#and I think I didn't quite reach the point I wanted but what I wanted to emphasize was

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Six

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — Me writing this fic at superspeed like a monkey on cocaine. But instead the metaphor should be 'like peach on 5 caramel oat lattes'

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

Oscar spotted the car first.

The long black Mercedes rolled into the hotel car park like it owned the place — gleaming and polished and too expensive for the dusty gravel. He stood at the edge of the stairs, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets, heart hammering.

The driver got out first. Because of course Harper's mum had a driver.

Then the passenger door opened.

And Harper stepped out, stiff and silent and all wrong.

She looked like a stranger wearing his Harper's skin. Uniform perfect, hair scraped back too tight, posture like she'd been positioned. Her blazer was buttoned all the way, her chin lifted so high it looked like it would hurt.

Her mum — Victoria — followed. Taller. Colder. Every inch the ice queen he knew her to be.

She didn't glance at Harper as they walked toward him.

Oscar's gut twisted.

Harper finally lifted her gaze — and the second she saw him, the mask faltered. Just a flicker, but it was enough. Her shoulders dropped by a fraction. Her mouth twitched like she might cry, or run, or both.

He stepped forward without thinking. "Hey."

Harper stopped in front of him, didn't speak. She was pale beneath the tightness of her face, lips pressed into a line, hands fisted at her sides.

Oscar glanced past her to Victoria. "Mrs. Whiatt. Hello."

Victoria gave him a once-over like he was a piece of dirt under her shoe. "So. You're the boy."

Harper winced.

Oscar just nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

No point pretending this would be a warm, sweet exchange.

There was a moment of tense, brittle silence.

Then Harper turned slightly toward him — not quite reaching, but enough for Oscar to understand.

He took a small step closer and gently brushed his hand against hers. Didn't hold it, didn't squeeze — just let her know he was there.

She blinked fast.

"You okay?" He asked softly, eyes still on her.

Harper gave a tiny nod, and an even tinier shake of the head, all in one breath.

He stepped forward and ducked his head a little to meet her eyes.

"Hey," he said gently. "You want to come walk with me? Just around the side?"

Victoria gave a sharp sound — a sigh or a scoff, hard to tell. "She doesn't need a stroll, she needs a serious reality check. You both do."

Oscar ignored her. He looked only at Harper.

And after a second, Harper nodded. Small. Grateful.

She followed him wordlessly around the corner of the hotel, out of sight of the car and her mother. The second they were hidden by brick, Harper stopped.

Oscar turned to face her, voice low. "What did she say to you?"

Harper didn't answer. Instead, she leaned forward — slowly, like she wasn't sure she was allowed — and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. Just stood there, curled into him, not crying, not speaking. Just breathing.

Oscar wrapped his arms around her without a word. Held her there. Shielded her from whatever storm had just walked out of that car in heels and judgment.

"I've got you," he whispered.

—

The hotel restaurant was almost too pristine — white tablecloths, polished silver, candles flickering in little glass domes. It wasn't built for shouting, which only made the tension at their table more electric.

Victoria sat stiffly, sunglasses placed neatly beside her untouched coffee. Her mouth was drawn in a sharp, disapproving line.

Opposite her, Harper sat beside Oscar, her uniform blouse rumpled at the shoulders. She hadn't said a word since they sat down.

Oscar could feel the stiffness in her spine. He wanted to reach for her hand, but didn't want to risk stirring things up.

He kept it out of sight instead. Still held her in his own way. A hand on the base of her back.

Chris stirred his tea, calm and deliberate. "We're all here for the same reason," he said, voice low and even. 

Victoria's eyebrows lifted. "Are we?"

Harper flinched.

Oscar opened his mouth, but Chris raised one hand — not to silence, just to steady. "What I mean is: this isn't something we can undo. So now we need to make some decisions. And a plan."

"I already had a plan for my daughter," Victoria snapped. "It involved top GCSE marks, a fine art degree, an internship in Milan. Not..." she gestured vaguely at Harper, "teen pregnancy."

"I'm still doing my GCSEs," Harper said.

Victoria scoffed. "Harper, you can barely sleep through the night as it is. How do you expect to revise for ten subjects and handle being pregnant at the same time? Biology alone would be a farce."

"I'll manage," Harper said, voice shaking. "I will."

"You won't," Victoria replied, sharper now. "And don't act like this is a brave, romantic thing, Harper Grace. You are fifteen. You are ruining your future, and dragging this young boy down with you."

"I'm not dragging anyone—" Harper started, but Victoria wasn't finished.

"Hey, don't—" Oscar started at the same time, but he was cut off too.

"I trusted this bloody priceless school to keep you focused. On track. Disciplined. To keep you away from this kind of mess. I should've sent you to Les Monts when I had the chance." She snapped.

Oscar's jaw tightened. "She's not dragging me anywhere. And it's not the school's fault," he said, tone quiet but hard. "We made a mistake. At least we're not pretending it didn't happen and hiding it from everyone."

Victoria glowered at him. "You're awfully calm for someone whose future's about to be shredded."

Chris gave a short laugh — not amused, just tired. "Victoria. I think you'll find that Oscar already has a solid grasp in his future — contracts and all. He's an incredibly talented boy."

"I don't need parenting tips from a glorified mechanic," Victoria snapped.

Chris didn't flinch. "And I don't need moral lectures from someone who's treating her daughter like a brand embarrassment instead of a human being."

Victoria rose abruptly, her chair scraping back. "If you really think she can do this — take her exams, have a baby, live with the ridicule of being a teen mother for the rest of her pathetic life — then you're as delusional as she is."

Harper stood up too. Her voice shook, but it didn't break. "I don't know everything yet. I don't know how it's going to work. All I know is that I want to keep my baby, and I'm not going to let you bully me out of my decision."

Victoria sneered. "God. You're serious?"

Harper nodded.

Victoria let out a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "You're a child. You're clueless, Harper! Absolutely clueless. I'm telling you now, as your mother, that the right thing to do is—"

Oscar flew to his feet, his chair scraping loudly behind him. "No. Don't tell her what to do. This is her decision. Not yours. Not mine. Not my dad's. Hers." He said, stepping just slightly in front of Harper. "You're not listening to her. You're not even giving her a chance. You're just... you're just being horrible."

Victoria looked between them. At Chris, who was stood now too, just next to his son.

Then she turned, grabbed her coat from the back of the chair, and walked out.

Harper stood perfectly still.

Chris sighed. "Well," he said, brushing off his lapel. "That went about as well as I expected."

—

The door to the restaurant swung shut behind Victoria, her heels clipping down the marble corridor. She didn't make it far.

Chris followed at a steady pace. Not rushed. Not aggressive. Just relentless in that quiet, grounded way that had always made people underestimate him.

"Victoria," he said, voice calm. "Wait."

She stopped, spine rigid, but didn't turn around.

He came to stand in-front of her, not too close.

Hands in his coat pockets.

"You can scream at me. You can call me whatever names you like. But my son was raised right. He wasn't going to sit there and listen to you tear your daughter to shreds."

She turned then, furious. "You think I care what either of you think of me? You and your self-righteous, soft-spoken act — do you not realise what your son has done to my daughter?"

Chris tilted his head. "He didn't do anything to her, Victoria. She wasn't coerced. She wasn't manipulated. They're two kids who did something stupid and were brave enough to admit it and ask for help. I think that counts for something."

"She is fifteen," Victoria snapped, eyes sharp. "She still wears a school uniform. She can't even make it through an adult conversation without crying. And now she thinks she's capable of raising a child?"

Chris stayed silent a moment. Let the words land.

"You think that this will destroy your family name, right? That all this is going to boil down to is scandal, gossip, ugly headlines."

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

Chris sighed. "Yeah. I thought as much."

She blinked at him.

"You want out? Fine. I know how the law works, Victoria. Harper is only fifteen, but that girl is Gillick competent. No doctor, or surgeon, or midwife, would ever turn her away. Fifteen or not, in their eyes, she's an expectant mother, and that's that."

Victoria stared at him like he'd grown two heads.

"You're still her mother, Victoria, and I had to pressure her to tell you. I made her think that she had no other choice." He took a breath. "But she does. She doesn't need you, Victoria. She can make her own medical decisions and the school have a legal right to protect her confidentially." He stared at her. "Oscar and Harper will finish their GCSEs at Haileybury. Quietly. When their exams are done and the baby comes, she'll be old enough to decide what she wants to do next — and whatever that is, me and my wife will make it happen for her. And when all that is done, you'll never have to think about how much of a disappointment your daughter is to you ever again."

"You have some nerve." She hissed, voice low.

"I would do anything for my son." He said in response, equally as sharp.

"Why?" She asked, her nose wrinkled.

Chris looked at her — tired, clear-eyed. "Because he's scared. Because he's my child, and I love him beyond any reasonable measure." He took a short breath. "It's unfortunate, Victoria, that you can't see past your grief for long enough to see how desperate your daughter is to be loved by you."

Victoria stared at him emptily before she inhaled slowly. "They'll fail," she said. "Their exams. Their careers. All of it — that's the most likely outcome. You know it is."

Chris's voice didn't waver. "Fine. Then they fail together. Or they don't. Either way, they won't be alone. They'll be loved exactly the same either way."

Silence stretched.

Then she shifted her jaw and said, "I'll pay her school fees for the rest of the year. I'll allow access to her trust fund as soon as she turns sixteen. But after that? After that, I'm done, Chris. Done with her."

Chris gave the faintest nod.

She adjusted her bag. Smoothed her coat.

And walked away without saying goodbye.

—

Harper pushed through the restaurant doors, shoulders tight. She walked fast, like she was trying to outpace the heat in her cheeks. Her shoes made soft clicks on the marble floor of the hotel lobby.

The lobby was mostly empty — a single receptionist typing quietly behind the desk, someone in towering heels checking in.

Her chest rose and fell like she'd been running.

She dropped onto one of the velvet sofas near the windows. Folded her arms. Stared hard at the floor.

A moment later, Oscar appeared, breathless. He didn't say anything. Just sat beside her.

They didn't look at each other for a while.

Then Harper muttered, voice tight, "Sorry. I felt like everyone in that restaurant was staring at me."

"They weren't," Oscar said. "Okay, maybe the old man at the table next to us was. But he kept asking his wife how to pronounce 'tagliatelle' so I don't think he counts."

Harper gave a weak noise — somewhere between a huff and a sob. She wiped her eyes on the cuff of her school jumper. Sniffed. Then she whispered, voice cracking, "I'm going to get so fat, Osc."

Oscar froze. "What—"

"I am," Harper said. Her eyes were glassy but serious. "My uniform's already tight. I've gained weight since the start of year eleven. And it's going to get worse. I'm going to be, like, round."

Oscar's lips part, unsure if he should laugh. "I—"

"And I'll probably get stretch marks. And my boobs are going to get bigger, so I'll need new bras. And I'll be sweaty. All the time. And I'll — I'll waddle."

Yeah. That did it.

Oscar started laughing — really laughing, soft but uncontrollable. He bent forward, hiding his face in his hands.

"Stop laughing at me!" Harper said, whacking his shoulder, but she was suddenly giggling too, tearfully. "This is a disaster."

"Waddle," Oscar wheezes. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be laughing. I'm sorry, babe."

"You're an awful boyfriend!" Harper said, grinning through tears. "I used to model, you know? I was in Vogue when I was eight. And now I'm going to be, like, ginormous."

Oscar caught her hand. His palm was warm.

"You're going to be the fittest pregnant girl ever," he said solemnly. "I promise. And we'll find you a school uniform that fits, alright? Even if we have to go diving in the lost and found bin."

"Oh my god," Harper groaned, collapsing sideways into the cushions. "Don't say that. I'll throw up at the thought of it."

They laughed a bit more, then let the quiet settle. It was softer now. She shuffled over and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I don't want to go back in there," she said. "I don't want to talk to her anymore."

"Yeah. I get it."

"But she came."

"Yeah. She came."

"I wish she still loved me." She whispered. "The way she used to when my dad was alive."

Oscar hesitated, "Her loss."

Her fingers tightened in his.

—

Harper's head rested against Oscar's shoulder, her eyes red-rimmed but dry now. The soft lobby light made everything feel far away, like they were on pause from the rest of the world.

Then the entrance doors opened.

Chris stepped in alone.

His jaw was tight, shirt collar slightly undone. But his voice, when he spoke, was steady. "She's gone."

Harper sat up slowly. "Gone where?"

"Back to wherever she came from. She left about twenty minutes ago. I just — I had to go for a walk. Clear my head."

Oscar blinked. "She couldn't even be bothered to come in and say goodbye?"

Chris gave a tired breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "No. But it's fine. We don't need her"

Harper's breath caught. "What? But I thought—"

Chris crouched in front of them, meeting her eyes with that same evenness he always had — calm, but honest.

"Telling her was the right thing to do, Harper. But you're fifteen. A smart, capable girl. Any doctor will see that. And in England, there's a law. A doctor will see you, and if they think that you're Gillick competent — which you are — then you will no longer need your mum to be at any of your appointments with you, okay? You can make all your own decisions, appointments; all of it."

"That's a thing?" Harper asked, barely believing it.

"It is," Chris confirmed.

Harper blinked fast. Her hands trembled in her lap.

Oscar reached for them.

"I'm so sorry for how your mother reacted, Victoria," Chris said.

Harper bit her lip. "It's fine. I — I guess I'm used to it." She said.

Oscar let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "So what happens now?"

Chris stood up, a little stiff. "Now? You both eat something. You use the hotel amenities that I've paid an arm and a leg for. We'll find a clinic taking new patients, a nice one — private. Then you'll both go back to school tomorrow like it's any other Thursday. And we take this day by day."

—

The lights were off, but the bedroom wasn't silent.

Sam snored softly in the other bed — limbs sprawled in every direction, one sock half-off, duvet twisted like he'd fought a small animal in his sleep.

Harper lay curled against Oscar under his blanket, her little brown teddy bear bunched between them. She was warm and still in her uniform shirt, her skirt folded neatly over the back of his desk chair.

Oscar's arms were around her, bare feet cold against the wall.

They whispered, low and soft.

"One day, you're gonna get caught here, and all hell is going to break lose," he said into her hair.

She shrugged, cheek resting against his chest. "You always say that. I never do."

He kissed the top of her head. "Yet."

A pause.

Then Harper whispered, "I liked the doctor."

Oscar blinked. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "She didn't talk to us like we were stupid. Like we'd done this on purpose for some reason."

Oscar winced. "Your mum—"

"She's always like that," Harper murmured. "Just not always in public."

Oscar tightened his grip. "Dad said he'd make sure she doesn't try to take you out of school."

Harper didn't say anything.

They stayed quiet for a minute.

Then Sam stirred. Sat up.

"Jesus," he muttered groggily, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Piastri, is there a girl in your bed or am I dreaming?"

Oscar groaned. "It's two a.m., mate."

Sam blinked blearily. "It's Harper, ain't it."

"Shhh."

Sam blinked harder, then seemed to register the tension in the air. "Shit. Is something wrong?"

Oscar hesitated.

Harper sat up slowly, but didn't say anything.

Oscar rubbed a hand over his face. "We weren't gonna to tell anyone yet, mate."

Sam just looked at them, eyebrows drawn together.

Then Oscar sighed. "She's pregnant," he said.

Sam didn't speak for a second. Just sat there.

Finally, he choked out, "Jesus everloving shit-dicks. Like — she's actually pregnant?"

Harper nodded. "Went to the doctor today. She took my blood. Scanned me. I'm nine weeks."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah." Oscar said.

Sam laid back, wide-eyed. "So... are you gonna keep it?"

Harper glanced at Oscar. He gave her a soft nod. 

"Yeah. Yeah. I think so," she said.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Fucking hell. A Haileybury baby."

"Yup," Oscar said.

Sam just said, "Shit." Then, after a long beat, he said, "Do you want me to... like... go sleep somewhere else?"

Harper laughed — a soft, surprised sound. "No. It's fine."

Sam yawned. "Okay. Cool. Just — if you guys start doing anything gross, I'll throw my rugby clogs at you."

Oscar snorted. "Right. I'll keep that in mind, mate."

They all lay back down — Harper nestled into Oscar's side, Sam flipping his pillow over and rolling to face the wall.

Somewhere between real life and sleep, Harper whispered, "We have to tell the headmaster."

Oscar nodded into her hair. "Dad said he'd come in tomorrow." Then he added, with a sleepy snort: "If Sam doesn't tell everyone first."

Sam's voice, muffled in his pillow, "Oi. I'm a right good secret keeper."

Harper laughed again — a real laugh, this time. "You're also a bloody eavesdropper!" She said. Threw her teddy at him and then said, "Throw that back, Sam. Or I'll beat you up on the astro in front of everyone."

"I can't fecking fight a pregnant woman!"

She giggled into Oscar's chest. "Exactly."

—

The headmasters office was warm but formal, heavy with old books and dark wood. Rain tapped at the tall windows. The second week of January.

Harper sat stiffly in her school uniform, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Oscar beside her, jaw clenched. Chris, calm and collected in a charcoal jacket, sat across from the Headmaster — a tall, greying man in his sixties, stern but not ever unkind.

The Headmaster's fingers were steepled. He was looking at them all very carefully. "So. Let me see if I have this correct. Harper is currently nine weeks pregnant?"

Chris nodded. "That's right. We've confirmed it with her doctor. We're arranging further care, but I thought it best to involve the school immediately — for transparency, and for planning."

Harper stared at her shoes. Oscar moved his pinky to lightly touch hers under the table.

"Well. This is... not exactly uncharted territory, in my time here. The priority, of course, will be Harper's wellbeing, and her education. Have you thought about what this means for your GCSEs?"

Harper nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I assume you're both still planning to sit them in May?" He asked.

Chris answered for them. "They are. We've already discussed options for additional tutoring, should Harper need to take any time out or modify her timetable. Me and my wife will cover any associated costs — private revision sessions, supervised study, exam adjustments if needed."

The Headmaster nodded, visibly calculating. "We'll need medical documentation for any special arrangements, but yes — that can be managed. Our priority, beyond safeguarding, is continuity. You've done well so far, Harper."

Harper glanced up, startled.

"Your latest maths results were spectacular. And you are incredibly bright across your humanity subjects. I don't want to see this derail your potential grades."

"It won't." Oscar said.

"I hope not." The headmaster remarked. He leaned forward then, clasping his hands. "There's the matter of boarding arrangements. We cannot allow cohabitation in any capacity."

Oscar blushed. Harper stiffened.

"Understood. We're not asking for that. They will continue to sleep in their assigned dorms. But I'd like to request flexibility — later curfew when necessary, private space when needed."

"With appropriate supervision and documentation — fine. I can also reach out to the local authority's safeguarding officer. It's procedure. Not punishment." He said. 

"Okay." Harper whispered.

"And your mother?"

Harper's shoulders drew in.

"Victoria Whiatt is... aware. She's chosen not to be involved." Chris said.

The Headmaster watched Harper closely. Then, finally, he nodded. "You have my word that discretion will be maintained. No silly assemblies. No whispering in corridors. But you both must stay focused. I would hate to see your academics, Harper, and your promising career, Oscar, suffer."

Harper finally looks up at him. Her face is pale, but steady. "I'll revise really hard. I swear."

Oscar nodded in agreement. 

The headmaster looked at Chris. "And Oscar's racing?"

"His manager is already aware. I'll be sitting down with the owner of his karting team tomorrow, but I'm sure that with our assurances that this will not affect his performance in the kart, then this won't be a problem. Oscar's talent — a baby doesn't change that."

"No. No, it doesn't." The headmaster agreed.

As they filed out, Oscar stayed close to Harper, hand on the small of her back. She breathed out slowly, like holding the air in any longer might've killed her.

"Proud of you." He said.

"Proud of you." She echoed.

NEXT CHAPTER

[paulyenvol6]

Catching Your Breath

Javier Peña x female reader

This is loosely inspired by a tweet I read hahha and I've been wanting to write something about Javi and reader with a size kink for quite a while now so it developed into this smutty one shot. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroat, gagging, size kink, dubcon (gonna put this here because he's very rough with reader), Javi being too big for reader, degradation, crying, dacryphilia, slapping, fingering, filthy and mean dom!Javi, reader is smaller than Javi, drunk sex, use of names like baby/babygirl/slut

Wordcount: 7,279

Masterlist

It was too hot in here.

The air was stale and thin from too many people sharing it, and the loud buzzing only added to the dizziness.

And then there was the alcohol, of course. You hadn't had much to drink, but it was enough to make the ground feel like it was tilting beneath your feet whenever you took a step, and to make you feel a little lighter and sillier than usual. You had slightly swayed to the left and right when you had left your friends' table to catch your breath by the bar and ground yourself perhaps with a glass of water, but now that you had taken a seat, your mind seemed clearer again and you even managed to order without slurring.

"A glass of water, please," you had spoken over the chattering and the loud music around you and then rested your elbows on the counter, your fingers massaging your temple and your eyes closing for a moment to give your overstimulated brain a break.

When the man behind the bar put a glass of icy clear water in front of you, you gave him a thankful nod and then rejoiced at the contrast of your burning skin against the cold surface.

"Thanks," you mouthed, but it was lost in the rumbling bass.

You gripped the glass tightly, already feeling better just defeating the sinuous heat spreading in your body and then took the first sip while sighing out. You were definitely planning to head back to your friends in a few minutes, but you felt that this was what you were in need of right now.

"Hi. Can you recommend that?"

Your head shot around and you stared into a pair of brown deer eyes, which belonged to a person unfamiliar to you.

"Sorry?" you asked, drawing your brows together, but then noticed the wry grin on his face as he pointed to your glass.

"I was wondering if you can recommend that."

You chuckled and returned the smirk while pushing it toward him.

"You wanna try? It has a… a bitter note, but I kinda like it."

His smile deepened when he actually grabbed the glass and brought it to his lips, closing his eyes in relish as he took a small sip.

"Mhmm it really is good. I think I'm gonna order one as well."

He put the glass back down and then leaned against the counter, eyeing you up and down with those pretty brown eyes.

"Javier Peña. But friends call me Javi."

"Oh so I'm friends?" you winked and took the hand he was offering you.

"You're so much more than that…," Javi breathed and you could smell the whiskey on him just like your mind seemed cloudier again. Perhaps this was his doing though.

"Y/n. But friends call me… the love of their lives." Jesus! You didn't know what had gotten into you. The alcohol and his presence loosened your tongue, causing you to say things you would usually be embarrassed to even think.

His lips curled into a crooked smirk, his eyes flashing in amusement and his hand still not letting go of yours.

"I can see that," his airy voice reached your brain despite the loud music around you, but the two of you seemed to be in your own little universe right now.

"What are you doing here, love of my life? Are you all alone?"

"No," you shook your head. "I'm here with friends. But I needed a moment to catch my breath so I decided to get myself a glass of water."

"S'good to stay hydrated. But if you really wanna catch your breath, you're talkin' to the wrong person," he whispered, his eyes dark and glimmering with a certain danger that was so appealing, your heart skipped a beat. And then there was this mischievous smile playing around his lips. It was an intoxicating combination and just the kind that made you lose your mind when it came to guys. This man knew what he was doing and together with his fiery confidence your insides did pirouettes every time he raised his raspy voice.

"Oh I think I'm right where I wanna be, then," you said, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, but first and foremost you were rapt with this handsome guy.

"Then don't say I didn't warn you, baby."

You were speechless for a moment, unable to answer, but your mind was blank anyway. Javi clearly noticed how stunned you were and seized the opportunity to place a hand on the small backrest of your stool, reducing the distance between the two of you and leaning in so his breath was lingering at your ear.

"You look like you need a bit of danger though. Like you're not looking for a quiet night."

A warm shudder went through your body and you closed your eyes, focusing on your racing heart. You wanted to come up with an equally playful and flirty answer, but your brain was frozen, a million and no thought at all thundering in your head at the same time. But Javi didn't seem to wait for you reply anyway, a quiet scoff leaving his mouth while the hand that had previously rested on your backrest connected with your back.

"I don't do halfway, baby. I don't do catching your breath. But I have a feelin' you don't either. I think you wanna forget how to breathe."

You had to supress a whimper as the hand on your clothed back tightened a little and his fingers dug into your flesh.

"Am I right?" he asked, withdrawing a little to watch your gleaming, flushed profile.

"Yes. I don't want a quiet night."

You didn't know what had driven you to answer like that and you certainly didn't know what had gotten into you when Javi suddenly stood up from the bar stool, grabbed your hand, pulled you with him and you made no attempt to stop him. You just glimpsed at the back of his head, his black locks looking so soft and tender that you wondered what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. Perhaps you would find out soon enough.

In fact, you were so drunk on him, his appearance and his charisma that you didn't even question where Javi was taking you until you were standing in front of the toilets. He glanced over his shoulder, lifting his eyebrows as if to let you know that this was your last chance to back out, but you just bit your lip and then a sudden tug of his arm pulled you into the bathroom where you were embraced by a abrupt quietness. You could still feel the bass reverberating through your limbs and hear the distant chatter and laughter making its way through the thick walls of the bathroom. Yet, the unexpected silence was overwhelming, roaring in your ears.

Javi turned around to you, putting his hands on his hips and then shamelessly observed you from your toes up to your hair with his jaw jutted forward, his gaze stopping at the neckline of your tight black dress. Something about the way he regarded you so naturally like there was no room for questions or doubts made you feel very intimidated and you couldn't help but entangle your fingers in front of your stomach and drop your gaze to the bathroom tiles.

"Oh no, no, no," Javi instantly made, closing the distance between the two of you with one large step and bringing one hand to your chin while the other lingered at your waist.

"Not so cocky now, are we?" he whispered, tilting his head with his lips slightly parted. He looked so gorgeous and dominant, you wanted to cry out, but that would probably be rather concerning so you just swallowed to do something about your dry throat and then lifted your hands to place them on his broad shoulders.

"I want you," you said, but realised just seconds later how weak your voice had sounded.

"Again," Javi replied, his tone dripping with confidence and although you usually hated guys who were much too entitled and arrogant, you were crazy about this man's attitude. Maybe because he had every right to be cocky, given his sensational looks and tall frame.

"I want you. I need you, Javi."

Whatever it was that was speaking out of you; the alcohol, the adrenaline or just your touch-starved pussy, it didn't matter. This guy was sexy and appealing, and he wasn't timid about suggesting all the exhilarating things he was going to do to you, so who were you to question your behavior?

"I know," he whispered, chewing on his bottom lip before leaning in like he was about to kiss you, but then bringing his mouth to your ear.

"On your knees."

Everything was spinning, his words echoing in your head still seconds after he had said them, but you were yet to act upon it. First, you had to process the arousal his voice had induced and then you had to think about whether you really wanted to kneel on the dirty bathroom floor, which wouldn't exactly be comfortable to your knees either.

"But it's really filthy, right?" you muttered, glaring down to the tiles, but Javi's grip around your jaw forced you to look up to him again. His teeth were gritted and his eyes were so dark, you couldn't make out his pupils.

"Now. Don't make me repeat myself. Or I'm gonna make you hump the floor. Or better my boot."

You were about to say something, but Javi wasn't done yet, the hand that had previously rested on your waist coming up to grab a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back with the sole purpose to show you who was in control here.

"Don't ya act like a good little princess when in reality, all you want is to be tossed around. I could see through you the moment I laid eyes on you for the first time an' I know you're a little slut. You don't want it soft or sweet or tender… You want it filthy and disgusting an' I'm gonna give it to ya."

The moan that left your throat came so unexpected, there was nothing you could do to stifle it and it caused Javi to chuckle lowly.

"There ya go… Go on now. Or your naked pussy's gonna ride my boot. I keep my promises, babygirl."

With your mouth still agape and your big eyes staring up to him like you were in awe of him, you sank down to your knees in front of him. By this point, you actually didn't care about the dirty floor anymore because Javi seemed to have bewitched you with these few words. He had taken control of you, turned you into a dumb puppy that had only eyes for him, leaving you with no reasonable thoughts. He could do anything he wanted to you right now and you had a strong feeling he would take advantage of this fact.

From down here the view of his face was almost even more dreamlike, his tall body looking so dominant and powerful compared to you and the size difference made you feral. Javi grinned briefly, petted your head which only added to your feeling of smallness and vulnerability and then roughly took your wrist that had a hair tie on it. Your pupils flickered between his face and his hands around yours in confusion, your mind clearly too mushy to follow what he was doing which made Javi scoff, but aside from that he completely ignored you.

He simply detached the elastic band from your wrist, determined and unwavering in his intentions and then reached over you to grab your hair and form a ponytail. His fingers were precise and skillful, quick and as if his focus was on putting your hair back rather than being careful with you, but there was still something soft and gentle about it.

Once he was done, he straightened up again and then his hands were on his belt, unbuckling it while you were trying to figure out why this had just turned you on the way it had. You were well-aware that this was not the kind of man to take care of you, lull you in his arms and cradle you while whispering words of softness in your ear, but you had never been a fan of vanilla sex. You didn't know much about him, but everything he had said or done so far had been bristling with dominance and determination and you didn't mind at all. You were in for a ride and you were sure that he was about to give you an unforgettable night.

You snapped back to reality when Javi's fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down a little and your eyes blinking at the sight of his dick in the dim light.

Jesus Christ.

He was so huge, your eyes popped open, your mouth drying up and your pussy uncomfortably clenching around nothing.

How was he supposed to fit in any of your holes?

His dick curved slightly to the left and was so thick that your body was compelled to wrap your hand around it just to see the size difference and it was long. Longer than any cock you had ever seen. Just thinking about how deep he would reach inside of your pussy made your head spin and the ends of your nerves ignite in a hot, unfurling burn.

"Never seen a dick before, huh?" Javi scoffed and cradled your head in his hand. It wasn't a soothing gesture though, he was clearly mocking you, but your brain was too languid to feel embarrassed.

"Yes, but… but – "

"Never seen one that big, babygirl… isn't that right?"

Your eyes shot up although you hated to take your eyes off his magnificent manhood.

"Yes," you breathed, but it bordered on a painful whine.

"Open your mouth. I'm gonna make you feel how big it is. Gonna make you feel every vein until they're imprinted on the walls of your throat."

God, how much you believed every word he said… You obeyed and slightly parted your lips only to realise that it wasn't enough for him to fit inside of you. So you opened wider, unlocking your jaw and then stared at the hairy base of his dick while Javi slowly, but steadily eased himself inside of your wet, welcoming mouth. It alreay felt uncomfortable just to have him in your mouth, your lips stretched and your jaw aching after a few seconds, but your mind was quickly taken off it by Javi, who looked down at you and loudly growled.

"Jesus. Can't take it, can ya? It's gonna be really funny and entertaining if you want me to fuck you later… Can't even take it into your mouth…"

You shook your head around his length, pleadingly staring up to him to let him know that you were ready to take it all, but Javi ignored you. He just grabbed your ponytail with one hand while his other held the side of your head, keeping you still while he pushed deeper.

"Jesus fuckin' christ… You feel fuckin' tight for the fact that you had such a big mouth earlier. S'all you tryin' to be loud and confident when all you want is to be wrecked by a big dick."

You instantly gagged, your hands grasping his thighs and clutching the fabric of his jeans in your hands as a way to distract yourself from the discomfort his large manhood brought you.

"Take it… C'mon… Relax your mouth," Javi cooed, his head dropping back when his tip hit the back of your throat and he felt your tongue sliding down his length.

"That's it, little one… You're gonna take it and if you can't I'm gonna fucking make you."

He started thrusting in your throat, jerking his hips forward to glid down your throat while you struggled not to let the tears that had collected on your waterline drop. You sniffled, gagging again as you tried to cover your teeth with your lips because you really didn't want to bite him, but it turned out to be difficult with such a thick girth in your mouth.

"Holy fuckin' shit," Javi grunted, tugging at your ponytail and then bobbing your head around him in accordance to the rolls of his hips. His hips snapped sharply against you and you felt your head getting dizzy at how deep he was. It was almost unnatural, your body resisting and refusing to let him enter, but Javi didn't care. He was rough and uncompromising, taking you the way he wanted to and for one, you didn't have the strength to fight back and when you complained too loudly, he simply muffled your cries with his dick.

The first tears rolled down your face when he stopped at the deepest point, his face twisted with sheer pleasure as he looked down to where his balls were pressed against your face, your eyes rolled back and your whole body tremoring with fear and rejection, but his grip on your hair was hard as iron.

"Look so perfect on your knees, babygirl… Keep crying, it only makes you prettier."

When your hands on his legs clenched harder, a pathetic whimper leaving your throat, Javi finally withdrew, giving you a second to catch your breath which you used to press a hand on your racing heart. You darted up to him under your lashes, yelping when the tip of his dick smeared your saliva and his precum all over your swollen, aching lips.

"Look at you… So dirty 'n' so pitiful."

He pulled at your ponytail, yanking your head back and forcing you to bend your neck. Then he leaned down until his mouth was hovering a few inches above yours and he connected two fingers with your bottom lip, parting them and then giving you a cruel smile as he spitted into your mouth.

"Swallow it. Swallow it like a good girl. So even your stomach knows what I did to ya."

Javi gently slapped your cheek before positioning you as he had before, ready to continue assaulting your mouth. You whined, giving him your biggest puppy eyes and holding on to his thighs as the fear of it being too much had a cold grip on you.

"Shut up. You're prettier when you shut up. You better just take it 'cause you won't be gettin' out of this until I'm done with your mouth. And it's gonna be over sooner if you stop fightin' back."

The next thing you felt was his dick claiming your throat again and this time he immediately started fucking you. You squirmed on the ground, a burning sting in your knee caps from the hard floor and it only worsened every minute you spent kneeling for him. It wasn't what made you struggle so hard though. Your stomach and especially what was inside turned and twisted while his cock immediately made you retch and gag around him and soon, you feared to actually empty yourself on his dick, which definitely would be a mood killer.

You managed to keep going for a few more minutes, your nails buried in the back of his thighs, your eyes squeezed shut and your face twisted while tears and snot streamed down your face, but then you realised that you needed a break. Therefore you tapped against his legs, pulling against his grasp on your head with so much force that Javi let you go after a few seconds.

"P-Please," you sobbed, wiping over your eyes with the back of your hand and then meeting his flashing eyes.

"Jesus… You really can't take it?" Javi hissed, immediately taking hold of your hair again as if to make sure he was maintaining control even though he had allowed you to withdraw.

"I-I want t-to," you stuttered, your view blurry and your head throbbing while refusing to let go of his thighs.

"P-Please, I w-want your dick. Just… Please, c-can you g-go slower?"

Javi exhaled in annoyance, slightly leaning down to cup your chin.

"Show me what you got then. Show me how good you can be and if you satisfy me, I'll spare your 'lil throat. But if not, I'm gonna fuck you so hard, there won't be any tears left to cry. Made myself clear?"

It was more than you had dared to hope for so you rapidly nodded and quickly wrapped your right hand around his hard, leaking dick, taking a deep breath and then letting him slip inside your mouth again, at your pace this time. You began bobbing your head around him, keeping eye contact and palming with your hand what you couldn't reach with your lips without hurting yourself and based on the noises Javi produced, he was pleased with you so far. That didn't mean you didn't go deep, of course. You were still testing your limits, occasionally making yourself gag just to show him how hard you were trying and gliding your tongue up and down his shaft to create more stimulation.

"Fuckin' slut," Javi growled after a while and leaned over your frame to smack the side of your thigh.

His hand was on the back of your head again, but only to hold on to you rather than taking control of your movements, which you were grateful for. You liked it that way, your tears soon evaporated and your throat still sore and bruised, but you didn't feel the wish for him to stop any longer. That was until Javi suddenly seemed to decide to destroy your rhythm and jerked his hips forward to push deeper. You were caught off guard, your pupils frightenedly flickering and your head flinching backward to escape his tip brushing over the back of your throat, but Javi wouldn't have it.

"It's time for me to have a little fun again, don't you think so, babygirl?" he whispered, flaring his nostrils at your round eyes and then slowly drawing back before moving in your mouth as he saw fit.

Sometimes he went slow and careful, sometimes he suddenly shot forward, thrusting so deep, you wriggled in his grip and sometimes he slipped his dick out of your mouth entirely to draw circles on top of your lips. Javi was toying with you, degrading you just like he was using you for his pleasure, but you still didn't even feel close to tapping out because at least he gave you breaks in between and allowed you to calm yourself every now and then. What you hated though, was the way you were never prepared for what was coming next and so you found yourself gasping and wailing around him, your eyes pinching close when he decided to go deep with his thrusts.

When Javi eventually found that he had enough, he slipped his dick out of your mouth, inhaling deeply while your hands dropped to the floor in front of you and you tried to collect yourself.

"God… You have a pretty 'lil mouth. But the way you're already crying…" – he clicked with his tongue – "We haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

You swallowed hard, blinking away the remaining tears and then felt bold enough to lift your gaze again. Javi scoffed, cupping your chin and then his teeth sank down on his bottom lip.

"You think you're gonna be able to take it? Huh? You think you can take it into your 'lil pussy?"

Your hands grabbed his wrist, pleading eyes submissively looking up to him and it had the desired effect on Javi. He cursed to himself and the grasp around your jaw became more firm.

"I can take it, Javi. Please I want it inside. Please," you begged him, eyes teary and your chest heaving under the incandescent zeal to finally defeat the pulsing heat between your legs. Without a warning, he pulled you up by your upper arm and then grinded his teeth at the sight of you, your feet stumbling at the sudden force.

"Let's take a look at you, babygirl," Javi fizzled through clenched teeth and then shoved the straps of your dress over your shoulders with groff hands, sighing when he took in your bare chest.

"Wasn't wrong about you, was I? Filthy slut…"

You could only stare at him and knew that you must be a stupid view. Big eyes, your body stiff with tension and your mouth slightly open to greedily absorb the missing air. Javi was quick to comment on it while he peeled the fabric of your dress down your body, letting go once it was ruffled around your knees.

"Jesus, aren't you a useless thing. Only had to fill that mouth with some cock and you can't speak, let alone move on your own. Have to do everything, don't I?"

He grabbed your bicep again and dragged you with him to the washbasins, your eyes glancing at his wrinkled brow and your knees trembling so hard, you were glad it wasn't a long way. Then Javi took hold of your wrists and placed them on the edge of the sink, moving and adjusting your body like you were a doll that couldn't move on its own and made you take a step back so your body was bent over for him.

"Hold on to that, alright?" he said, a serious look in his eyes as he watched your profile. "Don't want you to fall over and bump your head against the mirror. You hold on to that tightly."

You nodded, clutching the marble so firmly, your knuckles turned white and then peeked over your shoulder to see what he was doing. Javi walked around you to come to a stop right behind you, his eyes dropping to your back and then he delivered a sharp smack to your butt. You jerked forward, suddenly grateful that he had emphasized the importance of your having a tight grip on the sink. Then, you felt him part your legs with his feet. Without a word of warning, Javi slid a finger through your folds, exhaling at the wet smacking sound and then parting your pussy lips with a second digit.

"Jesus," Javi scoffed, tilting his head to take a better look in the dim light. "Gettin' that fuckin' wet from having your throat fucked… I don't even have to touch you and your drippin' all over me."

You turned your head, desperately looking behind you and pushing your hips closer to him as if to ask for more.

"You're fuckin' shakin'," he then chuckled and slapped your pussy. You howled and squeezed your eyes shut, your clit so wistfully shivering as you tried to press your legs together around him.

"Nuh uh," Javi immediately commented on your action and his hand landed on your core again. You heard him step closer to you, a hand firm on your hip while his other trailed a line from your clenching hole to your clit where he achingly slowly rolled it between two fingers.

"Please. Fuck. Javi, I need more," you spoke with a shaking voice, squealing when he picked up the pace and then suddenly drew tight circles around the little bundle of nerves.

"Yeah, I know you do," he breathed, and then prodded his thumb against your entrance, circling and teasing it in a way that made you grimace. "Can see you drippin' all over me, babygirl. S'a fuckin' mess."

"Please. Please fuck me."

You imbibed each of his movements and the way he flicked your clit, but it still wasn't enough. You started to roll your hips against his hand, eager to find more friction and Javi allowed it until the fingers on your clit left you – causing you to drop your head forward in frustration – and let them hover above your hole instead. With much restraint, he slowly dipped then inside your weeping pussy, his breath hitching in his throat when he experienced how tight you were around two fingers and his hand on you palming your waist.

"You're goddamn tight…," he purred under breath and started to scissor you open, sliding his other hand around your hips to find your clit again and make you realx.

"Please," you begged him again like you had not grasped his recent statement.

"Jesus, can you shut up for a moment? Just told you, you're tight and I needa open you up first."

You yelped, your hands cluthing the sink so tightly, your fingertips were beginning to feel numb, but then he started to move his two digits inside of you, curling them at just the right angle to make you gasp.

"Yes. Yes, Javi, like that…"

He pursed his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment to ground himself and then twisting his face at the wet sounds gushing from your center. Much too soon for your liking, Javi withdrew again, but reminding yourself what was about to happen, you quickly put your mind elsewhere.

"Fuck me. Just fuck me, please, I – "

The slap on your butt came unexpected, but you found it to be arousing, especially in combination with his clenched jaw.

"Jesus fucking christ, you really can't shut this mouth for longer than a minute, huh?"

The rustling of his jeans made your head shoot up and you peeked behind only to watch him go up and down his shaft with his hand. Javi met your gaze, flaring his nostrils and then bringing a hand to your ponytail to give it a tug and force you to arch your back. One last smack echoed against the walls before you felt his tip at your entrance, collecting your juices and smearing it all over your pussy with a certain roughness and precision at the same time.

"It's not gonna fit, babygirl…," he cooed, watching his fat tip in comparison to your tiny entrance. The corner of his mouth lifted at your wail, your hips jerking backward to get him to do more. Finally give you more.

"No. No, please. I can take it, you can make it fit."

"I don't think so, little one."

Javi carefully eased just the tip of his length inside of you, the stretch making your eyes spring open.

"It's too much, baby. S'too big for your little pussy. She won't let me in."

Tears of despair were pooling on your waterline, the thought of him leaving you here dripping and so in need of a release making your heart race. You had to convince him to try harder, push and press until he was inside of you.

"Please. Javi, please, just – just… Push harder. I don't care, just make it fit."

Javi chuckled lowly, watching the flesh of your ass wriggle while you frantically moved to get closer to him.

"You want my dick to rip you open, babygirl?" he whispered huskily, gliding a hand down the curve of your back while you repeatedly nodded.

"Yes. I need to feel you."

"Even if it's gonna make you cry? It's gonna make you sob and you're gonna ask me to stop 'cause it's gonna be too much for your pretty little cunt, baby, you know that right?"

Your head turned again, your eyes round with panic and your jaw tight.

"No. No, I'm not gonna ask you to stop. It's not gonna be too much."

Javi growled, inhaling deeply before slowly feeding you his dick, but it only lasted a few seconds before you squeaked and flinched away from him.

"See?" Javi scoffed, pressing down on the small of your back and forcing you to arch again.

"S'okay, baby. Not your fault that it's not gonna fit."

"Push harder," you repeated, your face flushed and sweaty, but your eyes determined.

He shook his head but couldn't hide the faintest hint of a grin as he complied with your request. He pressed his fat tip inside your hole that was definitely much too small for him and ignored the way you sharply inhaled, your breathing unregular and fast, but you didn't attempt to stop him.

The thrill was almost unbearable. Your pussy hugged him so tightly, he felt that you were about to tear his dick off. Every last vein was grazing your walls and he truly felt like they would leave marks on your insides. He was halfway inside of you when he decided to check up on you. His free hand grabbed your ponytail, roughly pulling it to the side so he could take a look at your tearstained cheeks.

"Do you now realise that you asked for too much?" Javi barked. "Did you just realise that you shouldn't've ask me to tear you open?"

You looked so terrified that he expected you to nod and tell him to pull out, but to his surprise, you shook your head.

"No. I want you to go on."

"Are you gettin' off on the pain?" he grinned, tugging harder on your ponytail with the sole purpose to see your lashes flutter.

"Please," you said instead of giving him a reply and bit down on your lip that surely was bloody by now.

And so it happened. Javi's mouth was a thin line, his breathing unsteady and his forehead glistening with drops of sweat while he pushed deeper into the impossibly tight hole and somehow he made it fit. It took a lot of effort, your whimpers of pain ringing loudly in his ear, but at no point did you ask him to stop and so he didn't. He didn't until he was inside of you to the hilt and only then did he exhaled, his head spinning and his surroundings turning from the electrifying rapture.

"Jesus fuckin' christ…," he whispered almost inaudibly and looked down to where his massive dick was all the way inside of you. It was overwhelming and liminal, but in the best way possible. In a way that made Javi want to bury his teeth in his bottom lip and want to thrust in your tight hole until you had adjusted to his thick shaft. A muscle in his chin twitched, a golden coiling spark spreading in his chest area and his hand on your hipbone squeezing while he tried to get a hold on himself.

"Fuck me…," Javi groaned and then slowly buttomed out of you. "Tell me, baby. Tell me how well I fill this filthy hole."

A broken sob escaped your throat, your expression still twisted in pain and each nerve pulsing under the burning sting, but somehow the sorrow was enflaming you. Somehow it seemed to add to the pleasure of it all and the feeling of being so full of him that you literally sensed him with every fibre of your body caused a fervor in you that had never been there before.

"S-So. Big," you whimpered, your brow resting on the edge of the sink now. Your body was almost pliant under his touch, your knees so weak that Javi slipped an arm around your hips to secure you.

"I know, babygirl. I know. It's want you wanted though, huh? Wanted me to destroy this fuckin' pussy and now you're gonna have to live with the consequences. You're gonna feel me right in there for days."

He delivered a sharp thrust, your eyebrows drawing together and your panting sounding almost dog-like.

"Javi…," you whined, your stomach clenching every time he brutally hit your cervix and your clit so desperately longing for his touch that you almost began to cry again. You could have done it yourself, sure, but you believed that you wouldn't have even be able to raise your hand from the sink, let alone keep your body up with only one arm.

"My clit. Javi, please, I need it," you sobbed, biting down on your own hand, not only to muffled your noises, but to release the combination of all the various set of emotions crashing upon you like a wave. The frustration, the discomfort his dick brought you, but also the sensation and pleasure, the way he filled you up so wonderfully and how his veiny girth scratched over your walls.

At first he didn't react at all and you almost feared that you would end up doing it yourself. Javi didn't seem to be the kind of person to care about your pleasure and you were about to take his silence as an answer until his thumb suddenly came in contact with your nub and you heart skipped a beat.

To say it was intoxicating would have been an understatement. Something about him made things that you usually wouldn't have even noticed, feel torrid. His flat palm on the small of your back, his gasps and grunts, the way you could see him flex his jaw over your shoulder. The prominent veins on his neck, the sweat on his collarbone that peeked from under his shirt. You had fallen in a hazy bubble of lust and primal need to be claimed by him and so you weren't surprised when an orgasm was bubbling in your lower belly after a few more minutes.

"Javi. Javi, I'm gonna cum. Fuck," you stuttered, somehow feeling the need to inform him.

You turned your head, ignoring the neck rigidity and saw his eyes flash, taking in your fucked-out face. His adam's apple bobbed, his teeth blaring while he picked up the pace with which he pounded your pussy. At the same time the lazy circles around your clit became sloppy and he seemed to chase his own high. By now, you could barely feel any pain every time he entered you which you welcomed to an extent, although you had to admit that there had been something fascinating about the light stretch and intrusion.

"Cum. C'mon, baby. And I wanna hear you say my name. I'm not gonna stop until I'm satisfied and if I won't be I'll squeeze another one out of ya."

Your heartbeat was loud as thunder, rumbling up your throat and making your breathing stumble. And then with a pang, you reached your crescendo and time seemed to stop. The boiling heat that had been in your stomach for a few minutes exploded and flooded your system, making your legs and chest tingle and prickle with excitement. You cringed, your body arching unnaturally and your face twisting in frisson.

"Fuck! Javi, oh my god, I – "

You were enwrapped in bliss and serenity, your headrate still high, but the world around you was quiet again, apart from Javi's muffled groans that he made through grinded teeth.

"Jesus fuckin'…. Gonna mark this goddamn pussy. Fuck."

He bursted with an animalistic snarl, his dick suddenly coming to a stop buried deep inside of you and his grip on your hips so firm, you howled in pain.

"Oh jesus… That's right, yeah…"

He leaned over your bent body, his hands pressing down hard on your shoulderblades and his breath brushing over your ear.

"Fuckin' hell… Such a good 'lil pussy. Takin' me so well… Just had to tame her, mhm?"

He emptied himself inside of you, spills of his cum painting your walls until he had pumped every last drop out of him and his dick was flaccid. You coughed and whimpered under his weight, but then shrieked when he pulled out of you without any warning. You were surprised and, frankly, envious of how stable he was on his legs as he pulled his jeans up with hands that were only shaking a little bit and tucked himself in while you were still trying to fight the dizziness.

"Javi," you whispered once he had closed his belt and stretched your arm in fear of him leaving you already. You straightened up with wobbly legs that felt like jelly and then smiled as he grabbed your hand and turned you around.

"Oh you're a mess…," he breathed, his gaze wandering up your body and stopping at your face. He sighed, resting one hand on his hips while he walked past you to the wash sinks, grabbed a paper towel and wettened it with some warm water. You watched each movement with big eyes, sniffling when Javi approached you and cupped the side of your face, his brow wrinkled.

"Look at me."

You did, your heart clenching at his brown deer eyes – the first thing you had noticed about him – and your arms hanging down the sides of your body while he brought the damp paper to your lips.

"Keep still," he soothed you and started rubbing over your chin, your lips and cheeks to clean up the mess consisting of drool, snot, tears and precum.

His hands were softer than you had imagined, his head tilted and his eyes pinched in concentration. Your pussy clenched at the way he slightly had to hunch over in order to be on the same level as you and much too soon for you taste, he was done and threw the paper towel in the trash can.

"Good girl," Javi breathed, squeezing your heated, red cheeks before dropping his hand and looking down your body.

Your dress was still dangling around your knees so he knelt down before you with an exhausted exhale, grabbed the fabric and shoved it up your body. With accurate and quick movements he pulled the straps over your shoulder, adjusted the dress and then fumbled at the hem to bring it to its previous position in the middle of your thighs.

You watched everything in silence, your pupils following his movements, but your throat too dry and your body too tired to talk to him. You didn't even know what you would have said. What were you supposed to say to someone who had just fucked your brains out and now dressed you because you were unable to do so yourself.

When Javi stood straight again, he put his hands on his hips, eyeing you to make you that you were looking presentable and then nodding.

"You should go back to your friends now. They're probably wonderin' where you are by now."

As he didn't get a reaction, he leaned in, his lips briefly brushing over your brow. Then he brought a hand to the small of your back. Javi pulled you with him to the door, carefully keeping you safe in his grip because you still didn't look like you were able to walk on your own.

"You alright?" he asked with a worried glance at your profile and the weakness in your eyes, but you nodded.

"Yes. Just tired."

You were at the door now, the noises and the intense beat very distinct again and you knew that once you stepped outside that door, what had happened here would be in a past. What were the chances that you would see this mystery man again? This mystery man that had just completely swept you off your feet in a way you had never experienced before. Javi gave you a wry grin, stroking up and down your back and kissing the side of your head.

"Then you should head home soon. Get some rest. You did good, babygirl."

You returned the smile, darting up to him, but Javi had already turned his attention to the door.

He reached for the handle, his flat hand on your back still firm and then guided you with him as he stepped out of the bathroom.

[marimayscarlett]

Richard with Rockland.fm 🎤💬

Shortly after the release of his third Emigrate album "A Milliong Degrees", Richard was interviewed in 2018 by the radio station Rockland.fm and this interview video was released.

The interview is very interesting, but the radio station has published additional parts of the interview that are not included in the video. On this page, you can click through the various topics and questions, and audio clips of Richard will play accordingly. It's a very innovative way to discover an interview, with nice details, because Richard is once again very relaxed and at ease here. Since I adore the interview a lot, I thought I'd translate it into English, as it's only available in German.

Incidentally, I had the opportunity to pay attention to Richard's manner of speaking and expression again - he speaks quite quickly, doesn't use complicated vocabulary, is very direct and sometimes even flippant. Filler words are simply part of his speech, so he uses a lot of "ja" (in the sense of "right" or "you know"), "irgendwie" ("somehow") "im Grunde genommen" ("basically") and "komischerweise" ("strangely enough"). I am not a professional translator, yet I have tried to reproduce his narrative tone in English while smoothing out what he says a little.

It is quite long and maybe not very interesting for most people, but maybe someone will enjoy it 🤍

Was there a moment, where you wanted to abandon music altogether?

I’ve reached a point, around the time I turned 50, when I thought „Man, is this everything in my life? Is doing music, is doing what I do somehow…isn’t there something else, another challenge I feel like doing?“ That’s something where I think: I’m not sure what exactly, but I feel like I’d like to do something completely different with my life. I do believe that music would still be a part of fit, I would still do that, since it’s a form of communication with myself.

Do you have the desire to change something // to quit music?

Well, doing it on your own is a tricky thing. I believe, it doesn’t work well, working on your own, since of course you do have the need to present it [the music] to someone else. It’s like you’d have a kid and wouldn’t let it outside. It really should go somewhere, I think. But [the desire to] change things, this occurred quite frequently. I mean, I wanted to quit Rammstein numerous times, right, because I simply didn't feel like it anymore, but additionally since I wanted to work with new people, I wanted to learn so much more. I’m not that monogamous in this regard.

NO Schlager (german type of cheesy pop songs mostly enjoyed by older people)

There are a few things…I just can’t cope with Schlager, I can’t find my way to it, right. That’s a bit due to the manner they [the Schlager artists] they do music, how they write their lyrics and what they express, this ever-present grinning… it’s completely alien to me. There are people in our band who really like this kind of music. Well, one wouldn’t think that, right, but it’s not form me.

Is your choice of music depending on your mood?

Well, of course. When I have sex I listen to different music that when I go in the gym in the mornings.

How do you start your day?

I basically start my mornings like this: I wake up and basically listen to the radio. Then I go running or to the gym, and that’s where I listen to certain things, yet logically I don’t listen to music like an ordinary person anymore. I analyze what I hear immediately. It starts in my head: How did the artist compose this song, why is it a certain length, what kind of sounds did they use. A complete analysis, somehow pretty scientific how I approach this.

How do you unwind when your mind is full?

Movies. That’s the only thing where I can really unwind. I tried everything else, but with movies I’m completely immersed and „gone“. And sometimes my daughter manages to do that too. Just having fun with her, those are the two things.

Why the arm band?

I can tell you where the arm band comes from: It actually originated from Michael Jackson’s arm band, I copied that from him. He wore it and I thought it was stylish.

Should artist express themselves politically on stage?

There are people who apparently have to do that… There are people like Bono, he just kind of stands there during the show and talks [about political matters] for 45 minutes and you somehow feel more shitty (he uses the word „beschissen“ which is very strong in the German language) than before. That’s not my style. I’m someone who thinks politically, I do have my opinions on things I witness, but as I said, the idea of going on stage and saying, “You have to do it this way,” has never appealed to me.

Your opinion on award shows?

Strangely, it doesn’t interest me much. Sometimes I just attend the party afterwards – I haven’t been to the actual award celebration in a while. And when I’m at the after party, I think „Oh God, what am I doing here. I don't have anything to do here anymore.“ So I always have the feeling of ‚I don’t belong here‘.

How did Lemmy Kilmister's death affect you?

He once played at the Max Schmeling Halle, and I visited him shortly before to concert to thank him. And that’s when I had the feeling that he was no longer ‚here‘. Woah…that was strange. No idea if he really wanted that [I presume Richard talks about Lemmy doing the concert] or if he was pressured by someone else, somehow, I did have the feeling that he was not on this world anymore. I kind of noticed some kind of omen. And strangely enough, as I started my new album in 2015 I asked three artists for an collaboration. And all three people I asked have died – Bowie, Chester [Bennington] and Chris Cornell. That’s when I thought „Eh, I really should stop with these inquiries.“.

Musically open-minded

I can’t cope with German Hiphop. I try it time and time again and it’s just my way to live. Ok, I understand, you’re rebelling right now with this, but are you really believing what you’re singing? Somehow, it's kind of macho language that's being used there. And that’s when I oftentimes get the feeling with German Hiphop, that there isn't really any musicality behind it, right.

Why is rock music dead?

Back in the day, rock music served the purpose of rebellion. Just because of the guitar, just because of the frequency of the sound, your parents said, “Ugh, that's too loud, turn it down.” And now we’re the parents. So I’m the one who doesn’t say „Turn it down“, since I know this sound. Today, rebellion emerges in language, in hip hop. Secondly, no real rock stars exist anymore. No one else is coming up behind them. And thirdly: in terms of streaming, who benefits the most from it? Hip hop, the people who stream the most, who have the most time, kids nowadays, and so on and so forth, and the fact is that at the moment, most of the money goes to hip hop productions, which don't actually need that much, because rock music is the most expensive to produce. They’re the ones who could use the money. And there are several topics where I have the feeling that rock music is somehow dead.

Do you sort your CDs at the record store so they show up first?

Nope, I don’t do that. No, I’m not at this point yet (he means this in a joking way). Well, I believe that there aren’t many record stores anymore where you could do that. My guess is that the physical realm of music has completely changed. Second, is rock music dead? Yes, unfortunately, it is. You just have to accept reality.

Do you check the charts when albums are released?

Well, I naturally come across these information. On the one hand it does interest me in a professional sense and on the other hand I don’t really want to know it. I’m afraid that somehow these information, why certain things work (he means in a musical sense, why they’re liked by the audience), would have the potential to have an influence on other work. A certain kind of vacuum, a kind of naivety, is super important, because then you start to really want to please someone. And that's the danger.

How does it feel when a new album is released?

Well, basically you have to let go at some point. Your work is basically done, yet an album develops a life of its own and then you have to let it go and then it goes in certain kind of directions and you can only observe it from afar.

Leaving the GDR

I thought about it a lot, then went abroad, and first had to figure out how I felt about my country in general. That was an important experience for me. I found the answer to it all only abroad, since you don’t have the nagging feeling of ‚you’re guilty‘. That’s also an important topic, we were brought up with feeling of guilt in the East. I tried to get rid of this, right. And I managed to do just that in the US and returned to Germany with a different set of feelings.

Childhood in the GDR // escape // first time in West-Berlin

I loved growing up in the East up until the age of 11 or 12, since I was brought up with a certain kind of illusion which was spread. Today, I witness how my children grow up, what kind of problems they have to deal with – I didn’t have these kind of problems, right. Certain things just didn’t exist in the East. It did turn challenging when you noticed „Hm, something isn’t right here“. And when you started to ask questions, it did somehow get very strange. And I do not want to experience this time again, right. That’s when the problems began. And if I could make a wish, yes, I would have liked the wall to have been open from around the age of 12 or 13. I had a feeling of ‚there has to be more, I have to get out of here‘. I escaped in 1989 due to a situation I did not actually intend. I stumbled into a demonstration, where I was arrested and interrogated for three days, standing against the wall and so on and so forth. And when I was released, I couldn’t breath anymore, I needed to leave. I remember, my first thoughts when I entered West-Berlin were „Oh, it’s so dark here“. The energy of West-Berlin was extremely gloomy in my opinion. It did scare me a bit. I didn’t feel very comfortable there, right. So I had to adapt there somehow. It really was a lonely time back then.  

Touring with Emigrate?

I have to admit, that the balance [between Rammstein and Emigrate] is very important to me, and that I’m a bit worried, that if I commit to Emigrate [as in touring], I’d maybe find more joy in it and that the balance would be off. And I don’t think that’s good for the other project [Rammstein]. As soon as I’d say I’d go on tour [with Emigrate], others would have to wait for me, so that wouldn’t be good either of the projects. Who knows what comes next – currently, there are no plans for something like this.

What is „We are together“ about?

This song was written for the guys (he uses the word „Jungs“ (boys) here), for Rammstein. It’s about Rammstein, the basic principle of it, right. Rammstein exists as long as we stay, we’re together as long as we stay (he said this sentence in English). That’s kind of the feeling I have with Rammstein.

Million Degrees – why the title and the cover?

During that time I was feeling so burned out, the title Million Degrees seemed to be fitting for the album. I did focus, since I wanted to visualize this title on the album cover, mainly on temperature, hot, cold, right. And I tried to visualize it for a whole year and didn’t manage to do it, until I noticed that it’s actually not about hot and cold, but about corners, edges and so on. And then I somehow got the idea of the head made out of mirrors, right.

Million Degrees – ruined on the first round…

Strangely enough, I get relatively calm in situations like this [he means the extensive water damage in his house], since I always have the feeling that if something happens, it does have a good reason to be happening – because in the end you see why things happen the way they do. So I became completely calm and took it as a challenge. Suddenly I notice that the flame [his passion for the album] was reignited. In retrospect I’m very, very (in German he says „ganz doll“, which sounds kind of cute and reinforces his statement) glad about it, because when I now listen to it, I notice how much of my contentment and pride is part of this album, which is a feeling I didn’t have before. In that regard it just got better.

This album has a long story…

This album actually was done and ready beforehand, in 2015. And then I noticed how burned out I was for the first time in my life, and not able to give anymore what I usually give [energywise] in an album. I did finish it in Los Angeles, yet as I returned, I set the project aside. And then the insane water damage happened, which flooded half the studio and the recordings for the album were destroyed (he uses „am Arsch“ which is a very crude way to say it 😅). So I had to rewrite the songs based on memory. A great challenge for me.

How do you listen to music?

It depends, but basically I listen to music by listening to the music together with the lyrics, naturally. If it touches me in any way, I start to listen more intently to the lyrics, which are incidental to me in the beginning.

Which comes first: music or lyrics?

90% of the time, the music exists first, and then I try to match my singing to the music, at some point a text line emerges which stays with me and which makes me think „Oh, it’s about that“. So I’m trying to really work intuitively, I don’t really work in my head, so to speak. I take my iPhone and record it and after a month or so, I check the recordings and sometimes there are pieces which make me think „Pfff, bullshit“. Yet some things stay. But 90% of the time, the music exists in the first place.

Good songs only come from suffering

I believe that the basic concept of many artists seems to be that they always feel their way into a certain dark world in order to extract a certain creativity from it. I always said that if I’m content, I wouldn’t make music anymore. Of course it’s unhealthy that you unconsciously put yourself in situations where you suffer. But that's because when someone doesn't write and then, so to speak, can no longer write, they lose their value, which is a real problem. (He very clearly speaks about his personal mindset here).

How do you write songs? How does that work in the studio?

Strangely enough, my attitude towards this is very pragmatic. I copied a working method of a New York painter, who entered his studio in the morning and had 10 paintings laying around. He started working on one and as soon as he noticed that he longer received any association, he moved on to the next. That’s the way I do it, too. I enter my studio around 12pm, that’s when I start. I can’t work earlier than that, only listen to music. And then I start opening songs for which I have ideas in mind and am rather quickly aware if there’s a connection to the song today. And if this connection exists, then I write, and when it ceases, I move on to the next song. I do that repeatedly, until I pick up my daughter at half past five (she most likely visits a full-time day school by the sound of it). And I do this almost everyday when I’m at the studio.

Distance between artists and fans

There are some things I don't do on principle. I love a certain distance. I think that a certain kind of myth is important for both parties involved, for the artists and the fans as well somehow, since it offers the possibility to inspire the imagination. And that's often the case, the closer you get, the more disappointed you are in the end. In this regard I find a certain distance very important. Nowadays it happens a lot that people are getting way closer. I then contemplated, where is this leading? So will it eventually be the case that your fans determine what you write? And that’s a certain point, that would cross a line for me, right.

Everything moves very quickly these days

Due to streaming, Spotify and whatever, nowadays everything moves very quickly. We sadly live in a very ‚quantity‘ times. I as a person prefer quality over quantity. But I noticed, especially with releases, that it’s the people’s attention what’s important. They want more and more content. And it's not really about quality anymore. It's simply about more is more.

About ‚Let’s go‘ – with Till Lindemann

This song is incredibly old. I actually wrote it for the first Emigrate album. And I thought back then that it wouldn’t be the appropriate place, if I’d put it on the first album – I didn’t like the name-dropping, that would’ve been too quick for me. So I disregarded the song, forgot about it and later dug it up again. I rewrote it completely. It’s actually about our friendship, even before the whole Rammstein thing. How you change over the years, so it was like a journey into the past with us, in a way. It’s a friendship-song.

How do you find duet partners?

So basically I write the songs and sometimes consider which artist could improve the song. Most of the time I have specific artists in mind, and I ask them. With the song 1234, it was the first time that my management asked „Well, could you see yourself collaborating with Billy Talent?“ When I heard Billy Talent, I always thought about the guitarist, who has a super unique sound I think. But the singer wasn't really a household name for me at the time. So I said, ok, we could try it. And the song came back and I must admit, Ben somehow added so much fire and cheekiness to the song. He brought the song even more to life. I thought this was great.

Is it strange to use your voice for Emigrate and not just play the guitar?

Back in the day when we started Rammstein, I actually intended to sing. I didn’t to it, thank God I didn’t. Otherwise we wouldn’t have this wonderful Till and his  poetic outpourings in our lives. But I think if you write and evolve as a song writer, you automatically use your own voice as a tool to write stuff. First you do it as a demo, a sketch, and you think in the end someone comes along who will sing it properly. As I started, which is quite a long time ago, back then my musical patron and friend from France Arnaud Giroux told me „Forget it. The way you do it is unique.“ And of course, with singing you have some problems to listen to yourself in the beginning. It’s a totally different deal than playing an instrument. And then it's just a matter of habit, that people get used to it, or I myself get used to my own voice. In that regard there certainly was a development in my own voice.

Emigrate as a balance to Rammstein?

It’s kind of an opponent. It’s somehow like these two topics form a balance for me, so that I can act out the things here which I can’t act out in Rammstein, so to speak. And it works quite well by now. It’s a good balance for me. It goes both ways.

Several different genres on the new album

Maybe I somehow personally, especially when it comes to music, don’t like to settle. And really use every possible genre of music to run wild. I like that there’s no censorship. In my mind, it [Emigrate] is thought to be a place where I can act out what I can’t act out otherwise. In that regard it’s very important to me to do it that way.  

What’s so special about this project?

The whole Emigrate project is an opportunity for me to be open to everything. Not everybody likest hat. Lots of people say „You’re doing too much, that’s too much for me.“ But that’s exactly the idea to basically escape the very controlled cosmos of the Rammstein-republic, so to speak, and to open myself up musically. And not to get dictated where I should go musically.

[radioactive-earthshine]

I see why someone can interpret Wally as being mean or even abusive to Bart but honestly there is another valid interpretation which I think should be considered and that is that they are just brotherly to each other. IDK if you have siblings or not but the way they behave around each other is literally how me and my sib behave. I have never seen their behavior as anything other than brotherly honestly. I am not saying this to say you are wrong about seeing them as that hostile but they also could just be brotherly.

"It's not abuse they're just siblings." - Spoken at family gatherings everywhere for thousands of years.

I am absolutely familiar with the interpretation of them being more sibling-like, and it is valid.

I cannot tell someone they are incorrect to see their own sibling dynamics between them, however, I would be deeply, deeply, concerned for anyone that has a sibling that treats them the way Wally treats Bart, because straight from Bart's mouth, it got to a point where he just didn't want to be around him.

Impulse (1995) #82

If you get to a point where you just don't want to be near your sibling out of anticipation of how they are going to treat you, then there is a problem somewhere.

Wally and Bart can simultaneously have a sibling dynamic and a hostile dynamic where there is abuse from Wally.

Siblings can still abuse each other. Siblings can still bully each other beyond what anyone would consider "normal for siblings". Granted, this is also dependent on the family and the people involved, but here Bart doesn't appreciate it.

It is still very clear that Bart was written that he doesn't like how Wally treats him, and the comic multiple times make it clear through the narrative that Wally is, quite frankly, mean to Bart. Both in his actions towards him, and in his own private thoughts.

Also, Wally is an adult, Bart is a teenager. Wally has power over Bart and a lot of it - which in my opinion sort of debunks the sibling dynamic interpretation because siblings typically do not have power over the other, other than arm-reach and literal muscles, and sometimes parental favoritism.

Wally should know better than to treat a teenager the way he does because he is an adult. It would be one thing if they were both teens or children but Wally was written as a full ass man beefing with a teenager is not in any way appropriate. Yes, even as young adult it's inappropriate.

We should always remember however that Wally and Bart do not actually have any thoughts on their own - they lack all autonomy, agency and accountability because they are not real people. The writers chose to write this, the writers chose this dynamic, and it is up to the reader to come to their own conclusions.

[samazing0831]

Prom Night Panic - Steve Harrington x Reader

Hawkins High, 1986 Friends to lovers, slow-burn, prom night confession Vibe: soft lighting, soft hearts, soft hair (Steve's, obviously)

1.1k words

The Hawkins High gym looked like a half-hearted attempt at magic.

Paper stars dangled from the ceiling by curling ribbon. The disco ball spun a little too slowly to really dazzle, and the balloons - some barely clinging to helium - bobbed halfheartedly along the walls. "Crazy for You" by Madonna crackled through the school's aging sound system, doing its best to sell the illusion of romance.

You were dressed to the nines - hair curled, makeup perfect, dress hugging every curve - and still, you felt empty.

Your date had flaked hours ago. Claimed his car wouldn't start. That would've been believable... if you hadn't seen him at the arcade twenty minutes later. You almost didn't come. But Robin had begged. And deep down, you knew you'd regret staying home more than showing up solo.

You walked in with your friends, fake smiles plastered on, your heart still bruised.

Across the gym, Steve stood with Robin, laughing a little too loudly. His maroon suit shouldn't have worked, but of course it did. Hair perfectly Farrah Fawcett'd, smile charming as ever - even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Robin elbowed him, subtly nodding in your direction. He followed her gaze, and for a moment, your eyes met.

The world didn't stop. But maybe your heart did.

He smiled first - awkward and warm. You smiled back.

Robin melted into the crowd, and Steve started walking toward you, hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn't entirely sure if he should be doing this.

"Hey," he said, pausing in front of you. "So... prom kinda sucks without a date, huh?"

He let out a nervous laugh. "Thought I'd be here making some girl swoon by now. Guess I peaked in '84."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Steve, tell me something I don't know."

You were teasing, sure - but your voice carried something heavier beneath the sarcasm. A tremble of insecurity you didn't want him to hear. You'd come here trying to pretend your heart wasn't hurting. But standing in front of Steve? That was harder to fake.

He looked you up and down - quick, but not sleazy. His gaze softened. "You look..." He trailed off, then shrugged with a laugh. "I was gonna say 'nice,' but that feels like a crime. You look insane. In, like, a good way."

The song changed. Another slow one. Couples moved to the dance floor, laughter dissolving into soft whispers and slow steps.

Steve shifted on his feet, fidgeting. "I mean... we're already here. We're both alone. Wanna... dance? Just one? No pressure."

You hesitated. Just for a second.

"One dance," you said, slipping your hand into his. "Then someday I can tell my grandkids I danced with the Steve Harrington. Maybe that'll still mean something."

Steve chuckled, leading you onto the floor. "Oh, it'll mean something. I'll make sure of it. Gonna be a household name by then - Harrington Industries or something."

You both laughed as his hand found your waist and the other laced with yours. You swayed in time with the music, the disco ball throwing specks of light across the floor like fireflies.

Silence settled over you. Not awkward - comfortable. Familiar.

"I almost didn't come tonight either," Steve said quietly. "I figured, what's the point without a date, right?" His thumb brushed gently across your hand. "But then I thought... if I stayed home, I'd miss dancing with you. And I guess... I just didn't wanna miss that."

You looked up at him, startled by the softness in his voice.

"Look at you, Harrington. That was almost romantic."

He smirked. "Almost?"

"You're not so bad, Steve, y'know."

His grin softened. "You really think that? That I'm not so bad?"

He leaned in slightly, like he needed the answer more than he wanted to admit.

The music shifted again - another dreamy, lovesick ballad from the Top 40. But neither of you moved.

"I think about you a lot," he said, like he was saying something casual - but his eyes betrayed him. They were wide, searching. "More than I probably should, considering we're just friends."

You froze.

Surely, he didn't mean -

"I - uh, thank you? I guess?"

Steve winced. "Wow, yeah. That sounded way smoother in my head."

He didn't let go of your hand. "I just meant... I think I might've been waiting for a night like this. No pressure, no dates, just us. And suddenly I couldn't stop wondering why I was trying so hard with everyone but you."

His gaze dropped to the floor, then back to yours.

"But maybe I'm reading this all wrong," he added, voice quiet. "I just... couldn't not say it anymore."

You swallowed hard. "Couldn't not say what, Steve?"

He looked at you like he already knew the fallout of his answer - good or bad - but had no choice but to say it anyway.

"That I like you," he said. "Not just tonight. Not just because your date didn't show. I think I've liked you for a while."

His thumb traced your knuckles absentmindedly.

"I was just too chicken to say it, because if you didn't feel the same... I didn't wanna screw up what we have. But standing here? Holding your hand, dancing in this stupid tux with my dumb hair? It feels like I'd regret it more if I kept pretending."

You didn't speak.

You didn't think.

You moved.

Your hand moved up to his cheek, fingers curling against his skin, and you leaned in - pressing your lips to his in a kiss that felt like electricity and warmth and every mixtape-worthy moment all rolled into one.

He didn't hesitate. His arms pulled you in, like he'd been waiting forever. The music became nothing but a background hum, the dance floor melting away around you.

When you pulled back, Steve's forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm and quick.

"Okay," he whispered. "That definitely means you feel the same... right?"

You laughed, breathless. "Yeah. I feel the same."

Steve grinned - boyish and bright and completely disarming. "Good. That's - good. I was scared I'd totally misread things, and you'd slap me or something."

He glanced around, then back at you. "So... you think we could skip the rest of prom? Get milkshakes or something? Just... you and me?"

You smiled. "A milkshake sounds good."

He exhaled, relieved. "Cool. Let's ditch this joint."

Fingers still tangled in yours, he led you out of the gym and into the night. The air was cool, the sky clear, and for the first time all evening, everything felt right.

Steve opened the car door with a dramatic bow. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

And when he started the engine, headlights cutting through the Hawkins dark, you felt it in your chest - like maybe, just maybe, this night would be one you'd remember forever.

I'm thinking of adding a smut part 2 to this... thoughts?

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Radiant

Summer of Bad Batch 2025 | Week 1 | Prompt: Late Night Beach Walks

Summary: A sunrise yields an epiphany. (Or: Tech and Phee's first kiss.) POV: Tech Rating: PG (Word Count: 2975)

Read on Ao3

Note: Most of my Tech Lives fics so far have Tech returning post-epilogue. For this story, however, I imagine Tech was rescued and reunited with his family on Pabu no later than a year or two after Tantiss falls; and events here take place a few months after.

          Tech, standing in the front yard with his datapad in hand, heard footsteps approaching and smiled to himself as he looked toward the path leading up to the front door. A large tree partially obstructed his view of the walkway at this angle, but within moments the visitor rounded the corner and neared the entrance to the yard, the light of the full moon clearly revealing her identity.

          "You're up early,” Phee greeted him as she walked into the yard.

          Tech glanced down at the local time displayed on the datapad. "This is the time we agreed upon."

          "Yes, but I didn't think you'd be waiting outside already."

          "Crosshair did warn us that if we woke him up, even inadvertently, he'd use us for target practice,” he reminded her.

          She shook her head incredulously. "You didn't take that threat seriously, did you?"

          "Of course not.” Crosshair knew full well that retribution would come when he least expected it if he tried to follow through on such a threat. He might be willing to risk it with Tech, but he knew better than to try it with Phee. “However, Crosshair would complain loudly enough to wake up Batcher, which would delay our departure enough that we would likely miss it."

          She laughed quietly at this. “And trust me, you don’t want to miss this. Very well, then, Brown Eyes, let’s go.” And she gestured for him to follow her, waiting as he stowed his datapad before she led the way out of the yard.

          Phee had returned to Pabu two days ago after retrieving another artifact and, in the course of catching up with the Bad Batch, had mentioned wanting to show Tech a sunrise on Pabu. Tech and Phee had been on more than a few outings together since he had finally reunited with his family, but Tech couldn’t quite see the point of this excursion.

          “I’ve been up before dawn plenty of times before,” he had said.

          Phee had smiled knowingly. “You have not seen a sunrise like this before, not from where we’ll be standing.”

          “Oh!” Omega had suddenly exclaimed. “Are you taking him…?” At Phee’s nod, Omega had turned to him enthusiastically. “Tech, you need to go. Lyana showed me the place before, and told me that Phee showed her. It’s amazing!”

          The others had made their excuses – Crosshair in particular making it abundantly clear that he would not wake up before the sun was fully risen unless in life-or-death circumstances – and Tech found he was glad: he enjoyed the time Phee spent with him and the entire family, but he also enjoyed the times the two of them spent alone together, and he found himself looking forward to this event.

          Now, they took the path all the way down to the beach before trekking along the shoreline to the side of the island that faced the sunrise. It was almost two hours before dawn, and while Tech knew their destination was some distance away, he also knew they could easily make the trip in a little over an hour if they wanted to. He suspected Phee didn't want to rush, though, and he certainly wouldn't object to spending more time with her. 

          They walked along the beach, just beyond the reach of the waves, as Phee told Tech more of what she knew about the Fluti tribe and why the handheld musical instrument she had recovered on her latest trip was so significant to their culture. 

          “Myorka says the tradition among her people was to learn how to play the instrument once reaching ten years of age,” Phee continued. “She learned the instrument just before she and her family had to flee.”

          “And you say the instrument was part of a religious ritual?”

          “Yes. Ancient Fluti tradition worshipped the sun. They had a yearly ceremony involving music to chase away dark spirits that threatened to eat the sun.”

          “I would presume they were observing a solar eclipse,” Tech theorized, pulling his datapad from his belt to double check his facts and made a few quick mental calculations as he continued, “Based on the orbital patterns of Flutona and its two moons, they would indeed experience an eclipse every year. And it is a common trend in primitive cultures to consider eclipses of any kind to be a supernatural phenomenon.”

          “Can’t say I blame those cultures for thinking that,” Phee said with a soft laugh. “First time I saw an eclipse was on Yrpac when I was nineteen years old. I knew what it was, but I still would have described it as supernatural.” She let out a small sigh. “What about you, have you and your brothers ever seen an eclipse?”

          “Yes, on Trepadin, during the war,” Tech replied. “The darkness in the middle of the day certainly helped us complete our mission objective even more quickly than usual.”

          “I can imagine,” Phee said, before tilting her head. “Wait, did you actually plan your mission to coincide with the eclipse?”

          “It wasn’t the original plan, no; but we did move up the timeline of our operation when I discovered an eclipse was imminent. It was coincidental, though fortunate, that the operation took place within the path of totality.”

          “The path of what?”

          “The path of totality, the path across the planet’s surface that falls within the track of the umbra.”

          Phee nodded. “And the umbra would be…?”

          “The umbra is the area in which the moon’s shadow completely blocks the light of the sun,” Tech began before launching into a more detailed explanation of the types and phases of solar eclipses, with the conversation turning naturally toward lunar eclipses as well as the factors influencing the frequency and appearance of these phenomena on any given planet. He had just finished answering Phee’s query as to when Pabu would likely next experience a solar eclipse when he suddenly realized they had come to a halt, Phee having silently guided him to a stop by putting a hand on his arm while still paying attention to his explanation.

          “Why did we stop?” he asked now.

          Phee nodded to her left, indicating they needed to turn inland. “This way. We need to approach from below.”

          Within a few feet, the light from the stars and the moon was obscured by thickening foliage, rendering the glowrods necessary. A few feet further, and Tech could now see a narrow, less-defined path lined with small boulders leading upwards.  

          Tech knew the geography of Pabu well enough by this point to know they were nearing a freshwater stream that met the ocean in the form of a waterfall cascading from one of the island’s highest cliffs. He and his brothers had gone with Omega and Batcher to explore along the stream and the top of the falls several times before; this was the first time he had ever taken a trail from below leading up toward the waterfall.

          The trail was far enough removed from the waterfall that, even when they climbed high enough that Tech could make out the sound of the waterfall over the soft roar of the ocean below, the path remained dry, so the hike, while strenuous, wasn’t treacherous. A short distance away from the summit, the path curved around the cliff face; here, the ground started to become somewhat slick, but as the path had widened and leveled out and was still lined with large rocks that acted almost as a natural guardrail, the last leg of the trek proved to be the easiest part. By this point the stars had faded in the graying sky, marking the coming dawn, and the glowrods were no longer necessary.

          They neared the end of the trail, and Tech, inferring their ultimate destination, scrambled nimbly over the small boulder that partially concealed the cave entrance before turning to offer his hand to Phee as she followed. She readily accepted his assistance, and when she reached the ground she didn't relinquish his hand, instead gently squeezing it as she turned in the darkness of the shallow cave to face the calm gray stillness beyond the cave entrance. Tech gave a small smile that she didn't see. They had been holding hands more frequently as of late, and he had to admit he quite enjoyed this physical touch.

          The shallow cave was positioned some distance down from the cliff’s edge and was adjacent to the flow of the water, to where Tech could feel droplets hitting his face from the spray it created, but the cave opening was not obscured by the waterfall.

          “How did you find this place?” he asked.

          “Just happened across it when I was exploring, a few months after I first came to Pabu,” she replied. “It was broad daylight at the time, but then I thought it would make a great place to watch the sun come up.” She chuckled. “And I was right.”

          They now fell into companionable silence, standing together as the sky continued to brighten, blue-gray turning shades of pink and orange with hints of blueish purple. So far, a typical sunrise considering Pabu’s atmosphere, Tech mused to himself.

          Now, the sun peeked over the horizon, and Phee glanced at him with a grin brimming with quiet enthusiasm before she focused again on the view. He smiled at her anticipation as she stepped nearer to him, her shoulder brushing his.

          Based on the setting and their position relative to the waterfall, he had already guessed what would happen, and his prediction was accurate: the glowing ball of light intensified the colors in the sky, with the panorama reflected in the ocean below. As expected, the water splashing merrily nearby soon caught the light of the sun's rays, giving the appearance of golden droplets falling through the air and creating miniature flickering rainbows across the cave opening. Tech surreptitiously glanced at Phee, appreciating her profile and the soft contented smile on her face as she gazed avidly at the sight before them.

          Given all they had learned about each other as they had spent more time together, Tech understood why Phee was so enthralled by the spectacle. Of course, he, too, recognized how objectively stunning this view of the sunrise was, though his thoughts were focused less on the scene itself and more on analyzing why he had recently been associating phenomena such as this with Phee and what he knew of her character. Phee fully appreciated beauty and unique traits; but, more than that, she had a knack for finding beauty everywhere around her – in nature, culture, history, even people.

          Perhaps this is why he was finding himself increasingly fascinated by her.

          He had been studying this question out in his mind for weeks, trying to identify what it was about Phee that he liked so much. There was something about her that made him enjoy being around her; what’s more, he wanted to make her smile, and he wanted her to find him trustworthy and dependable. Of course, he could say the same for his brothers and sister - he was comfortable around them, he wanted them to be happy and safe and be able to rely on him - but with Phee it felt... different, somehow. Why?

          The sun rolled higher over the horizon, rays of light now directly illuminating the cave, and another rainbow danced across Tech’s field of vision. And his thoughts turned again to pondering the characteristics that lent to Phee’s ability to light up, with her mere presence, any space she was in…

          "You're awfully quiet,” Phee’s voice broke through his musings, and he blinked to find her looking at him with humor in her eyes. “I was expecting some kind of lesson on the properties of light and refraction angles or something."

          "We discussed that in detail yesterday." Tech knew he had a reputation for being loquacious, though he still didn’t quite understand how he had gotten this reputation, as he never talked simply for the sake of talking. No, whenever he talked it was for a purpose; and since he had already told Phee everything he knew about the science behind light, there was no purpose now in revisiting the topic, not unless she asked for a review.

          Phee chuckled, a reaction he felt as well as heard given their proximity and continued hand-to-hand contact. "So we did. Well then, what do you think of it?" she asked as she gestured toward the view beyond the cave opening.

          He frowned thoughtfully at the rising sun as he considered how to answer – what did he think of the sunrise itself? He had largely been thinking of Phee the past fifteen minutes. "It makes me think of you,” he said honestly.

          "Oh?" He was still looking out over the ocean, but he could hear the puzzlement in her voice and knew she wanted more of an explanation as to how his thought process had connected two very different subjects.

          He sighed internally – he should have launched into an objective explanation of how different atmospheric conditions would affect the qualities of a sunrise, rather than venturing into more personal responses. Still, Phee had asked a question, and he wanted to make himself clear to her, even if he wasn’t sure how.

          "Yes,” he said, brow still furrowed as he tried to find words to explain his meaning. It was so easy to talk about facts and data and events from an objectively technical viewpoint; it was much more challenging to quantify emotional responses. “It's... radiant."

          She shifted away from him, and he turned to look at her, momentarily wondering if he had said something to upset her – but no, her stunned expression rapidly melted into something warm and inviting, and she brought her free hand up to his chest.

          "I'm going to kiss you, Brown Eyes," she announced. She leaned in slowly, as if to give him time to back away if he wanted to; but for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he didn't want to. Her eyes were locked on his, studying his reaction, her eyelids fluttering shut only when she was a hair's breadth away from him.

          Her lips met his, and he momentarily lost his bearings. What began as a heady rush of sensations, warm and tingling and sweet, proceeded to trickle through him from his head all the way down to his toes; and he peripherally registered that he was still holding Phee’s hand, reactively squeezing it tightly as an anchor against this strange but certainly not unpleasant swirl of feeling that was about to sweep him away.

          She gently pulled her head back, ending the kiss, and the world seemed to stutter to a halt as his brain raced ahead a million miles an hour, thinking of all the ways Phee opened new vistas of thought and perspective and experience for him and the animated way she told stories of her adventures to a wider audience and the quiet way she told more personal stories to him and the way she tilted her head with her focus never wavering from him as she intently listened to him share his own stories and the way she sought out time with him and the way she comfortably interacted with his family and the way she was so kind to her friends and was so stubborn and self-assured with her rivals and the way her quick wit and compassionate heart and cleverness and confidence made him feel so alive.

          He had wondered occasionally, with clinical curiosity, what romantic love might feel like. Now, as all these thoughts of Phee collided with a positive explosion of emotions, he knew his curiosity had been satisfied.

          He didn't just like Phee. He loved her. Romantically.  

          A kiss, particularly one on the lips, was a well-known way to express one's romantic inclinations for another. If Phee's action was indeed an indication she felt some level of romantic affection for him, perhaps she would allow him to indulge in such an expression of his feelings for her in the future...

          He was brought back to his surroundings only when a slim brown hand waved across his field of vision.

          "Oh great, I think I just broke you," Phee muttered, looking concerned and even a little insecure.

          Tech reached out with his free hand, blindly finding Phee's elbow and running his hand down her forearm until he gripped her other hand in his – he needed the extra point of contact to keep himself steady. "I was just considering that I would like to experience that again," he managed to say, a trifle stiffly as he forced his voice out around the emotions that clogged his throat. "With you. Often."

          Phee's expression relaxed into a smile, all trace of self-doubt gone. "Well, you don't need to tell me twice," she said as she leaned into him again, the warm intention in her eyes sending another pleasant thrill of anticipation through him; and this time, he was cautiously prepared to reciprocate her display of affection.

          His mind was still racing, faster than even his heart, and he realized with a small surge of panic that he hadn't had a chance to ask Phee if she was indeed aware of some of the implications of this type of intimacy, if she knew this was the first time he had kissed anybody and if she was comfortable with that, if there was something he should do to make the experience more enjoyable for her, if...; but as he gave into the subconscious impulse to move his hands to her waist and draw her closer, felt her sigh softly against his lips, his thoughts quieted as he focused on how much light she brought to his life, and how much he cherished her for it.

          And he decided that, perhaps, his questions could wait.

@summer-of-bad-batch @summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs

[lost-in-fandoms]

I'm fighting my brain hard to try not to make the last few races Max didn't win about kitten knight au and failing hard...

What if, after they got their happy ending in the cottage, after Max left the knight life, he somehow ended up helping the crusade or something, maybe he was itching to get back into action, FOMO style, and it didn't go along the plan, he realized he really just wanted to retire with Daniel. Cue him coming back to their little house, shifting into his kitten form and refusing to come out of it because he missed Daniel and how attentive Daniel was when he was shifted...

Feel free to ignore this if you're not up to it too <3

They argue about it.

When Max tells Daniel that he wants to help out, just for a little mission, that they need him, Daniel blows up. They had just found their peace, they finally had enough security and money to live their lives and feed both themselves and the goat, and Max just wanted to...give it up? And for what? Glory?

Max denies that, says that he has to, that they need someone clever, someone who can be both a spy and a soldier, who knows how things work and can make things work. They need Max, because Max had always been one of the best, if not the best, and they still hadn't found someone to replace him.

Daniel thinks, even without having the courage to say it out loud, that this is just one last effort from the King to keep Max tied to him, to grab him back and hold him tight, because he knows he had lost way more than a good Captain when Max had left.

It takes some time for them to see each other's point of view, and way more screaming than Daniel can be proud of, but in the end they find an agreement.

Three months. If Max isn't back by the end of the third month, Daniel will come get him himself, and then will not speak to him for three more months.

Max promises to write often, kisses him thoroughly, and then leaves, a steeliness in his step Daniel is not used to seeing anymore.

It is, quite honestly, horrible.

Daniel hates not waking up next to Max, hates not having him around, hates having to prepare meals for himself alone, hates turning around expecting someone to be there and finding nobody.

And then, after 43 days of infrequent letters and never ending worrying, of listening to all the gossip in time, of hounding all the royal messengers for news, Max comes home.

It's clear from one glance that the Max that had left is not the same that is standing in front of Daniel now, dusty and travel weary.

He's thinner, for one, in a way that isn't just physical but seems to extend to the way he's holding himself too, as if he's been stretched and worn down to the bone. There's some light missing in his eyes, and a bandage peeking through his shirt sleeve.

Daniel reaches for him, unable to find the appropriate words for the moment, and instead of getting an armful of Max, he gets just air.

For a moment he blinks, confused, wondering if he's missing Max so much he's hallucinating him, but then he looks down and there, right next to the bag Max had dropped, there's a kitten.

"Oh," he says, voice scratchy and surprised, habit more that thought making him crouch down low. "Hello, baby."

Max's kitten form seems weary too, his ears pulled back and his tail touching the ground, a big red gash on his front paw, but he meows and as soon as Daniel is in reach he does his kitten best to climb him as fast as possible.

"Hey, slow down, it's okay, I'm here," Daniel finds himself babbling, trying to grab for him and feeling the familiar pinpricks of pain of Max's tiny claws in his legs.

There's a nervous kind of energy to Max he isn't used to seeing anymore, and it actually takes him a few attempts before he's able to get his wriggly little body in his hand and up to his chest, placing a kiss to Max's little head.

"I missed you too, baby," he whispers, even as Max keeps wiggling, meowing with anxious displeasure.

Daniel isn't sure if Max doesn't know what he wants, or if he's grown too unused to understanding his body language, but he isn't sure about what he should do now.

He missed Max, and a part of him wishes he could talk to him, actually hug him and listen to his voice, but at the same time he missed this Max too, his little kitten with his sharp nails and outraged meows.

He ends up sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, placing Max in his lap, because that's something Max has always liked, but that doesn't seem to satisfy him either, still meowing and moving around, unsettled.

"Okay, can you like...relax?" Daniel asks after a moment, holding Max still with both hands.

As an answer, Max bites his thumb.

It doesn't hurt, not really, but it's still a surprise, nothing Max has ever done before, not even while they were playing, and Daniel ends up letting him go, bringing his finger up to inspect it.

"That's rude," he scolds, glaring at Max who just hisses at him, little body shaking a little.

"Did you come back just to be an asshole?"

It's a mean thing to ask, Daniel knows it, but Max's nerves are getting to him too, and he doesn't know what's going on and why Max is here, and how he got hurt and he just....

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face, as Max freezes in his lap, muscles tense.

"I'm sorry," Daniel says, much quieter than before, "you are being weird, but that was mean. Are you okay?"

He regrets not asking sooner, but Max meows, hesitantly nodding his head before bumping it against Daniel's stomach in quiet apology.

"Can I help you feeling better?"

For a long moment there's no answer, but then Max starts trying to climb him again and finally, finally, Daniel understands.

He lays down on the bed, pulling one of the blankets on top of himself, and settles down, relaxing his muscles. A moment later, Max is curled up next to his collarbone, nose pressed against his neck, body still tense but slowly loosening.

Daniel puts a hand on top of him, steady weight and comforting presence, and breathes, slowing his heartrate down.

He has a lot of questions, first of all why is Max home early without a warning, and why didn't he tell Daniel he was hurt, and what happened with the mission, but clearly there's no point asking them right now.

And just as obviously, Max needs to be in his kitten form, and needs Daniel, and Daniel is happy to give him all the time he needs. His answers can wait.

[night-raven-miscellany]

Casimir frowned. Could the scene have ended already? Was such a climactic moment truly going to be so short-lived? His phantom was gone but... it did separate him from such a hulking thing. Gave him a certain freedom.

There was a slight guilt gnawing in his chest... a slight prayer that he hadn't actually hurt Wuzhi - none of his attacks had truly been aimed at her, at least, not the fully-powered ones.

He went silent as he reached out towards the shadows, his body melding and meshing into them, slowly. His exhaustion was evident in the way he started to drag his feet instead of nimbly dancing about. The way his eyes lacked any sort of gleam to them. Even his spells were lacking 100% of the time, now. It almost hurt to try slinging spells, but...

This was his role. He could fight to the bloody end, yes... but... defeat is inevitable in any case. Could he accept such a harsh fate as surviving, but accepting defeat? Or should he go down, claws and teeth bared?

The phantom could not provide him any sort of guidance now, just the voice in his head that screamed at him to fight, to tear and scream and bite and scratch and run until he got what he wanted.

But still... a small voice in his head told him that the curtains would have to fall at some point. No scene can go on forever.

-

"You didn't know?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. "She was the only one seeming to do anything... I think she was keeping Casimir's attention long enough to wear him down but..."

"She must be quite powerful, to handle such magic on her own..." Vladmir said softly, joining in on the conversation. He did not meet eyes with any of the party's members, but nodded. "I shouldn't have pushed him so hard. I should have allowed him to hone his skills... if he's grown to the point where..."

Carmilla nodded.

"Indeed... as fae, we dislike owing debts but... if she saves our boy... there's really no other way to repay our gratitude... I hope everything is alright in there."

A never-ending hunger for power that consumes all and leaves naught but despair in its wake. This night, too, shall be embraced in its all-enconpassing maw.

The lights in the auditorium flickered slowly - a sign that most audience members might have taken to mean that the show will resume momentarily.

It wouldn't have been an unreasonable assumption, certainly - after all, the sound of moving rigging could be heard, as well as the (presumably) eager shuffling of actors and crew members behind the scenes.

Of course, the shuffling turned into an argument that began to grow in volume, going from hushed whispers to borderline shouting behind as some sort of conflict unfolded backstage.

As the lights flickered, the movement slowly became more erratic, almost dangerously so. An anguished cry rang out from behind the curtains, and what looked to be ink began to leak from underneath, emitting an acrid scent that filled the room.

The entire room fell into a brief silence as lightbulbs began to burst, covering the room in a pitch black darkness, a sound that only grew into a crescendo as the curtains were struck by an unseen force, sending them hurtling to the ground with a crash.

The auditorium was sent into a panic as students, staff, and guests alike began scrambling about and a shaky voice quickly came over the speakers.

"Attention all guests: Please evacuate the premises immediately. The emergency lights will activate momentarily, so please try to remain calm as you exit- there will be staff members on the scene to redirect you to a safe lo-"

Another crash was heard, followed by another cry.

As the voice on the intercom had stated, though, the emergency lights did indeed flicker on. The salvation from the darkness did not last long, though, before the light was quickly absorbed by something in the darkness.

Those who looked at the stage could, for the briefest moment, see something unfathomably massive hulking about before being enveloped once more in shadows.

( @night-raven-miscellany)

[Once again, a string of cartoonishly censored swearing is heard.]

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!”

“Shit shit shit shit shit…!” [Red eyes flicker to life in the darkened auditorium. Wuzhi has awoken her powers!]

[Somewhere towards the back, a cat person slowly wakes up…then very suddenly jolts upright, running backstage.]

“Ah—Hey, you! Be careful! It’s dangerous!—” [Shiyuu shouts, running after the (surprisingly fast redhead. Wuzhi follows suit.]

[The redhead doesn’t respond, pulling up the curtains and using magic to turn on the lights.]

[rattsin]

Fury made Alanna gasp for breath. How could anyone get well in a menagerie? How could Jonathan breathe? This went against all the commonsense rules Maude had taught her for healing: clean air, quiet, absolute cleanliness, calm and reassuring voices. Didn't these people know anything?

[cyclogenesis]

ryan reynolds photos i've been fixating on lately 27/∞

[kashilascorner]

Oh ok. I get now why a lot of people didn't vibe with the ending.

All and all: excellent manga, overall very good final act, too rushed final 2-3 chapters but weak and honestly mediocre epilogue, which makes the high of the ending kind of leave a bitter taste. I think Noda had a good steed and suddenly he had to finish and had to rush all. So the ending in the sense of the final arc was good but the ending proper (final couple chapters) + epilogue......... Not so much

[yourstrulyrani]

thinking about simon riley and how he gets worried when he gets his labs back from medic!reader:

"Bloody hell, Doc. You could include this in my dossier if you wanted."

You let out a chuckle at his words when you saw him skim through his blood work, a whole packet worth of vital information, from the number of red and white blood cells he has, a basic metabolic panel, and so much more. He skims through the information, every row a new test and labeled with a green "normal" on each one.

Until he reached one of the rows: testosterone.

A red "above average" was next to his testosterone count and you could see the panic in the man's eyes but you didn't know what caused it. You decided to let him speak up about it.

"Hey, doc?" You could see the stress manifest into a physical form the way you saw his thumbs clutch the packet of paper tighter, causing the paper to crease upwards in submission at his grip.

"Yeah, Ghost?" You turn around, your body language evident that you are all ears for what he has to say next.

Ghost had to collect himself before bringing this up. He knows this hormone is a normal thing in males, but why is his so abnormally high? He clears his throat before speaking up, "My testosterone," he pans the packet to face you now, "the lab says it's quite high. That's not normal."

"For you, it is."

The man's eyes squinted behind the mask.

"What? It says 'above normal' right..." he points to the row with a gloved finger, "there. What do you mean for me it's normal?"

You walk closer to him, gently taking the packet out of his tight grip. You turn around and sit next to him, and because of the height difference, Ghost noticed the way your shoulder grazed his bicep.

"It's normal for you because of your muscle mass, sir." You point to his muscle mass percentage. "More muscle means more testosterone in the body. Testosterone helps to support your body in maintaining the amount of muscle you have. If you had a man's average amount of testosterone, you wouldn't be built like a tank."

Ghost snickers at the last remark. "I'm a tank now, Doc?"

"Have you seen yourself, sir?" You scoff. You point to his weight on the paper, "Your muscle mass is also why you're technically obese. You're 6'4 and 250 pounds. But nothing to be worried about. You have more muscle than fat, and muscle weighs more. So I can assure you, you're perfectly healthy."

Ghost at the moment thought the way you nerded out on all of these medical technicalities was quite hot. You were smart, he always knew that. But it was something about the way you were talking in person about all this health and medical stuff that got to him. It didn't help either that you looked even more professional with a white lab coat and scrubs on. You adjusted the glasses on your nose while you looked down at his labs and Ghost swore he felt six inches of some of his muscle and fat twitch.

"Perfectly healthy, Doc?" He repeats your words.

"Perfectly." You skim over the paper once more. "If anything, you have the highest muscle mass and testosterone in the task force."

Ghost felt his pride swell at that statement. Not only did you say he was perfectly healthy, but you basically just called him the most ripped out of all the guys?

"I'm trying to be modest abou' this whole thing you know. You're not helping." He replies sarcastically and you giggled, throwing your head back a little. "I'm serious."

"Well you can thank your hard work on missions and the extra hours at the gym." You nudged his arm with your shoulder, causing Ghost to tense at the sudden contact but he surely didn't mind. The cute little medic that works for the task force just touched him, how could he possibly complain about that?

After that encounter, Simon took no time in bragging about his "abnormally high" testosterone and "obese" weight to the group chat that consisted of him, Price, Gaz, and Johnny.

He sent a picture of his labs with the message: "Not only did Ms. Medic tell me I'm built like a tank but told me I'm more of a man than you all can ever be ;)."

Johnny replied with, "You mean "the missus"?"

Gaz replied with, "You better snag her before I do, Simon. I didn't see a ring on her finger last visit."

Price replied with, "It's only because of my age, you know. If I were in my prime I would have more testosterone and muscle mass than all of you combined."

(lol i love these men)

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[obito-in-disguise]

| Avoiding their touch |

Pranking male Naruto characters by avoiding their touch.

Uchiha Sasuke

At first, Sasuke ignores your strange behavior. If you wanted to be weird, that was your headache, not his.

But when you sidestep him during a mission as he reaches out to steady you after a jump, his eyes narrow.

"What's your problem?" he asks, deadpan, stepping closer and reaching out for you again.

You shrug innocently, dodging his touch once more. His jaw tightens, and he retracts his hand.

Sasuke is surprisingly patient after that. But after you dodge his touch a third time, that patience snaps.

Determined to keep up the charade, you move to avoid his arm when he tries to protect you again.

"Whatever" did you seriously think he had a problem with not touching you?

He doesn't even bother with words anymore. Playing along with your game, he grabs the back of your shirt and effortlessly flings you out of harm's way.

"Hey!" you cry, barely managing to land safely.

"You wanna play games? Fine," he mutters, completely unfazed by your wide-eyed glare.

For the rest of the day, Sasuke avoids your touch, despite your whining and apologies. This was your punishment for playing silly games with him.

Uzumaki Naruto

"huh??"

You must be tripping, Naruto thinks, watching you duck when he tries to pull you into one of his bone-crushing hugs.

Naruto is all about physical affection, high fives, random hugs, scooping you up into his arms. So when you dodge his hug, his jaw drops.

The look on his face is too ridiculous, you can't stop yourself from bursting into laughter at his utter shock of your audacity.

"You're so dramatic" you roll your eyes, pulling him into a hug as an apology.

Naruto grins and returns the hug twice as hard, lifting you off the ground for good measure. Ignoring your squeals of embarrassment, he parades through the village with you still awkwardly dangling in his arms as punishment.

"Put me down Naruto! You're so embarrassing!"

Aburame Shino

Shino is flabbergasted, to say the least. You never avoided his touch, and he loved that because you were the only person he was comfortable being affectionate with anyway.

His eye twitches, but his shoulders eventually sag in relief when he sees you struggling to contain your laughter.

You were just playing a silly prank after all, thank goodness.

He discreetly releases a meliponine bee from his jacket sleeve, the little creature was harmless and couldn't sting, but you didn't need to know that.

The moment you spot it, your eyes widen.

"SHINO, ONE OF YOUR BEES ESCAPED!"

Shrieking, you leap into his arms. His lips stretch into a smug smirk as he catches you.

"Oh? What's this? I thought you didn't want me to touch you?"

You narrow your eyes, quickly connecting the dots. Jumping out of his arms, you smack his shoulder lightly.

"Touché"

Hyuga Neji

Neji was pretty much sick of your shit at this point, you've been on a pranking streak all week and it put him on edge.

Now he questions every little reaction from you, wondering if it was a prank or not.

Even now, he stood watching you, his posture stiff, an irritated glare on his face.

"Stop testing my patience y/n."

He grits out, reaching for you again, watching you move out of the way.

"Have I...have I done anything to upset you?"

he asks, voice shaky, exhaustion creeping in. He was afraid this time you weren't joking and he might've actually upset you.

You immediately drop the act, not liking the kicked puppy dog look on his face one bit.

"I'm sorry, I was just messing around" you tug him into a hug to which he returns with a glare, ultimately glad this wasn't anything serious.

He reaches down to flick your forehead.

"Ow!"

"You're an idiot. Quit it with the silly games ok?" he murmurs gently brushing his fingers over the spot he flicked.

"Ok ok"

Uchiha Itachi

Itachi chuckles, watching you sidestep his hug. He immediately knew you were playing games, no one craved his touch more than you did.

"Are you sure you want to do that? I'm leaving for a mission and won't be back till tomorrow"

You bite your lip, weighing your options. He was right, 24hrs was way too long to go without a hug.

You huff, shuffling into his still open arms with defeat. "Fine, I yield"

He laughs again, giving you a soft squeeze before pulling away.

"I'll see you in a couple hours" he says, placing a kiss on your hair before pulling away.

"See y- wait what! You said tomorrow"

"I lied" he calls out, smiling casually, like he didn't just decieve you, continuing down the path without looking back.

You can't help but snort at his tactics, you were so going to get him back when he returns though.

Uchiha Obito

"Well aren't you a picture of domesticity" Obito muses, watching you make coffee in one of his button downs, the shirt large on you.

He can't help himself, he reaches out to feel your soft skin only to be met with air when you move out of the way, giving him a strange look.

If he paid more attention, he would've noticed the look on your face was you struggling to hold in your laughter, but his stomach was too busy dropping to his feet.

Obito was insecure, about his face, about his body, and his past. Despite your reassurances, a part of him never believed he was what you wanted.

He was chronically paranoid that one day you'd realize you could have better, and leave him.

It didn't take you too long to figure out what was going through his head when he froze, staring at you like a deer in headlights.

"Shit, this was a terrible idea" you immediately grab his hands, placing one on your cheek and the other on your waist "I'm sorry, I was just messing around"

He stares down at you for a few seconds gauging your sincerity before sighing, his body untensing in relief.

"You're a menace..." his arms snake around you, pulling you into his chest, happy this was just a joke.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry"

Hatake Kakashi

Kakashi notices but doesn't react right away. Instead, he silently joins your game.

Every time he sees you coming he makes a point to dramatically avoid touching you even by a hair's breadth, bending and contorting his body into all sorts of shapes.

"You're terrible" you giggle, trying to grab him, watching him dodge your hands like his life depended on it.

"me? You're the one who started it"

he finally relents, letting you tug him into your arms.

"You could've seriously hurt my feelings you know? I'm sensitive"

You snort, Kakashi didn't give a shit and you both knew it.

You lean up, tugging his mask down to peck his nose as an apology "You're about as sensitive as that rock over there"

He chuckles, deciding to let your snark go, he won after all, you wouldn't be avoiding his touch again.

I just realized I've never done headcannons for the naruto characters at once, so enjoy!

Tiny taglist🥲: @catlover19282

Feel free to check out my other Naruto Shippuden fics and more stories!

[gurugirl]

DILF | older!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/n meets an older man at a bar and she's not taking no for an answer. Harry likes her persistence.

A/N: This was requested + this! Also, please think before you judge Y/n. She is very bold and confident in this. Maybe even a little pushy but Harry likes it (even if at first he doesn't give that impression). Also he's single so this isn't cheatrry!

Word Count: 6,580

Warning: age gap, smut, alcohol consumption (light)

. .

"That one. Total dilf. He looks grumpy. Bet you can't crack him."

Y/n laughed at her friend and looked down at her red-painted nails before narrowing her gaze on the attractive older man who was seated at the corner of the bar alone. He was nursing a whisky and he did look rather sullen. Unapproachable even.

"Why him?"

"Because he's hot. And I'm curious to see if you can get him to smile at least," Warren raised her brows, "I dare you."

Y/n tilted her head and assessed him. He was nice and big, taking up a decent amount of space at the bar, broad shoulders and back hunched as he leaned his muscular forearms on the wood of the bar top. Meaty hands placed on either side of his lowball glass. Thick brown waves on top of his head with a bit of silver coming in at the temples. But the handsome features on his face really set him apart. His granite jawline gave way to stubble that stretched over his skin and shaded in the spaces around his pink lips.

If she could "crack" him she wasn't sure she'd want just a smile. He looked yummy enough to eat.

Drinking down the last of her martini she pointed at Warren and then Tara, "Fine. Give me twenty minutes and I'll have him eating from the palm of my hand."

Tara laughed, "If you say so…"

She placed her heeled feet down on the floor and brushed her hands over her dress, "Oh, I do say so. Just watch and learn, ladies."

Y/n wasn't quite that confident, but she wasn't about to say no to dare. And she could hold her own when it came to flirting. She liked getting a little attention and if she could garner this one's interest it might be fun.

She sauntered up to the bar behind the man and noticed the way his t-shirt stretched over his lats and tapered loosely down at his waist. The guy was fit. And lucky her, there was an open stool next to him.

Sliding onto the seat she waved at the bartender to order another drink. She'd need all the courage she could get, in whatever form she could get it.

Tapping her long nails on the lacquered wood she felt nerves thrumming through veins before turning toward the man finally. He hadn't seemed to take note of her yet, which honestly was unusual in most cases. Maybe she thought too highly of herself but men tended to notice her right away. She appreciated the challenge, though.

Reaching her hand into his space to greet him, she pushed down her nerves to sound steady as she spoke, "I'm Y/n."

She watched his brow furrow as he turned to look at her hand and then up at her eyes, his expression, which she expected would soften once he looked at her, was unamused. A single light overhead lit the tops of their heads as a shadow cast over the side of his face and he didn't make a move to shake her hand, "And I'm old enough to be your dad."

A surprised scoff fell from her lips as she moved her hand away from him. She wiggled in her seat and crossed her leg over her thigh toward him, gulping down the initial rejection with as much grace as she could muster, "I think you're jumping to conclusions about my intentions. But so what if you're older than me? I don't mind. We're both adults, right?"

An unimpressed grunt rumbled from his throat before he took another sip of his whisky and he looked away from her toward the TV that hung not far away from where they sat.

The bartender placed her olive martini down on the bar in front of her, "It'll be on Y/n Y/l/n. I already have an open tab."

A sip of the salty drink felt warm down her throat. So he was going to be a bit tough to crack. She turned to look at her friends who were grinning in her direction.

Straightening her back to feel more confident she tried again, "So you're not gonna tell me your name even?"

Without looking at her, he licked his lips and ticked his jaw, "Y/n, I think it's past your bedtime."

She smiled at that. He'd said her name, which meant he'd been listening, "My bedtime is whenever I say it is, not when some grouchy stranger says."

He puffed out an amused laugh through his nose, "I am a stranger. Which means you should be cautious, little girl. Your dad didn't teach you about things like that?" He turned to look down at her again, and that time she saw the soft green color of his eyes as the light hit his face just right.

But now she was really determined. She smiled brightly at him and let her eyes coast over his tattooed arm and then back up to his face, "Are you telling me you're dangerous?"

He still didn't smile as he shook his head like he was surprised by her gall, "Do your parents know what you're up to tonight?"

"I'm 24. Graduated from college, live on my own, pay my bills, have a full-time job. You seem to be awfully worried about my parents. I can take care of myself just fine."

Just then another person sat down next to the man Y/n was trying to whittle away at. He poked his elbow at him, "Who's this?"

"Don't know. Someone who's about to go back to her table with her little girlfriends."

Biting her lip she traced the rim of her martini glass with her fingertip, keeping her eyes set on the handsome tattooed one, "Not even a smile. Just one? Please?"

"Like I already said, I'm way too old for you."

The other man leaned over and reached to tap Y/n's shoulder, "Hey. Forget about Harry, here. You can bring me home with you if you're looking for a daddy tonight."

She frowned and looked him up and down to asses. He was late 40s perhaps, wearing a local band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a backward cap to make himself appear a little more youthful. "No thanks. You'd know if I was interested in you."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at her retort. She was definitely too young but he liked her spunk.

"Now, Harry…" she said his name slowly as she leaned a little closer, "I've got your name thanks to your friend. Can I have a smile?"

"Why?" He stared down at her, the caress of his gaze felt infinite and she found her skin convecting in its wake. He might be hard to crack but this one would be worth it, she determined.

She sighed and slid her finger dangerously close to his wrist as he looked down at her nail and watched her trail it near his arm, "I just hoped to see you smile is all. Too handsome to have such a sour scowl on your face."

"And you're hardly old enough to be so confident to walk up to a strange man at a bar."

She laughed and tilted her head, "You planning on doing something bad to me, Harry?"

And that. That pulled a reaction out of him that spread over his features slowly as he shook his head in disbelief, "Darlin', you wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her eyes widened slightly. Now she was definitely not giving up. Y/n wasn't one to fail and Harry might be making her work hard for it but she couldn't imagine it wouldn't be worth it in the end.

"Is that a challenge or something?" She softly scraped her nail over his tattooed wrist and Harry watched her red nail work over his skin.

His resolve was fading fast. She could tell he wasn't going to keep denying her. And why should he? If he was single, which he appeared to be, what was the harm in having a little fun with someone younger? Y/n didn't mind. And he certainly shouldn't either.

"If it were a challenge you'd know it. Lots of other guys here, Y/n. Go enjoy your night with someone closer to your own age."

She sighed in annoyance. But he hadn't moved his arm away from her and she was going to take that as a sign.

Dragging the toe of her shoe into his shin she grinned, "I don't want to enjoy my night with someone my own age. Not tonight anyway. I think you've convinced me that I need to test out this theory of yours. That you think I can't handle you. Cause I bet I can."

With his eyes piercing into hers, he took another sip of his drink. She thought she might have just convinced him to give her a smile at the very least because it looked like he was weighing his options. And if she could get him to smile she might have luck with the rest.

He tilted his chin upward for a moment, eyes aimed at the ceiling like he was calling on a higher power for strength, "Go back to your friends, Y/n. Any other man here would love to have your company."

"But you wouldn't love to have my company?"

"I mean… I'm still here," the other man raised his hand and leaned into Harry, "Honey we could have so much fun. Any man who'd turn you down is either battin' for the other team or more likely," he chuckled and pushed his shoulder into Harry's teasingly, "He can't get it up anymore."

Y/n's mouth dropped open at that and Harry turned to look at the man. She wished she could see the look on his face, "Sit the fuck back down, John. She already told you she's not interested in you."

"Yeah, and you're not interested in her so what's it matter to you? Look at her, Harry. Practically begging you. Young and bubbly… Tight—"

Harry's hand covered John's throat as he pushed him away, nearly making his stool topple over, "Get the fuck outta here. You had too much whisky tonight."

"Aww… come on Harry… I was just jokin'!"

She watched as he stood from his stool and looked down at John, "And you thought that was funny? You like making jokes about women like that?"

The man put his hands up in surrender, "I'm out. Here…" he threw a wad of cash on the bar top before he moved past Harry and then looked at Y/n, "My apologies if I offended you."

They watched as John left the bar quickly and then Harry sat back down before he waved at the bartender and signaled for the check, "Just the one whisky neat."

"You're leaving already? Night's still young, Harry."

He sucked at his teeth as he scraped his gaze over her face and down to her cleavage. She smiled when she watched the path his eyes had taken.

The bartender handed him the bill and Harry leaned over to pull his wallet from his back pocket.

She scooted closer to him, "You headed home?"

He nodded, but not necessarily in answer to her question, it was more of an appraisal kind of nod. He was still silent as he pulled cash out of his wallet.

"Thanks for that, by the way. I'm sure John's a nice guy and all but he's not really my type. And I'm sure he was wrong about you."

That got his attention. Harry flicked his gaze back to hers, "Wrong about me?"

She smiled, "The part where he said you couldn't get it up. You're not that old. I'm sure you still can. Right?"

He clenched his jaw and breathed out of his nostrils like he couldn't believe she'd asked him such a thing. He handed the bartender his cash with a nod before he stood up from his stool.

"Huh. Since you're so quiet about it maybe he was right," she goaded, pressing her lips together to flatten her smile as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Harry placed a palm down on the bar top next to her hand and leaned over her, "You're out of your depth here, Y/n."

"Now, you don't really know that do you? Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're awfully pushy. Not used to hearing no, are you?"

Y/n watched as the edge of his mouth lifted in amusement and she widened her eyes and pointed, "You're almost smiling."

He shook his head and looked around the bar before pinning his gaze back to hers, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. But your luck has run out with me, princess."

Harry stood to his full height and Y/n decided to try one last time, "So it's true then. What he said."

He stopped and turned to look back at her, a slow burning heat behind his gaze, "Couldn't be further from the truth."

She smiled and slid off her stool to stand in front of him. His height was impressive, "Prove it."

The line of his jaw hardened, turning his cheekbones into slashes of tension. His eyes simmered as he weighed his options. Finally, a hint of a smile stretched over his mouth. A small one, but still.

"I don't need to prove anything to silly little girls."

"Good thing I'm not a silly little girl. I'm a grown woman, Harry."

Y/n knew she was pushing it. She'd never needed to throw herself at any man before. But because of that, she wasn't used to rejection either. Maybe it was a good lesson for her ego. She knew her big fault was how entitled she could act sometimes. But that was partly thanks to how she was raised. It's better to act like a man to get what you want in life, her dad told her. And so far, that had been true. Some women balked at her confidence and her bold attitude. She wasn't demure or sweet enough. And men would often refer to her as a bitch or say that she was trying too hard.

She'd work on her ego another time. But right now? She was focused on winning this battle.

"What do you want with someone like me anyway? Hm? I'm old, Y/n. What's in it for you?"

Blinking her eyes she shook her head, "You're not old, first of all. Secondly, you're really attractive. It doesn't need to go much deeper than that, does it? I just think you're handsome. And I do kind of like a challenge."

"I can see that you like a challenge. It's the only reason I haven't walked out that door yet. Kind of relentless."

She smiled, "So it's working?"

Another half-smile worked its way up his mouth as he laughed in disbelief, "Are you surprised that it is?"

His pupils coasted over her figure and then back up to her face. The warmth of his gaze singed her skin like an open flame.

"I guess I just didn't know how difficult it'd be with you."

He licked his lips, "Difficult. You have no idea. But looks like you're about to find out. Go tell your friends what's going on. Meet me out front."

Y/n watched him turn and walk away. She was shocked. For a minute she thought he wasn't going to go for it at all.

Shaking off the sudden surprise of having gotten to him she settled up with the bartender and then stopped at the table with her friends. They were just about to give her condolences for having oversold her ability but she interrupted. "He's waiting for me outside. Location is on. Don't wait up!"

Harry was leaning against a black car in the parking lot when she stepped out of the doors. The moment he saw her he pushed himself off the car and opened the passenger door for her.

It was going to be tricky to maintain the kind of confidence she'd been feigning with him up until then but there was no part of her that didn't want to find out what he could show her.

She watched as Harry sat down in the driver's seat and started up his car. He took up too much space in the seat. His big hand wrapped around the leather steering wheel while his other encased the shift stick. Even the way he drove was turning her on.

She was pleased that she'd wormed her way under his skin and that he'd given in. She'd try her best to make it worth his while. Reaching across the console she put her hand on his thigh and he glanced down quickly before setting his gaze back on the road.

Now, Harry had slept with younger women a couple of times. He generally preferred someone closer to his age because he liked the confidence and experience that came with age. Women in their 20s were often in a different stage of life and that was fine –normal even, but it just usually wasn't a match for him. Not sexually and not mentally.

But Y/n was unusually confident for being so young. Persistent. He liked it, he couldn't lie. Whether or not she really had much else going for her beyond confidence, he guessed he'd find out. Well, she was very cute too. She did have that in her favor.

And Y/n at least seemed like she knew what she wanted. It was flattering as well. Being approached by such a pretty young thing. He figured the moment he told her to go back to her friends she'd give up but she was just fiery enough that she wasn't deterred.

When she ran her nail over his wrist he knew he was screwed. She was just close enough that he could smell her perfume and then she nudged her shoe into his shin and all he could think about was that she really wanted to be shown a good time and if anyone could it was him.

Harry knew his way around a woman's body. They were all different and he liked finding all the buttons and things that made them purr. In his experience, though, the younger the woman, the less she knew her own body. He didn't know if Y/n was just talking a big game but he was about to find out.

He stayed quiet as she ran her hand down his thigh and he shifted as the car accelerated past the green light. He'd see if she'd do anything with her hand but maybe she'd just pet at him like a novelty toy. He didn't expect—

"This is okay?" She asked him, her tone sultry as she palmed at his crotch.

He licked his lips, "Have at it."

His cock fattened up nicely with not much effort on her part. Proof that he definitely could get it up. Plucking at his button she looked from his face to her fingers as she leaned further over the console to reach her hand into his open pants to help him with the awkward angle of his dick. He seemed to appreciate that as he shifted under her palm.

Rubbing over his heather grey briefs she peeled down the elastic band the slightest to get a peek. The dark shade of pink on his tip matched the muted raspberry of his lips. She slid the pad of her middle finger over the slit and he softly inhaled through his teeth.

She wouldn't be able to give him roadhead like she wanted. It was impossible with the stick shift in the way. But she could wrap her fingers around his shaft and feel him under her palm until they got wherever they were going.

"Mmm… It's so big, Harry. Knew you would be. Might be the biggest I've seen in person. Can't tell yet, though. Have to wait to see when we've got these off."

Harry pushed a laughed breath through his nose. She was a bold thing. Her assertiveness was a turn-on. He didn't like meek and shy. Not when it came to sex.

When she spit into her palm and smeared it down his length, the best she could, he parted his lips and stepped on the gas. She was already exceeding any expectations he had for her. Maybe she'd prove him wrong.

Her nail scraped the underside of him and she moaned, "Really want it in my mouth."

He gulped harshly and ticked his jaw, "Just be patient. I'll let you put it in your mouth soon enough."

"And where are we going? Your place?"

He nodded, "Just a few minutes away."

She squeezed around him and pulled upward slowly. She knew already, he was well above average and she was going to have to work to give him a proper blowy.

His house was a one story, the driveway at the front with a garage attached. He lifted his hand and pushed on a device that was clinging to his sun visor and the garage door began to open. There was a covered motorcycle along the back wall and then the garage door closed after he shut off the engine.

She moved her hand away and unbuckled herself as he got out. When she reached down to pick up her little purse she realized her panties were already wet. She grinned as she stepped out, adjusting her dress before closing the door, and then followed behind him as he led her into a dark hallway.

When he turned on the lights she took it all in. Hardwood floors led into a dining area and then a kitchen. Hung on the walls were photos of himself with two children and then more framed photos with just the kids.

"Do you have kids?"

"I do. Boy and a girl. 7 and 10."

"You're not married are you?"

He laughed, "If I were you'd have known. Wouldn't have been out in the first place if I had a wife waiting for me at home."

She nodded as he turned on the kitchen light and pulled out two glasses before filling them with water.

"Divorced?"

Handing her a glass he squinted, "Yes."

She took a sip. He was a man of few words she'd gathered. She looked around the kitchen. Wood cabinets, an outdated laminate countertop, stainless steel appliances. The space could use some updating but it was large and he had a big pantry.

Sitting the glass down on the counter she watched him closely. His pants were still unbuttoned. She eyed the space at his crotch as he placed his own glass down next to hers.

"It's not gonna suck itself."

She laughed and looked up at him. He had a genuine smile on his face that time. The first real smile she'd seen from him all night. A healthy row of clean teeth, a dimple…

"Hmm… I think you're right. Let's see what we've got…"

She moved in front of him and placed her hands on his pants to push them away but before she could inch them down he wrapped his meaty hand around the back of her neck and drew her into his chest. His mouth was warm and soft. His tongue tasted like the whisky he'd been drinking.

Letting go of his pants she held onto his biceps as he used his free hand to push her hips against his. Still nice and hard. He ran his tongue over her lips and she moaned into his mouth. He worked his warm lips down to her jaw and then he licked upward on her neck, the wet patch was cool on her skin from the air in the kitchen. He did it again and her knees almost gave out. She hadn't been licked like that before.

He kissed over her clavicle and then drew his tongue over her flesh. Her heart was thrumming quickly and she squeezed his strong arms when he rutted against her.

"You good at sucking cock, Y/n?" He pushed his nose against her jawline and the hot breath from his words scattered over the skin on her neck.

"I want to be," she spoke breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed as he mawed at her throat.

He parted from her neck and looked down at her, half-lidded gaze and spit-slicked lips, "Go on."

Instantly she dropped to her knees as her fingers worked deftly at pulling his pants down and then his underwear. She'd sucked a handful of dicks so she knew a couple of moves.

Getting her hand around his thick shaft proved to be a small challenge. To say he was thick… understatement. Long too. His tip was smooth, mushroomed with ridges along the length that she hoped she'd get to feel later on. His was the kind of cock that women dreamed of.

Looking up at him she licked her palm and used her spit to pump him slowly. Another glob over his tip for good measure. Then she pressed a kiss to the base of him, just over his sac, and screwed her eyes upward to watch his expression as she licked his balls, one side at a time. She wound her tongue all around to wet him before sucking at one side, pulling it into her mouth and he let out a ragged breath, his dark pupils spreading inky until the soft green had almost vanished.

He liked it.

She worked around the other side, sucking him in again and swirling her tongue softly underneath the tender bits. He gripped the counter behind himself.

Pulling off she straightened her back and licked upward, feeling every delicious thick ridge along his shaft until her tongue met his smooth crown. Laving every crevice of his tip, she dipped her tongue into his slit and then ran it under the frenulum before she wetted every inch of his glans.

Her mouth was watering when she parted her lips around him and flitted her gaze upward. He was watching her with a slack jaw as she took him a little deeper. He cradled the back of her head and moaned.

"Just suck the tip…."

She blinked up at him and pulled her lips just over the lip, swirling and suckling around him like he wanted.

"Fuck. Just like that." His hand at the back of her head was easy. He didn't push or pull. It was more like a pleased gesture as his fingertips flexed around her skull gently.

Y/n would have liked to have gone deeper. Wanted to show him her best work. But he seemed rather happy with what she was doing.

She bobbed a couple of times, only to slide her lips back to his tip. Her pace was slow when she began to stroke his length with a little twisting motion.

He was big. She knew she could take more but in a way, she was grateful that that was all he was asking for.

A groan fell from his chest and he bucked forward, his cock slipping down her tongue and she sucked, drawing more of him in as she moved her hands away.

"Goddamnit, you're good."

She took that as permission to go deeper. Relaxing her jaw she closed her eyes and held her breath, pushing down to her limit. She filled her throat with his cock the best she could and gurgled around his tip.

He coughed out a moan and then thumbed at her cheek, "Alright, that's good."

She pulled off of him. His heavy cock aimed right at her face when she sat back on her knees and looked up at him, "I can do better than that."

He laughed and put his hand out for her to take, helping her stand up, "I bet you can. Come on."

Harry kept her hand in his as he led her to his bedroom. It was just past the dark living space and he turned on a floor lamp on the opposite side of the room from the bed. When he turned back toward her he cupped her face and kissed her again.

She pressed her hand into his warm, hard chest and he reached around the back of her dress to pull the zipper downward, his fingers dragging down her skin as he went. His touch sent a tremor down her spine as continued kissing her wetly.

He stepped back, helping her out of her dress until it fell to the floor. His eyes raked over her body and he smoothed his hands over her hips and up to her bra-covered breasts. He stepped in closer, walking her backward toward his bed. He put his hands back on her hips and nudged her to sit before he reached down to lift her leg up by her calf, removing her heels, one at a time.

Y/n's thong was drenched. She stared at him while he placed her shoes side by side at the foot of the bed and then he placed his big palms on her thighs, pushing her legs open, "Lie back."

She let her back hit the mattress as Harry got to his knees on the floor. An arm reached under her thigh as he spread her apart and then she felt her panties being pulled at until her her wet pusslips were right in his face. He groaned and felt a hand slide up the inside of her thigh. He pressed his mouth over her mons and looked up at her before he opened his mouth wide and drew his tongue through her crease making her gasp.

"Get your bra off."

She pushed herself up slightly and worked at the clasp of her bra between moans as Harry continued licking at her pussy. When she pulled her arm through the flimsy material he lifted his head and reached around her back, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed and he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck!"

Y/n's finger and her long nails pushed into Harry's hair and scraped at his scalp as he licked and pulled at each nipple. He buried his face between her tits and let out a low sound, like he was murmuring something to her but only her breasts were allowed to hear it.

When he sunk back down he pushed at her so she'd lie back and he started in on her clit, one hand holding her panties to the side as he devoured her glistening cunt.

She kept feeling like she was going to slide off the edge of the bed but Harry's grip on her kept her still. His tongue and his lips were magic as he drew her to her end. She yanked at his hair and babbled his name on repeat as her spine bowed off the bed when she came.

Her chest was still rising and falling heavy when she felt her body being pushed upward. She popped her eyes open and watched him roll a condom over his shaft before he kneed back up onto the bed next to her. He was stark naked. His body was insane. Thick muscle and masculine everything. Tattoos scatter over his arms and chest.

Fuck, she muttered under her breath.

"Flip over, for me," his deep voice was husky as he motioned toward her to move.

She rolled to her stomach and she felt his fingers slide between the band of her panties and her hips as he pulled them down her legs.

"Ass up a little. I want to see all of you, Y/n."

She grinned and turned to look at him over her shoulder as she lifted her hips and spread her thighs. His lips were parted as he grabbed her ass and squeezed, making her cheeks spread apart. He inhaled sharply through his teeth and then dipped in, kissing her pussy from behind before licking upward over her ass.

She squealed quietly and bit her lip, still watching him behind her as he lifted, a lopsided grin on his face. He gazed at her as he fisted the base of his cock and slid the head up and down her soaked folds before he tipped his hips to push in just the tip.

"Gorgeous. Gonna look even better wrapped around cock. You like anal?"

"Never tried it."

He licked his lips and pressed his lips together as he looked at the spot where his dick was pressed against her cunt, "Figured. S'alright. Pussy's my favorite anyway."

"We could try… if you want."

He looked back into her eyes, a cocky smile on his face, "Your little hole would need to be trained. And that takes time. So, there will be no anal tonight. Not gonna try and hurt you. But that's a cute thought."

He canted his hips inward, eyes on hers and her mouth dropped open when she felt her entrance splitting open for him. She was tight, but so slick, it only took a few slow thrusts until he was buried in with a low grunt. He pulled back and then pushed his entire length into the hilt.

"Fuck—fuck!" She cried and stuffed her face into the blankets.

"Too much?"

"No! It's so good. You're just so big…" She began to send her hips back against him and Harry slowly fucked in to match her pace. His eyes were everywhere. On her puss getting split open on his cock, the curve of her lower back, the swell of her ass.

He just knew she'd look so sweet with her ass stuffed too, but good things like that couldn't be rushed which was a shame.

Every thrust was gushy wet. Y/n bubbled out small moans every time his dick brushed deep into her guts. It was better than she imagined. The way he filled her to the brim was going to turn into an addiction. She'd never slept with any man that had her wanting seconds before they'd even finished.

"Oh my god…" she mewled into the comforter.

"Fuck, I know, baby…"

She fit him like a glove, it was perfect. He went in a little faster, balls thudding against her skin rhythmically making her bounce forward as she spread around his girth. When he ground in she arched her back deeply and let out a soft groan, her hands fisted at the blanket and Harry reached around and smeared his fingertips over her clit.

It had her panting and pushing into him feverishly. She'd needed the friction on her throbbing button and he'd found it easily, thick, rough fingerprints slicking back and forth as he rutted in and in. It sent electrical sparks over her limbs.

"Like that? Needs her clit touched? Shit baby, act like you've never been touched by a man right here before…" he plucked at her like he was playing the guitar and she began to fade, her moans getting caught in her chest.

He could feel her walls tightening around him as he drove in deep.

"Fuck, Harry— fuck!"

He grinned as he watched her shudder, "Give it up, Y/n. There you go…"

She began to pulse around him, a constant stream of nonsense falling from her lips as he stroked against her channel and pushed deep into her tummy, his fingers still working her clit with ease.

Just as her body had tipped and oxygen returned to her lungs he pulled out and she felt him taking her hips and turning her around to her back. Harry grabbed her ankles and lifted until each was settled over his shoulders and pushed back inside of her, cock drilling down to her core making her teeth chatter at the way he split her down the middle.

Harry leaned over her, cock buried deep as she watched her pretty face twist up with pleasure. Plapping into her, her tits wobbled as his balls tightened against his body. The harder he plunged in, the more her legs shook. Soon, her ankles had slipped down and her feet hit the mattress as he continued drilling into her. His face was flushed hot, lips parted, muscles tensed.

Reaching up to his neck she smoothed her fingers over his warm skin and he lowered his chest down to hers and kissed her. That filthy tongue ran over her lips and he sloppily sipped at her between sucking at her lips. Her brain had turned to jelly.

She felt his hand on her outer thigh squeezing and brushing as he fucked down into her. "Mmm… fuck, Y/n, m'gonna come…"

He trembled over her, thick thighs pressed down and flexed as he rutted in and in and in, and then… he stilled. A deep, guttural moan vibrated through his chest down into hers.

She sighed when she felt him throbbing, pumping into his condom. Her fingers caressed the muscles over his back and she gasped when he bucked in harshly, once more as he emptied the last of his come into the rubber wrapped around his cock.

He slowed his kisses until they were lazy little pecks and then he looked down at her, his chest heaving. She was already grinning up at him.

"What?"

She blinked her eyes, "That was fun."

He puffed out a breath, "I guess that's a good way to describe it."

Harry was a gentleman as he pulled out slowly and helped her off the bed and led her to his bathroom. He helped her clean up and listened to her tell him about her job —just reminding him that she was an adult after he commented on her being so young again.

When she picked her dress up off the floor and started to step into it, Harry frowned, "What are you doing?"

She stopped and raised her brows. "Getting dressed. Was gonna call an Uber. I'm sure you don't want a stranger in your house all night," she laughed.

Harry pulled at her hand, making her drop her dress, "What kind of men have you been hanging out with that let you leave in an Uber at 2 am? You'll stay here."

She opened her mouth and then closed it in surprise before tilting her head in confusion, "Really? I just assumed—"

"You'll stay the night here. There's no way in hell you're getting an Uber at this time of night. It's dangerous."

She grinned and shrugged, "Well then… can I have a shirt or something to sleep in?"

He placed his warm hands on her hips, "You can have a t-shirt if you like. I prefer to sleep naked myself."

"Oh yeah? I usually do too as a matter of fact."

He held her out in his arms and eyed her naked frame, "Looks like we're both good to go then. We'll get you sorted in the morning. I'll give you a ride home then."

"I think you just want to keep me here with you," she chuckled.

Harry shook his head and released her hips before he popped her on the bottom with his palm. She bleated out a laugh.

"Get your ass in bed before I change my mind."

"Yes, sir."

. .

→ PART 2 ←

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran   @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @damnasstyles @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus

@itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs

@lc-fics @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho

@gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @tiredinwinter @princessaxoxo

@angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo @brittanyzelazno

@lemoncrushh @golfrry @caynonmoondreams @danaehldy @mellamolayla

@ladscarlett @heartateasee @littlenatilda @virgopr1ncess @finelinepie

@michellekstyles @harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @devilsqueen722

@bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @freedomfireflies @fruity-harry

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @mema10

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[fireinmoonshot]

more than a friend should | robert reynolds x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Fem!Reader Summary: Bob didn't quite count on himself being starstruck by seeing you in a dress for the first time. You didn't count on yourself forgetting how to breathe when you saw Bob in a suit. But when you both have to get through a black tie event, the only way to do it is by getting through it together. Warnings: Mentions of general mental health struggles, anxiety, being drained from social activities and exhaustion. A very brief mention of alcohol and drugs. Reader wears a dress. Very brief swearing. Word Count: 4.3k A/N: I got a request for this fic last week and I totally fell in love with the idea. It took me a while to write just because I really wanted it to be perfect and I'm so happy with how it turned out. It's my longest fic for Bob so far! I did not proof read it after I finished my final draft. It's 11:30pm and I am so tired, so let's hope there are no mistakes in there 😂 Thank you so much for the response on all my Bob fics up to this point – I'm so happy that so many people are enjoying them. I hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💗

Bob knows that he’s screwed the second he sees you walk out into the penthouse from your room where you’d been getting ready. He doesn’t even notice Mel walking out behind you.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, totally unaware that he wasn’t as quiet as he’d thought he was being.

Walker, stood right beside him, glances at him. “You all right, Bobby?”

Bob tears his gaze away from you and looks at Walker, eyes a little glazed over. It doesn’t last long, though – his ability to not look at you. Not two seconds later he finds you again. Walker watches the whole thing, eyebrows furrowed and confusion written all over his face.

Was something going on between you and Bob? He was surely reading the situation wrong. If there was some kind of romance going on between the two of you, he was obviously going to know about it.

“What do we all think?” Mel’s voice breaks both Bob and Walker out of their thoughts. She’s standing beside you, motioning to the dress that you’re wearing. 

You smooth the dress down with your hands and instantly miss the pockets of your suit. As a New Avenger, wearing dresses is not something you’re used to. You spend most of your time in your suit or clothes that are comfortable when you’re not working. This is the entire opposite.

“Mel helped me pick it out,” you explain.

“It’s cute,” Ava says, standing up from where she’d been sitting down to wait for everyone to get ready. You’re glad to see that she’s wearing a dress as well – it makes the stress of it a little better, knowing you don’t have to go through it all alone.

You thank her at the same time that you catch Bob staring at you. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice the suit he’s wearing – a big change from the clothes he usually wears around the Watch Tower. Bob is nearly always wearing some kind of sweatpants. To see him in something like a suit, so perfectly tailored to fit him, is a sight to behold.

He still looks like Bob, though. His hair is a little messy and his tie is crooked, which makes you smile a little. They could put him in a suit, but he was clearly not very happy about it.

“You look different,” you start, beginning to walk over to Bob. “I can’t believe they actually got you out of sweatpants for the night.”

Bob laughs a little, then almost chokes on his own breath as he notices your hands reaching up towards him. They find his tie and straighten it. He lets out a shaky breath as you place your hands on his chest, running them over the lapels of his suit jacket, before dropping them.

Ever since Bob had met you, he’d been fascinated by you. He loved watching you kick ass as an Avenger, but he liked seeing the non-Avenger side of you more. His crush on you had grown rather quickly once he’d caught you reading one of his favourite books. Then, you’d offered to start doing buddy reads with him and he’d fallen even harder.

It often made him smile – the fact that the world knew you as one thing, but to Bob you were something entirely different. That to him, there were parts of you that no one else got to see. That once a month, you and him would sit up late into the night discussing the book you’d read and end up falling asleep on the bean bags on his bedroom floor. That every morning, he’d often see you coming out of your bedroom, opposite his, and think about how cute you looked with your bed hair. Those were the kind of memories he held closer than ever.

“You do, too,” he nods, hoping that you couldn’t feel the way his heart is beating out of his chest when you had your hands on him. “You look really nice. I like this colour.”

The smile that appears on your face only makes Bob’s heart race faster. 

“You look handsome, Bob,” you complimented. You open your mouth, about to say something else, when Valentina enters the room and shatters the moment entirely. She has a habit of that.

“Where’s Yelena?” Val asks, turning around to look at everyone. You can see the way her eyes snag on you and Bob and how close you’re standing together, but her gaze doesn’t linger too long.

“I’m here,” Yelena answers, clearly irritated, as she walks into the penthouse from the hallway. “And before you say anything, Valentina, I am not going to change into a dress.”

Yelena is, unsurprisingly, going against the dress code and wearing a pant suit. You very clearly remember reading instructions on the invitation – women were to wear dresses, men to wear suits. Of course Yelena had taken that as a suggestion rather than a request. 

For a moment, Valentina just looks at Yelena, venom in her eyes, but then she shakes her head and looks away from her, clearly sensing that starting an argument with one of her Avengers right before you all leave for a black tie event is not the best course of action.

“Well, at least the rest of you look appropriate,” she sighs. “When we arrive, instead of you all walking in as a group, I want you to enter as pairs. It’ll look better, make you seem more human. And it’ll drag out the entrance so that we get more attention. One of you will have to go solo since there’s an odd number of you but–”

“I’ll do it,” Yelena raises her hand, cutting Val off. “I’m going to wait in the car.” 

Before anyone else can say anything, Yelena heads straight to the elevator and gets in, heading down to the car, waiting to take you all to the venue. You stifle a laugh, amused at how quickly Yelena had snagged the ‘entering solo’ opportunity. It’s understandable, though. You make eye contact with Ava, who just shrugs. The last thing either of you want is to walk in on the arm of a man, being made to look like a piece of eye candy to every other man in the room, but without Ava fighting Val with you, it’s clearly not going to be worth your time.

Valentina ignores Yelena’s exit. “Okay, Bucky and Alexei, you two are a pair,” she begins, pointing at the two of them and ignoring the way that Bucky groans and Alexei cheers, exclaiming something about the co-leaders. “Ava and Walker, you two… and that leaves you,” she points towards you, “and Bob. You two look cozy. Don’t get too cozy, though.”

You look at Bob and give him your best reassuring smile. Out of all of the other Avengers, you’re grateful that Val paired you with Bob. The two of you are more comfortable with each other than you are with any of the others. At least being on his arm means you have someone that you feel especially safe and relaxed around right by your side. 

Bob feels the same way. He’d much rather walk in with you beside him than alone, and he has to admit that he’d worried Val was going to make him be the one to go solo before Yelena had volunteered. He’s infinitely relieved that he doesn’t have to be. 

With that, Val starts to walk towards the elevator. Mel hurries after her, leaving the rest of you all standing in the room until she beckons you over from the elevator, telling you all to hurry up.

You stay close to Bob’s side as you walk towards the elevator. “You ready for this?” You ask, nudging his arm with your elbow gently.

Bob grimaces. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to things like this.”

“Me neither,” you flash him a grin. “But at least we’ll be together. If you feel nervous, you can just hold on tight to me, all right? And once we’re inside, we can find a corner and start discussing what book we’re going to read next. Sound like a plan?” 

The two of you step inside the elevator and Bucky reaches forward to press the Ground Floor button.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bob nods, smiling. 

––––

Bob takes you up on your offer pretty quickly once you arrive at the event. Your arm is wrapped around his but he’s the one holding you close. Your body is pressed up against his side. He’s putting all of his energy into focusing on the feeling of your touch so that he doesn’t start to spin out with anxiety over the fact that he’s here.

It’s almost like you can hear his thoughts, because only seconds later he hears you ask him if he’s okay. His head snaps towards you, breath hitching in his throat as he sees you already looking at him.

You have the most beautiful eyes, he thinks.

“Bob?” You say his name again.

Just hearing his name from your lips snaps him out of his head. “I don’t think I should be here,” he says, glancing away from you to have a quick look around the room. There are so many people in the room, probably hundreds, and they’re all staring at him. No – not him, all of you. “I can’t even control my powers. I’m not a proper Avenger like all of you. I should’ve just stayed home and given Val some excuse.”

You frown and tighten your grip on his arm just a little. “That’s not true, Bob. You deserve to be here as much as any of us do. We wouldn’t even be here without you,” you explain. “And, for the record, I’m glad you’re here. Who would I have entered with if you weren’t here?”

“I’m sure you would’ve entered with someone.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to enter with anyone but you.”

Bob looks back at you, not quite believing your words. “Really?”

“Really.” 

It’s a little more bearable once you’ve all entered the room and found a spot to stand, crowded around a small but very tall table in the corner of the room. There are still a lot of eyes on all of you, but thankfully the attention has died down a little since your entrance.

“Do you want me to let go?” You mutter, looking up at Bob. You’re still holding onto his arm, even though Ava and Walker had let go of each other the second the entrance was over. It was partially for you and partially for Bob that you hadn’t let go yet. 

You were just as nervous as he was. Events like this were not your idea of a good Saturday evening. If you’d had things your way, you’d be back at the Watch Tower, cooking something easy yet delicious for dinner and preparing to curl up on one of Bob’s bean bags all night to read with him.

“No,” Bob shakes his head. “Not yet. Please.”

You give him a small smile, reassuring him that you won’t let go, and let out a small breath of relief yourself. As long as you get to keep a hold of Bob, your anxiety will be able to be kept at a minimum. 

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Ava asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking around the room. “You know what? I’m going to find some alcohol. Anyone else?”

Alexei is quick to agree and Walker offers to go with them, simply not wanting Ava to have to deal with Alexei and alcohol on her own. It leaves you, Bob, Yelena and Bucky standing around the table.

“You’ve been to plenty of things like this, Bucky,” you start. “Have any advice for the rest of us who’ve never done anything like this before?”

Bucky sighs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Just hope and pray that the night goes quickly.”

“That’s great advice,” Yelena deadpans.

He’s about to say something in response when Valentina appears out of nowhere, gliding towards the four of you with a grin on her face that none of you like the look of.

“Oh, here we go,” Yelena murmurs under her breath.

“Where are the rest of you? Actually, never mind… okay, Yelena and Bob, come with me. I have some investors I want you to meet,” she says, beckoning the two of them forward.

You share a look with Bob that says everything that words can’t at the moment. Only minutes earlier Bob had been asking you to not let go of him, and here you were being practically forced to. Maybe Valentina deemed this to be too cozy – and she’d told you not to be earlier. Maybe this was her way of punishing you both for going against her word. Or maybe she just wanted to flaunt Bob off to the investors.

That seemed like the most likely option.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You mutter, only loud enough for Bob to hear as you reluctantly let go of his arm and immediately cross your arms over your chest, not wanting to feel the cool air on them after having them wrapped up in Bob’s warmth. 

You watch as he and Yelena walk away, trying to push down the feeling in your stomach that has been growing more and more as you spend more time around Bob. It’s never going to end well for you, you know it. But still, the feeling lingers.

––––

Bob can’t remember the names of any of the people that Valentina have introduced him and Yelena to. He’s been standing here being talked at for ten minutes now and everything they’ve said has gone in one ear and out the other. He hasn’t even properly looked at their faces – all he can see is you over their shoulder, standing across the room with Bucky.

You look so beautiful in that dress. He should tell you later.

“While we’re here,” one of the investors speaks, “I want to introduce you to my daughter and a few of her friends she brought along tonight.” 

Bob is snapped out of his distraction as Yelena gently elbows him in the side. For the first time, he actually looks at the face of one of the men in front of him just as he’s beckoning his daughter forward. She’s followed by three other women, right behind her, all giggling and eyeing Bob up. 

“Ladies, this is Robert Reynolds. He’s also known as The Sentry,” Valentina introduces him to the girl and her friends. “He’s incredibly strong and you should see how fast he can move!”

Yelena barely restrains herself from putting her head into her hands. Instead, she lets out a small groan of “For fuck’s sake, Valentina” and shakes her head.

The girls all introduce themselves to Bob but their names don’t register with him like he knows that they should. He introduces himself in return, just to be kind, but just as Bob. Not The Sentry. He’s not that person and he hates the way that Valentina is using that side of him to gain attention from the investors. His hand  unknowingly clenches into a fist at his side.

“You’re much more handsome in person,” one of the girls says, stepping a little closer towards him. All Bob can think about is the fact that you had called him handsome tonight too.

“I can’t believe we’ve been living in the same city for so long now and we’ve never met before,” another adds. Bob knows why – he’s barely left the Watch Tower since he moved in. Why would he want to when the one thing he needs in New York is already there, right across the hall from him in your own bedroom?

He’s well aware that the girls are trying to flirt with him but he doesn’t even want to try and flirt back with them – not that he’s really any good at flirting. He’s had his fair share of flings over the years. He was pretty confident when he was high, but when he wasn’t, that confidence plummeted. He’s usually never turned down the attention of women before… but now that attention is the last thing he wants. 

Over their shoulders, he catches a glimpse of you again. Just seeing you makes his clenched fist loosen a little, especially when he sees you laughing at something that Bucky had said. He’s always loved the way you look when your laugh, the pure happiness that takes over your face. He stares at you for another few moments and then uses that time to continue to try and calm himself down. 

Despite the fact that you’re half way across the room, you’re helping him more than you know. 

––––

Watching Bob being flirted with all night was not a job for the weak – and you’d greatly over estimated your ability to deal with it.

You’d known what was happening almost instantly when you’d looked over and seen the group of girls giggling and getting a little too close to him. You hated that you felt relieved when you noticed that he wasn’t returning any of their advances.

You weren’t daft enough to think that you were the reason, but it made you feel good all the same. Just the thought that he mightn’t be interested in anyone at the moment was good enough for you – he’d been through so much in these last several months, you wouldn’t blame him if it were true.

Like Bucky had suggested, you spent most of the night hoping for the night to go quickly. There was only so much socialising one person could do, especially when they were out of their comfort zone, and you hit that point pretty quickly once Bucky had started introducing you to people he recognised from his time as a congressman. 

The worst part of the night was the fact that you had barely seen Bob at all. He’d spent most of the night being swept around the room by Val with Yelena, being introduced to everyone and barely even stopping for a break. The only contact you’d had with him since he’d been whisked away were brief moments of eye contact and shared smiled across the room.

It’s on the limo ride back to the Watch Tower that you finally get to talk to him again. Everyone else is either napping or not paying attention to the two of you, too exhausted from the night out, that you have no problem in shuffling over in your seat to get a little closer to him so no one overhears your conversation.

“So, our plan kinda backfired, huh?” You chuckle.

Bob looks over at you and laughs softly. “Yeah, it did.”

There had been no discussing what book you’d read next and absolutely no holding on tight to each other when you felt anxious. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, at least?” 

Bob scrunches up his nose a little and you can’t help but notice how adorable it makes him look. “I don’t remember much of it,” he admits. “I couldn’t think straight for a lot of it. Did you?”

It makes your heart hurt a little, hearing that he’d been so anxious that he couldn’t really remember any of the evening. It makes you even more mad at Valentina for subjecting him to all of that. It was going to result in him being utterly exhausted.

“I just missed you,” you admit – against your better judgement. It’s probably not the right thing to be saying to him, but it’s the truth. Your evening would have been better had he been in it.

“You did?” Bob raises his eyebrows, clearly a little surprised.

A thought enters his mind and he brushes it off instantly. Confess, his brain said. As if this was a good time to do it, in the middle of a limo packed full of all the other members of your team after a draining night out socialising – one that he’d likely be recovering from for at least a few days, judging by the exhaustion he could already feel creeping into his mind.

He shakes his head. This is not the time to tell you.

“I did,” you confirm. “I would’ve had a much better time discussing books in the corner with you rather than being introduced to all of the people Bucky knows in New York.”

Bob chuckles. “Okay, you make a fair point.”

By the time the limo stops at the Watch Tower, everyone in the car is either half asleep or dead on their feet. It’s late – almost 1 in the morning – and when you all reach the penthouse, everyone instantly disappears off to their bedrooms to recharge and sleep.

You and Bob walk side by side down the hallway before stopping outside of your bedroom doors, opposite each other. You rest your hand on the door handle of your room before turning to look at him. He looks exhausted, hair messier than it had been before you’d left, and his tie is crooked again. You smile as you notice it.

“Well, goodnight, Bob,” you murmur. “Sleep well, okay?”

Bob nods, but strangely he can’t find the words to say goodnight to you. It’s only when you turn around, putting your back to him, and start to turn your door handle that the words come – but not the ones he’d been meaning to say. 

“I like you,” Bob blurts out, and then immediately winces.

You turn around, your hand falling off the door handle and your eyes landing on him. Your heart starts to beat faster in your chest, though you refuse to get your hopes up. This isn’t a confession – just a tired man telling you he appreciates your friendship. “I like you too, Bob.” 

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. Just through your words he can tell that you didn’t understand him. “I don’t mean it that way. I mean that I like you more than a friend should.”

You’re pretty sure your heart stops beating. “You like me as more than a friend?” A best friend, your mind tries to finish it. Like a sister. Not in a romantic sense. Don’t get your hopes up.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night. I was introduced to so many people and I can’t even remember their names because I was too focused on looking at you over their shoulders.”

“You were?”

“I was.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. This cannot be happening right now. Bob cannot be confessing to you in the hallway at 1 o’clock on a Sunday morning after you’d had to spend the whole night watching him from afar and wishing he was right beside you. You have to be dreaming. 

“I… I like you more than a friend should, too. Really.” The words aren’t hard for you to say because they’re the truth. Partially because you think you might be imagining everything.

Bob stares at you, dumbfounded. You aren’t just repeating his words back to him for the sake of it. You’re not doing it out of pity or fear of hurting his feelings. All he needs to know that is the look on your face. Your eyes tell him everything.

You’re suddenly hit with the urge to yawn and that simple thing rips you straight out of your dreamlike state and back to the present. You’re not actually dreaming. This is actually happening… but this is not the time to be making grand gestures of love. Not when both you and Bob are exhausted from the night out socialising. You don’t want to risk crossing any lines tonight.

“Listen, it’s late. I don’t think we should make any decisions without resting. We’re both exhausted. And it’ll be good to sleep on it,” you suggest. “We can sleep knowing that we like each other and when we’ve recharged our social batteries, we can look back at it with a fresh head.”

Bob nods. You’re right – of course you’re right. He is exhausted, so much so that he’s not even sure how he’s still conscious right now. Your timing was so off, he thinks, his brain starting to twist his thoughts, taking advantage of his exhaustion. You should’ve waited.

Unknowingly, he starts to twist his hands together in front of him – something he always tends to do when his head gets loud.

You notice, stepping forward and placing your hands on top of his. He stills instantly, looking up and meeting your eyes. The warmth of your skin on his instantly relaxes him and his heart stops racing so fast. You give his hands a gentle squeeze.

“Goodnight, Bob,” you say, voice soft.

He continues looking at you as you turn around and walk back across the hall to your room. You’re almost completely inside, about to shut the door behind you, when he finds his voice again.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he calls out, being careful not to be too loud since the others are still in their rooms close by. 

You pause and meet his eyes. “Thank you, Bob.” 

“Goodnight, he hums, giving you a small smile.

 It takes all of his strength to not collapse back against the door to his own bedroom once you shut your door. His hands are still a little shaky, his breaths a little short, but despite the exhaustion and adrenaline running through his system, he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his face. I like you more than a friend should. The two of you had never really been just friends. Deep down, Bob knew that.

No, he thinks, pushing back agains the parts of his brain that were still telling him that his timing had been off, that he should’ve waited, that maybe he shouldn’t have told you at all. My timing was perfect.