#Like I don’t even have to ask she’s so nice

[juniperskye]

Corruption

Based on the following ask: Aaron with the youngest and newest member of the bau, taking her virginity in his office after hours, corrupting her in the most unprofessional way but praising her for being such a quick learner – I kind of went genius, girly-girl, virgin reader…but enjoy!!!

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

SMUT

Word count: 1772

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is early 20’s), explicit language, virgin reader, she’s also a genius and kind of a girly-girl, naïve reader, slight d/s dynamic, soft dom Hotch, corruption kink, lots of praise, use of sir, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than female anatomy, use of pet names, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this), choking, pure filth tbh…let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

It wasn’t the right time. That is what you said, time and time again, but then the right time never really came. First it was the high school boys were all too immature, then the college guys are all too pushy and unserious…and let’s face it, the guys in the FBI academy, well they were all too horny and desperate. So, you put all your focus into your studies and hard work. Who needed sex when you were achieving success at such a young age.

You were the youngest ever agent to join the BAU, even more so than Spencer. You’d been so motivated in school that you had dual majored during both your bachelor’s and master’s programs, finishing them in record time and completing your PHD while in the academy.

--

When you sauntered into Aaron’s office that day, trailing behind the director, he thought perhaps you were Cruz’s new assistant. With your tight little skirt and your long-painted nails, there was no way a sweet thing like you could be his new field agent.

Until you were.

“Hotchner, here is your latest recruit!” Cruz announced. “Be nice, she’s here to stay.”

You stepped forward and offered your hand to shake, quietly introducing yourself. Aaron took your hand, shaking it firmly before releasing it and gesturing for you to take a seat.

“You’re not at all what I was expecting.” He began.

“I hear that a lot. I don’t think people expect someone as accomplished as me to look this way.” You shift your gaze downward.

“How do you mean?” Aaron inquired.

“I just mean, I think people expect me to be a stereotypical nerd, seeing as I put my education first for so long. I don’t think they expect me to have put so much effort into my appearance as well.” You shrug.

Aaron was rendered speechless. You were right, when he had seen your long list of accomplishments, he was picturing someone a little more like Reid. Not a bombshell in a light pink blouse, tight skirt, heels and long pink fingernails.

And thus began Aaron babying you. He did everything in his power to keep you safe…which was becoming increasingly difficult as you continued to prove how qualified you were for this team.

--

He had been devastated when you’d been hurt the first time. It had been a slash of a knife to the shoulder, you’d ducked just in time to avoid your face. Aaron had been quick and pretty rough when taking that particular unsub down.

So, you see, it had been months like this and while…things were good, Aaron was overbearing, you were more than capable of holding your own and you didn’t understand why he was treating you this way.

That’s why you confronted him.

--

“Okay Hotch, what’s your problem?” You asked, entering his office unannounced.

“Excuse me?” He questioned you as you closed the door behind you and made yourself comfortable in the chair across from him.

“You know full well that I am capable of doing this job, so why do you purposefully hold me back?”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to protect you.” He justified.

“I don’t need you to protect me though.” You huffed.

“The fact that you think that only proves how innocent you are.”

“I – I’m not innocent.” You shook your head.

Aaron clicked his tongue, standing to walk behind you, letting his hands graze your shoulders gently. He leaned down, his warm breath hugging the shell of your ear, whispering.

“I think you are…but you don’t want to be.”

You shivered, leaning into his touch. “I don’t.” You breathed.

“You want to be bad, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You gasped.

“Then be bad sweetheart.”

--

Aaron walked over to ensure the bullpen was clear. He then locked his office door and pulled the blinds closed. He returned to his seat behind his desk, sitting and then wiggling his finger at you, signaling for you to come to him.

You stood and tentatively made your way around his desk, stopping just short of being in front of him. He took your hand and gently pulled you to stand between his legs. His hands slid down your sides, stopping at the outer part of your knees, tapping softly.

You looked at him with confusion…unsure of what it was he was asking you. Your confusion was answered when you saw the look in his eyes. You slowly dropped to your knees, your palms resting on his thighs.

“God, you’re like a vision. So sweet, on your knees for me.” Aaron caressed your cheek.

You reached for his belt, pulling it open, while he let his hand tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Your mouth fell open in a gasp, his pupils were blown, full of lust. He let his thumb slip into your mouth, groaning at the sight of you.

You continued to work his dress slacks open, desperately trying to free his cock now. You were more than ready to have him in your mouth…but your nerves began to creep in. Aaron, ever the profiler, knew immediately.

“You’re doing great baby. I’ll walk you through it, don’t worry.”

You wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely out of reach of your thumb. As if that wasn’t enough, his length was quite shocking as well. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to take all of him, but you wanted to try.

“What if I…I mean – I want to be good.” You stuttered. “For you.”

Aaron groaned “You’re going to be amazing, sweet girl. Just start slow, it’ll come naturally.”

So, you did. Hesitantly at first, taking just his tip in your mouth, then moving down little by little. And judging by the sounds Aaron was making, you knew you were doing okay. You continued bobbing your head up and down, hallowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the tip, letting Aaron’s grunts drive your movements.

--

Aaron gently pulls you off of him, helping you back to your feet before lifting you onto his desk.  He stood, invading your space, your gaze shifts upwards to meet his…you just knew you looked completely wrecked for him.

Aaron leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss. He nipped at your lower lip, eliciting a gasp from you. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek and the other sliding under your skirt.

It wasn’t until his fingers grazed the front of your panties that you whined, practically begging for him to do more.

“Please…”

“Please what?” He teased.

“Please sir. Touch me.” You huffed.

Aaron groaned at the name and allowed his fingers to move passed your panties, pressing them through your slick folds. Your hands moved behind you, palms down, holding yourself up. Your head fell back and before long, Aaron’s fingers were thrusting into you. He kept a steady pace, not wanting to work you up too much before he got the chance to fuck you.

“Ugh, God yes. I-it feels s-so good.” You moaned.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good for me. Take it like a good girl.” He praised.

Your hips were chasing his every thrust, begging for your release. He pressed further, the heel of his palm adding a delicious pressure to your clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge.

“Please Aaron, I’m so close.” You begged.

“Not yet sweet girl, I want to feel you cum around my cock.” He nipped your earlobe.

--

Aaron pulled his fingers from your heat, taking a step back, he pulled you with him and spun you around, pressing your front into his desk. His hands slid under your skirt and pulled your panties down.

“Aaron…I-I’ve never done this before.”

“I know baby girl, it’s okay. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

You arched back into his touch; your body was shaking with anticipation. Aaron leaned down and pressed a kiss to your shoulder before he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance.

“You ready for me honey?”

“God yes.”

With that, he pressed forward, fully sliding his cock into you. You cried out and he did his best to soothe you, wiping the tear from your cheek. His movement caused you to let out a sharp hiss.

“You alright sweetheart?”

You nodded, reaching behind you to grab at any part of him you could reach. He placed his hand into your grasp and held still, wanting to let you adjust to him properly. After a few moments, you pressed yourself back, testing the waters to see if the pain had subsided. Aaron quickly caught on to your motion and all hell broke loose.

--

Aaron’s hips snapped into yours over and over, he had your arms pinned behind you as he held you down against his desk for leverage. You were a mess beneath him, tears and mascara running down your face, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your hair fallen completely out of your neat hairstyle. Deep grunts and soft cries filled the room as you both neared your peak. He had you falling apart completely, surely ruining you for any other man.

“It’s like this pussy was made for me sweetheart; she’s gripping me so tight.”

“Oh my god Aaron, I-I think, I’m close.” You cried.

“That’s it honey, cum for me.”

Your orgasm took over as your entire body shook. Your screams could be heard all throughout the office. Aaron shifted his hands, so they gripped your shoulders, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing his end.

With a few final thrusts, Aaron let out a low growl, filling you with his hot seed. You could feel it dripping out of you with every lazy thrust. When he finally stilled, he leaned down over you, pressing kisses to your neck, whispering praise of how well you did for your first time and how he couldn’t wait to ruin you again and again.

--

Aaron slipped out of you with a hiss and tucked himself back into his slacks. He pulled you up and turned you around, helping you back into your panties and pressing his hand to your core.

“I want you to hold it in sweet girl. Because when I get you home, I’m gonna fuck it back into you.” He pressed his lips to yours once more.

You met him with the same amount of passion, only pulling away when he did.

“So…what does this mean?” Your glassy eyes met his.

“You’re mine baby. Forever.”

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[covenofagatha]

Practice makes perfect

Agatha makes you build up your stamina until she actually lets you fuck her

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: g!p reader, virgin!reader, sex, age gap, fleshlight, degradation, humiliation kink, Agatha is MEAN and reader very much gets off on it, premature ejaculation, masturbation, reader is a walking HR violation, cumming in pants

When Agatha Harkness finds out you’re a virgin, she actually laughs. 

You’re a junior in college interning at your dad’s multi-billion dollar company over the summer, a nepo-baby at its finest, and so what if you have the hots for the general counsel? So what if you get hard every single time she even looks in your direction? 

You try to flirt with her, you’re as bold as you can be without her going straight to HR, and yet she barely even gives you the time of day. Deep down, you can tell she likes you though. She humors you and doesn’t tell you to shut up whenever you start to talk, so that must mean something. The two of you have formed quite the relationship since the summer started, with you saying the filthiest things to her and her brushing them off as if they were casual anecdotes. 

“I’d make you feel so good, Agatha,” you tell her one day. “I’ll fill you up so nicely.”

It might be pushing the limits — it’s your third pathetic attempt this day at getting her to reciprocate, but she’s used to it by now; it hardly even fazes her. Everyone in the office knows that their boss’s daughter has a cock, and they also know that their boss’s daughter has a filthy mouth, always saying something vulgar and sarcastic. No one takes anything that comes from your lips as serious. You’ve been called a spoiled, entitled, rich bitch, told that you’re heartless for not giving a damn about anything, expelled from three high schools for the explicit jokes that you make.

But your “jokes” to Agatha are the only thing you’re serious about. 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes; at twenty-five years your senior, she has had plenty of experience with girls that promise her the world and barely deliver on any said promises made. “I’m not some quick college lay that lets you rub my upper thigh and pretends that you’ve found my clit, you know.” 

It’s your turn to scowl. “Who do you think I am?” you ask and she fixes you with a pointed glare from behind her desk. “I know where the clit is.” 

“How many women have you actually satisfied?” she asks and your cheeks heat up. You figured it would come up eventually, but now you don’t actually want to answer. You duck your head and Agatha makes a noise, not exactly surprised, but almost disappointed. “You think I’m going to let a virgin fuck me? You probably wouldn’t even last two seconds inside me.”

“Hey, I’d last longer than that,” you snap, your head shooting back up to look at her incredulously. You can feel a slight stirring in your lower stomach at the thought of blowing your load the instant she gets inside you and how she would most definitely mock you for it. 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and chuckles cruelly. “Honey, please. Go back to your desk and get your work done. I’m definitely not having sex with someone who can’t finish reading over a simple contract.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, and she makes a face at you before you get up out of the chair in front of her desk you were lounging in. “Might have to go to the bathroom real quick and jerk one off though.” 

She crinkles her nose and waves her hand at you dismissively and you think that you’ve just blown all your chances with her. She’s definitely not going to want to fuck you now. There is some speculation floating around about your lack of experience and that’s why you overcompensate with the explicit things you say — libel you tell them, but deep down it’s accurate — and if Agatha, who has certainly had her fair share of partners, knows it’s real, then she for sure won’t waste her time with you. 

So you go back to your desk and begrudgingly get all your work done, emailing Agatha your thoughts about the contracts when you’re all done. She sends back a Very good job, y/n and you hate to admit that it gets you hard. You’d like nothing more than to go fuck yourself in the restroom but you stay at your cubicle until Agatha walks by so you can see her before she leaves for the day. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you call after her as she breezes by your desk without saying a word. It’s the last day of the third fiscal quarter today, and as a reward, tomorrow your dad is bringing his executive staff to your beach house in The Hamptons for a week. Because you’re part of the family, you get to attend, but none of the other interns do. 

It’s been this way since you were little, but only recently did you start to notice how attractive Agatha was. The way she takes absolutely no shit from anyone, even from your dad. The way she coolly holds her ground in the face of IRS audits, FBI raids, and anything else that got thrown at her. The way she raises an eyebrow at you when you say something stupid and it makes your cock hard in seconds. Everything about her drives you fucking wild. 

Agatha lifts a hand up in response, not even bothering to look over her shoulder at you, and your pants tighten almost uncomfortably. 

The second you get back to your apartment, you undo your belt and unzip your pants, reaching inside to take out your hard and leaking cock. Your hips thrust forward at the warmth from your hand and you gasp, the pleasure already dizzying. You think about Agatha on her knees in front of you, looking up at you through her glasses, telling you that you’re just a pathetic slut who will never be able to make her feel good. 

It takes three strokes of your hand before you grunt and your cock pumps out three long spurts of cum all over the kitchen counter. You grab a paper towel, dampen it, and then wipe up your mess before going to take a shower. 

You might have a serious problem. 

And it’s only going to get worse this week. An entire seven days where you’re going to be around her. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’re going to be hard for most of it. Is there a record for the most times a person has cum in a day? Because you think you might break it. 

That night, you have a dream about Agatha, as many of your dreams are. She’s sitting in a chair right by the bed, legs outstretched and open and her feet are resting on the duvet. You’re laying stomach-down, cock hard between your body and the covers, mouth watering. Agatha is completely naked, her cunt glistening, and the dream is so realistic that you can smell her. She laughs when you groan pitifully. 

Then she buries two fingers inside her and your hips lurch against the bed, gasping at the stimulation on your cock. 

“Look at you, humping the bed like a bitch in heat,” she snarls and your rhythm stutters. You garble out something incoherently and she laughs before rubbing her clit with her other hand. “Can’t even fuck me right, so I have to do it myself.” 

You moan loudly, grinding against the bed furiously, and she picks up her thrusts to match your face. “I can, please, I want to,” you beg before she cums all over her fingers. She pulls them out of her and then slides them into your mouth and you cum all over the bed and your stomach. 

When you jerk awake right after that, the first thing you notice is how sticky you are. You must have cum in your underwear from just your dream and it’s just further evidence of how completely fucked you are for the next week. 

There will certainly be no swimming for you because you don’t need the entire executive board and your father knowing that you’re getting hard for the forty-six year old general counsel. 

But fuck, Agatha in a swim suit — 

You cut yourself off from the thought because you don’t have enough time to get worked up again. 

Good thing too, because by the time you do get yourself all cleaned up from your little nighttime accident, you have to leave to get to the helicopters. 

There’s no sign of Agatha yet so you make awkward small talk with Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, because you have nothing better to do. She’s new and attractive, but no one gets your cock stirring like Agatha. You wonder if it’s the fact that she’s older and it taps into your mommy issues, or the fact that she can cut you down with a simple sentence and you’ve found that you have a huge thing for degradation, or the fact that she’s never going to let you touch her no matter how hard you beg. 

She drives you crazy and you fucking need her. 

Finally, Agatha pulls up in a company car and gets out, wearing a gray pantsuit, and you already feel your face heating up. She gets into one of the two helicopters without even looking at you and you make a beeline for it before your dad stops you and pulls you into the other one. You can’t exactly tell him that you want to be next to his general counsel, so you grumble to yourself before agreeing. 

It takes only about forty-five minutes to get to the house and the next hour is full of unpacking and the wait staff running around, trying to get everyone everything they need. 

Lunch is served and everyone gathers in the dining room except for Agatha, so you excuse yourself and try to go find her. 

You’re just “happening” to be walking by her room when she opens the door to step out, almost bumping into you. 

“Your quick solo session take a bit too long?” you ask crassly, delighting in the way her eyes roll exasperatedly. “Next time, give me a call and I’ll get you there quickly.”

She starts walking to the dining room, leaving you behind so you have to speed to catch up. “If I ever want someone to cum after three pumps inside me and leave me even more unsatisfied than I was before, I’ll make sure to let you know.”

“Hey, I’d lay you badly, but I’d lay you gladly,” you say as seductively as possible and she snorts. “Come on, you gotta admit you’ve at least thought about it.” 

Agatha spares you a glance. “When I’m trying not to cum. It’s a real turn-off for me personally.”

You also love how she gives as good as she gets. “Please?” you ask, whine, beg. “I’ll be so good for you — I’ll make you feel so good.”

She sniffs and rakes her eyes over your body, pausing at the outline of your cock through your pants. Before you even realize what’s happening, she’s pushed you against the wall and her hand cups your cock and you gasp while bucking into her touch. 

“Really?” Agatha chuckles. You make a muffled sound and try to grind up and she rubs her palm against you, making you throb. “You think you could make me feel good with your cock that’s already about to cum for me?” 

“Yes,” you choke out and she squeezes harder. You’re panting open-mouthed now, trying so hard to hold back from your release. 

She is completely unaffected as she leans in to whisper, “You’re so fucking pathetic,” into your ear and you whimper, your stomach twists, and your cock pulses before pumping loads of cum into your pants. You chant swears under your breath while you cling to her arms for dear life and she watches amusedly as a stain spreads on your pants. 

You’ve never been more of a mess in your life and she just smirks smugly before giving your cock a patronizing pat. 

“I’ll tell your dad you’ll be a little late to lunch.” And then she walks away, leaving you completely agape against the wall, cock still twitching in your pants. 

It’s hard to make eye contact with her the rest of the day without heat flushing through your cheeks and the memory of what she did to you making your cock stir. 

The second you can escape after dinner, you do. You fully intend on spending the rest of the night fucking yourself silly and trying to rid your brain of Agatha.

But around ten, there’s a knock on your door and you swing it open to find Agatha standing there in silk, navy pajamas and black glasses. Your jaw drops open and she brushes right past you to walk into your room and tosses something on the bed. 

A fleshlight. 

“What—” you start to say, but you can’t even finish your question because all the blood in your brain has rushed down to your cock in record time. 

Agatha turns to face you, hands on her hips, lips pursed. “Show me that you can last five minutes with it—” nods at the toy, “—and we’ll see about me letting your cock anywhere close to me.” 

Your breaths come out staggered and you stumble over to the bed, head spinning. There’s no way this is actually happening. You shove down your sweatpants and boxers and your cock bobs up, rigid and hard and leaking copious amounts of precum. 

“God, already?” she snorts and your cock twitches. “You’re so fucking desperate, aren’t you?” 

A muffled whimper escapes your lips and you give yourself a quick stroke. “Fuck.” You reach for the fleshlight, heat completely overwhelming your body, but she stops you first. 

“Spit on yourself,” she orders and you watch her with wide and pleading eyes as a strand of saliva drops from your mouth onto your cock. You feel like you’re in a trance as you spread it out along your length, the wetness of your spit and precum coating your cock and making it glisten in no time. “Fucking pathetic.” 

Her jeers only make you harder and this time, she doesn’t object when you grab the toy. You think you can hear her sharply inhale when you drag your cock against the fake pussy lips and you already know there’s no fucking way you’re going to last one minute, let alone five. 

“Wanna fuck you like this,” you babble before pushing your tip in and instantly freezing at the silicone ridges squeezing around you. You sigh heavily before your breathing quickens and you’re practically panting by the time you get your entire cock inside the fleshlight. 

Agatha’s face is unreadable. “I’m impressed you made it in,” she says, coldly and completely dry, and it makes you thrust into it. It feels so good, even though it’s just a cold, plastic toy and you can only imagine how the real thing would feel. “Well, get on with it. Chop chop, honey. I haven’t got all night to watch your sorry attempt at proving you can fuck me.” 

You grunt and start moving your cock in and out of the toy, whines falling out of you, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on not cumming too soon. You want to last — you need to last for her, because she might actually let you touch her if you. 

“Ah ah,” she tuts and your cock throbs. “Open your eyes.” 

You obey, and the moment you see her, see the slight redness of her cheeks, you know you fucked up. 

With a loud grunt, you cum in the toy, filling it with so much of your seed that it spills out of the fake cunt and drips onto the floor as you continue snapping your hips up. 

Agatha laughs and walks straight to the door. “Not even thirty seconds. Maybe next time.” 

You are absolutely fucked. 

The next night, you’re almost to two minutes while desperately trying to think of anything else other than Agatha standing right there. She’s watching intently, like she’s studying your technique and critiquing it in her head, and you’re doing really well — you think you might actually have a chance to get to five. The secret is thinking about all the boring contracts you had to read this summer to keep your mind off the overwhelming pleasure you’re getting from the toy.

But then Agatha steps closer to you, runs a finger over your lips and down to cup your breast, and says, “God, you really are just a baby, aren’t you?” so sickly sweet. 

It makes you curse before filling the toy up again, your body completely betraying you. 

“That wasn’t fucking fair,” you try to argue. 

She sticks out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “Oh, honey,” she coos and it’s so fucking condescending. Your cock twitches inside the toy. “It’s not my fault you’re so pathetic you can’t control yourself.”

“Yes, it is,” you whine and she rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe you should cum before I get here so you might have a chance at lasting for five minutes,” she taunts and you’re too embarrassed to tell her that you already got off before she came tonight. Clearly it did not work. 

You figure that maybe you just need to cum more throughout the day to build up some stamina. You fuck yourself with the fleshlight in the morning after you wake up with morning wood because surprise, surprise: you had another dream about Agatha. When she takes a sip of her orange juice at breakfast, eyes flicking up to meet yours as she sucks on the straw, you have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and it only takes you about six strokes before you’re cumming all over your hand. It’s a long day of lounging around the pool and hushed conversations, and the moment Agatha steps out onto the desk in a sensible one-piece, you have to wrap a towel around your waist so no one sees your erection through your swim trunks to run back to your room, hastily saying that you forgot sunscreen. You cum into the fleshlight in about three minutes. 

And about thirty minutes before she shows up to your room at 10 pm on the dot, you have another quick session with your hand. 

You are absolutely determined tonight. 

When she strolls in through the door, the air is different. She’s carrying a glass of Scotch and you snatch it as she walks past you, downing the rest in one sip. 

“Are you even old enough to drink?” she asks, eyebrow raised and giving you a once over. 

You laugh sarcastically before setting the cup down on the nightstand and tearing your shirt off over your head, not missing the way her gaze flicks down to your nipples. Usually, you just take your boxers off, but tonight, you want her to see all of you. 

“A little arrogant, hm?” 

Nodding your head, you spit onto your cock and stroke it to full hardness. This is also the first time you haven’t had a raging erection the second she arrived. Before she can say anything, you’ve grabbed the fleshlight and started thrusting your cock into it. It feels good, but you’ve become so desensitized to it, just from today, that you’re feeling more confident than ever. 

Agatha realizes this, sees it on your face. “Wow, look at my slut,” she croones. “She finally learned how to fuck herself. Doesn’t mean you can fuck someone else though. I bet the moment you get inside me, you’ll cum because you’re too fucking pathetic to actually make me feel good.” 

The degradation goes straight to your cock and you grunt, pausing for a second before resuming. The smirk on her face is as frustrating as it is hot and only makes it harder to think clearly. 

“You’re just a worthless little whore, aren’t you?” she snarls and your breaths become shallow and your thrusts become more like quick ruts into the toy. 

“Yes, fuck,” you moan quietly, tightly, and god she’s not playing fair at all. The toy is squeezing you so hard and it’s becoming tougher to keep fucking it, but the prize of getting to be inside Agatha is so close if you can just hang on. 

She scoffs sharply but you can see the heat on her face. Fuck. She likes this. “How are you not absolutely humiliated by yourself and how desperate you are?” she says, getting meaner, and precum is leaking out of the toy each time you drive your cock back into the toy. If you weren’t actively using all of your effort to keep from cumming, you think you would’ve filled up the fleshlight at least three times by now. Agatha is trying so hard to break you, but you refuse. 

The most excruciating five minutes of your life finally end, and you are so fucking triumphant. “We had a deal,” you remind her hoarsely. 

“Stop acting like lasting five minutes is an accomplishment,” she scorns and you have to pull the toy off your aching erection or you actually might cum. Your cock bobs up and down, trails of precum dripping onto the floor and down your length. You’ve made such a mess. “Get on the bed,” she orders, and your heart stops. 

You lay on the duvet, resting your back against the pillows, and watch with bated breath as Agatha slowly unbuttons her pajama shirt. You whine when you can see her tits, round and perky, and you need to get her rosy nipples in your mouth immediately. She takes off her shorts and you can’t help but hump the air, your cock engorged and neglected. 

“Please,” you sob. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She mockingly coos and then climbs onto the bed with her underwear still on, straddles your hips, and she slowly grinds against your cock. A loud, high-pitched keen tears itself out of your mouth and you buck up into her, but she tsks and hovers above you. “Patience, pet,” she says and there are literal tears in your eyes from how hard you are. 

Agatha reaches down and pulls her panties to the side and rubs her clit for a moment. 

“Can I—”

“—touch me? No. There’s no way you’d make it inside me then,” she sneers and you hate to admit that she’s right. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your cock jumping when she slides two fingers in herself. Your head is spinning, completely drunk with need for her. 

She takes pity on you and grabs your cock, angling it at her entrance. “It’s okay, honey. You’re just a little baby. My little, pathetic, desperate baby.” 

And then she slides down on your cock in one slick motion and your hands scramble to dig into the bedsheets and a loud, strangled moan comes out of your mouth, and you cum instantly, the feeling of her warm, wet walls around you too much to bear. 

To her credit, she doesn’t laugh as you rut into her frantically. She just waits for you to finally calm down before squeezing her cunt around you. It makes you gasp. “I knew you couldn’t last,” she says, slowly starting to bounce up and down your cock. 

“Too sensitive,” you whine and she clucks her tongue. 

“Well, you promised that you were going to fuck me, didn’t you?” 

Your cock has softened inside her, your cum starting to leak out of her pussy, and she collects it with her fingers and starts to rub her clit. Her walls spasm around you and you twitch. You nod your head and bite your lip — she is everything you’ve ever wanted. 

It takes a few minutes of Agatha clenching around you to bring you back to full hardness, a speedy recovery even by your standards, and she starts to ride you for real. 

“Good thing you’re the poster child for instant gratification,” she grunts, lifting herself up and then back down. There’s such a mess between the two of you that there’s squelching sounds each time she moves on you. You’re practically frozen beneath her and all you can do is watch as she fucks herself on you. “Just need to make you cum before actually being able to use you. I’ll train you so well, make you nothing into more than a cock for me to fuck.” 

You finally regain the ability to think and start desperately thrusting up into her, needing more than anything to make her moan, to make her cum. She’s riding you faster and harder and her chest is becoming flushed and you think she might actually be getting somewhere. 

But she squeezes around you again and fucking groans and you never stood a chance. “Fuck, fuck, fuck — Agatha, I’m gonna — fuck!” you cry and erupt inside her again, painting her walls white once again. You’re not even sure if you made it five minutes inside her. 

Agatha slows down on top of you and you wince at the overstimulation of her still wrapped around you. 

“Did you?” It’s a stupid question, one you already know the answer to, but you’re hoping that maybe you got it wrong. 

Her laugh tells you that you did not and she slides off you, your cock flopping against your stomach in a sticky puddle, and she grabs the edge of the blanket on your bed to wipe the globs of cum oozing out of her. Fuck. You’ll never be able to use that blanket without getting hard again and you know that you’ll be fucking the fabric every single day for the rest of your life. 

She flops down next to you and you wonder if it would be foolish to ask her to stay. “It’s not that easy to make me cum, pet. But don’t worry. I’ll get you there.”

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[moreau329]

Last repost I swear.

I keep getting linked Nora’s last post on Thea, and keep being told that this fandom lacks reading comprehension and makes assumptions.

I just wanted to say that I read the pair and I appreciate the extra context of Thea’s POV, but in my case, it doesn’t retcon any of the key points that make me dislike her.

First paragraph says she faced a lot of misogyny and racism in the nest. Not surprising, coming from the child raping and waterboarding team. She persevered and made it to the starting line. First raven boyfriend was a dick too.

Summer before Kevin and Jean started college she starts seeing them around more. Another mention of Jean being cute with her (devastating knowing what she later says about him). Kevin makes annoying comments about her then boyfriend. It is only when Kevin is 18 and legal and everything’s nice that Riko suggests Kevin to fuck her and she’s “oh! So that’s why he was annoying!” And is all on board to fuck. No grooming. Ok.

They start their secret relationship and get to know each other. Using Jean for passing notes… after his freshman incident… when he was 16… with 5th year and 4th year backliners seniors of her age… and in her mind she was “Jean and her old tricks tsk tsk this kid” .

Thea and Kevin make a promise to continue being the Raven exy It couple after he graduates. Thea promises not to contact him so the Moriyamas don’t suspect anything and he can focus on college. Thea has a successful career post graduation.

She keeps her promise not to contact him, even when the future she had envisioned for them to be a raven graduate exy it couple post Kevin graduation is vanishing throughout the events of the trilogy. But when she hers Kevin’s “never been skiing’ comment on live TV she tries reaching out to “old tricks” Jean for an explanation. And Riko. She flies to South Carolina to get answers.

Fin.

It was nice to see her own struggles in the nest expanded. Yes, she was a victim too.

Now. I -ME!- dislike her first and foremost for these:

This last Nora post made me even more bitter, knowing that even when 16 year old Jean was shamed for sleeping with people older than 21 (minus Grayson) and she joined in (years later she calls it old tricks, so the hive mind got to her), her and Kevin still asked Jean to pass notes. And when she wants answers she calls him. And then when she sees him 3 years later she alludes to breaking his ribs if he doesn’t tell the truth.

Despite always knowing the age difference between Jean and those backliners and listening to the scorn he received for it and watching him get beaten half to dead for it, she still is “a raven through and through” and even if Jean was statutory rap*d and Kevin’s hand was broken she still goes “no harm no foul”.

And yeah. She is no groomer, but they did live under the same roof and in the same spaces since Kevin was 14. It’s never said that they didn’t talk either or interact before Kevin was 18 either. Whatsmore, relationships are forbidden at Evermore but apparently Kevin was close enough in her orbit before joining the lineup that he knew about her two previous partners. Its weird.

I don’t know how having been racially and sexually discriminated erases all that.

Lastly. Nora made a good point at the beginning of that post:

Don’t forget you can hate or dislike whatever you like.

I’m sorry but I just saw this meme someone in the Venezuelan aftg fandom made to summarize why they don’t like Thea and I love it

[shy-writer-999]

1-800-LONELYCHEF . ₊ ⊹ .

Summary: The same man calls you every Friday at 11:30PM. It seems like he has nothing better to do. After months of the same routine, you've started to take a liking to him, which is a problem, considering that he's your client... and you work at a phone sex hot line. WC: ~7k. CW: NSFW content! ANGSTY! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Masturbation, oral sex. MDNI plz!

“Hello?”

You’re very familiar with the caller on the other end of the line. He calls you once a week—every Friday, after his shift at the bougie restaurant he works at, 11:30PM on the dot.

He must be very attractive, or at least that’s what you’ve garnered over talking to him for many months.

At first, he was evidently too shy to make use of your more… explicit services. This is a phone sex hotline, after all.

He honestly sounded like he just needed someone to vent to. So, you listened, as was your job. After the first few months, you both got more accustomed to one another. His shyness melted away. He got friendlier.

It’s been six or seven months since he first called. You’ve become very fond of him, but you have no idea what he looks like. So, one day, you decide to ask.

“Your voice is so sexy,” you start, giving him a line that you gave everyone, except this time you mean it. “I can’t help but wonder what you look like, Sanji.”

With other callers, you’d have to check what their name is before you say it. But you’re far past that point with him, and every time you say his name it makes his heart flutter.

“Well,” he says. “I’m blonde. And my eyebrows have a little… curl to them. I’m a decent height and I have a bit of a goatee.”

“And what color are your eyes?” You ask, trying to get the full picture.

He notes that question. It’s a thoughtful one. You’re thoughtful, in general. He knows that you are just being nice to him because, well, it’s your job, but also… he can’t shake the feeling that you have a soft spot for him. Do you talk to everyone like this?

“My eyes? Hmm. It depends on who you ask. I don’t know, really. Some people say they’re black, other people say grey, I’ve had a few tell me they’re blue. I’m not sure.”

You hum in response. There’s a beat of silence.

“What sort of eyes do you like?” He asks. He’s cheeky like that. You have the feeling that he has a real soft spot for you, too. Why else would he call you every week? There are plenty of others he could call. But he just sticks with you every time.

You respond. “It depends on who you ask. But historically I have liked guys with black, grey, or blue eyes. Do you happen to know anyone who fits the bill?”

He can tell that you’re smiling. He finds himself blushing, getting giddy for a few moments before he realizes that oh, right, you are at work, and oh, right, he is paying you to talk to him, like the loser he is.

His voice falters a bit the next time he speaks, a couple of seconds later. You know the exact thought that just went through his head. It’s something you are well aware of but… it does make you a bit sad with him. You like him far too much for your own good.

You wonder if you would like the look of him in real life, painfully single as you are. You wonder if he would like the look of you.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on this guy you’ve never met. Teeny tiny is a massive understatement. Just because he’s so consistent—you’ve never met a man as consistent as him—and so kind, and such a gentleman, even on the phone.

But tonight, the call ends earlier than usual. It seems that your open flirtation was a bit too genuine for him. Hit a bit too close to home. He finishes the conversation and dodges your attempt to take it farther.

“Thank you as always, beautiful. It’s a pleasure to talk to you. See you next week.” The phone hangs up abruptly. He’s gone now.

He always calls you beautiful, like everyone else does, but… it just means something coming from him. Maybe because he’s the only caller who has ever wanted to truly know something about you. And every time he hangs up, he says ‘see you next week,’ even though you never see each other. It’s cute.

You find yourself wishing he was still on the line. You’re a bit bummed that he hung up this early, not because you’re going to be left wanting for money (he always overpays), but because you always look forward to talking to him.

When you take the next caller, you’re quickly reminded that Sanji is by far the youngest and kindest of anyone who has ever called you.

---

“Hello?”

He’s on the line again. It’s Friday again, 11:30PM sharp.

You respond, tone warmer than it needs to be, given that you’re speaking to a client. “Hi.”

You’re glad to talk to him. Very realistically, this is the only interesting thing you have to look forward to—it’s not like you can afford to go out and party on the weekends. Or any day, for that matter. He’s your Friday night date every week. That doesn’t escape him.

“How was your week?” He asks, like he always does. He’s the only client who has ever asked you that.

You respond as frankly as you can without overstepping. “Hmmm. It was alright. Pretty boring, in general. It could have been better. How was your week?”

He pauses for a moment. “It was pretty good.”

“Tell me about it.” You prompt, and he begins detailing his week for you, as is your routine.

The things you know about this man’s life are random and vast, among them, you know that he lives in the city next to yours, he eats oats every morning for breakfast, and that he chain smokes as often as he can get away with (which is almost 24/7). You’ve been privy to him trying to cut back on his nicotine intake more than a few times, and he has never forgotten that you cheer him on every time he tries.

Among other things, this week he had to go to work on his usual day off (Wednesday) because the sous-chef called out (again). You can hear him roll his eyes when he says that. You roll them too, even though he can’t see.

He vents about that, and you hear him out.

“The sous-chef sounds like a real asshole,” you say. “Always has. Didn’t he call out a couple weeks ago?”

He laughs out loud at your honesty. “I fucking know, right? And yes, he did. It’s ridiculous.” Then his heart skips a beat. You really do pay attention to what he says.

“They don’t appreciate you as much as they should, Sanji. I bet I could talk some sense into them.” You say, and you both chuckle for a moment.

“What else happened this week?” You follow up, genuinely wanting to know. This man fascinates you. With how charming and sweet he is, it’s a wonder to you that he’s single. Also, the life he lives is quaint. He is a man of routine, a hard worker, and he’s driven. He has a strong and warm personality.

When he replies to your question, you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice—is that reluctance? Hesitation? Shyness? Or awkwardness? It’s hard to tell.

He responds to your question. “Well… I went on a date last night.”

Before you can wonder why, your heart starts to sink. Fuck. You really do have a crush on this guy, don’t you?

You regrettably (internally) acknowledge your disappointment. You do have a massive crush on this guy. And he’s your client. So, get a grip.

Your acting skills have to be excellent for this job. You make good use of them now. “Oh, a date?” You emanate the pinnacle of excitement for him. “How was it?”

This has happened maybe half a dozen times before. The dates always go well but the follow through rate is bad. Obviously. Or else he wouldn’t be here. But every time it has happened, your heart always sinks. Not a fun feeling.

“It went really, really well.” Sanji’s voice is happy. “Might have been the best date I’ve ever been on.” You know he’s smiling right now. Positively beaming. Your heart breaks a bit before you reprimand yourself. You have no right to like this man the way that you do.

He probably wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot-pole if he met you in real life (you tell yourself this, and you know it is a lie, but you try to say it to make yourself get a grip… needless to say, this strategy doesn’t work.)

“How was she?” You ask because you know he wants to talk about it.

“She was thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Very sweet. Kind of like you, actually.” He says, not realizing how much those words make your smile fall. “One of the cooks set us up. Like a blind date. I had no idea what to expect but she was gorgeous. Wow. So funny, too.”

His voice trails off. It’s your turn to talk.

“Awh, Sanji, I’m so glad. You deserve some attention.” Your voice is sugar coated like usual and his heart patters.

The conversation wanders into various topics. The woman he went on a date with is a veterinarian. That sours your mood. She must be real swell. Caring for sick animals and all that stuff. Ugh. The whole topic is forcing you to accept the fact that you like this guy wayyyy more than you should. You have no business having this intense of a crush on him, having this intense of a crush on a man who is, ostensibly, and for all intents and purposes, using you as his rent-a-girlfriend.

The pair of you then talk about relationships—has he ever been in one? (Yes, ages ago.) What is his love language? (Physical touch and acts of service.) What’s his type? (Essentially, you.) You ask him questions and he asks you them back. It’s a nice conversation, an intimate one, one that would have you feeling better if not for the fact that he just happened to have an amazing date.

After a while, the conversation dwindles. You know that he’s in the mood to do what this whole thing is really about—phone sex. When Sanji is in a really good mood or a really bad mood, he takes advantage of your expertise in this area. Tonight is the former.

“Is there anything else on your mind, handsome?” You ask, gauging what he’s up to tonight.

“Mmmm, there is. What are you wearing, gorgeous?”

You smile. He’s cute. Usually, you lie when men ask you this question. But with Sanji you tend to be a bit more truthful. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel like he’s going to get taken off the market soon and never call you again one day, or maybe it’s something else, but you’re getting the urge to be more candid and flirtier with him than you’ve ever been before. Real flirty, not work flirty. You’re getting the urge to step out of whatever character you put on when you pick up the phone.

“Do you want the regular client answer, or the Sanji answer?” You say, bold and not giving a fuck. Why not? He can have the real answer, hell, he can have some realness because you’ve talked for so long, and because you like him so much. Like you said, he deserves some attention.

“Oh. How about both?” He’s tickled and intrigued. “I’m flattered that I have my own option.”

“You always do. Well, the regular client answer would be that I’m wearing a babydoll slip dress made of black mesh… with a black lace thong and thigh-high black stockings. Do you like that?” Your voice starts to transform; it starts to drip pure lust, candied in honey and flattery. It’s a well-trained skill. Sanji gets hard almost immediately, tenting his pants and widening his thighs.

“I like it very much.” His voice is getting huskier, thicker. You love it when he sounds like that. His voice really is sexy. He continues. “Now, tell me the Sanji answer.”

“It isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

He nods, but it’s not like you can see him. “Of course.”

“I’m wearing a black tank top and blue plaid sweatpants. No bra, but I actually am wearing a black lace thong.” You laugh. “Very sexy, right?”

His voice comes out raspier this time. “It is, though. I much prefer the Sanji answer.”

“You’re sweet.” You say, and he can tell you mean it. “Now, what are you wearing?”

Sanji blushes and his erection strains against the fabric of his boxers. “Do you want the regular client answer, or the You answer?”

You laugh again. “How about both?”

“Well,” he continues. “The regular client answer is that I’m in black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone and my sleeves are rolled up to my forearms. I’m wearing black loafers and black socks. Now, the You answer isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t have a shirt on and I am coincidentally wearing blue plaid sweatpants as well. Can you believe that?”

“No way. Really?”

“Yep.”

“Anything underneath?” Your voice is coy and his erection pulses.

“Yep. I have boxers on. Boring black ones.”

“And what’s going on underneath of those?”

He dryly chuckles and reaches down to rub his hard on for a second. “A lot.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” You practically purr and he runs his palm over his bulge in response.

He lets out a soft groan that make you feel some sort of way. “Oh yeah? Y’know, even though I don’t really know what you look like, I just know that you’re looking sexy in your pajama outfit right now.”

Your witty reply is stopped short. He’s the only one who is this real with you. Most of the men on the other line tend to be creepy, old, and just downright weird. This is a dying profession, after all. Sometimes the other clients are rude and dismissive, too. But Sanji… you know he really means what he says.

“You’re adorable, Sanji,” you say. “I’d venture a guess that you look pretty good right now, too.”

“Mmmm.” He hums, heartbeat rising as he continues to palm himself. “I wish I could see you right now.”

You can’t tell if this is part of the fantasy. You really did wish you could see him, though.

“What would you do to me…” your voice is smooth as silk. “If I peeled off my tanktop and shimmied out of my sweatpants?”

Sanji’s breath hitches. Something feels realer than usual about this—knowing what you’re wearing right now, what you’re really wearing, is turning him on beyond belief (assuming that you’re telling the truth, but he always chooses to believe that you are).

“If I was there, I’d kiss you, actually.”

His answer catches you off guard. You’re not sure he’s said something like this before.

There is silence for a second. You don’t know how to respond, really. You decide to just respond honestly, without appearances. Fuck it. He’d probably be off the market soon if his amazing date was anything to tell for it, so might as well.

“Wow, that’s really sweet. I’m not sure anyone has said something that nice to me in years.”

He tuts. “That’s my lowest bar of sweetness. I can go much sweeter than that, my love.”

He’s never called you that before, either. You’re starting to forget that this is a work call. It feels distinctly different than one.

“I’d like to see how sweet you can get, Sanji.”

His cock twitches again. Fuck. You really have a way with words. You get him more riled up than anyone he’s ever met before.

You continue. “After you kiss me, what would you do to me?”

“I would kiss every inch of you.”

Your heart melts. Fuck. Is this guy a saint? Where does he get off being so suave?

“Mmmm. That sounds nice. I’d like to return the favor.” Your tone, to Sanji, is effortlessly erotic. The thought of you kissing every inch of him—yes, even those inches—has him grinding the palm of his hand over his cock.

“Sounds even better. Then, if you let me, I’d go down on you.” The blonde is starting to get worked up. You can tell from his voice—when it gets all husky like this, you know he’s about to start touching himself, if he isn’t already.

Also, the fact that he said ‘if you let me’ really struck you. No one had ever said that before in your line of work. He has the tendency to say things you’ve never heard before, and he always surprises you.

“Of course I’d let you go down on me,” your voice gets softer. “What exactly would you do?” You wonder if he’d be any good. Maybe his answer will be elucidative.

“I’d start by kissing up your thighs, one at a time. Then I’d very slowly, very gently kiss your clit. Hopefully it would feel good. After a while, I think I’d be able to tell if you liked it. I’d run my tongue downwards and taste you. And tease you as much as you’re willing to put up with.”

“Mmmm. I think I could put up with a lot.” You let out a breathy sigh. You’re starting to warm up between the legs. With that voice, and those words, and that mental image… it sounds divine. You’re about to let yourself get carried away. It’s tempting.

“Is that so?” Sanji decides to keep going with the fantasy as long as you’d let him. Frequently, this happens the other way around. You usually describe to him, in great detail, what you would do to him. Apparently tonight it would be the other way around.

“In that case,” Sanji continues, “I’d take my time with you. I’d push my tongue inside of you delicately at first, then harder, and switch between that licking your clit.”

You can feel that you’re getting wet. It has only ever been with Sanji that you’ve actually gotten aroused while talking to a client. Usually, you’re as dry as the Sahara when talking to clients. But this man does things to you. Sinful things.

“What else?” You ask, biting your lip and sneaking your hand lower. You decide that, just this once, it’s okay to get carried away.

He can hear it in your voice. The synthetic, sugary (but still very much erotic) tone is dissipating and he’s hearing, for the first time, your voice bathed in genuine arousal. Your breaths are quicker than usual, your tone is less composed, and he can tell that you’re hanging onto his every word.

At the same time that his hand goes under the waistband of his boxers, yours goes under your underwear. He starts to stroke himself, relishing the first ripples of pleasure from his hand, and you do something similar. Each movement of your fingers is accompanied by his voice, by some filthy image he puts in your head.

“When you’re moaning loud enough, I’d press my middle finger into you slowly, to make sure you’re comfortable. After a moment, I’d move my finger and caress you inside a bit, and if it seemed like you liked it, I would press my ring finger into you.”

You start to mimic what Sanji is describing. It feels dangerously good. A barely audible sort of gasping sound falls out of your lips and Sanji hears it. His fist goes faster. He hasn’t ever heard you make that sort of noise before—he’s heard fake moans, sure, they were still hot (and he always told himself they were real). Anything you did was hot. But this sort of noise was the sort that could only be caused by one thing—pleasure.

Sanji’s fist goes a bit faster when he concludes that you may be touching yourself. The idea makes him feel like he’s on fire.

“I’d curl my fingers inside of you and find your g-spot… draw circles around it and press it while I place some kisses on your clit. Would you like that?”

His question catches you off guard—you’re getting lost in the act of fingering yourself.

“Mmmm. I would like that, Sanji.”

“How would I know that you liked it?”

“I’d, fuck,” another soft moan slips out of your lips and Sanji squeezes his cock tighter. “I’d run my fingers through your hair and pull you closer. Buck my hips into your tongue so you, ah, get deeper.”

“What would you say?” His voice is low now, and you can hear a faint sound in the background. He’s fisting his cock to your conversation, which is nothing new, but it brings you more of a rush than usual right now because you’re touching yourself too. “What would you say if you liked how I ate you out?”

“Don’t stop,” you shudder, and it sounds like it would if he was actually eating you out. The noise makes his heart flip. He can hear wet sounds from your end of the phone, too. He can hardly believe his ears, but sure enough, he can make out the noises of you bringing your fingers in and out of yourself.

“I wouldn’t,” Sanji says and then groans. The obscene noise goes straight to your aching core. You’re going to orgasm soon. “I wouldn’t stop until you came all over my face and I licked you clean.”

“Fuck,” you mewl. “That sounds, ah, sounds like it would feel good, Sanji.”

“Does it feel good?” He counters, twisting his hand over the head of his cock. His fist brings down the precum that has been beading at his tip, and the sensation makes his hips rock up inadvertently.

“Mmmmphhh, I—yes, it feels good, Sanji. Feels so good.”

You curl your fingers inside, searching for the spot that Sanji mentioned before. You press on it as you speak. You know he’s going to love the noise you make.

He grunts and throws his head back. He’s going to cum soon. He’s going to cum if you say his name some more. He wants it. “Say that again.”

“Fucckkk, Sanji. Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say my name. I’m—hah—‘m gonna cum if you do it again.”

“Sanji. Sanji. Sanji, fuck, Saannnjjjiii.” On repeat, you moan his name through your orgasm, which you finally allow to wash over you. He can hear it in your voice, can hear you trying to force his name out of your mouth between keens.

Your voice has never sounded so good. He’s sure now, sure sure, that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time and that you just came. It’s a first for him. He’s suspected your arousal at other times, but this time, it’s a confirmed fact. In an instant, the fantasy fades and he can see the moment for what it is—you’ve thrown away the pretenses, acting skills, and flattery, and, for a handful of minutes, you’ve been 100% yourself with him, more so than ever before.

That’s what makes him cum. Your unreserved sincerity and desire. It’s the hardest he’s cum in a long time—and that’s a high bar, considering the fact that any time he broaches these activities with you he cums hard.

When you’re both panting in the euphoric aftershocks of your orgasms, Sanji whistles. “Damn.”

You hum in agreement. “Wow.”

He cracks a joke. “So, am I supposed to send you an invoice after this one?”

He’s hilarious in general, and this one makes you laugh. “I might allow it.” Your tone is uncharacteristically bashful. You’re about to say something you’ll later regret. “I think you’re the only person who has ever gotten me off over the phone.”

Sanji is taken aback for a second. “Really? I’m honored. And surprised.”

You almost instantly regret oversharing, chuckling awkwardly before you realize that this is a work call, and you should act accordingly. But it’s hard to pull yourself out of the intimacy of this moment and you don’t want to. So… against your better judgment, you don’t.

“I’m impressed, Sanji. Maybe we should do this more often,” you say, and Sanji’s heart thumps again. “You don’t have to only call me once a week, you know.”

“As long as you won’t get sick of me, I would love to. And we can do this again any time, gorgeous. It’s seriously my pleasure. You don’t know what you do to me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

While he’s saying the last part, Sanji realizes that this isn’t a favor, really. He tries to brush off that sad feeling for a moment but finds himself wondering what you really think of him.

It’s time for him to go to sleep, he concludes. He’s exhausted after a long shift and a hard orgasm.

“So, same time next week?” His voice is chipper.

“Mhm. I look forward to it, Sanji. See you later.” When the words leave your mouth, you wonder if he feels butterflies, too.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

Sanji hangs up the phone.

In your respective bedrooms, you’re both wondering what the fuck just happened. This call was full of lots of firsts and, little do you two know, the other feels elated.

But Sanji thinks about it more. He weighs his feelings for you against the practical understanding that he is, presumably, nothing more than a client to you. His heart aches at the thought.

And then he looks at his phone. The person who he went on a date with texted him while he was on the phone with you—she’s asking for another date. She says she looks forward to seeing him.

---

A week passes.

It’s Friday again.

11:30PM comes and goes. No call from Sanji.

In a span of over six months, this is the first time he hasn’t called you.

As you sit and wait for him, passing off other phone calls in case he decides he wants to speak to you tonight, your heart starts to sink.

Was last time a mistake?

Ten minutes go by.

Twenty minutes go by.

Many minutes go by. The time is now 12:30AM.

You’re left to conclude that last time was, indeed, a mistake.

You decide to take the night off. Your tears are making it hard to get any work done. You can’t put on that sultry voice and moan at old men in your current state.

There’s no denying it—his absence hurts you. Bad. Especially after last week. Especially after you admitted to him that you had never orgasmed over the phone before, and that you wanted to talk to him more often.

Why hadn’t he called you?

You wrack your brain for possibilities, but one major thing stands out. That date he went on. Maybe he went on another one and decided he liked them better.

Liked them better? You ask yourself after realizing what you just thought. He’s paying you to talk to him on the phone. Get over it. He isn’t going to keep calling you forever. What did you expect after last week? That he would just confess his love, offer to pay all of your bills, and that would be it?

You frown harder, hurting yourself deeper with your own rhetoric. The tears won’t stop.

It’s excruciating to realize that you like Sanji this much. You really like him. You know almost everything there is to know about him, too. And as much as you generally try to avoid giving out personal information, he knows a large chunk about you. Maybe that’s why it hurts so bad.

No, you tell yourself. Don’t kid yourself. You know it hurts this bad because you were hoping he liked you for real. You were hoping that this man, who you had never truly met before, who you had never seen, would, against all odds, decide that he wants you, even if he hadn’t seen you.

Fat chance, you tell yourself. Never do that with a client again, and this will never be a problem again.

---

Sanji does not call you back the next week.

Or the next week.

Or the week after that.

Or the month after that.

You are over it by the time the second month rolls around.

It’s pretty good timing, on your behalf. You think you’re really over this huge crush on a man you’ve never seen before. By the fifth month, you’re still telling yourself that you’re over this “crush”.

But that’s a delusion—any time you’re in public and there’s a blonde man, you find yourself scanning his face. Does he have a goatee? Could those eyebrows be considered curly? What color are those eyes?

When you see one that you think might be him, you always work up the courage to speak to them. But it never is Sanji. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

You wonder what you will say to him if he ever calls you again. Or if you see him in person. You decide that if he ever calls you again, you’ll either curse him out or break into tears.

In your most down-bad-hour, you contemplate showing up at the restaurant he is the chef at. You contemplate asking if you can see the kitchen. You just want a glance at him. A glance will keep your heart quiet.

But the joke’s on you—his restaurant is too expensive for you. Truly. You couldn’t afford a drink there if you tried. Okay, maybe just one. But you refuse to stoop to that level of desperation.

You’re a call away from him. He just has to dial your number.

You, on the other hand, have no way of calling or texting him. The service you work through scrambles client numbers before they’re patched through to you. The only way you know it’s Sanji is when he calls, at 11:30PM on the dot, on Friday nights. That’s Sanji time.

But it seems like Sanji time has come and gone.

You can’t shake the feeling that he did you dirty—but then you remember that he doesn’t owe you anything. This is your line of work. Phone sex. And that’s what you had. You just stepped over a boundary that you usually stay far away from. Whose fault is that?

No amount of logic can shake that feeling, though. You develop a little grudge against this man who you will never meet.

That’s what you tell yourself—that you’ll never meet him. But there’s a nugget of hope inside that, someday, he’ll call you. Someday he’ll kiss you. You try to obliterate that nugget though, as it is antithetical to the remedy to your lovesickness that you’re seeking.

Which will come first, him calling you, or you quitting this job that you’ve been meaning to quit for months at this point?

You hate to admit this to yourself, but he’s the only thing that was keeping the thoughts of quitting at bay. Maybe you really will quit this time around.

---

It is a Saturday night and you’re working again. It’s an unfortunately slow night, which sucks, because you really could use the money.

You’re scrolling on your phone, waiting for the next call to come in. It has been three hours with no calls. Guess all the creepy old men have plans tonight, which is such a shame because you need to pay rent soon. Sigh.

Time passes. You check the clock. It’s almost 11:30PM. The time doesn’t remind you of him anymore (well, much).

Maybe if you channel some of your good karma, ask the universe to cut a check of it right now, someone will call you for one long, lengthy conversation. You can help get them off as many times as they want. Five times in a row. You’ll break that record and go for six times if they just pay you. No questions asked.

Sure enough, a call comes through. You check the clock again. It’s been moving at a snail’s pace tonight. It’s 11:35PM. Hopefully whoever this is feels like talking.

“Hello?”

Your heart stops.

It sounds like Sanji for a second. But there’s no way. It’s been five fucking months.

“Hi.” You respond in your sugared up, sultry voice.

“It’s been a long time, gorgeous.”

It is Sanji.

Your heart flutters and your stomach flips. You’re speechless.

Don’t forget your game plans: curse him out or cry. But you can’t bring yourself to do either now that he’s waiting on the other line. You’re about to hang up the phone. You owe this man nothing and he owes you nothing—it’s that simple.

As you go to press the end call button, he speaks again.

“I’m sorry.”

The tears start now. The dam inside of you breaks. Hot tears pour out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

You didn’t think that hearing his voice would have this strong of an effect on you. But the heartbreak that you once thought faded away is now back in full force.

He’s waiting for a response before he hears shuddering breaths from you as you cry. Your tears are all the confirmation he needs—he knows that he was right months ago when he worked up the courage to confess to you. He should have done it. He knows that he was wrong to take the coward’s way out. And he knows he was wrong to tell himself that you didn’t care about him and wouldn’t care when he disappeared, because he was just a client to you. He was so terribly wrong. The sound of your sobs shatters him.

“I should have called you before. I’m so sorry. And maybe you hate me for waiting this long to call you again. I understand if you do. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore, I—”

“Where the fuck were you?” You cut him off. Your anger is starting to seep through the tears. Maybe the first game plan can still happen. “I waited for you, Sanji.”

He doesn’t even try to think of a comeback or excuse. He tells you plainly what happened and, even though it breaks your heart some more, it makes sense.

“Well… I finally found someone. Last time, after I hung up, I had another date with that person I mentioned, and it went really well. So, we just kept going on dates. It didn’t feel right to keep calling you when things with her were progressing so quickly. We got together, and—”

“I understand, Sanji. That’s all I wanted to hear. Thanks.”

You slam your finger down on the hang up button. Your heart is broken enough as it is. He can keep all that yapping to himself. Good for nothing heartbreaker.

So what, he was with whoever that was. So what, they love each other and have been together almost half a year at this point. So what, he was just a client the whole time and you had gotten your hopes up for nothing and—your catastrophizing is stopped in its tracks when your phone starts to buzz again. You feel like it’s Sanji.

You pick up the phone. It is.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up, please let me finish, please.”

“What, so you can tell me how much you love your girlfriend? I get it, Sanji. You paid me to talk to you for so long that of course you got sick of it and finally got what you had been after the whole time, a loving, very real partner. I understand that I’m just a service to be used and discarded later. That’s fine. Goodbye.”

“No. Listen to me.” Sanji’s voice is stern and harsh, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. “We got together and then she very quickly dumped me. Do you know what she kept saying to me? She said I was too absentminded. She thought I was thinking about someone else. Dumped me after two months because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Absentminded.”

His words hang in the air for a few moments while you try to process why the fuck he’s explaining any of this to you and why it matters. He continues. His voice is emphatic, hurried, and nervous sounding.

“And if I’m being honest, I was absentminded. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know this sounds fucking ridiculous because we’ve never met, and I understand if you tell me to go fuck off because I’m sure this happens to you all the time, but… I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried to for months. Three months. I told myself that I was an idiot for falling for someone out of my league. And the crazy thing is, I don’t even have to see you to know you’re out of my league. The way you act is out of my league. YOU are out of my league. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and considerate, and you pause before you respond whenever you talk because I can tell you’re really thinking over your response. And you’re funny. And witty, and charming, and you never once made me feel weird or less than for calling and finding solace in you. I’ve been lonely for years. I make the first move all the time, but it never works out. And I know I fucked this one up, and I know I didn’t have a chance in hell with you to begin with, but I just, fuck, I had to get this off my chest. I love you. I fell for you the first conversation we had. Now please tell me to fuck off.”

You can tell that every word he is saying is sincere and earnest. You can hear the emotion in his voice. While you wipe your tears dry and mend your heart together, you take deep breaths. He can wait for your response. Like he just said, you’re intentional about your responses to people. Every word matters. Especially with Sanji.

“Do you know how bad it hurt after our last conversation to not hear from you again?” You start.

He winces. He knew that was coming.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was disrespectful of me, and callous, and if you hang up and never want to speak to me again, I understand and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it.” You say, regaining some composure. “You really do, Sanji.”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear his frown. It’s a cute one. Fuck. His cute words are playing back in your ears too. So, he loves you?

Should you tell him how you feel? How you’ve felt for a long time?

One part of you is screaming at you to get a grip. But the other part—all the other parts—are finally, finally hearing what you’ve been wanting to hear for around a year at this point. That he likes you for you. That he sees you as you, and not some dolled up object of affection that’s only there to get people off and talk dirty to them. It has never been like that between you.

“If I accept your apology, Sanji, what then?”

“I—I actually didn’t think I would make it this far. But if you accept my apology, my next step is to ask you out to dinner with me. And to ask for your phone number. Your real phone number.”

You let out a long, deep sigh. “Sanji. My love. You could have told me these things months ago. It would have saved both of us so much heartbreak. I was devastated. Do you know that?”

You know that he already profusely apologized but you feel like driving it home a bit more. He deserves it. But while you talk, his hopes start to rise. You’ve never called him ‘my love’ before. Maybe that bodes well?

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” He sounds like he means it. You trust him enough to know that he does. Well, fuck it.

“Don’t think I’ll just forget about this because I’m head over heels for you, okay?”

“You—what?” He’s caught off guard. “You are?”

“Sanji. Yes. And you could have found out ages ago. Now, when are we going to dinner? You can apologize to me again then, too. And even if you don’t like what you see, you have to pay for everything. I’m getting an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert, at least two drinks, and whatever else I want. Okay?”

He laughs in relief. “Yes, okay. Yes. Holy shit, I didn’t think you would say that. I wish I could kiss you.”

“Wait—one last thing. If you decide you don’t like me after our date, Sanji, you have to tell me there on the spot. You can’t leave me waiting for another five months. You just can’t.”

“I promise, I won’t leave you waiting. I promise.”

When you hang up the phone a few minutes later (after more twisting the knife), you’re so thrilled that you can hardly breathe.

You can’t believe this is real life. You also can’t believe how quickly you just forgot your dignity, but you’ll unpack that later.

Dinner is set for tomorrow night. 7:30PM on the dot. Sanji is calling out of work, and he’s taking you to the (second) nicest restaurant in town (his is the first, obviously, and he wants to save that for a night where he can really plan ahead and spoil you).

---

When you get to the restaurant, Sanji is already there, waiting outside with a large bouquet of flowers.

He’s more handsome than you could have imagined. Of course he is. You do have great intuition, and you knew from the start that he was sexy. But… goddamn, he is sexy.

It makes sense now what he meant by curly eyebrows. He’s dressed well, too. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He has black loafers and black socks. And he smells good. And he smiles good.

He’s so nervous he could puke. He hopes that when he sees you the nerves will melt. But they get 20x worse because he’s enamored with you. You’re beyond his wildest dreams—no number of fantasies could have led him to guess that you look like this.

He’s so obsessed that he starts to stammer before you tell him to calm down, and that he’s making you nervous.

Over dinner, you catch up on everything you’ve missed in the past few months of silence. You fill him in on details in your life that you previously kept to yourself, and he sees a whole new side of you.

At the end of the date, he tells you that he still loves you, that he loves you even more now, and that he’s so so sorry. He says that he’s mesmerized by you, that you’re more than he could have ever dreamed of, and that you can count on him for anything.

You seal the night with a kiss. A long one. It’s so romantic that you feel a bit disturbed with how happy you are after.

And it turns out that yes, this is your big happy ending. You make a perfect pair.

Epilogue: The day that Sanji finally shows off the techniques he told you about long ago, you’re more than satisfied. In fact, it seems like he was actually underselling himself there. You always knew he was the modest type.

thanks for reading! this was inspired by a whole lot of laufey! i hope you liked it. i love sanji so much it hurts me ;(

here's my masterlist if you're interested!

divider courtesy of @cafekitsune tag list @eggrollforyou

[gpcwsl]

Leah Williamson x Reader

- Complete mess -

WC: 7.4k

MasterList

Warnings: long, kissing.

(Sorry for putting Leah as Captain for Arsenal, I know it’s Kimmy and I love Kim. Just for this Fiction, okay?)

The crisp afternoon air feels refreshing as you step onto the park path, your scarf wrapped snugly around your neck. It’s rare that you get a few hours to yourself, but with your mum looking after Ellie for the afternoon, you finally have a moment to breathe. You love your daughter more than anything, but between teaching, parenting, and making sure she never feels the absence of her father, you’re exhausted. A walk is exactly what you need.

You take a deep breath, allowing the cool air to clear your mind. The park is bustling, families with children running around, people walking their dogs, groups of friends chatting. You slip your hands into your coat pockets, lost in thought, when—

“Oof—sorry!”

You collide with someone, stumbling back slightly. Strong hands reach out to steady you, and when you look up, you find yourself face to face with none other than Leah Williamson.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, eyes widening. “You’re—”

Leah chuckles, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn’t paying attention.”

You shake your head, still in slight disbelief. “No, it’s fine. My fault too, I wasn’t really looking where I was going.”

She smiles, and that’s when you notice she’s not alone. Behind her stand a few more familiar faces—some of the Arsenal women’s team. Beth Mead, Katie McCabe, and Caitlin Foord, all chatting amongst themselves but now watching the interaction with curiosity.

“You alright?” Leah asks, her gaze soft as she takes in your expression.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, just… a little surprised. I didn’t expect to bump into Arsenal’s captain on my walk.”

Leah grins. “Well, we were just grabbing a coffee before training. You a football fan?”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, actually. I teach, so I don’t always get to watch live, but my daughter and I love the game.”

At the mention of your daughter, Leah’s expression shifts slightly—interest flickering in her eyes. “You have a daughter?”

You nod. “Ellie. She’s seven. My parents are watching her for a few hours, so I thought I’d take a walk.”

Leah tilts her head. “That’s nice. Must be busy juggling work and parenting.”

You smile wryly. “That’s an understatement.”

Before Leah can respond, Katie steps closer, nudging her with her elbow. “You gonna introduce us, or are we just standing here like weirdos?”

Leah rolls her eyes but turns back to you. “This is Katie, Beth, and Caitlin.”

You greet them, feeling slightly overwhelmed but also oddly comfortable. They’re just normal people—albeit incredibly talented ones.

“You should come to a match sometime,” Beth suggests. “Bring Ellie. If she likes football, she’d love it.”

Leah nods in agreement. “Yeah, we can sort something out. Maybe even a little meet-and-greet after.”

Your heart warms at the thought. “That would be amazing. She’d be over the moon.”

Leah smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than necessary before she shifts, glancing back at the others. “We should probably get going, but it was nice bumping into you. Literally.”

You laugh. “Yeah, you too.”

As they walk away, Leah turns back one last time. “Hey—maybe I’ll see you around?”

You don’t miss the hopeful tone in her voice.

“Maybe,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips.

And for the first time in a long while, something stirs in your chest—something that feels an awful lot like excitement.

With a lingering smile on your lips, you watch Leah and the rest of the Arsenal team walk away before exhaling a quiet breath. That was unexpected. You weren’t exactly the kind of person to bump into football stars on your afternoon walks. Yet, there you were, brushing shoulders with Leah Williamson like it was nothing.

You shake your head, trying to push away the fluttering feeling in your stomach. It’s been a while since anyone made you feel like that—since anyone looked at you the way Leah did, even if it was just for a moment.

Still, you have time to yourself, and you intend to make the most of it. Your stomach rumbles slightly, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten much today. Glancing around, you spot a cozy-looking café on the corner. It seems inviting, with warm lighting and a few people inside, chatting over coffee and pastries.

Without hesitation, you head inside.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wraps around you like a comforting embrace. You walk up to the counter, scanning the menu, before ordering a simple meal and a latte. As you wait, you feel the weight of a gaze on you—multiple, actually.

Unbeknownst to you, across the café, a certain group of footballers had chosen a table near the window. Leah, who had insisted they sit there in the first place, is completely distracted, her eyes fixed on you.

Katie notices first. “Alright, Leah, what’s with the staring?”

Leah blinks, as if she didn’t even realize she had been so obvious. She turns to her teammates, a slightly dazed expression on her face. “Did you see her?” she asks, as if it’s the most important question in the world.

Caitlin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, mate. You literally ran into her.”

Leah shakes her head, leaning forward slightly. “No, but did you see her?”

Beth smirks, sipping her coffee. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, Captain.”

Leah exhales, running a hand through her hair. “Her eyes—did you see them? They’re unreal. And her features—like, how does someone look that effortlessly gorgeous? It’s unfair.”

Katie and Caitlin exchange amused glances.

“And her voice,” Leah continues, barely stopping for breath. “It’s so soft, but there’s something about it… like, I could listen to her talk all day. She just—” She sighs dramatically, shaking her head.

Beth snickers. “You’re actually down bad already.”

“I’m not—” Leah starts, but even she knows it’s a lie. She glances back at you, watching as you take your coffee and meal to a small table by the window, oblivious to the attention you’re getting. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way your lips curl slightly when you take a sip of your drink—it’s all making Leah feel something she hadn’t expected.

Katie nudges her. “You should go talk to her again.”

Leah scoffs, though there’s a faint pink tint to her cheeks. “And say what? ‘Hey, I know we just met, but I think you might actually be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen’?”

Caitlin laughs. “Honestly, that might work.”

Beth shrugs. “Or, you know, you could just casually bump into her again. Since you’re so good at that.”

Leah rolls her eyes but doesn’t look away from you.

Because as much as she pretends otherwise, she already knows—this isn’t the last time she wants to see you.

You take a slow sip of your latte, letting the warmth settle inside you. It’s been a while since you’ve had a moment like this—just you, a quiet café, and no responsibilities tugging at your sleeve. But something tingles at the back of your mind, a feeling like you’re being watched.

Curious, you glance up, letting your gaze drift around the café. That’s when you spot them.

Leah and her teammates.

All of them are at a table near the window, and while Beth, Katie, and Caitlin are watching with amused grins, Leah is different. She’s frozen, eyes locked onto yours, a slight deer-in-headlights look on her face.

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. Then, unable to help yourself, you offer a small wave, just a polite acknowledgment before turning back to your food.

Leah, however, doesn’t recover so quickly.

The second you wave, her entire body tenses. Then, as if her brain has only just caught up, her face flushes—deeply. She abruptly looks away, running a hand through her hair as if that will somehow cool down the sudden heat rushing to her face.

“Oh my God,” Katie cackles, nearly choking on her drink. “Leah. You’re actually blushing.”

Beth leans in, grinning. “That was so cute. She caught you staring, and instead of playing it cool, you turned into a human tomato.”

Leah exhales sharply, pressing her hands to her face for a second before dropping them. “Shut up.”

Caitlin smirks. “Breathe, mate. You’re looking a little overwhelmed there.”

Leah straightens, taking a deep breath as if it’ll help. It doesn’t. “I was not staring.”

Beth raises an eyebrow. “Right, and I’m not sitting here watching you have a full meltdown because she waved at you.”

Leah groans, resting her elbow on the table and dropping her face into her hand. “I hate you all.”

Leah peeks through her fingers, sneaking another glance in your direction. You’re focused on your food again, seemingly unbothered, but Leah’s mind is still spinning.

“She’s just…” Leah exhales, still pink in the face. “Really beautiful.”

Beth grins. “Yeah, we got that part.”

Caitlin nudges Leah’s foot under the table. “You gonna talk to her, or just keep embarrassing yourself from a distance?”

Leah huffs but doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she watches you, a small, almost shy smile creeping onto her lips.

Because, if she’s being honest, she’s already hoping for another chance to speak to you again.

The café is warm, but you know it’s time to go. You glance at your phone, checking the time. Still a little while before you need to pick up Ellie, but you’d rather take your time walking back.

Standing up, the chair scrapes loudly against the floor, breaking the quiet hum of conversation. Across the room, Leah looks up immediately, as if instinctively drawn to the sound. Her eyes track your movements as you push the chair back into place, gather your things, and head toward the bin in the corner to dispose of your rubbish.

And yet, without even trying, you do things that make Leah’s brain short-circuit.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear while holding your bag. The casual way your fingers glide along the strap as you adjust it on your shoulder. The soft sigh you let out—like you’re lost in thought, unaware of the effect you’re having on her.

Leah swallows hard. God, she’s actually unreal.

Beth notices the way Leah is practically enchanted by you and smirks. She glances at Katie and Caitlin, exchanging a silent agreement before—

Shove.

Leah stumbles forward, nearly tripping over her own feet as she’s quite literally pushed in your direction.

“What the—” she starts, whipping her head back to glare at them, but it’s too late.

You’re already by the door, and now she’s standing right behind you.

You pause, sensing someone close, and turn—only to find Leah Williamson, cheeks slightly pink, looking… nervous?

You blink, surprised. “Leah?”

Leah clears her throat, forcing herself to hold eye contact despite the absolute chaos inside her head. “Uh—hi.”

You tilt your head slightly, amused. “Hi?”

Behind her, Beth is barely containing her laughter. Katie is grinning like an idiot. Caitlin is watching like this is the best entertainment she’s had in weeks.

Leah is so out of her depth. The fearless, confident player who commands the pitch like it’s her second home? She’s gone. What remains is a flustered, slightly panicked woman who desperately wants to get this right.

“I, um…” Leah rubs the back of her neck, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “I was just wondering if—uh—” She exhales sharply, shaking her head at herself. “Okay, this is embarrassing.”

You chuckle softly, and the sound makes Leah’s stomach do something weird.

“You okay there?” you ask, smiling, completely unaware of the absolute mess you’re making of her.

Leah straightens, trying to compose herself. “Yeah. Yeah, I just…” She takes a deep breath. Come on, Williamson, get it together.

She meets your eyes—God, those eyes—and blurts out, “Can I have your number?”

It’s not smooth. It’s not charming. In fact, it’s probably the most awkward she’s ever been.

But instead of laughing at her, you seem pleasantly surprised. “Oh,” you say, lips curling in a way that makes Leah’s brain melt. “Yeah, sure.”

She blinks. “Wait, really?”

You laugh again, pulling out your phone. “Yes, really.”

Leah quickly fumbles for her own phone, hands slightly shaky as she hands it to you. You type in your number, saving it before passing it back.

“There,” you say. “Now you can awkwardly text me later too.”

Leah groans, covering her face with her hand for a second. “I am never living this down.”

“Nope,” you tease, stepping back toward the door. “But it was cute.”

Leah nearly dies on the spot.

Beth, Katie, and Caitlin are losing their minds in the background, but Leah doesn’t care. Because you just called her cute.

As you push open the door, you glance back at her one last time. “Talk soon, Leah.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Leah standing there, heart pounding, phone clutched in her hand like it’s the most valuable thing she owns.

Katie claps her on the back. “Well, that was painful to watch.”

Beth smirks. “But adorable.”

Caitlin sips her coffee. “She totally likes you.”

Leah barely hears them. She’s too busy staring at your name in her contacts, already smiling like an idiot.

Hours later, you find yourself back at your parents’ house. The warmth of home surrounds you—the comforting hum of the kettle boiling, the faint scent of whatever your mum is preparing for dinner, and the familiar laughter of Ellie as she plays with her granddad.

Ellie, of course, doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“Can I stay a little longer, Mum?” she asks, her big, hopeful eyes looking up at you. “Granddad said he might take me to the park!”

You glance toward your dad, who grins and nods. “I did promise, didn’t I?”

You chuckle, ruffling Ellie’s hair. “Alright, but don’t keep him running around too much.”

“No promises!” Ellie grins before grabbing her granddad’s hand and dragging him toward the door. “Come on, Granddad!”

Your mum shakes her head fondly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “That child has too much energy.”

“I wonder where she gets it from,” you tease, but your mum just waves you off.

You step forward. “I can help with dinner if you want?”

Your mum scoffs, gently pushing you toward the living room. “Absolutely not. You had a break today—enjoy it.”

You sigh but smile nonetheless. “Alright, alright.”

With that, you make your way to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied exhale. It’s nice to just… sit for a moment.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance down at it, unlocking the screen, and your lips twitch at the name that appears.

Leah Williamson.

There’s something about the way the text is structured—the slightly uneven spacing, the hesitation in her words—that tells you one thing immediately: she’s nervous.

Leah: Hey… um, so I know I was kinda awkward earlier. Like, really awkward. But I swear I’m usually a lot cooler than that. Okay, maybe not ‘cool,’ but, like… not a complete mess. I just—ugh. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is… hi? How’s your evening?

You bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You can see her overthinking, can imagine her running a hand through her hair while sending this.

Smiling to yourself, you type out a reply.

You: Hi, Leah :) My evening’s been good. Back at my parents’ house. My daughter wanted to stay with them a little longer. Also… you were cute earlier, if that helps your ‘not a complete mess’ argument.

The response is immediate.

Leah: Oh my God, you’re actually trying to kill me.

You grin, feeling an unexpected warmth spread in your chest.

This was going to be fun.

Leah stares at her phone, rereading your last message for what has to be the fifth time.

Cute. You called her cute.

She exhales sharply, running a hand down her face before gripping her phone tighter. Get it together, Williamson.

The first few texts were rough. She was fully prepared for Beth, Katie, or Caitlin to somehow get a hold of her phone and roast her for them later. But now? Now, she’s finally found a rhythm.

Still flustered as hell, still nervous, but at least she’s stopped typing and deleting every message five times before sending it.

Leah: You can’t just say stuff like that. It’s dangerous.

You: Dangerous?

Leah: Yes. Extremely. I could’ve dropped my phone. Or walked into a wall. Life-threatening, really.

She barely has a second to breathe before you respond.

You: Maybe I should warn you next time then? “Hey Leah, I’m about to say something that’ll make you spiral. Brace yourself.”

Leah groans, flopping back onto her bed. She’s grinning like an idiot, and she knows it.

Leah: Yes, please. That would be helpful. I have a fragile heart.

You: I feel like that’s a lie. You don’t seem fragile at all.

Leah huffs out a quiet laugh. If only you knew.

Leah: You might be surprised.

She hesitates for a second before adding:

Leah: I’m glad you texted me back, though.

Her heart beats a little faster as she waits for your reply.

You: Of course I did. I was hoping you’d text me first.

Leah swears her brain short-circuits.

She doesn’t hesitate this time.

Leah: Yeah?

You: Yeah :)

She exhales, running a hand through her hair, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t so terrifying after all.

You’ve been texting Leah for almost an hour now, and honestly? You’re having way too much fun. You never imagined a simple conversation could make you smile like this, but here you are, grinning at your phone like a teenager with a crush.

It’s easy to forget the world around you when the text bubble from Leah pops up with each new message, each one a bit bolder than the last. The earlier awkwardness is fading—Leah’s still a little nervous, but her messages are smoother now, more confident.

But before you can respond, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the front door, followed by Ellie’s excited voice.

“We’re back, Mum!”

You glance up, blinking a little as you pull yourself back from the text conversation.

Ellie runs into the living room, her cheeks flushed from the cool air and the excitement of the park. Your dad follows, grinning and shaking his head at her.

“Had a good time?” you ask, watching as Ellie practically bounces on her toes.

“The best! Granddad showed me how to climb the big tree!” Ellie exclaims, her face beaming.

You smile and ruffle her hair. “That sounds fun. Now, how about we get dinner started?”

Ellie groans dramatically, though it’s clear she’s still got energy to burn. “Do I have to? I want to go out again.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Dinner first. Then we’ll talk about anything else.”

Your dad chuckles, heading into the kitchen to help your mum. The house feels like it’s settling back into its rhythm, and you can’t help but feel content.

But then, you glance at your phone again. Leah’s name still lights up the screen, and the conversation has slowed to a lull, almost like she’s waiting for you to say something.

With a sigh, you tap out a message, knowing you should wrap it up.

You: I have to go now, Leah. Dinner’s on the table and I’m needed. But I’ll talk to you soon, okay?

A few seconds pass, and you can practically hear Leah’s internal panic.

Leah: Yeah, of course. Enjoy dinner with your family. And, uh… we’ll talk soon, yeah?

You can’t help but smile.

You: Definitely. Take care, Leah.

Leah: You too. Talk soon.

You put your phone down, a small sigh escaping you as you settle back into the present moment. It’s strange how something so simple—just texting someone—could make you feel this way. But you already know one thing for sure: this won’t be the last time you hear from Leah. And you’re definitely looking forward to what comes next.

Leah stares at her phone, her heart still racing slightly. She can’t help but giggle to herself, her fingers hovering over the screen as she rereads your last message for the third time.

Talk soon.

The simple phrase should be innocent enough, but coming from you… it feels like a promise. She’s not sure why, but there’s something about the way you text her that makes everything feel like it matters a little more than it probably should.

She leans back against her pillows, a soft smile still plastered on her face, completely oblivious to the teasing going on in the background.

“I swear, you’re like a giddy schoolgirl,” Beth says, watching her from across the room with a raised eyebrow.

Leah rolls her eyes, but the smile doesn’t fade. “I’m not. I’m just—” She stammers, trying to form an excuse, but there’s no way around it. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am.”

Katie grins. “I knew it. You’ve totally got a crush on her, don’t you?”

Leah feels the warmth in her cheeks as she presses her phone against her face, hiding the full extent of her embarrassment. “It’s not like that,” she mutters, though even she knows it’s a total lie.

But then she thinks back to your texts, the way you’d signed off with that little “talk soon,” and her heart flutters all over again. She lets out a soft sigh, giggling to herself.

Maybe she was a little giddy.

“Alright, alright,” Beth teases. “We get it. You’re smitten.”

Leah gives them both a pointed glare, but it’s half-hearted. She can’t help it. They’re right.

“I don’t even care,” Leah says, still smiling. “I like her. Is that such a crime?”

Katie shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Nope. Not a crime at all.”

Leah can’t wipe the grin off her face as she types another message to you, letting her nerves settle. She’s still a little unsure of where this might go, but for the first time in a long time, she’s excited about the possibilities.

Leah: Talk soon, yeah? And just so you know… you’ve definitely got me smiling.

As she hits send, she can’t help but giggle again, imagining what your response might be. For once, she’s not afraid of the unknown. Instead, she’s looking forward to it.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, you find yourself in the car, driving Ellie to school. Her excitement from the park yesterday still hasn’t worn off, and she chatters away in the passenger seat, recounting every detail of her adventure with her granddad.

“Granddad said we could go next week, too!” Ellie says with a grin, glancing at you.

You chuckle. “Sounds like a good plan. Just don’t climb too many trees, okay? I don’t want to be picking you up from the nurse’s office again.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but laughs, knowing full well that’s not a likely scenario.

Once you drop Ellie off at the school gate, you wave her off and watch as she runs to meet her friends. As she disappears inside, you take a moment to breathe. The school has exams today, which means you have the day off from work—something you haven’t had in a while.

You lean back in the car, considering your options for the day. A part of you wonders if you should just enjoy the quiet, catch up on some errands, maybe even grab a coffee or read a book. But then, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out and unlock the screen, instantly seeing the message you received from Leah last night. Talk soon, yeah? And just so you know… you’ve definitely got me smiling.

You smile at the memory of the conversation.

Without much hesitation, you open the messaging app and start typing, wondering if Leah might be free for a bit of company today.

You: Hey, Leah. I’ve got the day off—are you free, or are you training?

You wait for a few seconds, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You’re not sure what you’re expecting—maybe she’s busy, maybe she’ll be all tied up with team obligations. But when the little three dots appear and then her message comes through, you feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

Leah: I’m actually free! No training today. Got a couple of hours before I have to meet up with the team later.

You pause for a second, the words feeling lighter than they did yesterday, as if there’s less uncertainty now.

You: Nice. Want to grab a coffee or something?

It doesn’t take long before Leah replies.

Leah: Yes! I know a place we can go. I’ll send you the address in a sec. Can’t wait to see you again.

You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. It’s subtle, but you can tell there’s a shift, a little more ease in her words now.

You: Looking forward to it.

You quickly put your phone down, starting the car and making your way to the café Leah suggested. The thought of spending time with her—after everything, after the teasing, the conversations—is something you find yourself looking forward to more than you realized.

You arrive at the café Leah suggested, a cozy spot tucked away in a quieter part of town. As you step inside, your eyes scan the room until they land on her—Leah, sitting at a small table by the window. She’s already a little red in the face, her posture a mix of confidence and a touch of uncertainty. As soon as she sees you, her face lights up, and she stands up quickly, almost knocking over her coffee in the process.

“Hey!” she greets, her voice a little higher than usual, but her smile is warm. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you reply with a grin, walking over to her table.

She pulls out the chair for you, and you sit down, feeling an odd combination of nervousness and excitement. There’s something about being with Leah in person that makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight. The small talk you had yesterday feels like a world away.

“So, you like this place?” Leah asks, trying to keep things light but you can tell she’s still a little on edge.

You nod, glancing around at the cozy atmosphere. “Yeah, it’s cute. I’ve passed it a few times, but never had the chance to stop in.”

“Good choice then,” Leah says, her fingers tapping nervously on her coffee cup. “I… uh… ordered for you already. Hope you don’t mind. I guessed cappuccino, but I could’ve gotten it wrong.”

You smile. “No, you guessed right. I’m a fan of cappuccinos.”

Leah visibly relaxes, the tension easing from her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and glances at you, still shy but with more confidence than before.

“So, tell me about Ellie,” Leah says, her voice soft. “She must be… well, she must be everything to you.”

You smile fondly, thinking of Ellie. “Yeah, she is. She’s smart, sassy, and always keeping me on my toes. She’s my little partner in crime.”

Leah’s smile is sincere. “I can tell you’re close. It’s nice, having that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Family’s everything, you know? It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.”

Leah looks down at her coffee, as if pondering something. “I can understand that. My family… well, we’re kind of scattered. My dad and I haven’t been close in years. I guess you could say I’m not the best at family stuff.” (I know Leah is very close with her family just pretend for this okay, thanks.)

You tilt your head, curious. “Do you want to talk about it? If you’re comfortable, of course.”

Leah hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head lightly. “Maybe not yet. It’s just… complicated, I guess.”

You nod, understanding. “I get that. Family can be messy sometimes.”

There’s a pause, a soft silence between you as you both sip your coffee. But then, Leah seems to gather her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a playful glint.

“So,” she begins, shifting in her seat, “if you don’t mind me asking… are you seeing anyone right now?”

The question catches you off guard for a moment. It’s casual enough, but there’s a hint of curiosity in Leah’s voice. You take a moment before answering, trying to gauge the vibe between you.

“No,” you answer with a smile. “I’m not seeing anyone. It’s been a while, actually. And I’ve been focused on Ellie more than anything.”

Leah’s eyes brighten a little, but she quickly hides her reaction behind a sip of her coffee. “Same here,” she admits, her tone a little more guarded. “I mean, I’ve been focused on football and… well, you know, the team. But I guess, it’s… it’s hard sometimes. Being single, I mean.”

You raise an eyebrow, a little surprised. “Really? I would’ve thought someone like you wouldn’t have a hard time with that.”

Leah chuckles, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’d think, right? But it’s not always as easy as it looks.”

There’s an awkward pause, but this time it feels less tense. Instead, it’s more like you’re both getting to know each other in a way that feels… real.

Leah shifts again, leaning forward just a little. “So… if you don’t mind me asking, do you think I’m… I don’t know, someone you’d want to see again? Not that I’m trying to put any pressure on you or anything, just… curious.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of her vulnerability. “I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you again, Leah.”

Her eyes widen slightly, as if she wasn’t expecting you to say that. Then, she laughs, a bit of nervous energy spilling out. “Good. Because, um, I think I’d like that too.”

You both sit there for a moment, letting the quiet settle between you. Leah seems more comfortable now, more herself. And for the first time, you realize that this might not just be a casual coffee between two people who bumped into each other. It feels like the beginning of something… something you both are unsure about, but excited to explore.

As the conversation slows, Leah seems to hesitate for a moment, like she’s considering something. Then, with a soft exhale, she looks at you with a hint of a playful smile.

“So… I was thinking,” she starts, her voice a little more tentative than before. “If you’re up for it, we could go back to mine and watch a movie. I mean, if you don’t have anything else planned?”

You smile, intrigued by the idea. “That sounds nice. I’d like that.”

Leah’s face lights up, and she gestures toward the door, clearly relieved. “Great! It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The two of you step outside, and after a short drive, you find yourselves at Leah’s house. It’s quieter here, tucked away in a suburban neighborhood that feels worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Leah unlocks the door, and you follow her inside, your eyes scanning the cozy living room. The faint scent of coffee and something sweet fills the air.

She tosses her keys onto the side table and looks over at you. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says, pointing to the couch. “I’ll grab some snacks.”

You sit down, the soft cushions sinking under you as you take in the space. It’s simple, but warm. Homey, in a way. You pull your legs up on the couch, settling into the corner.

Leah returns with a bowl of popcorn, a couple of drinks, and a small grin on her face. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I grabbed a little bit of everything.”

You smile as she hands you a drink. “Thanks. This is perfect.”

Leah starts the movie, something lighthearted and funny, the kind of film that makes you laugh without needing to think too much. For a while, you’re both just immersed in the movie, the sound of laughter filling the space. But as the film progresses, you feel a subtle shift in the air between you two.

You shift slightly on the couch, unconsciously leaning toward Leah. Without realizing it, you end up curling up a little closer to her, your head resting lightly on her shoulder. You can feel the warmth radiating from her body, her presence somehow grounding and comforting. It feels natural—nothing too forward, just two people getting lost in the moment.

Leah freezes for a split second, then lets out a soft breath. You don’t notice at first, too wrapped up in the movie and the closeness, but then you feel her tense up. You glance up at her, only to find her staring ahead at the screen, but her cheeks are flushed, and her grip on the popcorn bowl has loosened just a little.

You smile to yourself, unaware of how much of an effect you’re having on her. The weight of your head resting against her shoulder seems to be making her a mess—her breathing slightly heavier, her hand shaking as it hovers near the popcorn. She’s trying to focus on the movie, but it’s clear she’s struggling to keep herself together.

You let out a small sigh of contentment, still feeling relaxed and at ease in her presence. But Leah, on the other hand, seems to be quietly losing her composure. Her heart races under the calm exterior she’s desperately trying to maintain.

At one point, she pauses the movie, the silence between you two becoming more palpable.

“Are you… okay?” you ask softly, not fully aware of what you might have done to make her so flustered.

Leah lets out a shaky laugh, her voice lower than usual. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect you to cuddle in like that.”

You blink, surprised by her reaction. “Oh. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I—”

“No!” Leah quickly interrupts, her hands raised in reassurance. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest at her honesty. “I’m just… relaxing,” you say, trying to brush it off casually.

But Leah is anything but relaxed. She glances down at you, her eyes soft but filled with something more intense now. She swallows hard, as if trying to calm her racing thoughts.

“Well,” she says slowly, almost like she’s testing the waters, “just so you know… if you keep doing that… you might just make me completely lose it.”

You raise an eyebrow at her words, still blissfully unaware of how deeply you’ve affected her. But the playful glint in her eyes makes your heart skip a beat. You never expected to have this kind of effect on her, but here you are—both of you caught in a moment that neither of you seem ready to pull away from.

You don’t move away, instead, just relaxing deeper into her side, the movie playing on in the background, but the space between you both has shifted. It’s no longer just a casual hangout. It’s something else.

The movie ends, and the credits start to roll, but the atmosphere between us feels like it’s suspended in time. My heart is racing, but I’m trying to keep it together. The moment you cuddled up to me on the couch, I knew I was in trouble. Every inch of my body is on fire, my mind clouded with thoughts of you—of how close you are, how effortlessly comfortable you make me feel, even when I’m a complete mess inside.

I glance at the clock, and my heart sinks a little. It’s almost time to pick up Ellie.

You stretch out slightly, moving away from me just a little as you let out a soft sigh. “I should probably go,” you say, your voice calm, but I can hear the hint of reluctance in it, too.

I nod, trying to ignore the fact that the thought of you leaving is… well, it makes my chest tighten. “Yeah, I guess it’s getting late.”

We both stand up, and I walk you to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. The closer we get to the door, the more aware I am of how close we are, of how my heart won’t stop pounding in my chest. I can feel the heat radiating from you, and it makes my mind spin.

I reach for the door handle, but when I look over at you, it’s like the world slows down. You’re standing there, looking at me, but there’s something different in your eyes—a softness, a warmth. And I feel it. The pull. The connection.

We’re standing so close now, and I can’t help but notice the way your breath catches just slightly, your chest rising and falling with each breath, just like mine. The tension is thick in the air, and I can feel it in every inch of my body. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t stop myself from feeling drawn to you.

I bite my lip nervously, my eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, trying to figure out if I’m reading this right. “So…” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “What do you want to do now?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, where everything else fades away. Then, before I can even process it, you step closer, your eyes locked on mine.

And just like that, you lean in.

Your lips press softly against mine, the kiss gentle at first, as if testing the waters. But then, it deepens, just a little, and I feel the spark. I’m frozen for a split second, completely caught off guard by how natural it feels, how perfectly your lips fit against mine.

It’s a long kiss, one that feels like it’s suspended in time, each second stretching on, lingering in a way that makes my heart race even faster. I can feel the warmth of your body, the slight pressure of your hands, your scent filling my senses, and suddenly nothing else matters.

When we finally pull away, we both stand there, breathless. My pulse is pounding, my chest heaving. For a second, I’m too stunned to speak, too caught up in what just happened. The kiss wasn’t just a fleeting thing—it was something real, something more than either of us had expected.

You smile softly at me, and I can’t help but smile back, feeling the same warmth that’s been radiating between us all afternoon.

“Wow,” I whisper, my voice still a little shaky. “That… that was…” I trail off, still a little stunned by what just happened.

You grin, your eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something else—something I can’t quite place. “Yeah. I guess I wanted to do that for a while.”

I chuckle softly, still not fully processing everything. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

As I watch you turn to leave, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing. Something’s shifted between us, and I don’t know where this is going, but for the first time in a while, I don’t feel scared about it.

I stand in the doorway, watching you go, my heart still racing in my chest. What just happened felt like the beginning of something, and I can’t wait to see where it leads.

After training, your phone buzzes with a message from Leah. Her text is simple yet carries a weight of unspoken words:

“Hey, would love to spend more time with you today. Are you free?”

A smile tugs at your lips as you read her message. The connection between you two has been undeniable, and the thought of spending more time together fills you with warmth.

You quickly type a response:

“I’d love that. Let me check with my parents to see if they can look after Ellie.”

You call your parents, explaining the situation. They agree to take care of Ellie for the day, though you sense a hint of curiosity in their voices. They don’t press further, but you can tell they’re a bit suspicious.

With everything set, you head over to Leah’s house. As you arrive, she greets you with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

Inside, you both settle into the kitchen, the familiar scent of coffee and something sweet in the air. The conversation flows easily, laughter and shared stories filling the space between you.

After a few minutes, Leah’s demeanor shifts. She becomes a bit more reserved, her eyes occasionally meeting yours before quickly looking away. You notice her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, a subtle sign of her nervousness.

Sensing her hesitation, you decide to bridge the gap. You gently reach out, placing your hand over hers. Her breath catches, and she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

With a soft smile, you lean in, closing the distance between you. Leah’s eyes flutter closed as your lips meet in a gentle kiss. The world seems to pause around you, the only sound being the soft rhythm of your breathing.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a surge of emotion, a connection that feels both new and familiar. Leah’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your arms wrapping around her.

The kiss is tender yet filled with unspoken promises, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you’re beginning to explore together. When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, a shared smile playing on your lips.

Leah rests her forehead against yours, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she admits, her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and vulnerability.

You chuckle softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling with affection.

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realize that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. The future feels uncertain, but with Leah by your side, you’re ready to face whatever comes next.

It’s been a few weeks since that first kiss, and every moment with you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from. Our time together has been filled with laughter, shared stories, and a connection that feels deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced. But there’s something I’ve been holding back, something I can’t keep to myself any longer.

We’re sitting on the couch in my living room, a movie playing softly in the background, though neither of us is paying much attention. Your head rests on my shoulder, and I can feel the steady rhythm of your breathing. I gently brush a strand of hair from your face, my fingers lingering on your skin.

“Hey,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

You look up at me, your eyes warm and inviting. “Yeah?”

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I… I’ve been thinking about us. About how much you mean to me. And I don’t want to keep pretending that I’m not completely in love with you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and I can see the surprise and joy in them. You sit up, turning to face me fully. “Leah…”

I reach for your hand, holding it gently in mine. “I know we’ve been taking things slow, and I don’t want to rush anything. But I can’t imagine my life without you in it. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… will you be my girlfriend?”

A smile spreads across your face, and your eyes sparkle with happiness. “Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will.”

I pull you into a tight embrace, my heart swelling with happiness. “I promise I’ll make you the happiest person alive,” I whisper.

You pull back slightly, looking into my eyes. “You already do,” you reply, your voice filled with sincerity.

We share a tender kiss, sealing the promise of our future together.

[anticipatedexhale]

Happy birthday!!! It's a day to celebrate you!

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: they surprise you on your birthday!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, flufffff and also definitely not proofread

Mel Medarda.

Mel Medarda did not do things halfway. When she loved, she loved with intensity. When she planned, she planned meticulously. And when it came to you? Well, she was going to make sure your birthday was something you would never forget.

You had a feeling something was up when, the night before, she had simply kissed your cheek and said, “Wear something nice tomorrow, darling.” That was it. No explanation. No hints. Just a knowing smile before she walked away, leaving you both intrigued and slightly terrified.

And now? You were standing in front of an enormous, private dinner setup on one of Piltover’s highest balconies, the entire city glittering below like a sea of golden stars. A long, lavish table stretched before you, covered in candlelight, rich wines, and an array of gourmet dishes that looked too perfect to eat. Soft music played in the background, and the scent of fresh roses filled the air.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “Mel…”

She was standing beside you, looking as breathtaking as ever in a deep gold dress, her earrings catching the candlelight. She smiled at your reaction, clearly pleased with herself. “Surprised?”

“That’s an understatement,” you breathed, turning to her. “How did you—when did you—?”

She chuckled, looping an arm through yours and guiding you toward the table. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

You shook your head in disbelief as she pulled out your chair for you—because of course she did—before settling in across from you. “Mel, this is… a lot.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Are you saying you don’t like it?”

“No! It’s—” You gestured around wildly. “It’s incredible. I just don’t know how to deserve all this.”

Mel leaned forward, resting her chin delicately against her fingers. “You don’t have to deserve it,” she said softly. “I wanted to do this. Because you deserve to feel celebrated. To feel adored.”

Your chest tightened at her words. She had always been someone who built walls, who calculated every move, but with you? She always let you see the tenderness beneath it all.

A warmth spread through you as you reached across the table, taking her hand in yours. “Thank you, Mel. For everything.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Happy birthday, my love,” she murmured. “Now, let’s toast—to you.”

She lifted her glass, and as you clinked yours against hers, you realized that, out of everything—the lavish gifts, the extravagant setting—the real gift was this: Mel, choosing to love you in the way only she could.

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

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had never been great at keeping secrets. It wasn’t that he was bad at lying—he just got too excited and always ended up giving himself away. So, when your birthday was coming up, you could tell something was up.

He’d been acting weird all week—disappearing for hours, sending hurried messages to people when he thought you weren’t looking, and worst of all? He sucked at playing it cool.

“What are you up to?” you had asked him the night before, arms crossed as he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to distract you from a set of blueprints on his desk.

“Nothing!” he had said way too quickly, grinning wide enough to make it obvious that he was lying. “Just, uh, some important Council business!”

You didn’t buy it for a second. But instead of prying, you decided to let him have his fun.

Fast forward to today. Your birthday.

The entire morning had gone by suspiciously normally. Jayce hadn’t mentioned a word about it. No casual "Happy birthday!" No cheeky wink. Not even a hint of whatever he had been planning. You were starting to wonder if he’d somehow forgotten—until you walked into his workshop.

The second you stepped inside, BOOM!

Confetti everywhere.

Not just a little—an entire explosion of tiny colored paper pieces rained down on you from above, and in the middle of it all stood Jayce, arms wide open, looking way too proud of himself.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” he shouted, grinning like a kid who just pulled off the best prank ever.

You blinked, completely frozen in shock as confetti slowly drifted onto your hair, your shoulders… everywhere.

Jayce, realizing that maybe confetti cannons were a bit much for an indoor setting, winced. “Uh… okay, maybe that was overkill.”

You stared at him, then at the absolute mess he had just created, and finally burst into laughter.

“Jayce! What the hell?!” you managed between laughs, shaking the confetti out of your hair.

He let out a relieved chuckle, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. “Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But hey, at least it was memorable, right?”

“Very,” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “But please tell me this isn’t all you planned.”

Jayce gasped dramatically. “Of course not! Who do you think I am?”

With that, he took your hand and led you toward the back of the workshop, where a table was set up with a cake—one that was definitely a little lopsided but obviously homemade. Next to it, a small pile of gifts, and most importantly? A chair with another small confetti cannon.

“Jayce,” you warned, eyeing it.

“Okay, fine, I’ll put it down,” he said with a laugh, setting it aside. “But I do have one more surprise.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box. The moment you opened it, your breath caught—it was a tiny Hextech pendant, glowing faintly, crafted into a delicate design.

“I made it myself,” he said, a little bashful now. “Figured you deserved something special.”

Your heart melted. All the ridiculousness, the over-the-top confetti, the chaotic energy—it was so Jayce. And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “This is perfect.”

Jayce exhaled, finally relaxing. “Good,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

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

Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t the type for grand gestures. He didn’t do over-the-top surprises or loud celebrations. He preferred the quiet things—the ones that mattered, the ones you’d carry with you long after the day had passed.

That’s why, when your birthday came around, you weren’t expecting much. Not because he didn’t care—far from it. But because Viktor was always lost in his work, constantly chasing ideas, and you didn’t want to burden him with expectations.

So, when the morning passed without so much as a mention of your birthday, you tried not to let the disappointment creep in. Maybe he really had forgotten.

But then, late in the evening, as you walked into his dimly lit workshop, you found something waiting for you on his desk.

A small, neatly wrapped package. And next to it, a stack of papers, the ink still fresh.

Your name was written at the top.

Curious, you picked up the papers, eyes scanning the first few lines. And then your heart stopped.

It was a letter. No—many letters. Pages upon pages, filled with Viktor’s precise handwriting.

You sat down slowly, hands trembling as you began to read.

He wrote about the day he met you. How he hadn’t expected someone like you to step into his life, let alone stay. How, despite the chaos of his mind and the limits of his body, you had never treated him as anything less than whole.

He wrote about the small things. The way you made tea exactly how he liked it, even though you hated the taste. How you always remembered to bring an extra blanket when he fell asleep at his desk. The way you touched him—so gently, as if you saw the pieces of him that no one else did.

He wrote about the nights he spent awake, thinking of you. Wondering how someone like him had managed to deserve someone like you.

And at the very bottom, in slightly messier handwriting, was the last line:

"If I am to leave any mark on this world, let it be the love I have for you."

Tears blurred your vision by the time you finished. You pressed a hand to your mouth, overwhelmed, as you turned to see Viktor standing in the doorway, watching you with quiet apprehension.

“You—” Your voice broke. “You wrote all of this?”

A faint flush touched his cheeks as he shifted his cane, looking away for a moment. “I am not good with spoken words,” he admitted softly. “But I wanted you to know.”

You stood, crossing the room in seconds before wrapping your arms around him. Viktor stiffened slightly, then melted into your embrace, exhaling shakily.

“You didn’t forget,” you murmured against his shoulder.

His hand came up to rest against your back. “Of course not,” he whispered. “How could I?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes still wet. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a small, almost shy smile. “Then I suppose it was worth every word.”

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

Caitlyn.

Caitlyn Kiramman was a woman of precision. Strategy. Planning. She didn’t do things on a whim—every move she made had a purpose. So, when your birthday rolled around, you knew she had something up her sleeve.

But you hadn’t expected this.

“Caitlyn,” you said slowly, staring at the handwritten note she had left on your bedside table. “Is this… a scavenger hunt?”

The paper was neat, her elegant script detailing a simple instruction: "Meet me at the shooting range. Wear something comfortable. Happy birthday, darling."

A grin tugged at your lips. You had no idea what she was up to, but you weren’t about to back down from the challenge.

Clue #1: The Shooting Range

When you arrived, the place was empty—except for Caitlyn, who stood there in her crisp uniform, a knowing smirk on her face.

"Right on time," she said, stepping forward to hand you your next note.

"You really set all this up?" you asked, amused.

She winked. "I am the Sheriff, you know. I have my ways."

You unfolded the paper, laughing when you read it. "Show me what you've got—hit the target three times in a row, and I'll give you your next clue."

“Oh, you know I’m not as good as you,” you groaned, giving her a playful glare.

She merely crossed her arms, looking smug. “Then I guess you won’t be getting your next clue.”

You sighed dramatically before stepping up to take your shots. By some miracle (and maybe a little bit of Caitlyn’s coaching over the years), you managed to land all three.

Caitlyn looked genuinely impressed. “Not bad. I might have some competition.”

You grinned. “Now give me the next clue, Sheriff.”

Clue #2: The Bakery

The next stop led you to a small, tucked-away bakery—one that you and Caitlyn often visited after long days at work. The moment you stepped inside, the owner smiled knowingly and handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box.

Inside? Your favorite pastry, still warm. And another note.

"A little something sweet before your final stop. Meet me at the place where we first realized we were more than just friends."

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew exactly where that was.

Final Stop: The Rooftop

You climbed the familiar fire escape, the city stretching out beneath you. The cool breeze hit your skin as you reached the top, and there she was—waiting for you with a picnic set up, lanterns glowing softly around her.

Caitlyn turned at the sound of your footsteps, her smile softer now, more intimate. “Took you long enough.”

You let out a breathless laugh, taking in the sight. “You really went all out.”

She stepped forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wanted today to be special for you. You deserve that.”

Your chest tightened at the tenderness in her voice. You reached up, taking her hand in yours. “It already is.”

She exhaled, eyes searching yours before leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. When she pulled back, she smirked. “Happy birthday, darling. Now, come on—before the food gets cold.”

And as you sat together, laughing and sharing stories under the stars, you knew that this—her—was the best gift you could have ever asked for.

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

Vi.

Vi never made a big deal about birthdays—especially her own. But when it came to you? She wanted to do something. It didn’t have to be fancy or extravagant, just something that would make you smile.

So when you woke up to an empty bed and a note scrawled in her messy handwriting—"Meet me at our spot. And wear something you can move in."—you had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

The "spot" turned out to be an old, abandoned bridge overlooking Zaun, a place you two often went when you needed to get away. When you arrived, Vi was already waiting, leaning against the railing with her usual cocky smirk.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," she greeted, pushing off and walking toward you. "Took you long enough."

"You are aware that normal people do things like dinner and gifts, right?" you teased.

Vi shrugged, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "Yeah, well, I ain’t normal, and you’re not getting some boring, predictable date."

Before you could ask what she meant, she stepped back and tossed you something—knuckle guards. Not unlike hers, but sleeker, custom-fitted to your hands.

You stared at them, then back at her. "Vi—"

She grinned. "Figured we could get into a little trouble together tonight. You game?"

Oh, of course she planned a street fight for your birthday. You laughed, shaking your head. "You’re unbelievable."

"Yeah, yeah, but you love me anyway," she said, nudging your chin up with her gloved hand. "And after this? We’ll grab some drinks, maybe dance, maybe do something actually romantic."

You slipped on the knuckle guards, flexing your fingers. "You know, for once, I think I like your idea."

Vi smirked. "Atta babe."

And with that, she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the night, ready to make this a birthday neither of you would forget.

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

Jinx.

Jinx didn’t do things halfway. Ever. If she was going to celebrate your birthday, then it wasn’t just going to be some boring dinner or a couple of gifts. No, no, no. It had to be big. It had to be chaotic. And, most importantly, it had to be fun.

So when you woke up to a loud BOOM in the distance, followed by a series of colorful fireworks lighting up the Zaun skyline, you had a gut feeling that Jinx had something to do with it.

You barely had time to get out of bed before the door slammed open, and there she was—grinning wildly, hair messy, hands covered in soot.

“Happy birthday, hot stuff!” she practically screamed, launching herself at you.

You barely caught her, stumbling back as she wrapped her arms and legs around you like an overexcited monkey. “Jinx—what the hell was that explosion?”

She giggled, pressing a quick, excited kiss to your cheek. “Your birthday surprise!”

“…You blew something up for my birthday?”

“Duh! But it wasn’t just something—it was a whole abandoned building! You should’ve seen it—BOOM, KABOOM, colors everywhere!” She jumped down, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, I saved the best for last!”

You weren’t even dressed properly before she was dragging you out the door, her energy contagious despite the slight panic bubbling in your chest.

The Grand Finale

She led you to an open rooftop, one of her favorite hideouts. The moment you stepped onto it, you saw what she had set up—scrap metal and neon signs arranged into a very crooked-looking Happy Birthday! message, flashing erratically with sparks flying from the edges.

Your mouth fell open. “Jinx… did you—”

“Make it myself?” She puffed out her chest proudly. “You betcha!”

It was… chaotic. Dangerous, even. But it was so Jinx, and the fact that she had put in all this effort—in her own, reckless way—made your heart ache in the best way.

She flopped onto the floor, patting the space beside her. “Alright, birthday babe, sit. I got one more thing.”

You sat down, still in awe as she pulled a small, messily wrapped box from her coat. “Now, before you open it, just know that I think it’s cool, and if you don’t like it, I will cry. Probably. No pressure.”

You gave her a playful side-eye before unwrapping it. Inside was… a handmade, slightly dented metal locket, with her signature blue monkey logo engraved on it.

You opened it and nearly laughed—inside was a tiny, badly drawn stick-figure version of you and her holding hands.

Jinx watched you carefully, chewing her lip. “Sooo… you like it, or am I gonna have to start the waterworks?”

You turned to her, grinning. “Jinx, I love it.”

Her face lit up, and before you could react, she tackled you in a tight hug, knocking both of you onto the ground.

“Best! Birthday! Ever!” she cheered, giggling as she pressed kisses all over your face. “Now, let’s set off the big fireworks!”

You exhaled, laughing as she pulled you back up, her excitement never fading. And as she set off the last explosion of the night—lighting up the sky in wild, electric blue—you realized that, in all her chaos, Jinx had given you the most uniquely perfect birthday you could have ever asked for.

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

Ekko.

Ekko was a man of few surprises. He was methodical, thoughtful, and knew how to make things right—whether it was fixing a broken clock or fixing his world. But birthdays? That was a bit of a new territory for him. So when yours came around, you could tell he was determined to make it special.

You woke up that morning to a soft knock on your door. When you opened it, there stood Ekko with a wide grin on his face, holding a small box wrapped in plain paper.

"Happy birthday," he said, his voice warm and a little sheepish. "I hope you like it."

You smiled, taking the gift from him and opening it. Inside was a beautiful, hand-carved pendant—a clockwork piece that looked just like a miniature version of his old time machine. It was intricate, delicate, and totally Ekko.

"You made this?" you asked, amazed.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know it's not much, but I thought you'd like something that... reminded you of us."

The pendant was a symbol of time, and that alone was enough to make your heart flutter. You couldn't help but smile as you hugged him, thankful for the gesture. "I love it."

"Good," he said, his grin returning. "Now, c'mon. I have something else planned."

A Quiet Escape Through Time

Ekko led you through the streets of Zaun, but this time, there was no rush. No plans to rush into battle or solve problems. This time, it was all about you—and the time you’d spent together.

As you walked, Ekko began to recount stories of the past: your first meeting in the undercity, when he had been just a kid trying to survive; the way you helped him and his friends when everything felt like it was falling apart. With every story, you felt yourself sinking deeper into the warmth of his words.

Eventually, you came to a quiet, secluded spot by the river, an area you didn’t even know existed. The sound of the water trickling over rocks was the only noise in the air, and the view of the stars above was breathtaking.

Ekko set down a small blanket he had brought along, gesturing for you to sit. "This was one of my favorite spots when I needed to think," he said softly. "I figured you might like it too."

You sat down beside him, your legs stretched out on the soft grass. Ekko opened a small pack, pulling out a couple of homemade sandwiches, some fruit, and a thermos filled with his own special brew.

"Happy birthday," he said again, handing you a cup of the drink. "I thought we could have a peaceful moment together. No chaos. Just... us."

You took the cup, your heart swelling with affection. "This is perfect," you said, your voice quiet but full of meaning.

Ekko watched you for a moment, then smiled, though there was something a little more sincere behind his eyes. "I know we’ve been through a lot. And I know I don’t always show it, but... I’m really glad you’re in my life."

You reached out, gently resting your hand on his. "I’m glad I’m in yours too, Ekko."

For the rest of the night, the two of you sat together, talking and laughing under the stars, with no rush or distractions. And when the moon was high in the sky, Ekko pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

"I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know I’m happy right here, right now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t help but feel that Ekko’s simple, thoughtful celebration was exactly what you needed. In that quiet moment, everything felt just right. Time could slow down, but with him by your side, you knew that every second was worth it.

Author note: GUYSSSS ITS MY BDAY IM FINALLY 17 YUPPIEEE (Jan 30)

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 4

I may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun and finished Chapter 5 and 6 too- I'm not quite happy with those so I'll go through them again before posting Ch5 😅

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 4 >>next

Well, we all knew they would never have time for you. They never do until it’s too late. That’s why funerals are for the living to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go of the guilt. It still hurt… It hurt so much to be brushed off by Alfred, to be ignored by Bruce, to be yelled at by Dick. You couldn’t even think of Jason without tearing up, and Tim was just straight-up mean. But at least he was honest. Cassandra and Barbara’s avoidance hurt the most since they were your only female interaction in years.

Everything you tried to do to prove yourself was, at best, ignored, at worst, compared to someone else and diminished. You had nothing in common with Richard besides knowing a few of the same bands. But that wasn’t enough to raise his interest in interacting with you. Every time he looked at you it was like he was angry and sad at the same time.

Jason and you were so similar. Finally, someone you could relate to, who knew how life on the streets was, how terrifying the big space of the Wayne residence was compared to the lives you once had. And yet he was more interested in Dick, no matter how rude the oldest boy was. You couldn’t blame him, you also wanted Richard’s attention. Your heart felt like it was rolled through needles and lemon juice when Jason got everything you wanted just for you to watch him get buried. Dick was angry when Jason first showed up, jealous, but by the time Jason grew up he was just as angry. You hoped that wouldn’t happen to you.

You were a great student, thriving in your classes and finishing middle school earlier than others, what else were you supposed to do when you had no friends? Of course, that was nothing to Tim’s brilliance. And every time you tried to bond with him on that or show him your achievements it would be a tired “I don’t have time for you.” or an uninterested “I achieved that when I was younger than you.”

Barbara is everything you wanted to be when older, smart, beautiful, had friends and the family's attention. It hurt so much to see her get along with Cassandra but not you, never you. And Cassandra… You tried. You tried to befriend her without overwhelming her, but since the first introduction, she had started ignoring you too, downright leaving the room if you entered it. Bruce went to all her recitals, but he never had time for your galleries or competitions. You stopped asking everyone to come when you found the invites and pamphlets balled up and thrown in the trash bins.

By the time Duke and Stephanie came around you had given up, what use was it? It’ll be another rejection, so you just took care of the garden and did more art, your room overflowing with it. You spent at least half of the monthly allowance Bruce gave, and yet you could still be a millionaire.

You gave up on the Waynes, only speaking to them if they spoke to you. You were done with them, with their secrets, with how they would talk between each other in whispers and then get quiet when you stepped into the room. They’d always look at you like you were a stranger, an enemy. And perhaps you were. So, fuck them. Fuck the boys, fuck the girls, and fuck Bruce and Alfred too.

Sneaking out was the best thing you have done for yourself- sure it was a long way from the Manor to the city and back, but it was all worth it. It was worth it to see the other street kids, to hear their stories, to hang out with the homeless and the girls on their smoke break, it was worth everything when you found your mom’s grave. It was nice, it felt like home.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But as long as you stuck to Red Hood’s territory you were fine, his rule of keeping kids safe seemed to also apply to you. He was nice, even if he never spoke around you beyond hums and grunts, but you enjoyed how gentle he was with the other kid, how he ruffled your hair, and how he helped you clean your mom’s grave. He was nice, and surprisingly so were most other rogues.

Ivy enjoyed helping you with tips for the garden, some of the flowers you grew there on every 13th of the month were made into bouquets for her, your mom’s grave, and Jason’s too. Two-face was surprisingly nice about your inquiry of the law and Penguin enjoyed helping you with your business classes. The Riddler made you want to smash your head against a wall most of the time, but boy was he good with philosophy.

You avoided the Joker like the plague. You couldn’t find it in you to care for him when Harley reminded you so much of your mom when she came with a black eye or busted lip asking if you could take care of Bud and Lou for a jiffy. You could never say no to her.

If Red Hood wasn’t keeping an eye on you, it was Bane or Killer Croc, both men letting you climb and swing from them like a spider. They enjoyed seeing a kid not tremble in fear at the sight of them, despite whatever they may tell you. Mr. Freeze was nice too, lonely like you. Sad you simply couldn’t take the cold for long no matter how many layers you put on.

You loved them all to a degree, but Catwoman always made you feel like her kid, not just a kid. Sometimes you felt guilty for wanting to call her mom, you had a mom. But she made you feel all soft and mushy, calling you her kit, crying with you when you first heard her call you that. She thought she had hurt you, oh, how panicked she was. But her hug was so warm, so loving once she found out that no one had called you their kid in so long.  You wish she would steal you away, she does too, but she made a deal with Red Hood. Selina wishes she had just taken you and moved across the country, everyone be damned.

Unknowingly, you had created the garden to hold flowers that reminded you of all of them, even the Waynes. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill their flowers, to make bouquets of them or sell them- you just didn’t have it in you. So, you just kept on growing them, talking to them, and telling those flowers what your alleged family would never listen to. And then Bruce ruined it all.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, exhaustion or paranoia, maybe both? But all Bruce knew he was seeing is his mom’s garden flourishing after years of it being neglected, of Alfred overlooking it at Bruce’s request to focus on what rooms were being used inside the manor instead. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the pesticide designed for Poison Ivy, didn’t think about asking Alfred, about asking the kids, he just reacted.

Bruce was drinking his guilt away in his office, forehead pressed against his desk as one hand held a whiskey glass and the other gripped at his hair. He had never seen his youngest that angry, crying so much-… He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her smile or hang around the family was.

“What have you done?!” He remembers how pained and angry you sounded as he killed the last flower, his flower. He remembers how he acted, how annoyance rose in him as he explained, and he remembers how his heart fell out of his ass when you said that you took care of the garden and that you spent years building it.

His face remained unmoving as his hands shook, as his jaw clenched, as he could feel the sky crash on his head in tempo with your tears falling down your cheeks. He tried to justify himself, come up with a lie, something that would make him feel less guilty, but- “Yeah?! Well, maybe you would have known if you actually spared a glance in my direction from time to time- You should have left me in an orphanage, no- it should have been you instead of mom!”

You were hurt, you didn’t mean it, he was sure. Even after you went into the manor, crying your heart out, Bruce still sat there. He wasn’t sure what he could do, the pesticide ruined the soil, he didn’t even remember what flowers he saw. The man just went into his daytime office, grabbed his father's liquor, and drank. Bruce knew he should go and apologize and try to talk to you. He poured himself another full glass, instead. Tonight, Batman will be sleeping, and tomorrow Bruce will raise your allowance. If he remembers.

You knew to some degree Bruce didn’t like you, but for him to not even notice that you poured your blood and sweat into that garden when Alfred and even Cassandra did felt like a punch to the gut. You were a good kid, you tried your best to be, so why was this the hand you were dealt? Did he honestly think the flowers in the manor were bought by Alfred? The old man was so busy the last thing on his mind was to buy flowers for the house.

You couldn’t believe him, you could only cry for the lost plants, for one of the three things that brought you happiness. You curled into a ball under the warm duvet, crying into your knees until you could not anymore. The shadows did their best to soothe you, lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of crying helped them.

Dreams didn’t come easy to you, sure, you had the usual nightmare, but calm dreams were a rare occasion. And this one felt so nice as you drifted in the endless dark space, two figures you couldn’t quite make out helping you stay afloat as they talked… chanted? You weren’t sure. It sounded like Latin, but it also didn’t. No matter, it was soothing, warm, it was what you needed.

You felt light as a feather. You felt free and- you hit your head… The pain not only confuses you but also wakes you up, the throbbing on the side of your head making you groan. Your tired eyes looked around trying to figure out what you hit as your hand rubbed the sore spot.

Maybe you were still dreaming. You must still be dreaming. Panic set into your veins- there was no way this was actually happening, it couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be a meta- Batman hated metas and he worked for your- he worked for Bruce- You were fucked.

It didn’t matter that as soon as it happened and you panicked your body hit the floor so hard it rattled your nightstand, making a framed picture fall and break, it didn’t matter that you didn’t register the pain, or notice that you broke the floorboard where you hid all your diaries and drawings you made for the family- all your brain knew is that you should leave before Batman throws you in Arkham or GSP.

So that’s what you did. You grabbed your sports bag that you used for art supplies, stuffed it with some clothes, your laptop, phone, the chargers, took a few sketchbooks and pens, and the card with Bruce’s money. Not like he’ll notice, he didn’t notice that you spent thousands every other week at a fast-food joint for the homeless and street kids, didn’t notice that you spent millions every other year at retail stores for the same people, he didn’t notice the donations. He was as blind as a bat.

“Leap of faith” is what Superman once said in an interview about how others with the power could learn to take off. “It’s just a leap of faith.” He was right- you almost pissed yourself, but he was right. You understood why he always was floating above the ground; it felt so freeing to fly, circling the manor to the top, feeling the air around you. It was so nice. You should move, fly away, and yet your eyes can’t leave the destroyed garden. You should make a few stops before fully leaving… just a few.

When each of the rogues found one singular flower in their favorite seat, their window sill, on the weapons and cars they owned, all withered and falling apart, they knew what it meant.

Ivy was the first, she knew the second the plants died. After all, she helped keep the plants alive, nothing could thrive on the Wayne land anymore, almost like it was cursed, as if Death herself lived on the grounds. But seeing the burned and greying orange trumpet vine told her everything she needed to know, that it wasn’t you who destroyed them. Bruce Wayne and the Bats didn’t know what was about to come their way.

You’ll miss your friends, the kids, the rogues. You’ll miss Catwoman, but she always told you to be a bit more selfish. This was the moment for that. Doubt settled in at some point, but you had nothing holding you attached to the Waynes, Catwoman couldn’t or just wouldn’t take care of you, it was time to let go and abuse Bruce’s ignorance, make a new life for you where you don’t need to hide in the night for some social interaction.

New York City should be the perfect place for it.

Tag List: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry

[barnesafterglow]

the art of missing someone

summary: bucky barnes was a lot, but he would always be yours

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief college then modern au, little bit of angst, don't ask if this is based off personal experience i will cry, smut (MINORS DNI!) [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving)], confessions, idk man i'm just here

a/n: first fic of 2025!! this was a bitch and i still lowkey hate it but it is what it is

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

The thing about Bucky Barnes was, well, he’s kind of an asshole.

In a funny way, really, but an asshole through and through and, for some reason, that did it for you.

It did it for you so much, in fact, that you had been going in circles with him for years now. You met him originally at a party in college; you didn’t know anyone except for your roommate, Natasha, and she introduced you. You immediately gravitated towards him, with his quick wit and sharp opinions, you felt like you could talk to him about anything. He kept close to you the entire night, getting more touchy as the evening dragged on, until the tipping point came.

You were finishing up a game of beer pong where you and Bucky absolutely dominated, and as you sank the last cup, he picked you up, swinging you around before setting you back on your feet. The thing is, he didn’t really let you go. You stood there, in the middle of a crowded party, with his arms around you and it was like everyone else disappeared.

Searching your eyes for permission, he bent his head down and his lips met yours and that was really the beginning of it all. It was unlike any kiss you had ever had, sweet but a little desperate and you craved more.

It became a thing, after that. You would see Bucky at a party, make nice for a few hours, then end up in a closet or empty bedroom making out until someone came to find you.

But more than that, Bucky became your friend. He was who you talked to in your darkest moments, who you sent stupid videos to, everything, and you liked it like that.

That is, until everything got turned on its head.

It happened right after graduation. You had just moved into your own apartment and were waiting for Bucky to come over for movie night. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, the communication very much lacking, but you figured it was just a busy time for both of you and once you got settled, everything would be fine.

That is, until you got a phone call as you closed the microwave door and started the popcorn. Immediately seeing Bucky’s name, you wiped your hands and answered.

“Hey, you almost here?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh.

“I- I don’t know how to say this,” Bucky started, and you found yourself growing nervous. There was nothing you and Bucky couldn’t talk about. Well, almost nothing. “Me and Dot, well, we’ve been talking and…”

His voice trailed off, the line going quiet again. But you were going to make him say it.

“We’re getting back together. She really wants to make it work this time.”

And there it was. Dot was Bucky’s on again-off again for the last several years, stretching back to before you even knew him, and it was a sore spot in your friendship. They had mostly been “off” in the time you’d known him, save for a few memorable occasions where she wormed her way back into his life for a couple weeks just to break his heart all over again. It was safe to say she was not your favorite person, and you certainly weren’t hers.

“Bucky…” you started, but he cut you off.

“No, I know what you’re thinking.” He actually probably had no clue how evil the thoughts you had were, but you weren’t going to enlighten him. “But it’s serious this time, we’ve been talking since graduation and we’re both ready to give this a real shot, without all the bullshit.”

He sounded so sincere, and he was your best friend, so you took a deep breath and sighed, accepting the fact that if you wanted Bucky in your life, this was just something you would have to deal with.

You could hear his relieved laugh on the other end, and you felt your stomach give an odd lurch, like someone had pulled a carpet out from under you.

“I knew you would understand, thank you.”

“Of course, Buck. Now, what about movie night?”

Another beat of silence, then, just like you knew it would happen:

“I can’t, Dot is coming over.”

You wanted to argue, to scream, to make him feel bad about choosing her over you, but hadn’t he already? So instead, you mumbled a quiet agreement and hung up, not wanting to talk to him any longer. Already, it felt like the beginning of the end.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

-

It didn’t even happen slowly, is the worst part. You didn’t see Bucky that night, or any night for the weeks that followed. It wasn’t until you saw him at the coffee shop by your apartment that you were able to talk to him.

You sat down at his table, no longer interested in placid excuses and apologies, and asked him point blank what was going on.

“I’m just trying to keep Dot happy.”

“By staying away from me?” You were frustrated, sure, but under that really you were just hurt. “Listen, you know I don’t like her, but I would never ask you to choose between us. That’s not fair and if she cared about you like she said she does, then she wouldn’t either.”

“It’s not like that!” His voice was raising, just a little, so you knew he was just being defensive. He must have heard it too because he cleared his throat, voicing going back to normal. “I just don’t want to cause any problems.”

You nodded, grabbing your coffee as you stood up, and headed for the door. If he was willing to let your friendship go, then you weren’t going to fight him on it. So you left, face heated with embarrassment and tears threatening to spill over.

As you passed the threshold to the coffee shop back onto the sidewalk, you pulled your headphones on, ignoring the bustle of the city and Bucky still watching you leave through the window.

-

Adjusting to a life without Bucky was weird, you had to admit, but you did it anyway. The first few weeks were the hardest, when he was the first person you wanted to text during any occasion, but eventually that muscle memory faded until you were reaching out to the people who actually valued you in their life. 

Almost a year passed, and you moved on in all the ways you could. You heard Bucky moved back across the river to Brooklyn and that was about all you knew; your friends avoided the mention of even his name if they could help it, even though you knew at the very least Steve and Natasha still talked to him.

You just hoped he was happy, no matter what he was doing.

It was a cold January night when the notification came through. Wanda had recently convinced you to get on a dating app, even though you were perfectly content being single, thank you, but you had to admit the attention didn’t hurt.

You weren’t expecting much when your phone chimed and you unlocked it without even looking at the notification. Which is how you came face to face with Bucky’s Hinge profile, and a message attached to a picture of you that you knew he had taken saying: hey, you look familiar.

Was that really how he was going to make amends, on a dating app?

You supposed it was kind of funny, in that asshole way of his, and you stared at the message for another moment before responding.

oh, i know you?

if you want to

And, well, that was the thing. You did want to. No matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt you, he was still your best friend. Your Bucky.

Instead of answering, you pulled up a contact you hadn’t opened in months and pressed call. It rang one time before a familiar voice flooded the other end.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey, Buck.”

It was a healthy conversation, if you were being honest. Bucky apologized, told you he and Dot were done for good this time and, against your better judgment, you accepted it. You talked for hours after that, catching up on life and reminiscing on old memories, until you checked the time.

“Shit, it’s late,” you said as you put the phone back to your ear. “Almost midnight.”

And then, the words you dreaded but wanted desperately.

“Come over.”

“To Brooklyn? Buck I can’t take the subway this late.”

“I’ll pay for your Uber. Just come over.” You could hear the words he wanted to say, the ones on the tip of his tongue that he just wouldn’t force out.

“Well, I did miss you.” You tried to press it, to make him say it, but he only hummed on the other end.

“So is that a yes?”

You looked down at yourself, cozied up in sweatpants and a hoodie that you were almost entirely sure was Bucky’s, and sighed.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, your Uber will be there in 8 minutes.”

You didn’t have time to wonder how he got your new address - probably one of your mutual friends, maybe he had been keeping more tabs on you than you had on him - and shot up from the couch. With no time to change, you headed to the bathroom and brushed your teeth before taming your hair in the best way you could. As you were stuffing some clothes in an overnight bag - just in case, you told yourself - your phone chimed with a text from Bucky that your Uber had arrived. 

In a whirlwind, you rushed to the car where the driver seemed very put off at having to wait a whole 90 seconds for you to walk four flights of stairs, and slid in.

The whole ride there you were nervous. The thing with Bucky was, despite many drunken hookups, you’d never actually had sex. You weren’t really sure why, just that it had never happened and you had been grateful for it in the long run. You weren’t even sure if it would happen tonight, if he still wanted you like that. Even with all your talking and catching up, you hadn’t been brave enough to ask what this meant.

At nearly 1am, your Uber pulled up outside a beautiful Brooklyn brownstone and, there on the front porch, stood Bucky.

He wrapped you in his arms as he stood in front of you, and it all felt so heartbreakingly familiar you gave in immediately, all the tension leaking from your body at the feeling Bucky gave you. 

“Hey,” he said softly into your hair. “Come on in.”

Bucky’s house was so far from his old college apartment it was frightening, yet it couldn’t have felt more like Bucky. More like home. 

You took in your surroundings, shelves of books and vintage furniture and warm tones, it was almost like stepping back into your own place, the aesthetics were so similar. That was the funny feeling in your chest, you were sure.

Eventually, you ended up on Bucky’s couch with some superhero movie on, not really watching it but still grateful for its background noise to fill the room with each lull in the conversation. Not that there were many, one thing that came easy with Bucky had always been talking - although neither of you did much of that when it really mattered; you figured you could put that out of your mind for now. 

Over the course of the movie, you and Bucky shifted closer together until your thighs were pressed flush and you could feel the air from each of his exaggerated hand movements. It wasn’t until a wayward wave nearly grazed your nose that you truly realized how close you had become, and the sight of Bucky’s eyes shifting subtly to your lips has your self restraint at an all time low.

Fuck it, you thought. You had wanted this for so long, but you also knew you could live without Bucky if everything went tits up. It was a sad thought, that, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go. With every bit of courage you had, you let your hand float up to cup Bucky’s cheek, eyes searching for any sort of hesitation. When you found none, you leaned forward to close the admittedly small gap between your lips.

It was electric. Never had a kiss from someone else ever lit a fire inside you the way one from Bucky did. It started off slow, searching, a chance to reacquaint yourselves. But the second Bucky’s hand reached to tangle in your hair, everything shifted. 

Suddenly you were pulled in Bucky’s lap, legs straddling his, lips desperate for a taste of what you’d missed for so long. It was everything you hadn’t let yourself wish for, and you had a feeling you weren’t going to be missing it again anytime soon.

It wasn’t until your shirts were on the floor and Bucky was making quick work of your clasped bra that you thought maybe it would be smart to just slow down. Just for a second, just to get your bearings. 

An honest to god whine fell from his lips as you pulled back, stopping his hands from undressing you any further. 

“Buck,” you whispered, forehead pressed to his, hands cupping his face as if he was something precious. Though you supposed he was, to you at least. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” His voice trailed off, obviously unsure of himself even though this at least was familiar territory. What was to come next, however, was not. “I can’t go another day without making you mine.”

Your core tightened at the words, vivid memories of what Bucky’s hands and mouth could do; fantasies of what else he could do invaded as well as suddenly talking didn’t seem like a priority anymore. 

“Take me to bed.” And that was all he needed. 

Bucky scooped you up bridal style, carrying you across the threshold of his bedroom and laying you gently on his bed. Your eyes darted around, wanting more of snippets of the life Bucky had built here, but you were quickly distracted by his body covering yours, the weight of him pressed between your thighs was comforting and intoxicating. 

Bucky’s touch proved even more distracting as he shed you of your bra, mouth immediately latching to one nipple, the little nips and sucks enough to drive you crazy on their own, while his hands pinched at the other. He continued his assault until you were dizzy with want, then he trailed down your body with his mouth, not leaving an inch of skin undiscovered until he reached the waistband of your sweatpants.

He pulled them down just an inch, then his eyes shot up to meet yours at the discovery. 

“No underwear?” His voice was deep, husky, almost fucked out if you really thought about it. It was a thrill that your hold on him was so tight that just the thought of you without underwear was enough to leave him reeling just a little bit. 

You batted your eyes innocently. “Someone didn’t give me much warning about my Uber, I apologize.”

The giggle in your voice suggested the insincerity of your apology, but it didn’t deter Bucky as he pulled your pants from your body, mouth and hands still exploring. 

His fingers traced unknown patterns along your inner thighs, gently pushing them apart until you were fully exposed to him. You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you had never been in this position before. You had, of course, but never sober, and never with Bucky looking at you so attentively - like he was going to eat you alive. 

It was intense, having Bucky’s eyes bore into you as he lowered his mouth to your core, starting with gentle kitten licks until your hips were bucking, searching for more friction. One of his hands pinned your hips to the bed, while the other slipped through your folds, spreading spit and slick, before he slipped one inside of you. Then two, then three, until you were begging for release.

All it took was a soft whisper of come on, baby and a crook of Bucky’s fingers and you were falling apart, the intensity of your orgasm whipping through you, and as you floated back down to your senses, Bucky was still going. 

It was feverish, like he couldn’t get enough of your pleasure, and each twitch and moan encouraged him until your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him away from your spent body.

He let out a protest, but you silenced it by pressing your lips to his, moaning at the taste of yourself as his tongue pressed into your mouth. You were lost in the sensation, letting yourself be manhandled until you were once again in Bucky’s lap. Sometime while you had been transported to another planet, his pants had been shed and you were oh so close to getting everything you ever wanted. 

With your mouth still pressed to his, you rolled your hips, feeling the weight of him sliding along you. You kept at it, teasing and grinding until he thrust his hips and there it was; one slight adjustment and the feeling of Bucky stretching you out to was more overwhelming than you could have imagined.

Your hips stilled, as did Bucky’s, letting you adjust to him until you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, your way of telling him that you were okay, that he could move.

His thrusts started slowly, letting you feel every inch of him until you were begging for more. When his hands stopped roaming to grip your hips tightly, you knew you were done for.

Bucky held you in place, his hips snapping up to fuck into you and all you could do was hold on for the ride. 

You were so overwhelmed you almost missed Bucky’s words, mixed in with his moans, but once you caught them, they were as clear as day:

I missed you.

Over and over, Bucky was repeating the words, interspersed with groans and heavy panting, but your heart restricted regardless 

He missed you. Bucky missed you.

With your thoughts such a jumbled mess, reveling in the fact that this was really happening, your orgasm snuck up on you. One second you were floating on the high of Bucky and the next you were crashing, falling, and he was right there to catch you as you came down.

His hips slowed, stuttering as he spilled into you with one final thrust.

For a moment, the world around you didn’t exist. All there was was this moment, with Bucky’s arms around you and your head buried in his shoulder. Everything came back at once: your harsh breaths, the noise of the TV far away in the living room, and Bucky’s hushed whispers as he held you.

“I missed you so much.” You didn’t respond for a moment, but you lifted your head to meet Bucky’s eyes. In them lay the sincerity of his words, vulnerable now that they weren’t being said in the heat of the moment.

“I missed you too, Buck.”

[lovecla]

MAKE IT TO THE MORNING ; JACK HUGHES

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY being jack hughes’ girlfriend comes with a lot of hardships— but in the mornings, you realize it is all worth it.

WARNINGS unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, p slapping, cockwarming, dirty talk, jack is lowkey a little shit, reader loves him tho, inspired by the song “make it to the morning” by partynextdoor. freaky af!!!

WORD COUNT 2,3k

FROM ME TO YOU a little late (literally, it’s like 3am for me), but this is my thank you gift for you guys because today i woke up with 700 of you!! i’m still too in shock to say anything besides thank you so much. i was celebrating 600 followers like a month ago and now this. i’ll keep working hard to give you guys good content <3 ily and pls enjoy

𖧷

don't scream or shout, i'm workin' my way down

girl, you gettin' loud, now put it in yo' mouth

THE SOUND of your heels clicking against the marble floor were enough to piss anyone off. It was annoying, repetitive and even you were starting to get tired of the little tec tec sound, but you couldn’t stop.

Dating Jack Rowden Hughes was not for the weak. And you knew that, more than anyone else. Being his girlfriend of three years— the longest time he has ever been in a relationship, mind you—, you knew that the prize was good, but the job of keeping it was tiring.

You stared at him across the room, talking to some random fans who definitely didn’t know what being a fan was, since they were all over him, with their hands on his arms and shoulders.

He eyed you from time to time, blue eyes making it hard for you to stay one hundred percent mad at him— truthfully, you knew that all it would take for you to forgive him for his playboy behaviour would be a single kiss and an aggressive make out session.

“It isn’t so fun watching from here, huh?” Quinn’s new fling, or whatever the girl standing beside you was, said, approaching you quietly. “Trust me, I know how it feels.”

You hummed, not engaging with her. You knew Jack wouldn’t actually do anything, but still, it didn’t feel nice to get painted as the dumb girlfriend who has to watch her famous boyfriend laugh and take pictures with hundreds of girls while she stands in the back.

“I’m lucky my Quinn isn’t as nearly as talkative as he is,” she continues, despite your silence. “But you know, Jack is everyone’s favorite.”

You turned your head to the side, watching the girl next to you eye Jack the same way she eyed Quinn, hungry and suggestive, and that was enough for you.

“Sorry,” you interrupted, putting your wine glass down— it had been empty for at least ten minutes— and smiling apologetically. “I have a terrible headache, so I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” she pouts, and you can feel your eyes twitch. “It is pretty late too, so you must be tired.”

“Mhm.” You nod, looking at your phone. 3:46a.m.

“Do you want me to call Jacky?” She asks, expectantly, and the way she says his name makes you want to smash her face against the crumbles of cake sitting on the buffet table.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” you play dumb. “It was nice seeing you…”

You forgot her name. It was probably something like Olivia or Madeline, but still. You didn’t remember.

“It was nice seeing you, too!” She says, apparently clueless to your lack of memory— and interest. “I’ll text you later so we can talk more.”

“Sure thing, yeah.” You walk towards Jack with long, careful steps. “Hey, babe.”

His eyes are on you immediately, his hair moving around with his abrupt move. He smiles, stepping out of the little circle the girls had made around him to wrap his arms around you.

“If it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says. “Hi, baby.”

You can feel the girls’ eyes on you, burning your skin like the fictional fairies’ whenever they touch iron. It is a feeling you are used to already, but you feel yourself shivering either way.

“Can we go?” You ask, bluntly ignoring the other women there. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, we can,” he nods, turning his head back to his little girl group before smiling at them. “See ya, ladies.”

See ya, ladies?

“Bye, Jack.”

“You’re the best!”

“See ya next time!”

You can’t hide your pout on your way home— you don’t even try to. You have your arms crossed in front of your chest as you sit in the front seat of Jack’s absurdly expensive car, listening to the quiet hum of his air conditioner and the annoying noise whenever he turns on the turn signal.

“You’re not mad… are you?”

His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s scared of asking the question.

“Are you kidding me? You spent half of that ridiculous party talking to women. Tell me I can’t be mad about that.” You hiss back, not looking at him. You know there are high chances of you folding bad if you do.

“Baby, I already told you, it’s all business,” he says, once again, because he has, indeed, told you that several times before. “I can’t have them saying I’m a rude guy, can I?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe the shit you say,” you scoff. “You literally told a reporter to fuck himself last week, on live. Talk about being a nice guy now, Jack.”

“Come on, you’re not being fair!” He exclaims, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “He talked shit about you. He was lucky I didn’t punch him in the face.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lips to hide your smile.

Little does Jack know you jumped out of the couch when you saw the transmission and giggled while you sent texts to your best friend about how you would have to be the mother of his children.

You stayed silent, looking at the dark streets, briefly forgetting about your anger to notice how beautiful your city is. There weren't many people in the streets at that hour— it was summer, yes, but it was almost four a.m and it was still Monday, and a lot of people were still working.

When you got to your and Jack’s apartment— a two bedroom penthouse with plenty of space and a kitchen you still fell in love with every time you looked at it— you didn’t waste time before heading to the guest bathroom shower, a clear sign that you didn’t want Jack to join you, which you knew pissed him off.

You were quick even though you weren’t sleepy, washing the soap off your body under the lukewarm water; happy because it was your favorite scent.

You got out of the stall, opening the bathroom door after you wrapped the towel around your body, deciding to change inside your bedroom.

Or at least that’s what you thought you would do.

“Y/n.” Jack calls you, sitting on top of the bed.

“Fuck, Jack,” you grunt. “You scared me.”

“I can’t have you mad at me, baby,” he says, getting up and walking towards you, only stopping when your covered chest is touching his. “You know those women mean nothing.”

“Jack,” you sigh. “We’ve been here before. You can’t just say that every time you flirt with other women.”

“I wasn’t—” he starts, but interrupts himself mid sentence. “You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?” You ask, holding the towel tighter. “You damn well I’m not.”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m not proud with the way I acted but I already told you—”

“It’s all business. I know, you know, we all know.” You roll your eyes, stepping back and moving forward so you can leave the room. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, locking you in place. “Jack—”

“You’re so full of complaints, baby,” he whispers. “Every time we go out you complain about something.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t give me reasons to.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers over your naked arms. You shiver slightly, hoping he doesn’t see it. “You want more?”

“More what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“More reasons to complain,” he continues, chuckling as he lowers his head and hides it in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Real reasons to complain.”

“Wha—”

“Because I’ll give them to you, if you want to,” he licks your skin, and you can feel yourself start to malfunction. He’s a little shit, you think, as you slowly start to give in. He’s a little shit and I’m in love with him. “Or I can keep your mouth full so you can’t complain anymore.”

He stands up straight again, staring at you while his fingers move to where you were holding your towel.

“What’s your pick, baby?” He whispers, removing your grip from the soft fabric around your body, letting it fall on the floor, like a puddle of water on your feet.

You’re fully naked, and he can’t even pretend he’s not looking— he is. He always is.

Jack kisses you with hungry, tender lips. He holds your neck while he licks your lips with his tongue, hot and messy. He tastes like beer and you hate it, but you cannot get enough.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, holding him so close to you you could feel his heartbeat. Kissing him never got old, and if you were to write down your top ten favorite things about Jack Hughes, his kiss would definitely be number one.

You breathe in his scent, your favorite ever since you met him, and you can feel your legs start to give in, just like the rest of your body. It’s late at night, almost morning, your body can’t keep up with your mind and you want to tell Jack to fuck off.

Yet.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers against your lips, as he guides you to the bed, laying you down with your hips on the edge of it. “Let me give you something to make noise about.”

That’s the only warning you get before he gets his knees on the floor and separates your legs, leaving you open and exposed. You feel his fingers spreading your lips open, and when his tongue finds its way to your clit, all of your previous complaints are gone.

You close your legs around his neck, holding him in place, while he puts on a show for you, his fingers tracing the wetness pouring out of you.

You let out a soft moan, holding his hair with your hands, not bothering to be gentle. His tongue found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, circular motions.

“Jack.”

You trash under him as he flicked your sensitive nub with his mouth, the wet noises making you want to disappear. Jack always seemed pleased to go down on you, but you still aren’t used to this fact about him.

“So sweet, baby,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his words sending shivers down your spine, as he dives in again.

He has you curling your toes and arching your back, moaning his name loud and proud, but still, he doesn’t stop. He slides his arms under your thighs, holding you in place by gripping your waist, hard.

He has you coming in under five minutes— it’s a shame it’s over so soon, but what can you do, really. He looks up at you between your thighs, and the sight alone has you moaning, desperate for something else.

You pull his hair, gently, signaling to him that you wanted him up, closer to you, and so he does. He kisses you again, and you get to taste yourself on his lips, moaning loudly inside his mouth when you feel his dick trapped between his body and yours.

“Jack,” you whisper again, placing both of your hands on his cheeks. “I need you.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He says, chuckling as he gets off you and removes the rest of his clothes.

He slides inside you with no hesitation or whatsoever, knowing too well that your inside’s have his print all over it. You both moan loudly, louder than you should be moaning at four something in the morning, but you can deal with the complaint letter later.

He holds your legs together, pressing them against your chest, almost folding you in half. He is being rough, something you absolutely want to kill him for, but you let yourself enjoy the roughness for a moment; you can scold him later.

You can feel him deeper now, as your body gets dragged up and down against the mattress, making you want to scream.

“You’re wet,” he says through his teeth and you can tell he’s also giving in. “Y/n, fuck.”

You’re clenching around his length as he strokes your G spot, dragging his dick against your walls, once again making sure you can take everything he gives you.

“Harder.” You hear someone ask, probably yourself, and you also hear his low chuckle. “Not enough.”

“Still complaining?” He asks, but doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, he removes his right hand from your waist and does the one thing he knows it will have you drooling and begging under him.

He slaps your pussy. The wet, loud sound that fills the room makes you squirm, unconsciously trying to remove yourself from his hold. But he’s stronger, always has been.

“Take it, baby.”

He then slaps you again, and again, and so many times you stop counting. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, and his rough slaps against your clit is enough to make you come, leaving you almost lifeless under him.

“Good girl, Y/n,” he says, kissing your lips, briefly. “I’m gonna come, fuck.”

“Inside, please,” you hear yourself mumbling, and you’re not even sure if Jack hears it.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Inside?”

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m—”

He cums inside you, the familiar feeling making you sigh with bliss. You are both panting, the room smells of sweat, alcohol and sex, and you swear you can see the sun start to rise through the bedroom’s floor to ceiling windows.

You’re just about to tell Jack you want to go to sleep when you feel him start to pull out, which has you protesting, immediately.

“No, I— sleep inside, please?”

His blue eyes are staring down at you, and now, there’s a hint of a smile plastered on his face. He nods once, manhandling you around until you’re under the sheets, with your back glued to his chest, and his length still nestled inside you.

“Well, if you’re still mad at me,” he whispers. “At least we made it to the morning, huh?”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, barely hiding your smile. “If you keep talking, there won’t be any other morning.”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Very well, then.”

𖧷

NHL MASTERLIST. JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST

[simplypaisleyjane]

Chasing You

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x AFAB Reader

Summary: At The Hard Deck Jake Seresin spots a stunning woman who he has no business getting involved with. But he doesn’t know that yet. When he figures out her father is an admiral, his interest only deepens. But she’s not as easily impressed as Jake may have hoped. Will he win her over? Or will the chase be more than he bargained for?

Warnings: I don't think there are any :)

Tags: I want to thank @mynameismckenziemae for supporting me and encouraging me to post this! If you haven't yet, definitely check out her stuff!

Also tagging @djs8891 @khouse712 @withahappyrefrain @86laura11 because it seemed like you may have been interested based on the Ask on McKenzie's page! (If you'd like to not be tagged just let me know!)

The Hard Deck was filled with its usual noise, a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft background music coming from the jukebox. Jake Seresin leaned against the far back wall, beer in hand, casually scanning the room figuring out who he wanted to spend his evening talking to. 

His gaze stopped when he caught sight of a woman talking to Maverick and Penny near the corner of the bar. She was laughing, her smile lighting up the space, and Jake’s interest was instantly piqued.

“Hey, Bradshaw,” Jake nudged Bradley. “Who’s that?” He tilted his head toward the girl.

Bradley glanced over his shoulder, following Jake’s line of sight. When he spotted you, a knowing grin spread across his face. “Oh, her?” he said, his voice carefully casual.

“Yeah, her.” Jake’s tone was dripping with curiosity—and something more. “She’s gorgeous. You know her?”

Bradley turned fully toward Jake now, feigning thoughtfulness. “Actually, I do. She’s real sweet.” He paused for effect, letting the words sink in before adding with just enough sincerity to be dangerous, “I think you should go talk to her.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly weighing the risks. “You serious?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Bradley replied, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “She’s single. And you’re you, right? What could possibly go wrong?” He tipped his glass, hiding the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jake chuckled, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his stance like he was walking into battle. “You’re not wrong, Rooster. I’m irresistible.” He set his beer on the counter and took a deep breath, the picture of confidence. “Wish me luck.”

Bradley raised his glass in a silent toast. “Oh, you’re gonna need it,” he muttered under his breath, watching as Jake strode across the bar like a man on a mission.

As Jake approached, you looked up and met his eyes, your smile widening slightly. Maverick and Penny exchanged a glance, their conversation stalling as they noticed the incoming pilot.

“Hey,” Jake started, his southern drawl turned up to full charm mode. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room. I’m Jake.”

Maverick smirked, clearly enjoying the show, but didn’t say a word. Penny raised an eyebrow at Maverick, who simply shrugged, leaving you to handle the situation.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” you replied, your tone friendly but guarded.

Before Jake could respond, Maverick spoke up, his voice casual but carrying just enough weight to make Jake pause. “Hangman, you do know who her father is, right?”

Jake’s grin didn’t falter—much. “No,” he said confidently. “Should I?”

“Probably,” Maverick replied, leaning back with a smirk, “he’s sitting over there.”

Jake’s head snapped to the other side of the bar, where Cyclone was seated, his gaze locked on Jake like a hawk sizing up prey.

Jake turned back to you, his confidence shaken but not broken. “You know,” he said with a sheepish laugh, “I think I might’ve left my beer at the pool table. Don’t go anywhere, though.”

Back at the pool table, Bradley was doubled over, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Jake smacked him on the shoulder, muttering, “You’re a real piece of work, Rooster.”

“Worth it,” Bradley managed between laughs. "You retreating already, Bagman?” Bradley teased, his grin wide and smug.

Jake grabbed his beer and took a long sip before setting it down with exaggerated nonchalance. He leaned casually against the pool table, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Retreat?” Jake scoffed, turning his head to glance back in your direction. “Nah, Rooster. I’m just regrouping.”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? And what exactly is the plan now?”

Jake’s smirk widened into something almost wicked as he turned back towards the bar, fixing his collar and brushing his fingers through his hair. “Simple,” he said, his drawl thick and smooth. “I’m going to get her number.”

Bradley barked out a laugh, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Jake started toward you again, then stopped to look back at Bradley, his smirk now full-blown.

Bradley shook his head, half in disbelief and half in amusement. “This is going to end so badly, and I can’t wait to see it.”

You noticed Jake approaching again and sighed inwardly, though a small smirk tugged at your lips. He was persistent, you’d give him that.You had half expected him to give up once he realized who your dad was. You thought the line about forgetting his drink was him tucking his tail between his legs. 

You glanced over at your dad who was still seated on the other side of the bar, his gaze heavy as he followed Jake’s movements back towards you.

“Back already?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he stopped in front of you.

Jake leaned casually on the bar, his smirk as charming as ever. “Couldn’t stay away,” he said smoothly. “Hard to ignore someone as beautiful as you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t entirely suppress the faint blush that you knew was on your cheeks. “Is this your usual routine? Flash a smile, throw out some compliments, and hope for the best?”

“Depends,” Jake said, his grin widening. “Is it working?”

“Not even a little,” you shot back, though the corner of your mouth twitched like you were fighting a smile.

Jake chuckled, undeterred. “Good. Wouldn’t be worth it if it were easy.”

You turned your head back toward Maverick and Penny, clearly dismissing him. If he was just looking for a quick lay for the night he could find it with someone else.

But instead of walking away, Jake stayed put, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

“Still here? Let me guess,” you said without looking at him. “You’re one of those pilots, aren’t you?”

Jake’s grin only grew. “Guilty as charged. And you? Let me guess…Cyclone’s daughter?”

You finally looked at him, your eyes narrowing. “If you already knew that, why are you still here?”

Jake shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “Because you’re gorgeous, and I don’t scare off that easily. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I like a good challenge.”

“Good luck with that,” you said, turning your back on him completely.

Jake laughed softly to himself, taking the hint—for now. He walked back to the back of the bar where the pool tables were and stopped beside Bradley, who was watching the whole exchange with poorly hidden amusement.

“She shut you down, didn’t she?” Bradley asked, grinning.

Jake picked up his beer, taking a long sip. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

Bradley snorted. “She’s not playing, man. She’s actually hard to get.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at you, catching the way you smiled at something Maverick said. A genuine, soft smile, not the guarded one you’d given him. His smirk softened just a fraction as he turned back to Bradley.

“Even better,” Jake said, leaning against the bar. “That just means she’s worth it.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sincerity in Jake’s tone. “You’re really not giving up, huh?”

Jake’s smirk returned, but there was a glint of something more genuine in his eyes. “Not a chance.”

A few weeks later The Hard Deck was once again buzzing. It was Friday night, and the sound of voices and clinking glasses filled the air. Jake was nursing a beer at the bar, laughing at one of Coyote’s bad jokes, when his eyes landed on you.

You were seated at a small table outside near the edge of the patio, absently twirling a straw in your drink as you stared out at the ocean. This time, you weren’t surrounded by Maverick, Penny…or your father thankfully.

“Hangman,” Coyote said, nudging him. “You listening?”

Jake didn’t even glance his way. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, already rising to his feet.

Coyote followed his line of sight and smirked. “Oh, this should be good. You really going to try this again? You know who her dad is right?”

Jake didn’t respond, just shot him a wink before making his way toward you.

You noticed him approaching out of the corner of your eye and sighed. Of course, he was coming over. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected it, but you’d hoped he might take the hint after the last time that you weren’t interested.

“Evening,” Jake said smoothly, sliding into the seat across from you without waiting for an invitation.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you company,” he said, flashing that infuriatingly perfect grin.

You gave him a flat look. “Who said I wanted company?”

“Call it a hunch,” Jake replied, unfazed. “You looked like you could use someone to talk to. Or, you know, someone to distract you.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Distract me, huh? And what makes you think you’re qualified for the job?”

Jake smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Because, darlin’, distraction is what I do best.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t entirely hide the amusement that flickered across your face. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Gotta be with someone like you,” Jake said, his tone softer now. “You’re not exactly making it easy for me sweetheart, are you?”

“My name’s not sweetheart. And why should I?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You seem to like the chase.”

Jake chuckled, holding your gaze. “Maybe I do. But it’s not just the chase that’s got me sticking around.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Well,” you said finally, reaching for your drink, “if you’re expecting someone to go home with you, I’m not her. There’s a cute blonde at the bar in the pink dress that might be interested though.”

Jake grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Who said I was looking for someone to go home with me?”

He stood, giving you a quick two-finger salute before heading back to the bar. You watched him go, shaking your head.

For the first time, you found yourself wondering if maybe—just maybe—there was more to Jake Seresin than his charm and good looks.

The ocean breeze lost its appeal as the night wore on, and you found yourself wandering back inside The Hard Deck, craving the warmth and the noise of the bar. You sidled up to the counter, setting your empty glass down with a soft clink.

Penny caught your eye from behind the bar and made her way over with her usual easy smile. “Refill?”

You nodded. “Just a soda, thanks.”

She grabbed the glass and began filling it, her movements practiced and smooth. As you waited, your gaze drifted across the room—right to Jake Seresin, who was leaning casually against the far end of the bar, laughing at something Coyote had said.

You quickly looked away, but not before Penny caught the direction of your stare.

“So,” she began, sliding the refilled glass back to you, “what do you think of him?”

You blinked, playing innocent. “Of who?”

Penny’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she wiped down the counter. “Jake’s been orbiting you all night.”

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “He’s…persistent.”

“That he is,” Penny agreed, leaning against the bar. “But he’s also not as one-dimensional as he might seem.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what? That he’s not just some cocky pilot who thinks he’s God’s gift to women? Cause that’s what everyone around here is saying.”

Penny chuckled. “Oh, he’s definitely cocky. But there’s more to him. He’s loyal, sharp as a tack, and surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be.”

You scoffed lightly, though the words lingered in your mind. “Thoughtful, huh? Doesn’t seem like the type.”

Penny tilted her head, studying you with an amused glint in her eyes. “Maybe you haven’t given him the chance to show you that side of him.”

You sighed again, fiddling with your straw. “To answer your question, he’s…fine, I guess.”

“Just fine?” Penny teased, arching an eyebrow. “You were staring pretty hard for ‘just fine.’”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly took a sip of your soda to hide your embarrassment. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Of course not,” Penny said, her tone light and teasing. “But if you were, I’d say maybe it’s worth it to give him a chance.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “We’ll see.”

Penny winked at you before moving on to another customer, leaving you to your thoughts.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Jake glancing in your direction, his grin widening when your eyes met. You quickly looked away, cursing the heat rising to your cheeks.

As much as you hated to admit it, Penny’s words stuck with you. Maybe there was more to Jake Seresin.

Or maybe you just weren’t ready to find out yet.

You were halfway through your soda when you glanced over again, catching Jake in the middle of another laugh with Coyote. He leaned back against the bar, looking so relaxed and self-assured that it almost annoyed you. Almost.

When his gaze shifted, locking onto yours, your stomach flipped. His grin stretched wider as if he could see right through you. You quickly looked down, pretending to focus on the melting ice in your glass.

Moments later, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.

“Need a refill?” Jake’s voice drawled, smooth as ever.

You looked up to find him standing beside you, one hand resting casually on the bar. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else there too—something that wasn’t as easy to dismiss.

Your first instinct was to brush him off again, but Penny’s earlier words echoed in your mind. Maybe you hadn’t given him a chance. Maybe you should.

“Sure,” you said finally, surprising even yourself. You pushed the empty glass toward him. “Knock yourself out.”

Jake blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your agreement. Then his grin returned, slow and satisfied, like he’d just won a small victory.

“Coming right up,” he said, grabbing your glass and heading back to the bar.

When he returned, he set the drink in front of you with a little flourish. “One soda. Extra ice, just how you like it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And how would you know how I like it?”

He shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table. “Lucky guess…or I may have had some help from Penny.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Okay, Jake. You’ve got my attention. Now what?”

His grin softened into something more genuine. “Now I get to know you.”

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Jake pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, his movements unhurried. “By asking you questions,” he said simply. “And, if I’m lucky, you might actually answer them.”

You sipped your drink, studying him. “Fine. Go ahead. Ask away.”

He paused for a moment, as if considering his options. Then he asked, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t gotten the chance to yet?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t what you’d expected—not some flirty remark or shallow small talk, but an actual question. Thoughtful. Genuine.

You hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Travel, I guess. There’s a lot of the world I haven’t seen yet.”

Jake nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Any place in particular?”

“Greece,” you said, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “I’ve always wanted to see the islands. The history, the views… It just seems like it’d be beautiful.”

“It is,” Jake said, surprising you again.

“You’ve been?”

“Once,” he admitted. “A couple of years ago. Only for a few days, but it was incredible. The water’s so blue it doesn’t even seem real.”

For the first time, you found yourself genuinely curious about him. “What were you doing there?”

“Just passing through on leave,” he said with a shrug. “But I’d go back in a heartbeat. Maybe next time I’ll stay longer.”

You cleared your throat, glancing down at your drink. “Okay, your turn. What’s something you haven’t done yet?”

Jake smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Convince you to let me take you on a date.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “You were doing so well. Why ruin it?”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Just being honest.”

For the first time, you found yourself smiling back. Maybe Penny had been right. Maybe there was more to Jake Seresin than you’d thought.

Note: This is my first time writing any fanfiction that's more than a paragraph or two. And is also my first time sharing or posting what I wrote so I would love to know what you guys think!

I am also considering maybe writing a second part of this that shows you finally giving Jake a chance if there's interest??

[onsomenewsht]

I've got peace and I've got love

About a surprise for your birthday even if you hate your birthday

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 for anyone who needs to feel celebrated

Birthdays are a complicated matter.

You don’t hate them, no one really does.

People should be loved loudly, their mere presence on Earth should be reason enough to celebrate them.

You care about your family and your friends, baking cakes and inflating balloons and dressing up for a themed party are not a problem - you’re the first one to arrive and the last to leave.

Celebrating your birthday though? Hell, no.

For most, it doesn’t make sense.

A day in a whole year when anyone is entitled to be under the biggest spotlight, getting gifts and all the wanted attention. Yet, you’d rather hide in the remotest corner of the planet than hear someone sing “happy birthday” to you.

Despite the insistence and the repeated attempts over the years, your mother has finally accepted that you don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Your best friend has accepted that you’ll avoid a surprise party like the plague. Everyone who knows you, knows it.

Alexia included.

At least she knows now, after last year.

The two of you got together just shy of three months before your birthday. Bless her good heart, she thought a surprise ambush might be appreciated.

She’s not going to make the same mistake twice in a row, but she wants to do something.

“You told me she hates birthdays”, Alba points out, a bit confused, sipping her coffee as if her sister isn’t in the middle of an inconclusive rant.

“She hates her own, not birthdays in general”

“I still think you should just buy her a nice present, wish her a happy birthday and move on like she asked you to do”

“It seems so, I don’t know, incomplete?”, the blonde tries to explain, “How do I make sure I show how much I appreciate her if I can’t celebrate her?”

“You better celebrate her every day, not just on the birthday–”

“I do it, idiot!”

Alexia is quick in her jab, but thankfully the younger girl is used to her attitude by now.

Cup saved from any spill, Alba barely has enough patience to give another, simple pearl of wisdom, “So do it like any other day, but, you know, on her birthday”

It’s good advice, even if she’d never admit it.

Alexia spends most of her day off plotting, her free time during the week before your birthday completely taken over by careful planning and prep.

You can tell immediately that something is off, but you let it slide because she’s cute when she’s on a mission, and you don’t really want to spoil her fun.

At the stroke of midnight, like a mischievous fairy godmother, your best friend calls you to sing a personalized rendition of “Die, Die My Darling” like every year since you’re sixteen and think you’re oh-so-funny.

Your mother sends a present from the entire family, along with a picture of a cake you’re not going to eat but you’re glad they’ll enjoy in your name. Alexia’s mother and sister send flowers, and you have to reassure your girlfriend that it’s a genuinely appreciated sentiment.

Said girlfriend kisses you for every year spent on this Earth and then moves on, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen.

It’s suspicious, really suspicious.

The day passes by without any major incident.

At work just a few colleagues know it’s your birthday, they politely hand you a card with bad jokes written all over it. You mindlessly send the same three reactions at every text message, nonetheless appreciating everyone who remembered and took the time to wish you a happy birthday. A kind waitress adds a slice of dessert as you pick up take-out at your favourite Mexican place, probably prompted by Alexia when she ordered over the phone and sent you to the restaurant.

Guard down, you open the door to your girlfriend’s apartment, still not connecting the dots.

Thank the goddesses and gods above for that nice waitress, because what you find inside is definitely a first and the food wouldn’t have survived the surprise if not for the well-secured package.

Soft music - that, to your shame, you only realise too late is your favorite record - resonates through the room, which is filled with dozens of floating balloons reaching the ceiling.

You take a few tentative steps inside, noticing pictures carefully tied to each string with numbers scribbled on the corners.

Snaps of the past year, memories so simple in their significance you sometimes fail to give a good measure of. Dinners out with friends, an unflattering portrait of an early morning during the summer, the first time holding your niece. You linger over a photo of you and Alexia talking on Mapi’s couch, neither of you looking at the camera, as it’s clear you had eyes only for each other.

“I’ve never seen this one”, you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

Your girlfriend is leaning on the further wall of the entrance, a confident stance failing to hide a note of nervousness. The way her hands are buried in the pocket of old sweatpants and her eyes are studying every single macro-expression shifting on your face are a clear tell for you.

"Ingrid sent it to me some times ago”

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”, she agrees easily, still not daring to come closer.

Alexia’s gaze drops as soon as you notice there’s a handwritten message on the back of every photo, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You take the time to read each one attentively, smiling at her thoughtfulness and the care she put into all the moments chosen. People and occasions that hold meaning for you, no matter how big or small. You feel love in every single one.

“You put a lot of thought into this”

“I had to sacrifice a couple of good ones”, she mumbles, almost upset with herself.

The commitment to matching the number of pictures to your age it’s impressive, you have to admit.

A burst of laughter fills the entire apartment, Alexia finally meeting your gaze and taking in how moved you’re by her surprise.

The fear of overstepping had been like an annoying voice, whispering in her ear as she scribbled on the back of the photos or tried to wrap gifts without running out of patience or tape.

“Do you like it?”, her doubt creeping in her voice.

“I don’t hate it”, you joke, still eager to ease her worries, “No one has ever put this much thought or effort into– I don’t know, celebrating my birthday, I guess”

“You deserve to be celebrated”

You take the few steps to fill the gap between you two, food forgotten somewhere behind, and throw yourself into her already open arms.

“Thank you”

“I love you”

The kiss you share is a clear enough answer. Sometimes, it’s not even necessary to spell it out - action speaks louder than words, they say. She holds you for as long as you need, music still playing softly in the background.

“Is this a good moment to mention that you have to open as many presents as you have in years?”

“Alexia!”

[goddamnitmahtin]

Damian’s Babysitter

This is a sequel to this post. Since it was actually based on a wild dream I had, I figured I’de add more.

Danny and Wes found the gala boring as all hell. Almost immediately after showing up, they were sent to off to the “kids room.” Were Danny and Wes full on adults? Yes. But apparently rich people don’t want to look at you if you don’t have access to money they can convince you to give them. Which honestly, fair. Danny and Wes didn’t want to look at the rich people either.

Danny and Wes walked into the room filled with discarded children and found a sofa to sit on. It wasn’t like they were going to actually try to mingle with these children. Most of them were very clearly going to be mean. Most of them that weren’t too young to hold a conversation with were standing around on little cliques gossiping to each other about each other. It was like if you took all of the pettiest 5th graders in the entire state and put them into one room.

“I still can’t believe we are doing this,” Danny said, groaning. This entire thing was such bullshit. The entire atmosphere felt so fake.

“Lucky for us, I brought my laptop so we can just game until it’s time to leave,” Wes said, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

“Oohhh so that’s why you brought a purse,” Danny said, poking fun at the style of the bag. It was duty of a cousin to be a menace after all.

“It is not a purse!” Wes said, laughing. He gave Danny a playful shove before opening the computer and pulling up the game library. All of the games on the laptop were single player so they were going to have to take turns. Danny told Wes to go ahead and go first.

“Daniel Fenton,” said a child’s voice. One that he recognized.

Danny looked up from the computer and smiled, “Damian! What are you doing here bud?”

The child scoffed as if Danny were stupid, “I am here with my father. What are you doing here? You aren’t a part of Gotham’s elite.”

Danny had babysat Damian plenty of times in Metropolis when his father had odd work hours. Never once did he even consider that Bruce was from Gotham. Or part of it’s elite. Danny had always gotten paid well and it was a nice gig so he never really asked questions. But now that he thought of it, if Damian lived in Gotham, why did he want a babysitter in Metropolis?

Wes shoved Danny in the rib, “Danny- I think this kid is-”

“I’m here as a favor to a friend,” Danny said, ignoring the dull pain in his ribs, “Sam Manson.”

The child nodded, “Yes, I know Sam. She is not as pathetic as the other elite spawn.”

Danny laughed, “I agree.”

“Wait, how do you two even know each other? And how come he gets to call you Daniel?,” Wes asked. He had paused his game and was looking back and forth between Danny and Damian.

“Oh this is Damian! I babysit him every once in a while,” Danny sad gesturing to the young boy.

“Yes, when my father has work in Metropolis, I request to spend that time with Daniel when I am not needed,” Damian stated matter of factly, he crossed his arms looking proud of himself as he said, “I gained the right to refer to him as Daniel by proving myself in hand to hand combat.”

Wes gave Danny a look and Danny just shrugged, “He wanted to spar, who was I to say no? The kid has moves and I respect that.”

Danny smiled proudly and so did Damian at the acknowledgment of his fighting prowess. Wes just looked at Danny like he was the stupidest person in the world.

Wes’ judgement didn’t last long as a discord call started to ring on his laptop. Danny watched as his face flushed before answering. He was about to ask who it was but before he could, he heard a crash and then Damian’s voice.

“HEY!”

Then another voice unapologetically, “Sorry! Haha!”

Danny looked to see if Damian was alright just to see him holding a platter like a frisbee one one hand and using the other to flip someone across the room the bird, “Fuck you Tim!” (not really)

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[mommyslittlebird]

Imagine Wanda/The Scarlet Witch having you as her little girlfriend in between the events of WandaVision and MoM.

——————

Late one night, while the two of you are in bed together, she asks “If you could do anything in the world what would it be?”

“Hmm,” you think for a moment. “I think I’d own an apple orchard. Apples are my favorite fruit and the trees are so pretty.”

And the next morning she tells you she has a surprise for you. She tells you to close your eyes as she guides you to your new home. When she tells you to open your eyes, you squeal in excitement, taking off down the rows of apple trees, laughing with giddy joy. The pedals of the flowering tree fill the spring air.

“How’d you do all this?” You ask her, jumping back into her arms.

“I made it all for you, my love.”

——————

She never keeps it a secret, that all of this is a hex. But you also find that you don’t really care. She can create anything you ever want here. The apples are tasty, the weather is beautiful, and you wake up every morning next to the woman you love more than anything in the world. Why does it matter if it’s all magic?

One morning, when she notices your a little down, she turns all the flowering apple trees to pink rather than white.

You’re a little confused when you walk outside and see what looks like cherry blossoms in your apple orchard. They are beyond beautiful, but out of the ordinary. “That’s not what apple trees look like in real life.”

“We don’t have to live in real life, my love. Not if you don’t want to.”

——————

After that you become far more comfortable making requests as to how you want your world to be.

You want to go snow sledding in July? You’ve got a couple inches of the most perfect snow you could ask for. Grown tired of apples? Now you’ve got cherry trees. You want a new furry friend? You find the most adorable little kitten right on your front porch.

It like a lucid dream. Anything you could ever imagine is all yours with a snap of her fingers.

——————

Wanda is, of course, studying the darkhold this entire time. She can’t let anyone or anything threaten this perfect little life of yours.

She retreats to her study for hours a day, studying the book and all it has to offer.

She keeps her studies secret at first, fearing you’d be scared of her or, god forbid, try to run away. But when she confesses her interest in the dark arts, you remain unfazed. You live in a paradise of her magical creation. Why would you reprimand her for studying magic?

Sometimes, if you ask super nicely, and promise to be quiet and still, she’ll let you stay with her in her study. You mostly just like to sit in her lap while she reads. You giggle a little the first time the arcane magic causes you both to levitate off the ground.

Even in all her beautiful darkness, she’s still your Wanda. How could you ever be afraid of her?

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

New Roommate

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Pairings: G!p Sub! Kang No-eul x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are No-eul’s new roommate and you find out that she’s different from other girls.

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (she pulls out!), praise kink, fluff at end, etc.

Author Note: Lowk only posting this bc I ACTUALLY finished it and I love the ending it’s so cute. This is lowk long asf omgg!! :0 Sorry if theres any mistakes!!

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You finally finished moving boxes into your room, you sat on your knees on the cold wood floor as you dug into the big box in front of you.

No-eul knew her new roommate was moving in today, she was expecting a weirdo but she opened the door and was literally met with a girl wearing a white tank top and the smallest shorts she’s ever seen while you were practically bent over a box.

She shut the door behind her and you turn to face her, face lighting up. “Hi! You must be Kang No-eul!”

She was already in love. Your face was even more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

You stood up, “I’m Y/n.” You stick your hand out and she shakes it, “Nice to meet you…”

“Sorry about the mess, I’m trying to put my things up as soon as I can so it won’t be in the way for long.” You said, but you notice that her eyes are in fact not on your face as you spoke to her.

But your tits that poked through your white tank top. Maybe you should have worn a bra.

To avoid her gaze on them, you turn around and kept putting your things up.

“It’s fine.” She finally replies, sitting down on her bed.

She sat back and watched you like a weirdo.

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She’d continue to do that weird watching as you do anything at all.

You noticed her gaze darken when you’d do certain things like rub lotion on your legs before bed, sucking a popsicle, change, or even lay on your stomach.

Maybe she’s just a pervert, you were weirded out at first but the more you’d talk to her, she’d continue to barely talk but you kind of loved how mysterious she was.

Soon you’d start to tease her purposely and she’d just shift in her spot, pulling on her jeans as if she had a literal boner.

One time you seen a bulge in her pants, she quickly put her pillow over it and it confused you, maybe it was just her jeans or something in her pocket?

You’d grow needy and horny for your roommate. You knew she felt the same way and you just wanted to be fucked by her at this point.

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Today you walked into your dorm and seen her hand under her cover, hand moving up and down as her head in leaned back against the frame. She was touching herself.

You clear your throat and she gasps, moving a pillow over her crotch that was already covered by the blanket.

“Shit, I thought you had class.”

“It got cancelled.” You lock the door and walk over to her, her bangs were stuck to her forehead and she was panting.

“Want some help?” You bit your lip. She looks away, face turning red.

“No thanks.”

You sigh, “So, what’s your problem then? You stare at me all the time like you want to tear my clothes off. But when I come onto you, now you don’t want me?”

“It’s not that…I promise. I’m just…not what you think, okay? I’m…different.” She said, it was the most she’s ever told you about herself.

“Different how? No-eul, I don’t care. Just tell me. Is something wrong?” You ask, rubbing her leg.

She flinches back, “It’s weird. You’re going to get grossed out if I tell you.”

“Well, show me, then.” You said, she sighs.

“Fine, don’t blame me when you run away.” She moves her pillow off her crotch area and pushes the blanket down.

She had a penis!

Not only that…it was fucking long and thick. Who the fuck could she fit that shit inside of?

“Wow.”

It was hard and the tip was red and sticky, leaking of pre-cum.

“I know, it’s gross and weird. I’m the weird girl with a penis.” She sighs.

“A fucking huge one.” You crawl into the bed.

“I wonder if it’d fit inside of me…what do you think? Hmm?”

Her face is shocked and she is blushing, she grows even harder.

“W-What?”

“Should we try?” You peck her lips and she whines.

You two start to make out, she was a great kisser. You pull back, “Have you ever done this?”

She looks down, “I mean…I kissed a couple of girls and one girl…jerked me off...but that’s it.”

��You never been sucked off before?” You hum, crawling down her lap. “N-No…”

“Can I be the first?”

“P-Please…yes.”

“You’re so fucking hot, No-eul…” You hum, wrapping your hand around the base and pumping it, licking your lips.

She groans, gripping your arm. “I-I…please! Put it inside your mouth, please?”

“Needy baby, I will, okay?“ You suck the tip and she moans.

“I-I…just…yeah, just like that! O-Oh my!”

She grips your hair as you take her cock in your mouth, bopping your head up and down.

You look up at her, she whimpers as you hold eye contact with her as your lips are wrapped around her dick.

She groans loudly when the tip of her cock hits the back of your throat.

“F-Fuck! You’re really…huh! good at that!”

You gag once when your nose touches her lower stomach, you breathe through your nose and don’t stop sucking her dick as well as possible.

If it was her first time getting a blow job, you needed it to be fucking fantastic.

“I’m about to…fuck! I’m about to cum!”

Her mouth opens wide into an O shape, she gasps. “Fuck, fuck! Do I…Do I do it in your mouth?” She whined.

You nod against her, flattening your tongue on her cock while your head bopped up and down.

She groans, her hands tug on your hair as she came down into your mouth.

You hum into her, you swallow the warm liquid and pull yourself off her cock with a pop.

You gasp for air and breathe heavily, coughing and wiping your mouth with your arm.

“Fuck, you’re huge. My throat hurts.” You sit up on her lap as she looks up at you.

“That was…amazing. Thank you.” She pants, her hands grab your hips.

“Of course…” You blush, fiddling with your hands.

“Do you…want to do more?” You ask, she nods quickly.

“D-Do you?” She asks, you smile and nodded your head. “I do…”

You stood up from her lap and undid your shorts button and pulled them down and then you pull your pink panties down and she moves the blankets away.

You get back on her lap basically straddling her lower stomach, you pull your shirt off over your head and she stares down at your boobs through your pink bra.

She pulls the strap down, shyly as she looks up at your face as you smile and unclasp it with one hand.

You lean closer, letting it slip off and you toss it aside. You grab her hand and place her palm over your tit.

“Play with them, mmhm.” You nod, she shakily grabs the other boob and squeezes them.

She pulls her hands away and starts to suck on your nipples. “Fuck, No-eul…”

She looks up at you while her lips are wrapped around your nipple, she grips the other one.

“So good with your tongue…gonna have to show me what else it does later.” You giggle.

She nods eagerly, you moan when she pushed her hips back against her cock that rested on her stomach.

You rock back on it, your clit rubs against it and she pulls back from your nipple.

“Can I…put it inside? Please?” She asks, hands grabbing your hips.

“Yes, put it in, baby.”

She moans softly at the name and you lift your hips and look down, watching as she lines her cock up with your entrance.

She pushed the tip inside and glanced up at you as you hiss.

“S’warm…” You hum, she pushed about four inches in and you squeeze her shoulders.

“H-Hold on.”

“You alright? Is it bad? Should I stop?” She asks, you shush her. “Shh, it’s okay. Just give me a minute, mhm?”

She nods, you try your best to get used to her size, her cock was thick. Not only was it thick but it was about seven inches long.

“You can put the rest in now, it’s okay, baby.” You nod, she moans.

She pushed the rest into your tight pussy and she groans as you squeeze around her.

“H-Holy fuck! You’re really tight.” She says, looking up at you while you bit down on your lip, trying to get used to her size.

“You okay, Y/n?” She asks, you nod with a frown. “I’m fine, it’s okay.” You pull a few inches out and slowly slide back down.

“Oh, fuck! You’re fucking huge, you’re stretching me out.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you continue to slowly pull most of her out before sliding back down.

She lays her head back, gripping your hips tightly. Your slow pace was driving her fucking insane.

She hissed when you take her whole cock down your pussy only to lift it back out and slowly slide down.

She digs her nails into your hips, “Just…please! Can you s-speed up? It’s driving me crazy.” She pants.

“Fuck, i’m so sorry…I just never been with someone so big…” You frown, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Baby, can you? Can you please just do it for me? I can take it. I just can’t do it myself yet.” You pant.

She swiftly flips you over to lie on your back, you moan when she pushed your legs open wider and holding them in the air.

She slowly thrusts into you, before she slowly sped up. Your moans and whines increase loudly.

“It’s so fucking good!” She moans loudly as you start to rub your clit.

“You fuck me so good…don’t you fucking stop!” You groan loudly.

She moans, gripping your hips while she buries her head in your neck.

“Is it okay? You sure?” She asks for reassurance.

You grab her hand, placing it on your lower stomach. Her eyebrows furrow.

“Do you feel that?” You moaned.

“Feel what? Oh…” No-eul looks down at your fucked out state.

You were taking her so fucking deep that it bulged through your stomach when she’d thrust hard.

“You’re in my tummy, No-eul. You’re so fucking huge!” You moan, she notices your rubbing on your clit, “C-Can I?”

You nod, pulling your fingers away and she used her right thumb to rub on your clit.

“Oh, yeah! That’s so good! You’re so good to me!” You whimper, head falling back against the pillow.

“You take me so well, oh f-fuck! It’s like you were made for me…” She whimpers.

“Y-Yeah? I was made for you, my pussy is all yours! I love to take your huge dick.” You moan, gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“F-Fuck! I’m so close, are you?” She moans and you nod repeatedly.

“I’m about to cum!” You whine.

“Cum around me, please!” She moans, you do just that, cumming around her cock.

She continues to fuck into you until she groans loudly, pulling her cock out to shoot her load onto your stomach and tits.

Fuck, even her pull out game was perfect. She was so perfect.

You both pant, she looks up at you all fucked out, hair messy, breathing heavily as your eyes are shut.

“I’m sorry, let me clean you up.” She grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on before going into the restroom and getting a towel and wetting it with warm water.

She comes back and wipes your stomach clean, you look up at her in awe, “Thank you.” You smile.

“Yeah, of course…” She blushes, you rub her face. “You’re not how I thought you’d be, No-eul…”

She shrugs, “Neither are you…” She replies, you chuckle.

“I really like you.” She admits, you peck her lips. “I like you too.”

“So…that means I can be your girlfriend?”

You giggle, “I would love that.” You said, she nods with a smile on her face.

You peck her lips again and move to sit up, your legs shaking. You sigh, “Could you get me something to wear? If I stood up I would fall over.” You chuckle.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” She grabs a T-shirt of hers from her drawer and hands it to you.

“Uh, you want some of my boxers to wear? Or like I could…get your underwear.” She seemed too nervous.

“Boxers are fine.” You chuckle, she hands you some and you put them on.

“Would you look at that? I think they are super cute!” You say, she nods.

“My clothes look really cute on you.” She says, you lay back on her bed, making room for her.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask, she nods, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you closer.

You pull the blanket over y’all and cuddle into her chest.

“Goodnight…” You hum.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” She whispers and you blush into her chest and shut your eyes, drifting to sleep fast while she held you.

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[lolitastories]

Ripples

Rafe Cameron

Part 1. Part 3.

“People can be such assholes!” I groan, slamming the interrogation door behind me. “Get him back in a cell,” The novice officer nods and rushes past me.

“You’re bleeding,” I lean against his desk, giving him an annoyed look.

“Really?” I roll my eyes, placing my hand on my forehead again. I could feel blood coming from my eyebrow. “Jon be a good boy and tell the Sergeant I got something.” He turned in his chair, huffing out. He hated talking to the Sergeant and that's because for some reason he got on his bad side. He was a good officer but very nosy too.

“Don’t go bleeding on my desk!” I smile moving away and falling into his chair. I scavenge his drawers looking for the first aid kit. We had thankfully found the fisherman and arrested him with no problem. The problem came when he got pissed after spending almost 2 hours being questioned.

“Hey!” My fingers freeze as I sit up hearing a well known voice call out to me. “Julie just told me you finished with your interrogation.” I twisted my head, “I was worried so I decided to wait-” His expression changed and I flicked my head back avoiding eye contact.

“You waited since I left the country club?” Although he has done it before, it still warmed my heart.

“Yeah…”My hand awkwardly moved around the paperwork on the desk trying to act busy. “What happened to your face?” From the side of my eyes I felt him try and move closer but I was quick to slip out.

“I got work Rafe,” For a split second I turned to give him a smile and began to walk in the opposite direction. “I will talk-”

“No. There is no, I will talk to you later,” He sped up and blocked me from taking another step. I twist my body but his hand grips my chin and pulls me to look up to him. “Did that guy do this?” I don’t know why but the way his eyes were inspecting my wound or the way his thumb slightly caressed my chin, it was such a simple act but I melted. “My sweet girl,” My body felt like it was floating, like if he were to walk away I would follow like a lost puppy. His demeanor was so calm, so different from what many people in this island think Rafe could ever be.

“I’m okay Rafe,” It was a whisper but due to how close we were I knew he heard me. “Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” I grip his wrist and pull his hand away. I knew he was going to say something about it but thank god someone interrupted us.

“Detective,” We both turned our heads hearing the voice of the Sergeant behind me.”Nice to see you Mister Cameron,”

“How are you Sergeant?” They smile, shaking hands and I feel like a third wheel on the side. 

“Can’t complain,” He lets out a laugh. He turned his head towards me. “Other than a future bruise, you got something else?” I smile hearing the humor in his tone.

“He was telling us nothing at first until I showed him the video footage from the country club. He offered her a ride on his boat. He said she freaked and jumped out. But I know there is more that he is hiding”

“I know how persuasive you can be so I know that didn’t earn you that” He pointed at my wound.

“I might have slipped in his daughter in the conversation. I wanted to ask if you can do something about the warrants?” The fisherman had a prior charge involving his daughter. It ended with him not being able to see or even contact her until she is of age and can make the choice herself.

“You got it. And how about next time you play nice?”

“You got it Sergeant.” I simply nod. I take a turn to the side to allow him to move past me.

“Can I have a word?” My brows furrowed, what does Rafe have to talk to him about?

“Of course Mister Cameron,” I watch them walking away together.

“What the fuck?” I throw my hands up in confusion. Deep down I was feeling a little disappointed.

“What? Pouting because your boyfriend didn’t give you some kisses for that boo boo?” I laugh at Jon’s stupidity. Maybe there was some truth in his words but I was too prideful.

“What are you, 5?” I opened his bottom drawer where I had seen the first aid kit. “I wasn’t pouting.” I opened it up and pulled out an alcohol wipe.

“You choose to deny the pouting but not that he is your boyfriend?” My jaw dropped. 

“Noted.”

“Shut up.” I throw the wrapper at him, earning a laugh. “Stop laughing and get the fisherman into integration again,” We only have a certain time to keep them detained and I needed more answers.

“What?’ I drop the wipe at Jon’s sudden jump from his seat. “They signed his release 20 minutes ago.”

“Who did?”

“The officer said you told him.” When the fuck did I do that?

“I told that dumbass to put him in a cell, not to sign him off.” I slam my fist on his desk. I let out a heavy sigh and looked over to Jon. “Try and find out where he is and I will get the Sergeant to hurry with the warrant so we can have a reason to arrest him again.”

“You don’t think he would willingly agree to be questioned by you again?” I let out a fake laugh.

“Get to it. I don’t want to fire two people today.” He puts his hands up in defense before rushing away. I pick up the clean alcohol wipe and trash it before walking towards the room the Sergeant and Rafe walked too. As I walked closer I could hear faint words. I lean my ear against the door,

“Fuck the, innocent until proven guilty. Those people should be handcuffed while being in there. He shouldn’t have been able to hurt any woman let alone mine.” My eyes fell shut. A little smile played on my lips as a warm tingle formed in my chest.

“How can he sound so casual when all I have done is pushed him away?” I mean other than the kiss but that was less than 3 hours ago. I cleared my throat pushing the door open. “Sorry to interrupt Sergeant.”

“Your good detective, what happened?” I awkwardly forced my eyes to stay on something other than Rafe. I could always feel the amount of warmth when he was looking at me but at this moment It became more evident.

“The rookie released the fisherman and I need you to check on the warrant to see how soon we can get him back.” If things like this always fell back on my I would have worry line all over my face but the Sergeant was always good at keeping calm.

“Consider it done. Have you sent out for a search?” I nod as I release my hold on the door knob to let him through.

“Yes, when we find him I will be waiting outside for your call.”

“No.” I step back, seeing him pause. He turned around as I was halfway through the door frame. “Jon will take care of that. You will go home and take care of that wound.”

“But-”

“Take care of yourself. You will have your fun again when we get him back here and that could be hours so go home.”

“Yes sir.” He nods accepting my look of defeat. He has never sent me home for a simple cut or a bruise. My eyes open in realization. “What did you say to him,” There goes another door slammed as I walk towards Rafe. A grin was already playing on his lips. “What did you do Rafe?” Oh that blind affection I was feeling a moment ago was long gone.

“I didn’t do anything,” He shrugged. His tall figure moved closer, one hand cupping my face and the other removing my hair from it. “But he is right, you need to go home and rest.”

“Rafe I am not a little girl, this is my job and I have to be here. I don’t need you messing around with this.” It came out like a whine but I didn’t care.

“But you are my girl.” Okay, I am blind again. Fuck wondering how the hell he does this everytime. My arms falling like a ragdoll to my side. “You haven’t taken a day to yourself in months and you heard him, as soon as they catch him they will call you.” I let out a sigh of defeat. “You need to learn how to shut that pretty head of yours and not try to control everything.” I roll my eyes at the feeling of being scolded.

“I am not your girl Rafe,” I looked him up through my lashes.

“Yet.” He moves his body closer until I can feel his chest against mine. “Take all the time you want,” His hands slide down my neck, shoulders, until the circle around my waist. His warm breath moved to whisper in my ears. “I can wait.” I shake my head denying his words. My head didn’t want to believe he said that, no. What he did was demand me. Demand that I grip the front of his black shirt. Demand me to pull him closer until our lips touched once again. Demand that I stumble back with him until we bump into the table behind me. As he grabs my waist and places me on the table he demands that I wrap my legs around his waist and not to let him go.

“Baby,” He pulled away but didn’t he just ask me not to let him breathe? I pull him back into a more intense kiss. My fingers gripping the back of his neck as my tongue slides into his mouth earning a moan. My hip pushing against his and in seconds I could feel him. “Wait,” He pulls away once more. “As much as I want to fuck you right now-” He lets out a moan as my fingers slide past his waist line and into his pants. It was tight but I found a way to wrap my hand around him. “You are making it fucking difficult.” He groans. He grips my chin forcing me to look up.

“Want me to stop?” I bat my eyelashes and I begin to move my hand up and down with a tighter grip. He lets go falling forward. His hands grip the table on both sides, caging me. His forehead fell to rest on my shoulder and I could see how he was trying to control his breathing. “Shit,” I moaned, feeling him rub up against my core with his bulge. It sent a shiver down my spine but I couldn’t allow him the satisfaction, not when I loved the feeling of him coming undone with only my hand.

“No!, Faster,”My pace increased with every noise escaping his lips. My toes curled and the room around us became hotter. His thrust against my core became sloppier making my breath hitch when I felt my core tighten.

“Rafe?” I bit my lip holding back a moan.

“Keep going baby,” He whined. So soft, so good.” I swiped my thumb over his tip causing him to gasp and linger his thrusts with more force. “Don't-�� He said dryly, shaking his head. “Don’t make this quick for me. Been waiting so long for just a touch,” I smile loving how he wasn’t afraid to show he needed me.

“Really?” I tease slowing down.

“Mh-hm” He nods eagerly, pulling his head up to find my eyes. As I admire how tightly he closes his eyes my mind moves to imagine how beautiful he was. I paused for a moment and took my time scaling my fingers up and down. Feeling every vein, curve, counting the inches, how thick he was to not fit in my hand. “Do what you want with me, I am here for you.” He lets out a sigh of relief when I continue pumping his dick. Now with more meaning and purpose. “Yes baby,”He stuttered out. His brow furrowed trying to hold back but I knew it couldn’t be for much longer. My fingers glazed effortlessly up and down with the help of his precum coating his dick.

“So good”He twitches at my words telling me he was done for. With a deep groan his lips parted. I sped up my hand the best I could in the confinement of his pants.

“I’ve been good,” He nods eagerly. He began to throw whimpers and curses as he came all

over my hand. Hot ropes of cum smearing through my fingers. I held back a satisfied laugh as I continue to work him through his orgasm, “You’re a dream, a fucking dream.” My hand slowly came to a stop once I knew he was done. I removed my hand and waited until he opened his eyes, a prominent tint of his cum right on my finger. I ran my tongue teasingly cleaning it up, catching how his breathing got caught up. “Baby you do that again and I will have to put a baby in you.”