#and he's right. only heather even tries.

[imsodishy]

Thinking about Billy waking up in that lifeguard chair distressed, disoriented, in pain, afraid. And surrounded by people. But he doesn’t ask anyone for help, it doesn’t even occur to him to try. He slinks away to handle it in private. Because people don’t help him, no one has ever helped him when he needed it, why would now be different?

[auroralwriting]

wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

[fan-fantasies]

The Chase

A/N: hey all! I know I kinda disappeared for a while but I had some motivation and figured I’d write something real quick. It’s a little late for Halloween but enjoy nonetheless! -Heather

Pairing: Ghostface (Billy) x reader

Warnings: wouldn’t read if cnc or dubcon makes you queasy. Oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, slighttttt breeding kink if you squint

“Loser buys drinks!” Your best friend called as she took off in the opposite direction. You stared at the maze ahead of you, shaking off the eerie feeling that had settled in.

You took off into the darkness- one step, one deep breath at a time. The corn maze was your idea, but with every passing moment spent wandering alone, you began to regret it more and more.

A few more turns and you froze- a twig snapping behind you. You spun on your heel but no one was behind you. It must’ve been in your head.

A few more steps and you heard it again. You knew you weren’t imagining it this time. You sped up your pace, looking for any sign of an exit. At first, all you could hear were your own footsteps, your own rapid breathing, and pounding heart. But the faster you went, the more apparent the sound of footsteps behind you became.

You didn’t bother looking behind you, you just took off running. You cut through the cornstalks toward edge of the maze.

Finally, the field opened up and you were free. You weren’t quite sure where you were but now you could follow the edge of the maze and get back to the parking lot.

You headed in the direction you thought was right and stumbled across a shed.

You leaned against it, closing your eyes to catch your breath for a moment. Everything was silent- even your muffled scream as a hand slipped over your mouth.

Your eyes shot open, only to be met with a masked figure. You struggled against their grip but they were much stronger than you. The masked maniac pulled you into the shed and slammed the door behind the two of you.

“Scream and I’ll make sure it’s the last sound you ever make,” a deep voice growled.

He slowly pulled his hand from your mouth and you stayed quiet, your need to survive kicking in.

His hand softly caressed your cheek as he took in your features. You squirmed under his gaze.

His hand drifted from your face to your neck, then down your chest until it finally rested on your waist.

“P-please let me go,” you whispered. He chuckled- a sound that would haunt your dreams for years to come.

“Now what’s the fun in that, sweetheart?”

Tears welled in your eyes before cascading down your cheeks. He seemed to take notice and you swore you heard him let out a low groan. Something hard was pressed against your leg as he began to gently rut against you. This sick fuck was getting off on your tears.

“Knees, now,” he demanded. It took a second to process what he was saying but you could tell by the tone of his voice he was serious. So you did as he said, dropping to your knees in front of him.

He pulled off his black covering, leaving himself in nothing but pants and his mask. He pulled his pants down and his cock sprung free. Your eyes widened at the sight and your lip trembled.

He stroked it a few times before tapping it against your cheek.

“Open up, little one.”

You slowly opened your mouth only slightly, but it was enough for him to force the tip in. You choked back a sob as hot tears painted the floor around you. This only spurred him on more, pushing his length further down your throat. He was thick, but you tried your best to obey and swallow what you could.

He began to thrust slowly, picking up the face when you began to choke.

A few more minutes of that and he made you swallow his whole cock. Your nose touched his pelvis as you did your best to breathe. Your nails dug into your palms, the pain distracting you from your current predicament.

He pulled back and you gasped for air. He smeared your saliva back over your mouth, making even more of a mess.

“Up.”

You struggled to your feet, continuing to stare at the floor. You saw his hands fly forward, undoing the button on your jeans effortlessly. He yanked them down and flipped you around so you were facing away from him. His hand pressed between your shoulder blade, prompting you to lean forward against a small table.

He kicked your feet open wider before he ran a finger between your folds.

“So fucking wet; I knew you liked it, dirty girl.”

He slid two fingers into your entrance, stretching to prepare you for his impressive length.

He withdrew them and you almost whined from the loss of contact. You felt him replace his fingers with his cock, prodding against your entrance.

His hand slipped around your body and settled on your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze as he slowly pushed into you. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips as he bottomed out.

His hand squeezed tightly as he began to fuck you, his other hand slapping your ass before settling on your hip to hold you steady. His pace was relentless, the sting of the stretch now settling into pleasure.

You heard a soft thud making you look to the floor behind you. The mask sat there staring at you.

The hand that was on your throat quickly moved to fist your hair, turning your head back around. He pulled you up so your back was flush with his chest.

He continued to pound into you as you felt his lips on your neck. He sucked and bit down hard, surely leaving a few marks in his wake.

You felt a familiar warmth building in your stomach with each thrust. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you were. Your body was betraying you as you chased your climax.

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock while I split you open?” He grunted in your ear.

“Fuck, please,” you cried, unsure of what you were even begging for. Merciful release, you supposed.

“You’re taking me so well. Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl. Gonna fill up this sweet pussy so you never forget me. Gonna be mine forever. You’re ruined for anyone else, got that? You’re mine,” he said.

His words were enough to throw you over the edge. Your body shook with pleasure as waves of euphoria crashed over you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said through gritted teeth. A few more thrusts and he was cumming as well, making good on his promise to fill you and ruin you for all others.

He slowly pulled out, watching his seed run down your thighs.

He let you turn around to finally face him. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, making you chuckle.

“How was that, baby?” He asked.

“So good, Billy. Thank you,” you sighed happily.

“Anything for my baby.”

[jina-juhi]

Feels like

you can love again.

Pairing : Johnny × fem!reader

Rating : 18+

warning: smut with plot, protected sex, i tried fluff? fluffy sex? and heart break. and basically all things sex. oh alcoholism. cute sex? plus doggy style plus face sitting:) oral m/f

word count : 4.5k

summary : I could fuck you, right here, right now, but only if you'd ask.

[if you wanna skip to the smut part just go straight down]

Playlist

all too well, Taylor Swift

you heard me, Heather Sommer

1 step forward, 3 steps back, Olivia rodrigo

graveyard, halsey

right where you left me, taylor swift

wouldn't come back, Trousdale

ghost of you, Selena Gomez

company, Justin Bieber

yours, Raiden

crushing, illenium

begin again, Taylor Swift

feels like, Gracie Abraham

link

When all is said and done, and the person you loved is no longer there, what's left to do? How do you cope when you've given your all, only to find yourself empty, a mere shell of your former self? It's like being left with nothing but bones and muscles, a broken machine barely keeping you going.

So, how do you restart? How do you function when they've taken everything and left you with nothing? How do you shift your mindset to believe that this is all for the better? And most daunting of all, how do you open your heart to love again?

It feels like trying to breathe without air, as if the very essence of life has deserted you, leaving behind a jagged landscape of shattered pieces. It's dangerous to get too close to those sharp edges, so you stand alone and don't let anyone close. Trying to find yourself again.

Stand alone and contemplate what you've gotten yourself into and what you've done to yourself. How could you have ignored the warning signs? They were crystal clear. How could you have not predicted it? Too innocent.

Too gullible to let him in.

Thinking about it now feels pointless. "He was a nice guy, but he was too caught up in himself. He never really saw me. He claimed he did, but I never felt truly understood," you confide while he brews your coffee.

"I never felt loved by him," you add, as he sets the mugs on the counter—one for each of you. It's a chilly evening, and the cafe where he works is quieter than usual. You're a regular here; it feels like a safe haven, a place where you can find comfort in familiarity. You accept your coffee in silence, opting not to say more.

"Take a deep breath," he urges, his voice gentle as he nods, trying to seem strong and supportive. "How?" you reply absentmindedly, staring out the window where the fog thickens by the second. The ache in your heart grows, and despair overwhelms you as you fall back into the familiar trap of negative thoughts.

"He wasn't giving you what you needed. You shouldn't have to beg for love. Believe me when I say it's for the best that he's gone." He says.

"I loved him."

"You did, Maybe you still do, but people change," he interjects gently, his gaze fixed on the coffee between you, his words carefully chosen. "In different ways. You may have promised forever, but forever is a long time. Sometimes you grow together, and sometimes... you grow apart. It's nobody's fault in the end. You just drift away, lose that connection, maybe take each other for granted, and before you know it, the fights start."

His voice falters slightly, betraying the depth of his emotions. "I know it might not make sense right now, but what I'm trying to say is... you deserved more than what he could give you. Trust me, you're better off without him."

You inhale deeply, shaking your head in resignation. Raindrops cascade down the window, distorting the glow of the city lights outside. His words echo in your mind, and as you take another sip of coffee, its comforting aroma envelops you. Yes, he's right. You're undeniably better off without him, yet the ache lingers.

Why does it still hurt, months after the breakup? Why does the pain persist, stubbornly refusing to fade away? Days blur into months, but the heartache remains a constant companion. People change, move on. But the pain always stays. It gets a little better each day. You learn to accept. You learn to love yourself. Yet, just when you think you've moved on, something triggers that familiar ache, dragging you back to square one.

But life doesn't pause for heartache. Despite the pain, the world keeps spinning, and you move forward, one step forward and three steps back, hating, crying, wanting, but never stopping.

~~~

A year and almost a half have passed since then. Things have been getting better. The clouds are clearing up, leaving behind a little less hurt and a lot more clarity. There's a sense of hold, of something stirring within—gratefulness, perhaps, or hope. Or maybe its the sound of a familiar ring at the door. You turn around to see a familiar face, a smile lighting up your face as you recognize Johnny.

"A latte, please," you say as he approaches, his presence bringing a comforting warmth to the room. Johnny nods, his gentle demeanor never faltering as he starts to brew your coffee. Johnny's a gentleman, and a law student. He works part-time in this cafe, not because he's broke or anything. He simply lives the high life. Gym first, then college, and then in the cafe followed by late nights of studying. He's a quiet guy who keeps to himself. Disciplined and courteous. Doesn't really like to waste his time on the things undeserving of his attention.

Your friendship with Johnny began in this very place. You remember it must have been around 10 o'clock at night, you had just split up with your ex. It was a stormy night, It felt like the world was collapsing around you and someone was sucking the breath out of your lungs, alone and broken, you found this cafe nearby. The rain was pouring nonstop, so you decide to take refuge, sitting in the corner, your tears flow with the raindrops tapping against the windowpane.

Jhonny brings you a cup of coffee and a napkin with words of reassurance, "It'll be okay, just hold on."

He saw you when you felt invisible to the world, and he understood you when no one else could. In Johnny, you found not just a friend, but a shimmer of light in your darkest moments.

You still have that note.

Jhonny could hardly fathom the possibility of falling in love, especially with someone as uniquely eccentric as you. Little did he know, his heart had already been quietly captivated by your presence over the passing months. As you walked through that door, disheveled and drenched from the rain, the only word that echoed in his mind was "beautiful." From that moment on, an unspoken longing stirred within him, urging him to reach out and connect with you. He extended that napkin, not just to offer solace, but as a gesture of his desire to understand you, to unravel the mysteries you hide behind those smiles. There was an enigmatic force pulling him toward you, compelling him to take that first step.

You became a regular at the café, grateful for Johnny's caring nature. It seemed like nobody else noticed you like he did. Unintentionally, Johnny had fallen deeply in love with you over the past few months. He paid attention to everything about you - your likes, dislikes, comfort songs, and movies you could watch a 100 times.

He became your confidance, your best friend, always there when you needed him. Watching you cry over someone unworthy filled him with the desire to show you wat true love actually is. Late at night, he found himself thinking about you, wondering if you were okay, if you had eaten, or if you were thinking of him. He felt your sadness as if it were his own and rejoiced in your happiness. But despite his feelings, he couldn't bring himself to confess his love.

Simply put, Johnny wanted you. He wanted to show you what true love was, and that no girl deserved to be treated the way you were, left alone in the middle of nowhere, weeping in the pouring rain. Hearing about your past hurt him, but it also revealed your strength and resilience, which only made him love you more. He wasn't drawn to the roses and smiles you showed the world; he was captivated by the scars and bruises you tried to hide.

The more Johnny got to know you, the deeper he fell.

However, he made a conscious decision to hold back because he didn't want to become a rebound love. Instead, he wished for you to heal from the wounds of your past relationship, to move forward and see him for who he truly was, not just as a replacement for what your ex lacked.

He longed for the day when you would accept him completely, with no remains of the past clouding your judgment. So, he waited patiently, hoping for your heart to mend. Hoping for you to let go. Hoping for you to see him.

Time passed away, six months turned into a year, yet you still struggled to let go completely. Though it was getting better, the ghost of your past still lingered, haunting your thoughts and emotions.

How could you not feel shattered? Johnny was just too good for you, too kind. But when you've been hurt before, love becomes terrifying. Trying to piece things together while pretending to be okay is exhausting. It's hard to focus on anything when you're struggling to keep it together. Knowing you love someone and they love you back, yet being unable to fully embrace it because you're afraid of losing them, of getting hurt again - it's paralyzing.

And then there's the guilt. Even though your past relationship ended a year ago, the promises made still weigh heavily on your conscience. How do you reconcile having Johnny in your thoughts while someone else occupies a part of your heart? It feels unfair to him, but you can't shake the feeling.

How are you supposed to let go and move forward when your heart is still stuck in the past? People say "move on" like it's easy, it's anything but easy. It feels like an impossible task, especially when nobody seems to understand what you're going through.

Except for him. Johnny. He understands.

It's so damn difficult," you thought to yourself, feeling the weight of your emotions. Letting go seemed like the simplest solution, but in reality, it was anything but easy. As Johnny led you towards his flat, the thought lingered at the back of your mind.

He mentioned the party he was hosting with his friends at him appartment, someone got a job or something. The atmosphere inside was luxurious, yet simple. with crimson sofas exuding a regal aura in the soft golden light. The air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla candles and the sound of champagne being poured, it was cozy.

The gathering was intimate, with only the chosen few invited. Amidst the fancy party, all you could think about was Johnny. You wanted to tell him how you felt, that you'd fallen for him too, about the guilt that shouldn't be feeling. Johnny was the best guy you'd ever met, and you couldn't just let him go because you were scared. Even though your past hasn't been great, you didn't want to hurt him because you knew he loved you too. Since the day you met, he's been there for you. And he still is, always there in every little thing. It feels like you're stuck in between, torn between your feelings for him and the uncertainty.

As Johnny left momentarily, you found yourself walking towards the balcony, away from the small talk and pretense inside, with a bottle of champagne. all you needed was a stunning view of the city's glittering skyscrapers, illuminated by the twinkling lights.

You craved peace of mind, a moment to quiet the storm raging within you. Being around Johnny, even for just an hour, had a profound effect on you, all the thoughts and insecurities on one side, and all the feelings of desire and lust, unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

There was no rush of blood and getting all hot and bothered every time your prior partner looked at you. You would never have felt this shy and nervous in his presence. Yes, there was attraction, but nothing like this, but with Johnny, it is the exact opposite. His mere presence left you weak-kneed and breathless, yearning to surrender to the intoxicating pull between you. He awakens you. He makes you want to succumb to him, give into him.

Yes, you yearn to experience the warmth of love, to be cherished and valued in return. And perhaps, deep down, you crave these feelings from Johnny, who has shown himself to be both kind and breathtakingly amazing. The way he gazes at you speaks volumes about his feelings for you.

It's confusing, isn't it? Frightening even. Because all you've ever known about Love is that it breaks and burns and ends, yet here you are, falling for Johnny despite your fears. It's a terrifying feeling, but there's something about it that makes you want to continue. Makes you want to keep dreaming. But you're afraid to confess your feelings, terrified that you'll only end up hurting Johnny in the process. It's hard to find the words, to admit to yourself, let alone to him, that you're falling for him. But despite the uncertainty and the fear, there's an urge within you, a desire to reach out and claim him for your own. All you want is to grab his face, to feel his lips against yours, and to lose yourself in the sweetness of his embrace.

Hard.

And never let him go. You've been thinking about it, about you. And him. And since, you've been moving on, you've been trying to forget and forgive and embrace and accept. You have come to a conclusion that amidst all the chaos, Johnny was the only one there. And that you have hopelessly fallen in love with him.

~~~

Hey," he says, joining you on the balcony, "you're standing alone?"

"Hey jj," you reply, meeting his gaze.

"You call me 'jj' when you're happy," he remarks, puzzled because your tone isn't cheerful.

"I guess I'm happy, sort of. It's been a while, but it feels good," you admit, looking at him standing beside you. He smiles, his eyes filled with happiness. He's genuinely pleased for you.

"That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

"Nope, I'm having a pretty good time," you say, pulling the glass away from him. He noticed a whole bottle nearby on the floor. "I think you've had enough for the night, darling."

darling.

Even in the dim light, Johnny couldn't miss the blush spreading across your cheeks. He's skilled at noticing your reactions and knows how to tease you.

Trying to steer the conversation away from any awkwardness, you say, "So I was thinking..."

"About?" he interjects playfully, trying to provoke a response.

"Everything that's happened, you know, with my ex, and then with you," you begin, but he interrupts.

"Oh, nothing happened between us, as far as I can remember... unless..." he trails off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarify.

"Okay, okay, just kidding. But I kinda wish you did mean it," he mutters under his breath, a smirk forming on his face.

You feel your thoughts becoming fuzzy as you both dance around the topic. Usually, your brain would shut down any such ideas, but tonight feels different. Instead of being repelled, you feel drawn to him, wanting something you've suppressed for so long.

Despite trying to hold back, you find yourself unable to think of anything else.

As the alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening your desires, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to ask him what has been in your mind for quite a long time, and so you ask "If I were to ask for a kiss, would you kiss me? Right here, right now?"

The intensity in his gaze heightens, his pupils dilating as his demeanor shifts, becoming more serious. "Ask me," he demands, his jaw clenched with anticipation. His eyes linger on your lips before locking onto yours, a silent plea echoing within them.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you turn away, feeling a rush of emotions flooding your senses. With a deep breath, you struggle to compose yourself, but before you can respond, he chuckles softly. "I knew you didn't have the nerve," he remarks, his tone teasing yet tinged with disappointment. Meeting his gaze once more, you're taken aback by his confidence. As he straightens himself and takes a sip of his drink, his words hang heavily in the air. "I don't know how much longer I can wait for you," he confesses, his voice low and filled with longing, "but if you were to ask me to fuck you right here, right now, I wouldn't even think once." With that declaration, practically deadpanned on your face, he goes inside the flat, leaving you to grapple with your miserable self.

~~~

The night after that seemed to stretch endlessly, a void you couldn't escape. Frustration and regret gnawed at your mind, You turned to more alcohol, a fleeting attempt to numb the pain within, but it only amplified the train of thoughts swirling in your head.

As you sat alone on the balcony, the chilly night air enveloped you, matching the coldness you felt inside. Time lost its meaning, slipping through your fingers as you drowned in a sea of overthinking. Every possible scenario played out in your mind like a relentless storm, each outcome more daunting than the last. What could have happened if you could have just said.

Johnny appears through the doorframe. His presence was unexpected, you thought he was mad yet oddly comforting, a reminder that you weren't completely alone in this chaotic night. "Will you spend the whole night here?" he asked, concern etched in his voice. But you were too lost in your own thoughts to fully grasp his words.

Refusing to retreat from your self-imposed exile, you remained rooted to the spot, the numbness spreading through your limbs. Yet Johnny persisted, his care evident as he gently coaxed you back inside. "It's cold. Come inside, everybody left already," he urged, worry evident in his eyes.

Too weary to resist, you allowed him to guide you indoors, his touch grounding you in reality. As he settled you into his bed, a wave of familiarity washed over you, a stark reminder of the times you'd been here before, always on the edge of leaving. You had been here countless times, yet never truly stayed. But tonight was different. Tonight, you found yourself unable to muster the strength to leave, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, if only for a fleeting moment.

As he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, you instinctively reached out, clinging to his shirt. "Kiss me," you implored, your gaze locking with his warm brown eyes, overflowing with affection.

His response came with a gentle sigh, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "You're drunk," he stated softly, his voice laced with worry.

"I am, but I can still make sense of it all," you insisted, determination shining through the haze of intoxication.

"We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?" Johnny reassured, his face drawing closer to yours.

"Please," you exhaled, closing your eyes, feeling the weight of your confession pressing down on you. "I know I'm the worst person alive right now but I- I'm just afraid. Please understand. I want you, I do, but it's so scary."

"Shh, it's okay, I know," he murmured, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. "I know you're trying."

Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingled, each exhalation a testament to the vulnerability you shared in that moment. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the weight of your guilt heavy on your heart.

"You don't have to be," he replied, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture of forgiveness. "Look at me."

As you met his gaze once more, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "Relax, okay? I'm happy that you opened up about it."

"I'm sorry," you repeated, the words a mantra of remorse.He shook his head gently, his touch comforting. "Let's try sleeping now, shall we? Don't think about it." With his reassurance enveloping you like a warm blanket, you allowed yourself to drift into the embrace of sleep, for the first time with him.

As consciousness reluctantly seeped into your foggy mind, a wave of discomfort washed over you, fueled by the repercussions of last night's poor choices. The harsh glare of morning light pierced through your eyelids, adding to the throbbing ache behind your temples.

Attempting to remove yourself from the confines of the bed proved to be a tough task, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and your head swimming with dizziness. Searching for Johnny's presence beside you, you found only an empty space, adding to the disorientation.

Succumbing to defeat, you surrendered to the comfy embrace of the mattress, sinking into its softness as you lay there, gazing blankly at the ceiling above. Dehydration gnawed at your parched throat. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, the world around you faded into a haze of half-formed thoughts and fleeting sensations. The rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan above served as a lullaby.

In the midst of this surreal feeling, fragments of memories from the night before flickered like distant stars in the night sky. Realization and what-ifs danced at the edges of your mind, their haunting presence a constant reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a faint whisper of possibility that perhaps, despite the mistakes of the past, redemption was still within reach. You clung to this fragile thread of optimism, a lifeline in the midst of the storm.

Minutes stretched into hours, the passage of time marked only by the shifting patterns of sunlight filtering through the curtains. And then, as if on cue, the sound of footsteps drew near, with a weary sigh, you opened your eyes to find Johnny standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. "Hey, you okay?" he asked softly, you nodded sleepily.

As you reluctantly stirred from your sleep, you felt the duvet being tugged away, prompting a sleepy protest. "Erugh, let me sleep," you mumbled, trying to shield yourself from the intruding light.

But his teasing remark about your state of dress snapped you awake, and you jolted up, "You're completely naked," only to realize you were already covered. He pointed out with a playful grin, causing you to blush and scramble for cover.

However, your movements triggered a sharp pain in your head, and you winced, instinctively reaching to soothe it. Before you could fully register the discomfort, another hand joined yours, gently stroking your head. Slowly opening your eyes, you found him sitting close, his concern evident in his gaze.

"Who told you to drink that much? You puked two times," he said softly, his tone filled with worry and care. Giving in to his touch, you leaned into him, finding solace in his presence amidst the pain.

"I... may have overdone it a bit," you admitted sheepishly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude for his concern. He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to massage your head as you relaxed against him.

"It's okay. Just drink some water and take it easy," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. With a nod, you reached for the glass he held out to you

He's far too good for you. A voice at the back of your head screams at you.

"Johnny..." you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the room. His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but you needed to speak your mind.

He turns to you, his gaze softening as he listens intently. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his words.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "I've been thinking about..." you trail off, unsure of how to articulate the right words.

Johnny reaches out, his hand placing a strand of hair behind your ear,offering silent support. "Go on," he encourages gently.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words heavy with regret. "I know this is complicated, and i am making it even more complicated but I just don't want to hurt you." You could barely manage to say even that.

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers trail through the loops of your hair, sending shivers down your spine. His hum reverberates through you, a sensual melody that ignites a fire deep within. But then, in an instant, his demeanor shifts, catching you off guard.

His hand tightens around your hair, pulling your head back with a swift, yet gentle force. The sudden change in his touch sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, heightening your senses to the electrifying proximity between you.

Your eyes meet his, dark and intense, and you find yourself unable to look away. His breath, warm and fruity, fans over your face, stirring something primal within you. In that moment, you're acutely aware of every sensation, every heartbeat, as you surrender to the magnetic pull of desire that envelops you both.

"Can't you see what you do to me?"

Johnny..." you say, your voice barely above a whisper, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.

He pauses, his eyes locked with yours, waiting for you to continue.

"I... I didn't mean..." you stutter, struggling to find the right words as his grip on your hair loosens.

He chuckles softly, his laughter dancing in the air, easing some of the tension between you. "I know, I know," he reassures you, his tone gentle yet teasing.

"But..." you start, only to be cut off by his next words.

"You talk a lot when you're drunk," he says with a smirk, his fingers tracing light patterns along your skin.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing he's right.

"What did I say?" you ask, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before.

His gaze softens, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "That you tend to get... aroused whenever I say your name," he says, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head in denial, but deep down, you know he's right.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending tingles of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Johnny..." you breathe out his name, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling in your mind as he hovers above you, his presence consuming your senses.

"Say it," he urges, his voice low and demanding, sending a thrill through your body.

"Johnny, listen to m—" you begin, but he cuts you off with a firm command.

"Say it!" he insists, his intensity leaving no room for argument.

"I want you, for fuck's sake, I want you," you finally admit, your voice tinged with both desire and vulnerability.

Closing your eyes, you release the grip you've been holding onto, allowing yourself to surrender to the overwhelming attraction between you.

You lay back, flattening against the bed, pushing your hair away from your face to meet his gaze head-on. His eyes, dark and intense, never waver from yours, sending a flutter of nerves through your stomach.

"I want you, in every way possible, and it's no secret. I'm just afraid," you confess in a small voice, baring your soul to him.

Johnny's smile is reassuring, his touch gentle as he lays on top of you, ensuring he doesn't overwhelm you with his weight. "Don't be afraid," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "You'll love me just fine."

In that moment, as you lay entwined with him, all your fears melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. You know that no matter what lies ahead, you're ready to explore this newfound connection with him by your side.

As Johnny hovers above you, his gaze dark with desire, you feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. His lips brush against yours in a teasing caress, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce between you.

"I've been waiting for this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with need as he trails kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour with an expert touch that leaves you trembling with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against the skin of your neck as he takes you in, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

With each touch, each caress, the tension between you dissolves, replaced by an electric current of desire that pulses through your veins. His hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour with a reverence that leaves you breathless.

You arch into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he explores every inch of your skin with a delicate touch that sets your senses ablaze. His fingers trace patterns along your spine, sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your lips collided with his in a heated embrace, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through both of your bodies. Crashing into each other, feelings of desire over powering you both. In that moment you knew, it was gonna be a hell of a ride and you couldn't be any more excited than you are right now.

After the kiss, you both laid side by side, "By the way you didn't really say any of that." Johnny gently whispers in your ear, and you both end up laughing, cuddling.

~~~

You like it?" Johnny asks, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he watches you take a lick of the ice cream. You nod enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across your face like a child on Christmas morning. His smile widens in response, a soft glow of happiness emanating from him. It's moments like these that make everything feel so right.

Since that unforgettable day when you poured your heart out to him, your life has been like a dream come true. Flowers, date nights, chocolates – you name it, he's made sure to fill your days with joy and love. From cozy movie nights to endless cuddles, it's like you've found the missing piece to your puzzle.

But it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Like any couple, you have your disagreements. Yet, what sets you apart is the unwavering understanding and support you both offer each other. Johnny never lets you go to bed upset, always there with reassurance and kisses to mend any hurt feelings.

He constantly reminds you that you're doing just fine, and it's true. It's not just about healing from past wounds; it's about the beautiful exchange of giving and receiving love. It's about reciprocating the care and affection you both share, knowing that the more you give, the more you receive.

In a world where it's easy to become complacent, you both choose to love each other every single day. And that, in itself, is the greatest gift of all.

You plead with puppy dog eyes, urging him to let you indulge in more ice cream because, well, why not? 'Pleeease let me have another scoop!' you whine, the anticipation of the creamy goodness making your mouth water. But alas, he declines with a chuckle, warning, 'No way! You'll catch a cold!' You pout, but secretly admire his concern."

Disappointed but not defeated, you pout and playfully stick out your bottom lip, giving Johnny your best puppy-dog eyes. "But Johnny," you protest, "I promise I'll bundle up extra warm tonight! Pretty please?"

Johnny can't help but laugh at your antics, finding your determination to get that extra scoop of ice cream utterly endearing. He shakes his head, still chuckling, and gently takes your hand in his. "As much as I love seeing that adorable pout of yours, I can't risk you getting sick, [Reader]. How about we save the ice cream for tomorrow, hmm?"

You sigh dramatically, but a mischievous glint dances in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "Fine," you concede, "but only if you promise to share a warm blanket and snuggle with me tonight."

A grin spreads across Johnny's face as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Deal," he agrees, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Anything for you, my love."

As you both leave the ice cream parlor, the cool evening air wraps around you, the gentle breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of your intertwined hands. As you both step into the cozy cafe, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, bringing back memories of the first time you met. Johnny's hand tightens around yours, his touch sending a thrill through you that's impossible to ignore.

You find a secluded booth in the corner, and as you settle in, Johnny's eyes lock with yours, a silent invitation sparking between you. "You know," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "this place holds a lot of memories for us."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "It feels like just yesterday that we were sitting here, nervously sipping our coffees," you reply, your voice filled with affection.

Johnny leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But this time," he whispers, "we don't have to be nervous." A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you meet his gaze with a newfound sense of boldness. "No, this time," you say, your voice steady and sure, "we can just be us."

With a gentle touch, Johnny cups your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, the world around you fading away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. It's a dance of tongues and teeth, of whispered words and soft sighs, each touch igniting a fire that burns hotter with every passing second.

As you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Johnny's eyes meet yours with a hunger that mirrors your own. "I never want to stop kissing you," he confesses, his voice thick with desire.

A smile tugs at your lips as you lean in to press another kiss to his, the promise of countless more moments like this hanging in the air between you.

~~~

As you sit at your desk, textbooks spread out before you and notes scattered across the surface, you're fully immersed in your study session. The material is dense, and you're determined to grasp every concept before the upcoming exam.

Just as you're deep in concentration, Johnny enters the room with a mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you buried in your books. Without a word, he crosses the room and leans against your desk, his presence a distraction you can't ignore.

"Hey there, studious one," he says, his voice low and playful. "Need a break?"

You look up from your books, torn between the desire to keep studying and the temptation of Johnny's irresistible charm. "I really should finish this chapter," you reply, trying to sound firm despite the flutter in your stomach at his proximity.

But Johnny has other plans. With a swift movement, he slides your textbooks aside and pulls you to your feet, his hands finding their way to your waist as he draws you close. "I think you've earned a reward for all that hard work," he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Before you can protest, Johnny's mouth descends on yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving deeper, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. Lost in the heat of the moment, you abandon all thoughts of studying as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you and the intoxicating rush of desire.

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass in a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, until finally, you break apart, breathless and flushed, the taste of Johnny still lingering on your lips. "Now that's what I call a study break," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can't help but laugh, the tension of the study session now a distant memory as you bask in the warmth of Johnny's love and the thrill of his touch.

~~~

As you made your way back from college, the skies darkened, and before you knew it, a heavy downpour unleashed its fury upon you. The rain hammered down relentlessly, soaking you up and down. Despite the continuous ringing of your phone from within your backpack, the rain made it impossible to retrieve. With no umbrella in hand, you quickened your pace towards the bus stop, only to witness the last bus pulling away just as you rounded the corner. Desperation set in as you attempted to sprint after it, but the distance between you and the departing vehicle only widened. Defeated, you exhaled heavily, feeling the chill of the rain seeping into your bones. Seeking refuge at the bus stop, you huddled under its shelter, which wasn't helping much.

As you stood there, shivering and dripping, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. The relentless rain seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. With each passing moment, your mind raced with thoughts of your worried boyfriend waiting at home, unaware of your predicament.

As you glanced down at your phone, the screen illuminated with missed calls and frantic messages from him. Frustration bubbled within you, knowing that you were only adding to his worry by being stranded in the storm. You tried to call him back, but the signal was weak, and the connection kept cutting out. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited for the next bus, the minutes ticking by like hours.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bus appeared on the horizon, its headlights piercing through the darkness like a beacon of hope. With a sigh of relief, you boarded the bus, grateful for the warmth and safety it offered. And soon you were standing in front of his appointment door.

As the bus finally pulled up to a stop, you hurriedly disembarked, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and relief. You practically sprinted the rest of the way home, the rain still coming down in sheets, soaking you to the bone.

Finally, you arrived at the doorstep of your apartment, soaked and shivering. With trembling hands, you fumbled for your keys, desperate to be inside the safety of your home. But before you could even insert the key into the lock, the door swung open, revealing a worried and furious Johnny.

"Where have you been?!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with anger and concern. "I've been trying to call you for hours! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I-I'm so sorry, Johnny," you stammered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. "I got caught in the storm, and I missed the bus, and...and I couldn't get through to you. I'm so sorry."

Johnny's expression softened as he took in your trembling form, his anger melting away in an instant. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm just glad you're safe," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I was so worried about you. Let's get you inside and warm you up, okay?"

You nod, feeling the weight of your backpack against the wall as you follow Johnny into the bedroom. With a quick movement, you pull your hair up, hoping to keep it from sticking to your clothes. Sensing his hands on your torso, you inhale sharply as they glide around to the front, undoing the button of your jeans. Anticipation mounts as he pulls them down, and then he sits, planting kisses on your damp thigh, eliciting a dissatisfied moan from you.

In a swift motion, your undies join the jeans on the floor. "Nice butt," he remarks, drawing a rhetorical look from you. Stepping closer, he removes the t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to your skin, and with it, your bra disappears too. "Beautiful as always," he murmurs, enveloping you in a warm towel and pulling you close, his lips finding your neck, leaving their mark.

"Johnny," you sigh as his hands slip under the towel, teasingly moving between your legs, knowing just where to stop, leaving you breathless. "I'll be right back, change into dry clothes, okay?" he says, his voice a tantalizing promise hanging in the air.

He returned with a steaming mug of tea, fragrant steam curling upwards in the air. He handed it to you with a tender smile, the warmth of the mug seeping into your chilled fingers.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his voice soothing.. "It'll help warm you up."

"I only need you to warm me up."

"Come here then." He motions you to sit with him in the bed he made, warm and cozy. As you lay there in Johnny's arms, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

"Johnny," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry for worrying you. I never meant to cause you so much distress."

Johnny's arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer to him as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered back, his voice filled with reassurance. "I was just so scared when I couldn't reach you. All I could think about was making sure you were safe."

You buried your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. "I promise I'll be more careful from now on," you vowed, your words muffled against his skin. "I never want to put you through that kind of worry again."

Johnny tilted your chin up gently, his eyes locking with yours in a tender gaze. "I know you will," he said softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that had pooled in your eyes. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, reveling in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Johnny's fingers danced along the buttons of your blouse, a spark of desire ignited between you, fueling the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

"How about we finish what we started earlier?"

Your heart raced at his words, the anticipation building with every breath. With a smile, you nodded in agreement, your own desire mirrored in your eyes as you leaned in to meet his lips in a fiery kiss.

The heat between you intensified quickly, passion igniting like a wildfire as your bodies melded together in a tangle of desire. Teeth clashed against each other, tongues danced in a feverish rhythm, and hands roamed eagerly, seeking out every inch of skin they could find.

With a swift movement, you straddled Johnny, taking control of the moment as you traced a path of kisses down his neck, relishing in the soft gasps and low growls that escaped his lips. As his shirt fell away, revealing his beautifully toned body beneath, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you, feeling a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

Too shy to say anything, you let your actions speak for you. Lingering on his nipples, you teased and tantalized, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from Johnny's lips. With each flick of your tongue and gentle nip of your teeth, the tension between you grew, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge of desire.

But you weren't done yet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you continued your exploration, trailing kisses and caresses down Johnny's torso until you reached the waistband of his jeans. With practiced hands, you teased and toyed with him through the fabric, making him harder with every stroke, relishing in the way he squirmed beneath your touch.

As his pleasured groans filled the air, you couldn't resist escalating your actions, eagerly sliding his pants down while he sat up, fixated on your every move. Locking eyes with him, you took him into your mouth, teasingly tracing the tip with your tongue, prompting a soft curse from his lips. Pulling back, you continued to lavish attention on him, savoring every moment as you licked his length, stealing glances up at him. "Enjoying yourself?" you teased, to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod.

Returning to him, you gradually took more of him into your mouth, relishing in the way his hands urged you on, guiding you further down. He pulled you up for a heated kiss, expressing his desire to explore your taste. As his lips trailed down your neck, he urged you to sit on his face, igniting nerves and excitement within you. With his encouragement, you straddled his eager mouth, blushing at his sweet words as his lips planted kisses on your thighs.

Feeling his hands on your hips, he drew you closer, his tongue eagerly finding your clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from you. As his hands explored your body, adding to your arousal, you couldn't help but cry out in bliss as he skillfully pleasured you,

As your pleasure surged, you couldn't contain your cries, feeling the intensity of his actions. "Oh, fuck," escaped your lips as he intensified his efforts, his mouth and tongue working fervently on your clit. His suction grew stronger, his tongue moving with increasing speed, drawing out guttural moans from you. "Oh my god," you exclaimed as the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, "fuck," you moaned as he persisted in his ministrations.

His hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, he delved deeper into your core, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Oh god, don't stop," you gasped, your breath ragged as you requested his fingers. With a calm demeanor, he complied, easing his fingers into you, eliciting a blissful moan from your lips. As he continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving rhythmically inside you, your cries of ecstasy filled the room.

"Oh my god," you moaned aloud as he momentarily paused, only to reposition himself behind you. Bending you slightly, he inserted two fingers, drawing out a soft, pleasurable moan from you. With relentless determination, he showed no mercy, driving you towards another peak of pleasure. The sound of slick noises filled the air as his fingers worked expertly within you, pushing your head gently into the headboard to ensure your stability as you surrendered to his touch.

As his hand pressed you down onto his fingers, a fervent moan escaped your lips, the sensation overwhelming you. "Oh my god," you cried out as he intensified his movements, driving you wild with desire. With increasing speed and force, his fingers plunged into you, eliciting a chorus of ecstatic moans from your lips.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, his command clear. "Turn around," he instructed, guiding you gently as you complied, meeting his intense gaze. Enveloped in his embrace, you shared a deep, passionate kiss, his desire evident in his words as he broke the connection. "I want to fuck you," he declared, and you eagerly nodded in agreement, urgency coursing through your veins.

Pushed onto the bed, your legs spread wide, you watched as he knelt between them, his eyes fixated on your dripping arousal. His finger traced circles on your swollen clit, then slipped inside you, claiming you as his own. "Mine," he whispered, his gaze never wavering from yours, and you nodded in submission, a smile playing on your lips. "I'm yours," you affirmed, anticipation building in the air.

With a hungry look, he licked his lips before slowly entering you with his cock, causing you to gasp in ecstasy. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he began to move within you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the brink of pleasure.

As he increased the pace, driving into you with fervent desire, your cries of ecstasy filled the room. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he relentlessly fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his declaration of love mingling with the sounds of your pleasure. "I love you," he murmured against your lips, his words igniting a fire within you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reciprocated his declaration, your voice filled with desire. "I love you too," you confessed as he continued to ravish you with his relentless thrusts. With a swift motion, he withdrew from you, flipping you onto your stomach. "Get on all fours," he commanded, assisting you into position.

Meeting his gaze over your shoulder, you were met with a declaration of your beauty, sending shivers down your spine. As he entered you from behind, a rush of anticipation flooded your senses. His movements became more intense, driving into you harder and faster, eliciting moans of pleasure from your lips. "Oh my god," you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body.

Feeling his hand reach around to play with your clit, a surge of pleasure washed over you, intensifying the pleasure building within. "Oh my god," you moaned again, lost in the ecstasy of his touch. With each deep thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body aching for release.

As he took control, holding both your hands behind your back, you surrendered to him completely. Your petite frame under his dominance, your face buried into the sheets muffling the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips. Sensing his impending release, you knew you were on the brink of ecstasy.

With a few final, deep thrusts, you both succumbed to the ecstasy, waves of pleasure washing over you in a euphoric crescendo. As he pulled out, licking you clean, you whimpered from the overstimulation, your body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

a sense of blissful exhaustion washed over you both. Lying tangled together under the sheet, hearts racing and skin still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking. As you caught your breath, he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulders, his touch gentle and tender. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration as he caressed your cheek. You smiled up at him. In his arms, you feel safe and cherished, the weight of the world melting away as sleep begins to claim you. Drifting off with the rhythmic beat of his heart as your lullaby, you rest easy knowing that you are safe. And you finally know, what love actually feels like

~~~

hope you liked it. umh? idk tried, if you want to request anything, please do. (it'll take forever but ill respond)

please check out other works m.list

and enjoy, have a good day, night~

[bigdumbbambieyes]

for @thissortofsorcery, who wanted more Billy with a belly button piercing (hehe) and inspired by @robthegoodfellow's amazing tags!!

nsfw

The first time he sees it, it's on accident, and he's not entire sure what he sees.

He's about six beers and two shots deep, so his eyes aren't really focusing as he catches a glimpse of Hargrove's stomach, perfectly toned because he's a fucking asshole, but the peek of silver around his belly button had caught Steve's wandering eye.

They're in Tommy's backyard with a dozen of other people he can't remember the names of, but Billy had invited him so he had gone, and Tommy had glared at him the entire night but also hadn't approached him because the guy clearly doesn't care enough. Which, admittedly, hurts Steve because they had been friends for forever, but not anymore.

But, it's whatever. Hargrove has taken a liking to him and Steve's not about to pass up on someone he can have decent conversations with - even if the guy irritates him to no end.

And, apparently, intrigues him.

Billy had raised his arms in a stretch once he stood up from his chair by the campfire, groaning out a soft sound as Steve had eyed him from above the rim of his cup, the beer catching in his throat as he saw the quick reflection of something shiny on Billy's belly button.

There was no way, right? He's seen plenty of girls with their belly buttons pierced. It was a girl piercing. No guy he's ever known has ever had one.

Until Billy, it seems.

And Steve, as he coughs up a lung and tries to soothe the burn with more beer, thinks back to the times where Billy wore his shirt unbuttoned almost down to his navel, and he'd never seen them before. He's met up with Billy after his shift at the pool, when he wore his cropped Everlast shirt, and there hadn't been anything there except a dark blond happy trail.

It has to be new. Recent.

"You good, princess?" Billy asks him suddenly, his brows furrowed.

His eyes watery from coughing, Steve nods and waves him off, watching the blond roll his eyes and go back inside for another drink.

There's no way, right? 🖤 It's been a week and Steve can't stop thinking about it.

He has to make sure he wasn't just seeing anything or else it'll eat him alive.

So, he calls up Billy that weekend, asking, "You wanna come over for a swim? Maybe some beers, too?"

"I worked at the pool all day, the last thing I want is to fuckin' swim, Harrington. How about we just have some beers? Maybe take them over to Heather's?" Billy offered cooly, like he wasn't ruining Steve's perfectly laid out plans.

Pursing his lips, Steve covered up his indignant huff by palming the bottom of his phone before transferring it to his other ear, saying, "Yeah, I suppose we could."

Because he was a sucker for Billy. He couldn't help it.

"I'll pick you up in twenty, be ready."

The line went dead and Steve huffed again.

🖤

A couple days later, he's finally got Billy at his house, but his parents are home. Not that they're going to ruin his plans or anything, but his parents actually enjoy Billy's company, so they ask him to stay for dinner and who is Billy to decline such a generous offer?

His dad's barbecuing in the back and he and Billy are chatting about something regarding sports while Steve helps his mom prepare the table. He had immediately noticed Billy's new shirt when the guy arrived, a soft light green t-shirt, tightly fitted - and if Steve could only get a damn glance at his stomach, he might be able to see the shape of it through the fabric.

It's almost comical how much stuff gets in the way: Billy's standing behind the barbecue, his dad is in front of him when they come in with food, his mother passes his father the salad bowl just as Billy goes to sit at the table.

He kinda wants to scream.

And again, Billy asks him, "Everything alright, Steve?" Because he's Steve in front of his parents.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he smiles tightly, their eyes locking for a moment, and there's something shining in Billy's blue eyes.

After dinner, when they've had their full and it's time for Billy to go, he watches the blond pat his stomach and keep his hand there as he stands, thanking the Harringtons for the meal.

Steve manages another tight smile as his parents tell Billy to come back soon.

🖤

A couple guys they know from school are playing basketball at the park when he and Billy drive by a couple days later, and Billy glances over at him with a grin, saying, "Wanna join them?"

Steve stares at him for a moment before flicking his gaze over to the guys on the court, noticing that they're shirts vs skins. And knowing Billy, he'll want to take off his shirt.

Oh, yeah. This will work.

"Sure," he hums, playing it cool.

They park and head over, standing on the sidelines until Patrick stops dribbling the ball and asks them, "You two come to join?"

"Yeah, thought maybe you'd want some actual competition, McKinney," Billy smirks, grinning when Jason gives him a glare for his smart mouth.

"Alright," Patrick nods with a smile, "Harrington, you're skins."

Steve feels his shoulders drop, and he glances at Billy, figuring he'd say something like 'nah, let's switch' but Billy just looks at him, quirking an expectant brow.

"You gonna strip or what, Harrington?" Billy asks with a leer.

Sighing, Steve rolls his eyes and pulls the bottom of his shirt over his head.

🖤

It's gotta be on purpose, right? Steve's suffering from some kind of karma that he doesn't deserve. How fucking hard is it to catch Billy Hargrove without a goddamn shirt?

He has Billy's aviators from the other day and he's on his way to Cherry Lane to return them, his thumb tapping his steering wheel as he replays the memory of that simple little lift of Billy's shirt that started all of this. It's honestly infuriating how unlucky he's been.

And he knows he could just ask, but there's no dignity in that. Billy would just tease him about it and never show it.

When he pulls up to the Hargrove house, Billy's outside mowing the lawn, in shorts and a white tank top. He's sweating a bit, his face so unfortunately attractively flushed. His lips go red whenever he's working out too hard and Steve can't help but to stare at them.

He shuts off his car and gets out, calling, "Billy!" over the sound of the mower.

Billy looks up, squinting in the sunlight, and shuts off the mower. He smiles at Steve, in that mean way he does, and shouts back, "Miss me so bad you had to come and track me down, Stevie?"

He's Stevie when Billy's teasing him, when they're alone.

Steve leans against his car and holds up the aviators, "Figured you'd want these back, asshole."

The smile that blooms on Billy's face is beautiful and he actually says, surprisingly without sarcasm, "You're a goddamn lifesaver."

But, it's not what he says that has Steve freezing in place - it's his hand, going down to the bottom of his shirt, like he's going to lift it to wipe away the little beads of sweat on his forehead, and Steve's breath catches in his throat.

Holy shit. Finally.

His stomach clenches in anticipation, his jaw dropping a little, until he hears a sudden familiar voice screech, "Billy!"

It's Max, on the front porch, with anger written across her face, and Billy's immediately turning to face her, his hand falling to his side, sweat forgotten.

Steve lets out a groan and rests his forehead on his car, closing his eyes as he half listens to the step siblings yelling at each other over something petty.

Goddammit.

He's really at his wit's end.

🖤

It's been two weeks and Steve finds himself at a party on a Friday night, at his wit's end about the whole stupid thing. He can't even talk to Robin about it.

Well, he could, but he doesn't really want to see the look on her face and the deadpanned 'you're such a dingus' she'd say to him.

He knows he's being a dingus, but it's not like he can stop.

What he can do, though, is shoot back some vodka with Carol like they used to in freshman year.

"What, no Billy tonight?" She hums, words just a touch slurred, and he gives her a shrug as he reaches for his half-drunk beer.

"Dunno where he's at," he replies, glancing around the busy room, "Assumed he'd be here."

"You two are, like, attached at the hip these days," she smirks, giving him a look, "What's the deal?"

"No deal," he shrugs again, feeling the vodka warm his belly, "He's just...nice to hang out with, I guess."

"Hm," she hums, giving his arm a pat, "Well, if you wanna know where he is, I saw him go down to the basement like, five minutes ago."

Steve's eyes widen and he immediately looks towards the door leading down to the basement of her house, which is cracked open a little.

He eyes it for a moment before asking, "He take a girl down there?"

"Nope," Carol shakes her head, "Probably went to get more beer, or something."

Maybe he should go check on him.

"Maybe you should go check on him."

He turns and looks down at her, eyeing the impish look on her face, and he doesn't know why it's there or why she's saying that, but he nods anyway.

"Yeah, 'kay," he slurs softly, pushing himself off the counter, his beer left behind there as he makes his way to the door.

The basement is cool, and dark, except for the warm glow of a lamp that he can spot at the bottom of the staircase. He pulls the door closed behind him without meaning to, and slowly descends, hearing the rustling of bottles in the fridge that he knows is down here. Carol's dad had the basement fully finished and furnished for his poker nights a couple years ago, and the fridge in the corner is always fully stocked.

He steps down onto the landing and sways, holding onto the railing as he watches Billy compare two bottles of beer, as if he really prefers either. The best beer is a free beer, and the only thing better than a free beer, is a cold one.

Steve breaks the silence first, saying, "You didn't tell me you'd be here."

Billy glances over at him, surprised, before he recognizes him and then he's smirking, "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be here anyway, pretty boy."

He's pretty boy when they're alone and Billy's flirting.

Steve feels his face flush, from the alcohol (he tries to convince himself), and he quietly watches Billy put one of the bottles back in the fridge before bringing the other one to his mouth, opening it with his molars, and it makes Steve cringe every single time.

"You're gonna wreck your teeth doing that shit," he mutters, like he does every time.

Billy flicks the cap away with that smug smile still on his face, and like every time, he replies, "Haven't yet."

He watches Billy come over to him, to probably go back upstairs now that he's invaded Mr. Perkins' stash, but he can't help the way his eyes flick down Billy's body.

And his eyes stop at the bottom of Billy's Metallica shirt, which might've shrunk in the wash or something, because it's short than Steve remembers and that's when he sees it.

A shiny metal ball, just peeking out from under the dark fabric.

His heart skips a beat and he doesn't even hesitate to step off the landing and push Billy back against the nearest wall, listening to the soft rush of air as the blond's back hits it a little too hard, but he's smiling like the prick he is, staring down his nose at Steve as he tilts his head back.

"Mm, Stevie, that wasn't very nice," he purrs, and that's when Steve smells the alcohol on his breath, but he doesn't care.

He grabs the bottom of Billy's shirt and rucks it up, his jaw dropping as he breathes out a rush of air, like he's just been punched in the gut.

He wasn't seeing things. He was right.

A silver curved barbell, pierced through Billy's navel, sitting so pretty and perfect just above his happy trail.

"You like it?" Billy hums, arrogant, because he already knows Steve does.

His mouth is too dry to answer, and he can't help it when he begins to touch the skin of Billy's stomach, his dark eyes trained on the piercing as his fingers dance around it, his thumb daring to draw closer and closer until he strokes the barbell, giving it a little tug that has Billy making this sound that goes straight to his cock--

"Fuck," Steve breathes, feeling his cock throb in his jeans, so fucking turned on and he hadn't even known it until he heard Billy make that sound, and now he's arching into Steve's touch, seeking it out, and...and...

He flicks his eyes back up to Billy, sees this look on his face, like he kinda wants to eat Steve alive but also wants to be kissed, so Steve does.

He surges forward and Billy meets him halfway, their mouths meeting in a frenzy, like they can't get there fast enough or close enough. He can hear glass break, knowing it's the beer bottle, but it's forgotten because it's dizzying - the way Billy pushes his tongue into his mouth, not wasting a single moment, groaning into his mouth and it goes straight to his cock again.

His hands go to Billy's waist and he pulls himself against him, tilting his head to suck at Billy's lower lip as he grinds his hips into the blond's, revelling in the choke moan he receives for it.

"Knew you'd be into it," Billy breathes, when Steve kisses down his neck and licks at the cologne there, his skin bitter and salty, and he bites down on the junction between neck and shoulder just to hear Billy moan again.

"Shut up," Steve pants, pouting as he sucks on Billy's neck, and then pauses because--

He pulls back just enough to look at Billy, admires the flush on his face before he says, accusingly, "You knew."

"Of course I knew," Billy chuckles low, his teeth flashing as he grins, "I couldn't help it. It was fun watching you lose your mind over it."

"You're such a fucking brat," Steve growls, fisting a hand in Billy's hair and pulling him into a hard kiss, hearing Billy's chuckling hums turn into soft moans as Steve slides his tongue against Billy's.

He can't help but to imagine a stud there, sliding against his tongue, against his skin, against the tip of his cock--

Billy hooks his leg around Steve's hip and reaches down to grab his ass, pulling their hips together until there's a delicious but restricted friction, the blond growling into his mouth, "Yeah? You gonna do anything about it?"

It's enough of a taunt for Steve to pull them away from the wall and turn them, once again pushing Billy back towards the poker table in the middle of the room, a fire in his blood that Billy notices in his eyes and it has him grinning, flushed and pleased as he crawls back onto the table, letting Steve push him down onto his back.

"You gonna suck my cock like you've been wanting to, princess?" Billy breathes, cocky as always.

"Maybe," Steve hums, pushing Billy's shirt up again to get another look at the piercing there, thumbing over it and giving it a playful little tug that has Billy hissing.

"That hurt?" He asks gently.

"S'fine," Billy hums, licking his lips, "Just got it caught on something this morning, kinda tender..."

"Good," Steve says, pushing the shirt higher with both hands, until he's thumbing at Billy's nipples, feeling them harden under his touch and he watches the pleasure cross Billy's face as he squirms under it, sensitive.

"Wonder how sensitive they'd be if you pierced them, too," he murmurs, feeling his blush spread down to his chest as he images it, silver barbells through each nipple, playing with them until Billy had tears in his eyes, begging him to stop or make him cum.

"Maybe we should find out," Billy sighs, moans when Steve gives them a little pinch, arching into the touch like a girl.

"Maybe we should," he agrees, thumbing over them again as he lowers his mouth, pressing and sucking kisses into Billy's stomach, unable to help himself as his mouth wanders lower, his tongue peeking out to guide the metal ball of the barbell into his mouth, groaning as he closes his mouth around it and gives it a little suck, feeling Billy's hips buck under him as he gasps out, "Steve!"

"Yeah, baby? Feel good?" Steve murmurs as he flicks his tongue over it again, sliding his hands down from Billy's chest and to his jeans, tugging his belt open and kissing lower and lower, nuzzling that happy trail with the tip of his nose as he tugs Billy's jeans down, lower and lower until his cock is out and Steve can feel it bump his chin.

He's like a man starved, opening his mouth wide and taking Billy's cock onto his tongue, moaning at the taste of him, salty and bitter like cologne and he still fucking puts it on his dick, the freak, but it's too good and he doesn't even care at this point, not when Billy's grabbing a fistful of his hair and gasping his name.

It's messy, because he's kinda drunk, but he does his best, sucking and minding his teeth, swirling his tongue over the tip before taking Billy as deep as he can, gagging on it gently because Billy makes the prettiest sounds when he does.

"Fuck, Stevie, so fucking pretty like this," Billy moans, watching Steve bob his head up and down on his cock, and he glances up at the blond, their eyes meeting as he slurps at the tip like a fucking slut, and it makes his cheeks burn red.

"Shit--I'm close," Billy gasps, his face twisting in pleasure, which is honestly a compliment because Steve knows he can blow him better than this if he were totally sober, but it's not exactly the time to drag things out, so he sucks harder and brings his hand down to fondle at Billy's balls, giving them a little tug and pressing his knuckles to his taint, enraptured as he watches Billy's eyes roll back as he cums, gripping Steve's hair hard.

It makes him whimper, feeling a streak of cum in his mouth, and he pulls off Billy's cock with a soft gasp, feeling another streak or two paint his chin and cheek.

"Holy fuck," Billy laughs quietly, going limp on the table, but he's still staring down at Steve, humming, "You got a lil something there, Stevie..."

He doesn't even care, too turned on to fucking think as he straightens and goes for his own jeans, yanking them down and pulling out his cock with one hand while the other goes to his face, spitting Billy's cum out onto his palm while he wipes the mess on his chin and cheek with his fingers, bringing that hand down to wrap around himself with a moan.

It's gross but it's worth it to see the stunned and awed look on Billy's face, his jaw slack and blue eyes wide as he looks down to watch Steve stroke himself, clearly admiring his cock.

"Jesus, Stevie," Billy sighs, "You've been holding out on me."

"You've seen it before," he grunts, stroking over the tip and feeling his balls tighten in response.

"Not like this," Billy hums, licking his lips, and Steve's locked in on his mouth then, imagining it stretched around his cock, knowing that it eventually will be.

He feels his stomach tense and he whimpers out a quiet 'fuck' as he cums, aiming right for Billy's stomach, sighing happily when he watches it cover Billy's piercing.

"Oh, you fucker," Billy chuckles, breathless and almost fucked out, looking up at Steve with annoyed amusement.

"Pay back, for the two weeks you put me through," Steve pants with a grin, triumphant.

But, like he knows, he's a sucker for Billy and he doesn't leave him like that. He goes over to the couch against the wall and grabs the box of tissues there, pulling a few out to clean himself with before taking a few more to Billy, who grabs them from him.

He watches Billy carefully wipe away at his piercing, smirks when he hears the annoyed grumbling as he wipes the cum from his belly button, and he grins when Billy shoots him a look.

"You had it coming," he chuckles, scrunching his nose when Billy throws the crumpled up tissue at his face.

"Asshole," Billy hums, tucking himself back into his jeans, slow and unhurried.

Steve does the same and watches his best friend push himself up with a wince, until they're face to face again, although the table has Steve looking up at Billy a bit.

They stare at each other for a moment, in that warm lamp light, until Steve leans in and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to Billy's mouth. Way too sweet for what they just did.

"So," he hums against Billy's mouth, "About those nipple piercings..."

He feels Billy smile against his mouth, his chest rumbling with a chuckle as he mutters, "I'll think about it."

They both know he's definitely doing it.

[blindseer0]

Who Is Jenna and What is Her Route About?

(Reposted from Twitter)

Jenna’s Route is a highlight for many: arguably the happiest ending and the one most people recommend playing last. It’s also controversial, not just because Jenna is one of the more polarizing characters, but because people feel it doesn't focus enough on her.

I’ve seen multiple people comment that they still didn’t really know who Jenna was after playing her route. That kind of makes sense, since it has a large focus on Leo, which I think distracts people from what is going on with Jenna.

It doesn’t help that she is canonically the most enigmatic and guarded character, with Chase even commenting that he feels like there is extra meaning to what she says but he’s not smart enough to figure it out. So, who is Jenna and what is the point of her route?

Thankfully, the game has Flynn tell us exactly what each route is about. Carl’s is about his anxiety, fear of the future, and lack of confidence in himself. Leo’s is about his obsession with the past, inability to move forward, and projecting all of that onto Chase.

What about Jenna’s? Flynn’s comments to her are arguably the cruelest, and he even says as much. We know Jenna’s family were abusive towards her and that she had good reason to leave and never come back. Flynn knows this, he and Leo dealt with her family the most and its implied that after Leo and Chase started dating he was left to help her by himself. He never has anything positive to say about any of her family and seems to despise all of them. Why would he care about what happens to them or her relationship with them? The answer is, he doesn’t.

Flynn isn’t talking about how Jenna treats her biological family, he’s talking about her found family, our main characters. As he points out, Carl and Leo are both in very dark places (and we see him trying to help both of them, in his own way) and could really use her help.

Chase, who went to Pueblo on Jenna’s advice, seems lost and unsure of what to do with his life. Jenna’s on the same campus as him, and they’ve hardly talked. To be clear, Jenna isn’t obligated to sort their shit out, but it’s easy to see why Flynn thinks she abandoned them.

Flynn also accuses her of thinking she’s better than them because she left Echo, and he’s absolutely right. Why do I think that? Let’s look at everyone’s reactions to Sydney’s death. In Carl’s Route, Leo talks about how everyone changed after that.

Carl became more anxious and depressed, Leo became overprotective, Flynn became bitter, and TJ was obviously keeping a traumatizing secret. So, what about Jenna? What did she “learn” from Sydney’s death? Jenna learned that if you stay in Echo, it will FUCKING KILL YOU.

Jenna saw what the town did to her family, how it killed her brother, Sydney and countless others and she decided to leave before it killed her as well. We see her try to convince Chase, Carl, and even Leo to leave Echo, because she thinks the town will ruin them if they don’t.

That’s why she shows disdain towards Janice for still working at the diner and to various other people, because it’s obvious to her that the town breaks people and if they were smarter they would know they should leave; if they were stronger or just tried harder they could leave.

Jenna tells Chase as much, that the difference between her and Jeremy was “temperament”. Her “nature” was strong enough to overcome her “nurture”. She talks about how Heather “made herself a victim”, which is in contrast to Jenna, who does her best to not talk about her abuse.

Jenna needs to believe that she got out of Echo through sheer force of will; that she is better, tougher than everyone who stayed, because if that wasn’t the reason, what does that mean for everyone still there? What does it mean for her family? For her?

And the reason she shows disdain towards Flynn is not only because he’s still in Echo, but because he knows the truth of the lie Jenna tells herself: she didn’t survive Echo because of her temperament, she survived Echo because of her friends, her found family.

To get her good ending, you have Chase tell her “We kept each other sane”; we’re supposed to understand that “we” isn’t just Chase and Jenna, it’s all of them. Chase even says he could have become like Jeremy and Clint if he didn’t have Jenna, Leo, and the rest of the group.

Deep down, Jenna knows this. Before the temperament line she says that it was falling in with Clint that made Jeremy the (awful) person he is; that if things had been different, he, or she, could have been different.

In Jenna’s route Leo expresses a similar sentiment, saying he should have been there for Micha, should have introduced him to the group, that if he had, maybe things would have turned out better for the bat. In Route 65 he says that his friends are why he didn’t turn out like the people at the party.

That’s why Jenna’s good ending is what it is. You, as Chase, convince her that people can change, can be better, and that they can help each other survive, that you don’t have to do it on your own. Jenna talks Heather down because she realizes she could have been like Heather, if not for her found family keeping her sane and supporting her through the worst parts of her life.

(This is also LITERALLY true, in that she could not have physically left Echo if one of her friends, Chase, hadn't given her a ride out of town.)

It’s also why the Socketman is so prominent in the route; it’s what helped her survive her abusive childhood until she could meet Chase, Leo, and everyone else.

(I have another thread I could write about Jenna, Flynn and the Socketman, but this has already gone on too long.)

That’s why she doesn’t actually talk to Jeremy, another common complaint. Jeremy makes his choice when he sells her, and the people she cares most about, out to Brian. It’s not him she needs to talk to, it’s them. Her route is the only one where they’re all together at the end.

Jenna is a tough, talented person, and it wasn’t just luck that got her out of Echo and where she is; she put in the work. But admitting that she was lucky, that her found family, for all their flaws were, and are, still there for her, that there was some good in the hellhole that is Echo, that’s what allows her to save the people in the town, to save Heather, and leads to (arguably) the happiest ending in Echo. That’s why I love the writing for Jenna and her route so much. There’s so much under the surface and so many layers to explore.

(You, obviously, don’t have to agree with all or any of what I’ve said here, and I’d love people to tell me what they think or if I’m full of shit. I just wanted to put my thoughts out there, since I’ve seen people talking about it, and give another way to look at things.)

(I wanted to write a thread about Leo and Conservatism, but to write that I needed to write a thread about Leo, Jenna and College in Echo, and to write THAT I needed to explore Jenna’s character and what motivates her. Let me know if you would want to read either of those.)

[froznwater]

post WT Alenaoh drabble

Alejandro wins World Tour and now not only does his family treat him poorly, but so does the rest of the world. Even Heather gets her bit of redemption after being "used by the evil Alejandro." But none of the shows fans like him. They can admit he was smart, yes, but ultimately someone able to play with that many peoples hearts is not a good person. Twitter trends with phrases like 'rigged', 'not my tdw', and 'slippery eel' for weeks after his victory. His phone number gets leaked, bombarded with hateful messages, and his car gets keyed during the ten minutes he takes to run into his local mall to pick up a gift for his mother on her birthday. Tiktok makes 'plot twist' edits of him. Where it begins with him, but ultimately switches to another of his precious peers after they "shut him down" and the entire concept is just one big fuck Alejandro party in the comments. Hundreds- thousands of greasy idiots belittling him for their enjoyment. He doesn't even post on Instagram anymore. Too pussy to entirely turn off the comments and let the world think they've won, he just buries the app deep in a folder and leaves it untouched. Eel. Fake. Bop. I'm doing it, are you? How many letters in Alejandro? Is that oil I see? Noah = 8.

Some people even show up at his house. His father hires bodyguards and demands the police to patrol the area, but blames Alejandro for all of it. This is all your fault. You were too careless. You should have done this. You shouldn't have done this. Look, this person figured you out. Why did you say this? That was dumb. Jose would have done better. He WON, didn't he? ...Didn't he? But college starts in two months, so he rides it out as much as he can. College sucks. Everyone stares, but no one approaches unless it's some dickhead-sexist loser clapping him on the back with enough gusto that really re-whacks the reality into him every time. He's met with "Aren't you that asshole that won Total Drama World Tour a couple months ago?" any time he tries to make some friends. None of the cast reach out. It stings, but Alejandro gets it. He's not wanted. Within three weeks, he's moves to the middle of fucking no where with his cat and enrolls in as many online classes that his new mediocre college will allow. - Noah, praised for his intelligence and funny one-liners over his course of 15 minutes of screen-time, is the fan-favourite. Officially. Voted through the after-season special reunion. Even though he never made it far. In the beginning it's vaguely funny, karmatic. Him. Noah. The unlike-able "schemer." Is the one that fans edit on tiktok and quote on Twitter. After a (short)while it's annoying. He can't get his coffee before class without posing(or declining to do so) for at least two instagram photos. He can't scroll Twitter without seeing someone referencing him in the replies. "Giving slippery eel." "It's all down here from here, honey."

Even his nickname for Owen is used to fatshame people everywhere. "Lunchbox." Is commented under anyone over 100 pounds. It puts a foul taste in Noah's mouth that makes him lock his phone and touch fucking grass every time. Tiktok clips of him go viral. So not only does a lot of America know him, most of it does, as well as other parts of the big wide world. It sucks. The studio won't let it die either. They sell merch of his face. Of his sweater vest with the inbuilt button-up. Of his face on a gay flag(which the fans use as confirmation in his sexuality after demanding so from him for months and getting no answer.(He isn't even gay.)) Of his last insult to Alejandro. And, really, who actually won that fight? Noah, bisexual gay icon, who signed away all his rights to merch pay-cut? Or the man and his million dollars that hasn't been seen or heard from in three months? With love and admiration comes hate. It's piling up more and more. And the more people blindly defend him the more people that come out with their "I'm going to be honest. I didn't care for Noah from Total Drama." And Noah can deal with hate. Honestly, he can deal with it better than he can with love and people genuinely liking him. But he's seen the pattern. He knows where this is going. He goes on a few interviews he never accepted before, gets a new phone number, deletes all his social media, applies to a new college with a student count of 2,000, and retires his red sweaters.

Fuck the internet.

- You'll never guess who he sees.

[i-tripped-on-a-rock]

more low effort art of Alejandro and Noah!! I love them sm,,,, (I actually don’t like this drawing as much but it’s not horrible so I thought I would post it)

Some more of the fic out of context:

“The challenge begins in ten minutes! You kids have fun, I’ve got places to be!” Chris says into his large megaphone as the helicopter begins to take off. Noah rolls his eyes and hugs his arms closer to his chest. Cold and angry is never a good combination. Next to him, Alejandro scoffs quietly. Noah glances over at the taller teen, eyes still obscured by his sunglasses. Alejandro’s mask of “calm, kind, and flirtatious” is no where to be seen. The rest of the contestants are further away, and he hasn’t noticed Noah’s eyes on him yet.

“¿Qué ‘lugares’? ¿Una residencia de ancianos?” Alejandro mutters. He clearly didn’t mean for Noah to hear what he said given how quietly he spoke, and it took all of Noah’s self control to not burst out in startled laughter. He bites his bottom lip to suppress a laugh. His Spanish isn’t great-he’s barely conversational- but he understood enough. “What ‘places’? A retirement/nursing home?”

There was something about the way he said it that set Noah off. Alejandro had this air of irritation to him that Noah sees every morning when he looks in the mirror. He’d never seen the teen more unhappy to be here than in this exact moment, and it only made it more funny to him.

Every once in a while, Alejandro’s mask would slip up and Noah would get to see through his facade, even if it was just for a split second. He would make some sarcastic or mean comment, or just glare at a contestant. The mask was never down for more than a moment, but Noah noticed. Alejandro… he wasn’t that bad in those moments, if Noah was being completely honest with himself. The mask would slide right on the moment he remembers there’s people around, or when someone talks to him. It was like whiplash, despite how minor the changes were. It was almost impressive how much of a difference a few relaxed facial muscles and a charming smile could make.

Noah realizes he failed to suppress a snort at Alejandro’s comment when the other teen turns to look at him. Noah freezes like a fever in headlights as Alejandro stares at him. What surprises him the most, however, is that despite Alejandro realizing someone heard him, he hadn’t tried to hide behind his facade again. That irritating smile that Noah hates so much isn’t anywhere to be seen. Alejandro looked like he was silently speedrunning the 5 stages of grief before finally landing on confusion. It wasn’t until Alejandro began to speak that Noah remembers that he’s not supposed to know Spanish.

“Do you-“

“Sorry! I, um-.” Noah blurts out, frantically searching for an excuse and praying to any god that’s listening that his sunglasses are obscuring enough of his face to hide his panic, “I. I sneeze weird. I have mild anemia and get cold easily, and it’s already cold as hell here.”

Not a complete lie- he does mild anemia- but he’s basically rambling. Before Alejandro has the time to doubt or question him, Heather yells out to them.

“You two losers better get your asses over here! I will not have my win be delayed!” She’s stood further away from them with the rest of the contestants a bit away, stood in front of the beginning of the next challenge. Noah gladly latches on to the chance to switch topics

“Careful with all the cursing on camera, Heather! We wouldn’t want Chris to chop off all your hair again!” Noah calls back has he begins his trudge though the snow towards the challenge. He avoids Alejandro’s stare as he walks past and hopes he won’t push the issue. It’s too early into the game to be making mistakes, especially when it involves his biggest threat.

[aziawow]

being in love sucks (rodrick heffley x f!reader) 2.9k words

summary: you're in love with your best friend, but all he can talk about is heather hills.

warnings: language, discussions of loss of virginity of a minor (17), brief self sexualization

notes: she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated! interact with me!

You’ve been friends with Rodrick your entire life. There isn’t a time you can’t remember without him being there. Your parents are lifelong friends and it was only natural that they raised you two together. There’s hundreds of pictures of you both in matching onesies, in the bath, at playdates, in your Halloween costumes, every first day of school, and so much more.

Your lives are so intertwined and have been from the very beginning that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Out of everyone, you and Rodrick knew each other the best because you spent every second together and talked about anything and everything. Sometimes, you didn’t even need to do that to know.

You knew everything about each other.

Mostly everything, at least.

See, there was this thing. This one thing you kept secret from Rodrick for years. The longest you’ve ever kept a secret from him. The secret that could destroy your friendship of almost 18 years.

You’ve known Rodrick all your life and have been in love with him for half of it.

You’re not sure when the “love” part happened, but it hit you suddenly and all at once one day when you were 13.

Rodrick was doing something stupid and Rodrick-like, making you laugh and laugh and laugh until your insides hurt. When you settled down you looked at him. That’s all it took. Just one look. His eyes were dark and shining, a light you’d give everything to see on his face for as long as possible. You noticed his mouth, the way his big, pouty lips curved in the aftermath of a smile. And you knew.

You were totally gone for this boy.

You didn’t want to be the typical girl who fell in love with her boy best friend, but that’s what happened.

You weren’t immune to him and his charm, and no matter how much they pretend otherwise, neither were other girls you went to school with or random ones you saw in gas station lines late at night. Girls either liked him or they didn’t, and you felt like baring your teeth at everyone who crushed on him or flirted with him because jealousy isn’t a feeling you are exempt from, their infatuation is always brief, and they don’t know him—and never will—like you do.

At the same time, you wanted to wax poetic about Rodrick to those who thought he was a weird emo loser who would never get anywhere in life because they couldn’t be more wrong, and how could they not see the amazing guy right in front of them for who he is?

But you kept quiet. You silenced all the contrasting, confusing, and utterly stupid thoughts in your head and tried to move on.

You tried dating, never stuck with a guy for too long because either they hated Rodrick or Rodrick hated them. “You deserve the best kind of love, and he’s not it,” he’d say. And you’d think, “fuck” because he makes it so goddamn difficult not to love him. But he’s not an option, so forward you continue.

You had your firsts, and so did he, and the aches kept coming.

When you lost your virginity a few months ago (a stupid decision with someone you connected with in your history class just to get it over with) he grew quiet. Scarily, worryingly so. He asked a few questions—who was it, how far did you go, did he wear a condom, did you enjoy it, are you going to see him again? You answered his questions tentatively, not liking this mood shift.

The atmosphere in his room where you were (previously studying) was cold and tense, and you hesitated on your answer when he asked if it hurt. This was uncharted territory—how would he react to the truth? But because you promised to only save one secret for yourself, you told him the truth. When it came to Rodrick, lying was never easy.

It did hurt. At first anyway, and it took you a while to adjust to it. There was pain and pleasure and the guy was kind and gentle with you, and after you couldn’t walk for a good while. You were still sore during this conversation.

He was still quiet, though there was a spark of anger behind his eyes. He tried to hide it, but you know him too well for that. He got up and left the room for a few minutes. When he came back, he brought an ice pack, a towel, an extra pillow, and a bottle of ibuprofen. He gave it to you, face burning, and your heart skipped several beats as you were reminded of how sweet he can be.

You never discussed it again, and it’s like that day never happened. No hesitancy, no awkwardness. Just you and Rodrick. Best friends forever.

Now though, his newest obsession was getting on your nerves.

Heather Hills. Heather fucking Hills.

What were you compared to this beautiful prom queen that had Rodrick practically eating out of the palm of her hand? She’s everything Rodrick wants, and what else could you do about that? You tried being supportive of his crush (thinking of Heather being the love of his life made the ache grow stronger, so you chose not to think about it) but it was hard when Heather made it perfectly clear what she thought about Rodrick. But your sweet, naive, lovestruck best friend was too blinded by her shiny blonde hair and skin tight clothes to see the truth.

It was really annoying. Seriously. You’re not narcissistic, but your hair is fucking amazing even on bad days and you’ve been know to rock form fitting and revealing clothes from time to time. You had enough respect for yourself to dress how you like and not for boys, especially for Rodrick, but it would be nice if he noticed you for once.

Like, you didn’t custom make Löded Diper merch on a tight crop top that showed off your asset really well because you love the mispelt words for what happens when babies defecate displayed on your chest. You’re really supportive and just a bit hormonal, okay? Totally normal.

The thing is, you can deal with it when he says he made out with some girl under the bleachers or got a number from someone in his bio class (“How, Rodrick, you don’t even take biology!”) because they mean nothing to him. Just a one off to relieve stress.

Except, Heather Hills? This crush wasn’t going away anytime soon and you struggled to be okay with it.

Currently, you’re in his room, listening to an album of the latest indie band he found when he brought her up yet again. Just as you were really starting to get into the band, too.

“She is so beautiful, don’t you think?” You refuse, refuse, to glance over at him because if you saw the stars in his eyes you’re sure you’d throw up all over the clean laundry Susan had brought up for him a bit ago. You think, slightly vindictive, that at least she stopped folding his clothes for him and that he’s gonna lose his mind with that task later.

You “uh-huh” at him noncommittally and try to listen to the music.

He sighs, disgusting and dream-like. “Like, I know she wears makeup, and I’ve never seen her without it, but I just know her natural face is just as beautiful. Maybe even better. Definitely better, right?”

Jesus Christ.

You hum again.

“She always wears lip gloss, though. It makes her lips so glittery. I wonder what flavor it is. Cherry? Watermelon? Strawberry? I hope it’s strawberry.” You roll your eyes knowing he can’t see but hold in a sigh. You’ve been wearing strawberry lip gloss since you were, like, 10, which he would've known if ever paid any attention to your lips. “God, I want to kiss it off so bad,” he whines, and that, for some reason over all the others, is what breaks you.

“I have to go home,” you blurt and roll off his bed. You reach over to the music player, pop out the CD, and secure it in the case before stuffing it in your bag. You were gonna go home, enjoy the album, and maybe (probably) ((definitely)) have a good cry. What you were not going to do is sit there and listen to the boy you’re in love with declare it oh so passionately for another girl.

“Wait, what?” he asks, shooting to his feet. You make quick work of gathering your stuff and sliding on your shoes, ignoring him.

He follows you out his door and down the stairs, grabbing at you and asking you to slow down. You brush him off and repeat your excuse.

“Hey, wait. C’mon, what’s wrong? You're just gonna take my CD and dip?” He genuinely sounds upset, and you hate that it’s your fault, but you have to look after yourself.

“Yes,” you hiss, and you hear him make a sound so wounded and entirely unlike him that you stop just before reaching for the handle of the front door. You turn and face him, dying a little when you see his wet, confused eyes.

You try to say something, but Susan’s voice cuts in.

“Oh no, are you leaving? I just finished dinner! It’s barbeque chicken wings,” she sing-songs, and shit, it’s your favorite meal that Susan makes. It might even be your favorite meal ever. It has been since you were little and you and Rodrick had a food fight with the sauce. You got in so much trouble, but you wouldn’t give that memory for anything.

It was your favorite and Susan knew that. Rodrick knows that. Even Greg, who you had a good relationship with because you don’t tolerate Rodrick bullying him, and Frank, who couldn't be assed to pay attention to his sons unless they fucked up, knows it’s your favorite. It’s your favorite, but…

“I’m sorry, I have to go home. Next time, though,” you add after seeing the shock on their faces.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Rodrick!” Susan scolds.

“One minute we’re fine then the next you don’t want to be around me,” and no, your heart does not break a little more hearing the crack in his voice, absolutely not. “I’m so lost. What’s wrong?”

Something in you snaps. It’s the something holding back the secret you’ve kept from him for years and all the other tiny secrets buried within that one. It’s the something in you that aches, and you just want it to stop.

“You are!” You practically yell at him. Now it’s out, everything else escapes too, whether you want it too or not. “Heather Hills is! You can’t go five minutes without bringing her up! It’s actually kind of pathetic how gone on her you are. She won’t give you the time of day no matter how hard you try. She doesn’t care about you or your music and she thinks you’re a loser and you know that but you’ve successfully deluded yourself into thinking she sees you as anything more than a walking Hot Topic advertisement. That is, if she even knows you exist.”

The look on Rodrick’s face as you rant turns to shock then to a kind of sadness you’ve never seen on him before. You see in real time as you break his heart, but he broke yours first, so the pain between you is shared like everything else.

He tries to speak but you cut him off. “I know you exist. I care about you and your passions. I am probably one of the only people in this world who believes in your dream of having a music career and supports it.”

“What does that have to do with Heather?” he asks, and you want to scream.

“You once told me that I deserve the best kind of love, do you remember that?” He nods. “So do you. That is something I believe in strongly, and I can’t pretend Heather is what you deserve. She doesn’t know you, she doesn’t see you. I’m not going to go on feeding into this fantasy you have because I can’t watch this thing you have with her anymore.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking frustratingly cute as he does so. He shakes his head.

“I don’t understand. Why can’t you watch?”

“Because it hurts, Rodrick! It hurts me and I can’t stop it.” You sigh and tear your gaze away from him. You think back on your shared past, the jokes, the situations, the good, the bad. Every memory pours in, and you know you ruined what was left of forever. Tears spring to your eyes.

“I can’t do this,” you say quietly, “I really can’t.”

Rodrick stays frozen in place as you open the door and leave. He stands there even after you’re gone.

“Wow,” says an irritating voice next to him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Greg! Don’t talk about your brother like that, he’s clearly going through something!” Rodrick, who can’t feel much of anything right now, feels a smidge grateful for his scolding mother. Until— “Except, Rodrick, honey. You are being a little bit of an idiot.”

He whirls around, hope for everything completely gone.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and when the only response he gets is his mom and Greg sharing a look with a meaning Rodrick can’t define, he loses it.

“What just happened? What does she mean ‘I can’t do this’ and why did she bring up Heather a million times? She refused barbeque chicken! She loves barbecue chicken! What is with that!?” he sits at the table and groans. “I’m so confused. Nothing in this world makes sense.”

“Oh my god, Rodrick, are you serious? I know you’re kinda dumb but you can't seriously be that oblivious,” Greg says.

“What,” Rodrick bites.

“I’m gonna tell you this, not because you’re my brother and I love you, but because the best thing about your life just walked out that door and I don’t want to risk her never coming back.”

“Tell me what,” Rodrick grounds out.

Greg sighs, very much put upon and done with stupid teenagers. “Dude, she’s in love with you.”

Rodrick stops. His whole world comes to a standstill. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can't be. That’s not true, right? His little brother is just yanking his chain. Pay back for when Rodrick let Greg believe he used his toothbrush to scrub the toilet bowl last week. Just a prank. A joke.

Right?

Because if it’s not…

“How do you know that?” he asks, and hates how small his voice is.

“How do you not?” Greg retorts.

The rest of dinner is spent in silence, only broken occasionally by Manny, but Rodrick doesn't even make it halfway through. He’s too busy thinking about you and what to do. He sat with his thoughts and absentmindedly started to eat a piece of chicken, but found he couldn’t even take a bite without every memory you two shared filling his every sense. He abruptly leaves the table and suspects the only his mom let him skip family dinner is because he had a great fucking excuse.

This, to him, is life changing news. The most important news he’s ever gotten and will probably ever get. This is something he has to consider, and consider very seriously or he’s screwed forever. The decision is so easy to make.

You're in love with him.

Him, though? Christ, of course he loves you back. How can he not? Heather is whatever, a distraction, something fun, but you? You’re his whole world, you’re forever.

Time to get his girl.

***

There’s a tiny clink at your window. You thought you imagined it at first but it happened again. And again. And again. It kept happening until—

“Rodrick!” You whispered-shout, half hanging out your window. You’re on the first floor, and right in his face. Whoops. “Knock it off, you’ll wake my parents up!”

“Sorry!” he whisper-shouts back. He takes in what you look like, rumpled clothes, red eyes, and tear stained cheeks. “Hey, have you been crying?” He decides fuck it, and leans close to you and takes your face in his hands. He’s gentle, so you let him. Distantly, he can hear the stolen CD playing behind you.

He wipes away the tears and crust, and when he’s done, he brings your foreheads together. You close your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not seeing it before,” he apologies softly.

You let out a gentle huff. “The only secret I’ve ever kept from you,” you admit. He chuckles lightly, you can feel his breath on your skin and you shiver. Your heart beat is wild, always wild around him. But there’s a sense of calm and peace between you two now, and you don’t feel nervous. With him, you feel safe and content, even now after everything.

He pulls back and you open your eyes.

“God,” he says, breathless. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

And the way he looks at you right now, in this moment, tells you everything you need to know. He never looked at Heather like this, not at any girl except you. He would never lie to you. Hope and love and longing soar through your entire body.

Your eyes are wet and your heart is full. “I love you too.”

When you kiss, it’s everything.

He pulls back abruptly, eyes wide. “Strawberry?” he asks, voice in awe.

“Shut up,” you say, and pull him in for another kiss.

[sometimesanalice]

Days Like This

Summary: When your day goes from bad to terrible to worse, Bradley is there to help pick you back up.

Warnings: a lot of feels and a soft ending. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

The traffic on the highway getting home from where you worked was particularly disgusting for 2pm on a Tuesday.

The tint on the darkest pair of the many sunglasses you kept in your car wasn’t doing anything to help with the migraine that has started out at work as a whisper but had steadily built to a full roar. The California sun glaring down on you through your window wasn’t doing anything to help the pressure behind your eyes or the pain radiating throughout your head.

You wanted to be home.

The day started out nicely, perfectly even. Bradley’s lecture for the day had been pushed back, so he was still there in bed with you when you had woken up. And the two of you got to enjoy your coffee and breakfast together al fresco under the foliage of the tree that was built into your outdoor deck, soaking up each other and the morning sun before it got too hot.

All of Bradley’s bronze skin was on display in the sunlight as he had only been wearing a pair of sweatpants, his soft UVA t-shirt missing since it was on you instead. The neighbors were probably getting an eyeful, but the chances were high that they’ve already seen you both in much less.

His eyes had lit up and he had let out a low whistle when you came back down the stairs in the outfit you had worn for going into the office. It was just a formfitting navy pencil skirt and striped cotton button down, but that didn’t stop him from crowding you up against the white marble counter. His hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you.

“Bradley,” you sighed leaning back, letting his broad, warm body support you, “I can’t show up to work all wrinkled.”

You could feel the outline of him through his heathered gray sweatpants, and it worked for you.

Everything about him worked for you.

“Can’t have that, now can we?” he murmured in your ear. His hands sliding around to the exposed zipper in the back, fingers playing with the pull tab there, “Let’s take it off then.”

And you were tempted. So, so tempted as he teased his mustache along your neck.

“I’m going to be late,” you said, spinning to wrap your arms around his neck. The taste of coffee on his tongue was better than anything out of a mug.

“C’mon, kid,” he coaxed against your mouth, his voice pure seduction, “Let me give you a proper send off.”

His hands had found the top button of your blue and white striped shirt, slipping it out of its buttonhole to expose a couple more inches of your skin to his eyes.

You didn’t have any meetings until later in the morning, and his mouth was your favorite kind of distraction. Especially the way he was lazily working his way along your jawline.

“You always smell so good,” he hummed into your skin. Those sly and precise hands undid another button before sliding one under your shirt. His finger tracing along the line of the scalloped line of your bra.

And then you remembered just what exactly you were wearing under that button down and pencil skirt that was driving him so crazy. If Bradley were to discover what you had on, you would have definitely been late for work.

That was a surprise for him to find later.

He tugged on the collar of your button down to get another glimpse of you and at what secrets resided beneath your top.

“Bradley!” you laughed swatting at his hands you tried to pull away. Working quickly to rebutton the ones he had managed to get undone while you had been preoccupied with his mouth.

“You can’t blame a guy for trying,” he winked at you, still running his hands along your body.

“No, of course not,” you tease, rolling your eyes in amusement, “However, I do reserve the right to blame you if I am late for work.”

“You could always just tell them you were late because you were doing your patriotic duty. Don’t they give you paid volunteer hours at that place?” he asked with a wicked smirk before letting you go with one final squeeze to your hips.

“I don’t think me volunteering for another round of patriotic sex on the kitchen island is what they meant when they gave us those paid community hours. Even if it is technically in service and support for the property of the US Navy.”

You leaned in for one more quick kiss, coping a quick feel of his ass as you darted out of his reach and towards the entryway before he could pull you back in again, “Please send my thanks to Uncle Sam.”

He chuckled, as he leaned against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles with his mug of coffee back in his hands, “Have a good day, kid.”

You gathered your things and were almost out the door when Bradley called out to you.

“Hey! You forgot something.”

You paused to check your bag, confused about what could have possibly been missing. Once your laptop, phone, wallet, and keys had all been accounted for you turned back towards him to see what had been overlooked in your haste to get out the door.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Oh, he was so gone for you.

You didn’t think you would ever get over how handsome Bradley was, especially when he was smiling at you with such warmth and affection.

“I love you too,” you grinned back at him, before sauntering out the door with a cheeky salute, “See you later, Lieutenant Commander.”

And then you hit every goddamn red light possible on your way into work.

You wanted to be home.

You wanted to be in your bed.

Things had gone from bad to worse in the few minutes it had taken you to walk through the main door of your building towards your office.

There hadn’t even been time to make a stop at the fancy espresso machine that was in the break room before your work nemesis, Grace, was charging at you in the hallway to rant about the derailed timelines for a project that you were both assigned to for one of the biggest clients on your company’s account roster.

It was clear as you looked over the spreadsheets she had printed out, still holding your heavy work tote on your shoulder, that there wouldn’t be any way to salvage the mess and that the deliverables wouldn't be ready in time for the client’s target deadline.

When she left in an angry huff marching towards the direction of your boss’ office, your stomach was aching from the twisted knots that had formed in your lower abdomen. The idea of the coffee you had been looking forward to was now the last thing on your mind, not that the caffeine would be good for your elevated levels of anxiety.

Both you and Grace were in the running for the same promotion, and you knew without a doubt that she was going to try and pin all the poor planning on you.

As if she wasn’t the one who’d essentially elbowed you out of the way for this portion of the project claiming that she had been further along in the planning process and that “it would be redundant and a waste time and resources for us to both work on this.”

She had dodged your attempts to collaborate, stonewalling you at every possible turn. You had been excluded from important meetings multiple times and had been asked to do duplicate work even though your own plate was already overloaded from all the slack you were picking up. You had found so many errors in what little information she had sent your way, that you were having to redo most everything as it came to you.

While you had been debating going to your boss to inform her of the ongoing issues, you had held off because even though you kept things professional at the office, it wasn’t a secret that the two of you weren’t exactly the best of friends. And you had been worried she might have brushed it off as interpersonal issues rather than Grace’s clear attempts to sabotage you.

So, you couldn’t say you were surprised when you were called into an emergency meeting with both your boss, Joanna, and the bane of your existence less than forty minutes later. And even less surprised when Grace pointed the finger at you in that condescending manner of hers that had gotten under your skin from the very first day you met her.

However, you had come prepared. You listened tolerantly as she listed off all the things that you’d allegedly done wrong before speaking up.

“To my understanding, all the things you just listed fell under the portion of the project that you claimed responsibility for,” you stated, trying to keep your voice from sounding tight and clipped.

What she didn’t realize as she tried to place the blame on you was that your receipts had receipts. And you proceeded to hand over the file folder of all the email correspondence you had saved and collected during the project to your manager.

“And am I allowed to know just what exactly that is?” Grace demanded.

“Of course, it’s simply our emails. So the content of that file won’t come as a surprise to you,” you replied as neutrally as possible.

You had highlighted all the important requests that were denied or ignored completely, the obvious errors, and the work that she had claimed credit for that was actually yours.

And the smoking gun, was a message you had received a notification about on Slack that was clearly posted to the wrong channel where Grace was all but admitting that she was purposefully giving you wrong information to work with. And while she had been quick to delete it, you had been quicker to get a screenshot of it.

You had conveniently placed that bit on the top of the pile to be the first thing your boss would see.

“I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner about this,” you said sincerely to your boss, “I had no clue things had spiraled out of control this bad until this morning. And after you review that file, I am sure you’ll see why.”

You tried to keep your fidgeting under control seated in the boucle chair as she skimmed over the first couple of pages, glancing between you and your work nemesis. The tension palpable and oppressive in the room.

Normally you loved being in Joanna’s office, it was tastefully chic with a white lacquer desk and a large Fiddle Fig tree in the corner. And your boss was always the type to indulge in a little pop culture talk, the two of you had had many a coffee break in there together, but at that moment you couldn’t wait to get back to your own office and away from Grace.

“The two of you are dismissed for now while I review this. In the meantime, I expect you both to work on finding what solutions we have at our disposal to get this back on track.”

You wanted to be home.

You wanted to be in your bed.

You wanted to be under your soft green comforter.

The migraine came on steadily after that meeting. From the stress or the lack of sufficent caffeine you couldn’t say.

Your heart had been racing since you had left Joanna's office, and not in the fun way that Bradley was usually responsible for.

God, what had you been thinking to turn down more morning sex with Bradley Bradshaw? Even if it would have ruined the surprise you had planned, at least the additional post-orgasm endorphin high might have helped you get through the day better.

Maybe you definitely should have let him have his way that morning.

You were feeling on the brink of an anxiety attack an hour later when your boss called you back for a follow-up meeting.

Popping a couple CBD tablets and wiping your damp shaky hands on your sleek navy skirt, you saved the minimal amount of work you’d been able to get done while you had been spiraling before getting up to stop by the restroom before your one-on-one.

In the quiet of the bathroom, you disrobed enough to work the pretty yet impractical one piece you were wearing down your body when you realized the stress alone wasn’t the only reason for why your stomach had been hurting all morning.

For a moment you felt nothing. And then you felt everything.

No. No. No.

The tears prickled behind your eyes, and you had to bite your lip hard to keep from crying. Your day had already gone from bad to terrible to worse, and now this.

You wouldn’t cry. You couldn’t cry.

No.

You wouldn’t let yourself cry.

You wouldn’t cry and Bradley wouldn’t get to see the surprise you had planned for him because the gusset of that more-expensive-than-it-should-have-been delicate and lovely sheer white French lace bodysuit you had secretly bought and slipped on this morning was stained a bright crimson red.

Steeling yourself against the swell of emotions that was threatening to drag you down, you perfunctorily folded up a wad of toilet paper and placed it in the center of the lining as you shimmed the formerly-stunning-but-now-ruined lingerie back up.

Just another thing that had gone wrong today. Just another problem to be dealt with later. Just one more thing that made you wish you’d never got out of bed this morning.

Tucking your shirt back in, you pushed everything out of your mind. You would not be the woman showing up to your boss’ office with streaky make up and puffy eyes.

After washing your hands and giving yourself a critical once over in the gold rimmed mirror and straightening your skirt just so, you had made your way to your over to Joanna’s corner office.

She didn’t keep you on tenterhooks for very long, letting you know that she had passed along the folder of information you had given her to HR and that Grace had been sent home for the day. While the clients were unhappy with the delays, she had managed to convince them of the merits of pushing back the project by a few weeks, giving your team the opportunity to clean up the mess.

For the time being, she would be taking over the project account until the internal investigation was completed by HR, but she anticipated being able to turn the reins back over to you alone very shortly. And then in the strictest confidentiality within the sanctity of her cozy yet aesthetic office, she had all but confirmed that the promotion you had been working so hard for was always going to be yours.

While she reassured you that she was on your side, you still couldn’t help feeling like you’d let her down. And then with a nod and an edict to not worry about anything, she also sent you home for the day too.

You wanted to be home.

You wanted to be in your bed.

You wanted to be under your soft green comforter.

You wanted to be on Bradley’s side of the bed.

The drive home felt like the longest fifty minutes of your life.

The traffic was always terrible, but today it was worse. You would never understand why Californians couldn’t figure out how to merge on the highway. It was supposed to be a zipper, not a game of chicken to see how close you could get to someone without actually hitting them.

And then seeing the man who was too old to be selling flowers on the cement divider in the middle of the road at one of the red lights you had been stuck at only added another bruise to your already battered heart.

Not even when you finally pulled up to the house you loved so much had helped to ease the pain of the day. You weren’t hit with the same rush of delight as you usually were when you arrived back to the home you shared with Bradley.

You didn’t know it was possible for such a fairytale home to exist in San Diego, but it did and it was yours.

The charming 1930’s white Tudor had a set of four diamond paneled windows in the front that were warm and welcoming. The large cement pavers up the slope of the lawn lead you to a black door that had an abundance of vintage character.

The house was situated picturesquely under a large Tipuana tree. Bradley was always complaining about the little yellow flowers when they littered the lawn, but you loved the cheerful floral confetti. Which is probably why he left them there for you waiting until they were withered and brown before blowing them into the street.

It had absolutely stolen your breath away the first time you saw it.

The two of you had been driving around in the Bronco one afternoon with Van Morrison playing on the radio just enjoying the afternoon sun after a week of rain. You had gasped when he drove by the house as the agent was attempting to put up the For Sale sign.

Other than the time at the seaside restaurant when you and Bradley had decided to go all in on each other, you had never been so struck with a feeling of such resolute surety. It was meant to be your house.

Your home with Bradley.

He must have felt it too because he’d barely gotten the Bronco in Park before he had leapt out of the car jogging up to the agent, the car still running and the keys in the ignition.

You’ll never know what he said to the woman as he helped her to get the post for the sign situated in the corner of the lot since you had been trying to actually turn the car off before getting unbuckled and out of the car yourself.

Maybe it had been his words. Maybe it had been the flight suit. Maybe it had been kismet. Whatever it was it worked, since she ended up giving you both an impromptu viewing of the home right then and there.

And 30 minutes after that you and Bradley were putting in an offer on the house, one that was accepted a couple days later.

Your movements were mechanical in the way you get out of your car and into your home. Not bothering to move your heels from where you kicked them off by the door or to pick up your work tote from where it had fallen over.

All you could focus on was moving from one task to the next, determined to not let yourself fall apart. Tossing your clothes in the laundry room as you made your way to your bedroom to close the blinds, finally giving your eyes the break from the light they had needed all day.

Bradley’s well-worn shirt was still where you had left it in the bathroom earlier from when you had changed after your perfect breakfast with him. Before your day had imploded.

Pulling it on over your head, letting Bradley’s scent wash over you, as you finally crawled into your bed with a ragged sigh.

You were home.

You were in your bed.

You were under your soft green comforter.

You were on Bradley’s side of the bed.

You wanted Bradley.

You wanted Bradley.

You wanted Bradley.

With that as your final thought on repeat like a lullaby of longing, you finally let yourself slide away.

Nothing could wipe the grin from Bradley’s face as he drove home with the California sun shining down on him.

He was still buzzing from the adrenaline of the successful hop he had completed earlier in the day.

As part of the training for the newest batch of Top Gun students, he and Mav had been tasked with demonstrating some advanced technical maneuvers before participating in a dog fight exercise. Where he had successfully gotten a lock and pulled tone on his friend and mentor for the first time in a long while.

The glimpse of white lace he had caught earlier that morning in the kitchen when he had sneaked a peek down your oversized shirt had been on his mind all day. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, wondering whether or not his eyes had been playing tricks on him.

Either way he couldn’t wait to find out.

He had even already queued up all of your favorite dishes for the Chinese food delivery he was planning on ordering a little later in the evening. You were going to get his full attention tonight.

There was nothing he loved more than getting creative and putting that canopy bed to the test, and so far the overpriced-but-well-built bed hadn’t let him down.

He was going to enjoy his time taking you apart bit by bit.

Normally, he was the one to always beat you home, so he was surprised but elated to see your car parked in the drive way. He might need to order that food earlier than he expected, now that there was more time to work up an appetite and you both would need your sustenance for what he had planned.

Whistling to himself as he got out of the Bronco, he unzipped his flight suit and tugged it down tying the arms around his waist, he knew what you liked. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t the star in all your fantasies.

The door was already unlocked, which wasn’t like you. He imagined you probably forgot to lock it in a haste to get inside to grab a cold glass of rosé before catching up on some reality tv on the couch.

He hoped you weren’t watching the newest episode of Below Deck without him. He wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet, but you had gotten him hooked on the show. Captain Lee reminded him of one of the Commanders he’d had during flight school.

Walking in he was a little annoyed to find your shoes and bag littered on the floor of the entry. He likes to keep things tidy, while you like to keep things “lived in”. Bending down he undid his shoes and picked up your things. Putting your bag in the coat closet for you, out of sight out of mind. He knew you didn’t like to bring work home with you if you could avoid it.

Your heels were dangling from his fingers as he turned the corner, expecting to see you curled up on the oversized gray sectional, but you’re weren’t there.

Huh.

As he stands in the living room and listens. He can’t hear the sound of the tv from the bedroom either, the house is silent. Trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness that was taking up residency in his chest, he made his way to the bedroom. The driving need to find you, to check in on you, was the only thing on his mind now.

He opens the door to your bedroom quietly. The room is darkened, but there are faint rays of sunlight making their way past the edges of the blackout blinds he had installed. And he feels instant relief when he sees you curled up on this side of the bed, head pressed against his pillow.

Being mindful of the edge of the rug, trying to not disturb you, he carefully approaches you kneeling in front of where you’re resting. Your face is still clearly holding the strain of the day, and your eyebrows were knitted together. He lightly brushes the hair away from your face, and even in sleep you seek his touch, head moving slightly to chase the feeling of his fingers.

The pressure in his chest lessening, seeing you safe and sound in your shared bed. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before he stands up putting your heels back in the walk-in closet, and makes his way to the bathroom.

He wanted to rinse the smell of sweat and jet fuel off before he laid in bed with you. Undoing his flight suit the rest of the way he kicks it off, and his eyes snag on the open box of tampons sitting on top of the bathroom counter.

He is quick to undress the rest of the way, and rushes through his usual post-work shower routine doing just the bare minimum. Just some soap and shampoo, he wouldn’t be waiting the five minutes that was recommended on the back of your conditioner bottle that he liked to use sometimes to keep his hair soft.

Once he is dried off enough to pull on the pair of sweatpants he had worn earlier that morning, he makes his way back to you. Lifting up the covers on your side of the bed to slide in behind you. Wrapping an arm around you as he pressed himself closer to you, and you sighed lightly at the contact.

He lets his eyes drift close as he holds you. He didn’t know exactly what kind of a day you had had, but all that mattered to him was that he would be there for you when you woke up.

You’re warm.

You’re warm and there’s an arm draped over your waist.

You’re warm and there’s an arm draped over your waist and a solid chest pressed against your back.

And for the first time since you’d left the house this morning things didn’t feel as overwhelming as they had been when you were on your own.

“Bradley?” you whisper in the quiet of your bedroom.

You so desperately want him to be awake, you just want him right now.

Please be awake.

“I’m here, sweet girl,” he murmurs, and the relief that washes over you is strong and immediate.

You turn over, needing to be closer to him, wanting to lose yourself in his warmth and to never leave this bed again.

He opens his arms for you, smoothing out some of your sleep-matted hair behind your ear as you drape yourself over him. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, your throat thick with emotion.

He’s looking at you so softly, so tenderly. A crease between his eyebrows as he searches your eyes, as he reads you in that way that no one else does. And you know he knows.

There’s no stopping the cry that erupts from deep in your chest. There’s no holding back the tears that have been prickling behind your eyelids all day.

His gentleness is the thing that ends up being your undoing.

Bradley just pulls you closer, tucking your head into the safe space in the nook of his neck, as you shake with the sobs that reverberate throughout your whole body. Quietly shushing you soothingly as he kisses the crown of your head.

And when he picks up your left hand and kisses the pair of rings that have a home there in an unspoken vow, it only makes you cry harder.

The Toi et Moi engagement ring had never left your ring finger since the day Bradley put it there. Carole’s round diamond nestled next to your mom’s oval shaped one were fixed together permanently in gold. It was only fitting that you carried both of them with you always, a reminder of how their friendship was the beginning of you and Bradley.

Your wedding band had been forged from the melted remains of that symbol of love between the man you never met and the woman who had loved you like a daughter, the people responsible for bringing the love of your life into the world.

Through the sounds of your weeping, Bradley’s quiet murmurs made it to your ears and his words wrapped themselves around your heart.

The delicate I’m sorrys, the soft I’m heres, the gentle I’ve got yous, the tender I love yous.

You heard every single one of them as he repeated them over and over again as you gave yourself up to the tidal wave of emotions that you had been fighting to suppress all day.

You and Bradley had been married for a little two years. You were perfectly happy with your life. Bradley was perfectly happy with your life. And that was all that mattered.

You didn’t feel that ticking clock that seemed to follow women over a certain age around like a dark cloud. Neither one of you was in a particular rush, more than happy to enjoy the process and to take full advantage of that large canopy bed in your bedroom.

There was time, you had time.

However, seeing that stain on the pretty-but-now-probably-ruined lacy lingerie had hit you harder than you ever could have expected.

You and Bradley had only been trying for a couple of months. And logically you knew better, knew that it might take some time to happen.

You knew better, yet your heart hadn’t been given the same message.

And with all of the work drama lately, you really should have thought about how the stress might have played a role when you were a few days late instead of letting yourself get ahead of yourself. You had already been planning on stopping by the convenience store after work to pick up a box of tests, and instead you had come home with a new box of tampons.

Before Bradley, you had never given much thought about being a mother or starting a family. But being with Bradley? Thinking about how he would be the best partner and best dad to a child that was half him and half you, there was nothing more that you wanted than that future.

You wanted it. Oh, you wanted it.

You can feel the burning trail of every hot tear that made its way down your face as Bradley rubbed small circles on your back with his large hand in the sanctuary of your bedroom.

Crying over the work shit that you hated bringing home with you. Of how it felt to be so viciously thrown under the bus and then the relief of knowing your boss sided with you.

Crying over the elderly man selling flowers on the street corner you had seen on your way home and the sad hunch of his back.

Crying over the pretty lace bodysuit that was soaking in the sink of the laundry room that might not never be the same again. And the fact that Bradley never got to see you in it.

Crying over what wasn’t meant to be. At least not right now.

You cried over all of it. All at once. All while Bradley held you, cradled you, loved you.

In your home.

In your bed.

Under the soft green comforter.

On his side of the bed.

His chest ached at the sound of your sobs.

It was agony to feel so helpless as you cried into neck, as he felt your tears on his skin. He would have given anything to be able to take on your pain, it was a burden he would have willingly carried for you.

So he did what he could: he held you.

Held you as you wept. Held you when the sobs tapered into sniffles. Held you as your tears dried on his skin.

When he was sure you were done crying, he pulled back a bit so that he could see your face, to be able to look in your eyes. They were red and swollen, but you were still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Using his thumb, he carefully wipes under your eyes to remove the few teardrops that still cling to your lower lashes.

He leans in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering on yours as he breathes you in, before climbing out of the bed.

He didn’t want the shadows of the day to drown out your light any more than it already had.

“Come on, kid,” he says holding out both of his hands to help sit you up at the edge of the bed.

Walking to your shared closet, he sheds his sweatpants and pulls on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He riffles through the dresser in there, the one he had bought for you a few years ago when he wanted you to move in with him, until he finds your softest dress. Stopping by the bathroom on his way back to you to grab a cool, damp washcloth.

You’re sitting there so despondently, your eyes still holding such sadness. He motions for you to lift your arms up, and he pulls his old UVA shirt up and off your body, replacing it with the dress he had fetched for you. Picking up the towel from where he had set it on the nightstand, he runs it softly over your face. Across your forehead, down the line of your nose, taking special care to be gentle around the delicate skin under your eyes.

When he’s done he tosses back onto the nightstand and crouches in front of you so that his eyes are level with yours. Reaching out he cradles your face tenderly between his hands and asks, “You with me?”

He takes the way you turn your head to place a kiss his palm as a yes.

“Good,” he whispers as he presses his lips against your cheek, “Let’s go.”

Threading his fingers though yours, he leads you out of the darkened bedroom and into the golden light of the late afternoon sun that was flooding into your living room through the diamond paneled windows. He makes a stop in the kitchen to grab you a cold water bottle from the fridge, passing it to you with the hand that wasn’t holding yours.

He helps you with your shoes before sliding his own on, and grabs his wallet and keys. At the Bronco he is the one to help you up and that buckles you in. Rummaging through his glove box to find your sunglasses, he slips the on your face for you before putting on his own. And then with an arm tucked behind your sea, he backs out of the driveway.

There is only a glimmer of an idea in his brain, all he really knew is that he couldn’t stand to see you looking so heartbroken for a second longer.

He is attempting to make a left hand turn when he hears you say, “Bradley, please not this way.”

Unfortunately, he heard your request too late. He was stopped at the light with the traffic lining up next to him and behind him. He turned to ask why you didn’t want to go this way, but you were looking intensively out your window and purposefully away from his direction.

He is confused for a moment and then he is hit with a stroke of brilliance when he sees an elderly man on the set up on the concrete divider surrounded by various buckets of flowers.

He hears you call his name as he jumps out of the car to approach the vendor, he is a man on a mission.

In the vows he spoke when he made you his wife, he promised to be the one person in this world you could count on to make you happy, to be the one person who would love you the way you deserved to be loved.

And that’s what he intended to do.

The hunched over man cheerfully accepted all the bills that he had in his leather wallet in exchange for what was left of his stock. And Bradley was happy that this meant the man could go home for the day and that you would have all the flowers he could get his hands on. It seemed like a more than fair trade to him.

He waved off the older man’s offer to help pile them all in the back of the Bronco, grabbing as many of the cellophane clusters as he could before making his way back to you.

“Bradley!” you laugh almost disbelievingly as he approaches, you’re wearing the first smile he has seen from you since you left the house this morning, and it makes his heart soar. “We’re going to cause a riot here.”

The light is green now and the cars behind him are clearly irritated, but he still another armload to go get, “Let them honk, sweet girl. We’ve got all the time we need.”

Once he has the rest of your flowers loaded in the back, he makes his way to your favorite taco stand. And then your favorite burger place, followed by the place two blocks away with your favorite fries.

And of course, he stops at the milkshake place, ordering a chocolate cherry chip shake for you and a peanut butter one from himself before driving towards the sunset and the beach.

You almost feel like crying again when Bradley parks in the lot at the public beach he has taken you to, but this time you know they’d be happy tears.

“Think we can manage all of this in one go?” he muses jokingly gesturing to the various take out bags that were piled in between your feet.

“I’d bet money on us,” you smile back at him.

“I would too, sweet girl,” he leans in to kiss you before he moves to get out of the Bronco. He rounds the car and opens the door to help you down.

He grabs the Pendleton blanket he keeps under the seat and tucks it under his arm. Then hands you the milkshakes and grabs the rest of the bags before nodding his head towards the beach.

“You know I can carry some of that too, right?” you tease pointing to his overloaded arms.

“Of course you can, sweet girl, but let me take care of this. I’ve got it,” he assures you, although you know he means more than just the bags, “Plus those are our most valuable pieces of cargo, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my milkshake.”

His affectionate grin was the only balm your heart would ever need.

The two of you only make it a few steps towards the beach before he tells you he forgot something as he doubles back to the car.

Wondering what could have been left behind, you watch him as he sets down the takeout bags down to reach into the back of the Bronco pulling out one of the many brightly colored wrapped bouquets resting in the back. He tucks that under his other arm before gathering the rest of the items for your impromptu beach picnic again and jogs back towards you.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

While you’re enjoying the spectacular show the sun is putting on for you as it starts to set as you stroll along the shore with Bradley, you realize that you’re feeling much lighter than before. That the inescapable heaviness that had settled on you over the course of the day no longer felt like it was resting entirely on your shoulders anymore.

And you know without a doubt that it has everything to do with your husband.

The two of you find the perfect spot in the sand, a little pocket of peace away from the noise of the boardwalk, he stands there for a second with an adorably concerned expression when he realizes the issue that he has created for himself by carrying all the items for your picnic in his capable but overloaded arms. And you laugh as you adjust the milkshakes in your hands to help offload the various bags in his hands so that he can lay out the blanket.

He smooths out the sand some before he opens up the blue geometric blanket. Once it is spread out to his liking, he takes the bags from you putting them in the corner, your only responsibility now to safeguard the milkshakes.

He seats himself down on the woven blanket, patting the space in front of him for you to come join him there. And once you are nestled between his propped legs, he pulls you back to rest against his chest.

You are surrounded by all of your favorite things: your husband, the best of San Diego’s drive-thru culinary offerings, the ocean, and the flowers you didn’t know you needed until Bradley got them for you.

And in that moment, you finally feel at peace as you and Bradley dig in to your picnic as you watch the sun inch closer down to the horizon.

You still had the rest of the week to get though. You knew there would be a mountain of work for you to deal with when you went back into the office tomorrow, that man with the flowers would probably be back in his same location tomorrow his buckets full of new bouquets to sell, and you would still be waiting and hoping for your maybe someday soon.

But you could face anything since you had Bradley by your side.

The food might be cold, the fries a little soggy, and the milkshakes were half melted now, but everything about it is perfect.

You let him support you in more ways than one as you settled more fully against him after you were both done eating. It was easier now to talk to him about your day, about the things he knew about and the things he didn’t as you watched the waves roll in and out along the shore as the tide came in.

You felt him tense up when you told him about your disaster of a day at the office. You felt him squeeze you in celebration when you told you about your unofficially official promotion. You felt him as he kissed your cheek when you told him about the equally ruined surprise and lingerie.

The other part you didn’t need to speak the words for, he knew your heart.

You would always have Bradley, and he would always have you.

That’s how it had always been back when you were kids forming the foundation of your friendship, and that’s how it was now as adults navigating the hardships and joys of this life you were building together.

A life where there was always someone there you could count on to pick you back up when you needed them the most.

He kisses your shoulder and rests his chin there as he takes in the view, gently rocking you side to side.

“I love you,” you murmur softly, resting your head against his, “Thank you.”

You know he hears what you are really saying.

Thank you for treating me the best. Thank you for knowing me the best. Thank you for loving me the best.

“It’s going to be ok, sweet girl” he promises against your mouth.

And you believe him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you need a virtual hug my inbox is always open!

This is a one-shot for my 'Like I Can' series.

Here’s a little moodboard for this fic too!

You can check out my other stories here!

Tag List:

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[sweetiecakesss]

Dead Girl Walking | Choso K.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Synopsis: What better way to relieve stress by sneaking into your friend's house and have sex.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Tags: Sneaking, Tired! Choso, Afab reader, squirting, manhandling, unprotected sex, mentions of cheating and usage of drugs.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Note: Imagine writing your first fic for a blog then it turns out shitty :( am not proud of this one and yes this was inspired from 'HEATHER's' Dead girl walking. NOT PROOFREAD.

Leaning back on your car seat, you let out a deep sigh as you held onto the cold vegetable pack, keeping it on your face as you tried to ease the pain on it.

"Fuck my life…" Was all you could let out as you closed your eyes. Getting beaten up wasn't a part of your agenda today.

You were just gonna get drunk and high at a club, fuck and enjoy your night but no. Life wasn't easy nor is it forgiving.

After taking a few drinks and a small snort of the white stuff, you were immediately pulled outside of the club by a bunch of chicks, accusing you of sleeping with a man who you can't even remember the name of (in your defense you didn't know he had a girlfriend). Of course, you tried to fight back but what are the chances of you winning a fight against 6 angry bitches? You aren't batman.

Sighing to yourself, you got out of your car, throwing the vegetable pack inside it before locking it, then headed towards a fence, Choso's fence to be exact.

You and Choso have been friends for god knows how long, and he came to know that during this nights where you feel like shit, you would sneak up to his room instead of knocking and sneak in like a burglar. You quietly sneaked towards Choso's bed.

"Y/N…?" He let out groggily as he slowly sat up, turning on his bed side lamp. You looked at him surprised and tight-lipped as you bask on in his presence. His hair was down and a little bit messy, dark circles under his eyes were prominent due to his lack of his sleep. Ironically enough, you find that part of him very attractive and charming.

"Need to fuck…" You let out, He stared at you before he raised his brows at you.

"Bad day?" He asked.

"More like Shitty day" You retorted.

"I could tell…" He replied. You looked at him as you rolled your eyes before you started to remove your clothes.

"Shut up and just strip" You let out in frustration as you then walked towards him, immediately cupping his cheeks with both your hands as you kissed him. Both your lips against one another, his hands moving to hold onto your hips and down to your ass cheeks, gripping on them and spreading them apart before landing a harsh smack, eliciting a whimper from you.

Choso, pulled you down onto the bed as he laid down. You on top of him, hips moving as you tried your best to relieve the ache you were feeling in between your legs, warm liquid messily coating his boxers on the groin area.

"Fuck…you're wet…" Choso let out in between the kiss as he then flipped your positions with him on top of you, his hands moving to roam all over your body, hard and burly hands squeezing onto your breasts, one hand moving as he made you wrap your legs around him, hips instantly moving and grinding against yours.

"Choso…" You called out in between the kiss, as he pulled away, he looked at you briefly before moving to pepper your neck with kisses. Your hands instantly moved and ran your fingers on his hair before gripping on it. Moans, escaped your lips as his kisses started to move from your neck, down to your collar bone and finally, your mounds. His tongue swirling and playing with the little nub, your grip on his hair tightening, back arching as you feel the pleasure all over your body, pussy throbbing as you craved more of Choso's touch.

"Y/N…" Choso called out to you, snapping you out of your pleasure. In a daze, you looked up at him, your face flushed and sweaty. His gaze looked down at you, eyes scanning your features then your body that was once clean, now covered in hickeys that he made. His gaze only worsen the case your body was in right now, you lifted your hips as you moved and grinded yourself on him on your own.

"Need you, please…" You begged, he looked at you, eyes narrowed and glaring as his hand then slither up to your neck, grabbing on it tightly.

"You look pretty this way." He let out in a soft growl as he then swiftly pulled down his shorts, aligning his tip at your entrance. YOur chest rose up and down as you breathed heavily, painfully waiting for him.

"Am I not already pretty enough…?" You let out a question in between choked breaths, Choso looked at you, giving you a sweet smile before his hips snapped and thrusted in you without warning. Your mouth forming an 'O' as your eyes nearly rolled at the back of your head, your pussy throbbing and feeling full as you took your sweet time to feel every part of Choso's cock inside you. God, you love his cock and the way it makes you feel.

"You're already pretty, I just like you like this" He started as his hips slowly moved in and out, his lips finding it's way to yours as he gave you a small peck. "All full and slutty, look like a whore" He added as he pulled away from you to look at your face before his pace fastened, hips snapping, his hands around your neck grew tighter, your eyes rolling at the back of your head.

"Ffuuckk!-- Choso…Wait!" You moaned, your small hands moving to grab him by his wrist, despite your small pleas, he didn't stop as he continued to fuck you. Cock head hitting your cervix with each thrust, his free hand finding its way down to your body as his thumb moved and teased the little bud on your pussy.

"Choso..! Wait…! s-stop!…" You let out, your hand flailing as you grabbed onto him, your nails digging onto the skin of his bicep.

"You can do it f'me. Fuck, pussy so good…" He let out in a growl as he continued his movements, tears started to fall down your cheeks as your body shaked under him. Choso gave you a fucked out grin as he removed his hand from your neck, leaning down as he then started to suck on your nipples, licking and twirling his tongue around the bud of muscle.

"g'nna c-cum!…" You let out, your hips moving as you tried to meet his thrusts. Choso could only hum a reply before he then let go of your tits, his hands moving to grip onto your legs before pressing them against your chest, fucking you deep.

You could only let out cries of pleasure as Choso would look at you with a small fucked out smirk, his cheeks red. As Choso continued to thrust in you, you felt your body shake, with one final thrust, Choso emptied his seed in you, painting your walls white. Your entire body started to shake under him as your eyes rolled at the back of your head.

Both you and choso, let out baited breaths as both of your tried to relieve air. Choso slowly lets go of you, letting your legs rest down besides his body.

"Holy shit…" Choso let out, confused and tired, you decided to force yourself up and looked at him confused.

"What…?" You tiredly asked him. Choso looked at you and smiled smuggly.

"It felt so good that we didn't even notice, but you just squirted…" Choso let out as he leaned forward giving you a kiss, all you could do was groan as Choso chuckled. His hips moving again but this time in a slow pace, earning a whimper from you and only to be dismissed by Choso himself.

You wanted this and he'll be sure to give it to you.

©SWEETIECAKESSS 2024: All works posted are original. Plagiarism and/or modifications are banned.

[rogersideup]

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 2

Wine and Dine

Series masterlist

Previous part: Love You More Next part: Expendable

Word Count: 6,169

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Steve wasn't quite sure he had ever ran so fast in his entire life. Wearing a heather grey henley, jeans, and some nice shoes, he knew he probably looked ridiculous as he zoomed by people in the hallways like a gust of wind.

After being deployed on the emergency mission for almost 3 weeks now, you were just about to land at the compound. From what he understood from the gossip floating around the compound, and confirming by the report notifications that popped up in the corner of his computer, it was a really bad one.

Agents were dropping like flies, if felt like every few hours one was being sent back to the compound due to injury or a psychological break. He tried multiple times to get the Avengers on the mission to help clear it out faster, it was obviously way too big for the agents to be handling alone.

Every time he tried, Fury shot him down because there already was an avenger on the mission. Though he agreed and trusted whole heartedly that you could handle it, he knew that if he was in your position, single handedly being the only reason why anything was actually getting done under exhaustive conditions, he'd appreciate another member of his team being sent to him

Not even a full minute ago you had called him in hysterics. He could barely understand you through your cries but he could tell just by the sounds slipping past your throat that you were in unbearable pain. It made his heart pound out of his chest as he tried to console you to the point of being able to understand what had happened.

When Commander Bennet realized that the wind had been knocked out of you, he gently grabbed the phone from your hands and spoke to Steve.

"Captain Rogers?" He quested after reading 'Steve' at the top of your phone screen.

"Yeah, hi, what's going on?" Steve asked frantically.

"Agent 306 is not in good shape. We had some sort of biological weapon hit us hard. It was a pale blue, powdery substance that was causing extreme irritation and almost burn like reaction on any exposed skin it touched." Bennett explained.

"But her tact suit covers most of her skin-" Steve vocalized his thoughts.

"She tried to stop the attack before it got worse, jumped on the attacker's back to yank the weapon out of his hand but..." He sighed. "Agent 212..."

"What did Harvey do?" Steve started seething.

"To put it simply, 212 got in her way. She had it and was about to put the whole mission to an end. I'm not sure if he thought he was going to beat her to it or if he wanted to help, but he threw her off and crashed right into her. The attacker grabbed hold of the collar of her tact suit from the back of her neck and poured a pretty large amount of the powder all the way down her back."

"Oh man, how bad is it?" Steve got up, already knowing where this was leading.

"She's in excruciating pain." He put simply. "We have lab techs on board studying the substance. They said that the effects are only extreme irritation, burns, and stinging pain for upwards of 5 hours. We already informed medical, they said there's not much they can do other than shower her and try to manage the pain with ibuprofen. She said she'd rather just do that at home, and she's asking for you now. Any way you could meet us on the runway?"

"Absolutely, what's the ETA?" Steve asked, walking down the hall towards the Jet landing runway.

"Touch down in a minute-thirty."

"I'll be there." Steve said simply before hanging up.

From where he was in the building, he knew making it to the runway was a five minute walk, so he made it a one minute and thirty second run instead.

He pushed through the doors to get outside onto the runway just as the jet wheels had touched down on the tarmac. The second it stopped moving, he practically ripped the door open with his own two hands and waited very impatiently for the rush of agents disembarking before he could get to you.

Harvey didn't get a chance to pass by Steve without receiving a glare from the soldier that sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

The very second he could, Steve rushed onto the Jet and you were curled up on the floor with your knees to your chest and your face digging into your knee caps. Commander Bennett was at your side trying to comfort you, but you were rocking back and forth to try and manage the pain, and doing your best to muffle your sobs as to not further inconvenience any of the other agents who had to hear you whaling the entire flight home.

Steve sank onto his knees right next to you, and placed a hand on you arm.

"You got it from here, Captain?" Bennett asked.

"Of course." Steve nodded, understanding he had more work to be done.

"Report back to me when you can?" Steve could see the worry in his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

Your commander got up and off the Jet following the other agents, and Steve's heart was still uncomfortably racing around in his chest.

"Hey, Bug." Steve gently squeezed your arm to try and get you to uncurl from your tiny little ball.

"M'sorry to bother you" You cried while lifting your head. Talking through the pain and shortness of air in your lungs was a struggle, but you took a moment and tried your hardest. "It hurts so bad, didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay, you're not a bother to me." He shook his head and got a good look at you.

Your tact suit was covered in smoke and ash, as well as your face. There was a deep scratch along your left cheek bone accompanied by smeared blood, presumably your own, and you jawline on the right side was bruised.

Steve's pounding heart came to a stand still before completely melting into a puddle when you let your forehead fall onto his collarbone. Instinctively, his hand gently cradled the back of your head.

Immediately, you felt safer and calmer in his hold. Letting someone take over your well-being when you had no control was terrifying, but Steve earned your trust more than anyone else in your life ever did. Around him, you knew everything would be okay regardless of the circumstances.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He questioned calmly.

"Feels like I ca-can't breathe" You hiccuped.

"I know, I'm sorry." Steve pouted. "Having the wind knocked out of you is normal sometimes when you're in that much pain. It's one of the worst feelings in the world but it'll go away. Just keep taking big deep breaths, it'll start to fade."

"S...still powder in my suit." You warned him. "Careful."

"Okay, we should get it off of you as soon as we can then." He thought out loud knowing that as long as it was still making contact with your skin, you would never start to feel better. "I'm going to get you out of here and up to your apartment okay?"

"Hurts so bad- feel like I can't move." You explained the best you could, internally panicking.

"Can I carry you?" Steve questioned, wanting to make sure he had your permission.

"What if it gets on you?" You questioned, not wanting him to feel the same pain you were in.

"I'm wearing long sleeves and long pants, it'll be okay." He reassured you. "I don't want to hurt your back even more, so wrap your arms around my neck and I'll hold onto the bottom of your legs."

You were happy to wrap your arms gently around his neck, and your legs around his waist as he carefully lifted you up. Without as much as a second thought, you nestled your face into the crook of his neck and continued to let the presence of your best friend comfort you while you focused on trying to catch your breath.

Steve was so focused on his personal mission to make you feel better that he didn't let his mind even entertain his personal feelings for you anymore. Meanwhile, you had an opposite technique to reign in some pain management. Steve smelled so good that the deep breathing with your face shoved into his neck was now a pleasant experience, and momentarily took your mind off the unbearable pain you were in.

Unfortunately his incredible taste in cologne wasn't enough to completely stop your mental and physical pain by the time he got you into your apartment and gently set you down on your own two feet. He offered you his forearm to keep a hold on to steady yourself, he could tell your muscles were overworked, exhausted, and tightly tense.

Steve could feel the hand you kept hold of him with was shaking, as were your legs, and chattering jaw that you tried your hardest to clench shut.

Single handedly, he worked diligently to remove your personal defense weapons that lived in your leg holsters. Grabbing the gun and dagger, he reached behind him and quickly put them in the weapon safe by the door.

Then he led you to the couch and had you sit down, helping you on the way down. He quickly sank to his knees and his fingers untied the laces on your boots and pulled them off your feet before he got to work on removing all the black leather straps and buckles of the holsters on your legs.

He looked up at you momentarily just to make sure you didn't seem uncomfortable by how he was touching you, but your eyes were squeezed shut so tightly and your mind was so far away it felt like you weren't even in the room with him anymore.

"Relax your jaw, Buggy." Steve caught your attention with a small squeeze to your calf before going at the holster on your thigh.

"But it's chattering" You cried, relaxing it to prove it was rattling.

"That's okay, just let it happen." He reassured you.

You nodded, eyes still squeezed shut with occasional tears slipping past them.

"Let all your muscles relax, keep taking big breaths." His sweet voice guided you, moving on from your left leg to your right. "Remember that this pain is temporary, this is the worst of it right now and you're taking it like a champ. You're doing a good job."

Letting your eyes open, you watched him shove his phone between his shoulder and head, freeing both his hands to continue removing pieces of your suit. Then he started talking, throwing around commands, asking for necessary assistance to make sure your suit is properly cleaned and the hazardous substance would be responsibly handled.

At some point, your eyes closed again and you started feeling faint. He stood up, still on the phone and walked away for a moment then came back with a glass of water for you in one hand, and medicine in the other hoping it could at least help jumpstart the pain management.

Then, you heard something that made your eyes rip open.

"Hey Buck, yeah she's okay - in a lot of pain but she's going to be fine. Hey- can you do me a favor? Can you go into my apartment and grab me a change of clothes? Just a shirt and some sweatpants please? Thank you so much, I'll leave the door unlocked for you. See you soon."

You took in his appearance and realized you had completely destroyed his outfit. Smoke and soot had smeared all over his light grey shirt and the the top of his jeans. There was blood on his shoulder from your face, and wet spots from your tears.

"I'm so sorry." You cried, genuinely feeling bad about it. "I ruined your clothes!"

"I'm not worried about it" He denied your apology. "You're more important than a shirt."

"I'll buy you a new one." You shook your head.

"You have bigger fish to fry at the moment, Bug." Steve said sweetly. "Let's get you in the shower now. The faster this gets washed off of you the better."

Deep down Steve was really concerned about you, but he internalized it as to not freak you out. You seemed weak and unsteady on your own two feet, and your cries were still sad enough to make him want to cry for you.

"Help me up?" You asked, holding out your hands.

He took them without question and helped you off the couch before guiding you to the bathroom and starting the shower for you. Making sure it was not too cold to be uncomfortable, but not too hot to hurt your burns even more, he finally settled on the perfect temperature.

When Steve turned back around to let you know it was good to go, he was going to walk right out and let you shower in peace. That was until you started crying even harder just by trying to unbutton your pants. Every move you made was increasingly uncomfortable, and in that moment you both knew that showering alone wasn't an option.

The hot shocking pain and trauma of the three week long mission alone made letting Steve see you naked feel like just another drop in the bucket. You couldn't even get yourself to pretend to care, all of the insecurities and fears you'd typically have over this flew out of the window when you could see the genuine worry in his sweet blue eyes.

"Do you need help?"

"Can you please stay?"

Both of you asked almost shyly at the same time.

"Yes please."

"Of course"

You talked over each other once again.

Everything you could've possibly been worried about wasn't even a thought in Steve's mind when you asked him to stay. Although his heart warmed over the sentiment that you felt comfortable enough around him to ask in the first place, he wanted to make sure he maintained that same level of trust.

So he took the same approach he took before any training session he knew you were scared of, or any time he had to touch your body.

A simple one word question that he always expected a completely honest response to, it always went a long way.

So before he even helped you begin undressing, he asked it.

"Trust?" He questioned.

Whenever he asked you this, he wanted a percentage out of 100 to gauge how much trust you felt for him in that very moment. Whether he was about to catch you from two stories high, or send you off to do something new, he wanted to make sure you were confident enough in him as your partner. If you ever answered below a 90, that's when he would put a stop to everything and the two of your would talk it through until you felt comfortable and confident enough to execute the plan.

"100" you answered without question, your shaky hands trying their hardest to unzip your shirt.

Only after you responded did he start to undress you. His hands took over the zipper, and swiped it downward. When he helped you tug off the sleeves he was careful to not touch the inside of your suit to not get any of the substance on himself, but once your top was off, he could tell it was all caked onto your skin and no longer dry. "If that changes or you want me to leave at any point, you tell me, okay?"

"Okay." You nodded, feeling a slight relief as the cold air hit your back.

Piece by piece, he helped you get undressed and into the shower. He stood next to you the whole time, and as the water washed off the dirt and grime, he could see the extent of the damage on your back and he internally cringed.

"You poor thing, this looks so painful." Steve pouted. Though you were quite literally fully naked in front of him, he couldn't stop staring at the plane of your back. It was fire engine red, and your skin was definitely angry at the substance.

"Fury is going to be so mad at me." You sniffled, starting to feel like you could talk in complete sentences again.

"Why?" Steve asked, head tilting slightly.

"I should be at the mission debriefing." You explained.

"You we're injured, there are exceptions." Steve denied. "You know who Fury will actually be mad at? Harvey."

Just the mention of his name had your cry growing sadder by the moment. "Can I tell you something as a friend and not as a boss?"

Steve's face softened, and he nodded.

"He did it on purpose." You claimed with confidence as your fingers scrubbed shampoo into your hair. "The whole mission Harv and his friends were doing things to sabotage me and I kept getting hurt. I felt like I was going crazy, and it was already a really bad mission to be on in the first place. I feel so defeated and defenseless right now."

When you admitted that, his eyes went from your back to a big, black and blue bruise the side of his palm right on your rib cage.

"Harvey will be dealt with whether he did it on purpose or accident. He made a really stupid choice that obstructed the mission and got another agent hurt, the best agent we got." Steve explained. "They'll probably open an investigation and pull any footage they have and talk to some other witnesses to get their side of the story. If it's ruled that it was on purpose his punishment will be much worse than if it was an accident."

"They're just going to come after me even harder." You cried. "I don't know what I did so wrong that they decided that they needed to make my life a living hell. I try to be nice to everyone, I participate when I need to, I help them when they need help, and I even do the dirty work so nobody else has to. Everyone still hates me. Nobody cares if I get hurt."

Steve's broken heart impossibly shattered again. "Do you believe us when we tell you it's jealousy? The men here have tiny little ego's. They're fragile and insecure so when they see how great you are, they just want to knock you down any chance they get. It's not your fault."

"I don't feel like I'm the best one here." You finally denied in a moment of vulnerable weakness. You we're already naked, what damage could admitting your true feelings possibly do? "I don't even feel like I'm good at what I do in general."

"You may feel like that right now, but that's not fact. It's far from the truth." Steve denied your accusations against yourself. "You're meant to be an Avenger, we're all confident in that. That mission should've never been delegated to you guys. It should've gone to the Avengers, and even then it would've been hard for us. But I was watching the updates and statistics come through while you were gone. You single handedly held the operation together and led it to success with nothing but your own guidance. You're incredible, you even outperformed the Avengers."

You shook your head in denial before tipping it back and letting the water wash away the soapy lather in your beautiful silky hair. "I should be debriefing but instead I'm crying in the shower I can't even take by myself without being a hazard."

"They have tormented you so much that you believe crying is a sign of weakness." Undertones of disapproval soaked through his tone. "Their words have you believing that you're not good enough for this, yet I don't see any of them being good enough to do half of what you do."

"I don't know how to get it to stop." You sniffled. "If I don't fight back, they keep going. If I do fight back, they come at me twice as hard. If you don't say anything, they think it's okay. If you do yell at them, it just gets worse."

"Join the team." Steve stated simply, reaching out into the shower to swipe some smoke off your face that you missed.

"I'm tired, Stevie." You admitted with a sad cry. "Right now, I don't even know how I'm going to wake up and get myself to work as an agent tomorrow. I don't know how I can do this anymore, let alone be an Avenger."

"Exactly, you're tired and you're hurting." Steve validated. "Emotionally and physically, you're a human with with needs, none of which have been met in a very long time. You had your heart broken, and with no time to recover you had tosee Harvey every day for three weeks, then he hurt you even more. We'll get you some rest, some food, you'll get some time off work to make sure you heal up and recover. I promise you that you'll feel better."

"I sure hope so." You sniffled, washing the rest of the soap off now that you were squeaky clean. "Because right now, my heart is heavy and i feel defeated."

"Then let's take baby steps towards making you feel better, we'll start by making the heaviness a lot lighter." Steve offered you a hand to help you step out of the shower as you turned the water off. A hint of a smile poked through your pouted lips as he wrapped your fluffy towel around your body as carefully as he could as to not hurt your back anymore than it already did.

"Do you have to go back to work?" You asked sadly, not wanting to have to let go of the comfort he always provided you. "I really missed you while I was away."

"It's okay, I'll take the rest of the day off." Steve denied. "I missed you too, I was worried about you."

There was a small knock on the door before Bucky came in, and before either of you could even acknowledge his presence, both of your feet carried you towards him.

Bucky quickly handed Steve the clothes he brought for him, then all his attention was on you.

"Stay with her for a minute, I'm going to change really fast." Steve squeezed Bucky's shoulder out of gratitude.

You we're still slowly crying from the pain, and wrapped up in the towel like a little human burrito.

No words needed to be exchanged between you and your friend and he very carefully pulled you against his warm body for a long hug.

After Steve changed into the clothes Bucky brought him and walked back out into the living room to the scene of you being comfortably wrapped up in his arms as the two of you exchanged quiet words he could barely hear, he couldn't help the tiny pang of jealousy. He felt like a teenage boy who had no control over his emotions. He knew it was wrong, so he pushed it down just like he did all his other feelings towards you.

When Bucky noticed Steve was back, he mumbled an apology to you about needing to get back to work, and promised he would come by later to check up on you. And just as fast as he arrived, he left.

Steve helped you get dressed again, which was a struggle. But the two of you worked together to find a loose enough shirt to put on as to not hurt your back, super soft shorts, and definitely no bra to dig into your skin. But he already saw your boobs so there was no harm in that decision.

By the time you climbed into your own bed for the first time in weeks, and Steve got in next to you, a bit of relief washed over you. The tears came to an end and now you were nothing but stray sniffles and a little ball of frustration as you tried your hardest to get comfortable without laying on your back.

Steve wasn't quite sure how it happened, but you ended up half on your side-half on your stomach with your head in his lap and one of your legs hiked up. Once you were comfortable, he pulled up the back of your shirt to let the cool air hit the burn and to make sure the fabric wasn't irritating the area even more.

He could tell you were still in pain, so he comforted you by running his fingers through your hair. You soaked up every moment of the pleasant sensation, it gave you something to focus on other than the pain.

Single-handedly, he grabbed his phone and pulled up your profile on the music streaming app you downloaded onto his phone so you could create playlists together and share music. He picked a playlist you curated of all your favorite soothing songs and played it quietly for you.

Steve knew music was important to you, most of the time you had at least one airpod in your ear and you were always showing him new music. He loved listening to the songs you found good enough to share with him, and he loved sharing the experience of listening to music with you all because he knew it made you happy.

"Do you have a comfort movie or show?" Steve asked. "Or anything you do to help you fall asleep?"

"Yeah, I get into your bed." You mumbled out a joke, feeling completely drained. Your eyes didn't need to be open to know he was smiling.

"The faster we can get you to fall asleep, the better." He noted.

"Are you tired of me already?" You questioned, another joke.

"Absolutely not." Steve denied with a giggle. "If you fall asleep, you can get through a big chunk of the pain with no awareness to it."

"I was just on a mission for three weeks barely getting any sleep. Just give me a minute, I'll sleep like the dead."

"Why weren't you getting any sleep?" Steve questioned, continuing to rub your scalp.

"They kept assigning me to sleep next to Harvey no matter how many times I asked them to not do that." You explained. "Completely separate cots and sleeping bags and he still tried to get me to have sex with him every single night we were there. Every time I denied him he'd try to spark an argument then I'd get upset and just lay awake because I couldn't turn my brain off."

"He was trying to sleep with you after a whole day on the battlefield? After he said he could never be with someone like you?" Steve questioned. "Did he not break up with you? Is he not exhausted by the end of the day?"

"You'd think there would be significant logistical issues he would consider before trying to initiate but he didn't let anything get in his way." You agreed with Steve. "I have no plans of ever having sex with him again, and he thinks it's a game. Like I'll crumble and whither away without his dick."

"That sounds like a terrible situation you have to put up with everyday." Steve noted. "If I had to look at any of my ex girlfriends every day at work, let alone be on a mission with them for three weeks I don't think both of us would make it out alive, and they would be the ones surviving every time."

You sleepily giggled at his words. "It is pretty terrible, but I'm hoping he will realize soon that there's better dick to be had elsewhere. I'm horny, but never horny enough to have sex with him ever again."

"Wow, you're so strong." Steve laughed. "That was really philosophical."

"I know right?" Your lazy smile stretched.

"If he's making you lose sleep, that's just more proof he's obstructing agents from reaching the objective." Steve noted.

You hummed in agreement, letting the heaviness in your heart and mind settle and the exhaustion in your body take over.

A few moments of silence passed before Steve broke it, his thoughts becoming too loud to keep to himself. "...I really can't imagine getting it up after a whole 12 hour day of fighting... don't think I could ever do that..."

Your smile reappeared. "That's because you actually do your job and you do it well. Harvey just kind've stands there and pretends to be helping. No person in their right mind would be able to get it up after a real day of battle."

"Wow, so you're finally in the phase of admitting that he's bad at what he does." Steve noted.

"Yeah, well, I'm infuriated that we work ourselves to the point of exhaustion and he's just walking around with the audacity to have a hard dick all the time." You noted. "He deserves a life of erectile disfunction, I deserve the audacity of a post mission stiffy."

"See, this is the kind of fire I've been trying to ignite in you this whole time!" Steve enthused. "Who knew that all it would take was a metaphorical boner?"

"Relax, I'm not hard enough yet to hop over the the Avengers." Your voice was getting raspier and quieter by the second, making Steve melt into a puddle. "Give me a little more time, maybe I'll get there eventually."

"Have you tried viagra?" Steve joked.

"Have you?"

"Is your back feeling any better?"

"Why are you deflecting?" You sleepily smiled.

"Sweet dreams, Bug." He covered your eyes with the palm of his hand. "Hope you feel so much better when you wake up."

You grabbed his wrist and directed his hand to the top of your head before letting it go, and snuggling up in the blankets the very best you could. "Thanks for coming to my rescue, Stevie. I love and appreciate you lots."

"Anytime, I love you more."

You dozed off not to long after, and fell into a sleep so deep that you felt like you had woken up in a whole different world. Your phone was ringing, and there was no longer any light seeping through your bedroom window curtains.

Judging by your door being cracked open with lights pouring through and footsteps walking around, you could tell Steve was still in your apartment. Reaching around blindly for your phone, your hand found it and answered the call.

A smile stretched across Steve's face when he heard your sweet, sleepy voice coming from your room. He could tell you were talking to family, so he waited a while until he could hear the conversation wrapping up to come check on you.

It took about fifteen minutes, but he finally came in and turned the light on as he heard some goodbyes.

"I love you so much, Buddy! I'll come see you this week okay? Maybe in a day or two." Your smile was uncontrollable. "No, I cannot bring iron man with me. Am I not cool enough for you anymore?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at you when you looked up at him with a giggle. You motioned for him to stay quiet, then put it on speaker phone.

A tiny little voice came through, and Steve immediately remembered all of the times you told him about your five year old nephew that lived with your sister not too far from the compound.

“What about Captain America?" He questioned.

"I don't know Captain America!" You denied, looking Steve dead in the eye. You laughed as Steve's jaw dropped in response to your antics.

"Yes you do! Mommy showed me a picture of you and Captain America!" He giggled.

"No, that's not Captain America, that's my friend Steve." You joked.

"That's Captain America's name!" Your nephew defended himself.

"No way, really? That must be a coincidence."

"What is your friend Steve's last name?" He questioned.

"I'm not really sure, I'll have to ask him next time I see him." Steve shook his head at you with a mischievous smile while sitting on the edge of your bed. "What is Captain America's last name?"

"Rogers! How do you not know that!?" The boy laughed over the phone. "Don't you work with these people?!"

"I dunno, maybe you should be an Avenger. You know a lot more about this stuff than I do."

"Okay I'm ending this conversation before my son tries to break into the compound and steal Captain Roger's shield." Your sister took the phone away from the five year old.

"Did you hear that Steve? If your shield goes missing, we have a suspect." You told him.

"Oh god... is Captain Rogers in the room with you right now?" Your sister questioned with a sigh.

"No, she's talking to herself. She's kind've crazy." Steve denied earning a laugh from the other side of the phone.

"Tell me about it! I've had to deal with her all my life!" She laughed. "I'll let you go now, Smalls. I'm glad you're okay, let me know if you need anything. Also feel free to come over whenever you want. You know Luca loves you more than anyone in the world, we would take good care of you if you need it."

"Thank you! And thanks for checking up on me, sorry you got that alert, that must've been scary."

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're alright. Stay safe, I'll see you soon."

"See you soon" you agreed before hanging up.

"You're gaslighting a child?" Steve questioned.

"He knows it's a joke." You denied with a tired giggle. "Luca is obsessed with the Avengers but especially you. If I ever actually admitted to him that were close friends he would lose his mind and never leave us alone."

"But he's so cute! You should bring him to the compound and give him a tour!" He enthused.

"I think he would actually combust." You sat up. "Maybe one day, but my Sister doesn't think he's ready for that yet."

"What's her name?"

"Jane, she's four years older than me." You explained. "She called me in a panic because she's my emergency contact. I think Commander Bennett added an injury report to my file so it sent her an automated phone call that I got hurt in battle. It scared the daylight out of her."

"I don't blame her." Steve shook his head. "Thats one of the worst phone calls to ever receive."

"It really is" you agreed. "What time is it?"

"7:30 pm." He grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better. It just feels like a really bad sunburn now." You explained. "I still feel pretty beat up from the mission though."

Steve nodded his head in understanding. "I got an email from Bennett, you were cleared from the roster for the rest of the week. So you'll start work again on Monday. Oh, also, someone from the hazard team came and picked up your suit to clean it. They reported back to be about an hour ago that it wasn't salvageable so weaponry is making you a new one. Should be done by the time you get back to work on Monday."

"Thank you, Stevie, you're the best." You smiled.

"Ugh, I know right?" He joked, back flopping right next to you.

"I take it back." You laughed, gently flicking his head.

"Fine. Next time, call Bucky." Steve joked.

Your laugh got louder and you shook your head. "Bucky would've left me on the Jet floor to beat the shit out of Harvey."

"Exactly my point." Steve settled with amusement.

"Speaking of Bucky, do we know where he is right now?"

"Probably beating the shit out of Harvey"

"You boys are exhausting." You sign smiled.

"But you love it." Steve pointed out, poking your cheek.

"I do." You admitted.

Comfortable silence fell over the two of you, nothing significant was running through your mind, but you could tell Steve's mind was running around one thought and one thought only.

"... You're hungry aren't you?" You questioned rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

"How could you tell?" He turned his head to look at you with a big beaming smile on his face.

"I know you like the back of my hand, Rogers."

He hummed in agreement. "You're hungry too."

"How could you tell?"

"Because your stomach was growling in your slee- I mean... because I know you so well!"

"Food?"

"Food." He agreed.

"Alright, let's go big guy." You pat his shoulder twice. "You saw me naked today so now I get to wine and dine you."

"Bug!" He barked out a laugh, and his cheeks immediately turned a pretty shake of pink. "Don't you even start with me!"

“Oh, and by the way, if you tell anyone you’ve ever seen me naked, I’ll beat you to a pulp faster than any other agent in the compound gets the chance to call me a whore.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Next part: Expendable

Tag list: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @ynstark @dbnightingale24

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 82 (Adorable Lavender)

Lavender had her father's blue eyes and mother's hair. A wiggly infant who loved wake up time, she was a delightful, happy baby who could even tolerate tummy time longer than most.

Her excitable nature did often leave her with hiccups, but this didn't impact her digestion like her pediatrician feared it might. Even her tired cries made her parents' hearts swell. Heather and Conrad settled into a daily routine: sending Ash to school before they left for work, delivering Lavender to daycare on the way. At night, they helped Ash with his homework, spent time with the kids, and cared for their pets.

Conrad's workload at the precinct was heavy. His search for Ximena's brother did his schedule no favours, but Conrad was careful and meticulous with his cases. With young kids at home, none of his fellow detectives suspected he had any free time - let alone that he was using it to search for Rafa under the table.

More than anything, Conrad hoped it wasn't too late to get through to him. If San Myshuno PD found him first, Rafa would be sent to prison. Conrad had been the closest thing to a father-figure he'd ever had, and he couldn't help but feel, when he left Ximena, he'd left Rafa, too.

"Gord hovers so much more now that Lavender's here," Heather mused. "He doesn't even get excited about leaving for work with you in the mornings anymore."

Conrad knew why Gord didn't want to leave Heather and the kids, but he still couldn't find the right way to tell her the truth.

"Gord decides who he wants to serve and protect," he said instead, giving in to the Bernese's desire to stay home. "I can't make him chase down suspects at the station if he'd rather be here."

The longer it took to come clean, the harder it seemed to bring it up. He was grateful Ximena had stopped calling him, at least.

Ash was improving his grades and always breezed through his homework. Nancy had promised simoleons for every A grade on his report card, and the young genius was happy to work his wealthy grandmother for the extra spending money. Heather tried to object, but she couldn't stop Nancy from spoiling him.

Art was his favourite subject at this stage, and he spent hours drawing. Nancy wanted to sign him up for art classes with prestigious painters in the city, but he was happy enough with crayons at his craft table, and not quite interested in easels and paints just yet.

He was still a little unsure about his little sister, who was only moderately more interesting to him as an infant. "Lavender still doesn't do much, mommy. When will she be able to go out and play in the snow with me?"

"Not for a while yet," Heather explained. "But you were this small once, and you grew. She might even be able to hit her milestones faster if you play with her. Show her how to be a big kid like you."

Excited at the prospect, Ash was sweet with his baby sister. Lavender watched him wide-eyed and giggled at his stories about aliens and zombies and superhero princesses. But she, like her brother, liked best the one about the giving tree.

They were happy and Heather, like his coworkers, was none the wiser to Conrad's search for wanted man Rafa Bonilla. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Lavender's third infant quirk will be revealed, but it's not apparent yet!

[7s3ven]

LACY. cato hadley

( master list )

IN WHICH… Clove Kentwell can’t help but compare herself to Cato’s ex. They may have dated a year ago, but she sees the way he still looks at her.

“Lacy, oh, Lacy, it's like you're out to get me. You poison every little thing that I do”

—

“Cato, are you listening?” Clove placed a hand on her boyfriend’s muscular arm, her eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t usually worried but with how distant Cato had been lately, she couldn’t help it.

“Huh?” Finally, Cato turned to her. “Yeah. I’m good. Sorry, I’m just tired.” But his eyes didn’t fail to trail back to her. Clove followed his line of sight, feeling a sudden burst of jealousy.

He had been paying more attention to her than Clove.

Y/N L/N, District Two’s prized possession. A delicate beauty none the less. And Cato Hadley’s ex-girlfriend. It had been a year since the two broke up but he was still gazing at her from time to time, which angered Clove.

She had tried to bring it up with him, but he brushed her off. “Cato.” She tugged on his shirt, gaining his attention. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” The pair were sitting in a small cafe that happened to be Y/N’s favorite. She was always sitting in the corner, laughing with friends.

“I thought you liked this place.” Cato tilted his head to the side.

“I do.” Clove glanced down at the cinnamon spice coffee that she adored, “But I… want a change of scenery.” All she wanted was one day where she didn’t have to witness Cato eying up Y/N.

“Uh. Yeah. We can leave.”

Clove did her best to hide her sigh of relief. They stood up, pushing their chairs back. Clove grabbed her drink and practically shoved Cato out the door.

“What about that dessert place you like?” Cato questioned. Only, Clove didn’t like desserts. She liked warm and hot things; like hot chai lattes and spicy soup. Y/N was the one who liked desserts.

“I’m not in the mood for cold things.” Clove smiled, cooly playing it off. She couldn’t help but loathe Y/N for influencing Cato this much and leaving such a huge mark. But it was partly her fault for falling in love with a guy who wasn’t over his ex.

“Do you just want to go home and watch a movie then?” Cato suggested. Finally, he remembered one right detail about her. Clove silently nodded, taking another sip from her cup.

Cato abruptly paused. “Hey, your friend is friends with Y/N, right?” Clove wasn’t even disappointed at this point.

She heaved a light sigh. “Yeah. I guess. They talk.”

“Great. I need to return some things to her but I don’t know her new address. So do you think you could ask your friend?”

“I’m not really comfortable with you being around Y/N.” Clove fiddled with her fingers, which was another trait she had gained from her relationship with Cato.

Cato quietly scoffed, but not in a rude way. He smiled. “It’s just a few things, Clo. I’ll be in and out like that.” He quickly snapped his fingers. Clove rocked back and forth on her heels before giving in.

“I’ll ask but I can’t make any promise.” She uttered, the light in her eyes dimming when she saw Cato grin wider.

Y/N was the type of girl nobody could compare to with her stunning E/C eyes and lingering perfume that hung heavily on her skin.

She was Heather Conan talked about. She was Lacy Olivia referred to. And in a way, she was Clove’s rival.

“Excuse me.”

Clove’s heart practically dropped after she heard that all too familiar voice. Cato seemed to spin around impossibly fast.

Y/N stood behind them, softly smiling. “I think you left this.” She held up a hardcover book that Clove had forgotten to grab despite it being her favorite.

“Oh…” Clove quickly reached for it, hugging it tightly to her chest. “Thank you.” She choked out. Y/N sent her another smile that made Clove feel sick. How could she be so perfect?

“Cato, I found some of your stuff in my closet.” Y/N turned to the blond-haired boy. “Would you be wanting it back?” Clove almost prayed for Cato to ignore her. To not reply. But Cato opened his mouth anyway.

“I have some of your things too. I was planning on asking Clove’s friend, Aria, for your address.”

“Oh, Aria! She’s so nice. She let me borrow her perfume once.”

It was like Clove wasn’t even there. She clenched her hands into fists as she watched the two converse like they were old friends. They somewhat were but their dating history made it weird for them to be speaking so casually.

Cato was hanging off every word Y/N said which left Clove alone. She almost shrivelled under all the pitying looks people passing by gave her, but she continued to stand tall.

“I’ll meet you there then?” Y/N asked, her perfectly tinted lips curving upwards. Her makeup was always perfect, unlike Clove who preferred to wear none at all. Suddenly, Clove grew self-conscious.

Did Cato like feminine girls? Clove looked Y/N up and down, noticing her neat outfit. The H/C-nette was wearing a skirt while Clove was dressed in loose fitting cargo pants. Her gaze flickered to Y/N’s hair. Every strand was placed perfectly while Clove’s hair was simply pulled back into a messy ponytail.

“Yeah. See you.” Cato bid Y/N farewell. He looked at Clove again, who was losing her confidence the more she compared herself to Y/N. “You ready to go?”

Clove hid her insecurity behind a smile. “Yeah.” She muttered, her voice quieter than she planned it to be.

The couple always watched movies at Cato’s house. His family had a spare room that they used as a small movie theatre. Clove leaned against Cato and despite him allowing her to do so, she knew he wished she was someone else.

“So, what were you and Y/N talking about?” Clove carefully questioned as the movie had begun playing. She felt Cato shrug.

“Not much. We were just arranging a place and time to give stuff back.”

“Why do you still have her stuff?”

“I must’ve forgotten about it.”

The pang in Clove’s heart told her that he was lying. She saw the way he hugged a pink hoodie to sleep. It wasn’t her’s, and it didn’t smell like her either. Clove’s perfume was heavy and mature while the hoodie smelled airy and floral… just like Y/N.

Clove did her best to focus on the movie. She would get lost in her thoughts from time to time but always came back to reality when Cato shifted around.

Clove yawned and slightly slouched, letting the cushions of the couch engulf her. She glanced at Cato who was too focused on the screen to notice.

She suddenly paused the movie, confusing Cato. “Are you leaving now?” He asked, watching as she stood up. She shook her head.

“Cato, we need to talk about…” Clove paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Some things that have been happening recently.”

Cato raised his eyebrows, indirectly telling her to continue.

“Lately we haven’t been the same. I mean, I’m training more and you… you seem distracted. Did I do something wrong?” Clove had never felt more vulnerable than right now.

“I mean… you did eat salt and vinegar chips with Oreos.” Cato quietly chuckled.

“That’s not what I mean!” Clove exclaimed, “And that was a dare just so you know!” She pointed a finger at Cato. “You keep looking at her. And don’t pretend like you don’t know who I’m referring to.”

“What? Y/N?” The way Cato immediately caught on unnerved Clove. “Clo, she’s just a friend. Not even that. I only talked to her today because I needed to.”

“I see the way you look at her. And…” Clove had to take a minute to compose herself, “I know that you wish I was her.” Cato said nothing, confirming her theory.

“Clove.” He uttered after a moment. That was the first time he had called her by her real name in a long time. “I’m dating you. Not her. I”- Clove unexpectedly cut him off.

“Then why does it feel like we aren’t dating?!” She shouted, her voice slightly shaking. She was glad no one else was home. “Why does it feel like… I’m a replacement?”

“You aren’t”-

Clove didn’t let Cato speak. She launched straight into another scolding. “Why are you always looking at her?! And ignoring me! I’m your girlfriend, Cato! Me! Not her! So why do you pay more attention to Y/N than me? You hardly even talk to me now!” If Clove was a normal girl, she would be sobbing. But her parents taught her to keep her emotions, especially her sadness, at bay.

Cato remained silent, staring at her with the same look of pity everybody else did. All Clove wanted was for him to look at her the same way he looked at Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Clo.” He uttered. Clove took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for whatever was next to come. “I just can’t love you like I love her.”

“I see.” The brunette whispered. She quickly gathered her things, blinking away small tears.

“Clove. Come on.” Cato stood up as she walked away. “We can talk about this. Where are you going? Clove.” He was annoyingly insistent on following her.

Clove spun around, staring right into Cato’s eyes. “I can’t be her, Cato. So maybe it’s best if we split up.” She was prepared to leave but Cato grabbed her wrist.

“Y/N.” He uttered without thinking. His grip loosened on Clove’s wrist once he realized his mistake.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” Clove unlocked the front door, stepping out. “Just… leave my stuff on the doorstep and I’ll do the same.” She closed the door behind her and allowed herself a moment of weakness.

Cato stood on the other side, listening to Clove’s quiet sobs and sniffs. He slowly backed away. He knew that deep down, Clove was right. He did wish she was Y/N.

He glanced at the box Y/N’s stuff. It sat at the bottom of the stairs, almost collecting dust.

Maybe it’s for the best, he told himself. He had already hurt Clove enough. There was no reason for him to pretend that he loved her as much as he still loved Y/N.

[kaylapocalypse]

NOVA

I met a boy in a field.

His clothes were strange— but not too strange—and some of his words were unfamiliar—but not too unfamiliar.

He had been standing in the grass and looking up at the stars. He clutched something shining and bright in his hand.

When he heard me coming over, he turned and grinned.

“Wanna see something great?” He said “Come back here in fifty years and stand right in this spot. A sun will die and this is the best seat in the house.”

His teeth were made of metal and his eyes were hard like flint.

“This is the best century, really. We read about them all, you know. You’ve still got all the good stuff…”

He breathed in the air and let it out with a satisfied whoosh. As if he hadn’t had the opportunity to do such a thing in a long while.

“Why do you look so glum? Come on, sit with me in the sun.”

He crossed his legs and settled down in a patch of heather.

“The sun isn’t out. It’s night.” I said. “And who are you? This is private property.”

The boy laughed.

“The sun is always out. The sun bathes the earth in rays at all hours. God, you’re so young! The schools were so bad back in the day, wow.”

“I’m literally going to call the police. You seem like a nice kid, but you’ve got to go.”

He snorted and rolled a flower between his fingers.

“Whatever lady. You’ll miss me. And it’s not like I’m going anywhere permanent style. Because this is—you know what. I’m not going to tell you what’s going to happen. You’ll deserve it. Ugh.”

He shook the blindingly bright thing he had in his hand and vanished.

—

The next time I saw him I was 32.

It had been ten years, but there he stood. In the middle of the field. Wearing the same threadbare sweater and trousers I’d met him in.

“Gosh it took you a long time.” He said.

“Who are you? What the fuck. Are you wearing metal dentures?”

The boy looked exceptionally offended.

“Metal dentures? Oh that’s rich. Coming from someone with unprotected decaying bone in their mouth. Thank god I haven’t gotten hurt out here. What would you have tried to do? Cure a broken arm with bloodletting or burned a witch? I should have brought my own first aid kit just in case I have to deal with these primitive medical practices.”

That was a tirade I didn’t expect…

“What time are you from?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not even going to bother with that.” He said. “Come closer, let me see you. You aged finkin’ well.”

I edged closer to him, but not close enough to let him touch me.

“it’s been like an entire decade.” I said suspiciously.

“I see they at least taught you basic math.” He snorted.

The closer I got the more differences I noticed about him. He looked like he was about the same age, but his clothes were a little thinner, a little more ragged. He had circles beneath his eyes and his skin had a grayish tinge.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at me like I was insane.

“Of course I’m not okay. Clearly, we’re from different times. Clearly I’m from the future. If you were from the future, would you go back to the dark ages to wallow with your ancestors in the mud for fun? I can’t talk to you about this. It’s not like you can do anything about it. Just sit down and look at the goddamn sky with me. This is supposed to be romantic.”

I plopped down beside him and looked up at the stars. I knew I had groceries getting warm in the car, but I figured I could afford to spend at least five minutes with an ageless time wanderer —even if he was rude as hell.

“Okay, you see that dark area over there?” He pointed at the sky. I nodded.

“That’s the way out of this mess.”

“What mess?”

“Everything. All of the problems you have here. I think. I’m really bad at explaining this sort of stuff. I’m not like, the best at politics science or physics. That was more my dad’s thing. I was really only ever into sports.”

“What sport did you play?”

“Upjacket. It’s like a mixture of your baseball and your hockey. But the stakes are higher. You play in antigrav and the first person to score a point wins. It’s like… you start off in teams, but individuals win games, and the more individuals win on each team, the more money the team gets. It was fun. Back when they let us play sports.”

He grinned and looked up at the sky.

“I was gonna go pro. It’s all about agility.”

Suddenly the bright thing in his pocket started rattling wildly.

“Oh shit oh shit. Sorry. I’ve got to go. See you in te—”

He disappeared.

—

I took a train from New York all the way back to Michigan, then a bus out into the country.

The field was empty when I arrived. I sat down in the patch of heather and looked up into the sky.

My heels dug into the soft earth. I was 42.

After about 15 minutes he blinked into view with a hiss and a flash of smoke. The boy immediately bent over and vomited. He fell to his knees and gasped for a while, then spit hard to clear his mouth.

He was thinner than when I saw him last. And his sweater had some holes.

I took off my jacket and handed it to him.

He nodded in thanks and draped it around his shoulders.

“What is your name?” I asked gently.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said. “Nobody cares. Nobody’s cares who I am or why I’m here.”

“I care.” I said. “I have a son not much older than you back home. He just left for college. If you want you can come back with me and—”

“I can’t.” He shouted angrily.

His eyes burned dark and hot. He was sweating a bit, and his hands shook as they grappled the edges of my coat. Pulling it tight.

“I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have touched it. I should have left well enough alone.”

He wasn’t talking to me anymore, he was muttering and looking at the ground.

I shifted over so that we were closer together. I fished a pack of gum out of my purse and offered him a piece.

“What is this?” He looked scared.

“It’s gum. It’s a kind of candy. You just chew it and don’t swallow. It’s okay. It’s… Sweet?” I tried.

He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth.

“Gosh that is the weirdest… It’s like… My mouth was all dry before and I’m not thirsty anymore. But it’s just this strange rubbery…That is so…. I mean, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He smiled. It was like he hadn’t done it in a while. The corners of his mouth looked like they weren’t sure whether to go up or down.

“I hope this isn’t too forward.” I started. "But do you want a hug?”

He blushed and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Of all the tarts in the world, I found a nice sentimental one with candy in her pockets and a wish to take me away.” He laughed. “You can have all the hugs with me you like. It’s not like there’s anyone else around to hug.”

He fit neatly in my arms. He was stronger than I’d expected. More wiry. He smelled like ash, metal and the salt of unwashed skin.

“Do you want to know a secret?” He whispered into the shell of my ear.

“We never did get flying cars or hoverboards. It’s not a lack of technology. It’s got something to do with magnetism. You can’t break the rules of the universe— just bend them. And hover boards? Them’s a rule breakin’ invention.”

I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

“You’re such a marvel.” I said when I was finished.

He grinned back at me. Brilliant and true. The moonlight shining off his stainless-steel smile.

“I could have been much more.” He said cockily.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” I asked. “We have a spare room at my house up in New York…”

“No. Darling. You’re old as dirt, but I’m partial to you. I wouldn’t want to break your husband’s heart.” He winked.

I scowled. “Why are you so rude? And how old are you really?”

“You ask the worst questions.” He replied and disappeared.

—

I moved back to Michigan alone and went to the field every night for twenty years. Until my hair turned gray and the hike over wore on my knees.

I kept the grass green and tended the heather.

Like always, the boy arrived with a hiss.

He lay still in the grass.

He was thin and filthy and barely breathing.

I turned him over and pulled him into my arms.

The boy sobbed.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t… I tried so hard.”

“It’s okay.” I said.

“It’s not. It feels like it’s been days, but it’s probably been years. I just keep spinning round and round and my own window is out of reach. Yours is the closest so I keep landing here on this stupid rock in the middle of the millennium. I just want to go home.” He curled himself up until he was very small.

The bright thing glowed through the pocket of his tattered trousers.

“What does it do?” I asked.

“I don’t know how it works. It’s either broken or half made. It was sitting on my dad’s desk. I just picked it up and shook it.  It pushes me through time back and forth dropping me in different times. It never stops.  I can urge it one way or another, but I can’t drive it or force it anywhere once I make it work. I’ve been trying to get home for weeks.  I just want to go home. I just want to go home. I just want to go home.”

He repeated it over and over until he fell asleep.

I rubbed his back in circles and stared up at the stars until the sun came up from behind the fir trees.

 When I reached down to wake him up, I realized that he would never wake up again.

There was nothing to eat in the void of time, but star dust. Nothing to breathe but radiation.

I buried him in the heather.

—

Ten years later I went back into the field.

Fifty years had passed.

I looked up into the sky.

After a few hours of darkness, light shot out from the black spot the boy had pointed to so many years ago. The noise shattered the sound barrier and solar winds swept the planet. The night sky bled with reds and blues and purples and white. And it was so bright.

[falinesimagines]

🖤Yan! JD x Yan! Veronica x Reader💙

For @brainrotqueen • Written at like 4am and not beta read

Tw : Yandere, suicide/murder, toxic/manipulative relationships, Stockholm syndrome

Sfw, angst?

JD would be far more open about his obsession with you eventually getting Veronica -who had actually felt somewhat guilty about these feelings- to do the same.

They'd be protective over you in their own way.

JD would follow you from class to class and even back home on some occasion (he's just making sure nothing bad happens to you).

Veronica seems to get overly defensive and irritated if the Heathers were to ever try making fun of you.

If the Heathers ever tried to treat you how they did Martha then Westerberg would probably end up with three Heather spreads for the yearbook.

JD has pictures of you hidden in his room somewhere, he's given Veronica a few too. Veronica likes to write notes and letters in your handwriting, the two can delude themselves into believing that was really you that sent that love letter to the duo.

You're not in a great place mentality right now, more and more people around you are being lost to suicide. Why is this happening? Is it something wrong with you? Maybe you're causing this... Is this some sort of curse!? Horrific thoughts cloud your mind and there doesn't seem to be any way to stop them.

You've noticed JD and Veronica at the funerals. Your friend talked to alot of people, that's not that strange. Did they really know your sibling? Your aunt? You're too depressed and tired to be thinking about that right now. At least they're here to comfort you.

They're nice to you, they promise they'll stay for you and that nothing bad will happen now. You listen to them, why wouldn't you?

They invite you over to JD's house, it's a nice place. Is that your old shirt that you lost in the changing rooms? It can't be, it's not like you're the only person that owns a shirt like that... It's that your report card from last year? You threw that away didn't you? Maybe you misread the name...

Soon enough they're virtually the only people you have left, for some reason whoever isn't killing themselves seems to be afraid to approach you (Possibly because of Veronica getting the Heathers to spread rumours about you or JD's reputation around the school but it's not like you know that).

You're spending almost all of your free time with the couple now, it's not like you have anyone else to talk to anyway. When you're not with them they're trying to call you and if you can't answer immediately they're swarming you with questions about why when you eventually do answer. They're overwhelming but at least they care, right? At least they won't leave you like everyone else has.

They're making you skip classes and sometimes full days of school just to be with you, you're falling behind in school because of this but that's okay, you don't need highschool anyway, not when you have them. They're telling you that you can't spend too much time with your family. Why do you need to be away from them anyway? What does your family have that they can't give you? It's causing stress within the family, skipping dinner or sneaking out to be with them, you're parents are arguing with you, questioning what's going on. You don't need to answer them, you don't even need them period, not when you have Veronica and JD.