#and my 8 foot long couch

[bradshawsbaby]

Like Peas in a Pod

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: What happens when two wallflowers find each other?

Word Count: 5.7k

Author’s Note: I admit that this story is extremely self-indulgent. But I have a feeling that a lot of people can relate to what our leading lady goes through, and I hope you can find pieces of yourself in her!

Warnings: Mild angst, social awkwardness, feeling overlooked, alcohol consumption, flirting, fluff.

If you’d had it your way, you would be at home right now, curled up on the couch in a pair of cozy pajamas with a good book and a steaming cup of tea in hand. But instead, your friends had outnumbered you 3-1 and you were currently sitting in the middle of a noisy, crowded bar, the patrons loudly competing with the music that was blaring through the speakers.

“Do we have to go out tonight?” you’d groaned over FaceTime a few hours earlier. “It’s been such a long week. Can’t we just do a wine night and put on some movies?”

“We did that last week!” Shawna argued. “C’mon, I just got my nails done. Don’t let it be for nothing,” she teased, wiggling her manicured fingers in front of the camera.

“Besides,” Kelsey chimed in, “like you said, it has been a long week. We deserve a night out to unwind and treat ourselves.”

“Hopefully we’ll find other people to treat us,” Renee added cheekily, tossing her unruly dark curls over her shoulder as she winked.

“Besides, the girls at work told me this is a really fun bar. Apparently it’s where all the hotties from North Island go after work,” Shawna giggled.

Your former college roommate had just started a new nursing job at Naval Medical Center San Diego, so if anyone was going to know where the hot Navy guys spent their off hours, it would be her.

“It’s settled! We’re going to The Hard Deck, ladies,” Renee grinned, blowing you all a kiss. “Meet at my place at 8 and we’ll Uber over.”

As much as you would have preferred to stay at home tonight, you had to admit that Shawna hadn’t been wrong. From the moment you’d stepped foot inside The Hard Deck, you’d been amazed at the sheer number of attractive men crowding the space. You certainly never found men like this when you hit the bars downtown.

Renee, ever the mastermind when it came to scoping out the most advantageous situations, quickly managed to grab your group a table smack in the middle of the room. It had an excellent vantage point that not only made you most visible to the bar’s patrons, but also gave you a perfect view of the pool table, the dart boards, and the bar all at once.

“Cheers, ladies!” Kelsey exclaimed once you were all seated with your first round of drinks. “And a special toast to Shawna for telling us about this place!” she added with a grin, holding up her glass of hard cider.

The rest of you held up your drinks—Renee had opted for a bottle of Coors, Shawna had gone with an IPA, and you had chosen a High Noon—and clinked them together with a celebratory “Cheers!”

“Tonight’s the night that you’re finally going to find yourself a man,” Shawna told you, turning to you and playfully poking you in the side.

“Yes, it is!” Renee nodded in agreement, winking at you from across the table as she took a sip of her beer.

“Take your pick, babe,” Kelsey added, waving her hand to encompass the whole bar. “I’ve literally never seen so many gorgeous guys all in one place. And in uniform, too!”

You felt the back of your neck prickling and your skin growing warm at your friends’ expectant stares, a weak smile gracing your lips as you took a sip of your drink. It always ended up being like this. You loved your friends, and you knew they meant well, but they had no idea what it was like to be in your shoes.

The four of you had been best friends since college, despite the fact that you couldn’t have been more different from one another if you tried. Kelsey always joked that your four personalities combined helped to balance each other out.

Despite their differences in looks, style, and demeanor, Shawna, Renee, and Kelsey did all have one thing in common that you had never seemed to possess—the ability to turn men’s heads no matter where they were.

Shawna had the perfectly sweet girl-next-door vibe going on. With her strawberry blonde locks, big blue eyes, dusting of freckles, and curvy figure, she always attracted guys like bees to a flower.

At any given time, Kelsey looked like she had just walked off the runway. Even in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, she managed to look chic. With her tall, willowy figure, sleek dark brown bob, almond-shaped eyes, and lips that never needed lipstick, she had men drooling all over her.

Arguably the most exuberant member of the group was Renee, who had been a firecracker for as long as you had known her. The only thing bigger than her laugh was her smile, and she had the most gorgeous ebony curls that contrasted perfectly with her cinnamon-colored skin. Paired with her petite figure, she drew men in like moths to a flame.

And then there was you. Quiet, shy, bookish you. Throughout college, people had often commented that you seemed like the most grounded out of all your friends, but you knew what that really meant. You were boring. And you knew what people were really trying to say—how had you become friends with such fun-loving girls?

You loved your friends more than anything, and you were grateful for the ways they’d helped you come out of your shell since college. But you’d be lying if you said going out to bars with them wasn’t challenging at times.

They all knew how to light up a room, how to flirt and talk to random strangers and get phone numbers from the hottest men you’d ever seen. You—didn’t know how to do any of that.

You’d tried over the years, you really had. Mainly at the girls’ insistence. You made an effort to flirt with the guys they introduced you to, or strike up conversations with  random cuties at your favorite coffee shop, but it never seemed to work for you the way that it did for your friends. And guys never approached you the way they did Shawna and Kelsey and Renee.

The most painful experience had been a couple months ago, when a guy had come up to you while you were waiting to order a drink, smiling and chatting in a way that had you thinking he was interested. Your heart had soared inside your chest, only to crash a few moments later when he asked, “So, is your friend single?” while pointing at Kelsey.

You hadn’t told any of your friends about that encounter. You knew they’d just feel bad and you didn’t want them to. They were desperate to find somebody for you, and you didn’t have the heart to tell them that you’d given up hoping for that a long time ago. They just wouldn’t understand. They went on dates all the time. You were just the one guys approached to inquire after their relationship statuses.

“Don’t give us that look,” Renee told you, shaking her head and pointing an accusatory finger at you as you attempted to slink down in your seat. “You look hot tonight, and you need to show it off!”

“You do,” Shawna nodded vehemently, nudging you in the side again until you sat up straight. “I love that top.”

“See? I told you it was a solid purchase,” Kelsey winked, as she had been the one to convince you to buy the top in question when the two of you had gone shopping a couple weeks ago.

Despite your lack of hopefulness, you had put a good deal of effort into your appearance tonight. You couldn’t help it. A bar full of hot guys in sexy uniforms? You’d be crazy not to try. You’d spent over an hour on your hair and make-up, and had decided to finally take the tags off the top Kelsey had convinced you to buy. The neckline flattered your figure and hugged your body in all the right places. You’d coupled it with a pair of high-waisted jeans and strappy sandals to show off your pedicure. Even you had to admit that you looked good, but you still hadn’t seemed to catch the eye of any guy in the bar.

“Let’s just enjoy the night and focus on us,” you said, trying to deflect your friends’ intense attention. “If anybody else happens to come along, then so be it.”

The girls all shot you dissatisfied looks, but didn’t push the point any further. Shawna started regaling you all with stories from her new job, which allowed you to let out a soft sigh of relief.

As the night went on, you tried your best not to grow discouraged, but it was getting harder and harder. Countless guys had passed by your table, stopping to flirt with Renee or Kelsey or Shawna, or even all three, but their eyes skipped over you like you were invisible. Whenever your friends tried to direct their attention your way, they smiled politely before instantly turning back to the actual objects of their attraction. Every time you got up to use the bathroom or order another round at the bar, you attempted to smile and make eye contact and appear open and interested, all the things your friends had been telling you to do for years, but none of it worked.

At that point, all you wanted to do was go home, put on your pajamas, and live vicariously through a good rom com.

You were about to tell your friends that you were going to get going when one of the bartenders—if you’d heard correctly earlier, she might have been the owner—approached your table with a tray full of drinks, a smile gracing her lovely face.

“Ladies, these are for you,” she said, setting down a cider for Kelsey, a Coors for Renee, an IPA for Shawna, and a High Noon for you.

“Oh,” Shawna said, her blue eyes widening in surprise. “I think there might have been a mistake. We didn’t order another round, did we?” she asked, looking at the rest of you.

“Not that we won’t take them,” Renee chimed in with that bright laugh of hers.

The woman smiled at the four of you. “No mistake. These drinks are compliments of the group over there,” she chuckled, pointing at a group of officers clustered around the pool table.

The four of you turned your gazes in the direction she was pointing, your friends letting out various sounds of delighted surprise when they realized the men in question looked as though they had just been featured on the cover of Men’s Health magazine.

“Oh, we’ll definitely take them!” Renee beamed, flipping her dark curls over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Kelsey grinned up at the older woman gratefully.

“Of course,” she nodded, tucking her empty tray under her arm. She leaned in a little closer with a conspiratorial smile and whispered, “I’ll vouch for the fact that they’re good guys. But if they act like idiots, just come find me. My name is Penny.”

“Thanks, Penny,” Shawna giggled, reaching for her new drink. “We owe you one!”

Penny winked at you before heading back to the bar, which was surrounded by thirsty customers. Business was booming. If Penny was the owner as you suspected, then she must have been doing quite well.

“Should we go thank them for the drinks?” Shawna grinned, chewing on her lower lip as she glanced in the direction of the handsome officers at the pool table.

“Not yet,” Renee decided, smirking mischievously. “We’ll let them sweat it out a little bit first.”

“Renee!” Kelsey laughed, lightly smacking her on the arm.

“What? You know it’ll work. They’ll be eating out of the palms of our hands,” Renee grinned, taking a hearty sip of her Coors.

“They look cute,” you ventured, though your palms were already sweating at the thought of approaching them. You highly doubted any of them would be eating out of your clammy palms.

Clearly you shouldn’t have said anything, because suddenly all three of your friends were pouncing on you like ravenous wolves.

“Which one do you think is the cutest?”

“Do you see one you like?”

“Claim one now before we get over there!”

Their words loudly overlapped one another, to the point that you had to resist the urge to cover your ears with your hands.

“I—I—I don’t know!” you exclaimed, feeling your skin grow warm with embarrassment. You hated being the center of attention. “I just meant—I mean, they look cute for you guys.”

“Um, last I checked, you were just as single as the rest of us. Why wouldn’t they be cute for you, too?” Kelsey demanded, raising one of her perfectly waxed eyebrows.

“Please, you guys, let’s just drop it. I’m probably going to start heading home soon anyway,” you told them, sliding down in your seat and wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

“What? No, you can’t!” Renee and Shawna practically cried in unison.

“C’mon, we’ll go over to them now,” Renee decided, grabbing her drink and her purse. “You can’t leave yet,” she insisted.

Kelsey and Shawna nodded, grabbing their things and following suit, nearly having to drag you out of your seat to get you to come with them.

“Well, well, well, fellas,” smirked a blonde-headed officer as the four of you approached the pool table. “Looks like our little gift didn’t go unnoticed after all.”

Glancing down quickly, you spotted the name printed on his nameplate—Seresin. He was extremely handsome in that clean-cut, All-American way, with his perfectly coiffed blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, and charming smile.

Renee, who always ended up being your group’s fearless leader, smirked in return as she stepped to the head of the pack. “Well, well, well, ladies. Looks like the guys who sent us those drinks aren’t half bad after all,” she said, resting a hand on her hip as she gazed up at the blonde man, challenge twinkling in her dark eyes. “Even if they weren’t brave enough to come bring us the drinks themselves.”

Kelsey and Shawna stood on either side of her, giggling softly, while you hung near the back, staring down at your feet as your cheeks burned hot.

“Most of us aren’t half bad. I can’t speak for Hangman here,” another voice piped up, deep and gravelly. You could sense, rather than see, Kelsey’s ears pricking up at the sound.

Glancing up, you saw another handsome man standing before you, looking every inch Kelsey’s type with his sunkissed brown hair, broad shoulders, tanned skin, and easygoing smile. If you knew Kelsey, you knew she was already imagining what that mustache would feel like against her lips. You clocked his nameplate as well—Bradshaw.

“Hangman?” Renee asked coquettishly, quirking an eyebrow as she glanced between the two men.

“My callsign,” the blonde cut in smoothly, pool cue still in hand. It was clear that while he and Bradshaw might be buddies, there was still a sense of competition between the two.

“Ah, callsigns. You’re fighter pilots,” Shawna commented, grinning knowingly. Thank goodness for her job at NMCSD. She was much more in the know than any of the rest of you.

“Not just any fighter pilots. The best fighter pilots,” came another voice from the other side of the pool table. When Hangman stepped to the side, you saw it belonged to a guy whose jawline looked like it could cut glass and whose smile could melt butter. His nameplate read Machado.

“Oh, yeah?” Kelsey asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “And who determines that?”

“The Navy,” Bradshaw replied smoothly, stepping a little closer to your statuesque friend. “We’re all TOPGUN graduates. The top 1%.”

“Hmm, and humble, too,” Kelsey laughed, delicately resting her hand on his arm as she did so. “So what’s your callsign then?”

“Rooster,” the mustached man told her, chest puffing out with pride. “But I’m being awfully rude. I didn’t catch your name,” he said, holding out his large hand.

“Kelsey,” she replied, her dark eyes twinkling as she slipped her hand into his.

You watched as, almost instantly, your friends partnered off quite naturally with the handsome aviators. Renee and Hangman were already bickering about the best way to sink the 8 ball, Kelsey and Rooster were talking about music near the window, and Shawna was flirting up a storm with Machado, whose callsign turned out to be Coyote.

Your stomach sank as you realized that you were suddenly on your own. As usual. Not that you resented your friends getting to flirt with cute guys. You always cheered them on when they met someone new, and you were always there to celebrate with them. You just wished that, for once, they had a reason to celebrate with you.

Glancing around, you saw that there were several other officers hanging around the pool table, though most of them seemed to be engrossed in their own conversations. No one was paying you any mind. And suddenly you felt like crying.

What was wrong with you? Was there something about you that just naturally repelled handsome men? Your friends were constantly telling you how beautiful you were, but that was hard to believe when you were the only one who never got hit on, never got asked out, never felt special or seen by anybody.

It was time to go home. You could feel the tears stinging the backs of your eyes, and the last thing you needed was to start bawling in the middle of a Navy bar. No one would notice if you just slipped away. You’d text your friends in the Uber and ask them to let you know how the rest of their night went. It always ended up being like this, and you weren’t sure why you had thought tonight would be any different.

Silently leaving your drink on the table with your friends’ things, you turned and began snaking your way through the crowd, trying to get to the bar so that you could close out your tab. Before you could get there, however, someone bumped into you from behind, sending your purse flying out of your hands.

Sighing softly, you dropped down to your hands and knees, praying you wouldn’t get stomped on as you tried to reach for it. Just as your hand was hovering over it, however, a much larger hand closed down around it and lifted it up.

Before you could shout for help, that same hand was hovering in front of your face, silently offering to help you up off the sticky bar floor. You lifted your head and your heart skipped a beat at the man who was gazing down at you. He had sandy brown hair, big blue eyes magnified behind a pair of military-issued glasses, and ruddy cheeks, an uncertain smile on his handsome face.

Wordlessly, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you back up to your feet. He was even taller than you had originally thought from your position down on the ground.

“Are you alright?” he asked loudly, trying to be heard over the din of the crowd.

“Yes,” you yelled back, nodding your head on the off-chance he hadn’t heard you. “Thank you,” you added.

“I’m guessing you were looking for this?” he went on, holding up your purse in his other hand.

You nodded again, accepting your bag with a grateful smile. “I guess I’m just a klutz,” you told him sheepishly, the realization dawning that this man had literally just witnessed you crawling on a grimy bar floor.

He smiled in response, which only made him look all the more handsome. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, shaking his head. “Someone bumped into you.”

He had seen that? Had he actually been paying attention to you? Or did he just happen to be nearby?

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it,” you murmured, nervously fiddling with one of your bracelets as you glanced over at the bar.

He followed your gaze, his expression conflicted. “Well I don’t want to hold you up,” he told you, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Your head whipped back in his direction. “Oh, no! I mean, you’re not. I was just trying to get to the bar to close my tab.”

Were you losing your mind or did he really look disappointed now?

“Oh, you’re leaving?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I, um, I thought I saw you with the girls who were hanging out with my friends,” he explained, indicating the group at the pool table with his thumb.

He was a part of that group? Was this a sign that maybe you shouldn’t leave after all?

“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to think of what to say. “I just, um…well, it’s kind of loud in here and I just…” Your sentence trailed off as you realized how lame you sounded.

“Would you like to maybe go outside for a minute?” he suggested. When you hesitated, he stammered, “I mean, of course you don’t have to. I’m sorry. I mean, obviously you just want to get out of here and I’m—”

“No,” you cut him off, briefly brushing your fingers against his arm. “I mean, I would like that,” you clarified with a shy smile.

“Oh,” he blinked, looking a little surprised. But then he brightened instantly, his bright blue eyes shining as he smiled at you in return. “I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand to you.

Slipping your hand into his, you smiled wider as you told him your name, beaming when he repeated it back to you and told you it was pretty.

“So do you have a callsign, too, Bob?” you asked curiously as he led you through the crowd and towards one of the back doors that faced the beach. “Your friends were telling me and my friends their callsigns earlier.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he held open the door that led to a little back patio with picnic tables. It was relatively empty, except for a few people hanging out in the sand. “My callsign is Bob. Original, I know,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, as if he was used to being made fun of for it.

In that instant, you felt a deep sense of connectedness to him that you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the way he ducked his head and averted his gaze, like he was trying to hide, or the way he nervously shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but you were suddenly certain that no one understood what it felt like to be in your shoes more than he did. To be overlooked, forgotten, underestimated. To be uncomfortable in your own skin because you were so certain you were never going to be enough for people.

“I like it,” you told him with a smile.

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely, looking caught off guard and surprised by your words once again.

The two of you wandered over to one of the picnic tables and took seats opposite each other, the fairy lights strung up outside illuminating his features as he gazed at you.

“Is this your first time at The Hard Deck?” he asked curiously, resting his elbows on the table. “I feel like I’d remember seeing you.”

You bit down on your lower lip to hide your smile, his words warming you from the inside out. “It is, actually. It was my friend Shawna’s idea to come tonight. She just recently started working at NMCSD and some of her co-workers told her this was a good spot.”

“It is,” Bob nodded, smiling at you. “Penny Benjamin, the owner, is a good woman and she always makes sure to look out for us.”

“I’m guessing this is a regular spot for you guys then?” you questioned, glancing up and spotting your friends through one of the windows. They looked like they were still having a good time with the aviators they’d found.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he chuckled. “It’s been almost a year since I’ve been back in San Diego. I was at TOPGUN a few years ago, then got stationed at Lemoore, then got called back to TOPGUN last October for a special mission, then got asked to stay on permanently with my new squadron. The Hard Deck has become like a second home,” he joked.

You laughed softly, charmed by the way he told you the story without a trace of arrogance or conceit. Clearly, he was one of the Navy’s best pilots if he had been called to TOPGUN not once, but twice, but he wasn’t bragging or boasting. He was just stating the facts.

As if he could read your mind, Bob explained, “I’m actually not a pilot. I’m a Weapons Systems Officer. I ride in the rear of the jet and deal with navigation and operating the aircraft system. I wanted to be a pilot when I was young, but my vision’s always been a problem. I’m proud to be a WSO though. And I have a great partner.”

“I think that sounds really impressive,” you told him honestly, reaching out and resting your hand over his. “I’m sure that takes a tremendous amount of skill and talent. If it was up to me, we’d never make it off the ground,” you grinned.

Bob smiled in return. “I’m sure you’d get the hang of it real quick. You seem really smart,” he said, the tips of his ears turning red as he ducked his head slightly. “So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a teacher,” you replied. “I teach history to middle schoolers.”

“Now that’s something I’m sure takes a tremendous amount of skill and talent. Just the thought of middle schoolers terrifies me,” he admitted, which made both of you laugh. “And history, too, huh? I love history. It was always my favorite subject in school.”

“Really?” you asked excitedly. It was rare that you found someone who enjoyed geeking out over history as much as you did.

“Absolutely. If I hadn’t gone into the Navy, I would have loved working in a museum or something. Maybe being a teacher, but like I said—middle schoolers terrify me,” he grinned, his eyes crinkling.

“There’s always high school,” you pointed out with a smile.

“Even worse!” he exclaimed, which made you dissolve into a fit of giggles.

The two of you sat in companionable silence for a few moments, taking in the sound of the ocean waves and the faint trickle of music coming from inside the bar.

“Is that a piano?” you asked when the sound of the music registered in your ears.

“Sounds like Rooster is already trying to show off to your friend,” Bob teased, glancing over his shoulder as the door opened and a small group of rowdy sailors made their way outside.

“Trust me, Kelsey is probably eating it all up right now,” you assured him with a knowing look.

“My friends are very smooth with the ladies, but they’re also good guys, I promise. Your friends are in good hands,” he told you.

“It’s funny, Penny told us the same thing earlier,” you said.

“Ah, well, no one’s more trustworthy than Penny,” Bob smiled.

You nodded and the two of you sat in silence once again. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, however. You didn’t feel the need to fill it with awkward chatter. You were more than happy to just sit there with him, enjoying the cool evening air and listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore.

Bob looked like something was on his mind, like he wanted to say something, but was holding back. When you met his eyes and cocked your head to the side curiously, however, he seemed to come to a decision.

“Why were you going to leave?”

You were a little taken aback by his question and immediately dropped your gaze to your lap, fiddling with the strap of your purse and trying to figure out how to answer his question in a way that didn’t make you sound completely pathetic.

“I’m sorry, that’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked that,” Bob chastised himself, shaking his head. “Please, just forget it.”

“No, um, it’s okay,” you reassured him, clearing your throat slightly. You suddenly wished you had thought to grab a cup of water before coming outside. “Um, I guess I just realized that my friends were really hitting it off with your friends, and I didn’t see any point in sticking around any longer.”

Bob seemed troubled by your response, a small crease appearing between his brows. “Wasn’t there anybody for you to talk to?”

You turned your face away in embarrassment. Things had been going so well. You didn’t want Bob to know what a wallflower you truly were.

“Um, no, not really. My friends are the ones guys usually want to talk to,” you admitted quietly, your voice nearly drowned out by the wind. Your mouth felt so dry, and your hands were sweaty as you wiped them against your jeans.

Bob fully frowned at that. “Guys should be lined up out the door to talk to you,” he said softly, his voice serious.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” you murmured, staring down at the table instead of meeting his eyes.

“I’m not just saying it,” Bob insisted, his tone so urgent that it actually caused you to lift your head up to look at him. “You’re sweet and kind and funny and smart and so beautiful. Guys would have to be insane not to want to talk to you. I’m honestly shocked you’re out here talking to me of all people.”

“Don’t say that,” you begged him, your heart hurting to think that other women didn’t appreciate the wonderful man sitting before you.

“I know that I’m not like my friends,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he blushed furiously. “I know I’m not the kind of guy that girls want to talk to. So I know what it’s like to feel like you could just disappear in a place like this and nobody would notice. I hate that you feel that way, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had never met anyone before who seemed to know your thoughts so clearly, who could read your mind and understand everything you were feeling.

“Bob,” you breathed out, reaching across the table and clasping one of his hands between both of yours. “I think you’re a terrific guy. And the girls who can’t see that? It’s their loss.”

He smiled at that, his gaze fixed on your face as he rested his free hand over yours, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “I’m really glad you didn’t leave.”

“I’m really glad you asked me to stay.”

He said nothing in response, just held your hand tighter as his blue eyes bore into yours, as if he was reading the very depths of your soul.

The air hung thick with tension as the two of you stared at one another, leaning in closer and closer until your lips had no choice but to meet, his mouth firm, but gentle as it closed over yours.

It was soft and sweet and chaste, but when the two of you pulled back, you were both stammering and blushing like a couple of schoolchildren.

The stillness of the moment was broken a moment later when your friends shoved open the door and spilled out onto the back patio.

“There you are!” Renee exclaimed, hands on her hips as she did her best impression of your mother. “You had us scared half to death!”

“I told you she was fine,” Shawna insisted, rolling her eyes and mouthing ‘Sorry!’ to you.

“See? Nothing to be worried about,” Kelsey added. “She’s with…” She let her sentence trail off, shooting you a look to make quick introductions.

“Um, Bob! This is Bob,” you quickly supplied, squeezing his hand and shooting him an apologetic look.

“She’s with Bob!” Kelsey said, poking Renee in the side.

“Floyd, there you are! We were wondering where the hell you got off to,” Hangman said, joining your group and wrapping an arm around Renee’s waist.

“I guess they did notice we disappeared after all,” you whispered to Bob with a knowing smile.

“Of course we did!” Kelsey butted in, smiling when Rooster stepped up behind her and slipped his hand into hers.

“We were all going to head back to my place for a midnight swim,” Shawna explained, beaming up at Coyote. Your friend’s apartment complex was the only one that had a pool, and her landlord was cool enough to allow residents to use it whenever they wanted, so long as they were mindful of the noise. “Invite your friend!”

Your cheeks grew warm as everyone stared at you expectantly. “Um, Bob, would you like to come swimming with us?”

“I’d love to,” Bob grinned, his eyes fixed on you and only you.

Your friends clapped and cheered, which made your cheeks grow all the hotter.

“C’mon, let’s go close our tabs. Jake’s paying for the Ubers,” Renee smirked, patting the blonde’s chest as she gazed up at him.

“Aww, thanks, Jake,” Coyote grinned, smacking his friend on the shoulder as he and Shawna headed back inside.

“Owe you one, man,” Rooster nodded, leading Kelsey back into the bar.

“Hey, wait a second—”

“That’s what you get for losing two rounds of pool,” Renee teased, planting a kiss on his cheek before dragging him back inside.

Once you and Bob were left alone in the blessed silence once more, you looked at each other and couldn’t help but crack up laughing.

“I think your friends have really met their matches in my friends,” you told him playfully, gathering your things and rising from the picnic table.

“I think so,” Bob nodded, rising as well. “But I think I really met my match in you.”

Smiling, you slipped your hand into his and beamed up at him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

And as you walked out of The Hard Deck hand-in-hand with Bob, catching the victorious looks and playful winks your friends were shooting your way, you found yourself very grateful for all the times it had never worked out for you before this. Because you were certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bob Floyd had been worth waiting for.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 6 ] || [ Chapter 8 ]

Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. oral (m!receiving). sex (protected). Unspecified age gap. John is a little selfish. Also: the boys aren't very happy. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: tried my best to keep the smut as gender neutral as possible!

Chapter 7: Getting Laid!!

Last night, you and John stumbled in the door of your flat with your lips pressed together.

You swore that was something only happened in romcoms, when the main character and her rival/best-friend/ex/a stranger met at the bar, got drunk, and somehow stumbled in the door and did it right on the kitchen table or whatever.

Nope.

Nope. It happened.

He had his arms wrapped around your torso, one snugly around your hip/lower waist, the other running up over your spine, with his hand sinking into your hair.

He tossed his foot back, knocking the door closed with a donkey kick as your hands struggled to untuck his stupid maroon button-up.

Instead of fumbling with the buttons, he ripped it off himself, a few of the buttons popping off and being sent flying around the room. He shrugged it off himself before guiding you over the living room sofa.

The flat was a mess, you had tried to tell him, because you weren’t expecting to bring him (or anyone, ever) back here. But that wasn’t a concern at that moment.

John fell on top of you on the couch, his hands already ripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way (you’d come to find it behind your flatscreen tv).

His fingers kneaded and caressed your torso, squeezing at your waist as his mouth slide away from yours, over your jaw, and down to your neck, biting down onto it and sucking at the skin like it was his to mark.

Your hands found the back of his white crewneck and you pulled it off, momentarily getting him tangled in it, before you tossed it on the floor. 

You barely had a moment to feast your eyes on the sight of his bare torso before he was slipping your boots off and then dragging your jeans off your legs… Like a rabid animal, primal and hungry. 

You caught glimpses of his figure as he raised your leg and peppered kisses from your ankle, wet tongue jotting out to lick up your thigh toward your underwear.

He’s strong but soft, the owner of large pecks and a warm belly, both covered in thick, dark, coarse hair, that disappear in a happy trail under his jeans.

You pull his face toward yours, locking your lips into a deep kiss again, your tongues finding each other as he holds himself up over you. Pulling away from the kiss, you looked at him. “Flip over…” You whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing you around the waist again and hurling you up as he shifted to sit down on the couch, thighs spread to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans.

You knelt between his legs, nimble fingers undoing his belt and immediately tugging the dark fabric away from his thick thighs. He groaned in relief as he watched you struggle with his boots for a moment before you succeeded in getting it all off him.

His hand palmed at his hardened cock, eyelids droopy as your hands ran up his legs, feeling the hair in them, and sometimes catching the little bumps and scars of past injuries, some of them discreet, some of them obvious and particularly gnarly. Some of them could rival some of his Simon’s.

You tugged down his boxers briefs, allowing his cock to spring free. It’s uncut, long and decently thick, and his hair is neatly trimmed. The head peeks out just a bit, showing how red and angry it is, the whole length throbbing, needy for your touch.

Your eyes locked onto his, spotting that it wasn’t just his cock that was needy. He looked at you like a starved man about to have a meal. Barely restrained, his jaw clenched, fists tightened shut, the muscles on his thighs taut with anticipation.

You ran your tongue over your palm before wrapping it around his cock, hearing him hiss and throw his head back as you started stroking it. Your other hand slowly, carefully, pulled back the hood of his cock before you wrapped your lips and tongue around it, gingerly sliding it further into your mouth.

You could’ve sworn John was going to have an aneurysm. “Fuckin’ hell… That’s it…” He grunted and huffed consecutively as he tensed up a bit, bucking his hips upward to meet your mouth.

“F-Fuck… That’s it…” He grumbled under his breath as he looked down at you. John had been with plenty of people, but something about the way you looked on your knees with his cock steadily slipping down your throat, got him in a way no one else did.

“Jesus… Fuckin’... Christ…” He dipped his head back as your tongue drew circles around him before you swallowed him deeper, breathing steadily through your nose so as to not choke.

“God… Been… B-Been a while since I got… Christ-” He grunted again, one hand shooting up to grip the back of your neck as he slowly rocked his cock into your mouth, beads of precum drooling over your tongue.

“C’mere.” He demanded as he pulled you back from his cock and up to your feet. He grabbed hold of his jeans from the floor, in search of his wallet and pulled out a whole sheet of condoms which was folded neatly inside, He stuck them between his lips before he stood.

Grabbing hold of you, he walked you across your flat, making use of the sitting room lights to navigate the hall into the bedroom, and dropped you onto your bed. He tossed the condoms aside and his lips crashed into yours, lips parted so that your tongues found each other.

His hands grabbed hold of your underwear and tugged it off, sending it flying across the room while he grabbed hold of the condoms and ripped off one, rough fingers search struggling to open the foil, before he finally succeeded and slipped it on.

“You good?” He checked on you, eyes locked on yours as he slotted himself between your legs, kneeling in front of you and adjusting you to fit him. One leg wrapped around his waist, the other over the bend of his elbow to keep you spread open for him.

“Yeah.” You replied, immediately feeling him rub the leaking head of his cock against your entrance, allowing the lube of the condom to lubricate you just a bit.

It had been ages since you had last gotten laid, a miserable consequence of your ex-boyfriend, Ethan, and one of the main reasons you had broken up. Sex with him, much like your relationship, was dead and unfulfilling.

You felt John push his way inside, slotting himself in the warmth and snugness of your body as you squealed, your head falling back onto the bed. He grunted some incoherent praise, or what you assume was praise, his fingers digging into the extra fat on your legs to keep him steady enough.

He leaned over you, one closed fist on either side of your head, curling you onto yourself and allowing him easier access to thrust into you. Slow, torturously slowly, his cock stretching you and forcing you to accomodate him.

“Fuckin’ hell… So fuckin’ good…” He groaned, eyes closing and mouth falling open as he threw his hips down against yours. It was slow and considerate, but the way he huffed and grunted told you it was already too much for him.

But John was a man of focus. He uncurled his fists in order to grip your bed covers and squeeze them tight as his hips bounced off yours, his weeping girth always burying itself to the hilt before he pulled back again, making sure to bottom out every time.

You whimpered and moaned, eyes screwed closed and a shiver running down your spine every time the bouncy cock plunged into you, the upward tilt of it making sure to drag dangerously slowly across the one spot in your body that caused your mind to go blank, stars prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“F-Fuck… John…” You sighed as he kept the torturously slow pace, somehow driving you crazy just as much as he would while pounding you into oblivion.

“Yeah… that’s it. Moan my name, love.” He ordered as he leaned closer.

“J-John…” You cried out softly as his hips stuttered lightly, causing him to bury himself deep twice in a row.

“I know, darling. I know.” He grumbled. “You haven’t gotten properly shagged in a while, have you?” He taunted a bit. “Haven’t either, sweet thing…��� He added.

His hands grabbed your jaw on either side, his thumbs hooked onto your cheeks, the remaining fingers slipping under and around your ears, nails digging lightly into your scalp.

“I’ll make sure to make it last as long as possible, hm?” He added as he kissed at your lips, sucking your bottom lip between his lightly.

-

John was in a much better mood when he sat down for breakfast at the mess hall with Ghost, Gaz and Soap. He actually greeted them with a ‘Good morning’, his tray was piled high with food and his hair was wet from a recent shower.

The other three were looking at him with raised brows and intrigued glances, even if Ghost was trying to be discreet about them. They could read between the lines to know he had gotten lucky with you the night before, so they didn’t need to ask questions they knew the answers to.

Instead, they exchanged glances and kept eating their breakfasts… All except for Simon, who was simply drinkin a cup of breakfast tea.

“I don’t think it’s fair.” Soap ended up saying as Price was halfway through shoveling a hash brown into his mouth.

“What isn’t, Soap?” Price asked, eyes narrowed in confusion, and brows scrunched.

“We all matched ‘em on Tinder and didn’t get more than a ‘I’ll think about meetin’ up with you’.” The younger sergeant explained halfway through chewing his bite of sausage. “You meet with ‘em, get a shag… And we did all the work for it.” He added. “But when it comes to us ourselves, they don’t want us.” He complained.

“What are we gonna do?” Gaz complained. “Maybe they just like older men…” He said with a shrug. “Sucks but there’s other people out there.” He adds while drinking his orange juice.

“Are you seriously going to call dibs on the fact you saw ‘em before Price?” Ghost said in surprise.

“I’m just saying!” Soap grunted and shoveled some more scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Learn to take rejection with class, MacTavish. It’s going to happen to you more and more often as you get older.” Ghost quipped.

“Awa' an' bile yer heid!” Soap scoffed and flipped the middle finger at Ghost.

Meanwhile, the Captain was giving them all a look, while staying silent, seeming amused by their antics and a little by their jealousy. He could tell that despite the fact Gaz and Ghost had disagreed with Soap, their eyebrows were also furrowed in contemplation.

So, he simply turned off to the side and drank from his own tea with a smug smirk on his lips.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur , @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago

[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace

Hello my angels and welcome to Leather and Lace!!! We’ve got a very cute 3 parter (I’ve finished writing it) coming in for you guys. We love a good grumpy x sunshine and couldn’t help ourselves writing another one. Please leave us feedback! We love to hear from you

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Wc- 8.2k

Warnings- oral sex, praise kink, soft Dom h, opposites attract, cum play/swapping

---------

“How can you be this happy in the morning?” Harry grunted, hoodie pulled over his head as he sat down next to a bubbly Y/N. Her couch was comfortable but it didn’t make up for the fact that he was at her flat at 8 in the morning. 

“It’s not that early, lazy bones.” She hummed, tucking her legs under her as she sat down on the other side. “Thank you for coming to help today, by the way. I know you don’t like getting up early.”

He really didn’t, was the thing. He hated it. Harry only had so many days off and after working a long shift bartending last night, the very last thing he wanted to do was help someone unpack in their new flat. He’d rather claw at concrete than be awake right now, rather eat a raw egg, rather go through tattoo removal. If it was anyone but Y/N he would have laughed in their face at the mere ask. 

But it was her. It was twinkly eyed, pouty lipped, warm hearted Y/N who had asked him a week in advance and promised him a bagel with cream cheese and an iced coffee for brekkie, whatever he wanted for lunch, and ‘whatever he wanted in general!’. Little did she know he was going to say yes anyway, considering he knew he couldn’t say no to her sweet little ask with her smaller hand on his tattooed arm and wide eyes peering up at him. He wasn’t someone who liked to do things for many people without there being some sort of monetary gain, but this was different. 

Y/N had somehow latched herself onto one of the grumpiest bastards in the area while she herself was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever seen. Rarely spoke a mean word of anyone (except when they hurt someone close to her), went out of her way to help anyone who needed it and always wanted to be a shoulder to cry on. He’d seen her take money from her own wallet to cover someone’s bill when they were short, even seen her rush to help an elderly man across the street. It got her into trouble sometimes which was why he was glad that he’d been the hip she’d chosen to attach to. 

Their first interaction had been him sitting in the courtyard of their uni, listening to music under the tree. He’d had his sketchbook in hand, doodling in between classes when he looked up to see a girl with a pretty yellow bow in her hair offering him a cupcake because he looked ‘sad.’. He had been sad, actually, but that was pretty much his normal resting face. He’d tried to blow her off but she’d taken a seat next to him, introducing herself and telling him about her own day to ‘distract him’. He hated to admit that it worked. 

From then on, she popped up everywhere. At first he’d been a bit worried that she was following him but it truly was a coincidence. Y/N had found her way under his skin, wriggled her way into that cold heart of his and made it warm up just a little each time she came around. At some point she’d become a daily fixture in his life, her texts lighting up his phone with emojis and telling him to meet her at the cafe or the library- and for some reason, he followed.

“Mmm. Know y’wanted me here to see me get all sweaty. If y’wanted to see my tats and muscles so badly, you coulda just said so, Sweets.” He smirked, watching her eyes widen. So easy to fluster. 

“No! Stop teasing me, s’not nice.” She grumbled, poking his knee with her socked foot. She’d chosen lavender striped ones today. “I don’t have a lot of strong friends, you know that. Niall’s comin’ by after work to help you put the bedframe together and move the books from the car. Besides, I’ll let you sleepover and everything after we’re all done. I know you loveeeee my bed.”

He did. But more than anything he liked laying in said bed with her. Harry had a hard time admitting he had begun to gain feelings for the girl but deep down he knew he did. He liked that she insisted on cuddles, curling her leg around his and nuzzling her face into his chest, or even better yet the crook of his neck. Loved when she’d sleepily ask him questions about his life and tell him facts about her own. She resembled a tiny kitten while sleepy, insistent on getting all of the pets and attention. 

Harry had decided he wasn’t the relationship type after his last girlfriend had cheated on him with his old best mate- but meeting Y/N had reminded him of the die hard romantic that laid underneath the surface. All the hard work he’d had piling up bricks on top of his red, bleeding heart had seemed to be consistently excavated by the pastel wearing girl who still enjoyed the fairy lights he used to see online in those aesthetic bedroom photos. It scared him a bit at first. Even now, he was nervous about the idea of getting closer to her than they were now because her heart was a tender and precious thing and he didn’t necessarily trust himself not to hurt her- but then again, he knew he’d do miles better than anyone else could. He’d spent the time learning about her as the months went by, listening to her drawl on about the pinterest boards she made, her dream finds she always looked for at the thrift stores, her least favorite reality TV contestants, which pastries she found to be too dry at the cafe and which had the best level of moisture, what blankets she liked, every little tidbit he had stored away in his brain to use at a later date. 

No one would be as protective of her as he would be, which was why lately he’d been entertaining the thought of perhaps moving past the point of no return and trying to see if maybe, possibly, perhaps.. They could be more. 

It had come with a lot of deliberating but he’d come to understand that if he failed, Y/N wouldn’t caste him to the side. She’d never in a million years abandon him like he feared, which only gave him more motivation to go for it though… He was still biding his time. He had to let her get settled here before he shook up her life a bit more. 

They were opposites, the sweet girl and him. Harry was quite literally the bad boy cliche of everyone’s after school special’s dreams. His hair was long and curled, brushing his jaw. He went for darker clothing, usually his ripped black skinny jeans and a band tee but sometimes more eccentric with some silk and leaving his tits out when they went on a night out. His nose had a simple black hoop, his nails painted and chipped though this week they were a bubblegum pink, a la Y/N’s expertise. His body was hard from the gym he liked to frequent and inked, only getting more every month. He wore the occasional eyeliner when he felt spicy. That was only the physical things. 

Sometimes he wondered why she felt drawn to him, as she said. He was dark and moody with a darker sense of humor. Somewhat of a pessimist, he expected the worst from people and tended to stay away from them the best he could. The opposite of a social butterfly, he only usually went out in the past for a drink or to get his cock wet, never for the pleasure of interacting with people. Even then it was rare considering he did quite well in the hookup area being a bartender himself. 

Harry often wondered how and why she felt the pull to be around him and why she felt so at ease in his presence but he figured it had to be that he’d knocked the lights out of a bloke in her philosophy class who’d been riding her ass. He’d made the wrong decision of cornering Y/N at a party Harry had been dragged to, touching her a bit too much and not listening when her smile became thin and she backed away from him after giving a rejection much too polite than the man deserved. There had been no hesitation in laying him out, tugging Y/N into his side and demanding she stay with him for the rest of the party after she insisted she didn’t need to go home. 

Funnily enough she’d been a hit with his own small group of friends, everyone also feeling the same sort of kindred protection over her. Not many people were genuinely warm and fuzzy in the way she was. 

Y/N was… She was the sun, she was a cinnamon roll fresh baked on a sunday morning, she was a kitten sprawled in a sunbeam. All the good things, he could find a way to relate them to her. That probably should have been the indicator he had feelings for her far sooner than he’d ever let himself admit, but she had taken the time to crack him open. 

It was hard to stop thinking about what made her both his opposite and so special. Harry dwelled on how soft her clothing always was, both in color and texture. She liked those pastel colors and fuzzy cardigans, hair bows and those signature mary janes with the tiny heels. Lip oil as opposed to lip gloss because it was ‘too sticky’ but still dragged all his attention to her lips and made him wonder if it really tasted like tangerine like it smelled. 

Her touch was gentle and tender, cautious at first but as soon as she got the go ahead, she showered you in attention. At least, she did to him. Brushing stray hairs out of faces and wiping crumbs off cheeks, she had little sense of personal space once granted permission. She’d been mindful of his distaste for touch at the beginning but once he’d leaned into it, the girl had no qualms about straightening his shirt or leaning into his form, hell- there had been a few times she’d helped herself to his lap when there was no other seating option. Usually that was when she was tipsy considering she would most likely be a little shy sober, but that was something he enjoyed. 

The light to his dark, he doubted anyone else could make him feel the way she could. Hence why he was up after only getting 4 hours of sleep, sipping the coffee she’d gotten him. There was little he wouldn’t do for a hint of her smile. 

—--

“Babe, you’ve got t’make a decision.” Harry said gently, placing the large mirror down and leaning it against the wall. 

“I know, I know but… It’s bad luck to have your mirror facing your bed.” She wrung her fingers together. “I’m sorry, H. I know I’ve been a bit of a pain in the rear today. I promise m’not trying to, but It’s my first place and I just want it to be perfect.” Her head looked down, making his heart squeeze. 

God damn it. Leave it to her to make him feel like he’d kicked a puppy. Sighing, he tugged the bandana on his head back into place and approached her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “M’not upset with you. Promise. I just think you’re overthinking it a bit.” Her superstitions did tend to make her feel a little squirrely sometimes and he knew it.  “We’re gonna make it look perfect. Incredible, even. Reckon the magazines will be calling you up to feature you, but we can’t just have a freestanding mirror slab.” He’d picked it up for her off of craigslist just a bit ago. Even if it wasn’t a dodgy listing, he wouldn’t let her go on her own. That’s how people got kidnapped. 

“Ugh, I know.” She groaned, flopping into his chest. Never mind it being sweaty, she rubbed her nose between his tits and let out a tired groan, her hair smacking his chin. It’d been tossed up in a very messy bun that was a bit lopsided but made her look doubly as cute, though he didn’t tell her that. “Why don’t we mount it to the back of your door then? Not facing your bed, or another mirror.” 

He could almost hear her brain going as she mulled it over before he felt the nod against his chest. “That will be good, I think. I love that idea.” Y/N had been going back and forth over design choices with him all day as if he had a clue about interior decor, but he had appreciated her caring about his opinion nonetheless. “That can be the last thing we do. Niall’s fucked off somewhere futzing with the books so we can eat after that’s done.” 

The thud of his heart against her ear was steady as he gently ran a hand over her shoulderblade. “What’s on the menu?” 

“Think we’re ordering pizza because I know m’too tired to cook which means you lot have to be too.” She chuckled, finally prying herself out of his chest and blinking up at him.”Then we can go to bed.”  He was thankful her ear was away from his heart so she couldn’t hear the way it stuttered. You’d think after sleeping in her bed a multitude of times that he’d get used to the sound of that sentence but it still did him in every time. 

“Okay. I can run and pick it up after I mount this to the door if you call it in.” He knew she wouldn’t want to go. It was visible on her face how tired she was and it melted him internally. He knew that she’d be a little snuggly menace tonight and fuck if he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Gonna run into the pharmacy t’grab some body wash for here, if thats okay?”

“Course it is.” She beamed at the suggestion, making him happy that he’d even brought it up. Y/N used to suggest he sleep heer a lot before and he’d refuse, thinking she was just trying to be polite- but she really did enjoy him staying with her. “I liked the pomegranate one you used last time, just sayin’.” Patting his chest she moved from his grip, heading to grab her phone. “Normal for you?”

“Yeah, love. Same as usual.” He rubbed over the achy spot in his chest that she’d left by pulling away, looking forward to sleeping tonight so he could feel it fill back up.

—-----------

Harry had grabbed the pomegranate bath stuff. He’d grabbed the whole line, actually, the shampoo, conditioner, body wash and some sort of ‘skin buff.’ Whatever that was. 

Y/N had squeaked as he showed her, along with a pack of the makeup wipes she usually used and he’d steal. He’d figured it was about time to be the one to buy the replacements. “Ah! And you got the face mask I like.” Her eyes were wide and bright as she bounced on her toes, smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek before looking back down at the holographic packaging. He’d hoped he had gotten the right one when he’d seen a sale on them when on his way to the check out counter. It was worth the little bit of money to feel her lips for a moment. “Thank you, H. You’re the best, as usual.” 

“The hell am I?” Niall scoffed, wiping his hands dry after washing them. 

“You’re great too, but he got me the face masks I like and they usually sell out. So he’s a bit higher up in points today.” She placated him, brushing past him to put them in the bathroom. “Harry, plate up the pizza, pretty please!”

As soon as she had disappeared, Niall shot him a look. “When are you two gonna make it official?” He whispered. “The heat eyes bouncin’ off the both of you is sickening at this point. She’s turned you soft.” 

Harry settled with a glare, placing two slices on the paper plate and sliding it over to him. “Eventually. Her whole life is shifting. Can’t do shit right now without rattling her.” It was the first time he admitted or even hinted at having feelings for her besides point blank telling anyone who came around that she wasn’t available. Y/N didn’t know he did that though. 

“Thank fuck you don’t still have your head up your arse. I was worried you’d never admit you’re gone for her.” He faked wiping sweat off his head making the other man roll his eyes. “She’ll be happy, H. You don’t have to worry about her rejecting you. Just go on and do it. She talks about you like you hang the moon every night at this point even when you aren’t around.” 

A weakness he’d spotted, Harry stood a bit straighter before leaning in. “She does? What does she say?” Oh, he hated how desperate he sounded to hear the answer but the fluttering in his stomach made him insisting on finding out. 

“Oh, how thoughtful and kind and generous you are and how you’re the best person she knows, all of that. She stares at her phone and waits for texts from you when she comes out and you’re working, gets these huge smiles or giggles when you do. or tries to get everyone to move the party to your bar.” 

That last part, he’d hoped for. He liked the idea of her wanting to be physically close to him and suggesting everyone come and see him, but knowing she did the same thing he did when waiting for messages from him soothed a piece of him. He wasn’t alone in it. It was hard sometimes for him to decipher her behavior considering she was genuinely so friendly with everyone and he didn’t want to flatter himself and think it he was special… but apparently he was. 

He didn’t have a chance to answer when Y/N glided from the bathroom, finding her spot on the kitchen barstools. “What did I miss?” 

“Nothin’, Babe. Just chatting shit.” He murmured, sliding her a plate with her pizza of choice on it. “Figured we’d go to the grocery tomorrow, yeah? It’s a bit sparse in here with the food.” He had the next day off and intended on spending it with her. They’d made lots of progress today and had 80% of the place unpacked, but he knew she liked those restocking videos online. “Think they’ve got those organizers back in stock.” 

“Oh!” She gasped.”Yes, you genius. I’ll need your help though, strong man. I like the one trip wonder.” It was a tease considering she knew Harry hated making multiple trips up with bags. 

“Lucky for you, you’ve got a lift now and I’ve got that collapsible wagon.” Reaching out he gently flicked her nose for being a brat. “So we won’t have t’worry about that.” 

—-----

Y/N was either very oblivious or a tease. Harry could never fully figure out which one. 

He sat on her bed, messing with her telly when she emerged from the shower in her little cotton shorts and one of his shirts. It was one he’d just been looking for last week, actually, an old Iron Maiden one with a few holes in the collar area. Unmistakably his. The faded gray complimented her skin, looking extra cozy on her as her powder blue plush bunny slippers flopped against the ground and she made her way to her skincare desk. 

“You little thief.” He grumbled from the bed, leaning against her headboard. “I was searching everywhere for that last week.” Though he had narrowed eyes she would know he was only teasing. 

“You left it with me, remember? I ended up packing it so I wouldn’t forget it but… It’s super comfy.” She smiled guiltily at him, spinning in her chair. “Is it okay if I wear it? It still smells like your cologne and it helps me sleep sometimes…”

Ah, a shot to the heart. 

Y/N didn’t know what it did to him to know he was an aid in good sleep. That it both made his heart stutter and his cock throb at the sight of her wrapped up in his clothing like she had all the rights to it. Like he was her boyfriend and she liked to wear it to remember him. Her scent had a similar effect on him, leaving it in his sheets when she stayed over,  “Totally okay, lovely.” He smiled gently. “M’just teasing you. Though it does wonders for my ego to know you like my cologne that much.” 

He knew he was making her a little flustered considering she didn’t look right at him, but he thrived off of that. Knowing he made an impact on her like that made him feel just a bit more confident that she felt similarly to him. There was no answer from her, but he wasn’t done with her quite yet. Standing up with a groan, he made his way over to her little makeup and skincare set up, placing his hands on the back of her chair. “What are you putting on your face?” He asked curiously, looking over her head to the products she had neatly organized.

“Well, first I wipe with one of these toning pads.” She opened the little tub, using a tiny pair of clear tongs to grab one. “You don’t want to be sticking your fingers in there and potentially making them all dirty so it came with this little thing. You give it a few passes over your t zone.” She showed him as she did it, Harry watching diligently in the mirror. 

“Mmm. Then what? You’re always doin’ all of this fancy stuff to your face. Figure that's why your skin is so pretty.” He let his fingers fiddle with a few strands of hair. 

“Thank you.” She said sheepishly, picking up a smaller tube. “Um, I use this undereye cream to help with puffiness and brightening. Its soothing. I apply it with the smallest finger though, because while I’m not afraid of wrinkles it’s the weakest fingers and the skin under your eyes is more delicate.” 

Huh. “Didn’t know what.” He was actually learning something from this. 

“Mhm. Why do you think I tell you to go gentle when you use the makeup remover?” A smile tilted up one side of her lips a bit further, eyes focused on the mirror in front of her. She pretended not to notice the slight shiver he gave her when he leaned down, letting his face get more level with hers- but he did. He noticed anything he could. “A-And then I use some vitamin C stuff for brightening, a serum and a cream. I use the little fan to make it dry faster so it isn’t sticky.” She pointed to the mini pink fan he’d always noticed. He’d just assumed it was for when she got hot. “Do you… Would you like me to use some of it on you when I’m done?” 

She sounded hesitant to ask which he understood. Not a lot of the guys in their friend circle would want that, but he wasn’t that insecure about himself that he’d say no to someone pampering him. Especially not when it meant Y/N getting close to him. “Sure, sweets. I’d love that. Reckon my skin needs it.” 

“What do you usually do with it?” She asked curiously, meeting his eye in the mirror. 

“Makeup remover, wash my face, that cream you left at my place if I remember.” 

“It’s not fair you have the skin you do.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Cruel, actually.” It kind of was. He got long lashes too, which she always complained about. “Go and wash your face first, heathen.”

Harry let out a small laugh before going off to do that. Returning with a fresh face, he stood in his prior position, watching her finish up the routine before holding the fan closer to her face to finish it off. It was an interesting process he hadn’t paid much mind to before, but then again, she didn’t bring every single thing to his place either. 

After putting her hair up in a claw clip, she stood up from the plushy chair and motioned for him to sit down. He did as asked, feeling her residual warmth as she lined up the products for them. “Okay, so we start with the toner pad.” She gently pushed him to lean back in the chair, her face coming closer to his as she delicately swiped it over his cheeks and nose. He was getting an up close look at her, noticing the scar near her eyebrow and a few spots on her face. It made him warm up a bit, being able to see her so close when she was awake. Usually this level of observation was reserved for when she was asleep. “Oi, keep your head up.” 

“Sorry.” He laughed, avoiding the impulse to move the chair back and forth. He liked to swing on it at times. 

“Wait- how about this.” Without giving it much thought, she gripped the chair and swung it over to turn his body to the side, helping herself to straddle his lap. “This seems a little easier, no?” Fingers gently tipped his chin up, eyes focused on her motions. 

Harry’s breath had disappeared. No longer available, he felt her sitting on top of his thighs, innocent as ever as she went through the motions. Tender with her movements and pressure, she was treating him like porcelain while giving him a little makeover. He should be focused on how nice the products felt on his skin, but his mind was elsewhere. 

She smelled amazing, as usual, but having it this close up was a little hard for him. Yes, she sat on his lap before- but not in his shirt, with her thighs on display and tiny little shorts. She didn’t straddle him before either, didn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t. All his energy was focused on trying to ensure she didn’t feel the stiffy that was quickly growing in his pants. 

“I can’t believe how good you’re being for me, H.” She whispered. “No whining or anything.” Her smile was soft as she wiped the serum over his face. “You’re so pretty.”

Fuck. He swallowed thickly, trying desperately to not let his cock construe those words into the filthy praise kink he had, but it appeared to be a bit too late for that. She had no idea what she was doing to him and he didn’t want to be a perv, but god damn. If the girl continued, there would be no denying that he’d cream his damn pants. Being pet on, feeling her brush his hair off his forehead while she stroked his face and adjusted his position to where she wanted… He was only so strong. “Thanks.” He murmured, trying to keep his composure. 

“Of course.” She beamed, seeming pleased. “I’m surprised you’re letting me do this, but you’re full of surprises.” It seemed like she didn’t know the battle he was facing internally, which was his goal, but that was soon to be ruined. “Hold on a second.” Shifting slightly on his lap, she stood up momentarily before sliding further up. “Sorry, I was falling down a bit-” 

Harry hadn’t meant to, he really fucking didn’t. But she sat right on top of him, squirming a bit. Giving his dick a bit of friction, making his hands grip her hips and sit her down hard to stop the movement. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t face her as he heard the hitch in her breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I promise m’not being a creep or anything.” He winced. “Just been a while and uh-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her voice rang out, fingers brushing through his hair. “H, look at me. I’m not mad.” Of course, her words were sweet and syrupy, going right to his dick yet again. Y/N had no fucking idea how much she effected him, how many times he’d thought about her in this positon and how guilty he felt that he’d turned a sweet moment into something like this. “C’mon. You don’t need to be embarrassed.” 

He took a moment before opening his eyes, looking at her face. Studying it, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. Her hand cupped the side of his face, a slight pout on her pretty lips. Y/N didn’t seem upset about it, seeing as she sat still and could most definitely feel his cock under her. He could feel her cunt over him, hot through the fabric and he was doing everything in his power to be fucking normal. 

“There you are.” The tables had finally turned. Harry was the shy one in this moment and Y/N was the one seemingly not freaked out. “It’s a natural body function, H. I know you’re not some kind of perv. I sat on your lap, remember?” She soothed his nerves. “Besides, I’m flattered. Was beginning to think you thought I was some kind of troll or something.” The smile kicked up on her face, but his frown deepened.

“The fuck? Why would you think that?” Brows furrowed, he didn’t like that she thought he didn’t find her attractive. He called her pretty quite a bit. 

“Well, I’m not your type. You go for all those tattooed girls with the bad ass attitudes, which is cool cause I think they’re hot too but… I’m all soft and squishy, y’know? I like the soft things, kinda the opposite of you so I just thought I wasn’t someone you’d be attracted to. M’nothing like what you go for.” She didn’t seem offended by this, rather stating it matter of fact- but Harry couldn’t believe how wrong she was. He had to wonder how long she thought this. 

While he was secretly pining after her, she was thinking he was going off to get blowies by the girls that flirted with him which, sometimes he did. At the beginning of their friendship, he tried to stave off those feelings for her by getting someone else underneath him, fucking away the frustration but he learned fairly quickly that none of it did much when his mind was on someone else. It’d been months at this point. Sure, he liked a bit of flirting to boost his ego, but that was only when Y/N was preoccupied. 

“Well, you’re wrong.” He said sternly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Dunno where the troll idea came in when m’always staring at you.” He scoffed. “No more of that bullshit. Wouldn’t be hard if I didn’t think you were stunning. Trust me.” In fact, she was the only thing that got him hard these days. Thinking of her mouth, her thighs, her tits, her ass, anything. Even her hands, for fucks sake. “Don’t ever doubt how beautiful you are t’me. Pisses me off.”

“Sorry.” She bleated, pouting back at him. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just.. You call me pretty but I never would have thought you meant it like that. I like that you let me cuddle you and stuff so obviously I know you aren’t repulsed by me but, I dunno.” She swallowed, looking down at his bare chest. “I’m sorry for getting you… if you’re uncomfortable.” 

God, he was mucking this up wasn’t he? He shook his head, letting his thumbs rub over her hips as he softened his face. “No, sweets. Don’t apologize. S’not a big deal, I’m not mad at you. Just don’t like the idea of you thinking poorly of yourself. You’re fucking stunning.” So stunning that his cock was still hard under her. “I’ll go take care of it when we’re done, but no more squirming. Okay?” Squeezing her, he tried to rectify the situation. “No more fussing.” 

“But…” Y/N’s lips twisted slightly, sliding her hands down to his shoulders. “That’s not fair.” 

Harry blinked a few times, looking her over hesitantly. “What d’you mean? I’m okay, pet.” 

“Well, It’s my fault that you’re like this.” She protested. “I can fix it, if you want. Haven’t given too many blowies before, but I can take instruction pretty well.”

Harry truly thought he was dreaming for a moment, his face hot as she gave him an innocent look. Like she meant it, though it slightly embarrassed her for not having a lot of experience. But feeling her shift on him clued him back into reality. This was real. “You- You don’t have to do anything for me, Y/N.” He was holding on by a string. “You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your responsibility to get me off just because my cock’s got a mind of his own.”

Y/N huffed again, shaking her head. “I want to. Can I?” Her face shifted slightly. “You’re not making me do anything. It would make me feel better If i could take care of you.” Her eyes met his. “I mean it. Promise.” 

And god, if Harry was a stronger man he’d lift her off his lap and insist on taking care of it himself. He’d explain that it could make lines blurry and he liked her a bit more than a friend and they’d have that talk. But he wasn’t a stronger man, and she rolled her hips on him again with a hum, making his head fall back when she repeated the action. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath. “As long as.. As long you’re sure. I don’t want you to regret it or anything.” 

“I won’t.” She peeped. “I like making you feel good, Harry.” Her face seemed brighter as she watched him nod.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” He sighed. “I’ll show you what I like.” 

Never in a million years had he expected her to be visibly excited, slipping off his lap and on to her knees in front of him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eyes looked up at him with curiosity, hands running over his thighs as she waited for direction. He’d dreamt of this so many times, stroked off in the bathroom to this very mental image to get his load out quicker. His cock pulsed inside his sweats. This was really happening. “M’not wearing briefs under these.” He warned, pushing the waistband down as he slowly tugged himself out of the pants. His hand was slightly shaky ass he gave himself a squeeze at the base, a soft hiss leaving his teeth when her hand covered his own. 

“I’ve only done it a few times but…” Her eyes widened. “Yours is the prettiest I’ve seen.”

And fuck if that didn’t get him going. Harry took pride in his dick, as a lot of men did, but to get that compliment was better than anything else. His hair was normally trimmed shorter, but it had been a while. It was groomed a bit at the base, his happy trail leading up his stomach. “Thank you.” He mumbled, removing his hand and letting hers take over. Y/N was eager and that much was obvious, feeling her give him a few strokes as she shuffled closer in between his spread thighs. “I- I probably won’t last long. I wasn’t lying, it’s been a while.” And he’d imagined her in this position so many times that he was programmed to get off to it quickly. 

“That’s okay. You’re quite big so it’ll be better for my jaw.” She giggled. Fucking giggled while her thumb rubbed over the slit, making him shudder. He’d always imagined she’d be much more shy in this situation, but again he was proven wrong. “What do you like?” 

Honestly? He could cum just like this. Her stroking him slow, looking up at him with that pretty little face. Splatter her pretty face with pearly strings leaking from the slit of his cock, let it drip down her cheeks and chin. But she wouldn’t like that answer. “I’m okay with anything you give me, but I… I like to hear you.” He swallowed, a shaky exhale leaving his nose. “And uh, a bit wet. If that’s something you’d like.” 

Y/N looked like she was taking note, nodding at his words. “I want to know what you like, m’okay with anything.” She smiled. “I knew you had to be big cause.. Y’know you’ve got the energy. And I’ve felt it a few times when we cuddle, before you wake up. It’s just different to see it.” Y/N leaned her head on his thigh, continuing to jerk him off. “I’ll probably choke a little bit, cause you’re the biggest I’ve taken. It’s okay though, I’ll be fine. I’ll pinch your tummy or somthin’ if I need a second to breathe.” 

Who the fuck was she? Y/N had never, ever shown or hinted at being filthy in her life, but here she was. Talking about choking on his cock. He throbbed in her hand, making her eyebrows raise. “You liked that. Noted.” Leaning forward, she kept eye contact with him as she dragged her pink tongue from the base up to the tip, letting it sit there for a moment before she pulled away, giving him a few more strokes. “You can show me what you like too. Don’t be shy about it, H. I want you to feel good.” 

Harry nearly lost it as he watched those gorgeous lips purse, spitting right over the tip. It slipped down his length before her hand caught it, stroking and spreading it over his cock. Filthy, filthy things filled his tongue immediately, but he tried to pace himself. “Fuck me…” He whispered, gently gathering her hair in his hand. “I didn’t know you had this in you, gorgeous.” It nearly bowled him over. “Can you.. Take it in your mouth. Suck the tip for me. I want to see that.” 

Normally, he had no problem being a cocky, arrogant man. He was dominant most of the time with his hook ups- but Y/N wasn’t just a hook up to him. She was special. He didn’t want to do a single thing to potentially fuck this up. He wanted her to like this, to see how much he liked it too. She had no problems following instructions, the man watching as her lips stretched around the tip and dipped down a bit as she suckled on it. A soft hum left her mouth and vibrated over him as he curled the hair around his fist, making him groan. “Yeah, jus’ like that, angel. Fuck.” He kept his eyes on her as she bobbed shallowly, taking moments to rub her tongue over his leaking slit. “You’re so good, so sweet t’me. Can’t believe you’re doin’ this.” 

Y/N pulled off the tip, lips wet as she peered up at him. “I’ve thought about it before.” She whispered, lapping over the side of his length. “Wanted to see your cock. I knew it’d be pretty.” 

What the fuck? Harry’s brian felt fried, completely caught off guard by this information. Sure, he had thought maybe once or twice she was teasing him but it wasn’t often. Y/N was just so sugary sweet and kind, a slight air of innocence, and… Now she was telling him she’d thought about sucking him off before. “You have?” 

“Mhm.” She stroked him a bit firmer, the slick sound of her hand around his wet cock getting louder. “I heard.. Heard rumors and felt left out. You like me the best but you never asked me to do anything.” Rubbing the tip over her pouted lips, Harry was shocked yet again. 

“Cause y’mean more to me than any of the other people.” He swallowed. “Too fuckin’ sweet. I like you the best, you’re right but.. You’re my sweet girl. Didn’t want t’use you for anything like that. Would break my heart if I hurt you and you’d not want to see me again.” 

“What if I wanted you to use me?” She asked, peering up at him with those eyes. They drove him absolutely mad. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me unless I asked, H. You’re so good to me… I just want to be good for you too.” Taking the tip back into her mouth, she pushed herself down further and he felt his stomach clench. It took him off guard, feeling the hot mouth take him down and bob herself against him, a soft hum vibrating over him. 

“Oh- Fuck.” He let out a broken groan, leaning further back into the chair. “You are, baby, you fucking are. Hot little mouth… shit.” She whimpered around his cock at his words, sucking a little harder as her hand stroked the rest of him. She liked that. “What is it, hm? Like when I call you baby? When I tell you how perfect you are?” His words got a bit darker. He was slipping into another headspace and Y/N seemed to be coaxing it on. 

She did a half ass nod, not pulling off his length as she continued. Harry wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that she’d be a greedy girl like this, but he was incredibly thankful that she was. “You are. Such a good girl, so gorgeous with your mouth stretched around my cock. Didn’t know you were gagging for it, baby. Should’ve told me.” He chuckled darkly. “Wouldn’t have wasted my loads in the shower before comin’ t’bed with you. Could’ve pushed into your needy mouth and let you swallow it down.” 

Y/N moaned around his prick, eyes watering slightly as she looked at him. He’d never seen a better sight. “You’re so beautiful, angel. So pretty. Didn’t know such a filthy thing could have you lookin’ even more beautiful.” His throat felt thick as his cock throbbed in her mouth. “Fuck, you don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about it.”

Y/N pulled off, panting slightly as webs of saliva connected her mouth to his cock. “How much?” Her voice was a little hoarse, but he could hear that she was desperate to know. “You- You could have. I don’t want you to waste it anymore.” There was the tiny bit of shyness coming back in. “If umm, if you think  I’m good enough at this. I’ll do it.” 

“Fuck me, baby.” His thumb wiped over her spit soaked lips, breaking the threads of spit as he caressed her cheek. “All the fucking time. S’the only thing that gets me off.” Confessions he hadn’t thought he’d be saying so soon, let alone before he’d ever kissed her, spilled from him. “You’re doing amazing. More than good enough, too fucking good for me.” He couldn’t believe she was offering. “You sure you want t’be the one to take care of it?”

“Yes, I want it. I don’t want anyone else to do it.” She pleaded. “I’ll be the best for you. Just- you can tell me and I’ll suck you or, or anything you want.” Harry tested it, gently pushing her head back towards his prick- which she immediately took back in her mouth. The perfect, wet heat bringing him back to that filthy place in his head. 

How could she think he could ever say no? She’d been his weakness since she brought him over that damn cupcake. 

“Oh, sweet girl. Anything?” He cooed. “Dangerous thing to promise me. Don’t want anyone else to do it either.” His breathing was getting harder, trying not to thrust his hips up into her mouth and make her take it all. Sure, she’d probably do it, but he still felt the need to be delicate with her. “Take a little more for me, baby. Just like- there, there you go.” He praised, mouth falling open as she did exactly what he wanted. “Gonna make me cum.” 

This felt a million times better than rubbing one out in her bathroom. His legs were near vibrating, the wet sound of her mouth taking him down and the clicks of her hand stroking his spit soaked cock filling her bedroom. This was the last thing he’d expected was her on her knees for him tonight and part of him wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a wet dream, but he was thanking whatever higher power that was up there that his sweet girl had a dirty side to her. One he wanted to be the only one privileged enough to see. 

“In my mouth.” She gasped, pulling up for a moment. “Want to taste you. Please?” 

How could he ever tell her no? 

Pushing her back down on his cock, he let his hips rise up and shallowly thrust into her mouth as she moaned around him, drooling down her chin and letting him use her the way he needed to get off. The best part was knowing she was enjoying it so much. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long already, but he attributed that to shock. She was dirty, his sweet girl, choking slightly on his cock as the tip hit her throat, but she made no move to want to stop. 

His last straw, though, was feeling her hand over his balls, whining around him as he let out his deepest groan yet. It was sloppy and messy and so fucking good that he felt lightheaded, tummy hot and legs weak as he felt himself approach his end. “Fuck, jus’ like that, your fucking mouth is perfect… fuck, fuck, fuck, baby- M’gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-” His voice failed as his head fell back, lifting his hips as his cum began to pour into her mouth. Ribbon after ribbon coating her throat, pulling back a bit to get it on her tongue while she worked him through it. 

He didn’t realize he had so much in him, but perhaps it was just Y/N that made him cum this much. This hard. His ears rung a bit, curses leaving his mouth as he watched her mouth open and hand stroke him to see the pearly mess on her tongue. At the last little bit,he used his grip on her hair to tug her up to his face. 

“C’mere, sweet girl. Share with me, don’t be greedy.” holding her face while the other had her hair, he pulled back into his lap and her mouth to his and groaned as she licked over his tongue, sharing the remnants of his load with him. It was something a bit nasty and deprived, he knew, but Y/N merely moaned back, her clean hand curling around the back of his neck. 

The kisses slowed from frantic and hot, to softer, slow and sweet. Pecking her lips over and over again, her whimpers melted into giggled as he untangled from her hair, sliding his hand under the shirt she had on to get some bare skin on his fingertips. “Sweetest thing, most beautiful girl.” He murmured between kisses. “Thank you. Best I’ve ever had.” 

“You’re jus’ saying that.” She whispered, though the smile was difficult to wipe off her face. Obviously she liked praise just as much as him. 

“Nope. Mean every word.” He confirmed, rubbing his nose over her cheek. “Thank you, baby. Felt so damn good, can’t feel my legs now.” Harry’d never felt like this after a blowie, both in his legs and the fondness he felt for the girl. If there had been any doubts about his feelings for her whatsoever, they were shattered. He was so far gone for her, it was pathetic. 

“Good.” She smiled, feeling the kiss to his cheek. “I need to finish your skincare, though. So tuck yourself back in, cause m’gonna do that and then brush my teeth again. Though.. I can tell you’ve got a good diet. Tasted nice.” 

Though Harry knew cum never really tasted good, he was chuffed that she hadn’t minded. Even more, that she hadn’t minded indulging in sharing with him. “M’not selfish, I need to help you too.” He reminded, though she merely shook her head. 

“I’ll take a raincheck. M’so tired now, and I want to enjoy it fully.” Pecking his cheek in return, she picked up the moisturizer. “Think you need a lip mask too. Thankfully, you’re in the right hands.” 

Harry was sometimes a selfish lover with hookups and he could admit that, but with Y/N he never wanted to be that way. He wanted to make her feel good, but he could wait. It only made him anticipate it more- there would be a next time. 

“Okay, sweets.” He chuckled. “Do whatever you’d like.”

[shotmrmiller]

Situationship into Relationship.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB! Reader

TW: disgustingly explicit, p in v, pregnancy talk. Strap in, its a doozy.

Since the first time Simon physically ruined you for other men forever, the both of you spent half of his leave in the bedroom, and the other being the best friends you were. Eventually, you noticed Simon practically moved in with you. Toothbrush next to yours in the bathroom, black balaclavas inside your knickers because Simon is a closet pervert, and thinking back on how he's treated you in the past before this situationship— unsurprising.

Then things went from situationship to a relationship. Simon, in a manner that's all him, didn't even ask. Simon and you had been resting on your couch, book in your lap and feet tucked under his thick thighs, when his cell started ringing. Simon picks up the television remote with one hand to pause the movie and answers his phone with the other.

"Soap."

You glance up from your book to look at him.

"No." a pause.

"No, I don't care that you flew out here to visit," followed by a suck of his teeth and then a deep resigned sigh.

"I'm with my girl. No, you cannot ask what her name is. Now piss off.", and as if nothing happened, Simon just unmutes the television and wraps your foot with his hand. With a secret bashful smile, you look back down at your book.

Now that leads you to now. Simon has to leave to a mission for a possibly yearlong mission— and you knew what you were signing yourself up for— doesn't mean it didn't hurt every time he left.

Raising to your toes you pull him to you in a hug. You feel his arms wrap around your waist tightly and he shoves his unmasked face into your neck.

"I'll miss you," you whisper with a sniffle. He kisses your neck in a comforting manner before he says,

"I'll be back before you know it, sweetheart. You just make sure you're eating well."

He pulls away reluctantly and puts on his balaclava, then looks down at you. A mischievous glint in your eyes has him squinting his eyes at you.

"Maybe the next time, you can leave me with some company."

His eyebrows furrow as he says, "I didn't know you wanted a pet. I could look into—"

"A baby, Simon."

His blue eyes widen, and you can see the outline of his gaping mouth behind his mask. Giggling, you step forward, pressing your side to his and putting your hand on his chest as you— almost painfully— tilt your head up to look at him . He shakes from his stupor and makes eye contact, tossing an arm around you.

"Simon. Did you hear about the accident back at base?"

"No. What happened?"

"If you want the answer, come back home to me."

Nodding he says, "My heart will hold you when my arms cannot."

Your lip trembles in a pout and your eyes mist. Slapping his chest, you say in a shaky tone, "You bastard," and in a much smaller, vulnerable voice, "I love you too."

Simon nods before pressing a kiss to your hairline. He then turns, grabs his bags and leaves.

---

It's been 8 months since Simon left.

8 long months since you hugged him last. You got scarce calls from him, letting you know he was alright before having to cut it short, and for that you were grateful. But you still missed him. Hopefully today you'd get another call from him, you thought as you went to bed.

As you're burrowing in the comforter, you hear the door unlock. Ripping yourself from the bed, you scramble to the living room.

With a breathy tone, you say his name.

Si is back home. Your Simon's back.

He locks the door, drops his bags, and opens his arms wide. Your reaction is immediate and visceral. Launching yourself into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck— ripping his mask off, putting both hands on his cheeks and smothering him in kisses.

"If this is the welcome I get for being away for so long, maybe I should do it more often," he jokes.

"Don't you fucking dare. I was miserable without you."

Holding you up with his arms, he pulls his face away from you and asks, "Well? What accident happened at base?"

"Oh. A Humvee ran over a box of popcorn and killed 2 kernels."

He huffs from his nose.

"Good one, love."

Simon finally takes notice of what you're wearing — one of his black shirts and pink knickers underneath.

"I haven't forgotten about your little comment you blindsided me with. You want me to make you a mum? Beg me for it, pretty."

"Oh please, Si. We'd make such pretty little tots. It'd be half of me and half of you— I'd always have a part of you with me, even if you were across the world. I'm also ovulating this week and I'm," you dig your fingernails into his traps, "so irrationally aroused it's not even—"

He cuts you off with his mouth as he kicks off his boots, leaving them scattered by the front door and he's jogging to the bedroom. Throwing you on the bed, he grabs your hips, fingers curling into the waistband of your knickers, and pulls you to the edge of the bed— haphazardly pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder as he kneels.

Your pussy is already slippery from arousal and the extra hormones in your body, and your face flushes. How embarrassing. Simon notices your expression because he says, "What a pretty little quim my girl's got. All this for me?" he leans in and inhales deeply, "You smell so sweet, love. I have to get a taste."

His long tongue immediately starts drawing languid small circles on your clit, and you're letting your head hang back with a moan before he stops and slaps your thighs with both hands— causing you to raise your head and look.

"You keep those eyes on me and watch what I'm doing to you, pretty."

With a fierce blush, you acquiesce, and he goes back in— eating pussy like it's his job— and you're approaching the end of the cliff at an alarming rate. He squeezes his fingers into the meat, forcing you to keep eye contact— your eyes staring into steel blue as his tongue flicks your swollen clit repeatedly before he lowers, stiffening his tongue and sticking it into your hole— and rubs his nose over your nub. Your thighs start to shake, digging the heels of your feet into his shoulders—and the intensity of his gaze holding your own sends you over the edge.

Toes curling and your feet hooking across the back of his head to pull his face further into your pulsating pussy to ride out your nerve-scraping orgasm. Getting down from your high, limbs loose and like molasses, you rub the only two brain cells you've got at this moment and wonder if you drowned him.

You glance down between your legs and Simon is there with an irritatingly smug grin as his nose shines with your come and drips from his chin.

"Be good for me now, pet. I ain't fuckin' you until you give me one more."

Before you even get to protest, he pacifies you with a, "I know you're painfully sensitive. I promise I'll be gentle."

And he does. He spits on your pussy, and you whimper at the contact before he oh-so softly starts tapping your clit directly with the bottom part of the tip of his tongue in a sharp, but feather-light, staccato rhythm while using the pad of his thumb to rub small delicate circles where your lips split open and you're coming in seconds.

You're drained. Empty of all thought and energy, your vision is hazy when you feel Simon take your foot that was pressing into his shoulder by the ankle and puts it into his mouth — tongue swirling around your toes— and lets out a filthy moan. The sensation of his tongue in between them sends a shiver from the bottom of your spine up to your scalp, body hair standing on end.

Dropping your foot, he gets up with a grunt, yanks off his shirt and undoes his trousers to free himself.

"How do you want me?"

He chuckles darkly and says, "Don't worry your pretty little head, pet. I'll take care of everything— you just lie there and let me take what's mine."

Maneuvering you on your back in the middle of the bed, he brings your legs together before shifting them to your right side, his left, knees bent at a 90° angle—and your upper body is still facing him—when he pushes your legs with one massive hand into the mattress and uses the other to hold himself up, palm digging into the bed by your head.

Simon pushes in, long hefty cock stretching you open in one solid stroke. There's a sting as he forces you open on him, and he's bottoming out with an obscene squelch bit but it's these first few minutes that are you love the most. The first firm strokes that feel so intense, you're pushed to your limits. The lack of time to adjust to him lights your nerve endings on fire, you love it.

In this position, he covers your body completely, like a shield. He's all you see. All you need to see.

Every time his balls are pressed up against your pussy, you feel a burn, deep inside as the tip of his cock presses firmly against your cervix and it forces a groan out of you with every thrust.

Now he's grabbing your arm—hand engulfing your elbow—as he lies down on his back, pulling you to straddle him. He takes his cock in his hand so you can lower yourself on it and you wince at how sensitive you feel, and his tip is barely in.

Simon takes notice, of course, he's always attentive to you and your needs— and he coos at you.

"Deep breath, sweetheart. You're doing perfect," he grunts as half of him disappears into you, " The only one that can take all of me so well." And like a stone dropping into a pond, surface tension giving into the weight, you drop and take the rest of him in your body.

It's too much, you think, but can't help and grind down on him. The pinch in your lower belly is too much but you twist that pain into pleasure— otherwise, Simon will notice and stop. You really don't want him to stop.

Peering up at you through his lashes, Simon takes pleasure in your expression. Lightly tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers strong enough to jolt your head to the side a bit, but never to hurt you, and says, "Look at that cock-drunk look on your face. Fuckin' hell, I could stare at you all day."

Simon is so large, your knees barely skim the comforter— can't even bounce on his cock properly— that he just takes over. He tells you to flatten your feet on the bed, like you're sitting on your haunches and puts a palm on your chest to lean you back at an intense angle— pulling a loud mewl from your throat.

He raises his legs, knees bending and planting his own feet flat on the bed and shoves his forearms underneath your thighs to grip your ass and lifts you as if you weighed nothing. He lifts you, at the same time lowering his hips to bed, to leave just the tip at your entrance before he yanks you down— his own hips slamming straight up to meet you halfway to fuck you.

He's feeling you squeeze his cock in a tight vice, your moans getting high and whiny— all of your tell tales signs that you're close.

"This," he says with a particularly hard thrust, "is my favorite part." and focuses on making you come on his cock. The sheer strength behind his thrusts sends you careening straight into a blinding orgasm.

You're keening so loud you know the neighbors are going to put in a noise complaint, but you couldn't care less. You've probably had one of the most intense orgasms in a long time, and Simon just fucked you through it without a single stutter in his pace— the only sign you see that he was straining was the sweat dripping down his temple towards his jaw and the rapid intake of breaths coming out of his mouth.

He looks down at where you two are connected and you leaked cream on his happy trail, making it stick together, and he groans at the sight.

Now that you'd come, it was his turn to get his pleasure. And he was gonna take it. He's tossing you up and down like his own personal pocket pussy, and you swear you can feel him trying to open the plug of your womb with the flared head of his cock. His grunts are deep and get louder the closer he gets. It takes him 8 more brutal strokes and he's choking out, "Fuck, I'm gonna come. Fuck, fuck, fuck," and he bites his bottom lip and lets out a whimpered, pathetic wail— something you've never heard before—as he stiffens and grinds into you. You think you can feel his coming moving from the base of his length to the tip where it spurts into you in such a large quantity, it's spilling from in you and dripping down onto him.

Your hands are on his chest, putting all of your weight onto them, as your legs lower back down. Simon, underneath you, removes his arms from under you and straightens them out to where your legs are— grabbing onto your calves.

As he comes down from his high, his gaze clears and intensifies on yours— causing you to blush under the scrutiny of it— and with emphasis says, "I love you. Marry me."

You give a deep sigh. You should've known Simon would be as unorthodox as possible. It's almost like he only lets intrusive thoughts out when around you. Giving your walls a clench, making him hiss, you tell him, "Fine. But you're going to the Mexican restaurant down the street. I've worked up an appetite and they don't do delivery."

Chuckling quietly, he slaps both of your thighs saying, "A'right, love. Let me get dressed."

He gets changed at an alarming pace before leaving. You lie back on the bed, head on the pillow, and close your eyes for a minute before the door opens again. Simon comes back in and heads straight for the bathroom in long strides. After a second, he turns to head back out and you catch a glimpse of something— another obnoxious scrunchy, this time in a lime green, on his wrist. Again. You don't even wear those anymore because you cut your hair off into an asymmetrical pixie. Snorting, you figure that's as close to a wedding band that he's ever gonna wear.

A/N: ill be in the VIP section in hell, popping bottles.

@thychuvaluswife @corvusmorte

[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

so around the start of the summer I ate literally as much as my body could possibly handle every day, every meal. I got in the habit of gorging myself until I could hardly breathe, could not stand or sit or even lay down comfortably, and my belly was aching. I couldn’t even sleep, nor could I really do much of anything but sit there helplessly and gasp or groan at how big I’d gotten, and how full I’d become. This was exactly what I wanted.

I was consuming between 7000-12000 calories a day during this time. This lasted about 2 months or so, maybe 10 weeks. I rarely took a break, and this had…intense consequences on my capacity. I routinely ate things like: entire family sized dinner portions for each component(vegetables, starches, meats). Family sized fast food meal deals(usually about 5 combos worth). 7-8 combos from various fast food places(usually their entire menu). Party sized or tailgater tray offerings from restaurants(usually enough for 10-15 people).

I cannot become full now. No matter what I do, if I’m not eating literally family sized portions, I’m not filled. I can become comfortably satiated after 3-4 meals at once, but my belly constantly yearns for more.

I finally have started experiencing some of the crazy ‘feedism fantasy’ tropes I thought weren’t real (or at least greatly exaggerated due to ya know…writing lol). Things like

I literally can get hunger pangs WHILE MY STOMACH HAS A REASONABLE AMOUNT OF FOOD INSIDE. I’m talking I’ve already eaten a heavy plate that is literally 3-4lbs of food. Gone. Inside me. But my belly has the NERVE to growl around it and demand more food.

Sometimes I become anxious when the only amount of food available to me is a normal serving size (this is honestly the hottest. I’m talking whiny, worried, needy feelings because I only got enough food for 1 person.)

i crave eating 24/7, or for long periods. I catch myself daydreaming about sitting down with enough food for a large gathering, and stuffing it all inside myself for literal hours. I’m not kidding, I want to eat for 6-8 hours straight of almost nonstop consumption. I just want to sit down, lean back with my gut supported by my lap or my couch, and stuff it so completely full. I would prefer if my primary activity for the day was eating.

hunger and arousal are now so completely linked I almost cannot experience one without the other…which means I’m hungry and horny pretty much unceasingly. Constantly my mind goes back to sex and eating. I’m literally just daydreaming in the background about when I will get to open my mouth next.

I’ve now eaten many of the feeding fantasy portions. Family meals, party trays, entire cakes, multiple entire pizzas, entire trays of baked goods, entire boxes of cakes, a box of donuts, entire pies, and generally levels of excess that I can only describe as obscene.

This has caused me to really fatten up. I gained 40 or so lbs from the end of March to the middle of July. I also happened to do this without an encouraging, physical, coercive or forceful feeder, which means if I were to have these (what I desperately crave), I imagine I would reach new capacity heights. I primarily eat for fullness. I love that food drunk fullness feeling where my entire body stops functioning properly. I love feeling like all I can literally do is let my belly do its thing and process all the food I gave it. I’m desperate for it. I constantly crave it. The weight gain is an unintentional but welcomed side effect of my incessant gorging.

I cannot wait for my next opportunity. I have so many ideas. Will I finally try 3 pizzas? Will I try to eat more foot longs than I am tall? Will I make myself an entire family banquet and then greedily try and eat it myself? I need to do it soon. I can’t keep eating enough for 6-7 people each day…I need more, and I need it all at once.

[chellestrash]

Let me handle it.

Frank Castle x F!Reader

summary: After a long day at work you FINALLY get home and Frank decides to offer some help with redirecting your frustrations. warnings: strong language, explicit language, explicit content, pet names, praises, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex. word count: 3.8k an: Hey heeey, me again...trying to get out of my writers block LIKE ALWAYS! I stg there isnt a fic on this blog that isn't my attempt to try and get back into writing but anyway. This was just something short and sweet I wanted to get out to hopefully get the gears moving again. Let me know what you think! I know the ending feels a bit rushed but I hope its alright. Reblogs and feedback appreciated as always! Hope you'll enjoy! OH and of course, thank you @chelseasdagger for helping with this one and im tagging @lucy-sky cause she requested that!

You push the front door open and sigh loudly at the sight of your apartment. The 8 hours of work felt particularly long today, and you swear at some points you weren't really sure if 5pm was actually going to come after all. The tiredness fills every inch of your body to the point that some parts actually, physically hurt as you get your coat and boots off before making your way over to the living room.

“There she is.”

Frank sits on the big couch in front of the TV, his ‘work’ clothes still on, so you assume it hasn’t been long since he got back as well. He looks better than you feel, though, one leg on the floor, the other propped up on the small coffee table. The TV remote is still in his hands, but you notice how he turns the screen off the second he notes your presence. 

Looking up at the sound of his voice, you do your best to smile in response, but the content expression fails to reach your eyes, and you turn your gaze back to the wooden floor before answering.

You mumble a quiet greeting under your nose and walk past the couch, past him and into the small now, thank god, dark bedroom. 

Frank frowns, turning his head as he watches you cross the living room and disappear behind the bedroom door. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that something is clearly off. It’s not like you two cling to each other the second you step through the front door, but he knows something about the way you act today just doesn't feel how it should feel. He grunts, pushing himself up from his spot on the couch, and makes his way over to the bedroom.

Back in the small room, you attempt to get rid of your work clothes as fast as possible, longing for the simple yet unmatched comfort of one of Frank’s basic t shirts. You pick the one laying by the end of the bed, the one you knew he currently slept in, and softly pull the work shirt up and off over your head before ditching your bra too and tossing it off to the side. You can't be bothered to clean it up, not right now, probably not tonight. With the t shirt now on, you sit at the foot of the bed. 

A loud sigh exits your body as you attempt to take your pants off, but for some reason, the task proves harder than it would be on any other day. You fight with the fabric for another moment, frantically waving your legs back and forth with no avail before hiding your face in your hands, ready to dig the nails into your flesh with all the pent-up frustration of the week. 

“You need help with that?”

You drag your fingers down your face and turn to face him.

Frank stands in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans onto the door frame, and you hope he wasn't here long enough to witness your meltdown. 

“I don’t… know.”

You admit, the overwhelming frustration wins over the slight embarrassment of the previous moment. 

Frank nods before pushing himself away from the door frame. He walks over to the bed without a word, and before you can try to explain yourself, you watch him get down on one knee in front of you with a grunt.

“Alright.”

He mumbles softly, fully kneeling in front of you now. Holding your calf softly in one hand, he pulls the fabric of your pants down your leg before switching to the other one. You watch silently as he gets rid of the clothes for you before tossing them off to the side, to be dealt with at some point during the week. 

“That better?”

He asks softly, and you nod, your body relaxing at the sensation of his fingers brushing up and down the back of your calves softly. 

“Work?”

He asks carefully, feeling the need to figure out what was wrong, but not wanting you to have to think about it again.

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly and nod once more, confirming his previous suspicion. 

“Want me to go out there…make sure this shit is sorted?”

The question makes you chuckle, and you breathe out a quiet laugh as your eyes find his again. He never looked away from you. 

“You gonna go beat the shit out of my boss?”

You finally speak up, pushing your fingers through Frank’s short hair, feeling it prickle your skin slightly as you do so. The familiar feeling somehow grounds you in the moment as you feel more present than before. 

Frank scoffs at your words, looking off to the side for a second before turning back to face you. That god-damn cocky smile makes you smile back at him almost instantly. 

“That what you want?”

He moves his hands up, fingers now brushing over your thighs as he pushes forward slightly, you spread your legs open some more to fit his wide frame between them. 

“I mean if you’re offering.”

You joke, and he breathes out through his nose quickly, shaking his head with a semi playful smile.

“Yeah, okay, you got it, kid.”

He mumbles before leaning down to press a kiss onto your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let out a quiet hum, the wet warmth of his lips present on your skin for a long couple of seconds before he finally pulls away. 

“How ‘bout I make you feel good? Hmm? That sounds okay?”

His voice rumbles through your body as he moves closer to you and the bed, gently lifting your one leg up and over his shoulder before he does the same with the other one.

“Fuck.”

You start, already feeling how your body begins to react to him, the warmth between your legs slowly growing more prominent.

“You don't understand how much I’d love that right now, I just…”

He stops, stops immediately and waits to hear you out.

“I’m too fucking tired to move, Frankie.”

“Who says you gotta do anythin’?”

The way he answers makes it feel like the most obvious thing in the universe, like how he doesn't understand how you could've thought of it in any other way than him giving you all he can offer.

“Shit, you think I’m gonna make you ride it or something?”

He looks up at you from where he's kneeling by the bed, eyebrows pulled together in a frown, as if he genuinely can not believe you’d think that.

“Think I’m gonna make you get on your knees? Suck me off and tell you you’re doing a good job, hmm? That what you think?”

You laugh, shaking your head, knowing he would never make a situation like this about himself. Yeah, you two enjoyed it when things got rough during sex, and you enjoyed ordering Frank around just as much as he did with you, but you both also understood the timing and feeling of this situation. You knew not everything always worked the same, and so did Frank. “If you did, you’d get a fucking knee to your stomach, you got that?”

You state and Frank scoffs once again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh before helping you slide your legs off his shoulder.

“Alright.”

He starts after pushing himself off the floor.

“Lay down, kid, show me how you want it.”

He gestures to the bed, and you give him a big, bright smile for the first time since getting home from work. Turning your back to him, you climb up to the top of the bed before dropping onto one of the big pillows. With a satisfied groan, you bury your face into the soft fabric and close your eyes for a second before pulling one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. The movement causes the fabric of Frank’s shirt to slowly slide down the slope of your back, exposing both your panties and your ass to the man standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah? Like that?"

He asks in that deep, groggy voice, and you nod, rubbing your cheek against the pillow without bothering to open your eyes as you do so.

“Alright.”

He mumbles, and you feel the mattress dip under the weight of his body after a moment. You listen to your body, to its needs and wants, and push your ass out slightly towards him with a quiet, innocent moan.

Frank scoffs loudly, shaking his head as he climbs over you, his arms propped up on either side of your body as he holds himself up above you. 

“Thought you were too tired to pull that shit.”

He points out in a teasing manner, and you crack one eye open slowly, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a playful smile.

“Oh no, I’m never too tired to be a pain in the ass to you.”

You mumble, somewhat to him, somewhat into the fabric of the pillow, before he breathes out a small laugh and leans down to press a kiss right on your shoulder. You watch as the muscles in his arm tense when he's pushing himself up again.

“Yeah, okay, you gonna let me do this or do you want to keep being an ass?”

You grin at the word and glance back at him, but he cuts you off before you manage to say anything.

“Don’t, do not fucking answer that.”

You laugh out loud, but the laughter quickly turns into a deep grunt when Frank pushes his hands against your ass. You feel his fingers digging into your body when he squeezes you tight, and you lift your hips up slightly, pushing into his touch. 

“Yeaaah, s’what I thought, you like that?”

You hum softly and hope it’s enough of an answer as the firm grip on your body disappears for a second, just to come back a moment later. 

“I got you now, kid, s okay."

He grumbles, pushing your legs apart some so he can sit in between them, right behind your ass. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he gently brushes his fingers over your back. His hands make their way to the sides of your body, fingertips brushing up and down your ribs for a moment, and you let out a loud sigh.

“That’s it, good girl, again.”

You repeat the deep breath in and a calm exhale, allowing him to lead you through this, this one time. Dragging his hands lower and lower down your body, Frank works his fingers over your skin. The firm but gentle sensation of his touch spreads from your back and sides to your ass, then lower onto the back of your thighs and then calves when he reaches his arm behind his back. 

“Mmmm, Frankie”

Your hips push up once again when his thumbs dig into the spot right under your ass, and he breathes out a laugh. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You don’t have to explain it to him, he knows how to read your body. Slowly dragging his thumb over the fabric of your panties, he slips his four other fingers between your legs, cupping your pussy over your underwear. 

You whine quietly, your eyes still closed as he begins to draw small circles against your most sensitive spot, the tension in your body releasing into his touch. 

Humming quietly, you snuggle into the pillow, letting yourself fully relax now as the stress of the day leaves with your satisfied hum.

“Yeah? This what you like? Hmm?”

You push yourself back into his hand, leaning harder into his touch as an answer, and Frank tightens his hold onto you in response. The intensity of the sensation rises as he pushes his fingers harder against you. 

The tired, but honest smile on your face indicates how good of a job he’s doing. Well, that and the way the fabric of your underwear dampens more as the minutes pass by.

“Frank-“

You mumble out quietly, reaching your hand behind your back and hooking your fingers under the hem of your panties.

His touch disappears immediately as he pulls his hands away from your body, letting you dictate exactly what happens. 

He watches you fiddle with the fabric for a moment before you quickly tug it down your thighs and assists once it gets stuck behind your ass.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, show me what you want.”

You push your ass up slightly with an inpatient sigh once he slides the fabric down past your ankles and tosses it off to the side.

Once again, his big, warm hands find their way to your back, fingers pressing into your skin as he takes a moment to massage your muscles in your back, and then you feel him push the fabric up higher to tend to your shoulders as well. Feeling the bulge between his legs press into your ass the second he leans down to trace the back of your neck with his lips, you hum satisfied, eyes still closed, lips curled up into a smile. 

“Really, Frankie? That much?”

You tease, and he rolls his eyes at your words, shaking his head with a sly smirk still on. 

“Yeaaah yeah, shut up.”

He starts before leaning back down, his lips right by your ear this time. His hand pushes down between your legs, touching you directly now, and you know he can feel your body’s response to the whole thing.

“Really, kid? This much?” 

You huff out a laugh as a response and reach behind you to wrap your fingers around his wrist and keep his hand in place. 

“Not like it's my fault.”

You mumble quietly and hear Frank’s chuckle from behind you.

“Okay, calm down, just tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel good.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Want me to make you feel good, baby?”

Another nod before you feel Frank’s hand push under your body and cup your chest firmly. His thumb brushes over your nipple as his lips brush down your spine, over your back. Feeling your body slow down, you allow yourself to relax properly as the warm, familiar feeling grows stronger between your legs. 

He pushes his hand right there again, touching you right where you long for it the most.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum quietly, as his three fingers push between your folds before he starts tracing circles around your clit. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling, your body finally relaxing after the exhausting day. Maybe in some other circumstances your mind would slip. If you were alone, if you tried to distract yourself on your own, your mind would wander, but not now. Not with Frank right there in the bed with you. He made it…difficult to focus on anything else, knew how to keep your mind occupied, how to prevent your thoughts from wandering where you didn't want them to go. 

His touch strengthens, and you feel your back arching slightly with a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

“Ah-fuck.”

You grunt the moment his fingers slip inside you. 

“Shh shh shh-”

Frank mumbles quietly, pushing them further in with ease thanks to your body’s intense reaction to his generous attempts to help.

“That okay?”

His low, groggy mumbling continues while he pushes his thumb against you, working on your clit as you feel yourself clenching around his thick fingers. Frank grunts loudly, watching your involuntary response to his question.

“Yeaah, s’what I thought.”

“Mmmmm-you’re pushing it.”

You whisper and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Shit, am I- hmm?”

He lowers the tone of his voice to match yours, leaning back down with his lips right by your ear yet again.

“Just tryna make you feel good, baby.”

He reassures you, watching your lips part as you feel the center of his palm push flat against your center, the wet sounds of your body filling the room slowly as he begins to slip his fingers in and out of your body once, twice, and again, again and again.

You hum loudly this time, biting into your lower lip before you angle your lower back up slightly in an attempt to chase the sensation every time he slips his fingers out almost completely. 

“Frank-”

You start, but he cuts you off, pressing his thumb harder against your clit. 

“Mmm, Frank-”

You repeat yourself with a loud moan before your muscles tense up, and you use the built-up force to push your ass back into him when you feel him slip his three fingers out of your pussy again.

“Ah- Fuck!”

He groans at the unexpected feeling, panting loudly when your ass pushes against the bulge in his pants, and you feel his tight grip on your thighs once you push into him again.

“Shit- okay, okay-”

He does his best to focus once again, and you breathe out a laugh, entertained by the slight shift in the dynamic.

“You okay there, Castle?”

You purr, glancing back to watch the way his eyes focus on your ass, feeling his hips buck up into you slightly. 

“Shit-”

Letting go of your thigh, he reaches up, quickly grabbing one of the pillows lying by your head before lifting your hips up a couple inches above the mattress and sliding it right under your body to help with the angle.

“Good?”

He asks, glancing up at you, the big, brown eyes fixed on yours as he awaits your answer for a moment before you nod quickly. 

“Couldn't have done it better myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he drags his hand down your back, stopping right above your ass.

“Yeah no shit-”

You roll your eyes at his words and rest your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes one more time. The sound of the metal buckle of his belt travels through your entire body, and you feel a slight tingling sensation between your legs. Pushing them apart softly, you earn yourself another

“Oh, fuck-”

From Frank, as he now gets to properly see the fruit of his labor. You lay in front of him, naked from the waist down, your legs spread open, your pussy wet from how he touched you before. 

“God damn it, kid-.”

He whispers quietly under his breath. 

“You know how perfect you look? Hmm?”

He asks, working his hand under the waistband of his boxers to pull himself out. 

“I ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

You tease, answering the question without opening your eyes, arching your back slightly to make sure he gets a good view. 

“Ffff-”

You glance back this time, the wet sounds convincing you the view would be worth it, and it is. You watch for a moment as he works his hand over the length of his cock, his lips parted as he pants loudly with every other stroke, his fingers wrapped tightly around his length.

Gradually slowing down the movement, Frank holds onto the base of his cock, lining himself up with your exposed center. You hum softly, and your hips rise off of the mattress the moment you feel the head of his cock between your legs.

“Mhmm, just like that.”

You whisper to encourage him, with a slight note of impatience in the tone of your voice. 

“Yeah? So..s that what you want me to do?”

“Frank.”

You warn him, knowing exactly where this is going.

“What if I just-”

He continues.

“Frank, don't you f-”

He cuts you off, pushing his cock in between your folds and your whole body jerks forward at the sudden, unexpected sensation accompanied by a loud moan that slips past your lips.

“Fr- fuck!”

You swear, gripping the bed sheets before pushing your ass back against his cock, feeling it rub over your center, between your folds and nudging at your sensitive clit. 

Frank laughs loudly, louder than he should in your opinion, considering this was his–and his only–fault. 

“Shiiit kid, didn't mean to get you this bad.”

He attempts to calm your body, his big hand resting on your lower back as he continues to slide his cock in between your folds, teasing your entrance and clit with every single one of your now sped up breaths. 

“Frank, this- isn't helping.”

You whine out, listening to your body, desperate to feel him inside now.

“Give- shit, give me a second here, kid, this-”

He pants louder now, his other hand on your ass, spreading you open for a better view. 

“I swear to god if you come before I get to feel you, I’m sleeping alone.”

He scoffs loudly, hanging his head low as he stops touching himself. 

“That a threat?”

He questions your intentions with that sly smirk on his face, and you prop your chest up slightly.

“Wanna find out?”

You glance back, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, won't risk it.”

He states quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cock hard between your legs. 

“You scared of me, Castle?”

You mumble the question out as you lay back down on the big pillow, feeling the head of his cock right at your entrance now. 

“Yeah, actually, how did you know?”

“Luck guess.”

“Yeah?”

He continues the conversation, pushing his cock inside you slowly. You let your lips part, fall open as you feel him deeper and deeper inside you. You can feel the way it stretches you open, a familiar feeling you got used to since being with Frank. 

“That good? Hmm?”

He asks quietly, leaning slowly over your body as he thrusts into you.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum out a confirmation as the movements continue, you feel your body rocking back and forth with his body, with the bed. 

“Good, wouldn't wanna be on your bad side.”

The thrusts grow stronger as he reaches up to hold onto the headboard, grunting loudly as you clench around him. 

With his cock buried deep inside you, you manage another response.

“Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be safe.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The trusting continues for a while after, as he tries to do his best to keep it together long enough for you to feel satisfied. His other hand wraps around your throat at some point, and he lifts your head up slightly. Your breathing speeds up, and you pant loudly through your parted lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the climax.

"Attagirl, you feel it?"

He asked, no cockiness in his voice this time. It's an honest question, he sounded almost concerned.

"Mhm."

Your quiet hum has to work as an answer for now as you grip the bed sheets tighter, feeling his cock nude the underside of your stomach from within you.

"God damn it, kid-"

He mumbles into your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin when he feels your walls clenching around him harder now.

"Frank-"

"Shh shh shh, I got it."

He reassures you, resting your head back onto the mattress before reaching down between your legs.

"You just relax, kid, let me do this for you."

[a-leg-without-fear]

Fucked Up Leg

Wanted to throw my hat in the proverbial ring and try out writing about St. Matthew Murdock. This fic is a little dark as it deals with what I go through with my chronic pain. This is why I am Leg and leg is Me.

Ship: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 1,733

Warnings: cursing, depressive thoughts, talk of doctor visits, talk of dealing with medical issues, an extremely comforting and loving matt murdock

It was half past 9pm when your leg started aching. You sat on the leather couch with a book in your hands and a blanket over your lap. The billboard across the street shined blinding yellows and blues in through the windows, shadows chasing each other along the edges of your vision. The scent of the dinner you’d shared with Matt, fettuccine alfredo with roasted chicken, floated through the air and settled around you. You could hear commotion in the apartment below you. You assumed there were some new neighbors moving in with how much foot traffic there was, but you weren’t quite sure. You, of course, didn’t have Matt’s senses. 

At first, the pain was just a slight twinge, a dull ache. A deep rooted uncomfortableness that seeped from your hip socket and spread throughout your upper thigh. Knowing this was only the start of a quickly worsening night, you retreated to your and Matt's bedroom in an attempt to keep weight off your leg.

Matt was out on his nightly patrols. He had left at around 8, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and promising to be back before 2am. At the time, the firm deadline appeared a blessing. Usually you would be left in the dark as to how late Matt would be out. Hearing him give you a set time made you breathe a sigh of relief. Now, however, you thought of how far away that curfew seemed as you settled into your shared bed, bracing for the pain to get worse.

You laid on your right side, gingerly placing a thin pillow between your thighs. The little bit of separation between your legs tended to help relieve some of the pressure on your hip socket. You let your knees bend naturally as you tried to get comfortable. The lights from the billboard were less bright in the bedroom. Partially due to the angle of the beacon in the night, but also due to the paper you’d taped to the windows in an attempt to block out any and all light. You could feel the silk sheets slide against your bare legs as your shorts hiked up beneath the covers. You plugged your phone into your, thankfully, long cord that stretched long enough for you to use it on your side. 

You faced the bedroom door, the right side of the bed empty. Not intentionally, as you’d keep off your left leg anyway, but because Matt would lay on the side of the bed between you and any danger. He was sweet like that, always putting himself in harm’s way for you and others. You chuckled to yourself as you began scrolling aimlessly through your phone. You knew for a fact that if Matt could take your reoccurring pain and put it in his leg to give you relief, he would. He would in a heartbeat. Sacrifice his own fighting ability to give you a chance of being able to dance again.

God, you missed dancing. You used to go to dance classes every week, sometimes multiple nights in a row. Letting yourself flow to the music as you followed choreography, bouncing from foot to foot, swaying your hips, laughing when you would mess up. For years that’s how you kept active, kept busy, kept happy.

Until your leg decided to say “fuck you,” that is. The doctors assumed it was “just too much dancing” that did your leg in. What started as a tear in the cartilage in your hip joint spread throughout your thigh as other problems arose. Stress fracture in your femur, a worn ACL, torn muscles under your kneecap. A seemingly never ending list of problems made you debilitated, forcing you to use a cane and, in extreme circumstances, a wheelchair. The doctors tried physical therapy, medication, and even surgery. But the problems kept reappearing. You would have fine mobility and limited aches for a good few months, maybe even a year. But sooner or later that dull ache would find itself rooted in your hip. And you’d just have to strap in for a long ride.

About 10 minutes after you’d laid down the pain got worse. The ache turned into a sharp jab, like someone had stabbed you in the hip and kept the knife there, sliding and slicing to create waves of pain that lasted for minutes at a time. You clenched your jaw as you tried to remain focused on your phone. This wasn’t anything you hadn’t been through before. You could handle this. Of course it felt like a hot poker was stuck in your hip socket, but that was just a regular Tuesday for you.

Then the muscle above your knee twinged. A redhot spark of pain you could feel in your teeth. The pulsing shocks permeated throughout your entire leg, not just your knee. Stacked with the ache in your thigh it was beginning to be unbearable. 

Your phone fell from your hands as your eyes squeezed shut. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering and wincing. Nausea began to build in your stomach and your head began to spin. The muscles beneath your skin started to jump and twitch. You blew a sharp gust of air out of your nose.

“Fuck me,” you whispered. Why? Why, when things are going great, your leg practically lights itself on fire? Just last week you’d helped Matt take out a handful of bank robbers, dodging blows and landing punches like Black Widow herself. Matt had even been impressed at how well you maneuvered yourself. You kicked and squatted and jumped like there was no tomorrow. And not a muscle was out of place the next morning.

Laying in bed, arms wrapped around your trembling body, leg having a tantrum. All you could do was resign yourself to this neverending feeling of hopelessness. Will it ever get better? Is there some magical cure you just haven’t found yet? What are you doing wrong? You could feel yourself spiral in your depression, the minutes and hours blending together to become an ongoing existence of pain. It felt like a rock had sunk itself to the bottom of your stomach. Your heart was racing, anxiety coursing through your veins. Was this what would become of your life? You would be reduced to nothing, just a leg on fire attached to a motionless husk? Would you ever be able to dance again?

“Sweetheart?” a voice rang out from the living room. A familiar, tentative tone laced with concern. Your eyes snapped open to see Matt. Standing just beyond the doorway, all dressed in black, cloth mask in hand, chocolate eyes looking in your general direction. His dark hair was matted to his forehead from the exertion of his nightly outings.

You cleared the edge of pain from your throat, then said, “Yeah?”

Matt was kneeling in front of you on the bed before you could blink. His brow was so tightly furrowed you had the briefest thought it’d stay that way. Warm, large hands began flitting across your body.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Was someone here?” he asked in a flurry of questions. One of his hands landed on your jaw, fingers trailing across where your pulse flowed strongest. The other ended up tangled with your own as you tried to quiet him.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay,” you breathed. You brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his bruised knuckles. Matt’s fingers held your hand tighter as he let his eyes fall closed, his breathing slowing. You knew this was what he did when he sent his senses out, listening and smelling and tasting and feeling your body better than you could. His awareness diving deep beneath your skin to seek out anything abnormal.

When his eyes fluttered open, his gaze landed on your chin and a frown settled across his lips.

“It’s your leg again, isn’t it,” Matt said, not posing the phrase as a question. He already knew the answer.

All you could do was nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You could feel the grief of decades of pain and sorrow build along the walls of your throat. Your breathing grew ragged as the tears broke free and slid their way down your flushed cheeks. What if he grew tired of you? Grew tired of constantly needing to take care of you, tired of dealing with the bursts of pain you needlessly endured. A man of his skill, his charisma, his fighting ability. Surely he wouldn’t want to stay with someone as encumbered as you.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Matt gingerly slid his arm beneath your head, letting you cuddle against his chest, as his other arm pulled your torso close to him. His body curled around yours, as if the pain you were feeling was an outside source and he was the shield that protected you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and breathed his comforting scent, cinnamon and smoke, in. Hot tears trailed their way from your eyes and stained his shirt.

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, lips pressed to the shell of your ear, saying exactly what you needed to hear as if he knew. He slid one of his legs between your thighs, replacing the pillow that was there originally. At first the movement was a shock to your already agonized body. Then, the extra bit of space between your legs lifted some of the pressure on your hip joint. You sighed shakily against Matt’s neck.

The two of you remained that way, Matt’s leg between your thighs, his arm beneath your head, your face tucked against his neck, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into your side. He whispered sweet words of reassurance every now and then. Saying he loved you, he wasn’t going anywhere, he’d help you find a way to fix your leg. 

You knew that soon he’d have to get up to go to work. You knew he’d unwind his limbs from yours, would give you the softest kiss you’ve ever felt, and promise to be back with your favorite foods.

But until then, you would stay tucked in against your Devil. Your guiding light. Your comfort when things were dark. Your relief from a fucked up leg.

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures In Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: You haven’t been babysitting Dustin for very long. Underestimating his tendencies for rebellious behavior, you realize too late that he’s snuck out, with your dire search for the boy leading you to the last place you wanted to be: Steve Harrington’s house.

Content warning: swearing, inter-dimensional demogorgon bullshit, kind of strangers to friends to lovers (not necessarily all in this chapter), stancy, slow burn

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s note: This is my first fic and it isn’t super original; it pretty much sticks to the plot of the show, but adds you to the mix! I tend to like fics that put the reader directly into the Stranger Things universe, demogorgons and all, so this chapter roughly follows Steve’s involvement in season 1 episode 8 when he goes to the Byers’ residence. This is more of a prologue and I plan to be more original with the story as it goes on, but it will still largely follow the plot lines of the series, so if that’s something you’re looking for, you’ve found it here!

Series Masterlist | Next Part

***

You knocked quickly on the door in front of you, eyes darting left and right to take in your surroundings. You were out of place here among the upper class houses in the neighborhood, with your hand-me-down and thrifted clothes screaming the opposite of prosperity. You were antsy, weight shifting from foot to foot; in fact, you were almost confident that if any of the neighbors were out and caught a glimpse of your obviously anxious form, they’d put a call in to the Hawkins police in an instant. You didn’t belong here. You scoffed at the thought. Though every fiber of your being was telling you—no, screaming at you—to leave, you really didn’t have a choice.

Not to mention the address you were at housed probably the last person you would ever actively seek out. He probably didn’t want to see you either, if you were being honest.

“Come on. Just answer,” You muttered through gritted teeth as you raised your hand to knock once more. However, before your hand could even make contact with the nice, expensive oak of the front door, it opened and you were met with the annoyed and confused glare of the one and only Steve Harrington. The expression on his face didn’t surprise you but the state of it did. Bruises and cuts littered his otherwise perfect skin, leaving you with a lot more questions than you had originally intended on asking.

“What do you want?” His words were direct, his tone short and clipped, drained from what on the outside seemed to be quite an eventful day.

“I-I, uh…I’m sorry, but what happened to you?” You breathed out. You had more pressing concerns, but you couldn’t help but wonder why King Steve of Hawkins High looked like absolute shit.

“I don’t have time for this,” he sighed as he began to shut the door.

You reached your hand through just in time to catch it as you shoved your way into the Harrington household. You knew his parents were likely on some sort of fancy business trip, so they wouldn’t be there to reprimand you for your actions. It’s what made Steve’s house the prime destination for the biggest parties in Hawkins. Parties you were rarely, if ever, invited to.

“What the hell are you doing?! I barely even know you and now you’re breaking and fucking entering into my goddamn house!”

“Technically, I’m just entering. You opened the door.”

“Are you kidding me right now, y/n?”

You were surprised he even knew your name. You tended to blend into the background, flying under the radar in your attempt to make good enough grades to maybe, just maybe, give yourself a fighting chance at attending college on scholarships. “Will you just hear me out. Please.”

You must have sounded desperate because Steve’s furrowed brow relaxed, his expression softening before he rolled his eyes, sitting down on a pristine white couch saying, “Fine. But make it quick because I have a raging headache and my patience is wearing thin.”

You breathed in a deep breath before you rattled off your reason for trespassing.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but I happen to babysit Dustin Henderson—or, well to be more accurate, I just started babysitting Dustin Henderson since Jonathon Byers’ brother disappeared—and everything was going fine one minute, but then I went to check on him in his room because he was being awfully quiet, and then I noticed his window was open and he must’ve snuck out, and—“

He cut you off, “Woah, woah, woah. How does any of this concern me? I mean, it’s not my fault you’re clearly a shit babysitter and can’t keep track of some seventh grader.”

“If you would just let me finish,” you warned through gritted teeth, “I’m aware of the fact that it doesn’t concern you, but I’ve been looking all over for him and I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve checked the Sinclair’s, I’ve checked the Wheeler’s, I’ve checked every location a seventh grade nerd might frequent, nothing. So, yeah, though it doesn’t concern you, I thought I might find Nancy here, given the fact that the two of you have obviously been going out, to ask her where the hell her brother is so that maybe, just maybe, I could find the damn kid I’m babysitting before I get fired from my fucking job. Now, if you could stop being so goddamn selfish for once in your life, I would really appreciate the help.”

Steve paused for a moment while he considered this. Being called selfish stung, but you weren’t wrong. The events leading to the myriad of injuries across his face seemed to prove just that. However, there was something about you in particular saying it that cut deep. You were seemingly so perfect, granted a bit odd. You were nice, you made good grades, but other than that he didn’t know much about you, so the expletive-laced explanation was a bit out of place coming from your mouth.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re a little too late to find Nancy here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she didn’t say it, but I take it things are probably pretty over between us.”

This was surprising to say the least. Nancy Wheeler wasn’t someone who you would have guessed would go for a total asshole jock like Steve, but even you had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. Your heart skipped a bit at the thought, as you suddenly also remembered that you basically broke into the house of the most popular kid at your high school. One whom you’d never really spoken to in any meaningful sense before this very instant.

“What happened?” You asked hesitantly, taking a step towards Steve as your fingers hovered over his forearm. Even though you hated nearly everything Steve stood for—popularity, prosperity, assholery—you felt compelled to comfort him. Something about him was different than you expected. When he didn’t pull away, you let your hand rest there.

“Well, speaking of Jonathan Byers, we kind of got into…an altercation. I would like to say that I won, but I think it’s clear that I didn’t. I was with Tommy H and Carol and he spray painted a bunch of awful shit about Nancy and Jonathan all over town, and I didn’t stop him, so yeah, things aren’t what I would call good between me and Nancy right now.”

Your comforting instinct told you to apologize, sympathize, but you weren’t going to condone his actions. You’d seen the “Nancy ‘the Slut’ Wheeler” graffiti earlier in your mad dash to locate Dustin. Though you didn’t know her super well, Nancy had been nothing but nice to you and she definitely didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.

“Well, how do you…feel about it?” You asked gently, internally cringing at your anxiety forcing you to find something to fill the silence with.

“I mean, definitely not good. I was an ass, and I know it, and as much as I hate that I screwed things up with Nancy, I think I’m more so realizing how shitty I was to Jonathan. I mean, he’s got enough going on without me making things more difficult…I need to make things right.” He stood up abruptly, quickly grabbing his car keys from a likely expensive decorative dish on the side table by the door.

“Woah, wait! You’re just going to leave me?” You asked incredulously. “Steve, I-I….I need help.”

“You can come with me,” he responded as he spun his keys around his index finger.

“What?”

“To the Byers’ house? You know, kill two birds with one stone? I apologize to Jonathan, you ask about the Henderson kid. Hell, you might even luck out and find him there, so what do you say?” He explained as he placed his hand gently on your back, leading you out the front door, down the driveway to his car. You tried not to think about the way his hand felt on the expanse of your back. Before you could say no, he was opening the passenger’s side door for you.

Your eyes met his, your mouth slightly parted as you weighed your options. Sure, you could handle yourself fine on the way to Jonathan’s house…but then on the other hand, Steve had a car and you didn’t, and with all of the weird things going on in Hawkins recently, it was probably best not to be a young woman walking around on her own, especially now that you were losing light. Safety reasons aside, the element that settled the internal argument for you was the look in Steve’s eyes. He wanted to do better. He wanted to be better. Who were you to deny him that?

You breathed in once more, shaking your head as you breathed out. “Alright. Let’s go.”

***

Being in Steve’s car was, needless to say, a bit awkward. You both had your own problems, brought together by chaos and regret, a combination which didn’t make for great small talk.

“So, Nancy Wheeler, huh?” You asked in an attempt to ease the tension, needing to rid the car of the weight of the uncomfortable silence.

“Yep,” Steve muttered, eyes focused on the road.

“She’s pretty cool. I mean, she’s always been nice to me.”

“She’s the best.”

You weren’t sure why, but this comment made your heart sink a little in your chest. Though Nancy had always been nice, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of her. She stood out in a way that you never could. She was smart but had the money to back it up, which, in terms of social status, meant that she mattered and you didn’t. You were living paycheck to paycheck, barely functioning, picking up odd jobs all the time just to support yourself in the way your family couldn’t. You barely had the time to study or have fun, becoming the background character to everyone else’s life. Hell, you weren’t even sure you had a starring role in your own. She was also pretty in a way that you could never be, with her big blue eyes and thin frame making clearly even the douchiest of douchebags swoon. Steve was living proof.

“Y/n? Did you even hear anything I just said?” Steve’s voice finally flooded your consciousness, drawing you away from your thoughts and feelings of inadequacy.

You shook your head trying to clear out the negativity. “Sorry! I was-I just zoned out for a second, my bad,” You chuckled, your smile not quite reaching your eyes.

“I asked you why you were babysitting the Henderson kid anyway. It just seems like something that you wouldn’t be interested in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, you’re…different. Yeah, you’re nice and make good grades and whatever, but you’re also pretty edgy. You seem like one of those weird, alt kids that would be into like pretty heavy music and shit, and babysitting just seems a little too suburban-status-quo for someone like you.”

You stared at him blankly, not really sure how to answer given that his words were more a statement of assumptions rather than a question. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interjected before you could even say anything.

“That came out wrong. What I’m saying is that you’ve always struck me as a little bit intimidating because you’re actually an individual; you don’t follow the crowd which, I mean, is admirable, but babysitting? Come on. I’m as stereotypical as they come, and I wouldn’t even babysit, especially not for some thirteen-year-old misfit who seems like more of a handful than its worth.”

“Well, for starters, you’re a guy, so no shit you’re not babysitting the youth of Hawkins, and also, I just need the money, which I’m sure is a foreign concept to you. And babysitting is kind of a piece of cake…normally. Henderson is a special case; he’s too smart for his own good.”

Steve laughed and you blushed, grateful for the darkness to hide the heat in your cheeks. His words felt like they were trying to be a compliment, but you weren’t sure how to interpret them. You guessed that maybe you stood out at least a little bit more than you had initially thought. By his description, people must be noticing you to some extent. He was noticing you.

You shook your head at the thought. What had gotten into you? Half an hour ago you hated this man, but now you weren’t too sure. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

With Hawkins being a small town in rural Indiana, the drive was not long, so your conversation ended here as you pulled up to the Byers’ residence. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw the tarp-covered hole in the front of the house. From speaking with Mrs. Henderson, you knew how much of a toll her son’s disappearance had taken on Joyce. Both of you got out of the car and you made your way to the front door.

Steve knocked. When there was no response, he banged on the door again. “Jonathan! Are you there man? It’s—it’s Steve! Listen, I just want to talk.”

He continued to bang on the door. You were about to reach up and stop him, tell him that it was enough and clearly no one was home, when the door opened a crack and you were met eye to eye with Nancy Wheeler. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw you, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second before her expression settled and her brows furrowed.

“Steve, listen to me.”

“Hey. Nancy, what—“

“You need to leave. Both of you,” she added as she turned to meet your eyes. She was serious, her expression stern, but there was something else there…desperation maybe?

“I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve pleaded. It didn’t make a difference, as Nancy had clearly made up her mind.

“I don’t care about that. You need to leave. Now.”

“No, no, listen, I messed up…I messed up, and I just want to make things right.” Steve was desperate, you could hear it in his voice. You wanted to try and reason with Nancy, speak on behalf of Steve, but it wasn’t your place. You went to cast your gaze downwards, trying to give the two of them a private moment, but Nancy’s gauze-wrapped hand caught your eye instead.

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” You asked hesitantly, brow furrowed, “is that…is that blood?”

You went to gently reach for her hand but she quickly drew it back and out of sight, but it was too late. Say what you will about Steve, but he was protective to a fault, and in seeing Nancy hurt, any desire to make things right with Jonathan quickly dissipated.

“It’s nothing! It-It was an accident.”

“Wait a sec. Did he do this to you? Nancy, let me in!” Steve demanded as he pushed into the Byers’ home, not dissimilar to how you had intruded upon the Harrington residence earlier. You entered behind him. Under any normal circumstances, you probably would have felt awkward, but instead you were too preoccupied with Steve’s short temper and the fires you knew you would inevitably have to put out.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the premonition to know the literal nature of that preoccupation.

Crossing the threshold of the Byers’ residence, you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking at, but it did make your heart stop in your chest. You momentarily locked eyes with Jonathan as you looked around the room. There were multicolored lights strewn about the whole house, makeshift weapons on the coffee table, the entire alphabet painted sloppily on the wallpaper, and Jonathan’s hand had the same blood soaked gauze as Nancy’s.

“What is…what the…what is all of this?” Steve demanded.

“You need to get out of here. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” Jonathan grabbed the fabric of Steve’s shirt attempting to force him out of the living room, but Steve planted his feet.

“Is that….is that gasoline?!” You stammered as the rest of your senses finally showed up. Your hands were trembling at your sides, and you felt like at any moment you might have a panic attack. You took a shaky breath as you attempted to calm yourself down.

“Steve! Get out!” Nancy shouted. The distinct click of a gun rang out, and Steve froze, eyes fixed on the revolver in Nancy’s hand, pointed directly at him. Jonathan’s grip loosened on Steve’s shirt as he stepped away, shock registering on his face as well.

Something was obviously very wrong. You pushed your anxiety deep down in your chest, and you took a step forward. If I could just talk to her, you thought, I can deescalate this.

“Nancy—“ you began cautiously, but as soon as you took a step she pivoted and now you were the one staring down the barrel of a gun. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly raised trembling hands in front of your chest. “I think you need to calm down.”

“I think you need to leave,” she responded, her voice icy. Suddenly, Steve bounded forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him. Once you were hidden behind his tall figure, you allowed yourself to break down a little, pressing yourself against him for some semblance of security.

“Is this a joke, Nancy? Put the gun down!”

“I’m doing this for you.”

“What is this?! What does that even mean?” He yelled back at her, but his words weren’t doing anything to help. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, and his grip tightened. He was holding onto you just as much as you were holding onto him, with a fistful of his shirt balled into your delicate hand as you attempted to ground yourself. It felt intimate, and if it weren’t for your current predicament, you would have been embarrassed.

“Three. Two—“

“Nancy! The lights!” Jonathan shouted, and you peeled your face away from the solace of Steve’s back, watching as the lights flickered with a raging entropy, making it nearly impossible for your eyes to navigate the small room.

“Where is it? I don’t see it!” Nancy cried out and for the first time in the craze of blinking lights and shouting, you saw the fear on her face, her previous stoic facade shattering in the chaos. Seeing the fright in her eyes made your stomach drop, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?!” Steve shouted and you couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Even with the family room being sporadically lit up like a Christmas tree, you and Steve were very much still in the dark.

No sooner had he said it did the ceiling begin to crack, something large writhing as it made its way into the small house from above. Nancy began shooting at it as you stood frozen. Finally, it burst through the drywall, falling to the floor on all fours. If someone asked you to describe what you had seen, you weren’t sure what you would’ve even said. It had pale skin, nearly translucent, and made an awful chattering sound as it started to gather its bearings.

“Go! Go! Run! Go!” Jonathan started shouting as he grabbed Nancy around the waist and shoved her in front of him as she darted down the hall. Steve turned around and did the same, his hands harshly grabbing at your sides to redirect you as you formed a human chain; Jonathan’s hand wrapped around your wrist, and your other hand wrapped around Steve’s as you made a mad dash to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

In all the commotion you barely heard Jonathan shout “jump!” narrowly missing the open bear trap on the floor. You shrieked and willed yourself to be coordinated for once in your damn life as you hurdled over the metal teeth of the trap, blindly trusting that Steve’s athleticism would kick in and he would do the same. A low growl sounded out just as the bedroom door slammed shut behind Steve, his momentum causing him to collide into you. You would have toppled over if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, as he reached out to steady your shoulders.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s all going to be okay,” Steve frantically whispered, his hands still holding together your shaking form, as you stumbled backwards and collapsed down on the bed. His lips were dangerously close to your ear, and he brought a hand to the base of your neck, drawing his fingers down to your shoulder to reassure you. He was barely holding it together himself, scared out of his mind, but he brought you into this mess and he was determined to protect you first. “What the hell was that?!”

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan yelled in unison. Everyone’s gaze then fixed on the yoyo that was precariously draped over the chair. Your heart thundered in your ears, your eyes welling with tears as you held your breath and waited. The lights continued to flicker, until a jolt of electricity rang out and they became static. The silence was unnerving.

“Do you hear anything?” Nancy asked.

Jonathan shook his head and slowly opened the door. The four of you stepped into the quiet of the hallway, eyes fixed on the undisturbed bear trap in the middle of the carpet. You all cautiously made your way back to the disheveled family room of the Byers’ house, Nancy and Jonathan prepped with their weapons in hand.

“This is…this—this is crazy!” Steve shouted, running his hands through his perfect hair.

You tugged on his sleeve trying to draw his attention away from what just happened; this was already a shit show, the last thing you needed was Steve losing his mind. “Steve, you need to calm down,” you begged, still shaken from before.

“Y/n, how the hell am I supposed to calm down?! This isn’t a situation where you can calm the fuck down! What the hell is going on?!” He continued to shout, grabbing your wrist and shoving it away. You tried not to take it personally, but it still hurt. You hated how quickly he had gone from comforting to cold.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Nancy spoke up, “It’s going to come back! So you need to leave. Right now.”

Steve grabbed your wrist, your body lurching as your trajectory quickly changed, the inertia causing you to stumble while your feet attempted to keep up with Steve’s large strides. Steve fumbled with his keys as you reached the car. His shaky hands finally unlocked the door and he swung it open, about to sit when he realized that you had stopped following him, still positioned in front of the house.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Steve, we can’t leave, are you kidding me? They’re in way over their heads. They need help.”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you in there. It’s not up for discussion,” Steve argued, stepping around the door and reaching out to grab your wrist again. You quickly stepped back, pulling your hands out of his reach.

“Y/n, you’re not going back in there. I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I,” you shot back, turning back towards the door. You heard him call out your name again, but you were already through the front door, back in the discomfort of the Byers’ family room.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing here? I said to leave,” Nancy warned.

“I’m not leaving. You guys need help, and I want to help.”

“Y/n—“ Jonathan began, but his warning was cut short when the lights began to flash again. You quickly grabbed a large kitchen knife from the pile of improvised weapons on the coffee table and met Nancy and Jonathan back to back in the center of the room.

“Where is it?” You asked, trying to shove the fear in your chest down, hoping it was a false alarm, that the wiring was screwy, that you were safe.

“Come out, you son of a bitch!” Jonathan yelled out. You willed your hands not to shake as you tightened your grip on the handle of the knife. Suddenly the lights went out, plunging the room into inky black darkness. You blinked rapidly, a futile attempt to get your eyes to adjust to the pitch black room.

You heard a low growl before Nancy exclaimed, “Y/N!”

You spun around, eyes meeting the nine-foot hulking form of whatever the hell this thing was, standing less than a foot from you. You didn’t even have time to scream as it lunged at you, pinning you to the floor. Your knife fell from your grasp, clamoring across the hardwood. You wish you could go back to when you hadn’t had a good look at the monster. Now you stared wide eyed as its face opened up revealing countless rows of razor sharp teeth as it shrieked, spewing thick drool across your face.

“Help me! Please! Nancy!” You screamed out as you writhed under the pressure of the beast. Its clawed fingers began tightening around your upper arm, ripping into your skin as you cried out in pain. It reared back to scream its ear piercing scream again, but something collided with it, knocking it off-kilter. Its long claws dragged across the flesh of your arm, etching larger gashes as its grip began to release.

You took this opportunity to slip away, scrambling across the floor on hands and knees as you grabbed the kitchen knife, turning around to slash the monster’s achilles. It cried out, turning back towards you, this time far angrier than it had been in the first place. This was when you realized that the collision from before had been Steve, swinging Jonathan’s nail bat as hard as he could at the creature.

He had come back for you.

He continued to swing the bat with all his might, causing the monster to stumble backwards until the resonant clang of metal hitting against metal rang out.

“He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!” Steve yelled out, causing the rest of you to spring into action.

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy shouted. Jonathan hurtled around the corner, the unmistakable flick of a lighter sounding out before he tossed it in the gasoline soaked carpet. The hallway erupted in flames that were almost too bright to bear, as the four of you covered your eyes. You took this opportunity to sprint back to the family room, quickly grabbing the fire extinguisher laid out on the rug, before bounding back to the hallway.

“Get back!” You shouted as you desperately tried to put out the fire before you were all suffocated in a fiery mix of ash and smoke. You all coughed as the smoke cleared, revealing that the monster had disappeared, no longer stuck between the teeth of the bear trap.

“Where did it go?” Nancy hesitantly asked.

“It has to be dead. It has to be,” Jonathan said, though it seemed more like he was saying it to convince himself; to speak it into existence.

Suddenly the string lights started blinking again, this time in a line leading toward them in the hallway. Your breath caught in your throat, and Steve protectively pushed himself in front of you and Nancy. The lights then blinked again, this time in a line towards the front door. This time they weren’t the erratic display of chaos from earlier, but rather an orderly demonstration of cosmos. The four of you cautiously followed the lights, weapons drawn just in case.

“Mom?” You heard Jonathan quietly ask. His eyes welled with tears, and you immediately wanted to hug the boy. He’d been through so much. He didn’t deserve this; none of you did.

You followed the lights outside the house, watching the streetlight gently flicker before all trace of the paranormal phenomenon dissipated.

“Where’s it going?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think that’s the monster,” Jonathan responded. He didn’t elaborate and none of you asked.

Steve quickly turned to you, gently grabbing your wrist. “Y/n, you’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes widening as they focused on your blood soaked sleeve.

“It doesn’t matter. Where’s Dustin? Please tell me one of you knows,” you turned to ask Nancy and Jonathan, both of them caught off guard by your question.

“Uh, I think it really does matter, y/n. We don’t even know what the hell that thing was! You can’t just ignore—“

“They’re at the school,” Nancy interrupted. She wanted to argue with you too, to tell you that you definitely needed medical attention, but she also knew you weren’t going to listen. Hell, you’d just run back into a house with an inter-dimensional threat so her and Jonathan wouldn’t have to face it on their own.

You turned back towards Steve. “Steve, I promise I’ll let you take me to the urgent care or the hospital or whatever if you just please let me go make sure he’s okay,” you pleaded. Tears were welling in your eyes and Steve realized that he wasn’t going to be able to say no to you.

“Fine, but this is fucked up.”

***

By the time you pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins middle, it was swarming with police cars and emergency vehicles. You felt nauseous and negligent, as you frantically scanned, looking for the curly mop of hair hidden under a baseball cap. Before Steve stopped the car, you flung your door open, jogging across the lot, calling out for the boy.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson!”

“Woah, woah, woah! You can’t just jump out of a moving vehicle!” Steve caught up with you. He wanted to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder to rein you in a little, but he decided against it, not recalling which one was torn up. You had to be in excruciating pain, but you didn’t show it. She’s pretty damn tough, Steve thought to himself. Suddenly, you both saw the Henderson boy, chatting away with Lucas Sinclair, as if nothing had happened.

“Henderson!” You growled, marching across the parking lot towards the young child.

“Y/n, I can explain—“

“Do you have any idea the hell I just went through trying to find your ass?! Where the hell were you?!”

“You’re not going to believe me, but there’s this alternate—wait, what the hell happened to your arm?”

You looked at Steve, trying to silently decide how much to tell the young boy. He was just a kid; he didn’t need to be mixed up in all of this, and neither did Lucas. To be perfectly honest, neither did the two of you, but you couldn’t change what happened. You broke eye contact with Steve and looked at Dustin, lips slightly parted as you tried to find the right words to say. Before you could even say anything, Dustin broke the silence.

“It was the demogorgon, wasn’t it?”

“What in the fresh hell are you talking about?” Steve asked, growing tired of this kid who had inadvertently caused you to risk your life trying to find him instead of just listening to his damn babysitter.

“Monster, big and scary, likely inter-dimensional?”

“You…But how do you…you know about all of this?” You asked, your heart sinking knowing that you couldn’t protect him from this.

“It took Will, and we’ve been trying to find him,” Lucas chimed in.

“B-but…but there was a funeral. He died,” you stammered, your heart aching this time as you thought back to Jonathan and Joyce and how miserable they had been over the loss of the young child.

“Look, y/n, I’m sorry I snuck out but it was to find Will. I can explain the rest but it’s going to take a while and you might want to sit down,” Dustin hesitantly spoke.

“You’re so damn lucky your mom is out of town for the next few days,” you spoke through gritted teeth, but you sat down and you listened to the boy.

***

After his explanation, you and Steve were, needless to say, a bit stunned and speechless. How the hell did three middle school boys figure all of that out? And a girl with a shaved head and super powers? You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Hawkins Chief of Police Jim Hopper knew about all of this either. What was there that you could trust? Your head started to spin and you were getting a bit nauseous at the thought.

“I mean, this is wild Henderson. It’s borderline unbelievable,” Steve chided. Dustin’s eyes widened and his face reddened, clearly mad that Steve wasn’t buying his story.

“Are you serious right now, Steve? You saw it! You saw the damn demogorgon! How could you possibly deny that—“

“I said borderline unbelievable, shit bird. Obviously I know some strange shit is going on, it’s just still fucking insane.”

You couldn’t agree more with him as you attempted to stand up, but your vision blurred and you stumbled. You would’ve fallen if Steve hadn’t immediately shot up to catch and steady you.

“Woah, y/n, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Steve’s eyes were darting all across your face. He wished he could read your mind but you just stared up at him with those eyes and it all remained a mystery.

“I think she needs to get that checked out. She’s losing a lot of blood,” Lucas chimed in, his brow furrowed under his camo bandana. He pointed at your blood soaked sleeve, and everyone simultaneously realized that blood was now dripping down your hand, the fabric no longer able to hold anymore liquid.

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Let me just walk it off. I’ll be okay,” you tried to sound confident, but your speech was slurred and there were dark spots invading your vision. Steve gently patted at the side of your face, attempting to keep you conscious.

“Y/n, just stay with us. We’re going to get you help. Just keep those pretty eyes open for me. Y/n, please!” He sounded desperate, and you fought to stay awake. The next thing you knew, he was carrying you, attempting to make it to an ambulance to get your wounds assessed by a real medical professional.

“Hey, we need you to take us to a hospital right now,” Steve spoke quickly as he sprinted to one of the EMTs on scene.

“What happened to her?”

“It’s a long story. Please sir,” Steve’s voice began to falter. The EMT gestured for Steve to hop in the back of the ambulance where he gingerly placed you on the gurney. Lucas and Dustin swiftly followed suit, going to hop into the ambulance, but the EMT stepped in front of the boys to stop them.

“Woah, where do you think you’re going?”

“Sir, if you could please let them come with us. We babysit them and I can’t leave them here by themselves,” Steve argued. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it was the best he had to work with to convince the guy to take Sinclair and Henderson with them. Dustin looked at him with confusion, mouthing the word “we?” before Steve shot him a warning glance to fix his face before their story was invalidated.

You woke up in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. You were no longer in your blood soaked clothes, your frame fitted with a hospital gown instead. You looked over to your left arm which had since been stitched up and was now wrapped in gauze, the bleeding slowing to a stop.

“Steve?” You called out, hoping he was still with you.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” He exclaimed rushing over to the side of the bed. You’d been out for the past hour. They had sedated you once you arrived at the hospital, saying it would be easier to tend to your wounds that way.

“Today didn’t really go how I thought it would.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve chuckled.

“I mean, my worst fear earlier was that I was going to get fired. I can tell you that I have significantly worse fears than that now,” you hated crying in front of people, with Steve being the last person you wanted to be vulnerable in front of, but you couldn’t help it as your eyes welled up and one stubborn tear slid down your cheek. Steve was quick to wipe it away, his hand reaching down to hold yours.

“I know, but on the bright side, I think you might be the most qualified babysitter in Hawkins,” Steve tried desperately to make you smile. It worked as you let out a wet laugh through your sob.

“I mean, I guess so,” you chuckled, your cheeks heating up at the compliment.

“You guess so? I know so. I don’t know anybody who would fight a monster with that many fucking teeth for some kid.”

“Nancy would,” you reminded him, your voice getting small again. The light in his eyes suddenly dissipated and he let go of your hand.

“Yeah, no, you’re probably right. I guess we’d all make pretty damn good babysitters,” he averted eye contact, preferring to look at his hands. In the time he’d been spending with you, he kind of forgot about Nancy. He felt guilty.

“You should talk to her, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sure she’s probably ready to put whatever happened between the two of you behind her. I mean, you really stepped up when it mattered today,” you added. You weren’t sure why you were saying it because the thought of him going back to Nancy made your heart ache, but maybe you weren’t ready for the alternative. You weren’t ready for him to look at you the way he looked at her. Not that you thought he would, but you just felt the need to create some distance. A lot had happened and this wasn’t the way you wanted him to realize you were something special, something to hold onto.

“Yeah, I guess…I mean, I guess I’ll go talk to her. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He looked you in the eye. Instead of seeing annoyance or indifference, you saw something new for a change: sincerity.

“Promise.”

He gave you a small smile, pausing in the doorway as he took one last look at you. You did a small wave goodbye, reassuring him that you’d be okay. With that, he took a breath and turned the corner, making his way back to the hospital waiting room where him and Nancy would patch things up. There was something about you though; something he couldn’t quite get out of his head.

He also had a sinking feeling in his chest that this wasn’t the end of whatever was going on in Hawkins. He had a feeling that the danger would linger, lurking in the shadows. He pushed the feeling aside and smiled weakly at Nancy, moving to sit in the empty chair next to her.

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked it; in theory there’s more to come (like I said earlier it’s gonna be a slow burn so yeah lol). If you feel so inspired to reboot this post that would also be pretty dope and I’d be eternally grateful <3

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (8)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, mentions of masturbation, meet cute (or something…)

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (7)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Four weeks later, you got another workday done. You feel your shadow following you as you slowly walk back home. Surprisingly, you’re not scared at all. If your secret admirer wanted to hurt you, he would’ve done it weeks ago.

Your back hurts, and your temples are pounding. Today wasn’t a good day. It was exhausting and drained all the energy from your body. You only want to get home and curl into a ball on your couch.

Lost in thoughts of your fluffy pillows, you almost step onto a cat’s tail. “Whoops, sweetie,” you squeak. One foot still in the air, you stare down at the cat.

“Aw, where did you come from?” You coo and crouch down to pet a white cat. The furball rubs its cheek into your calf, meowing loudly. “Are you hungry, sweetie? Hmm…you look like someone is taking good care of you.”

You carefully look at the nametag dangling from the cat’s collar. “Alpine,” you hum. “What a pretty name for a pretty cat.”

Smiling, you ruffle the cat’s fur. You wonder if the cat ran away. “Hmm, let’s see if there’s a phone number on your tag too.”

You’re about to pick the cat up when a deep voice calls its name. “Alpine, there you are,” the man says. He looks at you, holding his cat in your arms. “Miss, this is my cat.”

“Oh,” you giggle as he looks you up and down. “I thought Alpine got lost.” You carefully hand the cat to its owner. He said Alpine’s name, so you assume the cat belongs to him.

“You wanted to take care of Alpine,” the man suddenly says. He holds out his hand and tells you his name as his cat jumps onto his shoulder to curl around his neck. “You must excuse my cat. Sometimes Alpine just runs off to explore the town. The little punk always comes back, though, knowing the best food waits for them at home.”

He smiles, and your knees almost buckle. Just know you get the chance to drink his handsome features in. Stubbles frame his jaw. His eyes are bluer than the blue sky, and his hair is long and shaggy but well-kept.

“Your cat is very cute.” You giggle and twiddle your fingers. The man makes your heart flutter, and you don’t know why. “I hope Alpine never gets lost again.”

“If Alpine gets lost, I hope you’ll find my little punk next time too, miss.” His deep voice goes straight to your core. “They would be in good hands.”

“Anytime, sir,” you giggle like a schoolgirl. This man has you wrapped around his finger in no time. Your cheeks heat up at the way he looks at you. “Do you live around here?” You’re a little forward, but you cannot let this man slip through your fingers. “So, I can look for Alpine.”

“Bucky,” he says, offering his name again. “Call me Bucky, doll.” Bucky smiles and tells you that he lives in your neighborhood.

You stare at each other for a moment, letting the seconds tick by. It’s the perfect meet cute and you hope to see him again soon. “I have to go now, Bucky,” you say as you step closer to pat Alpine’s head. “Alpine, if you ever get lost, just come around.”

“Thanks again, doll,” Bucky says as he watches you pat his cat. His heart speeds up having you so close. He must take deep breaths to not pounce on you here and now. “Maybe I can invite you for coffee one day.”

“I’d like that,” you hastily reply. “How about I give you my number? If Alpine gets lost, you can give me a call and ask if I found your punk.”

“Yes,” Bucky says, a little too fast. “I mean, that’s a good idea.” He can’t give away the fact that he already has your phone number and all your personal information. “I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“You too,” you say while exchanging numbers with Bucky. “It was nice finally meeting you.”

Bucky watches you leave. He has a big smile on his face because your first meeting went well. Now he’s got the chance to invite you.

You're still jittery from your encounter with Bucky. You pump up the volume to sing along to your favorite song. To hell with your neighbors today. They are loud as fuck most of the time, so you don’t give a shit if you disturb them.

You do a little dance and shake your ass. “Alpine and Bucky!” you giggle and squeal. “They looked so cute together. And his eyes…” You touch your heart and let yourself fall onto your bed. “Blue…so blue…”

Rolling over on your bed, you bury your face in your pillow. “He’s so pretty,” you snuggle into the pillow. “I bet he’d look cute between my legs.” You breathlessly moan his name, letting every letter roll off your tongue. “B U C K Y.”

Bucky presses his hand to his heart. It’s about to burst when you slip your hand into your pajama pants to touch yourself. His name is on your lips the whole time, and he cannot resist. Once again, his resolve crumbles, and he slips his hand into his sweatpants to slowly stroke his cock.

“Y/N,” he murmurs your name. “Baby doll, don't do this to me.”

Tonight, he doesn’t look away. His eyes are glued to the monitors on his walls to watch you touch your sweet pussy only for him. “Make yourself feel good, doll. Soon, I’ll make you feel good... ”

You’re all smiling this morning. It doesn’t matter that it’s another workday or that your colleague is nagging about her job. She can’t ruin your mood.

Your encounter with Bucky still lingers in the back of your mind. Not only is he the most handsome man you've ever met, but he’s also so caring and sweet with his cat. He just can’t be a bad person.

“Why are you smiling the whole time? This job is shit. The coffee is shit. And our boss is shitty.” Your colleague snaps her fingers to get your attention. “Hello, did you even listen?”

“Hmm…maybe.” You shrug. “It’s a nice day, and I won’t let work drag me down. It’s weekend soon enough.”

“It’s only Monday,” she bemoans, looking at you for confirmation. “We have to work for four more days.”

“Only four more days.” You walk away, not wanting to listen to her any longer. Now that Bucky has your number, you hope he’ll call you soon to invite you for coffee.

Part 9

Tags in reblog.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - part 11

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: hmmmmmmmm things are getting… interesting… Wonder what's going to happen next..... also shout out to @aboggoblin, @doriansgf and @prythianpages for help with the plot ily 🫶

(Masterlist)

After letting his hands slip through your own, the muscles of his palm freshly massaged, his hands trail up your hips, making their way up to your breasts.

“Is this okay?” Azriel’s voice whispers in your ear.

“Gods, yes,” you whisper back, your hands tracing up his thighs. He groans at the touch, the way your fingers delicately move up closer to his hips.

His fingers begin cupping your breasts, your skin hot from his touch. You moan into his ear, and he turns his head to capture your lips in a kiss. His lips are everything, as they move from your mouth down your neck. His hands move towards your pants, unzipping your jeans and helping you shimmy out of them.

His fingers begin moving down stomach, gently hooking into the waistband of your panties before-

You wake up with a jolt, feeling as if his hands are still in your hair. You take a deep breath, reaching for your pillow to hide under to calm yourself down, but when you reach your hand up, it meets skin.

Your eyes widen as your head shoots up to find Azriel underneath your hand, a soft groan coming from his lips as he wakes. The sound mimics the ones he made in your dream, shooting straight to your core.

Oh gods, you think. You fell asleep out here after finding him in the middle of the night.

Oh gods. You fell asleep with him on your couch and had a dirty dream about him. If you had any luck at all, you kept quiet in your sleep and the man underneath you had no idea of the dream you just had about him.

His eyes open ever so slightly, and you swear his hand squeezes your back a bit tighter as he says, "good morning." You melt at his touch, burying your face further into his neck.

“G’morning,” you mumble into the shirt as he chuckles. You reach your hand out, searching for your phone to see how long you have until your alarm goes off.

Your arm pads around the table, and you find his phone on the coffee table, the screen lighting up to display the time.

No fucking way.

“8:40?” You screech, scrambling to sit up off of Azriel, using his chest to push yourself up. Your limbs get dragged back down by the weight of the large blanket and long legs tangled with yours. “My class starts in twenty minutes!”

Azriel can’t contain the chuckle he lets out as you scramble, trying to claw your way out of this ever sinking couch.

You’re able to get out of the cocoon of blankets surrounding you two, one foot meeting the carpet. You start swinging the other leg, and on unsure footing, you’re on the carpet.

Until you aren’t. Falling forward, you brace your hands in front of you to catch yourself.

Fortunately, you catch yourself on Azriel's thighs, him having sat up trying to help you. Unfortunately, your face is now approximately four inches from his crotch.

Your cheeks are burning as you start to stutter, trying to stand back up. You can't even look at Azriel as you grip his thighs, using them to hoist yourself back up.

“I- um- class-,” you say, pointing a thumb at your door as your feet connect to solid ground. You look at him, getting lost in his eyes for a few moments before remembering that you are late.

"Um, class. I have. Today."

You scramble into your room, not letting yourself think about how outrageously idiotic you sounded, grabbing a pair of pants and quickly brushing your teeth as you jump into your pants. You spit out the toothpaste, grabbing a bra and then your shirt before swiping deodorant on.

Once you’re dressed you open your door back up to find Azriel still on the couch, and before you can register what’s happening, you’re bending over the couch, placing a kiss on his forehead before grabbing your bag and ducking out the door.

You would have been much better off staying in your apartment with Azriel because you have no idea what your professor is talking about today, only able to tune in to every hundredth word or so. Your thoughts keep going back to how it felt to wake up in his arms and how badly you wanted to nuzzle back into him, and how fucked up it was to dream about his hands right after he opened up to you about them.

And how badly you may have messed everything up by falling on him and trying to fix it with a forehead kiss.

Class eventually ends and you make it back to your apartment and groan as you push open the door, knowing that Azriel will not be on your couch, but hoping you’d see his messy curls anyway. You can’t hide the disappointment as you find Cassian in your living room, sheepishly at your door.

“Can you tweeze my eyebrows?”

You walk in, placing down your bag, “hello to you too, Cass. I had a great day, thanks for asking.”

He rolls his eyes at you, clacking the tweezers in your face, “I’m seeing Mor later tonight and she hates when my eyebrows are unruly.”

“Why don’t you ask her to do them?” You ask, moving to sit on the couch, patting the spot next to you.

Cassian rounds the couch, holding the tweezers out to you as he sits, “because she says it’s better if I’m already pretty for her and she doesn’t have to do anything.”

You laugh, taking the tweezers from him, “are you a baby about your eyebrows being done?”

“No,” he huffs, crossing his arms. You sit up on your legs, putting your hand on his face. You look at his eyebrows, taking a moment to figure out the shape of them and where you want to pluck from.

You place the tweezers around the first hair, and Cassian squeezes his eyes shut as you pull just hard enough for the hair to come out.

“Was that it?” Cassian asks, still not opening his eyes. “Are you done?”

“Yes, I have plucked off your entire eyebrow.”

“Maybe I can just draw them on every day,” he muses, as you grab another hair and pull.

“Says the man who wakes up ten minutes before he has to leave to go somewhere.”

The two of you sit in silence as you continue plucking his eyebrows, despite Cassian’s constant twitching, when the door opens and Mor’s blonde head pokes out from the other side.

“Hello darlings.”

You chuckle, both you and Cassian greeting her. She stops in her tracks at seeing you plucking Cassian’s eyebrows, a huff coming from her lips.

“Cassian, what do you think you’re doing?”

Cassian tenses beside you, putting a hand up to block her view of the tweezers, “nothing, dearest.”

She stalks towards you two, pointing at him, “did you really ask her to pluck your eyebrows?”

He shrugs, “your hands are so cruel, they hurt me.”

You laugh as Mor swats at him, “of course they’re going to hurt, you big baby.”

You nearly avoid stabbing Cassian in the eye as Mor sits on the other couch, away from your roommate, and says hi to you again.

“Hi Mor. You won’t believe what happened last night.”

“Try me,” Mor replies, a hint of challenge in her voice. Your eyes dart to Cassian, trying to gauge if you should discuss this in front of him. You turn back to Mor, whispering quickly, “I fell asleep on Azriel on the couch and I had a sex dream about him and then when I woke up I fell onto his cock.”

Mor is quiet for a second before saying, “so you slept with him, then you slept with him?”

“No, I just slept with him the once, I didn’t sleep with him.”

“Okay, so you had sex with him on your couch? What if Cassian had walked in on you two?”

“I would never be able to look at you again for defiling my brother in such a way,” Cassian says, shaking his head.

“Mor, no. We slept together,” you reply, ignoring Cassian completely.

“Yeah, you slept together.”

You sigh, trying to make this as clear as possible. “No, we fell asleep on the couch together, and I had a dirty dream about him and then when I woke up I slipped on the blanket and my face landed right next to his cock.”

“Was he hard?”

“Mor that is not the point.”

“What?” She shrugs. “If he wasn’t, that’d be worse.”

Cassian points to her, nodding his head in agreement. You pluck the next hair extra harshly, a soft ow coming from Cassian as he pushes your hand away.

“I’m going to go wash my face. Thanks for your help. You have delicate hands, unlike some people,” Cassian says, glaring at Mor. She gives him a shrug, but he still walks over to her, giving her a forehead kiss before walking off to his room, closing the door behind him.

Mor watches Cassian close his door, and once she can hear the water running, she turns to you and asks, “what are you doing tonight?”

You narrow your eyes, sitting up straighter, “why do you want to know?”

“Mor,” you press, voice more stern when she won’t respond.

“Let me set you-“ You cut Mor off before she can finish her sentence.

“Mor, please. The last date was awful - I need at least 10-15 business days to recuperate from it. He showed me his NFTs for pete’s sake.”

She sighs, “this one is different, trust me. It’s someone Cassian knows.”

You groan, hitting your head against the couch. You pick up your throw pillow, holding it against your chest like a shield. You think back to Az telling you to just say no. To stand up for yourself more.

“No, I’m not going.”

You felt proud standing up to Mor, but you could hear her frustration as she sighs, looking up at the ceiling as she muttered something.

“Cassian says this guy is crazy hot, really sweet, and that you’d really like him.”

Azriel’s face appears in your mind, as you squeeze the pillow. You can’t go out with someone else, not when it feels so right with Azriel.

Especially not when you spent your night cuddled up to him on your couch.

You sigh, “Mor, what about Az-“

She interrupts you, “it’ll be a great date, I promise. And if it sucks, I’ll never set you up again.”

Your ears perk up at that, “yeah?”

“And I suppose if it goes well, I won’t have to set you up again.”

You laugh, “okay, but only if you promise that if it sucks you will never, ever set me up again, and you’ll leave me a giant container of ice cream.”

“Deal.”

Seven o’clock at a restaurant downtown, she tells you. You'll explain to Azriel later that it was purely a chance to get Mor to stop setting you up. Surely he'd understand that.

Right?

[shintaru]

Windbreaker | Cuddling head canons pt.3

pt.1 pt.2 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8

Warning: NSFW mentioned in Wooin’s part

m.list ♡ taglist

Wooin Yoo ~

He likes pulling you onto his lap and trapping you in his embrace whenever he feels like it, doesn’t matter who is watching, he doesn’t care.

If he happens to roll over on you while you’re both sleeping together, no matter what you do, he is not getting up until he feels like it.

He is the little spoon, he won’t initiate cuddling so you have to take matters into your own hands.

He finds it relaxing when you trace the tattoos on his hands while he rests his head on your lap.

Your cuddle session would turn into you underneath him, naked, moaning his name. He can’t cuddle without turning it into a sex session.

Owen Knight ~

I feel he would be a lot like Dom with initiating physical touch the most

Not above PDA he will hold you & carry you in public he doesn’t care if anyone is watching. If people are watching the better he wants everyone to know you’re his.

If he gets jealous of you having a conversation with another guy expect him to be all over you anytime the guy is around and when you bring it up to him he’ll smirk and deny that he is jealous

Will come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist

He loves carrying you around the house with your legs wrapped around his waist

Ryohei Hachijo ~

Would cuddle with you if you’re feeling down if you have cramps, stomach ache, a bad day, etc

He is the big spoon he loves holding onto you he feels like he is protecting you

He loves it when you both are lying down and you lay your legs across his

Won't say anything when your elbow starts hurting his ribs because he doesn't want to make you move out of your spot

If you fall asleep on the couch while watching TV expect to wake up with his foot in your face

Nagase Hyouma ~

Does he ever show his face? I can’t find photos where his face is shown 🤣 (like Wooin I can’t see him cuddling anyone 😭)

He will use you as his pillow when you cuddle.

he feels calm when he can relax in your arms after a long day.

He will let you wrap your legs around his waist, won’t admit it but likes it when you hug him from behind.

you’re the big spoon.

He will let you snuggle with him in bed or on the couch to warm up If you're cold.

Thank you for the idea @hannahmystery126

check out my master list for more windbreaker content

[moodymisty]

Author's Note: Inspired by this post. You can blame all of the unhinged horniness there for this unhinged horniness. Someone there put the idea down as space wolves or Luna wolves and I chose Luna wolves because @bispecsual gave me the brain rot. And since I'm a massive masochist, I write.

Relationships: Like five unnamed Luna Wolves/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Very hornily charged bullying, Astartes are very curious and grabby, Demeaning speech, Just imagine you're that one girl on the couch in the meme surrounded by massive dudes but those dudes are 8 foot tall genetic abominations, Gangbang implications(?) my warning tags are getting weird as fuck

To the Luna Wolves, serfs are a new idea- a curiosity.

But after their good deeds upon a planet of little known renown and placement in the galaxy, a few of their population offered to serve them.

Before them, most serfs were primarily stationed on Terra, and on Luna Wolves ships instead those roles were given to low ranking tech priests, or penal labor. Even then however the Astartes saw them rarely, until now.

Some of the newly conquered planet offered sons as aspirants, of which they eagerly accepted. The Luna Wolves have been eager to grow their numbers now under Horus’ leadership.

Others, older and ablebodied, offered themselves to serve as serfs.

Many Luna Wolves can't remember the last time they've seen a normal human for more than a few moments, ushering them to safely into a Stormbird or pushing them from a firefight. Or seeing their corpse flung on the far reaches of a battlefield, out of sight and mind.

In their brief periods of reprieve from battle, it's now been a struggle for their captains and lieutenants to keep their men on task, now that serfs scurry around them completing various tasks. Particularly for the youngest marines among them, it's been a constant to stop them from reaching towards the serfs, interrupting their sanctioned duties.

They will get to you once finished with your brothers, is what the current quartermaster on duty or Astartes captain says. Though haste to have their armor cleaned or bolter clips loaded isn't the thing on their mind, but instead an almost dog-like curiosity.

But after their superiors leave, they always end up crowding around you again. These astartes have barely seen baseline humans in decades, let alone a woman.

It's suffocating.

You were nothing on your home planet. Insignificant. You’d hoped joining them would bring you purpose, something to be proud of. And to get off the planet that had you feeling so trapped. And while you got your wish, in a way the thing trapping you had merely changed form.

They have you cornered in the armoring room now; Like Wolves. You went from trapped on that no name planet to trapped by five different astartes. Your palms feel hot and sweaty, but not as hot as your face.

“You’re so small, you’re going to get lost on the ship,” One says.

He grabs for your chin and holds it for a moment, forcing you to look into his grey eyes. they're stoic, but you can see he's enjoying something about this. Though he allows you to shrink away and out of his grip, looking downward at their chest armor. Or anywhere else that isn't their faces.

“Or trampled,” Says another. The one who spoke previous gives him a sour look before passively aggressively replying.

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

One who hasn't spoken yet has his top armor removed, his lower half unpowered. He was training, using it as dead weight. Training concluded blood now drips down from his nose and lips but is mostly dried, partly covered healing bruises. If he looks like this, you can't help but wonder how his opponent looks.

It’s distracting.

You don’t know if it’s some sort of illness or insanity from being locked in this ship for so long; It makes him look more attractive. You hope to whatever deity or god or whatever exists out in the stars that he doesn't notice you’re staring. That he doesn't notice the way your heart is pounding in your chest and what feels like your cunt as well.

He does. As do the others. You can't kid yourself and think that with their hearing and smell that they haven't noticed that you're boiling alive, and that your body is screaming fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me-

“He won. Out of one hundred men.”

Your gut twists and the marine behind you laughs quietly. It's deep, enough so that you swear you can feel it in your chest. You would squeeze your thighs together for some relief, but you don’t think you can without stumbling over.

“She likes the winners. Looks like you’re out.” He gestures to a fellow marine that gives him another sour look. You briefly wonder what he lost at to deserve such a jab.

“I should return to my duties,”

You meekly say, hoping to remove yourself from the embarrassment and scurry away to another quarter of the ship.

One of them blocks your path and traps you from leaving, picking you up by the armpits and holding you before putting you back down between them all. It's like you weigh nothing to them, and that they can simply jostle and swing you around like a toy.

“I’ll tell your quartermaster you were helping us.” He jerks his head in the direction of a marine clad in only the casual clothing they wear out of their ceramite. Now the focus of your attention he rolls his shoulder, and you can see the muscles of his neck and around his collarbone flex.

You swallow a knot in your throat that felt like it was going to choke you. Your hands clench tight, nails sharp against your palms. You're going to have a heart attack, you swear it. Tears well in your eyes but they don't break your waterline just yet, from sheer will alone. If any of them say another word, call you cute, small, soft, that you smell so sweet, you swear they’ll roll down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“He wants you to put on his armor. The others are always so rough, you’re so gentle with those little hands.”

The marine reaches for you, and in your back step you stumble and accidentally bump into the one who hasn't spoken at all; Just watching and sitting. You stumble over his massive armored boot and end up falling into a sit on his thigh, legs parted over it. His massive armored hand comes to grip your waist, to keep you from falling over. It covers a good portion of your stomach in the process.

You’re so tightly wound just the simple pressure alone is enough to have you clamp a hand your mouth to avoid letting out a moan that would kill you right then and there, if you weren’t already dead. Your knees quiver, toes just barely touching the ground. His massive height makes it impossible to fully stand with his thigh between your legs.

You know they can smell the way you’re leaking and staining your underwear, hear the way your heart is racing like it's going to explode. You’re half afraid you might make his ceramite thigh plate slick.

You can feel their eyes on you. They look at you like you’re food thrown to a pack of starving wolves.

One suddenly steps forward, and pushes his battle brother out of his way with a harsh slam of ceramite on ceramite before undoing the latch his belt.

“I go first.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 8

Masterpost

He did not go to bed. He went to the computer and he searched up Batman. Wikipedia had the same article. He clicked on it and scrolled down to the list of associates. It was… 

A really long list. Tim’s eyes crossed. There were a whole bunch of boring irrelevant people in other states. But more importantly, there was a list of speculated Robins. Robins, as in plural. 

“Four or five, depending on who you believe,” Tim muttered incredulously to himself. The original Robin, one next, then a girl, and now a short one. That was so many Robins. It was perhaps too many Robins. There should have just been the one. The others were fakers. He scowled at his screen, a little offended for Dick.

At least he knew, now. That was what Oracle meant by ‘the birds’. Tim put his face on his hands and tried not to feel small and silly. She meant the robins.

Tim closed the tab and tried to feel ready to search up the Waynes to confirm his theory. 

The second Robin would have been Jason. He had no idea about the girl or the new one, but doubtlessly Bruceman BatWayne had adopted them. If he searched Bruce Wayne’s name, he’d see it.

Tim closed the laptop. He didn’t need to see it to know that he was right. And honestly, he was tired. He dragged a lap blanket off the back of the couch and made it into a cape for comfort. He trailed around the empty, quiet apartment and tried to feel better. He would not be able to sleep if he went to bed like this; he just knew it. 

‘Why didn’t Jason come?’ He hugged his blanket to his body and wished he felt warmer. ‘You’re supposed to like your boyfriend. I’ve been here for days and no one tried to see me before those two. Why did he not come home?’

Maybe they were fighting. Maybe that request for surveillance meant something. Tim craned back to remember Jason’s exact wording. The first relevant thing he’d said had been…

 “I picked up on something - I think one of my ongoing cases dips into your patrol area. You gonna come out tonight?” 

Then Tim said no, because he was 9 years old. Then Jason said a bad word. Then he said “Fair enough. Uh, think you could do some surveillance for me?”  

Tim ran it back and forth a couple of times. He didn’t see any subtext. So… No. he decided no, Jason hadn’t been communicating anything that indicated a particular problem in their relationship. Maybe he was just out of town.

He poured himself a glass of milk and challenged himself to drink it as slowly as possible. By the time it was gone, Tim sort of felt better. He went back to the guest room and crawled into bed. 

Despite his feeling that he wouldn’t sleep, it was like he just laid down and blinked to see it was the morning. Tim snuffled and pushed his hair out of the way. He sat up slowly. Man, he felt crummy. Unenthusiastically, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and scooted down to the cold floor. 

Bleh.

“I want Mom,” Tim said. No one answered, because the apartment was big and empty and there was nothing to indicate that anyone who loved him lived there. He felt kinda empty in his chest as he walked himself to the kitchen. He wasn’t even hungry, but it was just the law for people that you have to eat in the morning. 

He put bread in the toaster. He got out the pan but it just seemed like too much work. He left that on the counter and then climbed onto the counter to dig out the peanut butter from the cupboards. 

Okay. Peanut butter toast. That was pretty good. Tim snagged an apple off the counter and started peeling it. 

“Ow!” He dropped the peeler with a clatter. The apple landed on his foot and rolled away. He was too busy sucking on his finger to do anything about it. Tim danced in place for a minute, tearing up in pain. It hurt so bad! He ran to the sink and put his finger under the water, scared to see how deep he had cut himself.

In the clear stream of water, he could see that it was a cut that made a flap of skin. There wasn’t any bone or anything. It was fine. He was fine. He just needed a bandaid.

Tim burst into genuine tears. He sat on the floor and cried his heart out. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to go home. He was tired of being too small for his life. His sobs gradually petered off into sniffles. 

He picked himself up and wrapped a paper towel around his finger so that it didn’t bleed on anything. He hunted down the apple and threw it away. He unpeeled a banana instead, because a banana never hurt anyone aside from the pain of it tasting bad. He poured himself milk and juice and he put peanut butter on his cold toast. He ate it all, feeling numb. He had to, because no one else was going to. After that, he went looking for bandages. At least big Tim had a lot of them. Big Tim was really prepared to get hurt and have no one to help him.

So lucky.

The apartment felt a lot less fun now.

It was hard to even work up enthusiasm for Miss Tamara, but it was his job. So Tim reluctantly dragged himself to the laptop and opened the email to see if she’d said anything.

She had. She said to call her.

Tim went looking for the phone. It turned out to be under the sofa for some reason. He didn’t remember why. He hit the power button, discovered it was dead, and then he plugged it in. He waited around and fidgeted while it charged enough to turn on. He called Miss Fox right away.

She picked up on the third ring. “Tim, good to hear from you,” Tamara said easily.

…It felt nice to hear that. Tim swallowed. “Is there a situation?” he asked. 

“The opposite, thank you for that documentation,” Tamara said. She sounded like the pretty version of a shark somehow. “I confronted the employee with it and they did admit to some malfeasance. They were hiding an earlier error. Of course, I went and confirmed that mistake made sense. Thank you for including your exhaustive list of theories.” She sounded amused by that. “Never change, Tim.”

That hit him in a weird way. Tim rubbed at his chest, wondering what that meant. He’d just been thinking that he really needed to change and grow up. “I’m glad that I could assist you,” Tim said. “Thank you for telling me how you resolved the situation.”

“No problem,” she said crisply. “Will I see you in the office on Monday?”

Tim looked at his wall. He could see his reflection in a picture frame. It was mostly blocked out by the bright colors in the photo behind the glass. It was just obscuring enough that he could imagine how his face was going to look when he met Miss Fox. “I hope so.” He didn’t know who Zatanna was, but Oracle seemed efficient. She had probably made the correct staffing decision, just like Miss Fox would. 

The day seemed a little brighter after that. Tim picked himself up with a new feeling of determination. He hadn’t ruined things. Sure, he hadn’t been totally successful. But so what? Who won every game they played?

He went back to studying. He barely registered it when the bell rang.

When Tim lifted his head, he was mostly just grabbing around for the phone on autopilot in order to make it quiet. “Shush,” he said, trying to shut off the alarm.

He hit ‘accept’ on the phone call instead.

That woke him up. Tim stared at the timer counting up from 0 seconds to 1, 2, and then hastily lifted it to his ear.

“Hey?” 

“Jason,” Tim breathed.

“That’s my name,” Jason agreed, sounding weirdly uncomfortable. “You’re still sick? Jeeze. You aren’t dying or anything, right? You’ve been out of the field for a while.”

“I’m perfectly healthy,” Tim said. “I will see a specialist, though.” He left off any estimate of time, since Oracle hadn’t said how long it would take. “I apologize for my failure to make progress on your case. I’ll get it done today.”

“...That’s not terrifying or anything.” Jason sighed. “I thought this was a cold. I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “There’s some chicken soup outside your door. Take it or don’t. I don’t care.”

“What?” Tim asked.

“Back off,” Jason snapped back. 

…They sat in silence for a couple of seconds. On Tim’s end, it was a confused silence. But he felt a little warmed. “You made me soup,” Tim said aloud. “Right?”

Jason said another bad word. “Eat it,” he snapped. “I just don’t want you to waste away before you do that surveillance. I know you don’t eat enough. I’m going to bed.”

The dial tone rang out in Tim’s ear. Dazed, it took him a couple of seconds to lower his phone. He put it on his lap and recalibrated. 

“He loves me,” Tim said, choked up.

He cried about it a little. But it was a good cry this time! Tim was happy that someone cared about Big Tim. The idea that he was going to grow up to live in this big empty place with no friends or family around had been scaring him. The fact that he was wrong sent so much relief through his body. 

He retrieved the soup and ate it. He cried a little more when he realized the dumplings were homemade.

When he was done wrestling with big feelings, Tim knew what he had to do. He went back to his studies with renewed determination. He was going to get Jason the right information about the Sausage man, no matter what.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Dads as Stereotypical Things that Dads Do

Last Father's Day I created a Tier List of Cosmere dads. This year I went to a reddit thread about "stereotypical things that dads do" (here), and then thought about which stereotypical dad activity would best suit various Cosmere dads...if those things existed in the Cosmere, ya know.

Here's what I got!

1. Sneeze loudly: Stormfather

Dads are known for their incredibly loud, heart-attack-inducing sudden sneezes. And if the Stormfather COULD sneeze so loudly that everyone in the house jumps, he totally would.

2. Drink Cheap “Dad” Beer: Lem

Cheap beers like Budlite or Coors are the drinks of dads. I think Tess's dad Lem would genuinely like them.

3. Fall Asleep in Front of the TV in an Armchair: Taravangian

Part of it is Taravangian's ploy to seem old and harmless...and part of it is that armchairs in front of the TV are simply the best place to sleep.

4. Stare into Space while Standing Outside: Dalinar

The dad pose: standing outside with the hands tucked behind his back or resting lightly against his hips, staring off into space, contemplating Dad Things. This is Dalinar through-and-through.

5. Turn Off the Lights and Turn Down the Thermostat to Save Electricity: Lirin

Dads are known for wandering through the house and turning off lights and also declaring that no one is allowed to touch the thermostat because we are not made of money. This is Lirin. He's definitely used the "What? Are you trying to heat the whole outdoors" line on Kaladin when he left the front door open too long.

6. Dad Jokes: Rock

"Dad! Please be careful with my art project! It's fragile!" says Cord, and Rock, who has been waiting for his chance, replies, "Do not worry. I am steady...as a Rock!" And then he laughs and laughs while Cord groans.

7. Lightning-Fast Dad Reflexes: Wax

Perhaps you have seen the videos online where a child tries to dive headfirst from the couch and a dad suddenly reacts with superhero speed and precision to, like, catch them by their ankle and save their noggin. This would be Wax. There goes Max, trying to dive headfirst off the coffee table, and there's Wax appearing out of nowhere to catch him.

8. Grill-Master: Gavilar

Not in the sense of making delicious grilled food (that's Rock again), but in the sense of "standing-by-the-grill-with-a-beer-in-hand-and-not-allowing-anyone-to-touch-his-precious-burgers-and-oh-you-want-it-rare?-sucks-to-be-you-you-get-what-you-get-and-what-you-get-is-a-lump-of-charcoal" Grill-master dad.

9. Saying "No" to a Pet and Then Bonding Deeply with Said Pet: Elhokar

I can just see Elhokar putting his foot down about how they are NOT getting a cat but then Aesudan takes Gavinor to the pet shop and they get a kitten anyway and now the kitten naps in Elhokar's pocket 100% of the time and Elhokar loves it so much.

10. Scaring Away the Daughter's Boyfriends With a Shotgun: Kelsier

Vin is like "Dad meet my new boyfriend Elend" and Kelsier is already pumping the shotgun threateningly. This one is essentially canon.

[ynsvnte]

Kisses right at you — Sim Jaeyun

Genre: fluff, Drabble, angst? Exs to lovers, wc: 594, warnings: Jake begging,hugging? No y/n pairing: exbf!jake x gn!reader

Event Masterlist

Cold late night, you sat down on the couch watching whatever is playing on the tv. Not really paying attention to it, but rather the text you received not even 5 minutes ago..from Jake. Why would he even text you after 8 months after your break up?? Confusion was clearly written all over your face. Not knowing to respond to him or not. Turning off the phone and placing it next to you. You just ignore it or more like try to ignore it. You watch tv until you hear a ping. Grabbing the phone and turning it on. A notification from jake.

“Please respond to my messages,” it said. You looked at it. Just then he called you. Getting scared, you accidentally dropped your phone onto the ground. Grabbing it you accept the call.

“Hello..?” You said.

“Hey, it’s me Jake”

“Umm..yeah I can tell..” you responded. You hear a small laugh on the phone. “Look. I know we broke up a while ago, but is it too much to come over, like right now...” You don’t say anything for a few seconds, before speaking up. “I suppose..” Jake replies “Alright. I’ll see you in a few minutes” and just like that the call ends. There’s no denying you don’t miss him. You do like a lot. But not as much as before. You can already feel the awkwardness in the air from the call. You just sigh and wait for Jake to come.

Around 15 minutes have passed and you hear knocking on the door. Jake, he’s here. You get up and make your way to the door. Checking to see if it’s him. You can see him waiting for the door to be opened, so you open the door and meet with a smiling Jake. He still looks the same, nothing much has changed about him.

“Hey..” You say awkwardly. “Umm..wanna come inside..?” Jake nods his head stepping foot into the house. Memories filling up his mind immediately. Thinking about the times you used to be together. “Do you want anything to drink..?” You asked Jake. Jake only shakes his head. “I’m okay, thank you though” You sit down on the couch inviting Jake to do the same. As Jake sits down you asked him. “So why did you want to come over..?”

“Look..I want to start over..” he said in a low voice, but you managed to hear it. “Oh..” you replied not knowing what to say. “Well..it’s been somewhat a long time since we last saw or talked to each other.” You said not daring to meet Jake's eyes. You can feel him staring at you. “I know, but please give us a chance again please. I miss you.” He begged. A part of you wanted to say no, but what’s the point when you also miss him. “I can't, I don't miss you either.” You spoke up. Jake's eyes lit up. “So..does that mean we can get back together.”

“Not exactly. I want to take it slow, please..?” You said and lifted up your head, making eye contact with Jake. “Alright. But can I hug you..?” He asked. “Sure,” then you feel warmth all over your body, being pulled into a hug by Jake.

“I miss this feeling. In fact I miss everything about you..” he said while hugging you. You only nodded your head returning the hug. Then you feel a pair of lips touch your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn-“

“it’s okay..just enjoy the moment..”

“Okay whatever you say..”

Author’s Note: hehe I wrote this kind of rushed bc I’m stressing rn and I’m sure I’m going grow me some gray hairs 😝 anyways did a secret Santa and oh boy..

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