#and start the process again a couple months later or so

[shipper4everships]

BuckTommy Fluffebruary: Day 16

~AU: didn’t know they were dating~

It all started by chance. Buck had just started his service at 118th station, while Tommy was in the process of transferring to station 217. Tommy’s transfer was delayed, so they began working together. Tommy was usually a composed and somewhat introverted guy, not quick to let people close, but Buck was so sincere and open that Tommy let his guard down.

They became friends, and Tommy showed Buck some of his secret tricks that helped him on the job, which later came in handy for Buck on calls. 

"Hey, you only told me about them in my second year here - why does the rookie get such privileges?" Eddie asked teasingly. 

On their days off, they sometimes went to the gym together or invited each other to the bar for a beer and to watch a match. 

"I thought you weren't very into basketball before, Buck. Something changed?" Chim in with a grin. Buck just waved off the question.

When it came time for Tommy to complete his transfer to station 217, he briefly thought about refusing it because he was afraid their communication would end. But Buck turned out to be better than he could have imagined and supported Tommy’s decision to transfer.

"If flying is your dream, then you have to follow it!" 

Tommy couldn’t argue with that.

Now they didn’t see each other as often, but they were always in touch. There were nights when they both stayed up until morning, texting or talking on the phone about everything under the sun.

"Buck, you look awful... You were up all night talking to Tommy again, should I tell him to stop messing up your schedule?" Hen said, half-seriously, half-joking.

"He’s not messing anything up, I called him first!" Buck blurted out, then realized what he’d said.

They continued meeting occasionally at the bar, but it became harder to sync up due to shift changes. One day, Tommy suggested Buck come over to his place for a couple of hours so they could see each other, and Buck gladly accepted.

They kept visiting each other to watch movies or cook together. Until one day, the moment happened: Buck cuddled up to Tommy while they were watching a horror movie, and Tommy turned to him and kissed him in the dim light of the room. To Buck’s surprise, he didn’t pull away. On the contrary, he eagerly joined in.

Since that evening, not much changed between them, except that their texts became more flirtatious, their touches more frequent, and that kiss on the couch wasn’t the last, but rather the first in a series of others.

They wished each other safety before every shift, and it was always the case, but now it felt different - as though there was something more behind that wish, as if they started caring for each other more.

Buck wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but he was afraid of losing the connection that was growing between them, so he decided to keep everything between the two of them and see where it could lead.

Was it really a surprise when, not long after, they slept together for the first time in Buck’s loft? They didn’t talk about it or anything that happened between them, but Buck lay in bed in Tommy’s arms the next morning, feeling like he was exactly where he needed to be.

Maddy called him a few days later and invited him to dinner at the Buckley-Han house, and Buck enthusiastically agreed.

"Buck, I just wanted to check… if you want, you don’t have to come alone," Maddy said cautiously.

"…What do you mean?" Buck was caught off guard by her words.

"Maybe you’ll introduce us to your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" Buck asked, glancing at Tommy, who was sitting across the table from him. Tommy had overheard Buck’s part of the conversation and looked at him. In his eyes, Buck saw curiosity and something more… maybe hope?

Buck ran through their relationship over the past few months in his mind, and everything in his head and heart finally fell into place.

"Yeah, you’re right." Buck smiled into the phone. "Set another place at the table because I’m bringing my boyfriend." Buck said those words and caught Tommy’s answering smile.

When he hung up, Buck leaned across the table, and warm lips met him halfway.

He wasn’t sure where this would lead, but now he knew. Now he would do it right. @bucktommyfluffebruary 💗

[feralfens]

[speed runs thickening the top soil layer in one spot]

[sp0o0kylights]

Sometimes I think of a Steve Harrington that is absolutely exhausted by all the horror and bullshit and trying to keep the kids alive through said horror and bullshit, who watches Eddie rock up to him at the beginning of S4 with a dead eyed, flat stare.

"Steeeeve Harrington." Eddie taunts and peacocks and twirls around him, and all Steve wanted was for a couple months to process the trauma, maybe feel safe enough to start thinking about the future instead of stuck in a never ending anxiety loop of what might happen to Dumbass Near-Deatherson, should Steve go to college or move out of Hawkins (bc all the bad nicknames in the world won't erase the fact that Dustin's family, now. They're all family. And when they need help, they go to Steve.) and now he's suffering the unjust ordeal of being haunted by the high school drug dealer.

"His highness has come down from his castle!" Munson will crow, making a show out of Steve picking up the kids like this is a great battle of wits, a scoreboard between them and not like Steve is half dead on his feet, head aching, dreams full of too many teeth. "Quickly hide behind me, he'll try to cut off your heads!"

"Wouldn't he just cut yours off too?" Lucas asked, though the tone was slightly timid, Sinclair unsure if his joke would be well recieved.

(Steve doesn't care if the kid outright insults him. He still recalls the junkyard, the fight with Billy, the blood staining the kid's headband. Lucas lived, therefore, he can be a shit if wants.)

"Mine? Oh, the King wouldn't dare." Munson tosses his head, full of cartoon energy, too big for his body and grin both. "Many have tried you see, but no one had ever succeeded!"

Steve, equally, does not give a single shit that Eddie Munson has decided to play these games with him--until he realizes he's maybe been a little too exhausted and depressed and morose around the kids.

Watches them getting worried over him, whispering urgently and making dramatic gestures and talking to Robin and suddenly, playing a little tug of war over them the way Munson seems to want feels like a good idea. A way to hide all the rough edges, a way to be fine so they can be fine.

"How about you guys skip the dork brigade tonight," Steve taunts back the next time they're all together, standing like the man he used to be, wearing a dead personality. "And we go do something actually fun instead?"

Eddie laughs, lights up, is all too happy to match him tit for tat, and it's so easy to fake this kind of interaction, rolling his eyes and snapping his gum. Steve could match this energy in his sleep, and never once does Munson catch on that Steve's not doing this for him.

That he's not even looking at him half the time, eyes askew, locked on the kids. Seeing them relax as he banters, seeing Dustin glow as he returns to his favorite position, being the center of attention.

So long as they think he's okay, Steve will be okay. If that means putting up with Munson, then so be it.

Its not like he'll catch on.

Eddie doesnt.

(Or rather, he does--but Its months and several deaths later, when they're in the RV, chasing what feels like literal demons, does it dawn on Eddie what Steve is doing.

Has been doing, the whole time.

Steve, sassy, ridiculous, jock- brained Steve makes the mistake of doing it again, using the same trick he had on the kids to convince them he was fine on Eddie. To further convince Eddie that they were fine as a group.

That they'll survive, they'll figure it out, they'll make it.

Loudly bantering with dead eyes, smiling with a mouth robotically locked in. Jokes on jokes on jokes and all of them making the kids take their minds off VecnaHenryOne to screech ineffectively at their babysitter. Winks tossed to the girls, who both roll their eyed at him. A sly look given to Eddie, to include him.

Its then, that Eddie decides to cement his life with Steve's. Because this loyal bastard of a paladin is too good hearted to die, too protective to not try it anyway. The idiot is cutting himself to ribbons to tie them all together and Eddie can't undo the damage but he can grab all the pieces he can, loop them together.

He can make those dead eyes light up again.

And he does.

This time when things are over Steve finds himself unable to pull those little tricks of his. Every time he slides the mask over his face Eddie rips it right back off again.

They fight, a lot, until they start kissing instead and for a while that also, somehow, feels like fighting but Eddie's real good at this. The emotional part, not so much the kissing, but he knows how to draw Steve out. How to break down walls, and annoying his real personality out.

The kissing was just an odd little side benefit.

A thing they don't talk about.

There's a benefit to it, one he doesn't look very hard into, until strangely, one day, Eddie wakes with Steve's head pillowed on his shoulder and comes to the abrupt conclusion that he's screwed.

Or so he thinks--until bright, loving eyes blink awake, and turn on him, and Eddie realizes just how long it's been since they looked dead.

He wonders, vaguely, how long it'll take for Steve to catch on, that this just got serious.

Will laugh at himself when he learns that Steve already knew.

Guess that's what he gets for finally paying attention.)

[kaivenom]

How would Benedict Bridgerton court you... HCS

Masterlist

You both first crossed glances at a ball, you were not a debutant, just passing around, just like his sister Eloise, you weren't much interested on claiming attention, but you catched his.

His first thought when he saw you in the back of the salon, tapping your feet to the rythm of the song while looking at a big painting was that he needed to paint you.

He spent the rest of the night, admiring you from the distance, until you both almost bumped into each other.

Inmediatly he took the chance and asked you to dance.

It was the funniest night you both had, cause after the dance, you talked about art, and drinked, and danced again, all night until your mother decided it was time to leave.

After that night, you didn't heard from him in a couple of weeks, you almost thought he forgot about you.

The thing was that he was collecting information about you, everything he could find that he knew you would like.

Then a bouquet of your favourite flowers came to your door, signed by the name of "Your artist", you knew it was him, but he surely wants to be romantic so you let him be.

A couple of days later, your favourite crystals, and then gems, and fabrics, and art supplies.

With this routine of secretism, a couple of months passed by with his gifts demostrating that he knows you.

You saw each other a couple more times during balls and dances, until you decided to approach him again.

"Why do you sent me notes but not talk to me?"

"I want you to see that i can know you better than anyone, plus i want you to be as crazy in love for me as i am for you."

A smile escaped both of your lips, suddently you had an idea.

You dropped your fan carefully and he inmediatly get down to pick it up.

"So... that's how you like to play then." he told you with a smirk.

"You said you wanted me to get crazy about you, who says i can't play that game too?"

"Then we both must play."

The once innocent game of knowing each other turned into a rollercoaster of temptation.

Small touches while dancing, innapropiate comments while talking in public, purposely moving to the corner of the room to have more privacy with your not so discreet behaviour.

(I firmly believe that Benedict is a switch with a very brat behaviour, so picture that)

Until your mother decided that you were going to marry a noble.

Thats when the game stopped and started to get serious.

Benedict distanced himself from you and you got so sad from the lonelyness that awaited your future that you wouldn't leave your room.

Your mother didn't let you alone in any social act, that means that you can't talk to him... ike that could make a change.

One week until the wedding and everything feels bad when suddently you received a bouquet of your favourite flowers with a note.

"I will not cut you like this flowers, but i will keep you to myself no matter how, with love Your Artist.

You almost broke in tears right there, your mother entered the room with your future husband to finish some business.

They didn't even care to ask you what happened, the just talked about your future like nothing.

One of the servants announced Benedict and everyone on the room turned around.

"I am here to propose."

"Too late, she is my fiancee." you couldn't believe what was happening.

"I double the endowment, my mother and brother approved it."

You know your mother will marry you to the best match she could find, which means the one who could provide more money.

After verifying everything was right, your mother inmediatly sent out your now ex-fiancee and welcomed with open arms your new husband.

"How?" you asked him, still processing.

"I intended to send you that flowers yesterday, i don't know why they got today." he sounded more concerned about his time planning that your tear, "Oh, you mean all the other things, sorry for ignoring you, once you got engaged my family forced me to separate myself to not staint your virtue... so i was convincing them to let me marry you."

"I..." you kissed him on the lips with passion, with all the emotions you've been keeping inside.

"I think we should wait to the weeding night, in a week." your eyes opened surprised while he justs smirks, "I didn't want any longer to kall you mine, so i managed to get a wedding licency too."

"I love you."

"I know, and i love you too."

[itneverendshere]

thinking of how rafe wouldn’t want you to work while pregnant

that man would be so stressed, since day one!! and bartender!reader would noooot give him a break, still covering bartending shifts even tho she was the manager bc she simply enjoyed doing it every once in a while. and he's like ?????? will you sit your ass down PLEASE. but you're not listening, if there's ONE thing the pregnancy hormones gave you was extra attitude. somethin' along these lines:

rafe could feel his jaw clenching as he watched you across the room, rolling your eyes for the third time in the past five minutes. you were doing it on purpose now, deliberately ignoring him while standing behind the bar, mixing drinks like you weren’t six months pregnant.

the bartender had called in sick, and you, the manager, jumped in and covered for him. rafe crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, and tried not to look too annoyed, but fuck if it wasn’t hard.

you still had that spark in you, that independence that drew him in from the start, but now? now it just made him worry.

worry like he never thought he could.

“you’re really gonna give me a heart attack, y’know that?” he called out, his voice carrying over the chatter around the country club.

most people were too busy with their drinks and golf gossip to notice you two bickering, but anyone paying attention could see that familiar dynamic. you doing whatever you damn well pleased, him trying to keep his cool, which he never really could when it came to you putting yourself at risk.

you glanced at him over your shoulder, hands moving like second nature as you garnished a drink. “’m fine, baby” you told him, voice just as breezy as ever, like the huge bump pressing against your shirt was nothing more than an accessory. “it’s just a couple hours.”

there was that old habit of yours—acting like everything was fine when you clearly weren’t. or maybe you were, but that wasn’t the point.

the point was, you shouldn’t have to be there.

“you say that, but i know you’re gonna be hurting later,” he muttered, pushing off the counter and walking around to your side of the bar.

his hand landed gently on your waist, thumb brushing the small of your back like he always did when he wanted to get you to stop for just a second.

“c’mon, baby. just take a break, you don’t need to be on your feet like this.”

it wasn’t that you didn’t want help—you’d worked through that over the past couple years—but that stubborn streak was still there.

“’m not some porcelain doll,” you reminded him, rolling your eyes again, “’m not gonna drop dead because i’m pregnant.”

he felt his stomach drop when those words left your mouth. "jesus christ, woman," he muttered, his eyes widening in exasperation. "don’t say that shit.”

“alright, my bad,” you gave in, “didn’t mean it like that.”

rafe sighed, his hand still resting on you. he hated when you talked like that, like you had to remind him how capable you were. of course he knew. 

"promise me you're taking a leave starting tomorrow," he practically begged you despite attempting to sound firm, but that undertone of worry had been his constant companion ever since you'd found out you were pregnant. 

"next week," you sang back, not even looking up from the drink you were finishing. 

you were still in work mode, determined to keep things running smoothly despite the fact you should’ve been at home, resting.

"tomorrow," he insisted, leaning in closer, his voice softening but no less serious.

you turned to face him, eyes narrowing. "next week, or you’re not getting sex for the next three months. now get outta my bar.”

rafe blinked, his jaw going slack as he stared at you, completely blindsided. 

“what—"

“go on,” you gestured toward the other side of the counter with a flick of your hand, “out.”

his mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a fish. he was processing, but slowly.

"but… baby," he whined, his voice dipping into a tone that could only be described as kicked puppy. “just—wanna make sure you’re okay. that you’re safe, and you’re not overdoing it. you can’t kick me out, i need to be around you.”

you gave him that look, the one that told him he was pushing his luck. "rafe, i swear to god—”

he let out a long, dramatic sigh, but started to back off, lifting his hands in surrender.

"alright, alright, ‘m going," he grunted, dragging his feet toward the exit like a kid being told to go to bed. but before he did go, he turned back one more time, his eyes pleading. "i’ll be outside if you need me."

"of course you will," you muttered, shaking your head with a half-smile. you knew he wasn’t going far, probably just far enough to hover and peek through the windows, pretending to give you space but unable to help himself.

"i love you, stop spiraling," you called out after him.

he paused, turning back to look at you, his expression softening.  

“love you too.”

[luveline]

begging on my hands and knees (if you haven’t already) for you to write something about Aaron during the birth of your child 🥲🥲 and jack’s reaction to meeting his new sibling

You suffer through labour, Aaron dotes, and Jack meets his baby sister. fem, 2k

cw for labour/delivery, no graphic imagery

For some people, giving birth is a fast affair. Dilation occurs quickly, and after twenty or so pushes, a baby is born. Some people can go into labour and be finished within the hour. 

You, unfortunately, have not had that kind of luck. And that’s okay —it’s also entirely normal for this process to be difficult. Doesn’t make it hurt any less to watch, but Aaron has thick skin. Who cares what he’s feeling? You’re about to have a baby. 

He stands at the head of the bed with his arm over your pillow, tired despite himself, a styrofoam cup of ice chips in his hand. He presses it to your cheek, and every couple of minutes he changes it to the other one. Your forehead is wet with sweat, your face puffy with sobbing tears, but you’re beautiful in your sleep. Beautiful to him. 

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead where he stays for some time. Your heart monitor beeps. 

A few minutes later, your heart monitor jumps. A strike of pain to warn of an oncoming contraction. 

You drag yourself from sleep to find his eyes. “Hi,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t know what to say. What can sum it up? Aaron doesn’t think he’s felt this many emotions in his life; he thinks of Jack, his baby face, and he thinks of Haley squishing his pink cheeks; he thinks of your hands, how chapped your palms are, how much he hates to see you crying like this; he thinks of your little baby so close to being here, and all your months of triumph and love and good luck to get to this moment. 

This is the biggest privilege of his life, in line with Jack’s birth. 

He doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but he makes himself a man who could deserve you. “Hello,” he says, pressing the back of his hand to your raging forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

“It has to be time soon.” 

“You think so? Should I find someone?” 

He speaks in solid but hushed tones, as though a raised voice might hurt you more. You find his chest to press your hand to space above his heart, where you give him a little rub back and forth. “No,” you say, tears welling in your eyes as the monitor spikes, “not yet.” 

He helps you into a sitting position which quickly becomes a bent over and keening position. Aaron obviously doesn’t know how childbirth feels, but he has experienced his own scar tissue ripping apart inside his abdomen as his organs flooded with his own blood. By the looks of it, you’re hurting worse than that. You don’t even speak. Your moans turn to panicked shouting before you get so scared your voice disappears. 

He doesn’t like it at all. He waits a good long minute with you for the pain to pass, his hand in yours as you squeeze it to mulch, his nose pressed remorsefully to your cheek. It fades like all the others. 

“I know,” he says as you start to cry in earnest, “it’s over. It’s over.” 

“It’s not over,” you snip, sniffing. 

He leans over your lap to press the button that asks for help. “You’re doing amazing.” 

It’s a hard night. At nearing one in the morning, they measure your dilation and agree it’s time to push. You tolerate it well, but it still takes two and a half hours of agony and tears. Aaron doesn’t cry, but he does feel an acute ache for you, and an excitement you probably can’t feel yourself. Every push is one step closer to the baby. 

Just after three hours, when the midwives are whispering to one another in concern and Aaron is sure he’ll never feel his left hand again, you have a baby. 

She’s snipped, cleaned up, and laid gently on your chest within seconds. You’ll never know how whole and brimming Aaron’s heart feels in that moment, to see you crying against the little forehead of your baby, to watch your arms cradle her body tenderly. 

He’s sure everyone in the room will forgive him for crying too. Just a couple of tears, smiling as you look down at her in pure joy. No shock, no sign of all that pain. 

“Oh, fuck, Aaron,” you say suddenly, to the delight of everyone in the room, “she’s got your frown.” 

She’s screaming, as babies tend to do. Aaron presses himself as close as he can to confirm the wrinkle between her brows. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, kissing your cheek. 

You breathe out deeply. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” 

Sorry for the pain and gunk. You forgive him for everything. 

You’re feeling nearly yourself again when morning comes, Aaron can tell. Showered, changed, swaddled with post-labour padding and with half a sandwich in your stomach, he can nearly forget the sound of your panicked crying. You’re hoarse as though you’ve been out for the night with friends, whispering clumsy love notes to your daughter where she naps in your lap. 

“So pretty,” you say, running an awed fingertip over her nose, “so beautiful, baby. You’re so beautiful. Look at your liccle nose.” You dip into sugar. “Aw, look at your nose.” 

“That’s your nose,” he says. 

“I think so.” 

She’s a baby so it’s hard to say for sure, but Aaron hopes she has your lovely nose and that she looks exactly like you, if she only keeps his wrinkled brow. 

You lean back. The bed has been wiped down and changed, your pillow from home propped behind your shoulders. Jack’s good luck talisman sits on the night table, waiting for him to visit. Aaron has been away for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and still he misses him after not seeing him these last eighteen hours. 

“He’s on his way, right?” you ask, noticing Aaron’s quiet. 

Aaron picks up Mr. Bear where he sits on the nightstand and massages the teddy’s arms and stomach. “Can’t you hear him?”

“My sister!” Jack is saying, words too fast to pick up each one, “Jess, we have to be faster!” 

“I’m going as fast as I can, sweetheart!” 

Aaron meets him at the door. Jack sees his father, probably just the shape of him, and starts to run down the hallway. He slams into Aaron’s legs, who pulls him up against his chest for a two-armed hug that he couldn’t need more. 

“Jackers,” he says in relief.

“Dad, put me down!” He must see you over Aaron’s shoulder. “Y/N! You’re okay!” 

“I’m more than okay, handsome! Were you worried about me?” 

“Is that my baby?” he says, rubbing his eyes with both hands.

You, Aaron and Jess all laugh. “Your baby sister. Are you gonna come and say hello? She’s been waiting for hours for you to wake up,” you say.

“I was waiting for her for hours first,” Jack says, climbing over Aaron’s shoulder, and then slipping back down as his father walks him into the hospital room to stop by your bed. 

Jess stays by the door. 

Aaron puts Jack on the bed beside you where there’s not much room for him, hands clasped around his arms just in case he does something sudden. “Oh,” Jack says, breathing out slowly. “Wow, dad.” 

“Wow,” Aaron echoes. 

“Can I touch her?” 

Assured he’ll be careful, Aaron lets Jack loose, and the boy waits for your signal before he pokes at the baby’s fisted hand. 

“She’s really little, huh?” you ask quietly. 

“Was I this little?” 

“You were smaller,” Aaron whispers. 

“She’s a real baby, dad.” 

“She’s super real. Does she look like you pictured?” Aaron asks. 

“No, I thought she’d look more like me.” 

This is really funny to you. Careful, you hold the baby to your chest and free an arm to cup Jack’s shoulder. “Buddy, I missed you. Aunt Jess says you stayed up past your bedtime, how are you feeling?” 

He smiles and goes shy at the same time. “I’m okay. I missed you, too.” 

“That’s good, I’m feeling good too.” You sniffle. 

“Are you sure?” Jack asks. 

“This is the best day ever. My little girl meeting her big brother.” You take a steadying breath, and you turn the baby toward Jack gently. “Do you wanna hold her?” 

Jack sits against your pillows and waits with pale terror on his face for you to pass him the baby. He bends over her as soon as she’s been placed, worried she’ll tip out of his lap, and you stroke the short brown strands of his hair, crops of it moving shiny under your touch. 

Aaron takes his phone from his pocket. In his rush, he struggles to find the capture button, recording a video instead that will take up most of the memory on his old phone and that he will refuse to part with. 

“Did she look like this in your belly?” Jack asks you, frowning. 

“Not the whole time. Why, does that bother you?” 

“Was she squished?” 

“No, she wasn’t squished. ‘Member how big my belly was?” You laugh warmly. “How big it still is.” 

“Will it ever be small again?” 

“Maybe somebody. I don’t mind.” You stroke his hair again. Baby makes a wet noise. “What do you think, lovely?” 

“About your belly?” 

“About the baby.” 

“I wish I was her.” 

You stroke behind his ear. “How come?” 

“I’m so tired, I wish I was sleeping too. But she is really small.” 

Aaron catches your relieved smile before he puts down the phone. “Do you want a nap, buddy? We can take a nap.” 

“I can take him home?” Jess suggests quietly. 

Aaron thanks her for everything. When you’re feeling better, he’s sure you’ll want to introduce Jess to the baby as well, but Jess doesn’t want to impose, and Aaron lets her go without fuss. Perhaps it’s a little hard on her to see. He doesn’t know. 

But Jess is a good woman, and he knows she’ll want to meet your baby whenever you’re ready. For now, it’s just you, Aaron, Jack, and the baby Hotchner.

Aaron sits in the plastic wrapped chair by the bed and leans back to accommodate sleepy Jack, who falls asleep with little more than a back rub and his family’s proximity. You look like you could sleep, too, but you won’t put the baby in the bassinet. You hold her and watch her for a soothing stretch of time, Aaron watching you both. 

“He’ll be more enthusiastic after he’s slept,” Aaron promises. 

You pucker and press teeny kisses to the baby’s ear. “He was perfect,” you murmur. “He was so gentle. We’re so lucky.” 

Aaron reaches over to hold your hand. You indulge him with an open palm, the two of you shushing in tandem as your children rouse, both of them perfect, and both parents very lucky. 

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Easy Like Sunday Morning - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Lazy Sunday mornings are few and far between for you and Bradley. When they do happen, you make the best of them.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v (or at least, no protection mentioned), dirty talk, praise kink, Bradley worshipping you. Sort of CNC (both parties are awake though when the actual act occurs?)

word count: 1.5k

The morning sun peeked through the curtains over the large window in your bedroom. You yawned and stretched, a much needed gesture after a solid eight hours of fighting Bradley for the covers throughout the night. Beside you, he lay in bed, still snoring peacefully - you were convinced at this point an atom bomb could probably detonate beside his eardrum and he still wouldn’t stir.  His tanned arm rested just over the covers, his hand loosely gripping the fabric as he slept. He turned onto his side, causing the blanket to drop slightly, exposing a landscape of golden sunkissed skin dotted with freckles across his shoulders and upper back. Bradley would never admit to it, but he’d been hitting the gym harder lately, and it was starting to show more so as the muscles in his back tensed and flexed as he got comfortable. 

Bradley had always been a good looking man. You swore that from the moment you first saw him - dressed in his khaki uniform walking down the streets in Coronado as he and a couple of friends decided to grab lunch off base that day after a briefing. You’d been out for lunch with one of your friends, and Bradley caught your eye from a mile away. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered and handsome - he was perfectly your type. As luck would have it, it turned out that he’d had his eye on you at the same time. Before leaving that afternoon, he’d stopped by the table where you were dining and flashed this beautifully crooked smile at you, the kind that made you just absolutely melt on the spot.

“Sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I couldn’t walk away without telling you how beautiful you are.”

His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine when he spoke, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as your brain processed what he’d said. He laughed when you told him he was sweet, his cheeks becoming rosy as you teased him, and that was that - within a couple of days, he was calling you for a date, and now, two years later, he was sound asleep in bed beside you, in the house you two had purchased together a few short months ago. 

You gently placed a kiss to his shoulder blade as you reminisced to yourself about meeting Bradley for the first time, causing him to murmur something softly, eyelids fluttering for a moment before remaining shut. After a few minutes, Bradley flipped back to lay on his back, grumbling quietly as he settled himself back into his rest. His curls were tousled messily from his tossing and turning, something that Bradley would quickly tame the moment he woke up with some hair styling products he had stashed away, specifically for making sure his hair remained in Navy regulation at every moment. 

You began to kiss his shoulder again, gently peppering his soft skin with tender kisses as he slept, showering him with affection. Bradley’s eyes fluttered again, a soft smirk forming on his lips as he glanced down at you, your trail of kisses now heading further towards his chest. He hummed softly and shut his eyes again, enjoying your display of tenderness towards him on this lazy morning. 

As you trailed your mouth down his body, you peeled back the blankets gently - trying your best not to wake him abruptly. You danced your fingers down his chest to his abdomen, your lips following suit. Once you reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, you delicately placed another kiss to the light trail of hair that extended from his naval to his waistline before sitting yourself upright. Carefully, you straddled his waist, taking care to seat yourself gently on his abdomen. You ducked your head down to begin kissing at his ear, which prompted a soft groan from Bradley.

“Mornin’, honey,” he said sleepily as he blinked his bleary brown eyes a few times in an effort to focus them on you. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you hummed, your lips leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, something Bradley could never resist. 

“Mhmm,” Bradley shook his head, a strained chuckle falling from his lips as he shifted underneath you in the bed. “Honey, you’re making it really, really hard for me to not just flip you over and-” 

You raised a challenging eyebrow as you hovered yourself over top of his lap, settling down on the tenting fabric of his boxers. Grinding yourself against him, Bradley let out a deep grunt, shaking his head as he reached out and grabbed at your hips. He held you firmly in place, guiding your as you moved back and forth, rubbing yourself over top of his boxers. 

Bradley gazed up at you with lust-filled eyes as he pushed you back onto his thighs for a moment, reaching a hand down to shove the restricting fabric back off his waist. Your fingers teased and taunted him as you slowly pulled back his boxers, his hardening cock springing forwards as you freed it. Taking his length in your hand, you stroked it gently, your thumb tracing soft, delicate circles around the tip. 

“Honey, you’re killing me here,” Bradley rasped, watching you carefully as you continued to toy with him, pumping your hand along his shaft with just enough pressure to drive him crazy.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Roo,” you purred, using his callsign as a means to tease him.

“Fuck,” he panted, shaking his head for a minute to try and compose himself, “I need you to ride me, pretty girl. Think you’re up for it?”

“I think I can handle it.” 

You lifted the hem of Bradley’s t-shirt that you’d slept in up, just enough to keep it out of the way as you positioned yourself over top of him. You slid down on to him with a soft whine, tilting your head to the side as you looked down at him, pressing your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself. 

“Fuck, that’s it, honey. Lookin’ so pretty bouncing up and down on my cock,” Bradley grunted, his large hands reaching for any part of you he could get a grip on, settling for your thighs.

You bobbed yourself up and down on him with ease, working yourself into a rhythm as you rode Bradley. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your thigh, causing you to whine as you sped up your movements. Bradley’s hands snuck their way up the bottom of your shirt, gliding their way against your sensitive skin before cupping your breasts. He gave them a playful squeeze before sliding them back down to your waist, guiding you up and down on him as he felt your walls beginning to clench around his cock. 

“S-so close, Bradley,” you whined, throwing your head back before darting your eyes down to meet his steely gaze. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let it go for me, honey, I’ve got ya.” he coached, his hands tightening their grip on your hips.

You gasped as you felt Bradley switch his hand placement, one of his hands drifting to your abdomen. He reached down and pressed his fingertip into your clit, massaging it in circles as you rode him. Your orgasm hit you almost immediately after he made contact with your sensitive nub, a wicked grin formed on Bradley’s lips as he watched your thighs shake and the movement of your hips become less precise as you fell apart on him.

Bradley snapped his hips forwards into you, thrusting hard and deep into your throbbing cunt. He desperately pounded into you, his breath hitching in his throat as he brought himself close to the edge. Your name fell from his lips like a sacred prayer, repeating it over and over as his voice rasped - as if there was nothing else on his mind than you.

“Fuck, so good, honey, you feel so fucking good. You’re so good to me, baby girl.” he praised, worshipping you as he came down from his climax.

Breathlessly, you leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a feverish, passionate kiss. Your teeth grazed at his plump bottom lip gently as you pulled your head back, a grin forming on your features as you looked down at him.

“That’s one way to wake me up,” he laughed, shaking his head before gazing up at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Come on,” you grinned, tapping his thigh as you dismounted from his waist, “I’m gonna go take a shower, you coming with me, Roo?”

Bradley grinned, raising his dark eyebrow at you as he watched you walk towards the bedroom door. 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” 

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 3

Summary: Running into someone from your past that you had hoped you'd never see again was not on your to do list today. Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 1.3k~ Warnings: Literally nothing lol enjoy~ Requested by @missmorningglory 💜

After Jungkook begged me over and over and over again I finally concede and brought him to the mall with me, giving him a very clear warning that if he picked up another mannequin or started touching everything again like he did last time I would ground him, leaving him promising me he'll be on his best behavior. 

We compromised after that and decided it would be best if I just let him hold my hand the whole time because he claimed he couldn't control himself. 

He's a literal robot and can be controlled but I'm too lazy to try and reprogram him for something as silly as that.

As we come upon the next aisle and start looking through all the newish electronics I see someone out of the corner of my eye that I regrettably recognize making me duck behind Jungkook, hoping he didn't see me.

"Is everything alright?" he chuckles, turning to face me, still managing to keep me hidden. "Yeah everything is fine. Completely fine. Just, don't move from this spot for a while yeah?" I say, peeking around him to see that the guy I recognized is getting closer. 

"Actually you know what? Why don't we go to the next aisle? I heard there's a new electric toothbrush that you can hook your phone up to and I really wanna check it out" I say, trying to tug him down the aisle but in the process bump into a speaker behind me, making a Sabrina Carpenter song shoot through it on full blast, startling all three of us and bringing the guys attention over to Jungkook and I.

"Y/n?" he asks, recognizing me immediately making me cringe, wishing the world would open up and swallow me whole. "Yeah, um hi...you" I say, not one hundred percent sure of his name making him chuckle. "Jake" he says, reintroducing himself and I snap.

"Jake! I almost forgot, silly me" I say, my awkwardness level up to a billion leaving all three of us standing there and I realize after having a long pause that I should probably introduce Jungkook. 

"Sorry um, this is Jungkook, my boyfriend. Jungkook this is Ja-" "Jake, got it" Jungkook says flatly, sizing him up and trying to figure out who exactly this man might be to me since he's never come up before.

"Nice to meet you" Jake says, holding out his hand to Jungkook and he takes it, making Jake's brows knit together and let go seconds later. "Strong handshake" he chuckles and shakes out his hand. 

"So um...how have you been?" I ask, internally yelling at myself to stop trying to make small talk. "I've been alright. I was wondering where you wandered off to but now I know..." he says, his eyes sizing up Jungkook right back. "Yeah Jungkook and I met a few months ago and we just...hit it off" I chuckle awkwardly.

"So you guys used to date?" Jungkook asks, Jake saying 'yes' while I'm rushing to say 'no' making Jungkook cock a brow at me. "We went out a couple of times bu-" 

'But I bet we'd have really good bed chem' Sabrina sings right on fucking cue, cutting me off preventing any sort of salvaging of this conversation.

The three of us all stood there awkwardly after that, the song as our backing track making me finally press pause, taking my blood pressure down just a bit. Those lyrics alone hinting at what had gone down between Jake and I. "Anyways, we decided it wasn't gonna work out" I explain making Jake chuckle bitterly. 

"We decided?" he echoes making me cringe, obviously not telling the full truth. "I...I decided" I concede making him nod in agreement. "Ghosted me is more like it" he mumbles making me feel bad, not having had to experience an encounter like this before.

"Yeah...sorry bout that" I say, but we all know I'm not sorry. If anything I'm more sorry that I have to go through this as a result. "I'll let you guys get back to shopping then. It was nice meeting you Jungkook...Y/n" he says, looking me up and down once more before leaving the aisle, making me let out a breath of relief. 

"Was tha-" "I don't wanna talk about it" I say holding my hand up to Jungkook's face to stop the conversation before it gets started leaving him chuckling at my expense. "Oh yeah laugh it up, we'll see where that gets you" I huff and walk in the opposite direction that Jake went, leaving Jungkook jogging after me to catch up.

"That guy looked pretty familiar" he says in my ear when we start making our way out and back to the car. "Really? I'm pretty sure I've never shown him to you. I don't even think I have a picture of him" I say thinking about it for a second and Jungkook just shakes his head.

"What?" I ask and he just shrugs his shoulder, "Oh nothing" he says and opens my car door for me. "No tell me!" I whine leaving him placing a kiss on my pouty lips. "I just thought he looked really familiar that's all" he shrugs again making my eyes roll.

"Who does he remind you of then?" I ask and his next answer makes me choke on air. "Me" he chuckles and pats my back to help soothe my coughing fit. "What?" I ask, not remotely expecting that since...let's be honest, Jungkook is a hell of a lot more handsome than Jake...but I'll never tell.

"It's okay to have a type. I just wasn't expecting to see the guy you modeled me after" he taunts, poking my cheek making me pout further. "I did not model you after him" I huff and close the car door on him leaving him laughing and walking around to the passenger seat. 

"Ava is the one that created you remember? I hardly had any part in it" I mumble and put the car into drive, heading straight home since I know I'll be forced to deal with his teasings for the rest of the night. 

"Yeah but you clearly have a type if she's able to make a sex bot for you with a similar vibe" he counters making me groan. "For the last time you are not modeled after him!" and he puts his hands up in defeat. "Whatever you say my love" he addresses me with the motive of taking the edge off. 

The car goes silent for a while until I can tell he's bursting at the seams to ask me another question. 

"So if I asked you to show me your previous boyfriends would you say yes?" he chances. "Absolutely not" I grumble and he laughs, "That's fine, I'm sure I can always as Ava" he smirks, satisfied with his plan.

"He wasn't even my boyfriend...but he wanted to be. And so that's why I ghosted him" I explain and he hums. "Pussy so good you got him whipped after a few tastes?" he says, his vulgar way of putting it catching me off guard.

"Jungkook!" I scold him, my cheeks heating up at that, making his chuckle that fucking cocky chuckle that makes me wanna get on my knees for him. "What? I don't blame the guy. I'd never wanna let you go either" he admits but I sigh, bringing myself back down to reality.

 "You're programmed to be obsessed with me so your words don't hold much weight in this context" I explain but he just shrugs. 

"From the way he was looking at you, clearly still wanting you...and the way he was looking at me, pissed that he wasn't in my place I know my calculations are correct. Call it what you want but you're addictive" he counters making me squirm in place, the compliment with evidence to corroborate it making me nervous.

"Shut up and let me drive" I huff and he stifles back his laughter, having mercy on me...but that mercy is short lived. His need to prove himself evident as soon as we walk in the door, making sure to remind me that no one could ever compare to him.

Drabble Masterlist

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[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #1: DYAD

(also on spotify!)

Hello everyone!! It's been a couple weeks and change since Constant Companions, my newest album, was released unto the world, and I've been genuinely blown away by the response. Genuinely, thank you to everyone who's been streaming, commenting, making mashups, changing their pfps and usernames - it means the world to me!

I wanted to give some of that love back with something people have been asking me a lot about - and, admittedly, something I love doing. Song explanations! Deep dives! Dropping the lore! Welcome... to the Constant Companions Closeups...

For the next eleven days, I'll be going into each track one by one and babbling about the process, inspiration, details, feelings, and thoughts behind each one! We're getting sappy. We're bearing our hearts. We're telling unfunny jokes. And we're starting with track one - DYAD (featuring unit.0)!

---

Naturally, since this is the first track, it also serves as a great point to talk about my intention with this album as a whole!

I'll elaborate more on this with future tracks, but to me, there are really two main things that define the sonic progression of this album versus my previous work - guitars and vocal synths. Obviously, these things have been present in my work since I first started calling myself Jamie Paige, but Constant Companions is intended to be my overwrought, sappy confession of love to these two things that time and time again have made me simply want to make music. I love rock and I love Hatsune Miku dammit!!!

I had originally written this song in February of 2023 for a game-jam-esque online festival hosted by my friend Loni called HAPPY PARTY TRI, and at that time, I had found myself at a major crossroads. I had put out People Posture Play Pretend and :women_wrestling: the previous year, and while the response was nice, I was feeling listless and lost.

I love singing. I like my voice well enough. I certainly love writing music with lyrics!! But... there was something uniquely electrifying about using vocal synths. Amidst a lot of insecurity and emotional turmoil surrounding the process of making art and putting myself out into the world, it was one of the few things that just made everything feel right. Suddenly, I was making the same kind of music that had touched my heart so many times over.

Would it alienate people, though? Would I lose longtime listeners? Yes, that weighed on my mind more than I'd like to admit, but even more than that... I was worried I'd lose some part of myself, as silly as it sounds. Maybe what I thought was a bridge would become a barrier, and the messages I wanted to send across the gap would never find their way.

Ultimately, I felt that Dyad was the only kind of opener I could've possibly given this album, and a perfect fit for the album's motif. A dialogue between myself, stricken with loneliness and a lack of inertia running in circles, and that synthesized voice (ANRI Arcane my darling), grabbing the outstretched hand and asking a question I already know the answer to -

"Baby, do you know what you wanna hear?"

Yes, it's a love song, but it's not just for a person - it's a love song for the creative impulse, and for the places I wanted it to take me.

im resisting the urge to be jokingly dismissive of myself to diffuse tension but i still need to signal that the emotionally bare part of this is over so pretend im doing a funny little dance Anyways let's talk more technical stuff

---

Like many of my songs, Dyad came together from a patchwork of different snippets and ideas I had laying around. The back half of the chorus - "dream together, we can dream together" - originally came from this idea I had jotted down something like 9 months prior, but ended up being a perfect fit for Dyad in basically every way. The verse snippet that I'd written to go with it got reused for a later song on Constant Companions as well! (I say without naming it, as if it isn't literally lifted wholesale from this demo and thus incredibly obvious)

I wasn't originally planning on brazenly quoting the bridge of a Tally Hall song when I set out to write this song, but while toying around with a bridge idea involving a shortened version of the pre-chorus melody, I realized I had inadvertently copied it anyways. I was going to scrap it... but at the request of my dear friend and certified Tally Hall lover Marcy Nabors, I made it an explicit reference. Which I'm fine with, personally! The first CD I ever owned was a copy of Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum my sister bought me all the way back in 2006 - You can pry that sentimental attachment from my cold, dead hands, TikTok kiddies.

Lastly - not really behind the scenes so much as just a shoutout - thank you to unit.0 for the lovely lead guitar work on this song!! He's been a beloved collaborator of mine for many, many years now, and one of the people who ultimately convinced me this direction was the right one to go in, so it means a lot to share this song with him. Go listen to his music!!! Now!!!!!!

That's about it for this song! Not to sound like a fucking YouTuber, but genuinely, if there are any details you'd like to hear more about, let me know and I might made a bonus post at the end of all this. Otherwise, thank you for listening! Tomorrow: Not Quite There, featuring telebasher!

❤️💚

[pullupinarari]

Lean your weight on me [LH]

10. I’ll never let you go

Summary: a 9 10 chapter series where you are a famous singer, living the career of your dreams. But your chaotic schedule makes your body give in, making you lose your memory and forget (almost) everything.

Author's note: this chapter was never meant to exist, but the riot yall made in my mentions made me fold and give the audience what they want 😔✊🏻 NOW we officially say goodbye to this series, so I wanna say a major thank you to every single person who read and supported this story, that holds a very special place in my heart. Stay tuned for my next silly fics! Mwah 🥂🩷

wc: 5688 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

all chapters here

Lewis closes his eyes as he hears your words. Hearing you cry completely breaks his heart, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re hurt, if someone messed with you - the thought of it immediately makes him close his fist in anger. 

He definitely wasn’t expecting to hear from you, especially after you decided to disappear for four months. He didn’t know where you were, what you were doing, who you were with. But the fact that you chose to call him when you are crying your eyes out, tells him that you still trust him. 

“What do you mean, Y/N?” - his brain was way too confused to process what you said. “You can always come back home, just buy a plane ticket and-“ - you cut him off. 

“No, you don’t understand, Lewis. I know I can buy a ticket and hop on a plane and go to my country, open the door to my house and lay on my bed. But that’s not what I want. I wanna go home to you. You’re my home. And I want to be with you again. I need to be with you again, I can’t do it anymore like this, I can’t keep pretending that I’m fine when, in fact, I’m not. I miss you” - you say, your tone rising as you are completely honest with him now. 

Lewis stays silent on the other side of the line. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, right now. Your words are mixed with sobs, showing him how raw your feelings are right now. 

He can’t deal with this right now, he can’t talk about this over the phone. Instead, he decides to be practical. 

“Just please, tell me: are you okay? Did something happen to you? Are you hurt?” - he’s still worried about the way you’re hysterically crying nonstop. 

“No” - you simply reply. 

“Then buy a ticket from wherever you are, and come home. I’ll pick you up at the airport” - and with that being said, he calms your heart a bit more.

The call ends, and you manage to stop your cries. You immediately buy a plane ticket home, texting Lewis all the details about it, so he can know what time he should pick you up. 

You slump on the bed, taking deep breaths as you are almost unable to fall asleep - your heart feels too excited now. You heard Lewis’ voice for the first time after a long while, and you are going to see him in just some hours from now. 

You eventually manage to sleep for a couple of hours, waking up to see your smudged makeup from last night - your emotions were so all over the place that you didn’t even care about it. You wash your face and pack your belongings, taking a taxi to the airport. 

You check your phone when you hear it ring with a message. “Have a nice flight. I’ll be waiting for you” - Lewis wrote. 

Your heart starts beating faster as you reply with a simple “thank you”, growing impatient now, wanting time to go by faster, so you can be in his arms again. 

You eventually get on the plane, falling asleep while flying back to Lewis, landing in London a couple of hours later. 

Once you land, you run to get your suitcase, and as soon as you have all your belongings, you find the waiting room. Your eyes are everywhere, scanning every face, looking around you, trying to find him. And once your sight lands on the most charming man in the room, you are pretty sure you could fall to your knees right then and there. 

Lewis is quiet, scrolling through his phone while he leans his body against the wall, keeping a low profile in a corner of the room. You run to him, making him look up from the device, immediately engulfing you in his arms as you start crying quietly, holding him tight - begging him to not let go of you. 

He kisses your forehead gently, as you look up at him with your eyes full of tears. He takes some strands of hair out of your face, catching some tears that fall from your eyes. He continues to hold you close to him, knowing how badly you need some comfort, dedicating himself to glue your pieces back together for a moment, now. 

“Let’s go home” - he says to you as you nod your head at his words. Lewis keeps his distance after he lets go of you, his face is closed, he doesn’t show much emotion, even when you try to get a reaction from him. 

He starts the car, driving to his place - you said you want to be with him, so he doesn’t even question it. His head is running with a million different thoughts, both of you sitting in silence since you got in the car. 

Lewis is confused with his own feelings - he didn’t feel his heart beating faster when he saw you, like he used to. He does care about you, he worries about you, and that will never stop, but he can’t help but think about the words you said during your last show. “A love that is so, so strong, that will never end” - could it be true? He spent the last four months of his life trying to forget you, to get over the end of your relationship, and now you’re back, crying in his chest, telling him how much you need him, how badly you miss him. 

The ride home feels like forever to you, feeling suffocated by the silence erupting in the car, the only thing cutting it a bit was the radio that was quietly playing some music. 

“Finally, some sunny days in London, huh?” - you try to find some topic of conversation, something that can make some words leave Lewis’ mouth. 

“Uhum” - he replies, not even bothering to extend his answer. You can tell by his facial expression that he is lost in his own mind. His eyes are focused, barely blinking, his lips are narrowed in a line and his free hand is holding his chin, occasionally caressing his temple - like he’s trying to push his brain to work. 

You can’t blame him for giving you the cold shoulder - you are very well aware of that. You are the one who should be crawling to him, not the other way around. So you decide to give him his space and time, everything that he needs, until he feels ready to talk to you. 

When he parks his car in the garage, you take your suitcase out and you note how he doesn’t help you with it. Instead, he just walks to the front door, opening it and calling Roscoe’s name, not even waiting for you to come inside with him - like he doesn’t even care that you’re there. 

You frown at his attitude. “Damn, you could have at least waited for me” - you say once you’re inside, with a glint of humor in your voice, but meaning every word. 

Lewis side eyes you, paying full attention to Roscoe now, filling his bowl so the dog can eat. He just sighs in response to your words. “You know the house already, I don’t need to introduce you to the rooms” - he says in a monotone, like he isn’t excited to have you back at all. 

“Alright, I’m just going to take my suitcase upstairs then, I need to organize my clothes in our closet” - you say nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. The word “our” made Lewis look at you, though. 

“I think it’s best if you stay in the guest's room for a while, now” - he lets you know, while he pours himself a cup of his tequila brand. 

“Fine” - that’s all you say before turning your back to him, heading upstairs to organize your belongings. 

Lewis takes a seat on a kitchen stool, sipping on his drink - he truly enjoys the taste of it, but how badly does he wish it was alcoholic right now, maybe it would ease his mind for a bit.

He breathes deeply, sighing to himself as he focuses on the view outside, watching how the sun shines through the kitchen windows - in a way that rarely happens in London. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that the sun decided to come out on the same day that you’re back to his house, desperate to be back in his arms. Maybe it’s a sign that you are the light of Lewis’ life as well, even if he doesn’t know what to believe now, he doesn’t know what’s real anymore.

After half an hour, you come downstairs, seeing how he is still in the kitchen, looking lost and empty, still fighting his own mind in the middle of everything that is happening. And that’s when you decide you have had enough of this already, gaining the courage to speak to him now. 

“Lewis, we need to talk” - you tell him, your tone serious, while you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island. 

He nods his head, his eyes still fixed on the window in front of him. “Why are you back?” - he quietly asks you, while sipping a bit more of his drink now. 

Your eyebrows furrow at his question. “Why am I back? What do you mean, ‘why am I back’? I thought I told you the reason when I called you crying at fucking 4 in the morning” - you scoff, growing irritated now. 

“Well, you never called for four months. What’s changed now?” - he keeps bombing you with questions, but you can’t blame him. You too would be a mess, your head would be filled with doubts if he decided to disappear for months, without you even knowing if he was dead or alive. That’s what you did, basically. 

You take a breath, picking the right way to say this. Lewis needs you to be honest, transparent, with him now, he needs to see the truth in your eyes again - and you need to let your feelings show, for once. 

You take some steps in his direction, trying to catch his attention, making him look at you now. “I thought I needed to let you go, for good. Because it was the best for you. I thought I couldn’t have anything to do with love anymore, because of all the damage I caused to the love of my life. So I went away, trying to find myself in different places, trying to feed my inner self off different experiences. I went to Greece first, our favorite place to go on vacation. And that damn sunset killed me everytime, because I would always end up thinking even more about you. I remembered how we used to cuddle after dinner, and watch the sun setting on the ocean, the day ending and the stars coming out to greet us. And every single memory would trigger others, and then my mind would travel to our beach house - and I don’t even have to explain it, you know damn well what our project was for that house” - you take a minute to breathe, and Lewis stays silent, waiting for you to continue. 

“I thought I would be able to say goodbye to you in Greece, since it was a place where we’ve made so many happy memories, and I really tried for my mind not to remember you everywhere I went. Then, I traveled to a whole bunch of different countries: Egypt, Morocco, India, among others. And a lot of different people have crossed my path during these four months, and it really was a very rewarding experience, but I guess I just felt numb the entire time. I could never look at guys the same way I looked at you, and it’s like I couldn’t feel love inside of me anymore. No one seemed interesting enough, so I never got with anyone, until I landed in Italy” - you pause, some tears making their appearance on your eyes already. 

Lewis remains silent, but he raises an eyebrow at your words, wondering what happened in Italy that got you crying to him on the phone in the middle of the night. 

A single tear slides through your cheek, as you remember what happened just some hours ago. “I started to feel really lonely, you know? I was wondering what was wrong with me, I thought it was time for me to actually move on, to try my luck with a cute guy, to get some part of my ‘love life’ back” - you innocently explain. “I went out to a club last night, and this guy started dancing with me and we flirted for a while and stuff… It was fun, I was a bit tipsy already, and I genuinely just wanted to feel those butterflies on my stomach again” - your cries grow more intense now, seeing how Lewis feels the need to take his eyes off of you. 

“But when we kissed, I realized I couldn’t do it, Lewis. I couldn’t keep pretending that I didn’t need you anymore, that I wasn’t crying myself to sleep every night, wishing you were by my side. And that kiss felt so wrong, because it wasn’t you. He didn’t kiss me as softly as you did, he didn’t hold me like I was his world, he didn’t made me feel loved and wanted in the same ways you always did.” - he hisses quietly at the scenario in his head, closing his fists just at the thought of another man touching you. 

“And that’s when I ran to the house I was staying at, locked myself inside the room, crying my eyes out to the realization that I, indeed, can’t do love without you anymore. You were the missing piece, you have always been, you are the one thing that I need to feel complete again. I know I have a lot to make up for, and I’m willing to do everything that you need me to, so I can at least have one final chance. Please, don’t make me feel like coming back is causing a problem to you-” - and that’s when he cuts you off. 

“The problem is that I was doing well without you here” - he says harshly, his eyes darting to yours now. His words feel like knives, cutting your heart into little pieces, making you question if this was a good idea now. 

“If me coming back is such a problem, then I’ll leave. Tell me to go if that’s what you want me to do, Lewis. I need to hear you say it” - but he can’t. He can’t, for the life of him, tell you to go, to push you away. You manipulated him for so long, played with his feelings, kicked him to the side, and now his blood feels cold - he waited for you for weeks on end, months, and it felt like slowly dying for him. But he can’t deny how good it feels to smell your perfume around the house again, how looking at you makes it seem like the sun shines brighter, how even Roscoe feels more calm since you walked through the door. 

“I don’t want you to go, but I can’t take you back like this, not right now. My emotions are all over the place, I need time. And you need to earn your way back, because I don’t know what to count on now. I don’t know if you will pack your bags and leave without me knowing again” - he tells you, honesty reflecting in his eyes.

The fact that he is willing to give you a chance to try and win him back again, already feels enough to you. You nod your head at him, cleaning the tears from your face, promising him: “This time, I won’t break your heart”. 

Weeks have passed by, and no matter how many different things you try to do for Lewis, it seems like it’s never enough for him to crack open again, so he can let you inside even for a bit. 

“I cooked your favorite dish” - you tell him with a simple smile when he gets home, trying to do everything right, wanting to please him. But Lewis is growing frustrated. 

So he sighs, when he hears your words, entering the kitchen and stopping right in front of you. “That’s not going to be how you earn your way back, but I appreciate the effort” - he looks you in the eyes, immediately turning his back to you as he goes to set the table for the two of you. 

A frown paints your facial expressions. “What can I do for you to open up for me, just a little Lewis? Please just tell me, it’s been weeks! I’m trying my best” - you try to reason with him, only to see him keep the same cold and distant composure. 

“It’s not a matter of what you do, Y/N. This is something that has to be built over time, with patience” - he explains, never showing much emotion, contrasting with your annoyed self. 

“How are we supposed to build something again if you don’t let me in?” - you mumble, but he still catches every single word. 

“I never gave you any certainty that I would take you back” - Lewis shrugs, making you sigh, biting your tongue to not reply to his remark, not wanting to start a fight. So you just sit at the table, getting ready to have dinner in silence again, so then you can go back to the guest’s room, again. 

But you don’t feel like being silent tonight. You feel like bugging him, maybe annoying him to the point where he cracks might be an idea. 

“Do you have everything ready for Singapore, yet?” - you question innocently. Lewis nods while chewing on the pasta you cooked. 

“Dinner is very good” - he compliments, keeping it civil between you two. 

You thank him for a minute, before going back to the topic you had in mind. 

“When are you traveling to Singapore?” - you insist, watching how he raises his eyebrows. 

“Why are you so curious about Singapore?” - he replies, watching how your face contorts into a compromising look. 

You smirk to yourself. “I want to go to the race” - you inform him. 

Lewis doesn’t reply immediately, watching how his face changes from a light expression to a more serious one. “You don’t have to go” - he tells you, like he is trying to push you away from watching his performance, from getting more into his life. 

“Well, I want to. And you can’t stop me” - you close your case, your tone sounding decided, making Lewis sigh in response.

Three days later, you’re packing your bag, getting ready to fly to Singapore. It’s the first time you get to see Lewis race after everything that happened to your marriage. The last time you were in the paddock, your memory was still failing, and you remember the agony you felt while being there. But now it’s different. You’re back, you are yourself again. You are used to seeing Lewis race and you miss seeing it in person. You miss feeling the tension, the adrenaline of being in his garage - listening to his radio, seeing the strategies, watching him in his element. 

You want to be there to support him. Sure, you want to meet everyone there, you miss a few people, but you want to show him how you’re still the same girl that will scream his name as loud as you can, you still suffer every time you watch his races on television, the nerves being too much for you to handle. You want him to see how proud you still are of him - how that is something that will never change. You want him to see it in your eyes. 

Singapore is known for being hot and humid, so it’s no surprise to you when you feel sweaty and sticky every single hour of the day while you’re there. Racing in that country is always a challenge for every driver, due to the weather conditions, so everyone is used to seeing the drivers struggling, on and off the track. 

It’s not an easy one, but it’s also not your - and definitely not Lewis’ first time here, so you believe that you will manage to pull through the weekend. 

Once you get to the hotel, you and Lewis are taken aback when you notice that the team put you in the same hotel room. What were you expecting? Both of you decided to keep your situation private, no one could guess that you’ve been sleeping in the guest’s room for weeks now. 

Lewis is annoyed, huffing and sighing as you walk inside the room. “Great, it’s a double bed” - he notes, sounding pissed off right now. 

“Yes Lewis, of course it’s a double bed, we are a married couple, remember?” - you say to him ironically, growing annoyed by his childish behavior already. 

He rolls his eyes. “We were supposed to file the divorce papers, but whatever” - he mutters under his breath, while opening his suitcase.

“Yeah, we were, and you chose not to sign them either, so don’t come at me with that. Just behave like a grown man, please” - you first tell him, seeing how he gives you a frustrated look. “You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch” - are the words that leave your mouth as you take a seat on said couch, seeing how it’s not that uncomfortable, after all. 

“No, don’t be stupid. I’ll stay on the couch” - he tries to fight you on this. No matter how annoyed he might be, he would never want to see you sleeping on a couch while his body was resting on a comfortable bed. 

“No, Lew. You are going to race, you need all the rest you can get. It’s fine, I’ll stay on the couch, it’s actually pretty comfy” - you tell him with a smile, knowing damn well how you’re annoying him more, on top of everything. 

He lets out a loud sigh, as if he is feeling all the frustration of the world in his body right now. “Let’s just stop this and share the damn bed” - he says, hearing the pet name falling from your lips helping him give in a bit. 

“Are you sure?” - you look at him with a puzzled expression, not expecting him to change his decision, and he just nods his head at your question.

It feels weird when you two get to bed, trying your hardest not to touch each other’s bodies - noticing how Lewis is particularly putting more effort into this, so you grab a spare pillow and you put it in between your bodies.

“There. Now you don’t have to worry about touching me anymore” - you say with an annoyed yet sad tone, feeling so rejected by him that it makes your heart hurt. 

“Y/N, it’s not that. It’s just-” - he tries to explain, with a softer tone surrounding his words.

“Good night, Lewis” - it’s all you say before turning your back to him and turning off the light on your bedside table. 

He looks at you for a moment, thinking about how all of this has come too far already. He wants to touch you, he really does. He wants to hold you close, he wants to kiss your features, he wants to feel your hair tangling in his fingers as he caresses your scalp. He wants to see how your body immediately relaxes when you feel his touch again. But now, he sees how his stupid behavior has been hurting your feelings, and how ridiculous all of this looks. 

Now, he is the one huffing before turning his back to you as well, both of you acting as stubborn as you can be. 

Saturday was a good day. You couldn’t complain when Lewis qualified in P3, and that was enough to make his mood lighten up a little more. You saw how he entered the hotel room after dinner, with a more relaxed facial expression, like a weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. 

He gives you a simple smile when he sees you, something that hasn't happened in so long.

You smile back. “I’m proud of you” - your eyes shine when these words leave your mouth, and they hit Lewis right in the heart, making him melt a little more. 

“Thank you, darling. And thank you for being there and for the support” - he replies to you with honesty in his heart. Your support is the best fuel he can have. 

Your mouth is slightly agape. A pet name?! Him directing such gentle words towards you?! With a smile on his face?! You could faint right then and there, feeling butterflies tingling in your stomach now. You don’t want to ruin the moment, so you make sure not to make any remarks about what’s going on. 

Lewis feels like he too should make some effort to try and improve your relationship, so he joins you on the floor - where you were sitting, surrounded by fluffy pillows. You were choosing a movie to watch before he was back. He looks at the netflix catalog. “What are we watching?” - he says with a grin on his face, purposely removing the pillow that was placed between your bodies, a way to let you know that he isn’t scared to touch you. 

And when you finally pick a movie, Lewis orders some popcorn to your room, so you can share some while watching it. “It’s just two or three popcorn, or Toto is going to kill me tomorrow” - he jokes, and it feels good to see how his aura is brighter, he is more relaxed and comfortable around you again. 

The way you spent the night laughing together, makes your heart grow, like something is telling you that there’s still some hope - there’s still something for you to hang on to. 

But nothing prepared you for the way your heart would feel so tight in your chest after the race, seeing how Lewis was looking so fragile and debilitated when he got out of his car. 

He was complaining about how badly his head was hurting, how nauseous he was feeling. Toto managed to get Lewis and George to not attend the post media interviews after the race, since both weren’t feeling well. 

You immediately reached for Lewis while you walked him back to his driver room. Your arm is grabbing him by his waist, holding him up while he complains about feeling dizzy now. The heat stroke symptoms were undeniable, so you help Lewis lie down as soon as you reach his room. 

Your wife instincts immediately kick in, doing everything in your power to take care of your husband. You don’t give two shits about your previous situation, about sleeping with a pillow between your bodies, about childish tantrums and previous fights. Lewis needs someone to look after him now, you need to step up, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. 

You hand him a bottle of water, making sure it’s cold enough to kill his thirst, but not too cold to cause him temperature shock - noticing how his body feels incredibly hot when you touch him. After he chugs down the entire bottle, you help him get out of his sticky and warm suit, definitely not helping his state, and you find some comfortable, loose and more fresh clothes for him to put on. 

He’s panting, feeling exhausted, and even in the middle of feeling like shit, he tries to play tough. “I can put my own clothes on, you know” - he mumbles. “I’m perfectly fine” - he insists. 

You sigh, looking him in the eyes. “Lew, you’re not fine. You’re not fine at all. Now please stop being so stubborn, and let me take care of you” - you say as you move to put a wet towel over his forehead, hopefully helping him to stop feeling like he’s burning. 

20 minutes later, someone from the team knocks on the door, letting you know that they prepared some food for him. 

“Do you still feel nauseous, baby?” - you ask him, not even realizing the pet name that just escaped your lips. He shakes his head gently, his hand rubbing his temples as he hisses - still feeling dizzy. 

“I feel weak” - the man says, groaning as you help him sit up now. 

“You need to eat this, Lew. Hopefully it’s going to help you feel better” - you let him know, taking the plate into your hands, while you sit on a chair beside him. He tries his best to take some bites of the food, really in need to get some fuel inside of his body now. 

You watch him attentively, seeing how his hand still shakes a bit when he picks up the fork. Both of you stay silent as he continues to eat, and you grab the wet towel to drape it over his neck now. 

He sighs in content. “Oh, that feels good” - he chuckles at his words, feeling like a silly kid. 

You smile at him - “I see you’re feeling better already”. 

He finishes his food. “I’m a bit better” - he lets you know, the words making your heart rate calm down. 

“Good” - it’s all you say before giving him more water to drink, focusing on keeping him hydrated now. 

Lewis drinks it, while his eyes never leave you. “What?” - you ask, not understanding the look he’s giving you now.

“You called me baby, you know” - he points out with a smirk on his face. 

Your eyes widen. “I don’t think I did” - you fight him back, remembering very well hearing that word leaving your lips. 

He chuckles again, amused by the way your cheeks are turning pink now. “Come on Y/N, you know you did. But no need to be embarrassed by it, I missed the pet names” - he admits, letting his guard down now. 

“I think you’re hallucinating, Hamilton” - you say, trying to get out of the trap he got you in now, folding his clothes absently so you can have a reason to turn your back to him. 

He’s feeling entertained, knowing you so well that it feels silly of you to try and hide your blushing from him. The environment around you two feels intense now, making the room feel even smaller than it already is. 

“But seriously now” - he starts saying, reaching for your hand so you can face him again. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do all this” - he admits, with a sparkle in his eyes as he admires your features, looking as beautiful as ever to him.

“Don’t be silly. Of course I have to. Plus I didn’t do anything major, just had to comply with my ‘wifely duties’” - the words leave your mouth in a way to test the waters, to see his reaction. 

His lips curve into a genuine smile, pulling your body gently so you can sit on his lap. 

“Your body is weak, I shouldn’t-” - he cuts you off with a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

“Never too weak to hold my wife” - surprise covers your entire face as he chuckles again, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulder, arm, reaching your neck. 

“Is that still the heat stroke speaking?” - you half joke, but half mean it. 

Lewis shakes his head ‘no’, while looking deep into your eyes, finding the love he could only ever see in you. 

“You managed to grow on me again, girl” - he laughs. “I never thought it would happen, to be honest. I never stopped loving you, obviously, but I really thought that I would never feel capable of giving you a second chance. I didn’t believe that you could make me feel like this again. I thought that making it hard for you was going to make you leave again, making it easier for me to see you quit, instead of having to deal with all my feelings for you again” - he vents, feeling his body relax now as your hand travels through his scalp, gently caressing it. 

“But you stayed - even while not even knowing if I would give you another chance. And you still took care of me, did everything you could for me to be comfortable, even if it was never about that. But your presence made me feel comfortable again. Last night when we were laughing and watching that terrible movie, I felt like myself again. And I haven’t felt like myself in a long, long time. I guess I need you by my side to be myself again, as well” - his eyes travel from yours, scanning your face until they reach your lips, feeling the courage in himself to attach them to his for the first time in so, so long. 

And there it is, the love, the passion, all the care in the world that you can only feel with Lewis, the only lips that move in perfect sync with yours, the only kiss that feels right. 

You feel like two silly teens that can’t stop kissing now. When you break the kiss, your forehead glues itself to Lewis’ now, seeing how you’re both smiling wide. He takes your hand in his, kissing your ring finger - silently thanking the fact that your ring is back where it belongs. 

“Fuck, I might propose to you again. Marry you a thousand times so the world knows that nothing can break us apart” - he smiles, but you can tell that he’s serious. 

Tears are swelling in your eyes. “And I would say ‘yes’ every single time, my love” - you kiss him again lovingly, hugging him tight - never letting him go. 

Lewis kisses your forehead as you rest your head on his shoulder, now, finally feeling complete. “And I’m cuddling the fuck out of you tonight.” - he promises. “The bed feels too cold when you’re not in my arms.”

---------

taglist: @illalwayswaitforyourlove @literallegendicon @scenesofobx @irishmanwhore @forza-charles @felicityforyou @seonghwaexile

[winterspiderpurrs]

Tap. Tap. Pause. Click. Click. Tap.

The clerk sat back. She was a little pale, looking from the computer before looking over at the couple across from her. This has happened before, but .. normally not with such a public figure. Taking a deep breath before she spoke.

" I apologize for the delay, but there seems to be an issue. Unfortunately, we can not process the marriage certificate. "

" What?" " Why not?"

Pepper and Tony looked at each other and then back to the clerk. She cleared her throat.

"It appears that you, Mr. Stark are currently married. Looks like... 14 years ago?"

Tony sat back in his chair, processing the news and sorting through his memories.

" That was annulled."

Pepper nodded in agreement with Tony's statement. She had just started at SI when this happened. She wasn't high up yet, but she heard the whispers.

" Yes. I see where the paperwork was filed, but unfortunately, it looks like you did not actually sign it, Mr. Stark. "

Tony twitches for a moment before grabbing a pen off the desk.

" I'll sign it right now,"

"I wish it worked like that, Mr. Stark, but it's been 14 years. New paperwork would need to be drafted and submitted. We would obviously expedite the paperwork, no worries."

Tony sighs and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands.

Pepper shakes her head and rolls her eyes over at Tony. Turning to the clerk, she offers her a smile.

" Thank you. We will be in touch."

Once Tony and Pepper get back into the car, Pepper hits Tony with her purse.

" This is why when you are given paper you you sign for it! God Tony. The wedding invitations already went out. What do you think the media is gonna say?"

" I'm sorry, Pep! You know that was a bad time for me. He signed the paperwork before, and I'm sure he will sign again."

" Make sure that he does. Cut him a check if you have to. I'll draft an NDA to send over."

Shaking her head, Pepper is alreasy typing away on her phone.

"Happy, get me to the airport. We are going to New York."

" On it, Boss."

Relaxing back into his seat, Tony adjusts his glasses.

" Alright, Friday. Get me everything you can on Peter Parker, contact the lawyer he used before. Once Pepper gets the paperwork ready, send it over to them. Schedule a meeting for when we land. Money is no issue, I'll cover everything. But get them to the Stark Industries tower."

" Contacting them now,"

Sighing, Tony closes his eyes and drags up the memories from all those years ago.

Tony and Peter meet in rehab. Which should have warned Tony off. But he was struggling in staying sober. And Peter? He was his ray of sunshine in that bleek place.

The omega was quiet, too skinny, but his brown eyes sparkled when they talked science. And they were both well on their way to recover. But when Tony was invited to a party. So he left the rehab and dragged Peter with him. Turned into a binder weekend. They partied and at some point found themselves in Vegas.

One speeding ticket and car wreck later. Tony was put back in rehab, and he offered to pay for Peter to go to a nicer facility, NOT where he also was. A month later, Tony checked himself back out of rehab, got his lawyers, and they sent out the paperwork. He was just thankful that Peter accepted, and he put it behind himself.

He tried not to look back on that time and move forward.

Friday pulled up an image from some social media page Peter had and he froze. His heart hammering loudly.

" Sir. I Think your having a panic attack. You need to breath."

" Tony? What's wrong?"

Tony just keeps staring.

There is Peter, happy looking, filled out, obviously older, a bright smile on his face. Arm around a teenager who looks close to 14 years old. And a toddler balanced on his hip.

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 3

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

"They say there's a chance you could learn to walk again." He offered, trying to be as optimistic as he could. Lord knows you didn't need another thing to feel bad about.

"How big a chance?"

He flushed, looking away.

He had caught you after you had passed out, moving to sit beside you afterward.

The nurses were beginning to bustle about. You had caught a few pitying glances already–each one only making you wish your bed would swallow you whole.

"It's been done before."

"I know you know the stats." You said with a sigh.

He sighed too, squeezing your hand. "I just... I don't want you to feel like you can't. I know you can."

"Izuku."

He winced. "One in a hundred."

You sunk a little lower beneath the sheets at that.

The silence stretched on, neither of you knowing exactly what to say after that.

"Sorry I'm late." The door quietly swung shut behind the heterochromic boy as he moved to take a seat beside you; saving both of you from the awkward tension. "I couldn't get out of the press conference."

Right. Because for the rest of them, hero work went on.

You pushed the thought to the corner of your mind, adding it to the list of things you'd think about later.

He pulled a chair over, blank eyes softening as he saw you. He leaned over to give you a quick hug. "I'm happy you're okay." He said softly.

"How'd it go? Have you guys found him?" You asked, ignoring the last comment for no reason beyond its awkward nature.

You had learned from Midoriya that you had been out for two weeks, but he hadn't any other information. Apparently, he had spent most of his time here with you.

Todoroki nodded. "Bakugo did. The day after the incident." He informed you solemnly.

Your heart clenched oddly at the name.

"He got to the fucker before the authorities could. Beat him up pretty bad. For a second it looked like Bakugo was going to be charged with assault because the villain could barely walk after, but... given the circumstances..." He looked down, shaking his head.

You flicked a piece of lint off your blanket glumly. "Suppose he's been pretty busy then." You muttered bitterly.

That was the next question you had grilled Midoriya for. Turned out, in the half a month you had been in a coma, Bakugo hadn't dropped by once.

Todoroki looked at you, blinking slowly. "Y/n, it's not like that."

You scoffed but said nothing.

"It really isn't. He was so angry. He is so angry. He didn't go home that night. He stayed up until dawn looking for the villain and didn't stop till he found the guy." He told you. "He's just processing."

You sighed, turning to look out the window. "I guess." You just wished that he could process here. With you. And maybe some better food.

"He'll visit soon."

It was like that for the next couple of days. All of your friends, acquaintances, even a bunch of people you knew only by name–all showing up to wish you a speedy recovery and look at you with their pitying gazes that made your skin crawl.

And yet through it all, Bakugo never showed up.

"Are you up for another visitor?"

You looked up, slightly surprised to see a purple haired girl standing in the doorway. Jirou, as you recalled from high school–or rather, Earphone Jack she went by now.

You shrugged, nodding sulkily. What did it matter, really?

"Thanks for coming." You spoke quietly. So unlike your usual self.

She stared at you for a minute as you stared firmly at your lap. Everyone's pity was starting to drown you alive–and you had concluded that the only way to survive it was to pretend it wasn't there.

"Hiroshi and Yutaka Kota." She finally broke the silence.

You glanced up, confused. "What?"

"The children you saved." The girl answered. "Those were their names."

You shook your head. She must've been confused. "I wasn't able to save them." You whispered, hands clenched tightly together in your lap. "I was too slow.

"You're wrong. They were a bit banged up, but thanks to you they had just enough time to escape before the building really collapsed."

That couldn't have been right. And yet you wished so dearly that it was. You felt tears welling up in your eyes again–whether because you were happy or sad you weren't quite sure.

"I'm really sorry that this happened to you." She said quietly.

But there was something off about her tone. It wasn't pitying. Didn't feel like nails on a chalkboard as most people's did so often nowadays. It was... understanding. It was actually quite nice.

"But I thought it'd be nice for you to know that it wasn't for nothing. Including those two, 326 people accredit their lives to you, Cordelia."

You looked away, feeling the tears leak down your cheeks now.

"Thank you." You whispered. "It was getting really tiring hearing people tell me how 'at least I didn't die,' or some other unrealistically optimistic bullshit."

She snorted. "That's lowkey a weird thing to say to someone."

"Tell me about it."

She looks at you, and smiles.

Why had you two not been close before? You had both gone to UA together–hell, you two had more mutuals than you could count. And yet, you had never found yourselves in the other's company; and even after you both graduated, you never saw her on the field.

"Are you going to go to the hero gala?" She asked after a beat of pause.

Right. The hero gala. In the grand scheme of things, it just seemed so trivial now. "I didn't think I was still invited." You said honestly, letting your shoulders rise and fall.

"Of course you are." She corrected. "Cordelia, if anyone can learn to walk again? It's you. And even if you can't, that doesn't change your legacy. You're amazing, dude."

You smiled softly down at your sheets. "Yeah, I guess. Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Do. It's in three days. I'll see you there, okay?"

"Wait." You called as she stood before she could make it all the way to the door. "Why did you visit me?" You asked at last.

She smiled to herself, as if thinking upon a fond memory. "You're awesome. I always see you on the news. You're revolutionizing the space. Paving the way for women. It's amazing. Honestly." She told you proudly. "You're amazing, Cordelia."

For the first time in weeks, the load in your eyes lightened slightly, and you felt your lips tug into a small smile. It didn't erase the ache in your heart or bring back feeling to your legs, but it was something.

a/n: istg my tags are broken 🥲 sorry if ur tag doesn't work

taglist:@floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc

[l0nelyish]

Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

prompt: Natasha needs some cheering up this holiday season. And you seem to have just the right idea.

not a song fic, but the title seemed fitting ;)

happy holidays! x

~~~~~~~

Natasha was thrown off by the weather. Slowly, everything seemed more gloomy and so white, she could barely see New York’s outline out of her huge window. Sitting behind her desk, she decided on doing some more paperwork. The avenger was never one to just lose herself in the Christmas spirit, she didn’t get the ‘charm’ it held.

Only two doors ahead, you were humming to the soft tune of ‘Driving Home For Christmas’ while wrapping some last-minute gifts you bought. Excitement filled you and a soft smile graced your features thinking of the holiday season and spending Christmas intimately with the avengers, who pretty much became your family over the last couple of months. In the middle of wrapping a customized arrow for Clint, you noticed the lack of glue. “Shit”, you murmured and started looking desperately for some little sticky pieces.

Two minutes later, you declared your own defeat. You let out a loud sigh and figured you needed another option.

Natasha’s eyebrow twitched in anticipation and confusion once she heard a soft knock on her door. “Friday, unlock my door please.” “Alright, Ms. Romanoff. I am letting Ms. Y/L/N in.” Natasha watched you step into her space and sent you a soft smile.

“Hey! I didn’t mean to bother, I just ran out of glue for my gift wrappings and I wondered if you might have some stripes for me.”, you sent her a grin and stepped closer, leaning onto her desk.

“Sure, let me look for it.”, Natasha started rummaging through her desk. You turned around and took a look around her room. In the 10 months you’ve been living with the team, you can finger count how many times you stepped into Natasha’s room. But it were enough times to notice that she hasn’t changed even a bit of decor into a more joyful and warm flair. “No Christmas decor, huh?”, you smirked. The question threw her off guard a little and her hands stilled in one of her drawers for a second. “Very attentive, are we? No. Christmas is not really my thing. And I never go big on decoration.”, she sent you a smile, almost apologetically.

You hummed and nodded: “Yeah, I guess it’s not for everyone. I just thought you might be a bit more joyful, I mean.. I heard you like to celebrate with Clint’s family and kids are so- ecstatic?”

Natasha chuckled: “Yeah, they love it. And i love seeing the joy on their faces, that’s enough holiday spirit for me.”, she shrugged and handed you the glue stripes.

“Thank you!”, you took them and turned to leave her room. On your way out, you stalled. “You know”, you faced her again, making Natasha look up: “maybe we could go on a walk? Just to get you into a more ‘joyful’ mood. Because sitting behind a stack of mission reports, that won’t run away, is a little lousy-“, you closed the door and walked away, not giving Natasha much time to process your words. She shook her head, chuckling. Sometimes, you reminded her of a child, or a puppy. But she wouldn’t trade you for anything or anyone. Natasha grew so fond of you, in fact, her heart bursts every time she sees you around.

Ten minutes passed and you found yourself knocking on her door again. This time, Natasha opened it herself. She was already dressed properly and wrapped in a scarf with a black knitted beanie on her head, a tiny red hourglass symbol sewn into it. She sent you a smile and locked her door with her code.

“So, where are we going?”

“Just for a walk around the compound. If that’s alright.”

“That’s definitely alright. Lead the way.”

You two spent the next twenty minutes walking through the woods. The snow seemed to fall slower, much softer. It was now an almost mesmerizing sight to Natasha. But just almost, because you starring up at the sky happily was more dear to her. Precious, in a way.

“You know, maybe you should decorate a little. I think it would be good for you, Tash.”, she nodded slowly. There was an unspoken understanding, you didn’t need to ask why she doesn’t enjoy Christmas, you just accepted her the way she is. And Natasha didn’t find you pushy, she knew you meant the best for her, for everyone.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right… maybe- maybe you would like to help me out?”, you hugged her reassuringly. Another silent agreement.

As you kept returning to the compound, Nat suddenly let go of your hand. Sneakily she faked fixing her shoe lace and you didn’t bother checking on her. You only turned around, in pure shock, once you felt something utterly cold hit your neck. There she was, letting out the most uncontrolled and carefree laugh you’ve ever heard the redhead make. “You did not just-“

“Whoops. My bad!”, she smirked.

“Oh. It’s so on, Romanoff.”, you said lowly, crouching slowly to form a snowball of your own.

Several minutes later, you both looked as white as the ground you’ve been standing on. The last thrown snowball landed on your chin and Natasha reached over gently to wipe some of the white substance off your face. This was the closest she’s ever been to you and you felt your breath hitch. Not because of the cold, but because of the anticipation. Oh, how gentle her features seemed up close. How beautiful her eyes are. It seemed like time moved even slower and Natasha gently cupped your cheek, as if to memorize your face.

“You know”, she whispered, just for the two of you to hear: “maybe Christmas isn’t so bad, after all.” “I’m glad I could help. You deserve this as much as anyone else, Natasha. You deserve to be happy.”

Natasha slowly leaned in and captured your lips in a sealed kiss. You both smiled into it, finding the joy within the bond you share. And she never lacked of a Christmas spirit again, having you by her side.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2k

Summary: An odd tradition

A/N: Felt weird writing this one y'all, but it did give me ideas...

Warnings: fluff, arguments, fluff!

You had been married for a long time. You and Wanda were at the point where you decided to stop celebrating your anniversary with anything extravagant. It was an exhausting and stressful way to say that you loved each other. You both already knew this and you had quickly learned that trying to both plan separate things was tiring. 

Similarly, you had stopped celebrating each other’s birthdays with extravagant gifts. It seemed a little trivial given that because of Wanda, you two collectively had enough money to buy anything your heart desired. After buying many extravagant trips and a new car one year, the novelty of material gifts wore off a bit. Eventually you just made a promise to spend time together since quality time could be rare to come by depending on your schedules. 

Somehow, you weren’t sure who was to blame, you and Wanda decided to start pranking each other. You weren’t sure who it had started with, but at first it was silly little harmless pranks that mildly embarrassed the birthday girl. From there, they had become slightly more involved and punishing. 

Now that Wanda’s birthday was just around the corner, it was your turn to prank your wife. Unfortunately for the redhead, you were feeling rather vindictive this year and had the perfect plan. However, you quickly realized you’d need some help accomplishing your goal. 

When you had first approached him about it, Pietro had been hesitant. Although he knew about the couple’s somewhat odd tradition, the whole family knew, he wasn’t sure if being a part of it would be a good thing. In fact, he was sure his sister would be furious and put out a hit on him if she didn’t kill him on the spot. He didn’t want Wanda to get upset at him, but then again, he couldn’t help but think that it was a little brilliant. Considering what Wanda had done to you last year, he finally agreed to help his sister-in-law pull this off. 

Wanda deserved it just a little bit.

It started with little things that Wanda wouldn’t necessarily pick up on. At first you just spent a little bit longer out of the house. Once a week you would come home late claiming to have worked on paperwork for a while after closing. Then you’d purposely forgotten about meeting the redhead for lunch one day and you’d ended up meeting Pietro instead not a block away from where you’d stood up Wanda. 

Wanda hadn’t realized anything was off until about a month later. This entire process had started a good three months before her birthday to avoid any suspicion, but now it wasn’t just Y/n that was acting out of the ordinary, Pietro was too. 

First Pietro was at their place a little more. She just thought that the blonde was visiting more because he had needed to take some time off of work due to a recent injury and he wasn’t sure what to do with his free time.  So he spent time finding a new place to live, and he came over a lot more. Wanda would find him hanging out with you when she came home from work earlier than expected. You and Pietro would sometimes watch things or simply be talking when Wanda returned. A few times she’d seemed to catch you both off-guard however, and you almost looked guilty when Wanda came home. 

Wanda never texted her brother very much, they mostly talked on the phone but one day she received a slightly confusing text that she assumed had been a mistake. Maybe a drunken one. She’d simply responded, “uh thanks, love you too.” 

It was confusing and Wanda couldn’t make heads or tails of it until a few days before her birthday. 

She’d had a rough day and didn’t get to leave until about midnight. She knew that you were home already, so she wasn’t surprised when she opened the garage door and saw your car. She was however, surprised when she’d entered her kitchen to find you and Pietro sitting on the couch. 

Specifically, Pietro was lying against the side of the couch while her wife was leaning over him as they kissed. Wanda didn’t say anything immediately as her brain failed to react, failed to register what was happening. She watched her brother and wife make out for far longer than strictly necessary to figure out what was going on. 

“What the fuck!? Pietro!?” 

It was the best that Wanda could come up with as she tried to piece together all of the clues she’d seen in the past few months. Pietro spending more time here, more time with you, and the weird behavior she’d seen from you both. She still didn’t believe what she was seeing. She didn’t believe that you and Pietro were still horizontal on her couch. She had never seen this coming. 

The pair started at the sound of her voice, and you cursed as you practically jumped off of Pietro. The blonde was slower to get up, but he didn’t look any less worried than you as you shot your wife a surprised, guilty look. 

“Wands! Hi, um, we, I uh…” 

Luckily Wanda didn’t give you any more time to stumble over any excuses, let alone apologies as she shot you two a vicious look. 

“Don’t. How long has this been going on?” 

The pair didn’t answer immediately, but they exchanged a look that made Wanda tense in anticipation. She gritted her teeth in annoyance when a few seconds passed and no one answered, but she didn’t get a chance to ask again when Pietro spoke up. 

“A few months.” 

The younger Maximoff’s mouth fell open in shock, but she quickly recovered as she tried her best to hide how hurt she was. She didn’t realize she’d moved until she had a fistful of her brother’s shirt and his face was close enough that she could see him sweating. She saw you tense in anticipation and that just made her want to punch the other Maximoff even more.

The idea of you cheating on her with her brother was too painful, too infuriating. She needed to get out, now or she was going to throttle her brother. 

Wanda shook her head and shoved Pietro away before turning to leave. She needed to distance herself from the two of you, but you stopped her.

“Wanda wait!” 

You grab her arm to stop her from leaving, but Wanda yanks it away with a glare. She turns back to her wife with an angry look. 

“What?” 

Then she watched as both you and Pietro smiled before speaking up in unison. 

“Happy birthday.” 

Your smile grew wider as Pietro merely grinned and left out through the garage without another word. Wanda’s jaw dropped again as she realized what had just happened. She was nonplussed as she stood gaping at you like a fish out of water. She was incensed, annoyed, embarrassed and so impressed with the attention you had put into this. Not to mention her brother, but that would come later, first she needed to confirm that this was all just part of her ‘birthday gift’.

“What?” 

This time she didn’t sound angry, rather confused and completely bewildered by what had just happened. You merely smile sheepishly before watching Wanda closely for her reaction. You would be the first to admit that this prank had been risky, and you were still waiting to see if it was going to blow up in your face. 

“Happy birthday, babe.” 

Wanda’s reaction this time was immediate and she turned red as she stood straighter and shot you a glare.

“Are you serious?” 

You could only laugh and wring your hands nervously as you nodded at Wanda’s reaction, which of course only made her more annoyed.

“I can’t believe you two would do this! You had me thinking that you were—what were you thinking?” 

You shook your head before you shot Wanda a challenging look that the redhead didn’t even flinch at. 

“Oh please, your prank last year was awful too.”

“But I didn’t cheat on you!”

“No! You just made me believe that you’d actually taken to a religion that said you had to leave me! Not nearly as bad!” 

Wanda continued to glare at her wife who was trying really hard not to laugh in glee. You had succeeded in fooling your wife and giving her a taste of her own medicine. You had been so frightened last year when Wanda had told you that she was going to leave you. You hadn’t been able to find the words to express how much you hated the idea. All you knew was that you couldn’t let it happen. 

Now you could see how it had made you feel because Wanda was still struck dumb by the idea. She was no longer glaring, only frowning as she finally shot you a less incensed, but more suspicious look. 

“Pietro? Really?” 

You merely laughed before nodding in confirmation. The blonde had been the perfect choice because he was someone that would be able to sell the idea without actually having to go to too much trouble. The blonde knew about their pranks and he was willing to be a part of it without any compensation, other than seeing the look on his sister’s face. 

“Brilliant, hmm?” 

Wanda scowls before she rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath about being unnecessarily cruel. You couldn’t help it and you move forward to kiss the frown off your wife’s face with another laugh. Wanda backs away with a pout before she settles on looking displeased as she thinks about how she supposes this was payback for last year. 

Finally she sighs and shoots you a look that makes you smile proudly. 

“That was pretty terrifying.” 

You figured as much and you smile as you hug your wife who eventually returns the gesture. You offer the only consolation you would that night and shrug as you watch Wanda finally relax as she laughs under her breath. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not his type.  It took a little convincing; however, that I was definitely not interested in him.”

Wanda rolls her eyes again before shaking her head with a smile. She wouldn’t lie, she couldn’t see her wife with Pietro. Knowing what she did about both of them, it had only freaked her out because it seemed so outlandish and terrifying. Now that she put some thought into it, she knew that you would never go for her brother. Also, despite how much grief he liked to give her, she knew that Pietro wouldn’t ever betray her like that. 

“For some reason you’re mine though.” 

You don’t get a chance to feel offended by the remark before Wanda kisses you again. This time it lasts longer and you can tell that Wanda was getting over her shock and anger. At least she was about to direct it toward something else she wanted. You both wanted honestly. 

“Maybe we can just go back to flowers and chocolates and stop scaring the crap out of each other?” 

You laugh before nodding in agreement. This sounds like a pretty good idea. You are about to head into the kitchen to get started on dinner, but a hand on your arm stops you in your tracks. You turn to see that Wanda’s shooting you a look that makes your heart begin to race in excitement that you hope doesn’t show on your face. 

“I’m still processing what happened, but as soon as I’m done, we’ll talk about your punishment.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Wanda’s already walked past you to the kitchen. You’re just going to have to see if the look on your wife’s face earlier will be worth whatever lies ahead. 

“And Pietro’s.” 

You hope so.  

Masterlist

Taglist: @idkwhatever580

[alotofpockets]

From dreams to diapers | Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Arsenal!Reader & Lotte Wubben-Moy x Best Friend!Reader

Prompts: "Twins? We're having twins?" & "You're great with kids."

Warnings: Pregnant Alessia, morning sickness, and a whole lot of fluff :)

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.3k

You had met Alessia when the both of you made the squad at UNC. You found comfort in being surrounded by a piece of home in both her and your other teammate Lotte, the three of you being the only girls in the squad that were from the UK. The connection with both girls was great, over time Alessia had become your girlfriend, and Lotte your best friend. 

The three of you made it to the England U15 squad together, and continued to grow up together moving up all the way to the seniors team. While you all played together for country, you had signed with different clubs in the UK. Lotte was the first that signed with Arsenal, you followed a few years later, and Alessia had signed for the club last year. Playing for the same club, and all living in the same city was such a great feeling.

Ever since you started dating Alessia, the two of you had talked about wanting children together in the future. Alessia made the move to Arsenal, when the talk of starting a family started to get more real. Sure, it had always been real but now you both felt like you were ready to actually start a family. The talking started to be less about the general idea, and more about the practical side.

After many consults, and conversations between the two of you, you had decided that Alessia would carry. The striker was more than happy to put her career on hold to get your little family started. You had started the process of getting pregnant a few months ago now, a box of pregnancy tests always present in the house. So far you had only gotten negative results, you both knew it wasn't likely for her to get pregnant right away, so you patiently waited for the day that a test would show a positive result.

A couple weeks later, you wake up to Alessia running to the bathroom. You quickly follow her, and hold her hair up as she’s leaned over the toilet, your hands rub soothing circles over her back. Your wife leans her back against the wall, relishing in the coldness of the tiles against her back. Before you get up to get her a glass of water, you place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Should we check?” A question you had asked her many times over the past few months. 

While you wait for the pregnancy test to be ready, you cuddle up in bed together, holding your wife close. Your alarm lets you know that the test is ready to be checked. Alessia grabs the test from her bedside table, the result face down. “Ready, baby?” You smile at her, before you lean in and kiss her, “Now I’m ready.” Alessia slowly turns the test around, it feels like time stops for a moment when you read the word positive. You slowly lift your head up to look at your wife, who looks at you with matching teary eyes. The both of you are too overwhelmed with emotions to speak, so you just fall into each other's arms. “We’re going to be parents.” You say still in disbelief, when you finally find your voice again. “We’re going to be parents.” Alessia says back, the smile on her face growing.

The two of you stay in the bed a lot longer than you usually did on days you had training, neither one of you wanting to end the moment. But as training got closer, you knew you had to. “Do you feel okay going to training? If not I can call Jonas.” Alessia pecks your lips, “I’m okay to go, thank you though.” She could already tell that you were going to be very protective of her during this pregnancy. 

You kept exchanging love sick glances with Alessia, while the both of you were basking in the moment of the two of you being the only ones in the world that knew that Alessia was pregnant. However, the love sick glances didn’t go unnoticed to your best friend. “What’s up with the two of you?” She asks as the two of you walk up the water bottles. “Nothing.” Your reaction was way too quick for Lotte to believe a word that was coming out of your mouth. “Oh, something is going on.” Her mind starts going over the list of things that her two best friends could be up to, until her eyes widened with a possible explanation for your quick response. “Omg, are you preg-” Your hand was on her mouth before she could finish her sentence, sending her a warning look before you slowly removed your hand again. You weren’t able to hold back the smile that was forming on your face, enough proof for Lotte to know that she was right. She pulls you into a hug, “I am so happy for you both.” She whispers in your direction before joining the rest of the girls again. 

Lotte went with the both of you to all of the doctors appointments, she declared herself the videographer of your journey, and you accepted her role glady. That’s how the three of you found yourself in the doctor's office one morning, ready for an ultrasound. You sat by Alessia, holding her hand, while Lotte stood to the side with her phone ready to film. The doctor applied the gel to Alessia’s belly, and started moving the machine around. Both of you look at the screen in awe, trying to figure out what you were looking at, but knowing that it was a little miracle whether you were able to figure it out yourselves or not. 

“So, here we have the baby.” She points to the screen. Tears start filling your eyes, it was still early in the pregnancy, so you hadn’t seen the baby on the screen just yet. You give Alessia’s hand a squeeze and kiss her forehead. “And then here we have another baby.” Your jaw drops, "Twins? We're having twins?" The doctor smiles at the two of you, “Yes, you’re having twins.” Alessia’s emotions get the best of her as well, as her tears start flowing as well. “I’ll give you all a moment.” The doctor says as she hands you the sonogram. You both stare at the pictures in disbelief. “We’re going to have two babies.” Alessia says in a whisper. You nod with a big smile on your face. The two of you share a long hug, meanwhile Lotte is filming the interaction with tears in her eyes. She was overjoyed for her two best friends, having been along on this journey between the both of you since day one.

The next day at practice you had told the team, and showed them the sonograms. Everyone was overjoyed for the both of you, hugs and congratulations were shared in big numbers, and you couldn’t be happier. After you had told both your families, there was only one more thing to do, and that was to tell the world.

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alessiarusso99 and y/nrusso posted

Liked by lottewubbenmoy and 94,558 others

alessiarusso99: We've got some exciting news to share. I can't believe our dream of starting a family is finally coming true❤️

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y/nrusso: So ready for this new adventure with you❤️

lottewubbenmoy: I'm gonna be an autie!

↳ alessiarusso99: The best auntie :)

↳ leahwilliamsonn: Already playing favoritism...

↳ lottewubbenmoy: Best friend privileges😋

user1: WAIT TWO BABY OUTFITS, ARE THEY HAVING TWINS??

Liked by y/nrusso

↳ user2: OMG y/n liked

leahwilliamsonn: Congrats to the both of you 😘

arsenalwfc: more baby Gooners!

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The response to your announcement was incredible, the overwhelming amount of love and that was thrown your way enough to make you tear up. 

After talking with your OB-GYN and with your own trainers, you had set up a schedule for Alessia. She could continue her training for a while longer, but since soccer was a contact sport, the OB-GYN recommended to stop playing matches two weeks from now, and that in the meantime, Alessia could still play, but not a full match.

That’s how you found yourself the next week, the last match Alessia would play before the twins would arrive. After consulting with the trainers, you had decided that Alessia would start and play only the first half. You were happy to walk the field with Alessia by your side, knowing that was going to be something you were going to be missing dearly over the next few months. You walk up to the side line of the field and wait for Alessia and Lotte to join you. You stand in the middle of them and link your arms with them, jumping over the line together. A pre-game ritual the three of you had started back in college, followed by national team matches, and since you all played together for Arsenal, the ritual was brought there too.

The match was going well, you were glad it wasn’t a very physical match so far, for the sake of Alessia and the babies. You manage to intercept a ball and run towards your opponents goal with it, lifting your eyes to see who was with you, when you saw that Alessia was running forward as well. With a calculated kick, the ball goes flying to her feet. You watch as she kicks the ball to the back of the net, running her way to celebrate the goal with her. After a quick hug, you fall to your knees, and place a kiss on her belly. The first goal you ever dedicated to the babies. Alessia pulls you back in for a hug, before you are met with your teammates from all angles. 

Just five more minutes left in the first half when your team earned a corner. Katie takes it and the ball comes flying your way at the back post. You jump up and head the ball into the goal, just slightly out of reach of the goalkeeper. Your eyes met Alessia’s and you knew what you needed to do. You slide down and place another kiss on her tummy, now both babies had a goal dedicated to them. The rest of the match went great and you ended up winning 4-1. All in all, a great match for Alessia to end on. 

While you continued training and playing matches, you were also taking care of your wife, and getting the house ready for the twins. The girls came over often, helping you out. You were forever grateful for them, helping you paint the nursery, and helping the two of you to gather all the stuff that you would need. 

Amidst all the shopping you kept stumbling on pictures of dad’s on baby products, parenting books for fathers, at first they were just things you noticed, but eventually it started to get to you. You didn’t want to bother Alessia with your emotions, as she was literally growing two humans inside of her but being the amazing wife that she is, she noticed your change in behaviour instantly. “Baby, what’s going on?” She asked softly. “It’s nothing, love.” Alessia knew all your tells, so she knew you weren’t being truthful. “Hey, none of that. If something is going on, you can always tell me, baby.” You cave in after she brought out the puppy dog eyes. “I’ve just been in my head about not being related to the twins. What if my maternal instinct won’t kick in? What if I won’t have a connection with them the same way that you will?”

Alessia takes your hands in hers, “Sweetheart, you already have a connection with them. You talk to them, sing to them, and read to them every single day. These kiddos know your voice by heart already. You’re going to show up for our babies, and you’re going to love them, you’re going to care for them, and that is all they will need. You are great with kids, baby, you might not realise it but I think that your maternal instinct kicked in the moment we saw the positive result on the test. You are going to be the most amazing mother to these two little nuggets.” Alessia always knew the right words to say. “Thank you, my love.” You place a kiss onto her cheek. “I needed to hear that.”

The day your baby girls were born was one with many emotions, all of the best kinds. When you held them for the first time, everything you had been worried about faded away. Their little hands holding onto your fingers, and you had never felt more ready to take on motherhood. Alessia was tired but so in love with the two little bundles of joy. Ever since you had found out that you were going to have two girls, you had known what you wanted to name them, and Alessia had loved your idea.

Lotte, Beth, and Viv were the first of your teammates to come visit your family in the hospital. You hadn’t told anyone the names yet, saved for this special moment. After the four of them have admired your girls, you take one of them from their little crib. “This is Mia, named after Alessia’s middle name, since I’ve always loved it so much.” You hand Mia to Beth, Viv is quick to snap a picture. Then you picked up your other little girl, and walked over to Lotte, handing her the baby. “And this little girl was named after our best friend.” Lotte’s eyes quickly shoot up to you. “Meet Mae.” Lotte could not believe that the two of you had named your child after her, as tears started rolling down her cheeks. “I’m so honoured, thank you so much.”

In small groups the rest of the team, and your families came to meet the little girls. You were so grateful for having such a big group of people you called family, knowing that the girls had so many bonus aunties warmed your heart.

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y/nrusso and alessiarusso99 posted

Liked by viviannemiedema and 87,458 others

y/nrusso: Mia and Mae Russo. Welcome to the world, my sweet girls, I love you both so much. P.S. My incredible wife is doing well❤️

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lottewubbenmoy: Like I haven't cried enough yet.. Forever grateful to have one of your little girls named after me. Love them both so much already!

viviannemiedema: The best mama's! 😍

bethmead_: The cutest!

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You quickly got used to life as a family of four, and you were loving every single moment of it. The gallery of your phone was filled with pictures and videos of the twins, wanting to capture every moment, so you could hold onto the memories forever.  

The twins were very loved, not only by Alessia and yourself, but also by your friends and family. Your home was often filled with visitors, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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y/nrusso posted

Liked by alessiarusso99 and 63,785 others

y/nrusso: Life lately 🥰

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