her to come over later, though.”

“She’s so pretty and she’s so kind,” Azzi said, now sobbing again. “I just want her here. Everything is always better when I’m with her.” She leaned into Paige’s embrace.

“Come on, Az, let’s sit on the couch, alright? Let’s put on a movie and you can try to sleep the anesthesia off,” Paige prodded. At last, Azzi got up from the armchair and sat reluctantly on the couch. Paige grabbed a blanket and wrapped it tightly around the younger girl. She made sure to stuff extra pillows under Azzi’s neck. “Comfy?”

Azzi nodded. Her tears weren’t flowing as heavily anymore, which Paige took as a good sign. “What do you wanna watch?”

Azzi perked up. “Cinderella.”

“Cinderella? When did you get into Disney?” Paige laughed, but she put it on.

Azzi nestled into Paige’s chest. “Cinderella looks like her,” she sighed happily. “Which is why I like it.”

Paige’s heart started beating rapidly. “What does she look like?” she asked slowly.

“She’s blonde. Has the bluest eyes ever,” Azzi murmured. “And she’s sooo good at basketball. You would love her.”

Paige bit the inside of her cheek. Was this really happening? There was no way this girl Azzi was speaking of was her. She felt excitement rush through her, but she tried to tamp it down. She wasn’t the only blonde, blue-eyed basketball player in the world. Feeling slightly guilty that she was interrogating her best friend in this state, she asked, “What’s her name, Azzi?”

Azzi inserted her leg between Paige’s so that their bodies were now intertwined. “Why does it matter?” she muttered, her words muffled by Paige’s shirt.

Paige softly traced the parts in Azzi’s hair with her finger. “I’m just curious, babe.”

Azzi yawned, sleepiness taking over her. “I can tell you later. If you want. Maybe.”

“Oh, we are so talking about this later,” Paige said under her breath. But for now, she continued playing with Azzi’s hair as Cinderella played in the background, lulling the girl to sleep.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #uconnwbb #pazzi #wbb #wcbb #friends to lovers

[midnightsnyx]

Quinn Hughes - meet cute

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

requested: yes / no

a/n: it’s super late but I hope you like it anyways! requests are open & here is the link for my writing guide

word count: 750 words

You’ll admit, it isn’t exactly your most dignified moment, sitting on the dirty floor with your arm stuck in the vending machine but you were sure you’d be able to reach the bag of chips if you just reached in. Instead, you look like an idiot who didn’t think before you did it. It’s late and you know most people have left the roller skating rink at this point, including your friends who you brushed off when they offered to come with you while you grabbed a snack before you left.

So, you’re sitting on the floor waiting for someone to walk by because your phone died before you could call anyone. It’s been over twenty minutes and your arm is starting to feel a bit numb when you hear someone. You stretch as far as you can to see who it is, hopefully security or maintenance, but it’s a group of guys. They look familiar and you can’t quite put your finger on it but it’s the last thing on your mind at this point because you can’t feel your fingertips.

They’re laughing about something and clearly haven’t noticed you yet which is why one of them nearly trips over you. He catches himself from falling and looks down at you in surprise.

“Oh shit,” he says with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

You gesture to your trapped arm. “No.”

Normally, you’d feel bad for being so short with someone but you were hoping for someone who could help you with your current situation and these three don’t look like they’ll be very helpful.

“How’d you get your arm stuck in there?” One of them asks curiously, kneeling down next to you and peering inside where your arm is.

You can feel your cheeks heating up and embarrassment takes over. They’re all cute, but the one kneeling next to you catches your eye.

“I was trying to reach the chips when they got stuck,” you mumble and he presses his lips together like he’s trying not to smile. He clears his throat when you scowl at him, and he looks back at your arm.

“I think we can get it out,” he murmurs, reaching his hand in and gripping your arm. He gently twists your wrist and pulls on your arm and it comes out easily.

You shake your arm until feeling starts to return before looking at him. He’s still kneeling next to you and watching for your reaction.

“Thanks,” you eventually say, standing up and he quickly scrambles to his feet.

“I’m Quinn,” he says and offers his hand. You shake it and tell him your name before looking at the two other guys standing behind him. He must notice your attention is elsewhere because he glances at them. “That’s Jack and Luke.”

It suddenly clicks why they look so familiar.

The Hughes brothers.

“Um, I was gonna grab something to eat at the diner across the road, if you wanted to come with,” he says and Luke mumbles, “you were?”

You don’t miss Jack stepping on Luke’s foot, and you cough to cover a laugh.

“Sure,” you tell him and his face lights up.

“Awesome,” he says, trying to play it cool but his brothers are grinning at him like fools.

“Catch you back at the apartment Quinn,” Jack says, already walking away and pulling Luke with him.

You can hear Luke mumbling, “I didn’t know he was going out. He didn’t even ask us.”

. . .

It’s a 24 hour diner and your phone is dead so you don’t realize how fast the time is going until Quinn looks at his phone and swears under his breath.

“I’ve got practice at 8,” he says and shows you the time.

2:38am

Then he pauses, and looks at you.

“I’m a hockey player,” he explains and you realize that he doesn’t think that you know who he is.

“I know,” you tell him and he pauses again before: “you should come to a game sometime. I mean, y’know if you want to. No pressure. Since we just met.”

And as endearing as his rambling is, you decide to put him out of his misery.

“I’d like that,” you tell him. “Just send me the time and place.”

. . .

He ended up scoring 3 goals and 2 assists that game. When he points to you after his third goal, and he mouths “that one was for you”, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe this can go somewhere.

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Stiles Stilinski and Claudia Stilinski are such an interesting dynamic. Only one person commented on the fact that they wanted to hear about this, but that’s permission to me, so yall have to suffer with me. It’s been awhile since I’ve watched teen wolf so my take may be off, please no hate but I’m open to discussion.

Claudia Stilinski is such an interesting character to me. We know virtually nothing about except how she, especially her death and the way she died affects the Stiles and the sheriff.

Stiles watched her die, the sheriff didn’t. Stiles stayed beside her, the sheriff was at work. Both undergo guilt because of this. This is the exact moment when stiles has to grow up - it fundamentally changed who stiles is as a character, it also defines him in certain moment. To me both characters try and keep their connect to Claudia in anyway they can. This is made apparent with the jeep. That’s Claudia car, stiles refuses to leave it even though it’s unreliable. This could reflect stiles relationship or his idea of his relationship with his mother is unreliable. The sheriff connects to his wife via stiles. Stiles real name - his mother gave it to him, he had the nickname mischief but changed to stiles, I wonder why?? Maybe after his mother died. But they can’t in the end, they can’t let go over her but they can’t hold onto her.

Stiles has a lot of trauma response from this moment. He pretends he’s fine even when he’s not, this is a learned response. He obsessively takes care of his dad, wanting to hold onto the last parent in his life. It also feels like a way to hold onto his mother via taking care of his dad. Literally every way that that stiles acts after his mom’s death is becuase of her death. The way that he loves people after his moms death is an effect of the last months of his mothers life and her death. He cares to a point of obsession (one of the reason I ship sterek, I think they’d balance each other out or just be able to understand each other darkness)

His mother’s disease would have taken precedents over everything else. And even after she died, his fathers feeling would have been more important. The Stilinski’s don’t talk about their feelings, they don’t talk about the times when they hurt each other. It’s almost like they can’t, that there is a disconnect. To me this says that Claudia was the emotional support for both of the Stilinski’s men. Don’t get me wrong, this is not hate on the sheriff. He does try to connect to stiles - they do talk each other about other things in their lives.

In a way I can understand Stiles. My father is a cop. The change in shifts and odd hours would mean that sometimes I wouldn’t see my father for days. Add on the fact that He is the Sheriff, whom the show makes it clear take extra shifts - stiles would be alone a lot. To me this means that his mother was his main source of paternal affection. This was further cemented for me when stiles tells his father “mom would have believed me”

When she dies it almost makes it seem that his care was transferred onto Scott. In most cases this would make Melissa a surrogate mother but in the show it doesn’t feel like that to me. Stiles is extremely independent, when his dad was away at work he would take care of his mother, even after her assaulting him. This would fundamentally change the way he interacts with adults, parents, specifically mothers. So I don’t see him grasping onto Melissa as a mother figure.

But also the way he interacts with Melissa, on one hand he’s almost her equal. He takes care of Scott almost as much as Melissa herself does. In a way their interactions feel like two parents talking to each other. On the other hand, it is clear that Melissa take care of him like he’s her son. But to me the only time when stiles reacts to her authority is when she’s mad, sometimes not even than. And the one time when he’s been possessed he calls her mom.

But also it’s made clear that the Stilinski’s don’t talk about Claudia - like at all. In the first season when the sheriff is drunk he says “I miss your mother”. The absolute shock on stiles face when he says that is so visceral. Claudia lingers over the household, not in a way that is a happy memory. she haunts it. After she dies stiles takes her place. The whole scene “how can I take care of you if I don’t know everything about you / I’m the dad, your the son” Stiles takes care of his dad obsessively, in a way that upsets the the balance of a child/parent relationship.

This is further made clear with the hints that the sheriff got major drunk after Claudia died. And that he threw himself into work once he got sober. Stiles effectively took over the household, putting him in the roles of his mother. We also see how the sheriff reacts to this because Stiles plays both the role of his wife and his son, not reaching the expectation for either. Stiles can never be his mother and yet he is her carbon copy. He wants to be her but all doesn’t at all. This dichotomy between the idea of stiles and the idea of Claudia means that she will always be present in the home. The first parent you will see in stiles face is Claudia. She haunts the narrative via her ghost but also via Stiles.

Especially in season three with the nogitsune, especially when it tricked everyone into believing that he’s dieing the same way his mother did. This is the final act of stiles becoming Claudia. The ghost of his mother has never been as prevalent but in this moment. You cannot tell me that his didn’t absolutely destroy the Stilinski households for months, even after they figured out that it was just a trick. To me this was one of the worst tricks played on stiles, because besides losing his friend this is what caused the Most devastation to him and his father. When he gets the MRI done this is when we see the change between stiles and the nogitsune. The demon has enough power to take over even for a few seconds because of this.

Being his mom especially in this connection is what devastates stiles the most. The nogitsune was in stiles head, he knows what would hurt him the most and what stiles fears the most.

Idk this is just my opinion and take.

#stiles stilinski #the way a child should never be a place holder #sheriff stilinski #the dynamic between a haunted space and the person it haunts #the terrifying ordeal of being known #stilinski’s clan put their loved ones above everyone else #claudia stilinski #i’m just delusional #stiles has mommy issues that’s why he’s the way he is #Stiles Stilinski character analysis #Claudia Stilinski Character analysis #I tried to analysis a character #I’m ignoring my connection to the character #character analysis #teen wolf #relationship analysis #sterek

[moneymartin]

・❥・- just for you.

summary: kate takes her anger out on you after a hard loss. (more gentle tho cause she doesn’t have the heart to hurt you 😞😞😞) + lil bit of aftercare at the end ;3

warnings: 18+ ASFUCK! SMUT MDNI! strap on use… lol

RPF!

a/n: ik i been lacking recently but i’ve grown some more motivation to do something since i’m kinda stuck at home. also almost broke my arm yesterday hahah 🥸 also not much dialogue tbh i’ve never been good at that cuz i dont talk to ppl 😭 AND i didn’t know how to end sozzzzzz!!!!

it was the toughest lost of kate’s college career, especially considering the fact that it was her last year at UOI. the only thing she wanted was to have the championship title, just once. but the team couldn’t do it.

you saw her put all her blood sweat and tears onto that court. the way she tried to make as many shots, as many blocks as she could, and as many fouls as she could draw. the way you watched her cry while she walked into the tunnel absolutely broke you.

when she got home the air between you two grew extremely thick. you couldn’t tell if she was angry or even over it at all. she wasn’t crying, just real quiet. and being the good girlfriend you were, you didn’t bother to push any of her buttons, no matter how much you wanted to just keep her company.

kate would either be sitting on the couch, on her phone, continuously walking around the apartment, sitting in random spots on the floor, in the kitchen. she’d be anywhere and everywhere. all she wanted to do was get her mind off of it, for a little bit.

“are you okay?” you speak amidst the quiet environment that had been lingering for god knows how many hours. you didn’t try to speak either because it felt like she’d just ignore you or give you a nasty look cause she wasn’t feeling so good about it. “i’m fine.” kate murmurs and looks up at you from the clasped hands on her face. the tone she gives you makes it known that she isn’t.

“yeah, right.” a scoff leaves from your lips and the mood changes almost immediately. your eyes dart towards kate and the look that she’s giving you makes it feel like a million daggers are being dug into your back. her face stiffens up and so does your body when you realize that she’s 100% angry.

you know that it isn’t your fault, but now it really feels like it was. “do you think that’s funny or something?” when you hear that, it’s obvious that you’ve fucked up. you can’t muster up anything in response cause you know that it’ll make it worse. not for her, but for you.

but there’s just something about kate that drives you insane when she’s fired up.

“no.” you swallow.

“exactly! don’t fuckin’ go around and laugh about it, if it isn’t funny! are we clear?”

she grunts and lets out a heavy breath when you stand there all quiet and unresponsive. she hates that. its the one thing that makes kate tick the most, other than losing a game that important to her. “answer me.”

you don’t respond. and the look of anger on kate’s face grows much more apparent. “c’mon!” she groans and quickly slides off of the bed. her fingers grip at the collar of your shirt, her rapid breaths brushing harshly against your face.

she tugs your body up against hers and a small whine escapes from in between your lips. kate is giving those eyes that make you shiver all over the place. “y- yes, we’re clear…” you choke out and look away. you can’t stand seeing her angry but its also the fact that it turns you on too.

your voice makes it seem like you aren’t very sincere about saying that though, and that makes her tick even more. kate’s teeth grit together and a sharp breath makes its way through them, her fingers inching closer towards the waistband of your jeans.

“yeah? you sure?” kate teases and starts to unbutton them. her voice deepens and the cold air that meets your now exposed skin makes the shivers feel more like a billion daggers going through your body. her hands cup your waist, a newfound lust taking over the look in kate’s eyes. “doesn’t seem so sincere…” she husks out.

“i mean it! god, you can’t believe me even when i mean it the most.” you sigh and stare at the jeans puddling around your feet. when you bend over to pick them back up and put them on again, kate’s fingers wrap around your sleeve and she pulls you up, drawing a quiet ‘tsk’ sound from your mouth. “just… let me fuck your brains out until i get you to really mean it.”

she tugs you up against her again, her front subtly grinding against yours. and now you can actually feel it. her stupid fucking strap. your eyes dart towards hers momentarily before they inch away. the embarrassment you feel is incredibly strong. you’re wet, and now you can’t even look her in the eyes.

before you even get a chance to speak, kate’s hand falls on the dip of your back and you’re face first into the foot of the mattress. the side of your head presses against it again to get a breather, the sound of kate unzipping her jeans rapidly, and the tip of the strap making contact with your body.

one of her hands grabs both of yours and pins them backwards, the other hand trailing up and down your body and towards the waistband of your panties. in one swift movement, they’re off and on the floor. you have no clue where, but they’re somewhere in that room. as much as you’re trying to resist, you can’t

“c’mon, baby. don’t fight it, please.” kate pleads and leans over your body to bury her face into your neck. her teeth dig into the side of it and you let out a wince, struggling to move your hands while she keeps them in a lock. kate’s breath tickles at your skin while she pulls away, the hand she has on your waist moving away to line herself up with your entrance.

she doesn’t even give you a warning before she slides in. the only thing that makes it known that you’re getting absolutely filled up is the groan kate lets out when she goes in all the way. you let out a huge whimper and eventually start to feel it. “fuck!… oh my god.” you babble and feel kate leaning toward your face again, her breathing hitting your skin, leaving behind dark marks on the base of your neck.

the more you moan and whine into the sheets, the more it fuels her to keep going. she thrusts into you as hard as she can, her hand letting go of the two she’s been holding, and yanks at your hair to pull your head up. “you fuckin’ feel that, baby? that’s all for you.” kate grunts, smashing her lips against yours and pulling your hair again. “just for you..” a hurried ‘mhm’ escapes your lips, your voice left limited.

your whimpers mix into the kiss as you constantly punch at the bed the harder she drives into you. her teeth tug at your bottom lip and your head moves away the more you feel yourself start to sweat uncontrollably. hair sticks to the side of your head and to your forehead, kate gently brushing them out of your face to keep that prolonged eye contact.

“you’re so beautiful, i swear.”

“hmphh—! you’re going too-“

you get cut off the second you feel the turns in your stomach and the blood rush to your face. that familiar feeling burns brightly in your belly and the knot that had been there forever finally becomes undone. you end up finishing, the overwhelming sensation dying down almost instantly.

kate rolls off of you and notices the water buildup in your eyes, her thumbs running across the bottom of them to wipe them away. she lets out a small sigh and scoots a little bit closer to you, eyeing down the hickeys she left on your skin. “i’m sorry, baby.” she whispers softly and cups your face with her palms.

her lips connect onto your neck and she peppers gentle kisses all over each hickey. the contrast from her rough nature to eventually turning into that natural soft, sweet woman you fell in love with the second she sees you like this. “let me fix you a warm bath, okay? for the troubles.” she whispers in between smooches, her hand snaking up your shirt, and her nails dragging softly against your back.

“duh. you know just how i like it.”

“why would i not.” she lets out a scoff and pulls away quickly, a small smile crossing her face when you agree. “was that a scoff?” you mutter and raise your eyebrows. hers do too, and her lips narrow into a straight line. “what about it?”

well, that was the small thing that got you here in the first place.

#be gentle abt this one i know it lowk sucks #kate martin #kate martin x reader #wcbb x you #wbb x reader #wcbb x reader

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Adam who is in his second trimester is going through his wardrobe trying something nice to wear for his lunch date with Cherri and Angel. He’s currently wear a spaghetti strap maternity nightgown. Lucifer comes in and goes up to him

Lucifer: hey sweetheart Angel asked me to tell you that the lunch reservation is at twelve thirty so be sure to be on time

Adam: Oh don’t worry I will, I’ve been looking forward for some mama time with just his friends. Too bad I just can’t find anything that fits

Lucifer hums as wraps his tail around Adam’s leg while placing one hand on Adam’s butt while the other rubbed his extended belly

Lucifer: you look pretty sexy with this hot little number

Adam: it’s a four dollar nightgown Charlie got for me at a garage sale

Lucifer: mmm, you make it look like something a runway model would put on

Adam:(laughs) funny enough the last time you said something similar, this happened

He said placing both hands on his stomach. Lucifer felt his pants tighten at the very thought.

Lucifer: bad news, you might be late for your lunch because I just popped one

Adam was in fact late for his lunch date that day and had to change into a maternity shirt with loose fitting shorts.

Angel: I said twelve! What he can't keep it to himself?

Adam: Sorry! We were quick.

Cherri: If that was quick I'd hate to know what a long bang session is.

Adam: ...... 8 hours

Angel and Cherri: Damn!

Angel: It's a wonder you can fucking walk

Adam: Tell me about it

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask #mpreg

[blkdaddie]

Empregnas University: Code Gold

I shifted in my seat as Professor Roca droned on. As a second-year law student class, it's important to have good notes but my concentration is shot today. The baby has been sitting low in my pelvis for a week with no signs of labor. At least I can breathe a bit better but a 10 lb baby plus sitting for hours is murder on my back. I feel the now familiar urge to pee, and ease my heft to my feet. Prof. Roca doesn’t miss a beat of his lecture – with almost 40% of our student body pregnant at any time they’re pretty easygoing about bathroom trips during class. I take a few shuffling steps, knowing my waddle has become exaggerated with this bowling ball of a kid between my hips, when I feel a sudden wetness. I try to waddle faster mortified that I’ve wet myself, when a contraction seizes me and I double over with a grunt. “Holy shit, Derek’s finally having his kid!”. If I weren’t in so much pain I would laugh; I realize the wetness is at my rear – my waters have broken.

Prof. Roca finally pauses his speech on the intersection of artificial intelligence and ethics, turning his attention to me with a sigh. “I really thought we’d get through one semester without a labor starting in class. Damn nuisance, these kids.”  I don’t know if he’s referring to me or the baby, but I’m too panicked to care. This baby feels like a boulder between my hips and I sink to my knees aided by a classmate,  Anthony. I distractedly notice he has a slight belly, and he’s clearly freaking out, probably imagining his own labor.  I’m too breathless to reassure him.

Prof. Roca crosses to an old-school landline phone on the wall and I understand why it’s still there when he picks up the receiver. “Code Gold, Memorial Hall Room 242. And send janitorial, he’s leaking all over the place.”

The pressure is immense. I feel like I’m floating outside of my body as I watch my belly warp from the force of my muscles all moving the baby down.   “Derrick, just sit tight for a minute, health center is sending someone with a wheelchair. Now, where were we…”  Professor prepares to continue his lesson but I can’t bite back the pained cry that escapes my lips. I have an overwhelming need to push, and start scrambling for the waistband of my jeans. “Um, professor, I don’t think he has a minute!”  Anthony awkwardly kneels beside me and I feel cool air against my ass as I push my pants lower. A couple of classmates who have delivered before rush to my side, but most sit there gawking. We all know anal birth is normal and natural but seeing it live and in person is some wild shit.   James, who I know had twins last year, probes to check my dilation, and Andre, who has a toddler, starts talking to me softly.  “Bro, you gotta focus. Quit screaming and breathe. Da fuck is wrong with you, coming to class like this?”  He shakes his head but looks resolved when James signals something from over my shoulder. “Next contraction, fuckin’ push.”    My belly hangs low and heavy as I sit back on my haunches, looking for any relief, but it’s futile.  I’m terrified but my body takes over. One push. Then another. Unbearable burning. On the third push the baby’s head is out and I can feel it wiggling. The sensation is surreal but I don’t have time to ponder. I bear down again and the baby slides out into James’ hands. I feel a sudden physical emptiness but my heart is bursting when I hear a mewling, then a cry. My classmates help me lie back; I’m shivering as I come down from the adrenaline high, but my grasp on my wet squawking baby is confident and secure. Professor Roca gives up, slamming his laptop shut. “Forget it. Class dismissed. See you on Thursday.”

#mpreg story #pregnant man #mpreg #mpreg kink #mpregnancy #mpreg birth #mpreg belly #ai art #ball belly #mpreg labor #public birth #birth kink

[hannahssimblr]

I spend three hours wandering around the estate looking for Goose. I've checked every front garden, every hedge and flower bed and under every car, looked inside bins and up trees by the time I'm forced to contend with the fact that I haven't confronted the railroad tracks yet. I don't. I never pluck up the courage.

I can’t fathom it, being the one to find him there, sweet Goose with his little kitten paws and soft pewter fur. This thought that I hadn’t even considered until Michelle spat it at me is tormenting me now as I forlornly wander the evening streets, calling out the name that I’m not even sure he knows to answer to yet. 

I stumble upon Jen in a little park we used to drink in when we were fourteen. She’s been out looking too, evidently, but has had enough and is sitting on the ground gazing out over the last russet streaks of sunset over Dublin Bay. 

“Have you given up?” I ask her. Her eyes are clouded with sadness 

“I have a feeling he’s gone, Jude,” she says. I feel a lump forming in my throat. “He mightn’t be. He might come back, you know, cats are known to show up after being away for days, weeks, months even,” this is the sort of bargaining a person who refuses to accept the obvious truth gets too involved with, and the kind I’ve been doing with myself the whole afternoon, thinking that maybe if I imagine Goose’s return with enough conviction I will magic him home again, but Jen, for once does not match my idealism.

“He probably doesn’t know where his home is yet, he’s too new.”

“Yeah,” I shift some loose gravel with the toe of my shoe. “Jen, I feel so awful.”

“I know,” she says, and holds her arms out to me to pull me to the ground and wrap them around me, “It isn’t your fault, it could have happened to any of us.”

“I ruined the entire day with my stupidity.”

“Shh, stop,” gently fingers stroke my hair at the nape of my neck, “you just made a mistake, it’s human.”

“Did I ruin your date?”

She pauses, “It’s okay, I don’t think she realised it was a date, and it's probably for the best.” 

The wind rustles through the trees around the park, and I feel chilled with the knowledge that change is coming. The school year is ending soon and now the future lies unavoidably ahead of me, a path completely untrodden. 

“You’ll find someone else to take to the debs,” I tell Jen, peering at the side of her face as her short crop of chestnut hair is backlit by the sunset. “You should have been the first person to get a date anyway.”

She gives me a half smile, unconvinced, “there are like, four lesbians in our year including me.”

“Out lesbians,” I point out, “You never know.”

“When I go to college it will be better,” she says firmly, “school is just destined to be shit, romantically, I mean.”

“In all ways, I think.”

She just laughs. 

“This stuff is bullshit anyway.”

“What is? Love?”

I rub my arms where goosebumps are rising with the cold. I should have worn a jumper. “Yeah, you’re not missing out on much.”

A silence follows, one that feels deliberate, but I venture into it anyway, “Michelle and I had a bad fight earlier.”

“I heard.”

“Us shouting?”

“Mm.”

“Sorry.” I wipe my nose which is running from the cold with the back of my arm. “It was terrible, we both said awful things.”

She just circles her hand on my knee in a vague gesture of comfort.  

“Sometimes it feels like she’s trying to hurt me, you know what I mean? It’s like she has all of this bad stuff stored up that she wants to, like, unleash. It’s so vicious. It seems like she really wants to dig her nails in and leave a mark on me, and then I get so defensive, like, because talking it out doesn’t work, I have to shout, and I have to be horrible too so that she’ll even react to me.”

“We all say things we regret when we’re upset.”

“Yeah, but it’s so destructive. I come away from it all feeling like shit. Like, this isn't who I am, I’m not a person who fights. At least I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be up there saying these things to her, but I can’t stand there and let her say them to me either.”

“Yeah.”

“And I worry a lot about what things are going to look like after this year is over, like, with college and stuff,” even mentioning it makes my stomach feel tight, “like, um, how she wants us to live together and all.”

“And you’re nervous about that?”

I sigh, “Well, I don’t know, it makes sense to do it, right? She thought we could get a little place near NCAD, and we’ve been looking at houses online, and… I don’t know. The idea of being around her all of the time, like, twenty-four-seven, sharing a bed, eating every meal together, walking to college, it makes me feel claustrophobic, and then I worry that if I feel that way now, how am I going to feel when I’m actually doing it? Surely it’s not supposed to feel so terrible, right?” I prompt her when she doesn’t respond, “Jen? What do you think?”

She pauses for a long moment, toying with the aglets on the end of her boot laces. “I think that you’re asking me for an opinion I’m not prepared to give you.”

“...right.”

“We agreed, I agreed with you both that I’d never talk to one about the other. It’s not fair on me and I don’t want to feel stuck in the middle of it.”

“But-”

“You’re both nice people and I love you both so much, but when you are together you are absolutely horrible. That’s all I want to say.”

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't, I just sit in bad feelings and wish for the millionth time that my brain was normal enough to make good choices on its own and not beg them from other people.

I sniff again, though this time I’m not sure if it’s just because of the cold. “So, um, the acceptance deadline for those other colleges is coming up.” 

“The foreign ones?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still going to turn them down?”

“I promised Michelle that I would.” 

Jen’s shoulders slump, all of her does, like someone has let the air out of her, but she just says, “Alright.”

I feel the teeth of my genuine desperation for her opinion, her approval gnawing at me. I just want the sage words of advice she’s withholding from me, “Is it a mistake? Like, if I reject their offers? Would that be the stupidest thing I ever did?”

“I don’t know.”

“I worked hard, you know? I really put everything I had into those applications, I gave them the best that I had and they loved it, they said really nice things about me in the letters, and sometimes, like, I think I’ll die, or something, if I don’t leave Dublin. But then there’s Michelle,” I fist the front of my hair in my hand, “and the things at home, and I don’t know what the right thing is, whether it’s hurting myself or hurting everyone else…”

“Jude,” Jen suddenly grabs hold of my face and forces me to look into her eyes, “you have to do what feels right, okay? I’m not going to tell you what to do. Like, just… you need to fucking search within or whatever.”

“Uh huh. What does that entail?” 

“I dunno!” She lets me go and stands up, brushing dirt from the back of her jeans, “C’mon, it’s cold, we should go home.”

“Uh, I was kind of hoping you’d be able to solve me, actually.”

“No, this time you can solve yourself. C’mon, up!” She presents her hand to me and I let her haul me onto my feet. 

“Ugh, Jen,” I say, feeling myself sinking back into a melancholy hole again, but she links my arms and brusquely walks me toward the playground gates with all the pep of a middle aged Sunday morning power walker. “You know what? I think we could both do with something nice to make us feel better.”

“What do you mean ‘something nice’?

“Like, I dunno, an ice cream or something.”

“What time is it? It must be after nine.”

“Yeah, so? I was thinking of that place with all the weird flavours, do you remember that?”

“Yeah, but it’s all the way in town. Effort.”

“You can drive, can’t you?”

“You want me to drive? Jen I hate driving.”

“I think you’ll do it for me.”

“Why’d you think that?”

She eyes me sideways, “After what you put me through today, hm?”

“That's manipulation.”

“No, it's payback.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the car.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Come on, before I change my mind.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #love the golden hour lighting here i gotta say #sunblind u did it again #san sequoia is also just gorge #even tho it's not my fave world it's got that perfect leafy suburban vibe i want #tw: pet loss #tw: pet death #tw: violence mention

[reidsdaisies]

Hello! Good timezone!

Could I send in a request for Elle Greenaway with a fem!reader who is a dog trainer and has her own dogs. She introduces her rescue pup who’s known for being super scared and sometimes reactive to Elle and the pup immediately loves her!

𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞

༉‧´ˎ˗ paring; elle greenaway x fem!dogtrainer!reader ༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; mention of the reader knowing Spanish, it says fem!reader as asked for in the request, but it can be read as gender neutral too! ༉‧´ˎ˗ a/n; my first elle request!! this is such a cute idea, thanks for sending it in! i hope you like it and it’s not too bad <3 ༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.7k

cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox

Shortly after Elle had become an official member of the team, she got to know Morgan better, and through him met you. You were his cousin who was new to the area, and he insisted that she should get to know you. The two of you shared similar interests and traits in common, such as your drive, you both enjoyed cooking, and spoke Spanish among other similarities. You didn’t work for the government like your cousin, but instead were in a career you were particularly passionate about, dog training.

You were on a call with Elle one night, your cell pressed between your shoulder and ear as you were cutting up some vegetables to put in your meal. She wasn’t for it at first – talking on the phone for a long period of time – but you two hit it off right off the bat, leading you to becoming fast friends, and so she exempted you. You needed someone to talk in your ear as you cooked your lunch so you didn’t feel so alone, and she had some free time to do so, which was atypical for someone with a busy schedule like her.

Though your original intent was for her to talk to you and keep you company, you ended up being the one dominating the conversation. It was just that you had so much to say. After a while of going back and forth over a recollection of your outing a few days prior, you eventually reached the topic of your work again, namely the new pup you’ve rescued. It had been a recurring conversation between you for over a week, and she was eager to learn more about him.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty shy pup,” you sighed, setting the knife down. You leaned against the counter, phone clutched in your hand. “No, I’m not letting you toughen him up, I don’t even know what that means!” You laughed at her joking tone, shaking your head as you moved to put the veggies in the pot you have simmering on the stove.

“You’re sure I can’t be of help? I’ve seriously got nothing better to do.” She was serious, the boredom was killing her.

“Well, I suppose you could try? I can send you my address. He’s a real sweetheart, he’s just a bit timid. I’m working on it,” you say with humor, already pulling up the messaging app.

…

She arrived not an hour later, donning a smug smile on her face.

“Where the little man at, hm?”

She was clearly imitating Morgan - poorly at that. You just huffed, rolling your eyes playfully, opening the door wider to let her in.

“He’s been napping.” You responded, leading her through your apartment to the living room where your rescue lay, napping peacefully in his dog bed. It wasn’t actually his, instead it was one he was now sharing with your other dog.

Elle knelt down slowly, careful as she brushed back the fur from his eyes. She pouted as she caught a glimpse of his resting face, too cute. He opened his eyes, apparently being awoken by the petting. Usually he was nervous under one’s gaze, but this time he seemed relaxed. He made little groaning noises, signaling he quite liked the affection. You giggled, finding him utterly adorable, moving your hand down to lightly scratch his ear.

Bowie, the dog, eventually decided he was ready to get up and see the face of the woman who woke him, shaking himself as he got up. He turned to face her, before jumping into her welcoming arms, accepting each little ruffle she gave to his fur.

It’s like a flip switched in Bowie’s brain when around Elle. You weren’t sure why, but you were ecstatic to see him coming out of his shell.

“What are you, the dog whisperer? I’ve had him at home for a whole week and he hasn’t acted this joyous in that whole time!” You smiled, laughing as you watched the dog start licking at Elle’s face. This, she wasn’t the biggest fan off, but she can’t not admit that it’s a sweet gesture coming from this dog.

When he was done with her, he waddled over to you, beginning to lick your cheek, almost like it’s payback for laughing at Elle.

“Hah, problem fixed!” She chuckled, pointing at you as wiped drool off your face, the eager pup still jumping all over you.

“There was no problem fixed, I just think he loves you. I’m getting his slobbery seconds.”

#reidsdaisies #reidsdaisies elle <3 #elle greenaway #elle greenaway fanfic #elle greenaway fanfiction #elle greenaway fluff #elle greenaway x reader #elle greenaway x fem!reader #elle greenaway x female reader #elle greenaway blurb #elle greenaway imagine #elle greenaway scenario #elle greenaway oneshot #elle greenaway criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

[morganski-19]

The One with Taking Risks

Ten Years Ago

Jonathan turns the key to his freshman dorm room, a burst of hot air hitting him in the face as he does. The shitty, non airconditioned dorm already making him miserable. He struggles through the doorway, a box pressed against his side. Finding his roommate unpacking on the other side of the room.

“Dude,” his voice echoes against the walls. Hair in a messy braid down his back. “Welcome home.”

Argyle, his randomly assigned roommate, pulls him into a bear hug. Jonathan stiffening, not returning the gesture. They’ve only talked a few times, he wasn’t expecting a hug so early.

Argyle realizes this, pulling back. “Sorry, my sisters say that I come on pretty strong when I shouldn’t. Something I’m working on.”

Jonathan places the box on the vinyl covered mattress. “It’s fine.”

“Do you need any help?” Argyle asks awkwardly behind him. “My folks already helped me get all my stuff in the room, so I don’t mind lending a hand.”

“Thanks, but I’m good. My mom and stepdad are coming up soon with more of my things. They’re just finding parking.”

Argyle nods. “Cool. I’ll, uh, just be over on my side of the room then. Let me know if you want to rearrange the layout or anything. I’m not particular about anything.”

From their first interaction, Jonathan wouldn’t have guessed that his roommate would soon become the best friend he’s ever had.

It wasn’t until months later that he really started to open up to Argyle. Until the homesickness really hit him hard and Will had to spend a few nights in the hospital again. Being so far from home, he couldn’t be there for him. Felt like he failed.

Argyle had come back into the room after his class. Jonathan rubbing his eyes, trying to hide the fact he was crying. Pulling the blanket up under his chin, faking sleep.

For a while, Argyle doesn’t say anything. He just goes to his side of the room and puts in his earbuds in. Doing some homework and giving Jonathan space.

When Will calls him later, Jonathan can’t hide how he’s feeling anymore. As soon as the phone call hangs up, he starts to break down again.

His phone pings.

Argyle: I’m here if you want to talk about it, or I can leave the room to give you some space

There’s something about kindness from a sort of stranger that makes tears flow harder. He types out a reply.

Argyle gets up from his bed and walks over to the door. Shutting it gently behind him, giving Jonathan the space he asked for. When the tears dry up, Jonathan lets Argyle know he can come back. Wiping his cheeks, calmed down.

“Thank you,” he says softly when the door shuts behind him. “I appreciate you doing that.”

Argyle shrugs, like this was nothing. “Life is tough when you move away from home. I should know, my home is halfway across the country. Do you want a hug or are we not at that level yet?”

“A hug would be kind of nice.”

Argyle silently asks to sit on Jonathan’s bed. He nods in conformation, accepting Argyle’s open arms. Pulling back after a few seconds.

“I’m not going to force you to talk about it or anything, but I’m here if you want to.”

“My, uh.” Jonathan struggles to find the words. Argyle waits for him, making Jonathan feel like he can tell him anything. “That call was from my brother, he’s in the hospital right now.”

“Shit,” Argyle says bluntly. “Is he ok?”

Jonathan nods. “Yeah. It’s just a bad flare up. He went through a really bad accident when he was in middle school, has chronic pain because of it. Other lingering health issues. But he’s fine. Just wish I was there, you know.”

“Yeah. It sucks being away from family. Especially when something’s going on.”

“It does. You said you were from California, right?” Jonathan changes the subject. “What’s it like out there, I’ve never been.”

Argyle lights up as soon as Jonathan asks. “Oh, it’s great dude.” He goes on a long tangent about his hometown, his family. Being close enough to the ocean for day trips but not directly close to it at all. Anything and everything.

They talk for hours after that. The conversation finding itself during the slower breaks. Just sharing their lives. Complaining about classes. Learning about each other in ways not many people ever tried.

That day, they both made a friend.

Present Day

Argyle checks his phone for the millionth time. Pressing it down in frustration against the couch when the notification screen continues to be blank. Jonathan hasn’t messaged him back yet. Hasn’t texted him since he left to visit home a week ago.

It’s fine, he tells himself. He’s just busy at home. Spending time with family.

Except it isn’t. They haven’t not talked this long since the awkward first weeks of college. When they hadn’t found the right rhythm yet. This was unlike them. Unlike Jonathan.

Argyle busies himself, trying to keep his mind off it. Stop him from sending another text asking if Jonathan’s ok. He cleans, unmakes and remakes his bed. Cooks and does the dishes. Until the door opens and Jonathan’s standing in front of him, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he pants. Like he just ran here from the train.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until Wednesday.” Argyle sets down the dish he was drying. Wiping the excess water from his hands.

Jonathan tries to catch his breath. “I wasn’t. Came back early.” He set the duffel bag on the ground, stepping closer to Argyle.

“Something happen?” Argyle’s trying to read Jonathan’s actions, but he’s never seen him act quite like this before.

“I love you,” he blurts out.

Argyle doesn’t believe him. “Yeah, dude. Love you too.”

Jonathan shakes his head, stepping closer to Argyle again. “No, not like that. Well, yes like that but not all like that. I’m in love with you.”

“What,” Argyle exhales in disbelief.

Jonathan brushes the hair out of his face. Hand resting on the back of his neck. “I know it’s random and probably doesn’t make a lot of sense. But when I was home, seeing Will with Mike together and hearing these constant comments from my mom. How great it is that two best friends fell in love. And then asking me about you. How you were doing and how we were doing. Like we were some unit. Together. It just hit me.”

He continues, starting to pace. “I knew I liked you, for a long time now, but I didn’t realize how much. Always told myself that I wasn’t going to say anything because this friendship meant the world to me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. Then Will said something to me, and it made me want to just say fuck it. So, I took the next train and now I’m here.”

Argyle is speechless. Trying to keep up with Jonathan’s rambling while also trying to calm the beating of his own heart.

He never thought that this would happen.

Jonathan stops pacing, fear hitting his face. Everything that he just said coming back to him in slow motion. The frantic energy fades, the tension setting in.

“Are you going to say anything?” Jonathan stares at Argyle.

Argyle barrels towards Jonathan, pulling him into the tightest hug of his life. A happy smile forming as Jonathan hugs him back. Both of them too afraid to let go.

“I love you, too,” Argyle whispers after a long silence. “I have for so long.” He pulls back from the hug, grazing his thumb against Jonathan’s cheek. Reveling in the fact that he can. “I was just so scared. I couldn’t lose you, not because of this.”

Jonathan presses their foreheads together. “You didn’t.” He uses both his hands to brace Argyle’s face, bringing their lips together.

Argyle did the exact opposite of losing him.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts

#jargyle #no longer pre relationship for these guys #they figured their shit out #well sort of #morgan's friends au #stranger things #stranger things au #friends au #stranger things fanfic #modern au #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #getting together #love confessions #no upside down au

[sammyche]

rosquez fic: bikefuckers

a little thing i had in my head for a while after learning about the bike Vale keeps in his room.

« Don’t move », a voice cutting through the silence. He is answered by a whimper and a small Please. 

It had probably been more than 30 minutes of this game. Stay in position. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t come. The last order being the hardest to follow. In other circumstances keeping that position would have been so easy. I mean it was like second nature. He had done it more than a thousand times, since he was just a child. He knew how to stay on a bike. It was second nature to him. But usually he wasn’t naked and with a goddamn vibrator inside him.

It had started with just an idea. « Why not try it on the bike, I’ve seen you look at it many times. » Vale had said. And of course he looked at it. He had it on the walls of his bedroom when he was a child. And now that bike had seen him do things that still, to this day, made him blush. Of course Marc had said yes. Like he could ever say no to Vale. He was absolutely powerless in front of that man. He had already defiled his own morals many times for him.

The little game was easy enough. They had kissed as soon as they entered the room. Vale had undressed Marc with hurry, that’s where you could see through the nonchalant facade. He wasn’t the only one who needed it. Bad. The Italian had pushed Marc on the bed. Covering his body with his own, still dressed. Marc was already so close to coming. They made out for a few minutes. God he could never get enough of this. Vale had kissed his body, making his way slowly from his sensitive neck, taking a long detour by his nipples, to the plane of his stomach then down. Marc had been writing, biting his lower lip, sweat starting to form on his hairline. Vale knew how to play his body. 

With a small peck on the lips, the Italian had gotten up to go search for the lube. He had come back with a smirk on his face and in this right hand a bright yellow toy. He had laughed when he had bought it a few months ago. « My colors in you » he had said.

« Let’s try this to warm you up a bit. I know you like it ». He did. Valentino had then prepped him, thoroughly. Taking his time at taking him apart. One finger after another. Watching his face intently, trying to gauge a reaction. The spaniard was blushing under the attention. Valentino’s face so close to his own, breathing him in. Their noses bumping, their mouths brushing. It felt so intimate that even after all these years he still felt embarrassed. Feeling so vulnerable. 

He felt the toy inserted in him, centimeters by centimeters. His thighs trembling until he got to the hilt. Taking a deep breath in, trying so hard not to come. « Good boy », Vale whispered against his cheek. He then took him by the hand, lifting him up then guided him in front of his bike. Like who even has a bike in his bedroom. Then the game had started.

He had to stay on the bike, not come of course until Vale was fed up of seeing him grind against the leather of the seat. Which honestly could take maybe hours by the look of it. The man was sat on the bed, back against his pillows, still mostly dressed, slowly touching himself. Marc didn’t know what he was watching, him or the bike. Or maybe both, that freak. 

He had tried everything to appeal to him. Moaning his name, pleading, giving him a show, bouncing slowly on the vibrator, but it had only made it more difficult. Right now he was just a mess, tears streaming down his face, sweaty hair stuck on his forehead. He had wet the entire leather seat, it was probably gonna be a bitch to clean up but it was truly the least of his problem right now. He knew Vale had a thing for edging him to insanity but this was torture. More than he could handle. He was going to come soon, he knew it. Nothing he could do about it. His hands were starting to slip on the handles. His bent legs were cramping, thighs clenching the bike. « Vale, I’m….I’m gonna come……I can’t ». He closed his eyes. His moans starting to get louder and louder. The vibration inside him had not changed since they started. A medium thrum running through his body. But after that long he could barely handle it. The deepest part of him trembling under the constant assault. 

Then a cold hand landed on his lower back, just above his ass, where sweat had started to pool. Maybe the hand wasn’t that cold, his own body was just a furnace at this point. The hand glided slowly along his back to make his way to his neck, then grabbed his hair in a fist. Vale closing the distance between their faces. « Are you now….? » he said with amusement in his voice. « But I was enjoying myself ». He took a pause. Looking Marc in the eyes. He tilted his head to the side, looking like he was thinking about it. Like Marc coming was his choice and not like something that was inevitably going to happen. « You have behaved well for me. So I guess you earned it. ». Suddenly Vale’s other hand took his penis firmly, starting to stroke it. Marc had barely time to gasp before his body started to quiver. His moans faltering, interrupted by his heavy breathing. « Vale », he wailed. He felt lips on his and it’s all it took for him to explode. He blacked out for a second. Stars dancing in front of his eyes, his ears ringing. 

When he came back to him he was on the bed, cleaned and empty. Vale had his arms around him, kissing his temple gently, shushing him. « You did so good for me » he pressed against the crown of his head, « So good ».

#my attempt to write smut #motogp #marc marquez #valentino rossi #rosquez #fic

[joanyio]

not trying to be different but i genuinely loved ep 13, especially now that i rewatched it few hours after tuning in to the broadcast live. the twist was perfect and the teaser for ep 14 felt reassuring that it just gets better from here on out. i see a random netizen complain because it hurts them? i giggle every time, sorry i love this kind of pain and misery in such loveable characters in my silly little kdramas.

or hell maybe im just biased rn because this is the first ongoing kdrama brainrot ive had in so long that i haven’t dropped midway, can’t seem to be too critical as i just want to enjoy this precious ride, don’t feel like i’m wasting my time waiting every week for a new episode, can’t help but be endlessly fond of the characters, and don’t skip any scenes at all because i can’t when i tune into the broadcast live. i even rewatch the episodes multiple times (my watch logs in tvtime are embarrassing rn) which is something ive never done for an ongoing drama ever in my being a fan for 10+ years to avoid getting bored — yet i still drop like 85% of dramas i tried watching ongoing before. i guess there’s also the fact that my life has revolved around this brainrot since it started, making me look forward to mondays without feeling like shit to live my life at all…

give me at least a few months or years maybe i can give a proper criticism on this show but for now it’s everything to me i’ll keep giving flowers and tens to hyeyoon and sol and everything and everyone involved into making this drama the current light of my life

god i am so dramatic and it’s all because i’ve just been nonstop scrolling through my tl watching everyone react and descend to madness and it’s been like what 6 hours since the broadcast ended i still can’t fucking sleep my emotions are still over the place my head hurts so bad

#lovely runner #lovely runner episode 13 #kdrama #rant

[kinopio-writes]

Hello! I really like the way you write ;) can I see the OCD reader's girlfriend? (she is very paranoid, constantly checking everything, checking the house for hidden cameras, checking things and sometimes throwing tantrums because she thinks she is being watched) characters: Lucifer, Adam

A/N: Thank you. I did a bit of research about OCD, so hopefully I’m not appearing ignorant or anything. I know everyone’s experiences are different, but do tell me if I’m inaccurate.

Also, I know you only specified paranoia, but I added a couple of other things, too. I hope that’s okay. This somehow could all be read platonically.

Warnings: Adam being Adam (he’ll be quite insensitive here and possibly triggering)

———

Lucifer, and Adam w/ a Reader who has OCD

Lucifer

• I don’t think Lucifer would even know that the word mental health exists

• wait, no, scratch that—he explicitly said he has depression

• actually, y’know what, maybe he heard the term depression through Lilith or something

• because there is just no way he knows what mental health is

• he’s been a hermit ever since the beginning of humanity (after he got banished)—how would he know?

• but, uh, anyway, back to the headcanons—

• he doesn’t know you specifically have OCD

• he just thinks what you’re doing is pretty normal since he’s also neurodivergent himself, so he relates to some of the things you think or do

• he’s very supportive

• he healthily alleviates your worries

• he never pushes them away or make it seem like you’re overreacting

• but, uh, constantly reassuring you would very much drain him

• Lucifer is also a man who requires many reassurance

• one of many habits you picked up is constantly checking up on the guy since you know he also has issues himself

• it gets worse if Lucifer’s depression takes a massive decline

• you’re constantly knocking at his office door, calling out his name to make sure he didn’t…

• uh, Lucifer usually doesn’t have the energy to respond during those times, so your worry doubles further

• this is unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence

• moving on, you two often try to get the other to come back to bed (you both struggle with sleeping)

• be it because of your compulsive behaviors or him hyper-fixating on finishing his rubber duck projects that you both lose track of time

• so what happens if it happens to the both of you at the same time?

• uh, it’s just not good

• you two will regret it the next morning

• you two are basically barely functioning together, but are trying to be better for each other

• and for Charlie, too

———

Adam

• I don’t think Adam would notice anything at first

• but if you two see each other quite often (maybe living together), he would pick up on some of your quirks

• he would hate how particular you are about many things

• like, what do you mean it needs to be like this? What do you mean this needs to be exactly like that? And what do you mean that has to be like this? Why can’t it just be the way it already is?

• your anxiousness also irks him

• like, why are you like this? You live in Heaven, for fuck’s sake! Why are you so worried?

• he, uh, “reassures” your paranoia not very healthily

• “Oh, that? Pshh, you’re fineee.” “Don’t worry ’bout it.” “Stop being so paranoid.” “Jeez, you’re overreacting.”

• it’s even worse if you’re bothered with things such as messes since Adam definitely does not have cleanliness as a trait

• his home is usually cluttered unless he uses his powers or gets someone to do it for him

• if you have trouble with time management, don’t worry about accidentally waking Adam up late at night ’cause he has a shitty sleep schedule

• you also don’t have to worry about that since he’s probably a heavy sleeper

• actually, he probably either sleeps in until the afternoon or takes afternoon naps after a sleepless night

• those times when he’s awake at ungodly hours are when he notices your habits

• if you don’t want any of the behavior I’ve mentioned, please educate him because he will most definitely not do it himself

• don’t be afraid to speak your mind because he obviously can’t read it

• but he won’t exactly make things easier for you

• unless it’s convenient for him

• he’ll just tone himself down a bit (his words, I mean)

• but he’ll slip up from time to time because he’s just very used to not being mindful of the things he says

• overall, just know that he’ll get annoyed and frustrated with you at times

• ...uh, yeah

• maybe you just shouldn’t be around him

#hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam #kinopiowrites

[jenthebug]

Husband is off work today, taking FMLA because he’s so stressed out about my surgery.

He’s worried something is going to go wrong.

I’m working my ass off because I’m so stressed out about my surgery.

I know that something going wrong is a possibility, but I’m more worried about things going as planned. No matter what, it’s gonna suck. I will be in pain, uncomfortable, a burden, depressed (post-anesthesia does that), and anxious (pain does that).

I just packed up six servings of chicken tortilla soup for the freezer though, that’s pretty cool. Less work for the guys. Obviously less work for me because I’m not doing shit after surgery! 😅

I worry that they won’t keep up on the house. I’ve been burned before (not by them). So I’m cleaning as well as I can this week, all they’ll have to do is my usual “pick up and wipe down” of each room that only takes like 20 minutes.

If something goes wrong, I’ll be in the hospital, probably unconscious. Possibly dead. Then I really wouldn’t care lol. But if everything goes right, it’s up to me to recover as well as I can so I can…do it all over again for the reconstruction.

(Read more for more graphic worries, or don’t. My Read Mores are always optional.)

There’s also the visceral ick and body horror of what exactly is going to happen. Dr. Oncology Surgeon is going to cut my breasts off. Like carving a turkey.

Dr. Plastics is going to stick plastic expanders under the skin, then fill them with saline every two weeks to stretch my skin so it can hold fat from my belly to make two new pseudo-breasts. Imagining that and the reconstruction too hard makes me woozy.

They’re also taking my port, which most cancer patients are happy about because it means they’re “done” with cancer, but I’m grieving. My port saves me so much time and pain. Trying to hit these veins is like trying to thread a needle with twine. I usually get stuck 2-3 times for lab work where they can use a butterfly needle, 4-5 times for an actual IV start. It sucks and it hurts.

It is downright rude that I can’t have weed right now. Or alcohol, I’d settle for getting roaring drunk right now.

I’m gonna have drains coming from my wounds. *GROSS* I’m nervous about taking care of them.

Anyway, I think I need to watch Document 72 Hours now.

#insertcaffeine breast surgery #anxiety