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y3sterdaysproblem · 2 days ago

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smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter one

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 2.4k

a/n: first series! it won’t be super long, but I hope you enjoy. send requests for more fics!

“Matt, you can’t back out now!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at your best friend where he lays on his bed, setting his phone down to look up at you.

“I’m sorry, love, something came up and I can’t make it,” he apologizes, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t get out of it.”

You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. You had a family wedding to attend and already RSVP’d with a plus one, which was supposed to be your best friend Matt, who had lovingly agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend for the night. Your family was super invasive about you getting a boyfriend, and you wanted to avoid all of the comments and questions by just pretending to have a boyfriend for one night at the wedding, but your plan was falling apart.

“What am I supposed to do? I already told everyone I was coming with somebody, they’re gonna know I was lying if I show up by myself,” you tell him, trying to rack your brain for any ideas.

“You could bring Nick,” Matt suggests, picking his phone back up and going back to scrolling.

You scoff. “Yeah right, like Nick could pretend to be straight for an entire night. He’d be caught in less than an hour.” You shake your head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to Matt. “I’m gonna have to go on, like, Bumble or something and find some random to go with me.”

Matt looks up at you over his phone, waiting for you to lock eyes with him before he starts to speak. “I mean… I know one other guy you could ask.”

You tilt your head, excited to hear the suggestion, before you realize who he’s talking about and your eyes widen, head shaking rapidly. “Absolutely not,” you put your hands up, pointer fingers crossed over in an X. “I am not asking Chris, no way.”

Matt raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I told you I knew someone, I didn’t say you’d like what I said.”

You roll your eyes. “He would never say yes to me anyway, even if I did want to ask him.”

Matt shrugs. “Maybe. You could always bribe him, he loves a good bribe.”

You think about it for another moment, knowing it would be easier to get Chris to do it than it would to find some random guy to go to a wedding as a first date, but the thought of spending an entire night next to Chris made your skin crawl.

The two of you had never really gotten along, even with you being around as much as you were, you guys never clicked, in fact it was the complete opposite, always insulting each other any chance you got, ignoring each other, and always avoiding being in the same room by yourself, even if only for a few moments.

“I mean… I could try but I really can’t promise I won’t kill your brother, Matt,” you half joke, but not really. “Might turn you into a twin.”

“That’s fucked,” Matt laughs, using his foot to kick you lightly. “I‘ll still be a triplet, even if you kill him. I’ll just be a triplet with severe depression and no will no live.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you tell him through a laugh. “Your life would be so much quieter, wouldn’t that be nice? You’d secretly thank me for killing him.”

Matt shakes his head at you with a smile, though his eyes tell you he thinks you’re crazy, before looking back down at his phone.

“Killing who?” A voice sounds from the doorway and you look up to see the man of the hour staring back at you, a disinterested look on his face.

“You,” you smile sweetly up at Chris.

“That’s nice,” he says, flashing you a fake, tight lipped smile before turning to his brother. “Hey, can you take me to go get food?”

Matt groans and throws his head back, closing his eyes. “But I’m so comfortable,” he whines.

You take a deep breath and consider your options. Chris, who you hate but have known for years, or a random guy who might be a serial killer? You’d definitely be safer with Chris, but the thought of having to be near him without his brothers for an entire night seemed like hell. Especially having to act like you were pleased to be in his presence.

“I’ll take you,” you speak before you can stop yourself.

Both Matt and Chris look at you with shocked expressions, Chris having a bit of disgust in his eyes.

“I’d rather starve, thanks,” Chris replies. “Matt, c’mon seriously, can you take me?” He asks again.

“Chris,” you say in a stern voice, standing up from the bed and walking towards him. “Let me take you. I need to talk to you.”

Chris watches you walk past him through the doorway and then looks back at Matt, shooting him a confused look, to which his brother just shrugs, before he leaves to follow you, finding you by the front door slipping your crocs on.

“The fuck is this about?” He asks, trotting down the stairs to meet you by the front door. “You in love with me or some shit?”

You look up at him with an unamused expression. “You wish I was in love with you.” You huff. “I told you, I gotta talk to you.”

You open the front door and head outside towards your car, opening the drivers side door. You look behind you and see Chris standing in the doorway, staring after you. “I’ll buy your food,” you tell him, and he immediately shuts the door behind him and walks up to your car. “You should’ve led with that!” He says.

You both get in your car and you start driving. “Where do you want to go?” You ask him, turning your head to see him on his phone. “Chris,” you push, reaching out to smack his phone out of his hand, causing it to land on the floor.

“What the fuck, dude. Unnecessary.” Chris huffs, reaching down to grab his phone, but he tucked it between his legs instead of going back on it. “I don’t know, McDonald’s?”

You groan. “You always get McDonald’s. Can’t we get like Popeyes or something?”

Chris looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Well I didn’t know you were gonna eat, too, jesus. Sure, Popeyes is fine.” He goes for his phone again, but you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him.

“Wait,” you start. “I actually do need to talk to you.”

Chris sighs and puts his phone away in his pocket completely, looking over at you. “Okay, spit it out then.”

You flash a glare at him quickly before returning your eyes to the road. “So… Matt was going to be my plus one for a wedding I’m going to, but he can’t go anymore because something came up, and I can’t ask Nick because he’s gay and that just won’t work, and so that just leaves you.” You tell him nervously.

“So what if he’s gay, your family homophobic or something?” Chris asks, annoyance lacing his voice.

You sigh and pull into the Popeyes parking lot, pulling into a spot and throwing the car into park before you turn your body to face Chris. “No, they’re not homophobic. It’s just… I kind of told them I was bringing a boyfriend.”

Chris stares at you for a moment before laughing, completely unserious. “You? A boyfriend? That’s hilarious. I can’t believe you’re lying to your family about having a boyfriend.”

You don’t laugh though, you just drop your eyes down to your lap, knowing that this was exactly how the conversation would go.

“Wait a minute, that means you want me to pretend I’m your boyfriend? Fuck no, I’d rather be single for the rest of my life. Forget it, dude, you’re shit outta luck with me.” Chris shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

You nod and start backing out of the spot, heading towards the drive-thru. “Yeah I figured that was how you’d respond,” you murmur.

You guys order your food, and you still pay for it, staying true to your word, before heading home. It was a quick but quiet ride back, both of you getting out of the car without a word, not even a ‘thank you’ shot your way. You take your shoes off and head back up to Matt’s room, seeing him in the same position you left him in, only now he was watching a movie, and you got in his bed to join him with your food.

“How’d it go?” He asked, reaching out to steal one of your fries.

“Exactly how I expected it to go. He laughed in my face and said he’d rather be single for the rest of his life than pretend to be my boyfriend,” you tell Matt, looking down at him from where you sat.

Matt smiles up at you, reaching out to pat your leg. “Sorry, kid. You tried.”

You nod and look up at the tv screen, starting to eat your dinner.

The next day, you’re sitting on your couch panting your toes and watching your favorite comfort show when you hear the doorbell ring, startling you as you weren’t expecting anybody over today. You look down at your toes and swear under your breath, seeing that you smeared polish along your skin.

You set down the polish on the table and stand up, walking to your door and pulling it open, jaw dropping in shock when you come face to face with Chris, the last person you expected to show up at your door unannounced. You almost wanted to rub your eyes in case you were mistaking him for another triplet, but you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you.

“Chris?” You question. “How did you get here?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I ubered?” He says like it’s obvious. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You take a step back and let him into your house, shutting the door behind him. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say, sitting back down on your couch. He follows and sits at the opposite end, looking over at you.

He ignores your question, watching you as you continue to do your toes, cleaning up the mess you made. “Why not just get your toes done?” He asks.

You look at him with an annoyed expression. “Costs money? Why spend money when I can sit around and do it myself?” You go back to painting your toes. “Why are you here?”

Chris shrugs. “Been thinking about what you said yesterday, about the wedding.”

You stop what you’re doing and put the polish back down, turning your attention on Chris completely. “Did you change your mind?” You ask him.

He sighs and licks his lips before speaking. “Consider it my charity for the year,” he smiles, tilting his head at you. “But I need a small favor from you.”

“A favor in return isn’t charity, Chris, it’s like… eye for an eye or whatever.” You look at him deadpan. Of course he’d want something in return, he could never do something for you out of the goodness of his heart.

“Whatever, dude, you want my help or not?” Chris asks. “If not I’ll just leave, doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You huff and give in. “Fine. What’s the favor?” You ask him.

He pulls out his phone, scooting a bit closer to you on the couch. “There’s this girl that will not stop hitting me up and she’s driving me crazy. I told her I’m not interested, I’ve ignored her messages, I even blocked her on snap to see if she’d get the hint but she still texts me every day.” He shows you all of the unanswered messages and your jaw drops.

“Holy shit, what does this girl see in you?” You laugh, reading how desperate she was for Chris.

“Funny,” Chris replies, unamused.

“What does this have to do with me?” You ask him, looking back up at his face.

“I think it’s only fair if I pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding, you pretend to be my girlfriend on social media. Only for a few weeks or until she stops messaging me. Plus, you’re way hotter than her. ” Chris tells you, and by the tone of his voice, he’s completely serious.

You feel heat rising up your neck and you try to get it under control before your cheeks turn red. “You think I’m hot?” You ask him, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Not the point,” he replies.

“So you tell me that you would rather be single for the rest of your life than pretend to be my boyfriend, and now you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?” You clarify, and he just nods, like it’s no big deal. “Pretending to be together at an event is one thing, but you want to take photos to look like a couple? That’s a little… intimate don’t you think?”

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a big boy, you’re a big girl. Don’t think you can handle a little physical touch without falling for me?” He smirks, leaning in closer to you.

You grimace and reach up to push his shoulder away. “Gross, dude. I could have sex with you and still not fall in love with you and your terrible personality.”

Chris gasps, fake shocked, throwing a hand to his chest. “I am a very good lover, why do you think this girl won’t stop texting me?”

Your eyes widen. “You had sex with her?!” You shriek. “Chris, no wonder she keeps blowing your shit up!”

Chris groans and throws his head back, leaning it on the back of the couch. “It was supposed to be a one time thing, I don’t know why she’s so hung up on me!”

You find yourself giggling a bit before you stop and clear your throat, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of making you laugh. You compose yourself and shake your head, clearly disappointed in the boy across from you. “Fine, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but no kissing! I draw the line at kissing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry, I don’t want to kiss you,” Chris cringes. “So… I guess we should start planning this?”

You nod and smile towards him, placing your hands in your lap as you guys start to figure out how to execute both individual plans.

a/n: this chapter is SUPER short but it’s kinda just to get a feel of the fic and how it’s gonna play out. I really hope you guys like this series im so nervous about it!!

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matt x reader #matt x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris x you #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris x reader #chris #my fics

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c0ffeejelly1 · 2 days ago

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No Nut November

Multiple character headcannons

Authors note: this is the only November post y’all r getting so hahahahahhaahah. I rushed this just today so say thank you. Bye bye. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: kinda suggestive but like y’all don’t do anything.

“You know what time of month it is, right baby?”

You asked your boyfriend, all while adjusting your makeup in mirror a cheeky smile on your face taking a quick glance at him sitting down on your bed watching you intensely.

“…it’s not our anniversary, is it?” He asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“What? No, I’m talking about it being November…y’know? No Nut November?”

He visibly shifts in his seat. He knew what you were going to ask him.

“you think you can last the month? Im willing to bet on it.”

The type to not even last a day

“Man that’s light work! I could easily last a month if I wanted to—"

He failed.

“Okay but it’s not my fault. Y-you decided to wear that out, not me!”

“You say it like I purposely did it to make you lose..”

“Because you did!”

He’s not accepting the fact that he lost on the day you challenged him.

Do you know how embarrassing that is?

Imagine how badly he’s gonna get teased by all his mates if they ever find out he couldn’t help but bust one on you!

“You better keep this between just us..”

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who started tearing off your clothes and tossing them aside?

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who pleaded for just a few minutes to enjoy you?

Should he really be saying that when—

“Why’re you looking at me like that!”

You were looking at him like he was an idiot. You really couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Was it really that bad he didn’t last that long?

I mean it’s sort of flattering to you, seeing that your boyfriend could get so turned on from just you wearing a nice outfit.

“Because you just sound stupid why can’t you admit you lost and call it a day?” You huff.

“Because it doesn’t count!”

He pouts, crossing his arms in annoyance, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he turns away from you on the bed where you both lay bare, slick with each other’s essences from your prior…activities.

“And it’s stupid. This whole no nut November nonsense is stupid! I mean who would even come up with that kind of torture? why would someone want to restrict themselves from such a bliss that-"

You spend the rest of that evening listening to the poor guy complaining about how November is a stupid month.

Characters: REIGEN, Tenegn, Eren, Reiner, Hinata, Oikawa, BOKUTO, MAMMON, Leviathan, ASMODEUS, ITTO, kaeya, RAFAYEL (any character you like)

The type to last a week

“You sure you wanna bet on that? Y’know before we started dating I wasn’t the kind of guy who needed Intimacy in their life…"

He totally regrets saying those things because now they’re just gnawing at him.

This is all your fault, you hear him?

You- you did something to him okay?

Never in his life has he felt so…so…

Vulnerable?

Jesus, this was suppose to be a walk in the park so why do you suddenly look so...sexy?

You were just watching TV, but the way you curled up on the couch made your thighs press together in a way that was hard to ignore.

And that shirt of yours?

It was barely hanging on your shoulder, giving him a peek at your bra strap, while your hand rested on your stomach, revealing just enough skin.

Damn, even the way you bit your lips without realizing it was driving him wild—he couldn’t handle a whole month of this!

He was so caught up in you that he didn’t even notice how his body was inching closer.

It wasn’t until you turned to him, your noses almost touching, that he realized it.

Did you eyes always look so beautiful?

And your lips…they never looked this soft before.

“..you’re so gorgeous baby, is this some kind of punishment?..”

He gently cups your cheek, his lips almost brushing against yours when suddenly—

“What are you doing?”

This snaps him out of his trance before a deep blush spread across his face.

“I-I..I dunno? You just- well I thought…”

Yeah he sure as hell was thinking.

Thinking of all the ways he could have you!

He lets out a small whine, his brows knitting together in frustration.

“Can we just…not do this challenge anymore…please?”

I mean if he’s talking to you like that, who are you to say no?

Besides you could always just…edge him a lil right?

Characters: REIGEN (again), SERIZAWA, Rengoku, Armin, Jean, BOKUTO (again), CHOSO, Beelzebub, DIAVOLO, ITTO (again), Thoma, LIAOS (any character you like)

The type to barely last the whole month

“Why would you want to do that? We both know you’re not gonna make it."

“Well the challenge is for you! Not me!”

“...but my point still stands.”

His point sure as hell did stand and it hurt you to admit that he was right!

Already 17 days in and he hadn’t budged an inch.

How was this man still going??

You even tried to sabotage him, sitting on his lap only for him to laugh and gently push you off.

Kissing up his neck with your arms around his waist while he made dinner only for him to ask you to grab some spices.

Even you making crude dirty jokes, only for him to blush slightly and brush you off!

This was just getting ridiculous and now you were looking like the needy one!

“For someone who wanted me to take on this challenge, it seems like you’re the one feeling it the most.”

You shoot him a glare.

You were annoyed he was right.

Annoyed that he could still tease you, fully damn aware of what you wanted!

“You can hold out for another 13 days can’t you, sweetheart? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

What you didn’t realize was that these last few days were weighing on your boyfriend too.

He was doing a great job of hiding it when you were around, but when he was alone—

“Shit…”

He slammed his fist against the bathroom wall at work a growing tightness forming in his pants.

You just loved to tease, didn’t you?

Couldn’t you see this was driving him crazy too?

And to think you could send him such…things while he’s at work!

“Damn this…”

He was going to get his revenge; mark his words. Once this month wraps up, he was going to have his way with you.

And so he did yippee!! 😈

Characters: Giyuu, Kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, kuroo, IWAIZUMI, Akaashi, Ushijima, SUNA, Osamu, Geto, NANAMI, Lucifer, Satan, SOLOMON, Ayato, DILUC, Neuvillette, Writhoesley, ZHONGLI, Sylus, Zayne (any character you like)

The type to say they lasted the whole month (he jerked off)

“Babe come on, we both know I have some self restraint when it comes to you.”

“Do we?”

He shoots you a sharp look.

“Yes. We do. And I find it quite offensive you don’t believe I can last a simple 30 days without sex-"

You had to break it to him he couldn’t touch himself.

“I-I can’t?!”

Sure it was a lil surprising to him to hear that he couldn’t flick his tip and buss one little nut, but hey!

That wasn’t going to stop him!

I mean how would you ever find out he touched himself if you weren’t there, huh?

Simple as that!

“You’re...strangely happy today...something good happen?”

A few days had gone by since the challenge started, and November was finally winding down, which felt like a relief after those tough days.

The main reason for the struggle was your boyfriend’s constant whining about how his “body craved some kind of touch—anything!”

Now all of a sudden he’s happy days and roses.

You were suspicious.

“Who wouldn’t be? 30 days of war are finally over! Told you I could last.”

You give him a weird look.

It was almost too obvious that he had done something. That smirk was unmistakable—the same one he wore when he knew he’d crossed a line!

The same one he flashed when he’s trying to keep his secrets under wraps!

“You failed didn’t you.”

“W-what! Where’d ya get that idea?”

He finally admits to you after a while of back and forth he failed a few days after the night you challenged him.

At least he lasted a week in?

Characters: Dimple, Sanemi, TENGEN, Connie, Nishinoya, Ukai, Tendou, ATSUMU, GOJO, Toji, MAMMON (again), Belphagor, CHILDE, kaeya (again), CHILCHUCK, Rafayel (again) (any character you like)

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seitmai · 2 days ago

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I loved this and therfore have many thoughts

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

🥺🥺🥺

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer.

Poor Bradley 🥺

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face. He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Oh he is such a flirt 🤭

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly.

So cute😍

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?" He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible." "I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?" "Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

He definitely is rehearsing, asking her out in front of the mirror as soon as he is home 🤭

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

It's so cute that he has all these ideas already 🥹

He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

Oh he is regretting all his life choices right then and there

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Oh noooo💔🥺

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

He is heartbroken before anything even happened 💔 🥲

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

🥺🥺🥺

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy. Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one." "I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

I feel like Rooster is good with kids because he has the same interests as kids it seems 😅

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?" "I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy.

Oh he 100% would

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football." Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

Come on Bradley, get into your role☝🏻

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten." "He looks like you." You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him. Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known." And then you looked so sad again.

🥺🥲😭

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

She truly made it thinking about him 🥹

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking. "Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since." Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

😭😭😭

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me." For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

Ahhhh this is perfect 😭🥰🥳🥹😍

I love it!! I feel like this is a role Bradley would thrive in, because of him loosing his parents young too, he would try the hardest and kinda knows what it can feel like or a person in a situation like that needs 🥹🫶🏻

California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago."

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

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

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

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

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

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

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy.

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy.

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him.

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

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

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia.

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

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Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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affableramen · 2 days ago

Text

yandere genshin men trying to make things right between you

angst, mildly dark themes ayato, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore, alhaitham

note: trying a new genre.

Neuvillette

Yandere Neuvillette kept forcing you into marriage after your relationship just got established. You asked him to give you some time to think over such radical and responsible change in life, but he was adamant to your pleads. He wanted everything here and now proven officially on the papers. You spent some nights crying because to think that such gentleman-like and solitary person like Neuvillette would force you into marital relationship was eerie. The desire to possess you officially seemed to blind him completely and he went from a loving gentleman to an almost insanely addicted man who did not accept a refusal.

It was your break-time at work when Neuvillette suddenly came up to you. It was odd at first - the judge putting away his duties to meet you seemed almost unbelievable, but remembering how assertive he was in the relationship with you it might have been close to the reality.

“Can I have a moment of your time, love?” He asked you, his hand not reaching to touch you but his gaze was heavy on your face.

“Of course.”

Not longer after the two of you were sitting in the cafeteria - a curious choice for a private conversation. Although you did not deny you seemed much more comfortable in a public place rather than face-to-face with him.

“About our marriage…” Neuvillette started, his fingers grazing over his glass of water.

“You already know my opinion”, you answered with no emotion. The time to play nice unfortunately came to an end.

But the next response from Neuvillette kind of gave you goosebumps:

“If I was too harsh on you, I beg of you to forgive me. I have a habit of grasping something dear to me too tightly, and I’m afraid that I hurt you more than I could possibly imagine”, he took a pause for a breath and gulped a sip of his crystal clear water. “I genuinely need to know whether or not you still harbour any pleasant feeling towards me?”

“What are you saying? Of course I do, Neuvillette—I admit you were unacceptably rough on me the past few weeks, but it would make me a poor lover if it were to stop me from harbouring affection to you.”

The judge sighed in relief, and then his expression became serious again.

“I would love nothing more than for us to marry, but I realise the circumstances of pushing you too much. Tell me, dear, if you no longer want to proceed in intimate acquiantance with me.”

You shook your head - seems like he was not hearing you. You then took his hand in yours and spelled it again, frankly:

“No, I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. And the marriage proposal, I shall accept it too.”

Pantalone

When Pantalone kidnapped you for no specific reason, days turned to weeks. You almost forgot about the existence of sunlight as he kept you there like a pretty little porcelain doll for his own amusement—or whatever his nasty reasons might have been.

The last time you tried to escape his gloomy, mysterious castle-like home, you were severely punished for your “bad behaviour”. Blood dripped down from your chin as you were sitting on the floor of a dark hollow room, chained and bruised by his henchmen. Perhaps he considered it too tacky to touch you with his own hands.

And then he entered. You didn't even want to look at his unapproachable, icy-cold eyes, and simply turned away, your eyes shut and hidden from him.

“How rough you look”, he said with his usual tone which was cold, but at the same time smooth like butter.

You were dehydrated and hungry, that’s for sure. You wanted nothing more than a warm fuzzy blanket and sweet tea, and forget this nightmare forever.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He asked. He knew you never ate his food because you’d consider yourself indebted to him. And you did not want to take anything from this man.

Your face went deadly pale and bewildered when Pantalone dropped on his knees before you and started freeing you from your shackles. His hands were shaking wildly, you could witness how poorly he mastered the lockers due to his stress.

Yet without a single doubt, with no longer time to lose he wrapped his arms around your waist to carry you. His clothes were a little stained with the snow, and a bit of freezing touch made you shiver.

“I will never do this to you anymore. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.” His words that used to be spoken as an order now were slipped from his lips as a request.

You were laid in the warmth of the sheets of your own home. The familiar surroundings brought you joy and comfort you never knew you’d forgotten so easily.

“My butler is cooking a dinner for you in your kitchen.”

He watched the whole time you were eating, guarding you and seeing how desperately you were filling your stomach up. When you finished eating, there was one loud slap—against Pantalone’s face, by your hand. In a normal situation, he would be so angry and furious that the earth would shake of his abhor. But now he was simply taking it.

"I know. I should never have treated you like this. I ignored your wishes and violated your privacy. I’ve done the worst crime to you—I took your freedom”, he touched the red mark blooming on his cheek from your unexpected punishment. “I wanted to obtain you so much that I ended up hurting you instead.”

Ayato

He was rich to his fingertips. In his world, the only thing he could not have, but wanted to, was you. You found yourself working as his secretary, aesthetically pleasing and always efficient. But Ayato was ruthless; he could never be satisfied, he was always unhappy. The requirements to you were growing day by day, and keeping up the standards seemed an impossible task. His moods were changing like a thunderstorm.

It was a regular day when you were performing your duties that you felt someone’s presence behind your back. Ayato was not exactly above lurking so he made his presence known after you turned to face him. He did not expect you to turn so rapidly and ended up with his breath tickling against your face.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have been too demanding and controlling. My actions driven by raw possessiveness inflicted undesirable effect upon you”, Ayato’s words died away, though the expression on his face became even more grim and grave. “You do not deserve such treatment, any of it.”

You nearly dropped your working papers as you stared at him. Was this man really sincere? How long has he been overthinking about your relationship? It took you just a few seconds to gather your composure and strike him with an indifferent glare.

“It’s always so easy and costs no trouble for you, rich people. You just take what you want without considering either the outcome or other people’s feelings. You see people as things, belongings in your possession, and you never have enough.”

At that, Ayato became even more tense, his expression that was mainly seen by the most of people as sweet and gentle, now was an embodiment of darkness. Nevertheless he nodded to you.

“What should I do for you to forgive me? I’m not going to lie and say that I did not think about how harmful my attitude might have been to you for the past month. What think you? Do I even stand a chance?”

“Fat chance”, you chuckled under your breath. The laugh was almost too bitter rather than sarcastic.

Ayato took your hands in his, his black gloved thumbs rubbing against your skin slightly.

“You’re like a poison to me. A very addicting one. And the more I see you work for me, the more I want to have you by my side. Not just at a formal event…” he bit his pale pink lip for a moment. “I’m starting to feel as if I’d like to see you out of work circumstance, and the thoughts of such impropriety are enough to drive me utterly insane.”

You reciprocated the light squeeze that came from his hands, however yours was less obsessive and more gentle.

“It is a very dangerous thought, Ayato.”

“Oh, I can be a very dangerous man. For you, that is.”

Capitano

You were walking in Capitano’s garden, feeling yourself like a beautiful bird in a golden cage, but in fact you were a princess in a beast’s castle. Once you saw his real face, you kept having nightmares about his skin rotting appearance. This man was scaring you to the bone, and every time you met him, although not very often, you felt how demanding and heavy the gaze of his icy blue eyes was.

You did not see him often, but once a while Capitano requested (no, ordered!) a private dinner with you. The rooms were dimly lit, his loyal butler making preparations to the highest standards as usual, and you - wearing the most luxurious of dresses you’d only be able to peek at in the past. But your face was the odd one as it beared no smile on it. You were gravely terrified by this man who had claimed you as his. And even though you slept in separate rooms, you could not brush the feeling as if he owned you; well, he kind of did, since you dwelt in his mansion.

Per usual, you were having a dinner with him at about eight in the evening when Capitano finally spoke. His tone was filled with assertiveness and power, yet the way he was eating, the movements of his hands were elegant enough to remind you of an excellently-educated prince.

“Y/N, I need to speak to you.”

You shivered when you heard him, and you let go of the fork. The jingling sound spread across the room which put you even in an unnecessarily bigger predicament.

“Yes, sir?”

Capitano hummed - he put his utensils away and looked as if he was carefully choosing his words which was not a habit of his. This Harbinger often talked exactly what he thought and was known for his bluntness. Capitano never beat around the bush and was always straight to the point, and this was one of the personality traits of his that made you feel conflicted. It was both terrifying and worth of respect.

“I want you to stop being scared of me. I want you to see that there is more of me than a horriffic, ugly old beast.”

You gasped: did he just used those unflattering words to himself? It felt so odd and so frustrating.

“What feelings do you want me to harbour for you, given our unusual circumstances?”

There was a long pause before Capitano made a sip of his red wine and suggested the following:

“Affection is too much, but could you at least try to be friendly with me? Don’t you see—can’t you see how hard I’m trying to make your life with me less unbearable?”

Affection… friendliness… is that what he really needs from you?—you think.

“I’m a prisoner here, I cannot imagine how I am supposed to show any warm feelings towards you. It would be fake and stupid.”

“Then make them not fake and stupid.” Capitano raised from the table and stormed out of the dining room, leaving you alone in the dim light of candles.

Dottore

You woke up on the plain lab bed, still restrained but this time your pain was drastically diminished. When you opened your eyes the lights did not cut your sight right away and you realised that the room was only dimly lit. You sighed in relief - perhaps he went on a break and you had a few moments of rest from his constant analysis and experiments upon your body.

There were a few tattoos on your hands but too small to even understand their meanings. Perhaps it was something from Zandik’s past that he decided to ruthlessly carve on you.

Your happiness and sense of relief did not last long though, as the man who called himself Doctor entered the room not exactly quietly.

“Look who’s alive. I’m glad”, he wrote something on his notes, “very glad, even.”

“What are you going to do to me next? Turn me into… abomination?” You attempted to sound sarcastic even though all your being was screaming inside. “I’m pretty sure you have not gotten your fill yet out of me.”

Dottore abruptly stopped writing and dropped his journal on the lab desk next to you.

“I think we’re finished here.”

“What?”

“I said you’re free to go”, he cut your leather restraints with one rough motion that had a vibe of uncertainty of the soul.

You looked at your hands, your body cheered welcoming freedom, but at the bottom of your heart you were perplexed.

“But why?”

Dottore did not utter a single word more, with his face buried into his other records, he turned away from you completely ignoring your presence.

You found your clothes tidy and repaired on the chair, and put them on quickly. Upon escaping the place you saw that not a single Fatui agent was preventing you from leaving. You looked at the lab once more and a pang of strange kind of sorrow appeared in your heart. Perhaps, you should pay him a visit once you’re recovered? Or was it a bad idea?..

Alhaitham

The nerdy scholar was quite possessive and jealous. He had a very curious but rather depressive personality. You thought him a quiet man until one extraordinary and terrific experience.

Alhaitham locked a man in the library for the whole night after he saw him giving you too much attention and you happily reciprocating him. An innocent friendly conversation seemed a blunt flirt to him. He could not bear the thought you having affection to someone else who was not him. When he saw you first he realised that he wanted you to see only him, and give all your attention to him. He craved to see you wanting his company, clinging to him or even agreeing to date him. But since his personality was too aloof and he never ever attempted to simply ask you out, but kept staring at you from the side, stalking unnoticeably and gather all information about you, you never had a chance to learn of his true feelings. Behind his obsession there had to be something, as such strong feelings never came out of nowhere.

Upon seeing you chat with that guy Alhaitham grew so furious that he almost not giving it a thought just slammed the door with the poor guy in the library and left him there for the whole damn night. Blinded by his jealousy, he did not even consider how you’d feel about that. The next morning you were perplexed by the sudden disappearance of your classmate, and once the library opening time came, the student was finally released.

“How could you do this to him? To anyone?” You asked Alhaitham; it did not take much time to learn whose fault was that.

“How could I?” He asked you back, his expression grave and unmoveable as if he were not interested in a single thing in the world. “How could you spend so much time with him? He’s a total jerk.”

“Judging by what you did the total jerk is you! How could you simply lock the person up? Are you insane?”

Alhaitham’s patience started to grow thinner. He squeezed his hands into the fists so hard that his knuckled turned snow-white.

“Are you stupid? You really don’t see how I feel about you? And you keep being so nice to everyone but me. You’re obviously ignoring me.”

Bewildered, yet you finally understood the root of the case. You stared at him for a few seconds before checking if anyone was near to eavesdrop. Luckily, there was not a soul around so you spoke honestly:

“If you wanted to woo me, endangering someone was not a good idea. You did something I deem unacceptable. And such unacceptable actions will only make me like you less, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham leaned closer, his voice was a gentle whisper.

“Right? Then teach me to woo you properly. I’ll do thousands of attempts to win you over, no matter the cost.” You pressed your hands against his shoulders to prevent him from getting into closer proximity with you, and Alhaitham, although not completely willingly, but still backed off.

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birdyshewrote · 3 days ago

Text

“Birthday Girl”

Wolverine x Female!Reader

written by birdy

Wade Wilson throws you a rink-a-dink birthday party every year, and this year is no exception. But this time, you have a new guest.. and he’s been watching you for a while.

Notes- hi. ive never written a fic before EVER, so pls be nice. this is mainly for me to be able to get my thoughts out of my head because I’ve been thinking about this man for way too long. happy birthday bitches ��

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut- 18+ Logan Howlett x Female!Reader, Logan calls reader “Kid”, light smoking and alcohol consumption, Wade being a menace

——————————————————————————

You had caught glances of him a few times in the hall. The scent of smoke, leather and alcohol that belonged to only him drifted in the air behind him for a few seconds even after he had walked into the apartment room across from yours. There had been a few times where you stepped into the elevator and musky cigar smoke had filled the small space. You didn’t complain though, secretly savoring the intoxicating smell, taking more, quicker breaths than you needed too. You couldn’t deny the knot it put in your stomach and the weakness it put in your legs before stepping out of the elevator, down the hall and into your own room.

Eventually, you were tired of the mystery. Two weeks into the seemingly one sided tension, you trapped your long time friend and even longer time across-the-hall neighbor, Wade Wilson, into the elevator with you. Ever since the stranger had moved in with Wade, he had stopped inviting you over. Your birthday was coming up, and so was your annual not-so-surprised birthday party. Once the elevator doors closed, you started,

“Hey, who’s your new roomie?”

Wade scoffed, putting a hand across his heart on his chest, the other gripping a full black trash bag that smelt of blood and for some reason bubblegum scented air fresheners. “THATS how I am greeted nowadays? No, ‘Hello Wade’, ‘Looking good Wade’, ‘Here’s that five bucks I owe you Wade,’

You roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip stepping away from him. “Okay, first of all, I do not owe you five bucks. You OFFERED to pay for the funeral arrangements after you killed my fish-“

“He looked hungry, who knew fish could be over fed?” He interrupted.

“I told you before I left!” You argue back. “I was only gone two days and you-“ You rub your forehead and shake your head, frustrated. “Whatever. Not relevant. Hello Wade, you do look good.” You say, defeated.

Wade giggly adjusted his weight to his heels, to his tippy-toes, then back to his heels again “Thank you.” He said, satisfied, and turned back to the doors.

“You didn’t answer my question. Your roommate? Who is he?” You ask again as the elevator dings and the doors creakily open.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you sideways as the two of you walked down the small lobby. “Uhm, news flash doll face, Blind Al is not new. She’s an OG. Been here a while, silly.”

“Not Al.” Talking to Wade was like trying to a horse with dementia. “You know, ‘Mr Tall and Handsome,’ always sulking, ‘I don’t care about no smoking rules.”

Wade throws his head back, “Ooohhhh, you mean Peanut. What about him?”

“No introduction?” You ask confused, watching Wade as he carried his trash down the hall, holding the entrance door open for you.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess Iuh… I forgot.” He stuttered as he led you down the wet alleyway, towards the dumpsters.

“Last month you called me into your room to show me your new toothbrush. You have a new roommate and you just, ‘forget’ to introduce us?”

Wade shrugs, shifting the thin, plastic bag straps in his hand uncomfortably as he walked.

The truth was, Wade did not forget. The truth was, in fact, that one of the first things Wade had done was mention your existence to Logan before he was even fully settled in the apartment.

“I think you two would hit it off, hardcore. And I mean, HARD.” Wade had said.

“Absolutely not.” Logan grumbled, immediately shutting him down, not even looking up from the blow-up mattress he was unrolling in the living room.

Wade sat on the couch arm rest, looking down at the burly man. “Come on Wolvie, let a girl heal your cold, withered heart. You’re a tough, ‘don’t get too close’ typa guy, she’s an ‘I can fix him’ type of girl, I personally think it’s a perfect match.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m telling you to drop it.” He snapped, glaring up at Wade. “I don’t need you playing Cupid here, you hear me? I swear to God, if I hear you that you’ve even said my name to anyone I’ll get the fuck out of here and never look back. I don’t need to be getting mixed up in any of that shit right now.”

Maybe years ago Logan would have been a flirt, he wasn’t new to women or relationships, but he had been through too much. He had lost too much. He’d never admit it, but the truth was, the infamous Wolverine was scared. Scared of intimacy, scared of getting attached, scared of loss, scared of you. Still, this didn’t change the fact that he had been secretly watching you leave your apartment through the safety of the peephole of his own door. And yeah, maybe if you weren’t so loud coming out of your apartment he wouldn’t know your schedule within a week. Like what time you wake up to leave for work or school, or what time you come home. What days you take your trash out or do your laundry. And when he found one of your sweaters lying around the apartment when he first moved in, what should he have done with it? He was holding onto it for safe keeping. And yeah, he knew it was yours, but only because your sugary perfume clouded his nostrils and made his head feel fuzzy. It was so recognizable, he knew immediately the sweater was yours. Maybe if you wouldn’t drown yourself in the body mist he wouldn’t instinctively know when you were just in the hall, he told himself. It wasn’t his fault he had animalistic smelling.

He couldn’t, however, find an excuse for how he’d hesitate in front of his door, watching for the elevator to stop at your shared floor, wait for the doors to open and inhale the scent of your panties from down the hall once you saw him, then he’d unlock his door and rush in quickly. Sometimes if he was unlucky he’d steal a glance of your full body out of the corner of his eye.

None of this meant anything though. He could contain the animalistic urges he had towards you. Especially when he caught a glimpse of your thigh when you knelt to pick up a dropped grocery. He could handle himself when he heard your thick, sweet laugh through walls when watching a show or movie. But at the same time, what harm would it cause if he touched himself while inhaling the scent of your hair, sweat and perfume through your abandoned sweater late at night? And keeping it locked away in a locked dresser wasn’t creepy, it was just there until you asked Wade to look around for it.

He could handle himself from a distance. He knew this. He knew his limits.

He had been woken up from the couch after a long afternoon of drinking and despair by a loud “SURPRISE!” followed by laughter and clapping. He did not know there was a party going on, let alone a party for you. He was completely blindsided when you were standing within ten feet of him, in his living area, talking to Al and Wade and the others, laughing that sweet laugh

Shit..

Where could he escape? The front door was no longer an option, everyone was clustered in front. Maybe he could make a run for it through the bedroom and out the window? Or maybe take his chances down the escape ladder through the-

“Sleeping beauty has awaken!”

Shit.

Before you could blink, Wade was pulling you through the small cluster of friends to the couch, where a very confused, very hung over, very huge piece of man stood like a deer in headlights. This was your first time seeing him up close, and shit was he alluring. His hair was untamed and messy from his interrupted sleep, his thick brows furrowed. Frown lines prominent as his large muscles twitched under his shirt-

“Hey, his eyes are up there you horn dog.” Wade publicly snapped you back into reality. Immediately flustered, you began trying to save the situation that was doomed from the start.

“I wasn’t looking at- I wasn’t even doing anything, Wade!”

“It’s okay, I know you weren’t. He’s just a moron.” He put an understanding hand up as he spoke. Fuck his voice was so deep and low, almost a growl. It felt rich and threw shivers straight to the back of your throat and straight into the dark jeans you wore. You swallowed. Hard.

After an awkward greeting, Wade had basically pushed a drink into both of your hands and left you to fend for yourself. Logan took a seat on the couch, the worn furniture dipping under his weight. He was clearly uncomfortable. He kept his eyes low, rarely meeting yours. He threw his arm over the head of the couch, spreading his knees. He pulled out a cigar and gestured to it. You couldn’t tell if he was offering you one or asking if you’d mind if he smoked, you shook your head no to both. You politely sat next to him, pulling your legs under yourself next to him.

Unfortunately, this man was not the easiest to speak to.

“So, Logan. You’re new.” You fidget with the cup in your hands.

He lets out a low “Mhm” while taking a puff, then lets smoke pool out of his mouth and drizzle out of his nose, before speaking again. “Yeah. Don’t really know how I ended up here. Just, kind of did.”

You nod, looking around the room. 2016-2018 pop hits played on the pink Hello-Kitty speaker Wade had bought for himself, now sitting on the kitchen table next to the drinks. Various characters lounged around the apartment chatting and eating pizza and drinking.

“Seen you around, y’know.”

You turn to face him again.

“Oh?” You ask, sipping your drink.

He nods in return. “If you need help bringing groceries up to your room or somethin’, you can just let me know. Heard you drop a few things before.” His top lip twitches just the slightest in what you assume is his version of a smile. He puts the cigar back into his mouth and chews.

You furrow your brows at the sarcastic banter. “Oh yeah? Didn’t know I had a stalker.” You bite back, smiling while doing so.

“Not stalking you, kid. Just minding my own business and getting interrupted every two seconds by my noisy neighbor.”

After this, the two of you spoke more fluid. Relating in Wade’s schemes and circumstances became a common interest. You felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with the man’s presence. After your second drink, your leg rested against the rough denim of his thick thigh. He said nothing about it, so you continued to speak to him. You were unaware of what he was thinking or feeling.

He was freaking the fuck out. Especially when you asked him to go outside with him to get some air. He agreed, and the two of you slipped out of your own party. The night was dark as you walked through the city-lit pathway to the side of the building. Logan watches you and takes another puff of his cigar as you stretch in the open air. You sigh, relieved to be out of the stuffy room.

You could feel his eyes on you. The heat and heaviness of his lingering eyesight, watching your every move as if you were his prey. It made you nervous. It made you intrigued. You wanted to be in his sight, and he wanted to keep watching you.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much, shit’s awful for you you know.” You say, leaning on the brick building next to the tall, muscular figure.

He gives you a slow, sharp smirk in return, his canines showing through resting on the cigar.

Your heart begins to thump and he looks deep into your eyes, like he sees through you.

You let out a shaky exhale as your smile fades and take a step closer to him. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and looks down at you, shaking his head.

“You don’t want this, kid.”

You pause, trying to read his face in the dim lighting. “I do, and I think you do too.” You speak low and soft, like if you’re too sudden with your movements he’ll get startled and dash away. You slowly raise a hand and rest it on his hard, warm chest. You feel it rise and lower, he’s heaving now.

You bring your face up, closer to his. He doesn’t move, so you whisper into his own lips, “Logan, it’s okay.”

The light encouragement is what he needed. He looks down at your parted lips, pushes the lit cigar into the brick wall next to you, putting it out and dropping it, before muttering back,

“Well, you are the birthday girl.”

He leans down to give you what you’ve been asking him for, and what he’s been yearning for. He kisses you, slow and respectful at first, stepping in front of you. He puts his large, rough hand in between your head and the jagged building, protecting you as he pushes you against the wall. You bring a soft hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down farther into your space. He tastes like alcohol and smoke, and you couldn’t get enough. The kiss gets sloppier as you welcome his tongue into your mouth. You look at his face through squinted eyes, only to see his brows furrowed in deep concentration and self-discipline as to not overstep. You shut your eyes again as you grab his other hand, dragging it to your waist. He lets out a soft, low groan in response to the contact of your skin. Your waist feels so soft and warm is his heavy grip. He softly paws at your side, then up your loose shirt. He pauses underneath your bra, and you arch your back in response.

He breaks away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you momentarily before breaking. “This okay? You’re sure? I can touch you like this?” He’s almost pleading, even with all of the consent in your body. He looks down at you, eyes half lidded.

“Yes, Logan. Stop asking me.”

He nods, smiling slightly, and slowly shifts his long, thick fingers underneath the garment, and towards your chest. He brings his mouth to yours again, greedily taking and lapping at your mouth. The scent of your arousal intoxicates to him. You clench your legs together, to which Logan uses his thick, sturdy knee to break you open and apart. You feel exposed to him now, resting on his knee. The rough denim rubbing sends jolts to your throbbing core. The kissing is wet, his stubble rubs against your lips as he gently bites your tongue with his canines. His hand gently gropes your breast, while pushing his knee against your dampening soft area. He brings his calloused hand down back to your waist, slowly guiding your hips to rock against his knee. He uses his other hand against your head to gently grip your hair and push your head closer against his mouth.

Logan didn’t get you a birthday present, but he was definitely making up for it.

#logan wolverine #worst wolverine #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett #logan howlet smut #logan howlet x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine imagine

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mommynott · 22 hours ago

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Hii I don't know if you're still taking requests but plsss 🙏🙏 I need I need Dom!Theodore letting reader take control and ride him plsss absolutely need

Always taking requests sweet pea! Even if it takes me a little to get to them sometimes LOL

Anything for my sexy smut sluts 🫡💋

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, dom!theo, bf!theo, dombf!theo, PIV, riding, rough sex, dirty talk, choking, hickies, nipple play, dom&sub, creampie

Plap- “You’re Plap- So Plap- good”-Plap plap- Theo groans through his plows, one hand wrapped around your throat while his darkened gaze burns into yours. Beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and torso.

“Mmm-…Theo, baby?”

Through your whiney little whimpers, you manage to choke up your words. But Theodore didn’t stop. Not in the least, his hand tightened around your neck as he started to smack kisses to your jaw. “Hm?…Yes, Amore?” He asks in a deep growl, his thrusts moving at a slower pace now.

You glided your head to the side, making your eyes lock together through your heavy breathing. “Can I…Can I go on top?” Questioning him, you bat your lashes up at the Italian. Showing your full submissive side while you wait for his answer. Unsure of how this could even go.

Theodore’s eyes flickered between yours for a moment, his silver-chained cross hanging right in your face before his lips curled into a sinister smirk. “Since you asked so…nicely, I’ll allow it.” His voice held a hint of danger to it, arousing nonetheless. His strong hands moved to your hips as he laid back, pulling you on top of him as he did.

“Ride the cum out of me. Drain my fucking balls. But don’t you dare think of stopping until I’ve finished, understood?”

Of course, even having the tiniest bit of control over Theo, he still showed his dominant and assertive nature that seemed to come naturally to him. “Mhmmm- Understood.” You whispered, your hips bucking against him as your hands found their way into your own silky hair.

His nails dug into your hips, pushing you down his massive shaft harder as he rocked you faster against him. “Fuck-…That’s it, Tesoro. Just like that.” Moans slip freely from your swollen lips, your eyes glossing over as you fight to keep them open.

Theodore’s lips find their way to your hardened nipples, sucking on them with a burning need, his nails clawing so hard into your hips that it seems to break the skin. This time, he switches it up from the back-and-forth movement, lifting you slightly and thrusting along with your rhythm.

“Bouncing on my -Cazzo….cock…like such a good fucking girl..”

He hisses from his throat against your perked nipple before taking it between his teeth. Making sure to leave his marks all over your breasts because again…This is Theodore fucking Nott we’re talking about here. Does he ever fully let you take control?

“Gods- I love that dick!” The moans escaping your lips only getting louder by the second, Theo’s face buried between your tits, lost in the blissful pleasure of you. “Yeah, you fuckin’ do…fuck!- Finish with me, amore. Don’t hold back.” He husked into your sensitive flesh.

No edging. No punishment. No waiting. Oh, you were fucking taking this. Not waiting a second longer, you let your orgasm hit, creamy juices flowing down onto Theo’s cock. Your moans turning into screams of pleasure just as you feel the slight twitching from his shaft.

Theo’s seed was spilling inside of your juicy cunt, practically overflowing you with the sticky mess. His own body convulsing with sheer pleasure as he growls lowly between your chest, all in the while smothering your tits with sloppy kisses.

“You’re too fuckin’ good…Such a sight to see with you on top of me…Can’t get enough of you, amore”

Hehehe I hope yall liked this lil Drabble of our beloved dom!theo

As always asks and requests are open smut sluts 💋

Divider pinned in my masterlist 🌙

#mommynott asks💋#mommynott loves youuuuuu #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott smut #slytherin boys #theodore nott smut #slytherin #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore smut #theodore nott x fem!reader #theodore nott smutt #theodore nott drabble #theo nott smutt #theo nott drabble #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagine

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hardlyinteresting · 2 days ago

Text

love's never lost when perspective is earned

Jake Seresin x Reader

“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.” Peter Pan, J.M Barrie

Peter by Taylor Swift S P E Y S I D E by Bon Iver Big Black Car by Gregory Alan Isakov Smother by Daughter

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, Parentification of eldest siblings, bad first date experience, gets a little spicy towards the end (no smut), (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please)

This one shot was written for @arcane-vagabond Fairy Tale writing challenge with the inspiration of Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie, and the use of the word Scintilla.

Word Count: 6.7K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

She remembers that summer wrapped in a golden glow. Back when hot, humid days were spent bathed in the sun’s vivid orange. Their fingers were sticky with jammy pie fillings, stolen from his mama’s kitchen. Cold water from the garden hose always tasted better after a day of chasing themselves around the properties.

What do you want to be when you grow up?” Jake had asked her as they lay in the grass behind his house.

“I haven't decided yet,” she told him matter of factly, “But, I’m gonna have a nice house, and I’m going to go far away from here”.

“I'm gonna be a pilot,” Jake said, “And I’ll fly wherever I want”.

She knew he was entirely serious, even as a little boy he’d never failed to accomplish what he put his mind to. The gentle waiver is his voice as his statement teetered around the edges of his true feelings and fears. “I wish I could fly away,” She told him, watching the clouds shift across the bright blue sky above them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you with me,” Jake promised. And back then, a promise had felt like enough.

They were seven; her shins were always bruised from climbing trees and tackling the Seresin boy during their daily football scrambles; his cheeks were always sunburnt, and he lied every time his mother asked if he had put sunscreen on. In many ways, she thinks those two months running after Jake Seresin had been both the peak and the plateau of her childhood wonder.

September meant returning to school; finishing supper and homework before being allowed out to play, and with the autumnal turn crept in early sunsets and earlier curfews. In November, her stepdad moved in, and her mother told her to expect a little brother in the spring. The days of scraped knees and make-believe slipped away before the winter frost set in.

When he thinks about her now, he pictures her laughing like she did when they were ten years old. He misses the days when she had the freedom to forget herself.

At ten years old Jake Seresin couldn’t understand why his friend wasn’t as fun as she used to be. He watched from his kitchen window as she sat on the front porch with her little brother, settling next to her and feeding him from tiny jars of baby food. At a distance, it'd be easy to mistake her for any other girl playing make-believe with one of her dolls. But Jackson wasn't a doll, he was fussy and gassy, and he needed to be fed and put down for his naps before she had a moment of spare time to spend with her pal Jake.

Her little brother had been followed by a new baby girl two years later. Tire marks on the dirt driveway highlighted where her stepfather’s truck should have been most days. Jackson had finally gone down for a nap but Olivia had been teething and her wailing could be heard from a mile away.

“What do you want to do today?” Jake asked her as he made his way up her porch steps to sit next to her on the stoop. “I want to fly away,” she told him.

Without a second thought, he grabbed her hand as he took off running, down the stairs, across the lawn and into the field behind the house. The long grass tickled at their ribs as they ran as fast as possible, their arms outstretched on either side of them.

Circling, and jumping, hooting and hollering they made their way across the flat land with boisterous laughter bubbling from their lips. By the time they stumbled to a stop at the fence line their breath came to them in quiet gasps, their cheeks warmed by the exertion of their activity.

The sound of his pulse fell in time with her carefree giggles as she twirled around mimicking some kind of bird. Had it not been for the physical boundary of the wire fence he thinks they could have kept running forever, the promise of freedom they didn’t yet understand beneath their wings. In that moment he knew he’d chase that feeling for the rest of his life.

At sixteen she felt more like a substitute parent than she did a teenage girl. Her mind and her soul had aged beyond her years and stayed wrapped in a youthful vessel. School had become an escape from the responsibility she felt at home. While Olivia and Jackson clambered onto the school bus excited for first and second grade, she climbed into the passenger seat of Jake Seresin’s restored F-150. Each morning he'd pass her a wrapped sandwich made in his kitchen with his mother's fresh-baked bread. A replacement for the meal he knew she sacrificed to divide the last of the breakfast cereal between her siblings. He filled her with servings of farm butter and homemade jam, or ham and cheese. Their silent dialogue in brushing their knuckles during the exchange, as he always chose to ignore how she saved half for her lunch later in the day.

Pulling into the parking lot at school she had been keenly aware of the way the other girls looked at her as she walked hand in hand with Jake; the glares shot her way when he kissed her cheek as they parted ways to head to their classes.

Their jealousy rolled off them in waves, and she heard how they spoke about her in the locker room after gym class. Whispers about his gorgeous green eyes and boyish charm. What could the hottest guy in school possibly want from the strange girl in her secondhand clothes and studious persona? Surely he'd have more fun with a girl who wanted to party.

It was true. In the span of one summer, he'd grown 6 inches, towering over her now. His shoulders broadened. The lanky awkward limbed boy she'd known in her childhood grew stronger and more defined as he learned better how to pull his weight on his family’s farm. His masculine stature and maturity softened only by his flushed cheeks, and childlike grin.

And yes, he snuck beers from his father’s garage fridge and did handstands for ovations at parties hosted by the school football team. An absolute joy to be around. To know Jake Seresin was to love Jake Seresin, but didn't know him the way she did.

They didn't know he was terrified of thunderstorms until he was 12. They weren't there when he split his pants open trying to climb over a fence when they were 9. They had never had the privilege of listening to him read aloud from all his books about aircraft; his 11-year-old fingers tracing the letters as he sounded out the big words, the fear of being held back in 5th grade hanging over his head.

They had never held him as he tore into himself. The golden boy, raised in the shadow of an older brother who hadn’t lived long enough for him to remember; so deeply loved, but not enough to fill the ache in his parent’s hearts.

No one in those school halls would ever be able to tell the difference between his happiest days, and the smirk he plastered on always aiming to be better than what he believed himself to be.

He was so stubborn and far more clever than he ever let himself sound; she scolded him almost daily as he tried to shrug off his homework. “You'll need math and science if you ever want to fly a jet,” she would remind him, accepting the glass of sweet tea he offered her. Their textbooks and notes would lay spread across his kitchen table while Jackson and Olivia occupied themselves with blank paper and wax crayons, offering Jake scribbled drawings of airplanes, “wow! That's amazing, thank you,” he'd say every time.

She hadn't asked Jake to worm his way into her soul, and yet even now she knows some part of her soul belongs deeply to him. Their games of tag had slowly become time spent talking about their parents and watching the clouds; their hands intertwined between them as they listened to each other's dreams and desires for the future.

And on the nights when his life just didn’t seem to fit quite right, he’d tap on her window, willing her to join him in the bed of his truck a couple of miles from their homes; and she’d remind him who he was. The bright boy with a heart of gold, and a laugh that reminded her of everything good in the world. She’d rest her head on his chest, his fingertips tracing aimless shapes across her back, as she convinced him he was more than a collection of hand-me-down dreams.

His eighteenth birthday crept up to him before passing in a blur of candlelight and buttercream icing. His mother cried in the kitchen when she excused herself to ‘take care of the dishes’. His father clapped him on the shoulder. Their two sets of hazel-green eyes met as the older man offered a nod. The action itself did not speak to a relationship of closeness or specific affection, but still, it managed to convey a message of approval, apology, and love too difficult to speak.

She had knocked on the door shortly after dinner had been cleared from the table, the remaining half of his birthday cake being ushered into the refrigerator under a cling wrap film. Shivering in the night air, her hands clutched a package of brown paper with a shiny blue ribbon, his name scribbled in her careful writing. Quickly, he’d pulled her into the house greeting her with a kiss as deeply passionate as she deserved. “Happy birthday,” she’d whispered, pressing the gift she’d brought into his hands. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he’d told her. “I wanted to,” she insisted. With steady hands, he unwrapped the box. His question was silent, but the shocked expression on his face must’ve conveyed enough for her to be able to answer him anyway. “It’s the one from the antique store,” she grinned, “Mister Abbot let me pay for it in instalments”. He tipped the brass nautical compass into the palm of his hand, staid in his evaluation of both the physical and emotional weight of the gift. “This is too much,” he spoke after a moment.

Her eyes went wide, her smile dropping. “I love it,” he was immediate in his attempt at reassurance, “but, you’re saving for school. I don’t want you spending your money on me, darlin’”. He tried to pass the compass back to her, a woebegone ponderosity settling in his stomach at the very idea of rejecting any part of her. Insistent, yet patient, she curled her finger over his. The digits were so much smaller than his own, cracked and raw from washing dishes and cleaning tables at the local diner. The painful reminder of how hard she’d been working to climb her way out of her own life. “I want you to keep it. Selfishly,” she said, “I want you to always be able to find your way back to me”. How could he have argued with that?

Politely, she’d popped into the kitchen to see his mama, accepting a Tupperware of cake slices to take home for the kids to enjoy. His father met them at the door as Jake shrugged on his denim jacket. “Where are you kids off to?” he asked out of curiosity more than any concern. “Just going for a drive,” Jake told him, slipping his keys into his pocket. “Don’t let him get you into any trouble, ya hear?” he warned her with a teasing grin, the humour evident in his voice. “Yes sir,” she had agreed easily, knowing Mr Seresin’s penchant for faux sternness in the moments between his genuine stoicism. Seemly satisfied to see her smile grow, he had turned to Jake with an immediate pivot back to his natural sternness, “You make sure you get her home at a reasonable time. It’s a school night”. Jake’s compliance echoed her own, with no room for jest, “Yes sir”.

Parked in their usual spot, at the edge of a cleared field he wrapped layers of blankets around her shoulders, before settling down next to her. Their biggest dreams breathed between them and the night stars. “I love you,” he said. The statement was resolute, and immovable in its honesty. “I love you too, Jake,” she told him. Her words were spoken like a promise she desperately wanted to keep.

“When we graduate, I'll drive us across the country,” he tells her, “I'll buy us a house. You can go to school and I'll fly”.

“It’s a nice dream, baby,” she says.

Their drive home is silent.

She spent her nineteenth birthday sleeping in his childhood bedroom. He hadn't been home in months but the sheet still smelt like him. She scraped her knees climbing up the trellis to his window, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She’d laughed to herself examining the superficial wounds, enjoying the familiar bite of nostalgia. Memories of her childhood long since passed left tears at the corners of her eyes. Near manic laughter faded into a melancholy exhaustion.

Her eyes focused on the small book collection Jake had managed over the years. They had all been perfectly aligned in their homes on his bookshelf; set in alphabetical order by author. His need for structure despite his free spirit had been amusing until it became mildly concerning. Routine, crafted to satisfy the need to stay completely distracted from an overwhelm of feelings he had always been sure he didn’t have the capacity to express. The hope in her heart had always been that he might learn to hone his particular brand of presentiment. He’d always been so rough-and-tumble, so hard to worry after; determined to never let the mask slip as he raced through life with a smile.

1400 miles away she ached to be beside him; so lonely in her knowledge of him. She worked to comfort herself by tracing the titles on the spines of the books he’d left behind. Over and over. Over and over. With blurring vision and an unfocused mind, she slipped into a well-deserved sleep. The sun streamed so gently through the window of Jake’s room. A touch of light tugging her from her slummer had been a welcome change from the jarring wake-up call she had at home. Two siblings who had yet to figure out how to make themselves breakfast without bickering or clattering plates. The smell of fresh coffee and pancake batter wafted up from downstairs.

The bedroom door squeaked as she opened it, and underfoot the floorboards in the old farmhouse creaked, each step down the staircase punctuated with the sonance of more than a hundred years of life. In the Seresin house, the noises reminded her of the generations who had come and gone, it was easy to imagine the lives that had been lived within the walls. Across the yard, the similar shifts and groans of her childhood home echoed like ghostly calls; the whispers warning of a life liable to be wasted if she stuck around.

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” Mrs Seresin smiled, setting an extra spot at the kitchen table. His mother had always been the kindest person she’d known. Despite the undisputable reality that her son’s girlfriend had all but broken into her home, she welcomed her with open arms, asking if she wanted blueberries in her pancakes.

The longer they went without mentioning the elephant in the room the easier it became for her to slouch a bit in her seat, appreciating each bite of the breakfast that had been offered to her. Nineteen years of being in rooms out of necessity rather than desire had made it difficult to trust other’s interest in her well-being.

Feeling her shoulders drop in relief left her feeling something like a stray cat brought in to shelter from the storm; glad to accept Mrs Seresin’s kindness, but uneasy all the same. She had grown used to being weary of tenderness and generosity; always waiting to hear the conditions of the beneficence.

Sipping her coffee, Mrs Seresin smiled over the lip of the mug. “If you want to stay a little longer, you could help me go through some of Jake’s old clothes. Some of them would probably fit Jackson now”. Her words reached like an olive branch across the table, and for a moment she understood that perhaps the older woman wasn’t just benevolent for the sake of it, not on this day at least. With her only living child out of the house she had been lonely in her need to mother someone, and glad just for the company as unorthodox as the circumstances may have been. She’d been glad to learn that some glint of selfishness lingered in everyone, and in a strange turn, it only made her trust the woman more.

She hadn't expected a pile of folded sweatshirts to make her cry, and yet in a blink of an eye, she found herself sobbing. A flicker of hurt rushed through her with the realization that some things will always matter more to her than they do to anyone else. Just another piece of clothing to Jake, another part of her task for the day to his mother. But she was holding the world in her hands.

She remembers that sweatshirt well, red and worn out by time, always just a bit too tight in the shoulders, the seams stretching at the sleeves. He was wearing it the night he picked her up from her first date.

Bobby Dunbar had been two years older than her, and had no idea of the meaning of the word ‘no'. She left him alone in the movie theatre after he'd tried to creep a hand up her skirt for the second time. With a quick call from the closest payphone, Jake was on his way to pick her up without questions.

Together, they drove out of town and past their homes the sun dipping down below the seemingly endless horizon. Overhead the stars had begun to make themselves appreciable against the backdrop of the darkening sky. Parked, they lay in the bed of the truck looking up at the sky ahead. He took care to trace the constellations for her, naming them as he went. In the meantime, her fingertips copied the shapes with invisible lines across his chest. The well-loved red sweatshirt was soft beneath her cheek.

He kissed her for the first time that night. Not her first kiss, but the first one that mattered. Jake always had this ability to make her world stop spinning, even if just for a moment. Sitting on the edge of his bed sobbing into the sweater she wanted nothing more than to be near him, to hear him tell her everything was going to work out for them in the end.

“I got my scholarship,” she told Mrs. Seresin, “I'll start in the fall, and I'll be able to live on campus”.

“That's amazing news sweetheart,” her affirmation, so much like her son’s.

“It's a lot farther for Jake to drive. I won't be here to check on Jackson and Olivia. My mo--”

“They'll be alright. It's high time you live your dream, honey”.

At nineteen years old, she struggled to understand that sometimes the beginning feels like the end. A pit growing in her stomach, she clutched the bags of hand-me-down clothes as she headed home. The sky above was dotted with the same stars Jake had taught her about years ago, she stood still for a moment trying to remember the feel of his lips, or the comfort of his hand in hers, but only felt the cool evening breeze.

Twenty-one felt like wearing a costume. Joining the Navy. Getting good grades. Helping on the farm whenever he had an ounce of free time. Being a good son, being a good boyfriend. He was playing dress-up in a life that wasn’t built for him, and yet he found himself so desperate to play the part.

The first few months away had been excruciating. Most nights he chugged Pepto-Bismol before going to bed, hoping that the tearing feeling in his chest was just heartburn, and not just his soul stretching across four states. It had been the longest they’d ever been separated; smashing the previous record of the one week he spent with his aunt and uncle when he was ten.

He won’t blame her for the divide that grew between them, but he knows that the ache in his chest cracked into a chasm sometime after she moved onto her college campus.

The commute to see her was longer, his back was stiff, and his eyes were tired after driving hours, and crisscrossing state lines. The time they spent together was almost exclusively spent sleeping or skipping around their desperate need to return to what they once were, all while refusing to give up their dreams.

Two years into her degree he was exhausted. On base, his bed was assembled for practicality, not for comfort. Hard, uneven mattress and nights spent cold beneath the covers without the warmth of her body tucked against him. His bunkmates all snored, and the hustle and bustle of those still working during his allotted sleeping hours kept his mind alert even as his body dosed. In her dorm room, her duvet was plush and cozy, her pillows smelt like her shampoo, and she snuggled as close to him as physically possible on the nights he managed to make it to her. But her roommate was nosy and made it almost impossible for him to love on his girlfriend. Unable to touch her as freely as he yearned to-- and even worse, unable to speak as freely as he needed to, his feelings threatened to choke him. Lost without the level of communication that had become their life preserver for years, he felt as though he was drowning.

At twenty one he asked his father for his grandmother’s engagement ring. A family heirloom he’d always known he’d propose with one day. He would make good on the promises he made. They would get married and he’d buy them a house-- he had already managed to save quite a bit. It was not a lack of love that broke them, but perhaps an excess of it. A shared desperation to do more, and be better; both of them hell-bent on clawing their way out of the ruts they’d found themselves stuck in. And with so much to prove it had been impossible to climb without letting go of each other.

He was down on one knee when his heart was ripped from his chest. For a moment he felt it was impossible to breathe. His mind was silent, too stunned to think and too confused to speak. She was still shaking her head when he finally found the strength to look up at her again. “No,” she said. “I thought--”

“I’m sorry-- I can’t. I won’t. It’s not fair,” she told him. Certainly not fair, he thought desperate to understand. But when had life ever been fair? “I can’t,” she repeated. He watched, hopeless, as she shrunk in on herself. The bright, brilliant girl he’d spent more than half his life loving shied away from him, hiding behind a shame he couldn’t find a source for.

As he slowly made his way back to his feet, with the ring box shoved back into his coat pocket, she spoke again. “I think it would be better if we spent some time apart”. That he had not been expecting, and the words nearly had him keeling over; a brutal blow that knocked the air from his lungs. He found himself helpless, unable to do anything but nod. All his fight sat on the tip of his tongue, pinched between his teeth, betrayed by his pain, and misunderstanding. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. For anything. For everything. But the words never came out. “I’m sorry,” she wept as she ushered him out of her dorm room.

With one hand, and no force he held the door frame for a moment, one last longing look at the girl he knew he’d love forever. “One day we’ll be enough for each other again”. He hoped that was true.

She carries a spark of regret in her chest, it grows when she thinks of him, and it shrinks when she remembers she freed him too. She thinks now that her denial of Jake Seresin may have been hasty. Fifteen years older, and with more perspective than she had at twenty-one, she thinks their lives could have been different if she had been brave enough to talk things out.

Her fear of stagnation had been her only motivation for so much of her life. His proposal had been on the surface a desperate attempt to cling to a bond they had begun to outgrow. And while his intentions at their core had been pure, getting married would not have saved their relationship. She had only begun to live for herself, and he still didn’t understand that his life was his own. Their marriage would have only served as a new way to masquerade and play pretend; years of running away from the fears that kept them both up at night. He would have grown to resent her inability to live without planning, and she would have hated his unintended absenteeism. Being married would not have kept his side of the bed warm, nor would it have given him any new ability to quell her anxieties.

She still thinks of him often. From her apartment on a clear day her view of the sky seems to span for miles and miles. She pictures him up there, carving through the clouds with the dedication and precision she’s always known he’d be capable of. She imagines him happy, living his dream. She hopes he’s proud of himself, and she prays that he knows that she’s proud of him too.

Sometimes, she lets herself wonder if he ever settled down; offered his grandmother’s ring and his heart on his sleeve to some other lucky girl. She’s tried to move on herself a few times, but never made it close to feeling like she was in love. The last guy had been a year ago now, he was nice enough, handsome, had a good job, and a good sense of humour. On paper he was flawless. He’d take her out for dinner, and walk her to her door. Sometimes he spent the night. He bought her flowers, and held her hand. But on one too many occasions she felt inexplicably lonely sitting next to him. He complained that she wasn’t any fun. She struggled to explain the sense of responsibility she’d never been able to shake. She asked him about his dreams. He never seemed to have any.

And so the hint of any spark that had been there fizzled away into nothing.

She tells herself she’s happier on her own and decides to keep moving forward, ignoring the cracking of her heart. She uncorks a bottle of wine, dancing alone in her kitchen, looking out at the vast evening sky and the setting sun. As much as she enjoys the view from her rental, she’s been in California long enough that it might be worth buying into the housing market. Nothing fancy, but something she can truly call her own. She’s been making good money for a while now, and her siblings have made it through college themselves. Jackson moved to New York with his sights set on being an architect. Olivia moved to Austin and became a nurse. Her mother hasn’t bothered to call in ages. Her shoulders relax without the added pressure of caring for others. For the first time in a very long time, her mind is quiet--it’s finally time to write the last chapters in her own story and stop running.

He keeps an old photograph of her in the inside of his flight suit, right over his heart. He’s living his dream, and he won’t allow himself to forget that she’s the reason why. Driving home from base at night he passes houses much larger than the bungalow he’s been renting. He wonders where she went after she graduated, and what kind of job she has now.

He chooses to picture her happy even at the expense of his feelings; a devoted husband coming to wrap his arms around her while she stirs a pot on the stove. A scintilla of guilt makes itself known as he grows somewhat jealous of this life he's envisioned for her. The truth is that he knows she was right for turning him down. They were too young, too naive, and too frightened. Breaking up with him may have been the first time he had seen her truly put herself first, and in hindsight, he’s glad she did. He knows he’d never have been able to live with himself if he had been what stood in the way of her making her dreams come true. It took him a while to understand the gift she had given him when she sent him away. The freedom to be the man he wanted to be, and not the man anyone else needed him to be.

He’d fucked it up more than once along the way. At work, he had become too brash, too cocky, too full of himself. He put his walls up and wore the self-assured mask he thought people wanted to see. Unwavering confidence, and determination. His return to Top Gun had been a wake-up call. He’d been forced to adapt, to let his guard down and learn how to let people in again. And for the first time since he was a teenager he appreciated the difference between being valued and being important. The realization had come with a sense of belonging and camaraderie that he hadn’t expected but couldn't afford to forget.

In his personal life, he had failed time and time again to form long-term bonds. One-night stands didn’t hurt, but the idea of waking up next to someone left him nauseous. But the truth is he yearns for that connection. He wants to be seen. He wants to be understood. He stopped going home to visit his parents two years ago, the weight of self-placed expectation chewed through him and left him hollow; guilt filled its place.

Last week he stood back straight, with his heart full of pride as he accepted his promotion. The new rank came with a new role, and a new more permanent position. He'd be stationed in San Diego for at least five more years. He called his mother. He booked a flight home for his next break. He started browsing real estate pages. It’s time to stop running.

She’s only made it to a couple of open houses so far but she hasn’t been able to find anything she likes yet. Most of the houses she’s seen are out of her price range. Others have been too modern, some too outdated.

She remembers the Seresin’s kitchen, the buttery yellow walls and linoleum tiles. Their house wasn’t flashy, nor had it been renovated anytime in 1980, but it was cozy. She can remember the smell of Mrs. Seresin’s baking. In her mind's eye, she recalls the feel of the cabinet doors that Mr. Seresin had built himself when they moved in, and his wife’s initials carved into the bottom corner of the cupboard over the sink. In every way possible they had made that ordinary farmhouse a home, and she wants the same for herself now. Like everything in her life, she decided her house has to be perfect. She’ll know it when she sees it.

The house is a two-story craftsman, built circa 1935. The siding is a garish kind of coral colour, faded by the sun, and the trims stand out in a soft vanilla colour, chipped at the edges. She’s driving home from work when she sees the sign for the open house standing proudly on the front lawn. Without a thought she pulls over, throwing the car into park. Inside, it smells like freshly baked cookies-- a real estate trick she’s learned over the last few weeks. It’s easy to imagine a house is your own when it smells so inviting. She's come to expect this, and won't let it blind her.

Her heels click across the hardwood floor, the sound echoing through the empty house. She moves past the stairs into the surprisingly spacious living room. A large window looks out onto the quiet cul-de-sac, and the room sits bathed in the soft glow of the street lights outside. She imagines the room furnished, with soft drapery, a plush sofa, tv hung above the fireplace, and she can imagine herself unwinding here. The dining room is a fair size, and the kitchen has a sliding door that opens up to the backyard. The cabinets are brand new, and the owners have spent time renovating while staying true to the charm of the house. On the countertop, she picks up the real estate agent’s pamphlets about the home, amenities and nearby schools are listed, and she wonders if she might have the chance to raise a family here.

Overhead the sound of steady footsteps, and a pair of heels make their way down the hall and then the stairs. “If you decide to put in an offer, do not hesitate to call, in this market the early bird gets the worm,” a woman speaks. “I appreciate it, thank you,” a man replies in a low southern drawl, “do you mind if I take a look at the backyard before I head out?” “Not at all! Take your time, I’ll be out front just getting my signs if you need anything else”.

He’s barely stepped into the kitchen when he hears his name. “Jake?” a familiar voice wonders, her arms coming immediately to wrap around him. She hits his chest with a thud, but it does move him an inch. Her name is sighed into her hairline as he holds her close. “You made it-- all the way to California,” He smiles, pulling back to get a good look at her. She’s as gorgeous as he remembers, if not more so. Her features have sharpened over time, and he thinks her hair might be darker now, but she’s glowing. Her grin is wide and her shoulders relaxed as she reaches to trace his name and rank on his uniform. “You’re flying, Jake,” she all but whispers. He nods, his eyes softening as his hand comes to rest over hers, his heart racing beneath her palm. “Turns out I’m pretty good at it,” he jokes, and is rewarded with his favourite laugh.

His free hand lowers to rest on her hip and she steps closer, familiarity allows them to skip out on formality. He’s missed this; a shared closeness loud enough for them to speak without saying anything. He knows her like he knows the back of his own hand, and even with years passed between them, he’s able to fill in the gaps. Her clothes are well made, and well fitted. Office wear. Her shoes leave her standing tall, reminding him of senior prom and the time they spent slow dancing. He knows what she’s overcome, and he’s never had any doubt about where she would end up. Clearly successful, and if the way her smile meets her eyes is any indicator, she’s happy too.

In all honesty, she’s not sure who leans in first, but she knows she’s kissing Jake Seresin for the first time in fifteen years. He kisses with hesitation at first but allows himself to give in to a passion grown with time. He’s more skilled than he was the first time they kissed, and she tries her best not to flush with jealousy. His cropped hair is soft where her hand reaches up to hold at the back of his head willing him closer.

One step at a time he backs her across the room until her back meets the wall. With fingers gripping the collar of his shirt she begs him to crowd her space. She swears he’s taller now. His shoulders are broader, his arms far more defined. He’s always been handsome but the boyish charm has been replaced by something far more deadly, and she’s convinced she’d die happy if it was him stealing her breath away.

She melts beneath him. His hand moves across her hip, down to feel the round of her ass, before his grip tightens at the flesh of her thigh, warm in her cute little dress slacks. Neither of them bothers to suppress the moans or sighs that leave them when begins to kiss down his neck. His knee slots between her legs, thudding when it makes contact with the wall, startling them both.

“Careful. You break it you buy it, Jake”.

“I think homeownership will be good for me,” he grins catching his breath.

“Not if I buy it first,” she quips, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she blinks up at him. He groans, his knees weak as her smile grows. “Let’s talk it out over dinner,” He manages his counteroffer.

***

Their house smells like chocolate chip cookies, made from the recipe Jake’s mother passed down. The window in the master bedroom offers a gorgeous view of the San Diego sky. On weekends, she wakes up to the smell of coffee brewing, and Jake sliding back into bed, his hands greedy as he pulls her from her sleep with warm kisses and the promise of breakfast if they manage to make it down the stairs.

The floorboard creaks when he comes home at night, the weight of his day shed at the door. He greets her as if he's been gone for months even when it’s only been a few hours. And he holds as if he’ll never see her again when he returns from a deployment.

The gentle breeze that blows through the open windows of their little home carries away their lingering anxieties, and they allow themselves to soften in each other’s presence.

They lay in the grass in their backyard, paint smeared across their clothes, brows sweaty from a hard day's work. The siding is now a fresh, pale green, the trims glow in a soft white. Above them, the stars shine. The same stars they watched as children, and loved as teens. He watches her, enamoured, as she points to the North Star tracing her way around the night sky, recalling the stories he told her about each constellation. He wonders how many lifetimes are painted in the sky above them, how many lovers have admired the stars as they have.

She pulls him from his thoughts, rolling to settle with her knees at either side of his hips, her left hand resting on his heart. He looks at her as if he’s in awe of her, his wedding band cold on her back as his hand slides underneath her shirt. Leaning down to kiss him she’s certain this is the life she’s always been running towards.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin #FTWC #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun hangman

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piratefalls · 2 days ago

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an 8x06 fix-it where tommy gets home, admits to himself that he's being an idiot, and turns around.

By the time he walks through his own front door it's been an hour. An hour since he broke Evan's -- Buck's, he reminds himself, knowing it's useless, that it'll always be Evan -- heart, and his own in the process, and he just...stands there in his living room. He stands there among the dark furniture and a stack of blankets and his widescreen tv, shelves full of odds and ends he's collected over the years. He stands there and keeps trying to convince himself that he did the right thing.

Tries to convince himself that it means nothing when he looks at his couch and sees them curled up, Evan's head resting on Tommy's shoulder as he tried so hard to stay awake through Mannequin. Sees the recliner and remembers the way Evan's hair felt as he carded his fingers through it, the warmth of his skin as he pressed a kiss to his birthmark.

Keeps trying to convince himself even as he looks straight ahead to the kitchen, sees himself coming in the door one night after a long shift to find Evan had not only made dinner - a roast and potatoes, something warm and comforting to help usher in sleep by the time they both got to bed - but set the table, an ivory taper candle burning bright in the center. Remembers how nice it was to come home to the warmth of another person's presence.

His conviction wavers when he looks down the hall and sees the first time he pulled Evan toward his bed. Knows that if he walked to his room he'd see shadows of the way Evan looked standing there, no shirt, pants unbuttoned, begging Tommy to just touch him already, what are you waiting for. The place where he heard Evan gasp and moan, felt him tremble and shake in his arms, remembers the way his eyes widened the first time he made Evan come. The many nights they spent after that wrapped up together under the covers, Evan's fingers tracing the curve of his spine as he hummed his contentment into the skin of Tommy's shoulder.

The full spectrum of regret hits him in the chest like a punch when he sees Evan's hoodie thrown over the back of the couch. Sees the remote control pack hanging off the arm of the recliner that's only there because Evan got sick of searching for the tv remote whenever he came over. Sees the little toy helicopter Evan bought him because it made me think of you.

Looking at it makes him ache. Makes him long and want in ways he never has before, and he’s still scared. Still afraid of being burned even though this time he's the one who set himself on fire. What did he think it would accomplish, breaking two hearts to protect one? In the end his is still in pieces on Evan’s kitchen floor, all because he pushed up some imaginary deadline on their relationship. It's stupid. He's stupid. It's all so deeply stupid.

He looks around and Evan's fingerprints, proof that he was here, are everywhere. His house - his life - is filled with Evan, tucked away in every nook and cranny, his heart a steady cadence of a name he's not sure he has a right to say out loud anymore. He sees his future, haunted by a ghost of his own making, and he asks himself, What have I done?

Then a moment later: What if it's not too late to make it right?

He pulls his keys out of the dish by the door and all but runs to his truck. He backs out of the driveway faster than is probably advisable (he's pretty sure he hits a curb, but it doesn't matter, it's a guaranteed fix but his relationship is not). He pushes the limit part of speed limit, and is at Evan's building in record time.

He knocks on Evan's door but there's no answer. Tommy's not really surprised, even if his heart squeezes tightly in his chest; Evan's not obligated to open it, or even acknowledge his presence at all, but Tommy needs to at least try. He doesn't have a key - they didn't quite get there - so he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. It rings before he gets a chance to even unlock it, screen lighting up with Evan's face, soft with sleep after a night of marathon sex that took place after two weeks of conflicting schedules. After another second, he swipes to answer.

"I know you probably don't want to see me, but can you let me in?" The pause on the other end lasts just long enough that Tommy checks to see if the call has disconnected. "Buck?"

"First of all," he responds. "Never call me that again. Second, what are you talking about?"

"Bu--Evan... I'm standing at your front door."

He hears Evan snort on the other end. "Well that's unfortunate, because I'm currently standing at your front door. Full of righteous indignation and a desperate need to call you an idiot to your face."

Tommy can't think of anything to say except, "I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you instead of walking away. I shouldn't have assumed anything. I just got --"

"Scared," Evan finishes. "I know. And I came here to tell you to suck it up, because I'm scared too, but you're worth fighting for. We're worth fighting for." Evan lets out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, too, by the way. I should have asked if you were ready to have that conversation instead of jumping straight to you moving in. And I probably should have started by telling you that I want to live with you because I love you."

Tommy grins, heart nearly beating out of his chest, so full of hope it could burst. "You think you can find it within yourself to tell me in person?"

Evan groans after a second. "How do you know about that?"

"It was an open channel, Evan, everyone heard Bobby say that."

There's a moment of silence before Evan responds. "So we should definitely talk about this. And, like, so many other things. Will you wait for me at the loft?"

"I'll be here."

"And once we get done talking about how you're an idiot and how we should both practice better communication, I expect a lot of groveling. I mean a lot."

Tommy's grin spreads. "As you wish."

Evan groans again, and it's the best thing Tommy's ever heard.

"Hey, Evan?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He can practically hear Evan smile as he murmurs, "I know. I'll see you soon."

And Tommy's so sure in that moment that, with a little bit of work and a lot of talking, everything is going to be fine. Maybe even forever.

#kelly watches 911 #bucktommy #tevan #I haven't finished a single thing in literal years so I'm proud of the 1k I got down before my brain clocked out

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ovaryacted · 2 days ago

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─ Javier Peña x fem! reader || WC: 693

CW: MDNI/18+. Slightly NSFW. Post DEA/Retired! Javier Peña. Javi & reader are married. Setting is at some family celebration idk lmao. Sexual innuendos. Sexual tension & teasing. Sex flashbacks and daydreaming. They are down bad for one another.

This has been in my drafts for a couple of days, figured I'd just share it now instead of letting it dust away in the notes lolz. Javi deserves some love from me, I miss him. This is also me writing after a couple of days of sadness so be nice pleak!

You’ve been through it all with the one and only Javier Peña. All the stressors and toxicity of his government job leaving Colombia, the nightmares, the self-loathing. Being and growing with him took time, and learning him as a human being taught you the patience you never thought you’d gain. He was an enigma you had to figure out, and miraculously, when he realized you were the puzzle piece he’d been missing all along, everything else followed through. After a few years together and an exchange of vows, things in your life have been more abundant than you thought possible, and now you’ve both reaped the benefits of going through those trials and tribulations together.

Sitting on his left side, the sounds of the banquet hall tuned out as you merely stared at your husband in awe. Dressed in a suit and his hair slicked back, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you admired him from afar. The invitation to a family celebration landed in your mail a few weeks ago, something a bit more formal for your taste, but neither of you could turn it down, nor did you want to.

You especially weren’t complaining when you saw how Javi dressed for the event, donning a black blazer, crisp white button-down, sleek black slacks, and dark leather shoes. He even changed his hairstyle, brushing his hair back after getting a haircut and his jaw clear of facial hair after his close shave. When he kissed you on the cheek as you did your makeup, you could still smell the aftershave he used and his musky cologne, overwhelming your senses in the best way.

Your mind drifted as you daydreamed about his hands and how he used them. His plush lips, the way they caress you, map you out without having to ask. That mouth of his that spews the most diabolical and erotic things as he pleases you with no end in sight, the thought alone heated your cheeks and sent an electric pulse through your body.

You didn’t realize you were fidgeting in your seat until a hand grasped your thigh. Blinking and looking down to spot Javi’s left hand covering the length of your upper leg, he offered an affectionate squeeze, the golden wedding band on his ring finger gleaming under the hall’s light.

“What are you thinking up there, cariño?” He asked you, brown eyes reverently taking in your face as his thumb stroked your leg.

“Nothing much. Promise.” You couldn’t even look him straight in the eye, noticing how he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“Mentirosa,” he muttered with a smirk, the dimples you loved making an appearance as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip.

“If you stay on your best behavior for the rest of the night, I’ll give you something sweet when we get home. Deal?”

It was a proposition you couldn’t ignore. You knew what to expect, and the shiver rolling down your spine gave enough leeway that you understood the intent of his message.

“Deal,” you replied confidently, accepting the kiss he placed on your lips, a momentary tease of what the rest of the night would entail.

“Good. I don’t want everybody in here to know how dirty-minded my wife is.” You chuckled, glancing at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“That’s all you, baby. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Touché. But can you blame me? Not when you look this good in black.” He squeezed your thigh a bit harder this time, making his possession known the way you liked. “You aren’t the only one daydreaming right now, but a couple more hours, and we’ll make it a reality.”

You mimicked his grin, placing your left hand over his to clasp around his fingers. He instinctively took your hand, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles and grazing over the diamond ring that sat prettily on your finger. As you both talked to other relatives to pass the time, you kept his offer in the back of your mind, remembering to ticket it in once you’re away from prying eyes and in the comforts of your home.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña headcanons #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ovaryacted drabbles #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 day ago

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What We Used to Be - Jey Uso x Black!OC

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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April 11th 2017

JaiFelix_WWE

liked by trinity_fatu, sashabankswwe, and 300,000 others

JaiFelix_WWE: If you're not watching Smackdown tonight, what are you doing??!

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user: dreaming about us being together

trinity_fatu : JAI- JAI 💖

carmellawwe: looking good girl!

jonathanfatu: can u delete this plz! got my wife licking her phone!

↪JaiFelix_WWE: @jonathanfatu LMAO!

Jaiania held her breath as she walked past Josh and his twin brother Jon. She kept her head down, hoping they didn’t notice her walking by them. She absolutely did not want to have a conversation with either of them - especially Josh -. After their failed relationship and trainwreck of a breakup, she would rather play in traffic than have a conversation with him.

She almost made it past them without being noticed. “Damn girl you just gon walk right past us.” That was Jon. Jaiania forced a smile on her face and turned around to face them.

“Oh, hey.” She said, keeping her eyes on Jon. “Didn’t see you there.” She shrugged when he gave her a ‘yeah right’ look. Josh crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes when he realized that she was trying her hardest to not look in his direction.

This is awkward she thought as she rocked back on her heels before pointing in the direction she was walking.

“I gotta go. Nice seeing you though,” She said to Jon, still ignoring Joshua’s presence.

She hurried down the hallway feeling their eyes on her.

Jon turned to his brother once she rounded the corner. “Look at what you did,” He said, smacking Josh on his chest. Josh rolled his eyes.

“I ain't do shit. Come on, we gotta get ready.” Josh did not want to hear that bullshit. He was in the wrong just as much as she was but since everyone loved Jaiania he took all the blame.

Jaiaina groaned as she saw Jon and Josh walking her way a couple of hours later. This must be my lucky day, two times in one night, she thought bitterly. She could normally avoid Jon and Josh but they seemed to be everywhere she was today.

“Congratulations guys.” She said referring to the Smackdown tag team titles they had just won from Chad Gable and Jason Jordan.

“Thank you, Jai,” Jon said, trying to give her a sweaty hug. She pretended to throw up and moved away from him. “Is your arm okay tho? That rinpost spot looked pretty rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” Jaiaina lied. “Looked way worse than it actually was.” She said, smiling at him.

“Yeet!” He said, making Jaiaina roll her eyes. “We goin’ out to celebrate our big win tonight, you in?”

Jaiaina let her eyes cut over to Josh who thankfully wasn’t looking at her. “Uh. I can’t. I have plans already.” That got Josh’s attention. He looked up from his phone and squinted his eyes at her. He wasn't normally one for gossip but he had heard some things about Jaiaina and another one of their co-workers recently.

“So the rumors are true huh?” He said with a scoff. “You move on fast.” Jaiaina cut her eyes back over to him and glared.

“Excuse me?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Josh sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her. “You heard me.”

Jon let his eyes ping pong between the two of them. He knew he needed to stop them before they became explosive. “Uce, come on. It ain’t worth it. ” Jon said trying to pull his brother along but Josh wasn’t budging. “Josh, stop. Let’s go Uce”

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea,” Jaiaina said as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away from them. 6 months of silence and the first thing he said to her is something about some bullshit ass rumors?! Pathetic

“And then he had the nerve to talk about me moving on too fast,” Jaiaina said to Trinity and Carmella as they sat in the VIP section of a club. “I mean, he broke up with me. What does he care if I moved on or not.” She said as she downed another shot. Carmelle and Trinity shared a look but didn’t say anything. “And what fucking rumors?!” She turned to her best friends. “Yall heard rumors about me?” She let out a scoff and rolled her eyes when they both nodded.

“Yeah, but we obviously don't believe it,” Carmella said.

“What's the rumor though?”

Carmella shrugged and sipped her drink. “Something about you and AJ”

Jaiaina's eyes widened. “AJ STYLES?!” She asked louder than necessary. “Ew, what the fuck. Where did that fucking come from?”

Carmella sighed. “Okay, here's what I know. Apparently, someone saw you and him leaving a hotel room together a couple of weeks ago.”

Jaiaina scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Do these people know that he’s married and I would never do that to Wendy or his children?” She sighed. “And Josh knows that Allen was my mentor during my time in TNA.”

“Girl you know how Josh is. He’s being an ass because he misses you.” Trinity said and Jaiaina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, he shouldn’t believe rumors about me.”

“And you miss him too, right?” Trinity questioned.

Jaiania rolled her eyes. “Of course I miss him, I never said I didn’t.”

“ Do you still love him?”

Jaiaian took another sip of her drink before answering. “Yes I still love him, but it is extremely obvious that he never did. We break up and the first thing he does is go fuck on one of our coworkers? That’s foul. Now every time I walk past that hoe she got a fucking smirk on her face that I wanna smack off. ”

Trinity and Carmella found themselves nodding along with Jaiaina’s statement. It was an extremely foul thing for Josh to do.

“I still don’t know what possessed him to do that. “

“I do.” Jaiaina rolled her eyes. “He been wanting to fuck Dasha. Surprised he didn’t do it while we were dating.”

Trinity rolled her eyes at her friend. “Josh may have been an asshole but we all know he wouldn’t cheat on you.”

Jaiaina hummed as she took a sip of her drink. She then eyed her friend. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your husband?”

“Oh, about that.”

Jai narrowed her eyes at Trinity before letting out a gasp. “You didn’t !”

“I’m sorry! I know we already planned this girl's night and I didn’t wanna flake on y'all.”

Jai scoffed and turned towards Carmella who was already looking at her with guilty eyes.

“I invited Corey too.”

Jaiaina had to stop herself from throwing a temper tantrum. “You guys” she whined. “Girls night mean just girls.” She pouted.

Trinity and Carmella burst into laughter. “We’re sorry! But look, we can have a girl's night once we go back to Florida. Just us.”

“Fine,” Jaiaina said, still pouting. Just as she was about to take another sip of her drink, Jon, Josh and… Dasha fucking Jackson. Jaiaina scoffed and adverted her eyes from the couple.

“I’m sorry,” Trin whispered as stood and greeted her husband and Corey purposely ignoring Josh and Dasha. Carmella did the same and Jaiania couldn’t have been more grateful for her friends.

Don’t let it get to you, Don’t let it get to you. She repeated in her head as Dasha made a point of showing she was Josh’s girl now by placing a kiss on his lips. Once Dasha looked in her direction, Jaiaina stood from her seat and walked over to the bar. The drama was something she did not need nor want tonight.

She let out a heavy sigh as she leaned against the bar. She had successfully gone months without being in the same space as Josh because it hurt. It hurt to look at him and not be with him. She said some foul things the day they broke up and so did he, but she never expected him to literally go and fuck another woman THE SAME NIGHT.

“C’mon, you too pretty to be frowning.” Jaiaina had to stop herself from swinging on the slimeball that just slithered his way next to her. She turned her head to the side to face him and he smiled thinking he got her attention. She cringed at the food he had stuck in his teeth.

“Thank you,” She said referring to the compliment. “But, uh no thanks.” She said referring to his advances. The bartender set down her rum punch, Jaiaina grabbed the drink and tried to walk away but the guy grabbed her arm.

“Don’t be fucking rude.” He scoffed. “You didn’t even ask me my name.”

“That’s cause I don’t wanna know your name!” She said, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp. Just from how tight his grip was, she knew she was going to have a bruise. “Let go of me!”

“Don’t be such a bitch!” He spat at her, Just as Jai was lifting her knee to hit him in his balls, he was forcefully grabbed, which caused him to release her arm.

“The fuck is you doin’?!”

Jaiaina let out a gasp as Josh pushed the slimeball down to the ground. By now, more than half of the bar had turned their attention to them. “Don’t put ya’ fucking hands on her like that. Fuck is wrong witchu?!”

Slimy McSlimerson tried to kick his feet at Josh but Josh sidestepped them and then kicked slimeball in his face, knocking him onto his back. Slimy let out a groan as he started to hold his now broken nose.

“You alright?” The bartender asked coming around the bar and taking Jai’s arm in his hands, inspecting it. “You want me to call the cops?”

Josh gently pulled Jaiaina away from the bartender, making him drop her arm. Jaiaina’s eyebrows furrowed together as Josh wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, tucking her into his side. “Nah, we good,” Josh said eyeing Slimy on the ground. Josh was tempted to knock Slimy’s teeth down his throat but decided against it as he led Jai out of the club and into the night's cool air.

Jaiaina said nothing as she let Josh lead her outside. She momentarily allowed herself to lean into his familiar touch before remembering their current situation. “I’m fine now.” She said, taking another step away from him. “You can go back into the bar.”

“And leave you out here?” He asked. “Bab–Jaiaina, you shaking.”

“Okay, so send Trin or Mella out here. Go back inside.” Josh sucked bus teeth and pulled off his black bomber jacket he was wearing and handed it to her.

“Just take the damn jacket Jai”

“I don’t want your damn jacket, Joshua. And I damn sure didn’t need your help back there. I had it.”

Josh scoffed and grabbed her arm, making them both look down at the purple bruise that was forming. “Yeah okay.” He snorted. He hated that she was so stubborn. “You can hate me all you want Jaiaina. But if you gon’ wait out here in the damn cold, take the damn jacket.”

Jaiaina huffed and snatched the jacket out of his hands. “Happy?” She asked with a sarcastic smile and she slid her arms into the jacket.

“Very.” Just as he said that the side door to the bar opened and her group of friends and Dasha spilled out. Dasha eyed the jacket and then narrowed her eyes at Josh, who was still looking at Jaiaina.

“Girl! Are you okay?!” Trinity cried out as she and Leah rushed over to their best friend. Jai broke eye contact with Josh and turned her head towards her friends.

“I’m fine. Just some weirdo who doesn’t understand the meaning of No.”

Trinity, being the emotional drunk wrapped her arms around Jai’s head and pulled her down, so Jai’s head was resting on her breast. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you friend.” She whispered as a few tears slipped down her face. Jon and Josh sucked their teeth.

“Man, Trin get off her.” Jai let out a soft laugh as Jon pulled Trinity away from her.

“Did I ruin the mood? Or can we go back in?” Jaiaina asked.

“Hell no! You didn’t ruin the mood! C’mon!” Leah said as she grabbed Trinity’s and Jaiaina’s hands and started to lead them inside.

“Actually. I’m not in the party spirit anymore… We’re gonna head back to the hotel. Dasha said as she walked over to Josh. Jaiaina hated the way her heart tightened in her chest. Jaiaina watched as Dasha slipped her hand into Josh’s, her fingers curling around his in that intimate, effortless way that people who were in love did.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bit longer?” Josh asked, his voice soft but laced with that familiar warmth Jaiaina had once loved.

Dasha's hand tightened around his. “I’m sure. Come on, let’s go.” There was a finality to her words that Jaiaina couldn’t ignore.

Jaiaina’s chest tightened. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t hurt at all.

She and Josh had broken up for a reason—no matter how hard it had been. She told herself she was over it. Jaiaina forced herself to look away from the couple.

“I think I'm gonna head back too. I forgot I have an early flight to Birmingham in the morning.”

Birmingham? Josh arched his eyebrow at the mention of Birmingham. He knew there was only one reason why she was going there, which meant she lied to Jon earlier when he asked about her arm.

Trinity and Leah shot her playful glares, but their smiles quickly softened into teasing hugs. After making Jaiaina promise to hang out once all three of them were in Florida, Jon, Trin, Leah and Corey walked back inside the bar.

Jaiaina stood there awkwardly. She pulled her phone out of her clutch and ordered an Uber. She could feel Josh and Dasha’s eyes on her.

“Oh, your jacket,” Dasha said as their Uber pulled up.

“She can keep it. It’s cold as hell out here Baby.” Baby.. just hearing that Josh had a nickname for Dasha made Jaiaina sick to her stomach.

“It’s fine..” Jaiaina trailed off as she took the jack off and handed it back to Josh. “I should have brought out my own coat.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Dasha scoffed and snatched the jacket out of Jai’s hands.

Be the bigger person Jaiaina thought, don’t beat this bitch’s ass.

“C’mon man, you ain't have to snatch it,” Josh muttered as he walked towards the Uber. Dasha rolled her eyes and stomped after him.

“Well, why did you give her your jacket? Could have let the hoe freeze for all I care.”

Jaiaina gritted her teeth as the door to the Uber slammed shut and they drove away. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the deep breathing exercises her therapist told her to do. Forcing herself to take slow, deliberate breaths in and out. In through the nose, out through the mouth...

It didn’t work. Not this time.

Dasha was so lucky that Jaiaina actually enjoyed her job, cause Jai would have BEEN beat her ass by now.

Jaiaina’s head had barely hit the pillow before three sharp, rhythmic knocks echoed through the room. Her stomach twisted into knots at the sound of the knocks.

There was only one person in the whole world that knew three was her safe number. Sighing, she threw the covers off of her, grabbed her pink Versace robe, and opened the door.

“Why did you lie to twin earlier?” Jaiaina blinked.

What?” she scoffed, a quick laugh escaping her. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier, Jon asked about your arm. You said you were fine but you not. Why you going to Birmingham in the morning.”

“What I have going on in my life doesn’t concern you anymore Joshua,” Jaiaina said firmly, trying to shut down the conversation before it could go any further.

“Don’t do that.” He muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t act like you weren’t a major part of my life.”

“I was. Not anymore Joshua. Go back to Dasha and leave me alone.”

Josh’s jaw tightened as he took a deep breath trying to compose himself. “Look, I know –”

“No,” Jaiaina said as she started to shake her head. “I’m not doing this with you.” Josh looked confused as she started to close the door in his face, at the last second, he put his foot in between the door and the fame. Jaiaine huffed as he easily overpowered her and gently pushed her away from the door.

She stomped over to the bed and threw herself down on it, while Josh shut the door behind her and went to sit in the armchair that was placed between the bed and the window.

“Josh, it's been six months since we last talked. Let’s just go back to that.”

“I don’t want to. I fucking miss you Jaiaina.”

Jaiaina laughed making Josh scoff.

“The hell so funny?”

“YOU!” She exclaimed as she jumped from the bed and pointed at him. “You think you can just come swoop in like some type of Superman after what you did?! Fuck off, Joshua!”

“Jai, I know I said some fucked up shit but -”

“Said?! No nigga. It's about what you did!” She cut him off. “The fact that you fucked that bitch the same night we broke up was foul as hell Joshua!”

“Woah!” He called out, jumping to his feet. “I ain't do no shit like that. Fuck is you talking about.”

Jaiaina let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah okay.” She said mockingly with a roll of her eyes. “The bitch already told anybody who would listen. The same night you walked out of our hotel room, you went to her! And you fucked her.” Jaiaina couldn’t hold it back anymore, the tears that threatened to spill since the bar came flowing down her face.

"Jai, I swear to you, that's ain’t what happened," Josh said, his voice low and urgent. He took a step towards her, but Jaiaina backed away, shaking her head.

“Don’t Joshua. Just leave.”

“Hell no. I’m not going anywhere. I lost you once, I’m not doing It again.”

Jaiaina childishly covered her ears. “I’m not listening to any of the bullshit you are spewing tonight Joshua!” She uncovered her ears and narrowed her eyes at Josh. “Okay let's just say, you didn’t have sex with her the same night. You’re still with her now! And don’t deny it, I heard you call her baby.” When Josh didn’t deny it, Jaiaina felt her heart break even more. “Please just go. Go back to your girlfriend and go back to ignoring me.” She whispered as she lowered her eyes to the ground.

Jaiaina heard him sniffle but she didn’t lift her head to look at him. “I never wanted to hurt you Jai.” Jaiaina didn’t say anything back, she didn’t have anything to say. She was exhausted. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget all about Josh by the morning.

Josh sighed and started walking towards the door, the silence between them was too much. It was suffocating. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make things right. But he didn’t know how. With one last glance at Jaiaina, he turned and walked out the door.

As soon as the door shut, Jaiaina broke down, she covered her mouth with her hand to try and hide her sobs. Outside, Josh leaned against the closed door, his forehead pressed against the cool wood. He could hear Jaiaina's muffled cries through the thin barrier, and each sob felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted nothing more than to burst back in, to take her in his arms and explain everything. But he knew she wouldn't listen, not now.

April 18th 2017

Birmingham, Alabama

Jaiaina knew it was stupid to go through this surgery alone, but WWE provided the best doctors so she knew she was in good hands.

Waking up from surgery was a feeling she would never get used to. She let out a groan at the dull ache in her right shoulder and immediately she heard someone shh her and place a straw at her lips. The comforting sensation of the water helped clear some of the haze, but as she blinked her eyes open, the shock of who was sitting next to her hit her like a ton of bricks.

“I gotchu, relax.”

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, her voice scratchy and weak from the anesthesia.

“Making sure you alright and not alone.”

“Josh please –”

He shushed her again. “I broke whatever I had with Dasha off. Imma be truthful and say that yeah, I got with her to fuck with you after I heard the rumor about you and AJ but, I did not have sex with her that same night. To be honest, I never had sex with her, I haven’t had sex with anybody since you.”

Jaiaina’s jaw dropped open. She didn’t know how to respond to that. She had spent the past six months hating Josh because she thought he was a slimy asshole. She didn’t know how to feel right now.

“Josh I-” She started,

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, Jaiaina,” Josh continued, his voice soft but firm. “Not right away. Aight? I know I messed up, and I know it’s not gonna be easy. But I’m willing to work this out, but only if you want to.”

Jaiaina stared into his eyes, no matter how hard she tried she would never get rid of the love she had for this man. It was a big relief to finally hear the truth about the night that they broke up but he still hurt her by ignoring her for six months.

“Please.” He whispered. “I always seen you in my life. Always seen you as the mother of my kids. Just give me one more chance.”

Jaiaina’s breath caught in her throat. This was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him in the three years they had dated.

“Okay,” She whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “But I swear on everything I love, this is your LAST chance.”

Josh's face lit up with a mixture of relief and hope. He gently took Jaiaina's hand, careful not to disturb the IV line. “I promise you, I won't mess this up again. I love you too damn much.”

Jaiaina stared at him for a second before a small smile came across her face. “I love you too.”

Authors Note: I'm sorry if this sucked 😮‍💨😫

I've had this halfway written for about a year and just decided to say fuck it and finish it. I really do hope you all enjoy it! ❤️

Side Note:

Jaiaina had torn rotator cuff.

Josh definitely bribed and threatened an intern to tell him what was wrong with Jaiaina LOL!

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#wwe #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x fem reader #jey uso x you #jey uso x y/n #jey uso x black fem reader #wwe x black oc #wwe x black reader #wwe x reader #wwe angst #jey uso angst

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 days ago

Text

Always Time for You

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: After you move to Los Angeles to escape an abusive relationship, you meet Deacon Kay and fall in love. When your ex arrives in Los Angeles, you have to tell someone, but don't want to worry Deacon.

Warnings: former abusive relationship, depictions of domestic violence, abuse, angst, fluff and comfort (none of the SWAT men do anything abusive, it's an ex!)

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The trip across the country is long and slow, each day spent holding your bruised cheek out of view and looking over your shoulder. You promise not to let your guard down when you finally reach Los Angeles. Surrounded by high rises and over 4 million people to blend in with, it would be easy to think you’re safe. But you know better.

Your little apartment in a quiet corner miles from downtown is nice, if not lonely. As you create a new life, you’re unbothered by the solitude, too concerned with being safe than having friends.

And then, in a moment, all of it changes.

1 Year Later

“Excuse me,” someone says behind you.

You flinch when a gloved hand raises beside you, then step out of the way and apologize to the officer. He nods once, then joins his team on the other side of the road. The police presence in your neighborhood today is too familiar. The last time you saw this many cops in one place. It was because you called them, and they barely made it in time.

Another approaching siren pulls you from your memory, and you step back from the curb. Something stops you, a feeling that going home would not be the right choice.

One of the SWAT officers looks at you and points in your direction. You freeze, remembering the officer who asked Well, did you tell him to stop? You provoked him; you shouldn’t do that if you already know what he’s like. When you look up again, two officers are walking toward you. Chewing the inside of your bottom lip, you hope they’ll walk past you.

“Hi, I’m Sergeant Deacon Kay, LAPD SWAT,” the officer who walked past you earlier says. “Do you live around here?”

“I do,” you answer softly.

“Would you mind answering a few questions?” the other officer, whose nametag says Street, asks.

“Sure,” you agree. “If I can.”

Deacon pulls a picture from his pocket, a folded piece of paper that he straightens before asking, “Have you seen this car around here?”

You lean closer, fighting against your memories, and answer, “I saw it last night. It sat across the street with its lights on from around 8 until midnight.”

“What made you notice it?” Street asks.

“The lights,” you explain. “When it turned, they lit up my living room, then didn’t go off.”

“Left around midnight, you said?” Deacon clarifies. You nod, and he points east to ask, “That way?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks for your help.”

They step back, and you ask, “Um, is it safe? Will he be back or is there anything I should be worried about?”

Deacon smiles and assures, “It’s safe. We’re going to get him.”

As he joins Street to return to Black Betty, Street asks, “We don’t know that; we’ve been looking for two days.”

“And we’ll find him today.”

The next night, someone knocks on your door, and you tiptoe across the room to look through the peephole. When you see Sergeant Deacon Kay, you open the door but hold it as you look at him.

“Hi,” he greets. “I just wanted to let you know we caught him.”

You sigh and whisper your gratitude.

“And… I came to ask you out.”

Smiling, you nod, and for once, you don’t think about your last relationship and let yourself hope for something new, something better.

1 Year Later

“Good morning,” you greet as you answer the phone.

“It is now,” Deacon replies. “How are you?”

“I’m better now.”

You open the door to leave for work but stop when you see a package on your doormat. Deacon says something, but the words across the top of the box are familiar, too familiar. You squat to see it better; the We’re back note is split by the box pulling open. You lift the flap with one finger and see a rope curled tightly inside, with two knots to form hand restraints. You jerk backward, falling onto the floor as you scramble from the box. Your phone hits the floor, and Deacon yells as you reach for it.

“Hey,” you breathe, staring at the box. “I’m okay, sorry, I got startled and dropped my phone.”

“Everything okay?” Deacon asks.

“Yes,” you lie. “Everything is fine.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight. Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

When you reach your car, a pack of matches is tucked under the windshield wipers, and you throw them into the backseat before slamming the door closed and locking it. Someone is close, and the fear you thought you’d left behind hits you like a train when you realize who it is.

Deacon knocks on your door an hour before your date, but he’s still in his uniform.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins. “I have to work overtime, for- for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll have time to make it up to you, but I will. I promise I will.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Be safe and call me when you can.”

Deacon leans in, ignorant of how your muscles tense before he touches you. He kisses your cheek, whispers another apology, and leaves. As he drives away, you see a knife tucked behind the plant by your door. Rather than spend the extra time with the door open to look at it, you close and lock it. Your breaths grow heavy as your chest tightens, but you have no proof that he’s nearby. You can’t tell the police, and Deacon will get stressed with overtime, so you have to wait for this to pass on its own.

The following week, almost ten days after the first box arrived, you call in sick to work. Sitting in your living room, you watch the front window. You can see your porch and car. By noon, you haven’t seen anyone. Slowly, you open the door, and there’s a boxing glove on the first step, with what looks like dried blood across where the wearer’s knuckles would be. You feel a pressure building in your eyes and know that the terror you experience will kill you from the inside if you don’t tell someone or do something.

“Where are you?” you whisper brokenly, looking across the street but seeing nothing.

Your car catches your attention, a baseball bat propped against the back door, and a spray-painted X marking your door. You know the paint will draw attention, so you find a sponge and car wash in your storage closet before you hesitate at the door. If he was close enough to do this without being seen, he’s close enough to do something to you.

You set the cleaning supplies down and take your phone from your pocket. Scrolling past Deacon’s contact, you text someone else and then sit by the door, staring out the window as you wait for him to arrive.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Luca asks when he sees your blotchy cheeks and blood on your palms, crescent-shaped marks created by digging your nails into your palm.

“He’s here,” you confide in him, struggling to breathe evenly. “Luca, he’s so close.”

“Who?” Luca asks, taking your wrists and looking into your eyes. “Who is he?”

“My ex, he- he hurt me, Luca, and now he’s here. There’s been knives, matches, rope… he keeps leaving stuff he used to use.”

“Use?” Luca repeats, his voice dropping. “To… to hurt you?”

You nod, then press against his forearms to plead, “You can’t tell Deacon. He’s so stressed with the overtime; I haven’t even talked to him in a week.”

“He needs to know.”

“No, no, Luca, promise that you won’t tell him. I’ll tell you if anything changes or if I actually see him, but I had to tell somebody.”

Luca hesitates, then nods. “Have you seen anything?”

“No,” you admit, dropping your head as a tear rolls over your cheek. “Just the stuff. And the notes… they sound like him, but they don’t look like his handwriting. What am I supposed to do, Luca?”

Luca shakes his head and pulls you into a hug. It’s not the same comfort you can get from Deacon. The realization that you can’t do anything until he’s close enough to see increases your terror to let you finally cry.

Three days after confiding in Luca and thanking him with dinner for cleaning your car, you decide to visit Deacon at the station. You must see him, so you steel your nerves and open the front door. A small pile of weapons and notes is built against your door, and it topples as you step out. You rush to your car and don’t take the time to remove anything from the windshield until you stop at a gas station a block from the station. Shoving the notes, matches, and short length of heavy chain into the trashcan without more than a glance, you hope that Deacon has time to talk. You won’t tell him anything, but you will ask for one of his hugs that make everything better.

As you round your trunk, a truck speeds in behind you. Suddenly, your arms are gripped tightly, and someone pulls you back quickly. Someone else pulls black fabric over your head, and you are shoved into the back of a car before you can think to scream.

“Not a word,” a man says, pushing a cold gun barrel against your ribs.

“We’ll do it,” Deacon offers. “Luca and I can drive by the residence in an unmarked car and bring back a report of what we can see.”

“Do it,” Hicks replies. “Go the long way around, check gas stations and restaurants in the area, too. We need to find her.”

Deacon leads Luca to his unmarked Charger, and Deacon takes the driver’s seat. As they drive toward the suspect’s residence, Deacon stops at a red light beside a gas station.

“Isn’t that your girlfriend’s car?” Luca asks, pointing to a gas pump.

Deacon’s brow furrows as he puts the car into reverse and backs into the station lot. He parks behind your vehicle, and he and Luca walk alongside it, then look over the top at each other.

“I’ll check inside,” Luca offers as Deacon dials your number.

“Thanks,” Deacon replies.

Your phone goes to voicemail, and Deacon looks down in time to see the screen light up in the center console. Luca runs out of the convenience store and calls, “Deac, get in here!”

Deacon runs into the store, and Luca asks the employee to play the security footage again. They watch as three men take you, and Luca takes a shaky breath before he says, “Deacon, there’s something you should know.”

“Time to go home,” one of the men in the car coos.

You stiffen, scared that by home he means they’ll hand you over to your ex. The car lurches to a stop, and you slam into the back of the seat before two sets of hands steady you.

“Well, look who it is.”

Shifting, you try to block out your ex’s voice, but knowing he can see you while you can’t see him makes your heart race and your chest tighten painfully. When he slips his hand under your fabric hood and runs his fingers along your jaw, you jerk backward. The man beside you shoves you forward so your hood can be ripped off.

“Don’t do that again,” your ex demands lowly, holding your jaw tightly.

You look around, hoping to see someone else around who can help you.

“You know the police couldn’t help before.”

“We did what you asked,” the man driving says.

“And? You’ll get paid when I pay you.”

With the distraction, you lean away from your ex. He slides his fingers into your hair when he notices the distance, pulling you forward by the roots. You gasp at the pain, but when you’re shoved out of the car and fall at his feet, suddenly, you’re the same scared girl you were before you ran. There is no escape, and no one knows to look for you.

“Gas pedal is on the right, Street!” Deacon yells from the backseat.

“We’ll get there,” Street promises, remaining patient even as he faces Deacon’s anger and fear. “We need the surprise.”

Deacon’s leg bounces as they approach the tradeoff spot in the note they found from your ex to the men who snatched you at the gas station. Your safety is the priority, but Deacon knows Hondo is worried about what he’ll do to your ex.

“I’m getting her out of there,” Deacon says. “You focus on the criminals stupid enough to email each other with their plans.”

“You got it,” Hondo responds. “Stay liquid.”

As they pull into the parking lot, Street parks by a fence where they can see the black SUV from the gas station and a grey Chevelle beside it. Street exits the driver’s seat in his civilian clothes and waves to the man standing at the back of the SUV.

“Hey, man! I’m trying to get to the road with the stars, uh, Walk of Fame or something? This city is so confusing, can you tell me where to go?” Street calls.

“Yeah,” the man replies, turning so Street can see him. “Away from here.”

Someone groans, and Street says, “Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“Better than you’ll be if you don’t go.”

Street puts his hands up, then smiles. “You’re not very observant.”

Luca and Hondo approach the car from the other side with their guns raised. As they yell commands, three men surrender and move to the side, but your ex remains beside you.

“Step back,” Street demands, moving directly behind him. “These guys have a bet going on how quickly I’ll get impatient today. I’m thinking about letting one of them win. Walk toward my voice.”

“You always were treated like you’re more important than you are,” your ex tells you. “Same cop,” he muses, looking at Luca. “No one wants you.”

“Yep, I’m impatient,” Street decides. He holsters his gun, grabs his collar, and hauls him backward.

As your ex hits the concrete, he begins fighting, so Street drags him across the rocky surface while Deacon rushes to your side. You hear Hondo radioing for backup but focus on Deacon as he kneels beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod and sit up carefully. Leaning against Deacon, you hug him tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Deacon asks softly, brushing his thumb over a bruise on your jaw.

“You were already working overtime, and honestly… I thought I was going crazy,” you admit. “He was leaving stuff and notes, but I never saw him, so I didn’t know.”

“Babe, I always have time for you,” Deacon assures you. He kisses your forehead and adds, “Especially if you’re in danger.”

“He… I moved to LA because of him,” you whisper. “He hurt me. A lot.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to deal with all of this alone, but you can tell me. Please tell me.”

“I will,” you promise. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. I miss you.”

“I’m done with overtime; I’m coming home with you.”

You don’t argue, giving in to your craving for Deacon’s safety and comfort. He’ll always be with you, have time for you, and love you through everything and with all of your scars.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #deacon kay #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯#swat fic #swat cbs #swat x reader

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daisymbin · 3 days ago

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warm hues! - xu minghao

warnings: none

pairings: xu minghao x reader

genre: tipsy minghao? friends to lovers!

wc: 1.3k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

the sun has already set by the time you decide to call minghao. he’d been in his art studio all day, working on his latest project—a piece he’d been tight-lipped about, only dropping vague hints whenever you tried to pry. knowing him, he was probably lost in his own world, forgetting to eat, drink, or even take a break. the thought makes you frown as you wait for him to pick up.

after a few rings, you hear his voice, soft and slightly breathy, like he’d been completely engrossed in his art before your call interrupted him. “hey,” minghao says, a smile evident in his tone. “what’s up?”

“hao, are you still at the studio?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

there’s a pause, then a light chuckle. “yeah, why? missing me already?” he teased.

you roll your eyes, though your lips curve into a smile. “i just wanted to bring you dinner. you’ve probably forgotten to eat again.”

“i didn’t forget,” he argues, though you can hear the lie in his voice. “i just... haven’t had time.”

“exactly my point,” you say, grabbing the packed meal you prepared with him in mind. “i’m on my way. don’t even think about touching another paintbrush until you’ve eaten.”

he hums in response, and you can picture the way he’s probably smiling to himself, eyes crinkling at the corners. “okay, okay. i’ll wait for you.”

–

when you arrive at minghao’s studio, you’re met with the faint scent of paint and the warm, earthy aroma of wine. his art studio is a familiar place, filled with canvases leaning against the walls, paint splatters on every surface, and brushes scattered across the tables. minghao himself is standing in front of a large canvas, wine glass in hand, his cheeks flushed a soft pink.

“you actually listened to me,” you say, surprised to see him waiting by the canvas, paintbrush set aside.

he turns to you, a smile breaking across his face. “of course i did. how could i not when you asked so nicely?” his voice has tipsy lilt to it, and you realize he’s more than just a little buzzed.

you raise an eyebrow, holding up the bag of food. “you’ve been drinking?”

“just a little,” he admits, holding up the almosy empty bottle of wine. “it pairs well with painting.”

you sigh, setting the food down on a nearby table. “come on, you need to eat something. wine on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea.”

minghao laughs, setting his glass down and obediently following you to the table. he sits across from you, and you can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, his eyes soft and warm.

“thank you,” he says quietly as you unpack the meal, his voice carrying a sincerity that makes your heart flutter.

“hmm,” you reply simply, avoiding his gaze. “just eat, okay?”

he does as he’s told, taking bites of the food you brought while occasionally sipping his wine. it isn’t long before he starts talking, his usual calm and collected demeanor slipping as he grows more relaxed.

“you know,” he starts, swirling the wine in his glass, “i’ve been working on this piece for a while.”

“yeah?” you prompt, curious. “what’s it about?”

minghao hesitates, his eyes drifting to the canvas he’d been working on. it’s partially finished, splashes of colors blending together in a way that’s both chaotic and beautiful. there are hints of a figure in the center, but it’s not fully defined yet. he seems lost in thought for a moment, then turns back to you.

“it’s... inspired by you,” he admits, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “or, well, because of you.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you can’t find the words. silence hangs between you, and minghao’s smile falters, a nervous, almost panicked look crossing his face.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he rushes out, his voice strained. “i know that probably sounds weird, or maybe you think it’s stupid, but i couldn’t help it. you inspire me, and i... i’m in love with you. god, i shouldn’t have said that. i’m sorry- i just-”

“hao,” you finally interrupt, your voice soft but firm. he stops rambling, his wide, anxious eyes meeting yours.

“why do you think i remind you to eat and bring you food all the time?” you ask, your cheeks burning. “why do you think i worry about you spending all day in here, forgetting to take care of yourself?”

minghao’s mouth opens slightly, his panic giving way to confusion. “why…?”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling your heart race. “it’s because i care about you, too. a lot.”

minghao’s expression softens, but there’s still a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “you do? you do…,” he answers himself, “but..like as a friend..or…?” he whispers subconsciously, trying to mask his nervousness, his voice barely audible.

you nod as your fingers start brushing against his where they rest on the table. “I would like to bring you food all the time, every day actually. without needing to care or worry if I sound overbearing. if thats..what you want too?”

his lips part, and for a second, he looks like he’s still processing your words. then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face; one that’s full of relief and disbelief all at once. he laughs, a sound that’s almost giddy, and he reaches out to gently cup your face.

“are you sure? will you really do that? you know I love the food you make me.” he asks, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“yeah,” you whisper, your voice steady despite your racing heart. “i’ve never been more sure of anything.”

minghao's eyes search yours, and you can feel the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something soft and unguarded in the way he looks at you, as if he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“then,” he says, voice hushed and tender, “i want that. i want everything you’re willing to give me.” his forehead leans against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mixing with yours, a silent, shared exhale that says everything neither of you can quite put into words.

you close your eyes, your hands moving to rest over his, anchoring the moment in your memory. the world outside his studio feels distant, almost nonexistent, as if the only things that matter are his touch, his smile, and the way your heart beats in time with his.

“hao,” you whisper, opening your eyes to find him already watching you. there’s a playful glint there, even amidst the sincerity, and it makes you smile despite yourself.

“yes?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“finish your food before it gets cold,” you tease, breaking the moment with a light laugh. “you promised, remember?”

he lets out a laugh, one that’s full and genuine, and the tension between you both dissipates like mist. “right,” he agrees, finally pulling away, though his gaze never strays far from your face. “but only if you sit here with me while i eat.”

“of course, always.” you reply, settling in beside him and feeling his shoulder brush against yours. it’s a simple question & a simple answer, but the meaning behind both of them, so much deeper.

minghao picks up his fork, taking another bite of the meal you prepared, and you sit together in the comfort of his art-filled sanctuary, a newfound understanding shimmering in the air between you.

“thank you,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. “for being here. for always taking care of me.”

“thank you too, for always listening so well & letting me take care of you.” you murmur, your heart swelling.

“only because it's you.”

minghao pulls you into a kiss, he hopes you know that this kiss is an unspoken agreement he promises never to break.

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ahhnini · 1 day ago

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strength

frat!rafe x tarot!reader

warnings - slight animal injury (not from any of the characters!), not proofread

frat!rafe x tarot!reader masterlist

a/n - lowkey hate this :( also masterlist links aren’t working again, so I apologize. I’ll add links once this glitch is fixed.

a small meow emerged from the foundation of your shop. you gasped, seeing the cat you’ve always fed right by the door, have a small gash across its nose.

it was tiny, and growing much slower than other cats you’ve seen. its been coming around for a couple of weeks now, and you have been doing your best to nourish the little animal.

you observed the kitten, watching it eat the food you placed. it must’ve been starving, you didn’t see it come around yesterday. you knelt down, gently stroking its fur. it continued ravishing its wet food, softly purring to your touch.

after the kitten finished eating, you gently lifted it, observing the gash on its nose. you hold it close to your chest as you walk downtown to the local vet.

“is he yours?” the primary vet asked. shaking your head, you watched as she fed the cat some medicine. she sighed, putting the syringe down. “well, you have a couple of options. you can give him to us and we can put him up for adoption…or you can adopt him yourself,” your eyes light up at the second option. “what do I need to do to adopt him?”

you didn’t really think this through. you were stood outside the frat house, freshly mowed grass slightly irritating your nostrils, your newly adopted kitten purring in his carrier. the realization hit you. were you even allowed to have pets? guess you’ll find out in a little.

barely anyone was home. there was an event with a nearby sorority, and you saw a glimpse of rafe getting a snack from the bar. you cringed to yourself, trying to make small footsteps up the spiral staircase. unfortunately, your feline friend didn’t get the memo, and started meowing every time you went up a step.

“who’s there?” you hear rafe’s footsteps quickly approach. you suck in a deep breath, turning to face him.

rafe had to break the news to jay about the cat. thankfully, there had been no rules in the frat constitution about a pet, and jay reassured you that a couple years back the guys all took care of a fish named guppy, so you were in the clear.

the next morning, you woke up to your room being filled with cat food, toys, and accessories. rafe was in a corner assembling the cat tree. however, the kitty was nowhere to be found. as if rafe read your mind, he spoke up, “he’s in the living room, playing by the windows.” you sigh in relief before replying, “did you get all these things?” he shook his head, “no, all of us pitched in. it started with one of the guys suggesting we get some food for him, and then it sort of…spiraled into this,” he places the wrench on the floor, and you had to stop yourself from staring at his arms. you look away, nodding. “speaking of, we sort of, named the cat for you,” “oh? it better not be some stupid name like ground beef—”

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. “nah. we named it merlin. after the wizard. we decided it fit him ‘cus you’re his mom and you know, you do witchy things. you’re welcome to change it,” he shrugs, standing up to admire his craftsmanship.

“merlin? oh, I love it. merlin the cat. has a nice ring to it,” you chuckle.

heading downstairs, the surprises kept coming as you see a professional photographer, who was taking pictures of your cat, dressed up as a wizard. a couple weeks later, the photo was hung up on the hallway walls, right next to the alumni.

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zigrethsnotebook · 2 days ago

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3 times Stan fake-proposed to you and 1 time he didn’t

Stan x Reader

words: 4,123

tags: sfw, toothrotting fluff

a/n: was allowed to borrow the idea from @stanpineskisser <3

1. Stan and you had been dating for a couple of months now. The town was slowly warming up to the idea of Mister Mystery dating someone so... 'out of his league' as you'd once heard it. You knew they just thought you were a gold-digger but you also did not care. You loved Stan. And even though he had a hard time saying it out loud, you knew he loved you, too.

Stan didn’t need to tell you how he felt, because he showed you through little gestures and gifts he'd get you. (But to call you a gold-digger because of that? He stole most of the stuff anyway!) Like today, when you two went on a date to Greasy's Diner.

It wasn't supposed to be anything fancy, just a normal dinner date with Stan. But as things so often are with this man, it ended up being anything but normal.

When you two entered the Diner one thing immediately caught your eye. A new little machine stood next to the coat rack at the door. It was one of those things where you'd put a coin in, turn the handle a couple of times and a little plastic ball filled with some cheap toy would fall out. You loved these when you were a kid! The toys were always terrible but something about it always made you get something whenever you saw one of these.

Your excitement and nostalgia got the better of you. So while Stan put both of your coats away, you went and got yourself something from the machine. Grinning from ear to ear you followed Stan to an empty booth. You waited until after you had ordered your drinks to open the plastic ball.

"Where'd you get that?" Stan asked as you struggled to tear the two halves apart. "The machine at the door." You didn't even look up to answer him, you knew he wouldn't like it, call it a waste of money. He'd be right, of course, but you didn’t need to hear it.

While Stan was looking for the machine you finally managed to pull the ball apart, sending the contents flying across the table, one of the things rolling off of it. You quickly gathered them all in one spot in front of you while Stan stood up. "I gotcha."

When he spotted the little dark blue plastic ring in front of the table, he bent down on one knee, picked it up and presented it to you. You were about to take it from him when Lazy Susan appeared behind him, holding your drinks. She gasped before saying: "Oh my, Mr. Pines! Are you proposing already?" Stan looked at her quizzically for a second when you saw an opening for a free meal.

"Oh my god, Stan! I never would have thought! This is so sudden...!" You put on a real show and Stan was quick to follow your lead. "What can I say? These past few months have been the best of my life and I never want them to end! Please... marry me?"

The words were right but both of you spoke them like you were the leads in a cheap soap-opera. It didn’t matter though. Everyone cheered when you said 'yes' and fell into his arms. Stan pushed the ring onto your finger and you kissed him as dramatically as you could.

Once you two had settled back into your seats, now holding hands and making heart-eyes at each other, Lazy Susan put your drinks on your table. "Well, I think it goes without saying that you two are getting the special today. On the house! Aren't you just adorable!" You both thanked her and grinned at each other as she turned around.

After dinner, on your way back to the shack, Stan couldn't help but laugh. "Nice stunt you pulled there. Quick thinking - I like that." You smirked at him. "I learned from the best."

He shifted in his seat a little, the words he was about to say making him slightly nervous. "You do realize we'll have to pretend to be engaged now, right?" You chuckled before answering sarcastically. "Oh no, what a nightmare!"

Stan joined you with a chuckle of his own. However, he couldn't shake the warm, fuzzy feeling that was blooming in his chest at the thought of being engaged to you.

2. About two weeks later Stan asked you out to dinner again. "And put on something nice. We're going to a fancy restaurant today. Because I'm planning to propose to you!" You were about to question him when he showed you a little blue box. When he opened it you recognised the little blue plastic ring from the Diner and smiled a crooked smile.

"And here I was, thinking you were going to propose to me for real," you sighed dramatically, "but I suppose a scam for a free dinner will do." You smirked at Stan as he put the box into his jacket. "I'll be back in five." You kissed his cheek and turned on your heels to put on some nicer clothes.

As you walked away you had to calm your racing heart with a few steadying breaths. What happened at Greasy's was dumb luck, but the fact that Stan wanted to pull the same scam again, on purpose this time, left you feeling giddy.

You lived for the excitement Stan brought into your life. Scamming, shoplifting, pug smuggling or robbing his rival of a clown painting - Nothing beat the adrenalin rush of doing something illegal, running away hand in hand and then sinking into each other, laughing hysterically.

This scam in particular though? It felt a little different. You knew that this would only work if the people at the restaurant believed that you two were so in love that you'd want to marry each other. Not that it was very difficult for you. You two had been dating a good while and you really loved him. But the topic of marriage had never even crossed your mind before.

Then again, this was only a scam. He wasn't actually proposing to you. After all, you had roped him into this at Greasy's and now he was just taking advantage of a good situation.

Still, as you looked in the mirror, all dressed up in your fanciest dark red suit, you decided that you'd put on an even better show than last time.

When you met Stan again in the living room he eyed you up and down before stepping towards you and grabbing your waist, pulling you closer to him. His voice was low. "You look gorgeous, doll."

Your hands found his chest and traced his skin in the part of his shirt he'd left unbuttoned. "You clean up nice yourself, handsome." You all but purred at him. Stan chuckled, a smirk on his face. "Don't tempt me, sweetcheeks. Let's get dinner first."

You both chuckled and pulled apart so Stan could lead you to the front door. He kept one of your hands in his up until he opened the car door for you, allowing you to climb inside, before he shut the door. He walked over to the driver's side and you two drove off.

Stan had picked a restaurant a good 40 minute drive from the shack so by the time you arrived you were starting to get really hungry. Stan had put in a reservation beforehand which meant you were quickly seated and presented with a nice red wine Stan had ordered for the both of you.

He promised you he'd only drink one glass and then switch to soda and you believed him. Stan had assured you time and time again that nothing was more important to him than your safety.

You held his hands on top of the table and you both stared into each other's eyes, really going all out on the lovey-dovey stuff. Normally, Stan would roll his eyes and groan at people who behaved like this, but when he could use it to scam someone? He was not holding back.

He softly spoke sweet nothings over the table, quiet enough to be believable, loud enough to make sure the staff heard him. He peppered your hands in soft kisses and smiled at you like you were the light of his life.

Hell, if you didn’t plan for this to be a scam then you would have believed him. You couldn't help the way a gentle blush crept onto your cheeks at the sight of Stan picking up your hand and placing a soft kiss to your knuckles without breaking eye contact with you.

Just as Stan saw the waiter approaching again out of the corner of his eyes, he put on the real show. He stood up, his chair screeching backwards slightly and declared: "I can't wait any longer." Stan pulled the blue box from one of his pockets and got down on one knee in front of you as he addressed you by name.

"You are by far the best thing that's ever happened to me. Your smile is what lets me get up in the morning and I would be honored if you would allow me to see your smile every day for the rest of our lifes. Please. Will you marry me?"

You watched him, real shock and surprise making its way to your face with every word he spoke. You had to manually remind yourself that this was just a scam and Not a real proposal. Without your permission your voice went shaky as you breathed out a "Yes, of course!" and went in for a kiss.

You sighed into the kiss, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Why was this having such a strong effect on you? You knew this was coming, you should have been prepared for this!

It didn’t matter because you didn’t have much time to dwell on it. When you parted the kiss you tuned back into the real world and heard the other customers applauding. The waiter had now reached the both of you and declared that for true love like yours your meal would be on the house. The customers applauded again as you both settled back into your seats.

You admired the dark blue ring Stan had slipped onto your finger and Stan quickly covered it with his own hand when the waiter brought out your plates, knowing full well that with one closer look every idiot would see that the ring is just plastic.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Two couples congratulated you both on their way out and you thanked them accordingly.

After you were done and back on the road Stan was first to speak up. "You were real convincing today. Almost made me think you thought it was a real proposal." He kept his eyes on the road but the smirk on his lips was still very clear.

You chuckled. "Yeah, right. To be fair, you weren't half bad yourself. 'Your smile is what lets me get up in the morning'? Now that's some true romantic stuff. Did you learn that from The Duchess Approves?" You tried to play it cool by teasing him. It seemed to do the trick.

"Hey! I can be romantic!" You chuckled fondly. "Yes, I know, love." Stan's expression softened at the nickname. He wanted to tell you just how much he loved you, too, but he just couldn't get the words out so instead, he just put his right arm over the backrest of your seat and pulled you towards him slightly as he continued to drive home.

You leaned into his touch and held up your left hand to look at the ring again. "Hm... How about I give this back to you, in case we want to do this again sometime?" You smiled as you pulled the ring off your finger and dropped it into the chest pocket of Stan's shirt.

3. It was late spring as you and Stan decided to go to a fair, one town over. You two walked along the many different attractions together, your arm lazily around his torso, his hand gently resting on your hip. Your pace was very slow, because at every other stall he squeezed your hip lightly to pull you closer and whispered in your ear how exactly they were scamming the customers. Every time he'd get a chuckle or a gentle swat to his chest from you.

As you two were passing by a Tin Can Alley, you spotted a gorgeous bear plushie that was just one fez short of looking like Stan. Just as you were about to ask him to play a round with him he pulled you closer again. "Ah, the Tin Can Alley. Did you know that they put a bit of double sided tape under the cans so they're harder to knock over?"

You swatted him lightly again and he chuckled. "No! Stan! Don't tell me that! I wanted to play a round with you. That bear looks so much like you, I wanted to win one." He looked a little puzzled at you, then at the bear, and back at you again. "I don't see it."

Even though he hated hearing you say it, he was plain adorable at times. A fond smile graced your lips even though you sighed in disappointment. "It's okay, let's go." You went to take a step forward but Stan stopped you. "Nah, let's play anyway." "But-" He cut you off and stepped towards the stall. "Come on! My treat." Stan flashed his teeth and winked at you. Was he planning something?

You were the only people at the stall so the man in charge of it noticed you two immediately. Stan squinted at him. "What do we need to do to get that bear?" He pointed at the plushie dangling above your heads.

The man smiled at him. "Good choice, sir. For that one you should only need three balls." He placed three balls on the counter between the men. "There is a catch though. You see these stacks?" He pointed at the three pyramids of stacked cans behind him. "You'll need to clear all three of them completely. Care to try? It's only three dollars."

Stan pulled three dollars out of his pocket and placed them on the counter, then gently nudged you closer to it. "Give it your best shot, doll." You smiled at Stan and took the first ball as the man behind the counter put the money away.

You positioned yourself in front of the first stack, took a deep breath and threw the ball. It hit the second of three rows, knocking four out of six cans to the ground. "Hoho! Good one! But not quite good enough for the bear I'm afraid." You frowned, disappointment filling your chest again.

"Yeah, not an option, pal. How about you just keep 'em coming, huh?" The man smiled at Stan again, although this time it looked a little more like a smirk. "Gladly, sir! Every extra ball is an extra dollar." As he said this he put one extra ball on the counter. Stan grumbled quietly and pulled another dollar out of his pocket while the man restacked the cans.

When the man was done and took the dollar, Stan looked at you, encouraging you to try again. This time you actually managed to clear the first stack. You threw your arms up in triumph and Stan huffed but the look in his eyes was of pure adoration. The second stack was less easy though, you only knocked off three cans this time. You needed an extra ball.

This went on until Stan had spent exactly eleven dollars. You had counted along. After that, when you hadn't cleared the cans again and looked at Stan expectantly, he put on his saddest face and pulled his pockets inside out, proving that he had 'no money left' and you couldn't continue.

Stan sighed sadly, shook his head and turned to you again. "I'm so sorry... I wanted to make this the best day ever but..." He looked wistfully up at the plushie and then back to you. "I suppose it doesn't matter that much." Stan rummaged through the inside of his jacket and pulled out the tiny box you'd come to recognize. You let your eyes widen in fake surprise.

He bent down on one knee, opened the box and presented it to you. You gasped as you saw the ring again. "Will you marry me?" You looked between Stan and the ring a couple times, pretending to be shocked at this scenario, before you nodded vigorously and stepped forward, hugging your boyfriend and repeating the word 'yes' a couple of times.

Some passersby 'aw'-ed and applauded as you pulled back slightly to press a loving kiss to Stan's lips. You'd never get tired of this. As Stan pushed you back just enough to slip the ring onto your finger, you could hear the man at the stall quietly sigh in annoyance. You went in for another kiss to Stan's lips, really selling the proposal.

When you broke the kiss again, you two were presented with the bear plushie, sitting for you on the counter. "If this is what it will take to make this the best day ever for two lovers, who am I to stand in your way?" The man said as he slid the bear over to you.

You gladly took it, hugging it tightly and throwing a couple 'Thank you!'-s at the man while Stan grabbed him by the shoulder and told him: "Thanks, man. I knew you were a true romantic at heart."

With that, you two left the fair. You had everything you needed. Back in the car, you slipped the ring off your finger and handed it back to Stan before nuzzling your face into your new favorite plushie, which you lovingly and creatively named Stan two or Stan the second.

You didn’t see it, but Stan's expression softened as you did that. He adored you so much. The way you were able to pull off these scams with him so effortlessly. The way your genuine joy for life made him actually want to spend money on silly things like this. You had changed his life for the better and didn’t even know it.

In that very moment Stan started planning exactly how and where the next time he'd propose to you would happen.

1. You and Stan sat in Greasy's Diner, sipping on some soda. Stan had asked you out to dinner and you had assumed he was planning to fake-propose to you again, but as he pulled up to the Diner you realized that that wasn't the plan. He couldn't pull the same thing here again, they thought you were already engaged!

Even so, Stan had put on one of his nicer outfits. A red shirt with the top few buttons unbuttoned to show off his gold-chain and a decent amount of chest hair. His tan jacket was thrown over the backrest as you sat down at a booth. You had also worn something nice, not too fancy, but nice enough for the kind of restaurant you thought he'd take you to.

Stan clearly enjoyed your outfit, it showed off all the right curves while not giving too much away... he couldn't keep his eyes off of you. It made you chuckle as Lazy Susan stood in front of your table and Stan seemingly hadn't even noticed her. "Hey! Earth to Stan!" You called out to him and he snapped out of it. "What would you like to eat?" You grinned at him as he ordered.

When Lazy Susan walked back to the kitchen you spoke up again with a chuckle. "I know I look good in this, but you're overdoing it a little." Stan just rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Haha... yeah. Sorry." You furrowed your brows at him. You had expected him to have some witty, suggestive comeback but instead he apologized? Something was off.

You watched him fidget with his hands in front of him, his eyes darting around the room and the table, anywhere but your eyes really. It was starting to worry you. "Stan? Are you alright?" Concern laced your voice and made Stan finally face you. His cheeks immediately went bright red.

"Th-There's nothing for you to worry about, doll, I promise." Your eyebrows stayed knitted together as you nodded slowly. He was clearly lying and also very nervous about it, but you knew better than to push him. He'd tell you eventually. He always does.

After a few minutes in silence, with Stan going back to fidgeting and not looking at you, Lazy Susan brought you both your meals. You thanked her and dug in. Meanwhile Stan quietly sighed in disappointment before starting to eat as well.

You were about halfway through your meal when Stan got up. You didn’t pay much attention to it and just assumed he had to use the restrooms. When you looked up and saw his plate though, you halted. The fork in your hand landed back on your plate as you wondered why Stan had barely eaten anything.

Someone cleared their throat beside you and when you turned to look it was Stan in front of you on one knee, holding a tiny red box. You quickly swallowed the food that was still in your mouth as Stan addressed you with your full legal name. He was blushing a deep red and you could feel your cheeks trying to match his.

"I know I've said this before but I want you to know that I truly mean it this time." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "These past few months with you have been the best of my life and I would spend all the money in the world to keep your smile in my life forever."

Your eyes welled up with tears as you realized what was happening. "I have become a better man and I blame you for that entirely." A wet chuckle escaped your lips. "I guess what I really want to say is..." Stan took another deep breath, then looked into your eyes. "I love you."

A few tears were flowing freely now as Stan opened the box in his hands to present you the most gorgeous silver ring you had ever seen. It held a little red gemstone between silver swirls that reflected the light from the Diner like a sunset over the ocean. "Will you marry me?"

You lept out of your seat into Stan's arms, knocking him backwards onto the floor. "Yes! Yes! A million times yes!" Stan could feel your tears staining his shirt but he couldn't care less. A massive weight lifted off his shoulders knowing that he could now call you his fiancé without having to lie about it.

With some difficulty he managed to sit you both back up so he could take your hand and place the real ring onto your finger. Admiring the sight he pressed a kiss to it, as if sealing it there.

You pressed your forehead to Stan's, holding the hand with the ring between you. "I love you, Stan." He sighed, finally content. "I love you, too."

After a few moments on the floor like that, Lazy Susan came up next to you. "Didn’t you propose two months ago?" Stan let out a gruff laugh, the one that always made you smile. "No, I didn’t. Just faked it to get a free meal." He beamed at her but Lazy Susan frowned.

She turned around and while Stan helped you up and into your seat again she came back with a broom in her hands. She smacked him with it from behind. Once, twice. Stan stammered out some halfhearted apologies as she kicked him out of the Diner.

You laughed all the way and when she came back to your table you apologized sincerely, asked her nicely to pack both of your meals up to go and told her that you'd pay for both these meals, and the ones you had two months ago.

She agreed happily, and when you stepped outside with your food, you found Stan next to his car, rubbing his ass. You laughed and told him that you'd finish your dinner at home, just the two of you.

That seemed to lift Stan's spirits again. He almost sprinted around the car to open the door for you and when you both got home you celebrated your real engagement appropriately.

#wow this got out of hand #this was supposed to be way shorter... oh well #hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #zigreth writes #stanley pines #stan pines x reader #stanley pines x reader

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 days ago

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Hiiii

can you do 80s jason fucking you for the first time and he cums to quickly but he gets hard again in a second and he fucks like a god ?

💋

A/n: I'm guessing this isn't quite what you were talking about but I was craving soft Jason 🥹

Warnings: Smut, riding, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You'd been taking it slow with Jason for multiple reasons, he was busy with bands, he'd never been with anyone like that before, also he just wanted it to be perfect for you.

It was your birthday and Jason went all out. He took you on a walk around a park to a picnic he'd set up by a creek under a willow tree, it was quiet and candle lit and he made your favourite meal.

Then, he brought you back to his place. There was a trail of rose petals leading to the bedroom.

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek. "Is this a good end to the night?" He asked, his voice soft as he waited for your approval. "We can just go to sleep if you want, I was just thinking... I don't know." He mumbled, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"No, no, it's perfect." You said, turning to face him. "You did great." You smiled, stretching to kiss him.

"Well then, I guess we should get going." He said awkwardly. You giggled at his nervousness and took his hand in yours, leading him to the bedroom.

You crawled onto the bed, Jason hovering over you with your lips connected. You helped him get your clothes off before he sat back to take care of his own clothes, all while you shamelessly admired him.

Jason was down to his boxers and he paused, looking you up and down. "Where... do I start?" He asked, worried he might make a mistake.

You chewed your cheek as you thought about it but Jason was already moving down the bed and positioning his head between your thighs.

His tongue was on you in a instant, lapping up your juices, dipping into your cunt and bumping his nose on your clit. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on it and pulling him closer. You’d never fucked before but he’d definitely gone down on you a few times, although he was nervous you’d also blown him on occasion.

It’s not that either of you were virgins, neither of you were exactly experienced but you weren’t virgins. Jason just wanted to it to be perfect.

Of course, that meant he had to help you cum before he could cum. Plus he just loved making you feel good so starting by eating you out was perfect in his mind.

Your back was arching off the mattress already as his calloused fingers prodded that spongey spot, drawing a gasp from you along with your first high of the night.

He let you come down from it, running the pads of his fingers up and down your sides to make you twitch. He was gentle and sweet but he wanted to get a reaction from you whenever he could, in whatever way he could.

You smiled up at him, reaching for him and wrapping your arms around his neck when he moved over you. “Are you ready, love?” He asked, kissing up your jaw and nibbling your earlobe.

You nodded eagerly, giving him a gentle squeeze, feeling your walls fluttering as he pushed himself through your folds, gathering your juices to use as lube before pushing into you. You could tell that much was already a lot for him and he refused to move, partially to let you adjust.

He groaned and hid his face in the crook of your neck, hips twitching as he came inside you, mumbling apology after apology while you held him and assured him it was fine.

When he was ready he sat up and kissed you before reaching to the nightstand and grabbing the bottle of water that was there. It was nice to just feel him inside you but you were more than ready for more, so much more, and he was willing to deliver.

"I'm sorry, love, you just felt so good." He said, chuckling softly, a bit out of embarrassment. Maybe a lot out of embarrassment. "I'll do better, I promise." He kissed your lips a last time as you smiled up at him.

"Whatever you give me I'll take." You said, pulling him back for another kiss, this one didn't break so soon and Jason started rolling his hips into yours.

He kept a slower pace, taking into account the sounds you made and when you made one he especially liked he angled himself to keep hitting that spot. His lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, leaving your mouth open for moans to slip out.

He ran a hand up and down your side before finally landing on your clit, rubbing it with his thumb to match his thrusts. Gradually he got faster, always keeping in mind how you felt and muttering praise in your ear. "You're doing so good for me, such sweet sounds." He said, kissing just under your ear.

You felt your second high creeping up on you, slowly washing over you and lasting what felt like an eternity. By the time you were coming down from it Jason was laying beside you, holding you to his side and littering your face in kisses.

Looking down you could see he was still hard and just ignoring it, despite how red he was.

You kissed his shoulder as you looked up to meet his gaze. He was smiling down at you, happy he got to make you feel good. It didn't matter all too much how much pleasure he was deriving from it, he could help himself to that later, his attention was on you.

Your attention was on him.

You moved to straddle him, grinding down on his length and hearing a soft grunt from him. "What're you doing, sweetheart?" He asked, a hand moving down to your hip. He didn't hold you still, didn't guide you, he just wanted to touch you, feel you under the pads of his fingers.

"I want to feel that again." You said, adjusting and sinking down on him, face scrunching as your body was still reeling from the earlier pleasure.

Jason laughed at that, his cute little giggle sending butterflies to your belly as you started moving on his length. He put his thumb back to your clit, rubbing it in those sweet, sweet circles.

Not wanting to make you do all the work he kept moving his hips, thrusting up into you, still watching for those pretty moans of yours. If you tried to go faster he slowed you down, you were both sensitive and he knew it, if you just let that high find you it felt better, washing over you and making you see white.

It hit you again, coming up slowly until Jason was helping you to lay down on him, only this time he didn't pull out. Instead he went faster, hips losing all sense of rhythm. Being sensitive it made you whine right into his ear, only adding fuel to his fire, your body bouncing on his until he was painting your walls with his cum, unintentionally bringing you over the edge a fourth time.

Even after he didn't pull out, keeping you on top of him and holding you tight as you both caught your breath.

"Thank you." He whispered, kissing your cheek. "Felt so good." You only nodded in respond, kissing his neck and drifting off to sleep on top of him, not minding the sticky sensation between you and only craving his warmth.

#metallica rp #metallica fanfiction #80s metal #metallica #metal #metallica smut #metallica imagines #metallica x reader #jason newsted #jason newsted x you #jason newsted fluff #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted smut

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legomonkiefics · 3 days ago

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Hello! I have had this idea/request in my lil monkie brain for a fic

I have seen LOTS of your other Fics and you're really good at writing!

So, I thought ''why not give this idea to a professional?''

AHEM, the idea:

Sun Wukong x fem reader

The reader finally convinced Wukong to go roller skating with her

*coughs* like a roller-skating date *coughs*

I imagine that Wukong can't skate so Y/N / the reader, tries to teach him and they have a wholesome moment or sum

btw I hope you're having a wonderful day/night! <3

🧡👑Skates and Mis-skates — Sun Wukong x Fem Reader Drabble👑🧡

Genres: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨👑୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

When you had offered up the chance to hang out, of course the sunny monkey king took up your offer. Even if he was retired, getting pulled into MK's hero work did tire him out a bit. He brushed aside any comments you'd made about how much he sleeps all day when he mentioned as such and agreed to meet as soon as possible. The sun was setting a bit, but the rolling rink still had a good few hours before closing. Wukong took in a breath, hood sitting fully on his head to cover himself as he walked in.

It was waaayy darker inside than he was expecting. The lights were very dim compared to the sunny day, and the Sage found himself blinking a few times just to have his sight adjust. Right as he got his vision back, you were already beaming next to him. "Jeez!" Wukong began, jolting a little "Nice job, peach. Sure you aren't taking stealth lessons?" he joked. You chuckled as you gently linked your arm with his "You stay in your dojo all day watching Monkey Cop films, you should be used to this". "Hey, that special director's cut edition was worth it" Wukong playfully argued. He was exaggerating just a hint. He could recognize your scent anywhere, and his body was naturally attuned to pick up any energy nearby. But he loved seeing the small self-satisfied smile on your face when you thought you'd taken him off guard, so he let you have this one.

You lead him over to the desk, sliding up money for the tired clerk to accept. Soon enough you were guiding Wukong to take a seat at a nearby table, handing him a pair of orange and blue skates with yellow star patterns. Wukong looked over them, absentmindedly spinning one of the red wheels with his finger. "You sure this is safe? I mean these things have like maybe four wheels holding them together" he asked aloud. "Is the great sun warrior scared of a roller skate?" You asked, the teasing lilt in your tone not escaping him. He gave a little scoff as he slid on his pair. "I'm just trying to look out for you! Can't have my star companion breaking their tailbone" he replied. You stood, shuffling across the faded-patterned carpet to stand in front of him "Well thank you, but I think I can handle a roller rink" you said playfully. Wukong stood up, flailing his arms a little as he tried to gain his footing. Once he was certain he wasn't gonna fall over, he gave you a thumbs up with a confident smile. You huffed a little laugh, beginning to walk to the rink.

Wukong placed down a confident step, only to almost immediately fall flat on his tail. He gripped the nearest wall, claws digging in as he tried to right himself. His feet kept slipping underneath him, and no matter how much he turned, he couldn't seem to land. He turned over his shoulder, seeing how you had already zoomed past him. Seeing you glide so effortlessly was... captivating, in its own way. You seemed so in control, so free and fluid among the sea of attendees. He watched as you slid in between groups, weaving and spinning like a soaring bird. His eyes glistened in the oscillating lights with awe and admiration as you did a little spin.

Wukong shook his head a little, breaking himself out of his trance. He looked back to his own skates, making a small noise of frustration. With his confidence doubled, he firmly tried to get his stance back once more. After a particularly harsh twist, he managed to accidentally push himself off of the wall. He went flying back, scrambling in air the whole time as skaters quickly dove out of the way of the hurtling hooded guy. It was all at once when something stopped him, the abrupt end of momentum disorienting Wukong for a moment. Once his head was no longer spinning, he was positioned back upright by helpful hands. He looked down, noticing the palms resting on his shoulders, looking up to see you very desperately holding back laughter.

Wukong's face shifted into a pout, and he gently swatted your hands off of him. "Are you sure you're okay?" You asked through your barely concealed snickers. Wukong huffed as he stood on shaky legs. "Uh, yeah! I was just doing one of those tricks you guys are always doing online" he lied. "Mhm. And which one was that?" You asked knowingly. Wukong stammered for a bit "It's- uh- pssh, obviously- ....the flying monkey?". You couldn't hold back that time, a snort and a laugh leaving you at his attempt to cover his blunder "Right, I'm sure everyone is dying to do that". "Give me a break, it's my first time" Wukong mumbled, arms crossed over his chest. Your laughter calmed to a soft chuckle, wrapping an arm around his waist "You could've just said so. Here, I'll guide you through it".

Wukong's sour expression faded, replaced with mild surprise "Alright, alright, fine. But don't get too upset if I end up a total master" he said, unable to hide his grin. "Right, and invent another move" You teased. Before Wukong could make a retort, you began gently and slowly leading him to a more empty part of the rink. He kept a tight hold on your sleeve, arm around your hip to stay as close as possible. "You got it, you're doing great" You reassured, leading him into a small turn. Wukong glanced up at your face, seeing your eyes watching his with amused care. Wukong gave a slightly crooked smile back, watching as you slowly moved him in front of you, your hands still intertwined.

"Not so bad, huh?" You asked, and Wukong nodded "Not the worst. I'm just glad I'm in the hands of a pro". You smiled a little wider, gently turning with him to guide him into a spin. He followed your movements with ease, but not without tripping a little at the end of the last rotation. He quickly clung tightly to you as he got his bearings. You wrapped your arms around him, patting his back. "There, there, your highness. How about a break? I can buy us some snacks". Wukong pulled back from you a bit "Human food? Hell yeah! Make sure you get the big drinks, all this learning is making me parched". You nodded, guiding him to a wall for safety, giving a reassuring pat to his shoulder. "I'll call you over when it gets here" You said, turning and skating effortlessly out of the rink.

Wukong kept watch, seeing you gently put aside your skates and put back on your normal shoes for a second to go and talk to the vendor. He leaned against the rink wall, sighing a little as he felt his cheeks tinge with warmth. Having you so close, supporting him like that, always made his heart feel so warm. He couldn't help but keep a soft smile on his face as he saw you waiting around for the food. He'd trip a thousand times if it meant you'd catch him after every single one.

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