#I only slept four hours I feel terrible

[highconflictbirthmother]

Oh my god I need to go home

[jezabelle9299]

Morning Sunshine S.R x fem! Reader

Overture- Sleepy Spencer x Morning person fem! Reader. They're sharing a room, and he has no idea how you're so lovely this early.

Cws- Exhaustion

A/N-Wow, before it's even midnight--I'm practically productive. Day 17, I'm very excited. This is shorter, but I do kind of really like this idea.

If you'd like to read the other things I've done this month you can do that here: October Masterlist

**************************

By Day 4 of this practically endless case, morale was at an all time low. The small motel had enough rooms for everyone for the first 3 days of the case, but now it was the weekend and they were nearly packed. And of course Spencer’s luck had him stuck with the woman he couldn’t get out of his head for months now, in some cosmic joke where he’s trapped with quite possibly the love of his life–sleeping four feet away from him in a different bed. 

Of course it wasn’t actually a matter of fate, just a gentle push from JJ.

He stayed behind at the police station until he was sure you’d be asleep, then he muddled back to your shared room thanking every deity he could name that you were fast asleep. Only to thank each of them again at his exhaustion allowing him to just pass out without thinking himself into a panic just by being near you. 

You however were just a little bit overjoyed when Hotch was handing out the second round of room keys. Packing cuter pajamas was no longer an option, but you were still looking forward to Spencer being the last person you saw after this terrible day. If only he was actually there. You honestly assumed he decided to just sleep in Derek’s room to avoid you– a thought that hurt your feelings more than you’d like to admit. 

When Spencer did wake up to the lovely sound of his alarm screaming at him, he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was you. He knew you were a morning person, but he never expected this. It was barely 5am, and you were bopping around in front of the mirror, headphones on, applying makeup while singing along quietly to yourself. He watched you for a moment, only drawing your attention when he sat up and you caught his reflection.

“Good morning” You looked at him in the mirror, and even though your makeup was only halfway done, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. His first thought was how beautiful you were, but his exhausted brain couldn’t form a singular other thought yet. But you thought he was adorable, with his hair lovingly disheveled.

“It’s so early.” He knew you had been getting as little sleep as he had, barely 5 hours for 4 days in a row. How on Earth were you awake, up, and nice at this hour?

“You could probably go back to sleep for a few more minutes, we aren’t supposed to meet until 6:30.”

“No it’s ok, I usually like to read and drink my coffee before I have to get back to work. But what are you doing up so early?” He slumped over forwards, burying his face in his hands to rub his eyes. When he finally sat back up, he was reaching around to grab his glasses off the hotel nightstand, and you had to fight to keep from swooning.

“I was going to go get breakfast before we have to meet up with everyone, you can come with me if you want? I saw this place on the way here, it’s only like a block away. You can even bring your book, and I won’t bug you. I know not everyone’s chatty in the morning.”  You turned your attention back to your own reflection, and he hated the assumption that he would just ignore you over breakfast. Even if he hadn’t slept at all, he’d want to talk to you.

“I’ve been told I’m chatty all the time. Well chatty isn’t usually the word used, but that’s the sentiment–I’d love to go to breakfast with you.” 

“I like listening to you talk, for the record. But I’m going to finish up with my makeup while you get ready, ok?” 

“Ok.” He made no move to get ready, only starting to lean back further against the headboard. You had extra time this morning, but not quite that much. 

“That may require getting out of bed.”

“Ok.” He still made no move to get up, and you just laughed. He had to get up eventually, but you’d let him stay there if he felt like it. You could be a few minutes late for the morning briefing.

[suzukiblu]

Tim?

Tim did not actually mean to kidnap an alternate reality's version of Kon.

In his defense, he'd had very limited time in that reality and everything in it had been going to shit and . . . well, everything in it had been going to shit.

Also, Lex Luthor had been a lot more heavily involved in that particular reality's Cadmus, and fuck it if Tim was ever going to leave any version of Kon with that bastard.

With any bastard who could ever look at Kon and call him "it".

"Ow," Tim grunts into the dirty pavement of what he hopes is his own Gotham as blood drips out of his mouth, and feels Kon's fingertips brush very, very tentatively against his back. He's a little too dizzy to lift his head, but he figures it doesn't matter. Like it's just . . . it's fine. They're not in Cadmus and Kon is safe and Tim is . . . conscious, at least, which means he can work with the situation.

Whatever the situation actually is, anyway.

Kon's hands flatten against his back, which is a very familiar tell, and Tim immediately feels the even more familiar embrace of TTK wrapping him up.

Less familiar is the impulse to find said embrace adorable, but in Tim's defense, this Kon is physiologically about ten years old and so far every single thing he's done has been either adorable or heartbreaking or some terrible combination of the two.

"Robin?" Kon asks anxiously. "You're okay, right?"

"M'okay," Tim mumbles blurrily, because it's more or less true. More blood drips out of his mouth and splatters on the pavement. "All okay. S'fine. You hurt?"

"No," Kon says, still sounding nervous. "Dunno where we are, though."

"Should be Gotham," Tim says, forcing himself to lift his head enough to check and nearly laughing as he recognizes their surroundings as the exact part of Crime Alley that he got interdimensionally yanked out of seventy-six hours ago. "Yeah. Gotham."

He pushes himself up enough to look over at Kon. Kon looks very small crouched down next to him with buzzed-down hair, barefoot in pristine white lab scrubs with a shiny metal cuff stamped with an identification number locked around his wrist. "13" features prominently on it.

Tim wants to melt it into slag.

"Is it your Gotham?" Kon asks.

"No clue, but I'm hoping," Tim says. He thinks about getting to his feet but he's pretty sure he'd throw up if he tried. Or fall over. Or both?

Probably both, at this point.

Oh well, he figures, and pushes himself up. He doesn't vomit, surprisingly, although he is very definitely sure that Kon's TTK is the only thing keeping him from falling over.

No reason to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, Tim decides.

"I need coffee," he says as he gives Kon's shoulder an appreciative pat, because the caffeine withdrawal is real. Also he needs medical attention, probably, but also-also he needs to come up with either a cover story for the ER or an explanation for Bruce and therefore caffeine can't hurt.

"Uh, okay," Kon says skeptically. "I don't think Starbucks or anything is gonna be open right now, though, it's pretty late."

"God, what did Cadmus teach you, kid," Tim says despairingly, making a face at the thought. "Starbucks is a punishment from God. We're going to the nearest twenty-four diner and I'm ordering roofing tar. And we're getting you a hot chocolate. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

". . . yeah," Kon says, biting his lip. "Um. I mean, I dunno if I'd like it, though."

"If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," Tim says. "But I haven't slept or eaten properly since I left my reality and I need coffee before it becomes a legitimate medical emergency."

"Shouldn't you get, like, real food, then?" Kon asks skeptically. "Not just coffee?"

"Coffee is food," Tim lies reflexively.

". . . I don't think it is," Kon says, squinting up at him suspiciously. "Are you taking advantage of me being too stupid to know if coffee's food or not?"

". . . we can get something to go," Tim says, wishing he'd blown up a bit more of Cadmus on his way out of that fucking cesspool of a reality. "You're not stupid. Luthor can choke on a fucking cactus for all the shit he kept saying to you."

"I mean, I didn't come out right," Kon says uncomfortably. "I'm not as smart as Dadd–as Lex is. Or as Superman was."

Tim pretends that Kon wasn't about to say "Daddy" for both their sakes. Just . . . yeah. At least for the moment, anyway.

Luthor was a lot more heavily involved in that Cadmus.

And horrifyingly.

Tim tries not to think about the way that Luthor had kept touching Kon. All the little too-deliberate points of contact he'd made time and again and too often.

Much too often.

Tim hadn't seen anyone else even so much as enter Kon's personal space the entire time he'd been in that godforsaken lab, and every single time that Luthor had made a gesture like he might touch him, Kon had tensed in something that couldn't decide between being fear or anticipation.

It'd made Tim want to burn the whole fucking lab and every single LexCorp-owned building he could find to the ground.

He'd settled for interdimensionally kidnapping Kon and destroying all of Cadmus's systems and DNA samples as thoroughly as possible. C-4 had been involved.

A lot of C-4 had been involved.

Possibly that had been a slight overreaction, but fuck if Tim cares. Just–Clark had still been dead, and Cassie hadn't had powers and Bart hadn't been in the time period and Tim himself hadn't even existed, for whatever reason, and apparently neither had Cissie or Greta or Anita or Slobo, and Bruce had already had his hands full with Damian and Dick had been off-planet and Jason had also still been dead and just–

Options had been limited, alright?

Options had been limited, and by that point Tim hadn't had time to go check and see what the Kents were up to or track down Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen or even just tip off the Justice League or the Titans, because by that point he'd been in an examination room with a Lex Luthor who was stroking a frightened Kon's face with one hand while holding a syringe that was glowing kryptonite-green with the other and Tim had just . . . he'd just made some choices at that point, okay?

He'd made some very decisive choices.

And some very decisive commitments.

Or at least one very decisive commitment, anyway.

[petit-etoile]

Congrats on 200 followers! :D For drabble ideas, how about one where Tav is becoming overwhelmed from being the leader of their group and they end up having a bit of a breakdown in camp, so Astarion whisks them away and dotes on them for the evening to help soothe some of their worries.

i  am  tired  of  being  brave

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount:  1,036 content warnings: none other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, be added to the taglist here

summary: All you want is to get away from everything. Astarion indulges you.

‘Enough!’ you shout.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart have the decency to look properly chagrined when they peer over at you, frozen as if turned to stone. Shadowheart’s knife dips underneath Lae’zel’s chin, but the pretense of applied pressure goes away. You have no idea what hour it is or how long they’ve been going at it but the little patience you have snaps like a fine thread.

‘We have only gotten this far because we trust each other,’ you snap at them, pulling your nightshirt tighter around your shoulders. ‘But if you want to ruin that, leave me out of it!’

In what is likely the silliest mistake to make, you turn around and march to your bedroll to pick up your hunting knife and then march beyond the outskirts of camp  —  beyond Halsin and Jaheira and Gale and Wyll and Karlach, and Withers who seems to be musing over the situation with faint interest.

If Shadowheart and Lae’zel want to fight to the death, let them! You’ve done all that you can to get the group this far. You’re tired, you’ve been woken up two nights in a row, and you’ve had it with the drama.

You plunge yourself through the nearest bush you can find and sit next to running water, your arms pulled across your chest to keep the breeze from chilling you to the bone. You’re miserable beneath the moonlight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve slept more than four hours.

You almost doze off in the underbrush beneath a tree, but then there’s a hand sliding over your mouth and a body behind yours, somehow wedged behind you once your eyes closed. You gasp and try to reach for your knife, but Astarion tuts and continues sliding between you and the tree. It would be annoying if you weren’t relieved it was him. You relax back against him despite the feeling that your heart is going to leap out of your throat.

‘You shouldn’t fall asleep in the woods,’ Astarion warns you. ‘There are terrible beasts that have made this place their hunting ground.’

You shiver. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep,’ you say. ‘I just needed to get away.’

He hums. ‘Did something happen back at the camp?’

It doesn’t do any good to keep secrets, and your other companions had already witnessed it. You tell Astarion about Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s never ending fight. It doesn’t make sense to keep attacking one another, especially since the Artefact is the only reason the worms haven’t burrowed deeper into your skulls. It wears you down every day to keep making decisions for everyone when there are people with better experience. Everyone looks to you no matter how much you wish they’d look elsewhere. You never wanted this fellowship to hang on your every word. You just wanted allies.

‘It’s hardly fair,’ Astarion agrees. ‘To have the weight of this…Absolute sitting on your shoulders. I can’t imagine what it must be like to wrangle us all into cohabitation.’

‘Some discomforts are easier to resolve than others,’ you say. ‘It was easy making everyone throw their stakes away.’

‘I’m fairly certain Wyll kept his,’ Astarion snorts.

‘Yes, but he doesn’t wake us all up holding it at your neck,’ you say, elbowing him. ‘They don’t have to become friends or lovers or anything of the sort. They just have to get along until we arrive at Baldur’s Gate.’

Baldur’s Gate still seems so very far away. Acknowledging this drags you down more than you wish it to. You’re tired of walking and fighting and lying your way out of every other conflict. You miss your family and your life before the worm. The only good that’s come of it is Astarion. He lets you lounge on him when you please in exchange for some blood, and…

It’s more than that.

Astarion lets you do whatever the hell you please as long as it doesn’t annoy him. You’re free to nap in his tent or sit at his side while he reads, and he’s even allowed you to style his delicate curls with pomade. He lets you kiss him if you ask, holds your hand. If you asked him to kill someone for you, you’re certain he would without question.

Reluctantly, you sit forward. ‘I should probably head back,’ you admit. ‘I should make sure everyone is still alive.’

‘To the hells with it,’ Astarion disagrees. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back. ‘You close your eyes and sleep. Let them come looking for us if it troubles them that much.’

‘And if Shadowheart kills Lae’zel?’

‘I’m almost certain Lae’zel would win,’ he says. ‘But, I have no doubt they’ll behave. You, on the other hand, are being naughty.’

You laugh but you do as you're told. You worm further in the roots and lean back against him. It’s chilly, but having someone else there does wonders for how willing you are to fall asleep. It’s almost nice how secluded you are away from the drama and stress. You almost wish you were a vampire so that you could sneak out and use hunting as an excuse.

The respect for all you do is nice. Sure, Halsin and Jaheira have both commended you for how hard you work for your age, but it isn’t the same. You still stand in the middle of camp trying to handle things on your own. The planning, the decisions. They somehow fall on your shoulders. A little more input would be nice, or a sign from a god that you’re doing the right thing. You try not to think about it as you feel sleep edge toward your consciousness. Astarion hums softly in your ear, and though it’s uneven, you can’t help but think it’s so off-tune that it’s lovely.

You yawn so hard your jaw pops, and Astarion hushes you, kissing idly behind your ear. It lulls you into an ease you haven’t experienced for a while. You melt into the touch. If you could purr, you would.

‘This,’ Astarion says, ‘is what you deserve. To relax here in my arms. Sleep now, and we’ll deal with what shall come in the morning.’

[slutforleeminho]

Finding you again • Bangchan

(angst, comfort)

"Why?" You screamed at the top of your lungs; the neighbors were probably filling a noise complaint at this very moment. "Tell. Me. Why."

Is this what couples do? Go to sleep feeling alone and cold because there is no one beside them to keep them warm? Eat their meals in silence, on the rare occasion you even ate together? Scream at each other until there's no more breath in their lungs? Pick a fight as soon as the person they're in love with walks through the door, barely having enough time to take their shoes off? Because that's what yours and Chans relationship is like.

"I'm really not in the mood for this right now, y/n. I'm tired and I haven't eaten or slept in the past twenty-four hours. I don't even know what you want from me. I bust my ass to make sure you have a roof over your head and food to eat and you treat me like this." He looked perfectly fine to you though, refreshed even.

"I treat you like this?" Your blood was boiling. " You treat me as if I don't even exist. You stay gone all day and night and when you do come home you barely even acknowledge my presence. It's like your annoyed I'm even here half the time." Tears pricked the back of your eyes, but you refused to cry right now.

"Because you always have something to nag about. I'm always working too much or I didn't do the dishes or take the trash out. It's always something with you, I can never just rest when I'm here. That's why I'm always at the studio-"

"Oh, cut the shit Chan. We both know you're not always at the studio." You interrupted him.

"What are you talking about?" He was starting to get visibly irritated with this whole conversation, but you didn't care. you were done pretending like this didn't bother you.

"I know your cheating on me." It was your first time saying it out loud, and boy did it have a bitter taste.

Chans whole demeanor changed, his face fell, and his shoulders tensed. "What?"

"I'm not an idiot Chris, if you aren't getting it from me, you're getting it from someone else. I mean c'mon it's so fucking obvious, you're gone all the time, and you haven't touched me in months," This time a stray tear fell down your cheek, a result of having these emotions stored away for weeks. "If you don't want me anymore just say it, don't torture me like this, I can't take it, I care for you too much." And then it all came crashing down on you at once, the possibility that you might lose him, you might lose the beautiful life the two of you used to share. The late-night movie marathons, the times you'd cook dinner together, laughing at the way he was terrible at chopping vegetables. The walks on the beach where he'd pick you up and pretend to throw you in the water, getting a kick out of the way you'd hold on to him for dear life. The times when he kissed you before leaving for work, and made love to you when he returned, telling you how much he missed you while he was away. How much he loved you.

The next thing you knew you were sobbing into your hands, letting go of everything you kept hidden for so long.

Chan stood there, eyes glued to the floor, mouth agape. You were too busy crying your eyes out to notice the tears escaping past his eye lids too. "Do you really think I'd do that to you?" His voice broke halfway through his sentence.

"I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like I don't even know you." You whispered before finally wiping your tears away and raising your head to look at him. You were more than surprised to see his bottom lip quivering and his whole body shaking, in a silent cry. You didn't know how to react; you'd never seen him cry like this before. You wanted to lunge at him and hold him close, to take all his pain away and tell him everything would be okay, but he should be the one doing that for you, not the other way around.

"I'm so sorry," He sobbed. " I have no excuse to be so distant like this, but I'd never cheat on you. Like it or not, you're the only person in this world for me, and now knowing that you thought that was the reason I haven't been here hurts like hell, but I don't blame you, I don't even know why I've been like this, it's like I'm on autopilot, working until I fall asleep and do it all again the next day.

"Why didn't you just tell me that? Anything would have been better than the silence."

"I don't know, baby." A broken cry leaving his lips, but the pet name warmed your heart, and you couldn't help yourself any longer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you than he has been in weeks. He immediately responded, hugging your torso and burying his face into your neck. If you had known he was feeling this way you wouldn't have sprung this whole thing on him the way that you did. "I just feel so numb, so I did the only thing I know how to do." Which was make music. Because that's what he did, poured every ounce of his emotions into the beats that he sewed together to make something beautiful. "I don't know what's wrong with me." You held him as he cried and explained how tired and confused he was as to why he couldn't feel anything. He had drained every last drop of himself into his work, that's why. He always put the members and fans first, inconveniencing himself every time someone asked him of something, picking up the other members and staffs slack just so they could meet their deadlines. He doesn't know how to pace himself; he goes, and goes, and goes until his body and his mind can't take it anymore. he can't feel anything because he's felt enough. He has nothing left to give.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. everything's going to be okay."

~

And so, for the next few months he was going to work on himself and rest, to regain what he once had. After that night you made him take a few days off from work so he could rest, in which he used the time to make up to you by making love to you several times a day. He set up a steady schedule for work, making sure he didn't stay any longer than nine to ten hours a day and taking the weekends off. He even stopped doing the things that the managers and staff were supposed to do, which resulted in them falling behind on many things, and made for a hectic couple of weeks. But in the long run people started to realize that Chris wasn't letting them use him as he was before, so they pulled their shit together and finally did their jobs correctly. This was the first time you've seen him so happy and comfortable in his own skin, and you hoped that it'd never end.

taglist: @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs @katsukis wife @seung-mine @sungprotector @favieeerrrr @soephiphanymain @z4ir3 @minnieslover

[tkwrites]

I can't belive you're here. - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: I can't believe you're here.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Captain kink unlocked, oral & fingering (f receiving), squirting, swearing, surprise visit, if I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

Word Count: 6,000

Comments:

Hoo boy. This is by far the most depraved thing I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you did enjoy it, please let me know! Your comments and questions inspire me to keep writing!

To the lovely anon who requested this: I hope it lives up to your expectations. I had so much fun writing it.

Anonymous asked: 'In some ways, he’d love to see his name across her back, but not at a game.' Ohhh, I'd love to see something about this in the future. Later on in their relationship, he's on a roadie and not seen Sarah for 4 weeks due to it and some study trip prior. He has just played either Brady or his brothers who noticed he's really down and missing her, they call Sarah and organise to fly her to his next destination to suprise him after the game. She's waiting in his hotel room, wearing nothing but his jersey to cheer him up after a loss 😉 Or a more wholesome storyline of her first WAG jacket or something aha Absolutely love all your pieces and can't wait to continue reading of their universe xx

I can't believe you're here.

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Fatigue and failure were deep in his bones as he walked into the hotel. 

Logically, Quinn knew winning streaks always come to an end. It was impossible to have a perfect 82 game season. No one had ever come close to that. 

It didn't matter how much he tried to reason, it still felt like shit to be on the receiving end of a shut out after two straight losses. 

The fact that they were still on the road didn’t help. The fourteen day trek away from home was always terrible, no matter when it fell in the season, but having it come right after Sarah had to be at a conference was torture. It meant he hadn’t seen her in over 12 days. 

It was terrible timing. The day after he got back from the six day Midwest road trip, she left for a seven day ocean conservation conference in Costa Rica. She got back two days after he had to leave again. 

It had been nineteen long days since he'd seen her for more than fifteen hours. 

They talked and sent messages and photos, but it wasn’t the same as talking face to face and kissing her and feeling her skin and smelling her perfume. 

He’d learned from the past and brought her pillowcase with him, but even that was beginning to smell less and less like her.

He only had to get through three more games and five and a half more days before he'd be back home and in her arms. 

One of the team assistants ran up to him in the lobby, “Hughes,” he said, a little breathless, “they changed your room.” 

“What?” he asked, trying to pull himself from his misery and back to the present.

“They had to change your room. Something about the heater being broken,” Sean said. 

“Okay. Petey still with me?” 

“No, they had to separate you,” Sean forced the key into his hand as they stepped on the elevator, “I already moved your bags.” 

He’d slept four quick hours in a room that felt perfectly fine before heading to the pre-game meeting and meal. He couldn’t remember if he’d left his stuff all over the bathroom counter. Hopefully, Sean didn’t have to go through too much trouble. Quinn definitely owed him dinner. 

The room was dark when he walked in. And it smelled like… it smelled like Sarah’s smoky vanilla perfume. 

Fuck. He missed her so much, his mind was playing tricks on him. 

At least he would have a room to himself, and could call her in peace without the threat of Petey listening in. They could probably even get some phone sex in, which hadn’t happened for far too long. 

Then, he would get a full night's sleep before their flight to Chicago. That, in itself, was a rare luxury he was outrageously thankful for. 

When he flipped on the light, the first thing he noticed was the king size bed. The bedspread was mussed, as if someone had been lying on it. Strange for any hotel, but especially one this nice. Rooms he came into often looked so pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot in them before. 

He pushed the worry out of his mind and started toward the bathroom. 

“Hey.” 

Great, now he was hallucinating. It sounded like Sarah was right behind him. He must be more tired than he thought. 

“Quinn?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, backpack nearly slipping to the floor. If he turned and she wasn’t here, he didn’t know what he’d do. 

A touch grazed his shoulder, and a strong whiff of her perfume made his knees shake. “Sarah?” he asked, hoping against hope. Why would she be here? 

“Yeah,” she said. 

He turned and felt a strange, strangled sort of gasp escape his throat. 

Sarah was in his hotel room. She was here. She was in Boston. How was she here? 

When his brain finally reconciled the fact that she was actually in front of him, he noticed she was wearing his flying skate jersey. 

“I - how?” 

She smiled softly, set his backpack aside and wrapped her arms around him.  

His body caught on before his brain did, hugging her against him fiercely.

Coming home from her conference in Costa Rica, which had been lovely but incredibly socially exhausting, all Sarah had wanted was to fall into bed with Quinn. When she came home to a dark and empty house, it had been a rude reminder he was on the longest road trip of the year. The apartment felt too big without him in it, especially for so long. 

“I missed you so much,” she said into his neck. 

“How did you do this?” he finally asked.

He’d known other players' wives and girlfriends occasionally showed up on road trips, but generally, their partners always knew, and it was usually because they were close by one of their hometowns. 

“Brady called me. He said you were so sad and not yourself on Wednesday, he wanted to do something. So he bought me a ticket and called Brock to get the schedule.” 

He sniffed and she pulled back.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said upon seeing the tears pooled in his eyes.

“I’m just…” The shock of seeing her brought all his emotion up to the surface.

“I know,” she said, pulling him into her again, feeling a few tears slip down her own cheeks. It felt so good to hold him.  

His mouth landed on her neck. It was a comforting thing to taste her skin as they embraced. He mumbled something against her. 

“Sorry?” she asked, trying to pull away so she could see his face. 

He didn’t want to let her go, not even for a second. Instead, he lifted his lips just enough so he could repeat, “I missed you so much.” 

“I know Quinny,” she said, running her fingers into his hair. “I missed you, too, but I’m here now, and we have all night.” 

His mouth was still on her neck, though he’d started moving with more intent, licking and kissing. The shock to his system was giving way to relief and desire. 

Finally fed up with his teasing, Sarah took his jaw in her hands and forced his head up so she could kiss him. 

He sighed into it, and found some way to pull her tighter against him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was wearing his jersey, but the shock of her in his hotel room, seeing her face and her blue eyes and her lips - god her lips, he couldn't get enough of them - stole all of his brain power. Now, as his hands splayed across her back, feeling the numbers patched and stitched there, the reality of it hit him. 

Forcing himself to break away so he could look at her, his knees threatened to buckle when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything else - not that he could see anyway. The fabric hit her upper thigh, leaving much of her legs bare.

“I -” he tried to say something, but lost the words. 

The idea of wearing his jersey came from Emma. Sarah thought it was cheesy, but Emma assured her he’d love it. She’d surprised Brady at the end of a roadtrip like that, and “I swear his brain, like, short-circuited or something. He just stood there, staring at me for like 30 seconds before he went wild.” 

It didn’t surprise her Quinn didn’t have the same immediate reaction. He was so much quieter than Brady, and from what she could tell, they had a much more subdued relationship than the Tkachuks. 

The way he was looking at her now, though - like she was the thing he'd been anxiously waiting for on Christmas morning - made it all worthwhile.  

“I borrowed it, I hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. 

When they were apart, the mechanics of an orgasm could be there, but it just wasn't as good. It could never be. She missed feeling him: his skin, his breath, the rigid length of him inside her.

It wasn’t that she’d been hoping he’d ravish her right away (okay, maybe she had been, but she knew Quinn, and knew he would never react that way), but all this looking without any touching was getting out of hand. Impatience was pulling tight through her stomach. The prospect of finally feeling fulfilled was driving her crazy.

She needed to give him a little nudge. 

Leaning in, she let her lips graze his ear, down to his jaw and then back. He made a soft, breathy noise, and she knew she almost had him.

Just one more push. 

“How do you want me?” she asked, following it up with a slow, open mouthed kiss to the soft spot under his ear. 

Blood rushed from his head so fast he felt dizzy. 

“I want you to ride me in this,” he managed to say, fingering the stripes on the sleeve. 

It was a fantasy he'd harbored since middle school, but had yet to experience. He'd asked his college girlfriend once, and she had scoffed, telling him it would get too hot, which he thought was a strange argument considering a jersey was designed to do the exact opposite. 

Sarah didn’t acknowledge his request other than to start popping open the buttons of his shirt, one after the other. That set him into motion, tugging at his clothing. He couldn’t get it off fast enough. 

Through a jumble of arms and hands, tangling in their effort to get him naked, they found themselves on the bed. Quinn flat on his back, breath heavy with anticipation, and Sarah astride him, trying to game plan her next move. She had on lingerie he’d never seen before and didn’t want it to go to waste, but he wanted her in the jersey, and she couldn’t take anything off without spoiling the surprise. 

He grew impatient as she debated, shifting his hips up, trying to entice her onto him already. “Sarah,” he whined. 

Finally, she decided to just move it to the side, and sink onto him. The stretch after so long was a pleasant burn. 

His eyes rolled back, and his hips jumped, wanting to fill her more. 

“How are you so wet?” he asked. They hadn’t kissed for that long. Usually, it took a little more to get her this soaked. 

A wicked smile spread over her face, “I may have gotten myself off while I was waiting, thinking about finally seeing you again.”

“Fuck.” 

She was a vision. Riding him after so long? Wearing his jersey? Confessing to touching herself in this bed thinking of and waiting for him? He was the luckiest man on the planet. 

She pitched forward to get the right angle, and moaned, loud and earnest. Good thing they moved him two floors up from the team. 

He tried to brace himself, but the fantasy of it, of her being here and wearing his jersey - the golden C winking at him, reminding him of all the work he'd done to get here - knowing his name was on her back made him groan out loud. His restraint stretched until it was paper thin. 

His hands explored under the jersey only to feel something smooth tied at her hip and lace at her ribcage. 

He coughed, “are you wearing lingerie?” 

“Just for you,” she said, meeting his heated gaze with a coy smile. 

He didn’t think this could get any better. Now, his mind was wild with possibilities. 

“Come for me and I'll show you.”

Holy shit. 

The little control he had snapped and he flooded her with a loud groan of her name.

Sarah's hands traced his arms, entwining their fingers before guiding them to rest on either side of his head as she leaned forward to kiss him. 

His chest pressed into hers, catching the scratchy logo on his jersey as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself off of him to go to the bathroom. She needed to clean up and readjust before the next part of her plan could move forward.

He lay there and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It was almost too fast for him to remember the way he wanted. The bathroom door opened, and he looked over.

“Alright, captain,” she said, leaning on the door frame. She felt incredibly silly, but relished the way his eyes widened at the nickname, “are you ready to see what I have for you?” 

Oh God. 

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he could possibly be prepared for what was coming. 

“Do you want to, or should I?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of his jersey, exposing the little heart tattooed on her thigh. 

“You can.” His voice squeaked a little as he said it, and he blushed. 

Being sexy wasn’t really in her forte, but Sarah tried her best. Lifting the jersey over her head, she thought briefly about tossing it in his face. Deciding that was a step too far, she let it fall to the floor. 

Quinn gaped. 

Most of the time, Sarah wore cotton briefs - occasionally she switched them for lace or a thong, but this was something totally different than what he was used to seeing her in.

For one, the matching set was so sheer, he could see her nipples through the swirling pattern of the black lace. Then, there was the fact that it was obviously made to be removed. The bra tied in front and her underwear tied at the hips, each with a silky black ribbon, like she was a gift for him to unwrap. 

His mind ran away with the thought of tugging the bow on her bra undone with his teeth. 

When she did a little twirl so he could see the back, the breath knocked out of his lungs. She looked so damn good, she might just kill him. His heart might just explode. 

“What do you think?” she asked, walking closer. She could already see how much he liked it in his wide eyes and panting mouth, but she wanted to hear him say it. 

“I -” He didn't know it was possible to get hard so soon after coming. 

“Do you like it, Captain?” 

His breathing hitched. He never thought he'd have a captain kink, but hearing the title come out of her mouth while she was wearing that? He might just develop one. 

Adjusting the bows at her hips so they sat more naturally, Sarah looked at him and repeated, “do you like it, Quinn?” 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yes. I love it.” 

She smiled and climbed onto the bed then straddled him. His hands went to her waist of their own volition.

Her hips ground down. 

“You can’t do that,” he said, teeth gritted as he forced the words over a moan. The soft texture of the lace against his cock was incredible. 

“What?” 

“You can’t ride me again. I won’t last and you haven’t come yet.” 

She leaned down so her mouth was inches from his, her breath making him hyper aware of his own mouth and how much he wanted it on her. 

“And what are you going to do about that, Captain Hughes?” 

He topped her so fast that Sarah grunted and let out a little giggle when her back slammed into the mattress. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, only half meaning it as he planted a wet kiss at the base of her throat. He moved down her chest, following the outline of her bra with his mouth. He almost made good on his fantasy of biting it open, but held off. He wanted to watch her fall apart with it on. 

“What were you thinking about when you were getting yourself off?” he asked, kissing over her tattoo. 

“You,” she panted. 

“And what were you imagining me doing?” 

She whined. 

“What was I doing, Sarah?” he asked, lifting his mouth from where he’d just kissed down to the band of her panties. 

“You were eating me out,” she confessed, a blush rising high on her cheeks. 

Sometimes, he wished she would have told him how much she fantasized about and enjoyed oral sex before the first time he’d done it. There were four solid months he could have been pleasing her he would never get back. 

He smirked a little, “is that what you want now?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asked, tracing his fingers up and down her thighs. 

“Yes, Quinn.” 

He tutted, “Yes, what?” he asked as his lips went to her inner thigh. 

The bolt of electricity that fractured up her spine tipped her voice into a high, breathy whimper.

When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question again, ghosting his fingers against the lace of her panties. 

Her hips jumped. “Yes, Captain.” 

Oh, it was definitely a kink now. He couldn’t get over the sound of it coming out of her mouth. 

He made a satisfied noise and hooked two fingers under the lace gusset, pulling it away from her experimentally. The ties pulled taught, but didn't seem to want to slide over her hips. He tugged again, a little harder. 

Flinging a hand down, Sarah grasped the band, “you're going to rip them.”

“I'll buy you more,” he said, almost off handedly, still pulling. 

“Quinn, that's not the point. Please don't.”

The pulling stopped, and he pulled back to look into her face. “Okay. I'm sorry.”

Her face melted into a smile, “thank you.” She reached down to ease the ties over her hips. 

“No,” he breathed. 

Her eyes snapped to his, questioning.

Before she could ask what he wanted instead, he was knocking her hand away and licking one of the ribbons at her left hip into his mouth.

He pulled it away from her with his teeth, eyes growing darker when the bow unraveled and the pieces fell apart. 

Taking his time to kiss and lick his way to the other tie, he repeated the action, and groaned when it also untied so easily. 

He pulled on the whole thing and flung the garment away. It sailed somewhere across the room, ties flailing. 

Sarah bought this set because it was cute and sort of reminiscent of her black bikini he liked so much. She didn't realize what a fetish he would have for the bows. 

Settling back between her legs, she whined as he parted her lips and blew on her hot core. Shivers ran up her spine and down to all her fingers and toes.

“What were you thinking about?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When you were touching yourself, what were you thinking about me doing?” 

“You were eating me out,” she repeated, confused. 

His laugh chuffed a burst of hot air against her that had her squirming.

“I mean how. What exactly was I doing? 

“You want me to describe it to you?”

“I want to do it for you,” he confessed, voice gravelly. 

She made a little squeaking noise that told him how much that idea excited her.

“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he said before he leaned in to press his tongue against her, just to feel her twitch. 

Something inside her broke. Even though she felt depraved at the very thought of telling him this, it was too late to go back. The possibility of feeling it had taken over her body and wouldn’t let it go. 

“You had your fingers on my g-spot,” she breathed. 

“How many?” 

She squirmed again.

“How many, Sarah?” he repeated, circling her entrance, enthralled at the way she flexed.  

“Two.” Her mind made her continue and she squeaked, “then three.” 

His eyes widened and shot to hers. “Will they fit?” 

She nodded. “If you get me off first, they should.” 

His eyes were blown dark and full of mischief when he glanced down then back up to meet hers again. “And how was I using my mouth?” 

She moaned out loud just thinking about it. “You were doing that suck and flick thing with your tongue.” 

He had no idea what she meant.

He'd done it before: the night they'd been eliminated from the finals last season, but she couldn't very well bring that up. I want you to eat me out the way you did when you'd had one of the worst nights of your career? There was no way. Maybe if she demonstrated...

“I can show you,” she said, grasping one of his shoulders, “I need a part of you.” 

He toyed for a moment with the idea of presenting her his dick, but if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stop feeling her mouth, which defeated the whole purpose of this. Instead, he crawled over her and tipped his head to expose the column of his throat. 

His eyes rolled back as her open mouth connected with his hypersensitive skin. She ran her tongue over his pulse, following it with her bottom lip, before ending with suction, and a flick with the tip of her tongue.

Moaning, he ground against her hot center when she did it again and again.

He wrenched himself away before he could follow through with his desires to sheath himself and take her any way she would let him. 

Settling back onto his stomach, he shook his head to get back into the right frame of mind before leveling his gaze with her perfect, pretty pearl again. 

He tried to follow the movement of her mouth, and her hips jumped at the feeling. 

“Quinn,” she whined as he eased two fingers into her, curling them against that sensitive spot. “Oh my god.”

He continued on. She could feel the movement of his chin, up and down and in and out with each pass of his tongue. 

“Harder,” she begged. 

He dug his fingers into her soft spot even more. 

Throwing her head back, she moaned loudly. “Oh my god, Quinn. Just like that. Don't stop. Please don't stop.” 

Like he would ever stop when she was at his mercy like this. Grinding into the mattress, he continued on, moaning at the way her body undulated as she moved with him. 

She let out a gasping noise as if someone had forced all the air out of her in one swift hit. Her core began to pulse around his fingers, trying to suck them deeper inside her. 

Tipping her chin back, Sarah sighed as wave after soft wave of pleasure crashed over her.

When she stopped contracting so tightly, he waited until one of her aftershocks passed to work another finger into her. 

Her voice echoed around the hotel room as she cried out. 

He said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had the wherewithal to separate them from the team. There was no way he wanted anyone, let alone someone who knew them, to overhear this.

“So good, Quinn,” she croaked out. “Feels so full.”

He continued kissing her bundle of nerves the way she wanted, pausing every few passes to suck a little more intensely. 

A surge of pleasure coiled low in her belly, winding tighter and tighter until every breath ended in a moan. She felt so full and stretched open. So… Alive. All other thoughts fell out of her brain except Quinn and his silver tongue and wicked fingers. 

Feeling as if she might just shatter to pieces if she didn't get some relief, Sarah moaned and panted and begged, “please, Quinn. Please.”

She had no idea what she was asking for, but the waves of pleasure kept coming and coming until it was winding up her spine and pulling so tight, she thought it might just wrench every vertebrae apart and fill each gap with the soft promise of her impending release. 

He could feel her high building and kept urging her up the slope. Anxious for her summit, he sealed his mouth to her, milking her clit like her orgasm might just satiate his hunger.

“Quinn,” she gasped, spine arching as her hands abandoned her nipples and rummaged for some way to ground herself. One ended up in his hair, and the other fisted into the bedspread. “Oh my god. I think I'm gonna…” 

Her voice dissolved into a noise he'd never heard her make as her muscles locked around his fingers. He forced them to continue, working through her orgasm. 

Quite suddenly, as pleasure whirled through her veins, a feeling, intense and ferocious, swelled within her.  

As a tsunami of white-hot ecstasy crashed over her, he unlocked a space deep within her she didn't even know existed.

“Oh, fuck! Quinn!”

Something molten erupted in her belly like a long dormant volcano. 

Vaguely, she heard him groan as if every fantasy he'd ever had was being fulfilled. 

Though he knew women could, he’d never seen it in person, never even imagined what feeling her release gush over his hand would be like.

Sometime last season, Beauvillier had gone on and on about making his girl squirt, and Quinn remembered wishing he would keep it to himself. He didn't want to think about that every time he saw them together. 

Now, having experienced it first hand, he understood why Tito wanted to tell everyone he knew. 

Pleasure continued to ripple through her. No high had ever gone on this long. It eased away the tension that had knotted up in her body, until all at once, sensitivity and overstimulation set in.

“Too much, too much,” she croaked, trying to squirm away from his touch. 

He’d been so mesmerized watching her face, he hadn't realized his fingers were still moving. They uncoiled and stilled, and she melted into the mattress as a sigh melted from her lips. 

Her chest rose and fell steeply, the tie of her bra pulling taught with every heavy inhale, making the cups ride up the swell of her breasts. God, she was so beautiful.

It took quite a while for her to come down. He gently eased his fingers out only after she stopped pulsing. 

A whine escaped her throat at the sudden emptiness. 

Slowly coming back to herself, Sarah registered something wet underneath her. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did I -” her eyes darted to his as her face flushed with the reality of what had just happened, “did you make me squirt?” 

“Yeah," he said, crawling over her again, "and it was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life.”

The embarrassment she felt at making such a mess ebbed away with his confession. 

“No one's ever done that to me before. I haven't even been able to.” 

A look of immense pride took over his face. “Did you like it? I mean, it seemed like you liked it.” 

She nodded, “I've never felt anything like it.” 

He brought his lips to hers, and the taste of herself on his tongue made her passion throb to life again. 

“Well, Captain,” she said a little while later, smiling at the way his jaw slackened and eyelids grew heavy at the title. “I think I've got one more round in me. What do you want?” 

He twitched against her. 

“I just want you,” he brought his mouth to her neck. “Want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmured into her skin.

“I think we can arrange for that,” she said, fingers winding into his hair. 

Bracing up on his elbows, his gaze fell to her bra. 

Instead of using his mouth, he twirled one of the ribbons around his finger and pulled gently to ease the bow undone. It fell apart, revealing a knot in the middle. 

“It kept coming undone,” Sarah confessed, hands coming up to help him with the knot, which had pulled incredibly tight amidst her heavy breathing and writhing around.

“I think it's stuck. I can't get it out while it's on me, anyway,” she said, raising her arms above her head. “Here.”

At least he'd been able to remove her bottoms the way he wanted. He eased the lace over the swell of her breasts and helped her lift it off. 

He made love to her the way he did whenever he got home from a long time away - earnestly and full of wonder, compliments falling from his lips like raindrops, as if they didn’t cost a thing.  

“Fuck, Sarah, you feel so good.” 

“I can't believe you're mine.” 

“You're so pretty. I can't stop looking at you.”

“God, I'm so lucky.”  

They didn’t cost him anything, but they made Sarah feel like she was worth a million dollars.

“I love that sound,” he murmured when she gasped in pleasure and followed it with a low moan.  

As he drove into her again and again, he shuttered and moaned, feeling like she was going to shatter him into a million little pieces

He'd been hot all night. A sheen of sweat had spread over his skin as soon as she'd climbed on top of him in his jersey. The prospect of a fantasy being fulfilled sending his body into a frenzy. Working her up to that intense high hadn't been a walk in the park either. He'd been on edge and so focused. Now, he felt like his body was on fire.

She felt and sounded and looked so good. He couldn't think of anything but her.

When she tipped her face to the side with a loud moan, he attacked her jaw and neck with his lips, desperate to taste her again. 

She was here. She was in Boston. She was here, in his hotel, in Boston. He just made her squirt, and he didn't have to be down to the bus until 10 the next morning. He must have been doing something right.  

When he felt her fall apart around his cock, he breathed through it and hung on for dear life, twitching with the bliss of it.

Coming down from her high, Sarah was mesmerized by him. The defined set of his jaw, the sweaty sheen to his skin, how his curls fell over his forehead.

“You're so handsome, Quinn.”

She knew he was holding on, hoping to urge another high from her, but she didn't have one to give him. It was time to send him over the edge. 

Propping up on her elbows, she traced her mouth along his jaw up to his ear. He let out a panicked little whimper. 

“Want to feel you,” she whispered. "Want you to fill me up."

His hips stuttered.

“Come for me, Captain.” 

White spots blipped in his vision and he had no choice but to obey. 

Her name fell from his mouth like a prayer as she pulled him over the edge. 

When they walked back in the room after showering, Sarah realized just how much of a mess she'd made of the bed. There was no way they could sleep in it as it was. 

“Oh no.” 

“What?” Quinn asked, lowering the towel he was running over his hair. 

“We need new sheets and housekeeping is going to know exactly what we've been doing.”

“No they won't.”

She pointed to the bed, “you want to tell me they're not going to know we weren't just having sex?”

He laughed, “fine. So they might know. What does it matter? It's not like we know any of them.”

“It's so embarrassing.”

“What is? That your boyfriend made you come so hard you squirted?”

“No,” she was blushing though, “I mean…no. That was amazing.”

“So what's the worry?”

“I just…I don't want anyone else to see.”

He laughed, “that's fair. I can just ask them to bring some extra bedding. No one has to come into the room.”

She nodded, “okay.”

He called the desk, and despite his insistence he would prefer to make the bed himself, the hotel sent someone up anyway. 

Sarah folded the comforter before hiding in the bathroom. 

Quinn noticed the housekeeper's eyes lingering in one corner of the room. When he glanced over, he saw Sarah’s panties from where he'd thrown them, ties scrawled over the carpet like calligraphy strokes. So much for being discreet.

After giving the woman a tip, he tucked them in Sarah's suitcase before letting her know the coast was clear. 

As they settled into bed, Quinn relished holding her close.

Before sleep could overtake her completely, Sarah needed to set something straight. 

“I hope you know that Captain thing is only for special occasions. There is no way I'm calling you Captain all the time.”

“That’s fine,” he said, laughing. “Makes it more special when you do.”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to like it so much,” she said. 

She’d called him Captain as a kind of joke, and half expected him to tell her not to do it again. Quinn didn’t even like pet names. She vividly remembered the way he grimaced the first (and last) time she called him baby.

He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “I don’t know that I would have either. I’ve never had that happen before. You said it, and it went straight to my dick. I think your lingerie had something to do with that.” 

She propped herself up on an elbow. “You liked the lingerie?” she teased, full well knowing the answer. 

He scoffed, “I'm going to dream about it for the rest of this damn road trip.” 

Giggling, she leaned down to kiss him. “Maybe I'll have it on when you get home,” she said against his mouth. 

He groaned, “don't joke about that.” 

“Why not? Wouldn't it give you something to look forward to?” 

“I always look forward to coming home to you.” 

She looked down at him for a long time, memorizing the love in his eyes. “I love you, Captain Hughes,” she said before lowering her mouth to his to tell him that way too. 

“Tease,” he chided when she pulled away. 

She smiled and settled back, laying her head on his chest. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair before they fell asleep. “I can't believe you're here.”

The next morning, Sarah put his jersey back on and put his morning hard on to good use - slower this time so he could remember it properly.

After room service breakfast and a very steamy shower, he walked her down to the lobby to catch her car to the airport. 

“I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you for coming.” 

“You're welcome. You should really be thanking Brady, though.”

He watched her pull away before heading back to his room to pack his bag. 

On the elevator ride, Quinn did just as Sarah suggested. 

Love you man. I owe you big time. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

One Nap at a Time

Week #2 Prompt: Afternoon Naps | Word Count: 1992 | Rating: T | POV: Gareth | Pairings: Gareth & Eddie, Gareth & Steve, Steddie | Characters: Gareth, Steve, Eddie | CW: Language | Tags: Gareth & Eddie are BFFs, Road Manager Steve, Corroded Coffin on the Road, It's Exhausting, So. Naps. Lots of Naps

Eddie's already sprawled out on the couch in their venue dressing room, when Gareth flops down next to him, bumping his fist against Eddie's knee. 

"Steve's been screaming that it's four hours until soundcheck," Gareth says, leaning his head back against the cushions. They're a little lumpy, but he's so fucking tired, it doesn't matter.

This tour has been a goddamn bear, and they aren't even halfway through it.

They're never gonna make it. Not at this rate. They're gonna implode, one by one, and he thinks he might go first.

"I heard him," Eddie says, leaning back next to Gareth, "believe it or not, his voice carries."

It's snarky, but there's no heat there, just endless affection. It's gross, and Gareth swears he will never, ever act this way when he has a girlfriend. He'll make damn sure of it.

"Anyway. This is your four-hour warning," Gareth says, closing his eyes. Maybe he can catch a short nap. Twenty minutes would make a world of fucking difference, he's pretty damn sure. Then laughs, "You're the one that hired him to yell at us."

"Mistakes were made," Eddie says.

"No they weren't," Gareth answers, closing his eyes.

"No, they weren't," Eddie confirms, and even with his eyes closed, Gareth can hear the smile on Eddie's face, as his eyes feel heavier and heavier.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" 

Gareth hears Steve's voice, and jerks awake. Sitting bolt upright, disoriented.

Steve's standing at the edge of the couch, hands on his hips.

"What?" Gareth asks, still foggy, "Huh?"

And Steve laughs, pointing, and only then does Gareth realize that Eddie's still asleep on the couch and that he must have been laying against him, or on top of him, one or the other.

And Gareth smirks. 

"Jealous?" Gareth asks.

Steve rolls his eyes, saying dryly, "Yes. Terribly."

"In that case then," Gareth laughs, and lays back down, squeezing between Eddie and the back of the couch. Eddie must feel the movement, because Eddie slings his arm over Gareth's side, pulling him closer. 

"Soooo comfy," Gareth hisses, taunting Steve, but not wanting to wake Eddie up if he can help it.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, "this is your hour warning. Got it?"

Gareth whines, but Steve taps him on the toe of his shoe.

"An hour? Seriously? You sure?" Gareth asks, because that can't be right.

Steve sighs, exasperated, "You don't think I can tell time now? Yes. Seriously. An hour."

They've been asleep for three fucking hours? Holy shit. He couldn't even begin to guess the last time he's gotten three hours of sleep straight. Weeks, for sure. Maybe longer.

Steve's still busy working himself into a lather, "Gareth, if I have to come back, so help me-"

"I got it," Gareth interrupts. 

"Good."

An hour isn't nearly enough time. Not at all. But it's better than nothing, Gareth supposes. So, he sets the alarm on Eddie's watch, Eddie sleeping through the whole process, just to make sure they don't oversleep and piss off Steve.

And an hour later, Eddie's slept through his wrist beeping, but Gareth hasn't, so he shakes Eddie awake, "Steve's beckoned us."

Eddie stretches, sitting up on the ugly couch that's more comfortable than it looks, rolling his shoulders. Eddie yawns, and that's about right. Nap or not, they've been spread too thin.

Then, Eddie says, "Damn. That was the best nap I've had in a while. I might actually be half-rested before a show. What are the fucking odds of that?"

And Gareth laughs, because he agrees, wholeheartedly.

The tour continues, and so do the naps. In green rooms, dressing rooms, hotel rooms. On the bus. Wherever they are, Gareth will find Eddie and squeeze in with him, and go to sleep. Or Eddie'll find him. It's almost like their early days on the road, when they had to share a motel bed. It's comfortable, and normal, being this close, so much so, that it's put them both right to sleep when they've needed it most.

And Gareth thinks nothing of it. Steve comes to get them, or Goodie, or Jeff, and when it's time to roll, they'll get moving. 

One more show scratched off the schedule, one more nap taken somewhere along the never ending road.

And then the tour ends. Months on the road over, as they chipped away at the schedule, one show at a time. Now, headed home in time for Christmas.

Gareth isn't sure what the fuck he'll do with himself. It's been a long fucking time since his time has been all his own. Is he just supposed to go home to his mom, and do what? Nothing? Maybe he can just crash with Eddie and Steve?

Though, he's sure they're ready for some fucking privacy for a change. 

Maybe Goodie and Jeff will entertain him. Let him into their secret best friend circle, for once.

He doesn't know, but he'll have time to figure it out. Right now, they're tidying the bus up as they head home, trying to get it ready to send it back to the company they leased it from, when Steve turns up. Book in his hands. It's not his tour bible, though, and the schedule is over anyway. No need to keep meticulous notes anymore, so Gareth's a little confused.

"What's up?" he asks, stuffing clothes into duffels and suitcases. His shit grew over the months, accumulating over time, and now he doesn't have room to pack it all up again. He'll have to resort to a trash bag he's pretty damn sure.

"Got something for you. For you and Eddie," Steve says, and Gareth knows he's up to no good. Steve's face is schooled neutral, but he can read him like a goddamn book after all this time in each other's back pockets. And he's up to something. For sure.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Steve hands over the book, and Gareth flips it open. 

And he laughs, yelling, "Eddie!"

Eddie pops through the curtain, "What's up?"

And Gareth shows him, and relishes the sound of Eddie cackling, head tossed back, fucking amused. Charmed. In love with Steve, and everything he does. Including this.

A book of Polaroids. Dozens. Maybe, hundreds. 

Every single one a picture of Gareth and Eddie asleep together, in various positions, on various couches, all across the country. Sometimes one of the other guys is posing in front of them, making faces, but mostly, it's just them. 

The story of this tour, one nap at a time.

Gareth shoves the book into Eddie's hands, and catches Steve by the neck, squeezing him tight. 

And Steve laughs, hugging back.

"Thanks, Steve. That's a fun souvenir from this hellacious tour."

Steve just shrugs, "I didn't realize how many we'd get when we started this little project."

And Gareth hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder, looking down as Eddie keeps flipping through the pages. Gareth was here first, he has best friend privileges, and first dibs, but he knows Steve loaned Eddie back to him these past few months. There's no question about that. One nap at a time, giving them time together, even if it was just to sleep in what appears to be uncomfortable positions, one random couch at a time.

"Maybe someday they'll be worth money. Some good blackmail," Steve says.

"No way, we're proud of these," Eddie says, "it proves we can sleep anywhere."

And it kind of does. It also probably proves they're immune to head lice. Some of those couches were pretty gross, looking back at the photographic evidence.

Eddie points at one where Gareth's feet are in his face, "Look? I didn't die from the smell alone."

Gareth bites his shoulder, and Eddie laughs even harder.

There are no secrets between them, no privacy. He's taken showers with Eddie, shared beds and bathrooms. Underwear and toothbrushes. Looked at, and has shown, all manner of questionable bumps and rashes. Held hair and hands, cleaned up puke, and one time they never, ever speak of - actual shit.

A few naps are nothing on the friendship intimacy scale.

Eddie looks at the bunk, the one that Gareth's sort of cleaned out, and asks, "One more for the road?"

Gareth laughs, but agrees, crawling into the cramped space, nearly on top of Eddie.

"It was a good tour, kid," Eddie says, hand splayed against Gareth's back, keeping him from falling out of the bunk and onto the floor of the bus.

"Yeah," Gareth agrees, "and the next one will be even better."

At home, back in Hawkins, Gareth wanders around. A little lost. He's tired, but wired, all at the same time. It's weird to go, go, go and then just stop. Cold turkey. That's never worked for him for anything else, so he's not sure why it would work for stopping touring, either.

They should have tapered down, weaned themselves off.

He rides his old bike, because his El Camino battery is deader than shit, after sitting so long. He hopes Goodie and Jeff will come over later and give him a jump, to get it up and running. If not, Steve will.

He doesn't realize where he's headed, until he's already there. Harrington House. He drops his bike in the yard like he's a kid again, and heads for the front door. Letting himself in. Steve is at the bar, doing paperwork.

Always doing paperwork.

"Hey," Steve says, looking at him for a moment, and then back down at the papers spread out beneath him.

"Isn't the tour over, what work do you have left now? You're supposed to be on vacation, relaxing in your new digs," Gareth says, leaning against the counter. 

"Just, running the final numbers."

"We end up in the black?" Gareth asks, leaning over to look. But he doesn't understand Steve's chicken-scratch shorthand, and gives up.

"Looks like it," Steve says, and Gareth grins. They got to play music, night after night, week after week, month after month, and even made some money doing it. Hot damn.

"Where's Eddie at, anyway?" Gareth asks.

"Trying to take a nap," Eddie mutters from the couch in the living room. Gareth hadn't even realized he was there. 

"Sorry," Gareth calls back, he can take a hint and go. He squeezes Steve on the shoulder, getting ready to leave, when Eddie speaks again.

"Don't be sorry, kid," Eddie says, then asks, "you in?"

Hell yes, he's in. 

"Steve, get the camera, I'm goin' in," Gareth says.

"I'll get right on that," Steve says dryly, but Gareth can see that he's smiling. 

Gareth toes off his shoes by the door, and then hurries into the living room, following Eddie's voice, telling him to hurry the fuck up. 

When he gets there, Eddie makes room, scooting over so Gareth can settle in alongside him. And Gareth stretches out, resting his arm over Eddie's waist. 

This couch is much more comfortable than any of the others have been. Steve has good taste, expensive taste, and picked something damn comfortable for a nice, long nap.

"Steve's couch is nice," Gareth says, face muffled in Eddie's shoulder.

"Everything about Steve is nice, haven't you learned that by now, kid?" Eddie mumbles, and Gareth smiles. He might have taken a while to warm up to Steve Harrington, but now, even Gareth has to admit that he's perfect for Eddie. He makes Eddie happy, and that's all Gareth could ask for, honestly. That Eddie's happy. And loved.

It doesn't hurt that Steve's shaped up their tour schedule, either. It was long, and exhausting, but they made it through. Left to their own devices, he's not sure that would have been true.

"What'd you do today?" Eddie asks, stifling a yawn. 

And Gareth closes his eyes, telling Eddie about his day, until he feels when Eddie goes slack beside him, back to sleep again. Gareth trails off, stops talking, and lets himself fall asleep, too.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader // Phone Sex

A.N: Very smutty. Anonymous requested phone sex, there it is.

Plot: As Callum starts the shooting of a new feature film, he feels very horny. His girlfriend too. Phones might be the key to their problem.

Callum had just finished packing his suitcase when Posy, his pug, entered the room. As usual, the dog smelled that he would be leaving for long enough for her to miss him. She lay her pink nose on his thigh as he had kneeled on the floor to pet her. Y/N was witnessing the scene while folding the clothes that had not fit in the suitcase. She too was starting to feel the weight of the departure on her shoulders. 

Y/N and Callum had been dating for four years and were engaged for three months but it still was harsh to see him leave, even after all those sets and award shows he would attend by himself, sometimes on another hemisphere. Once Posy had had her share of hugs and pats on the head, Callum turned to his girlfriend. He reached out for her, grasped her hips to bring her closer to his chest and lifted her chin as she was looking at the floor with a tear by the corner of her eye. He placed a kiss on her lips as gently as a dove landing while whispering in her ear: “You’re the love of my life. I’ll be home soon, darling!”

Though the distance between the two of them for the upcoming weeks was shorter than usual as Callum was going to Belfast and Y/N was staying in London for her own job, the couple felt terrible about it. Y/N accompanied Callum to Heathrow and watched him check-in. He waved goodbye at her behind the high wall of glass and was soon nowhere to be found.

***

“I’ve arrived sweetheart and I already miss u xx”, Callum texted as he landed at Belfast airport.

Y/N read that text over and over again, as she was preparing some Earl grey. She muffled herself in some blankets that still smelled like her lover and played some TV show on Netflix. She had no idea what the plot or the title to that show were as she was focusing mostly on her dog and phone. 

Y/N had always needed some time to accommodate to Callum being away. She knew that in a few days, she would be able to socialise with her friends again and going for drinks with her colleagues after work but as for tonight, she felt no energy and fell asleep rather quickly after.

When she woke up the next day, she emerged with some notifications on her phone. Along with spams on her mailbox, she had received two texts from Callum:

// 07.23 am - Callum // Hi darling, hope you’re ok. I feel like shit, missing u like crazy

// 07.31 am - Callum // Forgot to tell u just how much I adore u

His first text was an understatement. In fact, Callum had not slept much the night before as he had kept on thinking of Y/N for most of the night. He missed her habit of making up (terrible) jokes in all situations, her Earl grey which was like a drug to him, and also the intimacy the two were sharing. 

Usually, Callum was dealing well with the lack of sex his job could come with. Usually, he was fine with onanism and some sexting with his girlfriend. But ever since the two of them had gotten engaged, and for a reason he ignored, the sex had become amazing. It was incredible before the engagement but now it was out of this world. And they had not been separated ever since the engagement party. 

Needless to say, Callum was getting very much horny just thinking about her girlfriend being naked or touching his chest. By 2 pm, he took a break to go get a lunch and enjoyed that time to text Y/N. 

// 02.08 pm - Callum // I miss you and your body

When Y/N read that, she was relieved that she was not the only thinking that as she had this thought and this thought only on her mind. She caught herself daydreaming of making love to Callum during a meeting in the morning and she could not help but to imagine what it would be like to have him. The two of them had had sex before going to the airport, so only a few hours prior but it was difficult not to imagine something else.

// 02.54 pm - Y/N // I wish I could be yours too

// 04.11 pm - Callum // How about I call you tonight to get it settled?

Callum had never imagined suggesting something as crude as that. They had never thought of having phone sex but desperate situations call for drastic remedies, he thought.

// 04.48 pm - Y/N // I dare you!

Y/N could not quite believe what she had just read as Callum was not the resourceful when it came to sex. His education had made him rather shy to talk about the subject, even more so to initiate it. But Y/N was willing to give it a try.

// 05.02 pm - Callum // Is 10 tonight fine by you?

// 05.07 pm - Y/N // Yes! Can’t wait!

Y/N was feeling a sexual tension growing as she was imagining the call and she was glad she could clock out from her dayshift and go back home to make herself comfortable. As soon as she arrived, she rushed to her closet to pick fancy underwear. She knew exactly which ones were driving Callum absolutely crazy and gazed in the mirror at the beauty she had in front of her. Red truly was her colour, she thought. 

After running some errands and making her some food, she felt as though she could start the session on her own and started moving her hands below her trousers but then she received a call from Callum.

// 09.56 pm - Call entering: Callum //

“Hi darling, I’ve waited so long for this…”

“Hey Cal, getting horny much?”

“You have no idea. It was tough concentrating on my script with you on my mind”

Y/N lay in their bed, her eyes facing the ceiling and one hand on her chest, actively searching for her breasts. By doing that, she got the camera rolling and asked for FaceTime to get started. 

“Ooh, I see you put on that naughty bodysuit I got you, huh? You know it drives me insane to see you wearing it”

“Take a wild guess as to why I put it on then”

“Good, I see you’re as excited as I am”

“You have no idea what went through my mind all afternoon. All the indecent stuff I was thinking of that got me blushing”

“Hmmm”, Callum slightly moaned through the phone.

“What would you do to me if you were in London right now?”, Y/N asked as candidly as possible while she ran her other hand on her thigh.

“I would bite your lips with my teeth and then I would lick your tits, making them as red as your gown”

“Would you allow me to touch your chest back?”

“Oh darling, I would allow you to do everything”

“Touch your chest then”, Y/N ordered.

“We’ve got the right to order stuff now? If so, play with your tits. Show me how red they’re getting”

Y/N obliged as Callum slid his hands under his shirt.

“Take your shirt off. I want to see it too”

“Commanding, much?”

“I thought I had the right to ask you anything”

“Hmm, sure. Anything for you”

“Touch your thighs with your other hand so we’re equal”

“You’ve been touching yourself, haven’t you, huh? Couldn’t wait for me”

“Didn’t make myself come though. I can’t wait for you to do that to me”, Y/N replied.

“That bodysuit is fine but you know what I’d love to see even more?”

“Let me guess”, Y/N said while taking off one strap of the discussed piece of clothing. 

“That’s right, take it off so I can admire your gorgeous body. God! You’re fucking hot like that too”

“Get higher with your hands. Show me how hard you got, pretty boy!”

Callum took off his trousers and a bulge could be seen from his underwear.

“I would do anything to play with it right now. But for now, you’ll have to do it for me. Stroke it slowly”

“I like that bossy tone of yours. Do you want me to remove my boxers for you?”

“Huh-huh. Let me see what my cunt is missing”

Callum took off his underwear, unveiling a boner that he had had for a good amount of his day. He gently began touching the length, imitating the back and forth movement of penetrating Y/N. 

Y/N could feel her loins getting wet by the second she noticed his movements and mostly when Callum got to moaning unintelligibly words that sounded like pleas. She reached for her labias and grazed the surface, with Callum’s cock as sole thing on her mind.

Callum sensed some pre-cum on his fingers as he was getting close to the edge. He asked between two moans “I want to see you getting wet for me. I want to imagine myself fucking you”

Y/N approached the phone to her thighs and showed him how her fingers were taking care of the pond between her legs.

“God, Y/N! You’re so fucking hot! I wish I could come inside you”

Y/N moaned at the suggestion. She too was wishing for that. To have her pussy circling his cock so tight that she would feel every drop dripping out of it.

“Keep playing with yourself. I’m gonna fucking come”, Callum warned as the veins of his cock were showing on screen. 

Callum stroked harder and harder, feeling a near release as he grabbed a pillow near him to press something. 

“Y/N, fuck!”, he moaned as his cock emptied on a towel. He gasped for air as he came back from his ejaculation.

Seeing that, Y/N wanted her share to and asked Callum to talk to her.

“When I come home, I’m gonna lick every part of you and fuck you so hard that I’ll make you moan the way you just made me come. Think of your fingers as though they were mine. Play with yourself, baby. I love that sight”, Callum could not stop talking as he felt his cock wanting a second round by just looking at Y/N touching herself.

Y/N put her fingers as instructed by Callum, playing with her pussy with a rapid pace. Though she could not comprehend most of what was happening, she sensed her breathing growing heavy. A few moans escaped her mouth before she ultimately cried out “You’re gonna make me come, Cal”

“Good. Carry on, I want to hear you moan louder”

“I’m…”, Y/N hardly found a way to express herself as she hit a spot Callum knew by heart would make her flail.

“You’re so hot when you come for me”, Callum snickered as Y/N was done with exhaling after having come. 

“I’m still waiting for the live version of that. But I guess we could do it every day before you’re coming back”

“I wouldn’t mind”, Callum commented.

[topgun-imagines]

Forget Me Not (i)

Requested: no

Summary: After a bad training accident, you wake up in the hospital 4 days later. Everything seems fine, until you don’t recognize the man by your side.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: There will be more parts.

Warnings: hospitals, memory loss, amnesia, plane crash, injuries, broken bones, angst, cursing, possibly incorrect medical terminology.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x wife!reader

Next part

“Who are you?” The pilot's head snaps up at the sound of your voice. He had been sitting at your bedside for the past four days, waiting for you to wake up. There had been a terrible accident during training, one that sent you crashing into the ground. You couldn’t eject. No matter how hard you pulled on the handles, there was nothing you could do to save yourself. Hours later, the search and rescue team found you buried under debris and unconscious. You had been rushed to the hospital on base and immediately treated. You had numerous broken bones, a punctured lung, and a brain bleed. The doctors weren't even sure you were going to make it.

You were in surgery for hours. The Dagger Squad spent the whole time in the waiting room, all anxious about whether you would be okay. Rooster and Phoenix refused to go home, insisting that they would stay by Jake’s side until you woke up. It had nearly been a week, and the longest either of them had left was for a quick shower or to pick up food.

Now, as you were waking up in a room merely 20 feet away, Bradley and Natasha were resting on each other as they slept.

Jake stared at you with wide eyes. He had been waiting to hear your voice for days, and now that you were talking to him, he couldn’t believe it. Your wide eyes watched him carefully as he shot up out of his seat. There was a wide smile on his face, one that quickly disappeared when he realized what you said.

He spoke your name softly as he slowly lowered himself back into the chair. “Do you recognize me?” Horror spread through him as you shook your head. “Excuse me.” Jake murmured before he shot off his chair and darted out of the room. You stared after him, confusion written across your face.

Laboured breaths fell quickly from his lips as Jake leaned against the wall and tossed his head back. Rooster and Phoenix shot out of their chairs at the sight of Jake. “What’s going on?” The blond pilot could hardly hear Rooster’s words through the ringing in his ears. “Jake? Is she awake?” Jake heaved a large sigh.

Humming quietly, Jake peeled his eyes open and did his best to not let any tears fall. Phoenix’s next question had him choking out a humourless laugh. “‘Then what’s the problem?’” He pushed himself off the wall. “You wanna know what the fucking problem is Phoenix? The problem is that when she woke up, she had no goddamn idea who I was.” Everyone fell silent at Jake’s words.

You were always the life of the party. You were always the one to lift everyone’s spirits with your presence alone. Wherever Jake was feeling down, you never failed to cheer him up. You were the single best thing in his life. He never could have asked for anyone better. But now, you couldn’t even remember your husband’s name.

“I’m so sorry,” Phoenix spoke quietly setting a hand on Jake’s forearm to try and comfort him. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling right now. The two of you had only been married for a few months, and now you had no idea that you were ever married in the first place. The tears that he had been trying so hard to hold in were now rolling down his cheeks, dampening the black fabric of his T-shirt. She and Rooster wound their arms around the shaking pilot. “God, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

Just then a nurse stepped out of the room beside them. “Mr. Seresin?” Jake sniffled and pulled back. “If you would please come with me.” She headed back into the room, Jake trailing behind him. Your husband exhaled shakily at the expression on your face. He could tell that you were confused and scared. It ripped him to shreds knowing that he couldn’t comfort you right now.

“Mrs?” The elderly woman started, moving to stand next to you. You sat up, glancing between her and the strange man at the door. “Do you remember your name?” You nodded, giving her your name. The sound of your voice made Jake sigh. He had missed hearing your voice and knowing that you could at least remember your name was a relief. “And can you tell me what year it is?” That was when Jake’s heart sank for the second time in the past ten minutes. You thought that it was three years ago. That explained why you had no idea who he was.

The older woman smiled at Jake gently, seeing the pain in his eyes. “I'll leave you two alone. The doctor should be with you shortly.” Then she stepped out of the room, silence filling it seconds later.

“So…” You started, trying to fill the awkward silence. “Who are you?” Your voice was quieter now, less scared than it was before. Sighing, the pilot took a seat beside you in the hard plastic seat beside your bed. He gave you his name and watched your face carefully to see if you recognized it. You could tell that he was expecting you to know it, but when you didn’t, all you could do was give him a sad smile. “How do we know each other?”

Instantly, Jake began to think over your entire relationship, ever since when you met to now. The two of you met at the beach. The second Jake saw you, he couldn’t help but drop some corny pick-up line to try and get you to look his way. You had giggled at his cheesy line and a few hours later agreed to go out with him. From there the two of you had grown inseparable.

“We met at the beach,” He started, a barely-there fond smile on his face. “I made some corny joke and then we, uh,” Pausing, Jake debated on whether or not to tell you that the two of you had been together for nearly three years. “And then we became friends. We’ve been nearly inseparable ever since.”

You smiled at the thought. “Can you tell me more?” You liked hearing him talk. For some reason, listening to Jake’s soft voice as he spoke about how the two of you met had you melting against the scratchy hospital sheets.

Jake nodded. “Of course, Darlin’,” The pet name sent butterflies fluttering around your stomach. Why, you weren’t quite sure. “You were on leave and I had just been stationed in Miami for six months,” You smiled, trying to picture what he was describing. “After that, you went to Lemoore and I went up to Virginia. We still kept talking though,” There was a faint smile on his face as he thought about the last few years with you. “A few months ago we both came to North Island. And now we're here.” The pilot wrapped up his short summary just before your doctor walked into the room.

The older man smiled gently at the two of you, glasses perched on his nose as he glanced down at your file. “Mrs.,” He started, pausing when Jake shook his head subtly. “Miss,” The doctor started again. “It appears that due to the crash, you have sustained mild brain damage. This would explain your memory loss,” You nodded, listening intently to the doctor's words. “In time, you should hopefully regain most, if not all of your memories. However, we cannot be sure how long this will take. It could take anywhere from a few months to a few years,” Swallowing, you nodded. “We’d like to keep you in the hospital for the next few days to monitor your progress.” You nodded once more, yawning slightly as your doctor finished talking.

He stepped out of the room, allowing you and Jake to continue your conversation. “Would you mind if I slept?” Your words were quiet as you yawned once more. There was a soft smile on Jake’s face as he nodded.

Standing from the uncomfortable plastic chair, Jake stepped toward the door. “I’ll be in the hall if you need me.” And then he was gone. You weren’t sure why his words made you feel calm and protected or why the look he gave you before he left had your stomach fluttering. Your eyes slowly closed and the last thing on your mind before you let sleep pull you under was Jake. Even though you couldn’t remember Jake, you could have sworn that the two of you had a bond stronger than what friends had.

Jake knew that it was unlikely that you would call out for him. However, he couldn’t help but hope that even though you couldn’t remember him, you would feel like you could trust him.

When Jake stepped out of the room he was greeted by the sight of your doctor. The door closed softly behind him. “Mr. Seresin,” The older man started, a sombre look on his face. “I’m afraid I have some more unfortunate news.”

a/n: Thank you all for reading! Stay tuned for more parts of this series and let me know if you would like to be tagged! Requests are open <3

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @there-goes-thefighter @t0kyoreveng3rs @supercatgirl006 @blueoorchid @dempy @dreamgirl3300 @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @natt-67 @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @kmc1989 @ahoplessromanticwritesworld @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice. @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @djs8891 @blackwidownat2814 @dakotakazansky

Join my taglist!

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Four - Sunflower

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous Chapter

The only thing you feel when you wake up is wet. 

You had fallen asleep on Abby's shoulder so, she checks that your head is okay before she gets up from the floor. “What the fuck, Ellie!”

Both of your clothes are soaking wet, making them cling to your bodies. 

Ellie shrugs, “You two were out like a light. The only way I could wake you guys up was with water.”

“You could have shaken us awake. Not waterboard us!”

“Right, well, I need you two out of here before my parents get home. I don’t want people here when they yell at me for having a party…again.” 

Abby outstretches her hand and you gladly take it. She helps you get off the now soaking-wet floor. 

The two of you walk down the stairs, careful not to trip on puddles of beer, and make your way outside. The contrast between the dark house and the bright sunlight makes you squint your eyes. 

“How are you getting home?” Abby asks as she grabs her keys. They jingle as she grabs them from the carabiner clipped to her jeans. 

“My bike.” You point at the space where you parked your bike last night. Abby looks at you confused. When you look over, your heart drops. Your bike is nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck!” 

You turn and bang on Ellie’s door. Seconds later, Ellie opens it with a hand on her hip.

“What?” You can tell that she’s on edge. Whatever her parents will do to her is clouding her mind so nothing else matters to her right now.

“Have you seen my bike?” You point to the space where your bike was. 

“That was your bike? Some guy drove off with it last night. I thought it was his so I didn’t say anything. Sorry about that.”

“Do you remember what the guy looked like?” “TBH, I was fucking zooted so I don’t remember that part.” You thank Ellie for her time and collapse on her lawn. The shoes you are wearing were okay for biking but terrible for walking. The twenty-minute bike ride from Ellie’s house to yours just tripled. It would take you an hour to walk home. You really hoped that the asshole who took your bike ate shit in front of everyone at school. 

“Do you need a ride home?” Abby asks.

"No,” you lie. You would like a ride home but don’t want to be a burden. 

Abby can see right through your lie. “You are not walking home in those shoes,” she says. 

She’s right. No matter how much you’ve walked in platforms, walking an hour in them would be terrible for your feet. The only person you knew who could do that was Carrie Bradshaw and she wasn’t real.

“Get in the car.” Abby opens the door for you and closes it once you’re tucked inside. The leather seats are cracked, adding to the vintage charm. There are two CDs in the open glove compartment and a pack of gum. Once Abby’s inside the car, she reaches over you and closes it. 

“Sorry,” she says, “My car is a mess.” 

“It’s okay. You should see my room,” you joke. 

Your mother thought that your room was messy when in reality, it was only a little cluttered. Your entire desk is filled with little trinkets and memories from your past life. Clothes are thrown all over the floor from playing dress up one too many times and sometimes paper lays flatly on the floor if you’re too lazy to pick it up. 

“I didn’t know you collect CDs,” you add. 

“Yeah, I do. It’s cheaper than collecting vinyl,” Abby shrugs.

Abby turns the music up a little bit. Some new pop artist is playing and she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, enjoying the music. The car is silent except for the music playing on the radio. 

You can’t believe the two of you were caught like that on the floor. Laying your head on Abby’s shoulder was innocent enough but the fact that the two of you fell asleep like that got to you. You didn’t even drink anything last night so there was no reason why you slept in. Then you remembered why you didn’t drink anything last night. You spilled your drink all over Owen. 

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and began to chew on it out of fear. What would Abby think when she found out that you spilled a drink on her boyfriend's t-shirt? Would she hate you and never want to talk to you again? Or would she also call you a bitch and hate you forever? Maybe if you came clean she would admire the fact that you were a real friend who never hid secrets from her.

“I have to tell you something,” you huffed out a nervous breath.

“Yes?”

“I spilled a drink on Owen last night.”

“On his J.Crew shirt? That ass.” She shook her head. “It was his favorite shirt and I told him not to wear it to parties anymore because someone would spill something on it. That’s what he gets for not listening to me,” Abby laughed. 

You let out a breath that you didn’t even notice you were holding in and laughed along with her.

“So, we’re cool?” 

Abby nodded, “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

You shook your head and looked out the window, “No reason.” 

By the way that every house on the street looked the same, you knew that you were close to your own. You look over at Abby, confused. 

“How do you know where I live? I never told you my address.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Owen told me you lived by him in the house that just sold.” She bit her lip. 

Abby pulls up in your driveway and you almost curse out loud. Both of your parents' cars are in the driveway. Even though they’re never home, they've given you a curfew. You must be home before 12 in the morning and according to your phone, it is currently 10 am. You were so fucked. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as you slip out of her truck.

Abby smiles, “Anytime. And I’m sorry about your bike.”

Abby waits until you’re inside of your house to pull off. Instead of going to the left, she turns right towards Owen’s house. You feel the tugging in your heart when you see the two of them together. It shouldn’t bother you that they’re spending time together but it does. You can’t quite put your feelings into words but they aren’t nice.

"Where have you been and why are you wet?” your mother asks, her arms crossed. 

“Since when do you care?” you shoot back. 

“Some partners from the firm are coming over and we need you to be here,” your father rubs the bridge of his nose, annoyed at your rebellious tone. 

“Why? So we can play happy little family again. No thanks, I have plans.” 

You walk past them and into your room. You don’t have plans but you’d rather walk all the way to hell and back than play into their little act. 

You change into dry and clean clothes, grab your bag, and head out the door. You have no idea how to use public transportation but you’ll figure it out today. 

Your parents don’t argue as you walk out of the door. Some weird part of you wants them to call for you but you know them. You know that they don’t want to waste more of their breath on you.

You don’t care where you’re going. You just need to get away. You take the first bus you see and ride it till the end of the line. It drops you off at a public park. Children scream with glee as they play on the playground, people walk their dogs along the sidewalk, and couples enjoy the cool breeze as they sit and enjoy each other's company. And then it hits you, that weird feeling inside of you that you get when you want something you can’t have. It makes you sit down and watch as the small waves flow through the small duck pond.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Monday comes around, and you’re in the library with Abby. It’s the first day of tutoring and both of you are nervous. You want to be a good teacher and Abby wants to soak up all the knowledge she can. 

“So, what do you struggle with the most?” You ask, getting ready to take notes. 

“Memorization mostly,” Abby says truthfully, “But I’d like to work on everything.”

You get out a fresh set of flashcards and slide them over to Abby. “Why don’t we start with making some flashcards? You can write down the word and then the definition on the back.”

You observe Abby. She’s hunched over the note cards and writing things down with the speed of a cheetah. Usually, the curtains of the library are closed, causing it to be lit by the sickly white lights above, but today the curtains are drawn, exposing the beautiful sunlight. 

Abby’s skin drinks up the sun. The freckles littered on her skin make unique patterns that not even a skilled painter could recreate. 

You speak before your mouth has a chance to stop you. “Do you know what you remind me of?”

She looks up at you through her lashes, “What?” “A sunflower.” The way that she flourishes in the sun can only be compared to a sunflower. So delicate yet strong. The perfect contrast between the two.

Abby laughs which would cause the librarian to scold her but not today. Today, the librarian is nowhere to be seen. Odd.

The library doors open and the mood shifts. A chill runs down your spine. The librarian is awoken from her nap by the lack of sunlight. The clouds cover the sun and Abby is no longer illuminated by its rays. 

Heavy footsteps can be heard making their way towards your table. 

“Babe, I thought you said you were coming to my place after school?” Owen places his hand on Abby’s back and snakes it up to her shoulder. He looks you in the eye as he does this, making you more uncomfortable than you’ve been in your entire life.

Abby sits up straight and brushes the hair out of her face. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“What’s going on? You never forget to come over.”

“I’m tutoring her. Mr. Miller thought that it would be a good idea considering I have the best grade in that class,” you cut in on their conversation. 

Owen eyes you suspiciously as if there aren’t flashcards and textbooks on the table. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” he whispers, loudly enough for you to hear. He pats Abby’s shoulder twice before exiting the library. 

Once he’s out of sight, you can feel the sun come back out and the librarian knocks out. The sun's rays reflect off Abby's skin and back into the atmosphere. 

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!

[evansbby]

Okay since we’re sharing our DILF experiences let me join the girlie circle. Please don’t judge me on the first sentence of my experience because it’s not as bad as it first sounds 😭

I

I … I slept with my ex boyfriend’s dad … THIS WAS FOUR YEARS AFTER MY AND I BROKE UP AND HIS DAD AND MOTHER DIVORCED WHEN HE WAS A CHILD AND HIS DAD AND I WERE BOTH SINGLE AT THE TIME PLEASE I’M NOT A TERRIBLE PERSON 😭 Plus I was 24 at the time and he was 49, this was in February

When I first met the DILF back when I was with my ex I had thought he was handsome in an innocent little ‘oh so that’s where my (then) boyfriend gets his looks from ☺️’

I broke up with my ex a couple months during the first covid lockdown and four years later I was at a bar and the DILF was there too and we remembered each other and shit he’s really handsome and we ended up sitting sides pressed against each other his face so close to mine it was a mutual leaning into kiss each other, I couldn’t stop myself 😩 I know it was so wrong like that’s my ex boyfriend’s dad but in that moment I was doing it for the plot okayyyy like hey he’s a handsome single man and I was a single woman so yeah I continued to make out with him

Then I let him take me to his place and I went 48 hours without wearing any clothes literally he took me to his place Friday night and I spent the entire weekend up until Sunday night in his bed / sofa / kitchen counter and only put my bra and dress back on the Sunday night I headed back home (he ripped up my panties so I never saw them again, really hot but kinda sad because they were really pretty panties 🥺). Best 48 hours of my life omfg I don’t regret it 😩 I know it’s sounds awful like my ex’s dad but we were both single and he had me seeing stars and CRYING from how motherfucking goooood he did me, I yeah …..

I have never ever everrrrr told anyone this because I know how terrible it sounds, I haven’t even shared it with my best friend, this is the secret I’m taking to my grave (we all have that one thing we’ll never tell another soul) but it feels nice to share it in some form as a kinda get it off my chest thing

Okay girlies this is fun sharing our spicy personal stories hehe it’s like we’re at a sleepover 🩷

girl why are you feeling guilty?! it was four years after your ex and you broke up, this is completely fine LOOOL

but also not you living your ultimate y/n lifee OMFG I am so jealous fr😭😭

Not you arriving on Friday night and not leaving till Sunday night 😱😭 NOT PUTTING YOUR CLOTHES ON TILL SUNDAY NIGHT AJHHHHDJDJSJSJSDJ girl this man made you see stars omfg YASSSS

And I totally get doing things for the plot and this is like the juiciest plot everrrrrr omfg I love this for you!!!

[anton-luvr]

Could u do a fic where the reader and Anton are best friends and have a sleepover. By the time they go to sleep it starts to storm and she’s scared of thunder so she asks Anton to sleep with her in bed instead of him sleeping on the couch. So like Anton holding reader and kind of cuddling to calm her down. Reader realizing she likes Anton more than just as a best friend so she kisses and him and he gets all shy but likes it because he likes her too and just kekdowodos really fluffy and cute 🥹💕 Thank you in advance I love your work!!☺️🫶🏻

# MY FAVORITE LOSER.

𖦹 bf!anton x fem!reader | fluff | best friends to lovers au 𖦹 note ; mwah tysm anon i love you,, also this is ADORABLE... thank u for requesting i hope u like it!! + reqs are closed !

Fun fact: you were terrible at Mario Kart.

Nintendo music accompanied by Anton's laughter echoes across your apartment as he wins the game again, grinning proudly.

"I told you, Princess Peach always wins." he boasts, waving the controller happily.

You scoff, folding his arms. "Hey, Yoshi can win too! Just you wait, I'll win you in the next round." you reason.

But just like the past five games, you don't.

"Just admit I'm better, hm?" Anton suggests, smiling.

You roll your eyes jokingly at how proud your best friend is, gently shoving him.

"Okay, let's not play anymore." you say, exiting the game and setting the controller aside. "How's life?"

Anton's eyes light up at the question, and he quickly sets the controller aside too.

He loved talking to you.

Whether it was a deep conversation about personal struggles or a stupid discussion about the validity of soap (don't ask), Anton knew you would always listen.

Your conversation goes on to the late hours of midnight, with Anton telling you about his upcoming vacation to Korea and you telling him about the random fight you witnessed at your lecture the other day.

By the time he's done talking about the cute cafe he passed by yesterday, it was already past two in the morning.

"And they have really cute cups too! We should go there someday." he says, stifling a yawn.

You nod, eyes drooping shut. "I think we should sleep." you mumble, stretching with a groan. "I only slept for four hours yesterday."

Anton gasps at this, dramatically shaking you by the shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? You should go to sleep, right now." he scolds.

Chuckling, you get up from the sofa with both of your hands up in the air. "Okay, fine! I'll go to sleep now."

Anton hums at this, pushing you towards your room. "We can talk more tomorrow," he says. "You look like a zombie right now."

He runs away too fast for you to hit him for the insult, giggling as he retreats to the living room. "Goodnight!" he calls out, waving cheekily at you.

"Goodnight!" you call back as you close your bedroom door.

Flopping onto your bed, you let out a happy sigh.

It was nights like these with Anton that made life feel worth living. You're still smiling contentedly to yourself as you get comfortable under the covers, drifting off to dreamland.

Until the roaring sound of thunder snaps you right out of it.

Each flash of light shining through your room made you flinch, the angry raindrops pelting against your windows making panic rise in your chest.

Scrambling out of bed, you run into the living room, almost tripping over your own feet in the process.

"Anton." you whisper nervously, tugging at his hand. "Anton, wake up."

The sleepy boy wakes up in a jolt, frowning in confusion. "H-Huh?" he mumbles, sitting up slowly. "What's wrong?"

"Can you sleep with me? I'm scared." you rambled, gasping in short and nervous breaths.

Even though Anton was half-awake, he immediately agrees.

He stumbles his way into your room and gets under your covers, making sure to pull it over you too.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, voice groggy.

His heart breaks when you shake your head no, eyes filling up with tears.

"Don't cry, it's okay." he says, hugging you. "Just... think of it as the sky farting. That's what I used to tell my brother."

Even though you were almost scared out of your wits, you couldn't help but let out a little snort of laughter.

"Wow, that helps a lot." you deadpan, snuggling closer into his arms.

"I know right?" he giggles, rubbing your back gently.

But it actually does.

The fury of Mother Nature didn't seem so scary anymore at Anton's joke and in the security of his warm embrace.

You realize a lot of things aren't that scary anymore whenever you're with Anton.

Despite the both of you being rather shy and reserved people, he somehow always brought out the best in you.

Just his presence alone gave you confidence and security, knowing that there was always someone there who loved and supported you unconditionally.

From him cheering you on for your nerve-wracking first day of college to him helping you tell the waitress she got your order wrong at the local diner, he had always been there for you.

And even with him being half-awake, he still looked gorgeous.

His eyes sparkled with a love for the world brighter than the stars, the soft smile he flashed you warming your heart up in a way no one else could.

"Thank you." you whisper, looking up at the curly haired boy. Without another word, you kiss him on the cheek.

Anton feels like the world stops when you do so.

All the blood in his body rushes up to his head, the tips of his ears turning as red as apples while he blinks rapidly.

"W-What was that for?" he stutters, avoiding your eye contact.

"For this," you say. "For everything, actually. I think I like you." you admit.

Anton thinks he just might pass out.

Millions of thoughts run through his mind, but he says what he's been wanting to say for a long time.

"Well, what if I told you I liked you too?" he mumbles, finally meeting your eyes.

"You're joking." you mutter, even though you were praying that he wasn't.

"No, I'm not." Anton starts, turning so he could face you better.

"There's no one else I like to spend time with as much as I do with you." he confesses, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ears.

"You're the only one that makes me feel this way, no matter what you do. Even if it's just you losing in Mario Kart for two hours straight."

You open your mouth to argue, but Anton puts a quick end to it when he kisses you, this time on your lips.

"You're my favorite loser." he whispers. "Can you be my loser forever?"

Nodding, you can't help but smile at how corny your best friend - no, your boyfriend - could be.

"I'll be yours forever."

© anton-luvr, 2023.

[sir-gio22]

TRAIN WITH ME ~Ben Shelton

Part 1

Ben shelton x reader

Prompt: you are a tennis player and your father trains you, too much. One day you faint and after you and ben happen to see each other.

Warnings: abuse, overtraining, fainting, mentions of hospitals

You're supposed to be the N1

You're supposed to be a rising star

You're supposed to be in the top 10

You're supposed to train bett

You're supposed to have a perfect technique

You're supposed to win every match, every point

You're supposed to serve better, to never double fault

You are a failure

A failur

A failu

A fail

A fai

A fa

A f

A

These are your thought, slowly fading away as you faint, on the cold floor of the hotel gym. After training for five hours in a row with your dad.

Those thoughts. They were the words your father say to you, every god damn day of your life.

Five hours ago, he dragged you away from the food you were eating, you didn't deserve it, he said. You only need to train, train, and train.

He made you run for three hours, only taking two little breaks, that was more than enough, your father said.

It's 6pm, he went to book a court for two hours for you to train after ‘dinner’, which he won't let you eat.

I will introduce yourself, if you let me. You are the child of a ex-pro player, your father was, twenty years ago, a slam champion and the n1 in the world.

When you were born, he didn't wanted a child. He wanted a prodigy. A pro student and player.

Your family, being rich, always made teacher come to your house to teach you, homeschooling you for years. The only time you would socialize where when your father would take you to elegant events about tennis or introduce you to other rich people. They usually were all adults, and the kids you would befriend in those nights were all spoiled and already acting like adults. They had the latests phones and clothes, they had perfect grades and everything they wanted, you, on the other side, had the things you needed to live when you deserved them. If you didn't train your father won't feed you or make you sleep in the cold and old basement.

At four years old, you were already winning kid tournaments, at 10 you won the national under 10 tournament, at 12 the under 12 one, at 14 the under 14 one, and at 15 your father made you play qualifying in the us open, you played small tournaments before in other countries, some 250 or 500 and a challenger 1000, but never a slam.

That week you won three rounds, but you got another qualifier prodigy at the fourth, which you lost to.

And your father let's say…he wasn't happy. The opposite. He was in the stands when you lost, your opponent celebrating, you shook hands and saw your fathers glare. You knew what was coming. And it was terrible.

That night you got beaten by him. And hard. You still have those scars, and you slept in the basement.

But what does you mom do to your father treating you like shit? Nothing.

She can't do anything. She's dead. A disease, the doctors says.

The truth?

Your father poisoned her slowly, it made her develop a disease. And the doctors? Corrupted by him.

Let's get back to the current time.

When your father left you sat on the floor of the empty gym, your father paid the hotel to have it exclusively for you when you wanted (when he did, just to specify, you had no word on this).

Your heart beating fast, too fast. It feels like it'll explode any second. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurry, your whole body not just sore, but exhausted by the excessive training.

You fainted.

Two hours later, getting shoken by someone made you regain consciousness. It was you father calling you to train.

In the two hours he left you were supposed to get back to your hotel room and study, and he's already mad because you're still in the gym.

“Were you sleeping, huh? Don't lie! I told you you had to study! What were you doing?! Resting? You don't need that!” He slapped you. Your left cheek reddening.

He made you get up and pushed you outside, then to the tennis courts.

You had to train with the strength you didn't had, the only this you looked towards every day was sleep.

You entered the court, there were hard courts divided by two benches and a umpire seat.

You didn't think that any other player would be playing in those courts, since usually your father books a secluded one where there's just you two training, because he has the habit to yell at you when you make mistakes.

But you see a young player in the second court, you recognize him, *Ben Shelton*, you never actually look at others players or chat with them, but sometimes Ben came to you to chat since you started playing professionally.

You wave at him, hoping he won't notice the eyebags under your eyes and the state you're in. More on the other side than on earth.

Ben was training with his father and coach, Bryan, having a parent as a coach isn't a pleasant thing, for you. But Ben seems to love being coached by Bryan. Well, can't blame him, Bryan's a sweet man, not an abuser.

You place your bag on the bench near the one where put his. You father was still at the gate, chatting with another coach, while Ben and Bryan came to you.

“hey! Long time no see, huh? Been some months since we talked, I wonder why you never get seen anywhere other than tennis courts. Anyway, how's it going?” Ben says

“Hey, nice to see you again ben! I'm alright, a bit tired, my old man's killing me. But don't tell him I'm complaining” you joke, still by telling a truth.

“Mine isn't taking back either, I feel like dying every practice ahah”

“That's not true, ben, I train you the right amount. Not too much, like their father does. Are you sure you're not training too much, bud?” Bryan chimes in.

You're eyes widen the much they can because you're so tired to actually make a shocked expression, what do you reply to that? You could tell the truth, ben was the closest thing you had to a friend after all, or you could lie, and if they believed you you'll probably faint again and go to the hospital.

You stay silent for a moment, their eyes locked on your face, concerned and worried about you.

What will happen? Find out in part 2!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this at school so it might not be that good, but let me know what you think! Should I continue this?? I already have the part two in mind but no spoilers🤭

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • Part 5

warnings: none!!! just sad

read previous chapter here

Y/N struggles with not knowing where Rosie is.

Every day had been the same since Rosie had gone MIA. You'd wake up, head feeling like it was in a vice and get to the school on autopilot. The sky had been appropriately gray, and thick with fog most mornings, the twin of your current state of mind. You'd stay at the school late, grading papers and try your best to construct meaningful lesson plans so the children could still thrive and learn despite your sadness. They'd sometimes ask, their sweet, little faces full of sympathy as they'd question your upset. “Miss?” A little voice would say, “Are you alright?” You'd force a smile on your face and look back at them reassuringly. 

“Yes, my dear,” your voice catching in your throat. “I'll be fine.”

---

A week. And then two. Three, then four, all rolling into a ball of nothingness, blurring together. Most days, you're greeted by Sally who is always available to walk you home despite the treacherous weather and everyday she looks at you with her big sad eyes, shaking her head mournfully, wordlessly reminding you that there's no new information. Most days, you walk home in silence, her arm in yours, keeping you upright physically as well as metaphorically.

It's on the fourth week, on a Friday, that you hear a sharp rap on your door. Being in bed already - the only way you can seem to feel close to Rosie - you simply yell “come in!” to whoever is visiting at this late hour. You hear the door open quietly, and hear the familiar tip-tap of Sally in her kitten heels. You hear her kicking them off and placing them by the door, hurrying up the stairs in her now stockinged feet, padding all the way up the plush carpet. 

“Hi, darling,” she greets quietly, her face full of sympathy. “I thought I'd try coax you out to the pub.”

“No thanks,” you mumble, staring up at the ceiling. “I'm fine here.”

“Oh, doll,” she begins, walking towards the bed. “How are you doing?” Still not tearing your eyes from the ceiling, you nod quickly, trying to reassure your friend. But she knows you better than that, and after all these years, she can read you like a book. Before you can properly respond, she sees two tears leak from each eye and splash into your ears and on the pillow. 

Trying to comfort you the way she used to when you were kids, she goes to lay down next to you on the bed.

“No!” you start. “N-no, Sal. Don't lay there,” you softly weep. “That's where Rosie slept the night before–” You wipe your face with the back of your hand, trying to stop the tears flowing. “It still smells like him. Don't lay on it, Sal.” You pause, looking at your friend, her own eyes full of tears. She sniffs, trying to blink them back. 

“Then squidge up,” she says after a moment. “I'll lay on your pillow with you.” You wriggle slightly to the right to make room for her in the center of the bed, you just hanging off the edge slightly. She takes your hand and strokes it, just like she did right after Granny passed away. You whimper at her action, the sob that was thick in your throat finally being released. 

“Where is he, Sally? Where's my boy?”

“Y/N…darling…I don't know. I ask James everyday for an update. He's promised that he'll be round here like a shot if he ever finds anything out.” You nod, swallowing as you sniff back more tears.

“He's a good egg, Sal. I like him. I like how happy he makes you.”

“Me, too,” she sighs wistfully. “When all this is all over, I'm thinking of moving there to be with him.” 

“Sally, that's wonderful. I'll miss you terribly–”

“But let's not talk of that now. We need to take care of you.” She crawls off the bed and pulls you with her. “Come on,” she commands, rushing to your wardrobe. “You need to stop rotting. Let's go to the pub. Apparently, Rita is engaged to two of the Americans and neither knows about the other. Isn't that something?” You hear yourself gasp and then giggle, the first laugh you've made in weeks. 

“Well, now you've tempted me. Now I have to come.” 

—

The excited yapping you hear as you walk into the pub ceases at the sight of you, your friends looking back at you in surprise, before they stand up and rush to hug you, one by one. Murmurs of “oh, Y/N, we're so happy to see you,” and “how are you doing?” follow their embraces, and you find your eyes leaking at their affection and sympathy. Hugging them back, you sigh, not quite used to this level of affection.

 “Alright, ladies,” you struggle to gasp out, but smiling nonetheless. “I need to know everything about Rita. Spill.” 

They sit down, excited to finally be able to tell you the tales they've heard over the past few weeks. For a moment, your head is clear, listening to your friends chatter on, their voices octaves higher as they giggle their way through the spiel. You don't even notice that Sally has rushed over to the bar to greet James, until he places a pint in front of you with a sympathetic smile. He winks at you as you smile back, knowing you're thanking him with no words needed. You take a long sip, letting the alcohol run through your body and somehow, giving it warmth as you finally are able to enjoy something.

“So, she ended up saying yes to both men because she didn't want to upset either of them, and somehow, Y/N, neither knows about the other. But, get this! They're co-pilots!”

“What?!” you screech, ale almost flying through your nose in shock. “They must know! There's absolutely no way–”

“We thought that, too!” Sally replies, wide eyed and a little frazzled. “But Rita maintains that they have no clue.”

“Nope, not buying it,” you giggle, hand covering your mouth. “They must talk about her to one another! They're either ignoring it or somehow, it's not clicking that they're both with the same girl!” 

For just a small moment, your overwhelming sadness is forgotten, the pit in your stomach somehow smaller than it had been in the past weeks. But, then, all of a sudden, your mind goes back to the night you spent with him; how he'd touched you, the way he'd wrapped himself around you to fall asleep for those few hours. The way he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. It's those thoughts that send you into a tailspin, lips pressed together to keep the tears at bay. Draining your glass, you gesture over to the barman for another and try to keep breathing steadily. 

—

“Hey! Wait, seriously? You're not lyin’ to me?” You hear a familiar Tennessee drawl behind you, and an excited one at that. “Croz, she's right there!” They both pause for a moment. “Can I tell her, sir?”

“Sure thing,” Croz replies. You turn around at the two familiar voices. James smiling brightly at you, Harry nervously shuffling from one foot to the other, clutching his hat in his slightly shaking hands. 

“Y/N, c'mere, doll!” James beckons you over with his booming voice. You stand and walk towards the two men, forcing a polite smile on your face. 

“Hi, James. Oh, Harry, wonderful to see you. Can I get you a drink?” 

“No, ma'am,” he replies, now not able to hold back his apparent joy. “Pearson here has something to tell you. I've been rushing all over base looking for this fella to tell him what he's about to tell you.” You look at James with an expectant expression, feeling your eyes widen. He can't seem to get the words out, nor keep a straight face. 

“Out with it, Jimmy, before I lose my mind!” You scold, playfully pushing him. 

“Rosie got word to base!” 

“What?!” you shout, your arms going across your chest in shock. “W-where is he?” Tears fill your eyes and they escape before you're aware of what's happening. 

“He got shot down in Berlin,” Croz begins, his downturned eyes having an underlying sadness to them as he looks at you. “But, he managed to keep the plane flying until everyone had bailed out. He's in Russia.” 

“Russia? He's safe, right?”

“Yes, ma'am. He says they're taking really good care of him.” Harry laughs a little, wondering whether to divulge further information. You see that, and nod at him to carry on. “He says the vodka is impeccable.” Laughing, you feel familiar arms around your waist, Sally's head on your shoulder, half laughing, half crying as she hears the news. 

Word spreads to the rest of the pub, the airmen cheering and hugging at the news. James hands you a whiskey, then thrusting one in Croz's hand. You clink glasses with him, and with James before turning back to Harry.

“Thank you,” you begin, voice shaking slightly. “Thank you for coming to tell me, for even thinking of me.”

“No problem,” he replies nervously. “To Rosie?”

“To Rosie.”

---

thank you once again to my besties @sagesolsticewrites and @ginabaker1666 for reading this multiple times before posting (as usual!!!) <3

chapter 6

masterlist

[witchofimber]

I have had four pints and I'm going to indulge in my "who fucked/wanted to fuck Sirius" headcanons ok:

James and Sirius were like the male equivalent of that deeply toxic semi-lesbian friendship you had at school. As teenagers they were like psychosexually obsessed with each other in a way that never translated into actual hooking up but as soon as they graduated their feelings instantly morphed into "of course not, he's like a brother to me!" with almost no memory of what came before. Occasionally while extremely plastered one of them will reference a fantasy they had about the other while young and then they won't make eye contact for 48 hours. Then the friendship-necessary amnesia will set in again.

I don't think Lily was ever actively interested in Sirius but, like - look, when I was a lass there was this one boy in class who me and my friends used to track our periods by. 24 out of 30 days we would find him disgusting but there were the 6 days where we'd be like "You know, his combination of terrible personality flaws and unearned confidence is actually incredibly sexy" and that's when we knew we were due soon. That's what Sirius is to Lily.

Remus went from 'look, everyone finds their friends a little bit hot' to 'ok, I do find Sirius slightly hotter than James, but that's only because Sirius flirts more' to 'I am deliberately and consciously thinking of people other than Sirius when I jerk off because this CANNOT become a thing' to 'just because I'm sleeping with him doesn't mean I feel anything' to 'NO. NO. I REFUSE TO BE IN LOVE WITH SIRIUS. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.' (James charted the stages on a calendar)

Mary and Sirius cheerfully slept together half a dozen times. When questioned about it they were just like "Yeah?? We're bros!! What about it!!"

Dorcas and Sirius slept together a few times in the name of Hot and Mean Solidarity, but then there was a pregnancy scare. Sirius broke down crying in the middle of Wizescos (Wizard Tescos) while Dorcas bought a test. They have silently agreed to never mention this episode again.

Marlene made out with Sirius once and then broke down crying and admitted she was a lesbian. Sirius claims this proves that he is the absolute peak of masculinity; once conquered, never bettered. James claims that this proves he is the nadir of men and enough to put women off for life. Everyone else claims they are idiots about this.

Sirius once slept with Pandora, guiltily confessed this to Xeno, slept with Xeno to make up for it and then discovered they were poly the next morning. He spent a solid week in discussions with them about forming a polycule before Remus reminded him he didn't actually want to do that.

I refuse to believe that Peter has ever fucked or wanted to fuck. I will not entertain the notion.

[glittering-moonlillie]

I Hate You, Be My Girlfriend: Part Four (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Warnings: A suggestive part or two

Word Count: 2789

Summary: Damian begins to realize you might not be as terrible as he once thought

You were moments away from being kissed by Damian Wayne, the man who was sworn to loathing every single inch of your being, all spurred on by the skepticism of his older brother, Tim. Once again, Damian managed to surprise you in ways that would take your breath away. You knew that this was obviously part of his master plan to charm his family into believing you two were together, but you never thought that he would willingly kiss you with as much vigor as he was displaying. 

He was so close that you could taste the hint of the honey chapstick he put on an hour ago.  

“Woah woah woah” Jason shouted. “I have no interest in seeing Damian making out with his little girlfriend right now. I’m trying to eat here.” He glanced at you. “No offense.”

Damian lightly pulled away from you glaring back at his two older brothers, his hand still holding your chin. “That’s hilarious coming from you, Todd. Jane Austen would be so disappointed in you right now.”

Before Jason could retort, Dick had already stepped in to diffuse the situation. “Hey, how about we don’t start fighting before me and Bab’s wedding? That would be awesome, thanks.”

“Well maybe if everyone stopped doubting my relationship there would be no fighting.” Damian grumbled. He adjusted himself so that he was facing forward again, his face flushed and hand returning back to his fork. The immediate loss of his warmth made you realize how cold it actually was. 

Dick let out an enervated sigh. “Calm down, D. You don’t have to prove to us that you’re in love with her. It’s abundantly clear that you two are obsessed with each other, I can tell just by the way you’re looking at her.”

You wondered what the eldest brother meant by that statement, because if anything, Damian seemed to look at you the way he always looked at you, in a way that conveyed the feeling of I only somewhat tolerate you. There was no possible way you could have been misconstruing that the whole time. Right? 

Thankfully, after this exchange there were no more sudden derailments. Once everyone finished with dinner, Barbara had decided that she wanted to play a few rounds of the board game Clue with the whole family. Naturally, you weren’t anywhere close to being the winner of any of those rounds, so you opted mostly to watch everyone else play (and try to sabotage everyone else per Damian’s instructions). Everybody seemed to be playing as if it were a high stakes 4-D chess tournament and what was presumed to be a friendly game turned into a cutthroat, all or nothing battle royal screaming match. 

While Tim and Barbara were vehemently shouting insults at each other, you were dying on the floor, gasping for breath and clutching onto Damian’s forearm as you tried to calm down your laughter. Never in your life had you experienced something like this, something that cried family even when it was so chaotic. You felt like you were at home, even if the people here weren’t yours to begin with. Looking up at Damian’s amused smile and realizing that you had never seen him so blissful before, you made a silent prayer that, no matter what, things would stay like this. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day you were awoken to a morning hazed Damian, who was at your bedside with a pillow that was previously on your bed. 

Oh. He hit you with that, didn’t he? 

You really shouldn’t be surprised at this point. 

Luckily Damian had said that you two would not have to sleep in the same bedroom. He didn’t want you disturbing him while he was asleep and frankly, the anxiety you would feel sleeping next to him would leave you up all night. Alfred had given you the room next to your boyfriends; it was easily the most comfortable bed you had slept ever on. 

“Did you really need to slap a pillow in my face?” You complained. “I thought you were supposed to love me.” 

Damian threw the pillow in your face again, his eyes rolling. “Please, I would never stoop so low as to do that. Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings for me already.”

“Nope, would never dream of it.” You lied. 

The answer seemed to satisfy him enough. You both went downstairs to have some coffee and greet Alfred and all the siblings again, each one seemingly bouncing with excitement for the trip ahead. You were excited as well, maybe even too excited if Damian’s passive glares were anything to judge by. 

“You’re acting as if you took a serious amount of cocaine, Y/n.” He whispered in your ear, playing it off as if he were kissing your neck. 

You shrugged off the statement with a gleaming smile. You were determined not to let anything kill your mood, even Damian’s snotty attitude. 

After a nice lunch and a few more hours afterward to let everyone finish packing, you were all set for a glorious week in France. The allusive Bruce Wayne had yet to appear, which, although unfortunate, was perfectly fine with you. You weren’t sure if you were ready for a meet-in-greet with his father anytime soon. What shocked you, however, was the fact that you were not heading towards an airport like you originally expected. In hindsight, you should have known that the Wayne’s owned a private jet. 

Normally it would take approximately eight hours to get from Gotham to France, but since this was a private jet, a couple of hours were shaved off from the approximation. Damian was squished together with you, which made sense since they assumed you were “obsessed with each other,” but that did not mean he would miss the opportunity to complain about it.

“Hey, remember our deal. You can’t just be super mean to me for no reason while we are on this trip.” You reminded him after his complaints were a little too much to bear. “Come on, I can’t be that bad to hang out with!”

You nudged his shoulder a little with your own but all he could muster was another grumble. This reaction was to be expected, it was normal for the two of you. He has always hated you and you knew that, so why is it now you feel more hurt about his bleak attitude more than ever? 

“Fine, fine, since you insist.” He waved his hand flippantly. “So I’m assuming you are enjoying yourself?”

The answer was an obvious yes, but you decided to beat around the bush a little. “What makes you say that?”

He furrowed his eyes at you. “You have this stupid smile glued on your face and you willingly had a conversation with my siblings when you first woke up.”

“Not all of us have time to sit around and be mopey all the time.” You laughed.  

Damian grunted, adjusting himself in the seat as if trying to slide more away from you. “It’s not…it’s not that. My point was that I have never seen you so happy before. It was just…weird.” 

When he glanced at you again, his hardened emerald eyes seemed to soften. It was confusing to see Damian’s complete shift in character; one second he was teasing you and the next he was being sincere. You tried to think of the best way to confront the situation, deciding that being honest with him would lead to the best outcome. 

“Well, to answer your question, I am having a wonderful time Damian. Thank you for inviting me…even if it means being your fake girlfriend.” Your hand hovered over his own for a brief moment before he eventually noticed and grasped it. 

“If you want to hold my hand,” He mumbled, “Just take it, don’t suspend it over mine and wait for permission or whatever you were trying to do.”

Too afraid to speak, you began to lightly draw random patterns into the skin of his warm, calloused hand. It was almost double the size of your own, and he held it firmly as if he were afraid to lose it. 

The two of you made small conversation, but for the most part, you two were lost in the unexpected intimacy you two shared. You told him about being able to speak a little bit of French and he replied with the three languages he could speak: Arabic, Mandarin and Japanese. After a while you felt your eyelids drooping, your mind becoming foggy with sleep. As you felt your eyes close, Damian shifted in his seat and pulled you in close so you could rest your head on his broad shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The jet landed on a platform near a hotel named Des Quinconces, which was easily the fanciest hotel you had ever landed your eyes on. The architecture of the hotel blended in with the other buildings in the surrounding area, blooming magnolias and green brush swirling around like a mystical spell. 

The weather was a bright, sunny warm, which heavily contrasted with Gotham’s constant gloom. Turning to Damian, you noticed how his eyes squinted at the dazzling light. 

“I’m not used to the sun being so visible.” He replied once he noticed your stare. The whole family was led to the front desk, where a nice woman with dusty blonde hair and a deep black modest dress asked Dick for the last name that the reservations were under. Her accent was thick and her English was moderately decent. 

While Damian went off to look for the bathroom, you wandered around looking at some of the decorations in the lobby, briefly wondering if the wedding was going to just be the family or if any friends of the couple were going to show up. If that’s the case, wouldn’t they be staying at the same hotel too? 

“Do you know if any of Barbara or Dick’s friends are going to the wedding? Are they staying at the same hotel as us?” You inquired to Tim, who seemed as exhausted as usual. 

Tim had looked at you, and then to the right before making eye contact once more. “Yeah, definitely. I think some of them should be getting here in a few hours, but I’m not really sure…”

Something seemed to be off about his response as if he were hiding something, but you shrugged it off, figuring that you were reading into things way too much. 

Once Dick had squared everything away with the front lady, a bellhop was already making the rounds and taking people’s luggage. You were handed your very own hotel card with the name of the building written on the front. 

“You and Damian will get your own room, I figured since you guys have been together for so long that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.” Dick explained. You didn’t fully pay attention to what he meant, too distracted by the interesting painting on the walls, until you were taken to the room 

The room was absolutely stunning, with a simple beige chic and a notable glass pane that gave you a view of Bordeaux in all its glory. There was only one tiny problem about the room though; there was one king sized bed. Dick had chuckled at you freezing outside the doorway, only patting your back and giving a quick “Make sure to use protection!” before leaving. 

That statement made your blush worsen as you entered the room, wondering how you’ll tell Damian. You didn’t get much time to think about it though before the said man came up the stairs and lugged himself into the room. It looks like Tim wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep on the jet. 

“What’s wrong?” He immediately asked. You could only manage to stare at him, letting the bed speak for itself. His expression remained neutral. 

“There’s only one bed!” You squeaked.

He hummed in agreement, ambling his way around the window to close the shades. “And?” 

“H-how…how are you so calm about this? Weren’t you the one complaining about the idea of sharing a bed literally one night ago?”

“It’s whatever. There’s nothing that can be done in this situation so I’d rather not make a big deal about it. If anything, you seem to be having more of a problem about this than I do.” The smirk he had on his face widened once he saw how flustered you were. 

“So you’re not going to throw a blanket and pillow at me and make me sleep in the tub?” Suddenly your hands seemed to be way more interesting than Damian’s piercing gaze. 

“No, that’s completely idiotic,” He sighed, “I don’t actually hate you enough to do that.”

It shocked you how adamant Damian was about the whole situation, but it was nice to think that Damian was finally warming up to you. Images of Damian spooning you under the fancy silk covers of the bed infested your mind. A few months ago it seemed like an out-of-reach fantasy, but now, not only was it coming true, but Damain was the one who is initiating the whole thing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian was completely exhausted. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t manage to sleep the night prior. A portrait of you was imprinted in his mind, keeping him awake until the odd hours of the morning. Nothing sounded more compelling than to crawl under the covers of the plush bed and sleep until the wedding was over, but every time he looked over to you, he was reminded of how bad of an idea that was. It was regrettable to say, but he was starting to think that his initial impression of you (that he kept for the past few years) was incorrect. Your positivity and constant smile was wearing off on him and it was getting harder and harder to not be happy around you. 

After unpacking the essentials, he followed you around the provincial city and listened to you ramble about how Bordeaux - Port of the Moon - got its name from the distinct crescent shape it had. It was also amusing to hear the way you stuttered over your French to local people and waiters. You dragged him to a few kitschy shops, one being a jewelry store that drew you in with the cute crystalized animals displayed inside the window. 

He was quick to notice the particular way your eyes sparkled when looking at a certain animal figure, even though you were careful not to let him see it. Everything sold at the shop was expensive, more than an average college student could afford, prompting you to leave quickly with an embarrassed flush painted on your face. Damian quickly took note of the animal figure and promised himself to get it for you before leaving France. It was the least he could do for dragging you into this mess.

Night came sooner than he expected, and Damian could tell that you were nervous about sleeping next to him. He too was as nervous as you, but he would rather fight the Joker than admit it. Damian slipped into one of his green checkered pajama pants and simple black long sleeve. He usually slept shirtless but he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already were. 

Damian’s insides twisted and churned as he saw you sit on the far end of the bed while he was sprawled out on his side. It was as if he felt guilty, but he really was not sure why. You were just you, someone he was absolutely certain he disliked only a few days ago - but with every smile and touch you give him, he felt himself fall deeper and deeper into a pit of emotion. An emotion that he wasn’t quite sure he could decipher. 

It was clear to him though that the previous way he was treating you was terrible, so the best thing he could do is make you feel cozy. With that in mind, Damian reached for your hand and softly pulled you down to the bed with him. “You don’t have to sit there alone and cold. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

You let out another squeak. “Are you sure? I..I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, Dami.” 

“I’m sure.” With a look of hesitance, you nuzzled under the blankets next to him. 

For the rest of the night, Damian waited and waited for himself to become restless with you curled up near his arms, but the time never came. A few minutes went by before you passed out, allowing him to gently pull your back against his chest. That night when Damian slept, it was the most tranquil sleep he ever had.

Oh wow, this part was a long one! I'm proud with how it turned out but I'm still mad at myself for taking this long to finish it. It's been a rough couple of days but writing makes me really happy! Thank you everyone for the support!

MYGOSHMYGOSHMYGOSH I ALMOST FORGOT THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE I NEED TO TAG!

So here you go: @greenkiki, @noah-uhhh-what, @littlemiss-nightshade ANNNNNNNNNND @itzstaticrainbow