#I hope it's not TOO obvious where this is going

[pankesitopank]

thoughts are thoughting zzzzz ... enha hyungline measuring dick sizes BUT. through reader's tummy bulge while inside her.. hagahahshbjhracgjt

Enhypen hyung line measuring their d!cks by your belly bulge!!!

cw: sex w/no plot - size kink - belly bulge - ... it is kinda obvious, i never know what to put in here...

note: lol i said thoughts and they are more like some silly lil scenarios hehe.

i hope that's what you had in mind. i was between two options, like this or like an ultra orgy (which i suppose would actually be like a gangbang... i don't know) where each member fucks you and sees how deep they are... but i assumed you'd want it as a reaction.

In case you want that version or the maknae line, don't hesitate to tell me!!!!!

HEESEUNG

You don’t even realize it at first — the way he slows down, the way his hand drifts from your hip up your stomach mid-thrust, the way his eyes go dark and unfocused like he’s seen a ghost.

You��re too busy moaning, legs spread wide and trembling, hips tilted up so he can get deeper, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. But Heeseung’s not hearing it anymore. He’s watching. Staring.

At your tummy.

Where he’s pressed so deep that there's a little bump showing through the softness of your skin.

“Oh… fuck,” he breathes, more to himself than to you. His hips still, cock throbbing inside you, and his palm flattens gently over your belly, right where he sees it.

“What is it?” you ask, voice thin and dazed.

Heeseung doesn’t answer right away. He’s fixated, blinking slowly like his brain is short-circuiting. Then—

“Is that… me?” His thumb traces the bulge, and when your body twitches under him, his breath catches. “Is that my dick? Baby… holy shit.”

The way he says it sends a jolt straight through your core. You’re suddenly hyperaware of the stretch, the way he’s filling you, how deep he must be to actually show on the outside. Heeseung is silent for a moment, then looks up at you with pure awe — wide eyes, lips parted.

“You’re so small,” he murmurs, slowly starting to move again, grinding his hips to press in even deeper, deeper, deeper. His hand never leaves your belly. “I’m so deep inside you, I can see it—fuck, I can feel it right here.”

He presses down gently on the bulge, and you whine, your entire body clenching around him. He moans at that, letting his forehead drop to your shoulder.

“God, I can’t believe this. You’re made for me,” he whispers. “You’re taking all of me.”

Heeseung gets weirdly quiet after that. Focused. Like the science of it has consumed him. His hand keeps tracing over the swell, even when he pulls out a little and thrusts back in to watch it appear again. Like magic. Like proof.

“You feel that? Right here?” He presses your hand to your belly, placing your fingers directly over it. “That’s me, baby. That’s my cock. All the way in.”

You’re squirming now, overstimulated, overwhelmed, gasping every time he shifts and the pressure changes. He’s whispering the filthiest things, words that make your brain go static—

“You’re gonna remember this every time you look at yourself. That bulge? That’s my shape, baby. No one else can make you feel this full.”

He finishes with your hand still on your belly, trembling under his, both of you watching that obscene little bump move with every deep thrust. It’s not even about his orgasm anymore — it’s about staying inside you, making you feel him long after he’s gone, proving that no one can stretch you like he can.

JAY

Jay is cocky even before he gets inside you — smirking, teasing, brushing your inner thigh with his fingertips like he’s already won. And to be fair… once he’s buried deep, all thick and slow and smug, he kind of has.

“You feel that?” he says, gritting his teeth as he bottoms out. “Shit, you’re tight.”

You’re already seeing stars, legs shaking around his waist, trying to adjust to his size. Jay doesn’t give you much time. He starts thrusting with that confident rhythm, like he knows exactly how to break you down. And then—

He pauses.

Still buried to the hilt, his hands slide up your sides, slow, possessive, until they reach your belly. He presses down. Pauses again.

“Wait a second…” He furrows his brow, then pushes just a little harder, and you gasp when he hits a sensitive spot inside you—and outside. You watch his expression change instantly.

“No fucking way,” he mutters, eyes going wide. He presses his hand flat to your tummy, then looks up at you with this crooked little grin.

“Is this me? Right here?”

You try to respond, but all that comes out is a wrecked little “uh-huh,” and Jay just laughs—deep, warm, dripping with satisfaction.

“Well, shit. I knew I was deep, but this?” He taps the bulge lightly, then rolls his hips slow and low until your back arches. “This is next level.”

And then it’s like a switch flips.

Jay becomes feral. He keeps his hand on your belly, palm firm, holding you in place, using the pressure to feel himself move inside you. The way his cock drags against your walls is already too much, but now? Now, it’s like he’s watching it happen from the outside too.

“Look at you,” he growls. “You’re so full, it’s visible. I’m stretching you open like a fucking glove.”

He shifts so you’re more folded up under him, angling your hips just right to make the bulge even more prominent — and then he thrusts deep. Your vision goes white.

“Tell me who makes you feel this way,” he demands, voice tight with lust. “Come on, baby. Who reaches you right here?” Another thrust, harder. “Say it.”

“Y-you—Jay, it’s you, it’s all you—”

“Damn right it is.”

He leans down and kisses you, open-mouthed and desperate, while his hand keeps stroking the bump his cock makes through your belly like it’s a trophy. His pace gets rougher, driven by the obscene feedback of watching himself ruin you.

By the time he comes, he’s panting into your neck, hips jerking, whispering

“God, baby, you’re so full of me, look at what I do to you.” And when he pulls out and sees that soft bulge slowly fade?

He actually groans.

“Fuck… I gotta get a picture of that next time.”

Hiii angel!! You checking in for Jake & Sunghoon? Because Part Two is right here, hot and filthy and absolutely unhinged — exactly like we promised.

Get comfy again, because these two are about to join the bulge-obsessed club in their own unique, messy ways.

JAKE

Jake knows he’s big. But it’s not something he’s cocky about—he’s just… shocked. Every single time. And this? This is a discovery.

You’re riding him, knees on either side of his hips, hands braced on his chest as you slowly bounce in his lap. He’s watching you with half-lidded eyes and parted lips, moaning with every downward grind of your hips. And you think he’s going to keep his hands on your thighs like usual, let you have control.

But then his palm slides up your front. Fingers splayed wide, moving higher, until he stops just below your ribs. He blinks. Looks again. And you watch him freeze under you.

“Wait… wait, wait—what the fuck is that?” His voice goes higher in pitch, caught somewhere between panic and awe. “No way—babe, hold on—hold on.”

You gasp when he pushes his hips up into you suddenly, chasing the feeling, and his hand flies to your tummy—right over a firm little bulge pressing against your skin.

His jaw drops.

“Oh my God, is that me?”

You nod, dazed, and he goes absolutely feral.

“No way. Oh my God. Oh my God.” He keeps repeating it, over and over, like he’s malfunctioning. His hand is just hovering, hovering—then he presses, just a little, just enough to feel the shape of himself move inside you. You clench down around him immediately.

“Jesus Christ—” he moans, nearly coming on the spot. “I didn’t think I was that deep. That’s me, babe. That’s my dick. In your stomach. What the fuck?”

You can barely speak because his words are too much, his thrusts getting faster as he stares at your belly like it’s the holy grail. He can’t stop touching it, tracing it, pressing it, pulling out a little just to watch it disappear and reappear again.

“Look at it—look.” He grabs your hand and puts it over the bump. “You feel that? That’s my cock in your guts, baby. I’m so fucking deep inside you, it’s not even normal.”

You whimper, and Jake groans—loud, desperate, messy.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he pants, hips bucking up into you with a new urgency. “No one else can take it like you do. You were made for me, you have to be.”

When he finishes, he’s still inside you, palm warm over your belly like he can’t bear to let go of the feeling. He looks up at you with the most wrecked expression.

“Next time I’m filming it. That’s insane. That’s so hot. You’re gonna let me do that again, right?”

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon’s not loud about it. Not at first. He’s quiet, concentrated, lips parted, brows slightly furrowed in focus like he’s studying you.

You’re lying on your back, legs folded up around his waist, and he’s deep inside you — slow, deep strokes that make your eyes roll back and your fingers twist into the sheets. Sunghoon is breathing hard, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, but his hands—

His hands are pressed firm to your belly.

You don’t even realize why until he lets out a shaky breath and says, almost like he’s not meaning to speak out loud:

“...I can see it.”

You blink down at him, and his eyes meet yours—dark, wide, starving.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I’m so deep inside you… I can see where I am.”

He slides one hand up your belly, following the subtle bulge with reverent fingers. He presses gently. You twitch. He moans—hard, broken. His thrusts pick up immediately.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, like he’s genuinely overwhelmed. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm. And I’m this deep? I’m… inside your tummy?”

His tone gets breathless, almost pleading. He cups the bulge with both hands now, head dropping forward so he can kiss it. Kiss it.

“Fuck. Fuck—look at how small you are,” he groans. “I’m too big, aren’t I? You love it though. You love how deep I get.”

You’re already unraveling under him, but Sunghoon’s not done. He starts rolling his hips, staying pressed to your stomach like he needs the pressure, needs the confirmation that he’s that far inside.

“This is mine,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “No one else gets this. No one gets to see their cock inside you like this. Just me.”

The possessiveness in his voice destroys you.

He fucks you like he’s trying to keep that bulge there permanently. And when you finally come apart, shaking and sobbing and stuffed full, Sunghoon keeps his hands right where they are, stroking the place where he was deepest.

“Still there,” he murmurs, smiling faintly against your skin. “Even after I’ve finished. Fuck, I love this.”

[blank-potato]

You Exist Behind My Eyelids

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary:

“Bob,” you hiss. “He’s always looking at me.” Yelena raises an eyebrow, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “And?” “And smiling at me. Like I just saved a kitten from a burning building or something. He lingers. He watches me eat. He asks how I slept. He walks me to the damn kitchen.” “And is that a problem?” Yelena asks curiously, chewing on her granola bar but clearly hinting at something you can't pick up on. You stop to think. It felt like you had fallen into an alternate reality where Bob didn’t ignore your existence… where he smiled when you walked into the room, where he made you breakfast and stayed close without needing an excuse. Or After getting back your memory, you struggle to come to terms with the life you've returned to. It's one where Bob cooks for you, and smiles at you, and you have no idea why.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, fluff, implied smut but no smut, sex dreams, angst, abandonment issues, self deprecation, jealousy, memories/flashbacks, acquaintances to friends, friends to lovers, Chekov's diary, the new avengers interfering (a little)

WC: 13.7k

A/N: Title from See You Again by Tyler, The Creator and Kali Uchis. I heard your cries for a part 2 to Loving You Is Easy and I hath delivered. Sorry that this took entirely too long to finish, I hope you like it!

Part 1

***

Losing your memory was a trip. Almost a month of your life where you’re drawing a complete blank. 

Not to mention, everyone is weird now, like more weird than usual.

Especially Bob. 

He’s been at it for ages. Making up all sorts of culinary creations and giving them to you like offerings. They taste good. Not just good, incredible.

The amount of effort and care he’s been putting into waffles, omelettes, pancakes, French toast… it was quite nice. And it was driving you crazy because every bite felt like more than just food. Like affection, like something familiar, like a feeling your brain was trying desperately to name.

One morning, after you’ve sufficiently stuffed yourself with the golden, cinnamon-sweet French toast Bob made for you, you set your plate down and lean over to Yelena.

“What’s going on?” you whisper urgently.

Yelena blinks at you, unfazed. “With what?”

“Bob,” you hiss. “He’s always looking at me.”

Yelena raises an eyebrow, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “And?”

“And smiling at me. Like I just saved a kitten from a burning building or something. He cleans my dirty dishes. He asks how I slept. He walks me to the damn kitchen.”

“And is that a problem?” Yelena asks curiously, chewing on her granola bar but clearly hinting at something you can't pick up on.

You stop to think. It felt like you had fallen into an alternate reality where Bob didn’t ignore your existence… where he smiled when you walked into the room, where he made you breakfast and stayed close without needing an excuse.

You supposed it was better than the little tango you’d dance every day, trying to stay away from each other. This was something, at least. But still… it felt strange. Off. Like you’d wandered into the middle of a story you used to know by heart, only to find the pages had been torn out and rewritten in someone else’s handwriting.

Now he was bringing you breakfast, offering to walk you to med checks, lingering a second too long when your fingers touched over a cup of tea, and you didn’t know how to feel.

“Are you sure you can’t tell me what happened during those weeks?”

“The doctors said we can’t. If they come back, they’ll come back on their own, don’t worry,” She says, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. 

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but what else could be done? You settle down with a tired sigh, trying to quiet your thoughts, when Alexei strides in, boots thudding against the floor.

“We’re out of those little frozen pierogies. I need them. For strength,” he announces to the room. 

“Well, I’m sure we could get someone to—” you start, but Yelena cuts in smoothly.

“One of us should go get it, right?” she says, way too innocent to be trusted.

There’s a pause. Like an invisible signal has passed through the room, one that everyone seems to pick up on except you and Bob.

“Maybe…” John adds, barely suppressing a smirk, “You and Bob could do it?” He looks directly at you, voice casual, but his eyes are all mischief.

“Great idea, Walker…” you mutter, audibly sighing in annoyance, arms crossed as you shoot him a look.

Bob shrinks just a little at your tone, shoulders drawing in like he’s trying to disappear.

“For once,” Ava adds with a smirk, not missing a beat.

You glance at Bob, who’s very determinedly not looking at you but is definitely turning a little red.

“Fine, we’ll go. You all seem weirdly insistent on it.”

The rest of the team had been doing stuff like this since you got your memories back, like when you’d mysteriously end up on Bob babysitting duty more often than the rest of them or how you’d always seem to be sitting next to Bob for everything. 

You arrive at the grocery store, donned in caps and sunglasses as if they were good disguises.

“Let’s just get in and out as soon as possible.”

“Right,” Bob agrees. You nod, looking at the list of things that you need to get.

Bob doesn’t usually get this close. Being near you, even touching you, was rare nowadays, but he loved to feel close to you. If it was just for a few seconds, then he’d have to cherish those few seconds. 

He drives the trolley slowly and carefully. You look at him, he’s calm, collected, and quite focused, even if it is just a grocery run. You feel a small smile creeping onto your face when suddenly he looks at you. It’s like being struck by lightning, throwing you into complete disarray.

You stumble, tripping over your own feet, but he catches you before you fall headfirst into the display of canned tomatoes.

“Are you alright? You seem distracted,” Bob comments gently, concern flickering in his voice. And he’d know, he pays more attention to you than you even realise.

“I’m perfect. Just…testing your reflexes,” You lie, he looks sceptical, but for your sake chooses not to push on it.

“Let’s get fruit, I think we’ll be murdered if we get nothing but junk food.” You say, and you go towards the fruit and veg aisle. You look around, still acutely aware of Bob’s presence — the lingering sensation of his arm around you clinging to your skin like a phantom touch. Putting it out of your mind, or at least trying, you go to grab some apples. But of course, Bob reaches for it too, and when your fingers brush against his, everything goes white. 

Suddenly, you’re no longer in the grocery store but somewhere that feels familiar, even though you’re sure you’ve never been there before. 

The smell of fresh coffee and old books fills your senses, warm and nostalgic. Soft light filters in through high windows, dust motes dancing lazily in the air. The quiet hum of a memory presses in around you, gentle and comforting.

“This one’s one of my favourites. You should give it a read,” Bob says, stepping into view and handing you a slim, worn paperback.

You take it slowly, your fingers brushing against the creased spine. The cover is faded, the title barely legible—a collection of poetry, clearly well-loved. You turn it over in your hands, tracing the edge of a dog-eared page, deep in thought.

“What?” Bob grins at your expression. “A guy can’t enjoy poetry?”

You look up at him, surprised by the easy vulnerability in his tone, the way his eyes are both playful and sincere. “You just surprise me,” you reply with a small smile. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the worn wooden bookshelf. “Guess we’ve both got sides we don’t know about each other.”

You glance back down at the book, the scent of aged paper filling your lungs. “What’s your favourite poem in here?”

Bob doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches you for a moment, then nods toward the book. “Page 43.”

You flip to it, eyes scanning the lines. It’s quiet. Soft. Something about ache and longing and finding peace in someone else’s silence.

“I found home not in walls or cities, but in the stillness between your breaths.”

“...And in the way your eyes forgive before your words do,” Bob finishes from just behind you, his voice soft, like he knows every line by heart.

You glance over your shoulder at him, lips curved into a small, half-smitten smile. “This is as good as the pizza,” you tease gently.

But your voice falters because your gaze gets caught.

The way the late afternoon sun filters through the window behind him, bathing him in light.  All you could focus on was the hue of his eyes and how the sun made the grey flecks in his eyes dance. This little moment, in the back of this little bookshop—hidden away behind leaning stacks and dusty, time-softened shelves—was captured in your eyes like a photograph. A photograph you wanted to live inside.

The memory fades out as you come to standing holding a bag of apples after you went to god knows where.

“Are you okay?” Bob asks.

He’s tilted his head, that ever-steady presence beside you, and looking at you with that familiar concerned expression, the one you’ve become so accustomed to.

“Yeah, I just…” You trail off, not really knowing how to explain yourself. These little flashes had been happening more often. They were sweet, almost unbearably sweet, always unexpected and more often than not about Bob. You were told there’d be side effects when you woke up, but never in a million years did you think they’d involve Bob-related daydreams. Or memories. Or whatever they were.

You shake it off with a faint smile, eyes drifting to the apples in your cart. “I think I might make something with these apples.”

Bob lights up instantly. “Can I help?”

His enthusiasm is boyish, almost endearing, like he’s been waiting for you to let him in, even if it’s something small.  And in a rare moment of softness, maybe without overthinking it this time, you say, “Yes.”

His grin grows wide, and you swear he stands a little straighter, like your answer meant more than you even realised.

You turn the cart down the next aisle, rattling off the other things you needed to buy, and he walks beside you, a little closer than before.

***

This was hell. Since the grocery store incident, you’ve been going crazy. Bob has been on your mind, and he refused to leave. He’s seemingly dead set on helping you out, whether it was waiting by the elevator until you came back from a mission and walking you to your room without saying a word, or showing up with coffee before you even realised you needed it — Bob was there. 

And since he was always there, the accidental touches and sudden flashes became more frequent. One minute he was handing you a water bottle when you stepped off the treadmill, and the next you were in a haze, frozen in a daydream that made Bob look like the perfect boyfriend.

It was messing with your head.

It was messing with everything.

The lines were blurring, and the more he smiled at you, the more you never wanted him to stop. 

But having a crush on Bob? 

That was impossible, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You had to do something, and what else could you do but distract yourself? 

Later that night, you walk out of your room… You’re all dressed up and feeling a little out of place, like you're playing a role you’re not quite used to yet.

The team stops you in your tracks — they’re all looking at you like you’ve grown a new head.

“Where are you going? Hot date?” Ava asks, raising an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face but clearly intrigued.

“Yes, actually,” you reply, and you’re not expecting their reaction.

The entire team lets out a big sigh of relief.

They're barely able to contain their excitement. These little, painful moments of watching Bob chase after you were over.

Finally, you and Bob had—

His hair was a little tousled, like he had just woken up from a nap, but his eyes were locked onto you like you were the only thing in the room. He was definitely awake now.

“You look incredible,” Bob says, stepping into the living room in very comfy attire — sweater, sweatpants, and socks that didn’t match.

“Where are you headed?”

The whole team freezes. If you weren’t going on a date with Bob, then who?

“On a date.”

“Oh.”

“Some guy asked me out when I was grabbing coffee down the street, so I said yes,” you say, voice light, but there's a nervous edge you can’t quite shake.

He’s trying to sound genuine, but you don’t miss the crack beneath his words, the emotion he’s holding back, just barely. And even though you’re standing right there, it suddenly feels like you’re a million miles away.

“Oh.”

The look on Bob’s face is downright painful; he looks like a kicked puppy, stunned and quietly devastated.

His jaw tenses, his eyes flicker down for a moment, and then he forces a smile onto his face, one that looks practised, perfect for situations like this.

“I hope you have fun.”

“Thanks…” you say softly, with a tight, uncertain smile, making your way past him.

Your perfume trails behind you like a memory he’s not ready to let go of, lingering in the air even after you disappear into the elevator.

Bob felt deeply; he always had. He was sensitive in ways he rarely let anyone see. This… this was just another step closer to breaking. Ever since he lost you, he had been pretending it hurt to be without your love. That he didn’t miss holding you in his arms, falling asleep with you next to him. He didn’t have enough time with you, not nearly enough. He was filled with regret for not realising how he felt about you sooner, for every moment wasted. He’d give anything for just one more minute with you, just for you to look at him like you loved him, just one more time.

No one says anything, but Bob can feel their eyes on him.

He doesn’t need to look to know what they’re thinking: the tension, the pity.

He missed you so much it hurt in places he couldn’t name.

But now? Now, with you going out with someone else and he was more jealous than he knew what to do with. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you for good.

His eyes glowed an ominous gold, the power starting to pulse and flow through his body like a rising tide he couldn’t hold back. His jaw clenches as his eyes drop to the floor, lights flickering at the edges of his vision, energy straining to stay in check.

Maybe you and he would never get back to the place where things felt simple.Maybe he had just been fooling himself this whole time. 

The glasses on the table start shaking ever so slightly, getting ready to break. He can feel control slipping through his fingers like sand, like it always does when emotions win.

He was tired and angry, and confused… but mostly just sad.

Empty, even.

Just static. Just you, walking away.

He keeps his eyes downcast, fists clenched tight.

By this point, he’s not even pretending to listen; he can hear muffled voices around him, but nothing’s going through.

Maybe you were done with him.

Maybe you’d never want him again—not the way he still wanted you.

Yelena steps in, calm and grounding, taking him gently by the arm to stop him from spiralling.

“It’s okay…” she says softly, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.

The lights above flicker— once, then twice — before it steadies and stops.

He’s surrounded by people who care, and it helps.

He’s still shaking, still unravelling inside, but he’s able to get it under control just enough.

He breathes out, slow and bitter. He had to get used to this, didn’t he?

You weren’t in love with him anymore.

“I-I’m sorry… I should just go to bed…” he mutters, voice low and tired.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” Yelena says, voice firmer now, no room for argument.

“Let’s just put it out of your mind, hm? Together,” she suggests, gently guiding him toward the group.

Bob nods, silent, and sits down on the couch beside her.

“Who knows, maybe the date will be a disaster,” John offers with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thanks, Walker,” Bob replies dryly, managing a ghost of a smile.

***

The date is lacklustre, to say the least. The guy, Brandon, had taken you to some fancy restaurant, and you’re sitting across from him, trying to give things a chance, but it wasn’t looking good. He orders for you without asking, rattling off a dish you’re not sure you’ll even like. And he spends more time talking about the wine list than asking you questions. 

This is why you didn’t go on dates.

Reaching out to take your hand, he says something, but you’re not listening. You become lost in another world again, your vision fading to white.

You’re not in a restaurant but standing beside Bob at the kitchen counter, the two of you surrounded by ingredients as you make milkshakes together. The soft hum of an old record plays in the background, and the air smells like vanilla and chocolate syrup.

“Are you sure we need this much caramel?” you ask, eyeing the generous scoop he’s just dropped into the blender.

Bob nods, he’s in the zone, completely focused, like a master at work. His expression is dead serious, like crafting the perfect milkshake is a mission worthy of national security clearance.

You smirk. “What about this?” you say, dipping a spoon into the ice cream and smearing a stripe across his cheek.

His head jerks toward you, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Oh, it’s like that?”

Before you can react, he lunges, scooping you up effortlessly and lifting you off the ground as you laugh, flailing gently in his arms.

“I surrender! I surrender!” you cry between breathless giggles.

“I’ll let you go… for now,” he says, setting you back down carefully, his hands lingering around your waist just a moment longer than necessary. It sends your heart into a full pitter-patter rhythm you swear he must hear.

He grins at you, eyes sparkling. “You ready for the best milkshake of your life?”

You nod eagerly.

Then he hits the blender.

And instantly regrets it.

A violent whir erupts, followed by a flurry of milk, peanut butter, and ice cream erupting like a dairy volcano, splattering both of you as you recoil in shock. You both fumble to turn it off, and the whirring stops. 

“You forgot the lid?” you ask, wide-eyed and dripping.

“I forgot the lid,” Bob admits, blinking through specks of ice cream, then bursting into laughter.

He grabs a towel, half-heartedly trying to stop the blender with one hand while using the other to gently wipe your face.

“I’m sorry, I messed up.” He’s smiling, but it’s faint; you can tell it’s weighing on him. “Don’t be sorry. It’ll make for a good story,” You say before swiping a bit of the milkshake off his nose and licking it off your finger. “Plus, this is delicious. It’s the perfect milkshake, I meant it!”

Bob chuckles, his nose crinkling a little as he tries to hide it behind his hand, but you see it. That unguarded laugh, the way his eyes soften, the corners of his mouth lifting just a bit too wide.

It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

“Hello? Are you listening?” your date asks, sounding increasingly more frustrated.

“Yeah, I uh…I’m listening…” You lie, nodding just enough to seem polite.

The next few minutes are a blur—you see his mouth moving, but not a single word registers. All you can think about is Bob.

There’s a story being told, something painfully dull about his job overseas and him bragging about how many people report to him. But it all fades to white noise the second Bob slips into your thoughts. His laugh, the way he wrinkles his nose when he smiles, the milkshake incident… everything else pales in comparison.

“I’m so sorry, but I… I can’t do this,” you say suddenly, standing up and grabbing your coat.

Your date calls after you, confused and annoyed, but you don’t look back. You don’t owe him an explanation.

You just have to get home and figure out what all these strange and not-so-strange feelings about Bob really mean, or at least push them down so far you never have to deal with them. 

***

The elevator beeps, signalling you’ve arrived at the top floor, and you’ve never been more glad to be back at the tower.

As the doors slide open, you kick off your shoes and step into the dim hallway, moving carefully through the darkness. But before you can reach for the light switch, you spot Bob on the couch.

He’s curled up, completely at peace, eyes closed as if the weight of the day finally caught up with him. Peeking into the kitchen, you see a plate of your favourite food sitting untouched, cooling on the counter.

You wonder if he’s been waiting up for you.

You walk over quietly, heart softening at the sight. But then you notice him shivering slightly in his sleep. You can’t believe he fell asleep here, nowhere near as comfortable as his own bed must be. You don’t want him to wake up with a crick in his neck.

You can’t exactly lift him to bed, so instead, you rush to your room and grab your softest, warmest blanket. Returning, you gently lay it over him.

“Much better,” you whisper, feeling a little proud, like you’re doing something right for once.

Just as you’re about to head back to check if he’s fully covered, disaster strikes.

In his sleep, Bob shifts suddenly, pulling you down with him. You find yourself trapped between him and the blanket, heart pounding as you try not to wake him.

“Bob, hey, you have to…” You start softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you look up at him.

You’ve never seen him this close before, only in your daydreams. His eyelashes are longer than you ever imagined, casting delicate shadows on his cheeks. His lips look soft, inviting even in sleep. Each breath he takes now feels impossibly fascinating, like you’re discovering something new about him with every rise and fall of his chest.

“Fine… I’ll sneak out later,” you mumble to yourself, barely audible.

Your body, surprisingly, begins to relax. You stop fighting the closeness and instead lean into his touch, the warmth and quiet presence settling over you like a balm.

It feels right—comforting in a way you didn’t expect—but underneath it all, there’s that familiar, quiet ache. That sense of something unresolved, poking at the edges of your mind.

But that’s a mystery for another day.

And bit by bit, you give in to the comfort and end up falling asleep while breathing in the scent of his shampoo. 

You blink awake, the feeling of kisses peppering your skin holding all of your immediate attention.

It’s soft and light, gentle enough to make you giggle.

There’s warmth, tufts of messy brown hair tickling your collarbone, and the feeling of strong arms wrapped tightly around you…

Realising those arms belong to a certain Bob Reynolds — not just any Bob, a shirtless Bob — your eyes widen as you shoot upright. “What are you…?” you start, glancing around in disbelief. You’re in a bed. His bed.

“What a hyperactive girlfriend I have,” he chuckles, easily laying you back down against the pillows with maddening tenderness.

Your brain can barely compute the fact that he said girlfriend. He smiles down at you like the sun just rose in your eyes, and you’re so easily disarmed, like you’ve been here a thousand times before.

“I don’t think you realise just how beautiful you are,” he coos, brushing his fingers softly across your bottom lip.

Those words…They feel like déjà vu.

They settle somewhere deep in your chest. Familiar. Comforting. Dangerous. It was so easy for him to say, and you didn’t know how to feel.

“Want me to help you relax?” He says, his voice suddenly like music to your ears.

You nod, your body moving on its own like you’ve been possessed, and he starts slowly slipping your clothes off, all the while looking at you like you’re a wonder of the world. His touch is light but teasing. Like he knows exactly how to leave you desperate, on the edge and needing more. 

He kisses his way around your body, treating it like a temple. Every inch of you is on fire with even the smallest of touches. 

His fingers curl in the strands of your hair, anchoring you to him as his lips press gently to your wrist, then trail upward with slow, deliberate care.

His legs are tangled with yours beneath the sheets, warm skin against skin, every brush of contact pulling you deeper into him.

Overtaken by the sensations, you find yourself pulling him in for a kiss you never wanted to end. His mouth meets yours like he’s been waiting for it, like he knows it — his tongue slipping past your lips like it’s second nature, like it’s always belonged there.

“Can I?” He asks, catching his breath, his fingers at the bottom of your shirt, so eager to just rip it off of you. “Yeah,” You reply breathlessly, needing his touch. 

He pulls back slightly, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, and before you know it, you’re naturally leaning into his touch, the warmth of his hand soothing you. There’s a sweet look in his eyes, full of tenderness, and somehow you feel like you can read his mind. An unspoken connection that almost scares you. He opens his mouth to speak, “I love—”

You wake up with a loud gasp. What in the ever living fuck was that? You were convinced that whatever it was couldn’t be real, but the alternative, that you were having sex dreams about Bob, wasn’t that much better. Morning has come, and you’re still in Bob’s arms (a fully clothed Bob thankfully) on the couch; he’s fast asleep. You scramble to get away from him before he wakes up; you don’t feel like explaining anything. But in your attempts, you unintentionally punch him in the stomach.  

“What the—?” Bob groans as he rolls on top of you. Being woken up with a punch couldn’t be pleasant. 

Feeling his body pressed against yours sends your heart into a frenzy. His hands are on either side of you, caging you in as he hovers above, clearly trying not to crush you.

The two of you tumble off the couch in a mess of limbs, and he lands squarely on top of you.

The blanket twists around you both, tangling you in a heap on the floor.

“I’m so sorry, how did we even…?” he stammers, brain still trying to wake up. 

“I–I came home last night and saw you on the couch. You trapped me and I just wanted to give you a blanket and—and…” You stutter, tripping over the words like they’ll somehow save you from the burning embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” Bob blurts out again, his cheeks flushed and his voice cracking slightly.

Sure, you were mortified beyond belief, but being this close to Bob reminded you of your dream. His warmth came off him in waves, making you feel comfortable despite your racing heart. The soft, stormy blue of his eyes looked down at you with something that made your chest ache.

It seems the embarrassment wasn’t one-sided; he’s just as flustered, maybe more.

And yet, neither of you is making a move to get up.

It felt too good.

You wanted to give in, to dive into this feeling even though you knew you shouldn’t, because if you did, there might be no going back.

Your eyes snap up just in time to see Ava standing a few feet away, one brow raised and a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“I didn’t want to interrupt.”

***

So it was him.

You were avoiding him again. It had been three days, and you hadn’t eaten a single one of his pancakes, and you only responded to him with short one-word answers where possible.

Bob knew it wasn’t because of the date. He’d overheard you complaining to Yelena about it in the training room. 

He’s alone in the Tower now. The silence presses in. And it’s on his mind. Your diary.

He doesn’t know what he did.

And nothing he tries seems to get through, it’s like the walls he’d started to gently tear down were rebuilt overnight… only now, they had defence systems he couldn’t even begin to navigate.

He knows that the memory-wiped version of you once told him he could read it. But it still feels iffy. Like he’s crossing a line. Still… it feels like he’s out of options.

You won’t talk to him anymore. You barely look at him. And the ache of not knowing why is driving him insane.

So he finds himself at your door.

The rest of the team is out on a mission, so it’s all quiet, just the sound of his own beating heart ringing in his ears. 

His chest tightened with frustration as he flipped through the pages of your diary, still unsure if he even should be reading it. But maybe it held something that could explain everything. Maybe it held what your issue was with him and why you were always avoiding him like the plague.

Opening the door quietly, he steps inside.

It smells like you. Feels like you.

He walks over to the drawer where you once said you kept it, hesitates for just a second… and takes it quickly. 

“Bob is avoiding me in the kitchen again. I don’t get why it’s so easy for everyone else but not me… I want to talk to him, but trying too hard is never safe. Why get attached?” he reads aloud softly, the words catching in his throat.

He swallows hard, guilt curling in his stomach. That wasn’t how it was supposed to feel for you. He thought he was giving you space. He thought maybe you needed it. That his presence might be too much.

Bob flips through more pages, the paper whispering as he searches for clarity, for a lifeline, until his eyes land on another entry.

“I can’t be around Bob… We’re too similar. If anyone could see through me, it’d be him. That’s why I avoid him specifically. If he saw me then and I mean really saw me, I don’t know what I’d do.”

He flicks to the next page, and your voice echoes softly in his mind.

“He’s gentle and complex, and sometimes he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world alone. I just can’t seem to get through. I catch myself staring when he doesn’t notice, and wonder if I’ll ever be able to connect to him. It’s useless anyway, but I can’t help but wonder.”

And then the line that crushes him:

“Everyone leaves, so why give them the opportunity?”

The air feels heavier now.

It hits him, this wasn’t about him being cold or distant. This was you trying to protect yourself. You were trying not to hope, because hoping meant giving someone the power to hurt you. And all this time, he’d been holding back, afraid of messing it up, of overwhelming you… never realising you already cared. Deeply but quietly. 

He shuts the diary slowly, holding it to his chest for a moment like maybe it could absorb some of the emotion threatening to spill out of him.

And now he knows.

Now he understands why you flinched at closeness, why you left before anyone could ask you to stay.

He just had to show you that he’s not going anywhere.

***

Bob couldn’t push — he didn’t want to come on too strong.

He just wanted to spend time with you, to get you to let him in again, even if it was just in small, quiet moments.

Bob pauses in the doorway and sees you sitting in the lounge, your feet curled under you and your attention half-lost in a book. “I don’t mean to bother you, but can you help me with something?” he asks, voice hopeful. 

“Me?” You blink up at him, startled. “I’m sure Yelena could help you instead,” you immediately deflect, the words coming out sharper than you intended. He stiffens slightly, withdrawing into himself almost instantly.

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, that’s okay. Forget I asked,” he mumbles with a sad smile that barely reaches his eyes. He turns, slinking away like he’s used to retreating when he feels unwelcome.

But the moment he’s out of sight, guilt claws its way up your throat. You didn’t mean to make him feel small or dismissed. That wasn’t fair. You slam your book shut and jump up from the couch.

“Wait… I’ll help you,” you call out, your voice apologetic.

He stops in his tracks and turns back to you, surprised. “Really?”

You nod, walking up to him. “Yeah. Sorry… I didn’t mean to sound so cold. What do you need?”

“I know this is weird, but could you help me brush my hair?” He asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, before he quickly backs up, almost tripping over his own feet. “Actually, you don’t have to. It’s—”

“I’ll do it.”

Next thing you know, he’s sitting on the floor between your legs and you’re on the couch, brushing his hair gently with a hairbrush, with the TV on. 

“Your hair is really soft,” you murmur absentmindedly, almost as if forgetting who you were talking to.

“You think so?” he replies, tilting his head slightly back to look up at you.

You smile faintly, sorting through any small tangles with your fingers. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Oh shit, does that tingle?” you ask suddenly, catching the way he shivered when you touched a certain spot behind his ear.

“Yeah,” he says with a sheepish chuckle, “but it’s not a bad tingle.”

For once, not overthinking it too much, you just sit there, both of you watching TV, catching up on the episode of your favourite show that you’d missed.

“Remind me what’s happening again?” Bob asks, brow furrowing as he points at the screen.

“So basically, earlier on in the season, the girl found out that her real father isn’t the janitor, but actually—”

“The guy who kidnapped her dog,” he interrupts, already confused.

“No, no, sweet innocent Bob. That’s his evil twin,” you say, completely dead serious, grinning as you catch his wide-eyed reaction.

He smiles up at you, charmed by how engrossed you are in this ridiculous show. It was a small thing, but a glimpse into what could be, if you just let go. You were like the sun, and he was content just basking under your light for as long as he could.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

“No, I, um…” He hesitates, eyes dipping away before flicking back up to you. 

“I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” you mumble, looking even more sheepish as you fidget with the corner of your sleeve.

“No, no… I could listen to you talk for hours,” Bob replies genuinely, with a soft smile. It makes your heart stutter, your breath catch. No words can form; you’re completely lost in him. He clears his throat, feeling his cheeks starting to heat up. 

“Who’s in the love triangle again?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head, saving you from gawking at him like an idiot.

You perk up immediately with a gleam in your eye, ready to unload a full essay’s worth of information. “It’s actually a love pentagon…”

And just like that, you’re talking and laughing and massaging his scalp as you comb through his hair, both of you caught in a rhythm that felt unexpectedly natural. Maybe actually talking to Bob wasn’t so bad.

***

The next day, you traipse back into your room after a gruelling mission. Getting back into the swing of things is harder than it looks, especially with the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders and flashes of Bob being unexpectedly cute popping into your head every time you try to focus on fighting. Not to mention, you actually enjoyed brushing Bob’s hair, feeling his hair beneath your fingertips, watching him react when you’d graze a sensitive spot. This was insanity, and you needed to document it. 

Looking around the dim room, your eyes settle on your dresser. You move over and reach for your diary, something you haven’t written in for far too long.

You yank open your drawer, grabbing your diary with the full intent to emotionally unload every irrational (but valid) feeling bubbling in your chest.

But you notice your diary is sitting on a stack of paper. You take them out and freeze them. 

Pictures.

Your brows knit as you start looking through them. 

They’re all of Bob.

Photo after photo, in different lighting, from different angles, in different places. Him laughing, him holding coffee, him at the bookstore you dreamt of. One of him eating a sandwich with ridiculous focus. In every single one, he looks… happy. Radiant, even. Just Bob, but lighter.

You stare at them, a hollow kind of confusion forming in your chest. You don’t remember taking these. You don’t remember any of this.

Which only means one thing… these were from the weeks you lost your memory.

You rack your brain for a possible explanation. Were you stalking him? 

But then something shifts. You look closer. The angles aren’t distant or hidden. They're up close. Comfortable. Personal.

These were moments. You flip to the next photo, Bob looking right at the camera, smiling, soft and warm like whoever was behind it was someone he cared about. Like he was on a date.

And then more photos, but they were of you.

Walking through New York, holding an ice cream, grinning ear to ear. At a crosswalk, arms thrown out like you were catching the wind. Hair wild. Laughing like you hadn’t felt a single burden in your life.

You hadn’t smiled like that in so long. You were practically glowing. Something inside you cracks wide open. What the hell happened in those missing weeks? And why does it feel like…you were happy?

Like really happy.

With him.

You spring up, heart pounding, knowing you need to get to the bottom of this. Grabbing the pictures, you dash over to his room. Your hand hovers over the door, ready to knock, but then you freeze. What would you even say? What if the answer isn’t what you want to hear? What if it changes everything?

The doubt claws at you, but the questions won’t let you turn away.

But before you could think of what to say, Bob called your name. You turn your head to the side, he’s on his way back to his room. He notices the expression on your face and knows it’s something serious. 

“I… we need to talk,” you say, your voice shaky but determined.

Bob nods silently and walks over, letting you into his room. The moment you enter, you’re hit with a wave of familiarity, like you’ve been here before, like this conversation has already started somewhere deep in your memory.

You take a deep breath and sit down next to each other on the bed.

“I know why you’ve been really friendly recently. In the weeks I lost my memory…” You begin, watching his expression closely.

Bob’s eyes soften, like you’ve finally understood something important. “We became friends, didn’t we?”

He pauses, looking a little sad at the word “friends,” but when you pull out the pictures, his face changes.

“I… I remember,” he says quietly. “But these pictures… I’ve never actually seen them before. I only remember you taking them.”

His mind drifts back, replaying memories of the two of you inseparable, back when love was the only thing on both of your minds.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve looked happy like that,” you admit, flicking through the photos. You notice a flicker of quiet sadness cross his face as he looks at them. He must miss who you were, the version of you that these pictures captured.

“If you’re willing, I’d like to try again. Get to a place where things aren’t so uncomfortable. If you were able to do it with me then, maybe you could do it with me now.”

Bob recognised this was a huge step forward. He knew it wasn’t easy, maybe it never would be, but being your friend sounded like a gift he didn’t want to take for granted.

“I’d love to try,” he said softly, hope shining in his eyes.

***

Being friends is hard. It takes effort, and you don’t quite know what you’re doing, so it’s hard, but good.

It feels good to connect, even if it still scares you to try. There’s a quiet exhilaration in the small moments, like watching a movie together or just sitting side by side without any pressure.

You even made him an omelette the other day, and you swear he almost cried.

“It can’t be that good,” You protested.

“No, no, it really is,” he said, the quiet part he kept in his head being, “Because you made it for me.”

Now, you’re sitting with him again, the comfortable silence wrapping around you. He’s quiet, and you can tell he’s thinking about telling you something. Since this whole “friend thing” began a few days ago, you’ve become something of an expert in Bob’s body language—the way he fiddles with his hands when he’s deep in thought, how his eyes light up when he’s interested in something.

“What do you want to ask?” you interrupt his mid-thought.

He looks at you with a meek smile. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go get coffee? Kinda craving one.”

You pause for a moment, then reply, “Sure, that sounds… fun,” a shy smile working its way onto your face.

You both step out of the tower and onto the street. It’s a grey, overcast day, clouds hanging low, but after everything, just walking beside him, step in step, feels like a kind of quiet relief.

You don’t talk much, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it’s peaceful. Bob seems more at ease now, no longer walking on eggshells around you. It’s subtle, but it means everything.

You watch his back as he walks ahead, the strands of his hair being tousled gently by the wind. Your footsteps slow, then stop entirely as the now-familiar sensation creeps in like a thread tugging at your consciousness. Just like that, you’re being pulled away again. 

You open your eyes to the soft glow of fairy lights and the sight of Bob with his back to you, working meticulously to finish what looks like a little surprise just for you. There are cushions, blankets, and pillows all arranged into a comfy blanket fort in the living room. He’s focused, tongue tucked slightly into his cheek as he ties the last bit of fabric to the back of a chair, glancing over his shoulder.

“Are your eyes still closed?” he calls out.

You quickly squeeze them shut again. “Yeah, still shut.”

You can’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you listen, hear the faint shuffle of him putting on music, the soft groan when he stubs his toe against the coffee table, and the patter of his footsteps approaching until he’s standing right in front of you. You can’t see him, but his presence is warm and unmistakable.

“Take my hand,” he says gently.

“I can’t see your hand,” you reply, trying not to laugh.

“Oh. Right.” You hear the smile in his voice as he reaches for you, carefully guiding your hand into his. His fingers wrap around yours, steady and warm, and he helps you to your feet.

“Eyes still closed?” he checks.

You hum in agreement.

“Open them.”

You blink your eyes open and are immediately greeted by the sight of the blanket fort in all its cosy glory. It’s strung with twinkle lights and layered with soft throws and fluffy pillows. Inside, there are even two mugs of something warm and a plate of pancakes waiting.

“After you,” he says with a quiet pride.

You both crawl inside, and it's everything. A little safe haven carved out of nothing. You settle down next to him, your shoulders brushing.

“This is perfect,” you whisper.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies, sheepish but glowing with quiet pride. He takes a breath, hesitating just a beat. “I know it must be scary… not knowing who you are. I just wanted to do something to make it a little easier. Is that dumb? It’s dumb, right?”

You reach for his hand, laying yours over his, gently tracing your fingers across his knuckles. “It’s not dumb at all.”

Your eyes meet, and something clicks into place. It’s like exhaling after holding your breath all day, like sinking into a familiar rhythm, like… coming home.

Not to a place, but to a person.

You’re barely out of your daze when you hear the sudden ringing of a bike bell heading straight for you. 

Before you can react, Bob’s arm wraps around you, pulling you out of the way just in time as a bike messenger speeds past. You stumble slightly, but he steadies you, and suddenly your head is resting against his chest.

His shirt is soft beneath your cheek, and the scent of him fills your senses—it’s faint, clean… something warm like vanilla and cinnamon. 

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and for a moment, you're looking at him the way you do in your daydreams. The world slows. His hand lingers on your arm, his touch reassuring, grounding.

You feel safe. And maybe, for the first time in a long while… hopeful.

“Thank you… You saved me,” you say, the words almost teasing but laced with something softer underneath.

“I’ll always be around to protect you from bikes,” Bob replies gently, smiling like he knows something you don’t. 

You nod, and just as he’s about to start walking again, you reach out and take his hand. You don’t know why you did it. It’s like your body moves on its own. His fingers twitch slightly in surprise, and when he looks over at you, his eyes are wide.

“Just in case,” you murmur, trying to explain it away. 

“Just in case,” he echoes, quieter this time, like the words mean something more to him than he lets on. He smiles, that soft, rare kind of smile he saves for you, and keeps walking, your hands still clasped.

Walking inside, you’re immediately hit with the comforting smell of fresh pastries and ground coffee beans. It’s like a hug for your nose.

You step up to the counter and order your go-to, adding with a smile, “Oh, and can I get extra whipped cream?”

The barista nods. “Yeah, it’s just two dollars more.”

You nod again, already fishing out your card and tapping it without hesitation. Bob steps up behind you in line, casually scanning the pastry case while you wait for your receipt.

Then you see it.

The barista perks way up when it’s Bob’s turn, her voice turning a shade sweeter. “And what can I get started for you?”

He rattles off his order, and before he can finish, she cuts in, eyes shining. “And do you want that with extra whipped cream?”

Bob blinks, caught off guard. “Uh…”

“On the house,” she adds, flashing him a smile that practically sparkles.

“Sure, why not?” he says, still half-confused, then turns to you with a helpless shrug and a smile. You narrow your eyes, watching the barista giggle to herself as she starts prepping the drink. She was so obvious.

“Thanks,” He says before going over to meet you at the side where you’re loading your coffee a little aggressively, your mind still occupied by Bob and that girl.

“Almost ready to go?” Bob asks, ever casual, sipping from his coffee like nothing in the world could possibly be complicated.

But your eyes land on his cup, and immediately, something’s off. There’s too much black ink scrawled across it for it to just be his name. It’s only three letters for goodness' sake.

You lean in slightly, narrowing your eyes.

Numbers.

He glances at the cup, like he hadn't even noticed. “Oh… huh.”

Your stomach twists. Your jaw tightens. And before you can think twice, the words are out of your mouth.

“She gave you her number,” you say flatly, ignoring his question entirely.

That’s it? Huh?

The annoyance rolls off you in waves, and you hate that you can’t fully explain why. You cross your arms, shifting your weight, suddenly far too aware of how tight your chest feels.

You catch yourself and try to shake it off, but there’s a weight pressing down on your ribcage, a sharp little ache like something is stepping right on your heart.

Why did you feel so... jealous?

Bob wasn’t yours, there was no reason to be mad at a girl flirting with him, you should be happy for him, even. 

But all that was true, why did this feel like a sucker punch you weren’t prepared for?

Bob’s still looking at the cup, then back at you, head tilted. “You okay?”

You force a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. Totally. Let’s go.”

***

Since that day, something in you had shifted. You learned you may or may not have a jealous streak, and you had finally started to settle into being friends with Bob. It was nice, and makes you regret the time you spent avoiding him. 

And you had really started to realise just how much effort Bob had been putting into just being your friend, even when you were cold, unreceptive, and distant.

It wasn’t fair.

You wanted to make it up to him.

And what better way than with a milkshake?

Bob’s up early, being knocked out of sleep by the summer heat. He gets up to get water and hears something unexpected. The sound of a blender whirring at 6 am.

You thought back to that daydream you had, or maybe it was a memory.

If the whole milkshake-making thing was real, then he should love this.

If it wasn’t… well, hopefully he still did.

He walks into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck, only to see you standing at the counter, fiddling with the blender.

There are a few unsuccessful batches of whatever you’re making scattered around, splashes on the counter, a sticky trail leading to the sink. You bite your lip in concentration, brow furrowed, completely absorbed in the task. He thinks you look so cute like this.

Bob says your name, and you freeze like a deer caught in headlights, like you’ve been caught red-handed.

“Bob. You’re here.” You say it like it’s a surprise, like you weren’t hoping he'd find you.

He furrows his brow slightly, a curious smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What are you doing?”

There’s no point in hiding it now. You sigh and admit, “Making you a milkshake?”

“For me?” he asks, almost in disbelief.

He blinks, surprised, and then he’s smiling. Really smiling.

It’s that slow-building kind of joy that lights up his whole face, the kind that makes your heart clench.

You nod, a little sheepish. “I wanted to do a trial run this morning. Just in case it sucks.”

Bob chuckles, stepping closer and leaning on the kitchen island, his eyes warm and fixed on you.

“I doubt it would,” he says softly, and he means it.

“Can I have a taste?”

You answer, “Knock yourself out,” feigning an air of nonchalance when in reality you’re nervous as hell.

You didn’t want him to hate it, especially after you’d loved and eaten your weight in pancakes these past few weeks.

You just wanted to do something nice, to let him know how much you appreciate him.

He grabs a spoonful and lets it dance on his taste buds. At first, his eyebrows furrowed. That couldn’t be good, right?

Then he looks up at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “How did you know I like salted caramel milkshakes?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

You hesitate, unsure how to explain.

“I…” you start, then take a deep breath. “I saw it in a daydream, which may actually be a memory, but I’m not sure.”

You pause, then add quietly, “Just a feeling.”

“It’s the perfect milkshake,” he says, eyes shining with genuine delight.

“Not quite,” you answer with a playful smile, crossing your arms.

He grins mischievously, taking a little scoop and smudging it gently on his cheek. “Now, it’s perfect.”

You laugh, reaching up to wipe it off, and for a moment, everything feels light and easy.

You spend the rest of the morning together, sharing the milkshake — one glass, two straws, since you’d only made enough for one.

Between sips and smiles, the distance between you shrinks, and for once, you don’t want to push anyone away. 

Later that night, you stand quietly by the window, staring out at the living room. Your eyes land on the now-empty space where the blanket fort from your daydreams had been, still vivid in your mind.

“You’re deep in thought,” Bucky’s voice cuts through the quiet, calm, but knowing, as he settles on the couch across from you.

“I’m deep in thought a lot these days,” you sigh, not bothering to mask the exhaustion in your voice.

You take a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the ghost of that memory. “I know you can’t tell me what happened in those weeks I lost… but ever since then, I’ve been seeing things. Glimpses. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not, but they all revolve around one thing.”

You don’t say it, but you don’t have to. The look Bucky gives you says it all—he knows you’re talking about Bob.

“How does it feel?” he asks gently.

“Hm?”

“The memories. How do they feel?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. How do you explain something like that? It’s more than just an emotion, it’s a moment. Like wrapping your hands around a mug of hot chocolate on a cold day or finding one last cookie you didn’t know you had.

“It feels… good,” you say at last. “It feels right.”

Bucky watches you for a moment, then leans forward slightly, thoughtful. “If it feels right, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something.”

You turn to him, your voice quieter now, more unsure. “Should I listen to it?”

Bucky offers the faintest smile, the kind of smile born from experience, from hard lessons learned. “The head lies a lot more than the heart does. If something in you feels at peace when you’re around him… maybe that’s your answer.”

You nod in as you watch him walk away, before something occurs to you, “...wait, I didn’t say anything about any him.”

“You’re not too hard to read, especially when it comes to him.”

You lay your head down on the counter, your skin too hot, your heart twisting in ways you couldn’t explain. Embarrassment flooded through you—whatever this was, this feeling that had been unravelling you from the inside out, it was getting harder to ignore.

But then there was the smile tugging at your lips, soft and involuntary. And that strange flutter in your chest.

The floor creaked softly behind you, and you lifted your head to see Bob standing there, that same poetry book you’d seen him with before held carefully in his hands.

You knew.

Even if you weren’t ready to say it out loud, you knew.

“Bob,” you breathe.

Just seeing him makes your heart skip. Was that normal? Or were you sick? Emotionally compromised? Both?

“That book…” You murmur. “Will you read me something from it?”

He’s a little surprised, but he nods. “Of course.”

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you’re reaching for his hand, guiding him to the couch with you. It’s easy in a way it never used to be, natural like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

You sit next to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his side. He flips through the pages, reading from one page and then another.

“I have no idea what this means,” he admits, pointing to one of the lines with a soft chuckle, “but I like the way it sounds.”

“I like the way it sounds too.”

But it wasn’t just the poem. You liked the sound of his voice—smooth and warm, like chocolate on your tongue or honey in tea. Every word he spoke wrapped around you like a spell, one you weren’t sure you ever wanted to break free from.

You slowly, carefully, lean your head onto his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you ask, voice small and scared of his rejection. 

He freezes for a moment, then nods. His face doesn’t flush, but his ears—bright red. The reaction makes your chest ache most softly.

There’s a quiet, almost shy joy in his expression at how close you are. He clears his throat, trying to regain composure, and begins to read again. Each line, an ode to you. 

***

There’s a soft knock on your door. You get up, waddle out of bed, and suddenly face to face with Bob.

“I missed you,” He breathes out, you don’t even get to respond before he’s lifting you off the floor and carrying you back to your bed.

The entire time, he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear between his kisses—soft murmurs like, “All mine…” and “Need you so bad.”

His breath warm against your skin, his voice low and urgent, making your heart race.

Then, with a playful grin, he gently tosses you back onto your bed, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Can’t spend another second away from you,” He whines, as he places himself between your thighs.

“So…” You’re forced to pause, distracted by his lips and teeth, marking your neck in desperation, “Insatiable.”

He gets down on his knees suddenly and pulls you to the edge of the bed. Immediately, he pulls off your shorts, or rather tears them off, his strength getting the better of him. But he leaves your panties on, happy to see that you’re already soaking through the fabric. 

“I liked those shorts.”

“Trust me, you’ll like what I do to you a lot more.”

He lays a kiss against your clothed pussy, making you squirm. “Don’t tease me,” You beg, and all he does is smile up at you, as if he’s innocent. He rubs your clit through your panties, working you up then moving away, over and over again. 

“If you want me to do something,” He drawls as he leans in, his breath now against your ear, “You’re gonna have to scream my name.”

“Bob!”

You jolt upright in bed, heart racing, breath uneven. You’re still half-lost in the throes of the dream. You can almost imagine Bob’s lips on your legs, travelling upwards until—No. You wouldn’t finish that thought. 

Thankfully, you're in your own bed. Not curled up against Bob. Not still on the couch where you fell asleep.

The sun's already crept past the blinds, washing your room in soft morning light. Somewhere down the hall, Bob is probably making breakfast. Casual. Unbothered. Probably completely unaware that you just had a dream that could get you both kicked out of the Avengers’ group chat.

You press a hand to your chest, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of your heart. It’s hammering, wild and traitorous.

Okay. Deep breath.

You groan and flop back onto your pillows, covering your face with both hands.

You just hoped he carried you to bed before the dream started. Because if he did it afterwards and there was any talking in your sleep involved, then you might actually have to fake your own death and move to a remote cave in the mountains. 

After a shower, you toddle out of your room, hair still damp and wearing the comfiest clothes you own. You peek out from behind a wall—and lo and behold, there he is.

You try to reason with yourself.

Telling yourself that it was just a dream. Probably because his voice was the last thing you heard before drifting off. That’s all. A subconscious reaction. Harmless. Totally harmless.

His back is to you, sleeves pushed up, hands moving with an ease and purpose that feels borderline unfair. You watch the muscles in his forearms flex slightly as he flips something in the pan, and your brain betrays you. You can only imagine how those hands would look even better wrapped around your thighs—

Bob. In the kitchen. Making something that definitely smells like your favourite breakfast.

You pause, eyes locked on him.

No. No. Nope.

You slap that thought out of your head like it's a mosquito. Not going there again. Not right now. You keep watching, borderline creeping, when suddenly a voice nearly kills you on the spot.

You jump about a foot in the air, clutching your chest like an old Victorian lady. “For fuck’s sake, Walker!”

“Spying?”

John.

John leans against the wall next to you, smug and sipping coffee like he didn’t just give you a heart attack. You swear, if you weren’t so mortified, you might’ve actually punched him.

“No. Just… observing,” you breathe out, barely.

“You were definitely spying,” he says, far too amused. “If you drooled any harder, there’d be a puddle at your feet.”

You glare at him, cheeks heating. “I wasn’t– shut up. I wasn’t drooling.”

He lifts an eyebrow and sips again, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “Sure. Just saying... if you actually talked to him, it might be more effective than… whatever this is.”

You grumble something under your breath and peek back around the corner.

Bob is still there. Still cooking. Still completely unaware of the internal crisis he’s causing.

You could watch him all day—had been, actually. Bob’s presence drew your attention like gravity, and the longer you kept your feelings bottled up, the crazier you felt. 

Maybe John had a point.

Unfortunately.

The best way to go about it was the scariest. You had to confront him directly.

You bide your time, waiting until late evening, when most of the tower was quiet and the others were off doing their own thing. Your heart was thudding like it knew what you were about to do.

You found Bob alone in the common area, and you cornered him, explaining your plight to him.

“And basically, I’ve been having these daydreams and actual dreams, which I think are actually memories or something. So I have to ask, or rather confirm, during those weeks when I lost my memory…”

You gulp.

“We had sex, right?” You mumble, looking around the room.

Bob’s eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes once before he finally manages to speak. It feels like it takes forever.

“…No,” he says, gently. “We didn’t.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh. So that was just…?”

Bob shifts, suddenly flustered himself. “Wait, no—I mean—not that I wouldn’t have… I mean, we just didn’t want to rush anything, especially while you were still trying to figure things out. We were… really close. I cared a lot. I still do.”

Your voice trails off, and all you want is for the Earth to open up and swallow you whole.

Someone should pack you in a crate, slap a “fragile” sticker on you, and ship you to a remote island. You’d just admitted to having sex dreams about the man to his face.

The twinkle in his eyes when he saw the photos, the way he pulled you out of the way when the bike almost hit you, him smiling at you when you brushed his hair… It all clicked.

“That’s why the daydreams I’ve been getting… they’ve felt so real. Because they were real, once. They’re pieces of us,” you say softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth.

“We were…” You clear your throat, willing yourself to speak clearly, “In love?”

“We were in love,” Bob admits softly. 

Then, gathering every bit of courage you have, you ask the question that’s been haunting your mind.

“Do you still love me?”

This felt like the edge of something, like one wrong word would break your heart forever. You told yourself you’d accept it if he didn’t. If he only loved the girl who took pictures of him eating sandwiches, and made milkshakes with him and not the girl who had shut him out and avoided him for weeks. But three words from him shut your thoughts up. 

“I never stopped.”

It all goes quiet. He said exactly what you wanted to hear, what you needed to hear. 

You collect your thoughts, standing in front of a man who loved you so deeply.

You’re scared, giving your heart away is no easy thing.

But looking at him, seeing the warmth and honesty in his eyes, you know it’ll be safe with him.

“I think…” You pause, shaking your head slowly as if the words might fall into place with movement alone. “No, I—I know that I love you now.”

His eyes soften, but you can still see the flicker of uncertainty dancing just behind them.

You know what he’s really asking.

Then, quietly, he asks the question that matters most:

“How do you know that you love me?”

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers together.

You step closer so he sees it in your eyes as well as your words.

“When I tried to imagine a life without you, I felt sad. Actually, that’s not quite right. I felt… empty. Like if you left, you’d be taking a piece of me with you.”

“When I’m with you, it’s like a world that I never used to understand finally makes sense. Like everything’s… aligned. But when you’re not around?” You breathe in shakily, then smile softly.

“I still imagine what it’d be like if you were.”

As soon as you say that, Bob wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, and kisses you. A kiss full of all the weeks he’s waited for this moment. To hold you, to know that you love him as much as he loves you.

You pause, smiling just thinking about it.

“I just… I love you with everything I have, and I don’t know if I’ll ever remember falling in love with you the first time, but I’ll never forget falling in love with you this time.”

He kisses you again and again, whispering, “I love you,” with every touch of his lips, each word a promise.

***

For the next week, life is all pancakes and stolen kisses. You were buzzing with joy, glowing in a way that made it impossible to hide how happy you were. The team was happy, too, that you and Bob were finally happy. Even if you were nauseatingly cute with the forehead kisses and shared hoodies.

He read to you most nights until you fell asleep, sometimes with the book still in his hand. You’d basically made Bob’s bed your own by now—memorising the dips in his mattress, the way he mumbled in his sleep, the exact rhythm of his heartbeat.

The kitchen had become one of your favourite make-out spots. Something about the early mornings, soft lighting, and the smell of coffee just made it impossible to keep your hands off each other. One day, all he was doing was trying to get his coffee, and next thing you knew, you were grabbing him by the shirt and kissing him like it was the last time.

“Can’t keep my hands off you,” you gasped, breathless between kisses.

Bob turned slightly red, eyes twinkling. “I can tell.”

Then he was lifting you onto the kitchen island with zero hesitation, his hands running over your hips, mouth finding your neck like he’d done it a thousand times before. You were both so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t hear the door until—

“Ahem.”

You froze.

Alexei stood there, arms crossed, and a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t let me stop you,” he said dryly. “It’s… cute.”

You buried your face in Bob’s chest, mortified. “I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

Bob just chuckled, one arm wrapped protectively around you. “Not before I do.”

That night, as you fall asleep next to Bob, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, your head resting on his chest and his fingers lazily drawing patterns along your back… all you could think was: How could this possibly go wrong?

It felt too good, too right, like everything in your life had finally clicked into place. The way he held you, how safe and warm it felt to just exist beside him. The world outside could fall apart, and you’d still feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But somewhere deep in your chest was the smallest flicker of fear. Not loud enough to ruin the moment, but enough to make your fingers clutch his shirt just a little tighter in your sleep.

Because sometimes, when something feels this perfect… it almost doesn’t feel real.

You sit up in your bed, disoriented… but something feels off. It’s cold. Bob’s not there.

“Bob?” you call out softly, but there’s no answer. Just silence.

You scramble off the bed and start searching the Tower, calling out his name as you move through hallway after hallway. But everything feels… off. No trace of leftovers on the kitchen counter, or jackets draped over the back of the couch. No clutter, no noise. It’s been completely scrubbed clean.

Like the team was gone.

Or like they were never even here at all.

Your heart thuds in your chest as you open Bob’s door and finally come face to face with him.

“Bob, where did you—?” You stop dead. Everything in his room is packed up. Boxes. Bags. Drawers empty.

“You’re leaving?”

“No… you’re leaving me,” you say, your voice shaking but resolute. “Please say something. What did I do wrong?”

He doesn’t speak. He looks distant, vacant, like he’s looking right through you.

“Bob, say something!” you cry out.

You step forward, trying to reach out for him… but suddenly, it’s like he’s stretching farther and farther away. Each step feels heavier, your legs like lead, like you’re being dragged through thick marsh. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t get to him. 

“Please just…” your voice cracks, eyes burning, “Please wait for me.”

But he doesn’t turn. He keeps packing, his back to you like a wall.

“Bob, please!” you plead again, desperation flooding your voice. “Please tell me what I did, tell me how I can fix this. Just don’t…”

You fall to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Your voice is barely a whisper now.

“Don’t leave.”

But it’s no use. 

It’s like you don’t even exist to him anymore.

When you wake up, it’s still dark out, just the blue-grey blur of dawn slipping through the blinds. Bob is beside you, still asleep, his arm loosely draped across your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You know—you know he loves you. But you’re scared. That at the drop of a dime, he’s going to leave, and you won’t see it coming. It won’t be loud or dramatic. It’ll be soft. Quiet. The way people drift away when you’re not looking. Every time you look at him, it’s like you’re already preparing to lose him.

The walls went straight up, and Bob noticed immediately. From waking up alone to not seeing you all day. You weren’t gone, but you barely looked at him. Every glance was half-hearted, every smile short-lived. You were slipping. He felt it.

He finds you in your room, sitting on the floor with an old shoebox of memories cracked open. You're looking over pictures of the two of you—early days, sunlight and laughter in your eyes. Your fingers linger on the edges like they burn.

When you see him enter, you pack them away fast, like he’s caught you doing something shameful.

“You’re avoiding me,” Bob says, standing in the doorway.

“I’m not. I’m just busy. Is it a crime to be busy?” you snap, sharper than you meant to. But it’s easier this way. Back to the same old routine of building distance, of pushing before you can be pulled. This felt easier. Safer. Who were you kidding?

Bob doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t step back. He walks in and sits down beside you, close but not crowding.

“I know why you’re pushing me away,” he says, voice low but steady. “I’m not going to leave you.”

You want to believe him. God, you do. But your chest tightens like it’s been waiting for the moment to crack.

“People always say that,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes. “Right before they do. And how do you even know that’s what I was thinking about?”

“I…read your diary—”

“You read my diary?” you in, your breath catching. That was a line—a clear invasion of privacy.

“I know I crossed a line,” he nods, guilt flickering across his face. “But you told me to. Before you lost your memories, you said it might help me understand you, and I feel like I do.”

You teeter on your heels, looking around the room like you might bolt at any second. Your heart is pounding too loudly to think clearly. Bob steps forward, into your space, grounding you.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he says, steady and soft. “I see you. And I love who I see.”

You shake your head, almost laughing, but a step away from crying at the same time.

“Bob, you don’t mean that. You can’t mean that,” you say, voice cracking under the weight of everything spilling out of you.

“I do,” he says firmly. “Every part of you. Every little quirk. I see it, and I love it.”

“You…” Your throat closes. “I’m broken, Bob. People always leave. My own mother left. You don’t understand—I'm a mess. I fall apart, I shut people out, I push them away. It’s why no one sticks around. I’m a complete wreck.”

You suck in a breath, trying to swallow your panic. “Let’s just… cut this off before you see the worst parts of me and realise I’m not worth it.”

He gently turns your face back toward his, fingers warm and sure under your chin. His eyes, those kind ones, are locked on you.

“Loving someone, truly loving someone, isn’t conditional,” he says quietly. “It’s not about perfection. It’s messy and complicated and terrifying sometimes. But when I fell in love with you the first time, I felt something I’ve never felt before. It’s like my whole world opened up,”

He pauses, swallowing hard.

“And then… I got to fall in love with you all over again. It’s been beautiful, every single moment spent with you has been a gift.”

He cups your face in his hands now, and you relax into his touch.

“I’m not going anywhere when things get tough. I won’t run when you break down, or when it gets ugly. I choose you. I love you. And nothing is going to change that.”

The dam breaks.

Tears spill down your face like a waterfall. All the things you’d held in for so long crash out of you like a wave you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I… I love you too,” you choke out, voice trembling. The words taste like surrender and relief all at once.

He cradles you in his arms, holding you like he means it, like he’s anchoring you to something steady. Something real.

You bury your face in his chest, letting yourself be vulnerable for once, 

You’re safe.

No more pretending. No more running. For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel like a ticking bomb. It feels like something you can face together.

And maybe that’s what being in love really is. Not the absence of fear, but choosing to stay in spite of it.

“Can we get ice cream or something?” You ask.

“Of course.”

***

Now that you were done dealing with your issues alone, both of you felt lighter… like breathing came easier. It’s like the weight of silence had lifted, and suddenly, you couldn’t be away from Bob—not for long. His presence had become your anchor, your gravity.

Your phone didn’t charge, but that’s irrelevant, not when you get to wake up next to Bob, his hair messy and arms around you like the night hadn’t ended.

You stubbed your toe on the edge of the nightstand (another inconvenient thing), but that also doesn’t matter, because Bob loves you, and nothing can ruin your day.

You hear a commotion in the kitchen—raised voices, something clattering—but that shit doesn’t matter either. Not while you’re in love. Not while you're wrapped in this hazy, glowing calm that makes the world feel muted and far away.

You wander into the kitchen, still in a dream, still floating like you have wings... There’s an argument going on. John and Ava’s sharp voices are now muffled, like static through so you barely register it.

The argument only becomes real when you notice something flying toward your face.

A frying pan.

It soars across the room in an elegant, absurd arc—spinning once, twice—and hits you smack dab in the face.

You’re still happy though; you were thinking about Bob as you hit the ground. 

A while later, you wake up in the medbay, which you had become very accustomed to. But this time… this time it was different. It was like everything came rushing back in full colour, flooding your brain all at once.

You look at the empty chair beside your bed, and you remember exactly how Bob looked when you first woke up with amnesia. His messy hair was in front of his eyes as he slept. 

You remember trying to make him pancakes and failing miserably. You remember pretending to be a couple on the subway. You remember your first kiss. You remember everything. 

It’s like your heart snapped back into place.

You tumble out of bed, heart racing. You need to see him. Now.

“Should you be up already? And I’m so sorry about the frying pan—it was all Walker’s fault—” Ava stammers, rushing toward you.

“It’s okay, it happens,” you say, brushing it off with a dazed grin. “Where’s Bob?”

“In the kitchen?” she says, still concerned, watching you wobble toward the door like a drunk moth.

You run—well, hobble—off in search of your Bob, adrenaline and longing pulling you down the hall. Until you find him.

He’s in the kitchen, putting together snacks like a man on a mission. Quiet, focused, gentle.

“Bob!” you call, your voice cracking from emotion and recent concussion.

He looks up instantly, eyes widening in relief. “What are you doing out of bed—?”

You jump into his arms, surprising him — he catches you, confused by the sudden burst of excitement.

“Pancakes.”

“Oh. Do you want me to make some or—?”

“No, pancakes!” you exclaim, unable to contain your joy.

His eyes widen as the realisation hits him. “You remember?”

“Everything,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, stealing the breath from his lungs.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and in that moment, you never want to let him go again.

“Really?” he asks, voice full of wonder.

“From our first pancake to our first kiss on the rooftop. I remember it all,” you whisper, your heart full. “You really didn’t give up on me.”

“And I never will,” Bob replies, pulling you back into a tight hug.

Your hearts beat in sync as you hold each other close, and in that moment, you both feel completely whole, finally, together.

“Remember when we said that we’d… y’know, when my memories came back?”

“Right now?” He blinks at you. 

“Now. Take me to your room, or we can do it right here, I don’t care.”

Bob blinked once—just once—before everything in his expression changed. His eyes darkened with intensity, lips twitching up into the beginnings of a grin. He wasn’t complaining one bit.

Bucky, however, was.

From somewhere behind you, Bucky let out a string of protests. “Guys, this is a shared space! Kitchen! Food prep happens here!”

“Fine, we’ll take it elsewhere for your sake.”

You jump and wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala. 

He catches you easily and carries you through the hallway, past the curious eyes of the rest of the team, who were all internally celebrating like their favourite slow-burn finally paid off.

He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t stop, just keeps walking with a purpose only you can give him.

He pushes open his door, kicking it shut behind him, and lays you down gently on the bed like you’re something rare and delicate. He hovers above you, eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low and steady, though you can see the hope flickering behind his gaze.

You cup his cheek with your hand, thumb brushing lightly under his eye. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He kisses you, slowly at first, like he’s afraid to break you, but then with more certainty. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer, grounding you even as the world starts to tilt.

Except it’s not the world that’s tilting.

It’s you.

You lift your head just enough to meet his eyes, your fingers curled lightly at the nape of his neck. “Is this going to happen every time we kiss?”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile smug but affectionate. “Is that a problem?”

You laugh, a real laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep in your chest, and press your face into his neck, nose brushing the warm skin there. “No… but it does give me a few ideas.”

Masterlist

[leafyln4]

"And what the hell were we?"

summary: lando and you have known each other for most of your lives, he was your best friend and you were his. what happens when you both have too many glassesof wine? or where lando and reader live together and they end up drunkly kissing after his monaco win.

warnings: smut, 18+ only!! soft sex, praise kink, best friends to lovers, lando is soft in this one, piv, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, silly), reader is a virgin, virginity loss, fingering, fluff, angst if you squint. maybe bad writing(?).

author's note: i'm writing the streamer!max thing, but this idea came to my mind and i reallyyyy had to write it. hope you guys enjoy, <3. not proofread!!

Living with Lando was... Convenient. You two had known each other since you were little kids. Your parents were long term friends with Lando's, so it was obvious you two would grow up together.

He was a constant in your life, he was always there. From your first day of kindergarten, to your last day of high school. So when he moved to Monaco, you went together. You didn't plan on actually living together, but it was convenient.

He needed someone to take care of the house while he was away for racing, you needed a place to stay. You both trusted each other enough for that, so why not? You two quickly found a place big enough to fit both of you.

You had your room, Lando had his. The apartment had stuff from the both of you, it was balanced in a way only two people who had known each other for long knew how. It was comfortable, cozy. It felt like home.

You and Lando were really close. Really, really close. People always joked about you two, saying how cute you two would look as a couple.

But you knew Lando wasn't exactly your type and you weren't exactly his. Not that it mattered. In your head, nothing could ever happen between you two. You two were only friends! It had always been like that and it always would.

It was one of those weeks Lando was away for a Grand Prix, the first one of the european triple header. Imola, as far as you could remember, and then Monaco before going to Spain. Only one week until he was home again. Great, you really needed his help with some stuff.

You try to keep the house as clean as you can, on a daily basis, but this past week was so busy to you, you weren't able to do house chores. So, considering it was Saturday, nothing much important to watch besides qualifying, you put on some music and start cleaning everything.

You were deep into the song, cleaning the dust of one of the shelves, when you accidentally knock a picture of the two of you over, the delicate frame breaks in a sound that makes your heart almost jump.

You quickly get off the stairs and pick up the frame in your hands. It wasn't really broken, but it wasn't perfect. The frame had seen better days. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you see it's still 90% intact, so you put it back on the shelf.

Your fingers linger on the writings on the frame, a small smile forming on your lips. It was a picture of you and him, both of you were somewhere along the lines of 13 years old. It was one of those family trips you had, the ones you missed from your teenage years.

God, you really missed Lando. When you were younger and he was in his karting days, it was easy for you to go to the races with him. It was still easy when he started on Formula 1, when both of you lived with your parents. But, then, you two moved to Monaco and you found a job.

Time was not something either of you had much. So seeing each other became harder and harder, those little bantering and funny moments you had as friends became rare. You missed Lando, you missed your best friend. But you understood it, you really did. He was following his dreams and you were following yours, it was okay. For an extent.

Shaking your head, you let go of the frame and go back at taking off the dust. Once you finish everything, you throw yourself on the couch and turn the TV on. Better to distract yourself with something silly than let your mind wander.

The weekend passed in a hurry and, soon enough, Lando was already back home. You hear the familiar sound of the door closing and his footsteps echoing through the apartment. You were in your room, finishing some stuff from work, but as soon as you hear it, you rush to the living room.

He was there. White t-shirt, curls falling on his forehead, that smile on his face. He was home. And you were in his arms as soon as he put his bags down. You really missed him. And he missed you, too.

His arms wrap tightly around you, his smile only growing. He missed you so much. It was kind of weird to not have you around most of the time. Even if he didn't want to admit, it felt like a part of him was missing. A part he really cared about.

Of course you two always texted and had those long calls whenever you could, but it wasn't the same thing. You both longed for each other more than you would ever admit. You told yourself it was only because of habit, that this longing wasn't something more.

You two finally let go of each other, his smile turning into a smirk. "So... You did miss me, huh?"

His voice was teasing, full of that familiar mischief Lando seemed to not have left behind in your teenage years. Such a silly boy. You roll your eyes at him, pushing him lightly.

"Who said I missed you? I actually was just cleaning my hands on you. I was eating chips, y'know?"

The lie was obvious, but you would never say the truth. Not when he would get all cocky and arrogant if you did.

"Yeah, yeah. Chips. Totally believable."

Lando knew you better than everyone else, but he decided to let this little lie pass. After all, he was tired after the travel. He still had two days until his duties as a driver, so he wanted to relax as much as he could.

He passes through you, bumping into your body as he walked, that smug smirk on his face. "I'm going to sleep a little bit, I'm too tired for this now."

With a roll of your eyes, you let him go without any more words. But it doesn't take long for you to go to your room, too. You would steal him from everyone else in those two days, it was only fair you gave him a little bit of time to relax.

After all, you really needed him to fix some stuff on the house. And to do stuff with you, of course.

The moment he parks the car in that first place spot, the whole world seem to disappear. Even if there were people screaming, even if there were cameras all around you, you could only see him. Your best friend, the one you trusted the most, winning in Monaco.

He fucking won in Monaco! The pride you were feeling was immeasurable. You wanted to cry, to scream, but you were frozen in llace, eyes teary and mind hazy. You push your way through people, going straight to him.

He sees you approach, his eyes locked on yours. He seemed as happy as ever, in his element. You didn't care of he was sweaty, smelly or anything like that at all.

No, you give him the tightest hug of his life. Ignoring all of the cameras, all of the people watching you both, you feel at ease. His spark was coming back.

You let him wander through the rest of the people, whispering to him that you would see him later and that he should enjoy his win. His heart was beating so fast, he didn't want to pull away. But he does, anyways.

"I promise I will talk to you later."

You nod, a proud smile on your face. You knew he wouldn't forget about you. He was your best friend, after all.

After podium celebrations are over, you two go home, a nice chat flowing between you two. He was sparkling, glowing with happiness. And his happiness made you happy, too.

The ride home doesn't take long, it's Monaco. And, before you know it, you two are sitting on the couch, each with a glass of wine in your hands. This was your third glass, your mind way too fuzzy already.

"Lan, you should really go party if you want to. I don't mind, I swear."

"I don't know what you mean. I'm exactly where I want to be."

It was not like this was the first time you got drunk with him, but something about this was... Different. The tone of his voice, the way his curls fell to his face, how his words carried a little hint of flirtiness on them... It was normal, yet so different.

Maybe it was your fuzzy mind. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. But you were seeing Lando with different eyes, your mind going through paths it never went before. You try to shake the thoughts away, but it doesn't work at all.

He notices how distant you seemed for a bit. Lando also had his fair share of wine, he was just as tipsy as you. He never intended to flirt with you, but some things just happen. It's life, we can't control how it works. And you looked so pretty with McLaren's jersey, it should be a crime.

Lando clears his throat, his eyes drifing from your pretty lips to your intense eyes. The ones that, once eye contact is made, it's hard to not look into. It must be the wine, right? That's messing with his head, making him see stuff he shouldn't be seeing.

And, suddenly, he is brought back to your teenage years, to when it was hard to control himself around you. It wanders to how it felt to secretly desire you, the hormones messing with him as much as the alcohol is now.

He shakes his head, focusing on you and the way your breath seemed to pick up. The room felt hot, too hot. It wasn't how it was supposed to be. The couch never felt so small.

"I... You just won in Monaco, you deserve to party." Your voice was low, weak, rough. As if you were holding back. As if you didn't really want to say what was in your heart.

The air around you two was cackling with a tension you two were unfamiliar with. Never once between you two this seemed to happen. Never once you desired each other. Well. At least you.

"You know I don't want to party. Not without you." His voice was charged, his words carrying some secret meaning your fuzzy brain was fighting hard to deny. "I want to be with you."

He puts his glass on the small table in front of the couch, his eyes canning your face for any signs of discomfort or want. He wanted you more than he would care to admit. He wanted you to want him so bad.

Your breath hitches, your hands slightly shaky and that strange buzzing feeling in your lower belly marking its presence within you. His gaze was intense, full of years of repressed feelings. Feelings you never noticed until now.

"Lan..." He approaches you, ever so slowly, his right hand cupping your cheek while his left one rests on one of your thighs. Your heart was beating fast, the heat was hard to ignore.

Your thighs clench unconsciously, his left hand drifting closer to your core. But he doesn't touch you. Not yet. He looks into your eyes, almost begging for your approval. He wanted you to want this as much as he did.

"Can I?"

His voice was measured, a bit rougher than normal, and a nod of your head was all it took for him to glue his lips to yours. You melt into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck and hands fidgeting with his hair.

The kiss was slow, full of emotions you were both too drunk to explain. His lips felt softer than they should, he tasted like the wine you two were drinking. It was intoxicating and so intimate.

His hands go to your waist, pulling you into his lap in a desperate try to get more of you. You whine into his mouth, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. He kisses you like you're the last person he would ever kiss, full of passion.

Once you two pull away, Lando starts planting kisses down your neck, goosebumps trailing down your spine as soft gasps left your lips. His right hand lifts your shirt and you help him take it off with ease.

Looking at you on his lap, your bra being the only thing covering your chest, he thought you were the most beautiful woman to ever exist. With one nod of your head, he takes your bra off, his breath catching on his throat.

"So beautiful, baby... Can't believe I never made any moves on you."

His tongue licks your left nipple, a soft moan leaving your lips. You were so sensitive. Nobody ever touched you this way. Nobody got this close to you before. You couldn't believe Lando, your best friend of years, was the one doing this.

But you didn't mind. Not at all.

"Lan... Please, I have never..." You were ashamed. Your cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink, your chest raising and falling as he looks up at you once again.

Even if you were drunk, you were conscious enough to remember the details about your life. But the look Lando gave you... How fucking gentle he seemed... It was driving you crazy. You needed him. You wanted him.

"I know, baby, I know. I promise I'll be gentle... Do you trust me?" You nod, but that's not enough for you. His right hand squeezes one of your breasts gently. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-yes... Please, Lan, I want you. Only you. It has always been you."

Your little cry goes straight to his cock. Lando's mouth is immediately back on your breast, sucking the soft flesh and lightly scraping his teeth in your nipples. It felt so good. It was so different from when you tried to pleasure yourself with your hands.

He stands up with you, your legs wrapping around his waist as his firm hands keep holding you. He takes you to his bedroom, gently laying tou down on his queen-sized bed. He kisses you again, gentle, soft. He wanted you to savour the moment, to enjoy it even more than him.

His fingers trail down your body, slipping into your pants and underwear as soon as you nod at his silent question. Lando's breath hitches when he feels how wet you are, his point finger spreading your slickness through your pussy.

He pulls your underwear down along with your pants, taking it off of you and leaving you bate before him. He looks up at you one more time, wanting to see if you were really sure about that. The smile you give him is enough as a yes.

Slowly, torturously, he inserts a finger in your cunt. It makes you gasp. His finger was so much thicker than yours, it was a new sensation. You had never felt this before. He pumps the finger in and out, mesmerized by how tight you were and how your cunt seemed to suck his finger in.

"Look at you... So damn pretty. Want to feel that tight cunt squeezing my cock. You'll take it like a good girl, hm?"

His words were filthy. But they made you blush. You felt seen, desired. Only Lando could make you feel like this, like you wanted more. He puts another finger in, curling his fingers just in the right way. A broken moan leaves your lips, your back arching.

He plants a kiss on your inner thigh before licking a long stripe on your pussy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, it felt so good. He sucks your clit while working his fingers inside of you. It didn't take long for you to come all over him, a strangled moan leaving your lips.

"Such a sweet cunt for such a sweet girl. Fuck, baby... Can I fuck you? Take that pretty pussy?" His voice was low, charged with need. You were so beautiful, so perfect.

He takes his fingers off of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. "Please, Lan... Need you so bad."

He finally undresses, his toned body making your mouth water. His cock springs free and you gasp audibly. He was so big. It would never fit. Lando notices how worried you seem, kissing your cheeks softly.

"It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

Slowly, he starts putting his cock in. Inch by agonizing inch. You whine in a bit of pain, holding his hand tightly. He coos you, kissing the few tears that spilled from your eyes away. Once he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for you to adjust to him.

It was too much. You had never felt so full. Soon, the pain starts to drift away and leave way to the building pleasure. Lando feels you clench around him, a moan leaving your lips, so he starts moving slowly against you.

"So tight, baby. Feels so good." His thrusts were slow, but deep, hitting all of the right spots inside of you. You moan his name, chanting it like you were caught in a spell. He finds your g-spot, your back arching and a loud moan spilling from you.

It felt so, so, so, so good. You were drunk on him and how he felt inside of you. His right hand finds your clit, your own hands resting on his shoulders and scratching his back at the new-found pleasure. You cry out, your high approaching once again.

"Lando, I will--- Oh, shit!"

Your eyes roll back, your back arches even more. Your cunt clenches around his cock, your orgasm triggering his own as he spills his seed deep into you.

"Fuck, such a good girl." He talks you through your orgasm, his thrusts slowing down until they fully stop.

He pulls out, leaving your panting form on the bed to go get a clean towel. He cleans you gently, knowing how sensitive you are, then cleans himself. He lays down besides you, peppering your face with little kisses that make you giggle.

Nothing much is said between you both and you soon fall asleep.

You wake up in Lando's shirt, your body sore and his side of the bed cold. The curtains were slightly pulled aside, some rays of sunlight entering the room and casting a cozy glow inside of it.

You hear footsteps approaching, Lando stopping by the door as he notices how you're already woken up.

"Hey... Sorry for leaving. Making breakfast." He was holding a small tray, a plate with some pancakes, fruits and toast on it alongside a mug of what seemed to be either coffee or hot chocolate.

You sit up in bed and he puts the tray in your lap, sitting beside you on the bed. You murmur a small "thank you", not really knowing what else to say.

Last night changed everything between you and Lando, that's for sure. But, if the way he was looking at you was any sign, it really changed. For the better. <3

[keeryhours]

don’t say you love me - chapter one

Masterlist Series Masterlist Tag Lists

Eddie Munson x Hopper!reader, Billy Hargrove x Hopper!reader

Summary:

You get yourself into a situation with two guys you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected and protected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, weed use, angst, pregnancy, love triangle

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N:

Thank you so much @feral4youu my love for the idea for this fic! Your mind never ceases to amaze me.

You loved your dad.

As far as parents go, he was the best you could ask for. Loving, kind, not too terribly strict despite being the police chief. And he really, truly did love you.

Your mother had always been distant. When she left the two of you with nothing but a note, it hadn’t even been that big of an adjustment. It had always been you and your dad, and as long as you had him, you knew things would be alright.

You’d always had the type of relationship where you felt you could tell him anything. He’d come home from a long day at work and sit in the recliner with his beer, happily listening to you tell him the latest gossip in your friend group. He would listen with full attention, every now and then a genuine reaction - raised eyebrows, “Tina did what? With Carol’s boyfriend?”

The only things he could be strict about were grades, and boys.

You weren’t allowed to date until you were 15. And even then, any guy who wanted to take you out had to go through such rigorous questioning, they felt it wasn’t worth the effort. You were popular - head cheerleader, friendly, friends with the right people, smart and head of your class, and beautiful, according to the Hawkins population. So it’s not like you had a shortage of guys willing to take you out.

But your dad was having none of that.

“You don’t understand,” your dad would say. “Men are dogs, sweetheart. You’re better off without ‘em.”

Things changed your senior year.

You properly met Eddie Munson, first of all. He was a Super Senior, on his second attempt. And it’s not like you didn’t know of him before - everyone in Hawkins knew of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Most of your friends had been buying weed from him for years.

Eddie always flirted with you. He’d act like a total gentleman any time you were around, making space for you to walk, holding doors open for you, pulling your chair out when you sat down during class. When you’d go with Carol and Tina to buy, he’d single you out specifically, call you beautiful and make eye contact with only you.

“Think the Freak has a crush on you,” Carol laughed as the three of you left with your stash of weed.

“You think?” you asked with hope in your voice and butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh please, don’t tell me you’d consider it?” Tina said, her eyebrows raised.

“No, of course not,” you said. “I just…didn’t think he liked me like that.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Carol said. “It’s obvious. He’s got a major hard-on for you.”

You blushed. “I don’t think-“

“Oh, he totally does,” Tina added. “So gross.”

“And you know Jason Carver has been into you for years-“ Carol said, but you cut her off.

“You know my dad doesn’t let me date,” you reminded her, mostly just to get off the subject of Jason.

“Which is so dumb,” Carol said. “Does he want you to die alone?”

“Probably,” you mumbled.

The next time you saw Eddie, you were both alone. You had been sitting out on the picnic table in the woods behind the school, wanting time alone. The sound of Eddie’s footsteps had startled you.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, a friendly smile on his face as he held his hands up. “Didn’t expect anyone to be out here.”

“Me either,” you said, putting your feet back on the ground to get up. “Sorry, I’ll just-“

“No, stay,” Eddie had said. “I could use the company.”

Eddie was easy to talk to. He was funny, he was nice, he made you feel comfortable. And when he ended up standing between your legs, his lips on yours and his hands gripping your bare thighs, well, you couldn’t say it was totally unexpected.

Eddie was your first, and you were his. But once you’d had sex, he was feral for it. You hooked up near constantly, any time he could pull you away without suspicion, he would.

You had been scared at first. You knew it would be a disaster if your dad found out. Not only were you not supposed to be doing anything with guys, but this was Eddie Munson. Your dad knew perfectly well what Eddie did for extra cash.

You had a few particularly close encounters. You always either rode the bus or got a ride from a friend home after school - your dad worked late and never had time to pick you up. So, you started spending your time with Eddie after practice.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie panted from behind you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, light bruises appearing beneath his fingers. He didn’t even notice, too lost in his own pleasure he was chasing inside of you. “Always so tight. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

“Please,” you gasped out. “I want you to.”

Eddie groaned, his hair tickling your back as his head dropped forward on his shoulders. His hips were rutting into you desperately, pumping his entire length into you. You could feel every ridge and vein of him - but you knew his shape by heart at this point.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body flush against his own. He thrusted hard into you a few more times, then, with a cry of your name, he came, filling you deeply.

When he pulled out, he could see his cum dripping out of you. He watched with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than to dive back in, his cock already twitching back to life-

There was a banging on the side of the van.

“Munson!” your dad yelled. “I know you’re in there, and it better not be with my daughter.”

You both froze. “Fuck,” Eddie whispered, jumping into action and pulling his boxers and jeans back on. “Fuck!”

You pulled your dress back down, then searched all around you. “Eddie, where are my panties?”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, a sheepish grin on his face as he pulled the thin lace material from the pocket of his jeans and handed them over. “Just thought I’d keep a souvenir.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you put them back on. There was another loud banging and then Eddie threw open the back doors just as you straightened out the skirt of your dress.

Hopper looked into the vehicle, looking very pissed off. He said your name. “What are you doing in here?”

You wished you had thought of an excuse before this moment. “We have a project together.”

“Oh yeah?” Hopper didn’t sound like he believed you at all. “Where is it?”

Eddie met your eyes, like, you started this one, it’s on you. “We were just brainstorming. We just got it assigned today.”

Your dad sniffed the air- no doubt searching for the smell of weed. You just hoped he couldn’t smell the sex. When he didn’t recognize anything that set off alarms, he looked at you again. “Well, come on. I’m driving you home.”

You bid Eddie an awkward goodbye, then followed your dad to his car. You avoided looking at him as you buckled your seatbelt - you did just get your back blown out by Eddie in the back of his van, after all.

“Don’t hang out with him,” your dad said as he drove you home. “I’m serious. Anyone but him. Munson is trouble.”

“Dad, he’s not a bad guy-“

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “I know what he does. And you’re too good to get involved in any of that. You have such a bright future, I don’t want to see it wasted on some loser.”

“Dad, Eddie is not a loser-“

“Sure,” he said. “But my point stands either way. Don’t waste time with him.”

You could still feel Eddie’s release between your thighs the whole way home.

Billy Hargrove came crashing into your life all on his own. He had come to Hawkins his senior year, taking over as the most popular guy in school. 

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Steve had said, slamming his locker shut to make the point. “Seriously. Stay far away from him.”

It seemed like that had always been a personal challenge for you.

You actually met Billy when he joined the basketball team. You spent a lot of time with the basketball guys, being head cheerleader. It was his first game with the team, and you had to admit, he impressed you. Billy was really good. Your eyes stayed glued to him the entire game, and he definitely noticed with the way he kept smirking in your direction every time he’d do something cool.

“I think Billy’s looking at you,” Chrissy leaned over and said with a huge grin on her face.

You found yourself smiling back. Sure you’d heard the rumors about Billy already, but it’s not like you needed him to fall in love with you. You were down to just have some fun.

Billy loved that about you. You caught his attention the first time he ever saw you, but once he realized you were down for no strings attached hookups? You became his favorite girl in town.

He approached you after that game as everyone was running to the showers. He was a smooth talker, that was for sure. He gave ladies man vibes the second you saw him, but hearing him talk, you could really see it. It didn’t take a lot of flirting before you were sneaking into the men’s locker room with him after everyone else had left, letting him undress you and then take you against the wall while the steam and heat surrounded you.

Billy couldn’t get enough of you once he’d had you. And once he found out you wanted to keep things secret because you were the police chief’s daughter? That made you even more irresistible.

“You’re hooking up with Billy?” Eddie said, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hargrove?”

“Um…yeah,” you’d said awkwardly, as Eddie was naked between your legs. He was kissing across your inner thighs, nearing where you needed him the most.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I like him?” You sat up on your elbows, looking down at Eddie. “He’s not the worst guy ever like everyone says.”

“Only he is.” Eddie moved in and licked a stripe along your folds, making you gasp. “He’s a huge fucking asshole.”

“Well, I like him,” you defended as strongly as you could while Eddie was eating you out, groaning as he devoured you. He always knew how to get the last word of an argument.

“Why don’t you stop thinking about him and let me take care of you, baby?”

You were putting the last of your books away in your locker for the day when you felt a set of muscular arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you close into the owners’ firm body. Carol, Tina, and Chrissy gave you a mischievous look - it wasn’t hard to imagine who it was.

“Hey, baby,” Billy whispered into your ear. “What are y’doing?”

“Just getting ready to go home,” you said. “Carol’s driving me.”

Billy looked over at your friends as if noticing them for the first time. He gave them a wolfish grin before looking down at you. “Yeah, I think you’re gonna have a change of plans.”

“Oh yeah?” you laughed.

“Yeah,” he said again easily. “I think I’ll bring you home tonight.”

“Have fun, you two,” Carol said, then you watched as your friend group left you with nothing but a knowing look on each of their faces.

Billy was already kissing down your neck, his large hands sliding beneath the hem of your cheer skirt. “Need you so bad.”

You leaned back into his touch, nearly forgetting yourself and where you were. “Let’s go.”

You spotted Eddie on your way out, smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. You gave him a nod and he watched as you walked off towards the Camaro with Billy’s hand on your ass. For once, he thought it would be pretty funny if the police chief just so happened to be here.

Billy opened the passenger door for you, his hand trailing up your thigh as you slid into the seat. He was being needier than usual. Once he was seated himself, he started the car, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot and sped off.

You always loved it when Billy drove with one hand like this. His fingers pushed up your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties. You were wet already, pushing down against him.

“Needy slut,” he hissed, although he was the one nearly begging for it. “Wait until I can get my hands on you.”

You expected him to take you to Lover’s Lake as usual, but instead he pulled up in front of his house. At least you assumed it was his house - a single story home with a screened in porch. No cars were outside. Billy had never taken you home before.

“Is this your place?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “But my dad and step mom went out of town for the weekend, so…we’re good.”

“What about your sister?”

“First of all, she’s not my sister,” he said. “And she’s staying with her friend. She won’t bother us.” He leaned over the seat towards you, placing a kiss on your lips. “We’ve got the place to ourselves all weekend. You could…even stay, if you wanted to.”

Billy was really asking you to spend the whole weekend with him? “Maybe.”

Billy smiled. He kissed you one more time, then the two of you climbed out of the Camaro. Billy unlocked the front door and you followed him inside. The inside of the house was much different than you expected. It hardly even looked like a family lived here. Billy’s weights were set up right off the living room with a tiny TV next to them. There was a closed bedroom behind it that you assumed was Max’s, then a hallway with more rooms to the right.

He dropped his denim jacket on the couch then opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, popping it open and taking a long drink. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt underneath the jacket, his even tighter jeans hugging his huge thighs. You could never say he wasn’t easy on the eyes.

He finished the beer and tossed it in the trash can, then turned to you. “D’you want anything? A beer, a soda, water…”

“I’m good,” you said. Billy smiled softly at you and then he spun you around, leading you down the short hall with his hand on your lower back. He opened the last door, revealing a bedroom that was definitely Billy’s, yet neater than you had been expecting.

His plaid bed sheets were tucked neatly, the bed made. There were no dirty clothes strewn across the floor. His cassettes and record collection were organized and put away. There weren’t even clothes poking out from his drawers. He had posters on his wall, Metallica you recognized, as well as some you didn’t know and some posters of girls.

Billy stepped around you, closing the door. “‘s not much,” he mumbled.

“It’s nice,” you smiled. He returned it.

“Now,” he said, “I’d like to see you on my bed.”

“Yeah?” you giggled as he wrapped his arms around you again, kissing all over your face and neck, down to what was exposed of your chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. His hands slid up your skirt again, grabbing your ass. He slapped it, making you gasp. 

“Billy!”

He groaned. “I can’t help myself, baby. Every time I get my hands on you, I can’t fucking help myself.”

He pushed your skirt down your legs so it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it, kicking it away. Billy was already working on your cheer top, pulling it over your head.

His hands roamed your body, left in nothing but your bra and the tiniest pair of panties that left little to the imagination. Billy was losing his mind at the sight of them, his hands rubbing over your ass, up your sides and to your tits, nipping at your neck and chest.

“Gonna mark you up real good,” Billy grumbled against your skin. “Let Munson see what he missed out on.”

You playfully slapped at him- “Billy, don’t be an asshole.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “If I have to share, I can at least send you back with the proof of what I did to you.”

You gasped out a moan as he bit down particularly hard on your neck, sucking on the skin and running his tongue over the bite. “Fuck, I need you right now.”

Billy pushed you down onto his bed. You bounced slightly as you watched him watching you, eyes never leaving your body as he kicked off his shoes, tossed his shirt and worked his belt open. You were practically drooling as he revealed more of his incredible body to you. You had never been too concerned with muscles or build before, but Billy’s body was something else entirely. He was hot.

He was already rock hard as he undid his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down. He wrapped a large hand around his shaft, tip flushed red and glistening with precum. You could see his hand shuddering as he stroked himself, eyeing you like he could eat you alive.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He crawled over your body, pulling your panties down and tossing them anywhere. He placed his hands on your knees and slowly spread your legs, groaning as he finally saw your pussy, so wet and ready for him.

He made quick work of your bra, getting rid of that and immediately wrapping his lips around your nipple. You arched into him, bare pussy grinding against his cock, desperate for him to stop teasing and fuck you already.

“God, you’re such a needy little slut. And everyone thinks you’re this good girl.” He nuzzled against the side of your head, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “What would your daddy think if he could see you like this? Desperate for my cock?”

“Billy,” you whined. “Please don’t talk about my dad right now.”

Billy chuckled, pulling back to drag his cock through your folds, teasing your hole every now and then. “I bet he thinks you’re off somewhere studying right now. Gonna get into a real good school, right? Following the rules, never lying…” His tip slipped inside and you gasped, fingers gripping onto his sheets. “Definitely not letting guys like me fuck you stupid.”

He sunk fully into you with a roll of his hips, his entire thick length splitting you open. He moaned as he began thrusting into you quickly, the sound of his skin meeting yours filling the room. You held tightly onto his shoulders.

“Billy,” you moaned, fingers threading through his mullet of dirty blonde curls. You pulled on them slightly - he always loved when you did that. This time it earned a stutter from his hips, a weak “H-oh,” from him.

Billy never liked to admit weakness, but he was weak for you. You knew all the right things to do, the places to touch, the things to say. What was he supposed to do?

He buried himself in you with every thrust, each one powerful and strong, rocking the mattress. He would never admit it to you, but he never fucked the other girls the way he fucked you. He loved to take his time with you, to feel every inch of you, to savor it. He loved fucking you slow, watching the cute faces you’d make every time he hit your g spot with the head of his cock. He just loved looking at you - especially when your face was twisted in pleasure he was giving you.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he hummed, looking down at you. Your eyebrows were drawn together, cheeks flushed, the slightest bit of sweat across your forehead, lips parted. You looked so beautiful like this, he thought.

He grabbed onto your thighs and pushed them up, spreading you wider and giving himself a better view. He was able to get deeper like this, pound into you faster, and he took advantage of that.

“You feel how deep I’m in you?” he grunted, hand resting on your lower belly.

“M-mmhmm,” you attempted to hum in agreement, but then he was pushing down, groaning as he could feel the pressure against his cock, and you were- oh god-

“Billy,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum-“

“Yeah, shit, yeah, cum for me,” he panted, fucking you faster, his own release imminent. He hiked your leg up over his shoulder and leaned over your body, kissing you hard as he nearly bent you in half.

Your orgasm hit you, but every thrust of his cock was still hitting that spot and making it feel like it was lasting forever. You tried to tell Billy it was too much, but the way he was laying on you made it impossible. A few actual tears slipped from your eyes.

Billy noticed immediately. “Holy shit,” he said, and then he dropped his head into your neck and cried out as he came, pumping his load into you, thrusting in as deep as possible to make sure you got every drop.

His trembling body remained on top of you for a bit longer, then he rolled off, pulling out and laying down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, nuzzling his face into your neck. Billy Hargrove was not a cuddler after sex - usually it was okay thanks, bye. But with you…he never wanted to let you go.

You didn’t question it. You weren’t sure you wanted to go down that path.

Billy played with your hair as you laid there. He thought - about you, mostly. Should he actually ask you out? He’s been playing this cool guy who only does hookups role for so long, he’s almost forgotten how to initiate a relationship. Did he want one? With you, yes. Absolutely. So why didn’t he just ask? It drove him crazy that he knew you still slept with Munson. He had stopped sleeping with other girls. Sure, he hadn’t exactly told you that yet, because wouldn’t that make it too real? Would you even like that? Or would it scare you right back into Eddie’s arms? But if there’s one thing Billy knew, it’s how he felt about you.

You liked Billy. You really did. But could you even be together if you wanted to be? Your dad certainly knew of Billy, too. He’s just as high on the stay away list as Eddie.

But you let Billy cuddle you. You let him twirl your hair, trace your skin with his fingers, pepper your body in kisses and affection, whisper sweet nothings in your ear. 

Maybe it was wrong of you. Maybe you just wanted to feel loved. Maybe you really could love him back. Or maybe you never would.

You spent that weekend with Billy, with a promise to your dad that you were at Chrissy’s. You felt horrible lying to him, but there’s no way he would have let you stay otherwise. The thought was laughable.

You had never lied to your dad before this year. It felt horrible, like grime stuck to your skin you could never wash away. And to lie so you could sleep with guys? Who even were you becoming?

You didn’t dwell on that thought for the weekend. You allowed yourself to be spoiled by Billy - you fucked, you watched movies, fucked some more, cooked together, slept in bed cuddled together, fucked again. When you finally left Sunday evening, Billy had a perfectly sated smile on his face, leaning against his bedroom door in nothing but a pair of boxers, smoking a cigarette as you packed your stuff.

You heard the door open as you were zipping up your bag, then- “Ew, gross.”

You smiled as Billy scrambled to throw some sweats on. “Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greeted you. She always liked you, the times you’d been in the car while Billy drove her home or to the arcade. At least you were nice and didn’t totally ignore her.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Billy asked gently as you headed for the front door with your cheer bag. His hand rested on your cheek, looking into your eyes like you held the secrets of the universe there. “I don’t like you walking alone.”

“That would kind of give away the lie,” you said, with a forced playfulness. You didn’t exactly want to walk all the way home either, but you weren’t going to pull up at home in Billy Hargrove’s Camaro.

“Let me at least take you part way,” he said. “It’s a long walk.”

Eventually, you agreed to that. Billy put a shirt on and escorted you out to the car. He drove you most of the way home, stopping half a mile from your cabin. “You sure you’re good from here?”

“Yes, Billy,” you said. You were already climbing out of the car with your bag slung over your shoulder. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” he said. “See you.”

Billy watched you walk as far as he could see, then found a spot to turn around and go back to his own house. He knew he needed to be there before his dad and Susan got home.

When you saw your dad was already at home, you breathed a sigh of relief that you hadn’t let Billy drive you all the way. You knew it was unlikely, but it was still a possibility. You walked up the front steps and let yourself inside.

Hopper looked up as you walked in, a smile on his face. “Well if it isn’t my beautiful daughter I never see. How was Chrissy’s?”

He didn’t sound suspicious at all, which was a good thing, but only made you feel a million times worse. “Good. We had fun.”

“Good,” he said. He took another sip from his beer. A pause. “That Munson boy called for you again.”

You almost rolled your eyes. You had told Eddie time and time again that you would call him. “Oh yeah? Probably just about the project.”

Your dad hummed. “You know I don’t want you spendin’ time with him-“

“-anymore than I have to, yeah I know,” you said. You tried not to let visions of things you and Eddie had already done flash through your mind, but you were powerless to stop it.

“He’s bad news, honey,” he said. “We’ve had him in the station a lot. Him and that…new Hargrove boy.”

Your cheeks flushed. Of course your two hookups were the entirety of the list. “I won’t, dad. I hardly even know them.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he said. “You’re a good girl. You’re not dumb. Don’t do something dumb.”

“Where were you all weekend?”

Eddie’s voice purred in your ear as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close into his lean body. You giggled, letting him hold you, touch you.

“Billy’s,” you said, like it was nothing.

Eddie froze. “You were at Hargrove’s all weekend?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning around in Eddie’s arms. “His parents were gone for the weekend, so he asked me to stay over.”

Eddie was looking at you with his brows furrowed. “That’s serious.”

“No it’s not,” you said dismissively, waving that idea off. “He just wanted to get laid all weekend.”

“I’m telling you,” Eddie said, looking at you seriously. “It is. If Hargrove asked you to play house with him all weekend, it’s because he feels something for you. More than just sex.”

“Eddie, do we have to do this right now?” You played with the curls at the bottom of his neck, the ones that always drove him crazy. Eddie groaned, the fight leaving his body.

“Jus’ don’t want you forgettin’ about me,” he mumbled.

Your heart sunk. “Eddie, that’s not gonna happen.”

Much like Billy, Eddie also had constant thoughts of why he didn’t just ask you out. You were everything he wanted. The only thing he wanted. He didn’t look at other girls at all. He knew the thing with your dad would be an obstacle, but it didn’t have to mean there couldn’t be anything, right?

And he thought you liked him, too. That was until Billy came into the picture. Before Billy, you and Eddie just hooked up with each other, no one else. It was just a few words away from being official - at least that’s how Eddie saw it. When he learned you had started sleeping with Billy, he had to pretend to be a lot less phased than he was.

Because he had been hurt.

“What if Billy asks you out, huh?” Eddie asked. “What would you do?”

You looked up into Eddie’s big brown eyes. “Why haven’t you asked me out?”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that. His lips parted, but no sound came. Before he could think about it too much, you connected your lips to his. Any thoughts that had been in his head swiftly left as he felt your tongue prodding against his bottom lip.

“Take me somewhere,” you whispered, and Eddie’s grip tightened on you like he was scared you’d drift away.

“Let’s go to my van,” he said.

You and Eddie practically ran out of the school hand in hand, giggling as you sprinted for his van. You got some strange looks from other students - even your friends didn’t understand your weird flip-flopping between Eddie and Billy - but you didn’t care. You never had. And you were well liked enough that no one was going to go tattling to your dad.

Eddie started up the van and drove off. He could and would have fucked you right there in the school parking lot where everyone could see the van rocking as he pounded into you, but he thought you deserved more than that.

So Lover’s Lake it was.

He pulled to a stop in front of the familiar lake, killing the engine. He nodded back towards the back, and you didn’t have to be told twice before you were climbing between the seats and to the large open space behind them. Eddie was right behind you, and then he was all over you.

He felt every inch of your body, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. You kissed frantically, hands and lips everywhere. Eddie groaned, his pants even tighter than how they began. He shuddered when you ran your hand over the bulge in his jeans.

“Please,” he gasped. “Need you.”

Eddie could be dominant, but for the most part he was much more submissive than Billy. He had no problem begging, or letting you take control. Billy was different. He liked pushing you down, taking what he felt belonged to him. Eddie was all sweet touches and pleading and looking up at you with his doe eyes while he begged to cum.

You began undoing his belt and jeans while Eddie’s hand slipped beneath your dress. He stroked you over your panties, feeling the material soaked from your arousal. Nothing got Eddie off like seeing how badly you wanted him.

Just as you shoved his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock, Eddie pulled away from you, pushing you back and making you gasp as he dove in between your legs. He buried his face against your cunt, breathing in your scent, nose pressed against the wet material of your thin panties. You gasped again when his tongue came out and licked you over the fabric.

“Need to taste you,” he begged. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet. Can’t resist this pussy.”

You whined. “Please.”

Eddie didn’t need to hear anything else. He slipped his ringed fingers beneath the waist of your panties and pulled them down, wasting not a single second before he was burying his face in your bare pussy. His long tongue licked along your folds, then he really dove in, two fingers slipping inside of you until you could feel the metal of his rings against your skin.

He thrusted his fingers as he worked that talented tongue over your clit, making your head absolutely spin as you writhed on the messy floor of his van. But how many times had he fucked you back here already? Eddie had fucked you lots of places, to be fair.

“Eddie, I’m- oh!” 

You cried as he sucked hard, your thighs trembling around his head, fingers tangling in his curls. You pulled on his hair, making him moan against your pussy. He was thrusting against the blanket beneath you, his dripping cock rubbing against the material providing some kind of relief.

He just needed you to cum for him, at least once. He didn’t think he could survive without it, didn’t want to cum inside you without the taste of your own release still on his tongue.

You were going to give him exactly what he wanted. You could feel it building deep in your belly, your chest heaving faster with the speed of your breaths. He sped up the pace of his fingers, his tongue working over you exactly the way he remembered you loved.

“Eddie!”

Eddie groaned as you tightened around his fingers, cumming all over his hand and mouth. He fucked you faster through your release, until you were covering your face and telling him to stop. When you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back and placed a final kiss against your clit.

“Always taste so good,” he said with a wicked grin, like he’d gladly do it all over again. If he knew how Billy had made you cum so hard you cried, he would take it as a personal challenge.

He kissed you, pushing your dress up your body. You could fully taste yourself on his tongue, and it excited you. The first time Eddie had kissed you after going down on you, you weren’t sure you liked it - but it grew on you. He slipped your dress off over your head and threw it to the side.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” he asked quietly as he nuzzled between your tits, kissing over every bit of exposed skin he could get to.

“That’s not true,” you said, like the natural reaction to being called beautiful was to shut it down as soon as possible.

“But it is,” he said. He looked down, then back up. “Do you see what you do t’me?”

“That’s not that hard to do,” you teased, and Eddie smiled.

“To this level, yeah, pretty hard to do.” He kissed you. “I only get this hard for you.”

“How romantic,” you giggled. Your laugh turned into a gasp when he bit down on your neck, covering a hickey Billy had left over the weekend.

“I can be romantic, if that’s what you want,” he said. “I just thought you liked getting fucked like a whore.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I like both.”

Eddie smirked down at you. “I could be slow and gentle sometimes too, y’know.”

“I like when you fuck me,” you pouted.

Eddie chuckled. “I like fucking you too. I just, I don’t know…sometimes I wanna take it slow. Really look at you. Really feel you.”

Your heart was beating faster. “Yeah?”

Eddie was kissing across your chest now. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Can I do that?”

You thought about it. It seemed like it was awfully close to catching feelings, which you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do, for either of them. But the way Eddie made your heart beat, the way you wanted him to make love to you, wanted him to love you-

“Okay,” you said. “Just this once.”

Eddie smiled. He unhooked your bra and let you pull his t-shirt over his head. He kissed all over your body, taking his sweet time working his hips back between your legs.

“Don’t wanna use a condom,” he mumbled. “I wanna feel you. All of you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said. “I’m on birth control, you know that.”

Eddie knew that very well. He was paranoid about the consequences, though - usually he used a condom every time anyway, just to be safe. But sometimes…

“No fucking condom,” he said. He kissed you hard again as he lined himself up at your entrance, pushing just barely inside. He sunk into you with a slow roll of his hips, your body turning to pure electricity as you felt every single inch of him inside of you.

He was slowly grinding his hips into you, carefully thrusting at a pace slower than he’d ever used. It took everything in him not to pound you into the floor, but he was loving the feeling of savoring your body. He could really feel every inch of your velvety walls, the way you clenched around him, holding his cock tightly within your warmth.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, whispering right in your ear as he made love to you. “Feel so fuckin’ good. Always so tight for me, like your body was made for me. Only me.”

Eddie always got a little possessive, especially if he knew you had recently been with Billy. He would never say it, but it was obvious that it drove him crazy. He needed to claim you for his own.

Eddie’s lithe body rolled as he pressed his cock into you over and over, holding your body close to his. You could feel his heart beating against your own chest, and you wondered if he could feel yours, too. Eddie kissed your neck as he fucked you, covering every mark Billy had made.

He reached in between your bodies and rubbed against your clit. You whimpered, something had already been building just from the feeling of the way he was fucking you, taking you apart.

“Eddie,” you whined, “I’m…I’m gonna cum again.”

He groaned. “Yeah, baby, I want you to. Got to taste your cum on my tongue, now I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock.”

You whimpered again as Eddie began to lose himself, his hips speeding up back to a normal pace for him. His hips were snapping against yours, his moans becoming shaky and weak. You were throbbing around him as your orgasm built and built.

When it snapped, your mouth dropped open in a wide O, your nails digging into Eddie’s back and scratching down his skin, leaving bright red marks. You cried out his name again and again like a prayer, and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him combined with the look on your face pushed Eddie over the edge.

He came hard inside of you, grunting your name until it turned into more of a whine, a plead. He shook as he held onto you - Eddie always came so hard, so much. You could feel him filling you, feel the way he came so much it was dripping out from around him.

When he pulled out, he inhaled sharply, eyes glued to the mess he left behind. His favorite part, the part he didn’t get to enjoy when he used a condom. This was worth the risk.

“Fuck, look at you,” he remarked. “That’s so fuckin’ filthy.” His eyes remained glued to you, taking in the view, until a lightbulb went off in his head. “Shit, wait! Don’t move.”

You watched him curiously as he reached under his seat. He came back out holding a polaroid camera - and your eyes widened.

“I got it for us,” he said sheepishly. “Can I…?”

“You want to take a picture?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll be looking at this one every night.”

You weren’t sure how comfortable you were with this exactly, but he seemed so excited, you didn’t want to tell him no. “Okay. Just don’t get my face in it.”

“You got it.” Eddie moved back between your legs and lifted the camera to his face. He lined up the shot and took the photo. When it came out of the bottom of the camera, he held it up, waiting for it to develop. You knew it had when a wolfish grin spread across his features - “Oh, that’s a good one.” He looked up at you. “Do you wanna see?”

“I’m good,” you said, scrunching your nose up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see yourself in that way - he could keep that to himself. He certainly seemed to love it, though, the way he kept staring at the image.

“Gonna cherish this,” he said with a smile. He stuffed the photo in the back pocket of his jeans. He grabbed a towel from the floor and cleaned you up with it, then handed you your clothes. You both redressed in a comfortable silence - you’d been here many times before.

“What do you want to do now?” Eddie asked. He pulled a cigarette from his pack. “I don’t really want you to go.”

You shrugged. “What do you think?”

Eddie lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, taking a long drag. “We could smoke,” he offered. “We could make out. We could go back to my place and listen to music, smoke, and make out.”

You laughed. “Alright. Your place it is.”

It took you too long to realize something was wrong.

Being on birth control, you didn’t always get your period - so that didn’t set off any alarm bells for you at first. It was when you started getting sick after breakfast, when your clothes felt like sandpaper against your boobs, when you had to pee 50 million times a night. That’s when you got scared.

“What’s wrong with you?” a wide-eyed Tina asked at school when you showed up dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, hood pulled over your disheveled hair and dark circles beneath your eyes. “You look like shit. Like actually.”

“Yeah, are you okay?” Carol asked. She put the back of her hand against your forehead.

“I’m pregnant,” you said.

The girls froze.

“…What?” Carol asked, sure she hadn’t heard what she’d just heard. Her, Tina, and Chrissy leaned in. “Say that again.”

“I don’t know for sure, but-“

“No, say what you just said again,” Tina said. “You know, the thing you said just a minute ago.”

You looked up, willing the tears brewing in your eyes not to fall. “I’m pregnant. I think.”

The girls just blinked at you.

“Did you take a test?” Chrissy finally asked.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t…I’ve been scared.”

“Well, don’t just go around telling people you’re pregnant when you don’t even know,” Tina said.

“Oh my god,” Carol said, shoving her books back into her locker. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Carol led the way out of school. No one stopped the four of you as you walked out with confidence, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. No one ever questioned the four of you.

Carol drove you all to the pharmacy. You had a whole entourage with you as you went inside, picking up one of the results in 30 minutes! tests. Minutes later you were shut in your downstairs bathroom, grateful your dad had such a set work schedule, and taking the test while the girls bickered outside.

“If she’s pregnant, I’m the godmother-“

“No, she would pick me, we’ve been friends longer-“

“Yeah, but she likes me best, so-“

The chatter stopped when you walked out. Your friends looked at you with concern. “30 minutes,” you said, as if that wasn’t a potential death sentence.

They tried their best to keep you entertained and your mind off things as you waited the 30 minutes, but it didn’t work. The seconds ticked by like hours.

When the 30 minutes were up, each of your friends squeezed your hand, offering their silent support as you went inside to see the results. You looked down, and, sure enough- blue. Positive.

You choked out a sob. The girls rushed to your side, looking down at the results and then pulling you into a group hug.

“Oh, honey,” Carol said, stroking your hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re not in this alone,” Chrissy said. “We promise. You have us.”

“Do you…” Tina began awkwardly, like she knew she shouldn’t ask what she was about to but couldn’t help herself. “Do you know who the dad is?”

It occurred to everyone at that exact moment. No. You didn’t.

Something broke inside and the tears began flowing freely. You covered your face as choked sobs escaped your lungs - you were scared.

The girls did their best to calm you, to assure you everything would be okay, but you didn’t believe them. This was a fucking disaster. A baby, and no idea who the father was. There were two very possible options.

And what the fuck happened to your birth control? Useless, apparently.

The girls stayed with you all day. No one cared about skipping school, even though it was the first time you’d really done it. By the time the school day was over, you had come up with somewhat of a plan.

“Can you take me to Billy’s?” you pleaded with Carol.

She raised her brows. “You want to tell him? Now?”

“Yes,” you said. “I just…he’s…you know how Billy is.” You twisted one of your rings around your finger. “He…gets upset. So I just want to get it over with. I don’t want him to find out through a rumor or something.”

“We’re not gonna tell,” Carol said. Her eyes darted over to where Tina stood across the room. “Well, I’m not gonna tell. But yeah, I’ll drive you.”

You insisted Carol drop off Tina and Chrissy before taking you to Billy’s. The nerves were in place, and you admitted you were putting it off. Once the girls were gone and Carol’s car idled in front of the Hargrove residence, you just stared at the front door. Billy’s car was here - he was home. You didn’t see any other cars.

“You sure you want to do this today?” Carol asked, her face full of concern. “You don’t have to. You can wait.”

“There’s no point,” you shrugged. “He has to find out. I might as well…get it over with.”

Carol watched as you got out of the car and walked the sidewalk to the porch. You’d only been here the one time before, but you knew you were at the right place. You raised your fist - and let it hover over the door. You stood there - god, what would you even say? Would Billy be pissed? Would he blow up? Would he do something?

Your hand came down against the door.

as always, comments & reblogs are so appreciated!!

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[batmen-and-birds]

Adopt me once shame on thee, Adopt me twice shame on me

Jason getting readopted as Red Hood and without either side knowing about the other's identity would be SO funny and honestly, the question of how isn't that hard to answer. It goes a little something like this:

Bruce, did not want to force young Jason into an uncomfortable environment/places where he could also be recognized even while undercover. Thus never letting him see or interact with the Matches Malone persona. Jason obviously hides his face and identity not only from the batfam but from his employees too. His plans are carefully hidden and any motive besides hurting the Batman and his new Robin are unknown.

So Bruce wants to know more about Red Hood and infiltrates the crime boss' gang to figure out his next move. Problem is- the moment they work together for a longer than a week Bruce realizes that the Red Hood is an obvious TEEN. A smart, competent and dangerous one but still. He then tries to connect to RH, now hoping he can bring him on the right path. Ofc Bruce is still riddled with grief of loosing Jason but the new kid crime boss reminds him too much of his son to stay away from too long.

Red Hood, sees a hard working, well connected henchman and promotes him to a higher position. With time he slowly bonds with this vaguely dad-shaped henchman and is getting comfortable with the mpan's paternal mannerism towards him. Jason learning that Matches hates the Joker's gut just as much as he does, bc that clown murdered the man's son helps immensely. Honestly, Jason's kinda impressed when the man confesses to nearly successfully ending Joker himself and only failing due to a series of unlikely events.

Then offers Matches a bigger role in his whole Revenge Plan, which Bruce reluctantly agrees to hear out.

Jason *presenting the most intricate murder board in existence*: -and Then I'm going to get Robin in his base in L.A. and beat the shit outta him. Just to show him I can, y'know? If the little bird really wants to fly that badly then he should expect someone to pluck him from the sky sooner or later! Matches : ...what if Batman is there? Jason: Well, Batman doesn't really care about his kids like you do. Y'know, letting them run around at night... but he IS paranoid as fuck... and Nightwing could.... now thinking about it...*proceeds to take down the board in frustration* UGH! Matches: Do you want me to bring you some tea while you to think about your plan some more? Jason: ........yes please

[itzahazbinwriter]

Too Hot in New Orleans

(Human!Alastor x f!Reader)

CW: GRAPHIC SMUT. Alastor being a tease, referenced death, referenced violence

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (one day I'll have a pretty banner thingy like other people do) - THIS IS AN 18+ STORY

(CRAZY thank you to my girl @degen-fics for betaing this for me and making sure i didn't use the same words/phrase 50+ times <33)

If you enjoy this, want to talk about this besides on Tumblr, or just want to - maybe come join the VoxTech discord server where I'm feral as fuck. And also there are some other amazing artists, writers, and fans! https://discord.gg/e6GXYCwqtu

-----

Hot. It was just too hot. Every inch of you dripped sweat in the unrelenting summer New Orleans heat. The thought of even the littlest of clothing made you too warm. Even your slip had been peeled away in a desperate attempt to cool down. You laid on the cooler wooden floors of your home, a silk robe discarded nearby. There was nothing on this planet that could move you from this only mildly cooler spot. 

As if summoned by the very thought, there was a knock at your door. You groaned, hoping they'd go away. Opening the door would mean more heat and you couldn’t handle even just the idea of that. You closed your eyes, just wanting to be cool. Please go away, you pleaded with them silently. But some things were not to be. 

After a moment, there was a pause in the knocking and you imagined they'd be listening at the door to hear if anyone was home. Thankfully, your bare form was tucked out of sight from the door. It'd be a scandal if anyone could see you lying naked in the parlor of your home. No proper young lady would dare! 

The knocking resumed and you groaned again. Wasn't it obvious that no one was home or didn't want to answer the door? You startled when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. Alastor... good gracious, how could you have forgotten about your plans? Quickly, you sat up, calling out, "Be right there!"

Standing, you quickly draped your robe around your form before answering the door. You opened it and instantly greeted Alastor, your smile matching his own. Before he could say anything, his smile faltered.

“Hello, Alastor! I--” You started to speak before you saw his cheeks start to turn pink as his eyes darted down your form then quickly back to your face. 

"Perhaps I should come back some other time since you are.... Ahem… indisposed." He averted his eyes, something he never did, favoring eye contact. You glanced down and let out a soft startled noise akin to a squeak. The silky robe you put on was falling off one shoulder and open down to your navel, showing one of your bare breasts to the famous radio host. 

"Al, I am.... oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Gasping, you clutched the silk robe closed so as to not expose yourself any more. Your cheeks burned as you fumbled over another apology, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes out of sheer horror. 

There was a long moment of silence that scared you more than anything. “Cher..." Alastor's voice was lower, more gravelly than you'd ever heard before, notably without his usual radio perfect transatlantic accent. A moment passed, as if he was trying to decide what to do next. 

You watched him with wide eyes, feeling your skin prickle under the scrutiny. Was this the end of your pseudo-friendship with him? You opened your mouth to speak but never got the chance. He pushed forward into your home, making you stumble back. The front door shutting behind him sent a chill down your spine. It felt so… final, but you had no idea what to expect.

For a moment, the only sound between the two of you was shaking breathing and eerie silence. Then, Alastor leaned forward, one hand softly cupping the left side of your face as he delicately pressed his lips to yours. You let out a small gasp before pressing your lips against his, scared but too enthralled to draw back. He pulled back for a moment, eyes seeming to search yours for something. You didn’t know what he looked for, but you nodded before he closed the tiny gap between the two of you. 

The second kiss sent another unexpected chill down your spine. Kissing Alastor felt so dream-like; never had he expressed interest beyond friendship with you. The faint early attraction you had to him never fully faded, but you were content enough with the situation. For him to now kiss you like this, react like this… it was a fantasy come true. You couldn’t believe this was real, but if you were dreaming, you never wanted to wake up as you moved your lips against his. 

Carefully, Alastor placed a hand on your hip and closed the gap between you, pressing against you lightly to make you step backwards into your home. You let him guide you as the two of you continued to kiss, too distracted to care where Alastor took you as long as the kissing didn’t stop. 

It didn’t take long for your knees to press against the couch and you eased yourself down, finally breaking the kiss and his hold on you. Breathing hard, you stared up at the smiling man hovering, hesitating over you. “Do you want this?” His voice was barely above a whisper. Despite it all, he was still a gentleman. 

Instead of answering verbally, you reached out and fisted the fabric of his shirt, having abandoned his usual suit in the unforgiving heat. He used one hand to hold your wrist before you could try to pull him down on top of you. “I need your words, cher. I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once we…” His voice trailed off, leaving you a little breathless at the implication of you making him lose his careful control, making him crack from his perfected radio persona simply by showing him your body. 

“Alastor,” his name sounded like a prayer from your lips as you tugged his shirt despite his grip on you, “I want this. I need this.” Something behind the radio host’s eyes seemed to change and it sent a spark of desire through you as he let go of your wrist, leaned down and closed the distance again, biting your bottom lip before kissing you. 

You released your grip on his shirt as he closed the gap between you. Instead, you slide your hand over his shoulder and the nape of his neck, his hands wrapping around your waist. Thick brown curls tangled around your fingers as you tugged lightly. Alastor growls into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back long enough for you to get a good look at him. His eyes were wild, but stern. “Don’t tug, darling. I’ll have to tie you up otherwise.” Oh. That sent some thrill straight through your body. Your heart raced as you stared at him, mouth open and chest heaving. “Oh cher, you look good enough to eat.”

Alastor leaned back down again, kissing you even deeper than before, using his tongue to push past your lips. It felt like he was going to consume you, and you wanted nothing else. You arched your back to press your upper body to his; the silk of your robe teasing your nipples into hardness, sending an electric pulse to your loins. He swallowed your moan before sliding his hands down your back, gliding over the silk robe, to angle your hips against his. Arching into him, you moaned again when you felt firmness against your inner thigh. He broke the kiss and pulled back enough to stare into your eyes, and you whimpered. Another smile tugged at his lips, before he licked his lips. “I’m going to savor you…” He promised in a whisper before pulling away slightly. “But not on your couch, cher.” 

Alastor stood, pulling his arms from behind you. His eyes scanned over you and you could only imagine the picture you painted, panting and staring at him with your robe barely covering you anymore. Despite the heat, you shivered and bit your bottom lip, tearing open the tender flesh. Blood started to spill from your lip and his eyes focused on it with a sharp, thrilling intensity. Shakily, you took in a deep breath and felt the silk robe start to slide down your shoulder again as you started to sit up from the couch. “Alastor…” It was hard to recognize your own voice, low, gravely and breathy. 

He extended his hand to help you up. As you grabbed his hand, it felt like he was on fire, just like you. It took barely a tug of his hand for you to be pressed against him completely again, barely balanced on your feet. Quickly, he pressed his lips to yours again, tongue swiping at the blood from your lip. A wave of arousal crashed through your body again as you pulled away, hand still in his, and pulling him towards the stairs. His lips were stained a faint red as you stared at him. 

To you, there was nothing in the world but you and Alastor. Not even the oppressive New Orleans heat could compare to the desire burning in your heart and loins. You led him through your home, up the stairs, and to your bedroom, glancing behind you every few steps to make sure this wasn’t a fever dream. He followed, grin still in place. 

As soon as the two of you reached the bedroom, Alastor closed the door behind himself. “Darling, I simply must taste you.” You gasped as he spun you to face him, the light silk of your robe flying open. His eyes trailed over your skin, slowly moving from your lips to your neck, down to your exposed breasts and tightened 

nipples, tracing over your soft stomach and down to your most private area. Nervous, you bit down on your bottom lip and tried to move your arms in front of your body. Him being fully clothed… it felt surreal to be bare in a way no one but perhaps your mother had ever seen. Having forgotten you held one of his hands in your own, it startled you 

when he pulled the arm away from you. “No, cher. Let me see you. Let me worship you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Please, my darling…” Hearing the proud man beg for you, your knees nearly gave out beneath you. You moved your arms out of the way and released his hand to shrug the robe completely off, breathing hard. 

“Alastor…” His name felt like a prayer falling from his lips. “Alastor, please…” you begged him breathlessly. He didn’t hesitate to close the gap between your bodies. One hand reached up to cup your cheek as he kissed you again. You felt the soft cotton of his shirt brush against your skin, teasing you even more. Shifting your legs, you could feel moisture between your thighs - the moisture that previously only came when you touched yourself. 

Alastor’s other hand drifted to your waist and pulled you completely against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. You shuddered at the feeling of him straining against his pants, opening your mouth to let his tongue move against yours again. His hand moved from your bare waist, up your side with the softest of touch so goosebumps formed, slowing down along the sides of your breasts. He pulled away to stare into your eyes, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re lovely, far too lovely for this lowly sinner… but I will cherish you as you’ve never been cherished before. Is that alright, my love?” 

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he reclaimed your lips for a passionate kiss then moved his lips down to your neck. He pressed delicate kisses to the column of your neck, moving down with each one. “Alastor, please… I, I don’t know if I can stand much longer.” You barely recognized your voice, breathy and desperate as it was. He pulled away from his kisses, grinning as both of his hands moved to your hips, gripping the fat of them tightly. 

“Of course, cher. I’ll take care of your every need.” He lifted you with ease and moved in such a way for your legs to be wrapped around him. The very core of your being pressed into the hardness in his pants and you let out a breathy whimper. “Oh, you make the best noises. I wonder what others I can get from you.” 

There was no way he didn’t feel your wetness seeping into his trousers and the thought made you blush and try to hide your face in his neck. He chuckled before he took a step forward and then leaned down. “Let go, darling,” he ordered once you felt the softness of your neatly made bed against your back. 

You obliged and fell back onto the bed, sprawled out so he could see every single inch of your body. His stare felt like electricity running through your body before he slid onto his knees. He hovered over your naked form, looking intensely at you as your flushed chest heaved. “Do you still want me, cher?” The whisper felt heavy in the moment and you knew he’d stop if you asked, but that was the furthest thing from your mind. 

“Yes, Alastor, please.” You reached up, lightly tugging him down on top of you, him having to brace himself with his arms to not fall completely on you - it was one of the few times he seemed just as off balance by this as you. Your lips met again. Intoxicating was the only way to describe his kisses - every move made you warm like whiskey, just as addictive on the tongue. He obliged you a few kisses before starting to kiss down your neck, each spot tingling for a moment after every time he pressed his lips against your skin.

Once he reached your collarbone, he switched from soft kisses to playful bites. His teeth scraped lightly against your bone and you shivered at the intense feeling. “Al…” He hummed in response before switching back to kisses as he kissed down the center of your chest, trailing towards your breasts but stopping for a moment as he reached the skin in between them. His eyes darted up to meet yours before he moved to begin kissing and nipping at the mound of your breasts. An animal-like whine escaped the back of your throat at the sensation of his mouth on you; the whine turned into a keening noise as he slipped his tongue over your nipple before dragging it into his mouth. He started to suck lightly against your breast, making your back arch towards him. His hand slid behind your back, your nipple hard between his lips as he held you close.

A light graze of his teeth against your nipple made you moan louder than you ever imagined. You felt him grin against your breast before he sucked a little harder. Your hands clawed at his clothed back, needing desperately to touch him, to let him know how good he made you feel. His chuckle against your back made your nipple 

vibrate, sending another sharp flash of arousal to pool in the bottom of your stomach, maybe even leak out of you with how you were spread out underneath Alastor. After a few more moments of sucking, he pulled away; a string of drool stayed connected between your nipple and his mouth as he moved to the other breast to give it the same attention. His hand on your back flexed, nails starting to press into your skin and trailing down in claw marks down your spine. Instead of pain, the pressure made you whimper again. “Alastor, Alastor, please.” You chanted his name, desperately wanting him to do more; whatever that was. 

The clawing down your spine stopped right at the small of your back and he pulled away from your nipple with a tiny last lick as he looked at you. You could only imagine with mild horror how you must look. Completely bare to a man that was fully dressed, not even one courting you as your breasts heaved after having your nipples teased even further. 

“Beautiful, cher. Simply beautiful.” He praised as he slowly drew back to kneeling on the bed, pulling his arm from behind your back. You smiled at the compliment before watching with rapt attention as his hands came up to his neck before he started to untie his bow tie. Letting out a shaky breath, you watched as his nimble fingers moved. He 

started to unbutton his shirt once the tie was tossed to the side. It was a sin, what you were doing. But as the first button came undone, as you saw more of his chest, the less you thought of heaven and hell. No, your eyes stayed on him, flicking up to his face to see him watching you with hazy eyes.

Before popping the second button on his shirt, he stopped. His smile turned mischievous as he instead took a small step back from the bed before falling to his knees. The change in angle made you gasp as you moved to stare down your body to see Alastor staring at your bare sex. Instinctually, you tried to close your legs but strong hands grabbing your knees kept you bare to him. “Now, now, cher. I did want to taste you…” He trailed off as he used his grip on your knees to pull you to the edge of the bed, bringing your sex only inches away from his face. You let out a gasp at how close he was as he moved his eyes to meet yours. “I just know you’ll be the sweetest thing I’ll ever taste.” He cheekily winked at you before leaning closer, still smiling. 

Your head fell back against your blankets when you felt his breath against your bare skin. His hands slid from your knees up the front of your legs until he grasped your hips again. A whimper escaped you and he chuckled before pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your left thigh, your right thigh, then just above your wet slit. It felt like forever and an instant all at once as he slowly licked his way into your slit. His low groan seemed to reverberate against your skin; your back arched at the intense sensation. 

Alastor took no time licking further into you, lapping at the wetness that he caused. Immediately, you had no thoughts in your head besides a chant of his name. The only thing you could look at was the white ceiling as you made noises you didn’t think anyone was capable of making. His tongue moved against your lower regions, dipping in and out of you and his hands slid from your hips down to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The idea of him leaving marks on you, a physical reminder of the intense pleasure he was giving you… You moaned loudly again and he paused in his tongue motion to look up at you. 

“Eyes on me, cher.” He commanded and you obeyed without question, propping yourself up so you can watch him devour you. His grin widened before he moved back in. But instead of going directly back to your slit, he licked his way a little further up until it felt like live electricity was running through you. You desperately tried to keep your eyes on him, whispering his name at how ethereal he was making you feel. “Ah, there she is…” He focused all of his attention on the nerve, sucking it into his mouth and pressing his tongue against you. 

“AL!” You screamed his name, eyes clenched shut . He didn’t pull away, instead choosing to continue lavishing attention on the sensitive nerve ending. After a moment, he stopped sucking and instead just gave it the tiniest licks. It completely escaped your notice that one hand slid away from its resting place on your thigh and moved in between your legs. The lightest bit of pressure from his fingertip against the entrance to your body made you whimper his name again. “Al… Alastor, Alastor… please…” 

“Shhh, darling,” he cooed in between licks. “I have to prepare you. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” The questions made you shudder, arousal overwhelming you. A moan came from the back of your throat as his tongue pressed against your clitoris and the tip of his finger started to enter you. You clenched your muscles as Alastor continued to push his finger in and out of you while his tongue worked against the sensitive spot. It felt like time stopped as he slowly licked and fingered the place that was only meant for your future husband, but all you wanted was Alastor. Nothing but Alastor. Slowly, you felt a second finger join the first, stinging at first but slowly he worked you open. He started moving faster than before; the squelching sound obscenely loud besides your panting breath. “Al… Al…” It felt like the only thing you could say was his name. 

Slowly, he pulled his mouth away and you saw the way your slickness coated all around his mouth, shining obscenely in the daylight. If your mother wasn’t already dead, you’d send her straight to the grave with how you were acting. You whimpered as he gave you one of his charismatic grins and then pressed a sweet kiss on your thigh. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he praised you easily before curling his fingers against a certain spot inside you. Spots danced in front of your eyes at the intense feeling, your whole body tensing up at each touch. He hit again and again, making sure to keep his eyes locked on you as he gave you ecstasy. “Do you want another finger, sweetheart? Can I prepare you to take my cock?” The only response you could manage was a long whine of his name as his fingers found that spot again and pressed, holding there until it felt like you were about to lose your mind. He pressed a kiss to your lower stomach, just above where his fingers were working in and out of you, as a third finger joined the first two. 

The stretch hurt more than you thought - it’d been so good until now. You tried to pull away but Alastor’s other hand moved to your stomach and pinned you there as he moved in and out of you. “I…I…” You struggled to get the words out as he kept you in place with his hand and his eyes. 

“Does it hurt, mon cher?” Amusement tinged his voice. “Poor thing… what if I just…” His words trailed off as he pressed the spongy spot again, making your back arch. The pain faded as he continued to move his fingers inside you. “There she is… my pretty little thing… such a darling, taking me so well.” Hearing his praise made you roll your hips against his hand. “Oh? Does she want more?” 

You didn’t finish nodding before he slowly pulled his three fingers out of you. Your throat went dry when he licked his fingers to clean your wetness from his skin. “You really are delicious, cher.” He stood again to his full, towering height and you felt so bare and vulnerable as his eyes raked over every visible inch of your skin. “But to really savor you… I’m going to have to ruin you.” It sounded like a promise and you nodded in agreement, reaching for him. 

But, Alastor didn’t let you reach him before he started unbuttoning his shirt. His dexterous fingers moved quickly, button after button falling open and baring his skin to you. Scars marred his skin, light indentions against his darker skin, and you made yourself watch the man’s hands as they dropped to his trousers. “C…can I?” You finally managed to speak, biting at your bottom lip. “I… I want to… you know.” Raising a hand to your lips, you hoped he knew what you wanted without you having to say the scandalous words. His fingers never stopped moving as he took off his belt, carefully setting it off to the side, though leaving his shirt open and fluttering around his chest.

“No need, cher. I much rather have all of you.” He gave you a charming grin and wink as he slowed down but still started to unbutton his trousers. Your mouth went dry as he pushed the pants and underwear down to the floor, revealing himself to you as intimately as he was seeing you. Head swimming a little, you wondered how he’d… fit inside you. He looked much larger than three fingers and that was painful at first. “Don’t panic, darling. I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, drawing your eyes from his narrow hips up to his face. “Now be a good girl and move so you’re completely on the bed.” 

There was a pause before you complied, moving to lay across the bed properly as it felt like there were a thousand butterflies in your stomach. You glanced quickly at the vanity that showed you how flushed you were, how debauched you look. A chuckle drew your attention back to Alastor as he moved closer to you. His warmth radiated from his skin as he climbed onto the bed next to you before positioning himself almost on top of you. The silky skin of his cock brushed across your thigh as he moved, drawing a breathy noise out of the back of his throat, one of the few noises he’d let slip during the whole time. 

The two of you met eyes and you felt like you couldn’t look away; he must have cast a spell on you to make you feel like this, to make you want him this badly. Alastor leaned down to kiss you again, his teeth grazing your tender lip. Not wanting to be an inactive participant any longer, you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. His tongue pressed against yours as you felt him adjust on the bed before you felt something brush against the bundle of nerves he’d found before. It took you a moment to realize that it was his… He greedily swallowed whatever mewling noise you made before prodding the tip against your entrance. “Relax for me, my love. It’ll hurt less.” 

Alastor distracted you with another tender kiss as he rolled his hips forward, using one hand to guide himself. His tip caught on the edge of your entrance before sliding in. The pain struck like lightning. “H…hurts…” you whimpered and he tensed for a moment before stopping moving. Closing your eyes tightly, you wanted to move away from him but his weight kept you on the bed. 

“I promise, cher, it gets better, just relax.” He shushed you, pecking you between each word he whispered against your lips. “I’ll make you feel so good… just…” His hips moved forward, pushing him further into you. Your body stretched around him, clenching against the intrusion. He hissed out your name as he stilled his hips again, moving the hand from his cock to hold onto your waist. 

The touch made you open your eyes again, taking in the wild expression of the man on top of you. Alastor’s eyes looked predatory as he gave you a smile with a shaky exhale. “Just a little more,” he promised before moving his hips more. You felt his hips press against yours and you never felt so full and whole, even with the pain of stretching around him. “You’re mine now, cher,” he promised in the stillness of your room. “I’ll never let you go now.” The possessiveness made you shiver and he hissed at the feeling. 

Another moment passed before he looked deep in your eyes, looking for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he started to move his hips back. The movement made you whine a little, the pain fading a little as he moved out. You could tell Alastor was starting to lose control because he wouldn’t stop talking - babbling, really, about everything he was feeling. “You’re so tight, so perfect for me…” Overwhelmed at the praise, you captured his lips in a kiss, desperate to find the pleasure he promised. 

As soon as it was just the tip of his member inside you, he started to push forward again, a little faster than before. The air seemed to be pushed from your lungs as the pain returned, though not as sharply as before. Alastor shifted his hips slightly to the left and the tip pressed against the spongy spot he’d previously found with his fingers. It felt like fireworks were going off in your head as pleasure shot through you. Was it possible to feel this good without him inside you? You doubted it and never wanted to try. Moaning, you moved your hips against his, wanting more. A choked laugh escaped him as you wiggled underneath him. “Shhh, cher, I’ll give you everything you want and more.” He promised, pressing his forehead against yours and exhaling as he pushed back into you sharply, hitting that spot and stretching your hole against the base of his cock. “Do you trust me?” You didn’t even need to think before nodding. His ever present smile turned a little sharper, a little more dangerous. It sent a thrill through you, knowing this man was all yours. 

Moving his hands, he intertwined his fingers with yours gently. He guided your hands above your head, all the while slowly fucking himself into you with a ferocity that should have sent you running but it was too late; he ruined you, just like he promised. “Keep your hands here,” he ordered before pulling his hands away. The backs of his hands trailed down your arms, along the sides of your breasts before pausing to squeeze them and flick at both nipples at the same time. He punctuated the movement with another hard thrust that was almost too deep, a touch of pain coming back but the pleasure never fully ebbed away. 

Your hands twitched as you tried to keep them where Alastor told you as his hands moved down from your breasts, tickling along the soft roundness of your stomach before clutching at your hips with bruising force. He nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the soft, tender skin; you could only imagine the number of marks he was leaving on you. A tiny groan escaped you as he thrust his hips into you again, moving faster. Pressure was building inside you and you were only vaguely aware of what was happening to you. It never felt like this with the few innocent touches you’d ever given yourself. “Al… Al, please…” You didn’t know what you were pleading for; all you knew is that you wanted - needed more from the radio personality turned your lover.

“You want more?” Alastor spoke mostly into your neck before biting down a little harder than before. You cried out his name as he started to suck and lick at the tender spot. “I’ll give you everything I have and more, cher.” Your heart fluttered at the promise and you could almost imagine being married to him, having him take you like this every night. Whimpering, you arched your back and moved your hips against his as he moved faster and faster within you. He hit that magic spot within you with each thrust and you felt your everything tightening as you seemed to near a peak, closer and closer to tipping over from the sensations he was stirring inside you. 

Alastor squeezed tighter on your hips and hissed into your neck. “You’re so soft, so good for me, my darling. You squeeze me so well, making me want to give you a baby.” A gasp escaped you before you could stop it, quickly thinking of you being round with a child, his child, and him giving you as many babies as you wanted. “Is that what my girl wants?” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from whining what someone could only assume was a yes. He grunted and with a sharp thrust, it felt like a dam within you broke. Your whole body trembled at the overwhelming pleasure, fireworks shooting behind your eyelids. It only took a few more strokes of his hips before you felt Alastor collapse gently on top of you, face still buried in your neck. 

Several moments passed as you laid on your bed, drenched in sweat and trying to catch your breath under your lover. He pulled back and pressed a small kiss to your forehead, following one on your nose then lips, more chaste than any other you’d shared in the afternoon. You moved your arms down from where you’d been holding them to brush a hand over his sweaty hair, laughing lightly as you realized he’d never taken off his glasses, leaving them askew on his face. 

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you and you blushed as he stared at where you’d been joined. You could feel his seed spilling out of you, making you blush as you tried to cover yourself. “It’s a little late for that, darling,” he cooed as he moved off the bed. With him standing in front of you, you took a moment to admire him as you sat up. “I hope it was… satisfactory for you?” The formality of the question made you laugh louder than perhaps you should before nodding. 

“You’re wonderful, Alastor,” you assured him as you slid to the edge of the bed. He offered you his hand and you took it, standing next to him, feeling the slick of his release beginning to slide down the inside of your thighs. “I’ll run us a cool bath. We should be able to cool down.” Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to Alastor’s cheek before going to the bathroom to run the two of you a bath.

----

It hurt. When you realized that Alastor left while you were in the bathroom, daydreaming of a future that would never be. The news broke a few days later - Alastor, famed radio host and darling of New Orleans was the Bayou Butcher. Rumors said he died while cannibalizing his latest victim. You threw the paper away as quickly as you could, avoiding the radio entirely. That day… he could have killed you as easily as he fell into your bed. And then he vanished into the afterlife before you could even ask him why.

[fandomlit]

goddess (spencer agnew x reader)

summary (requested by anon) the smosh cast and crew decide to add karaoke into their 12-hour charity stream, and they manage to convince you to sing. your performance of goddess by laufey floors your friends and completely stuns spencer, sending his feeling for you into a deeper spiral..

warning swearing

a/n in the og request it mentioned a different laufey song but this one has been stuck in my head for WEEKSSS so i hope that alright!!! also feel free to send in more requests y'all <3

gif cred belongs to @captainhaisley

"and now," shayne announced, "we welcome everyone to the part of the stream where we make the cast and crew the most uncomfortable. that's right, it's time for karaoke!" the cast cheered from the couches on either side of shayne, who was speaking into one of the karaoke microphones. "this one is a little more high stakes—as you can see, we have our participants here on camera with us! this is just because of the setup we have for the next part of the stream, convenience is everything, but it also lets you see everyone's reactions.” everyone made faces behind him. “as always, you can leave requests in the chat, but let's go ahead and get started."

they jumped right into it, starting with shayne singing 'everybody wants to rule the world', then chanse hitting his rendition of 'careless whisper' that had angela literally floored by, then angela—as soon as she was off the floor—duetting gaston with amanda that had everyone in tears. as it continued, it got crazier and funnier, with a few more serious performances sprinkled in. after chanse and courtney did an amazingly dramatic and hysterical rendition of 'breaking free', there was a lull where no one was lined up to go next and they started volunteering each other for the task.

angela broke a joking fight between spencer and shayne by pointing behind one of the cameras. "i volunteer y/n!"

their gazes whipped off-stage as some crew members voiced their agreements.

“oh, i don’t know..,” your voice chuckled awkwardly from off camera.

“c’mon! you’re, like, actually a singer!” angela exclaimed.

“yeah, show off those skills girl!”

“show us up!”

“let’s go y/n!"

you shared a look with alex behind the cameras and they just gave you a smug smirk. "the chat's asking for you, too." you sighed.

you finally emerged on stage after some more heckling and they all cheered as you raised your hands to the camera. your face was extremely red as you took your place in front of the microphones, the cast bouncing excitedly on either side of you. you peeked around at them with a smile, catching their encouraging looks and a smile from spencer.

you knew if you should be anxious about anything in this moment, it shouldn’t be about spencer’s reaction to your singing. but that didn’t stop you from caring about it.

“i’m gonna bring the house down a little bit,” you joked as you showed alex the song on your phone. in response to your words, someone dimmed the lights and everyone on stage cracked up. after you chuckled you said, “yes, yes, thank you.”

your heart was racing with anxiety as alex pulled up your song, and you knew it had to be obvious to the viewers. you grabbed the microphone as the song loaded and you mumbled into it, “guys, what if i poop myself?”

they all laughed at the unexpected comment, easing your tension for a moment before the song started.

“it always goes like this.. could’ve predicted it. i’m so naive to think you’d love me for me..”

you morphed into lyrics as you continued, your shoulders relaxing and your voice getting more confident, making you feel good enough to start moving around the floor a little bit. you were completely unaware of the jaws dropped around you.

while all of smosh knew you were a musician, most of them had never heard you sing before.

…

“kissed as i ran offstage, too old to play this game..”

spencer knew his jaw was hanging, but he didn’t care. let them clip this for eternity, adding it to the ever-growing collection of spencer and y/n ship edits. you were only thirty seconds into the song and he was floored.

“guess you’re still growing up at thirty. oh..”

as friendly as you and spencer were, he hadn’t heard you sing. he’d heard you play instruments before, but you were quick to make everyone else in the room sing before offering your own voice. and now he could see why—your voice was a treasure. it was best heard solo.

“were you surprised by me, when you took me home? when the glamor wore off, reduced to skin and bone.”

he brought a hand up to cover his agape mouth, unconsciously leaning forward as he hung onto every word.

“i can’t even tell who you want to know; i’m a goddess on stage, human when we’re alone.”

spencer shared a look with shayne on the opposite couch, who looked just as surprised as he did. but shayne quickly morphed the look into a more smug one as he took in spencer’s surprise, and he hoped the lights were dim enough to hide that from being clipped. that might just be enough to canonically give away his crush on you.

“you took a star to bed, woke up with me instead.”

his gaze turned back to you, with your eyes closed moving about the front of the stage. the words were coming from your heart as you sang, not just your lips, and it rang around the studio. spencer had never heard anything encapsulate the room as much as this moment had.

“you must have felt so damn deceived when you, made up a version of, me that you thought you’d love, but i am not your aphrodite. oh..

“were you surprised by me, when you took me home?”

spencer had been spiraling the last few weeks when it came to you. what had started as an innocent office crush had been starting to get out of control for him when you two began to hang out more, both in group settings and one-on-one. he had started falling harder for you after a hangout where you had shown them all up in quiplash while sitting innocently giggling in a corner the whole time, your answers shocking everyone when they were revealed to be you. the falling only got even harder from there.

he didn’t know what to do about it. he didn’t want to ruin the comfortable office environment, or risk losing the close friendship you two were building. but watching you enrapture the entire room in less than two minutes had him wanting to do something about it.

“you took me for a fool, you stole my youth, you wanted this so much.” it was absolute chaos on the couch behind you as you began to belt the end of the song with such raw feeling. spencer was minutely aware of angela gripping onto his arm and amanda’s as she stared, amazed, at you. spencer was doing the same, internally. “you watched me rise, then killed my light, and now you know i’m not your fucking goddess.”

they couldn’t help but start cheering as you perfectly hit the top note, riffing it as the music swayed in the background. “oh, oh.” you smiled without turning to see the scene behind you.

“i’m no goddess when i’m alone.”

courtney and angela immediately jumped on you the second they were sure the song was over, lifting you in their arms and jostling you in their hugs. the other cast and crew exploded, jumping from their seats to applaud you and join the hug. you would cherish the screenshot of hugs and cheers with your blushing happy face forever.

“thank you, thank you,” you giggled once you could breathe.

“guys, i’ve had many sleepovers with y/n and i can promise she’s still a goddess when we wake up,” courtney spoke, making everyone chuckle.

tommy added, “she’s even more of a goddess when we’re alone, i’d say.” spencer found himself nodding without realizing it.

you blew a kiss to the camera before scampering back offstage before you could ruin the perfect moment. when spencer sat down and they started looking through song requests in the chat, he couldn’t stop thinking about how heavenly you looked in the dim lighting as you sung your heart out.

“i’m still in shock,” angela muttered to spencer as amanda and trevor began to loudly argue about their roles in their upcoming duet. her gaze was looking to where you were backstage, slipping your headset back on as you giggled quietly with alex. “can’t imagine how you’re feeling, buddy.”

she gave him a smirk and spencer thought for a second before he leaned over to whisper, “you wouldn’t be able to if you tried.”

angela’s mouth fell open before her face morphed into a silent laugh, falling into her hands as spencer snickered to himself and leaned back into the couch. it was a good evasion, he thought.

but it didn't leave his mind. the karaoke went on for a few more rounds, and he even jumped in to duet ‘can you feel the love tonight’ with shayne to round out the disney duet trend. but he was peeking over at you, flashes of your solo resurfacing every now and again when he found himself zoning out, and he knew that song would be burned in his brain forever and completely associated with you.

they changed segments for the stream after a while and spencer was off for the new two hours. he wandered toward the catering table with chanse, laughing and chatting with each other. he couldn't ignore the way his heart jumped when he saw you nearby, headset off as you sipped at a bottle of water and giggled at amanda gushing at you again.

"thank you, sweetheart," you blushed and amanda shot you another compliment before walking away. you caught spencer's eye as you watched her go and offered a small wave.

"you have wonderful pipes, simba," you grinned and spencer rolled his eyes, diverting his path to walk toward you.

"i was actually timon," he spoke matter-of-factly, giving you a fake offended look.

you laughed, "oh, i'm so sorry."

"i can forgive," he ceded easily, tucking his hands into his pocket. "you obliterated us all, though." you smiled at him, rosy cheeks nearly glowing in the dim lights. "like, seriously. you sounded amazing. and that song? gorgeous lyrics."

"laufey does that," you hummed with a nod. "that song has been stuck in my head for weeks, it's just so well-written."

"well it helps when someone that looks and sounds like you sings it," he spoke without thought, and hoped you didn't see his gulp when he realized how hefty of a compliment he had given.

instead of looking uncomfortable, like he feared, you narrowed your eyes teasingly at him. he gulped again. "spencer, you've fallen victim to the very warning the song gave." he furrowed his brow at you. "goddess on stage, human when we're alone." you 'tsk'ed as he realized, letting out a chuckle. "i'm a little disappointed."

"i'm so sorry," he joked in return as you giggled. "i'll be better."

before you could tease or say any more, you heard your name called back on set. alex waved you over before disappearing again.

you looked back at spencer, turning your body toward set. "i should.."

"oh yeah," he waved his hand, "wouldn't wanna keep you from the glory of tech checks."

"oh, yeah, thank you,” you giggled.

spencer watched you start to walk away, but his mind was still buzzing with things he wish he could say. compliments he wanted to give, words he could confess, just anything to keep you talking with him. "hey, y/n," he found himself saying, leaning forward slightly in anticipation of his own words. you peered over your shoulder. "for the record, all bits aside, i like the human part of you better. even if that was spectacular for some goofy livestream karaoke.”

he relished in the flush that rose to your cheeks. you gave him a sheepish smile. “thank you, spencer.”

you couldn't help your stupid grin as you walked away, hoping spencer didn’t see it.

but he had. and he would ride that high for a while.

[littlegrapejuice]

Fan First, Girlfriend Second | IH6

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x Reader

Summary: Isack brings you along to see Jannik Sinner, your favourite tennis player. He might regret it when he notices your attention is not on him, until he remembers that you're his no matter away.

Author's Note: i fear I'll never move on from this🤗 ngl it's kinda best we don't have a pic of them together bc i wouldn't survive it like I'm already unwell enough lol❤️ anyways i hope y'all enjoy this lil thing i wrote in honour of my fav rookie watching my fav player (can we believe i wrote this in less than 24h??)

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

Isack didn’t think much about it when he invited you to come to Roland-Garros with him and his mum.

Following a successful triple header, you and Isack were back in your shared flat in Paris. And what better activity than to go to the tennis tournament that was currently ongoing in the same city?

Isack did not follow tennis as much as you did, but he enjoyed the sport and was definitely excited to see a match with you. Especially when it was one of the semi-finals, featuring the number one player and one of the ‘big three’.

However, he should’ve thought about two things.

One: Isack had never watched a match with you. Not even on TV as you usually watched the tournaments alone while he was either on training or racing.

Two: you were going to see your favourite player.

So with those two factors combined, Isack was in for a treat.

When you arrived at the stadium, you were like a kid opening presents on Christmas Day while Isack was acting way too casual for your liking.

“Isack, on est à Roland-Garros.”

“Je sais.”

“Roland. Garros.” You gestured around you, as a way to emphasise your words.

“Je sais”, he repeated with a chuckle. He was amused at your reaction, finding it cute that you were so excited to be there.

Despite living in Paris your whole life, you had never been to Roland-Garros. When you first started watching tennis, you were still a student. So every year, the tournament was during your last weeks of classes. And you could’ve gone, to be honest. But it was probably not worth it to go watch tennis while you were supposed to study for your exams, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to fully focus on either thing.

So you were truly over the moon to be there for the first – and hopefully not the last – time.

While you were admiring the place and taking pictures of the iconic Philippe-Chatrier court from outside, Isack did a couple media duties with the tournament staff. His mum had stayed with you, preferring to spend time roaming around the stadium with you. She even turned into your personal photographer for a bit, enjoying your obvious happiness. You two then met Isack again a bit before the match would start so that someone would take you to your seats.

When you entered the court, your hand went straight to your mouth. It was even more impressive in person, and you really couldn’t believe that you were actually there. You thought that it couldn’t get any better, but it did when you saw the view from your seat.

The best in the house: slightly above the court, not in the middle, and literally right next to where the players would enter the court. But more importantly, the seat was in the width and not the length of the court.

“Oh my God…” You were so close to the court, you could see the tiny details that made Roland-Garros iconic like the recently unveiled plate in honour of Rafael Nadal or the smooth white lines not yet covered by the clay. “This is crazy.”

Isack was really having a field day watching you look around to take in everything. He didn’t dare interrupt you, noticing how special this was to you. Suddenly, he decided that he would do his best to bring you here every year if it meant that you would be as happy as you were right now.

Soon enough, it was time for the players to enter the court and this was the moment when Isack realised that he should’ve thought more before inviting you to come with him. Because when Jannik Sinner – number one in the ATP rankings and your favourite player – appeared in your eyesight, it was like you had turned into a whole other person.

Isack hadn’t expected it, but you suddenly stood up – which he noticed you hadn’t done for Novak Djokovic – and cheered so loudly that Isack would be surprised if the Italian player hadn’t heard you. He almost felt betrayed, wondering if you were also cheering as loud as right now whenever Isack scored points during a race.

It was then, that Isack realised he didn’t stand a chance against Jannik. Your attention would solely be focused on the match for the next three hours, barely acknowledging your boyfriend outside of the changeovers and in between sets. It also didn’t help that the Italian was playing really well today, which meant that you didn’t want to miss even one point.

Isack wasn’t exactly mad; tennis was one of your favourite sports – if not the favourite, F1 be damned – and he understood that you were simply enjoying the moment. But he had to admit that the way your gaze followed Jannik’s body made him a bit insecure.

Jannik Sinner was objectively good-looking, and Isack knew that you did find him attractive as he remembered you ranting about the hottest tennis players on the circuit. The Italian was taller, leaner, and his confidence on court was one to admire.

Maybe it was a one-time thing. Maybe it was just the excitement of seeing your favourite player for the first time. So Isack let it go and stopped overthinking it. He just enjoyed the match as much as possible, cheering and clapping when a point was well won.

For your pleasure, Jannik won the match after three hours.

“Straight sets once again, wow.” You were mostly talking to yourself, but Isack acknowledged the impressive statistic. You could only clap and cheer for Jannik, truly amazed at his game and the fact that he would play his maiden Roland-Garros final in two days.

“I take it you enjoyed the match?” Isack’s mum turned towards you, a smile on her face.

“Hundred percent yes”, you answered with a passionate nod. “It’s just insane, like– that doesn’t feel real. Merci beaucoup de m’avoir invitée”, you thanked both Isack and his mum. You were truly grateful for them, and would genuinely remember today as one of the best days of your life.

“C’est normal”, she told you before taking your hand in hers. “I’d be a bad mother-in-law and my son would be a bad boyfriend if we didn’t treat you well.”

The smile on your face widened, and you squeezed her hand to keep showing her your gratitude.

You then quickly turned your attention back onto the court, noticing that the mic had already been set up for the usual post-match interview.

While Jannik talked about the match and his opponent, you internally cursed the side of the court where you were seated because you could only see Jannik’s back. Still, you were hanging on to every word the Italian was saying.

In this moment, Isack almost wanted to drag you home and keep you all to himself. But that was until his mum had to make a comment:

“I forgot, but who’s the player we’re meeting after that?” She asked.

This immediately made you turn towards Isack, unsure if you had heard the words well.

“We’re meeting one of them?” You desperately needed Isack to confirm that it would be Jannik, as hope filled your eyes.

“Hmm, yeah…” Isack scratched the back of his neck.

“Who?” When Isack didn’t answer, you didn’t know if it meant that he was sparring you with the disappointment of you not meeting your favourite player. “Isack, qui?”

“We’re meeting the winner”, he admitted. “So, Sinner.”

Those last two words were all it took for your brain to short-circuit. You couldn’t believe it. Meeting Jannik Sinner? You thought. That has to be a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. Soon enough, you were being evacuated from the court before a staff member found you. She brought you three to a room where you would be waiting for the player, and told you that he would come before his press conference.

“I’m so unwell”, you dramatically stated. “I think I’m gonna be like– hyperventilating or some shit, and faint.”

“You’ll be fine,” Isack reassured you. He gave you a side hug, rubbing your shoulder as a means of comfort.

It seemed to have somehow worked, and you treated it as a win when Jannik entered the room without you crying.

“Hi”, he just said before going to personally greet you individually. "Thanks for coming." Jannik first shook Isack’s mum’s hand, being his best polite self. Then, he dabbed up Isack as if he were his long-time friend. “Isack, right? Nice to meet you.”

“You too, mate. Great match out there”, Isack congratulated.

“Thanks. I saw your recent races, you’ve been doing good in the last couple weeks.”

“Yeah, the triple header’s been treating me well.”

Jannik nodded in agreement before he turned to greet you with a smile.

“Hey, hmm… hi, sorry.” You gulped, nerves taking over you. “Congrats, that was a superb match.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, and you were done for. “You guys were sitting near the entrance, right? I think I noticed you.”

“She’s been cheering for you like crazy, so it’s no wonder. You probably heard her before seeing her”, Isack teased.

“Isack! Chut!” You blushed, not wanting him to embarrass you in front of Jannik.

“Maybe”, Jannik somewhat confirmed with a chuckle. “I won’t complain about having such a lovely fan rooting for me, though.”

Now, Isack was regretting even introducing the topic because you were beaming at Jannik’s words.

Thankfully for Isack, but unfortunately for you, your time with the player was now up due to Jannik having to go to his press conference. Two things were left for you to do: hug Jannik – literally a life goal – and take a couple pictures with him because you needed to immortalise this moment forever.

Then, it was the two athletes’ turn. While Isack and Jannik took professional pictures, you could only admire them. Your boyfriend and your favourite player together? You were definitely printing and framing the photo as soon as you would get your hands on it.

One could have thought that your eyes were on Jannik, probably looking at the Italian and still not believing that he was real – which was kind of true. But actually, you were focused on Isack. The thing you currently couldn’t believe was how lucky you were to have him. You would forever be grateful to him for bringing you here and being the reason why you had been able to meet Jannik.

Today had meant the world to you, and you would do your best to repay Isack however you could.

When it was really time for you to say goodbye to Jannik, you were once again looking at him as he had hung the moon. He gave you the brightest smile known to mankind – the one that made him seem like the sun’s personification – and you could only reply with a smile as well, your cheeks still flushed from the previous interaction.

Glancing at you, Isack decided that he wasn’t really mad nor insecure anymore about the whole situation. He just had to accept that you were a fan first, gilrfriend second. Because even if he didn’t truly stand a chance against Jannik, he was the one going home with you at the end of the day. He was the one whom you fell asleep next to, and he was the one who could enjoy your smile whenever he wanted.

..........

I fear i will never write anything as quick as i wrote this😭 still feels insane how the inspo went 📈📈 as soon as i saw isack on my tv

If it wasn't common knowledge yet, i am a HUGE tennis fan and have been for several years already!! This year was my 1st time going to roland garros and I'm still not over it, so it feels even more special to write smth in which i can include my own feelings/impressions

I promise i have not forgotten ab max and the rookies👀 grid mum part 6 (european triple header) is in the drafts and I'll hope to post it before canada (ik i always announce a deadline and then i don't respect but y'all are used to it atp)

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

[prettydaisygirl]

Hi love! Congrats on 500 followers!! It’s well deserved as you’re an incredible writer! I wanted to request a 🌼 Hospital AU with Remus and “You can’t scare me like that. Okay?” where something happens to reader maybe partly because of her own doing (overworking, not taking enough rest, etc.) if you like that idea.

Hi nonnie!! Thanks so much for requesting :) I love doctor!Remus, he's just so sweet and gentle. Hope you enjoy <3

🌼 daisy (innocence, loyalty, pure love): pick a character and an AU from the lists above & a prompt from this list and I will write a <500 word drabble

daisy's 500 follower celebration bouquet

Remus Lupin, hospital, and "You can't scare me like that, okay?"

cw: fem!reader, husband!Remus, doctor!Remus, reader fainted from overworking herself, typical hospital warnings

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Remus is going through charts in his office when there’s a knock at his door. He glances up to see one of his nurses, Sarah, lingering in the doorway with her hand raised to the wood, an odd look on her face.

“Yes?” He asks, fingers still typing away even when he isn’t looking at his screen.

“Your um… Your wife is in A&E, Dr. Lupin.” She practically jumps out of her skin as Remus stands fast, things clattering around on his desk. He’s out of the room with a gust of wind, and Sarah follows as closely behind him as she can. 

“Any other information?” Remus asks her, his voice clipped with worry as his long legs carry him through the hospital halls. Sarah can barely keep up, but he doesn’t care. His mind is racing with possibilities. Are you sick? Was there an accident? Did someone attack you?

“No, sir. I know she was brought in an ambulance.” Well, that only makes things worse.

The doors to the emergency room open for him, and he instantly knows which bed you’re in even with the curtains drawn. Several nurses stand in a small group, whispering in hushed tones with anxious looks on their faces. If Remus wasn’t consumed with worry, he’d be angry that they’re just standing there instead of helping you. He doesn’t wait for any explanations, just steps between them and opens the curtain.

There you are. Pale, but alive, leaning back against the pillow like a child about to be scolded. The nurses freeze, and the normally chaotic A&E has gone completely silent. Or maybe that’s the panic surging through him, blocking it out.

“What happened?” Remus asks, approaching your side and taking your hand. His eyes scan over your figure, looking for any obvious injuries, but there aren’t any.

“I’m fine,” You say with a shake of your head, even though you know it’s the wrong answer. “Everyone is making a big fuss over nothing.”

“You fainted on the train, that’s not nothing.” One of his nurses speaks up behind him, catching both his attention and your sharp glare. Evidently, you’d asked them not to tell him that. His nurses know better.

“You fainted?” Remus asks, brushing a hand over your forehead. You aren’t warm, your skin is a shade too-fair, like there isn’t enough blood flow to your face. A nurse hands him your chart and he looks over your vitals quickly. There’s nothing emergent that jumps out to him. 

“I’m just tired.” You try to argue with a shake of your head, and Remus shoots you a look before waving away the gaggle of nurses behind him. He closes the curtain again, still checking you over as he sighs. 

“You aren’t just tired, my love. You’ve been overdoing it all week.” And you have, Remus has been watching. You’ve been staying up too late, and waking too early, frantic to finish your latest project at work. But it’s too much. “I need you to slow down. You can’t scare me like that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” You say, and Remus’ face softens. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips and he feels you relax, tension leaving your muscles. 

“Don’t be sorry,” He says softly, dark eyes looking at you with such gentleness it makes your heart clench. “Just… take better care of yourself. I love you, and I want you to be healthy. It’s my job, both as a doctor and as your husband.”

“I know.” You say, and let your eyes close. His hands gently move over your back and then he presses his forehead to yours. You know he’ll always take care of you. “I love you too.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[callsignpxnguin]

Hey I was wondering if fic reqs are open? If so, would it be possible to request a John Price x wife!reader, where wife is dealing with serious stress/feelings of insufficiency at work? I’m really struggling w it rn due to something an ex said to me recently (hence the ex)

If reqs are closed then no worries :) Thanks either way!

Fic reqs are most definitely open! And that’s actually a really sweet idea, so allow to me to indulge haha... (but sorry that happened and glad they’re now an ex, hope you’re okay and feeling better xx)

John Price and his Stressed Out Wife

John wasn’t a man that lived in luxury.

That much was obvious in a lot of his aspects, like his uniform treatment of everyone, regardless of their social standing. Or his job, which often required months of sleeping on the floor. Or even just his general reluctance to spend more than he had to on himself.

However, he would admit that over the years he had slowly gotten used to returning home from deployment to a sparklingly clean home, a hearty meal, and a beaming wife. One of his few indulgences, if you would. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve to relax every once in a while.

And today, it was almost like normal — when he walked through the door, he was greeted with the sight of a spotless hallway, and the heavenly aroma of what could only be a feast wafting up to him enticingly.

The only problem was, when he pulled off his shoes and walked into the dining room, beaming grin on his weary face, there was no you to welcome him back.

He blinked in confusion, assuming that you had popped to the bathroom or something, and called out, “Sweetheart? I’m home!”

From upstairs, locked away in your bedroom, you froze — tears still streaming down your flushed face. You thought you had more time. More time until your husband arrived home to find you curled up and sobbing on the bed.

You quickly sat up and wiped at your cheeks furiously. You knew him too well — which meant you knew he’d absolutely call the police if you didn’t appear in the next few minutes.

“Coming!” Was the only response you could manage.

Your voice was a little hoarse, and shook at the end, but it sounded normal enough — and thankfully didn’t make the state you were currently in obvious, even to your scrutinisingly protective husband.

John instantly relaxed. “Okay, sweetheart,” he grunted back up, but there was a dopey smile on his face as he awaited the arrival of the sole person he had ever loved.

You slowly straightened, and tiptoed to the bathroom to splash water on your face and wipe your running nose. Immediately, excuses popped up in your head.

‘Got into a family fight…’

‘Neighbour’s cat died…’

’My TV show finished…’

When so many came to mind, you almost snorted. You could say anything convincingly enough, and he’d believe you. People cried over lots of things. You didn’t have to reveal to him what really caused your restless nights and constant anxiety.

It was stupid, anyway.

And so, with a deep breath, you turned to leave the bedroom, going down the staircase until you reached the bottom, where you ended up face-to-face with your husband.

You froze. Unfortunately, your attempts at calming yourself didn’t work. Not a single one.

Because the minute he saw you, eyes still red and puffy, his once-beaming face dropped. “What happened?”

A weak laugh left your lips. “What do you mean?”

Use the excuses, use the excuses, use the excuses…

“Don’t play dumb with me, lovie. It may work in the bedroom, but it won’t when you’ve obviously been cryin’. What the hell happened?”

I can’t do this.

The façade couldn’t be held up any longer. You hung your head as hot, heavy, guilty tears once again welled up and streamed down your cheeks, as your body shook with the force of your silent sobs.

John immediately froze. “Oh, love…” Strong, warm arms were wrapped around you, one around your midsection and urging you closer, whilst the other cradled your head into his chest.

“I’m so u-useless,” you hiccuped, as he urged you down to sit on the floor in his lap.

“You aren’t useless. Don’t you ever say that,” he grunted, lips ghosting your ear with a kiss as he pulled you in even tighter. “You’re perfect. Who’s been telling you that you aren’t, hey?”

You sniffed. “You’re gonna be upset.”

He stiffened a little, but otherwise kept soothing you. “I can never really be upset with you, sweetheart. But I might be if you don’t tell me soon.”

Your breathing was unsteady.“It’s… it’s just work.”

You knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

”And I— I know I don’t have to!” You quickly cut him off, before he could respond with his usual spiel. “I know… you do enough for the both of us. But it makes me feel secure… even when it’s stressful…”

John sighed. You could tell he wasn’t the happiest man in the world, but still, his next words were gentle. “So, you’re sayin’ something — or someone — at work is being a cunt. And it’s really messing you up. That it?”

You nodded slowly, looking up at him from behind wet lashes soaked with tears.

He kissed your temple lightly, almost reverently. “I say you’re too good for them, but since you’ve made it clear you won’t change jobs, I can only offer moral support. That support being that I know you work so hard, and how you should know it’s okay to take a break and relax every now and then. If you never relax, then you can’t wake up refreshed, and that just carries into work and whatnot. Some sort of vicious cycle. So, that’s my advice — assure yourself of the work you do, and know when to stop.”

“How can I do that when you’re not here?” You asked quietly, still feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

He smiled warmly. “Sometimes we all have bad days. But my advice for that is to never think about it too much in the evenings, because you’ll always work yourself up, and tell yourself to save the worrying for the mornings. Because by the time you wake up, chances are, you’ve forgotten about it. But if you’re ever cryin’ like this again, always give me a call.”

“…Okay,” you whispered. “Sure. I’m… I’m sorry. This is dumb.” “Hey, that’s my beloved you’re insulting and apologising for. And they have done nothing wrong. Look at me.”

With a shaky breath, you met his chocolate gaze again, and his large palm went to stroke your cheek. “Everyone gets stressed. Everyone needs to talk about stuff from time to time. And I’d much rather you vented every day to me than bottle it all up and end up in a state like this again, yeah?”

“…Yeah,” you repeated.

”That’s it. Now, I think you deserve to have some of that delicious food you made. I certainly wouldn’t want to waste that masterpiece.”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Are you just saying that because you’re hungry?”

“Obviously. Please, lovie, if you don’t let me have some in the next minute I’m gonna melt…”

You giggled as he grinned at you, and kissed you quickly before pulling you to the dining room.

[svt-ara]

ara and hoshi have been good at hiding. the galances and the stolen touches. to the world they are just two idols in the same group— nothing more. but behind the cameras and the eyes of others, the two steals seconds that taste like freedom and what love looks like. maybe today, lying side by side on the cold floor they'll forget the world watching for a moment.

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff, a lil bit of angst cuz they always have to hide

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 secret relationship, mild language and that's all i think

𝗪𝗖 1.3k

𝗔𝗡 its soo late and i don't even know if what i wrote makes sense but i felt ispired and i couldn't let it go. hope yall like it

꒰୨ 𝓜asterlist ୧꒱

ara and hoshi have been together for awhile now, they were used to hiding.

they were used to hide the loving gazes they give themselves when someone who doesn't know— and doesn't have to know— was around. they were used to hide the intimate touches when they were touch-deprived for too long in front of the cameras. hoshi is known for being clingy, a tight hug or a squeeze of cheeks every now and then wasn't a big deal— neither for fans or for the staff. the members were used to the random times they disappear during one of their night outs drinking, hiding between the shadows just for a cuddle or for a pick on the lips that they didn't want to show.

you have to call others fools if they didn't notice anything at all— it wasn't obvious, they were good keeping everything lowkey. ara was good, hoshi on the other side had his times.

there were days where he was good at keeping his cool, just some gazes lingering on your face for a couple of seconds or his giggles when you had something fun to say. he was the frist to knock you off if the jokes weren't funny at all, leaving an awkward grin on your lips.

then, there were other days when everything you did was too cute for him to handle, he had to show how whipped and proud he was for her girlfriend.

[ friday, hybe building ]

ara bowed as she put her feet in the big room, greeting whoever was in there— members, staff, backup dencers. her brows frowned as bliding lights met her eyes but she had to recompone herself quickly noticing the cameras already rolling, pointed straight on her face. ara showed her best smile as she waved her hand to greet carats but her gaze was already searching for something, or— better say— someone. her typical crescent moon eyes were the last thing the camera captured.

her steps seemed a little bit rushed trowards someone, someone who lowkey was already waiting for the girl as soon as her face peeked through the door.

«am I the last one to arrive? were y'all waiting for me?» her hands rushed to her tracksuits pockets, freeing her hands from her iphone and the mask she was wearing minutes ago. her gaze pointed down, locking eyes with the brunette guy who was comfortably sitting on the small couch almost taking all the space with his legs wide open.

«we weren't starting yet» hoshi didn't seem really interested on what she had to say— he was more invested on how she looked. her long brown hair covered the half of her face making him squint his nose lightly, he needed to see what was his.

that's why his hand naturally reached her hair, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ara blinked as his fingers gently brushed against her cheeks, its was quick— so quick that no one would've noticed if they weren't looking— but her breath still got caught for a second, both for the gentle contact and beacuse of the fear. the fear to be seen, to be exposed.

sometimes she wished they could just stop pretending, stop hiding, stop waiting for stolen seconds when none was looking— or hope no one was doing it. sometimes she wished she could've just show their innocent love folding in front of everyone eyes— it was only silent.

«yah hoshi, quit laying on the couch!» dino's voice broke the unspoken tension between the two '96 liners, snapping both of them back to the loud dance pratice room. ara galanced back as she was just facing the brunette guy, clearing her throat— an attempt to not let the awkwardness of the situation reach her cheeks.

«yah, you!» hoshi pointed at the maknae, finally getting up from the couch he was sitted on for too long, reaching him. sometimes ara was happy about how he reacted to these kind of teasing, shifting the attention to him instead of her— that would just be a mass of embarrassment and red cheeks.

ara let out a quiet breath, almost as if she had been holding it the entire time she stood there, relieved that the attention was no longer on her— or so she thought. she didn't dare to look at hoshi again, not after how the skin of his hand intimately brushed againist the skin of her full cheeks.

she turned slightly, pretending to adjust the sleeves of her tracksuit as her eyes followed the backup dancers warming up pretending she was already on work mode, pretending she wasn't thinking about him. the music started, the boys spread across the room in their usual chaotic energy, some joking, some stratching and some yawning as if they hadn't slept in days.

ara followed behind silently, moving to her spot on the pratice floor. the sound of her sneakers scraping lightly againist the polished wood as she stole one last galance trowards him laughing at something seungkwan had said, already back to being his normal self. pratice went on as usual— sweat, laughing and some horribile jokes. ara moved with precision her body, focused enough to not get scolded.

when they finally got their five-minute break, ara collapsed on the floor catching her breath. she stared at the cealing for few seconds, blinking slowly and arms streached out. «ten minutes, i just need the minutes to come back to life» she muttered under her breath, not really talking to anyone. the coreography of super was pretty insane.

it didn't take long before she heard footsteps approaching her. a shadow blocked her view of the cealing and before she could even react hoshi was already above her, his arms wrapping her waist. the weight of his body pressing on ara's chest made her wincing in pain, her head lifted slightly from the floor.

«yah, there are cameras still rolling» she hissed. her voice was sharp but still low, she didn't want to catch the attention of anyone. hoshi just chuckled softly in response, leaning on the girl a little closer.

«they're off» he said, an hint on uncertain could be heard in his voice «i think» ara face snapped back to boy as best she could've. «you think?» on of her eyebrow slightly raised, «not really the kind of certainty i need when youre pratically on top of me» her tone was ironic, but everyone could also hear the hint of nervousness that laced around.

the boy didn't moved at frist, he just stared up at her with the familiar playfull spark that decorated his dark pupils often, the kind that always made her feel like she was seconds away from giving in. and probably that's what she liked the most in him, the playful spark he never seems to lose attracted her.

then, with a dramatic sight, he moved beside her lying down the cold wood floor like they weren't both sweaty and being watched— maybe, ara felt that. their fingers barely brushed against each other, not fully touching. «i missed this, even if you're always around» hoshi murmured, his voice softer now that she even struggled for a moment trying to catch what he said.

but she didn't say anything, she didn't give him a proper answer— he didn't need to have one. her gaze shifted from the cling down to his figure laying on the floor with arms and legs wide. her lips curved just a little, almost like they were being shy, like they wanted to be a secret too.

[syndrossi]

Regret!AU question:

I know you're busy thinking about the reactions of characters like, you know, Daemon and Rhaenyra, but how does Alicent react to Jon and Rhaegar as toddlers? They're adorable and, let's face it, in the famous toddler stage of hugging strangers like (poor Daemon, lol) AND she's still in her Emily Carey era, so how does this impact her? Does she fall in love with them too? I assume there's some overlap re: the children being the same ages. Maybe this could even be a bridge for Alicent and Rhaenyra!?

Look, all I'm saying is that these magic toddlers could collectively prevent a civil war. 🤷‍♀️ Through sheer adorableness.

It's an interesting time for Alicent. I swap between show-hybrid and book Alicent depending on AU (for AUs set further back, aka Regnal and Aemon's Sons, I use book canon). For Regret, I'd probably go with the Resonant-type Alicent, which is mostly show!Alicent.

One big alienating event for them really does seem to be the maidenhead crisis, which is not happening for obvious reasons in Regret AU. (Daemon had to go pick up his twins! And then get captured.) In show canon, it was a catalyst for Alicent to really embrace a sense of moral superiority where Rhaenyra is concerned, aka "oh noes Rhaenyra is a LYING WHORE she could do ANYTHING like murder my children." It also seemed to me like the start of her embracing a sort of cynicism about people in general but especially Rhaenyra.

So they were kinda-sorta in the making up phase when Vale hell broke loose, and I could see Alicent maybe hoping that Rhaenyra becoming fond of Daemon's toddlers means she'll extend that same warmth to her half-siblings (and that she and Rhaenyra can bond that way). I do think that Otto will be doing his best to sabotage things there, especially when it starts looking like Rhaenyra and Daemon will be married. He can tailor it to make Daemon more the villain ("he's power-hungry, as soon as he has a son with Rhaenyra, he'll be looking to be rid of yours"). So how much of that Alicent takes to heart and even broaches with Rhaenyra could impact their relationship.

As for her reaction to the toddlers...hm. They're very sweet, so I could see her thinking that they're adorable. But there are opportunities for resentment as well: how much Viserys dotes on them versus his own sons, how much easier they are to manage versus Aemond or even the year-older Aegon, the fact that Rhaenyra doesn't have to perform the same motherly duties and can take a more hands-off "auntie-like" role. Or if she does embrace more of a maternal role with them prior to her match, the fact that she didn't have to bear them and Daemon still seems to do the brunt of the rearing. Comparison is the thief of joy, and Alicent doesn't have a ton of joy to begin with.

But cute toddlers playing together is very powerful, and perhaps there are trips to the Giant's Toe where both families can enjoy some leisure time away from King's Landing.

Balanced against Otto's fearmongering over Rhaenyra taking more responsibilities like the situation in the Vale, the overwhelming balance of dragon's in Rhaenyra's favor, etc.

[riverofjazzsims]

The First 48 pt. 4

@invisiblequeen @blvckentropy @cawthorntales

@jonquilyst @sanitysims @simstagramsomeone

@changingplumbob @abbysimsfun

@aniraklova @enchanteriv

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Winter: How am I ever going to get through this. Some of the guys will barely even make eye contact with me. Hell Marco hasn’t even made any attempt to get to know me since that night at the pizza parlor and I'm pretty sure he is avoiding being in any room with me for more than it takes for him to leave. 

*small sob*

They have no idea how important they may be to my very survival.

Akuma: Hey, you too, I just saw Miley walk by. What are you doing up here? I was going to finish this and then head down to hang with Winter

Jamal:*unintelligible mumbling*

Akuma: Wait. Wait Did you two BOTH leave her down there ALONE. In steamy water. In what I hope is an amazing swimsuit.

*Flabbergasted*

I'm on my way Winter, these two are obvious fools.

**music thrumming**

Creepy doll:* eerily soft sing song voice *

1 bunny,2 bunnies, cute as can be. 1 bunny, 2 bunnies more than they seem.

Deep in the forest, fine as can be. Deep in the forest  winters set free

Theo: Hey, are you ok? Do you know how long you may have been passed out? And what is THAT you were laying in, it was glowing when I came in

Wade: *groggy voice* Uh. Uhm, I think I may need to go lay down

Theo: Miley was grabbing his jacket when I came in, I think he is going to main Inn, we can catch up to him

Wade: I'll be fine alone. Thanks buddy

Marco: Where did you go all day Miley?

Miley: I just needed to get out. This place, don't you feel it. Its off, somethings not right here or with Winter.

Marco: Yeah I've gone against the grain and have kept my distance

Yoshi: How are you going to try for a chance with her if you both are not showing her any interest. Don’t get me wrong, if you two are out, you just increase the rest of our chances.

Marco: You wish, I can't speak for him,  I'm still in this. But c'mon man  let's talk about the elephant in the room. It's been almost two full days since we got here and she hasn’t once mentioned Alonso. Acknowledged his existence or that he just never made it from the station. I know I'm not the only one worried about him just going ghost Especially after spending the last couple days  at this inn and the almost palpable vibe of otherliness here.

Yoshi: Now on that I agree, we haven't heard from, what the chicks name? doesn’t matter, but she told us she was going to check on everything with him and get back with us. Nothing.

Miley: Exactly  like I said. Something is off, who does that. I just can't get my head wrapped around any of it right now, and not going to lie its messing with my head guys

Creepy doll: sleep, sleep, for you'll all be awake soon…

Wade: Ugh, what's that coming out the ground…

Wade:*panicked voice* put me down, put me down

Wade:*Shakey breath*I'm thinking taking a walk was a bad idea.

Theo:*absolutely elated to find a spirit *

Ghostly: *melodic cooing sounds*

Theo: Winter's going to need us soon?

Someone's going to be hurt?

Who?

You can't say?

No I don’t think the others will believe just yet.

Yes soon though.

 I'll make sure she is ok

Winter:*verge of tears* Daddy….

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[burnatthecrossing]

I’ve been thinking of how tragic QiJiu is in canon.

Because like. We have the initial “Yue Qingyuan loved (familial or romantic) this man no matter how scummy he was, and now that Shen Yuan is in his body, he can never repair that relationship.” Going a little deeper, we have the fact that he has to watch Shen Yuan, who is very obviously not Shen Jiu, live the life that Shen Jiu built for him and build it up even better. He has to see just how broken and petty of a man Shen Jiu was—to the point where someone else takes over his body (WITH him being a figure of great importance) and nobody does anything about it. It’s not even because nobody notices, because there’s no way nobody noticed. It’s because they like the new and improved version better.

Then, with pre-canon, we have the pre-established tragedy. It’s been written to be such. Shen Jiu, in the Qiu Manor, suffering abuse; Yue Qingyuan, trying his hardest to become good enough, strong enough, to return for Shen Jiu, only to shoot too far. Spending years in the spirit caves trying to gain enough control to escape. Finding Shen Jiu far too late, and assuming his remains to lie among the ashes of Qiu Manor. Then, when Shen Jiu is found again, wanting to keep him around, even if he has to be hated for it.

Yue Qingyuan’s actions during the Sect days are complicated, and I don’t trust myself to have deciphered them correctly, but I think his choices were made out of a combination of guilt and a desire to keep what he has. He knows that his Xiao-Jiu hates him, but he thinks he deserves it; he just wants to keep him from hating him even more so that he won’t leave. He thinks the best way to do that is to cling to what they used to have, look as strong as possible, and turn a blind eye/grant any wish to avoid Shen Jiu feeling betrayed.

Meanwhile, Shen Jiu just wants an explanation, but whenever he asks why his Qi-ge never came back for him, all he gets is apologies. He stays because he knows that the sect is his only chance at a good, stable environment, but he avoids Yue Qingyuan as much as possible because without an explanation, he has no reason to disbelieve what he already thinks is true: Yue Qingyuan hates him and abandoned him. His snappy (to put it nicely) attitude is a projection of this. Yue Qingyuan insists on calling him Xiao-Jiu, but Shen Jiu feels like Xiao-Jiu is dead. He thinks that if he’s mean enough, Yue Qingyuan will recognize that and prove the previously-written belief right by leaving him again.

THEN we have Luo Binghe. I’m not going to focus on this that much, because this is a QiJiu analysis, but Shen Jiu sees himself in Luo Binghe. His abuse is a mix of spite and his own twisted worldview. He’s angry that Luo Binghe, while also being an orphan, was able to have a loving mother and is young enough to cultivate properly. He thinks that Luo Binghe needs to see how cruel the world is. He thinks a lot of misguided things. Yue Qingyuan doesn’t stop him. Both of them are bad people for this, no matter how you view it. There is no excuse for child abuse.

This obviously comes to bite them both in the ass later, when Luo Binghe grows up to be an all-powerful demon lord and takes his revenge. He targets Shen Qingqiu for obvious reasons. He razes Cang Qiong to the ground for being complicit in the abuse. However, the one other person that receives special treatment (besides Ming Fan. Ouch.) is Yue Qingyuan. It’s mainly because of his relationship with Shen Qingqiu, but I think it’s also because Luo Binghe knows how easy it should have been for the Sect Leader, if no-one else, to stop Shen Qingqiu’s abuse. He lures Yue Qingyuan in with the hope of rescuing Shen Qingqiu, because he knows how protective Yue Qingyuan is of him. He uses the shards of Yue Qingyuan’s sword to taunt and torment Shen Qingqiu. He never lets Shen Qingqiu rest.

And the thing is: Neither of those lives allow them to reconcile. They’re so emotionally stunted and determined to keep things how they are that they never truly understand what happened to them. When Yue Qingyuan finds out what happened to Shen Qingqiu in SVSSS-verse, it’s with the pain of knowing that the person who went through that is gone, so he can never really atone. And Shen Jiu, crippled by his past, is destined to be scum, killed off before he can ever have peace.

enjoy your day lol

[alikat7]

I have been disappointed with Leverage Redemption since the first episode. It was always so uneven. Its best episodes had part of them that bothered me about the whole show. Two things - there isn't enough drama to balance out the comedy, so it comes across as goofy and Parker. I love the characters, even the new ones. However, for the whole series, they failed on Parker. She was damn near flawless in S5 of the original series. She had grown so much but had enough weirdness, uniqueness, and quirkiness to still be Parker. As a character, she was perfect. Jump ahead to Leverage Redemption - she's loud, over the top, and just too much. When others are in a con act with her, they act over the top to match her freak. In the 1st season, the finale was the best episode until when Parker, Eliot, and Hardison came into the plant dressed as rangers or something. Parker spoke first and was so over the top. Eliot spoke next. He wasn't as over the top as her, but he was more over the top than usual. Hardison was the final speaker, and he toned down Eliot's OTT, but he was still a bit OTT but was more natural. His level of OTT and even Eliot's make it so obvious Parker was extremely OTT and the effect she was having on her partners. She's not as fun. She's abrasive. Maybe if I was exposed to this Parker first, I might not care. But after S5, to see her like this is sad. The 3rd season was better. Not where it should be or back to S5 Parker. She was good in a few episodes this season.

But the finale finally had the drama it's been missing, character development, AND Parker was as close to S5 Parker as she has been all series. Eliot was at peak protective big brother mode as well as being there with Sophie as the person she could bounce ideas and problems off. I was so proud of Harry. I literally cheered him on because he fought back to his attempted assassins. Eliot had to help out, but Harry fought back! Sophie and Breanna were both good. Sophie was back to Mama Bear checking on her cubs but giving Parker enough space to do her thing. Hardison was still amazing, but too little of him.

I hope it gets renewed and they continue to go down this level of drama and comedy. And I pray 🙏 they stick with this Parker. Even if they give her a little more fun and weirdness, she could still be an acceptable level without being over the top.

Side note- Every season, Eliot seems to get one jacket that he always wears. In S3 of original, it was one that Christian wore in public, too (black jacket with white stripes down the sleeves). Beth once wore the dress from The Ice Man Job to Upfronts. Season 1 of Redemption Eliot had that amazing blue leather jacket. I hope Christian snagged that one, too. Lol This season's isn't as good, but I noticed it was the same throughout the season.

[normaltothemax]

Oh, god fucking dammit. He doesn’t even sound all that concerned, more like he simply doesn’t understand what she has to be upset about, but those two freaking words are apparently enough to make holding back the tears even harder. God, this is so stupid, too. It’s not about her. He just saved three lives and Max is making the whole thing about her own guilty conscience.

She turns to look out the window, in the hopes that it might help. If not in helping her swallow these stupid feelings down, then at least in hiding them from him. An exercise in futility, considering he’s already aware she’s upset.

“I’m fine.” The response is automatic and an obvious lie. One she rethinks a mere second later. Lying isn’t allowed. Lying means punishment. “…I’m sorry. It’s just…stupid.”

She swipes at her eyes with one sleeve-covered fist, sniffs, and bites the bullet. No matter what she says or does here, it won’t end well for her. Either he’ll be angry with her for acting like a damn child, or he’ll be angry with her for lying about it—it’s a no-win scenario. Might as well just get it over with.

“…I wasn’t going to say anything; I was gonna let you take the exit. I would’ve…I would’ve let them die, and you…” She takes a shaky breath. “I’ve seen it happen thousands of times—even with an average of, say, one vision a day, that’s already over ten thousand deaths, not including the times where it’s more than one person—and I never…I didn’t do anything. I’ve watched probably tens of thousands of people die and I just…I could’ve stopped all of it and I never even tried.”

He turns away from the family as they start thanking him in between coughs and gasps of relatively fresh air. The gratitude is…strange. Awkward. A little overwhelming. He has no idea how to react to it, so he just. Doesn't.

Besides, he's got somewhere to be.

So he heads back to the car, slapping the embers out of a smoking patch of his coat, and gets the car going again. They've done all they can here; waiting around until the authorities show up is just inviting trouble. Besides, he really doesn't know how to deal with the family who's still shouting their thanks after him as he drives away; he can't remember anyone ever being happy to see him, or grateful - truly grateful - for something he did.

Beside him, Max is almost oddly silent. Of course, silence has been the theme of the trip, neither one of them really up for chatting, but this is different. This isn't a comfortable kind of silence. She's upset, or so he thinks. She might even be crying, though that could just be due to irritation from the smoke at the crash site. But why? Shouldn't she be relieved that her vision didn't come true?

He hesitates before glancing over at her. "…What's wrong?"