#I smiled and said thank you only opening my mouth to eat

[waynes-multiverse]

I'm way too stoked to write a proper intro, so let's get right into it 😂

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Charlie said.

Not shady at all 🙄 He's such a mess

At least he came to the realization himself, even if his solution clearly isn't well thought through 😅 I can see his good intentions, though. Hope he realizes soon enough that he needs to accept some help 💔

But then to be gone for four months???? 👀 What the hell did he get into?!

So here you sat, in the living room of Dory’s apartment, crying into a jar of Nutella that you’d long ago stopped spreading over the strawberries she’d laid out.

Been there 🤣🤣 (But honestly, eating pure Nutella and just spooning it out of the jar is the fucking best, even though you feel like shit after 😂)

I love that she didn't want to call the cops to protect her brother. I'm glad she sees he's only lost and still wants to help him, no matter what (even when he apparently burns the house down 🙈). It also makes complete sense she doesn't want to lose him, considering everyone she's already lost 😢

She's always so strong and keeps it together because she's always had to do that, but I'm glad she could go for a moment with Russell ❤️

Your nerves had you pacing back and forth across the living room as it rang.

I'm legit freaking out with her. I'd be just an anxious, nervous mess too haha

“What, you wanna make out with him too?” she teased.  Your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

DEAD 💀🤣🤣🤣

But yeah, seriously, what the fuck was in those woods they grew up in? Magic water??? 🔥🫠

Dory sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes, looking up at both of her brothers. Colter wore a more reserved smile, but he did wrap an arm around his sister and thump his older brother on the back.

Ugh, I want a full family reunion so badly on the show 😭 Thank you for this 🤍

Your brows rose. “I don’t think so.” Colter’s mouth parted, and he blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to push back quite like that; calm and matter of fact.

Love her 🤍 Also, you captured Colter's personality so well! His reactions crack me up so much. He's either always super focused or gives sarcastic deadpan answers 🤣

“I haven’t seen Charlie since he quit last week,” Jimmy claimed. “He quit?” you said. “They told me he just never came back.” “Yeah, well, same thing,” he said.

No, it's not! God, what an idiot. Help 😂

And again, what the hell did Charlie get into??? Missing artifacts, and now she's getting kidnapped? I hope the guys find them before the bad guys hurt either reader or Charlie.

Also, Russell surely will bite himself in the ass for not just taking her to the bar with them after this 🙈

Gaaaaah, I can't wait to read the next part! I'm on the edge of my seat 😁👏🍿

Every Second Counts - Part 2

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: I decided to put this chapter out a bit early due to some Father's Day stuff tomorrow. I was blown away by the response from you guys on Part 1!! Thank you so much. 🥰 I had some trepidation writing a new character, but I'm so glad you guys seem to enjoy where this little series is going so far. It makes me even more excited to bring you the next chapter of ESC! 💜

Song Inspo: “Too Late” by The Paper Kites

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: Shaw family feels, a bit of mystery, tinge of fluff and mutual pining, and a twist…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: “Family Reunion”

The next day after he left, you finally managed to get Charlie on the phone. He implored you not to try and find him.

He claimed he was staying with a friend for now, and was picking up some odd jobs through a connection at the museum—another security guard who knew how to get extra work. 

“What kind of extra work?” you asked. You sunk back into the couch in your living room and held a hand to your aching head. You had already lost sleep over this, worrying about where he was and what the hell he was doing.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Charlie said.

He really knew how to frustrate you to the nth degree.

“Charlie, just come home. Please,” you said. Tears burned in your eyes, choking your words. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

You heard him sigh.

“You had a right to be mad,” he said. “I’m the big brother, remember? But I’m…I’m a fucking mess. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“We take care of each other, and you know that,” you said sharply, wiping at your eyes in frustration.

“Listen, I’ll come home when I can, okay? Be good.”

“Charlie! Ch—” The call ended, and you nearly tossed your phone in aggravation.

“That stubborn fucking idiot,” you muttered.

Four months later, your worry was eating you alive.

Charlie refused to come home or tell you where he was staying. The only time you got to see him was when you visited him on his night shift at the museum. You tried to talk him into coming home, but your brother remained stubborn.

“You get that from Dad,” you’d told him once, while watching him eat some leftover meatloaf you’d made for him. The two of you stood outside the museum on his break.

Charlie had smirked at you. “Yeah, well, you share the disease.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that.

But just when you thought you were starting to get through to him, now, he’d stopped answering your calls. For that matter, the museum hadn’t even seen or heard from him in a week or so.

So here you sat, in the living room of Dory’s apartment, crying into a jar of Nutella that you’d long ago stopped spreading over the strawberries she’d laid out. You had a chocolate-covered butterknife in one hand and a used Kleenex in the other.

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t want necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

You hadn’t had a chance to meet him when he dropped in a couple of months ago, but she’d told you about his brief visit to find a graduate student who had been kidnapped, and nearly killed by a professor in the Sciences department for uncovering a flaw in the man’s research. That flaw would have costed him his entire grant, and possibly his career and reputation. 

The terrible incident had caused an uproar on campus. Students were released from their classes for an entire day after the professor was arrested. 

Now, Dory considered your question with a thoughtful nod. “I’ll call him.”

You were grateful, but your face became pained as something occurred to you. You held up a hand.

“Wait, I just realized I can’t pay him,” you said. You didn’t have more than a thousand dollars in your savings account, and that was for emergencies. Like the time Charlie nearly burned the house down after a lighting mishap with his bong.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about that,” Dory said. She laid a comforting hand on your arm. “He’d do this as a favor to me.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, your brows furrowing. “That’s a pretty big favor.”

She’d told you what some of Colter’s fees could run up to, but she tried to quell your reservations and promised to call him regardless.

However, the more you thought about it, you already had a phone number in your cell…for the one person who would understand the part of your brother that you might never be able to. 

After you left Dory’s apartment, you debated the idea in your head for the entire drive home. 

And when you got to the house, you picked up your cell, and you called him. Your nerves had you pacing back and forth across the living room as it rang. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help smiling just at the sound of his voice, smooth and pleased, and a hint surprised.

“Hey,” you replied, biting your lip. “How are you?”

“I’m good. You’ve got good timing too. I just came off a job,” he said.

“Oh really? Where are you?”

“Well, I’m states-side now. Just got back from South America.”

“Oh, wow,” you said, blinking incredulously.

What the hell was he doing there? you had to wonder. Maybe he was protecting some Latin American emissary. Or maybe, he was doing things you didn’t want to think about. Your brother had filled you in a bit about civilian contract jobs in recent weeks, as he’d considered going after those himself.

“They can pay very well, from what I hear,” Charlie had said. “The problem with that is, it kind of defeats the purpose of leaving the military.”

Despite that mildly troubling thought, you tried to focus on the fact that you had this man on the phone at all.

A smile formed across your lips. “Did you get yourself a nice tan?”

“Eh, not really. Was more of a night job,” he said. “But uh…how are you doing? Not gonna lie, I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m not all that good, if I’m honest,” you said.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You heard the concern in his voice. You steeled yourself before you answered.

“Russell, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you for a big favor.”

“Hmm, this sounds serious,” he said.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. When you next took a breath, it came out unsteady. “My brother’s missing.”

It was a bright Saturday morning when you welcomed Russell Shaw into your house. He looked around, finding family pictures, bookshelves, paintings, candles, all things that began to shade in who you were in the comfort of your home.

“It’s nice,” he said. “It’s uh, homey.”

You smiled and closed the door behind him.

“Well, it’s the house we grew up in,” you replied.

You and Charlie had of course inherited it after your parents’ passing. Their life insurance policies had helped pay off the three-bedroom house while you two were still in school. Your grandparents helped a lot back then too, and had even moved in for a time. Now they each had plots beside your parents at Grandview Cemetery.

“You want some coffee? I know you had a long drive,” you asked.

“Sure,” Russell agreed. He followed you to the kitchen, where you put on the coffee pot. You made a discreet glance at him. He looked virtually the same, with that familiar green jacket, jeans, boots, and a Jimi Hendrix shirt. You'd had a feeling he was a classic rock guy.

“Look, not that I wasn’t glad to get your call,” Russell said, “but you do know that I’m not the tracker in the family, right?”

“Dory did offer to call Colter, but I can’t afford to pay him,” you said.

“I could help with that,” said Russell. You raised up a hand to stop him there.

“I don’t want that kind of help from you,” you said firmly. “I didn’t call you for money, Russell. I called you because you’ll probably understand where Charlie’s head’s at. Better than me, anyway.”

He hesitated, but nodded in understanding. When the coffeemaker dinged, finished percolating, you turned to make him a mug with cream and sugar, as per his request.

While he waited for the coffee to cool, he admired you for a moment. Even in a plain V-neck shirt and a pair of jeans, your hair swung up in a ponytail, you were still a sight. (Your lipstick did match your shirt though. That made him smile.)

And Russell could admit, it was good to see you again.

“Me and Colter reconnected recently. Did Dory tell you?” he said.

Your brows raised high in surprise. “Oh yeah?”

The two of you found your way back to the living room with your mugs.

“Yeah. We talked for the first time in…shit, over twenty years,” Russell laughed, raking a hand through his hair.

Not only had he been able to say his piece to Colter about their…family issues, they’d also solved a case of their own, with Colter agreeing to help him find his friend Doug, who worked for the same black ops contract agency as Russell. The Horizon Group.

The aftermath of that still left Russell with a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought of how Horizon would’ve left Doug to rot, if it hadn’t been for him and Colter pressing their luck and digging deeper into who’d taken his friend.

That whole mess had also made Russell begin to wonder if maybe he needed a new line of work after all. But, because the money was just that good, he’d ended up on a new job by the end of the month.

Your voice soon broke him from his thoughts.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you said. You reached over and touched his arm, with warmth in your eyes. 

Russell gave you a smile. The closeness between you brought up memories of that dusty bar, and the taste of lime and tequila on your soft, supple lips. But you subtly cleared your throat and took your hand back. He hid a twinge of disappointment.

“So what’s going on with your brother?” Russell asked.

Get back on track, he reminded himself.

You sighed. “Damn Charlie.”

Over coffee, you explained that Charlie took off a few months ago, the night you got back from the bar. You had seen him only briefly, whenever you were able to catch him at the museum after work. He’d been keeping in touch with you on a weekly basis, but now, he hadn’t called in almost two weeks. You couldn’t get ahold of him on any of the numbers you had. They all seemed to be burner phones. Plus, he’d been let go from his job at the museum after not showing up for the past week. 

“What’s he into, extracurricular-wise?” Russell asked.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me,” you said in frustration. Tears prickled at your eyes, and your lower lip trembled. “He said it was safer that way.”

Russell laid a supportive hand over yours, earning your watery gaze.

“And you haven’t gone to the police?” he asked.

“I think he’s gotten into something…dangerous. I don’t want to get him in more trouble than he might be already,” you said. “I just want him to get help for his problems. Physically and mentally.”

Russell nodded. He understood that you wanted to protect your brother. Sometimes though, getting into “trouble” was the rock bottom someone needed in order to face their problems.

“Does he have friends?” he asked. “Some kinda crowd he hangs around with?”

“Not anymore. I think he’s lost touch with his Air Force buddies,” you said, though you tried to think. Your brows furrowed as something occurred to you. “He knew someone at work, at the museum. Another security guard on his same shift. After they cut his hours down to part-time, Charlie said the guy knew how to get extra work.”

“Okay, that’s definitely where we start,” said Russell. “Let me just give Dory a call. If I don’t let her know I’m in town, I don’t even wanna know the consequences.”

You laughed through your tears and tried to brush them away. 

“Yeah, do that. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Russell took one look at you, and he tightened his hold on your hand.

“Hey,” he said.

You glanced up at him, as tears clung to your lashes. His heart couldn’t help but clench for you. He really didn’t like to see you like this.

“We’re gonna find him. You’ve got my word,” he said. 

You were desperate to believe him. So you nodded, sniffling as you tried and failed to keep yourself together. You were scared, for the first time in a long time. 

“All right, come ‘ere,” Russell said. When he guided you into his arms, you went willingly. You pressed your face into his chest to hide your weeping. His hold was warm and strong enough to make you feel secure. Just for this moment, you didn’t have to pretend you had everything handled.

“He’s the only family I have,” you reminded him. He nodded.

“I hear ya. We’ll get him home,” he said. “And I am going to call Colter. Don’t worry about the rest. I’ll square it up with him.”

“Russell—” you protested, but he just squeezed you playfully. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pull big brother rank. He’s got no choice,” he joked. 

You shook your head, but you allowed him to comfort you for a bit longer. Because all too soon, you’d have to steel yourself again. You’d have to be the version of yourself that you always had to be, ever since you were fourteen years old.

You invited Dory over to your house, where the three of you were soon joined by the last of the Shaw siblings: the one you had yet to meet.

Colter made it in time for dinner that afternoon. The tall blonde took up your doorway with his broad shoulders and offered you a polite smile, along with his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Colter,” he said. 

You mentally tripped up a bit as you shook his hand and gave him your name. Did all the Shaw siblings have to be so damn attractive?

“Uh, yes, please come in.” You ushered him into your home and led him into the living room, where Russell stood from the couch. 

“Ahh, there he is,” Russell grinned, slapping his younger brother on the shoulder. 

“Here you are,” Colter gestured at him. “Where the hell did you take off to after last time?”

“Ah, you know. Argentina was fun.”

“I’m sure it was.”

You paused in the doorway, just watching the brothers in mystification. Dory shot you a questioning look as she came over from the kitchen. You met her with raised brows. 

“What?” Dory asked. A smile played on her lips.

“Do all of you have to be so unbelievably pretty?” you whispered over to her. Dory smirked and bumped your shoulder, nodding at Colter. 

“What, you wanna make out with him too?” she teased. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. Dory just laughed and moved on to say hello to the other blonde. She pulled him down into a hug, and he reciprocated warmly.  

Russell then laid a hand on Colter’s shoulder, as well as Dory’s. He wore a big, proud grin.

“Hey. Look at us, huh?” he said. 

Dory sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes, looking up at both of her brothers. Colter wore a more reserved smile, but he did wrap an arm around his sister and thump his older brother on the back.

You smiled. You were lingering by the kitchen doorway. If nothing else, you were glad that this whole mess had been able to bring Dory back together with her family. 

You decided to give them a moment, and you wandered back into the kitchen. There you took a beat for yourself, mainly to breathe.  

When you again thought of Charlie, you had to wonder just what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Later, the four of you sat in the living room so you could explain everything you knew so far to Colter. He took all the information in with a pensive expression that didn’t reveal much to you. 

“So you said he was struggling?” he said. 

“Yes, after he got out of the military,” you confessed. “He had a hard time figuring himself out. I got him the job at the museum, but I don’t think it was enough for him.”

“Why is that?” Colter asked. He saw that you were reluctant to explain. “I need to know the full picture of who Charlie is if I’m going to be able to figure out his probable moves.”

You sighed. “Well, he was seeing a VA psychiatrist for a while. They wanted to put him on antidepressants, but he stopped going. He…started self-medicating instead.”

That part was hard to admit, but it was the truth. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t any longer. 

“What substances?” Colter asked. 

“Alcohol, mainly,” you replied. “At his worst, there were hard drugs, but I got him to tone it down just to weed every now and then.”

You bit at your thumbnail out of habit, but you forced yourself to stop, folding your hands in your lap. You didn’t see judgment in Colter’s eyes, just him taking in the information. You couldn’t help but glance at Dory, where you found her sympathy. She knew enough about what you’d been dealing with for the past few years. Russell seemed understanding as well. 

“Anything else I should know?” Colter asked. You shook your head. You felt bad about revealing Charlie’s business like this, but you knew it was the only way to help him. Still, you felt you had to defend him a little.

“Look, my brother has his problems, but he’s a good man,” you said. “He, um…he basically half raised me, after our parents died.”

Dory also knew this story. She rested a hand on your back, and you gave her what smile you could. 

“How old were you?” Russell asked. He earned your attention, and you met his sympathetic gaze.

“Fourteen,” you answered. “It was a car accident.”

He took that in, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry.”

The way he met your eyes when he said it, you believed him. You subtly cleared your throat and directed the conversation back.   

“So, I don’t have a lot of money. But I can give you something for your services,” you said to Colter. Both Russell and Dory met you with similar looks. 

“I’ve got it,” Dory says, before Russell had the chance. Colter waved her off though.

“In this case, it’s not necessary,” he said, focusing on you again. “So Charlie was working at the local museum?”

You breathed a note of relief at his generosity. Dory, Russell, and now Colter…they were all good people in their own way. You felt emotion rise in your throat.

“Yes, it’s about ten minutes away,” you managed to reply. “It’s closed now, but his coworker could be on shift. They always have security in place.”

You grabbed your purse to go with them when Colter and Russell stood, but the former raised a placating hand. 

“It’s best if you stayed here,” Colter said.

Your brows rose. “I don’t think so.”

Colter’s mouth parted, and he blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to push back quite like that; calm and matter of fact.

“Ah, well, it’s really for your safety—”

“I’m not going to sit and wait,” you said. “That’s all I’ve been doing for months. I may not be an expert tracker, or have been in the army, but I do know my brother. And we are going to find him.”

Behind you, Dory was giving Colter a warning shake of her head. She knew just how stubborn you could be. Meanwhile, Russell came up on your other side with a smile.

“What’s the harm in her coming along to the museum?” he said, sliding his brother a teasing look. “Unless the T. rex wakes up all the mummies, Ben Stiller style.”

You wanted to point out that that wasn’t exactly the plot of Night at the Museum, but you held it in with a smile. You gave Colter an expectant look.

He sighed at Russell’s antics, but he turned to you with a nod.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said. 

“I’ll head home then,” said Dory. “Call me if you need anything.” 

You gave her a hug after she gathered up her purse. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, rubbing your back. “Colter’s the best.” 

“All right, fine. And what am I? Chopped liver?” Russell remarked, gesturing wide with his hands. You all filtered out of your house, and you locked the door behind you.  

“Oh, you’re special, all right,” Dory quipped back, but she gave her eldest brother a warm hug as well, then patted Colter on the arm before she left.

Russell shot Colter a playful smirk. “I got the hug.”

Colter rolled his eyes and pointed over to his big pickup truck. 

“Just get in the car, please.”

You had to smile at all their sibling teasing. It reminded you of how you and Charlie used to cut up, when things were good. On your way down the driveway, you hesitated by the Chevy Chevelle parked next to your own car. She was still black and sleek and beautiful.

You happened to glance up, and there was Russell, getting into his brother’s pickup. He winked at you across the driveway. You turned your face to hide your smile (and your blush) as you climbed into your car.

Colter noted the exchange when he buckled up into the driver’s seat. He watched Russell do the same on the passenger side, all while wearing a certain smile on his face. When he noticed how Colter was looking at him, his brows raised.

“What?” said Russell.

“What was that?” Colter asked.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Colter chuckled. He began to pull the car out of the driveway after you in your car, so he could follow you. “What, do you two have a thing or something? Is that why she called you before me?”

Russell shrugged, but his smile was telling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm. Convincing,” Colter said, but his lips tugged upward as well. His good humor diminished though, when he considered the last time he saw his brother. “How’s the arm?”

Russell gave a thumbs up with his left arm—the one that previously had a bullet run through it. It was still healing, even now.

“It’s good,” he said.

“Did you see a doctor?”

“Sure did.”

Riiiight. Another thing Colter wasn’t sure was the truth, but he’d give Russell that one.

“And that unfinished business?” Colter asked.

Russell’s smile faded, but he nodded. “Finished.”

After a moment, Colter nodded as well. 

“Okay,” he said. 

Something occured to him then. He paused, and he reached into his pocket. He held up a small, closed pocketknife with a wooden handle, and he gave it back to Russell. It had the man's name carved on the side.

Russell's smile returned as he flipped the old keepsake through his fingers.

"Thanks for keeping it safe for me," he said.

Colter smiled back. "Thanks for trusting me with it."

Colter parked next to you at the museum. It was closed, but the security guard, Jimmy, did know your brother. 

“I haven’t seen Charlie since he quit last week,” Jimmy claimed.

“He quit?” you said. “They told me he just never came back.”

“Yeah, well, same thing,” he said.

The front doors of the museum opened, and out came Dr. Feinman, your former boss, and the Head Manager. You left Jimmy’s questioning up to Russell and Colter with a meaningful look, and you went to intercept Feinman.

“Hi, sir, how’re you doing?” you asked. Your name fell from his lips in surprise. 

“My dear, it’s good to see you, but why are you here after hours?” he asked, his British accent lilting.

“I’m trying to find Charlie. He’s been missing, well, officially for about a week,” you said. “I was actually surprised to see you here so late.”

The man cleared his throat. He smoothed a hand over his tie and suit jacket.

“Yes, well, we could’ve used Charlie’s help. We’ve had to double our security efforts,” he said. “We’re currently dealing with a sensitive issue, so the museum will be closed until it is resolved.”

“You’re doubling your security efforts… Was something stolen?” you asked. 

Feinman clearly didn’t want to tell you this, but you knew you’d hit the nail on the head by the look on his face.

“Please, keep that information to yourself,” he said. 

“What was stolen?” you asked in concern. 

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information. Not even for you, dear,” he said. “I do hope you find your brother though.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, and as a matter of fact,” you began, but Feinman waved an apologetic hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m in a terrible rush just now. But call my office tomorrow and Brenda will help you with whatever you may need,” he said. “Good evening.”

“Wait, Dr. Feinman,” you tried, but he was already breezing past you and heading toward his Mercedes in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Colter and Russell weren’t having much better luck with Jimmy. 

“Look, I really don’t know where Charlie is,” he said. “Haven’t seen or heard from him since he took off.”

“He said you connected him with someone who could give him some work on the sly,” Russell said, leveling a hand at the man’s chest. “Who did you connect him with, and what kind of work are we talking?”

Jimmy blew out a breath, like this was really inconveniencing his day. (Or night, at this point.)

“What, you’ve got somewhere to be?” Colter said. “You’re getting paid to stand right here, and we have no problem sharing your shift all night. You might as well just tell us what we want to know.”

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance.

“All right,” he snapped. “I hooked him up with this guy I knew through a mutual acquaintance, who just needed some muscle. I guess you could call it private security.”

“A mutual acquaintance?” Colter repeated. 

“What’re you, James Bond? Who did you connect him with?” Russell pressed.

Jimmy was reluctant to talk. You came back over to join them, and the security guard became even more tight-lipped.

“You guys should go. I don’t have to talk to you, and I’ve got a job to do,” he said.

When he tried to continue his patrol around the museum, you stepped deliberately in his way. You didn’t have the patience for this, and you would no longer be a doormat, letting the Goldsteins and the Feinmans of this world push past you.

“Look, Jimmy, if you don’t give us something we can go on to find my brother, you know where I’m going to go?” you asked. But you spoke before he could respond. “To the police. And your name is the only one I have to give them. Now, if you don’t want that to be you, then give me a different name.”

Jimmy looked down at you, and then over at your intimidating shadows, Russell and Colter. Jimmy sighed.

“Eddie,” he gave, finally.

Russell raised his hands, as if to say, Is that it?

“What, Eddie Vedder? Eddie who? Come on,” Russell said.

“Eddie Mendez,” Jimmy replied in a lowered voice. “I don’t know where he lives. I don’t have his number. And that 'mutual acquaintance' is doing some time in lockup. But Eddie hangs out at a bar called Howley’s.”

You and Russell shared a meaningful look at that. You turned back to Jimmy. 

“Okay. What was stolen here at the museum?” you said. “That’s why it’s been closed, right?” 

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “I wasn’t on shift, and Dr. Feinman keeps a tight lid on that kind of thing.”

“We’ll need to get into his office then,” Colter said. 

You blinked wider at Colter. Wait, was he really suggesting you guys break into the museum?

Jimmy pointed to the black device attached to the ceiling above them. 

“See the cameras?” he said. “That's not happening on my dime.”

Colter looked up, and he saw the cameras strategically installed across the front of the museum. 

“Then take us where the cameras don’t see,” he said.

You, Colter, and Russell were able to break into the museum via a storage unit door, thanks to Jimmy’s texted instructions. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but it was for Charlie, you reminded yourself.

You remembered where to find Feinman’s office. You paid for a lot of your undergrad expenses, namely your books and tuition, by working full-time as an office assistant here, and the occasional tour guide. 

You led them to the room where the inventory records were kept. Colter gave you his gloves so you didn’t leave prints, and you were able to pinpoint what was labelled as missing from the latest shipment. 

“Oh great,” you muttered. 

“What was taken?” Colter asked.

“A collection of Native American weapons. Dated almost eight hundred years old,” you said, shaking your head. “The collection is valued at $1.5 million dollars.”

Russell and Colter shared a look. 

“That’s some big motive,” Russell said. 

“When did they go missing?” Colter asked. 

“Almost two weeks ago,” you said. Your brows furrowed the more you read, as you realized something. “Just a few days before Charlie left the museum…” 

The timing wasn’t lost on anyone. But if Charlie was a suspect, Feinman hadn’t let on to that at all. You checked the exact date the artifacts went missing again: a Tuesday night. Charlie didn’t typically work on Mondays or Tuesdays, you realized. And he’d left after the artifacts went missing. So maybe they hadn’t thought to question him yet. One small blessing.  

You sighed. With that information gathered, the three of you put back everything you uncovered and left the building the same way you came in. Jimmy was nowhere in sight, probably patrolling the other end of the museum on purpose.

When you all made it back to the parking lot, you turned to Colter and Russell.

“Okay, what’s next?” you asked. “Howley’s right? To find Eddie.”

“Actually, I think it’s best Russell and I take it from here,” Colter said. “We don’t know what kind of character Eddie Mendez is, but from how reluctant Jimmy was to tell us, it doesn’t sound good.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Russell drew closer and touched your arm. You could see in his face that he agreed with his brother, even though he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Look, you’ve been a huge help,” he said. “But let us work on this, okay? We’ll call you when we find something.”

Still, your lips pursed. “Russell, he’s my brother.”

“I know. Punching out drunks is one thing, but this might be a little different,” he said, grasping your arms gently. “Will you give me some peace of mind, knowing you’re home safe?”

He brushed one of his thumbs along your skin. Already you had goosebumps. From the cold chill on the air, or from him, you weren’t sure. But that simple touch, along with his earnest, imploring gaze broke you down.

“All right. I get it. I’m not the Special Ops guy,” you said. “But call me afterward so I know how it went.”

“Okay, will do,” Russell agreed. He let you go so you could go to your car. You shot the brothers one last look before you climbed in and peeled out of the parking lot.

Russell expelled a sigh of relief. He got into the passenger side of his brother’s pickup while Colter started it up.

Thanks to the late hour, and how little traffic there was on the road, it didn’t take you long to get home.

You’d debated whether you should just go to Howley’s anyway, but you didn’t want to get in the way, or make Russell worry for that matter. You smiled, despite yourself.

His touch had tingled across your arms, and whenever he absently laid a hand on the small of your back, supportive or guiding.

Thinking about him just made your heart ache. Because after this was over, he’d be gone again—on a new mysterious job, perhaps on the other side of the world.

You’d been regretting how you left things with him at the bar for months, but now you were glad you hadn’t gone any further with him that night. Your heart was too easily ensnared, it seemed, and Russell didn’t seem to be a “strings attached” kind of guy.

When you parked in front of your house, you let out a tense breath. Russell and Colter would find Charlie. You believed in them. You just hoped your brother was all right, wherever he was.

You pulled your cell out of your purse to call Dory as you headed for the front door. You wanted to give her an update and let her know that you were back at home.

The call began to ring just as you slipped your key into the lock. Unfortunately, you never got a chance to open it.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around you from behind and yanked you back, and a firm hand over your mouth smothered your scream.

AN: 🫣 *Whispers* Sorryyy. But hey! What did you think of the reader's reunion with Russell, as well as the little Shaw Family Reunion? Plus, we got a bit of the reader working with Russell and Colter on the case.

Now, the real timer starts...

Next Time:

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement. 

“No…” 

That voice was all too familiar. 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 62

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 59, part 60, part 61

the first part takes place somewhere between parts part 37 and part 39, the second part takes place during part 40, and the last part takes place sometime between part 40 and part 41.

“No, no, no,” Steve complains as the radio just keeps talking. He had switched it to the game while he was making dinner, seeing if it was anything worth watching. “Come on.”

Considering how bad they were losing, it might give him more stress to watch it happen.

“Something goin’ on,” Wayne asks, rummaging around the fridge to find something to eat before going to work.

“Nothing serious. Just a bunch of idiots who can’t seem to actually score anything good.”

“Listening to the game?”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Might just turn it off, it’s pissing me off.”

“Oh, I know the feeling. I normally listen to the game on my way to work, find myself turning it off when I can’t take it anymore.”

He turns to stir the stir fry he was making in the pan. Lowering the heat so it doesn’t burn. “If there’s nothing good in the fridge, you can have some of this. I made too much for myself anyway.”

“Thanks.” Wayne grabs a bowl. “If it won’t piss you off too much, we could go and watch some of the game before I have to leave.”

Something in that makes Steve freeze for a moment. No one ever offers to watch the games with him. Nancy would sometimes, back when they were dating, but was never really into it. Back when he was friends with Tommy and Carol, they would sneak off halfway through. And just the mere mention of watching it now makes Robin gag, and Dustin roll his eyes.

The only person he can remember watching it with was once with his dad. He was seven and his dad called him into the living room, made him sit down. Asked somewhere between the fifth and sixth inning if Steve ever wanted to play. He knew, then, that if he did, it would make his dad proud. He said yes.

He never liked playing baseball as much as watching it, though. He switched to basketball and swimming in middle school, played that the rest of the way through high school. But that moment was one of the only nice memories he had of his dad.

“Yeah,” he says. Trying to play off whatever he was feeling. “That would be nice.”

Wayne walks away, waiting for Steve as he searches for the channel on the TV. Steve sits down on the other end of the couch. Watching the train wreck of a game, but that’s not what he was focusing on anymore.

It’s stupid, he knows. But somewhere, right now, that hole in his chest fills a little bit. For a moment he can pretend that he’s seven years old again, watching the game with his dad. It’s better this time, though. Now it’s with someone who cares.

“If you ever wanted to make this a little sweeter, a small bit of honey goes a long way,” Wayne offers during a commercial break.

“Really.”

Wayne nods. “Just a little bit, don’t need to go wasting it. But it just adds a little more flavor to it.”

Steve smiles. “I’ll have to try that next time.”

. . .

Steve’s out in the garage when he hears it. Someone in the house calling out his name. The closer he gets, the more distressed it sounds. He tries to remain calm as he finds who it is, but the panic is there.

And then he realizes that it’s Dustin, and everything starts to crumble.

“Dustin,” he says, trying to mask the panic in his voice.

Dustin’s just standing there in the hall, tears streaming down his face. He opens his mouth to try to say something, but all that comes out is a sob. His knees buckle and Steve rushes forward to catch him.

“What’s wrong,” the panic asks. “Are you hurt?”

“You—” is all Dustin says, the words broken off with another sob.

Steve holds him upright and brings him to the living room. Gets him to sit down, calm down. When he starts to breath less frantically, Steve leaves to go get some water from the kitchen. He finds Dustin’s backpack, the radio inside going off like crazy.

“Dustin,” Mike’s voice cracks through. “Dustin, do you copy?”

He finds the walkie. “It’s Steve, he’s at my place.”

“Oh thank God. He just ran off; we didn’t know where he went.”

“Is he ok,” Lucas speaks over Mike to ask.

“Doesn’t look like he’s injured, I’m pretty sure he had a panic attack, though. I’m making sure he’s ok.”

“Ok. Thanks, Steve.”

He returns to the living room, finally gets Dustin to tell him what happened. All of this started because Steve wasn’t at work. Because he called out. The panic on his face says something different, though. Something deeper.

“Dustin, talk to me,” he tries to coax. “What’s going on?”

“No one tell me anything,” Dustin practically yells. “I have to find out everything from someone else, or days, or weeks later. I never get told anything by the person themselves. I’m always the last to know.”

“Dustin—” Steve tries to explain.

Dustin doesn’t let him, though. “No. I’m tired of the excuses. I’m tired of you saying that it’s not my thing to worry about. Because I do. No matter how hard you think you shield me from it, I worry about it. Every day I wake up and wonder if your head is killing you. If when I see you later, you’re going to be how you were before, or a ghost of yourself. If I’m going to look at you push yourself for my betterment. When I know that you’re in pain.”

Stupidly, Steve thought he was hiding it well enough. There was that little bit Dustin saw last week, but that was a one-time thing. He didn’t need to know more; he didn’t need to worry about Steve.

“You’re like a brother to me, Steve. You’re family. I don’t know why you think you can just get away with hiding this from me, but you can’t. Because I love you and all I’m asking is to know what is going on with you. Is that such a big thing to ask?”

Brother, family. Hearing those from Dustin hits Steve harder than he thought they would. Because, deep down, he knew that. He knew that him and Dustin were close, and that they acted like brothers would. There was just that voice in his head that told him it was all fake. That Steve couldn’t really mean that much to Dustin, not when he had a family of his own.

Steve pulls Dustin into a hug, holding him closer than he needs to. But really, he does need to. “I’m sorry.” It doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s a start. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

. . .

Steve shoots out of his sleep, sitting upright. Breaths leaving his lungs faster than he can suck them in. Heart beating so fast, it could run right out of his chest.

A trembling hand reaches out to click the lamp on his bedside. Three things. The swim trophy he won in his senior year. The picture of the party on his desk. His overflowing laundry basket. All things that can’t be in that place. They are all too new.

He wasn’t there. He was home.

In for four, out for eight. Until his breathing slows, his heart calms. The jittering comes to a steady pace. He won’t be able to go back to sleep. But he’s at least not panicking.

Well, not as much as he was.

Because he needs to do something, he stands and grabs the laundry. Takes it to the laundry room and throws it in. Stops to go and change his clothes, before shoving them in the washer too. It isn’t enough.

He heads to the kitchen, pulls out a book and opens the dog-eared page. Begins a recipe that he probably knew by heart by now, but needs to read. Because the steps, the simplicity, the method, it was calming in a way he couldn’t voice.

Robin was the first person Steve ever baked with. She had come over one day back in the summer complaining that her mom was trying this new health trend, and refused to buy any chocolate chips. And well, since he had an empty house, and at that point a hefty food budget from his parents, he offered to get the stuff to make it.

At first, they used the recipe on the back of the bag. Spent most of the time laughing, and spilling half the ingredients on the floor. He didn’t care. It was the first time that the house felt alive again.

What he didn’t realize, then, was how calming baking could be. How following a recipe precisely could calm nerves. Place the fear into something productive, and give it away. Steve didn’t make much, sometimes he would stray from the simple recipe, but nothing brough comfort like homemade chocolate chip cookies. Nothing reminded him how much he wasn’t alone.  

“We have to stop meeting like this, Steve,” Eddie’s voice echoes through the kitchen. He walks over to the island, taking a seat. “What will the town say?”

Steve smiles. “I don’t care for what the town says about me anymore.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment, thinking that Steve doesn’t notice. He does. It was painfully obvious, but Steve didn’t care. It’s been so long that someone stared at him for who he is, instead of who they want him to be. The look made Steve feel alive, in a way, like he was still capable of something.

And really, if Steve wanted to push, it could mean that the ignited heat that traveled with each stare might lead to something. Because, if his peripheral wasn’t fooling him, Eddie looked at him with such adoration it made Steve simultaneously melt and feel like a phony. How someone as amazing as Eddie looked at him like that, he didn’t know. But he felt like he didn’t deserve it.

“What are you making,” Eddie asks as Steve cracks the second egg into the bowl.

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

Eddie hums. “Didn’t take you as much of a baker. Especially a midnight baker. There’s a backstory to that one, I’m sure. Let me see.”

He does this thing, sometimes, where he just goes off on a tangent of one thought melding together with the next. Creative thoughts stringing together in one story, much larger than it needs to be. Steve likes listening to it, though. It’s kinda cute.

“So either,” Eddie continues, “you are so ashamed of your secret love for baking that you only allow yourself to partake in such activities in the dead of night. Or. You are secretly a night owl, which is why you are so perky in the morning. You’ve already been up for hours, and are not tired.”

He laughs. “I’m not that perky in the mornings.”

“If you smile at me before eight am, that therefore makes you perky.”

“Maybe I just like smiling at you. Ever think of that?” He looks at Eddie when he says that. Sees the teasing smile turn into shock. Unexpected shock, but not unpleasant.

Steve’s reckless with his feelings sometimes. It makes him say things like that. Makes that beating of his heart come back. But instead of fear, it pumps him full of something else. Something terrified him in a way he was comfortable with.

And it meant that Eddie looked at him like that, and let Steve know it. It made Steve think that maybe, just maybe, he isn’t crazy for this. He hasn’t lost his mind. He isn’t making a stupid mistake. He might just be making the right decision for once.

The oven beeps that it’s done preheating, breaking Steve away. He hopes that it doesn’t mean Eddie does too.

“How’d I do,” Eddie asks as Steve starts to place cookies on the sheet pan. “With my guesses.”

“Not entirely wrong, I am up for longer than you think I am, sometimes. But not because I’m secret night owl.”

Eddie reaches out and steals the spatula. Hesitating for a moment to see if Steve would stop him. He doesn’t. “Why then?”

“Nightmares.”

The room falls to silence except for the clicking of the scoop.

Steve sighs. “When I get a bad one, I need to do something to get my mind off it. If it’s light out, I go for a run, or a drive. If it’s night, I bake. Sometimes I clean, but that never really helps as much as baking does. Not sure why that sticks so much.”

“I get it,” Eddie almost whispers as Steve slides the cookies into the oven. “Before, when my hands didn’t actively hate me, if I couldn’t sleep, I would play something on my acoustic. It helped calm me down. Playing songs I knew by heart, feeling the motions of my hand playing the notes, it was the most calm I ever felt.”

He wishes he was there to watch Eddie play. He could only hear it, just slightly able to differentiate the live playing from the recording. Steve can imagine what he looked like, but he wished he didn’t have to.

“You’re going to be able to play again, you know.” He doesn’t know what compels him to say it, but he really believes it. “With your determination, I think you could do anything.”

Eddie scoffs, rich in pain. “I wish I was as optimistic as you are.”

“Just because you think that it won’t ever happen again, doesn’t mean it won’t. That pool out there, I haven’t been able to fill it for two years. Something happened in there that made me never want to fill it again. But I did. And maybe when I stop thinking something’s going to pull me into another dimension, I’ll be able to swim in it again.” He turns to look out the kitchen window, seeing the moonlight reflect on the water. “I used to love to swim.”

He did. Before the upside down, when it was just a normal life that were giving him problems, he would swim lap after lap. Until his muscles were sore and his body still felt the waves of the water even when on land. Each time his arm crashed into the water, his frustrations melted away.

“Maybe both of us could find a way to love what we used to again,” Steve finishes.

He turns back to look at Eddie, seeing a mix of emotions in his face. The thing that stands out the most is the want to believe him. The want to believe that the weakness in his hands won’t stop him from playing again. That somewhere in the future, it could be possible to.

Steve really believes that it’s possible. It will just take time. Far too much time, creating nothing but frustration and anger. But it is possible. He believes that. And maybe, just maybe, if Steve could still be lucky enough to have Eddie in his life, he could witness it happen.

If the secondary look that Eddie’s giving him is any solace that what Steve feels isn’t one sided, maybe it could guarantee that. Maybe, if Steve could find the words and tell him, or lean forward and just take a chance, he could see if it’s possible.

The timer beeps, breaking whatever moment they had. It’s for the best, really. Steve can’t lose a friendship over the possibility of maybe. He’s lost too much already to that.

apparently my goal when writing this is how much I can make myself cry, because that bit with Wayne and Dustin definitely got me there

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[prettypinkporkchop]

She Doesn't Smoke

Stoner!Matt x fem reader

Description: You tripped out. Your boyfriend, Matt is protective over you now. Chris is annoying.

Warnings: sexual, language, weed, lowkey Matt is a brat tamer, cockblocked (sorry)

"Hey, open your eyes." Matt lightly taps your cheek a few times.

You flutter your eyes open and breathe in, groaning. "What the..?" You mumble.

"You tripped out. I'm not letting you do that again." His blue eyes bore into yours with protectiveness.

"God, was it laced?" You sit up and notice you're in his bed.

"No, of course not." He holds onto you. "I'd never give that to you." He kisses the top of your head.

"God, I feel like crap." You groan.

"That's normal. Let's get you some water and something to eat, pet." He brings you face into his hands and kisses your lips.

You guys make it downstairs, you following behind him while he's holding onto your hand.

"Good girl, nice and easy steps." He cooes.

---

Matt has been even more nervous and protective over you. Him and Chris are always smoking. But he's made it to where they only do it outside now because the smell makes you panic.

You're sitting in yours and Matt's room on the bed, reading a book. Matt walks in and throws off his hoodie, his white top slightly rising, showing his stomach. You stare in awe, blushing. He notices and smiles, shaking his head.

"Hey baby. Chris is out driving around. I think him having his license now has boosted his ego." Matt laughs and plops on the bed beside you.

You snort and put your bookmark in your spot. You close the book and place it on the nightstand. "You know, your body is sexy as fuck." You totally ignore the Chris thing because Matt, your sexy boyfriend, is in front of you. Time to act up.

Matt lays back on his pillows with his arms under his head. He raises an eyebrow at you. "Do something about it, princess." He chuckles.

You crawl on top of him and press your lips on his. Both of your tongues work with each other's. His hands grip your waist, and he grinds against you, grunting as he hardens underneath you.

"Such a good girl." He mumbles against your mouth. Within seconds, he grabs your throat, his thumb applying some pressure to your pulse point. He flips you both around, keeping his hold on your throat. He looks into your eyes.

"Matt.. please." You squirm under him. You're impatient and wrap your legs around his waist.

"Uh, uh." He pushes your leg down with his free hand. His grip tightens around your neck. "Patience, princess."

You whimper and whine. "Matt, I can't wait."

He slaps your thigh near your ass. "Princess, you're gonna wait. Don't be a brat." He growls.

Chris barges in the room. "You guys!!!!" He stops.

Chris sighs and let's you go, glaring at Chris. "What?" He hisses.

"I'm so sorry. Just wanted to say I got more weed. The dealer said we are his best customers, so I got a whole gram for free." He holds up the bag.

Matt grabs the bridge of his nose. "My girl, she doesn't even smoke." He mumbles.

Chris chuckles. "I know, bruh. Let's she if she'll try again."

You scrunch your nose at him. "No, thank you."

"Get the fuck out, Chris." Matt groans.

Chris quickly shuts the door and leaves.

[corndogshelter]

performed a psychic attack on a child at the Chinese Buffet

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

♡ ring pops, chocolates, proposals ! ♡

katsuki loves you throughout the years.

a/n : BOOM !! surprise extra on your foreheads !!! this is basically a lil extra to rpp from katsu n readers pov ! i thought it was cute n i hope yall enjoy it too <33 !! much luv xx

fem reader, slight anime n manga spoilers ! food (candy and chocolate), jealous katsuki, mentions of dicks bc katsuki calls someone one, katsuki n reader are in their 20s, reader loves rain, katsuki does not, proposal, kissinggg, reader likes romance (implied sligthly), katsuki does not (kinda), soft n emotional katsuki bc I LOVE HIM FIGHT MEEE!!! RAAHHH!!!, short n sweet, proposal, lmk if i missed sum else !! <33

"for you."

katsuki, age 6 stands in front of you. no more words are said from him as he looks off to the side, beet red face turned away from you with outstretched hands. and clutched tightly in his hands, a ring pop in your favourite color.

you beam, immediately taking it from him. "thank you, katsu !" you chirp, quickly popping the candy into your mouth. katsuki's shoulders relax when he sees you've taken the offering from him although he doesn't meet your eye fully just yet.

"do you wanna share ?" you ask sweetly, already reaching out your candy towards him seeing that he didn't have one of his one in hand. he furiously shakes his head, pushing your hand back towards you.

"no ! and this one's for you ! i already got one.." he insists, shoveling around in his backpack before the crinkle of a wrapper grabs both of your attention. he pulls out the bag of sweet ring pops and picks out an orange one for himself. showing it to you while his eyes drift away from yours. you smile, seeing that you can both eat candy together now.

"i-it's a ring. so..you're my wife," he states. your big eyes widen at him and his glowing red cheeks. you look back down at the candy you've been eating pressed around your finger. it's bigger than the rings you see on tv.

you like katsuki. he was a little rough sometimes, and he could be a little mean. but he always played with you and shared his coloured pencils. he'd sit in the reading corner with you and hold your hand when you'd go on field trips.

"oh, really ?" your face heats, he nods. "want you to be my wife, cus haruto's always lookin' at you..a-an' you're my friend. not his." he mumbles bitterly. you like haruto, he's nice to you, but not as much as katsuki. katsuki was your best friend.

"does that make you my husband then ?" katsuki gets red to the tips of his ears and his nose is practically pressed into the collar of his shirt but he nods anyways. you beam again, the taste of the flavoured candy still on your lips. " i like that !"

katsuki blinks at you, chubby little cheeks pulling into a smirk and he drops to sit down next to you roughly on the grass. finally popping his own ring in his mouth.

"then you're my wife, yeah ?" you nod and he grins, you hear the candy clack around his mouth. "means you're only ever gonna be with me." and you nod again happily because you like that, you like the thought of only being with katsuki, because he's your best friend ever.

"mhm !"

"..forever." he adds tentatively and when you nod again he snickers to himself.

wait till stupid deku hears about this.

valentine's day was fucking stupid. and white day was even stupider.

besides them being the corniest holidays ever, katsuki finds the whole concept stupid. why do you need an entire day just to grow the balls to tell someone you like them ? and the worst part is that some fuckers have the audacity to try that shit with you.

katsuki remembers when he'd started despising the stupid holidays. it was in his first year of middle school and you opened up your locker to see some chocolates and a hand written note.

it was cheesy. and fucking stupid. but you smiled about it.

you fucking liked it.

the bastard even had the nerve to walk up to you at the end of the day, when you're supposed to go home with katsuki and end up coming over to his house to do your homework together (so he could stare at you) then stay over for dinner and play some video games (so he could touch you, poke your sides to make you trip up and pinch your nose when you end up losing to him) or watch a movie (so he could hear you laugh)

you were supposed to be all his. but instead you reassure him that you'll be back in a second.

and katsuki's antsy and so annoyed his skin prickles, but he swallows it down and drags his feet towards the gates as he waits, like hell he'll leave you alone with some limp dick bastard.

he did feel better when you said you rejected the loser, and he felt much better when you still ended up spending the afternoon with him. but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

valentine's day and such was so fucking stupid in katsuki's eyes. but maybe you liked it ? you never cared much for romance outside of those stupid rom-coms you like, but maybe there was more to it.

katsuki couldn't admit it to himself then, but he hates the holidays because there's a whole day for him to grow some balls and ask you out. and yet he couldn't fucking do it.

until his first year at u.a. and you hand him a box of chocolates.

dark chocolate, you specified. "since i know you don't really like sweets all that much." you said. the slight tremble in your voice made him swallow harshly. it felt different than the chocolates you'd handed out to your classmates earlier (which he was absolutely not jealous about. at all.) and the sheer size of the box compared to the little baggies you'd handed spoke too.

these were different. these were just for him.

his bag feels extra heavy when he walks home that day, and he's never loved chocolate more than the day you'd made some just for him.

"the chocolates weren't bad." was all he'd texted you (he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk to you properly on the phone that day lest you heard the shakiness in his voice.) but he knew what he needed to do.

and a few months later, white day rolls around and katsuki still thinks it sucks. it's a stupid holiday. but he spent the entire day making these stupid holiday chocolates for you. and his ears burn when he tells you that he only made these for you, because you're the only one he cares about enough to make some stupid chocolates for on a holiday he hates.

and you smile, so bright and pretty and so you. and katsuki feels like he's on top of the world when you shyly kiss his cheek, your hand in his grip on your way home.

he guessed he'll have to tell his mom about this..and maybe think about thanking her.

the day katsuki plans to propose to you, it rains.

and not even regular rain, a fucking downpour.

and due to prior experiences and feelings he’s had since childhood, he fucking hates rain.

but you love it. when you were kids you loved jumping in puddles and during morning time, you were drowsier and more prone to falling asleep when it was raining. when you got older, you'd always gasp happily when it started to rain, even though katsuki scoffed every time you did, mean mugging the window. he'd asked you what you liked about rain every year you were together, because it was cold, it made the ground sloshy and slippery and it made his quirk basically obsolete when he was younger and harder to use the older he got. there was absolutely nothing fun about that. and you'd always tell him the same exact thing.

"i like it 'cus i just do." you'd respond simply. he always raised a brow at you, but let it be. he couldn't change your mind about it and that was it.

with his proposal plans down the gutter, you're cuddling bed. you yawn in his arms, the tapping against the window putting you at ease. katsuki can admit it's not ear grating, but he'd much rather it just—not rain at all. and he wishes that so much more now, stupid fucking rain..ruining his fucking plans to fucking marry you..

"why do you like this shit so much ?" he asks you the question he's been asking you for years now as you lay against his warm chest. he doesn't mean to do it, only realising he's been asking you this practically all his life after the fact. and it makes him realise how long you've been together when you calmly respond the way you always have, cheekily smiling up at him.

you stick your tongue out at him "i like it 'cus i just do."

oh. fuck.

katsuki doesn't know exactly why that sets him off. maybe because the fact you've been together for two decades makes him emotional. maybe it's because throughout all these years your answer hasn't changed and you haven't changed and your feelings haven't changed for him. you still smile up at him, you did when you were kids when he'd asked you to be his wife with those cheap ring pops he'd begged his mom to buy. you did in middle school even when he thought you had a crush on izuku for a while and it made him act in such an embarrassing way he doesn't want to remember it, but he does anyway. you smiled up at him when he'd asked you out with the chocolates he'd spend hours working on, making them perfect for you. and when he'd told you to just move in with him because "you're basically here all the time anyway."

you've always been there, and he's always loved you. since the day you'd mesmerised him so much at six years old he had to talk to his mom about you.

katsuki absolutely fucking hates rain, and he doubts that'll change anytime soon, and it ruined his perfect proposal. but he can't hear the rain in his ears anymore when he abruptly flips you onto your back to kiss you. all he hears in the tiny giggles you let out when he smacks three wet kisses onto your lips before diving in for a longer one. i love you, they say. he can only hear your fingers sneaking into his hair and scratching at his scalp and the happy sigh you let out when he runs his tongue across your lips.

"m'breath stinks," you mumble drowsily, katsuki grumbles, pulling away just far enough to tell you "i don't give a fuck." and diving in again. you squeal in surprise. it's all he hears.

"fuckin' love you." he grunts against your lips, you hum, briefly able to pull away to catch your breath to tell him you love him too, and pulling him closer to you, the rustling of your sheets, yours and his, is all he hears.

"yeah ? you love me ?" he whispers, going to nibble at your ear. he's all over you, pressing sloppy kisses along your neck and you giggle, "mhm, love you." you sigh.

"fuck.." he breathes again, bringing his face back up to yours he presses his forehead to yours "fuck—so," he places another kiss to your lips, he gulps "so marry me."

and then you blink at him "what ?" you breathe heavily, softly chuckling. and the rapid beating of his heart is all he hears, but then your eyes go glossy and you whisper, voice broken and wobbly "..what ?"

he huffs to himself, his hands search for yours and intertwine when he finds them. like the day he'd pulled you over to his mom so he could ask her to let you come over to play at his house. like when you'd offered it to him when he took you to prom and you looked more beautiful than he could ever utter. he wonders how you'd look during your wedding. he's thought about it more times than he can count.

he takes a deep breath, not pulling away "i wasn't supposed to tell you like this, fuckin rain.." he scoffs. "but—fuck, i just—you've always been there, always been with me. since i was a snot nosed fuckin' brat and at times were you shoulda left my ass." he's forgotten the shit he wanted to say, simply blurting out what's on his mind. he feels a little bad, because kirishima had helped him with his speech, but his heart beats too hard to care.

"but m'glad you didn't. m'glad you didn't before and i'm glad you haven't now 'cus i love you so fuckin' much." you let out a giggle mixed with a little sob at his constant nervous cursing and it makes him smile lightly too.

"i know there are times where i've been a pretty shit boyfriend but..but i mean it, y'know ?" he sniffs a bit, and you shake your head "you've never been a shit boyfriend, suki. just a bit of a pain in my ass sometimes," you giggle but your eyes are overflowing with tears. he chuckles and fights back tears of his own with a sniffle again.

"yeah, major pain..but even still i—when i told you i wanted you to be my wife back when we were kids, i meant it. an' when that fuckin loser tried to ask you out on valentines day in middle school, i wanted to knock his fuckin' teeth in." he smirks, and you try to hide your laugh with a gasp "wanted to tell him you were mine."

"you're such a baby. i remember how pouty you were about it."

" i wasn't pouty," he rolls his eyes, his smile doesn't disappear. he wipes away a tear about to roll down your cheek before you can get his your shirt sleeve wetter then it already is "you could've just told me back then," you whisper, holding onto the hand on your cheek and pressing a kiss to his palm. katsuki feels his heart swell.

"i should've told you a lot of shit back then," he laments. he remembers when shigaraki put holes in him and the constant flashes of you on his mind. when he woke up in the hospital and you'd been there and he just couldn't tell you those three words. he'd figured that since you were both alive, he could tell you later when shit was less..messy.

except shit kept getting messier, and then when katsuki blew a hole into his heart he'd wished he could've told you how much he loved you.

but then he had gotten another chance, another chance to be with you. to be the best damn boyfriend in the world like he'd promised you he'd be, to make you happy, and he didn't care if shit got even messier, he didn't care to be scared. when he woke up with his mom and dad, a doctor and you. everything else blurred in his mind and despite your runny nose and your mix of how much you'd missed him and how worried you were but also scolding him on how much of a dummy he was, katsuki couldn't help but smile.

his mom still teases him about how the first words that he'd blurted out after waking up from his operation getting chastised by doctors were "fuck, i love you."

"but, i won't regret not telling you shit anymore. i won't wait any longer either," he kicks out of the sheets, reaching for the lowest drawer of his nightstand to pull out a little red box, grabbing you with him and placing you down right in front of him. he kneels down on one knee, like when he used to tie your shoelaces for you because you didn't know how to, and how he does to this day because 'you want to crack your head against the side walk so bad, but i don't wanna see that shit.'

he grabs your hand, and with a wobbly voice asks you "will you marry me ?"

and finally, katsuki stops hearing his own heart beat and hears the gentle tapping of the rain, still pouring, but it puts him slightly at ease when you nod and squeal out a 'yes !'

<33

[headkiss]

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

༄

Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

-

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

-

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you��ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

-

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

-

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

-

+1

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

[luveline]

𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses). 

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.” 

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.” 

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs. 

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you. 

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat. 

“What time is it?” you ask. 

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?” 

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds. 

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic. 

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him. 

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling. 

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him. 

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed. 

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips. 

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.” 

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.” 

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one. 

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.” 

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.” 

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.” 

“Can you sit up, at least?” 

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?” 

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard. 

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil. 

“Close your eyes,” he says. 

“Was that a dracula impression?” 

“I command you.” 

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out. 

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.” 

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him. 

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?” 

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.” 

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.” 

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…” 

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity. 

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.” 

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.” 

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.” 

“But for how long?” you ask. 

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to. 

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms. 

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?” 

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.” 

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.” 

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now. 

You shut your eyes. 

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums. 

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?” 

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say. 

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life. 

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along. 

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath. 

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.” 

“Do you want to?” 

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too. 

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–” 

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.” 

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?” 

“Remus–” 

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.” 

“So you like me?” 

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.” 

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head. 

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.” 

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo. 

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder. 

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess. 

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.” 

“After that?” 

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely. 

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed. 

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud. 

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid. 

He flinches. 

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but. 

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you? 

What are the rules here? 

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay. 

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep. 

He should let you sleep. 

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm. 

“Mm?” you hum. 

“I need to ask you something.” 

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do. 

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.” 

“I just need to ask you something.” 

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness. 

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?” 

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you. 

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him. 

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple. 

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.” 

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense. 

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?” 

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek. 

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate. 

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.” 

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says. 

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.” 

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways. 

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say. 

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight. 

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it. 

“I'm chucking them out!” 

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?” 

“What?!” 

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?” 

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm. 

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.” 

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy. 

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company. 

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.” 

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him. 

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off. 

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease. 

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D &lt;3

[roosterforme]

Sneak Peek | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentioned smut, 18+

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Happy birthday @beyondthesefourwalls!

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"It's my turn to buy a round," you said, standing up from the table and grabbing the empty beer bottles before turning toward Jimmy and Penny at the bar.

"Thanks, Rodeo," Jake murmured, and you turned back briefly and smiled softly at him. His gaze slid down your body the same way it would with any other woman, the only difference was that he had started to notice just how many other guys were regularly checking you out, too. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.

When you squeezed yourself between two stools at the bar to order four more beers, Bradley asked, "Who are you staring at, Hangman? Rodeo?"

Mickey laughed as Jake quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to his friends. "I just wanted to make sure she can manage carrying everything."

"I'm sure she's fine," Bradley replied with a laugh of his own. "I got a little nervous for a second there."

"Why?" Jake asked, his eyes slowly drifting back to you, watching as you slipped your credit card into the back pocket of your jeans. 

"Because first of all," Bradley said as he smashed open a peanut on the table, "Rodeo is practically one of the guys. And second," he added, popping the peanut into his mouth and chewing, "it would be weird if you start looking at her like you do all the other random pieces of ass you take home with you. Even though she is cute."

"She's cute, for sure," Mickey piped in. "But once you've seen a girl throw up in the parking lot after a drunken karaoke night, the appeal kind of wears off."

Jake smiled as you headed back toward the table, because the drunken karaoke night was when he got to drive you home and carry you to your bed while you repeatedly tried to tell him you could walk by yourself. 

"Oh, you know who else is cute?" Bradley asked just as you set four new beers on the table. "That redhead with the huge tits at the dartboard."

"Damn," Mickey groaned, and now you were looking in that direction, too. But Jake kept his eyes on you. 

"Do we have to talk about this in front of Rodeo?" he asked, sipping his fresh beer and starting to wish Bradley and Mickey would wander off. "In front of a lady?"

Bradley snorted so hard, Jake was surprised his beer didn't shoot out of his nose. "A lady?" he asked as he looked at you and cuffed you on the arm. "Nice try, Hangman, but Rodeo doesn't count."

"Well, you don't count either," you told him, and Bradley tapped the neck of his bottle to yours. "And neither do the two of you." Your gaze met Mickey's before settling on Jake. "You know I don't mind when you guys talk about girls. I get it. You're all hot."

But your knee was rubbing against Jake's thigh at the tiny table, and for a brief flash, he thought maybe he wanted to count in your mind as a guy you could be into.

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

It was a strange dynamic, working with mostly a bunch of men all the time. They saw you in a flight suit once, and they never looked at you like you were a female ever again. And that was fine. It made your job easier in a lot of ways. There were fewer distractions, and you knew for a fact that they liked you for your personality. They wouldn't invite you to hang out all the time if they didn't.

But on nights like this, it did sting a little bit to watch the three of them tripping over themselves to go talk to the redhead who was clearly eating up the attention. You were essentially wearing the same outfit she was: jeans and a black shirt. And you thought you looked cute. And what exactly was wrong with your boobs? You looked down at your body and kind of shrugged. You didn't get it. 

Natasha handed you a pool cue, and you sank a shot. You made up the excuse that you wanted to play so the guys wouldn't feel bad about abandoning you to go talk to girls, but Jake had been hesitant at first, so you shoved him along. That was a mistake, because you were reminded of how solid and muscular he was under his soft shirt. 

The first few times you glanced his way, he was already looking back at you. If he were any other guy, you would have just asked him out by now, but you were so firmly in the friend zone with all of them that it was embarrassing. The rejection would be laughable. 

So you put your head down and focused on the game and the chit chat around you. But after a while you got curious, and when you looked up again, Bradley and Mickey were walking back toward the table where your empty beer bottle sat. Jake had won. The redhead was running her fingernails through his hair. It was all over for the night. 

You weren't jealous. You weren't. You just didn't understand why it couldn't be you. As you sank the eight ball, you said, "I'm beat. I'm going to head home."

"Me too. Want a lift?" Mickey asked, and you nodded, not sparing a single glance back at Jake. 

Maybe you were the problem. Maybe you weren't sexy. You spent most of Sunday scrutinizing yourself in your bedroom mirror and going through all of your clothing. There really wasn't much of it since your closet was lined with uniforms and flight suits. And when you looked in the mirror, it wasn't like you could even tell what the problem was. You were just you, but it was starting to feel like you'd been playing around in this male-dominated world for so long, you were just blending in there. 

"Fuck it," you muttered reaching for your phone. There was a text from Bradley detailing the pricing for tickets to a Padres game, which you desperately wanted to go to. It sounded fun. Then you realized the beer drinking and peanut eating would simply be moved to a different venue in which the guys would be looking at all the other women around you. Suddenly it didn't sound so fun.

There were also a handful of texts from Jake. He must have kicked his guest out early if he was asking how you were doing this morning. You sent back a short message before finding the app on your screen that had been dormant since you got stationed in San Diego last summer. Tinder. It was right there. 

Nervously, you entered your login information, terrified that you'd just end up with a bunch of guys you saw on base as your best options. They would undoubtedly take one look at you and have the same reaction your male friends did. But you spent the rest of the day thinking about it. You looked, but you didn't sample. You found some guys who were surprisingly not in the Navy, but you didn't swipe. And maybe part of the reason you didn't was because Jake kept texting you all day long.

Monday was your tipping point. You were all ready to fly in your boots and flight suit when you ended up surrounded by the guys in the hangar. "We getting Padres tickets, Rodeo?" Bradley asked. "Day drinking at Petco Park?"

You nodded at him. "Sounds fun."

Then Mickey cut in as Jake walked over. "Hey, Hangman. How was our little redheaded friend?" he asked with a smirk, but Jake's expression stayed the same as his eyes met yours. 

"Wouldn't know."

"Oof," Bradley said with a goading laugh. "What, you kicked her out without even talking to her afterwards?"

You swallowed and looked down at your boots as you thought about the guys on the dating app. Maybe a little change of scenery wouldn't hurt anything after all.

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

"Can you just knock it the fuck off?" Jake snapped. "I didn't even spend the night with her." He watched you put your helmet on as you walked toward your jet. "And I don't like talking about this shit around Rodeo anymore."

"Alright," Bradley replied with a tiny smirk. "No need to get mad about it."

When Jake took to the air, you were all business, as usual. You and he flew well together, like you always did. But back on the ground at lunchtime, you barely spared a glance in his direction in the cafeteria. Instead, you were completely absorbed in something on your phone as you picked at your food.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked, and you looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there. 

"Nothing," you murmured, taking a drink before returning your attention to your phone. "Just working on something."

"On what?" he asked, voice almost as snippy as it had been earlier. He found he didn't like it when your attention wasn't focused on him, which was absolutely infuriating, because it's not like the two of you were anything. 

"My Tinder profile," you replied smoothly as you licked your lips, and Jake thought he must have misheard. Since when were you looking for a guy?

"Tinder?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I'm just trying to sort out which photo to use, because I like this one where I'm in my flight suit, but guys don't really tend to go for that sort of thing."

You turned your phone to show him, and Jake swallowed hard. It was a photo he had taken a few months ago. He remembered that day. Your sunglasses were hooked on the top of your suit, and your helmet was tucked under your arm, and your smile was infectious. 

"I like that one," he told you softly. 

But you just rolled your eyes and groaned. "But you don't count, now do you?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why are you on Tinder anyway?"

Now you laughed as you set your phone down. "Why do you think?"

He didn't want to think about it, even though he knew why. You were looking to hookup with someone. Or maybe it was even worse. Maybe you were looking for an actual boyfriend. Someone to spend all your time with. You'd be at the Hard Deck after work less frequently. You'd be going to the Padres game with some faceless idiot, and he'd be the one carrying you home after you overdid it at karaoke night. Worse yet, you could have your pick of any guy on that app who caught your eye, but Jake knew for a fact none of them were good enough for you. 

"Rodeo," he grunted, unsure how to voice his concerns. You just tapped your screen a few times and then smiled at him as his heart clenched a little bit.

"I went with the photo from Reuben's wedding instead."

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't even have to ask. He also knew that photo well too. His voice was soft as he said, "Blue dress. Holding a martini. Hand on your hip." He didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys he didn't even know looking at you wearing something so pretty.

"That's the one! And now my bio is live on the app," you said as you tapped your screen one last time. "Wish me luck."

You stood with your tray and Jake told himself he would do no such thing.

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

"That photo must have done the trick," you mumbled the following day in the rec room on base as Natasha helped you sort through your matches.

"I'm sure it did," she replied in awe. "You look hot in it."

You wanted to believe her, but it didn't even matter right now, because the two of you were staring at a photo of a hot guy who had sent you a message. You gasped. "Is this for real?"

"Looks like it," she replied. "If you don't fuck him, I will. Happily."

"What are the two of you over here whispering about?" You looked up into Jake's smiling eyes and gave him a grin of your own.

"Rodeo is getting all the Tinder hotties," Natasha replied, and suddenly Jake's smile vanished. "Let me know if he sends you a dick pic."

"He better fucking not!" Jake growled as he tried to reach for your phone. "Show me what this asshole looks like so I know who to pound to dust if he sends you one." You rolled your eyes and held up your phone so he could see. "His name is Tony? And he's a dentist?"

"What's wrong with that?" you asked quickly.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "If you have to ask, then you don't want to know."

You scoffed and opened your messages. "You're being dramatic. And I don't get on you about who you decide to hook up with."

"So you're just trying to hook up with this asshole?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.

Honestly, you weren't really sure. But he sounded nice in the messages he sent. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

Jake scrutinized your face like he was in pain, and you had the craziest thought flash through your mind that perhaps he was jealous. But then the pinched lines on his forehead vanished, and his voice was completely calm as he said, "You do what you want, Rodeo. But don't come crying to me about it later."

"Fine," you told him as he walked away. And that's what spurred you to reply to Tony's message with a more flirtatious one of your own. You were allowed to hook up with him. You were allowed to go out on a date. Maybe you'd even eventually request a dick pic. Jake wasn't in charge of your Tinder profile or dating agenda.

A few short exchanges back and forth was all it took, and suddenly you had plans for Saturday night that didn't involve hanging with the guys at the Hard Deck for once. Tony was going to take you out to dinner, and you were already excited.

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

"Where the hell is Rodeo?" Bradley asked as he returned to the table with three bottles of beer instead of four. "She's usually here by seven."

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "She's not coming. She's on a date with some smug looking asshole named Tony."

"Good for her," Mickey piped up, earning a glare from Jake. "I hope she gets laid. You wanna grab Javy and play pool?"

With a groan, Jake dragged himself out of his seat and forced his body through the motions. He hit the cue ball with perfect precision, but meanwhile, all he could think about was some other guy's hands all over your body while he shoved his tongue down your throat. "Fuck," he growled, trying to fight the urge to text you. If you wanted him, you knew how to reach him. 

Between shots, he glanced around the bar at all the other women, but he couldn't find a single one as pretty as you. He spent the rest of his night barely conversing with his friends while he hoped that your date was a complete flop. And when he left to head home alone, he caved and texted you to make sure you got back to your place safely. 

That was over twelve hours ago. Jake still hadn't heard back from you. It was damn near noon on Sunday, and he was left assuming that you spent the night with Tinder Tony. When you finally texted him back, the response made him toss his phone aside. 

Sorry, just seeing this now. Yes, I made it home safely. See you tomorrow.

Monday was worse. You were glued to your phone at every opportunity you got, and Jake could tell by the little smile on your face that you must be talking to that asshole. 

"Rodeo, how was your hot date?" Bradley asked, bumping your helmet with his while he winked at Jake. 

"Pretty good," you replied with a little laugh. 

"You get laid?" Mickey asked obnoxiously, and you rolled your eyes before glancing at Jake. He was dying to know the answer to the question, but also terrified to hear it. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," you replied, returning your attention to your phone. "Put it this way... I'm going out with him again for dinner on Wednesday."

"Who goes to dinner on a Wednesday?" Jake scoffed. "That's when we usually go to the bar! And what did you and Tinder Tommy even talk about the whole time? Dentures? Teeth?"

"No," you snapped at him. "He told me how pretty he thinks I am, and that he was nervous to meet me in person. And his name is Tony, not Tommy. So don't be rude when we stop by the bar after dinner on Wednesday."

"Can't wait to meet him," Jake grumbled, highly disappointed that your date had been even somewhat successful. And he still wasn't sure if you'd gone home with Tony. Or worse... if he'd gone home with you. 

Jake had crashed in your bed with you once a few months ago when you hosted game night. Mickey, Nat and Bradley all passed out in your living room, so you'd taken him by the hand to your bed. Every time he thought about it, he could practically feel the warmth of your body next to his and your foot hooked over his ankle. The idea of someone else there engaging in pillowtalk or fucking you just right was way too much for him to handle, because he was starting to feel like he wanted to be that person.

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

Okay, so Tony was a little boring. A lot boring, actually. And on Wednesday night at dinner, he actually did mention dentures, and you could practically hear Jake scoffing from the Hard Deck. But Tony was hot and nice and he paid for dinner. Could you really hope for more than that?

"So, you mentioned stopping at a Navy bar?" he asked as you walked back to his car. "I keep forgetting you're even in the Navy. It just doesn't seem like you."

Maybe you should have used the other photo for your dating profile since you'd had to remind him twice already that there were a lot of women in the military now. "Yeah. It's called the Hard Deck. I usually hang out there on Wednesdays, and I thought maybe my friends could meet you?"

"Sure," he replied, and he even played boring music on the way there. But when he walked you inside, he kissed your cheek, and that felt kind of nice until Jake was looking. You felt embarrassed and a little guilty when he scowled at you from the pool table, so you eased yourself away from Tony and took him by the hand instead. 

"Hey, guys," you said cautiously as you approached the pool table. "This is Tony." 

Jake's jaw was clenched tight as he reached out to shake hands with your date in a death grip, and you cringed as he said, "Nice to meet you, Tommy." 

And it all went downhill from there. You had to correct him three times, even though you were sure he knew Tony's name. And even the other guys didn't really seem to mesh well with Tony. Bradley looked scandalized when he told them he didn't like beer or playing pool, and Mickey tried to make a dentist joke that just didn't land. 

You wanted to crawl into your bed and not come back out for a week. You also kind of wanted to ask Jake what his problem was. Tony was a nice guy. His hand on your back felt nice, and his goodnight kiss at your front door was nice. There was even some tongue, and you didn't stop his roaming fingers. Maybe another date or two and you'd ask him to come in.

"Would you like to get dinner on Saturday night?" he asked as his lips grazed your neck. "At the Boathouse?"

You closed your eyes and leaned back, and the image of Jake took over. His lips were on your earlobe, and he was whispering your name as you led him to your room. His hands were settling on your hips and squeezing gently as you melted into his touch.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and you were jarred back to reality by his voice.

You swallowed hard and nodded as you opened your door. "Saturday night sounds good," you said as you ducked inside. "See you then."

You couldn't have Jake. You just needed to get it through your head that he didn't want you like that.

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

Jake knew he was behaving poorly even as he was doing it. Tony looked annoyed by him, and you looked embarrassed, but he just kept calling him the wrong name and standing off to the side like a dick. He was actually the asshole. Not Tony. And he needed to apologize to you at work the next day. 

He found you in the hangar, pacing back and forth as you played with the strap on your helmet. When you turned, he started to say, "Hey, Rodeo, I'm really-"

"I need your help," you blurted out when you saw him heading your way. "I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow after work, because I wore my only two dresses already, and everything else in my closet is ridiculous. And Tony is taking me to the Boathouse on Saturday, so I can't just throw something together and call it a day."

Jake ground his back teeth together. The Boathouse was nice. As in, he could think of at least three people he knew who got engaged there. How much money did dentists make anyway? He was full blown jealous now. He knew that. But you'd asked him for help, so of course he was going to do whatever you wanted. Your eager eyes were enough to make him agree on the spot.

"Where are we going shopping?" he asked softly. 

You looked so relieved as you said, "The mall. I don't think it will take too long, and I can treat you to dinner as a thank you."

"No," he replied. "You don't owe me anything, Rodeo."

"Thanks, Jake," you whispered as you threw one arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I know I can trust you to tell me what looks good. Because you're a guy, and you know what guys like. I've been in such a rut, and I don't even know what looks nice on me anymore. But I trust your opinion."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you a little closer. If you trusted him, he wouldn't let you down. He never wanted to let you down. He would take you to the mall and tell you which outfits looked nice on you, even though he knew it would be all of them, and he would be cool about you dating Tony. "Sure, Rodeo. Anything you want."

When the time came, he was miserable. You seemed excited, bouncing on your feet in your jeans and sneakers as you collected dresses and cute little outfits to try on, but he knew none of this was really for him. You'd just be giving him a little sneak peak of what Tony would have his hands all over. 

"How about this one?" you asked, holding up a red mini dress that made Jake's mouth dry up. Then you moved it in front of your body and looked down. "It's probably too much for me."

He wanted to tell you that you couldn't pull it off, but he knew the fucking thing was made for you. "Try it on and see," he said softly, so you added it to your pile. Then he followed you like a puppy dog to the fitting room, holding half of the dresses for you to try on. When you passed the lingerie section, Jake had to watch you grab a few lacy items. "Have you slept with Tinder Tommy yet?" he snapped when you picked up a black bra and added it to your arms. 

You looked up at him with a soft pout. "Well, no. That's why I'm trying to buy some sexy stuff, you know? Just in case I want to take it there."

Jake had seen you in your bathing suit many, many times. You didn't need to be wearing anything made out of lace and silk to look sexy, but the sight of you in half of this shit would probably give Tony a damn heart attack. Then he realized as you led him along that he himself might not make it out of the fitting room alive.

"Just stand out here, okay?" you said softly, guiding him against the wall. He grunted in response and watched you line up everything you wanted to try on inside the fitting room before closing yourself inside. You kicked your shoes off, and then he watched you push your jeans down to your feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. You stepped out of them, and his imagination started to supply the rest. 

You were completely naked now, he was sure of that fact, and you were only a few feet away from him, separated by a flimsy door. His head tipped back against the wall as his breathing grew a little deeper. Your toenails were painted bright green, and you were talking quietly to yourself as you stepped into a black dress and started to guide it up your legs. 

"This isn't too bad," you muttered, and a few seconds later you were unlatching the door and pulling it open with an apprehensive look on your face. Jake's jaw dropped open as you stepped right up to him and asked, "What do you think?"

"Rodeo," he grunted, fisting his hands at his sides to keep them from touching you as you spun slowly in front of him. "Looks good."

You frowned a little more. "I was hoping for better than good," you replied, twirling away from him and back into the fitting room.

Jake's body was thrumming with desire as he watched that black fabric pool at your feet under the door. "It was better than good, Rodeo," he said, nearly choking on the words as you stepped to the side and bent to pick it up. 

"I'll try the red one," you informed him, and he had to press his lips together, knowing what was coming next. This time it took you a little longer, and he watched your feet under the door as you turned in front of the mirror. "It's really short," you finally said as you opened the door again. 

"Jesus Christ," Jake moaned softly. The thing fit you like a damn glove. Every curve and soft dip of your body was right there, begging to be touched. His palms were sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans, and then you spun, ending up just inches away from him again. 

He couldn't speak, and maybe you took that as a bad sign. "It's too much," you said with a little laugh. "I know it's too much, but it was fun to try it on anyway. It made me feel sexy," you said with a little shrug, barely able to meet his eyes. "I think the black one might be better for dinner at the Boathouse? Or do you think this one?"

Jake snapped out of his daze and remembered why he was here, suddenly pissed that this little fashion show wasn't just for his own benefit. "Come on, Rodeo. Tinder Tommy? Really? You think he deserves this?" When you just kind of shrugged at him, he said, "Get the red one if you're just looking to get laid."

"Okay," you replied, your little pout back on your pretty lips. 

He pushed away from the wall until he was nearly touching you. Practically snarling, he said, "Are you just looking to get laid?"

"Maybe," you said softly, looking at his neck. "He's actually into me, so maybe. I don't know, Jake. It's been a long time since a guy chose me, you know?" He opened his mouth to tell you that any guy in the world would choose you when you said, "I have one more dress."

Then he had to stand there and watch the red fabric hit your feet before you guided the tiniest little green dress up your calves. He was jealous. He was so jealous. And the fact that he'd had a whole fucking year to ask you out instead of fucking wasting his time was crashing down on him right now. You were going to wear one of these dresses to the Boathouse tomorrow, and Tony was going to take it off you. He was going to fuck you, and then someday you'd probably get married. Jake would be at your wedding sitting between Mickey and Bradley and making himself sick over this whole thing. 

The door opened. You were stunning. You didn't even leave the fitting room doorway this time in that green dress that was hugging your tits and your waist and showing off so much leg that Jake thought he was going to black out. "I can tell by your face that it's not good," you said with a wince. "It's a little too low cut, so I couldn't imagine wearing it in front of Tony."

His voice came out low and rough as he said, "You're wearing it in front of me just fine."

"But I don't count, remember?" You closed and locked the door, and Jake was immediately leaning against it. Literally each dress was hotter than the one before it, and Jake didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling right now. How on earth did he end up so far in the friend zone that he couldn't claw his way out if he tried? What the fuck made Tinder Tony so special? Why were you looking around on the app anyway? He couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you were never going to take him seriously, even if he knew he could be what you wanted.

The rustling of fabric and the sound of the zipper had him resting his forehead on the door. "Rodeo, Baby, you can't...buy one of these dresses. Not for Tony. Okay? Come on. He's not good enough for you."

"Oh." That was all you said. You just replied with one word, and Jake's blood was boiling. He wanted to dismantle the entire fitting room and take you back home and tell you that you could do a hell of a lot better than some lame ass dentist who didn't like beer or playing pool. But you'd just muttered one word, and he was dying to know if he could ever stand a chance at making you happy. 

"Rodeo?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You unlocked the door and he stepped back a few inches so you could open it, expecting to see you in your jeans once again with the dress of your choosing in your hands. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his heart hammering in his chest. "Absolutely not!"

Jake pushed you back further into the fitting room and managed to wrench his broad shoulders through the doorway before kicking the door closed. You were biting your lip, your eyes wide as his hands came to rest on your lace covered hips. 

"Jake," you whispered as he shook his head at the sight of you in a lacy black bra and tiny underwear. 

"What the hell are you thinking?" he groaned, fingers digging gently into your warm body as he listened to the little sound you made. "You're killing me here." Your hands came up to his wrists before you slid them up along his arms, and Jake took a step closer until his jeans were brushing against your bare belly. He would need to be removed from the mall in a body bag at this rate. 

Then you whispered, "I like you. And maybe there's a chance that you like me, too? And maybe that's part of the reason I asked you to come here with me."

Jake swallowed hard as he leaned in, dizzy from the way you smelled so sweet and felt so perfect in his hands. "Dump him. Dump Tony." You whimpered at his words as he slid one hand down further, teasing the lace covering your ass at the same time his other hand went up to tug at the side of the bra. "Because this? This should be for me."

"Jake." Your voice was a needy whine as you scraped your fingernails along his shoulders and chest, trying to pull him closer. But he shook his head as he pushed you back harder against the wall, lips hovering over yours as you whispered his name.

He knew what he wanted. He'd known for a while, really, but now he was ready to take it. "I want to kiss you. But if I do, I'm not going to be able to go back, okay?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I won't go back to being Rodeo and Hangman, just friends. I will not do that. Not with you. Not when you count more than anyone else."

Your lips crashed against his, and Jake sighed in relief as he held you in his arms the way he'd been dying to for so long. The lingerie and all the little dresses were only for him. Your kisses and your smile and your fingers in his hair were for him, not Tony. He ran his hands down to your ass as you giggled and nipped at his lips. 

"Pick a dress, Baby," he muttered between kisses. "And we'll get the lingerie, too."

"Okay," you replied with a smile before you took his bottom lip between yours, making him moan. 

"Tomorrow night, I will take you out, and you can show me this little getup again if you want to."

You looked up at him with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. "I want to."

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

You nudged Bradley with your elbow. "Hey, she's cute," you said, nodding toward the brunette across the aisle. "You guys should go talk to her." He and Mickey both leaned forward to look without any subtlety whatsoever, and you laughed. 

"Maybe at the end of the inning," Bradley replied, manspreading so much in his seat at the Padres game that he kept bumping your leg and nudging your shoulder. But he was grinning, and you could already tell that he and Mickey were about to turn it into a competition to see who could get her phone number first. 

But there was one key player missing from their game now, and you smiled as you saw Jake apologetically climbing over everyone else in your row before plopping down into the seat next to you and kissing your cheek with a smile. "The line was long as hell for your favorite beer," he said as he handed it to you. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head as Bradley said, "You're just in time to watch the real show, Hangman. Rodeo, I want you to time how long it takes before I get her number." 

But you weren't really listening as Bradley and Mickey started to argue, and neither was Jake as he kissed your cheek again. You didn't feel like you were simply blending in, and you didn't feel like you were just one of the guys anymore. You were grinning and sipping your beer as Jake's lips met your ear and he asked, "Are you wearing that black set right now?"

"I'll let you find out later.

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

@blahehblah

Happy birthday, Alli! I hope you enjoyed the blonde one! Big thanks to @mak-32 @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for all your help!

Read Bradley's version in Whole Lotta Love

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[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[tourturestarradio]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀

“𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞! 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Deadpool x kind reader x Wolverine 

Warnings: sexual jokes, jealous Logan, jealous Wade, suggestive

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You woke up to a knock at your door slowly getting up you peeked out your peep hole seeing Wade also looking through your peep hole. 

Opening the door Wade greeted you hugging you tightly “honey bun! My favorite sweetheart! My amazing baker! Love of my-“ you blinked in confusion “um Wade” you called out, he looked down at you “yes?” “Could you not shout please” Wade nodded “right I forgot it is pretty early” 

You walked over to your couch plopping down as Wade went to your kitchen “hey Honey bun!” He called out, “yes?” You hummed clicking on your tv “do you think you could help me with something!” He walked back into the living room “yeah…yeah sure” you yawned, Wade sat down beside you wrapping his arms around your torso pulling you into his lap.

“So…you’re a baker right?” You glanced at him a chuckle leaving your mouth “yes I am” he nodded playing with one of your hands as your other one flicked through different channels. 

“So I was scrolling on the internet trying to blow one off when I saw this great absolutely beautiful cake idea….and I was wondering if you could make it for me?” You nodded “sure what is it?” You asked looking at him “cinnamon roll cookies.” You stared at him trying to make sure you heard him correctly “what?” He shook your shoulders “please Honey bun! It’s would be great!” You grabbed his wrists “alright…” 

Getting up you looked down at him “when do you need it?” He grew excited “yay! Okay, um by tomorrow ” “Wade!” You whined, he grabbed your shoulders “first, don’t whine my name like that it’ll turn me on, second pleaseeeee! It’ll be great!” He rested his chin on the top of your head poking where your nipples would be “I miss your eating your desert….that could mean two things” You grew flustered swatting away his hand. 

“F…Fine but I’ll need to go to the store first” you hummed, Wade gave you a cheesy smile “thanks honey bun bye now!” He hurried out of your apartment as You sighed.

Waving bye to him you yawned “Alright bye Wade, if you want you can help out and tell Logan I said hi!” He shut the door leaving you alone, you started to get dressed for the day. 

Leaving your apartment you went off to the store. 

Your eyes scanned the shelves trying to find the right ingredients you only need two more things why were they so hard to find?! You felt a light tap on your shoulder turning around you spotted a taller male with black hair he was kinda handsome “am I in your way? I’m sorry” the male shook his head “no but were you muttering about brown sugar?” He asked. 

You gulped embarrassed that you were muttering to yourself in public “oh um yeah I can’t find that or cinnamon for some reason?” You frowned, the male looked in his basket “if you want you can take mines” he offered a friendly smile on his face. 

You shook your head “no, no it’s alright” he handed the brown sugar to you “no it’s fine you can take it” he stated you grabbed the bag “you sure?” He chuckled and nodded “yeah I’m sure you probably need it more than me” he reassured, a smile graced your face “thanks you’re a real life saver” He waved you off “oh stop just trying to help, I’m Jackie by the way” you placed the sugar in the cart “I’m Y/n” you replied.

You both made friendly conversation a few laughs being shared between you too “so what are you making these for?” He asked, you placed the cinnamon in your cart “making cinnamon roll cookies for a friend he has a sweet tooth” the male seemed to make a face at the word ‘he’ leaving your mouth.

But he ignored that and nodded “sounds delicious, reminds me of the cinnamon rolls I had at this cafe a while ago” he stated, you glanced at him “oh what cafe” he thought for a moment “(cafe name) they have really good desserts” you perked up at the mention of your cafe “that’s my Cafe!” He laughed “you’re lying” you shook your head “nope just opened it a month ago glad you like my stuff” you smiled nudging him with your elbow. 

He blushed lightly, you bought your things “hey um you need help carrying that?” He asked you nodded “yes that would be nice thanks” he carried your bags luckily the apartment wasn’t far from the store. 

He helped you bring your things up to your apartment “alright thanks Jackie hope to meet you again” you stated placing your things inside “wait um Y/n…” you looked back at him “would you wanna grab a drink later maybe around 9 maybe 9:30?” He asked.

You blinked “oh I don’t know I gotta start working on these-“ “please it’ll be great I promise” he hummed, you thought for a moment “alright that’s if I can get these finished before then” he nodded a smile growing on his face “wanna trade numbers?” You nodded pulled out your phone.

“Okay bye Jackie” you gave him a side hug shutting your door, he walked away a grin plastered on his face. You sighed “okay let’s get started.” 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead as you carefully wrapped the cookies checking the time you saw it was close to 9 o’clock. “Oh no” quickly you pulled off your clothes to go freshen up. 

You slid on your party dress it was a dark red and backless, you hadn’t worn it in a while so it was a little smaller the end of the dress just making right below your ass.

You put on some jewelry and styled your hair, sliding on your kitten heels you grabbed the tray of cookies and your purse. Going over to Wades apartment you knocked lightly on the door, it opened revealing an annoyed looking Logan.

His eyes went wide seeing you “Y/n uh what…what are you-“ “hi Logan! can you give these to Wade I gotta go” you hummed texting Jackie Logan stared at you.

You were already hot enough seeing you in that outfit really made him feel a little hot “where are you headed?” He asked, what did you need to be this dressed up for you were already sexy as is?

You glanced up from your phone “hm? Oh I’m going on a date” Logan felt a harsh jab in his chest “…a…date?” He questioned, you nodded “yes so can you give these to Wade please-“ “peanut who are you talking with- oh my ragging boner, Honey bun?!” Wade shoved Logan aside “you got all dressed up just for me” he placed his hand on his heart “that’s so cute but that’s gonna be off in a matter of seconds” he said taking the tray of cookies.

You shook your head “oh no um I’m going on a date” you explained, Wade froze “I’m sorry what?” He looked confused “I’m going on a date but tell me how the cookies taste bye see you in a bit.”

Wade stopped you “wait, wait, wait, you’re going on a date?” You nodded your head slowly “yep so I have to go-“ Wade frowned “but we were supposed to hang out…” he sounded so heartbroken, felt that way to. 

You sighed “I’ll be back in a bit we’re just getting drinks” you explained, Wade waved you off “no, no go be with your Prince Charming that’s more important than me, than us!” He pouts grabbing Logan’s arms who quickly swatted away his hand. 

You frowned “it’s not like that Wade” You looked at Logan for help but he also looked hurt, Wade flopped down on the couch like a deflated balloon Huffing you walked in “fine. I’ll stay.” 

Wade shot up hugging you “great! I knew you wouldn’t leave us for that incel loser!” You rolled your eyes “I feel bad for just bailing on him, he was pretty sweet” Logan rested his hands on your hips coming up behind you “trust me sweetheart I can treat you much better than him” Wade corrected “we can” You gulped feeling the heated tension rise.

You tilted your head “really?” Wade’s eyes were trained on your lips “really.” Logan’s hands traveled up and down your sides “then show me?” You hummed Wade smirked “challenge excepted.” He hummed.

Jackie called your number again but still it went straight to voicemail “fucking bitch…pick up the phone.” Just as he requested you answered only it was you it was a males voice “sorry Y/n can’t come to the phone right now she’s a little occupied at the moment but leave a message!” Jackie opened his mouth to speak when he heard moans in the background of the call.

“Ha…Harder Logan! Please, pl…please! Fill me up” Right before he hung up he heard the other voice speak “hey save some for me! Sorry Jackie’s but she’s taken already- Beep!” The phone shut off leaving Jackie stunned.

He threw his phone “fucking two timing whore!” 

Logan glanced over “was that him?” Wade laughed “yep” Logan petted your hair “could have let her answer” he joked, Wade shook his head “hey you know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full!” 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: IM OBSESSED WITH X MEN AND DEADPOOL RN RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHH 

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

[brokenmenswhore]

i need more of that dont look seriesss i need sirius and reader to go against remus’ rules or summmm please and thank you if u choose to do so

whatever the people want, i shall give them 🙇‍♀️

don’t look | remus & sirius

part 2

pairings: remus lupin x fem!reader, sirius black x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language

part 1

────── ☾ ──────

Sirius opened his mouth to say something as Remus approached, but Remus put a hand up to cut him off.

“Nope, don’t even, I’m still mad at you,” Remus stated, walking past Sirius.

“Oh come on!” Sirius called to him, “look, I said I was sorry.”

“I know, but I’m still mad,” he called back, “and jealous, I guess.”

Sirius shrugged, “well maybe you should stop eating out your hot girlfriend in a communal space, Moons, what did you expect?”

Remus stopped in his tracks. He turned around and approached Sirius, stopping only a few feet away from him.

“You know you aren’t supposed to look at her like that.”

“Jeez, Moony, you aren’t my dad.”

Sirius’s nonchalance bothered Remus. Remus was hot-headed, and it was nearly the full moon, which meant his emotions were heightened even more than usual.

It also meant he was hornier than usual.

He marched to your dorm, swinging the door open, despite the two other girls sat on the floor, textbooks sprawled across their laps as you all studied together. “I need you.”

Your eyes shot up at him, the other girls scanning his figure up and down. “Rem, I’m studying,” you told him, as if he couldn’t see you doing just that.

“Please, I just need to borrow you for a minute.” Remus tried not to sound desperate, but he most certainly did. He didn’t care if the girls knew he wanted to borrow you to fuck you senseless, he only cared that he remained level-headed until he was alone with you.

You gave a smile to the other girls, closing your textbook and placing it on the floor before standing up and following Remus to his dormitory. He anticipated that it would be empty, but instead he found Sirius, cross-legged on his bed, a book in his lap.

Remus contemplated his options. Ever since Sirius’s infraction, he had avoided being with you in front of him, worried Sirius would try something again. However, today, he was angry, and he wanted to piss off Sirius by asserting his authority and dominance over you.

He pushed you onto the mattress, immediately hiking up your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

“Remus!” you squealed, taken aback by his haste.

He shushed you, saying, “need you bad.”

“Remmy, it’s not even a full moon tonight, you can usually wait until later in the da-“

Remus cut you off by shoving two fingers into your hole, not caring about warming you up as you squirmed from his touch.

“Shit,” you whined as his mouth connected with your clit, his tongue lapping up any wetness.

You moaned, your hands gripping his hair as he continued to shove his fingers in and out of you, his unoccupied hand pushing (with difficulty) his trousers down until he was left in his underwear, his hand sneaking past the waistband to lightly stroke himself at the sight of you.

Sirius was already in a fight with Remus over watching you, and part of him didn’t want to make anything worse. Part of him also thought that since they were already in a fight, what did it matter? He would just have to be more careful.

You whimpered when Remus hit a particularly good spot, and Sirius looked toward you through hooded lids, ready to retreat his gaze if Remus checked in on him, but Remus was focused only on you.

He had almost forgotten Sirius was in the room, his desperation and need growing more intense with each moan and whine you let out.

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers all the way down before crawling on top of you.

“I need to feel you, pretty girl, are you ready for me?” he cooed, stroking his cock faster and faster as he waited for you to respond.

“Please, Remmy,” you begged, and he nearly came in his hand at the sound.

He lined himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in despite his need. He would never give up watching your face as he pushed into you, even if he was desperate. The way your face contorted, the small whimpers that left your lips, the way your hair looked sprawled out on the pillows, the way your skirt bunched up around your waist-

He bottomed out inside of you, immediately starting to thrust in and out of you.

“Shit, Rem,” you moaned at the feeling, “you can use me.” You knew what he needed when the full moon was near, but your statement still drove him crazy as if he had never heard it before.

Remus placed both of your wrists above your head, holding them with one hand as his head dipped in the crook of your neck, his unoccupied hand finding your clit and rubbing fast circles as he fucked you. He didn’t care about timing, he just needed you bad. He needed to come inside of you, but he needed you to come first, even if it all happened quickly. He adored the feeling of you coming on his cock, and needed to feel it to achieve his own high.

You turned your head so that Remus had more room to rest his on your shoulder, and you glanced at Sirius, who shifted his seated position as he heard you moan. You remembered the last time he was in the room, and you hoped he would look over at you again, your eyes focused on him as Remus pounded into you at a ruthless pace.

He finally did glance at you, but he did a double take, checking if you were really looking at him, and you were. You nodded your head up and down, a way to tell him it was okay with you if he watched, and that you wanted him to do as such.

His eyes remained on you, scanning your body up and down, watching your thighs fall more and more open as Remus’s hand moved faster and faster on your clit.

He loved seeing you with your hands above your head, a new sight for him, Remus having full control over your body.

Your back arched off the bed, causing the pressure on your wrists to increase as your climax threatened to hit, Remus’s hand and his cock almost too much to hold it together.

“Sir- shit, I’m gonna-“

You squeezed Remus’s cock like a vice, your high washing over you as your thighs shook.

“Shit, baby,” Remus breathed.

He didn’t catch your almost-slip, but Sirius certainly did, his eyes darkening as he watched you come down from your high, your body still shifting back and forth on the bed from the force of his best friend’s hips snapping against yours.

“Gonna come in you,” Remus moaned, a final few, sharp thrusts sending him over the edge as he came, groans in your ear that only you could hear as he spilled his seed inside of you.

You signaled for Sirius to look away as Remus let go of your wrists, pulling out of you before standing up and gazing at your fucked-out frame.

“Thank you, baby,” he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “let me get you cleaned up.”

He stretched a hand out to you, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.

✶

Sirius did not speak to you for an entire week after that.

You tried to spark conversation, but he always found an excuse to leave the room or divert his attention. Remus noticed, but assumed it was because of the first time he watched you, and he quite enjoyed the thought of Sirius leaving you alone.

You were seated in the common room, everyone apart from you and the boys at a party in the Ravenclaw dorms. The boys had decided to skip this particular party thanks to Remus, who was falling behind in Transfiguration, and who cursed the Ravenclaws for throwing a party the night before a massive Transfiguration exam.

“I can’t fucking focus,” Remus spoke, annoyed at his inability to comprehend the subject.

“I have some extra notes in the dorms,” James spoke, “I can try to find them, maybe they’ll help?”

“Yeah, alright,” Remus agreed, “worth a shot.”

Remus sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead as he and James retreated up the stairs to search for James’s extra notes.

You turned to Sirius, who avoided meeting your gaze.

“Please talk to me, Sirius.”

He ignored you completely.

“Siri, please.”

The pet name broke him out of his mindset. “Don’t call me Siri.”

“Why not, Siri?” you teased.

“Because it does things to me. Stop.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Y/N-“

“Seriously what? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Sirius lowered his voice, whisper-yelling, “what do you mean why won’t I talk to you? I’m finally in a decent spot with Remus, what am I gonna do if he finds out I eye-fucked his girlfriend again while he was in the middle of railing her?”

“What does that have to do with you speaking to me?” you questioned.

“Because every single time I look at you, I see- I see you like that.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Sirius’s confession. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

“You like what you saw?” you teased.

“Shut up.”

“You wanna see more?”

“Stop,” Sirius warned.

You listened intently up the staircase, and heard James yell, “I fucking swear they were here! Check in that one.”

You propped your legs up on the coffee table, allowing your legs to fall open and give Sirius an unobstructed line of sight to your core.

“Do you wanna see more?” you asked again, running a finger over your underwear, just above your folds.

“Don’t fucking tease me.”

You nodded your head no, you were indeed not teasing him. You really were going to touch yourself.

You moved your underwear aside, giving Sirius full view of your most sensitive area as you put one of your middle fingers into your mouth.

You made a show of sucking on the digit, wetting the skin before slowly inserting it into your now-wet hole. You let out a light whine, so as not to alert Remus of what you were up to.

Sirius tried to restrain himself, but he quite literally could not take his eyes away from you. He was obsessed; a man starved who finally found sustenance. He couldn’t look away if he tried.

You began to move your finger faster and faster, your other hand coming up to squeeze your breast over your shirt.

“Shit, Siri,” you moaned, and Sirius nearly lost it right there.

He stood up and approached you, gripping the wrist that was moving your finger inside of your hole.

You assumed he would stop you, but instead, he pulled your finger out, pressing two of his fingers to your lips and allowing you to suck on them.

When he was satisfied with how wet they were, he replaced your finger with his own, his pointer and middle entering you slowly as you threw your head back.

Sirius turned his head to the staircase, hearing “well why wouldn’t they be with literally every other set of notes?” and “fucking hell, can you check the trunk over there?”

Sirius met your eyes, watching you squirm as he fingered you, his thumb finding its way to your clit and rubbing circles, a small smile finding its way onto his lips as he watched your reaction to his touch.

As he pumped his fingers faster and faster, he began to curl them against your spongy walls, a euphoric feeling.

“Siri, fuck,” you whined.

Sirius’s unoccupied hand went to your mouth, covering it to keep you from being loud enough for Remus or James to hear.

“You’re so fucking pretty, did you know that?” Sirius spoke, hand still ruthless on your core, “staring at me with someone else’s cock in you, thinking it won’t affect me?”

You whined under Sirius’s hand, your hips beginning to grind on his hand as he continued speaking.

“Silly little girl, don’t you know Remus said we shouldn’t look at you? You keep breaking his rules, and that’s only something bad girls do. You’re not a bad girl, are you?”

Sirius only moved his hand from your mouth to hear you respond. “Maybe I am, Siri,” you moaned.

Sirius placed his hand back over your mouth, his fingers fucking you faster and faster after you spoke. “You wanna be a bad girl? I’ll treat you like a bad girl. Isn’t that what you want, huh? Staring at me when you have Remus inside of you?”

Your high was dangerously close, Sirius’s fingers better than you could have ever imagined, when Sirius heard “fuck this! I’m just gonna go back downstairs.”

Sirius immediately pulled away, placing your legs back in a normal seated position as he sat back down across from you, scanning the pages of his textbook as if nothing had just happened.

“Sorry that took so long, dumbass couldn’t even find the extra notes,” Remus said, plopping down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, “did I miss anything good?”

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 oiran

synopsis: while luffy and the others are off saving sanji, zoro is assigned the role of a ronin, and told to keep a low profile as he roams the land of wano... but he risks revealing himself and the entire crew when he discovers you're a nearby oiran, and in need of his rescue.

cw: lots and lots of fluff, comfort, zoro is down bad for reader, reader is super pretty, zoro does NOT play about you, took me hella long for some reason.

a/n: i took the song hell n back by summer walker as inspo for this

"Thanks," Zoro nodded with a smile, giving the boat owner a thankful nod as he took a box of sushi from him, quickly setting it down in his lap and cracking it open.

Though he had failed to notice the word WASABI written in bold on the side of the tray.

In his travels throughout the Flower Capital, Zoro had landed himself in a little bit of trouble, having been arrested for the crimes of a serial killer, and convicted as a murderer when he cut down a very important magistrate—who was the real culprit—at his own execution.

 Luckily, after defeating the magistrate's followers and walking out the execution yard, he had managed to stumble across a literal sushi boat leaving one of the docks, which gave him the perfect means to escape.

While also offering the perfect opportunity for him to stuff his face.

Eager to eat, he picked up the first piece, which was topped with fresh salmon nigiri and salmon roe, the rice a little more green than the swordsman expected.

But he was too hungry to care, not giving it a second thought as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

An act he was quick to regret.

Cheeks puffed and nose scrunched, a bead of sweat trailed down his temple as his face contorted into an expression of discomfort.

'It burns!'

Frantic for something to cool his tongue, he snapped his head around, letting out small hums of muffled agony as he searched for his sake gourd.

Though the spiciness made him feel like his mouth was being seared by flames, most of the heat was moving upward toward the back of his nose, hitting his sinuses just enough to make his eyes water.

Typically, he enjoyed things that sat more on the bitter side, but he'd never imagined food could get this spicy.

Quickly grabbing his sake, he guzzled well over half of it, ignoring the two large streams running down the sides of his mouth as that was what finally stopped the burning.

But as he began to regain feeling in his mouth, he realized that the sushi piece itself actually tasted delicious, slightly smiling at the flavor.

'Looks like I'll just need a sake chaser.'

"My, my! Look at this!" the older man next to him gasped, marveling at a mysterious flyer in his hands. "To think that such a breath-taking beauty actually exists! It's unbelievable!"

Completely unbothered, Zoro went back to stuffing his face, following each bite with a huge gulp of sake.

Though his curiosity began to pique when the man continued to stare at the paper, almost as if he was hypnotized.

"What's unbelievable?" Zoro asked, muffled, as he gulped down another piece. "Hot!"

"An oiran nearby by the name of (f/n)! She's said to be one of the most beautiful women in the country!" the man answered, holding up the paper for the swordsman to see. "It's rumored that her beauty would give oiran Komurasaki a run for her money."

Zoro took another lazy swig of his gourd, brow raised as he flippantly glanced at the flyer, only for his eye to blow wide at the sight.

It was you, your features gracefully laid out and unmistakable in the detailed ink painting.

Surprised, Zoro spit out his mouthful of sake, shooting it directly into the face of a nearby patron.

"Hey! If you don't like wasabi, don't eat it! But I won't tolerate you spitting on other customers!" the owner of the boat shouted, brows furrowed as he glared at the swordsman. "Hold on! Have you even paid?!"

"Lemme see that!" Zoro growled, completely ignoring the owner as he snatched the flyer out of the old man's hands, looking at it closer.

It was indeed you, as radiant and stunning as he'd last seen, which was well over a month ago.

He wasn't told what identity you were assigned or where you were stationed—a precaution taken by Kin'emon as he'd seen throughout his travels how hell-bent the swordsman was on protecting you, and couldn't trust the man not to seek you out if he knew.

And, of course, his intuition would be right, as the paper suddenly began to crumple in Zoro's hand, his expression dropping into a deep scowl.

Zoro was dim, but he wasn't stupid.

During his time in the capital, he had managed to piece together what the whole oiran business was about.

He'd overheard the stories.

He'd seen the men.

It was nothing but an excuse for stuffy rich guys to gawk and leer at women, treating them like objects and products to be bought rather than actual people.

His fist clenched even tighter, veins bulging in his hand as it practically shook, nearly destroying the paper.

While eating out somewhere nice, he'd eavesdrop on some of the stories the men of higher status would tell, and to call their actions harassment would be a grave understatement.

He grit his teeth, attempting to fight off the swell of anger threatening to burst from his chest.

Just the thought of any man doing those things to you made his blood boil, and his hands itch for his swords.

Plan be damned, he wasn't gonna let anything happen to you on his watch.

Abruptly turning around, he yolked up the boat owner by the front of his yukata, the man letting out a fearful yelp as Zoro pulled him closer with a deadly glare.

He held out the crumpled flyer for the man to see, tone deadly serious and leaving no room for argument.

"Tell me where I can find her..."

"Care for some sake, sir?" a blonde-haired geisha asked, a slight flush on her cheeks as she approached Zoro, who was sitting rigidly on his tatami mat.

The man was certainly a sight, and every other girl in the room was having a hard time focusing on their clients with him sitting so close.

He was significantly more handsome than their typical patrons.

Pronounced jawline.

Clearly muscular physique.

Dark, bedroom eyes.

A dream come true for a woman in this profession.

"No, thank you," he curtly denied, not even bothering to look the girl in the eye.

But he had turned down every one of their advancements.

Yet, in all actuality, he wasn't even supposed to be there.

Once the boat owner told him where to find you, he immediately jumped ship, leaving behind some money to pay for his meal before landing on the riverbank.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him with nightfall drawing ever closer, as he knew that was when red-light districts were at their most busy.

 And only after mugging a few rich guys—using their money to pay the exorbitant entrance fee—did he finally gain access to your room, entering himself under the guise of a wealthy samurai.

Then, he laid in wait, watching with a certain disdain as the other men practically jumped the other girls, getting particularly handsy particularly quick.

But he did his best to ignore it, instead focusing on the fact that you had yet to arrive, worry beginning to spike in his veins as he had been sitting there for thirty minutes, with little to no sign of you at all.

"Hey," he called, snappily, snatching the girl out of her lovesick stupor. "When the hell is the oiran comin' out?"

Visibly, her shoulders dropped, a pout settling on her painted lips as she finally caught the message, now understanding why he was so cold toward everyone else.

He was waiting for her.

'Much like the rest of the men that pass through nowadays...'

Sucking up her slight annoyance, she faced the man with a polite smile, fixing her grip on the tray of liquor.

"Oiran (f/n) will be—"

"Lords! And esteemed samurai of Wano!" an older woman suddenly exclaimed, seeming to appear out of nowhere, utterly elated. 

Zoro snapped his attention away from the girl, eye zeroing in on the door the madam was standing in front of.

He could sense you standing just behind it, and was fighting off the all-encompassing urge to bust it down and drag you away from the place.

"It is with great honor that the Ogimoto House presents to you our very own shining star... oiran (f/n)!"

As the door slammed open, a woman in the corner suddenly began to play the shamisen, the other girls joining together to gracefully dance as you made your entrance, carefully stepping into the light.

And once Zoro caught sight of you, nearly all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

You were a vision.

Your hair was tied in a both simple yet elaborate updo, adorned with several golden, gem-encrusted hairpins, two small strands of hair falling before your ears.

Your kimono was heavily layered, but richly decorated with bold greens and intricate embroidery that accented the fabric's dragon design—the most prominent one, ironically, missing its left eye, much like your swordsman.

Your makeup was surprisingly simple for an oiran, more focused on accentuating your natural features, while offering small pops of color to your cheeks.

Zoro's heart added another beat to its pattern, feeling as if the skin on his chest was tightening over itself, rendering him unable to breath.

Just being able to look at you brought him an embarrassing amount of happiness.

Lowering your fan, you flashed the men a coy smile, their eyes quite literally turning into hearts at the sight.

"Sorry for the delay," you simpered, gracefully walking into the room.

Because of traditional oiran etiquette, it was impossible for you to move faster than a mile an hour, but that only added to the appeal as that made it seem as if you were floating through the air. 

Calculated, your eyes scanned over the crowd, analyzing each face within the room.

You'd recognized a few of the usual suspects—rich, thirsty men who would fall over themselves trying to catch your attention—and noticed a few new faces—skeptical types who wanted to see if the rumors of your looks were true.

But one man among them all stuck out to you.

You'd recognize that head of hair anywhere...

 Internally, you let out a sigh, fighting off the wide smile threatening to break out on your face.

'He just can't follow directions, can he?'

Your swordsman.

Though you two had only been apart for about a month, give or take, you couldn't help but allow your heart to swell with joy at seeing him again.

Countless nights you'd found yourself pining over the man, missing his presence by your side.

His genuine, obnoxious laugh.

His funny, snarky remarks.

His drunken, horrible flirting.

His bad habit of resting his hand on your hip, keeping you tethered to his side.

All that was why you found your feet carrying you over to his mat, entire body burning at the intensity of his stare and the cockiness of his smirk.

"May I join you, sir?" you asked, slyly, biting back the grin threatening to crack on your lips. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

He let out a quiet chuckle, perfectly fine with playing along, so long as he was your only customer.

"Be my guest," he greeted, his hand instinctively coming up to pat his thigh.

You typically sat in his lap when you two were alone, but he was so excited to see you, he didn't really care.

Though, when your eyes flashed him a scolding look, his hand halted in mid-air, brow raising in confusion.

You glanced toward the other patrons discreetly, taking notice that they all were still watching intently, before turning your attention back to your swordsman.

'We can't do that here, dumbass,' your expression said. 'You're gonna blow my cover.'

It finally hit him, and he nodded with an adorably vacant look.

'My bad,' he backed off.

"Oiran (f/n)!" a man suddenly shouted from across the room, grabbing everyone's attention as he bustled to his feet and scrambled toward you. "Oiran (f/n)!"

Despite your confusion, you turned to him with a warm look, masking your apprehension.

"Yes, Sir Kyoguro?" you asked.

You'd recognized the man from a few of his previous visits, and you made a point to remember every name you met, in case they could be of use to you later.

"I must say, I am bewitched by your beauty, absolutely enthralled by your grace, and in awe of your poise!"

You pretended to be abashed by the comments, slightly hiding yourself behind your fan.

"Sir Kyoguro, you flatter me."

Zoro nearly gagged, rolling his eyes at the sight.

He knew you were faking it, seeing as you'd just given him a real reaction only moments ago, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"(f/n)!" the man eagerly lurched forward, taking your hand in his. "I am utterly taken with you. I see no other woman that can take your place in my heart!"

You fought off a grimace, smiling down uneasily at the stranger, who seemed to have found it in his right to touch you without your permission.

Zoro, on the other hand, was less than pleased.

Arms tightly crossed over his chest, his gripped his yukata, occupying his hands to prevent himself from shooting up and severely hurting the man.

It was painfully obvious that you were uncomfortable, yet you seemed to be taking it in stride.

How many other interactions had you had like this one?

How many men have touched you without your say so?

How many times have you had to hide your distress behind a kind smile?

'Bastard...'

He grit his teeth, fingers tightening painfully into a fist.

"This is why... I want you to marry me!"

Your entire world scratched to halt, Zoro's eye widening at the words.

"I-I beg your pardon?" you weakly stuttered, utterly shocked, praying you heard him wrong.

"I've already paid off your contract and then some. So tonight we leave for the Flower Capital! There we will be wed! And we'll finally be able to start our lives together!"

Your heart practically sank to your feet, the very thought making you shiver under your skin.

It was unheard of for an oiran to get a marriage proposal just within a month of working, much less one where the client pays well over the asking price.

Kin'emon telling you that fact was the only thing reassuring you throughout this whole endeavor.

As cheesy as it was, you had no intention of marrying anyone else in this world other than Zoro, whether the wedding was real or not.

But it wasn't like you could outright say no, or simply run away.

You'd blow your cover that way, and the others needed you to find out everything you could from the nobles of Wano.

'Of all people, why did this have to happen to me?'

It was safe to say... you were shitting your pants.

In a desperate attempt to debunk this, you turned to the madam, but she gave you a proud thumbs up, nodding in concurrence.

'Fuck!'

"And while we're on the topic... please forgive me if this comes off too vulgar for your delicate ears," the man leaned in closer, whispering so only you could catch it. 

You shivered, terrified of what nonsense he might say.

"Once we reach the Flower Capital, I must insist that we start the process of producing an heir at once. My family is in great need of one, you see? And we need to start his upbringing right away."

You nearly laughed at the statement, eyes wide, nearly disbelieving of the words that just left his mouth.

There's no way he just said that...

But he did.

And Zoro heard him loud and clear.

And right then and there was when the swordsman decided the time for sitting idly by was over, plan be damned—Traffy could make another one.

It'd be a cold day in hell before he ever let you get married to some pervert for some mission, much less have a kid with him.

Silently, Zoro stood up from his mat, rising to his full height ominously quiet.

The entire room suddenly turned their attention to him, you included, your lips letting out a faint gasp as you caught a glimpse of his eyes, which were darkened with malice.

You recognized the look instantly... and you knew it spelled trouble.

'Oh, no...'

Your swordsman clenched his fist, grabbing the air as if it were one of his swords, before winding up his arm for a swing.

"Zoro, please... he didn't mean anything by it... we'll figure something out, alright?" you tried to calm him down, completely ignoring the fact that you used his real name, and the fact that it was completely inappropriate to talk to a customer that way.

You were more preoccupied with making sure he didn't kill anybody.

But his mind was already made up.

Suddenly, a dark, shiny substance coated his arm from his fingertips to his elbow, emanating a menacing, purple glow.

'HA!'

If he was using his haki, there was no point in talking anymore.

You sighed, exasperatingly rolling your eyes, giving up on any hopes of calming him down and simply waiting for the inevitable.

"No Sword Style... Tatsumaki!"

Faster than everyone else could see, he swung his arm through the air, creating a giant, aggressive air funnel that knocked the sniveling man before you out cold—the winds so harsh that it blew the hairpins right out your hair and tore through the roof of the house, letting in the torrential downpour from outside.

While everyone was distracted, Zoro scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, your yelp of surprise snatching back their attention.

"Hey!" the madam shouted, furious. "You put her down this instant!"

"I'm stealing the woman!" Zoro announced, running right past her and out the exit, snatching up the large sack of money the man left. "And the cash!"

"Don't tell them that!" you lightly smacked him in the chest, laughing, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the pelting rain forcing your loose hair to stick to your face.

Breaking down the door to the exit, your swordsman sprinted out toward the dirt road, the owner of the house along with your other loyal followers chasing you both outside.

"Get back here!"

"Where are you going with the oiran?!"

"You can't take her!"

"Someone stop him!"

"Oiran (f/n)! We'll save you!"

As if you needed saving...

"Y'know, most guys say hi, how are ya before kidnapping a girl from her house," you teased, turning to your swordsman.

"Most girls typically say thank you after being saved from an arranged marriage," he countered, his trademark cocky grin plastered on his face.

"What other girls are you saving?" you playfully huffed, brows furrowing as you tugged at his cheek.

Amused, Zoro let out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes.

He'd missed you... desperately.

Looking over your shoulder, you checked to see if the men were still chasing you, happy to see that they had given up, all of them stopping and turning back toward the house.

'So much for loyal...'

Pushing the thought to the side, you suddenly cupped your swordsman's face in your hands, thumb softly gliding over his cheekbone.

"I missed you," you smiled up at him, sincerely, taking a moment to re-familiarize yourself with his face.

You'd missed him... desperately.

And the man seemed even handsomer than you remembered.

Finally a decent distance away from the house, Zoro stopped in his tracks, pulling over right in the middle of the road.

"Stand on my feet," he stated, shifting his grip to put you down.

You were only wearing tabi socks, and he didn't want you to get muddy feet.

Following his instructions, you stepped carefully onto the tops of his feet, his hands sliding down to your hips to balance you.

Though, once he was sure you were steady, he didn't hesitate in pulling you flush against him and smashing his lips against yours.

Your eyes widened, slightly surprised by the sudden movement, before you instantly melted into his embrace, relishing the way his strong arms felt wrapped around you.

He kissed you like he was famished, like you were water in his desert, his blunt fingertips having a near bruising grip on your hips.

Moments like these made him wonder what life would be like if the two of you didn't have to split up every two fucking seconds.

Pulling you even closer, he only deepened the kiss, his eagerness electrifying you right down to your core.

Emotional displays of this magnitude... coming from him?

In public?

You never thought you'd see the day.

Pulling back with a soft pop, you took a moment to catch your breath, unable to fight off the stupid smile settling on your lips.

"I should get married off more often," you chuckled, breathlessly, resting your hands on his chest for purchase.

He scoffed, scooping you up again before going back to running, hoping to find somewhere to shelter you both from the rain.

Glancing down at your smug grin, he smirked, rolling his eyes before placing a quick peck on your forehead.

"Don't push it."

[navybrat817]

Soak Up the Sun

Pairing: Neighbor!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: It's a beautiful day and Bucky has to pay you a visit.

Word Count: Over 1.6k

Warnings: Oral sex (f. receiving), semi-public, flirting, Bucky Barnes and he's crazy about you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Welcome to my Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Anon requested neighbor!Bucky to Go for a Swim (smut) with prompt #37 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was not being a creepy neighbor by looking into your yard. Not at all. It was a nice day and he merely wanted to see if you were outside so he could pay you a visit. Spending some time with you would be the only thing to make the day better.

He groaned when he spotted you on your lounge chair. Your exposed skin glistened in the sunlight, the rays practically kissing every inch of you. He adjusted the front of his shorts when he realized you were wearing the same bikini he tore off the last time you two went for a swim. The little whimpers you made when you tried to keep quiet only made him want you to be louder. Holding you close after, his heart raced even faster than it did when he was inside you.

He was whipped and didn’t give a single fuck about it.

Quickly shedding his shirt so he was left in only his shorts, he walked through the gate with a confident smile. “Hey, Beauty,” he called out. He didn’t want to startle or bother you. Well, maybe he wanted to bother you a bit since he liked having your attention.

Something about you made him needy in the best possible way.

Glancing up from the book in your hands, you acknowledged him with a nod. “Hey, neighbor. Or should I call you Beast?” His stomach did a funny flip when you smiled. How was it that your smile could disarm him so easily? “What's going on?” You asked, shifting in your lounge chair.

His eyes followed the strap of your bathing suit top as it slid off your shoulder. Did the motion cause it to slip or did you do it on purpose? It wouldn’t have surprised him either way. You enjoyed teasing each other. It was what made part of what made your relationship so fun.

Yes, relationship. In his eyes, you two were unofficially together. It wasn't like either of you were seeing anyone else. Why would he want anyone besides you? When was the last time he felt that way about anyone?

Never.

He never had.

He cleared his throat to regain his composure. “How are you?”

“Can't complain. It's a beautiful day and I’m enjoying the sunlight. Also catching up on my reading since I don’t have to deal with work. Maybe I can finally finish this book so I can give it back to you.”

Bucky leant you the book only a few days ago and had heard work was giving you a bit of a headache. He was more than willing to help you relieve some stress. “Keep it for as long as you want.”

“Thanks,” you said, closing it and setting it aside so you could give him your full attention. “How are you?”

He bit his lip and made a show of looking you over. “I'm actually really hungry,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “You stopped by to check on me even though you're hungry? Were you being a friendly neighbor or were you hoping I'd cook for you?”

He chuckled. The feigned innocence may have fooled him if he didn’t catch your subtle smirk. “As much as I love your cooking, I was really hoping I could eat your pussy instead,” he said.

Your mouth fell open slightly before you laughed, a breathless sound that he loved to hear. “And you thought you'd just interrupt my reading and I'd spread my legs and give you what you want? That’s a bold assumption.”

“Bold and accurate. You think I can't see that your legs are already further apart? Giving me a front row view? And I know you’re wet for me. Bet you were the moment I walked over here.” He nodded to the juncture between your thighs. “It's not just about what I want. You want it, too.”

You gasped this time. His confidence bordered on cockiness, but it was for a good reason. You two were moths to each other’s flames that couldn’t be extinguished. Magnets that couldn’t be pulled apart.

He wouldn't deny it and neither would you.

“Okay, so maybe I wouldn't mind if you ate my pussy since you like it so much,” you said after a moment, laying back more. “And it would be rude of me to deprive you of a delicious meal since you’re so hungry.”

“I’m starving. It’s also a good stress reliever for you, so we both win,” he winked, leaning down to grab you by your thighs and pull you closer to the edge of the chair. As fun as it would be to get in the chair with you, gravity would likely push his end down and he didn’t want you to go flying or get hurt.

“I don’t know. I think our stargazing was a pretty good stress reliever,” You smiled, your breath hitching as he sank to his knees.

Reaching for your bikini bottoms, he let a hand settle on your hip as the other reached for your hand. “Yeah? You enjoyed it?” He asked. That was another stressful week for you and it broke his heart to see you so exhausted. He wished he could quit your job. They didn’t deserve you.

“Yeah, I did.” You sat up, keeping hold of his hand. It fit there so well. “It was perfect,” you whispered.

He met you halfway, two forces drawn closer until your lips touched. The collision was soft at first, warmth spreading like inside until it fueled his hunger and passion. He wasn’t sure if he deepened the kiss first, but your lips parted for him to let his tongue explore. The same way your pussy would open up for him and let indulge.

He pulled back to let you breathe, his hand finally untying the bottom half of your bathing suit and pulling it away. “Lay back,” he murmured, his gaze dropping your exposed pussy with a groan. “You’re fucking soaked.” It glistened even more than your skin and he was dying to get a taste. You were always so sweet, warm, and wet. How could he not want to spend as much time as he could between your thighs and keep you in his arms like you were the most precious gift?

How did he get lucky enough to have you move in next door?

“Bucky…” you breathed at the first lick of his tongue, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He moaned your name before he dragged his tongue along your slit again. “You’re so sweet,” he whispered, bumping his nose against your clit in an almost affectionate manner. Sweet enough for him to wreck. Sweet enough to make him smile.

It didn’t take long for him to stab his tongue deep and make you writhe, losing himself to you as he used a hand to keep you in place. He smelled and tasted your sweetness, felt your wetness and perfect cunt, heard your beautiful cries, saw your chest rise and fall. You surrounded him and took over all senses. You were everywhere. It was beautiful.

You were beautiful.

“Bucky, fuck!” You moaned unabashedly as he slipped a finger in with his tongue. If you cared that the neighbor on the other side of your place could hear or see anything you didn’t let it show. He didn’t give a fuck either. Let everyone see him on his knees worshipping at the altar of you.

He’d never get enough.

Your thighs trembled and you tugged on his hair, your breaths coming in harder and faster. “Bucky… I…” Your words died on your tongue as his tongue set your body on fire.

“Let go for me, beautiful,” he whispered. He wanted the coil inside you to snap so could catch you when you fell.

He added another finger just as your pussy pulsed, your back arching as you cried out his name. Groaning as your release soaked his mouth, he lapped up every drop and helped you ride out the waves before you whimpered. He grudgingly left the haven of your quivering walls so he could lean back to look at your panting form. Your skin glistened even more than before as you caught your breath. But what made his heart twist was the smile you gave him when your eyes met.

His heart pounded so hard he wondered if you heard it. He really wanted all of you. Nothing was going to change that.

“Wow…” you said, your breathing evening out more as your hand reached for his again. “Did you get enough to eat?”

Licking some of your lingering sweetness from his lips, he smirked and squeezed your hand. “I don't know. I think I’m still a little hungry.” He fixed your bikini bottoms and brushed his thumb along your clit through the fabric just to tease you again. Watching you squirm was quite the sight. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“What I do to you? What about what you do to me?” You whimpered, grasping his wrist. You sat up with dazed eyes and nodded to the impressive hard-on he was sporting in his shorts. “I think I may be hungry, too,” you teased, sighing as you rested back again. “But maybe we can take this inside and cuddle after? More comfortable there.”

His smile softened at your suggestion, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and never let you go. “Cuddling sounds nice.”

And maybe after he gave you another amazing orgasm, he’d ask you out on a proper date like you deserved.

A date with our neighbor would be so sweet. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[storiesforallfandoms]

winner ~ josh futturman;future man

word count: 2263

request?: no

description: in which she walks in on her best friend..."celebrating" his big win, and decides to help him

pairing: josh futterman x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (masturbation, oral - m receiving, unprotected p in v, josh is a bottom bitch but we been knew)

masterlist (one, two, three)

My hand was raised to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. Mrs. Futturman smiled at me. "Oh, hello (Y/N)! Come on in!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Futturman," I said as I stepped past her. "Is Josh home?"

"Yes, he's upstairs in his room playing that fantasy game he loves so much."

Of course he was. I could've predicted that. If Josh wasn't at work, he was locked in his bedroom trying to beat an unbeatable video game. If I was ever able to actually coax him out of his room to come over to my place, all he'd do was talk about the game. It was like an addiction for him. I guess it could've been worse; Josh could actually be socializing and getting a girlfriend.

Yeah, I know. Best girl friend with a crush on my best guy friend cliche. Unrequited crush on a friend and all that.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Mr. Futturman said as he came down the hallway. "Looking for Joshy?"

"That I am, Mr. Futturman. I know he's in his room."

"Diane and I are going out for a few hours. Help yourselves to whatever you want!"

Josh's dad patted me on the shoulder and his mom smiled at me before they both walked out. I watched as they got into their car, then turned to do exactly as Mr. Futturman said: help myself to whatever I wanted. I grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and one of Mrs. Futturman's famous cupcakes. I would've grabbed one for Josh, too, but if he was deep enough into his game I knew he wouldn't be eating for a while.

I climbed the stairs to Josh's room. If we hadn't been such good friends, I would've knocked on his door instead of just walking in. If I had paid more attention to the sounds coming from his room instead of his mom's delicious cupcake, I would've realized they were not the sounds of his video game.

Honestly, if I hadn't come over at all, I wouldn't have seen what I did.

Because instead of finding my best friend deep in his game, I found him with his head thrown back against his gaming chair and his hand wrapped around his cock, furiously pumping. The sounds coming from his mouth were sinful and things I definitely should not be hearing. I was frozen, watching the entire situation that I knew I should not have been watching. I was so shocked that my drink and cupcake slipped from my hand. The soda can clattered to the floor, soda spilling all over the floor at my feet. It was that sound that finally made Josh open his eyes and turn to look at me. I could only imagine my panicked expression matched the one on his face.

"Shit," he breathed, trying to pull up his boxers.

I finally remembered myself and turned away as he tried to cover himself. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"You could've knocked!"

"When do I ever knock, dickhead?" I could hear him still struggling. I fought every urge that was telling me to turn around and look at him again. "Your parents told me you were playing Biotic Wars."

"I was. I - uh - I beat the game. I was...celebrating."

Under different circumstances, I'd probably get very excited over Josh beating his game. That would make him the first person to ever beat Biotic Wars in the entire world. It was certainly an achievement worth celebrating.

But a different idea crossed my mind.

I turned back to Josh, who still had his pants around his ankles and his boxers haphazardly pulled up. I could still see the outline of his hard cock fighting against the material of his boxers.

"Maybe I can help you celebrate."

He looked at me in confusion. I swallowed my nerve and started across the room. Josh's eyes followed my every move as I came to stand in front of him. His eyes widened as I sank to my knees in front of him. I watched his face as I reached for the waistband of his boxers, waiting to see if he was going to protest.

"Please," he whimpered.

I couldn't help but smirk as I pulled his boxers down to meet his pants. His cock sprang free, red and painfully hard. I couldn't help but marvel at the size. I had definitely fantasized about him when I was alone, but I was definitely doing him an injustice with those fantasies.

I pushed Josh so he was sitting down in his gamer chair again. I wrapped my hand around the base of his dick and pumped slowly. Josh's mouth fell open as I took the tip in my mouth, still pumping my hand at the base. I swirled my tongue around the head every so slowly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I held his eye as I took more of him into my mouth, going down just enough for my mouth to meet where my fist was wrapped around him. His head fell back against his chair again as I began to bob my head on his dick.

I held on to his thigh with my other hand, trying to keep myself steady as I picked up the pace slightly. Josh was a moaning mess, putty in my hands (almost literally). I glanced up at him again, watching his Adam's apple bob with every lewd sound that came from his mouth.

"Can you take it any deeper?" he asked. "Please?"

There was something about the begging tone of his voice that turned me on even more. I removed my hand from the base of his dick, placing it on his other thigh and taking him further into my mouth. His eyes screwed shut as he moan out into the room again. I could feel his dick twitching in my mouth with every inch that I took in. Eventually I almost had him completely taken in, the tip all but touching the back of my throat. I had never felt so grateful to not have a gag reflex.

His hand found it's way to my hair, just resting there at first as I started to pull my head back. But then I was being shoved back down at such a quick speed that my eyes suddenly watered and I quickly had to pull off to start coughing.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just...it felt so good. I needed to be in your mouth again."

"It's okay," I said. "But maybe don't shove your dick down my throat suddenly, okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Okay, okay. Please put my dick in your mouth again."

I smirked up at him. "Well, since you're being so good and using your manners."

He moaned out as I took him into my mouth again. I didn't tease this time. I immediately picked up my pace. Saliva started dripping from my mouth and ran down his cock. I was somewhat impressed by the fact that his chair hadn't toppled over or broke or anything with the sheer force of what was going on.

Josh's hand fisted my hair as whimpers and moans escaped from his lips. I could feel his dick twitching, signaling that he was getting close to his release.

"Stop," he said, his hand pulling at my hair. "Wait, stop."

I pulled off and looked up at him. "Are you okay?"

"I am so much more than okay. I'm actually really close, but I want to be inside of you before I cum. If...if that's okay, I mean."

I was off my knees before he could even finish his sentence. I got onto his lap and pressed my lips to his. It caught him by surprise, but he was responding to my kiss quickly. His hands held my waist as I awkwardly straddled him in his chair, the plastic of the arm rests digging into my legs.

"We have to move to the bed," I said between kisses. "I can't fuck on this thing."

"I figured it was a long shot, but the thought was so hot to me," he said.

I got off his lap and he stood. He kicked his pants and boxers off into a pile on the floor before reaching for my shirt. He paused a moment, like he was waiting for my permission. I playfully rolled my eyes and pulled the shirt off myself and removing his as well. I started kissing him again, deciding to give him the pleasure of taking off my pants and panties himself. Once I had them kicked to the floor, joining the other discarded clothing, we both started backing up towards his bed. I lightly pushed him so he was laying down on the bed before climbing on top of him.

"Fuck," he breathed. "This is a nice view."

I giggled. "You're a real charmer, Josh."

I spit in my hand and lathered it over his already saliva soaked cock. I hovered over him, lining him up with my entrance, before slowly sinking down onto him. We moaned in unison as I went down until he was buried completely inside of me. His hands were gripping at my hips, no doubt leaving crescent indents in my skin.

"Please move," he begged. "Fuck, I need to feel you, please."

"I never took you to be such a sub," I teased. "But I like to hear you beg. Can you ask me nicely one more time to ride your cock?"

"God, please ride me. I need to cum so bad. I wanna feel you before I cum."

I put my hands against his bare chest to steady myself and slowly began to grind on his cock. He was buried so deep inside of me, hitting the one spot my past hook ups could only dream of hitting. With every slow grind, he was nudging that spot more and more, and his pubic bone was rubbing against my clit. I hadn't realized how turned on sucking his dick alone had made me, but I felt like I wasn't about to last long either.

I leaned over to kiss Josh's lips. His tongue ran along my bottom lip, asking for entrance, which I granted him. My grinds had turned into bounces on his cock, the pressure inside me building more and more by the second. I could tell by the way his dick was twitching that he was getting close too.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum," he breathed. "Fuck, I-I don't have a condom on."

"I'm on the pill," I assured him. "I want to feel you cum inside of me."

"Fuck!" he cried out, his head lulling back onto the pillow beneath him as he finally reached his climax. The feeling of his warmth filling me up was enough to push me over the edge as well, crying out into the otherwise silent house.

I sat on top of him as both of us tried to regain our breaths. Josh sat up, wrapping an arm around my lower back to cradled me as he flipped us over. I gasped as he slowly pulled out of me, feeling his seed running out of me.

"I had to clean my sheets anyways," he said, eyeing the mess between my legs. "Hold on, let me clean us up."

He hurried out of the room and returned with two cloths. He passed one to me and we both cleaned ourselves up. He tossed the cloths onto the floor with the rest of our discarded clothes before getting back onto his bed with me. I was a little shocked when he pulled me into his arms, but I wasn't about to protest to post-sex cuddles.

"So," he said, running his fingers up and down my arm, idly, "how long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Uh...since I went through puberty and realized what sex was?" I offered.

He whistled. "That long, huh? And you never told me?"

"How was I supposed to tell you? Hey Josh, I know we've been best friends since primary school and you probably don't view me like this, but I have a massive fucking crush on you. Anyways, enjoy your video game that you never stop playing."

"Who says I don't view you the same way?"

"Well, obviously you view me as someone you want to have sex with considering the fact that we just had sex."

"I view you as more than someone I want to have sex with - "

"Friends with benefits is still just seeing me as someone you wanna have sex with."

"Will you listen to me?" he said as he covered my mouth with his hand. "I mean I like you, too, (Y/N). I always have. But I thought you only saw me as a friend, so obviously I wasn't about to say anything."

I groaned and pushed his hand off of my mouth. "God, we are such a cliche, aren't we?"

He chuckled and placed a finger under my chin, tilting my head up so that he could kiss me on the lips again.

"At least this finally happened now that you finished that game," I said. "I never would've gotten your attention beforehand."

"That's not true!"

"Josh, you didn't pay attention to me before. Being your girlfriend wouldn't have made much of a difference."

"It totally would've!"

"Shut up before I decide to take back everything I said."

I kissed him before he could come up with a comeback.

[keeryhours]

me and your mama - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

you know that i love you

so let me into your heart

Rafe spends a day with his girls, and maybe confesses some feelings.

Requested

Warnings:

None really, kissing/making out, just fluff and a bit of angst

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N:

It is seriously so exciting that you guys are loving baby daddy! Rafe as much as I am. Thank you so much for interacting and requesting!

—

“Dada?”

That had been the soundtrack to the entire morning. Iris had followed you around on her short little legs, the only word she wanted to say today being “dada”. It was driving you crazy, but at the same time you felt guilty, knowing she was missing her dad.

After about the 105th “dada”, you sighed, pulling your cell phone out of your pocket. “Okay, baby girl. Let’s call daddy.”

The phone didn’t ring long before you heard his low voice over the line.

“Hey,” Rafe greeted, sounding bored.

“Hey,” you said back, phone stuck between your ear and shoulder as you cut up a banana for Iris’ snack.

“What’s up?”

“Your daughter misses you,” you said, glancing down at the toddler watching you with her full attention. She reached a chubby hand up and you handed her a banana slice.

“Yeah?” Rafe asked, a chuckle in his voice. “I miss her, too.”

“Do you want to come over?” you asked him. You rinsed the knife you had been using in the sink before dropping it in to properly wash later.

“Yeah, I’ll come over,” he said. You heard him groan as he stood from wherever he’d been sitting.

“Long night?” you asked. Iris trailed after you as you walked to her high chair with her plate in hand. You lifted her and sat her in it, buckling her in.

“Something like that.”

You rolled your eyes, not even wanting to know what he meant by that. Iris giggled up at you with her mouth full of banana, making you laugh.

“I’ll see you in a few.”

By the time Iris finished eating and you got her and her chair all cleaned up, the front door was opening. Those heavy footsteps sounded as he walked down the hall, finding the two of you in the kitchen.

Iris’ whole face lit up when Rafe walked into the room. She squealed as she ran to him, arms up in the air to be picked up.

Rafe laughed as he scooped her into his arms, hugging her close. “Hey, baby girl. I heard you missed me.”

Iris wrapped her tiny hand around Rafe’s nose. “Dada!”

Rafe laughed again. “That’s my nose.” He grabbed at her little one. “And that’s your nose.” Iris laughed like it was the funniest thing he could have done.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face at the sight of Rafe and Iris. They loved each other so much, it was clear to anyone who looked for even a second.

“Did you have plans today?” you asked him, leaning against the counter as you watched.

“No plans,” he said. He turned to look at you then. “Why, did you want to do something?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought it might be nice to get out of the house.”

Rafe looked down at the little girl in his arms. “What do you think, Iris? Do you wanna go to the park?”

“Ark!” she agreed, eyes shining bright.

“I think she likes the idea,” Rafe said, shooting you a smirk.

“Park it is, then,” you said, smiling to yourself as you pushed off the counter. “Let me get changed.”

You changed into something that felt a little cuter to be going out in public, but still casual enough to run around at the park. You settled on a pair of shorts and a crop top.

You came out of your bedroom to see Rafe playing with Iris on the living room floor. You smiled at them, then moved into the kitchen again. You figured you might as well make a whole thing out of it. You grabbed some ingredients and began to make lunches for the three of you.

The sounds of Iris’ wild giggles filled the house as you made sandwiches, cut up fruit, and grabbed some little bags of chips and snacks from the cabinet. You grabbed the small insulated cooler from next to the back door and packed the lunch in it, along with some sodas, juice for Iris, and some beers for Rafe.

You were grateful that Rafe kept a car seat installed in his truck, because moving and reinstalling it was the biggest pain in the ass. He carried Iris out of the house while you carried her diaper bag on your shoulder and the cooler in your hands, along with a blanket. He hooked her into her car seat, talking to her softly and making her giggle the whole time. Usually she just screams in your face when you try to get her in the car seat.

Rafe drove you all to the park on Figure 8. The windows were down in the truck because it was such a beautiful day. The salty wind whipped your hair around your face, but it felt so nice you didn’t care.

Iris began kicking her feet and cheering as Rafe pulled into the parking lot of the park. You both laughed at her excitement and he shut off the truck, both of you hopping out.

Rafe put Iris down as you reached the grass of the park, and she took off as fast as her little legs would carry her. Rafe trailed behind her, laughing.

“Where you going?” he called after her. She only squealed in response, running up to the swing set and reaching for the baby swing. She looked back at her dad expectantly.

Rafe lifted her up and sat her in the swing, pushing her high enough that she was having the time of her life but not so high he was scared of her getting hurt. When she was tired of the swings he let her down and she ran to the slide. You and Rafe each held one of her hands as she slid down, quickly running back to do it again and again.

“Getting hungry?” you asked her after she had been playing for an hour. It was nearing nap time, too.

“Hungy,” she confirmed, and you noticed her wiping her eyes.

Rafe scooped her up in his arms while you grabbed the blanket and cooler and you found a comfortable place in the grass, a good distance away from other families at the park. You spread the blanket and the three of you sat down, making yourselves comfortable.

You opened the cooler and started grabbing Iris’ food. You set it all up for her and she began eating right away, tiny fingers grabbing for a chunk of strawberry first.

You passed Rafe his sandwich and chips, which he took with a grateful look.

“Beer or soda?” you asked him.

“Beer would be good,” he said, predictably. You passed him the bottle and he opened it with ease, taking a few big sips.

You unwrapped your own sandwich and took a bite, taking in the scenery around you as you ate your lunch. It really was a beautiful day, and it had been too long since you just spent time outdoors, in nature. It felt peaceful, the air smelled clean. You sipped your soda, enjoying the breeze on your skin.

The best view of all was right next to you. You took in the image of your daughter, sitting comfortably leaned back against Rafe while she ate her lunch. She was dressed in a little pair of overalls today, a pink shirt underneath.

Your eyes traveled up to Rafe, looking off into the distance as he drank his beer. He must have been thinking the same thing you were, his eyes glancing over the scene surrounding you. You couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes looked in the light, the way they were slightly squinted in the sun. His big, strong hand wrapped around his beer bottle. The strong muscles of his arms, his chest…

You were getting carried away.

You tried to shake it off, but then he turned at the last moment, eyes meeting yours. He smiled at you, and it made your heart thump harder in your chest. You wondered if he would always have this effect over you.

Iris fell asleep after lunch. She just curled up right on the blanket and passed out before either of you had even realized.

“She’s so beautiful,” Rafe mused, gently brushing some of his daughter’s soft brown hair out of her face without waking her.

“She looks just like you,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he said. “Lucky girl.”

You shoved him in the shoulder hard, and he laughed, nearly falling over into the grass.

“You’re so annoying,” you laughed, shaking your head.

He was still laughing as he plucked another beer from the cooler. He opened it and lifted it to his lips. He reached forward and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“She would have been lucky to look like you, too,” he said, and you laughed lightly. “Seriously. You’re the hottest girl on the island, Maybank.”

You felt your cheeks heating up, looking down at your legs instead of at him. “That is not true.”

“You think I’d lie about that?” Rafe asked. He continued to drink his beer, his eyes never leaving your face.

You shrugged.

You heard Rafe sigh, then you felt his hand on the side of your face, turning it to look at him. He was so much closer than you realized when you turned, and before you could open your lips to speak, he was kissing you.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back. His hand landed on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth. His tongue slowly dragged along yours, and you accidentally moaned against him, causing his lips to tilt up in a smirk. He didn’t stop kissing you though, dominating the kiss and exploring your mouth with his tongue.

Your hand rested on his thigh, the other on the blanket as you leaned your weight against it. You tilted your head to kiss him more naturally, his fingers playing with the hair at the back of your neck.

When he finally pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. He said your name, low, nearly pained.

You felt the same pain in your chest. You wanted so badly for things to be different with Rafe, and you knew he wanted that too. But you had both agreed you couldn’t be together.

“Rafe…” you whispered back. His nose brushed against yours, your faces still so close as he just rested there, like he was thinking.

“Why are we doing this?” he finally asked, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper.

“Doing what?” you asked, not sure what exactly he was referring to.

“Pretending we don’t love each other.”

You froze. You felt like all the air had been sucked from your body. Rafe’s hand left your hair and grabbed onto your hand. “Rafe…” you breathed out again. You didn’t know what to say.

“It’s kind of bullshit, isn’t it?” he continued, forehead still pressed against yours. It would take only the slightest movement for your lips to meet again.

You agreed. It was bullshit. You were tired of it, too. But you and Rafe had also mutually agreed that you weren’t right together. Your brief relationship had been toxic, dramatic, exhausting. You didn’t want to go through it again.

“Yeah,” you said simply. His thumb rubbed across the back of your hand.

“I want to be with my daughter every day. I want to be with you every day.” Rafe looked into your eyes then and you’d never seen him look so serious. Well, a couple of times, but it was rare. It was enough to scare you.

“I want that too, but Rafe-“

“Why don’t we just try again?”

You closed your eyes tightly. You thought you might cry if you didn’t. “We can’t.”

Rafe scoffed, looking away, back into the distance of the park in front of you. He ran a hand over his buzz cut, a sign of the stress he was feeling.

“I know,” he said finally. “I know.”

You both sat there in silence for a little while, listening to the sounds of kids screaming at the park, birds in the trees, Iris’ soft breathing as she slept between you.

“I just think…” Rafe began again. “Maybe…it could be different this time.”

You wanted to believe that more than anything. You wanted to take the chance. But you didn’t think you’d survive the heartbreak when it inevitably didn’t work again. You and Rafe were already tied together for the rest of your lives, something that had taken you long enough to come to terms with after the initial breakup. You had never wanted to see him again at the time, and now you had a successful co-parenting relationship. You were terrified to lose the peace you had come to find in your shared lives, returning back to the chaos.

“I want that,” you said. “I really do. But it just feels like a bad idea.”

Rafe nodded. His face didn’t betray any of his emotions, but you could tell they were swirling in his head. He finished off his second beer. “I’m never gonna stop loving you, you know.”

Your heart twisted in your chest at his words. Because you knew exactly how he felt. “I’ll never stop loving you either, Rafe.”

You saw his jaw clench as you spoke the words. The muscles in his arm flexed as he clenched and unclenched his fist. He was holding back. He had more to say.

“We should get her home,” he said instead, and he was packing the cooler and bags before you could say anything else. He gently picked up Iris’ sleeping form as you grabbed the other supplies and the blanket. Iris curled against his chest, not waking from her sleep for even a second. You had been blessed with an amazing sleeper for a baby.

The drive home was more awkward, the carefree joy from earlier suffocated by this tension. You looked at Rafe’s hand on the wheel as his other arm rested on the open window. You looked away, making an effort to stop thinking about how attractive he was when you were trying to get over him.

Maybe you’d be happier getting under him.

You shook that thought away.

Back at the house, Rafe carried Iris inside, taking her to her nursery and laying her down in her crib without waking her while you collapsed on the couch. You were surprised when he joined you a minute later, thinking he’d leave as soon as he got her down.

“I had a good time with you guys. I like when we get to do stuff together.”

“Me too,” you said honestly. Rafe’s hand rested on your bare thigh, and he squeezed once. You looked over at him to find him already staring at you.

He moved closer, slowly, giving you ample time to push him away. You didn’t. When his lips touched yours again he kissed you passionately, hand resting on your waist and pulling you closer. So close that you ended up throwing your leg over his lap, straddling him.

He groaned against your lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close and pulling your hips down against his as you kissed. Your arms rested around his neck, chest pressed against his. His big hands slid down to your ass and he grabbed hard.

You gasped into the kiss, Rafe taking it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth again. His hands were beginning to creep up your shirt when you pulled back. “Rafe…”

“Come on, right here on the couch before JJ gets home from work,” Rafe practically begged, his eyes dark with lust and his hands touching all over you. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, fighting a battle with your own body.

“Can’t,” you force yourself to say, and the word sounds as pained as you feel. “We can’t.”

Rafe leaned forward, head falling against your chest as he sighed. He placed a few more kisses on the tops of your breasts peeking out of your top before pressing one more to your lips.

“Okay,” he conceded.

You climbed off his lap, although neither of you wanted you to. Rafe’s hand lingered on your thigh as you sat next to him, rubbing your skin affectionately.

“I guess I’ll go then,” he said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking texts and anything else he’s missed since he hadn’t touched the phone while he was with you. Topper’s invited him to some party, which doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend this night. A good way to forget.

You looked at him sadly, wanting to tell him no, stay, and maybe also please fuck me on the couch like you were just about to. But you don’t.

Rafe leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” His voice rumbled right against your ear.

You didn’t move as he stood and left the house. You didn’t move when you heard his truck start and the gravel kicking up as he drove off. You fingers itched for your phone, to tell him to please come back no matter how humiliating that would be.

Instead your fingers reach up and touch your lips, still tingling from his kiss like he’d never left.